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diff --git a/3152-0.txt b/3152-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8b94c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/3152-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15453 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Junior Classics, Volume 1, by William Patten + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: The Junior Classics, Volume 1 + Fairy and Wonder Tales + +Author: William Patten + +Release Date: January 12, 2001 [eBook #3152] +[Most recently updated: December 15, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JUNIOR CLASSICS, VOLUME 1 *** + + + +THE JUNIOR CLASSICS + +SELECTED AND ARRANGED BY + +WILLIAM PATTEN, + +MANAGING EDITOR OF THE HARVARD CLASSICS + +INTRODUCTION BY CHARLES W. ELIOT, LL.D., + +PRESIDENT EMERITUS OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY + + +WITH A READING GUIDE BY WILLIAM ALLAN NEILSON, Ph. D., PROFESSOR OF +ENGLISH, HARVARD UNIVERSITY, PRESIDENT SMITH COLLEGE, NORTHAMPTON, +MASS., SINCE 1917 + +VOLUME ONE + +Fairy and Wonder Tales + + +INTRODUCTION + + +The purpose of The Junior Classics is to provide, in ten volumes +containing about five thousand pages, a classified collection of tales, +stories, and poems, both ancient and modern, suitable for boys and +girls of from six to sixteen years of age. Thoughtful parents and +teachers, who realize the evils of indiscriminate reading on the part +of children, will appreciate the educational value of such a +collection. A child’s taste in reading is formed, as a rule, in the +first ten or twelve years of its life, and experience has shown that +the childish mind will prefer good literature to any other, if access +to it is made easy, and will develop far better on literature of proved +merit than on trivial or transitory material. + +The boy or girl who becomes familiar with the charming tales and poems +in this collection will have gained a knowledge of literature and +history that will be of high value in other school and home work. Here +are the real elements of imaginative narration, poetry, and ethics, +which should enter into the education of every English-speaking child. + +This collection, carefully used by parents and teachers with due +reference to individual tastes and needs, will make many children enjoy +good literature. It will inspire them with a love of good reading, +which is the best possible result of any elementary education. The +child himself should be encouraged to make his own selections from this +large and varied collection, the child’s enjoyment being the object in +view. A real and lasting interest in literature or in scholarship is +only to be developed through the individual’s enjoyment of his mental +occupations. + +The most important change which has been made in American schools and +colleges within my memory is the substitution of leading for driving, +of inspiration for drill, of personal interest and love of work for +compulsion and fear. The schools are learning to use methods and +materials which interest and attract the children themselves. The +Junior Classics will put into the home the means of using this happy +method. + +Committing to memory beautiful pieces of literature, either prose or +poetry, for recitation before a friendly audience, acting charades or +plays, and reading aloud with vivacity and sympathetic emotion, are +good means of instruction at home or at school This collection contains +numerous admirable pieces of literature for such use. In teaching +English and English literature we should place more reliance upon +processes and acts which awaken emotion, stimulate interest, prove to +be enjoyable for the actors, and result in giving children the power of +entertaining people, of blessing others with noble pleasures which the +children create and share. + +From the home training during childhood there should result in the +child a taste for interesting and improving reading which will direct +and inspire its subsequent intellectual life. The training which +results in this taste for good reading, however unsystematic or +eccentric it may have been, has achieved one principal aim of +education; and any school or home training which does not result in +implanting this permanent taste has failed in a very important respect. +Guided and animated by this impulse to acquire knowledge and exercise +the imagination through good reading, the adult will continue to +educate him all through life. + +The story of the human race through all its slow development should be +gradually conveyed to the child’s mind from the time he begins to read, +or to listen to his mother reading; and with description of facts and +actual events should be mingled charming and uplifting products of the +imagination. To try to feed the minds of children upon facts alone is +undesirable and unwise. The immense product of the imagination in art +and literature is a concrete fact with which every educated human being +should be made somewhat familiar, that product being a very real part +of every individual’s actual environment. + +The right selection of reading matter for children is obviously of high +importance. Some of the mythologies, Old Testament stories, fairy +tales, and historical romances, on which earlier generations were +accustomed to feed the childish mind, contain a great deal that is +barbarous, perverse, or cruel; and to this infiltration into children’s +minds, generation after generation, of immoral, cruel, or foolish ideas +is probably to be attributed in part the slow ethical progress of the +race. The commonest justification of this thoughtless practice is that +children do not apprehend the evil in the bad mental pictures with +which we foolishly supply them; but what should we think of a mother +who gave her children dirty milk or porridge, on the theory that the +children would not assimilate the dirt? Should we be less careful about +mental and moral food materials? The Junior Classics have been selected +with this principle in mind, without losing sight of the fact that +every developing human being needs to have a vision of the rough and +thorny road over which the human race has been slowly advancing during +thousands of years. + +Whoever has committed to memory in childhood such Bible extracts as +Genesis i, the Ten Commandments, Psalm xxiii, Matthew v, 8-12, The +Lord’s Prayer, and I Corinthians xiii, such English prose as Lincoln’s +Gettysburg speech, Bacon’s “Essay on Truth,” and such poems as Bryant’s +“Waterfowl,” Addison’s “Divine Ode,” Milton’s Sonnet on his Blindness, +Wotton’s “How happy is he born or taught,” Emerson’s “Rhodora,” +Holmes’s “Chambered Nautilus,” and Gray’s Elegy, and has stamped them +on his brain by frequent repetition, will have set up in his mind high +standards of noble thought and feeling, true patriotism, and pure +religion. He will also have laid in an invaluable store of good +English. + +While the majority of the tales and poems are intended for children who +have begun to do their own reading, there will be found in every volume +selections fit for reading aloud to younger children. Throughout the +collection the authors tell the stories in their own words; so that the +salt which gave them savor is preserved. There are some condensations +however, such as any good teller of borrowed stories would make; but as +a rule condensation has been applied only in the case of long works +which otherwise could not have been included. The notes which precede +the condensations supply explanations, and answer questions which +experience has shown boys and girls are apt to ask about the works +condensed or their authors. + +The Junior Classics constitute a set of books whose contents will +delight children and at the same time satisfy the legitimate ethical +requirements of those who have the children’s best interests at heart. + +Charles W. Eliot + +NOTE + + +Notices of copyright on material used in these volumes appear on the +back of the title pages of the particular volumes in which the stories +are printed. A complete list of acknowledgments to authors and +publishers, for their kind permission to use copyrighted material, is +given on pages 3 to 6 of Volume Ten. + + + + +CONTENTS + + INTRODUCTION Charles, W. Eliot + PREFACE William Patten + +TALES OF THE AMERICAN INDIANS + Manabozho H. R. Schoolcraft + Why the Diver Duck Has So Few Tail Feathers H. R. Schoolcraft + Manabozho Changed to Wolf H. R. Schoolcraft + Why the Woodpecker has Red Feathers H. R. Schoolcraft + Manabozho is Robbed H. R. Schoolcraft + Manabozho and the Woodpeckers H. R. Schoolcraft + The Boy and the Wolves Andrew Lang + The Indian Who Lost His Wife Andrew Lang + +TALES FROM INDIA + Punchkin E. Frere + The Sun, Moon and Wind E. Frere + Why the Fish Laughed Joseph Jacob + The Farmer and Money Lender Joseph Jacob + Pride Goeth Before a Fall Joseph Jacob + The Wicked Sons Joseph Jacob + Tiger, Brahman, and Jackal Flora Annie Steel + The Lambikin Flora Annie Steel + The Rat’s Wedding Flora Annie Steel + The Jackal and the Partridge Flora Annie Steel + The Jackal and the Crocodile Flora Annie Steel + The Jackal and the Iguana Flora Annie Steel + The Bear’s Bad Bargain Flora Annie Steel + The Thief and the Fox Ramaswami Raju + The Farmer and the Fox Ramaswami Raju + The Fools and the Drum Ramaswami Raju + The Lion and the Goat Ramaswami Raju + The Glowworm and Jackdaw Ramaswami Raju + The Camel and the Pig Ramaswami Raju + The Dog and the Dog Dealer Ramaswami Raju + The Tiger, Fox, and Hunters Ramaswami Raju + The Sea, the Fox, and the Wolf Ramaswami Raju + The Fox in the Well Ramaswami Raju + +TALES FROM THE NORSELAND + Ashiepattle P. C. Asbjörnsen + The Squire’s Bride P. C. Asbjörnsen + The Doll in the Grass P. C. Asbjörnsen + The Bear and the Fox P. C. Asbjörnsen + The Lad Who Went to the North Wind Sir George W. Dasent + The Husband Who Was to Mind the House Sir George W. Dasent + How One Went Out to Woo Sir George W. Dasent + Why the Bear is Stumpy-Tailed Sir George W. Dasent + Boots and the Princess Sir George W. Dasent + The Witch in the Stone Boat Andrew Lang + +TALES FROM FRANCE, SPAIN, AND POLAND + The Snuffbox Paul Sébillot + The Golden Blackbird Paul Sébillot + The Half-Chick Andrew Lang + The Three Brothers Hermann R. Kletke + The Glass Mountain Hermann R. Kletke + +TALES FROM RUSSIA + Huntsman the Unlucky John T. Naaké + Story of Little Simpleton John T. Naaké + The Golden Fish Lillian M. Gask + +TALES FROM SERBIA + The Wonderful Hair W.S. Karajich + The Language of Animals W.S. Karajich + The Emperor Trojan’s Ears W.S. Karajich + The Maiden Who Was Wiser Than the King W.S. Karajich + +AN IRISH TALE + The Three Sons Lady Gregory + +TALES FROM CHINA AND JAPAN + Hok Lee and the Dwarfs Andrew Lang + A Dreadful Boar Adele M. Fielde + The Five Queer Brothers Adele M. Fielde + The Accomplished Teakettle A.B. Mitford + Adventures of Little Peachling A.B. Mitford + +A TALE FROM NEW GUINEA + The Two Lizards Annie Ker + +A TALE FROM JAMAICA + De King and De Peafowl Mary P. Milne-Horne + +SOME OLD FAVORITES + Hansel and Grethel W. and J. Grimm + Thumbling W. and J. Grimm + The Six Swans W. and J. Grimm + Snow-White and Rose-Red W. and J. Grimm + The Ugly Duckling Hans C. Andersen + The Tinder-Box Hans C. Andersen + The Constant Tin Soldier Hans C. Andersen + The Fir Tree Hans C. Andersen + The Flying Trunk Hans C. Andersen + The Darning Needle Hans C. Andersen + Pen and Inkstand Hans C. Andersen + Cinderella Miss Mulock + Little Red Riding-Hood Charles Perrault + The Story of the Three Bears Robert Southey + Puss in Boots Charles Perrault + Jack the Giant-Killer Joseph Jacobs + Tom Thumb Joseph Jacobs + Blue Beard Charles Perrault + The Brave Little Tailor Anonymous + The Sleeping Beauty Charles Perrault + The Fair One With Golden Locks Miss Mulock + Beauty and the Beast Mme. d’Aulnoy + Jack and the Beanstalk Anonymous + Hop-o’-My-Thumb Joseph Jacobs + The Goose-Girl Anonymous + He Who Knew Not Fear Anonymous + +THE FABLES OF ÆSOP + The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse Æsop + The Man, Boy, and Donkey Æsop + The Shepherd’s Boy Æsop + Androcles Æsop + The Fox and the Stork Æsop + The Crow and the Pitcher Æsop + The Frogs Desiring a King Æsop + The Frog and the Ox Æsop + The Cock and the Pearl Æsop + The Fox Without a Tail Æsop + The Fox and the Cat Æsop + The Dog in the Manger Æsop + The Fox and the Goat Æsop + Belling the Cat Æsop + The Jay and the Peacock Æsop + The Ass and the Lap-Dog Æsop + The Ant and the Grasshopper Æsop + The Woodman and the Serpent Æsop + The Milkmaid and Her Pail Æsop + The Lion and the Mouse Æsop + Hercules and the Waggoner Æsop + The Lion’s Share Æsop + The Fox and the Crow Æsop + The Dog and the Shadow Æsop + The Wolf and the Lamb Æsop + The Bat, Birds, and Beasts Æsop + The Belly and the Members Æsop + The Fox and the Grapes Æsop + The Swallow and the Birds Æsop + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +HE OFTEN TREMBLED AT WHAT HE HEARD AND SAW, Manabozho the +Mischief-Maker, Frontispiece illustration in color from the painting by +Dan Sayre Groesbeck + +WHILE THEY WERE STUPIDLY STARING, THE KETTLE BEGAN FLYING ABOUT THE +ROOM, The Accomplished and Lucky Teakettle, From the painting by +Warwick Goble + +A VERY OLD WOMAN, WALKING UPON CRUTCHES, CAME OUT, Hansel and Grethel, +From the painting by Arthur Rackham + +THEN BLUE BEARD BAWLED OUT SO LOUD THAT HE MADE THE WHOLE HOUSE +TREMBLE, Blue Beard, From the painting by Edmund Dulac + +BEING INFORMED OF EVERYTHING BY A LITTLE DWARF WHO WORE SEVEN-LEAGUE +BOOTS, Sleeping Beauty, From the painting by Edmund Dulac + + + + +PREFACE + + +There are some things in this world we can get along without, but, the +experience of many thousand years has shown us that the fairy tale is +not one of them. There must have been fairy tales (or fables, or folk +tales, or myths, or whatever name we choose to give them) ever since +the world began. They are not exclusively French, German, Greek, +Russian, Indian or Chinese, but are the common property of the whole +human family and are as universal as human speech. + +All the world over, fairy tales are found to be pretty much the same. +The story of Cinderella is found in all countries. Japan has a Rip Van +Winkle, China has a Beauty and the Beast, Egypt has a Puss in Boots, +and Persia has a Jack and the Beanstalk. + +Those wise people who have made a careful study of literature, and +especially of what we call folk tales or fairy tales or fables or +myths, tell us that they all typify in some way the constant struggle +that is going on in every department of life. It may be the struggle of +Summer against Winter, the bright Day against dark Night, Innocence +against Cruelty, of Knowledge against Ignorance. We are not obliged to +think of these delightful stories as each having a meaning. Our +enjoyment of them will not be less if we overlook that side, but it may +help us to understand and appreciate good books if we remember that the +literature of the world is the story of man’s struggle against nature; +that the beginnings of literature came out of the mouths of +story-tellers, and that the stories they told were fairy +tales—imaginative stories based on truth. + +There is one important fact to remember in connection with the old +fairy tales, and that is that they were repeated aloud from memory, not +read from a book or manuscript. + +The printing of books from type may be said to date from the year 1470, +when Caxton introduced printing into England. It is said that the first +book printed in English which had the pages numbered was a book of +tales, “Æsop’s Fables.” + +As late as 1600 printed books were still so rare that only rich men +could own them. There was one other way of printing a story—on +sheepskin (split and made into parchment) with a pen—but that was a +long and laborious art that could only be practiced by educated men who +had been taught to write. The monks were about the only men who had the +necessary education and time, and they cared more for making copies of +the Bible and Lives of the Saints than they did of fairy tales. The +common people, and even kings and queens, were therefore obliged to +depend upon the professional story-teller. + +Fairy tales were very popular in the Middle Ages. In the long winter +months fields could not be cultivated, traveling had to be abandoned, +and all were kept within doors by the cold and snow. We know what the +knight’s house looked like in those days. The large beamed hall or +living room was the principal room. At one end of it, on a low +platform, was a table for the knight, his family, and any visiting +knights and ladies. At the other tables on the main floor were the +armed men, like squires and retainers, who helped defend the castle +from attack, and the maids of the household. + +The story-teller, who was sometimes called a bard or skald or minstrel, +had his place of honor in the center of the room, and when the meal was +over he was called upon for a story. These story-tellers became very +expert in the practice of their art, and some of them could arouse +their audiences to a great pitch of excitement. In the note that +precedes the story “The Treason of Ganelon,” in the volume “Heroes and +Heroines of Chivalry,” you can see how one of these story-tellers, or +minstrels, sang aloud a story to the soldiers of William the Conqueror +to encourage them as he led them into battle. + +The fairy tales collected by the Brothers Grimm were first published in +1812. They spent thirteen years collecting them, writing them down as +they were told by the peasants in Hesse, a mountainous province of +Germany lying far removed from the great main roads. + +Their friends helped them, but their best friend was the wife of a +cowherd, a strong, intelligent woman of fifty, who had a perfect genius +for storytelling. She knew she told the stories well, and that not many +had her gift. The Grimms said that though she repeated a story for them +three times, the variations were so slight as to be hardly apparent. + +The American Indian stories of Manabozho the Mischief-Maker and his +adventures with the Wolf and the Woodpeckers and the Ducks were +collected in very much the same way by Henry R. Schoolcraft +(1793–1864), the explorer and traveler, who lived among the Indian +tribes for thirty years. + +Mrs. Steel has told us how she collected her Hindu stories, often +listening over and over to poor story-tellers who would spoil a story +in trying to tell it, until one day her patience would be rewarded by +hearing it from the lips of the best storyteller in the village, who +was generally a boy. + +As all nations have their fairy tales, you will find in this collection +examples of English, Irish, French, German, Scandinavian, Icelandic, +Russian, Polish, Serbian, Spanish, Arabian, Hindu, Chinese, and +Japanese fairy tales, as well as those recited around the lodge fires +at night by American Indians for the entertainment of the red children +of the West. + +I hope the work may prove for many a boy and girl (of any age up to a +hundred) the Golden Bridge over which they can plunge into that +marvelous world of fairies, elves, goblins, kobolds, trolls, afreets, +jinns, ogres, and giants that fascinates us all, lost to this world +till some one wakes us up to say “Bedtime!” + +Such excursions fill the mind with beautiful fancies and help to +develop that most precious of our faculties, the imagination. + +WILLIAM PATTEN. + + + + +MANABOZHO, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER + + +Adapted from H. R. Schoolcraft + + +There was never in the whole world a more mischievous busybody than +that notorious giant Manabozho. He was everywhere, in season and out of +season, running about, and putting his hand in whatever was going +forward. + +To carry on his game he could take almost any shape he pleased. He +could be very foolish or very wise, very weak or very strong, very rich +or very poor—just as happened to suit his humor best. Whatever anyone +else could do, he would attempt without a moment’s reflection. He was a +match for any man he met, and there were few manitoes* (*good spirits +or evil spirits) that could get the better of him. By turns he would be +very kind or very cruel, an animal or a bird, a man or a spirit, and +yet, in spite of all these gifts, Manabozho was always getting himself +involved in all sorts of troubles. More than once, in the course of his +adventures, was this great maker of mischief driven to his wits’ ends +to come off with his life. + +To begin at the beginning, Manabozho, while yet a youngster, was living +with his grandmother near the edge of a great prairie. It was on this +prairie that he first saw animals and birds of every kind; he also +there made first acquaintance with thunder and lightning. He would sit +by the hour watching the clouds as they rolled by, musing on the shades +of light and darkness as the day rose and fell. + +For a stripling, Manabozho was uncommonly wide-awake. Every sight he +beheld in the heavens was a subject of remark, every new animal or bird +an object of deep interest, and every sound was like a new lesson which +he was expected to learn. He often trembled at what he heard and saw. + +The first sound he heard was that of the owl, at which he was greatly +terrified, and, quickly descending the tree he had climbed, he ran with +alarm to the lodge. “Noko! noko! grandmother!” he cried. “I have heard +a monedo.” + +She laughed at his fears, and asked him what kind of a noise it made. +He answered. “It makes a noise like this: ko-ko-ko-ho!” + +His grandmother told him he was young and foolish; that what he heard +was only a bird which derived its name from the peculiar noise it made. + +He returned to the prairie and continued his watch. As he stood there +looking at the clouds he thought to himself, “It is singular that I am +so simple and my grandmother so wise; and that I have neither father +nor mother. I have never heard a word about them. I must ask and find +out.” + +He went home and sat down, silent and dejected. Finding that this did +not attract the notice of his grandmother, he began a loud lamentation, +which he kept increasing, louder and louder, till it shook the lodge +and nearly deafened the old grandmother. + +“Manabozho, what is the matter with you?” she said, “you are making a +great deal of noise.” + +Manabozho started off again with his doleful hubbub, but succeeded in +jerking out between his big sobs, “I haven’t got any father nor mother, +I haven’t.” + +Knowing that he was of a wicked and revengeful nature, his grandmother +dreaded to tell him the story of his parentage, as she knew he would +make trouble of it. + +Manabozho renewed his cries and managed to throw out for a third or +fourth time, his sorrowful lament that he was a poor unfortunate who +had no parents or relatives. + +At last she said to him, to quiet him, “Yes, you have a father and +three brothers living. Your mother is dead. She was taken for a wife by +your father, the West, without the consent of her parents. Your +brothers are the North, East, and South; and being older than you your +father has given them great power with the winds, according to their +names. You are the youngest of his children. I have nursed you from +your infancy, for your mother died when you were born.” + +“I am glad my father is living,” said Manabozho, “I shall set out in +the morning to visit him.” + +His grandmother would have discouraged him, saying it was a long +distance to the place where his father, Ningabinn, or the West, lived. + +This information seemed rather to please than to discourage Manabozho, +for by this time he had grown to such a size and strength that he had +been compelled to leave the narrow shelter of his grandmother’s lodge +and live out of doors. He was so tall that, if he had been so disposed, +he could have snapped off the heads of the birds roosting on the +topmost branches of the highest trees, as he stood up, without being at +the trouble to climb. And if he had at any time taken a fancy to one of +the same trees for a walking stick, he would have had no more to do +than to pluck it up with his thumb and finger and strip down the leaves +and twigs with the palm of his hand. + +Bidding good-by to his old grandmother, who pulled a very long face +over his departure, Manabozho set out at a great pace, for he was able +to stride from one side of a prairie to the other at a single step. + +He found his father on a high mountain far in the west. His father +espied his approach at a great distance, and bounded down the +mountainside several miles to give him welcome. Apparently delighted +with each other, they reached in two or three of their giant paces the +lodge of the West which stood high up near the clouds. + +They spent some days in talking with each other—for these two great +persons did nothing on a small scale, and a whole day to deliver a +single sentence, such was the immensity of their discourse, was quite +an ordinary affair. + +One evening Manabozho asked his father what he was most afraid of on +earth. + +He replied—“Nothing.” + +“But is there nothing you dread here—nothing that would hurt you if you +took too much of it? Come, tell me.” + +Manabozho was very urgent, so at last his father said: “Yes, there is a +black stone to be found a couple of hundred miles from here, over that +way,” pointing as he spoke. “It is the only thing on earth I am afraid +of, for if it should happen to hit me on any part of my body it would +hurt me very much.” The West made this important circumstance known to +Manabozho in the strictest confidence. + +“Now you will not tell anyone, Manabozho, that the black stone is bad +medicine for your father, will you?” he added. “You are a good son, and +I know you will keep it to yourself. Now tell me, my darling boy, is +there not something that you don’t like?” + +Manabozho answered promptly—“Nothing.” + +His father, who was of a steady and persevering nature, put the same +question to him seventeen times, and each time Manabozho made the same +answer—“Nothing.” + +But the West insisted—“There must be something you are afraid of.” + +“Well, I will tell you,” said Manabozho, “what it is.” + +He made an effort to speak, but it seemed to be too much for him. + +“Out with it,” said the West, fetching Manabozho such a blow on the +back as shook the mountain with its echo. + +“Je-ee, je-ee—it is,” said Manabozho, apparently in great pain. “Yes, +yes! I cannot name it, I tremble so.” + +The West told him to banish his fears, and to speak up; no one would +hurt him. + +Manabozho began again, and he would have gone over the same +make-believe of pain, had not his father, whose strength he knew was +more than a match for his own, threatened to pitch him into a river +about five miles off. At last he cried out: + +“Father, since you will know, it is the root of the bulrush.” He who +could with perfect ease spin a sentence a whole day long, seemed to be +exhausted by the effort of pronouncing that one word, “bulrush.” + +Some time after Manabozho observed: “I will get some of the black rock, +merely to see how it looks.” + +“Well,” said the father, “I will also get a little of the bulrush root, +to learn how it tastes.” + +They were both double-dealing with each other, and in their hearts +getting ready for some desperate work. They had no sooner separated for +the evening than Manabozho was striding off the couple of hundred miles +necessary to bring him to the place where the black rock was to be +procured, while down the other side of the mountain hurried Ningabinn, +the West. + +At the break of day they each appeared at the great level on the +mountain-top, Manabozho with twenty loads, at least, of the black +stone, on one side, and on the other the West, with a whole meadow of +bulrush in his arms. + +Manabozho was the first to strike—hurling a great piece of the black +rock, which struck the West directly between the eyes, and he returned +the favor with a blow of bulrush that rung over the shoulders of +Manabozho, far and wide, like the long lash of the lightning among the +clouds. + +First one and then the other, Manabozho poured in a tempest of black +rock, while the West discharged a shower of bulrush. Blow upon blow, +thwack upon thwack—they fought hand to hand until black rock and +bulrush were all gone. Then they betook themselves to hurling crags at +each other, cudgeling with huge oak trees, and defying each other from +one mountain top to another; while at times they shot enormous boulders +of granite across at each other’s heads, as though they had been mere +jackstones. The battle, which had commenced on the mountains, had +extended far west. The West was forced to give ground. Manabozho +pressing on, drove him across rivers and mountains, ridges and lakes, +till at last he got him to the very brink of the world. + +“Hold!” cried the West. “My son, you know my power, and although I +allow I am now fairly out of breath, it is impossible to kill me. Stop +where you are, and I will also portion you out with as much power as +your brothers. The four quarters of the globe are already occupied, but +you can go and do a great deal of good to the people of the earth, +which is beset with serpents, beasts and monsters, who make great havoc +of human life. Go and do good, and if you put forth half the strength +you have to-day, you will acquire a name that will last forever. When +you have finished your work I will have a place provided for you. You +will then go and sit with your brother, Kabinocca, in the north.” + +Manabozho gave his father his hand upon this agreement. And parting +from. him, he returned to his own grounds, where he lay for some time +sore of his wounds. + + + + +WHY THE DIVER DUCK HAS SO FEW TAIL FEATHERS + + +Adapted from H. R. Schoolcraft + +Having overcome the powerful Pearl Feather, killed his serpents and +escaped all is wiles and charms, the heart of Manabozho welled within +him. An unconquerable desire for further adventures seized upon him. He +had won in a great fight on land, so he determined his next success +should come to him from the water. + +He tried his luck as a fisherman and with such success that he captured +an enormous fish, a fish so rich in fat that with the oil Manabozho was +able to form a small lake. Wishing to be generous, and at the same time +having a cunning plan of his own, he invited all the birds and beasts +of his acquaintance to come and feast upon the oil, telling them that +the order in which they partook of the banquet would decide how fat +each was to be for all time to come. + +As fast as they arrived he told them to plunge in and help themselves. + +The first to make his appearance was the bear, who took a long and +steady draft; then came the deer, the opossum, and such others of the +family as are noted for their comfortable covering. The moose and the +buffalo were late in arriving on the scene, and the partridge, always +lean in flesh, looked on till the supply was nearly gone. There was not +a drop left by the time the hare and the marten appeared on the shore +of the lake, and they are, in consequence, the slenderest of all +creatures. + +When this ceremony was over Manabozho suggested to his friends, the +assembled birds and animals, that the occasion was proper for a little +merrymaking; and taking up his drum he cried out: + +“New songs from the South! Come, brothers, dance!” + +They all fell in and commenced their rounds. Whenever Manabozho, as he +stood in the circle, saw a fat fowl which he fancied pass him, he +adroitly wrung its neck and slipped it under his belt, at the same time +beating his drum and singing at the top of his lungs to drown the noise +of the fluttering, crying out in a tone of admiration: + +“That’s the way, my brothers; that’s the way.” At last a small duck of +the diver family, thinking there was something wrong, opened one eye +and saw what Manabozho was doing. Giving a spring, and crying: +“Ha-ha-a! Manabozho is killing us!” he made a dash for the water. + +Manabozho was so angry that the creature should have played the spy +that he gave chase, and just as the Diver Duck was getting into the +water he gave him a kick, which is the reason that the diver’s tail +feathers are few, his back flattened, and his legs straightened out, so +that when he is seen walking on land he makes a sorry looking figure. + +The other birds, having no ambition to be thrust in Manabozho’s belt, +flew off, and the animals scampered into the woods. + + + + +MANAIBOZHO IS CHANGED INTO A WOLF + + +Adapted from H. R. Schoolcraft + +One evening, as Manabozho was walking along the shore of a great lake, +weary and hungry, he met a great magician in the form of an Old Wolf, +with six young ones, coming toward him. + +The Wolf no Sooner caught sight of him than he told his whelps, who +were close beside him, to keep out of the way of Manabozho, “For I +know,” he said, “that it is that mischievous fellow whom we see +yonder.” + +The young wolves were in the act of running off when Manabozho cried +out, “My grandchildren, where are you going? Stop and I will go with +you. I wish to have a little chat with your excellent father.” + +Saying which, he advanced and greeted the Old Wolf, expressing himself +as delighted at seeing him looking so well. “Whither do you journey?” +he asked. + +“We are looking for a good hunting-ground to pass the winter,” the Old +Wolf answered. “What brings you here?” + +“I was looking for you,” said Manabozho. “For I have a passion for the +chase, brother. I always admired your family; are you willing to change +me into a wolf?” + +The Wolf gave him a favorable answer, and he was forthwith changed into +a wolf. + +“Well, that will do,” said Manabozho. “But,” he said, looking at his +tail, “could you oblige me by making my tail a little longer and more +bushy, just a little more bushy?” + +“Certainly,” said the Old Wolf; and he straightway gave Manabozho such +a length and spread of tail that it was continually getting between his +legs, and it was so heavy that it was as much as he could do to carry +it. But, having asked for it, he was ashamed to say a word, and they +all started off in company, dashing up the ravine. + +After getting into the woods for some distance they ran across the +tracks of moose. The young ones scampered off in pursuit, the Old Wolf +and Manabozho following at their leisure. + +“Well,” said the Old Wolf, by way of starting the conversation, “who do +you think is the fastest of the boys? Can you tell by the jumps they +take?” + +“Why,” he replied, “that one that takes such long jumps, he is surely +the fastest.” + +“Ha! ha! you are mistaken,” said the Old Wolf. “He makes a good start, +but he will be the first to tire out; this one who appears to be behind +will be the one to kill the game.” + +By this time they had come to the spot where the boys had started in +chase. One had dropped what seemed to be a small medicine-sack, which +he carried for the use of the hunting party. + +“Take that, Manabozho,” said the Old Wolf. + +“Why, what will I do with a dirty dog skin?” + +The Old Wolf took it up; it was a beautiful robe. + +“Oh, I will carry it now,” cried Manabozho. + +“Oh, no,” said the Wolf, who had used his magical powers, “it is a robe +of pearls. Come along!” And away he sped at a great rate of speed. + +“Not so fast,” called Manabozho after him; and then he added to himself +as he panted after, “Oh, this tail!” + +Coming to a place where the moose had lain down, they saw that the +young wolves had made a fresh start after their prey. “Why,” said the +Old Wolf, “this moose is thin. I know by the tracks. I can always tell +whether they are fat or not.” A little farther on, one of the young +wolves, in dashing at the moose, had broken a tooth on a tree. + +“Manabozho,” said the Old Wolf, “one of your grandchildren has shot at +the game. Take his arrow; there it is.” + +“No,” replied Manabozho, “what will I do with a dirty dog’s tooth?” + +The Old Wolf took it up, and behold it was a beautiful silver arrow. + +When they at last overtook them, they found that the youngsters had +killed a very fat moose. Manabozho was very hungry, but the Old Wolf +just then again exerted his magical powers, and Manabozho saw nothing +but the bones picked quite clean. He thought to himself, “Just as I +expected; dirty, greedy fellows. If it had not been for this log at my +back I should have been in time to have got a mouthful”; and he cursed +the bushy tail which he carried to the bottom of his heart. + +The Old Wolf finally called out to one of the young ones, “Give some +meat to your grandfather.” + +One of them obeyed, and coming near to Manabozho he presented him the +end of his own bushy tail, which was now nicely seasoned with burs +gathered in the course of the hunt. Manabozho jumped up and called out: +“You dog, do you think I am going to eat you?” And he walked off in +anger. + +“Come back brother,” cried the Wolf. “You are losing your eyes. You do +the child injustice. Look there!” and behold a heap of fresh meat was +lying on the spot, all prepared. + +Manabozho turned back, and at the sight of so much good food put on a +smiling face. “Wonderful!” he said, “how fine the meat is!” + +“Yes,” replied the Old Wolf, “it is always so with us; we know our work +and always get the best. It is not a long tail that makes the hunter.” + +Manabozho bit his lip. + + + + +WHY THE WOODPECKER HAS RED HEAD FEATHERS + + +Adapted from H. R. Schoolcraft + +When his wounds had all been cured by his grandmother’s skill in +medicine, Manabozho, as big and sturdy as ever, was ripe for new +adventures. He set his thoughts immediately upon a war excursion +against the Pearl Feather, a wicked old manito, living on the other +side of the great lake, who had killed his grandfather. + +He began his preparations by making huge bows and arrows without +number, but he had no arrow heads. At last his grandmother, Noko, told +him that an old man who lived at some distance could furnish him with +some, and he sent her to get them. Though she returned with her wrapper +full, he told her that he had not enough and sent her again for more. + +In the meanwhile he thought to himself, “I must find out the way of +making these heads.” + +Instead of directly asking how it was done, he preferred—just like +Manabozho—to deceive his grandmother, in order to learn what he wanted +by a trick. “Noko,” said he, “while I take my drum and rattle, and sing +my war songs, do you go and try to get me some larger heads, for these +you have brought me are all of the same size. Go and see whether the +old man is not willing to make some a little larger.” + +He followed her at a distance as she went, having left his drum at the +lodge, with a great bird tied at the top, whose fluttering wings should +keep up the drumbeat, the same as if he were standing there beating the +drum himself. He saw the old workman busy, and learned how he prepared +the heads; he also beheld the old man’s daughter, who was very +beautiful. Manabozho discovered for the first time that he had a heart +of his own, and the sigh he heaved passed through the arrow maker’s +lodge like a young gale of wind. + +“My how it blows!” said the old man. + +“It must be from the south, though,” said the daughter, “it is so +fragrant.” + +Manabozho slipped away, and in two strides he was at home, shouting +forth his songs as though he had never left the lodge. He had just time +to untie the bird which had been beating the drum when his grandmother +came in and gave him the big arrowheads. + +In the evening the grandmother said, “My son, you ought to fast before +you go to war, as your brothers do, to find out whether you will be +successful or not.” + +He said he had no objection. Having privately stored away in a shady +place in the forest two or three dozen juicy bears, a moose, and twenty +strings of the tenderest birds, he would retire from the lodge so far +as to be entirely out of view of his grandmother and fall to and enjoy +himself heartily. At nightfall, having dispatched a dozen birds and +half a bear or so, he would return, tottering and forlorn, as if quite +famished, so as to make his grandmother feel sorry for him. + +When he had finished his term of fasting, in the course of which he +slyly dispatched twenty fat bears, six dozen birds, and two fine moose, +Manabozho sung his war song and embarked in his canoe, fully prepared +for war. + +Besides his weapons he took along a large supply of oil. + +He traveled rapidly night and day, for he had only to will or speak, +and the canoe went. At length he arrived in sight of the fiery +serpents, and stopped to study them. He noticed that they were of +enormous length and of a bright color, that they were some distance +apart, and that the flames which poured forth from the mouths reached +across the pass, so he said good morning and began talking with them in +a very friendly way. They were not to be deceived, however. + +“We know you, Manabozho,” they said, “you cannot pass.” + +Turning his canoe as if about to go back, he suddenly cried out with a +loud and terrified voice: “WHAT IS THAT BEHIND YOU?” + +The serpents thrown off their guard, instantly turned their heads, and +in a moment Manabozho glided silently past them. + +“Well,” said he, softly, after he had got by, “how about it?” + +He then took up his bow and arrows, and with deliberate aim shot every +one of them easily, for the serpents were fixed to one spot and could +not even turn around. + +Having thus escaped the sentinel serpents, Manabozho pushed on in his +canoe until he came to a part of the lake called Pitch-Water, as +whatever touched it was sure to stick fast. + +But Manabozho was prepared with his oil and, rubbing his canoe freely +with it, from end to end, he slipped through with ease—and he was the +first person who had ever succeeded in passing through the Pitch-Water. + +“Nothing like a little oil,” said Manabozho to himself. + +Having by this time come in view of land, he could see the lodge of the +Shining Manito, high upon a distant hill. At the dawn of day he put his +clubs and arrows in order and began his attack, yelling and shouting +and beating his drum, and calling out so as to make it appear that he +had many followers: + +“Surround him! surround him! run up! run up!” + +He stalked bravely forward, shouting aloud, “It was you that killed my +grandfather,” and shot off a whole forest of arrows. + +The Pearl Feather appeared on the height, blazing like the sun, and +paid back Manabozho with a tempest of bolts which rattled like hail. + +All day long the fight was kept up, and Manabozho had fired all of his +arrows but three without effect, for the Shining Manito was clothed in +pure wampum. It was only by immense leaps to right and left that +Manabozho could save his head from the sturdy blows which fell about +him on every side, like pine.trees, from the hands of the Manito. He +was badly bruised, and at his very wits’ end, when a large Woodpecker +flew past and lit on a tree. It was a bird he had known on the prairie, +near his grandmother’s lodge. + +“Manabozho,” called out the Woodpecker, “your enemy has a weak point; +shoot at the lock of hair on the crown of his head.” + +The first arrow he shot only drew a few drops of blood. The Manito made +one or two unsteady steps, but recovered himself. He began to parley, +but Manabozho, now that he had discovered a way to reach him, was in no +humor to trifle, and he let slip another arrow which brought the +Shining Manito to his knees. Having the crown of his head within good +range Manabozho shot his third arrow, and the Manito fell forward upon +the ground, dead. + +Manabozho called the Woodpecker to come and receive a reward for the +timely hint he had given him, and he rubbed the blood of the Shining +Manito on the Woodpecker’s head, the feathers of which are red to this +day. + +Full of his victory, Manabozho returned home, beating his war drum +furiously and shouting aloud his song of triumph. His grandmother was +on the shore to welcome him with the war dance, which she performed +with wonderful skill for one so far advanced in years. + + + + +MANABOZHO IS ROBBED BY THE WOLVES + + +Adapted from H. R. Schoolcraft + +Shortly after this the Old Wolf suggested to Manabozho that he should +go out and try his luck in hunting by himself. When he chose to put his +mind to it he was quite expert, and this time he succeeded in killing a +fine fat moose which he thought he would take aside slyly and devour +alone. + +He was very hungry and he sat down to eat, but as he never could go to +work in a straightforward way, he immediately fell into great doubts as +to the proper point at which to begin. + +“Well,” said he, “I do not know where to commence. At the head? No, +people will laugh, and say, ‘He ate him backward.’” + +He went to the side. “No,” said he, “they will say I ate him sideways.” + +He then went to the hind quarter. “No, that will not do, either; they +will say I ate him forward. I will begin here, say what they will.” + +He took a delicate piece from the small of the back, and was just on +the point of putting it to his mouth when a tree close by made a +creaking noise. He seemed vexed at the sound. He raised the morsel to +his mouth the second time, when the tree creaked again. + +“Why,” he exclaimed, “I cannot eat when I hear such a noise. “Stop, +stop!” he cried to the tree. He put down the morsel of meat, +exclaiming. “I CANNOT eat with such a noise,” and starting away he +climbed the tree and was actually pulling at the limb which had +bothered him, when his forepaw was caught between the branches so that +he could not free himself. + +While thus held fast he saw a pack of wolves advancing through the wood +in the direction of his meat. He suspected them to be the Old Wolf and +his cubs, but night was coming on and he could not make them out. “Go +the other way, go the other Way!” he cried out; “what do you expect to +get here?” + +The Wolves stopped for a while and talked among themselves, and said: +“Manabozho must have something there, or he would not tell us to go +another way.” + +“I begin to know know him,” said the Old Wolf, “and all his tricks. Let +us go forward and see.” They came on and, finding the moose soon made +away with it. + +Manabozho looked wistfully on while they ate until they were fully +satisfied, when off they scampered in high spirits. A heavy blast of +wind opened the branches finally, and released him. The wolves had left +nothing but bare bones. He made for home. + +When he related his mishap, the Old Wolf, taking him by the forepaw, +condoled with him deeply on his ill luck. A tear even started to his +eye as he added: “My brother, this should teach us not to meddle with +points of ceremony when we have good meat to eat.” + + + + +MANABOZHO AND THE WOODPECKERS + + +Adapted from H. R. Schoolcraft + +Manabozho lost the greater part of his magical power through letting +his young wolf grandson fall through the thin ice and drown. No one +knew where his grandmother had gone to. He married the arrow maker’s +daughter, and became the father of several children, but he was very +poor and scarcely able to procure a living. His lodge was pitched in a +distant part of the country, where he could get no game, and it was +winter time. One day he said to his wife, “I will go out walking and +see if I can find some lodges.” + +After walking some time he finally discovered a lodge at a distance. +There were children playing at the door, and when they saw him +approaching they ran in and told their parents Manabozho was coming. + +It was the home of the large Red-Headed Woodpecker. He came to the door +and asked Manabozho to enter, and the invitation was promptly accepted. +After some time the Woodpecker, who was a magician, said to his wife: +“Have you nothing to give Manabozho? he must be hungry.” + +She answered, “No.” + +“He ought not to go without his supper,” said the Woodpecker. “I will +see what I can do.” + +In the center of the lodge stood a large tamarack tree. Upon this the +Woodpecker flew, and commenced going up, turning his head on each side +of the tree, and every now and then driving in his bill. At last he +pulled something out of the tree and threw it down, when, behold, a +fine fat raccoon lay on the ground. He drew out six or seven more, and +then came down and told his wife to prepare them. + +“Manabozho,” he said, “this is the only thing we eat; what else can we +give you?” + +“It is very good,” replied Manabozho. + +They smoked their pipes and conversed, and after a while Manabozho got +ready to go home, so the Woodpecker said to his wife, “Give him the +Other raccoons to take home for his children.” + +In the act of leaving the lodge Manabozho on purpose dropped one of his +mittens, which was soon after observed upon the ground. “Run,” said the +Woodpecker to his eldest son, “and give it to him; but mind that you do +not give it into his hand; throw it at him, for there is no knowing +what he may do, he acts so curiously.” + +The boy did as he was directed. “Grandfather,” he said, as he came up +to him, “you have left one of your mittens, and here it is.” + +“Yes,” he said, making believe he did not know he had dropped it, “so I +did; but don’t throw it, you will get it wet on the snow.” + +The lad, however, threw it, and was about to return when Manabozho +cried out, “Bakah! Bakah! Stop, stop; is that all you eat? Do you eat +nothing else with your raccoon? Tell me!” + +“Yes, that is all, answered the Young Woodpecker; “we have nothing +else.” + +“Tell your father,” continued Manabozho, “to come and visit me, and let +him bring a sack. I will give him what he shall eat with his raccoon +meat.” + +When the young one returned and reported this message to his father the +Old Woodpecker turned up his nose at the invitation. “I wonder,” he +said “what he thinks he has got, poor fellow!” He was bound, however, +to answer the offer of hospitality, and he went accordingly, taking +along a cedar-sack, to pay a visit to Manabozho. + +Manabozho received the Old Red-Headed Woodpecker with great ceremony. +He had stood at the door awaiting his arrival, and as soon as he came +in sight Manabozho commenced, while he was yet far off, bowing and +opening wide his arms, in token of welcome; all of which the Woodpecker +returned in due form, by ducking his bill and hopping to right and +left, extending his wings to their full length and fluttering them back +to his breast. + +When the Woodpecker at last reached the lodge Manabozho made several +remarks upon the weather, the appearance of the country, and especially +spoke of the scarcity of game. “But we,” he added—“we always have +enough. Come in, and you shall not go away hungry, my noble birds!” + +Manabozho had always prided himself on being able to give as good as he +had received; and to be up with the Woodpecker he had shifted his lodge +so as to inclose a large dry tamarack tree. + +“What can I give you?” said he to the Woodpecker; “as we eat so shall +you eat.” + +With this he hopped forward and, jumping on the tamarack tree, he +attempted to climb it just as he had seen the Woodpecker do in his own +lodge. He turned his head first on one side and then on the other, as +the Woodpecker does, striving to go up the tree, but as often slipping +down. Every now and then he would strike the tree with his nose, as if +it was a bell, and draw back as if to pull something out of the tree, +but he pulled out no raccoons. He dashed his nose so often against the +trunk that at last the blood began to flow, and he tumbled down +senseless on the ground. + +The Woodpecker started up with his drum and rattle to restore him, and +by beating them violently he succeeded in bringing him to. + +As soon as he came to his senses, Manabozho began to lay the blame of +his failure upon his wife, saying to his guest: “Nemesho, it is this +woman relation of yours—she is the cause of my not succeeding. She has +made me a worthless fellow. Before I married her I also could get +raccoons. + +The Woodpecker said nothing, but flying on the tree he drew out several +fine raccoons. “Here,” said he, “this is the way we do” and left him in +disdain, carrying his bill high in the air, and stepping over the +doorsill as if it were not worthy to be touched by his toes. + + + + +THE BOY AND THE WOLVES + + +Retold by Andrew Lang + +Once upon a time an Indian hunter built himself a house in the middle +of a great forest, far away from all his tribe; for his heart was +gentle and kind and he was weary of the treachery and cruel deeds of +those who had been his friends. So he left them and took his wife and +three children, and they journeyed on until they found a spot near to a +clear stream, where they began to cut down trees and to make ready +their wigwam. For many years they lived peacefully and happily in this +sheltered place, never leaving it except to hunt the wild animals, +which served them both for food and clothes. At last, however, the +strong man fell sick, and before long lie knew he must die. So he +gathered his family round him and said his last words to them. + +“You, my wife, the companion of my days, will follow me ere many moons +have waned to the island of the blessed. But for you, 0 my children, +whose lives are but newly begun, the wickedness, unkindness, and +ingratitude from which I fled are before you. Yet I shall go hence in +peace, my children, if you will promise always to love each other and +never to forsake your youngest brother.” + +“Never!” they replied, holding out their hands. And the hunter died +content. + +Scarcely eight moons had passed when, just as he had said, the wife +went forth and followed her husband; but before leaving her children +she bade the two elder ones think of their promise never to forsake the +younger, for he was a child and weak. And while the snow lay thick upon +the ground they tended him and cherished him; but when the earth showed +green again the heart of the young man stirred within him, and he +longed to see the wigwams of the village where his father’s youth was +spent. + +Therefore he opened all his heart to his sister, who answered: “My +brother, I understand your longing for our fellow-men, whom here we +cannot see. But remember our father’s words. Shall we not seek our own +pleasures and forget the little one?” + +But he would not listen, and, making no reply, he took his bow and +arrows and left the hut. The snows fell and melted, yet he never +returned, and at last the heart of the girl grew cold and hard and her +little boy became a burden in her eyes, till one day she spoke thus to +him: “See, there is food for many days to come. Stay here within the +shelter of the hut. I go to seek our brother, and when I have found him +I shall return hither.” + +But when, after hard journeying, she reached the village where her +brother dwelt and saw that he had a wife and was happy, and when she, +too, was sought by a young brave, then she also forgot the boy alone in +the forest and thought only of her husband. + +Now as soon as the little boy had eaten all the food which his sister +had left him, he went out into the woods and gathered berries and dug +up roots, and while the sun shone he was contented and had his fill. +But when the snows began and the wind howled, then his stomach felt +empty and his limbs cold, and he hid in trees all the night and only +crept out to eat what the wolves had left behind. And by and by, having +no other friends, he sought their company, and sat by while they +devoured their prey, and they grew to know him and gave him food. And +without them he would have died in the snow. But at last the snows +melted and the ice upon the great lake, and as the wolves went down to +the shore the boy went after them. And it happened one day that his big +brother was fishing in his canoe near the shore, and he heard the voice +of a child singing in the Indian tone: + +“My brother, my brother! +I am becoming a wolf, +I am becoming a wolf!” + + +And when he had so sung he howled as wolves howl. Then the heart of the +elder sank and he hastened toward him, crying: “Brother, little +brother, come to me;” but he, being half a wolf, only continued his +song. And the louder the elder called him, “Brother, little brother, +come to me,” the swifter he fled after his brothers the wolves and the +heavier grew his skin, till, with a long howl, he vanished into the +depths of the forest. + +So, with shame and anguish in his soul, the elder brother went back to +his village, and with his sister mourned the little boy and the broken +promise till the end of his life. + + + + +THE INDIAN WHO LOST HIS WIFE + + +Retold by Andrew Lang + +Once upon a time there was a man and his wife who lived in the forest +far from the rest of the tribe. Very often they spent the day in +hunting together, but after awhile the wife found that she had so many +things to do that she was obliged to stay at home; so he went alone, +though he found that when his wife was not with him he never had any +luck. One day, when he was away hunting, the woman fell ill, and in a +few days she died. Her husband grieved bitterly and buried her in the +house where she had passed her life; but as the time went on he felt so +lonely without her that he made a wooden doll about her height amid +size for company and dressed it in her clothes. He seated it in front +of the fire and tried to think he had his wife back again. The next day +he went out to hunt, and when he came home the first thing he did was +to go up to the doll and brush off some of the ashes from the fire +which had fallen on its face. But he was very busy now, for he had to +cook and mend, besides getting food, for there was no one to help him. +And so a whole year passed away. + +At the end of that time he came back from hunting one night and found +some wood by the door and a fire within. The next night there was not +only wood and fire, but a piece of meat in the kettle, nearly ready for +eating. He searched all about to see who could have done this, but +could find no one. The next time he went to hunt he took care not to go +far and came in quite early. And while he was still a long way off he +saw a woman going into the house with wood on her shoulders. So he made +haste and opened the door quickly, and instead of the wooden doll his +wife sat in front of the fire. Then she spoke to him and said: + +“The Great Spirit felt sorry for you because you would not be +comforted, so he let me come back to you, but you must not stretch out +your hand to touch me till we have seen the rest of our people. If you +do I shall die.” + +So the man listened to her words, and the woman dwelt there and brought +the wood and kindled the fire, till one day her husband said to her: + +“It is now two years since you died. Let us now go back to our tribe. +Then you will be well and I can touch you.” + +And with that he prepared food for the journey, a string of deer’s +flesh for her to carry and one for himself; and so they started. Now, +the camp of the tribe was distant six days’ journey, and when they were +yet one day’s journey off it began to snow, and they felt weary and +longed for rest. Therefore they made a fire, cooked some food, and +spread out their skins to sleep. + +Then the heart of the man was greatly stirred and he stretched out his +arms to his wife, but she waved her hands and said: + +“We have seen no one yet. It is too soon.” + +But he would not listen to her and caught her to him, and behold! he +was clasping the wooden doll. And when he saw it was the doll he pushed +it from him in his misery and rushed away to the camp and told them all +his story. And some doubted, and they went back with him to the place +where he and his wife had stopped to rest, and there lay the doll, and +besides, they saw in time snow the steps of two people, and the foot of +one was like the foot of the doll. And the man grieved sore all the +days of his life. + + + + +PUNCHKIN + + +By E. Frere + +Once upon a time there was a Raja who had seven beautiful daughters. +They were all good girls; but the youngest, named Balna, was more +clever than the rest. The Raja’s wife died when they were quite little +children, so these seven poor Princesses were left with no mother to +take care of them. + +The Raja’s daughters took it by turns to cook their father’s dinner +every day, while he was absent deliberating with his Ministers on the +affairs of the nation. + +About this time the Prudhan died, leaving a widow and one daughter; and +every day, when the seven Princesses were preparing their father’s +dinner, the Prudhan’s widow and daughter would come and beg for a +little fire from the hearth. Then Balna used to say to her sisters, +“Send that woman away; send her away. Let her get the fire at her own +house. What does she want with ours? If we allow her to come here, we +shall suffer for it some day.” + +But the other sisters would answer, “Be quiet, Balna; why must you +always be quarreling with this poor woman? Let her take some fire if +she likes.” Then the Prudhan’s widow used to go to the hearth and take +a few sticks from it; and while no one was looking, she would quickly +throw some mud into the midst of the dishes which were being prepared +for the Raja’s dinner. + +Now the Raja was very fond of his daughters. Ever since their mother’s +death they had cooked his dinner with their own hands, in order to +avoid the danger of his being poisoned by his enemies. So, when he +found the mud mixed up with his dinner, he thought it must arise from +their carelessness, as it did not seem likely that anyone should have +put mud there on purpose; but being very kind he did not like to +reprove them for it, although this spoiling of the curry was repeated +many days. + +At last, one day, he determined to hide, and watch his daughters +cooking, and see how it all happened; so he went into the next room, +and watched them through a hole in the wall. + +There he saw his seven daughters carefully washing the rice and +preparing the curry, and as each dish was completed, they put it by the +fire ready to be cooked. Next he noticed the Prudhan’s widow come to +the door, and beg for a few sticks from the fire to cook her dinner +with. Balna turned to her, angrily, and said, “Why don’t you keep fuel +in your own house, and not come here every day and take ours? Sisters, +don’t give this woman any more wood; let her buy it for herself.” + +Then the eldest sister answered, “Balna, let the poor woman take the +wood and the fire; she does us no harm.” But Balna replied, “If you let +her come here so often, maybe she will do us some harm, and make us +sorry for it, some day.” + +The Raja then saw the Prudhan’s widow go to the place where all his +dinner was nicely prepared, and, as she took the wood, she threw a +little mud into each of the dishes. + +At this he was very angry, and sent to have the woman seized and +brought before him. But when the widow came, she told him that she had +played this trick because she wanted to gain an audience with him; and +she spoke so cleverly, and pleased him so well with her cunning words, +that instead of punishing her, the Raja married her, and made her his +Ranee, and she and her daughter came to live in the palace. + +Now the new Ranee hated the seven poor Princesses, and wanted to get +them, if possible, out of the way, in order that her daughter might +have all their riches, and live in the palace as Princess in their +place; and instead of being grateful to them for their kindness to her, +she did all she could to make them miserable. She gave them nothing but +bread to eat, and very little of that, and very little water to drink; +so these seven poor little Princesses, who had been accustomed to have +everything comfortable about them, and good food and good clothes all +their lives long, were very miserable and unhappy; and they used to go +out every day and sit by their dead mother’s tomb and cry—and say: + +“O mother, mother, cannot you see your poor children, how unhappy we +are, and how we are starved by our cruel stepmother?” + +One day, while they were thus sobbing and crying, lo and behold! a +beautiful pomelo tree grew up out of the grave, covered with fresh, +ripe pomeloes, and the children satisfied their hunger by eating some +of the fruit, and every day after this, instead of trying to eat the +bad dinner their stepmother provided for them, they used to go out to +their mother’s grave and eat the pommels which grew there on the +beautiful tree. + +Then the Ranee said to her daughter, “I cannot tell how it is, every +day those seven girls say they don’t want any dinner, and won’t eat +any; and yet they never grow thin nor look ill; they look better than +you do. I cannot tell how it is.” And she bade her watch the seven +Princesses, and see if anyone gave them anything to eat. + +So next day, when the Princesses went to their mother’s grave, and were +eating the beautiful pomeloes, the Prudhan’s daughter followed them, +and saw them gathering the fruit. + +Then Balna said to her sisters, “Do you not see that girl watching us? +Let us drive her away, or hide the pomeloes, else she will go and tell +her mother all about it, and that will be bad for us.” + +But the other sisters said, “Oh no, do not be unkind, Balna. The girl +would never be so cruel as to tell her mother. Let us rather invite her +to come and have some of the fruit.” And calling her to them, they gave +her one of the pomeloes. + +No sooner had she eaten it, however, than the Prudhan’s daughter went +home and said to her mother, “I do not wonder the seven Princesses will +not eat the dinner you prepare for them, for by their mother’s grave +there grows a beautiful pomelo tree, and they go there every day and +eat the pomeloes. I ate one, and it was the nicest I have ever tasted.” + +The cruel Ranee was much vexed at hearing this, and all next day she +stayed in her room, and told the Raja that she had a very bad headache. +The Raja was deeply grieved, and said to his wife, “What can I do for +you?” She answered, “There is only one thing that will make my headache +well. By your dead wife’s tomb there grows a fine pomelo tree; you must +bring that here, and boil it, root and branch, and put a little of the +water in which it has been boiled on my forehead, and that will cure my +headache.” So the Raja sent his servants, and had the beautiful pomelo +tree pulled up by the roots, and did as the Ranee desired; and when +some of the water, in which it had been boiled, was put on her +forehead, she said her headache was gone and she felt quite well. + +Next day, when the seven Princesses went as usual to the grave of their +mother, the pomelo tree had disappeared. Then they all began to cry +very bitterly. + +Now there was by the Ranee’s tomb a small tank, and as they were crying +they saw the tank was filled with a rich cream-like substance, which +quickly hardened into a thick white cake. At seeing this all the +Princesses were very glad, and they ate some of the cake, and liked it; +and next day the same thing happened, and so it went on for many days. +Every morning the Princesses went to their mother’s grave, and found +the little tank filled with the nourishing cream-like cake. Then the +cruel stepmother said to her daughter: “I cannot tell how it is, I have +had the pomelo tree which used to grow by the Ranee’s grave destroyed, +and yet the Princesses grow no thinner, nor look more sad, though they +never eat the dinner I give them. I cannot tell how it is!” + +And her daughter said, “I will watch.” + +Next day, while the Princesses were eating the cream cake, who should +come by but their stepmother’s daughter. Balna saw her first, and said, +“See, sisters, there comes that girl again. Let us sit round the edge +of the tank and not allow her to see it, for if we give her some of our +cake, she will go and tell her mother; and that will be very +unfortunate for us.” + +The other sisters, however, thought Balna unnecessarily suspicious, and +instead of following her advice, they gave the Prudhan’s daughter some +of the cake, and she went home and told her mother all about it. + +The Ranee, on hearing how well the Princesses fared, was exceedingly +angry, and sent her servants to pull down the dead Ranee’s tomb, and +fill the little tank with the ruins. And not content with this, she +next day pretended to be very, very ill—in fact, at the point of +death—and when the Raja was much grieved, and asked her whether it was +in his power to procure her any remedy, she said to him: “Only one +thing can save my life, but I know you will not do it.” He replied, +“Yes, whatever it is, I will do it.” She then said, “To save my life, +you must kill the seven daughters of your first wife, and put some of +their blood on my forehead and on the palms of my hands, and their +death will be my life.” At these words the Raja was very sorrowful; but +because he feared to break his word, he went out with a heavy heart to +find his daughters. + +He found them crying by the ruins of their mother’s grave. + +Then, feeling he could not kill them, the Raja spoke kindly to them, +and told them to come out into the jungle with him; and there he made a +fire and cooked some rice, and gave it to them. But in the afternoon, +it being very hot, the seven Princesses all fell asleep, and when he +saw they were fast asleep, the Raja, their father, stole away and left +them (for he feared his wife), saying to himself: “It is better my poor +daughters should die here, than be killed by their stepmother.” + +He then shot a deer, and returning home, put some of its blood on the +forehead and hands of the Ranee, and she thought then that he had +really killed the Princesses, and said she felt quite well. + +Meantime the seven Princesses awoke, and when they found themselves all +alone in the thick jungle they were much frightened, and began to call +out as loud as they could, in hopes of making their father hear; but he +was by that time far away, and would not have been able to hear them +even had their voices been as loud as thunder. + +It so happened that this very day the seven young sons of a neighboring +Raja chanced to be hunting in that same jungle, and as they were +returning home, after the day’s sport was over, the youngest Prince +said to his brothers: “Stop, I think I hear some one crying and calling +out. Do you not hear voices? Let us go in the direction of the sound, +and find out what it is.” + +So the seven Princes rode through the wood until they came to the place +where the seven Princesses sat crying and wringing their hands. At the +sight of them the young Princes were very much astonished, and still +more so on learning their story; and they settled that each should take +one of these poor forlorn ladies home with him, and marry her. + +So the first and eldest Prince took the eldest Princess home with him, +and married her. + +And the second took the second; and third took the third; and the +fourth took the fourth; and the fifth took the fifth; and the sixth +took the sixth; and the seventh, and the handsomest of all, took the +beautiful Balna. + +And when they got to their own land, there was great rejoicing +throughout the kingdom, at the marriage of the seven young Princes to +seven such beautiful Princesses. + +About a year after this Balna had a little son, and his uncles and +aunts were so fond of the boy that it was as if he had seven fathers +and seven mothers. None of the other Princes and Princesses had any +children, so the son of the seventh Prince and Balna was acknowledged +their heir by all the rest. + +They had thus lived very happily for some time, when one fine day the +seventh Prince (Balna’s husband) said he would go out hunting, and away +he went; and they waited long for him, but he never came back. + +Then his six brothers said they would go and see what had become of +him; and they went away, but they also did not return. + +And the seven Princesses grieved very much, for they feared that their +kind husbands must have been killed. + +One day, not long after this had happened, as Balna was rocking her +baby’s cradle, and while her sisters were working in the room below, +there came to the palace door a man in a long black dress, who said +that he was a Fakir, and came to beg. The servant said to him, “You +cannot go into the palace—the Raja’s sons have all gone away; we think +they must be dead, and their widows cannot be interrupted by your +begging.” But he said, “I am a holy man, you must let me in. Then the +stupid servants let him walk through the palace, but they did not know +that this was no Fakir, but a wicked Magician named Punchkin. + +Punchkin Fakir wandered through the palace, and saw many beautiful +things there, till at last he reached the room where Balna sat singing +beside her little boy’s cradle. The Magician thought her more beautiful +than all the other beautiful things he had seen, insomuch that he asked +her to go home with him and to marry him. But she said, “My husband, I +fear, is dead, but my little boy is still quite young; I will stay here +and teach him to grow up a clever man, and when he is grown up he shall +go out into the world, and try and learn tidings of his father. Heaven +forbid that I should ever leave him, or marry yon.” At these words the +Magician was very angry, and turned her into a little black dog, and +led her away; saying, “Since yon will not come with me of your own free +will, I will make you.” So the poor Princess was dragged away, without +any power of effecting an escape, or of letting her sisters know what +had become of her. As Punchkin passed through the palace gate the +servants said to him, “Where did yon get that pretty little dog?” And +he answered, “One of the Princesses gave it to me as a present.” At +hearing which they let him go without further questioning. + +Soon after this, the six elder Princesses heard the little baby, their +nephew, begin to cry, and when they went upstairs they were much +surprised to find him all alone, and Balna nowhere to be seen. Then +they questioned the servants, and when they heard of the Fakir and the +little black dog, they guessed what had happened, and sent in every +direction seeking them, but neither the Fakir nor the dog were to be +found. What could six poor women do? They gave up all hopes of ever +seeing their kind husbands, and their sister, and her husband again, +and devoted themselves thenceforward to teaching and taking care of +their little nephew. + +Thus time went on, till Balna’s son was fourteen years old. Then, one +day, his aunts told him the history of the family; and no sooner did he +hear it, than be was seized with a great desire to go in search of his +father and mother and uncles, and if he could find them alive to bring +them home again. His aunts, on learning his determination, were much +alarmed and tried to dissuade him, saying, “We have lost our husbands, +and our sister and her husband, and you are now our sole hope; if you +go away, what shall we do?” But he replied, “I pray you not to be +discouraged; I will return soon, and if it is possible bring my father +and mother and uncles with me.” So he set out on his travels; but for +some months he could learn nothing to help him in his search. + +At last, after he had journeyed many hundreds of weary miles, and +become almost hopeless of ever hearing anything further of his parents, +he one day came to a country that seemed full of stones, and rocks, and +trees, and there he saw a large palace with a tower; hard by was a +Malee’s little house. + +As he was looking about, the Malee’s wife saw him, and ran out of the +house and said, “My dear boy, who are you that dare venture to this +dangerous place?” He answered, “I am a Raja’s son, and I come in search +of my father, and my uncles, and my mother whom a wicked enchanter +bewitched.” + +Then the Malee’s wife said, “This country and this palace belong to a +great enchanter; he is all powerful, and if anyone displeases him, he +can turn them into stones and trees. All the rocks and trees you see +here were living people once, and the Magician turned them to what they +now are. Some time ago a Raja’s son came here, and shortly afterward +came his six brothers, and they were all turned into stones and trees; +and these are not the only unfortunate ones, for up in that tower lives +a beautiful Princess, whom the Magician has kept prisoner there for +twelve years, because she hates him and will not marry him.” + +Then the little Prince thought, “These must be my parents and my +uncles. I have found what I seek at last.” So he told his story to the +Malee’s wife, and begged her to help him to remain in that place awhile +and inquire further concerning the unhappy people she mentioned; and +she promised to befriend him, and advised his disguising himself lest +the Magician should see him, and turn him likewise into stone. To this +the Prince agreed. So the Malee’s wife dressed him up in a saree, and +pretended that he was her daughter. + +One day, not long after this, as the Magician was walking in his garden +he saw the little girl (as he thought) playing about, and asked her who +she was. She told him she was the Malee’s daughter, and the Magician +said, “You are a pretty little girl, and to-morrow you shall take a +present of flowers from me to the beautiful lady who lives in the +tower.” + +The young Prince was much delighted at hearing this, and went +immediately to inform the Malee’s wife; after consultation with whom he +determined that it would be more safe for him to retain his disguise, +and trust to the chance of a favorable opportunity for establishing +some communication with his mother, if it were indeed she. + +Now it happened that at Balna’s marriage her husband had given her a +small gold ring on which her name was engraved, and she had put it on +her little son’s finger when he was a baby, and afterward when he was +older his aunts had had it enlarged for him, so that he was still able +to wear it. The Malee’s wife advised him to fasten the well-known +treasure to one of the bouquets he presented to his mother, and trust +to her recognizing it. This was not to be done without difficulty, as +such a strict watch was kept over the poor Princess (for fear of her +ever establishing communication with her friends), that though the +supposed Malee’s daughter was permitted to take her flowers every day, +the Magician or one of his slaves was always in the room at the time. +At last one day, however, opportunity favored him, and when no one was +looking the boy tied the ring to a nosegay, and threw it at Balna’s +feet. It fell with a clang on the floor, and Balna, looking to see what +made the strange sound, found the little ring tied to the flowers. On +recognizing it, she at once believed the story her son told her of his +long search, and begged him to advise her as to what she had better do; +at the same time entreating him on no account to endanger his life by +trying to rescue her. She told him that for twelve long years the +Magician had kept her shut up in the tower because she refused to marry +him, and she was so closely guarded that she saw no hope of release. + +Now Balna’s son was a bright, clever boy, so he said, “Do not fear, +dear mother; the first thing to do is to discover how far the +Magician’s power extends, in order that we may be able to liberate my +father and uncles, whom he has imprisoned in the form of the rocks and +trees. You have spoken to him angrily for twelve long years; now rather +speak kindly. Tell him you have given up all hopes of again seeing the +husband you have so long mourned, and say you are willing to harry him. +Then endeavor to find out what his power consists in, and whether he is +immortal, or can be put to death.” + +Balna determined to take her son’s advice; and the next day sent for +Punchkin, and spoke to him as had been suggested. + +The Magician greatly delighted, begged her to allow the wedding to take +place as soon as possible. + +But she told him that before she married him he must allow her a little +more time, in which she might make his acquaintance, and that, after +being enemies so long, their friendship could but strengthen by +degrees. “And do tell me,” she said, “are you quite immortal? Can death +never touch you? And are you too great an enchanter ever to feel human +suffering?” + +“Why do you ask?” said he. + +“Because,” she replied. “if I am to be your wife, I would fain know all +about you, in order, if any calamity threatens you, to overcome, or if +possible to avert it.” + +“It is true,” he added, “that I am not as others. Far, far away, +hundreds of thousands of miles from this, there lies a desolate country +covered with thick jungle. In the midst of the jungle grows a circle of +palm trees, and in the center of the circle stand six chattees full of +water, piled one above another: below the sixth chattee is a small cage +which contains a little green parrot; on the life of the parrot depends +my life; and if the parrot is killed I must die. It is. however,” he +added, “impossible that the parrot should sustain any injury, both on +account of the inaccessibility of the country, and because, by my +appointment, many thousand genii surround the palm trees, and kill all +who approach the place.” + +Balna told her son what Punchkin had said; but at the same time +implored him to give up all idea of getting the parrot. + +The Prince, however, replied, “Mother, unless I can get hold of that +parrot, you, and my father, and uncles, cannot be liberated: be not +afraid, I will shortly return. Do you, meantime, keep the Magician in +good humor—still putting off your marriage with him on various +pretexts; and before he finds out the cause of delay, I will be here.” +So saying, he went away. + +Many, many weary miles did he travel, till at last he came to a thick +jungle; and, being very tired, sat down under a tree and fell asleep. +He was awakened by a soft rustling sound, and looking about him, saw a +large serpent which was making its way to an eagle’s nest built in the +tree under which he lay, and in the nest were two young eagles. The +Prince seeing the danger of the young birds, drew his sword, and killed +the serpent; at the same moment a rushing sound was heard in the air, +and the two old eagles, who had been out hunting for food for their +young ones, returned. They quickly saw the dead serpent and the young +Prince standing over it; and the old mother eagle said to him, “Dear +boy, for many’ years all our young ones have been devoured by that +cruel serpent; you have now saved the lives of our children; whenever +you are in need therefore, send to us and we will help you; and as for +these little eagles, take them, and let them be your servants.” + +At this the Prince was very glad, and the two eaglets crossed their +wings, on which he mounted; and they carried him far, far away over the +thick, jungles, until he came to the place where grew the circle of +palm trees, in the midst of which stood the six chattees full of water. +It was the middle of the day, and the heat was very great. All round +the trees were the genii fast asleep; nevertheless, there were such +countless thousands of them, that it would have been quite impossible +for anyone to walk through their ranks to the place; down swooped the +strong-winged eaglets—down jumped the Prince; in an instant he had +overthrown the six chattees full of water, and seized the little green +parrot, which he rolled up in his cloak; while, as he mounted again +into the air, all the genii below awoke, and finding their treasure +gone, set up a wild and melancholy howl. + +Away, away flew the little eagles, till they came to their home in the +great tree; then the Prince said to the old eagles, “Take back your +little ones; they have done me good service; if ever again I stand in +need of help, I will not fail to come to you.” He then continued his +journey on foot till he arrived once more at the Magician’s palace, +where he sat down at the door and began playing with the Parrot. +Punchkin saw him, and came to him quickly, and said, “My boy, where did +yon get that parrot? Give it to me, I pray you.” + +But the Prince answered, “Oh no, I cannot give away my parrot, it is a +great pet of mine; I have had it many years.” + +Then the Magician said, “If it is an old favorite, I can understand +your not caring to give it away; but come, what will you sell it for?” + +“Sir,” said the Prince, “I will not sell my parrot.” + +Then Punchkin got frightened, and said, “Anything, anything; name what +price you will, and it shall be yours.” The Prince answered, “Let the +seven Raja’s sons whom you turned into rocks and trees be instantly +liberated.” + +“It is done as you desire,” said the Magician, “only give me my +parrot.” And With that, by a stroke of his wand, Balna’s husband and +his brothers resumed their natural shapes. “Now, give me my parrot,” +repeated Punchkin. + +“Not so fast, my master,” rejoined the Prince; “I must first beg that +you will restore to life all whom you have thus imprisoned.” + +The Magician immediately waved his wand again; and whilst he cried, in +an imploring voice, “Give me my parrot!” the whole garden became +suddenly alive: where rocks, and stones, and trees had been before, +stood Rajas, and Punts, and Sirdars, and mighty men on prancing horses, +and jeweled pages, and troops of armed attendants. + +“Give me my parrot!” cried Punchkin. Then the boy took hold of the +parrot, and tore off one of its wings; and as he did so the Magician’s +right arm fell off. + +Punchkin then stretched out his left arm, crying, “Give me my parrot!” +The Prince pulled off the parrot’s second wing, and the Magician’s left +arm tumbled off. + +“Give me my parrot!” cried he, and fell on his knees. The Prince pulled +off the parrot’s right leg, and the Magician’s right leg fell off: the +Prince pulled off the parrot’s left leg, down fell the Magician’s left. + +Nothing remained of him save the limbless body and the head; but still +he rolled his eyes, and cried “Give me my parrot!” “Take your parrot, +then, cried the boy, and with that. he wrung the bird’s neck, and threw +it at the magician; and as he did so, Punchkin’s head twisted round +and, with a fearful groan, he died! + +Then they let Balna out of the tower; and she, her son, and the seven +Princes went to their own country, and lived very happily ever +afterward. And as to the rest of the world, everyone went to his own +house. + + + + +HOW SUN, MOON AND WIND WENT OUT TO DINNER + + +By E. Frere + +One day Sun, Moon, and Wind went out to dine with their uncle and aunt +Thunder and Lightning. Their mother (one of the most distant Stars you +see far up in the sky) waited alone for her children’s return. + +Now both Sun and Wind were greedy and selfish. They enjoyed the great +feast that had been prepared for them, without a thought of saving any +of it to take home to their mother—but the gentle Moon did not forget +her. Of every dainty dish that was brought round, she placed a small +portion under one of her beautiful long fingernails, that Star might +also have a share in the treat. + +On their return, their mother, Who had kept watch for them all night +long with her little bright eye, said, “Well, children, what have yon +brought home for me?” Then Sun (who was eldest) said, “I have brought +nothing home for you. I went out to enjoy myself with my friends—not to +fetch dinner for my mother!” And Wind said, “Neither have I brought +anything home for you, mother. You could hardly expect me to bring a +collection of good things for you, when I merely went out for my own +pleasure.” But Moon said, “Mother, fetch a plate, see what I have +brought you.” And shaking her hands she showered down such a choice +dinner as never was seen before. + +Then Star turned to Sun and spoke thus, “Because you went out to amuse +yourself with your friends, and feasted and enjoyed yourself, without +any thought of our mother at home—you shall be cursed. Henceforth, your +rays shall ever be hot and scorching, and shall burn all that they +touch. And men shall hate you, and cover their heads when you appear. + +(And that is why the Sun is so hot to this day.) + +Then she turned to Wind and said, “You also who forgot your mother in +the midst of your selfish pleasures—hear your doom. You shall always +blow in the hot, dry weather, and shall parch and shrivel all living +things. And men shall detest and avoid you from this very time.” + +(And that is why the Wind in the hot weather is still so disagreeable.) + +But to Moon she said, “Daughter, because you remembered your mother, +and kept for her a share in your own enjoyment, from henceforth you +shall be ever cool, and calm and bright. No noxious glare shall +accompany your pure rays, and men shall always call you ‘blessed.’” + +(And that is why the Moon’s light is so soft, and cool, and beautiful +even to this day.) + + + + +WHY THE FISH LAUGHED + + +By Joseph Jacobs + +As a certain fisherwoman passed by a palace crying her fish, the queen +appeared at one of the windows and beckoned her to come near and show +what she had. At that moment a very big fish jumped about in the bottom +of the basket. + +“Is it a he or a she?” inquired the queen. “I wish to purchase a she +fish.” + +On hearing this the fish laughed aloud. + +“It’s a he,” replied the fisherwoman, and proceeded on her rounds. + +The queen returned to her room in a great rage; and on coming to see +her in the evening, the king noticed that something had disturbed her. + +“Are you indisposed?” he said. + +“No; but I am very much annoyed at the strange behavior of a fish. A +woman brought me one to-day, and on my inquiring whether it was a male +or female, the fish laughed most rudely.” + +“A fish laugh! Impossible! You must be dreaming.” + +“I am not a fool. I speak of what I have seen with my own eyes and +heard with my own ears.” + +“Passing strange! Be it so. I will inquire concerning it.” + +On the morrow the king repeated to his vizier what his wife had told +him, and bade him investigate the matter, and be ready with a +satisfactory answer within six mouths, on pain of death. The vizier +promised to do his best, though he felt almost certain of failure. For +live months he labored indefatigably to find a reason for the laughter +of the fish. He sought everywhere and from everyone. The wise and +learned, and they who were skilled in magic and in all manner of +trickery, were consulted. Nobody, however, could explain the matter; +and so he returned broken-hearted to his house, and began to arrange +his affairs in prospect of certain death, for he had had sufficient +experience of the king to know that His Majesty would not go back from +his threat. Amongst other things, he advised his son to travel for a +time, until the king’s anger should have somewhat cooled. + +The young fellow, who was both clever and handsome, started off +whithersoever Kismet might lead him. He had been gone some days, when +he fell in with an old farmer, who also was on a journey to a certain +village. Finding the old man very pleasant, he asked him if he might +accompany him, professing to be on a visit to the same place. The old +farmer agreed, and they walked along together. The day was hot, and the +way was long and weary. + +“Don’t yon think it would be pleasanter if you and I sometimes gave one +another a lift?” said the youth. + +“What a fool the man is!” thought the old farmer. + +Presently they passed through a field of corn ready for the sickle, and +looking’ like a sea of gold as it waved to and fro in the breeze. + +“Is this eaten or not?” said the young man. + +Not understanding his meaning, the old man replied, “I don’t know.” + +After a little while the two travelers arrived at a big village, where +the young man gave his companion a clasp knife, and said, “Take this, +friend, and get two horses with it; but mind and bring it back, for it +is very precious.” + +The old man, looking half amused and half angry, pushed back the knife, +muttering something to the effect that his friend was either a fool +himself or else tying to play the fool with him. The young man +pretended not to notice his reply, and remained almost silent till they +reached the city, a short distance outside which was the old farmer’s +house. + +They walked about the bazaar and went to the mosque, but nobody saluted +them or invited them to come in and rest. + +“What a large cemetery!” exclaimed the young man. + +“What does the man mean,” thought the old farmer, “calling this largely +populated city a cemetery?” + +On leaving the city their way led through a cemetery where a few people +were praying beside a grave and distributing chupatties and kulchas to +Passers-by, in the name of their beloved dead. They beckoned to the two +travelers and gave them as much as they would. + +“What a splendid city this is!” said the young man. + +“Now, the man must surely be demented!” thought the old farmer. “I +wonder what he will do next? He will be calling the land water, and the +water land; and be speaking of light where there is darkness, and of +darkness where it is light.” However, he kept his thoughts to himself. + +Presently they had to wade through a stream that ran along the edge of +the cemetery. The water was rather deep, so the old farmer took off his +shoes and pajamas and crossed over; but the young man waded through it +with his shoes and pajamas on. + +“Well! I never did see such a perfect fool, both in word and in deed, +said the old man to himself. + +However, he liked the fellow; and thinking that he would amuse his wife +and daughter, he invited him to come and stay at his house as long as +he had occasion to remain in the village. + +“Thank you very much,” the young man replied; “but let me first +inquire, if you please, whether the beam of your house is strong.” + +The old farmer left him in despair, and entered his house laughing. + +“There is a man in yonder field,” he said, after returning their +greetings. “He has come the greater part of the way with me, and I +wanted him to put up here as long as he had to stay in this village. +But the fellow is such a fool that I cannot make anything out of him. +He wants to know if the beam of this house is all right. The man must +be mad!” and saying this he burst into a fit of laughter. + +“Father,” said the farmer’s daughter, who was a very sharp and wise +girl, “this man, whosoever he is, is no fool, as you deem him. He only +wishes to know if you can afford to entertain him.” + +“Oh! of course,” replied the farmer. “I see. Well perhaps you can help +me to solve some of his other mysteries. While we were walking together +he asked whether he should carry me or I should carry him, as he +thought that would be a pleasanter mode of proceeding.” + +“Most assuredly,” said the girl. “He meant that one of you should tell +a story to beguile the time.” + +“Oh, yes. Well, we were passing through a cornfield, when he asked me +whether it was eaten or not.” + +“And didn’t you know the meaning of this, father? He simply wished to +know if the man was in debt or not; because if the owner of the field +was in debt, then the produce of the field was as good as eaten to him; +that is, it would have to go to his creditors.” + +“Yes, yes, yes; of course! Then, on entering a certain village, he bade +me take his clasp knife and get two horses with it, and bring back the +knife again to him.” + +“Are not two stout sticks as good as two horses for helping one along +on the road? He only asked you to cut a couple of sticks and be careful +not to lose his knife.” + +“I see,” said time farmer. “While we were walking over the city we did +not see anybody that we knew, and not a soul gave us a scrap of +anything to eat, till we were passing the cemetery; but there some +people called to us and put into our hands some chupatties and kulchas; +so my companion called the city a cemetery, and the cemetery a city.” + +“This also is to be understood, father, if one thinks of the city as +the place where everything is to be obtained, and of inhospitable +people as worse than the dead. The city, though crowded with people, +was as if dead, as far as you were concerned; while, in the cemetery, +which is crowded with time dead, you were saluted by kind friends and +provided with bread.” + +“True, true!” said the astonished farmer. “Then, just now, when we were +crossing the stream, he waded through it without taking off his shoes +and pajamas.” + +“I admire his wisdom,” replied time girl. “I have often thought how +stupid people were to venture into that swiftly flowing stream and over +those sharp stones with bare feet. The slightest stumble and they would +fall, and be wetted from head to foot. This friend of yours is a most +wise man. I should like to see him and speak to him.” + +“Very well,” said time farmer; “I will go and find him, and bring him +in.” + +“Tell him, father, that our beams are strong enough, and then he will +come in. I’ll send on ahead a present to the man, to show him that we +can afford to have him for our guest.” + +Accordingly she called a servant and sent him to the young man with a +present of a basin of ghee, twelve chupatties, and a jar of milk, and +the following message: “O friend, time moon is full; twelve months make +a year, and the sea is overflowing with water.” + +Half-way the bearer of this present and message met his little son, +who, seeing what was in the basket, begged his father to give him some +of the food. His father foolishly complied. Presently he saw the young +man, and gave him the rest of the present and the message. + +“Give your mistress my salaam,” he replied, “and tell her that the moon +is new, and that I can only find eleven mouths in the year, and the sea +is by no means full.” + +Not understanding the meaning of these words, the servant repeated them +word for word, as he had heard them, to his mistress; and thus his +theft was discovered, and he was severely punished. After a little +while the young man appeared with the old farmer. Great attention was +shown to him, and he was treated in every way as it he were the son of +a great man, although his humble host knew nothing of his origin. At +length be told them everything—about the laughing of the fish, his +father’s threatened execution, and his own banishment—and asked their +advice as to what he should do. + +“The laughing of the fish,” said the girl “which seems to have been the +cause of all this trouble, indicates that there is a man in the palace +who is plotting against the king’s life.” + +“Joy, joy!” exclaimed the vizier’s son. “There is yet time for me to +return and save my father from an ignominious and unjust death, and the +king from danger.” + +The following day he hastened back to his own country, taking with him +the farmer’s daughter. Immediately on arrival he ran to the palace and +informed his father of what he had heard. The poor vizier, now almost +dead from the expectation of death, was at once carried to the king, to +whom he repeated the news that his son had just brought. + +“Never!” said the king. + +“But it must be so, Your Majesty,” replied the vizier; “and in order to +prove the truth of what I have heard, I pray you call together all the +maids in your palace, and order them to jump over a pit, which must be +dug. We’ll soon find out whether there is any man there.” + +The king had time pit dug, and commanded all the maids belonging to the +palace to try to jump it. All of them tried, but only one succeeded. +That one was found to be a man! + +Thus was the queen satisfied, and the faithful old vizier saved. + +Afterward, as soon as could be, the vizier’s son married the old +farmer’s daughter; and a most happy marriage it was. + + + + +THE FARMER AND THE MONEY LENDER + + +By Joseph Jacobs + +There was ounce a farmer who suffered much at time hands of the money +lender. Good harvests, or bad, the farmer was always poor, the money +lender rich. At the last, when he hadn’t a farthing left, the farmer +went to the money lender’s house, and said, “You can’t squeeze water +from a stone, and as you have nothing to get by me now, you might tell +me the secret of becoming rich.” + +“My friend,” returned the money lender, piously, “riches come from +Ram—ask _him_.” + +“Thank you, I will!” replied the simple farmer; so he prepared three +griddle cakes to last him on the journey, and set out to find Ram. + +First he met a Brahman, and to him he gave a cake asking him to point +out the road to Ram; but the Brahman only took the cake and went on his +way without a word. Next the farmer met a Jogi or devotee, and to him +he gave a cake, without receiving any help in return. At last, he came +upon a poor man sitting under a tree, and finding out he was hungry, +the kindly farmer gave him his last cake, and sitting clown to rest +beside him, entered into conversation. + +“And where are you going?” asked the poor man, at length. + +“Oh, I have a long journey before me, for I am going to find Ram!” +replied the farmer. “I don’t suppose you could tell me which way to +go?” + +“Perhaps I can,” said the poor man, smiling, “for I am Ram! What do you +want of me?” + +Then the farmer told the whole story, and Rain, taking pity on him, +gave him a conch shell, and showed him how to blow it in a particular +way, saying, “Remember! whatever you wish for, you have only to blow +the conch that way, and your wish will be fulfilled. Only have a care +of that money lender, for even magic is not proof against their wiles!” + +The farmer went back to his village rejoicing. In fact the money lender +noticed his high spirits at once, and said to himself, “Some good +fortune must have befallen the stupid fellow, to make him hold his head +so jauntily.” Therefore he went over to the simple farmer’s house, and +congratulated him on his good fortune, in such cunning words, +pretending to have heard all about it, that before long the farmer +found himself telling the whole story—all except the secret of blowing +the conch, for, with all his simplicity, the farmer was not quite such +a fool as to tell that. + +Nevertheless, the money lender determined to have the conch by hook or +by crook, and as he was villain enough not to stick at trifles, he +waited for a favorable opportunity and stole the conch. + +But, after nearly bursting himself with blowing the conch in every +conceivable way, he was obliged to give up the secret as a bad job. +However, being determined to succeed he went back to the farmer and +said, coolly, “Look here; I’ve got your conch, but I can’t use it; you +haven’t got it, So it’s clear you can’t use it either. Business is at a +standstill unless we make a bargain. Now, I promise to give you back +your conch, and never to interfere with your using it, on one +condition, which is this—Whatever you get from it, I am to get double.” + +“Never!” cried the farmer; “that would be the old business all over +again!” + +“Not at all!” replied time wily money lender; “you will have your +share! Now, don’t be a dog in the manger, for if you get all you want, +what can it matter to you if I am rich or poor?” + +At last, though it went sorely against the grain to be of any benefit +to a money lender, the farmer was forced to yield, and from that time, +no matter what he gained by the power of the couch, time money lender +gained double. And the knowledge that this was so preyed upon the +farmer’s mind day and night, so that he had no satisfaction out of +anything. + +At last, there came a very dry season—so dry that the farmer’s crops +withered for want of rain. Then he blew his conch, and wished for a +well to water them, and lo! there was the well, but the money lender +had two!—two beautiful new wells! This was too much for any farmer to +stand: and our friend brooded over it, and brooded over it, till at +last a bright idea came into his head. He seized the conch, blew it +loudly, and cried out, “Oh Ram! I wish to be blind of one eye!” And so +he was in a twinkling, but the money lender of course was blind of +both, and in trying to steer his way between the two new wells, he fell +into one and was drowned. + +Now this true story shows that a farmer once got time better of a money +lender-but only by losing one of his eyes. + + + + +PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL + + +By Joseph Jacobs + +In a certain village there lived ten cloth merchants who always went +about together. Once upon a time they had traveled far afield, and were +returning home with a great deal of money which they had obtained by +selling their wares. Now there happened to be a dense forest near their +village, and this they reached early one morning. In it there lived +three notorious robbers, of whose existence the traders had never +heard, and while they were still in the middle of it the robbers stood +before them, with swords and cudgels in their hands, and ordered them +to lay down all they had. The traders had no weapons with them, and so, +though they were many more in number, they had to submit themselves to +the robbers, who took away everything from them, even the very clothes +they wore, and gave to each only a small loin cloth a span in breadth +and a cubit in length. + +The idea that they had conquered ten men and plundered all their +property now took possession of the robbers’ minds. They seated +themselves like three monarchs before the men they had plundered, and +ordered them to dance to them before returning home. The merchants now +mourned their fate. + +They had lost all they had, except their loin cloth, and still the +robbers were not satisfied, but ordered them to dance. + +There was, among the ten merchants, one who was very clever. He +pondered over the calamity that had come upon him and his friends, the +dance they would have to perform, and the magnificent manner in which +the three robbers had seated themselves on the grass. At the same time +he observed that these last had placed their weapons on the ground, in +the assurance of having thoroughly cowed the traders, who were now +commencing to dance. So he took the lead in the dance, and, as a song +is always sung by the leader on such occasions, to which the rest keep +time with hands and feet, he thus began to sing: + +We are enty men, +They are erith men: +If each erith man +Surround eno men, +Eno man remains. +Tâ, tai, tôm, tadingana. + + +The robbers were all uneducated, and thought that the leader was merely +singing a song as usual. So it was in one sense: for the leader +commenced from a distance, and had sung the song over twice before he +and his companions commenced to approach the robbers. They had +understood his meaning, because they had been trained in trade. + +When two traders discuss the price of an article in the presence of a +purchaser, they use a riddling sort of language. + +“What is the price of this cloth?” one trader will ask another. + +“Enty rupees,” another will reply, meaning “ten rupees.” + +Thus, there is no possibility of the purchaser knowing what is meant +unless he be acquainted with trade language. By the rules of this +secret language erith means “three,” enty means “ten,” and eno means +“one.” So the leader by his song meant to hint to his fellow-traders +that they were ten men, the robbers only three, that if three pounced +upon each of the robbers, nine of them could hold them down, while the +remaining one bound the robbers’ hands and feet. + +The three thieves, glorying in their victory, and little understanding +the meaning of the song and the intentions of the dancers, were proudly +seated chewing betel and tobacco. Meanwhile the song was sung a third +time. Ta, tai, tom had left the lips of the singer; and, before +tadingana was out of them, the traders separated into parties of three, +and each party pounced upon a thief. The remaining one—the leader +himself—tore up into long narrow strips a large piece of cloth, six +cubits long, and tied the hands and feet of the robbers. These were +entirely humbled now, and rolled on the ground like three bags of rice! + +The ten traders now took back all their property, and armed themselves +with the swords and cudgels of their enemies; and when they reached +their village, they often amused their friends and relatives by +relating their adventure. + + + + +HOW THE WICKED SONS WERE DUPED + + +By Joseph Jacobs + +A very wealthy old man, imagining that he was on the point of death, +sent for his sons and divided his property among them. However, he did +not die for several years afterward, and miserable years many of them +were. Besides the weariness of old age, the old fellow had to bear with +much abuse and cruelty from his sons. Wretched, selfish ingrates! +Previously they vied with one another in trying to please their father, +hoping thus to receive more money, but now they had received their +patrimony, they cared not how soon he left them—nay, the sooner the +better, because he was only a needless trouble and expense. And they +let the poor old man know what they felt. + +One day he met a friend and related to him all his troubles. The friend +sympathized very much with him, and promised to think over the matter, +and call in a little while and tell him what to do. He did so; in a few +days he visited the old man and put down four bags full of stones and +gravel before him. + +“Look here, friend,” said he. “Your sons will get to know of my coming +here to-day, and will inquire about it. You must pretend that I came to +discharge a long-standing debt with you, and that you are several +thousands of rupees richer than you thought you were. Keep these bags +in your own hands, and on no account let your sons get to them as long +as you are alive. You will soon find them change their conduct toward +you. Salaam, I will come again soon to see how you are getting on.” + +When the young men got to hear of this further increase of wealth they +began to be more attentive and pleasing to their father than ever +before. And thus they continued to the day of the old man’s demise, +when the bags were greedily opened, and found to contain only stones +and gravel! + + + + +THE TIGER, THE BRAHMAN, AND THE JACKAL + + +By Flora Annie Steel + +Once upon a time a Tiger was caught in a trap. He tried in vain to get +out through the bars, and rolled and bit with rage and grief when he +failed. + +By chance a poor Brahman came by. + +“Let me out of this cage, oh pious one!” cried the Tiger. + +“Nay, my friend,” replied the Brahman mildly, you would probably eat me +if I did.” + +“Not at all!” swore the Tiger with many oaths; “on the contrary, I +should be forever grateful, and serve you as a slave!” + +Now when the Tiger sobbed and sighed and wept and swore, the pious +Brahman’s heart softened, and at last he consented to open the door of +the cage. Out popped the Tiger, and, seizing the poor man, cried, “What +a fool you are! What is to prevent my eating you now, for after being +cooped up so long I am terribly hungry!” + +In vain the Brahman Pleaded for his life; the most he could gain was a +promise to abide by the decision of the first three things he chose to +question as to the justice of the Tiger’s action. + +So the Brahman first asked a Pipal Tree what it thought of the matter, +but the Pipal Tree replied coldly, “What have you to complain about? +Don’t I give shade and shelter to everyone who passes by, and don’t +they in return tear down my branches to feed their cattle? Don’t +whimper—be a man!” + +Then the Brahman sad at heart, went farther afield till he saw a +Buffalo turning a well wheel; but he fared no better from it, for it +answered, “You are a fool to expect gratitude! Look at me! While I gave +milk they fed me on cottonseed and oil cake, but now I am dry they yoke +me here, and give me refuse as fodder!” + +The Brahman, still more sad, asked the Road to give him its opinion. + +“My dear sir,” said the Road, “how foolish you are to expect anything +else! Here am I, useful to everybody, yet all, rich and poor, great and +small, trample on me as they go past, giving me nothing but the ashes +of their pipes and the husks of their grain!” + +On this the Brahman turned back sorrowfully, and on the way he met a +Jackal, who called out, “Why, what’s the matter, Mr. Brahman? You look +as miserable as a fish out of water!” + +The Brahman told him all that had occurred. + +“How very confusing!” said the Jackal, when the recital was ended; +“would you mind telling me over again, for everything has got so mixed +up?” + +The Brahman told it all over again, but the Jackal shook his head in a +distracted sort of way, and still could not understand. + +“It’s very odd,” said he, sadly, “but it all seems to go in at one ear +and out at the other! I will go to the place where it all happened, and +then perhaps I shall be able to give a judgment.” + +So they returned to the cage, by which the Tiger was waiting for the +Brahman, and sharpening his teeth and claws. + +“You’ve been away a long time!” growled the savage beast, “but now let +us begin our dinner.” + +“Our dinner!” thought the wretched Brahman, as his knees knocked +together with fright; “what a remarkably delicate way of putting it!” + +“Give mime five minutes, my lord!” he pleaded, “in order that I may +explain matters to the Jackal here, who is somewhat slow in his wits.” + +The Tiger consented, and the Brahman began the whole story over again, +not missing a single detail, and spinning as long a yarn as possible. + +“Oh, my poor brain! oh, my poor brain!” cried the Jackal, wringing its +paws. “Let me see! how did it all begin? You were in the cage, and the +Tiger came walking by—” + +“Pooh!” interrupted the Tiger, “what a fool you are! _I_ was in the +cage.” + +“Of course!” cried the Jackal, pretending to tremble with fright; “yes +I was in the cage—no I wasn’t—dear! dear, where are my wits? Let me +see—the Tiger was in the Brahman, and the cage came walking by—no, +that’s not it, either! Well, don’t mind me, but begin your dinner, for +I shall never understand!” + +“Yes, you shall!” returned the Tiger, in a rage at the Jackal’s +stupidity; “I’ll make you understand! Look here—I am the Tiger—” + +“Yes, my lord!” + +“And that is the Brahman—” + +“Yes, my lord!” + +“And that is the cage—” + +“Yes, my lord!” + +“And I was in the cage—do you understand?” + +“Yes—no— Please, my lord—” + +“Well?” cried the Tiger impatiently. + +“Please, my lord!—how did you get in?” + +“How?—why, in the usual way, of course!” + +“Oh, dear me!—My head is beginning to whirl again! Please don’t get +angry, my lord, but what is the usual way?” + +At this the Tiger lost patience, and, jumping into the cage, cried, +“This way! Now do you understand how it was?” + +“Perfectly!” grinned the Jackal, as he dexterously shut the door. “And +if you will permit me to say so, I think matters will remain as they +were!” + + + + +THE LAMBIKIN + + +By Flora Annie Steel + +Once upon a time there was a wee wee Lambikin, who frolicked about on +his little tottery legs, and enjoyed himself amazingly. + +Now one day he set off to visit his Granny, and was jumping with joy to +think of all the good things he should get from her, when who should he +meet but a Jackal, who looked at the tender young morsel and said: +“Lambikin! Lambikin! I’ll EAT YOU!” + +But Lambikin only gave a little frisk and said: + +“To Granny’s house I go, +Where I shall fatter grow, +Then you can eat me so.” + + +The Jackal thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass. + +By and by he met a Vulture, and the Vulture, looking hungrily at the +tender morsel before him, said: “Lambikin! Lambikin! I’ll EAT YOU!” + +But Lambikin only gave a little frisk, and said: + +“To Granny’s house I go, +Where I shall fatter grow, +Then you can eat me so.” + + +The Vulture thought this reasonable, and let Lambikin pass. + +And by and by he met a Tiger, and then a Wolf, and a Dog, arid an +Eagle, and all these, when they saw the tender little morsel, said: +“Lambikin! Lambikin! I’ll EAT YOU!” + +But to all of them Lambikin replied, with a little frisk: + +“To Granny’s house I go, +Where I shall fatter grow, +Then you can eat me so. + + +At last he reached his Granny’s house, and said, all in a great hurry, +“Granny, dear, I’ve promised to get very fat; so, as people ought to +keep their promises, please put me into the corn bin at once.” + +So his Granny said he was a good boy, and put him into the corn bin, +and there the greedy little Lambikin stayed for seven days, and ate, +and ate, and ate, until he could scarcely waddle, and his Granny said +he was fat enough for anything, and must go home. But cunning little +Lambikin said that would never do, for some animal would be sure to eat +him on the way back, he was so plump and tender. + +“I’ll tell you what you must do,” said Master Lambikin, “you must make +a little drumikin out of the skin of my little brother who died, and +then I can sit inside and trundle along nicely, for I’m as tight as a +drum myself.” + +So his Granny made a nice little drumikin out of his brother’s skin, +with the wool inside, and Lambikin curled himself up snug and warm in +the middle, and trundled away gayly. Soon lie met with the Eagle, who +called out: + +“Drumikin! Drumikin! +Have you seen Lambikin?” + + +And Mr. Lambikin, curled up in his soft warm nest, replied: + +“Fallen into the fire, and so will you +On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, tum-too!” + + +“How very annoying!” sighed the Eagle, thinking regretfully of the +tender morsel he had let slip. + +Meanwhile Lambikin trundled along, laughing to himself, and singing: + +“Tum-pa, tum-too; +Tum-pa, tum-too!” + + +Every animal and bird he met asked him the same question: + +“Drumikin! Drumikin! +Have you seen Lambikin?” + + +And to each of them the little slyboots replied: + +“Fallen into the fire, and so will you +On little Drumikin. Tum-pa, tum-too; +Tum-pa, tum-too; Tum-pa, tum-too!” + + +Then they all sighed to think of the tender little morsel they had let +slip. + +At last the Jackal came limping along, for all his sorry looks as sharp +as a needle, and he too called out— + +“Drumikin! Drumikin! +Have you seen Lambikin?” + + +And Lambikin, curled up in his snug little nest, replied gayly: + +“Fallen into the fire, and so will you +On little Drumikin! Tum-pa—” + + +But he never got any further, for the Jackal recognized his voice at +once, arid cried: “Hullo! you’ve turned yourself inside out, have you? +Just you come out of that!” + +Whereupon he tore open Drumikin and gobbled up Lambikin. + + + + +THE RAT’S WEDDING + + +By Flora Annie Steel + +Once upon a time a fat, sleek Rat was caught in a shower of rain, and +being far from shelter he set to work and soon dug a nice hole in the +ground, in which he sat as dry as a bone while the raindrops splashed +outside, making little puddles on the road. + +Now in the course of digging, he came upon a fine bit of root, quite +dry and fit for fuel, which he set aside carefully—for the Rat is an +economical creature—in order to take it home with him. So when the +shower was over, he set off with the dry root in his mouth. As he went +along, daintily picking his way through the puddles, he Saw a Poor Man +vainly trying to light a fire, while a little circle of children stood +by, and cried piteously. + +“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed the Rat, who was both soft-hearted and +curious, “What a dreadful noise to make! What is the matter?” + +“The children are hungry,” answered the Man; “they are crying for their +breakfast, but the sticks are damp, the fire won’t burn, and so I can’t +bake the cakes.” + +“If that is all your trouble, perhaps I can help you,” said the +good-natured Rat, “you are welcome to this dry root and I’ll warrant it +will soon make a fine blaze.” + +The Poor Man, with a thousand thanks, took the dry root, and in his +turn presented the Rat with a morsel of dough, as a reward for his +kindness and generosity. + +“What a remarkably lucky fellow I am!” thought the Rat, as he trotted +off gayly with his prize, “and clever, too! Fancy making a bargain like +that—food enough to last me five days in return for a rotten old stick! +Wah! Wah! Wah! What it is to have brains!” + +Going along, hugging his good fortune in this way, he came presently to +a Potter’s yard, where the Potter, leaving his wheel to spin round by +itself, was trying to pacify his three little children, who were +screaming arid crying as if they would burst. + +“My gracious!” cried the Rat, stopping his ears, “what a noise! do tell +me what it is all about.” + +“I suppose they are hungry,” replied the Potter ruefully; “their mother +has gone to get flour in the bazaar, for there is none in the house. In +the meantime I can neither work nor rest because of them.” + +“Is that all?” answered the officious Rat; then I can help you. Take +this dough, cook it quickly, and stop their mouths with food.” + +The Potter overwhelmed the Rat with thanks for his obliging kindness, +and choosing out a nice well-burned pipkin, insisted on his accepting +it as a remembrance. + +The Rat was delighted at the exchange, and though the pipkin was just a +trifle awkward for him to manage, he succeeded, after infinite trouble, +in balancing it on his head and went away gingerly, tink-a-tink, +tink-a-tink, down the road, with his tail over his arm for fear he +should trip on it. And all the time he kept saying to himself, “What a +lucky fellow I am! and clever, too! Such a hand at a bargain!” + +By and by he came to where some cowherds were herding their cattle. One +of them was milking a buffalo, and having no pail, he used his shoes +instead. + +“Oh fie! oh fie!” cried the cleanly Rat, quite shocked at the sight. +“What a nasty, dirty trick! Why don’t you use a pail?” + +“For the best of all reasons—we haven’t got one!” growled the Cowherd, +who did not see why the Rat should put his finger in the pie. + +“If that is all,” replied the dainty Rat, “oblige me by using this +pipkin, for I cannot bear dirt!” + +The Cowherd, nothing loath, took the pipkin and milked away until it +was brimming over; then turning to the Rat, who stood looking on, said, +“Here, little fellow, You may have a drink, in payment.” + +But if the Rat was good-natured he was also shrewd. “No, no, my +friend,” said he, “that will not do! As if I could drink the worth of +any pipkin at a draft! My dear sir, I couldn’t hold it! Besides, I +never make a bad bargain, so I expect you, at least to give me the +buffalo that gave the milk.” + +“Nonsense!” cried the Cowherd; “a buffalo for a pipkin! Whoever heard +of such a price? And what on earth could you do with a buffalo when you +got it? Why, the pipkin was about as much as you could manage.” + +At this the Rat drew himself up with dignity, for he did not like +allusions to his size. “That is my affair, not yours,” he retorted; +“your business is to hand over the buffalo.” + +So just for the fun of the thing, and to amuse themselves at the Rat’s +expense, the cowherds loosened the buffalo’s halter and began to tie it +to the little animal’s tail. + +“No! no!” he called, in a great hurry. “If the beast pulled, the skin +of my tail would come off, and then where should I be? Tie it around my +neck, if you please.” + +So with much laughter the cowherds tied the halter round the Rat’s +neck, and he, after a polite leave-taking, set off gayly toward home +with his prize; that is to say, he set off with the rope, for no sooner +did he come to the end of the tether than be was brought up with a +round turn; the buffalo, nose down, grazing away, would not budge until +it had finished its tuft of grass, and then seeing another in a +different direction marched off toward it, while the Rat, to avoid +being dragged, had to trot humbly behind, willy-nilly. He was too proud +to confess the truth, of course, and, nodding his head knowingly to the +cowherds, said: “Ta-ta, good people! I am going home this way. It may +be a little longer, but it’s much shadier.” + +And when the cowherds roared with laughter he took no notice, but +trotted on, looking as dignified as possible. “After all,” he reasoned +to himself, “when one keeps a buffalo one has to look after its +grazing. A beast must get a good bellyful of grass if it is to give any +milk, and I have plenty of time at my disposal.” So all day long he +trotted about after the buffalo, making believe; but by evening he was +dead tired, and felt truly thankful when the great big beast, having +eaten enough, lay down under a tree to chew the cud. + +Just then a bridal party came by. The Bridegroom and his friends had +evidently gone on to the next village, leaving the Bride’s palanquin to +follow; so the palanquin bearers, being lazy fellows and seeing a nice +shady tree, put down their burden, and began to cook some food. + +“What detestable meanness!” grumbled one; “a grand wedding, and nothing +but plain rice to eat! Not a scrap of meat in it, neither sweet nor +salt! It would serve the skinflints right if we upset the Bride into a +ditch!” + +“Dear me!” cried the Rat at once, seeing a way out of his difficulty, +“that is a shame! I sympathize with your feelings so entirely that if +you will allow me, I’ll give you my buffalo. You can kill it, and cook +it.” + +“Your buffalo!” returned the discontented bearers. “What rubbish! +Whoever heard of a rat owning a buffalo?” + +“Not often, I admit,” replied the Rat with conscious pride; “but look +for yourselves. Can you not see that I am leading the beast by a +string?” + +“Oh, never mind the string!” cried a great big hungry bearer; master or +no master, I mean to have meat for my dinner!” Whereupon they killed +the buffalo, and cooking its flesh, ate their dinner with a relish; +then, offering the remains to the Rat, said carelessly, “Here, little +Rat-skin, that is for you!” + +“Now look here!” cried the Rat hotly; “I’ll have none of your pottage, +or your sauce, either. You don’t suppose I am going to give my best +buffalo, that gave quarts and quarts of milk—the buffalo I have been +feeding all day—for a wee bit of rice? No! I got a loaf for a bit of +stick; I got a pipkin for a little loaf; I got a buffalo for a pipkin; +and now I’ll have the Bride for my buffalo—the Bride, and nothing +else!” + +By this time the servants, having satisfied their hunger, began to +reflect on what they had done, and becoming alarmed at the +consequences, arrived at the conclusion it would be wisest to make +their escape while they could. So, leaving the Bride in her palanquin, +they took to their heels in various directions. + +The Rat, being as it were left in possession, advanced to the +palanquin, and drawing aside the curtain, with the sweetest of voices +and best of bows begged the Bride to descend. She hardly knew whether +to laugh or to cry, but as any company, even a Rat’s, was better than +being quite alone in the wilderness, she did what she was bidden, and +followed the lead of her guide, who set off as fast as be could for his +hole. + +As he trotted along beside the lovely young Bride, who, by her rich +dress and glittering jewels, seemed to be some king’s daughter, he kept +saying to himself, “How clever I am! What bargains I do make, to be +sure!” + +When they arrived at his hole, the Rat stepped forward with the +greatest politeness, and said, “Welcome, madam, to my humble abode! +Pray step in, or if you will allow me, and as the passage is somewhat +dark, I will show you the way.” + +Whereupon he ran in first, but after a time, finding the Bride did not +follow, he put his nose out again, saying testily, “Well, madam, why +don’t you follow? Don’t you know it’s rude to keep your husband +waiting?” + +“My good sir,” laughed the handsome young Bride, “I can’t squeeze into +that little hole!” + +The Rat coughed; then after a moment’s thought he replied, “There is +some truth in your remark—you _are_ overgrown, and I suppose I shall +have to build you a thatch somewhere, For to-night you can rest under +that wild plum tree.” + +“But I am so hungry!” said the Bride ruefully. + +“Dear, dear! everybody seems hungry to-day!” returned the Rat +pettishly; “however, that’s easily settled—I’ll fetch you Some supper +in a trice.” + +So he ran into his hole, returning immediately with an ear of millet +and a dry pea. “There!” said he, triumphantly, “isn’t that a fine +meal?” + +“I can’t eat that!” whimpered the Bride; “it isn’t a mouthful; and I +want rice pottage, and cakes, and sweet eggs, and sugar drops. I shall +die if I don’t get them!” + +“Oh, dear me!” cried the Rat in a rage, “what a nuisance a bride is, to +be sure! Why don’t you eat the wild plums?” + +“I can’t live on wild plums!” retorted the weeping Bride; “nobody +could; besides, they are only half ripe, and I can’t reach them.” + +“Rubbish!” cried the Rat; “ripe or unripe, they must do you for +to-night, and to-morrow you can gather a basketful, sell them in the +city, and buy sugar drops and sweet eggs to your heart’s content!” + +So the next morning the Rat climbed up into the plum tree, and nibbled +away at the stalks till the fruit fell down into the Bride’s veil. +Then, unripe as they were, she carried them into the city, calling out +through the streets— + +“Green plums I sell! green plums I sell! +Princess am I, Rat’s bride as well!” + + +As she passed by the palace, her mother, the Queen, heard her voice, +and running out, recognized her daughter. Great were the rejoicings, +for everyone thought the poor Bride had been eaten by wild beasts. + +In the midst of the feasting and merriment, the Rat, who had followed +the Princess at a distance, and had become alarmed at her long absence, +arrived at the door, against which he beat with a big knobby stick, +calling out fiercely, “Give me my wife! Give me my wife! She is mine by +a fair bargain. I gave a stick and I got a loaf; I gave a loaf and I +got a pipkin; I gave a pipkin and I got a buffalo; I gave a buffalo and +I got a bride. Give me my wife! Give me my wife!” + +“La! son-in-law! What a fuss you do make,” said the wily old Queen +through the door, “and all about nothing! Who wants to run away with +your wife? On the contrary, we are proud to see you, and I only keep +you waiting at the door till we can spread the carpets, and receive you +in style.” + +Hearing this, the Rat was mollified, and waited patiently outside while +the cunning old Queen prepared for his reception, which she did by +cutting a hole in the very middle of a stool, putting a red hot stone +underneath, covering it over with a stew-pan lid, and then spreading a +beautiful embroidered cloth over all. Then she went to the door, and +receiving the Rat with the greatest respect, led him to the stool, +praying him to be seated. + +“Dear! dear! how clever I am! What bargains I do make, to be sure!” +said he to himself as he climbed on to the stool. “Here I am, +son-in-law to a real live Queen! What will the neighbors say?” + +At first he sat down on the edge of the stool, but even there it was +warm, and after a while he began to fidget, saying, “Dear me, +mother-in-law, how hot your house is! Everything I touch seems +burning!” + +“You are out of the wind there, my son,” replied the cunning old Queen; +“sit more in the middle of the stool, and then you will feel the breeze +and get cooler.” + +But he didn’t! for the stewpan lid by this time had become so hot that +the Rat fairly frizzled when he sat down on it; and it was not until he +had left all his tail, half his hair, and a large piece of his skin +behind him, that he managed to escape, howling with pain, and vowing +that never, never, never again would he make a bargain! + + + + +THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE + + +By Flora Annie Steel + +A jackal and a partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was +very exacting and jealous. “You don’t do half as much for me as I do +for you,” he used to say, “and yet you talk a great deal of your +friendship. Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh +or cry, give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn’t +do that!” + +“Let us see,” answered the Partridge; “follow me at a little distance, +and if I don’t make you laugh soon you may eat me!” + +So she flew on till she met two travelers trudging along, one behind +the other. They were both foot-sore and weary, and the first carried +his bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes +in his hand. + +Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveler’s +stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on, but the second traveler, seeing +the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself, +“What a chance for a supper!” and immediately flung his shoes at it, +they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the +shoes knocked off the first traveler’s turban. + +“What a plague do you mean?” cried he, angrily turning on his +companion. “Why did you throw your shoes at my head?” + +“Brother,” replied the other mildly, “do not be vexed. I didn’t throw +them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick.” + +“On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?” shouted the injured man, in a +great rage. “Don’t tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult +me, and then you lie like a coward; but I’ll teach you manners!” + +Then he fell upon his fellow traveler without more ado, and they fought +until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were +bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of +laughing. + +“Are you satisfied?” asked the Partridge of her friend. + +“Well,” answered the Jackal, “you have certainly made nine laugh, but I +doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it +is more difficult to excite the highest emotions.” + +“Let us see,” retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; “there is a +huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that +hollow tree and watch me; if you don’t weep scalding tears, you must +have no feeling in you!” + +The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began +fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she +flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs +smelt him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the +huntsman came up, and seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the +tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their heart’s content, and +finally left him for dead. + +By and by he opened his eyes—for he was only foxing—and saw the +Partridge sitting on a branch above him. + +“Did you cry?” she asked anxiously. “Did I rouse your high emo—” + +“Be quiet, will you!” snarled the Jackal; half dead with fear!” + +So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his +bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry. + +“Now is the time for friendship!” said he to the Partridge. “Get me a +good dinner, and I will acknowledge you a true friend.” + +“Very well!” replied the Partridge; “only watch me, and help yourself +when the time comes.” + +Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands dinners to +the harvest field. The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began +fluttering along from bush to bush as if she were wounded. + +“A wounded bird! a wounded bird!” cried the women; “we can easily catch +it.” Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge +played a thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase +that they put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more +nimbly. The Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and +made off with a good dinner. + +“Are you satisfied now?” asked the Partridge. + +“Well,” returned the Jackal, “I confess you have given me a very good +dinner; you have also made me laugh—and cry—ahem! But, after all, the +great test of friendship is beyond you—you couldn’t save my life!” + +“Perhaps not,” acquiesced the Partridge mournfully, “I am so small and +weak. But it grows late—we should be getting home; and as it is a long +way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend the +Crocodile will carry us over.” + +Accordingly they set off for the river, and the Crocodile kindly +consented to carry them across, so they sat on his broad back and he +ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream +the Partridge remarked. “I believe the Crocodile intends to play us a +trick. How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!” + +“Awkward for you, too!” replied the Jackal, turning pale. + +“Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven’t.” + +On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the +Crocodile, in a gruesome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted +a good meal, the wretched creature hadn’t a word to say. + +“Pooh!” cried the Partridge airily, “don’t try tricks on us—I should +fly away, and as for my friend, the Jackal, you couldn’t hurt him. He +is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little +excursions; he leaves it at home, locked up in the cupboard.” + +“Is that a fact?” asked the Crocodile, surprised. “Certainly!” retorted +the Partridge. Try to eat him if you like, but you will only tire +yourself to no purpose. + +“Dear me! how very odd!” gasped time Crocodile; and he was so taken +aback that he carried the Jackal safe to shore. + +“Well, are you satisfied now?” asked the Partridge. + +“My dear madam!” quoth the Jackal, “you have made me laugh, you have +made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my +life; but, upon my honor, I think you are too clever for a friend so +good-by!” + +And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again. + + + + +THE JACKAL AND THE CROCODILE + + +By Flora Annie Steel + +Once upon a time Mr. Jackal was trotting along gayly, when lie caught +sight of a wild plum tree laden with fruit on the other side of a +broad, deep stream. I could not get across anyhow, so he just sat down +on the bank and looked at the ripe, luscious fruit until his mouth +watered with desire. + +Now it so happened that, just then, Miss Crocodile came floating down +stream with her nose in the air. + +“Good morning, my dear!” said Mr. Jackal politely; “how beautiful you +look to-day, and how charmingly you swim! Now, if I could only swim +too, what a fine feast of plums we two friends might have over there +together!” And Mr. Jackal laid his paw on his heart, and sighed. + +Now Miss Crocodile had a very inflammable heart, and when Mr. Jackal +looked at her so admiringly, and spoke so sentimentally, she simpered +and blushed, saying, “Oh! Mr. Jackal! how can you talk so? I could +never dream of going out to dinner with you, unless—unless—” + +“Unless what?” asked the Jackal persuasively. + +“Unless we were going to be married!” simpered Miss Crocodile. + +“And why shouldn’t we be married, my charmer?” returned the Jackal +eagerly. “I would go and fetch the barber to begin the betrothal at +once, but I am so faint with hunger just at present that I should never +reach the village. Now, if the most adorable of her sex would only take +pity on her slave, and carry me over the stream, I might refresh myself +with those plums, and so gain strength to accomplish the ardent desire +of my heart!” + +Here the Jackal sighed so piteously, and cast such sheep’s eyes at Miss +Crocodile, that she was unable to withstand him. So she carried him +across to the plum tree, and then sat on the water’s edge to think over +her wedding dress, while Mr. Jackal feasted on the plums and enjoyed +himself. + +“Now for the barber, my beauty!” cried the gay Jackal, when he had +eaten as much as he could. Then the blushing Miss Crocodile carried him +back again, and bade him be quick about his business, like a dear good +creature, for really she felt so flustered at the very idea that she +didn’t know what might happen. + +“Now don’t distress yourself, my dear!” quoth the deceitful Mr. Jackal, +springing to the bank, “because it’s not impossible that I may not find +the barber, and then, you know, you may have to wait some time, a +considerable time in fact, before I return. So don’t injure your health +for my sake, if you please.” With that he blew her a kiss, and trotted +away with his tail up. + +Of course he never came back, though trusting Miss Crocodile waited +patiently for him; at last she understood what a gay, deceitful fellow +he was, and determined to have her revenge on him one way or another. + +So she hid herself in the water, under the roots of a tree, close to a +ford where the Jackal always came to drink. By and by, sure enough, he +came lilting along in a self-satisfied way, and went right into the +water for a good long draft. Whereupon Miss Crocodile seized him by the +right legs and held on. He guessed at once what had happened, and +called out, “Oh! my heart’s adored! I’m drowning! I’m drowning! If you +love me, leave hold of that old root and get a good grip of my leg—it +is just next door!” + +Hearing this, Miss Crocodile thought she must have made a mistake, and, +letting go the Jackal’s leg in a hurry, seized an old root close by, +and held on. Whereupon Mr. Jackal jumped nimbly to shore, and ran off +with his tail up, calling out, “Have a little patience, my beauty! The +barber will come some day!” + +But this time Miss Crocodile knew better than to wait, and being now +dreadfully angry, she crawled away to the Jackal’s hole, and, slipping +inside, lay quiet. + +By and by Mr. Jackal came lilting along with his tail up. “Ho! ho! That +is your game, is it?” said he to himself, when he saw the trail of the +Crocodile in the sandy soil. So he stood outside, and said aloud, +“Bless my stars! What has happened? I don’t half like to go in, for +whenever I come home my wife always calls out, + +‘Oh, dearest hubby hub! +What have you brought for grub +to me and the darling cub?’ + + +and to-day she doesn’t say anything!” + +Hearing this, Miss Crocodile sang out from inside, + +“Oh, dearest hubby hub! +What have you brought for grub +To me and the darling cub?” + + +The Jackal winked a very big wink, and, stealing in softly, stood at +the doorway. Meanwhile Miss Crocodile, hearing him coming, held her +breath, and lay, shamming dead, like a big log. + +“Bless my stars!” cried Mr. Jackal, taking out his pocket handkerchief, +“how very sad! Here’s poor Miss Crocodile stone dead, and all for love +of me! Dear! dear! Yet it is very odd, and I don’t think she can be +quite dead, you know—for dead folks always wag their tails!” + +On this, Miss Crocodile began to wag her tail very gently, and Mr. +Jackal ran off, roaring with laughter, and saying. “Oho! oho! so dead +folks always wag their tails!” + + + + +THE JACKAL AND THE IGUANA + + +By Flora Annie Steel + +One moonlight night a miserable, half-starved Jackal, skulking through +the village, found a worn-out pair of shoes in the gutter. They were +too tough for him to eat, so, determined to make some use of them, he +strung them to his ears like earrings, and, going down to the edge of +the pond, gathered all the old bones he could find together and built a +platform of them, plastering it over with mud. + +On this he sat in a dignified attitude, and when any animal came to the +pond to drink, he cried out in a loud voice, “Hi! stop! You must not +taste a drop till you have done homage to me. So repeat these verses +which I have composed in honor of the occasion: + +‘Silver is his dais, plastered o’er with gold; +In his ears are jewels,—some prince I must behold!’” + + +Now, as most of the animals were very thirsty, and in a great hurry to +drink, they did not care to dispute the matter, but gabbled off the +words without a second thought. Even the royal tiger, treating it as a +jest, repeated the Jackal’s rime, in consequence of which the latter +became quite a cock-a-hoop, and really began to believe he was a +personage of great importance. + +By and by an Iguana, or big lizard, came waddling down to the water, +looking for all the world like a baby alligator. + +“Hi! you there!” sang out the Jackal; “you mustn’t drink until you have +said— + +‘Silver is his dais, plastered o’er with gold; +In his ears are jewels,—some prince I must behold!’” + + +“Pouf! pouf! pouf!” gasped the Iguana. “Mercy on us, how dry my throat +is! Mightn’t I have just a wee sip of water first? and then I could do +justice to your admirable lines; at present I am as hoarse as a crow!” + +“By all means,” replied the Jackal, with a gratified smirk. “I flatter +myself the verses are good, especially when well recited.” + +So the Iguana, nose down in the water, drank away until the Jackal +began to think he would never leave off, and was quite taken aback when +he finally came to an end of his draft, and began to move away. + +“Hi! hi!” cried the Jackal, recovering his presence of mind, “stop a +bit, and say— + +‘Silver is his dais, plastered o’er with gold; +In his ears are jewels,—some prince I must behold!’” + + +“Dear me!” replied the Iguana, politely, “I was very near forgetting! +Let me see—I must try my voice first—do, re, me, fa, sol, la, si—that +is right! Now, how does it run?” + +“Silver is his dais, plastered o’er with gold; +In his ears are jewels,—some prince I must behold!” + + +repeated the Jackal, not observing that the Lizard Was carefully edging +farther and farther away. + +“Exactly so,” returned the Iguana; “I think I could say that!” +Whereupon he sang out at the top of his voice— + +“Bones made up his dais, with mud it’s plastered o’er, +Old shoes are his eardrops; a jackal, nothing more!” + + +And turning round, he bolted for his hole as hard as he could. + +The Jackal could scarcely believe his ears, and sat dumb with +astonishment. Then, rage lending him wings, he flew after the Lizard, +who, despite his short legs and scanty breath, put his best foot +foremost, and scuttled away at a great rate. + +It was a near race, however, for just as he popped into his hole, the +Jackal caught him by the tail, and held on. Then it was a case of +“pull, butcher; pull, baker,” until the Lizard made certain his tail +must come off, and he felt as if his front teeth would come out. Still +not an inch did either budge, one way or the other, and there they +might have remained till the present day, had not the Iguana called +out, in his sweetest tones, “Friend, I give in! Just leave hold of my +tail, will you? then I can turn round and come out.” + +Whereupon the Jackal let go, and the tail disappeared up the hole in a +twinkling; while all the reward the Jackal got for digging away until +his nails were nearly worn out was hearing the Iguana sing softly— + +“Bones made up his dais, with mud it’s plastered o’er, +Old shoes are his eardrops; a jackal, nothing more + + + + +THE BEAR’S BAD BARGAIN + + +By Flora Annie Steel + +Once upon a time a very old Woodman lived with his very old Wife in a +tiny hut close to the orchard of a very rich man, so close that the +boughs of a pear tree hung right over the cottage yard. Now it was +agreed between the rich man and the Woodman that if any of the fruit +fell into the yard, the old couple were to be allowed to eat it; so you +may imagine with what hungry eyes they watched the pears ripening, and +prayed for a storm of wind, or a flock of flying foxes, or anything +which would cause the fruit to fall. But nothing came, and the old +Wife, who was a grumbling, scolding old thing, declared they would +infallibly become beggars. So she took to giving her husband nothing +but dry bread to eat, and insisted on his working harder than ever, +till the poor soul got quite thin; and all because the pears would not +fall down! + +At last the Woodman turned round and declared he would not work more +unless his Wife gave him Khichri for his dinner; so with a very bad +grace the old woman took some rice and pulse, some butter and spices, +and began to cook a savory Khichri. What an appetizing smell it had, to +be sure! The Woodman was for gobbling it up as soon as ever it was +ready. “No, no,” cried the greedy old Wife, not till you have brought +me in another load of Wood; and mind it is a good one. You must work +for your dinner.” + +So the old man set off to the forest and began to hack and to hew with +such a will that he soon had quite a large bundle, and with every +faggot he cut he seemed to smell the savory Khichri and think of the +feast that was coming. + +Just then a Bear came swinging by, with its great black nose tilted in +the air, and its little keen eyes peering about; for bears, though good +enough fellows on the whole, are just dreadfully inquisitive. + +“Peace be with you, friend,” said the Bear, “and what may you be going +to do with that remarkably large bundle of wood?” + +“It is for my Wife,” returned the Woodman. “The fact is,” he added +confidentially, smacking his lips, “she has made such a Khichri for +dinner! and if I bring in a good bundle of wood she is pretty sure to +give me a plentiful portion. Oh, my dear fellow, you should just smell +that Khichri.” + +At this the Bear’s mouth began to water, for, like all bears, he was a +dreadful glutton. + +“Do you think your Wife would give mite some, too, if I brought her a +bundle of wood?” he asked anxiously. + +“Perhaps; if it is a very big load,” answered the Woodman craftily. + +“Would—would four hundredweight be enough?” asked the Bear. + +“I’m afraid not,” returned the Woodman, shaking his head; “you see +Khichri is an expensive dish to make—there is rice in it, and plenty of +butter, and pulse, and—” + +“Would—would eight hundredweight do?” + +“Say half a ton, and it’s a bargain!” quoth the Woodman. + +“Half a ton is a large quantity!” sighed the Bear. + +“There is saffron in the Khichri,” remarked the Woodman, casually. + +The Bear licked his lips, and his little eyes twinkled with greed and +delight. + +“Well it’s a bargain! Go home sharp and tell your Wife to keep the +Khichri hot; I’ll be with you in a trice.” + +Away went the Woodman in great glee to tell his Wife how the Bear had +agreed to bring half a ton of wood in return for a share of the +Khichri. + +Now the wife could not help allowing that her husband had made a good +bargain, but being by nature a grumbler, she was determined not to be +pleased, so she began to scold the old man for not having settled +exactly the share the Bear was to have. “For,” said she, “he will +gobble up the potful before we have finished our first helping.” + +On this the Woodman became quite pale. “In that case,” he said, “we had +better begin now, and have a fair start.” So without more ado they +squatted down on the floor, with the brass pot full of Khichri between +them, and began to eat as fast as they could. + +“Remember to leave some for the Bear, Wife,” said the Woodman, speaking +with his mouth crammed full. + +“Certainly, certainly,” she replied, helping herself to another +handful. + +“My dear,” cried the old woman in her turn, with her mouth so full she +could hardly speak, “remember the poor Bear!” + +“Certainly, certainly, my love!” returned the old man, taking another +mouthful. + +So it went on, till there was not a single grain left in the pot. + +“What’s to be done now?” said the Woodman; “it is all your fault, Wife, +for eating so much.” + +“My fault!” retorted his Wife scornfully, “why, you ate twice as much +as I did!” + +“No, I didn’t!” + +“Yes, you did! Men always eat more than women. + +“No, they don’t!” + +“Yes, they do!” + +“Well, it’s no use quarreling about it now,” said the Woodman, “the +Khichri’s gone, and the Bear will be furious.” + +“That wouldn’t matter much if we could get the wood,” said the greedy +old woman. “I’ll tell you what we must do—we must lock up everything +there is to eat in the house, leave the Khichri pot by the fire, and +hide in the garret. When the Bear comes he will think we have gone out +and left his dinner for him. Then he will throw down his bundle and +come in. Of course he will rampage a little when he finds the pot is +empty, but he can’t do much mischief, and I don’t think he will take +the trouble of carrying the wood away.” + +So they made haste to lock up all the food and hide themselves in the +garret. + +Meanwhile the Bear had been toiling and moiling away at his bundle of +wood, which took him much longer to collect than he expected; however, +at last he arrived quite exhausted at the woodcutter’s cottage. Seeing +the brass Khichri pot by the fire, he threw down his load and went in. +And then—mercy! wasn’t he angry when he found nothing in it—not even a +grain of rice, nor a tiny wee bit of pulse, but only a smell that was +so uncommonly nice that he actually cried with rage and disappointment. +He flew into the most dreadful temper, but though he turned the house +topsy-turvy, he could not find a morsel of food. Finally, he declared +he would take the wood away again, but, as the crafty old woman had +imagined, when he came to the task, he did not care, even for the sake +of revenge, to carry so heavy a burden. + +“I won’t go away empty-handed,” said he to himself, seizing the Khichri +pot; “if I can’t get the taste I’ll have the smell!” + +Now, as he left the cottage, he caught sight of the beautiful golden +pears hanging over into the yard. His mouth began to water at once, for +he was desperately hungry, and the pears were the best of the season. +In a trice he was on the wall, up the tree, and gathering the biggest +and ripest one he could find, was just putting it into his mouth when a +thought struck him. + +“If I take these pears home I shall be able to sell them for ever so +much to the other bears, and then with the money I shall be able to buy +some Khichri. Ha, ha! I shall have the best of the bargain after all!” + +So saying, he began to gather the ripe pears as fast as he could and +put them in the Khichri pot, but whenever he came to an unripe one he +would shake his head and say, “No one would buy that, yet it is a pity +to waste it.” So he would pop it into his mouth and eat it, making wry +faces if it was very sour. + +Now all this time the Woodman’s Wife had been watching the Bear through +a crevice, and holding her breath for fear of discovery; but, at last, +what with being asthmatic, and having a cold in her head, she could +hold it no longer, and just as the Khichri pot was quite full of golden +ripe pears, out she came with the most tremendous sneeze you ever +heard—“A-h-che-u!” + +The Bear, thinking some one had fired a gun at him, dropped the Khichri +pot into the cottage yard, and fled into the forest as fast as his legs +would carry him. + +So the Woodrnan and his Wife got the Khichri, the wood, and the coveted +pears, but the poor bear got nothing but a very bad stomachache from +eating unripe fruit. + + + + +THE THIEF AND THE FOX + + +By Ramaswarni Raju + +A man tied his horse to a tree and went into an inn. A Thief hid the +horse in a wood, and stood near the tree as if he had not done it. + +“Did you see my horse?” said the man. + +“Yes,” said the Thief, “I saw the tree eat up your horse.” + +“How could the tree eat up my horse?” said the man. + +“Why it did so,” said the Thief. + +The two went to a Fox and told him of the case. The Fox said. “I am +dull. All last night the sea was on fire; I had to throw a great deal +of hay into it to quench the flames; so come to-morrow, and I shall +hear your case. + +“Oh, you lie,” said the Thief. “How could the sea burn? How could hay +quench the flames?” + +“Oh, you lie,” said the Fox, with a loud laugh; “how could a tree eat +up a horse?” + +The Thief saw his lie had no legs, and gave the man his horse. + + + + +THE FARMER AND THE FOX + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +A farmer was returning from a fair which he had attended the previous +day at a neighboring market town. He had a quantity of poultry which he +had purchased. A Fox observed this, and approaching the Farmer, said, +“Good morning, my friend.” + +“What cheer, old fellow?” said the Farmer. + +“I am just coming from the wood, through which you mean to go with your +poultry. A band of highwaymen has been tarrying there since daybreak.” + +“Then what shall I do?” said the Farmer. + +“Why,” said the Fox, “if I were you I should stay here a while, and +after breakfast enter the wood, for by that time the robbers will have +left the place.” + +“So be it,” said the Farmer, and had a hearty breakfast, with Reynard +for his guest. + +They kept drinking for a long time. Reynard appeared to have lost his +wits; he stood up and played the drunkard to perfection. The Farmer, +who highly admired the pranks of his guest, roared with laughter, and +gradually fell into a deep slumber. It was some time after noon when he +awoke. To his dismay he found that the Fox was gone, and that the +poultry had all disappeared! + +“Alas!” said the Farmer, as he trudged on his way home with a heavy +heart, “I thought the old rogue was quite drowned in liquor, but I now +see it was all a pretense. One must indeed be very sober to play the +drunkard to perfection.” + + + + +THE FOOLS AND THE DRUM + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +Two fools heard a Drum sounding, and said to themselves, There is some +one inside it who makes the noise.” + +So, watching a moment, when the drummer was out, they pierced a hole in +each side of it, and pushed their hands in. Each felt the hand of the +other within the Drum, and exclaimed, “I have caught him!” + +Then one said to the other, “Brother, the fellow seems to be a stubborn +knave; come what will, we should not give in.” + +“Not an inch, brother,” said the other. + +So they kept pulling each other’s hand, fancying it was the man in the +Drum. The drummer came up, and finding them in such an awkward plight +showed them with his fist who the man in the Drum really was. But as +his fine Drum was ruined, he said, with a sigh, “Alas! Fools have +fancies with a triple wing!” + + + + +THE LION AND THE GOAT + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +A lion was eating up one after another the animals of a certain +country. One day an old Goat said, “We must put a stop to this. I have +a plan by which he may be sent away from this part of the country.” + +“Pray act up to it at once,” said the other animals. + +The old Goat laid himself down in a cave on the roadside, with his +flowing beard and long curved horns. The Lion, on his way to the +village, saw him, and stopped at the mouth of the cave. + +“So you have come, after all,” said the Goat. + +“What do you mean?” said the Lion. + +“Why, I have long been lying in this cave. I have eaten up one hundred +elephants, a hundred tigers, a thousand wolves, and ninety-nine lions. +One more lion has been wanting. I have waited long and patiently. +Heaven has, after all, been kind to me,” said the Goat, and shook his +horns and his beard, and made a start as if he were about to spring +upon the Lion. + +The latter said to himself, “This animal looks like a Goat, but it does +not talk like one. So it is very likely some wicked spirit in this +shape. Prudence often serves us better than valor, so for the present I +shall return to the wood,” and he turned back. + +The Goat rose up, and, advancing to the mouth of the cave, said, “Will +you come back tomorrow?” + +“Never again,” said the Lion. + +“Do you think I shall be able to see you, at least, in the wood +to-morrow?” + +“Neither in the wood nor in this neighborhood any more,” said the Lion, +and running to the forest, soon left it with his kindred. + +The animals in the country, not hearing him roar any more, gathered +round the Goat, and said, “The wisdom of one doth save a host.” + + + + +THE GLOWWORM AND THE JACKDAW + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +Jackdaw once ran up to a Glowworm and was about to seize him. “Wait a +moment, good friend,” said the Worm, “and you shall hear something to +your advantage.” + +“Ah! what is it?” said the Daw. + +“I am but one of the many glowworms that live in this forest. If you +wish to have them all, follow me,” said the Glowworm. + +“Certainly!” said the Daw. + +Then the Glowworm led him to a place in the wood where a fire had been +kindled by some woodmen, and pointing to the sparks flying about, said, +“There you find the glowworms warming themselves round a fire. When you +have done with them I shall show you some more, at a distance from this +place.” + +The Daw darted at the sparks and tried to swallow some of them, but his +mouth being burned by the attempt, he ran away exclaiming, “Ah, the +Glowworm is a dangerous little creature!” + + + + +THE CAMEL AND THE PIG + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +A camel said, “Nothing like being tall! Look how tall I am!” + +A Pig, who heard these words, said, “Nothing like being short! Look how +short I am!” + +The Camel said, “Well, if I fail to prove the truth of what I said. I +shall give up my hump.” + +The Pig said, “If I fail to prove the truth of what I have said, I +shall give up my snout.” + +“Agreed!” said the Camel. + +“Just so!” said the Pig. + +They came to a garden, inclosed by a low wall without any opening. The +Camel stood on this side of the wall, and reaching the plants within by +means of his long neck, made a breakfast on them. Then he turned, +jeeringly to the Pig, who had been standing at the bottom of the wall, +without even having a look at the good things in the garden, and said, +“Now, would you be tall or short?” + +Next they came to a garden, inclosed by a high wall, with a wicket gate +at one end. The Pig entered by the gate, and, after having eaten his +fill of the vegetables within, came out, laughing at the poor Camel, +who had had to stay outside because he was too tall to enter the garden +by the gate, and said, “Now, would you be tall or short?” + +Then they thought the matter over and came to the conclusion that the +Camel should keep his hump and the Pig his snout, observing, “Tall is +good, where tall would do; of short, again, ’tis also true!” + + + + +THE DOG AND THE DOG DEALER + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +A dog was standing by the cottage of a peasant. A man who dealt in dogs +passed by the way. The Dog said, “Will you buy me?” + +The man said, “Oh, you ugly little thing! I would not give a quarter of +a penny for you!” + +Then the Dog went to the palace of the king and stood by the portal. +The sentinel caressed it, and said, “You are a charming little +creature!” + +Just then the Dog Dealer came by. The Dog said, “Will you buy me?” + +“Oh,” said the man, “you guard the palace of the king, who must have +paid a high price for you. I cannot afford to pay the amount, else I +would willingly take you.” + +“Ah!” said the Dog, “how place and position affect people!” + + + + +THE TIGER, THE FOX, AND THE HUNTERS + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +A fox was once caught in a trap. A hungry Tiger saw him and said, “So +you are here!” + +“Only on your account,” said the Fox in a whisper. + +“How so?” said the Tiger. + +“Why, you were complaining you could not get men to eat, so I got into +this net to-day, that you may have the men when they come to take me,” +said the Fox, and gave a hint that if he would wait a while in a +thicket close by he would point out the men to him. + +“May I depend upon your word?” said the Tiger. + +“Certainly,” said the Fox. + +The Hunters came, and seeing the Fox in the net, said, “So you are +here!” + +“Only on your account,” said the Fox, in a whisper. + +“How so?” said the men. + +“Why, you were complaining you could not get at the Tiger that has been +devouring your cattle; I got into this net to-day that you may have +him. As I expected, he came to eat me up, and is in yonder thicket,” +said the Fox, and gave a hint that if they would take him out of the +trap he would point out the Tiger. + +“May we depend upon your word?” said the men. + +“Certainly,” said the Fox, while the men went with him in a circle to +see that he did not escape. + +Then the Fox said to the Tiger and the men, “Sir Tiger, here are the +men; gentlemen, here is the Tiger.” + +The men left the Fox and turned to the Tiger. The former beat a hasty +retreat to the wood, saying, “I have kept my promise to both; now you +may settle it between yourselves.” + +The Tiger exclaimed, when it was too late, “Alas! what art for a double +part!” + + + + +THE SEA, THE FOX, AND THE WOLF + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +A fox that lived by the seashore once met a Wolf that had never seen +the Sea. The Wolf said, “What is the Sea?” + +“It is a great piece of water by my dwelling,” said the Fox. + +“Is it under your control?” said the Wolf. + +“Certainly,” said the Fox. + +“Will you show me the Sea, then?” said the Wolf. + +“With pleasure,” said the Fox. So the Fox led the Wolf to the Sea and +said to the waves, “Now go back”—they went back! “Now come up”—and they +came up! Then the Fox said to the waves, “My friend, the Wolf, has come +to see you, so you will come up and go back till I bid you stop; and +the Wolf saw with wonder the waves coming up and going back. + +He said to the Fox, “May I go into the Sea?” + +“As far as you like. Don’t be afraid, for at a word, the Sea would go +or come as I bid, and as you have already seen.” + +The Wolf believed the Fox, and followed the waves rather far from the +shore. A great wave soon upset him, and threw his carcass on the shore. +The Fox made a hearty breakfast on it. + + + + +THE FOX IN THE WELL + + +By Ramaswami Raju + +A fox fell into a well and was holding hard to some roots at the side +of it, just above the water. A Wolf, who was passing by, saw him, and +said, “Hello, Reynard, after all you have fallen into a well!” + +“But not without a purpose, and not without the means of getting out of +it,” said the Fox. + +“What do you mean?” said the Wolf. + +“Why,” said the Fox, “there is a drought all over the country now, and +the water in this well is the only means of appeasing the thirst of the +thousands that live in this neighborhood. They held a meeting, and +requested me to keep the water from going down lower; so I am holding +it up for the public good.” + +“What will be your reward?” said the Wolf. + +“They will give me a pension, and save me the trouble of going about +every day in quest of food, not to speak of innumerable other +privileges that will be granted me. Further, I am not to stay here all +day. I have asked a kinsman of mine, to whom I have communicated the +secret of holding up the water, to relieve me from time to time. Of +course he will also get a pension, and have other privileges. I expect +him here shortly.” + +“Ah, Reynard, may I relieve you, then? May I hope to get a pension and +other privileges? You know what a sad lot is mine, especially in +winter.” + +“Certainly,” said the Fox; “but you must get a long rope, that I may +come up and let you in. + +So the Wolf got a rope. Up came the Fox and down went the wo1f, when +the former observed, with a laugh, “My dear sir, you may remain there +till doomsday, or till the owner of the well throws up your carcass,” +and left the place. + + + + +ASHIEPATTLE AND HIS GOODLY CREW + + +By P. C. Asbjörnsen + +Once upon a time there was a king, and this king had heard about a ship +which went just as fast by land as by water; and as he wished to have +one like it, he promised his daughter and half the kingdom to anyone +who could build one for him. And this was given out at every church all +over the country. There were many who tried, as you can imagine; for +they thought it would be a nice thing to have half the kingdom, and the +princess wouldn’t be a bad thing into the bargain. But they all fared +badly. + +Now there were three brothers, who lived far away on the borders of a +forest; the eldest was called Peter, the second Paul, and the youngest +Espen Ashiepattle, because he always sat in the hearth, raking and +digging in the ashes. + +It so happened that Ashiepattle was at church on the Sunday when the +proclamation about the ship, which the king wanted, was read. When he +came home amid told his family, Peter, the eldest, asked his mother to +get some food ready for him, for now he was going away to try if he +could build the ship and win the princess and half the kingdom. When +the bag was ready lie set out. On the way he met an old man who was +very crooked and decrepit. + +“Where are you going?” said the man. + +“I’m going into the forest to make a trough for my father. He doesn’t +like to eat at table in our company,” said Peter. + +“Trough it shall he!” said the man. “What have you got in that bag of +yours?” he added. + +“Stones,” said Peter. + +“Stones it shall be,” said the man. Peter then went into the forest and +began to cut and chop away at the trees and work away as hard as he +could, but in spite of all his cutting and chopping he could only turn +out troughs. Toward dinner time he wanted something to eat and opened +his bag. But there was not a crumb of food in it. As he had nothing to +live upon, and as he did not turn out anything but troughs, he became +tired of the work, took his ax and bag on his shoulder, and went home +to his mother. + +Paul then wanted to set out to try his luck at building the ship and +winning the princess and half the kingdom. He asked his mother for +provisions, and when the bag was ready he threw it over his shoulder +and went on his way to the forest. On the road he met the old man, who +was very crooked and decrepit. + +“Where are you going?” said the man. + +“Oh, I am going into the forest to make a trough for our sucking pig,” +said Paul. + +“Pig trough it shall be,” said the man. “What have you got in that bag +of yours?” added the man. + +“Stones,” said Paul. + +“Stones it shall be,” said the man. + +Paul then began felling trees and working away as hard as he could, but +no matter how he cut and how he worked he could only turn out pig +troughs. He did not give in, however, but worked away till far into the +afternoon before he thought of taking any food; then all at once he +became hungry and opened his bag, but not a crumb could he find. Paul +became so angry he turned the bag inside out and struck it against the +stump of a tree; then lie took his ax, went out of the forest, and set +off homeward. + +As soon as Paul returned, Ashiepattle wanted to set out and asked his +mother for a bag of food. + +“Perhaps I can manage to build the ship and win the princess and half +the kingdom,” said he. + +“Well, I never heard the like,” said his mother. “Are you likely to win +the princess, you, who never do anything but root and dig in the ashes? +No, you shan’t have any bag with food!” + +Ashiepattle did not give in, however, but he prayed and begged till he +got leave to go. He did not get any food, not he; but he stole a couple +of oatmeal cakes and some flat beer and set out. + +When he had walked a while he met the same old man, who was so crooked +and tattered and decrepit. + +“Where are you going?” said the man. + +“Oh, I was going into the forest to try if it were possible to build a +ship which can go as fast by land as by water,” said Ashiepattle, “for +the king has given out that anyone who can build such a ship shall have +the princess and half the kingdom.” + +“What have you got in that bag of yours?” said the man. + +“Not much worth talking about; there ought to be a little food in it,” +answered Ashiepattle. + +“If you’ll give me a little of it I’ll help you, said the man. + +“With all my heart,” said Ashiepattle, “but there is nothing but some +oatmeal cakes and a drop of flat beer.” + +It didn’t matter what it was, the man said; if he only got some of it +he would be sure to help Ashiepattle. + +When they came up to an old oak in the wood the man said to the lad, +“Now you must cut off a chip and then put it back again in exactly the +same place, and when you have done that you can lie down and go to +sleep.” + +Ashiepattle did as he was told and then lay down to sleep, and in his +sleep lie thought he heard somebody cutting and hammering and sawing +and carpentering, but he could not wake up till the man called him; +then the ship stood quite finished by the side of the oak. + +“Now you must go on board and everyone you meet you must take with +you,” said the man. Espen Ashiepattle thanked him for the ship, said he +would do so, and then sailed away. + +When he had sailed some distance he came to a long, thin tramp, who was +lying near some rocks, eating stones. + +“What sort of a fellow are you, that you lie there eating stones?” +asked Ashiepattle. The tramp said he was so fond of meat he could never +get enough, therefore he was obliged to eat stones. And then he asked +if he might go with him in the ship. + +“If you want to go with us, you must make haste and get on board,” said +Ashiepattle. + +Yes, that he would, but he must take with him some large stones for +food. + +When they had sailed some distance they met one who was lying on the +side of a sunny hill, sucking at a bung. + +“Who are you,” said Ashiepattle, “and what is the good of lying there +sucking that bung?” + +“Oh, when one hasn’t got the barrel, one must be satisfied with the +bung,” said the man. “I’m always so thirsty, I can never get enough +beer and wine.” And then he asked for leave to go with him in the ship. + +“If you want to go with me you must make haste and get on board,” said +Ashiepattle. + +Yes, that he would. And so he went on board and took the bung with him +to allay his thirst. + +When they had sailed a while again they met one who was lying with his +ear to the ground, listening. + +“Who are you, and what is the good of lying there on the ground +listening?” said Ashiepattle. + +“I’m listening to the grass, for I have such good ears that I can hear +the grass growing,” said the man. And then he asked leave to go with +him in the ship. Ashiepattle could not say nay to that, so he said: + +“If you want to go with me, you must make haste and get on board.” + +Yes, the man would. And he also went on board. + +When they had sailed some distance they came to one who was standing +taking aim with a gun. + +“Who are you, and what is the good of standing there aiming like that?” +asked Ashiepattle. + +So the man said: “I have such good eyes that I can hit anything, right +to the end of the world.” And then he asked for leave to go with him in +the ship. + +“If you want to go with me, you must make haste and get on board,” said +Ashiepattle. + +Yes, that he would. And he went on board. + +When they had sailed some distance again they came to one who was +hopping and limping about on one leg, and on the other he had seven ton +weights. + +“Who are you, said Ashiepattle, “and what is the good of hopping and +limping about on one leg with seven ton weights on the other?” + +“I am so light,” said the man, “that if I walked on both my legs I +should get to the end of the world in less than five minutes.” And then +he asked for leave to go with him in the ship. + +“If you want to go with us, you must make haste and get on board,” said +Ashiepattle. + +Yes, that he would. And so he joined Ashiepattle and his crew on the +ship. + +When they had sailed on some distance they met one who was standing +holding his hand to his mouth. + +“Who are you?” said Ashiepattle, “and what is the good of standing +there, holding your mouth like that?” + +“Oh, I have seven summers and fifteen winters in my body,” said the +man; “so I think I ought to keep my mouth shut, for if they get out all +at the same time they would finish off the world altogether.” And then +he asked for leave to go with him in the ship. + +“If you want to go with us you must make haste and get on board,” said +Ashiepattle. + +Yes, that he would, and then he joined the others on the ship. + +When they had sailed a long time they came to the king’s palace. + +Ashiepattle went straight in to the king and said the ship stood ready +in the courtyard outside; and now he wanted the princess, as the king +had promised. + +The king did not like this very much, for Ashiepattle did not cut a +very fine figure; he was black and sooty, and the king did not care to +give his daughter to such a tramp, so he told Ashiepattle that he would +have to wait a little. + +“But you can have her all the same, if by this time to-morrow you can +empty my storehouse of three hundred barrels of meat,” said the king. + +“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle; “but perhaps you don’t mind +my taking one of my crew with me?” + +“Yes, you can do that, and take all six if you like,” said the king, +for he was quite sure that even if Ashiepattle took six hundred with +him, it would be impossible. So Ashiepattle took with him the one who +ate stones and always hungered after meat. + +When they came next morning and opened the storehouse they found he had +eaten all the meat, except six small legs of mutton, one for each of +his companions. Ashiepattle then went to the king and said the +storehouse was empty, and he supposed he could now have the princess. + +The king went into the storehouse and, sure enough, it was quite empty; +but Ashiepattle was still black and sooty, and the king thought it was +really too bad that such a tramp should have his daughter. So he said +he had a cellar full of beer and old wine, three hundred barrels of +each kind, which he would have him drink first. + +“I don’t mind your having my daughter if you can drink them up by this +time to-morrow,” said the king. + +“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle, “but perhaps you don’t mind +my taking one of my crew with me?” + +“Yes, you may do that,” said the king, for he was quite sure there was +too much beer and wine even for all seven of them. Ashiepattle took +with him the one who was always sucking the bung and was always +thirsty; and the king then shut them down in the cellar. + +There the thirsty one drank barrel after barrel, as long as there was +any left, but in the last barrel he left a couple of pints to each of +his companions. + +In the morning the cellar was opened and Ashiepattle went at once to +the king and said he had finished the beer and wine, and now he +supposed he could have the princess as the king had promised. + +“Well, I must first go down to the cellar and see,” said the king, for +he could not believe it; but when he got there he found nothing but +empty barrels. + +But Ashiepattle was both black and sooty and the king thought it +wouldn’t do for him to have such a son in law. So he said that if +Ashiepattle could get water from the end of the world in ten minutes +for the princess’s tea, he could have both her and half the kingdom; +for he thought that task would be quite impossible. + +“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle, and sent for the one of his +crew who jumped about on one leg and had seven ton weights on the +other, and told him he must take off the weights and use his legs as +quickly as he could, for he must have water from the end of the world +for the princess’s tea in ten minutes. + +So he took off the weights, got a bucket, and set off, and the next +moment he was out of sight. But they waited and waited and still he did +not return. At last it wanted but three minutes to the time and the +king became as pleased as if he had won a big wager. + +Then Ashiepattle called the one who could hear the grass grow and told +him to listen and find out what had become of their companion. + +“He has fallen asleep at the well”,” said he who could hear the grass +grow; “I can hear him snoring, and a troll is scratching his head.” +Ashiepattle then called the one who could shoot to the end of the world +and told him to send a bullet into the troll; he did so and hit the +troll right in the eye. The troll gave such a yell that he woke the man +who had come to fetch the water for the tea, and when he returned to +the palace there was still one minute left out of the ten. + +Ashiepattle went straight to the king and said: “Here is the water;” +and now he supposed he could have the princess, for surely the king +would not make any more fuss about it now. But the king thought that +Ashiepattle was just as black and sooty as ever, and did not like to +have him for a son-in-law; so he said he had three hundred fathoms of +wood with which he was going to dry corn in the bakehouse, and he +wouldn’t mind Ashiepattle having his daughter if he would first sit in +the bakehouse and burn all the wood; he should then have the princess, +and that without fail. + +“I suppose I must try,” said Ashiepattle; “but perhaps you don’t mind +my taking one of my crew with me?” + +“Oh, no, you can take all six,” said the king, for he thought it would +be warm enough for all of them. + +Ashiepattle took with him the one who had fifteen winters and seven +summers in his body, and in the evening he went across to the +bakehouse: but the king had piled up so much wood on the fire that you +might almost have melted iron in the room. They could not get out of +it, for no sooner were they inside than the king fastened the bolt and +put a couple of padlocks on the door besides. Ashiepattle then said to +his companion: + +“You had better let out six or seven winters, so that we may get +something like summer weather here.” + +They were then just able to exist, but during the night it got cold +again and Ashiepattle then told the man to let out a couple of summers, +and so they slept far into the next day. But when they heard the king +outside Ashiepattle said: + +“You must let out a couple more winters, but you must manage it so that +the last winter you let out strikes the king right in the face.” + +He did so, and when the king opened the door, expecting to find +Ashiepattle and his companion burned to cinders, he saw them huddling +together and shivering with cold till their teeth chattered. The same +instant Ashiepattle’s companion with the fifteen winters in his body +let loose the last one right in the king’s face, which swelled up into +a big chilblain. + +“Can I have the princess now?” asked Ashiepattle + +“Yes, take her and keep her and the kingdom into the bargain,” said the +king, who dared not refuse any longer. And so the wedding took place +and they feasted and made merry and fired off guns and powder. + +While the people were running about searching for wadding for their +guns, they took me instead, gave me some porridge in a bottle and some +milk in a basket, and fired me right across here, so that I could tell +you how it all happened. + + + + +THE SQUIRE’S BRIDE + + +By P. C. Asbjörnsen + +Once upon a time there was a rich squire who owned a large farm, and +had plenty of silver at the bottom of his chest and money in the bank +besides; but he felt there was something wanting, for he was a widower. + +One day the daughter of a neighboring farmer was working for him in the +hayfield. The squire saw her and liked her very much, and as she was +the child of poor parents he thought if he only hinted that he wanted +her she would be ready to marry him at once. + +So he told her he had been thinking of getting married again. + +“Aye! one may think of many things,” said the girl, laughing slyly. + +In her opinion the old fellow ought to be thinking of something that +behooved him better than getting married. + +“Well, you see, I thought that you should be my wife!” + +“No, thank you all the same,” said she, “that’s not at all likely.” + +The squire was not accustomed to be gainsaid, and the more she refused +him the more determined he was to get her. + +But as he made no progress in her favor he sent for her father and told +him that if he could arrange the matter with his daughter he would +forgive him the money he had lent him, and he would also give him the +piece of land which lay close to his meadow into the bargain. + +“Yes, you may be sure I’ll bring my daughter to her senses,” said the +father. “She is only a child, and she doesn’t know what’s best for +her.” But all his coaxing and talking did not help matters. She would +not have the squire, she said, if he sat buried in gold up to his ears. + +The squire waited day after day, but at last he became so angry and +impatient that he told the father, if he expected him to stand by his +promise, he would have to put his foot down and settle the matter now, +for he would not wait any longer. + +The man knew no other way out of it but to let the squire get +everything ready for the wedding; and when the parson and the wedding +guests had arrived the squire should send for the girl as if she were +wanted for some work on the farm. When she arrived she would have to be +married right away, so that she would have no time to think it over. + +The squire thought this was well and good, and so he began brewing and +baking and getting ready for the wedding in grand style. When the +guests had arrived the squire called one of his farm lads and told him +to run down to his neighbor and ask him to send him what he had +promised. + +“But if you are not back in a twinkling,” he said, shaking his fist at +him, “I’ll—” + +He did not say more, for the lad ran off as if he had been shot at. + +“My master has sent me to ask for that you promised him,” said the lad, +when he got to the neighbor, “but there is no time to be lost, for he +is terribly busy to-day.” + +“Yes, yes! Run down into the meadow and take her with you. There she +goes!” answered the neighbor. + +The lad ran off and when he came to the meadow he found the daughter +there raking the hay. + +“I am to fetch what your father has promised my master,” said the lad. + +“Ah, ha!” thought she. “Is that what they are up to?” + +“Ah, indeed!” she said. “I suppose it’s that little bay mare of ours. +You had better go and take her. She stands there tethered on the other +side of the pea field,” said the girl. + +The boy jumped on the back of the bay mare and rode home at full +gallop. + +“Have you got her with you?” asked the squire. + +“She is down at the door,” said the lad. + +“Take her up to the room my mother had,” said the squire. + +“But master, how can that be managed?” said the lad. + +“You must just do as I tell you,” said the squire. “If you cannot +manage her alone you must get the men to help you,” for he thought the +girl might turn obstreperous. + +When the lad saw his master’s face he knew it would be no use to +gainsay him. So he went and got all the farm tenants who were there to +help him. Some pulled at the head and the forelegs of the mare and +others pushed from behind, and at last they got her up the stairs and +into the room. There lay all the wedding finery ready. + +“Now, that’s done master!” said the lad; “but it was a terrible job. It +was the worst I have ever had here on the farm. + +“Never mind, you shall not have done it for nothing,” said his master. +“Now send the women up to dress her.” + +“But I say master—!” said the lad. + +“None of your talk!” said the squire. “Tell them they must dress her +and mind and not forget either wreath or crown. + +The lad ran into the kitchen. + +“Look here, lasses,” he said; “you must go upstairs and dress up the +bay mare as bride. I expect the master wants to give the guests a +laugh.” + +The women dressed the bay mare in everything that was there, and then +the lad went and told his master that now she was ready dressed, with +wreath and crown and all. + +“Very well, bring her down!” said the squire. “I will receive her +myself at the door,” said he. + +There was a terrible clatter on the stairs; for that bride, you know, +had no silken shoes on. + +When the door was opened and the squire’s bride entered the parlor you +can imagine there was a good deal of tittering and grinning. + +And as for the squire you may he sure line had had enough of that +bride, and they say he never went courting again. + + + + +THE DOLL IN THE GRASS + + +By P. C. Asbjörnsen + +Once upon a time there was a king who had twelve sons. When they were +grown up he told them they must go out into the world and find +themselves wives, who must all be able to spin and weave and make a +shirt in one day, else he would not have them for daughters-in-law. He +gave each of his sons a horse and a new suit of armor, and so they set +out in the world to look for wives. + +When they had traveled a bit on the way they said they would not take +Ashiepattle with them, for he was good for nothing. Ashiepattle must +stop behind; there was no help for it. He did not know what he should +do or which way he should turn; he became so sad that he got off the +horse and sat down on the grass and began to cry. + +When he had sat a while one of the tussocks among the grass began to +move, and out of it came a small white figure; as it came nearer +Ashiepattle saw that it was a beautiful little girl, but she was so +tiny, so very, very tiny. + +She went up to him and asked him if he would come below and pay a visit +to the doll in the grass. + +Yes, that he would; and so he did. When he came down below, the doll in +the grass was sitting in a chair dressed very finely and looking still +more beautiful. She asked Ashiepattle where he was going and what was +his errand. + +He told her they were twelve brothers, and that the king had given them +each a horse and a suit of armor, and told them to go out in the world +and find themselves wives, but they must all be able to spin and weave +and make a shirt in a day. + +“If you can do that and will become my wife, I will not travel any +farther,” said Ashiepattle to the doll in the grass. + +Yes, that she would, and she set to work at once to get the shirt spun, +woven, and made; but it was so tiny, so very, very tiny, no bigger +than—so! + +Ashiepattle then returned home, taking the shirt with him; but when he +brought it out he felt very shy because it was so small. But the king +said he could have her for all that, and you can imagine how happy and +joyful Ashiepattle became. + +The road did not seem long to him as he set out to fetch his little +sweetheart. When he came to the doll in the grass he wanted her to sit +with him on his horse; but no, that she wouldn’t; she said she would +sit and drive in a silver spoon, and she had two small while horses +which would draw her. So they set out, he on his horse and she in the +silver spoon; and the horses which drew her were two small white mice. + +Ashiepattle always kept to one side of the road, for he was so afraid +he should ride over her; she was so very, very tiny. + +When they had traveled a bit on the way they came to a large lake; +there Ashiepattle’s horse took fright and shied over to the other side +of the road, and upset the spoon, so that the doll in the grass fell +into the water. Ashiepattle became very sad, for he did not know how he +should get her out again; but after a while a merman brought her up. + +But now she had become just as big as any other grown-up being and was +much more beautiful than she was before. So he placed her in front of +him on the horse and rode home. + +When Ashiepattle got there all his brothers had also returned, each +with a sweetheart; but they were so ugly and ill-favored and +bad-tempered that they had come to blows with their sweethearts on +their way home. On their heads they had hats which were painted with +tar and soot, and this had run from their hats down their faces, so +that they were still uglier and more ill-favored to behold. + +When the brothers saw Ashiepattle’s sweetheart they all became envious +of him, but the king was so pleased with Ashiepattle and his sweetheart +that he drove all the others away, and so Ashiepattle was married to +the doll in the grass; and afterward they lived happy and comfortable +for a long, long while; and if they are not dead, they must be still +alive. + + + + +THE BEAR AND THE FOX + + +By P. C. Asbjörnsen + +Once upon a time there was a bear, who sat on a sunny hillside taking a +nap. Just then a fox came slinking by and saw him. + +“Aha! have I caught you napping, grandfather? See if I don’t play you a +trick this time!” said Reynard to himself. + +He then found three wood mice and laid them on a stump of a tree just +under the bear’s nose. + +“Boo! Bruin! Peter the hunter is just behind that stump!” shouted the +fox right into the bear’s ear, and then took to his heels and made off +into the wood. + +The bear woke at once, and when he saw the three mice he became so +angry that he lifted his paw and was just going to strike them, for he +thought it was they who had shouted in his ear. + +But just then he saw Reynard’s tail between the bushes and he set off +at such a speed that the branches crackled under him, and Bruin was +soon so close upon Reynard that he caught him by the right hind leg +just as be was running into a hole under a pine tree. + +Reynard was now in a fix; but he was not to be outwitted, and he cried: + +“Slip pine root, grip fox foot,” and so the bear let go his hold; but +the fox laughed far down in the hole and said: + +“I sold you that time, also, grandfather!” + +“Out of sight is not out of mind!” said the bear, who was in a fine +fury. + +The other morning, when Bruin came trudging across the moor with a fat +pig, Master Reynard was lying on a stone by the moorside. + +“Good-day, grandfather!” said the fox. “What nice thing have you got +there?” + +“Pork,” said the bear. + +“I have got something tasty as well,” said the fox. + +“What’s that?” said the bear. + +“It’s the biggest bees’ nest I ever found,” said Reynard. + +“Ah, indeed,” said the bear, grinning, and his mouth began to water, he +thought a little honey would be so nice. “Shall we change victuals?” he +said. + +“No, I won’t do that,” said Reynard. But they made a wager about naming +three kinds of trees. If the fox could say them quicker than the bear +he was to have one bite at the pig; but if the bear could say them +quicker he was to have one suck at the bee’s nest. The bear thought he +would be able to suck all the honey up at one gulp. + +“Well said the fox, “that’s all well and good but if I win you must +promise to tear off the bristles where I want to have a bite,” he said. + +“Well, I suppose I must, since you are too lazy yourself,” said the +bear. + +Then they began to name the trees. + +“Spruce, fir, pine,” growled the bear. His voice was very gruff. But +all these were only different names of one kind of tree. + +“Ash, aspen, oak,” screeched the fox, so that the forest resounded. He +had thus won the bet, and so he jumped down, took the heart out of the +pig at one bite, and tried to run off. But the bear was angry, because +he had taken the best bit of the whole pig, and seized hold of him by +his tail and held him fast. + +“Just wait a bit,” said the bear, who was furious. + +“Never mind, grandfather; if you’ll let me go you shall have a taste of +my honey,” said the fox. + +When the bear heard this he let go his hold and the fox jumped up on +the stone after the honey. + +“Over this nest,” said Reynard, “I’ll put a leaf, and in the leaf there +is a hole, through which you can suck the honey.” He then put the nest +right up under the bear’s nose, pulled away the leaf, jumped on to the +stone, and began grinning and laughing; for there was neither honey nor +honeycomb in the nest. It was a wasp’s nest as big as a man’s head, +full of wasps, and out they swarmed and stung the bear in his eyes and +ears and on his mouth and snout. He had so much to do with scratching +them off him that he had no the to think of Reynard. + +Ever since the bear has been afraid of wasps. + +Once the fox and the bear made up their minds to have a field in +common. They found a small clearing far away in the forest, where they +sowed rye the first year. + +“Now we must share and share alike,” said Reynard; “if you will have +the roots I will have the tops,” he said. + +Yes, Bruin was quite willing; but when they had thrashed the crop the +fox got all the corn, while the bear got nothing but the roots and +tares. + +Bruin didn’t like this, but the fox said it was only as they had +agreed. + +“This year I am the gainer,” said the fox; “another year it will be +your turn; you can then have the tops and I will be satisfied with the +roots.” + +Next spring the fox asked the bear if he didn’t think turnips would be +the right thing for that year. + +“Yes, that’s better food than corn,” said the bear; and the fox thought +the same. + +When the autumn came the fox took the turnips, but the bear only got +the tops. + +The bear then became so angry that he parted company then and there +with Reynard. + +One day the bear was lying eating a horse which he had killed. Reynard +was about again and came slinking along, his mouth watering for a tasty +bit of the horseflesh. + +He sneaked in and out and round about till he came up behind the bear, +when he made a spring to the other side of the carcass, snatching a +piece as he jumped across. + +The bear was not slow either; he made a dash after Reynard and caught +the tip of his red tail in his paw. Since that time the fox has always +had a white tip to his tail. + +“Wait a bit Reynard, and come here,” said the bear, “and I’ll teach you +how to catch horses.” + +Yes, Reynard was quite willing to learn that, but he didn’t trust +himself too near the bear. + +“When you see a horse lying asleep in a sunny place,” said the bear, +“you must tie yourself fast with the hair of his tail to your brush, +and then fasten your teeth in his thigh,” he said. + +Before long the fox found a horse lying asleep on a sunny hillside; and +so he did as the bear had told him; he knotted and tied himself well to +the horse with the hair of the tail and then fastened his teeth into +his thigh. + +Up jumped the horse and began to kick and gallop so that Reynard was +dashed against stock and stone, and was so bruised and battered that he +nearly lost his senses. + +All at once a hare rushed by. “Where are you off to in such a hurry, +Reynard?” said the hare. + +“I’m having a ride, Bunny!” said the fox. + +The hare sat up on his hind legs and laughed till the sides of his +mouth split right up to his ears, at the thought of Reynard having such +a grand ride; but since then the fox has never thought of catching +horses again. + +That time it was Bruin who for once had the better of Reynard; +otherwise they say the bear is as simple-minded as the trolls. + + + + +THE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND + + +By Sir George Webbe Dasent + +Once upon a time there was an old widow who had one son, and she was +poorly and weak, her son had to go up into the safe to fetch meal for +cooking; but when he got outside the safe, and was just going down the +steps, there came the North Wind, puffing and blowing, caught up the +meal, and so away with it through the air. Then the lad went back into +the safe for more; but when he came out again on the steps, if the +North Wind didn’t come again and carry off the meal with a puff; and +more than that, he did so the third time. At this the lad got very +angry; and as he thought it hard that the North Wind should behave so, +he thought he’d just look him up and ask him to give up his meal. + +So off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked; but at +last he came to the North Wind’s house. + +“Good day!” said the lad, and “thank you for coming to see us +yesterday.” + +“GOOD DAY!” answered the North Wind, for his voice was loud and gruff, +“AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME. WHAT DO YOU WANT?” + +“Oh!” answered the lad, “I only wished to ask you to be so good as to +let me have back that meal you took from me on the safe steps, for we +haven’t much to live on; and if you’re to go on snapping up the morsel +we have there’ll be nothing for it but to starve.” + +“I haven’t got your meal,” said the North Wind; “but if you are in such +need, I’ll give you a cloth which will get you everything you want, if +you only say, ‘Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good +dishes!’” + +With this the lad was well content. But, as the way was so long he +couldn’t get home in one day, he stopped at an inn on the way; and when +they were going to sit down to supper, he laid the cloth on a table +which stood in the corner and said: + +“Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.” + +He had scarce said so before the cloth did as it was bid; and all who +stood by thought it a fine thing, but most of all the landlady. So, +when all were fast asleep, at dead of night, she took the lad’s cloth, +and put another in its stead, just like the one he had got from the +North Wind, but which couldn’t so much as serve up a bit of dry bread. + +So when the lad awoke, he took his cloth and went off with it, and that +day he got home to his mother. + +“Now,” said he, “I’ve been to the North Wind’s house, and a good fellow +he is, for he gave me this cloth, and when I only say to it, ‘Cloth, +spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes,’ I get any sort +of food I please.” + +“All very true, I dare say,” said his mother, “but seeing is believing, +and I shan’t believe it till I see it.” + +So the lad made haste, drew out a table, laid the cloth on it, and +said— “Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.” + +But never a bit of dry bread did the cloth serve + +“Well,” said the lad, “there’s no help for it but to go to the North +Wind again;” and away he went. + +So late in the afternoon he came to where the North Wind lived. + +“Good evening!” said the lad. + +“Good evening!” said the North Wind. “I want my rights for that meal of +ours which you took,” said the lad; “for, as for that cloth I got, it +isn’t worth a penny.” + +“I’ve got no meal,” said the North Wind; “but yonder you have a ram +which coins nothing but golden ducats as soon as you say to it— + +“‘Ram, ram! Make money!’” + +So the lad thought this a fine thing; but as it was too far to get home +that day, he stopped for the night at the same inn where he had slept +before. + +Before he called for anything, he tried the truth of what the North +Wind had said of the ram, and found it all right; but when the landlord +saw that, he thought it was a famous ram, and, when the lad had fallen +asleep, he took another which couldn’t coin gold ducats, and changed +the two. + +Next morning off went the lad; and when he got home to his mother, he +said—“After all, the North Wind is a jolly fellow; for now he has given +me a ram which can coin golden ducats if I only say, ‘Ram, ram! Make +money!’” + +“All very true, I dare say,” said his mother; “but I shan’t believe any +such stuff until I see the ducats made.” + +“Ram, ram! Make money!” said the lad; but the ram made no money. + +So the lad went back again to the North Wind, and blew him up, and said +the ram was worth nothing, and he must have his rights for the meal. + +“Well,” said the North Wind, “I’ve nothing else to give you but that +old stick in the corner yonder; but it’s a stick of that kind that if +you say— ‘Stick, stick! lay on!’ it lays on till you say, ‘Stick, +stick! now stop!’ + +So, as the way was long the lad turned in this night, too, to the +landlord; but as he could pretty well guess how things stood as to the +cloth and the ram, he lay down at once on the bench and began to snore, +as if he were asleep. + +Now the landlord, who easily saw that the stick must be worth +something, hunted up one which was like it, and when he heard the lad +snore, was going to change the two, but just as the landlord was about +to take it, the lad bawled out— “Stick, stick! lay on!” + +So the stick began to beat the landlord till he jumped over chairs, and +tables, and benches, and yelled and roared,— “Oh my! oh my! bid the +stick be still, else it will beat me to death, and you shall have back +your cloth and your ram, + +When the lad thought the landlord had got enough, he said— “Stick, +stick! now stop!” + +Then he took the cloth and put it into his pocket, and went home with +his stick in his hand, leading the ram by a cord round its horns; and +so he got his rights for the meal he had lost. + + + + +THE HUSBAND WHO WAS TO MIND THE HOUSE + + +By Sir George Webbe Dasent + +Once upon a time there was a man, so surly and cross, he never thought +his wife did anything right in the house. So one evening in haymaking +time, he came home, scolding and swearing, and showing his teeth and +making a dust. + +“Dear love, don’t be so angry; there’s a good man,” said his goody; +“to-morrow let’s change our work. I’ll go out with the mowers and mow, +and you shall mind the house at home.” + +Yes, the husband thought that would do very well. He was quite willing, +he said. + +So early next morning his goody took a scythe over her neck, and went +out into the hayfield with the mowers and began to mow; but the man was +to mind the house, and do the work at home. + +First of all he wanted to churn the butter; but when he had churned a +while, he got thirsty, and went down to the cellar to tap a barrel of +ale. So, just when he had knocked in the bung, and was putting the tap +into the cask, he heard overhead the pig come into the kitchen. Then +off he ran up the cellar steps, with the tap in his hand, as fast as he +could, to look after the pig, lest it should upset the churn; but when +he got up, and saw that the pig had already knocked the churn over, and +stood there, routing and grunting amid the cream which was running all +over the floor, he got so wild with rage that he quite forgot his ale +barrel and ran at the pig as hard as he could. He caught it, too, just +as it ran out of doors, and gave it such a kick that piggy lay for dead +on the spot. Then all at once he remembered he had the tap in his hand, +but when he got down to the cellar, every drop of ale had run out of +the cask. + +Then he went into the dairy and found enough cream left to fill the +churn again, and so he began to churn, for butter they must have for +dinner. When he had churned a bit, he remembered that their milking cow +was still shut up in the brye, and hadn’t had a bit to eat or a drop to +drink all the morning, though the sun was high. Then all at once he +thought ’twas too far to take her down to the meadow, so he’d just get +her up on the housetop—for the house, you must know, was thatched with +sods, and a fine crop of grass was growing there. + +Now their house lay close up against a steep down, and he thought if he +laid a plank across to the thatch at the back he’d easily get the cow +up. + +But still he couldn’t leave the churn, for there was his little babe +crawling about the floor, and “if I leave it,” he thought, “the child +is sure to upset it!” So he took the churn on his back, and went out +with it; but then he thought he’d better first water the cow before he +turned her out on the thatch; so he took up a bucket to draw water out +of the well; but, as he stooped down at the well’s brink, all the cream +ran out of the churn over his shoulders, and so down into the well. + +Now it was near dinner time, and he hadn’t even got the butter yet; so +he thought he’d best boil the porridge, and filled the pot with water, +and hung it over the fire. When he had done that, he thought the cow +might perhaps fall off the thatch and break her legs or her neck. So he +got up on the house to tie her up. One end of the rope he made fast to +the cow’s neck, and the other he slipped down the chimney and tied +round his own thigh; and he had to make haste, for the water now began +to boil in the pot, and he had still to grind the oatmeal. + +So he began to grind away; but while he was hard at it, down fell the +cow off the housetop after all, and as she fell, she dragged the man up +the chimney by the rope. There he stuck fast; and as for the cow, she +hung halfway down the wall, swinging between heaven and earth, for she +could neither get down nor up. + +And now the goody had waited seven lengths and seven breadths for her +husband to come and call them home to dinner; but never a call they +had. At last she thought she’d waited long enough, and went home. But +when she got there and saw the cow hanging in such an ugly place, she +ran up and cut the rope in two with her scythe. But as she did this, +down came her husband out of the chimney; and so when his old dame came +inside the kitchen, there she found him standing on his head in the +porridge pot. + + + + +HOW ONE WENT OUT TO WOO + + +By Sir George Webbe Dasent + +Once upon a time there was a lad who went out to woo him a wife. Among +other places he came to a farmhouse, where the household were little +better than beggars; but when the wooer came in they wanted to make out +that they were well to do, as you may guess. Now the husband had got a +new arm to his coat. + +“Pray, take a seat,” he said to the wooer; “but there’s a shocking dust +in the house.” + +So he went about rubbing and wiping all the benches and tables with his +new arm, but he kept the other all the while behind his back. + +The wife she had got one new shoe, and she went stamping and sliding +with it up against the stools and chairs saying, “How untidy it is +here! Everything is out of place!” + +Then they called out to their daughter to come down and put things to +rights; but the daughter she had got a new cap; so she put her head in +at the door, and kept nodding and nodding, first to this side and then +to that. + +“Well! For my part, She said, I can’t be everywhere at once.” + +Aye! Aye! That was a well-to-do household the wooer had come to. + + + + +WHY THE BEAR IS STUMPY-TAILED + + +By Sir George Webbe Dasent + +One day the Bear met the Fox, who came slinking along with a string of +fish he had stolen. + +“Whence did you get these from?” asked the Bear. + +“Oh! My Lord Bruin, I’ve been out fishing and caught them,” said the +Fox. + +So the Bear had a mind to learn to fish too, and bade the Fox tell him +how he was to set about it. + +“Oh! It’s an easy craft for you”, answered the Fox, “and soon learned. +You’ve only got to go upon the ice, and cut a hole and stick your tail +down into it; and so you must go on holding it there as long as you +can. You’re not to mind if your tail smarts a little; that’s when the +fish bite. The longer you hold it there the more fish you’ll get; and +then all at once out with it, with a cross pull sideways, and with a +strong pull too.” + +Yes; the Bear did as the Fox had said, and held his tail a long, long +time down in the hole, till it was fast frozen in. Then he pulled it +out with a cross pull, and it snapped short off. That’s why Bruin goes +about with a stumpy tail this very day. + + + + +BOOTS WHO MADE THE PRINCESS SAY “THAT’S A STORY” + + +By Sir George Webbe Dasent + +Once upon a time there was a King who had a daughter, and she was such +a dreadful storyteller that the like of her was not to be found far or +near. So the King gave out, that if anyone could tell such a string of +lies as would get her to say, “That’s a story,” he should have her to +wife, and half the kingdom besides. Well, many came, as you may fancy, +to try their luck, for everyone would have been very glad to have the +Princess, to say nothing of the kingdom; but they all cut a sorry +figure, for the Princess was so given to storytelling, that all their +lies went in at one ear and out of the other. Among the rest came three +brothers to try their luck, and the two elder went first, but they +fared no better than those that had gone before them. Last of all, the +third, Boots, set off and found the Princess in the farmyard. + +“Good morning,” he said, “and thank you for nothing.” “Good morning,” +said she, “and the same to you.” Then she went on— + +“You haven’t such a fine farmyard as ours, I’ll be bound; for when two +shepherds stand, one at each end of it, and blow their ram’s horns, the +one can’t hear the other.” + +“Haven’t we though!” answered Boots; “ours is far bigger; for when a +calf starts to cross a field, it is a full-grown cow when it reaches +the other end.” + +“I dare say,” said the Princess. “Well, but you haven’t such a big ox, +after all, as ours yonder; for when two men sit, one on each horn, they +can’t touch each other with a tweny-foot rule.” + +“Stuff!” said Boots; “is that all? Why, we have an ox who is so big, +that when two men sit, one on each horn, and each blows his great +mountain-trumpet, they can’t hear one another.” + +“I dare say,” said the Princess; “but you haven’t so much milk as we, +I’ll be bound; for we milk our cows into great pails, and carry them +indoors, and empty them into great tubs, and so we make great, great +cheeses.” + +“Oh! you do, do you?” said Boots. “Well, we milk ours into great tubs, +and then we put them in carts and drive them indoors, and then we turn +them out into great brewing vats, and so we make cheeses as big as a +great house. We had, too, a dun mare to tread the cheese well together +when it was making; but once she tumbled down into the cheese, and we +lost her; and after we had eaten at this cheese seven years, we came +upon a great dun mare, alive and kicking. Well, once after that I was +going to drive this mare to the mill, and her backbone snapped in two; +but I wasn’t put out, not I; for I took a spruce sapling, and put it +into her for a backbone, and she had no other backbone all the while we +had her. But the sapling grew up into such a tall tree, that I climbed +right up to the sky by it, and when I got there I saw a lady sitting +and spinning the foam of the sea into pigs’—bristle ropes; but just +then the spruce-fir broke short off, and I couldn’t get down again; so +the lady let me down by one of the ropes, and down I slipped straight +into a fox’s hole, and who should sit there but my mother and your +father cobbling shoes; and just as I stepped in, my mother gave your +father such a box on the ear that it made his whiskers curl.” + +“That’s a story!” said the Princess, “my father never did any such +thing in all his born days!” + +So Boots got the Princess to wife, and half the kingdom besides. + + + + +THE WITCH IN THE STONE BOAT + + +Retold by Andrew Lang + +There was once a king and queen, and they had a son called Sigurd, who +was very strong and active and good-looking. When the king came to be +bowed down with the weight of years he spoke to his son, and said that +now it was time for him to look out for a fitting match for himself, +for he did not know how long he might last now, and he would like to +see him married before he died. + +Sigurd was not averse to this and asked his father where he thought it +best to look for a wife. The king answered that in a certain country +there was a king who had a beautiful daughter, and he thought it would +be most desirable if Sigurd could get her. So the two parted, and +Sigurd prepared for the journey and went to where his father had +directed him. + +He came to the king and asked his daughters hand, which was readily +granted him, but only on the condition that he should remain there as +long as he could, for the king himself was not strong and not very able +to govern his kingdom. Sigurd accepted this condition, but added that +he would have to get leave to go home again to his own country when he +heard news of his father’s death. After that Sigurd married the +princess and helped his father-in-law to govern the kingdom. He and the +princess loved each other dearly, and after a year a son came to them, +who was two years old when word came to Sigurd that his father was +dead. Sigurd now prepared to return home with his wife and child and +went on board ship to go by sea. + +They had sailed for several days, when the breeze suddenly fell and +there came a dead calm at a time when they needed only one day’s voyage +to reach home. Sigurd and his queen were one day on deck when most of +the others on the ship had fallen asleep. There they sat and talked for +a while, and had their little son along with them. After a time Sigurd +became so heavy with sleep that he could no longer keep awake, so he +went below and lay down, leaving the queen alone on the deck playing +with her son. + +A good while after Sigurd had gone below the queen saw something black +on the sea which seemed to be coming nearer. As it approached she could +make out that it was a boat and could see the figure of some one +sitting in it and rowing it. At last the boat came alongside the ship, +and now the queen saw that it was a stone boat, out of which there came +on board the ship a fearfully ugly witch. The queen was more frightened +than words can describe, and could neither speak a word nor move from +the place so as to awaken the king or the sailors. The witch came right +up to the queen, took the child from her, and laid it on the deck; then +she took the queen and stripped her of all her fine clothes, which she +proceeded to put on herself and looked then like a human being. Last of +all she took the queen, put her into the boat and said: + +“This spell I lay upon you, that you slacken not your course until you +come to my brother in the under world.” + +The queen sat stunned and motionless, but the boat at once shot away +from the ship with her, and before long she was out of sight. + +When the boat could no longer be seen the child began to cry, and +though the witch tried to quiet it she could not manage it; so, with +the child on her arm, she went below to where the king was sleeping, +and awakened him, scolding him for leaving them alone on deck while he +and all the crew were asleep. It was great carelessness of him, she +said, to leave no one to watch the ship with her. + +Sigurd was greatly surprised to hear his queen scold him so much, for +she had never said an angry word to him before; but he thought it was +quite excusable in this case, and tried to quiet the child along with +her but it was no use. Then he went and wakened the sailors and bade +them hoist the sails, for a breeze had sprung up and was blowing +straight toward the harbor. + +They soon reached the land which Sigurd was to rule over, and found all +the people sorrowful for the old king’s death, but they became glad +when they got Sigurd back to the court, and made him king over them. + +The king’s son, however, hardly ever stopped crying from the time he +had been taken from his mother on the deck of the ship, although he had +always been such a good child before, so that at last the king had to +get a nurse for him—one of the maids of the court. As soon as the child +got into her charge he stopped crying and behaved as well as before. + +After the sea voyage it seemed to the king that the queen had altered +very much in many ways, and not for the better. He thought her much +more haughty and stubborn and difficult to deal with than she used to +be. Before long others began to notice this as well as the king. In the +court there were two young fellows, one of eighteen years old, the +other of nineteen, who were very fond of playing chess and often sat +long inside playing at it. Their room was next the queen’s, and often +during the day they heard the queen talking. + +One day they paid more attention than usual when they heard her talk, +and put their ears close to a crack in the wall between the rooms, and +heard the queen say quite plainly: “When I yawn a little, then I am a +nice little maiden: when I yawn halfway, then I am half a troll; and +when I yawn fully then I am a troll altogether.” + +As she said this she yawned tremendously, and in a moment had put on +the appearance of a fearfully ugly troll. Then there came up through +the floor of the room a three-headed giant with a trough full of meat, +who saluted her as his sister and set down the trough before her. She +began to eat out of it and never stopped till she had finished it. The +young fellows saw all this going on, but did not hear the two of them +say anything to each other. They were astonished, though, at how +greedily the queen devoured the meat and how much she ate of it, and +were no longer surprised that she took so little when she sat at table +with the king. As soon as she had finished it the giant disappeared +with the trough by the same way as he had come, and the queen returned +to her human shape. + +Now we must go back to the king’s son after he had been put in charge +of the nurse. One evening. after she had lit a candle and was holding +the child, several planks sprang up in the floor of the room, and out +at the opening came a beautiful woman dressed in white, with an iron +belt round her waist, to which was fastened an iron chain that went +down into the ground. The woman came up to the nurse, took the child +from her, and pressed it to her breast; then she gave it back to the +nurse and returned by the same way as she had come, and the floor +closed over her again. Although the woman had not spoken a single word +to her, the nurse was very much frightened, but told no one about it. + +Next evening the same thing happened again, just as before, but as the +woman was going away she said in a sad tone, “Two are gone and one only +is left,” and then disappeared as before. The nurse was still more +frightened when she heard the woman say this, and thought that perhaps +some danger was hanging over the child, though she had no ill opinion +of the unknown woman, who, indeed, had behaved toward the child as if +it were her own. The most mysterious thing was the woman saying “and +only one is left”; but the nurse guessed that this must mean that only +one day was left, since she had come for two days already. + +At last the nurse made up her mind to go to the king. She told him the +whole story and asked him to be present in person the next day about +the time when the woman usually came. The king promised to do so, and +came to the nurse’s room a little before the time and sat down on a +chair with his drawn sword in his hand. Soon after the planks in the +floor sprang up as before, and the woman came up, dressed in white, +with the iron belt and chain. The king saw at once that it was his own +queen, and immediately hewed asunder the iron chain that was fastened +to the belt. This was followed by such noises and crashings down in the +earth that all the king’s palace shook, so that no one expected +anything else than to see every bit of it shaken to pieces. At last the +noises and shaking stopped, and they began to come to themselves again. + +The king and queen embraced each other, and she told him the whole +story—how the witch came to the ship when they were all asleep and sent +her off in the boat. After she had gone so far that she could not see +the ship, she sailed on through darkness until she landed beside a +three-headed giant. The giant wished her to marry him, but she refused; +whereupon he shut her up by herself and told her she would never get +free until she consented. After a time she began to plan how to get her +freedom, and at last told him that she would consent if he would allow +her to visit her son on earth three days on end. This he agreed to, but +put on her this iron belt and chain, the other end of which he fastened +around his, own waist, and the great noises that were heard when the +king cut the chain must have been caused by the giant’s falling down +the underground passage when the chain gave way so suddenly. The +giant’s dwelling, indeed, was right under the palace, and the terrible +shakings must have been caused by him in his death throes. + +The king now understood how the queen he had had for some time past had +been so ill-tempered. He at once had a sack drawn over her head and +made her be stoned to death, and after that torn in pieces by untamed +horses. The two young fellows also told now what they had heard and +seen in the queen’s room, for before this they had been afraid to say +anything about it, on account of the Queen’s power. + +The real queen was now restored to all her dignity and was beloved by +all. The nurse was married to a nobleman and the king and queen gave +her splendid presents. + + + + +THE SNUFFBOX + + +By Paul Sébillot + +As often happens in this world, there was once a young man who spent +all his time in traveling. One day, as he was walking along, he picked +up a snuffbox. He opened it, and the snuffbox said to him in the +Spanish language: “What do you want?” He was very much frightened, but, +luckily, instead of throwing the box away he only shut it tight and put +it in his pocket. Then he went on, away, away, away, and as he went he +said to himself, “if it says to me again, ‘What do you want?’ I shall +know better what to say this time.” So he took out the snuffbox and +opened it, and again it asked: “What do you want?” “My hat full of +gold,” answered the youth, and immediately it was full. + +Our young man was enchanted. Henceforth he should never be in need of +anything. So on he traveled, away, away, away, through thick forests, +till at last he came to a beautiful castle. In the castle there lived a +king. The young man walked round and round the castle, not caring who +saw him, till the king noticed him and asked what he was doing there. +“I was just looking at your castle.” “You would like to have one like +it, wouldn’t you?” The young man did not reply, but when it grew dark +he took out his snuffbox and opened the lid.” What do you want?” “Build +me a castle with laths of gold and tiles of diamond and the furniture +all of silver and gold.” He had scarcely finished speaking when there +stood in front of him, exactly opposite the king’s palace, a castle +built precisely as he had ordered. When the king awoke he was struck +dumb at the sight of the magnificent house shining in the rays of the +sun. The servants could not do their work for stopping to stare at it. +Then the king dressed himself and went to see the young man. And he +told him plainly that he was a very powerful prince, and that he hoped +that they might all live together in one house or the other, and that +the king would give him his daughter to wife. So it all turned out just +as the king wished. The young man married the princess and they lived +happily in the palace of gold. + +But the king’s wife was jealous both of the young man and of her own +daughter. The princess had told her mother about the snuffbox, which +gave them everything they wanted, and the queen bribed a servant to +steal the snuffbox. They noticed carefully where it was put away every +night, and one evening, when the whole world was asleep, the woman +stole it and brought it to her old mistress. Oh, how happy the queen +was! She opened the lid and the snuffbox said to her: “What do you +want?” And she answered at once: “I want you to take me and my husband +and my servants and this beautiful house and set us down on the other +side of the Red Sea, but my daughter and her husband are to stay +behind.” + +When the young couple woke up they found themselves back in the old +castle, without their snuffbox. They hunted for it high and low, but +quite vainly. The young man felt that no time was to be lost, and he +mounted his horse and filled his pockets with as much gold as he could +carry. On he went, away, away, away, but he sought the snuffbox in vain +all up and down the neighboring countries, and very soon he came to the +end of all his money. But still he went on, as fast as the strength of +his horse would let him, begging his way. + +Some one told him that he ought to consult the moon, for the moon +traveled far and might be able to tell him something. So he went away, +away, away, and ended, somehow or other, by reaching the land of the +moon. There he found a little old woman who said to him: “What are you +doing here? My son eats all living things he sees, and if you are wise +you will go away without coming any farther.” But the young man told +her all his sad tale, and how he possessed a wonderful snuffbox, and +how it had been stolen from him, and how he had nothing left now that +he was parted from his wife and was in need of everything. And he said +that perhaps her son, who traveled so far, might have seen a palace +with laths of gold and tiles of diamond and furnished all in silver and +gold. As he spoke these last words the moon came in and said he smelled +mortal flesh and blood. But his mother told him that it was an unhappy +man who had lost everything and had come all this way to consult him, +and bade the young man not to be afraid, but to come forward and show +himself. So he went boldly up to the moon, and asked if by any accident +he had seen a palace with the laths of gold and the tiles of diamond +and all the furniture of silver and gold. Once this house belonged to +him, but now it was stolen. And the moon said no, but that the sun +traveled farther than he did, and that the young man had better go and +ask him. + +So the young man departed and went away, away, away, as well as his +horse would take him, begging his living as he rode along, and somehow +or other at last he got to the land of the sun. There he found a little +old woman, who asked him: “What are you doing here? Go away. Have you +not heard that my son feeds upon Christians?” But he said no and that +he would not go, for he was so miserable that it was all one to him +whether he died or not; that he had lost everything, and especially a +splendid palace like none other in the whole world, for it had laths of +gold and tiles of diamond and all the furniture was of silver and gold; +and that he had sought it far and long, and in all the earth there was +no man more unhappy. So the old woman’s heart melted and she agreed to +hide him. + +When the sun arrived he declared that he smelled Christian flesh and he +meant to have it for his dinner. But his mother told him such a pitiful +story of the miserable wretch who had lost everything and had come from +far to ask his help that at last he promised to see him. + +So the young man came out from his hiding-place and begged the sun to +tell him if in the course of his travels he had not seen somewhere a +palace that had not its like in the whole world, for its laths were of +gold and its tiles of diamond and all the furniture in silver and gold. + +And the sun said no, but that perhaps the wind had seen it, for he +entered everywhere and saw things that no one else ever saw, and if +anyone knew where it was it was certainly the wind. + +Then the poor young man again set forth as well as his horse could take +him, begging his living as he went, and somehow or other he ended by +reaching the home of the wind. He found there a little old woman busily +occupied in filling great barrels with water. She asked him what had +put it into his head to come there, for her son ate everything he saw, +and that he would shortly arrive quite mad, and that the young man had +better look out. But he answered that he was so unhappy that he had +ceased to mind anything, even being eaten, and then he told her that he +had been robbed of a palace that had not its equal in all the world, +and of all that was in it, and that he had even left his wife and was +wandering over the world until he found it. And that it was the sun who +had sent him to consult the wind. So she hid him under the staircase, +and soon they heard the south wind arrive, shaking the house to its +foundations. Thirsty as he was, he did not wait to drink, but he told +his mother that he smelled the blood of a Christian man, and that she +had better bring him out at once and make him ready to be eaten. But +she bade her son eat and drink what was before him, and said that the +poor young man was much to be pitied, and that the sun had granted him +his life in order that he might consult the Wind. Then she brought out +the young man, who explained how he was seeking for his palace, and +that no man had been able to tell him where it was, so he had come to +the Wind. And he added that he had been shamefully robbed, and that the +laths were of gold and the tiles of diamond, and all the furniture in +silver and gold, and he inquired if the Wind had not seen such a palace +during his wanderings. + +And the Wind said yes, and that all that day he had been blowing +backward and forward over it without being able to move one single +tile. “Oh, do tell me where it is,” cried the young man.” “It is a long +way off,” replied the Wind, “on the other side of the Red Sea.” But our +traveler was not discouraged—he had already journeyed too far. + +So he set forth at once, and somehow or other he managed to reach that +distant land. And he inquired if any one wanted a gardener. He was told +that the head gardener at the castle had just left, and perhaps he +might have a chance of getting the place. The young man lost no time, +but walked up to the castle and asked if they were in want of a +gardener; and how happy he was when they agreed to take him! Now he +passed most of his day in gossiping with the servants about the wealth +of their masters and the wonderful things in the house. He made friends +with one of the maids, who told him the history of the snuffbox, and he +coaxed her to let him see it. One evening she managed to get hold of +it, and the young man watched carefully where she hid it away in a +secret place in the bedchamber of her mistress. + +The following night, when everyone was fast asleep, he crept in and +took the snuffbox. Think of his joy as he opened the lid! When it asked +him, as of yore, “What do you want?” he replied: “What do I want? What +do I want? Why, I want to go with my palace to the old place, and for +the king and the queen and all their servants to be drowned in the Red +Sea.” + +He had hardly finished speaking when he found himself back again with +his wife, while all the other inhabitants of the palace were lying at +the bottom of the Red Sea. + + + + +THE GOLDEN BLACKBIRD + + +By Paul Sébillot + +Once upon a time there was a great lord who had three sons. He fell +very ill, sent for doctors of every kind, even bonesetters, but they +none of them could find out what was the matter with him or even give +him any relief. At last there came a foreign doctor, who declared that +the golden blackbird alone could cure the sick man. + +So the old lord dispatched his eldest son to look for the wonderful +bird, and promised him great riches if he managed to find it and bring +it back. + +The young man began his journey and soon arrived at a place where four +roads met. He did not know which to choose, and tossed his cap in the +air, determining that the direction of its fall should decide him. +After traveling for two or three days he grew tired of walking without +knowing where or for how long, and he stopped at an inn which was +filled with merrymakers and ordered something to eat and drink. + +“My faith,” said he, “it is sheer folly to waste more time hunting for +this bird. My father is old, and if he dies I shall inherit his goods.” + +The old man, after waiting patiently for some time, sent his second son +to seek the golden blackbird. The youth took the same direction as his +brother, and when he came to the crossroads he too tossed up which road +he should take. The cap fell in the same place as before, and he walked +on till he came to the spot where his brother had halted. The latter, +who was leaning out of the window of the inn, called to him to stay +where he was and amuse himself. + +“You are right,” replied the youth. “Who knows if I should ever find +the golden blackbird, even if I sought the whole world through for it? +At the worst, if the old man dies we shall have his property.” + +He entered the inn and the two brothers made merry and feasted, till +very soon their money was all spent. They even owed something to their +landlord, who kept them as hostages till they could pay their debts. + +The youngest son set forth in his turn, and he arrived at the place +where his brothers where still prisoners. They called to him to stop +and did all they could to prevent his going further. + +“No,” he replied, “my father trusted me, and I will go all over the +world till I find the golden blackbird.” + +“Bah,” said his brothers, “you will never succeed any better than we +did. Let him die if he wants to. We will divide the property.” + +As he went his way he met a little hare, who stopped to looked at him +and asked: + +“Where are you going, my friend?” + +“I really don’t quite know,” answered he. “My father is ill, and he +cannot be cured unless I bring him back the golden blackbird. It is a +long time since I set out, but no one can tell me where to find it.” + +“Ah,” said the hare, “you have a long way to go yet. You will have to +walk at least seven hundred miles before you get to it.” + +“And how am I to travel such a distance?” + +“Mount on my back,” said the little hare, “and I will conduct you.” + +The young man obeyed. At each bound the little hare went seven miles, +and it was not long before they reached a castle that was as large and +beautiful as a castle could be. + +“The golden blackbird is in a little cabin near by,” said the little +hare, “and you will easily find it. It lives in a little cage, with +another cage beside it made all of gold. But whatever you do, be sure +not to put it in the beautiful cage, or everybody in the castle will +know that you have stolen it.” + +The youth found the golden blackbird standing on a wooden perch, but as +stiff and rigid as if he was dead. And beside, was the beautiful cage, +the cage of gold. + +“Perhaps he would revive if I were to put him in that lovely cage,” +thought the youth. + +The moment the golden blackbird had touched the bars of the splendid +cage he awoke and began to whistle, so that all the servants of the +castle ran to see what was the matter, saying that he was a thief and +must be put in prison. + +“No,” he answered, “I am not a thief. If I have taken the golden +blackbird, it is only that it may cure my father, who is ill, and I +have traveled more than seven hundred miles in order to find it.” + +“Well,” they replied, “we will let you go, and will even give you the +golden blackbird if you are able to bring us the porcelain maiden.” + +The youth departed, weeping, and met the little hare, who was munching +wild thyme. + +“What are you crying for, my friend?” asked the hare. + +“It is because,” he answered, “the castle people will not allow me to +carry off the golden blackbird without giving them the porcelain maiden +in exchange.” + +“You have not followed my advice,” said the little hare. “And you have +put the golden blackbird into the fine cage.” + +“Alas! yes!” + +“Don’t despair. The porcelain maiden is a young girl, beautiful as +Venus, who dwells two hundred miles from here. Jump on my back and I +will take you there.” + +The little hare, who took seven miles in a stride, was there in no time +at all, and he stopped on the borders of a lake. + +“The porcelain maiden,” said the hare to the youth, “will come here to +bathe with her friends. Keep yourself out of sight behind the thicket, +while I just eat a mouthful of thyme to refresh me. When she is in the +lake be sure you hide her clothes, which are of dazzling whiteness, and +do not give them back to her unless she consents to follow you.” + +The little hare left him, and almost immediately the porcelain maiden +arrived with her friends. She undressed herself and got into the water. +Then the young man glided up noiselessly and laid hold of her clothes, +which he hid under a rock at some distance. + +When the porcelain maiden was tired of playing in the water she came +out to dress herself, but though she hunted for her clothes high and +low she could find them nowhere. Her friends helped her in the search, +but, seeing at last that it was of no use, they left her alone on the +bank, weeping bitterly. + +“Why do you cry?” said the young man, approaching her. + +“Alas!” answered she, “while I was bathing some one stole my clothes, +and my friends have abandoned me.” + +“I will find your clothes if you will only come with me.” + +And the porcelain maiden agreed to follow him, and after having given +up her clothes the young man bought a small horse for her which went +like the wind. The little hare brought them both back to seek for the +golden blackbird, and when they drew near the castle where it lived the +little hare said to the young man: + +“Now, do be a little sharper than you were before, and you will manage +to carry off both the golden blackbird and the porcelain maiden. Take +the golden cage in one hand and leave the bird in the old cage where he +is, and bring that away too.” + +The little hare then vanished. The youth did as he was bid, and the +castle servants never noticed that he was carrying off the golden +blackbird. When he reached the inn where his brothers were detained he +delivered them by paying their debt. They set out all together, but as +the two elder brothers were jealous of the success of the youngest, +they took the opportunity as they were passing by the shores of a lake +to throw themselves upon him, seize the golden blackbird, and fling him +in the water. Then they continued their journey, taking with them the +porcelain maiden, in the firm belief that their brother was drowned. +But happily he had snatched in falling at a tuft of rushes and called +loudly for help. The little hare came running to him and said: “Take +hold of my leg and pull yourself out of the water.” + +When he was safe on shore the little hare said to him: + +“Now, this is what you have to do: dress yourself like a Breton seeking +a place as stableboy, and go and offer your services to your father. +Once there, you will easily be able to make him understand the truth.” + +The young man did as the little hare bade him, and he went to his +father’s castle and inquired if they were not in want of a stableboy. + +“Yes,” replied his father, “very much indeed. But it is not an easy +place. There is a little horse in the stable which will not let anyone +go near it, and it has already kicked to death several people who have +tried to groom it.” + +“I will undertake to groom it,” said the youth. “I never saw the horse +I was afraid of yet.” + +The little horse allowed itself to be rubbed down without a toss of its +head and without a kick. + +“Good gracious!” exclaimed the master. “How is it that he lets you +touch him when no one else can go near him?” + +“Perhaps he knows me,” answered the stableboy. + +Two or three days later the master said to him: “The porcelain maiden +is here; but though she is as lovely as the dawn, she is so wicked that +she scratches every one that approaches her. Try if she will accept +your services.” + +When the youth entered the room where she was the golden blackbird +broke forth into a joyful song, and the porcelain maiden sang too and +jumped for joy. + +“Good gracious!” cried the master.” The porcelain maiden and the golden +blackbird know you too?” + +“Yes,” replied the youth, “and the porcelain maiden can tell you the +whole truth if she only will.” + +Then she told all that had happened, and how she had consented to +follow the young man who had captured the golden blackbird. + +“Yes,” added the youth, “I delivered my brothers, who were kept +prisoners in an inn, and as a reward they threw me into a lake. So I +disguised myself and came here in order to prove the truth to you. + +So the old lord embraced his son and promised that he should inherit +all his possessions, and he put to death the two elder ones, who had +deceived him and had tried to slay their own brother. + +The young man married the porcelain maiden and had a splendid wedding +feast + + + + +THE HALF-CHICK + + +Retold by Andrew Lang + +Once upon a time there was a handsome black Spanish hen who had a large +brood of chickens. They were all fine, plump little birds except the +youngest, who was quite unlike his brothers and sisters. Indeed, he was +such a strange, queer-looking creature that when he first clipped his +shell his mother could scarcely believe her eyes, he was so different +from the twelve other fluffy, downy, soft little chicks who nestled +under her wings. This one looked just as if he had been cut in two. He +had only one leg, and one wing, and one eye, and he had half a head and +half a beak. His mother shook her head sadly as she looked at him and +said: + +“My youngest born is only a half-chick. He can never grow up a tall, +handsome cock like his brothers. They will go out into the world and +rule over poultry yards of their own; but this poor little fellow will +always have to stay at home with his mother.” And she called him Medio +Pollito, which is Spanish for half-chick. + +Now, though Medio Pollito was such an odd, helpless-looking little +thing, his mother soon found that he was not at all willing to remain +under her wing and protection. Indeed, in character he was as unlike +his brothers and sisters as he was in appearance. They were good, +obedient chickens, and when the old hen chicked after them they chirped +and ran back to her side. But Medio Pollito had a roving spirit in +spite of his one leg, and when his mother called to him to return to +the coop, he pretended that he could not hear, because he had only one +ear. + +When she took the whole family out for a walk in the fields, Medio +Pollito would hop away by himself and hide among the corn. Many an +anxious minute his brothers and sisters had looking for him, while his +mother ran to and fro cackling in fear and dismay. + +As he grew older he became more self-willed and disobedient, and his +manner to his mother was often very rude and his temper to the other +chickens very disagreeable. + +One day he had been out for a longer expedition than usual in the +fields. On his return he strutted up to his mother with the peculiar +little hop and kick which was his way of walking, and cocking his one +eye at her in a very bold way, he said: + +“Mother, I am tired of this life in a dull f farmyard, with nothing but +a dreary maize-field to look at. I’m off to Madrid to see the king.” + +“To Madrid, Medio Pollito!” exclaimed his mother. “Why, you silly +chick, it would be a long Journey for a grown-up cock, and a poor +little thing like you would be tired out before you had gone half the +distance. No, no, stay at home with your mother, and some day, when you +are bigger, we will go a little journey together.” + +But Medio Pollito had made up his mind, and he would not listen to his +mother’s advice nor to the prayers and entreaties of his brothers and +sisters. + +“What is the use of our all crowding each other up in this poky little +place?” he said. “When I have a fine courtyard of my own at the king’s +palace, I shall perhaps ask some of you to come and pay me a short +visit.” + +And scarcely waiting to say good-by to his family, away he stumped down +the high road that led to Madrid. + +“Be sure that you are kind and civil to every one you meet,” called his +mother, running after him; but he was in such a hurry to be off that he +did not wait to answer her or even to look back. + +A little later in the day, as he was taking a short cut through a +field, he passed a stream. Now, the stream was all choked up and +overgrown with weeds and water-plants, so that its waters could not +flow freely. + +“Oh! Medio Pollito,” it cried as the half-chick hopped along its banks, +“do come and help me by clearing away these weeds.” + +“Help you, indeed!” exclaimed Medio Pollito, tossing his head and +shaking the few feathers in his tail. “Do you think I have nothing to +do but to waste my time on such trifles? Help yourself and don’t +trouble busy travelers. I am off to Madrid to see the king,” and +hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito. + +A little later he came to a fire that had been left by some gypsies in +a wood. It was burning very low and would soon be out. + +“Oh! Medio Pollito,” cried the fire in a weak, wavering voice as the +half-chick approached, “in a few minutes I shall go quite out unless +you put some sticks and dry leaves upon me. Do help me or I shall die!” + +“Help you, indeed!” answered Medio Pollito. “I have other things to do. +Gather sticks for yourself and don’t trouble me. I am off to Madrid to +see the king,” and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio +Pollito. + +The next morning, as he was getting near Madrid, he passed a large +chestnut tree, in whose branches the wind was caught and entangled. + +“Oh! Medio Pollito,” called the wind, “do hop up here and help me to +get free of these branches. I cannot come away and it is so +uncomfortable.” + +“It is your own fault for going there,” answered Medio Pollito. “I +can’t waste all my morning stopping here to help you. Just shake +yourself off, and don’t hinder me, for I am off to Madrid to see the +king,” and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito in +great glee, for the towers and roofs of Madrid were now in sight. When +he entered the town he saw before him a great, splendid house, with +soldiers standing before the gates. This he knew must be the king’s +palace, and he determined to hop up to the front gate and wait there +until the king came out. But as he was hopping past one of the back +windows the king’s cook saw him. + +“Here is the very thing I want,” he exclaimed, “for the king has just +sent a message to say that he must have chicken broth for his dinner.” +Opening the window he stretched out his arm, caught Medio Pollito, and +popped him into the broth pot that was standing near the fire. Oh! how +wet and clammy the water felt as it went over Medio Pollito’s head, +making his feathers cling to him. + +“Water! water!” he cried in his despair, “do have pity upon me and do +not wet me like this.” + +“Ah! Medio Pollito,” replied the water, “you would not help me when I +was a little stream away on the fields. Now you must be punished.” + +Then the fire began to burn and scald Medio Pollito, and he danced and +hopped from one side of the pot to the other, trying to get away from +the heat and crying out in pain: + +“Fire! fire! do not scorch me like this; you can’t think how it hurts.” + +“Ah! Medio Pollito,” answered the fire, “you would not help me when I +was dying away in the wood. You are being punished.” + +At last, just when the pain was so great that Medio Pollito thought he +must die, the cook lifted up the lid of the pot to see if the broth was +ready for the king’s dinner. + +“Look here!” he cried in horror, “this chicken is quite useless. It is +burned to a cinder. I can’t send it up to the royal table.” And opening +the window he threw Medio Pollito out in the street. But the wind +caught him up and whirled him through the air so quickly that Medio +Pollito could scarcely breathe, and his heart beat against his side +till he thought it would break. + +“Oh, wind I” at last he gasped out, “if you hurry me along like this +you will kill me. Do let me rest a moment, or—” + +But he was so breathless that he could not finish his sentence. + +“Ah! Medio Pollito,” replied the wind, “when I was caught in the +branches of the chestnut tree you would not help me. Now you are +punished.” And he swirled Medio Pollito over the roofs of the houses +till they reached the highest church in the town, and there he left him +fastened to the top of the steeple. + +And there stands Medio Pollito to this day. And if you go to Madrid and +walk through the streets till you come to the highest church, you will +see Medio Pollito perched on his one leg on the steeple, with his one +wing drooping at his side and gazing sadly out of his one eye over the +town. + + + + +THE THREE BROTHERS + + +By Hermann R. Kletke + +There was once upon a time a witch who in the shape of a hawk used +every night to break the windows of a certain village church. In the +same village there lived three brothers, who were all determined to +kill the mischievous hawk. But in vain did the two eldest mount guard +in the church with their guns; as soon as the bird appeared high above +their heads sleep overpowered them, and they only awoke to hear the +windows crashing in. + +Then the younger brother took his turn of guarding the windows, and to +prevent his being overcome by sleep he placed a lot of thorns under his +chin, so that if he felt drowsy and nodded his head they would prick +him and keep him awake. + +The moon was already risen and it was as light as day, when suddenly he +heard a fearful noise, and at the same time a terrible desire to sleep +overpowered him. + +His eyelids closed and his head sank on his shoulders, but the thorns +ran into him and were so painful that he awoke at once. He saw the hawk +swooping down upon the church, and in a moment he had seized his gun +and shot at the bird. The hawk fell heavily under a big stone, severely +wounded in its right wing. The youth ran to look at it and saw that a +huge abyss had opened below the stone. He went at once to fetch his +brothers, and with their help dragged a lot of pine wood and ropes to +the spot. They fastened some of the burning pine wood to the end of the +rope and let it slowly down to the bottom of the abyss. At first it was +quite dark, and the flaming torch only lit up dirty gray stone walls. +But the youngest brother determined to explore the abyss, and letting +himself down by the rope he soon reached the bottom. Here he found a +lovely meadow full of green trees and exquisite flowers. + +In the middle of the meadow stood a huge stone castle, with an iron +gate leading to it, which was wide open. Everything in the castle +seemed to be made of copper, and the only inhabitant he could discover +was a lovely girl, who was combing her golden hair; and he noticed that +whenever one of her hairs fell on the ground it rang out like pure +metal. The youth looked at her more closely, and saw that her skin was +smooth and fair, her blue eyes bright and sparkling, and her hair as +golden as the sun. He fell in love with her on the spot, and kneeling +at her feet he implored her to become his wife. + +The lovely girl accepted his proposal gladly; but at the same time she +warned him that she could never come up to the world above till her +mother, the old witch, was dead. And she went on to tell him that the +only way in which the old creature could be killed was with the sword +that hung up in the castle; but the sword was so heavy that no one +could lift it. + +Then the youth went into a room in the castle where everything was made +of silver, and here he found another beautiful girl, the sister of his +bride. She was combing her silver hair, and every hair that fell on the +ground rang out like pure metal. The second girl handed him the sword, +but though he tried with all his strength he could not lift it. At last +a third sister came to him and gave him a drop of something to drink, +which she said would give him the needful strength. He drank one drop, +but still he could not lift the sword; then he drank a second and the +sword began to move; but only after he had drunk a third drop was he +able to swing the sword over his head. + +Then he hid himself in the castle and awaited the old witch’s arrival. +At last as it was beginning to grow dark she appeared. She swooped down +upon a big apple tree, and after shaking some golden apples from it she +pounced down upon the earth. As soon as her feet touched the ground she +became transformed from a hawk into a woman. This was the moment the +youth was waiting for, and he swung his mighty sword in the air with +all his strength and the witch’s head fell off, and her blood spurted +upon the walls. + +Without fear of any further danger, he packed up all the treasures of +the castle into great chests and gave his brothers a signal to pull +them up out of the abyss. First the treasures were attached to the rope +and then the three lovely girls. And now everything was up above and +only he himself remained below. But as he was a little suspicious of +his brothers, he fastened a heavy stone on to the rope and let them +pull it up. At first they heaved with a will, but when the stone was +halfway up they let it drop suddenly, and it fell to the bottom broken +into a hundred pieces. + +“So that’s what would have happened to my bones had I trusted myself to +them,” said the youth sadly; and he cried bitterly, not because of the +treasures, but because of the lovely girl with her swanlike neck and +golden hair. + +For a long time he wandered sadly all through the beautiful underworld, +and one day he met a magician who asked him the cause of his tears. The +youth told him all that had befallen him, and the magician said: + +“Do not grieve, young man! If you will guard the children who are +hidden in the golden apple tree I will bring you at once up to the +earth. Another magician who lives in this land always eats my children +up. It is in vain that I have hidden them under the earth and locked +them into the castle. Now I have hidden them in the apple tree; hide +yourself there, too, and at midnight you will see my enemy.” + +The youth climbed up the tree and picked some of the beautiful golden +apples, which he ate for his supper. At midnight the wind began to rise +and a rustling sound was heard at the foot of the tree. The youth +looked down and beheld a long thick serpent beginning to crawl up the +tree. It wound itself round the stem and gradually got higher and +higher. It stretched its huge head, in which the eyes glittered +fiercely, among the branches, searching for the nest in which the +little children lay. They trembled with terror when they saw the +hideous creature and hid themselves beneath the leaves. + +Then the youth swung his mighty sword in the air, and with one blow cut +off the serpent’s head. He cut up the rest of the body into little bits +and strewed them to the four winds. + +The father of the rescued children was so delighted over the death of +his enemy that he told the youth to get on his back, and thus he +carried him up to the world above. + +With what joy did he hurry now to his brothers’ house! He burst into a +room where they were all assembled, but no one knew who he was. Only +his bride, who was serving as cook to her sisters, recognized her lover +at once. + +His brothers, who had quite believed he was dead, yielded him up his +treasures at once and flew into the woods in terror. But the good youth +forgave them all they had done and divided his treasures with them. +Then he built himself a big castle with golden windows, and there he +lived happily with his golden-haired wife till the end of their lives. + + + + +THE GLASS MOUNTAIN + + +By Hermann R. Kletke + +Once upon a time there was a glass mountain at the top of which stood a +castle made of pure gold, and in front of the castle there grew an +apple tree on which there were golden apples. + +Anyone who picked an apple gained admittance into the golden castle, +and there in a silver room sat an enchanted princess of surpassing +fairness and beauty. She was as rich, too, as she was beautiful, for +the cellars of the castle were full of precious stones, and great +chests of the finest gold stood round the walls of all the rooms. + +Many knights had come from afar to try their luck, but it was in vain +they attempted to climb the mountain. In spite of having their horses +shod with sharp nails, no one managed to get more than halfway up, and +then they all fell back right down to the bottom of the steep, slippery +hill. Sometimes they broke an arm, sometimes a leg, and many a brave +man had broken his neck even. + +The beautiful princess sat at her window and watched the bold knights +trying to reach her on their splendid horses. The sight of her always +gave men fresh courage, and they flocked from the four quarters of the +globe to attempt the work of rescuing her. But all in vain, and for +seven years the princess had sat now and waited for some one to scale +the glass mountain. + +A heap of corpses both of riders and horses lay round the mountain, and +many dying men lay groaning there unable to go any further with their +wounded limbs. The whole neighborhood had the appearance of a vast +churchyard. In three more days the seven years would be at an end, when +a knight in golden armor and mounted on a spirited steed was seen +making his way toward the fatal hill. + +Sticking his spurs into his horse he made a rush at the mountain and +got up halfway, then he calmly turned his horse’s head and came down +again without a slip or stumble. The following day he started in the +same way; the horse trod on the glass as if it had been level earth, +and sparks of fire flew from its hoofs. All the other knights gazed in +astonishment, for he had almost gained the summit, and in another +moment he would have reached the apple tree; but of a sudden a huge +eagle rose up and spread its mighty wings, hitting as it did so the +knight’s horse in the eye. The beast shied, opened its wide nostrils, +and tossed its mane, then rearing high up in the air, its hind feet +slipped and it fell with its rider down the steep mountain side. +Nothing was left of either of them except their bones, which rattled in +the battered, golden armor like dry peas in a pod. + +And now there was only one more day before the close of the seven +years. Then there arrived on the scene a mere school boy—a merry, +happy-hearted youth, but at the same time strong and well grown. He saw +how many knights had broken their necks in vain, but undaunted he +approached the steep mountain on foot and began the ascent. + +For long he had heard his parents speak of the beautiful princess who +sat in the golden castle at the top of the glass mountain. He listened +to all he heard and determined that he too would try his luck. But +first he went to the forest and caught a lynx, and cutting off the +creature’s sharp claws, he fastened them on to his own hands and feet. + +Armed with these weapons he boldly started up the glass mountain. The +sun was nearly going down, and the youth had not got more than halfway +up. He could hardly draw breath he was so worn out, and his mouth was +parched by thirst. A huge black cloud passed over his head, but in vain +did he beg and beseech her to let a drop of water fall on him. He +opened his mouth, but the black cloud sailed past and not as much as a +drop of dew moistened his dry lips. + +His feet were torn and bleeding, and he could only hold on now with his +hands. Evening closed in, and he strained his eyes to see if he could +behold the top of the mountain. Then he gazed beneath him, and what a +sight met his eyes! A yawning abyss, with certain and terrible death at +the bottom, reeking with half-decayed bodies of horses and riders! And +this had been the end of all the other brave men who like himself had +attempted the ascent. + +It was almost pitch dark now, and only the stars lit up the glass +mountain. The poor boy still clung on as if glued to the glass by his +blood-stained hands. He made no struggle to get higher, for all his +strength had left him, and seeing no hope he calmly awaited death. Then +all of a sudden he fell into a deep sleep, and forgetful of his +dangerous position he slumbered sweetly. But all the same, although he +slept, he had stuck his sharp claws so firmly into the glass that he +was quite safe not to fall. + +Now, the golden apple tree was guarded by the eagle which had +overthrown the golden knight and his horse. Every night it flew round +the glass mountain keeping a careful lookout, and no sooner had the +moon emerged from the clouds than the bird rose up from the apple tree, +and circling round in the air caught sight of the sleeping youth. + +Greedy for carrion, and sure that this must be a fresh corpse, the bird +swooped down upon the boy. But he was awake now, and perceiving the +eagle, he determined by its help to save himself. + +The eagle dug its sharp claws into the tender flesh of the youth, but +he bore the pain without a sound and seized the bird’s two feet with +his hands. The creature in terror lifted him high up into the air and +began to circle round the tower of the castle. The youth held on +bravely. He saw the glittering palace, which by the pale rays of the +moon looked like a dim lamp; and he saw the high windows, and round one +of them a balcony in which the beautiful princess sat lost in sad +thoughts. Then the boy saw that he was close to the apple tree, and +drawing a small knife from his belt he cut off both the eagle’s feet. +The bird rose up in the air in its agony and vanished into the clouds, +and the youth fell on to the broad branches of the apple tree. + +Then he drew out the claws of the eagle’s feet that had remained in his +flesh and put the peel of one of the golden apples on the wound, and in +one moment it was healed and well again. He pulled several of the +beautiful apples and put them in his pocket; then he entered the +castle. The door was guarded by a great dragon, but as soon as he threw +an apple at it the beast vanished. + +At the same moment a gate opened, and the youth perceived a courtyard +full of flowers and beautiful trees, and on a balcony sat the lovely +enchanted princess with her retinue. + +As soon as she saw the youth she ran toward him and greeted him as her +husband and master. She gave him all her treasures, and the youth +became a rich and mighty ruler. But he never returned to the earth, for +only the mighty eagle, who had been the guardian of the princess and of +the castle, could have carried on his wings the enormous treasure down +to the world. But as the eagle had lost its feet, it died, and its body +was found in a wood on the glass mountain. + +One day when the youth was strolling about the palace garden with the +princess, his wife, he looked down over the edge of the glass mountain +and saw to his astonishment a great number of people gathered there. He +blew his silver whistle, and the swallow who acted as messenger in the +golden castle flew past. + +“Fly down and ask what the matter is,” he said to the little bird, who +sped off like lightning and soon returned saying: + +“The blood of the eagle has restored all the people below to life. All +those who have perished on this mountain are awakening up to-day, as it +were from a sleep, and are mounting their horses, and the whole +population are gazing on this unheard-of wonder with joy and +amazement.” + + + + +HUNTSMAN THE UNLUCKY + + +By John T. Naaké + +Once upon a time there lived a huntsman. He would go every day in +search of game, but it often happened that he killed nothing, and so +was obliged to return home with his bag empty. On that account he was +nicknamed “Huntsman the Unlucky.” At last he was reduced by his ill +fortune to such extremities that he had not a piece of bread nor a +kopek left. The wretched man wandered about the forest, cold and +hungry; he had eaten nothing for three days, and was nearly dying of +starvation. He lay down on the grass determined to put an end to his +existence; happily better thoughts came into his mind; he crossed +himself, and threw away the gun. Suddenly he heard a rustling noise +near him. It seemed to issue from some thick grass close at hand. The +hunter got up and approached the spot. He then observed that the grass +partly hid a gloomy abyss, from the bottom of which there rose a stone, +and on it lay a small jar. As he looked and listened the hunter heard a +small voice crying— + +“Dear, kind traveler, release me!” + +The voice seemed to proceed from the little jar. The courageous hunter, +walking carefully from one stone to another, approached the spot where +the jar lay, took it up gently, and heard a voice crying from within +like the chirping of a grasshopper— + +“Release me, and I will be of service to you.” + +“Who are you, my little friend?” asked Huntsman the Unlucky. + +“I have no name, and cannot be seen by human eyes,” answered a soft +voice. “If you want me, call ‘Murza!’ A wicked magician put me in this +jar, sealed it with the seal of King Solomon, and then threw me into +this fearful place, where I have lain for seventy years.” + +“Very good,” said Huntsman the Unlucky; “I will give you your liberty, +and then we shall see how you will keep your word.” He broke the seal +and opened the little jar—there was nothing in it! + +“Halloa! where are you, my friend?” cried the hunter. + +“By your side,” a voice answered. + +The hunter looked about him, but could see no one. + +“Murza!” + +“Ready! I await your orders. I am your servant for the next three days, +and will do whatever you desire. You have only to say, ‘Go there, I +know not where; bring something, I know not what.’” + +“Very well,” said the hunter. “You will doubtless know best what is +wanted: Go there, I know not where; bring something, I know not what.” + +As soon as the hunter had uttered these words there appeared before him +a table covered with dishes, each filled with the most delicious +viands, as if they had come direct from a banquet of the czar. The +hunter sat down at the table, and ate and drank till he was satisfied. +He then rose, crossed himself, and, bowing on all sides, exclaimed— + +“Thank you! thank you!” + +Instantly the table, and everything else with it, disappeared, and the +hunter continued his journey. + +After walking some distance he sat down by the roadside to rest. It so +happened that while the hunter was resting himself, there passed +through the forest a gypsy thief, leading a horse which he wanted to +sell. + +“I wish I had the money to buy the horse with,” thought the hunter; +“what a pity my pockets are empty! However, I will ask my invisible +friend. Murza!” + +“Ready!” + +“Go there, I know not where; bring something, I know not what.” + +In less than a minute the hunter heard the money chinking in his +pocket; gold poured into them, he knew not how nor whence. + +“Thanks! you have kept your word,” said the hunter. + +He then began to bargain with the gypsy for the horse. Having agreed +upon the price, he paid the man in gold, who, staring at the hunter +with his mouth wide open, wondered where Huntsman the Unlucky had got +so much money from. Parting from the hunter, the gypsy thief ran with +all his speed to the farther end of the forest, and whistled. There was +no answer. “They are asleep,” thought the gypsy, and entered a cavern +where some robbers, lying on the skins of animals, were resting +themselves. + +“Halloa, comrades! Are you asleep?” cried the gypsy. “Get up, quick! or +you will lose a fine bird. He is alone in the forest, and his pockets +are full of gold. Make haste!” + +The robbers sprang up, mounted their horses, and galloped after the +hunter. + +The hunter heard the clatter, and seeing himself suddenly surrounded by +robbers, cried out— “Murza!” + +“Ready!” answered a voice near him. “Go there, I know not where; bring +something, I know not what.” + +There was a rustling noise heard in the forest, and then something from +behind the trees fell upon the robbers. They were knocked from their +horses, and scattered on all sides; yet no hand was seen to touch them. +The robbers, thrown upon the ground, could not raise themselves, and +the hunter, thankful and rejoicing at his deliverance, rode on, and +soon found his way out of the dark forest, and came upon a town. + +Near this town there were pitched tents full of soldiers. Huntsman the +Unlucky was told that an enormous army of Tartars had come, under the +command of their khan, who, angry at being refused the hand of the +beautiful Princess Milovzora, the daughter of the czar, had declared +war against him. The hunter had seen the Princess Milovzora when she +was out hunting in the forest. She used to ride a beautiful horse, and +carry a golden lance in her hand; a magnificent quiver of arrows hung +from her shoulder. When her veil was lifted up she appeared like the +spring sunlight, to give light to the eyes and warmth to the heart. + +The hunter reflected for a little while, and then cried, “Murza!” + +In an instant he found himself dressed in splendid attire; his jacket +was embroidered with gold, he wore a beautiful mantle on his shoulders, +and ostrich feathers hung gracefully down from the top of his helmet, +fastened by a brooch of a ruby surrounded by pearls. The hunter went +into the castle, presented himself before the czar, and offered to +drive away the forces of the enemy on condition that the czar gave him +the beautiful Princess Milovzora for his wife. + +The czar was greatly surprised, but did not like to refuse such an +offer at once; he first asked the hunter his name, his birth and his +possessions. + +“I am called Huntsman the Unlucky, Master of Murza the Invisible.” + +The czar thought the young stranger was mad; the courtiers, however, +who had seen him before, assured the czar that the stranger exactly +resembled Huntsman the Unlucky, whom they knew; but how he had got that +splendid dress they could not tell. + +Then the czar demanded: + +“Do you hear what they say? If you are telling lies, you will lose your +head. Let us see, then, how you will overcome the enemy with the forces +of your invisible Murza?” + +“Be of good hope, czar,” answered the hunter; “as soon as I say the +word, everything will be completed.” + +“Good,” said the czar. “If you have spoken the truth you shall have my +daughter for your wife; if not, your head will be the forfeit.” + +The hunter said to himself, “I shall either become a prince, or I am a +lost man.” + +He then whispered, “Murza, go there, I know not where; do this, I know +not what.” + +A few minutes passed, and there was nothing to be heard or seen. +Huntsman the Unlucky turned pale; the czar, enraged, ordered him to be +seized and put in irons, when suddenly the firing of guns was heard in +the distance. The czar and his courtiers ran out on the steps leading +to the castle, and saw bodies of men approaching from both right and +left, their standards waving gracefully in the air; the soldiers were +splendidly equipped. The czar could hardly believe his eyes, for he +himself had no troops so fine as these. + +“This is no delusion!” cried Huntsman the Unlucky. “These are the +forces of my invisible friend.” + +“Let them drive away the enemy then, if they can,” said the czar. + +The hunter waved his handkerchief. The army wheeled into position; +music burst forth in a martial strain, and then a great cloud of dust +arose. When the dust had cleared away, the army was gone. + +The czar invited Huntsman the Unlucky to dinner, and asked him numerous +questions about Murza the Invisible. At the second course the news came +that the enemy was flying in every direction, completely routed. The +terrified Tartars had left all their tents and baggage behind them. The +czar thanked the hunter for his assistance, and informed his daughter +that he had found a husband for her. Princess Milovzora blushed upon +receiving this intelligence, then turned pale, and began to shed tears. +The hunter whispered something to Murza, and the princess’s tears +changed into precious stones as they fell. The courtiers hastened to +pick them up—they were pearls and diamonds. The princess smiled at +this, and overcome with pleasure gave her hand to Huntsman the +Unlucky—unlucky no longer. Then began the feast. But here the story +must end. + + + + +STORY OF LITTLE SIMPLETON + + +By John T. Naaké + +Once there lived a peasant and his wife who had three daughters. The +two elder girls were cunning and selfish; the youngest was simple and +open-hearted, and on that account came to be called, first by her +sisters and afterward by her father and mother, “Little Simpleton.” +Little Simpleton was pushed about, had to fetch everything that was +wanted, and was always kept at work; but she was ever ready to do what +she was told, and never uttered a word of complaint. She would water +the garden, prepare pine splinters, milk the cows, and feed the ducks; +she had to wait upon everybody—in a word, she was the drudge of the +family. + +One day, as the peasant was going with the hay to market, he asked his +daughters what they would like him to buy for them. + +“Buy me some kumach (Red wool stuff from Bucharest) for a sarafan (A +long dress worn by the Russian peasant women) father,” answered the +eldest daughter. + +“And me some nankeen,” said the second. The youngest daughter alone did +not ask for a present. The peasant was moved with compassion for the +girl; although a simpleton she was still his daughter. + +Turning to her he asked “Well, Little Simpleton, what shall I buy for +you?” + +Little Simpleton smiled and replied— + +“Buy me, dearest father, a little silver plate and a little apple.” + +“What do you want them for?” asked her sisters. + +“I will make the little apple roll round the plate, and will say some +words to it which an old woman taught me because I gave her a cake.” + +The peasant promised to buy his daughters what they asked of him, and +then started for market. He sold his hay, and bought the presents: some +nankeen for one of his daughters, for another some kumach, and for +Little Simpleton a little silver plate and a little apple. Then he +returned home and gave these things to his daughters. + +The girls were delighted; the two elder ones made themselves sarafans, +and laughed at Little Simpleton, wondering what she would do with the +silver plate and the apple. + +Little Simpleton did not eat the apple, but sat down in a corner and +cried— + +“Roll, roll, little apple on the silver plate, and show me towns and +fields, forests and seas, lofty mountains and beautiful skies.” + +And the apple began to roll on the plate, and there appeared on it town +after town; ships sailing on the seas, and people in the fields; +mountains and beautiful skies; suns and stars. All these things looked +so beautiful, and were so wonderful, that it would be impossible to +tell of them in a story, or describe them with the pen. + +At first the elder sisters looked at the little plate with delight; +soon, however, their hearts were filled with envy, and they began to +try to get it from their younger sister. But the girl would not part +with it on any account. Then the wicked girls said— “Dearest sister, +let us go into the forest to gather blackberries.” + +Little Simpleton got up, gave the plate and apple to her father, and +went with them into the forest. They walked about and gathered +blackberries. All at once they saw a spade lying upon the ground. The +wicked sisters killed Little Simpleton with it, and buried her under a +birch tree. + +They returned home late, and told their father, “The Simpleton is lost; +she ran away from us in the forest; we searched, but could not find her +anywhere. The wolves must have eaten her.” + +The peasant regretted the loss of his daughter bitterly; for although +so simple she was still his child. The wicked sisters also shed tears. +Her father put the little silver plate and the little apple into a box, +and locked them up. + +Next morning a shepherd was tending his sheep near the place, playing +on his pipe, and searching in the forest for one of his flock that was +missing. He observed the little grave under the birch tree; it was +covered by the most lovely flowers, and out of the middle of the grave +there grew a reed. The shepherd cut off the reed, and made a pipe of +it. As soon as the pipe was prepared, oh, wonderful! It began to play +of itself, and say— + +“Play, oh pipe, play! and comfort my poor parents and sisters. I was +killed for the sake of my little silver plate and my little apple.” + +When the people heard of this they ran out of their huts, and all came +round the shepherd and began to ask him who was killed. + +“Good people,” answered the shepherd, “I don’t know who it is. While +searching for one of my sheep in the forest, I came upon a grave +covered with flowers. Above them all stood a reed. I cut off the reed +and made this pipe of it. It plays of itself, and you have heard what +it says.” + +The father of Little Simpleton happened to be present. He took the pipe +into his own hand, and it began to play: + +“Play, oh pipe, play! Comfort my poor father and mother. I was killed +for the sake of my little silver plate and my little apple.” The +peasant asked the shepherd to take him to the place where he had cut +the reed. They all went into the forest, saw the grave, and were +astonished at the sight of the lovely flowers which grew there. They +opened the grave, and there discovered the body of a girl, which the +poor man recognized as that of his youngest daughter. There she lay, +murdered—but by whom no one could tell. The people asked one another +who it was that had killed the poor girl. Suddenly the pipe began to +play— + +“Oh, my dearest father; my sisters brought me to this forest, and here +killed me for the sake of my little plate and my little apple. You will +not bring me to life until you fetch some of the water from the czar’s +well.” + +Then the wicked sisters confessed it all. They were seized and cast +into a dark prison, to await the pleasure of the czar. The peasant set +out for the capital. As soon as he arrived at the city, he went to the +palace, saw the czar, told his story, and begged permission to take +some water from the well. The czar said, “You may take some water of +life from my well, and as soon as you have restored your daughter to +life, bring her here with her little plate and the little apple; bring +your other two daughters also.” + +The peasant bowed to the ground, and returned home with a bottle full +of the water of life. He hastened to the grave in the forest, lifted up +the body of his daughter, and as soon as he had sprinkled it with the +water the girl came to life again, and threw herself into his arms. All +who were present were moved to tears. + +Then the peasant started again for the capital, and arriving there went +at once to the czar’s palace. The czar came out, and saw the peasant +with his three daughters, two of them with their arms bound, the third, +as beautiful as the spring flowers, stood near, the tears like diamonds +falling down her cheeks. The czar was very angry with the two wicked +sisters; then he asked the youngest for her little plate and apple. The +girl took the box from her father’s hands, and said— + +“Sire, what would you like to see? Your towns or your armies; the ships +at sea, or the beautiful stars in the sky?” + +Then she made the little apple roll round the plate, and there appeared +on it many towns, one after the other, with bodies of soldiers near +them, with their standards and artillery. Then the soldiers made ready +for the fight, and the officers stood in their places. The firing +commenced, the smoke arose, and hid it all from view. The little apple +began again to roll on the plate, and there appeared the sea covered +with ships, their flags streaming in the wind. The guns began to fire, +the smoke arose, and again all disappeared from their sight. The apple +again began to roll on the plate, and there appeared on it the +beautiful sky with suns and stars. + +The czar was astonished. The girl fell down on her knees before him, +and cried— + +“Oh, Sire, take my little plate and my little apple, and forgive my +sisters!” + +The czar was moved by her tears and entreaties and forgave the wicked +sisters; the delighted girl sprang up and began to embrace and kiss +them. The czar smiled, took her by the hand and said, “I honor the +goodness of your heart, and admire your beauty. Would you like to +become my wife?” + +“Sire,” answered the beautiful girl, “I obey your royal command; but +allow me first to ask my parents’ permission.” + +The delighted peasant at once gave his consent; they sent for the +mother, and she, too, gladly bestowed her blessing. + +“One favor more,” said the beautiful girl to the czar. “Permit my +parents and sisters to remain with me.” + +On hearing this the sisters fell down on their knees before her, and +cried— + +“We are not worthy of so much favor!” + +“Dearest sisters,” said the beautiful girl, “all is forgotten and +forgiven. They who remember the past with malice deserve to lose their +sight.” + +She then tried to lift them up from the ground, but they, shedding +bitter tears, would not rise. Then the czar, looking at them with a +frown, bade them get up; he allowed them, however, to stay in the +palace. + +A magnificent entertainment then began: the palace was splendidly +lighted up, and looked like the sun among the clouds. The czar and +czarina rode out in an open chariot and showed themselves to the +people, who cried joyfully— + +“Long live czar and czarina! May they shine upon us like the glorious +sun for years and years to come!” + + + + +THE GOLDEN FISH + + +By L. M. Gask + +Upon a certain island in the middle of the sea dwelt an old man and his +wife. They were so poor that they often went short of bread, for the +fish he caught were their only means of livelihood. + +One day when the man had been fishing for many hours without success, +he hooked a small Gold Fish, whose eyes were bright as diamonds. + +“Let me go, kind man,” the little creature cried. “I should not make a +mouthful either for yourself or your wife, and my own mate waits for me +down in the waters.” + +The old man was so moved by his pleadings that he took him off the hook +and threw him back into the sea. Before he swam off to rejoin his mate, +the Gold Fish promised that in return for his kindness he would come to +the fisherman’s help if ever he wanted him. Laughing merrily at this, +for he did not believe that a fish could help him except by providing +him with food, the old man went home and told his wife. + +“What!” she cried, “you actually let him go when you had caught him? It +was just like your stupidity. We have not a scrap of bread in the +house, and now, I suppose, we must starve!” + +Her reproaches continued for so long that though he scarcely believed +what the fish had said, the poor old man thought that at least it would +do no harm to put him to the test. He therefore hastened back to the +shore, and stood at the very edge of the waves. + +“Golden Fish, Golden Fish!” he called. “Come to me, I pray, with your +tail in the water, and your head lifted up toward me!” + +As the last word was uttered the Gold Fish popped up his head. + +“You see I have kept my promise,” he said. “What can I do for you, my +good friend?” + +“There is not a scrap of bread in the house,” quavered the old man, +“and my wife is very angry with me for letting you go. + +“Don’t trouble about that!” said the Gold Fish in an off-hand manner; +“you will find bread, and to spare, when you go home.” And the old man +hurried away to see if his little friend had spoken truly. + +Surely enough, he found that the pan was full of fine white loaves. + +“I did not do so badly for you after all, good wife!” he said, as they +ate their supper; but his wife was anything but satisfied. The more she +had, the more she wanted, and she lay awake planning what they should +demand from the Gold Fish next. + +“Wake up, you lazy man!” she cried to her husband, early next morning. +“Go down to the sea and tell your fish that I must have a new washtub.” + +The old man did as his wife bade him, and the moment he called the Gold +Fish reappeared. He seemed quite willing to grant the new request, and +on his return home the old man found a beautiful new washtub in the +small yard at the back of their cabin. + +“Why didn’t you ask for a new cabin too?” his wife said angrily. “If +you had had a grain of sense you would have done this without being +told. Go back at once, and say that we must have one. + +The old man was rather ashamed to trouble his friend again so soon; but +the Gold Fish was as obliging as ever. + +“Very well,” he said, “a new cabin you shall have.” And the old mart +found one so spick-and-span that he hardly dare cross the floor for +fear of soiling it. It would have pleased him greatly had his wife been +contented, but she, good woman, did nothing but grumble still. + +“Tell your Gold Fish,” she said next day, “that I want to be a duchess, +with many servants at my beck and call, and a splendid carriage to +drive in. + +Once more her wish was granted, but now her husband’s plight was hard +indeed. She would not let him share her palace, but ordered him off to +the stables, where he was forced to keep company with her grooms. In a +few days, however, he grew reconciled to his lot, for here he could +live in peace, while he learned that she was leading those around her a +terrible life, it was not long before she sent for him again. + +“Summon the Gold Fish,” she commanded haughtily, “and tell him I wish +to be Queen of the Waters, and to rule over all the fish.” + +The poor old man felt sorry for the fish if they had to be under her +rule, for prosperity had quite spoiled her. However, he dared not +disobey, and once more summoned his powerful friend. + +“Make your wife the Queen of the Waters?” exclaimed the Gold Fish. +“That is the last thing I should do. She is unfit to reign, for she +cannot rule herself or her desires. I shall make her once more a poor +old woman. Adieu! You will see me no more.” + +The old man returned sorrowfully with this unpleasant message, to find +the palace transformed into a humble cabin, and his wife in a skirt of +threadbare stuff in place of the rich brocade which she had worn of +late. She was sad and humble, and much more easy to live with than she +had been before. Her husband therefore had occasion many times to think +gratefully of the Gold Fish, and sometimes when drawing up his net the +glint of the sun upon the scales of his captives would give him a +moment’s hope—which, alas! was as often disappointed—that once again he +was to see his benefactor. + + + + +THE WONDERFUL HAIR + + +By W. S. Karajich + +There once lived a man who was very poor, and who had many children; so +many that he was unable to support them. As he could not endure the +idea of their perishing of hunger, he was often tempted to destroy +them; his wife alone prevented him. One night, as he lay asleep, there +appeared to him a lovely child in a vision. The child said— + +“Oh, man! I see your soul is in danger, in the thought of killing your +helpless children. But I know you are poor, and am come here to help +you. You will find under your pillow in the morning a looking-glass, a +red handkerchief, and an embroidered scarf. Take these three things, +but show them to no one, and go to the forest. In that forest you will +find a rivulet. Walk by the side of this rivulet until you come to its +source; there you will see a girl, as bright as the sun, with long hair +streaming down her shoulders. Take care that she does you no harm. Say +not a word to her; for if you utter a single syllable, she will change +you into a fish or some other creature, and eat you. Should she ask you +to comb her hair, obey her. As you comb it, you will find one hair as +red as blood; pull it out, and run away with it. Be swift, for she will +follow you. Then throw on the ground, first the embroidered scarf, then +the red handkerchief, and last of all the looking-glass; they will +delay her pursuit of you. Sell the hair to some rich man; but see that +you do not allow yourself to be cheated, for it is of boundless worth. +Its produce will make you rich and thus you will be able to feed your +children.” + +Next morning, when the poor man awoke, he found under his pillow +exactly the things the child mad told him of in his dream. He went +immediately into the forest, and when he had discovered the rivulet he +walked by the side of it, on and on, until he reached its source. There +he saw a girl sitting on the bank, threading a needle with the rays of +the sun. She was embroidering a net made of the hair of heroes, spread +on a frame before her. He approached and bowed to her. The girl got up +and demanded— + +“Where did you come from, strange knight?” + +The man remained silent. Again she asked him— + +“Who are you, and why do you come here?” And many other questions. But +he remained silent as a stone, indicating with his hands only that he +was dumb and in need of help. She told him to sit at her feet, and when +he had gladly done so, she inclined her head toward him, that he might +comb her hair. He began to arrange her hair as if to comb it, but as +soon as he had found the red one, he separated it from the rest, +plucked it out, leaped up, and ran from her with his utmost speed. + +The girl sprang after him, and was soon at his heels. The man, turning +round as he ran, and seeing that his pursuer would soon overtake him, +threw the embroidered scarf on the ground, as he had been told. When +the girl saw it, she stopped and began to examine it; turning it over +on both sides, and admiring the embroidery. Meanwhile the man gained a +considerable distance in advance. The girl tied the scarf round her +bosom and recommenced the pursuit. When the man saw that she was again +about to overtake him, he threw down the red handkerchief. At the sight +of it, the girl again stopped, examined, and wondered at it; the +peasant, in the meantime, was again enabled to increase the distance +between them. When the girl perceived this, she became furious, and +throwing away both scarf and handkerchief began to run with increased +speed after him. She was just upon the point of catching the poor +peasant, when he threw the looking-glass at her feet. At the sight of +the looking-glass, the like of which she had never seen before, the +girl checked herself, picked it up, and looked in it. Seeing her own +face, she fancied there was another girl looking at her. While she was +thus occupied the man ran so far that she could not possibly overtake +him. When the girl saw that further pursuit was useless, she turned +back, and the peasant, joyful and unhurt, reached his home. Once within +doors he showed the hair to his wife and children, and told them all +that had happened to him; but his wife only laughed at the Story. The +peasant, however, took no heed of her ridicule, but went to a +neighboring town to sell the hair. He was soon surrounded by a crowd of +people, and some merchants began to bid for his prize. One merchant +offered him one gold piece, another two, for the single hair, and so +on, until the price rose to a hundred gold pieces. Meanwhile the king, +hearing of the wonderful red hair, ordered the peasant to be called in, +and offered him a thousand gold pieces for it. The man joyfully sold it +for that sum. + +What wonderful kind of hair was this after all? The king split it +carefully open from end to end, and in it was found the story of many +marvelous secrets of nature, and of things that had happened since the +creation of the world. + +Thus the peasant became rich, and henceforth lived happily with his +wife and children. The child he had seen in his dream, was an angel +sent down from heaven to succor him, and to reveal to mankind the +knowledge of many wonderful things which had hitherto remained +unexplained. + + + + +THE LANGUAGE OF ANIMALS + + +By W. S. Karajich + +A certain man had a shepherd who had served him faithfully and honestly +for many years. One day, as the Shepherd was tending his sheep, he +heard a hissing noise in the forest, and wondered what it could he. He +went, therefore, into the wood in the direction of the sound, to learn +what it was. There he saw that the dry grass and leaves had caught +fire, and in the middle of a burning circle a Snake was hissing. The +Shepherd stopped to see what the Snake would do, for the fire was +burning all around it, and the flames approached it nearer and nearer +every moment. Then the Snake cried from amid the fire— + +“Oh, Shepherd! for heaven’s sake save me from this fire!” + +The Shepherd stretched out his crook over the flames to the Snake, and +the Snake passed along it on to his hand, and from his hand it crawled +to his neck, where it twisted itself round. + +When the Shepherd perceived this, he was greatly alarmed, and said to +the Snake— + +“What have I done in an evil hour? Have I saved you to my own +destruction?” + +The Snake answered him, “Fear not, but carry me to my father’s house. +My father is the King of the snakes.” + +The Shepherd, however, began to beg the Snake to excuse him, saying +that he could not leave the sheep; but the Snake answered— + +“Be not troubled about the sheep; no harm shall happen to them; only go +as fast as you can.” + +The Shepherd then walked through the forest with the Snake until he +came to a gate which was entirely made of snakes knotted together. +There the Snake on the Shepherd’s neck gave a whistle, and all the +other snakes untwisted themselves. Then the Snake said to the Shepherd— + +“When we come to my father’s palace he will give you whatever you ask +for: silver, gold, and precious stones. Do you, however, take nothing +of these, but beg to know the language of the brutes and other +creatures. He will refuse you this for a long time, but at last he will +grant your request.” + +Meanwhile they came to the palace, to the father, who, shedding many +tears, cried— + +“For heaven’s sake! my dearest daughter, where have you been?” + +And she told him in due order how she had been surrounded by the forest +fire, and how the Shepherd had rescued her. Then the King of the snakes +turned to the Shepherd and said to him— + +“What would you have me give you for the deliverance of my daughter?” + +The Shepherd answered, “Only let me understand the language of animals; +I want nothing else.” + +Then the King said, “That is not good for you; for if I were to bestow +upon you the gift of the knowledge of the tongue of animals, and you +were to tell anyone of it, you would instantly die. Ask, therefore, for +something else; whatever you desire to possess, I will give to you.” + +To which the Shepherd replied— + +“If you wish to give me anything, then grant me the knowledge of the +language of brute creatures; but if you do not care to give me +that—farewell, and God protect you! I want nothing else.” And the +Shepherd turned to leave the place. + +Then the King called him back, saying— + +“Stay! come here to me, since you will have it at all hazards. Open +your mouth.” + +The Shepherd opened his mouth, and the King of the snakes breathed into +it, and said— + +“Do you now breathe into my mouth.” + +The Shepherd breathed into his mouth, and the Snake King breathed again +into that of the Shepherd. After they had breathed each three times +into the other’s mouth, the King said— + +“Now you understand the language of animals, and of all created things. +Go in peace, and God be with you! but for the life of you, tell no one +of this; if you do, you will die on the instant!” + +The Shepherd returned home through the forest. As he walked he heard +and understood all that the birds said, and the grass and all the other +things that are upon the earth. When he came to his sheep and found +them all together and quite safe, he laid himself down to rest. +Scarcely had he lain down when there flew two ravens toward him, who +took their perch upon a tree, and began to talk together in their own +language. + +“What if that Shepherd only knew that underneath the place where the +black lamb lies there is a cellar full of silver and gold!’ + +When the Shepherd heard this, he went to his master, and told him of +it. The master took a cart with him, and they dug down to a door +leading to the cave, and removed the treasure to his house. But the +master was an honest man, and gave all the treasure to the Shepherd, +saying— + +“My son, all this treasure is yours, for heaven has given it to you. +Buy yourself a house with it, marry, and live happily in it.” + +The Shepherd took the treasure, built himself a house, and, having +married, lived a happy life. Soon he became known as the richest man, +not only in his own village, but so rich that there was not his equal +in the whole neighborhood. He had his own shepherd, cow keeper, +hostler, and swineherd; plenty of goods and chattels, and great riches. + +One day, just before Christmas, he said to his wife, “Get some wine, +and some brandy, and all things necessary; to-morrow we will go to the +farmyard and take the good things to the shepherds that they may also +enjoy themselves.” + +The wife followed his directions and prepared all that he had told her. +When they arrived on the following day at the farmhouse, the master +said to the shepherds in the evening— + +“Come here, all of you; eat, drink, and be merry. I will watch over the +flocks for you to-night.” And he went, in very deed, and remained with +the flocks. + +About midnight the wolves began to howl and the dogs to bark, and the +wolves said in their language— + +“May we come in and do what mischief we like? Then you, too, shall have +your share.” + +And the dogs answered in their language, “Come in; and we will eat our +fill with you.” + +But among the dogs there was an old one, who had but two teeth in his +head, and he said to the wolves— + +“That will not do. So long as I have my two teeth in my head you shall +do no harm to my master nor his.” + +The master heard it all, and understood what was said. On the following +morning he ordered all the dogs to be killed save only the old one. The +hinds said, “Heaven forbid, sir; that would be a great pity!” But the +master answered, “Do what I have told you.” + +Then he prepared to return home with his wife, and they both mounted +their horses. And as they rode on, the husband got a little ahead, +while the wife fell behind. At last the husband’s horse neighed, and +called to the mare— + +“Come on! make haste! Why do you lag behind!” + +And the mare answered him, “Ah yes, it is all very easy for you: you +have only one to carry, the master; while I have to carry two, the +mistress and her baby.” + +The husband turned round and laughed, and his wife seeing this, urged +the mare forward, overtook her husband, and asked him what he had been +laughing at. + +“Nothing; I do not know; just something that came into my mind,” +answered the husband. + +But the wife was not satisfied with this answer, and she pressed him +again and again to tell her why he had laughed. + +But he excused himself, and said— + +“Let me alone, wife! What is the matter with you? I do not know myself +why I laughed.” + +But the more he denied her the more she insisted upon his telling her +what he had been laughing at. At last the husband said to her— + +“Know then, that if I tell you the reason, I shall instantly die.” + +The woman, however, did not care for that, but urged him to tell her +notwithstanding. + +Meanwhile they had reached home. The husband ordered a coffin to be +made immediately, and when it was ready he had it placed before the +house, and said to his wife— + +“See now, I now lay me down in this coffin, and then tell you why I +laughed; but as soon as I have told you I shall die.” + +The husband lay down in the coffin, and looked around him for the last +time. And there came the old Dog from the farmyard, and sat down at his +head and whined. The husband seeing this, said to his wife— + +“Bring a piece of bread and give it to this Dog.” + +The wife brought out a piece of bread, and threw it down to the Dog; +but the Dog would not even look at it. Then the House Cock ran up, and +began to pick at the bread; and the Dog said to it— + +“You miserable greedy thing, you! You can eat, and yet you see that the +master is going to die!” + +The Cock answered the Dog, “And let him die since he is such a fool. I +have a hundred wives, and I call them all together whenever I find a +grain of corn, and as soon as they have come round me, I swallow it +myself. And if any one of them got angry, I should be at her directly +with my beak. The master has only one wife, and he cannot even manage +her.” + +When the husband heard this he quickly sprang out of the coffin, took +up a stick, and called his wife into the room. + +“Come, wife,” he said, “I will tell you what you so much want to hear.” + +Then as he beat her with the stick he cried, “This is it, wife! This is +it.” + +In this way he quieted his wife, and she never asked him again what he +had been laughing at. + + + + +THE EMPEROR TROJAN’S GOAT’S EARS + + +By W. S. Karajich + +There once lived an emperor whose name was Trojan. This emperor had +goat’s ears, and he used to call in barber after barber to shave him. +But whoever went in never came out again; for while the barber was +shaving him, the emperor would ask what he observed uncommon in him, +and when the barber would answer that he observed his goat’s ears, the +Emperor would immediately cut him into pieces. + +At last it came to the turn of a certain barber to go who feigned +illness, and sent his apprentice instead. When the apprentice appeared +before the emperor he was asked why his master did not come, and he +answered, “Because he is ill.” Then the emperor sat down, and allowed +the youth to shave him. + +As he shaved him the apprentice noticed the emperor’s goat’s ears, but +when Trojan asked him what he had observed, he answered, “I have +observed nothing.” + +Then the emperor gave him twelve ducats, and said to him— + +“From this time forth you shall always come and shave me. + +When the apprentice came home, his master asked him how he got on at +the emperor’s, and the youth answered— + +“All well; and the emperor has told me that I am to shave him in +future.” + +Then he showed the twelve ducats he had received; but as to the +emperor’s goat’s ears, of that he said nothing. + +From this time forth the apprentice went regularly to Trojan to shave +him, and for each shaving he received twelve ducats; but he told no one +that the emperor had goat’s ears. + +At last it began to worry and torment him that he dare tell no one his +secret; and he became sick and began to pine away. His master, who +could not fail to observe this, asked him what ailed him, and after +much pressing the apprentice confessed that he had something on his +heart which he dared not confide to anyone, and he added, “If I could +only tell it to somebody, I should feel better at once.” + +Then said the master— + +“Tell it to me, and I will faithfully keep it from everybody else; or +if you fear to trust me with it, then go to the confessor and confide +it to him; but if you will not do even that, then go into the fields +outside the town, there dig a hole, thrust your head into it, and tell +the earth three times what you know, then throw the mold in again and +fill up the hole.” + +The apprentice chose the last course; went into the field outside the +city, dug a hole, into which he thrust his head, and called out three +times— + +“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears.” + +Then he filled up the hole again, and with his mind quite relieved went +home. + +When some time had passed by, there sprang an elder tree out of this +very hole, and three slender sterns grew up, beautiful and straight as +tapers. Some shepherds found this elder, cut off one of the stems, and +made a pipe of it. But as soon as they began to blow into the new pipe, +out burst the words: + +“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears!” + +The news of this strange occurrence spread immediately through the +whole city, and at last the Emperor Trojan himself heard the children +blowing on a pipe: + +“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears!” + +He sent instantly for the barber’s apprentice, and shouted to him— + +“Heh! what is this you have been telling the people about me.” + +The poor youth began at once to explain that he had indeed noticed the +emperor’s ears, but had never told a soul of it. The emperor tore his +saber out of its sheath to hew the apprentice down, at which the youth +was so frightened that he told the whole story in its order: how he had +confessed himself to the earth; how an elder tree had sprang up on the +very spot; and how, when a pipe was made of one of its sterns, the tale +was sounded in every direction. + +Then the emperor took the apprentice with him in a carriage to the +place, to convince himself of the truth of the story; and when they +arrived there they found there was only a single stem left. The Emperor +Trojan ordered a pipe to be made out of this stem, that he might hear +how it sounded. As soon as the pipe was ready, and one of them blew +into it, out poured the words: + +“The Emperor Trojan has goat’s ears!” + +Then the emperor was convinced that nothing on this earth could be +hidden, spared the barber apprentices life, and henceforth allowed any +barber, without exception, to come and shave him. + + + + +THE MAIDEN WHO WAS WISER THAN THE KING + + +By W. S. Karajich + +There once lived a poor man in a miserable hovel, who had no one with +him save an only daughter. But she was very wise, and went about +everywhere seeking alms, and taught her father also to speak in a +becoming manner when he begged. It happened once that the poor man came +to the king and asked for a gift. The king demanded whence he came, and +who had taught him to speak so well. The man said whence he came, and +that it was his daughter who had taught him. + +“And who taught your daughter?” asked the king. + +The poor man answered: “God, and our great poverty.” + +Then the king gave him thirty eggs, saying— + +“Take these eggs to your daughter, and tell her to hatch chickens out +of them, and I will reward her handsomely; but if she cannot hatch +them, it will go ill with you.” + +The poor man went crying back to his hovel, and related to his daughter +what had passed. The maiden saw at once that the eggs had been boiled, +but she told her father to go to rest, and assured him that she would +see that all went well. The father followed her advice, and went to +sleep; the maiden took a pot, filled it with water and beans, and set +it on the fire. On the following morning, the beans being quite boiled, +she told her father to take a plow and oxen, and to plow along the road +where the king would pass. + +“And,” she added, “when you see the king, take the beans, sow them, and +cry, ‘Hi! go on, oxen mine! Heaven be with me, and make my boiled beans +take root and grow!’ And when the king asks you how it is possible for +boiled beans to grow, answer him, that it is quite as possible as for +boiled eggs to yield chickens.” + +The poor man hearkened to his daughter, went away, and began to plow. +When he saw the king coming he began to cry— + +“Hi, go on, oxen mine! God help me, and make my boiled beans take root +and grow!” + +The king, hearing these words, stopped on the road, and said to the +poor man— + +“Here, fellow! how is it possible for boiled beans to grow?” + +And the poor man answered him— + +“Heaven prosper you, king! just as possible as for boiled eggs to yield +chickens.” + +The king guessed at once that it was the poor man’s daughter who had +taught him this answer. He ordered his servants to seize him and bring +him into his presence. Then he gave him a bundle of flax, and said to +him— + +“Take this flax and make out of it ropes and sails and all that is +wanted on shipboard; if you do not, you shall lose your head.” + +The poor man took the bundle in great fear, and went crying home to his +daughter, to whom he related all that had passed. But the maiden sent +him again to rest with the promise that all should go well. On the +following day she took a small piece of wood, awoke her father, and +said to him— + +“Take this wood, and carry it to the king; let him cut a spinning +wheel, a spindle, and a loom out of it, and I will do all that he +demands of me.” + +The poor man again followed the directions of his daughter; he went to +the king and delivered the maiden’s message. The king was astonished at +hearing this, and began to think what he should do next. At last he +took up a small cup, and said as he gave it to the father— + +“Take this cup to your daughter, and let her empty the sea with it, so +that it shall become like a dry field.” + +The poor man obeyed with tears in his eyes, and took the cup to his +daughter with the king’s message. But the maiden told him he need only +leave the matter till the morning, when she would see to it. + +In the morning she called her father, and gave him a pound of tow to +take to the king, and bade him say: + +“Let the king stop up all the springs and river mouths of the earth +with this tow, and then will I dry up the sea for him.” + +And the poor man went and told this to the king. + +Now the king saw that this maiden was wiser that he was himself, and he +ordered her to be brought before him. And when the father and daughter +stood in his presence and bowed before him, he said to the daughter— + +“Tell me, girl, what is it that man hears the farthest?” + +And the maiden answered— “Great king! that which man hears the farthest +is the thunder, and a lie.” + +Upon this the king took hold of his beard, and turning to his +councilors, demanded of them: + +“Tell me what my beard is worth?” + +And when one valued it at so much, and another at so much more, the +maiden told them outright that they could not guess it. “The king’s +beard,” she said, “is of as much worth as three rainy days in summer +time.” + +The king was astonished and exclaimed, “The maiden has made the best +answer!” + +Then he asked her if she would be his wife, nor would he desist from +pressing his suit, until she agreed to it. The maiden bent before him +and said— + +“Glorious king! let it be as you will; but I beg of you to write on a +piece of paper with your own hand, that, should you ever be angry with +me, and should drive me forth from your palace, I shall be at liberty +to take whatever I love dearest away with me.” + +And the king agreed and wrote out the paper. After some time had passed +away, it came, in fact, to pass, that the king became one day so angry +with his wife, that he said to her— + +“I will have you no longer for my wife; leave my palace, and go where +you will.” + +“Illustrious king!” answered the queen, “I will obey you. Permit me, +however, to stay here over the night, then in the morning I will go +forth.” + +The king granted her prayer; and the queen before supper mixed some +brandy and some sweet herbs in the king’s wine, and pressed him to +partake of it, saying— + +“Drink, O king, and be merry. To-morrow we part; and believe me, I +shall then be happier than when I married you.” + +The king drank too much, and when he was fast asleep, the queen had him +laid in a wagon ready prepared, and drove with him into a rocky cavern. +And when the king awoke in the cavern, and saw where he was, he cried +out— + +“Who has brought me here?” + +“I have brought you here,” answered the queen. + +The king demanded of her: + +“Why have you done this? Have I not told you that you are no longer my +wife?” + +Then said she, as she drew forth a sheet of paper— + +“It is true what you say; but see what you yourself have laid down on +this sheet: that when I should leave you, I might take with me, from +your palace, that which I loved best.” + +When the king heard this, he kissed her, and went back with her to the +palace. + + + + +THE THREE SONS + + +By Lady Gregory + +I’ll tell you a story, says the old man who was bringing fish from the +sea; and after that I’ll be going on to Ballinrobe, to one that has a +shop there and that was reared by my grandmother. It is likely he’ll +give me a tasty suit of clothes. + +Working all my life I am, working with the flail in the barn, working +with the spade at the potato tilling and the potato digging, breaking +stones on the road. And four years ago the wife died, and it’s lonesome +to be housekeeping alone. + +There was a King long ago in Ireland, and he had three sons, and one of +them was something silly. There came a sickness on the King, and he +called his three sons, and he said to them that he had knowledge the +only thing would cure him was the apples from Burnett’s orchard, and he +bade them to go look for them, for that orchard was in some far-away +place, and no one could tell where it was. + +The three sons went then, and they caught their horses, and put on +their bridles, and they set out, and went on till they came to three +crossroads. There they stopped, and they settled among themselves that +each one of them would take one of the roads and go searching for the +apples, and they would meet at the same place at the end of a year and +a day. + +The youngest son, that was a bit silly, took the crossest of the roads, +and he went on till he came to a cottage by the roadside. He went in, +and there was a withered old man in the house, and he said: “There is a +great welcome before the King of Ireland’s son!” The son was astonished +at that because he thought no one could know him. He was well received +there, and in the course of the evening he asked the old man did he +know where was Burnett’s garden. “I am a hundred years old,” said the +man, “and I never heard of such a place. But I have a brother,” he +said, “that is a hundred years older than I am, and it may be he would +know,” he said. + +So in the morning he gave a canoe to the King’s son, and it went on of +itself without him turning or guiding it, till it brought him to the +old man’s brother, and he got a welcome there and good treatment, and +in the course of the night he asked that old man did he know where was +Burnett’s orchard. + +“I do not,” said he: “though I am two hundred years old I never heard +of it. But go on,” he said, “to a brother I have that has a hundred +years more than myself.” + +So in the morning, he went into the canoe, and it went on of itself +till it came to where the third old man was, that was older again than +the other two, and the King’s son asked did he know where was Burnett’s +garden. “I do not,” he said, “although I am three hundred years old; +but I will tell you how you will know it,” he said. “Go on till you +come to shore, where you will see a Swan-Gander standing by the water, +and he is the one that can tell you and can bring you to it,” he said. +“And ask him to bring you to that garden in the name of the Almighty +God.” + +So the King’s son went on in the canoe till he came where the +Swan-Gander was standing on the shore. “Can you tell me,” says he, +“where can I get the apples that are in Burnett’s orchard? And can you +bring me there?” he said. + +“Indeed,” said the Swan-Gander, “I am in no way obliged to your leader, +or to whoever it was sent you to me and gave you that teaching. And +those apples are well minded,” he said, “by wolves; and the only time +they sleep is for three hours once in every seven years. And it chances +they are asleep for those three hours at this time; and so I will bring +you there,” he said. + +With that he stretched out his wings, and he bade the King’s son to get +on his back. And it was long before he could start flying with the +weight that was on him; but at last he flew away, and he brought the +King’s son to Burnett’s garden, and there was a high wall around it, +but he flew over the wall, and put him down in the garden. The King’s +son filled his bag with the apples, and when he had done that he went +looking around, and he came to a large cottage in the garden, and he +went in, and there was no one in the house but a beautiful young girl, +and she was asleep. So he went away; but he brought with him the gold +rings and the gold garters that he saw there in the window. + +He got up again on the back of the Swan-Gander, but it was hard for it +to rise with the weight of the bag of apples. But it did rise at last, +and it brought him to where the old man was that was three hundred +years old. The King’s son gave one of the apples to the old man, and no +sooner did he eat it than his age left him, and he was like a boy of +fifteen years. + +He went on then to the two other old men, and gave an apple to both of +them, and no sooner did they eat it than they were like young boys +again. + +Then the King’s son went back to the crossroads, for it was the end of +the year and a day, and he was the first to come there, and he fell +asleep. The two brothers came and saw him there, and they stole the bag +of apples from under his head and put in the place of it a bag of +apples that were no use at all. Then they went on to their father’s +house, and they gave him the apples they had stolen, and he was cured +on the moment; but they told him that what the youngest son was +bringing to him was poison apples, that would bring him to his death. + +The King was very angry when he heard that, and he went to his butler +and said, “Go out to the wood where my son is, and shoot him, and bring +his heart here with you on the top of a gun and throw it to the dogs at +the door; for I will never have him, or anything belonging to him, +brought into the house,” he said. + +So the butler got the gun, and went out to the wood; and when he saw +the young man he was going to shoot him. “Why would you do that?” said +he. So the butler told him all the father ordered him; and the young +man said, “Do not shoot me, but save me. And this is what you will do. +Go into the wood until you meet with a woodcock, and shoot it, and take +the heart out of it, for that is most like the heart of a man. Bring +the woodcock’s heart to my father’s house,” he said, “and throw it to +the dogs at the door.” + +So the butler did that, and spared him, and took the woodcock’s heart +and threw it to the dogs at the door. + +It was a good while after that, a beautiful young lady came to the +King’s doorway in a coach and four, and stopped at the door. “Send out +my husband to me here,” she said. So the eldest son came out to her. +“Was it you came to the garden for the apples?” says she. “It was,” +says he. “What things did you take notice of in the cottage where I +was?” says she. + +So he began telling of this thing and that thing that never was in it +at all. + +And when she heard that she gave him a clout that knocked his head as +solid as any stone in the wall. + +Then the second son came out, and she asked him the same question, and +he told the same lies, and she gave him another clout that left his +head as solid as any stone in the wall. + +When the King heard all that, he knew they had deceived him, and that +it was the youngest son who got the apples for his cure, and he began +to cry after him and to lament that he was not living to come back +again. “Would you like to know he is living yet?” says the butler. “I +would sooner hear it than any word ever I heard,” says the King. + +“Well he is living yet, and is in the wood,” says the butler. + +When the young lady heard that, she bade the butler bring her to where +he was, and they went together to the wood, and there they found him, +where he had been living on the fruits of trees through the most of the +year. When the young lady saw him, she said: “Was it you came to the +house where I was in the garden?” “It was,” says he. + +“What things did you take notice of in it?” + +“Here they are,” says he. And he put his hand in his pocket, and +brought out the gold rings and the golden garters, and the other signs +he had brought away. + +So she knew that he was the right one, and she married him, and they +lived happy ever after, and there was great rejoicing in the King of +Ireland’s house. + + + + +HOK LEE AND THE DWARFS + + +Retold by Andrew Lang + +There once lived in a small town in China a man named Hok Lee. He was a +steady, industrious man, who not only worked hard at his trade, but did +all his own housework as well, for he had no wife to do it for him. +“What an excellent, industrious man is this Hok Lee!” said his +neighbors. “How hard he works! He never leaves his house to amuse +himself or to take a holiday as others do!” + +But Hok Lee was by no means the virtuous person his neighbors thought +him. True, he worked hard enough by day, but at night, when all +respectable folk were fast asleep, he used to steal out and join a +dangerous band of robbers, who broke into rich people’s houses and +carried off all they could lay hands on. + +This state of things went on for some time, and though a thief was +caught now and then and punished, no suspicion ever fell on Hok Lee, he +was such a very respectable, hard-working man. + +Hok Lee had already amassed a good store of money as his share of the +proceeds of these robberies, when it happened one morning on going to +market that a neighbor said to him: + +“Why, Hok Lee, what is the matter with your face? One side of it is all +swelled up.” + +True enough, Hok Lee’s right cheek was twice the size of his left, and +it soon began to feel very uncomfortable. + +“I will bind up my face,” said Hok Lee. “Doubtless the warmth will cure +the swelling.” But no such thing. Next day it was worse, and day by day +it grew bigger and bigger till it was nearly as large as his head and +became very painful. + +Hok Lee was at his wits’ end what to do. Not only was his check +unsightly and painful, but his neighbors began to jeer and make fun of +him, which hurt his feelings very much indeed. + +One day, as luck would have it, a traveling doctor came to the town. He +sold not only all kinds of medicine, but also dealt in many strange +charms against witches and evil spirits. + +Hok Lee determined to consult him and asked him into his house. After +the doctor had examined him carefully he spoke thus: + +“This, Hok Lee, is no ordinary swelled face. I strongly suspect you +have been doing some wrong deed which has called down the anger of the +spirits on you. None of my drugs will avail to cure you, but if you are +willing to pay me handsomely I can tell you how you may be cured.” + +Then Hok Lee and the doctor began to bargain together, and it was a +long time before they could come to terms. However, the doctor got the +better of it in the end, for he was determined not to part with his +secret under a certain price, and Hok Lee had no mind to carry his huge +cheek about with him to the end of his days. So he was obliged to part +with the greater portion of his ill-gotten gains. + +When the doctor had pocketed the money he told Hok Lee to go on the +first night of the full moon to a certain wood and there to watch by a +particular tree. After a time he would see the dwarfs and little +sprites who live underground come out to dance. When they saw him they +would be sure to make him dance too. “And mind you dance your very +best,” added the doctor. “If you dance well and please them they will +grant you a petition and you can then beg to be cured; but if you dance +badly they will most likely do you some mischief out of spite.” With +that he took leave and departed. + +Happily the first night of the full moon was near, and at the proper +time Hok Lee set out for the wood. With a little trouble he found the +tree the doctor had described, and feeling nervous he climbed up into +it. + +He had hardly settled himself on a branch when he saw the little dwarfs +assembling in the moonlight. They came from all sides, till at length +there appeared to be hundreds of them. They seemed in high glee and +danced and skipped and capered about, while Hok Lee grew so eager +watching them that he crept farther and farther along his branch till +at length it gave a loud crack. All the dwarfs stood still, and Hok Lee +felt as if his heart stood still also. + +Then one of the dwarfs called out: “Some one is up in that tree. Come +down at once, whoever you are, or we must come and fetch you.” + +In great terror Hok Lee proceeded to come down; but he was so nervous +that he tripped near the ground and came rolling down in the most +absurd manner. When he had picked himself up he came forward with a low +bow, and the dwarf who had first spoken and who appeared to be the +leader said: “Now, then, who art thou and what brings thee here?” + +So Hok Lee told him the sad story of his swelled cheek, and how he had +been advised to come to the forest and beg the dwarfs to cure him. + +“It is well,” replied the dwarf. “We will see about that. First, +however, thou must dance before us. Should thy dancing please us, +perhaps we may be able to do something; but shouldst thou dance badly +we shall assuredly punish thee, so now take warning and dance away.” + +With that, he and all the other dwarfs sat down in a large ring, +leaving Hok Lee to dance alone in the middle. He felt half-frightened +to death, and besides was a good deal shaken by his fall from the tree +and did not feel at all inclined to dance. But the dwarfs were not to +be trifled with. + +“Begin!” cried their leader, and “Begin!” shouted the rest in chorus. + +So in despair Hok Lee began. First he hopped on one foot and then on +the other, but he was so stiff and so nervous that he made but a poor +attempt, and after a time sank down on the ground and vowed he could +dance no more. + +The dwarfs were very angry. They crowded round Hok Lee and abused him. +“Thou to come here to be cured, indeed!” they cried. “Thou hast brought +one big cheek with thee, but thou shalt take away two.” And with that +they ran off and disappeared, leaving Hok Lee to find his way home as +best he might. + +He hobbled away, weary and depressed, and not a little anxious on +account of the dwarfs’ threat. + +Nor were his fears unfounded, for when he rose next morning his left +cheek was swelled up as big as his right, and he could hardly see out +of his eyes. Hok Lee felt in despair, and his neighbors jeered at him +more than ever. The doctor, too, had disappeared, so there was nothing +for it but to try the dwarfs once more. + +He waited a month till the first night of the full moon came round +again, and then he trudged back to the forest and sat down under the +tree from which he had fallen. He had not long to wait. Ere long the +dwarfs came trooping out till all were assembled. + +“I don’t feel quite easy,” said one. “I feel as if some horrid human +being were near us.” + +When Hok Lee heard this he came forward and bent down to the ground +before the dwarfs, who came crowding round and laughed heartily at his +comical appearance with his two big cheeks. + +“What dost thou want?” they asked; and Hok Lee proceeded to tell them +of his fresh misfortunes and begged so hard to be allowed one more +trial at dancing that the dwarfs consented, for there is nothing they +love so much as being amused. + +Now, Hok Lee knew how much depended on his dancing well, so he plucked +up a good spirit and began, first quite slowly and faster by degrees, +and he danced so well and gracefully, and made such new and wonderful +steps, that the dwarfs were quite delighted with him. + +They clapped their tiny hands and shouted: + +“Well done, Hok Lee, well done. Go on—dance more, for we are pleased.” + +And Hok Lee danced on and on, till he really could dance no more and +was obliged to stop. + +Then the leader of the dwarfs said: “We are well pleased, Hok Lee, and +as a recompense for thy dancing thy face shall he cured. Farewell.” + +With these words he and the other dwarfs vanished, and Hok Lee, putting +his hands to his face, found to his great joy that his cheeks were +reduced to their natural size. The way home seemed short and easy to +him, and he went to bed happy and resolved never to go out robbing +again. + +Next day the whole town was full of the news of Hok’s sudden cure. His +neighbors questioned him, but could get nothing from him, except the +fact that he had discovered a wonderful cure for all kinds of diseases. + +After a time a rich neighbor, who had been ill for some years, came and +offered to give Hok Lee a large sum of money if he would tell him how +he might get cured. Hok Lee consented on condition that he swore to +keep the secret. He did so, and Hok Lee told him of the dwarfs and +their dances. + +The neighbor went off, carefully obeyed Hok Lee’s directions, and was +duly cured by the dwarfs. Then another and another came to Hok Lee to +beg his secret, and from each he extracted a vow of secrecy and a large +sum of money. This went on for some years, so that at length Hok Lee +became a very wealthy man and ended his days in peace and prosperity. + + + + +A DREADFUL BOAR + + +By Adele M. Fielde + +A poor Old Woman, who lived with her one little granddaughter in a +wood, was out gathering sticks for fuel and found a green stalk of +sugar-cane which she added to her bundle. She presently met an elf in +the form of a Wild Boar, that asked her for the cane. She declined +giving it to him, saying that at her age to stoop and to rise again was +to earn what she picked up, and she was going to take the cane home and +let her little granddaughter suck its sap. + +The Boar, angry at her refusal, said that during the coming night he +would come and eat her granddaughter instead of the cane, and went off +into the wood. + +When the Old Woman reached her cabin she sat down by the door and +wailed, for she knew that she had no means of defending herself against +the Boar. While she sat crying a vender of needles came along and asked +her what was the matter. She told him, but all that he could do for her +was to give her a box of needles. The Old Woman stuck the needles +thickly over the lower half of the door, on its outer side, and then +went on crying. + +Just then a Man came along with a basket of crabs, heard her +lamentations, and stopped to inquire what was the matter. She told him, +but he said he knew no help for her, but he would do the best he could +for her by giving her half his crabs. The woman put the crabs in her +water jar, behind her door, and again sat down and cried. + +A Farmer, who was coming along from the fields, leading his ox, also +asked the cause of her distress and heard her story. He said he was +sorry he could not think of any way of preventing the evil she +expected, but that he would leave his ox to stay all night with her, as +it might be a sort of company for her in her loneliness. She led the ox +into her cabin, tied it to the head of her bedstead, gave it some +straw, and then sat down to cry again. + +A courier returning on horseback from a neighboring town was the next +to pass her door, and he dismounted to inquire what troubled her. +Having heard her tale, he said he would leave his horse to stay with +her, and make the ox more contented. So she tied the horse to the foot +of the bed, and, thinking how surely evil was coming upon her, she +burst out crying anew. + +A boy just then came along with a snapping turtle that he had caught +and stopped to ask what had happened to her. On learning the cause of +her weeping he said it was no use to contend against sprites, but that +he would give her his snapping turtle as a proof of his sympathy. She +took the turtle, tied it in front of her bedstead, and continued to +cry. + +Some men who were carrying millstones then came along, inquired into +her trouble, and expressed their compassion by giving her a millstone, +which they rolled into her back yard. While they were doing this a Man +went by carrying hoes and a pickaxe, and he stopped and asked her why +she was crying so hard. She told him her grief, and he said he would +gladly help her if he could, but he was only a well digger and could do +nothing for her except to dig a well. She pointed out a place in the +backyard, and he went to work and quickly dug a well. + +On his departure the old woman cried again, until a Paper Seller came +and inquired what was the matter. When she told him he gave her a large +sheet of white paper, as a token of pity, and she laid it smoothly over +the mouth of the well. + +Nightfall came. The old woman shut and barred her door, put her +granddaughter snugly on the wall side of the bed, and then lay down +beside her to await the foe. + +At midnight the Boar came and threw himself against the door to break +it in. The needles wounded him sorely, so that when he had gained an +entrance he was heated and thirsty, and went to the water jar to drink. + +When he thrust in his snout the crabs attacked him, clung to his +bristles, and pinched his ears, till he rolled over and over to free +himself. + +Then in a rage he approached the front of the bed; but the snapping +turtle nipped his tail and made him retreat under the feet of the +horse, who kicked him over to the ox, and the ox tossed him back to the +horse. Thus beset, he was glad to escape to the back yard to take a +rest and to consider the situation. + +Seeing a clean paper spread on the ground, he went to lie upon it, and +fell into the well. The Old Woman, hearing the fall, rushed out and +rolled the millstone down on him and crushed him. + + + + +THE FIVE QUEER BROTHERS + + +By Adele M. Fielde + +An old woman had five grown-up sons that looked just alike. The eldest +could gulp up the ocean at a mouthful; the second was hard enough to +nick steel; the third had extensible legs; the fourth was unaffected by +fire; the fifth lived without breathing. They all concealed their +peculiar traits, and their neighbors did not know they were queer. + +The eldest supported the family by fishing, going alone to the sea, and +bringing back loads of spoil. The neighbors often besought him to teach +their sons how to fish, and he at last let all their boys go with him, +one day, to learn his art. On reaching the shore he sucked the sea into +his mouth, and sent the boys to the dry bottom to collect the fish. +When he was tired of holding the water, he beckoned to the boys to +return, but they were playing among strange objects and paid no heed to +him. When he could contain the sea no longer, he had to let it flow +back into its former basin, and all the boys were drowned. + +As he went homeward, he passed the doom of the parents, who inquired +how many fish their sons had caught and how long they would be in +coming back. He told them the facts, but they would not excuse him. +They dragged him before the magistrate to account for the loss of their +children. He defended himself by saying he had not invited the boys to +go with him, and had consented to their going only when the parents had +repeatedly urged him; that after the boys were on the ocean bed, he had +done his utmost to induce them to come ashore; that he had held the +water as long as he could, and had then put it in the sea basin solely +because nothing else would contain it. + +Notwithstanding this defense the judges decided that since he took the +boys away and did not bring them back, he was guilty of murder and +sentenced him to be beheaded. + +He entreated leave to pay, before his execution, one visit to his aged +mother, and this was granted. + +He went alone and told his brothers of his doom, and the second brother +returned in his stead to the judge, thanked him for having given him +permission to perform a duty required by filial piety, and said he was +then ready to die. + +He knelt with bowed head and the headsman brought the knife down across +the back of his neck, but the knife was nicked and the neck was left +unharmed. + +A second knife and a third of finer steel were brought and tried by +headsmen who were accustomed to sever heads clean off at one stroke. +Having spoiled their best blades without so much as scratching his +neck, they took him back to prison and informed the judge that the +sentence could not be executed. + +The judge accordingly decreed that he should be dropped into the sea +which covered his victims. + +When the old woman’s son heard this decision he said that he took leave +of his mother supposing that his head was to be cut off, and that if he +was to be drowned he must go to her and make known his fate and get her +blessing anew. + +Permission being given, he went and told his brothers what had +happened. The third brother took the place of the second and presented +himself before the judge as the criminal that was to be sunk in the +sea. He was carried far from shore and thrown overboard, but he +stretched his legs till his feet touched bottom, and he stood with his +head in the air. They hauled him aboard and took him farther from land, +but still his extensible legs supported him above the waters. Then they +sailed to mid-ocean and cast him into its greatest depths, but his legs +still lengthened so that he was not drowned. They brought him back to +the judge, reported what had been done, and said that some other method +of destroying him must be followed. + +On hearing this the judge condemned him to death by being boiled in +oil. While the caldron was being heated he begged and obtained +permission to go and tell his mother of the way he had survived from +the attempt to drown him, and of the manner in which he was soon to be +taken off. + +His brothers having heard the latest judgment, the fourth one went to +bear the penalty of the law and was lowered into the kettle of boiling +oil. In this he disported himself as if in a tepid bath, and he even +asked his executioners to stir up the fire a little to increase the +warmth. Finding that he could not be fried, he was remanded to prison. + +At this the populace, the bereaved parents, and the magistrate joined +in an effort to invent a sure method of putting him to death. Water, +fire, and sword all having failed, they finally fixed upon smothering +him in a vast cream cake. + +The whole country round made contributions of flour for the pastry, of +sugar for the filling, and of bricks for a huge oven; and it was made +and baked on a plain outside the city walls. + +Meanwhile the prisoner was allowed to go and bid his mother farewell, +and the fifth brother secretly became his substitute. + +When the cake was done, a multitude of people with oxen, horses, and +ropes dragged it to the execution ground, and within it the culprit was +interred. + +As he was able to exist without air he rested peacefully till the next +midnight, and then safely crawled forth, returned to his home, and +dwelt there happily for many years with his remarkable brothers. + + + + +THE ACCOMPLISHED AND LUCKY TEAKETTLE + + +By A. B. Mitford + +A long time ago, at a temple called Morinji, there was an old +teakettle. One day, when the priest of the temple was about to hang it +over the hearth to boil the water for his tea, to his amazement the +kettle all of a sudden put forth the head and tail of a badger. What a +wonderful kettle, to come out all over fur! + +The priest, thunderstruck, called in the novices or assistants of the +temple to see the sight; and while they were stupidly staring, one +suggesting one thing and another another, the kettle, jumping up into +the air, began flying about the room. More astonished than ever, the +priest and his pupils tried to pursue it; but no thief or cat was ever +half so sharp as the wonderful badger kettle. At last, however, they +managed to knock it down and secure it; and, holding it in with their +united efforts, they forced it into a box, intending to carry it off +and throw it away in some distant place, so that they might no more be +plagued with the goblin. + +For this day their troubles were over, but as luck would have it, the +tinker who was in the habit of working for the temple called in, and +the priest suddenly bethought him that it was a pity to throw the +kettle away for nothing, and that he might as well get a trifle for it, +no matter how small. So he brought out the kettle, which had resumed +its former shape and had got rid of its head and tail, and showed it to +the tinker. When the tinker saw the kettle, he offered twenty copper +coins for it, and the priest was only too glad to close the bargain and +be rid of his troublesome piece of furniture. And the tinker trudged +off home with his pack and his new purchase. + +That night, as he lay asleep, he heard a strange noise near his pillow; +so he peeped out from under the bedclothes and there he saw the kettle +that he had bought in the temple covered with fur and walking about on +four legs. The tinker started up in a fright to see what it could all +mean, when all of a sudden the kettle resumed its former shape. This +happened over and over again, until at last the tinker showed the +teakettle to a friend of his, who said, “This is certainly an +accomplished and lucky teakettle—you should take it about as a show, +with songs and accompaniments of musical instruments, and make it dance +and walk on the tight rope.” + +The tinker, thinking this good advice, made arrangements with a +showman, and set up an exhibition. The noise of the kettle’s +performances soon spread abroad, until even the princes of the land +sent to order the tinker to come to them; and he grew rich beyond all +expectations. Even the princesses, too, and the great ladies of the +court, took great delight in the dancing kettle, so that no sooner had +it shown its tricks in one place than it was time for them to keep some +other engagement. + +At last the tinker grew so rich that he took the kettle back to the +temple, where it was laid up as a precious treasure and worshiped as a +saint. + + + + +THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE PEACHLING + + +By A. B. Mitford + +Many hundred years ago there lived an honest old woodcutter and his +wife. One fine morning the old man went off to the hills with his bill +hook to gather a faggot of sticks, while his wife went down to the +river to wash the dirty clothes. When she came to the river, she saw a +peach floating down the stream; so she picked it up and carried it +homeward with her, thinking to give it to her husband to eat when he +should come in. The old man soon came down from the hills, and the good +wife set the peach before him, when, just as she was inviting him to +eat it, the fruit split in two and a little baby was born into the +world. So the old couple took the babe and brought it up as their own; +and because it had been born in a peach, they called it Momotaro, or +Little Peachhing! + +By degrees Little Peachling grew up to be strong and brave, and at last +one day he said to his old foster parents— + +“I am going to the ogres’ island, to carry off the riches they have +stored up there. Pray, then, make me some millet dumplings for my +journey.” + +So the old folks ground the millet and made the dumplings for him; and +Little Peachling, after taking an affectionate leave of them, +cheerfully set out on his travels. + +As he was journeying on, he fell in with an Ape, who gibbered at him, +and said, + +“Kia! kia! kia! where are you off to, Little Peachling?” + +“I’m going to the ogres’ island, to carry off their treasure,” answered +Little Peachling. + +“What are you carrying at your girdle?” + +“I’m carrying the very best millet dumplings in all Japan. + +“If you’ll give me one, I will go with you,” said the Ape. + +So Little Peachhing gave one of his dumplings to the Ape, who received +it and followed him. When he had gone a little farther, he heard a +Pheasant calling— + +“Ken! ken! ken! where are you off to, Master Peachling?” + +Little Peachling answered as before; and the Pheasant, having begged +and obtained a millet dumpling, entered his service and followed him. A +little while after this they met a Dog, who cried— + +Bow! wow! wow! whither away, Master Peachling?” + +“I’m going off to the ogres’ island, to carry off their treasure. + +“If you will give me one of those nice millet dumplings of yours, I +will go with you,” said the Dog. + +“With all my heart,” said Little Peachling. So he went on his way, with +the Ape, the Pheasant, and the Dog following after him. + +When they got to the ogres’ island, the Pheasant flew over the castle +gate and the Ape clambered over the castle wall, while Little +Peachling, leading the Dog, forced in the gate and got into the castle. +Then they did battle with the ogres and put them to flight, and took +their King prisoner. So all the ogres did homage to Little Peachling, +and brought out the treasures which they had laid up. There were caps +and coats that made their wearers invisible, jewels which governed the +ebb and the flow of the tide, coral, musk, emeralds, amber, and +tortoise shells, besides gold and silver. All these were laid before +Little Peachling by the conquered ogres. + +So Little Peachling went home laden with riches, and maintained his +foster parents in peace and plenty for the remainder of their lives. + + + + +THE TWO LIZARDS + + +By Annie Ker + +In the old days there lived two lizards, Webubu and Nagari. Webubu was +plain of speech, and moreover was unable to cry aloud, but Nagari, by +stretching his long neck, could produce a sweet low sound, somewhat +after the manner of a whistle. + +Nagari longed for companions, so he stretched his neck and cried +“U-u-u-u-u.” Then many women, hearing the sweet sound, flocked to where +Nagari sat, and listened to his music. This pleased Nagari, and he +continued to sound his long note. “U-u-u-u-u,” he sang, and the women +sat so still, one might have thought them dead or weeping. + +Webubu, on the contrary, had no one to cheer him in his loneliness. +“What can I do,” he said, “to draw women to me as Nagari has done? I +have not a sweet voice as he has. What can I do?” + +As he was speaking a thought grew up in his heart, and he began to act. +He cut a slim piece of hollow bamboo, and pierced small holes in it. +Thus was the first flute (duraio) born. Webubu then built himself a +platform high in a corkwood tree, which we call “troba” on the beach, +and seating himself there he began to play his flute. + +The women sat patiently around Nagari, while he sounded his one note, +“U-u-u!” But on a sudden, upon the still air, broke the sweet voice of +Webubu’s flute. High and sweet were the notes which Webubu sent forth +from his flute. + +“M! m!” said the listening women. + +“U-u-u-u,” sang Nagari. + +“Ah, ss-ss-ss!” cried the women. “Deafen us not with thy ‘U,’ when we +would hear this strange music!” + +Nagari was much troubled at this saying, and marveled greatly. Then one +woman made bold to rise up, and saying, “I shall return,” she went to +seek the sweet music. Now this woman lied, for she never returned. +After a time, another woman arose and said, “Stay here, my friends; I +shall return.” + +Then she went in like manner to look for the music. And she also lied, +for she returned not. And so with each woman, until Nagari was left +sitting alone as he had been at the beginning. + +Now Webubu was still playing his flute on the platform he had built in +the corkwood tree, when the women came in sight. He was alarmed for the +safety of his frail platform, when he saw these many people advancing, +and he cried, “Come not up into the tree. Remain below, I beseech you, +O women!” + +But the women were consumed with eagerness to be close to the music +which had taken their hearts, and they climbed, all of them, until they +were upon the platform of Webubu. + +Then straightway what he had feared came to pass, and Webubu, and his +flute, and the multitude of women fell crashing through the branches of +the corkwood tree to the ground beneath. + +And from that hour until now, all corkwood trees lean toward the earth, +as I will show thee, if thou wilt go with me to the beach where they +grow. + + + + +DE KING AND DE PEAFOWL + + +By Mary Pamela Milne-Horne + +One day once ’pon a time de King hab a party of ladies an’ genelmen. +An’ arter de party, de band was ter come an’ play. But de fiddler was +took sick, so dey could not dance. So de King said, “I am gwine ter +sen’ ober ter my frien’s an’ ask dem ter come an’ sing.” So he sen’, +an’ de genelman say he was very glad an’ his family was Dog, Peafowl, +and Tiger. So he sen’ Missis Duck fus, an’ dey said, “Can you sing? let +me har you voice.” + +Dey put her in a rocking-chair ’pon de platform, an’ de Duck say, +“Hahh! hahh!” an’ den he say, “Dat will not do. Sen’ for Dog.” An’ dey +took her an’ put her in a coop, an’ all de ducks come round an’ ask to +have her let out, an’ say, “Hahh! hahh! hahh!” + +Den dey sen’ for Dog an’ tole him dat if he fin’ a salt beef bone in de +road, he mus’ not pick it up, ’cos it mek him rough in his troat. So +Dog did not pick it up, but pass it; but arter, when he go, his voice +did not suit either. Dey tole Dog to sing, an’ he said, “How! how! +how!” An’ de King say, “Don’t wan’ a man ter ask me how—he will not +do.” Dey saw a Fowl coming. “Can you sing?” An’ de Fowl say “Ka! ka! +ka!” an’ dey said, “Dat will not do,” an’ dribe de Fowl ’way. De Cock +came in arter, an’ de Cock said, “Coquericou,” an’ dey said, “De King +don’ wan’ ter know when de daylight, sah!” De King came in an’ said, +“All dese people cannot sing; dey will not do.” + +Dey sen’ Tiger, an’ dey said, “You must not pick up a big salt beef +bone in de road.” An’ de Tiger did pick it up, an’ Tiger could not +sing, an’ said, “Grum! grum! grum!” + +“Dat voice is wuss dan all, dat voice will not do.” + +Den dey sen’ off for Peafowl, but Peafowl would not go. Dey went back +ter dinner, all de people went back ter dinner, an’ when dey were at +dinner in a large house, de Peafowl came in an’ sing— + +Mi - kale an’ iv’ry, Mi - kale an’ iv’rv. Mi - + +kale an’ iv’ry, Mi - kale an’ iv’ry, Why - ou, Why - ou + +Why - ou Why - ou Why-ou Wife gwine ter die. + +Den de genelmen jump up an’ say, “Hullo! What dat?” De King say, “Sing +again, my pritty lil’ bird,” an’ den de Peafowl sang, “Mikale an’ +iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Whyou, Whyou, Whyou, Whyou, +Whyou wife gwine ter die.” “What dat? What dat? What dat?” dey say, an’ +de bird den settin’ on de tree sing, “Mikale an’ iv’ry,” etc. + +De King say, “Sing again, you pritty lil’ bird. You dress shall be +tipped with blue, an’ you shall hab a beautiful field of corn as a +present.” An’ de bird sang again better, when he har dat, “Mikale an’ +iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, whyou, +whyou, whyou, whyou, whyou wife gwine ter die.” De King jump up an’ +call de buggy, an’ jump in an’ tek de Peafowl in, an’ all de horses was +richly decked, an’ all de company very fine, dey dribe de Peafowl home, +an’ dat why de Peafowl hav such a beautiful dress. + + + + +HANSEL AND GRETHEL + + +By William and Jacob Grimm + +Once upon a time there dwelt near a large wood a poor woodcutter with +his wife and two children by his former marriage, a little boy called +Hansel and a girl named Grethel. He had little enough to break or bite, +and once, when there was a great famine in the land, he could not +procure even his daily bread; and as he lay thinking in his bed one +evening, rolling about for trouble, he sighed, and said to his wife, +“What will become of us? How can we feed our children when we have no +more than we can eat ourselves?” + +“Know, then, my husband,” answered she, “we will lead them away quite +early in the morning into the thickest part of the wood, and there make +them a fire, and give them each a little piece of bread; then we will +go to our work and leave them alone, so they will not find the way home +again and we shall be freed from them.” “No, wife,” replied he, “that I +can never do; how can you bring your heart to leave my children all +alone in the wood, for the wild beasts will soon come and tear them to +pieces?” + +“Oh, you simpleton!” said she, “then we must all four die of hunger; +you had better plane the coffins for us.” But she left him no peace +till he consented saying, “Ah, but I shall regret the poor children.” + +The two children, however, had not gone to sleep for very hunger, and +so they overheard what the stepmother said to their father. Grethel +wept bitterly, and said to Hansel, “What will become of us?” “Be quiet, +Grethel,” said he; “do not cry, I will soon help you.” And as soon as +their parents had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his coat, and, +unbarring the back door, slipped out. The moon shone brightly, and the +white pebbles which lay before the door seemed like silver pieces, they +glittered so brightly. Hansel stooped down, and put as many into his +pocket as it would hold, and then going back he said to Grethel, “Be +comforted, dear sister, and sleep in peace; God will not forsake us;” +and so saying he went to bed again. + +The next morning, before the sun arose, the wife went and awoke the two +children. “Get up, you lazy things; we are going into the forest to +chop wood.” Then she gave them each a piece of bread, saying, “There is +something for your dinner; do not eat it before the time, for you will +get nothing else.” Grethel took the bread in her apron, for Hansel’s +pocket was full of pebbles; and so they all set out upon their way. +When they had gone a little distance Hansel stood still, and peeped +back at the house; and this he repeated several times, till his father +said, “Hansel, what are you peeping at, and why do you lag behind? Take +care, and remember your legs.” + +“Ah! father,” said Hansel, “I am looking at my white cat sitting upon +the roof of the house, and trying to say good-by.” “You simpleton!” +said the wife, “that is not a cat; it is only the sun shining on the +white chimney.” But in reality Hansel was not looking at a cat; but +every time he stopped he dropped a pebble out of his pocket upon the +path. + +When they came to the middle of the wood the father told the children +to collect wood, and he would make them a fire, so that they should not +be cold; so Hansel and Grethel gathered together quite a little +mountain of twigs. Then they set fire to them, and as the flame burned +up high the wife said, “Now, you children, lie down near the fire and +rest yourself, while we go into the forest and chop Wood; when we are +ready, I will come and call you.” + +Hansel and Grethel sat down by the fire, and when it was noon each ate +the piece of bread, and, because they could hear the blows of an ax, +they thought their father was near; but it was not an ax, but a branch +which he had bound to a withered tree, so as to be blown to and fro by +the wind. They waited so long that at last their eyes closed from +weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke it was quite +dark, and Grethel began to cry; “How shall we get out of the wood?” But +Hansel tried to comfort her by saying, “Wait a little while till the +moon rises, and then we will quickly find the way.” The moon soon shone +forth, and Hansel, taking his sister’s hand, followed the pebbles, +which glittered like new-coined silver pieces, and showed them the +path. All night long they walked on, and as day broke they came to +their father’s house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife +opened it, and saw Hansel and Grethel, she exclaimed, “You wicked +children! why did you sleep so long in the wood? We thought you were +never coming home again.” But their father was very glad, for it had +grieved his heart to leave them all alone. + +Not long afterward there was again great scarcity in every corner of +the land; and one night the children overheard their mother saying to +their father, “Everything is again consumed; we have only half a loaf +left, and then the song is ended: the children must be sent away. We +will take them deeper into the wood, so that they may not find the way +out again; it is the only means of escape for us.” + +But her husband felt heavy at heart, and thought, “It were better to +share the last crust with the children.” His wife, however, would +listen to nothing that he said and scolded and, reproached him without +end. He who says A must say B too; and he who consents the first time +must also the second. + +The children, however, had heard the conversation as they lay awake, +and as soon as the old people went to sleep Hansel got up intending’ to +pick up some pebbles as before; but the wife had locked the door, so +that he could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted Grethel, saying, +“Do not cry; sleep in quiet; the good God will not forsake us.” + +Early in the morning the stepmother came and pulled them out of bed, +and gave them each a slice of bread, which was still smaller than the +former piece. On the way Hansel broke his in his pocket, and, stopping +every now and then, dropped a crumb upon the path. “Hansel, why do you +stop and look about?” said the father. “Keep in the path.”—“I am +looking at my little dove,” answered Hansel, “nodding a good-by to me.” + +“Simpleton!” said the wife, “that is no dove, but only the sun shining +on the chimney.” + +So Hansel kept still dropping crumbs as he went along. + +The mother led the children deep into the wood, where they had never +been before, and there making an immense fire, she said to them, “Sit +down here and rest, and when you feel tired you can sleep for a little +while. We are going into the forest to hew wood, and in the evening, +when we are ready, we will come and fetch you.” + +When noon came Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewn his +on the path. Then they went to sleep; but the evening arrived, and no +one came to visit the poor children, and in the dark night they awoke, +and Hansel comforted his sister by saying, “Only wait, Grethel, till +the moon comes out, then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have +dropped, and they will show us the way home.” The moon shone and they +got up, but they could not see any crumbs, for the thousands of birds +which had been flying about in the woods and fields had picked them all +up. Hansel kept saying to Grethel, “We will soon find the way”; but +they did not, and they walked the whole night long and the next day, +but still they did not come out of the wood; and they got so hungry, +for they had nothing to eat but the berries which they found upon the +bushes. + +Soon they got so tired that they could not drag themselves along, so +they laid down under a tree and went to sleep. + +It was now the third morning since they had left their father’s house, +and they still walked on; but they only got deeper and deeper into the +wood, and Hansel saw that if help did not come very soon they would die +of hunger. + +As soon as it was noon they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting +upon a bough which sang so sweetly that they stood still and listened +to it. It soon left off, and spreading its wings, flew off; and they +followed it until it arrived at a cottage, upon the roof of which it +perched; and when they went close up to it they saw that the cottage +was made of bread and cakes, and the windowpanes were of clear sugar. + +“We will go in there,” said Hansel, “and have a glorious feast. I will +eat a piece of the roof, and you can eat the window. Will they not be +sweet?” So Hansel reached up and broke a piece off the roof, in order +to see how it tasted; while Grethel stepped up to the window and began +to bite it. Then a sweet voice called out in the room, “Tip-tap, +tip-tap, who raps at my door?” and the children answered, “The wind, +the wind, the child of heaven”; and they went on eating without +interruption. Hansel thought the roof tasted very nice, and so he tore +off a great piece; while Grethel broke a large round pane out of the +window, and sat down quite contentedly. Just then the door opened, and +a very old woman, walking upon crutches, came out. Hansel and Grethel +were so frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands; but +the old woman, nodding her head, said, “Ah, you dear children, what has +brought you here? Come in and stop with me, and no harm shall befall +you;” and so saying she took them both by the hand, and led them into +her cottage. A good meal of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and +nuts, was spread on the table, and in the back room were two nice +little beds, covered with white, where Hansel and Grethel laid +themselves down, and thought themselves in heaven. The old woman had +behaved very kindly to them, but in reality she was a wicked witch who +waylaid children, and built the bread house in order to entice them in; +but as soon as they were in her power she killed them, cooked and ate +them, and made a great festival of the day. Witches have red eyes, and +cannot see very far; but they have a fine sense of smelling, like wild +beasts, so that they know when children approach them. When Hansel and +Grethel came near the witch’s house she laughed wickedly, saying, “Here +come two who shall not escape me.” And early in the morning, before +they awoke, she went up to them, and saw how lovingly they lay +sleeping, with their chubby red cheeks; and she mumbled to herself, +“That will be a good bite.” Then she took up Hansel with her rough +hand, and shut him up in a little cage with a lattice door; and +although he screamed loudly, it was of no use. Grethel came next, and, +shaking her till she awoke, she said, “Get up, you lazy thing, and +fetch some water to cook something good for your brother, who must +remain in that stall and get fat; when he is fat enough I shall, eat +him.” Grethel began to cry, but it was all useless, for the old witch +made her do as she wished. So a nice meal was cooked for Hansel, but +Grethel got nothing else but a crab’s claw. + +Every morning the old witch came to the cage and said, “Hansel, stretch +your finger that I may feel whether you are getting fat.” But Hansel +used to stretch out a bone, and the old woman, having very bad sight, +thought it was his finger, and wondered very much that it did not get +fat. When four weeks had passed, and Hansel still kept quite lean, she +lost all her patience and would not wait any longer. “Grethel.” she +called out in a passion, “get some water quickly; be Hansel fat or +lean, this morning I will kill and cook him.” Oh, how the poor little +sister grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and how fast the +tears ran down her cheeks! “Dear good God, help us now!” she exclaimed. +“Had we only been eaten by the wild beasts in the wood then we should +have died together.” But the old witch called out, “Leave off that +noise; it will not help you a bit.” + +So early in the morning Grethel was forced to go out and fill the +kettle, and make a fire. “First we will bake, however,” said the old +woman; “I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough”; and so +saying she pushed poor Grethel up to the oven, out of which the flames +were burning fiercely. “Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it is +hot enough, and then we will put in the bread”; but she intended when +Grethel got in to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she might +eat her as well as Hansel. Grethel perceived what her thoughts were, +and said, “I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?” “You stupid +goose,” said she, “the opening is big enough. See, I could even get in +myself!” and she got up and put her head into the oven. Then Grethel +gave her a push, so that she fell right in, and then shutting the iron +door, she bolted it. Oh! how horribly she howled; but Grethel ran away, +and left the ungodly witch to burn to ashes. + +Now she ran to Hansel, and, opening his door, called out, “Hansel, we +are saved; the old witch is dead!” So he sprang out, like a bird out of +his cage when the door is opened; and they were so glad that they fell +upon each other’s neck, and kissed each other over and over again. And +now, as there was nothing to fear, they went into the witch’s house, +where in every corner were caskets full of pearls and precious stones. +“These are better than pebbles,” said Hansel, putting as many into his +pocket as it would hold; while Grethel thought, “I will take some home, +too,” and filled her apron full. “We must be off now,” said Hansel, +“and get out of this bewitched forest”; but when they had walked for +two hours they came to a large piece of water. “We cannot get over,” +said Hansel. “I can see no bridge at all.” “And there is no boat +either,” said Grethel; “but there swims a white duck, I will ask her to +help us over;” and she sang, + +“Little duck, good little duck, + Grethel and Hansel, here we stand, +There is neither stile nor bridge, + Take us on your back to land.” + + +So the duck came to them, and Hansel sat himself on, and bade his +sister sit behind him. “No,” answered Grethel, “that will be too much +for the duck, she shall take us over one at a time.” This the good +little bird did, and when both were happily arrived on the other side, +and had gone a little way, they came to a well-known wood, which they +knew the better every step they went, and at last they perceived their +father’s house. Then they began to run, and, bursting into the house, +they fell on their father’s neck. He had not had one happy hour since +he had left the children in the forest; and his wife was dead. Grethel +shook her apron, and the pearls and precious stones rolled out upon the +floor, and Hansel threw down one handful after the other out of his +pocket. Then all their sorrows were ended, and they lived together in +great happiness. + +My tale is done. There runs a mouse; whoever catches her may make a +great, great cap out of her fur. + + + + +THUMBLING + + +By William and Jacob Grimm + +Once upon a time there lived a poor peasant, who used to sit every +evening by the hearth, poking the fire, while his wife spun. One night +he said, “How sad it is that we have no children; everything is so +quiet here, while in other houses it is so noisy and merry.” + +“Ah!” sighed his wife, “if we had but only one, and were he no bigger +than my thumb, I should still be content, and love him with all my +heart.” A little while after the wife fell ill; and after seven months +a child was born, who, although he was perfectly formed in all his +limbs, was not actually bigger than one’s thumb. So they said to one +another that it had happened just as they wished; and they called the +child “Thumbling.” Every day they gave him all the food he could eat; +still he did not grow a bit, but remained exactly the height he was +when first born; he looked about him, however, very knowingly, and +showed himself to be a bold and clever fellow, who prospered in +everything he undertook. + +One morning the peasant was making ready to go into the forest to fell +wood, and said, “Now I wish I had some one who could follow me with the +cart.” + +“Oh! father,” exclaimed Thumbling, “I will bring the cart; don’t you +trouble yourself; it shall be there at the right time.” + +The father laughed at this speech, and said, “How shall that be? You +are much too small to lead the horse by the bridle.” + +“That matters not, father. If mother will harness the horse, I can sit +in his car, and tell him which way to take.” + +“Well, we will try for once,” said the father; and so, when the hour +came, the mother harnessed the horse, and placed Thumbling in its ear, +and told him how to guide it. Then he set out quite like a man, and the +cart went on the right road to the forest; and just as it turned a +corner, and Thumbling called out “Steady, steady,” two strange men met +it; and one said to the other, “My goodness, what is this? Here comes a +cart, and the driver keeps calling to the horse; but I can see no one.” +“That cannot be all right,” said the other: “let us follow and see +where the cart stops.” + +The cart went on safely deep into the forest, and straight to the place +where the wood was cut. As soon as Thumbling saw his father, he called +to him, “Here, father; here I am, you see, with the cart; just take me +down.” The peasant caught the bridle of the horse with his left hand, +and with his right took his little son out of its ear; and he sat +himself down merrily on a straw. When the two strangers saw the little +fellow, they knew not what to say for astonishment; and one of them +took his companion aside, and said, “This little fellow might make our +fortune if we could exhibit him in the towns. Let us buy him.” They +went up to the peasant, and asked, “Will you sell your son? We will +treat him well.” “No,” replied the man; “he is my heart’s delight, and +not to be bought for all the money in the world!” But Thumbling, when +he heard what was said, climbed up by his father’s skirt, and set +himself on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “Let me go now, and +I will soon come back again.” So his father gave him to the two men for +a fine piece of gold; and they asked him where he would sit. “Oh,” +replied he, “put me on the rim of your hat; and then I can walk round +and survey the country. I will not fall off.” They did as he wished; +and when he had taken leave of his father, they set out. Just as it was +getting dark he asked to be lifted down; and, after some demur, the man +on whose hat he was, took him off and placed him on the ground. In an +instant Thumbling ran off, and crept into a mousehole, where they could +not see him. “Good evening, masters,” said he, “you can go home without +me”; and with a quiet laugh he crept into his hole still further. The +two men poked their sticks into the hole, but all in vain; for +Thumbling only went down further; and when it had grown quite dark they +were obliged to return home full of vexation and with empty pockets. + +As soon as Thumbling perceived that they were off, he crawled out of +his hiding place, and said, “How dangerous it is to walk in this field +in the dark: one might soon break one’s head or legs;” and so saying he +looked around, and by great good luck saw an empty snail shell. “God be +praised,” he exclaimed, “here I can sleep securely; and in he went. +Just as he was about to fall asleep he heard two men coming by, one of +whom said to the other, “How shall we manage to get at the parson’s +gold and silver?” + +“That I can tell you,” interrupted Thumbling. + +“What was that?” exclaimed the thief, frightened. “I heard some one +speak.” They stood still and listened; and then Thumbling said, “Take +me with you, and I will help you.” + +“Where are you?” asked the thieves. + +“Search on the ground, and mark where my voice comes from,” replied he. +The thief looked about, and at last found him; and lifted him up in the +air. + +“What, will you help us, you little wight?” said they. + +“Do you not see I can creep between the iron bars into the chamber of +the parson, and reach out to you whatever you require?” + +“Very well; we will see what you can do,” said the thief. + +When they came to the house, Thumbling crept into the chamber, and +cried out with all his might, “Will you have all that is here?” The +thieves were terrified, and said, “Speak gently, or some one will +awake.” + +But Thumbling feigned not to understand, and exclaimed, louder still, +“Will you have all that is here?” + +This awoke the cook, who slept in the room, and sitting up in her bed +she listened. The thieves, however, had run back a little way, quite +frightened; but taking courage again, and thinking the little fellow +wished to tease them, they came and whispered to him to make haste and +hand them out something. At this, Thumbling cried out still more +loudly, “I will give you it all, only put your hands in.” The listening +maid heard this clearly, and springing out of bed, hurried out at the +door. The thieves ran off as if they were pursued by the wild huntsman, +but the maid, as she could see nothing, went to strike a light. When +she returned, Thumbling escaped without being seen into the barn, and +the maid, after she had looked round and searched in every corner, +without finding anything, went to bed again, believing she had been +dreaming with her eyes open. Meanwhile Thumbling had crept in amongst +the hay, and found a beautiful place to sleep, where he intended to +rest till daybreak, and then to go home to his parents. + +Other things however, was he to experience, for there is much +tribulation and trouble going on in this world. + +The maid got up at dawn of day to feed the cow. Her first walk was to +the barn, where she took an armful of hay, and just the bundle where +poor Thumbling lay asleep. He slept so soundly, however, that he was +not conscious, and only awoke when he was in the cow’s mouth. “Ah, +goodness!” exclaimed he, “however came I into this mill?” but soon he +saw where he really was. Then he took care not to come between the +teeth, but presently slipped quite down the cow’s throat. “There are no +windows in this room,” said he to himself, “and no sunshine, and I +brought no light with me.” Overhead his quarters seemed still worse, +and more than all, he felt his room growing narrower, as the cow +swallowed more hay. So he began to call out in terror as loudly as he +could, “Bring me no more food. I do not want any more food!” Just then +the maid was milking the cow, and when she heard the voice without +seeing anything, and knew it was the same she had listened to in the +night, she was so frightened that she slipped off her stool and +overturned the milk. In great haste she ran to her master, saying, “Oh, +Mr. Parson, the cow has been speaking.” + +“You are crazy,” he replied; but still he went himself into The stable +to see what was the matter, and scarcely had he stepped in when +Thumbling began to shout out again, “Bring me no more food, bring me no +more food.” This terrified the parson himself, and he thought an evil +spirit had entered into his cow, and so ordered her to be killed. As +soon as that was done, and they were dividing the carcass, a fresh +accident befell Thumbling, for a wolf, who was passing at the time, +made a snatch at the cow, and tore away the part where he was stuck +fast. However, he did not lose courage, but as soon as the wolf had +swallowed him, he called out from inside, “Oh, Mr. Wolf, I know of a +capital meal for you.” “Where is it to be found?” asked the wolf + +“In the house by the meadow; you must creep through the gutter, and +there you will find cakes, and bacon, and sausages, as many as you can +eat,” replied Thumbling, describing exactly his father’s house. + +The wolf did not wait to be told twice, but in the night crept in, and +ate away in the larder, to his heart’s content. When he had finished, +he tried to escape by the way he entered, but the hole was not large +enough. Thereupon Thumbling, who had reckoned on this, began to make a +tremendous noise inside the poor wolf, screaming and shouting as loud +as he could. “Will you be quiet?” said the wolf; “you will awake the +people.” “Eh, what!” cried the little man, “since you have satisfied +yourself, it is my turn now to make merry;” and he set up a louder +howling than before. At last his father and mother awoke, and came to +the room and looked through the chinks of the door; and as soon as they +perceived the ravages the wolf had committed, they ran and brought the +man his ax and the woman the scythe. “Stop you behind,” said the man, +as they entered the room; “if my blow does not kill him, you must give +him a cut with your weapon, and chop off his head if you can.” + +When Thumbling heard his father’s voice, he called out, “Father dear, I +am here, in the wolf’s body!” “Heaven be praised,” said the man, full +of joy, “our dear child is found again;” and he bade his wife take away +the scythe, lest it should do any harm to his son. Then he raised his +ax, and gave the wolf such a blow on its head that it fell dead, and, +taking a knife, he cut it open and released the little fellow, his son. +“Ah,” said his father, “what trouble we have had about you.” “Yes, +father,” replied Thumbling, “I have been traveling a great deal about +the world. Heaven be praised! I breathe fresh air again.” + +“Where have you been, my son?” he inquired. + +“Once I was in a mouse’s hole, once inside a cow, and lastly inside +that wolf; and now I will stop here with you,” said Thumbling. + +“Yes,” said the old people, “we will not sell you again for all the +riches of the world;” and they embraced and kissed him with great +affection. Then they gave him plenty to eat and drink, and had new +clothes made for him, for his old ones were worn out with traveling. + + + + +THE SIX SWANS + + +By William and Jacob Grimm + +A king was once hunting in a large wood, and pursued his game so hotly, +that none of his courtiers could follow him. But when evening +approached he stopped, and looking around him perceived that he had +lost himself. He sought a path out of the forest, but could not find +one, and presently he saw an old woman with a nodding head, who came up +to him. “My good woman,” said he to her, “can you not show me the way +out of the forest?” “Oh, yes, my lord King,” she replied, “I can do +that very well, but upon one condition, which if you do not fulfill you +will never again get out of the wood, but will die of hunger.” + +“What, then, is this condition?” asked the King. + +“I have a daughter,” said the old woman, “who is as beautiful as anyone +you can find in the whole world, and well deserves to be your bride. +Now, if you will make her your Queen, I will show you your way out of +the wood.” In the anxiety of his heart the King consented, and the old +woman led him to her cottage, where the daughter was sitting by a fire. +She received the King as if she had expected him, and he saw at once +that she was very beautiful, but yet she did not quite please him, for +he could not look at her without a secret shuddering. However, after +all, he took the maiden up on his horse, and the old woman showed him +the way, and the King arrived safely at his palace, where the wedding +was to be celebrated. + +The King had been married once before, and had seven children by his +first wife, six boys and a girl, whom he loved above everything else in +the world. He became afraid, soon, that the stepmother might not treat +them very well, and might even do them some great injury, so he took +them away to a lonely castle which stood in the midst of a forest. This +castle was so hidden, and the way to it so difficult to discover, that +he himself could not have found it if a wise woman had not given him a +ball of cotton which had the wonderful property, when he threw it +before him, of unrolling itself and showing him the right path. The +King went, however, so often to see his dear children, that the Queen +noticed his absence, became inquisitive, and wished to know what he +went to fetch out of the forest. So she gave his servants a great +quantity of money, and they disclosed to her the secret, and also told +her of the ball of cotton which alone could show the way. She had now +no peace until she discovered where this ball was concealed, and then +she made some fine silken shirts, and, as she had learned of her +mother, she sewed within each one a charm. One day soon after, when the +King was gone out hunting, she took the little shirts and went into the +forest, and the cotton showed her the path. The children, seeing some +one coming in the distance, thought it was their dear father, and ran +out toward her full of joy. Then she threw over each of them a shirt, +which as it touched their bodies changed them into Swans, which flew +away over the forest. The Queen then went home quite contented, and +thought she was free of her stepchildren; but the little girl had not +met her with the brothers, and the Queen did not know of her. + +The following day the King went to visit his children, but he found +only the maiden. “Where are your brothers?” asked he. “Ah, dear +father,” she replied, “they are gone away and have left me alone;” and +she told him how she had looked out of the window and seen them changed +into Swans, which had flown over the forest; and then she showed him +the feathers which they had dropped in the courtyard, and which she had +collected together. The King was much grieved, but he did not think +that his wife could have done this wicked deed, and, as he feared the +girl might also be stolen away, he took her with him. She was, however, +so much afraid of the stepmother, that she begged him not to stop more +than one night in the castle. + +The poor maiden thought to herself: “This is no longer my place, I will +go and seek my brothers;” and when night came she escaped and went +quite deep into the wood. She walked all night long and great part of +the next day, until she could go no further from weariness. Just then +she saw a rude hut, and walking in she found a room with six little +beds, but she dared not get into one, but crept under, and, laying +herself upon the hard earth, prepared to pass the night there. Just as +the sun was setting, she heard a rustling, and saw six white Swans come +flying in at the window. They settled on the ground and began blowing +one another until they had blown all their feathers off, and their +swan’s down stripped off like a shirt. Then the maiden knew them at +once for her brothers, and gladly crept out from under the bed, and the +brothers were not less glad to see their sister, but their joy was of +short duration. “Here you must not stay,” said they to her; “this is a +robber’s hiding-place; if they should return and find you here, they +will murder you.” “Can you not protect me, then?” inquired the sister. + +“No,” they replied, “for we can only lay aside our swan’s feathers for +a quarter of an hour each evening, and for that time we retain our +human form, but afterward we resume our usual appearance.” + +Their sister then asked them with tears, “Can you not be restored +again?” + +“Oh, no,” replied they, “the conditions are too difficult. For six long +years you must neither speak nor laugh, and during that time you must +sew together for us six little shirts of star flowers, and should there +fall a single word from your lips, then all your labor will be vain.” +Just as the brother finished speaking, the quarter of an hour elapsed, +and they all flew out of the window again like Swans. + +The little sister, however, made a solemn resolution to rescue her +brothers or die in the attempt; and she left the cottage, and, +penetrating deep into the forest, passed the night amid the branches of +a tree. The next morning she went out and collected the star flowers to +sew together. She had no one to converse with, and as for laughing she +had no spirits, so there up in the tree she sat, intent only upon her +work. After she had passed some time there, it happened that the King +of that country was hunting in the forest, and his huntsmen came +beneath the tree on which the maiden sat. They called to her and asked, +“Who art thou?” But she gave no answer. “Come down to us,” continued +they, “we will do thee no harm.” She simply shook her head, and, when +they pressed her further with questions, she threw down to them her +gold necklace, hoping therewith to satisfy them. They did not, however, +leave her, and she threw down her girdle, but in vain; and even her +rich dress did not make them desist. At last the hunter himself climbed +the tree and brought down the maiden and took her before the King. The +King asked her, “Who art thou? What dost thou upon that tree? But she +did not answer, and then he asked her, in all the languages that he +knew, but she remained dumb to all, as a fish. Since, however, she was +so beautiful, the King’s heart was touched, and he conceived for her a +strong affection. Then he put around her his cloak, and, placing her +before him on his horse, took her to his castle. There he ordered rich +clothing to be made for her, and, although her beauty shone as the +sun-beams, not a word escaped her. The King placed her by his side at +table, and there her dignified mien and manners so won upon him, that +he said, “This maiden will I to marry, and no other in the world,” and +after some days he was united to her. + +Now, the King had a wicked stepmother who was discontented with his +marriage, and spoke evil of the young Queen. “Who knows whence the +wench comes?” said she. “She who cannot speak is not worthy of a King.” +A year after, when the Queen brought her first-born son into the world, +the old woman took him away. Then she went to the King and complained +that the Queen was a murderess. The King, however, would not believe +it, and suffered no one to do any injury to his wife, who sat +composedly sewing at her shirts and paying attention to nothing else. +When a second child was born, the false stepmother used the same +deceit, but the King again would not listen to her words, but said, +“She is too pious and good to act so: could she but speak and defend +herself, her innocence would come to light.” But when again the third +time the old woman stole away the child, and then accused the Queen, +who answered her not a word to the accusation, the King was obliged to +give her up to be tried, and she was condemned to suffer death by fire. + +When the time had elapsed, and the sentence was to be carried out, +during which she had neither spoken nor laughed, it was the very day +when her dear brothers should be made free; the six shirts were also +ready, all but the last, which yet wanted the left sleeve. As she was +led to the scaffold she placed the shirts upon her arm, and just as she +had mounted it, and the fire was about to be kindled, she looked round, +and saw six Swans come flying through the air. Her heart leaped for joy +as she perceived her deliverers approaching, and soon the Swans, flying +toward her, alighted so near that she was enabled to throw over them +the shirts, and as soon as she had so done their feathers fell off and +the brothers stood up alive and well; but the youngest wanted his left +arm, instead of which he had a swan’s wing. They embraced and kissed +each other, and the Queen going to the King, who was thunderstruck, +began to say, “Now may I speak, my dear husband, and prove to you that +I am innocent and falsely accused;” and then she told him how the +wicked old woman had stolen away and hidden her three children. When +she had concluded, the King was overcome with joy, and the wicked +stepmother was led to the scaffold and bound to the stake and burned to +ashes. + +The King and the Queen forever after lived in peace and prosperity with +their six brothers. + + + + +SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED + + +By William and Jacob Grimm + +There was once a poor Widow who lived alone in her hut with her two +children, who were called Snow-White and Rose-Red, because they were +like the flowers which bloomed on two rosebushes which grew before the +cottage. But they were two as pious, good, industrious, and amiable +children as any that were in the world, only Snow-White was more quiet +and gentle than Rose-Red. For Rose-Red would run and jump about the +meadows, seeking flowers and catching butterflies, while Snow-White sat +at home helping her Mother to keep house, or reading to her if there +were nothing else to do. The two children loved one another dearly, and +always walked hand in hand when they went out together; and ever when +they talked of it they agreed that they would never separate from each +other, and that whatever one had the other should share. Often they ran +deep into the forest and gathered wild berries; but no beast ever +harmed them. For the hare would eat cauliflowers out of their hands, +the fawn would graze at their side, the goats would frisk about them in +play, and the birds remained perched on the boughs singing as if nobody +were near. No accident ever befell them; and if they stayed late in the +forest, and night came upon them, they used to lie down on the moss and +sleep till morning; and because their Mother knew they would do so, she +felt no concern about them. One time when they had thus passed the +night in the forest, and the dawn of morning awoke them, they saw a +beautiful Child dressed in shining white sitting near their couch. She +got up and looked at them kindly, but without saying anything went into +the forest; and when the children looked round they saw that where they +had slept was close to the edge of a pit, into which they would have +certainly fallen had they walked a couple of steps further in the dark. +Their Mother told them the figure they had seen was doubtless the good +angel who watches over children. + +Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their Mother’s cottage so clean that it +was a pleasure to enter it. Every morning in the summer time Rose-Red +would first put the house in order, and then gather a nosegay for her +Mother, in which she always placed a bud from each rose tree. Every +winter’s morning Snow-White would light the fire and put the kettle on +to boil, and although the kettle was made of copper it yet shone like +gold, because it was scoured so well. In the evenings, when the flakes +of snow were falling, the Mother would say: “Go, Snow-White, and bolt +the door;” and then they used to sit down on the hearth, and the Mother +would put on her spectacles and read out of a great book while her +children sat spinning. By their side, too, laid a little lamb, and on a +perch behind them a little white dove reposed with her head under her +wing. + +One evening, when they were thus sitting comfortably together, there +came a knock at the door as if somebody wished to come in. “Make haste, +Rose-Red,” cried her Mother; “make haste and open the door; perhaps +there is some traveler outside who needs shelter.” So Rose-Red went and +drew the bolt and opened the door, expecting to see some poor man +outside, but instead, a great fat Bear poked his black head in. +Rose-Red shrieked out and ran back, the little lamb bleated, the dove +fluttered on her perch, and Snow-White hid herself behind her Mother’s +bed. The Bear, however, began to speak, and said: “Be not afraid, I +will do you no harm; but I am half frozen, and wish to come in and warm +myself.” + +“Poor Bear!” cried the Mother; “come in and lie down before the fire; +but take care you do not burn your skin;” and then she continued: “Come +here, Rose-Red and Snow-White, the Bear will not harm you, he means +honorably.” So they both came back, and by degrees the lamb too and the +dove overcame their fears and welcomed the rough visitor. + +“You children!” said the Bear, before he entered, “come and knock the +snow off my coat.” And they fetched their brooms and swept him clean. +Then he stretched himself before the fire and grumbled out his +satisfaction; and in a little while the children became familiar enough +to play tricks with the unwieldy animal. They pulled his long, shaggy +skin, set their feet upon his back and rolled him to and fro, and even +ventured to beat him with a hazel stick, laughing when he grumbled. The +Bear bore all their tricks good temperedly, and if they hit him too +hard he cried out: + +“Leave me my life, you children, +Snow-White and Rose-Red, +Or you’ll never wed.” + + +When bedtime came and the others were gone, the Mother said to the +Bear: “You may sleep here on the hearth if you like, and then you will +be safely protected from the cold and bad weather.” + +As soon as day broke the two children let the Bear out again, and he +trotted away over the snow, and ever afterward he came every evening at +a certain hour. He would lie down on the hearth and allow the children +to play with him as much as they liked, till by degrees they became so +accustomed to him that the door was left unbolted till their black +friend arrived. + +But as soon as spring returned, and everything out of doors was green +again, the Bear one morning told Snow-White that he must leave her, and +could not return during the whole summer. “Where are you going, then, +dear Bear?” asked Snow-White, “I am obliged to go into the forest and +guard my treasures from the evil Dwarfs; for in winter, when the ground +is hard, they are obliged to keep in their holes, and cannot work +through; but now, since the sun has thawed the earth and warmed it, the +Dwarf’s pierce through, and steal all they can find; and what has once +passed into their hands, and gets concealed by them in their caves, is +not easily brought to light.” Snow-White, however, was very sad at the +departure of the Bear, and opened the door so hesitatingly that when he +pressed through it he left behind on the sneck a piece of his hairy +coat; and through the hole which was made in his coat Snow-White +fancied she saw the glittering of gold; but she was not quite certain +of it. The Bear, however, ran hastily away, and was soon hidden behind +the trees. + +Some time afterward the Mother sent the children into the wood to +gather sticks; and while doing so, they came to a tree which was lying +across the path, on the trunk of which something kept bobbing up and +down from the grass, and they could not imagine what it was. When they +came nearer they saw a Dwarf, with an old wrinkled face and a +snow-white beard a yard long. The end of this beard was fixed in a +split of the tree, and the little man kept jumping about like a dog +tied by a chain, for he did not know how to free himself. He glared at +the Maidens with his red fiery eyes, and exclaimed, “Why do you stand +there? are you going to pass without offering me any assistance?” “What +have you done, little man?” asked Rose-Red. “You stupid, gaping goose!” +exclaimed he. “I wanted to have split the tree, in order to get a +little wood for my kitchen, for the little wood which we use is soon +burned up with great fagots, not like what you rough, greedy people +devour! I had driven the wedge in properly, and everything was going on +well, when the smooth wood flew upward, and the tree closed so suddenly +together that I could not draw my beautiful beard out, and here it +sticks and I cannot get away. There, don’t laugh, you milk-faced +things! are you dumfounded?” + +The children took all the pains they could to pull the Dwarf’s beard +out; but without success. “I will run and fetch some help,” cried +Rose-Red at length. + +“Crack-brained sheep’s head that you are!” snarled the Dwarf; “what are +you going to call other people for? You are two too many now for me; +can you think of nothing else?” + +“Don’t be impatient,” replied Snow-White; “I have thought of +something;” and pulling her scissors out of her pocket she cut off the +end of the beard. As soon as the Dwarf found himself at liberty, he +snatched up his sack, which lay between the roots of the tree, filled +with gold, and throwing it over his shoulder marched off, grumbling and +groaning and crying: “Stupid people! to cut off a piece of my beautiful +beard. Plague take you!” and away he went without once looking at the +children. + +Some time afterward Snow-White and Rose-Red went a-fishing, and as they +neared the pond they saw something like a great locust hopping about on +the bank, as if going to jump into the water. They ran up and +recognized the Dwarf. “What are you after?” asked Rose-Red; “you will +fall into the water.” “I am not quite such a simpleton as that,” +replied the Dwarf: “but do you not see this fish will pull me in?” The +little man had been sitting there angling, and unfortunately the wind +had entangled his beard with the fishing line; and so, when a great +fish bit at the bait, the strength of the weak little fellow was not +able to draw it out, and the fish had the best of the struggle. The +Dwarf held on by the reeds and rushes which grew near; but to no +purpose, for the fish pulled him where it liked, and he must soon have +been drawn into the pond. Luckily just then the two Maidens arrived, +and tried to release the beard of the Dwarf from the fishing line; but +both were too closely entangled for it to be done. So the Maiden pulled +out her scissors again and cut off another piece of the beard. When the +Dwarf saw this done he was in a great rage, and exclaimed: “You donkey! +that is the way to disfigure my face. Was it not enough to cut it once, +but you must now take away the best part of my fine beard? I dare not +show myself again now to my own people. I wish you had run the soles +off your boots before you had come here!” So saying, he took up a bag +of pearls which lay among the rushes, and without speaking another +word, slipped off and disappeared behind a stone. + +Not many days after this adventure, it chanced that the Mother sent the +two Maidens to the next town to buy thread, needles and pins, laces and +ribbons. Their road passed over a common, on which here and there great +pieces of rock were lying about. Just over their heads they saw a great +bird flying round and round, and every now and then, dropping lower and +lower, till at last it flew down behind a rock. Immediately afterward +they heard a piercing shriek, and running up they saw with affright +that the eagle had caught their old acquaintance. the Dwarf, and was +trying to carry him off. The compassionate children thereupon laid hold +of the little man, and held him fast till the bird gave up the struggle +and flew off. As soon then as the Dwarf had recovered from his fright, +he exclaimed in his squeaking voice: “Could you not hold me more +gently? You have seized my fine brown coat in such a manner that it is +all torn and full of holes, meddling and interfering rubbish that you +are!” With these words he shouldered a bag filled with precious stones, +and slipped away to his cave among the rocks. + +The maidens were now accustomed to his ingratitude, and so they walked +on to the town and transacted their business there. Coming home, they +returned over the same common, and unawares walked up to a certain +clean spot on which the Dwarf had shaken out his bag of precious +stones, thinking nobody was near. The sun was shining, and the bright +stones glittered in its beams and displayed such a variety of colors +that the two Maidens stopped to admire them. + +“What are you standing there gaping for?” asked the Dwarf, while his +face grew as red as copper with rage; he was continuing to abuse the +poor Maidens, when a loud roaring noise was heard, and presently a +great black Bear came rolling out of the forest. The Dwarf jumped up +terrified, but he could not gain his retreat before the Bear overtook +him. Thereupon, he cried out: “Spare me, my dear Lord Bear! I will give +you all my treasures. See these beautiful precious stones which lie +here; only give me my life; for what have you to fear from a little +weak fellow like me? you could not touch me with your big teeth. There +are two wicked girls, take them; they would make nice morsels, as fat +as young quails; eat them for heaven’s sake.” + +The Bear, however, without troubling himself to speak, gave the +bad-hearted Dwarf a single blow with his paw, and he never stirred +after. + +The Maidens were then going to run away, but the Bear called after +them: “Snow-White and Rose-Red, fear not! wait a bit and I will +accompany you.” They recognized his voice and stopped; and when the +Bear came, his rough coat suddenly fell off, and he stood up a tall +man, dressed entirely in gold. “I am a king’s son,” he said, “and was +condemned by the wicked Dwarf, who stole all my treasures, to wander +about in this forest, in the form of a bear, till his death released +me. Now he has received his well-deserved punishment.” + +Then they went home, and Snow-White was married to the prince, and +Rose-Red to his brother, with whom they shared the immense treasure +which the Dwarf had collected. The old Mother also lived for many years +happily with her two children, and the rose trees which had stood +before the cottage were planted now before the palace, and produced +every year beautiful red and white roses. + + + + +THE UGLY DUCKLING + + +By Hans Christian Andersen + +It was so glorious out in the country; it was summer; the cornfields +were yellow, the oats were green, the hay had been put up in stacks in +the green meadows, and the stork went about on his long red legs, and +chattered Egyptian, for this was the language he had learned from his +good mother. All around the fields and meadows were great forests, and +in the midst of these forests lay deep lakes. Yes, it was right +glorious out in the country. In the midst of the sunshine there lay an +old farm, with deep canals about it, and from the wall down to the +water grew great burdocks, so high that little children could stand +upright under the loftiest of them. It was just as wild there as in the +deepest wood, and here sat a Duck upon her nest; she had to hatch her +ducklings; but she was almost tired out before the little ones came; +and then she so seldom had visitors. The other ducks liked better to +swim about in the canals than to run up to sit down under a burdock, +and cackle with her. + +At last one egg-shell after another burst open. “Piep! piep!” it cried, +and in all the eggs there were little creatures that stuck out their +heads. + +“Quack! quack!” they said; and they all came quacking out as fast as +they could, looking all round them under the green leaves; and the +mother let them look as much as they chose, for green is good for the +eye. + +“How wide the world is!” said all the young ones, for they certainly +had much more room now than when they were in the eggs. + +“D’ye think this is all the world?” said the mother. “That stretches +far across the other side of the garden, quite into the parson’s field; +but I have never been there yet. I hope you are all together,” and she +stood up. “No, I have not all. The largest egg still lies there. How +long is that to last? I am really tired of it.” And she sat down again. + +“Well, how goes it?” asked an old Duck who had come to pay her a visit. + +“It lasts a long time with that one egg,” said the Duck who sat there. +“It will not burst. Now, only look at the others; are they not the +prettiest little ducks one could possibly see? They are all like their +father: the rogue, he never comes to see me.” + +“Let me see the egg which will not burst,” said the old visitor. “You +may be sure it is a turkey’s egg. I was once cheated in that way, and +had much anxiety and trouble with the young ones, for they are afraid +of the water. Must I say it to you, I could not get them to venture in. +I quacked and I clacked, but it was no use. Let me see the egg. Yes, +that’s a turkey’s egg. Let it lie there, and teach the other children +to swim.” + +“I think I will sit on it a little longer,” said the Duck. “I’ve sat so +long now that I can sit a few days more.” + +“Just as you please,” said the old Duck; and she went away. + +At last the great egg burst. “Piep! piep!” said the little one, and +crept forth, it was very large and very ugly. The Duck looked at it. + +“It’s a very large duckling,” said she; “none of the others look like +that: can it really be a turkey chick? Well, we shall soon find out. It +must go into the water, even if I have to thrust it in myself.” + +The next day, it was bright, beautiful weather; the sun shone on all +the green trees. The Mother Duck went down to the canal with all her +family. Splash! she jumped into the water. “Quack! quack!” she said, +and one duckling after another plunged in. The water closed over their +heads, but they came up in an instant, and swam capitally; their legs +went of themselves, and they were all in the water. The ugly gray +Duckling swam with them. + +“No, it’s not a turkey,” said she; “look how well it can use its legs, +and how straight it holds itself. It is my own child! On the whole it’s +quite pretty, if one looks at it rightly. Quack! quack! come with me, +and I’ll lead you out into the great world, and present you in the +duckyard; but keep close to me, so that no one may tread on you, and +take care of the cats!” + +And so they came into the duckyard. There was a terrible riot, going on +in there, for two families were quarreling about an eel’s head, and the +cat got it after all. + +“See, that’s how it goes in the world!” said the Mother Duck; and she +whetted her beak, for she too wanted the eel’s head. “Only use your +legs,” she said. “See that you can bustle about, and bow your heads +before the old Duck yonder. She’s the grandest of all here; she’s of +Spanish blood—that’s why she’s so fat; and d’ye see she has a red rag +round her leg; that’s something particularly fine, and the greatest +distinction a duck can enjoy; it signifies that one does not want to +lose her, and that she’s to be known by the animals and by men too. +Shake yourselves—don’t turn in your toes; a well-brought-up duck turns +its toes quite out, just like father and mother—so! Now bend your necks +and say ‘Quack!’” + +And they did so: but the other ducks round about looked at them, and +said quite boldly: + +“Look there! now we’re to have these hanging on, as if there were not +enough of us already! And—fie!—how that Duckling yonder looks; we won’t +stand that!” And one duck flew up at it, and bit it in the neck. + +“Let it alone,” said the mother: “it does no harm to anyone.” + +“Yes, but it’s too large and peculiar,” said the Duck who had bitten +it; “and therefore it must be put down.” + +“Those are pretty children that the mother has there,” said the old +Duck with the rag round her leg. They’re all pretty but that one; that +was rather unlucky. I wish she could bear it over again.” + +“That cannot be done, my lady,” replied the Mother Duck. “It is not +pretty, but it has a really good disposition, and swims as well as any +other; yes, I may even say it, swims better. I think it will grow up +pretty, and become smaller in time; it has lain too long in the egg, +and therefore is not properly shaped.” And then she pinched it in the +neck, and smoothed its feathers. Moreover it is a drake,” she said, +“and therefore it is not so much consequence. I think he will be very +strong: he makes his way already.” + +“The other duckling’s are graceful enough,” said the old Duck. “Make +yourself at home; and if you find an eel’s head, you may bring it to +me.” + +And now they were at home. But the poor Duckling which had crept last +out of the egg, and looked so ugly, was bitten and pushed and jeered, +as much by the ducks as by the chickens. + +“It is too big!” they all said. And the turkey cock, who had been born +with spurs, and therefore thought himself an emperor, blew himself up +like a ship in full sail, and bore straight down upon it; then he +gobbled and grew quite red in the face. The poor Duckling did not know +where it should stand or walk; it was quite melancholy because it +looked ugly, and was the butt of the whole duckyard. + +So it went on the first day; and afterward it became worse and worse. +The poor Duckling was hunted about by everyone: even its brothers and +sisters were quite angry with it, and said: “If the cat would only +catch you, you ugly creature!” And the mother said: “If you were only +far away!” And the ducks hit it, and the chickens beat it, and the girl +who had to feed the poultry kicked at it with her foot. + +Then it ran and flew over the fence, and the little birds in the bushes +flew up in fear. + +“That is because I am so ugly!” thought the Duckling; and it shut its +eyes, but flew on further; and so it came out into the great moor, +where the wild ducks lived. Here it lay the whole night long; and it +was weary and downcast. + +Toward morning the wild chicks flew up, and looked at their new +companion. + +“What sort of a one are you?” they asked; and the Duckling turned in +every direction, and bowed as well as it could. You are remarkably +ugly!” said the Wild Ducks. “But that is nothing to us, so long as you +do not marry into our family.” + +Poor thing! it certainly did not think of marrying, and only hoped to +obtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink some of the swamp water. + +Thus it lay two whole days; then came thither two wild geese, or, +properly speaking, two wild ganders. It was not long since each had +crept out of an egg, and that’s why they were so saucy. + +“Listen, comrade,” said one of them. “You’re so ugly that I like you. +Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage? Near here, in +another moor, there are a few sweet lovely geese, all unmarried, and +all able to say ‘Rap?’ You’ve a chance of’ making your fortune, ugly as +you are.” + +“Piff! paff!” resounded through the air; and the two ganders fell down +dead in the swamp, and the water became blood red. “Piff paff!” it +sounded again, and the whole flock of wild geese rose up from the +reeds. And then there was another report. A great hunt was going on. +The sportsmen were lying in wait all round the moor, and some were even +sitting up in the branches of the trees, which spread far over the +reeds. The blue smoke rose up like clouds among the dark trees, and was +wafted far away across the water; and the hunting dogs came—splash, +splash!—into the swamp, and the rushes and the reeds bent down on every +side. That was a fright for the poor Duckling! It turned its head, and +put it under its wing; but at that moment a frightful great dog stood +close by the Duckling. His tongue hung far out of his mouth, and his +eyes gleamed horrible and ugly; he thrust out his nose close against +the Duckling, showed his Sharp teeth, and—splash, splash!—on he went, +without seizing it. + +“O, Heaven be thanked!” sighed the Duckling. “I am so ugly, that even +the dog does not like to bite me!” + +And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through the reeds +and gun after gun was fired. At last, late in the day, all was still; +but the poor Duckling did not dare to rise up; it waited several hours +before it looked round, and then hastened away out of the moor as fast +it could. It ran on over field and meadow; there was such a storm +raging that it was difficult to get from one place to another. + +Toward evening the Duck came to a little miserable peasant’s hut. This +hut was so dilapidated that it did not itself know on which side it +should fall; and that’s why it remained standing. The storm whistled +round the Duckling in such a way that the poor creature was obliged to +sit down, to stand against it; and the wind blew worse and worse. Then +the Duckling noticed that one of the hinges of the door had given way, +and the door hung so slanting that the Duckling could slip through the +crack into the room; and that is what it did. + +Here lived a woman, with her Cat and her Hen. And the Cat, whom she +called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr, he could even give out +sparks; but for that one had to stroke his fur the wrong way. The Hen +had quite little short legs, and therefore she was called Chickabiddy +Shortshanks; she laid good eggs, and the woman loved her as her own +child. + +In the morning the strange Duckling was at once noticed, and the Cat +began to purr and the Hen to cluck. + +“What’s this?” said the woman, and looked all round; but she could not +see well, and therefore she thought the Duckling was a fat duck that +had strayed. “This is a rare prize!” she said, “Now I shall have ducks’ +eggs. I hope it is not a drake. We must try that.” + +And so the Duckling was admitted on trial for three weeks; but no eggs +came. And the Cat was master of the house, and the Hen was the lady, +and always said “We and the world!” for she thought they were half the +world, and by far the better half. The Duckling thought one might have +a different opinion, but the Hen would not allow it. + +“Can you lay eggs?” she asked. + +“No.” + +“Then will you hold your tongue!” + +And the Cat said, “Can you curve your back, and purr, and give out +sparks?” + +“No.” + +“Then you will please have no opinion of your own when sensible folks +are speaking. + +And the Duckling sat in a corner and was melancholy; then the fresh air +and the sunshine streamed in; and it was seized with such a strange +longing to swim on the water, that it could not help telling the Hen of +it. + +“What are you thinking of?” cried the Hen. “You have nothing to do, +that’s why you have these fancies. Lay eggs, or purr, and they will +pass over.” + +“But it is so charming to swim on the water!” said the Duckling, “so +refreshing to let it close over one’s head, and to dive down to the +bottom.” + +“Yes, that must be a mighty pleasure, truly,” quoth the Hen. “I fancy +you must have gone crazy. Ask the Cat about it—he’s the cleverest +animal I know—ask him if he likes to swim on the water, or to dive +down: I won’t speak about myself. Ask our mistress, the old woman; no +one in the world is cleverer than she. Do you think she has any desire +to swim, and to let the water close above her head?” + +“You don’t understand me,” said the Duckling. + +“We don’t understand you? Then pray who is to understand you? You +surely don’t pretend to be cleverer than the Cat and the woman—I won’t +say anything of myself. Don’t be conceited, child, and thank your Maker +for all the kindness you have received. Did you not get into a warm +room, and have you not fallen into company from which you may learn +something? But you are a chatterer, and it is not pleasant to associate +with you. You may believe me, I speak for your good. I tell you +disagreeable things, and by that one may always know one’s true +friends! Only take care that you learn to lay eggs, or to purr, and +give out sparks!” + +“I think I will go out into the wide world,” said the Duckling. + +“Yes, do go,” replied the Hen. + +And so the Duckling went away. It swam on the water, and dived, but it +was slighted by every creature because of its ugliness. + +Now came the autumn. The leaves in the forest turned yellow and brown; +the wind caught them so that they danced about, and up in the air it +was very cold. The clouds hung low, heavy with hail and snowflakes, and +on the fence stood the raven, crying, “Croak! croak!” for mere cold; +yes, it was enough to make one feel cold to think of this. The poor +little Duckling certainly had not a good time. One evening—the sun was +just setting in his beauty—there came a whole flock of great, handsome +birds out of the bushes; they were dazzlingly white, with long, +flexible necks; they were swans. They uttered a very peculiar cry, +spread forth their glorious great wings, and flew away from that cold +region to warmer lands, to fair open lakes. They mounted so high, so +high! and the ugly Duckling felt quite strangely as it watched them. It +turned round and round in the water like a wheel, stretched out its +neck toward them, and uttered such a strange, loud cry as frightened +itself. Oh! it could not forget those beautiful, happy birds; and so +soon as it could see them no longer, it dived down to the very bottom, +and when it came up again, it was quite beside itself. It knew not the +name of those birds, and knew not whither they were flying; but it +loved them more than it had ever loved anyone. It was not at all +envious of them. How could it think of wishing to possess such +loveliness as they had? It would have been glad if only the ducks would +have endured its company the poor, ugly creature! + +And the winter grew cold, very cold! The Duckling was forced to swim +about in the water, to prevent the surface from freezing entirely; but +every night the hole in which it swam about became smaller and smaller. +It froze so hard that the icy covering crackled again; and the Duckling +was obliged to use its legs continually to prevent the hole from +freezing up. At last it became exhausted, and lay quite still, and thus +froze fast into the ice. Early in the morning a peasant came by, and +when he saw what had happened, he took his wooden shoe, broke the ice +crust to pieces, and carried the Duckling home to his wife. Then it +came to itself again. The children wanted to play with it; but the +Duckling thought they wanted to hurt it, and in its terror fluttered up +into the milk pan, so that the milk spurted down into the room. The +woman clasped her hands, at which the Duckling flew down into the +butter tub, and then into the meal barrel and out again. How it looked +then! The woman screamed, and struck at it with the fire tongs; the +children tumbled over one another in their efforts to catch the +Duckling; and they laughed and they screamed!—well it was that the door +stood open, and the poor creature was able to slip out between the +shrubs into the newly fallen snow—there it lay quite exhausted. + +But it would be too melancholy if I were to tell all the misery and +care which the Duckling had to endure in the hard winter. It lay out on +the moor among the reeds, when the sun began to shine again and the +larks to sing: it was a beautiful spring. + +Then all at once the Duckling could flap its wings: they beat the air +more strongly than before, and bore it strongly away; and before it +well knew how all this happened, it found itself in a great garden, +where the elder trees smelled sweet, and bent their long green branches +down to the canal that wound through the region. Oh, here it was so +beautiful, such a gladness of spring! and from the thicket came three +glorious white swans; they rustled their wings, and swam lightly on the +water. The Duckling knew the splendid creatures, and felt oppressed by +a peculiar sadness. + +“I will fly away to them, to the royal birds! and they will beat me, +because I, that am so ugly, dare to come near them. But it is all the +same. Better to be killed by them than to be pursued by ducks, and +beaten by fowls, and pushed about by the girl who takes care of the +poultry yard, and to suffer hunger in winter!” And it flew out into the +water, and swam toward the beautiful swans: these looked at it, and +came sailing down upon it with outspread wings. “Kill me!” said the +poor creature, and bent its head down upon the water, expecting nothing +but death. But what was this that it saw in the clear water? It beheld +its own image; and, lo! it was no longer a clumsy, dark-gray bird, ugly +and hateful to look at, but a—swan! + +It matters nothing if one is born in a duck yard, if one has only lain +in a swan’s egg. + +It felt quite glad at all the need and misfortune it had suffered, now +it realized its happiness in all the splendor that surrounded it. And +the great swans swam round it, and stroked it with their beaks. + +Into the garden came little children, who threw bread and corn into the +water; and the youngest cried, “There is a new one!” and the other +children shouted joyously, “Yes, a new one has arrived!” And they +clapped their hands and danced about, and ran to their father and +mother; and bread and cake were thrown into the water; and they all +said, “The new one is the most beautiful of all so young and handsome!” +and the old swans bowed their heads before him. + +Then he felt quite ashamed, and hid his head under his wings, for he +did not know what to do; he was so happy, and yet not at all proud. He +thought how he had been persecuted and despised; and now he heard them +saying that he was the most beautiful of all birds. Even the elder tree +bent its branches straight down into the water before him, and the sun +shone warm and mild. Then his wings rustled, he lifted his slender +neck, and cried rejoicingly from the depths of his heart: + +“I never dreamed of so much happiness when I was the Ugly Duckling!” + + + + +THE TINDER-BOX + + +By Hans Christian Andersen + +There came a soldier marching along the high road—one, two! one, two! +He had his knapsack on his back and a saber by his side, for he had +been in the wars, and now he wanted to go home. And on the way he met +with an old Witch: she was very hideous and her under lip hung down +upon her breast. She said: “Good evening, Soldier. What a fine sword +you have, and what a big knapsack! You’re a proper soldier! Now you +shall have as much money as you like to have.” + +“I thank you, you old Witch” said the Soldier. + +“Do you see that great tree?” quoth the Witch; and she pointed to a +tree which stood beside them. + +“It’s quite hollow inside. You must climb to the top, and then you’ll +see a hole, through which you can let yourself down and get deep into +the tree. I’ll tie a rope round your body, so that I can pull you up +again when you call me.” + +“What am I to do down in the tree?” asked the Soldier. + +“Get money,” replied the Witch. “Listen to me. When you come down to +the earth under the tree, you will find yourself in a great hall: it is +quite light, for above three hundred lamps are burning there. Then you +will see three doors; these you can open, for the keys are hanging +there. If you go into the first chamber, you’ll see a great chest in +the middle of the floor; on this chest sits a dog, and he’s got a pair +of eyes as big as two teacups. But you need not care for that. I’ll +give you my blue-checked apron, and you can spread it out upon the +floor; then go up quickly and take the dog, and set him on my apron; +then open the chest, and take as many shillings as you like. They are +of copper; if you prefer silver, you must go into the second chamber. +But there sits a dog with a pair of eyes as big as mill wheels. But do +not you care for that. Set him upon my apron, and take some of the +money. And if you want gold, you can have that too—in fact, as much as +you can carry—if you go into the third chamber. But the dog that sits +on the money chest there has two eyes as big as round towers. He is a +fierce dog, you may be sure; but you needn’t be afraid, for all that. +Only set him on my apron, and he won’t hurt you; and take out of the +chest as much gold as you like.” + +“That’s not so bad,” said the Soldier. “But what am I to give you, you +old Witch? for you will not do it for nothing, I fancy.” + +“No,” replied the Witch, “not a single shilling will I have. You shall +only bring me an old Tinder-box which my grandmother forgot when she +was down there last.” + +“Then tie the rope round my body,” cried the Soldier. + +“Here it is,” said the Witch, “and here’s my blue-checked apron.” + +Then the Soldier climbed up into the tree, let himself slip down into +the hole, and stood, as the Witch had said, in the great hall where the +three hundred lamps were burning. + +Now he opened the first door. Ugh! there sat the dog with eyes as big +as teacups, staring at him. + +“You’re a nice fellow!” exclaimed the Soldier; and he set him on the +Witch’s apron, and took as many shillings as his pockets would hold, +and then locked the chest, set the dog on it again, and went into the +second chamber, Aha! there sat the dog with eyes as big as mill wheels. + +“You should not stare so hard at me,” said the Soldier; “you might +strain your eyes.” And he set the dog upon the Witch’s apron. And when +he saw the silver money in the chest, he threw away all the copper +money he had and filled his pockets and his knapsack with silver only. +Then he went into the third chamber. Oh, but that was horrid! The dog +there really had eyes as big as towers, and they turned round and round +in his head like wheels. + +“Good evening!” said the Soldier; and he touched his cap, for he had +never seen such a dog as that before. When he had looked at him a +little more closely, he thought: “That will do,” and lifted him down to +the floor, and opened the chest. Mercy! What a quantity of gold was +there! He could buy with it the whole town, and the sugar sucking pigs +of the cake woman, and all the tin soldiers, whips, and rocking-horses +in the whole world. Yes, that was a quantity of money! Now the Soldier +threw away all the silver coin with which he had filled his pockets and +his knapsack, and took gold instead; yes, all his pockets, his +knapsack, his boots, and his cap were filled, so that he could scarcely +walk. Now indeed he had plenty of money. He put the dog on the chest +shut the door, and then called up through the tree: “Now pull me up, +you old Witch!” + +“Have you the Tinder-box?” asked the Witch. + +“Plague on it!” exclaimed the Soldier, “I had clean forgotten that.” +And he went and brought it. + +The Witch drew him up, and he stood on the high road again, with +pockets, boots, knapsack, and cap full of gold. + +“What are you going to do with the Tinder-box?” asked the Soldier. + +“That’s nothing to you,” retorted the Witch. “You’ve had your money; +just give me the Tinder-box.” + +“Nonsense!” said the Soldier. “Tell me directly what you’re going to do +with it or I’ll draw my sword and cut off your head.” + +“No!” cried the Witch. + +So the Soldier cut off her head. There she lay! But he tied up all his +money in her apron, took it on his back like a bundle, put the +Tinder-box in his pocket, and went straight off toward the town. + +That was a splendid town! And he put up at the very best inn, and asked +for the finest rooms, and ordered his favorite dishes, for now he was +rich, as he had so much money. The servant who had to clean his boots +certainly thought them a remarkably old pair for such a rich gentleman; +but he had not bought any new ones yet. The next day he procured proper +boots and handsome clothes. Now our Soldier had become a fine +gentleman; and the people told him of all the splendid things which +were in their city, and about the King, and what a pretty Princess the +King’s daughter was. + +“Where can one get to see her?” asked the Soldier. + +“She is not to be seen at all,” said they all together; “she lives in a +great copper castle, with a great many walls and towers round about it: +no one but the King may go in and out there, for it has been prophesied +that she shall marry a common soldier, and the King can’t bear that.” + +“I should like to see her,” thought the Soldier; but he could not get +leave to do so. Now he lived merrily, went to the theater, drove in the +King’s garden, and gave much money to the poor; and this was very kind +of him, for he knew from old times how hard it is when one has not a +shilling. + +Now he was rich, had new clothes, and gained many friends, who all said +he was a rare one, a true cavalier; and that pleased the Soldier well. +But as he spent money every day and never carried any, he had at last +only two shillings left; and he was obliged to turn out of the fine +rooms in which he had dwelt, and had to live in a little garret under +the roof, and clean his boots for himself, and mend them with a +darning-needle. None of his friends came to see him, for there were too +many stairs to climb. + +It was quite dark one evening, and he could not even buy himself a +candle, when it occurred to him that there was a candle end in the +Tinder-box which he had taken out of the hollow tree into which the +Witch had helped him. He brought out the Tinder-box and the candle end; +but as soon as he struck fire and the sparks rose up from the flint, +the door flew open, and the dog who had eyes as big as a couple of +teacups, and whom he had seen in the tree, stood before him, and said: + +“What are my lord’s commands?” + +“What is this?” said the Soldier. “That’s a famous Tinder-box, if I can +get everything with it that I want! Bring me some money,” said he to +the dog; and whisk! the dog was gone, and whisk! he was back again, +with a great bag full of shillings in his mouth. + +Now the Soldier knew what a capital Tinder-box this was. If he struck +it once, the dog came who sat upon the chest of copper money; if he +struck it twice, the dog came who had the silver; and if he struck it +three times, then appeared the dog who had the gold. Now the Soldier +moved back into the fine rooms, and appeared again in handsome clothes; +and all his friends knew him again, and cared very much for him indeed. + +Once he thought to himself: “It is a very strange thing that one cannot +get to see the Princess. They all say she is very beautiful; but what +is the use of that, if she has always to sit in the great copper castle +with the many towers? Can I not get to see her at all? Where is my +Tinder-box?” And so he struck a light, and whisk! came the dog with +eyes as big as teacups. + +“It is midnight, certainly,” said the Soldier, “but I should very much +like to see the Princess, only for one little moment.” + +And the dog was outside the door directly, and, before the Soldier +thought it, came back with the Princess. She sat upon the dogs back and +slept; and everyone could see she was a real Princess, for she was so +lovely. The Soldier could not refrain from kissing her, for he was a +thorough soldier. Then the dog ran back again with the Princess. But +when morning came, and the King and Queen were drinking tea, the +Princess said she had had a strange dream the night before about a dog +and a soldier—that she had ridden upon the dog, and the soldier had +kissed her. + +“That would be a fine history!” said the Queen. + +So one of the old court ladies had to watch the next night by the +Princess’s bed, to see if this was really a dream, or what it might be. + +The Soldier had a great longing to see the lovely Princess again; so +the dog came in the night, took her away, and ran as fast as he could. +But the old lady put on water boots, and ran just as fast after him. +When she saw that they both entered a great house, she thought: “Now I +know where it is; and with a bit of chalk she drew a great cross on the +door. Then she went home and lay down, and the dog came up with the +Princess; but when he saw that there was a cross drawn on the door +where the Soldier lived, he took a piece of chalk too, and drew crosses +on all the doors in the town. And that was cleverly done, for now the +lady could not find the right door, because all the doors had crosses +upon them. + +In the morning early came the King and Queen, the old court lady and +all the officers, to see where it was the Princess had been. “Here it +is!” said the King, when he saw the first door with a cross upon it. +“No, my dear husband, it is there!” said the Queen, who descried +another door which also showed a cross. “But there is one, and there is +one!” said all, for wherever they looked there were crosses on the +doors. So they saw that it would avail them nothing if they searched +on. + +But the Queen was an exceedingly clever woman, who could do more than +ride in a coach. She took her great gold scissors, cut a piece of silk +into pieces, and made a neat little bag; this bag she filled with fine +wheat flour, and tied it on the Princess’s back, and when that was +done, she cut a little hole in the bag, so that the flour would be +scattered along all the way which the Princess should take. + +In the night the dog came again, took the Princess on his back, and ran +with her to the Soldier, who loved her very much, and would gladly have +been a prince, so that he might have her for his wife. The dog did not +notice at all how the flour ran out in a stream from the castle to the +windows of the Soldier’s house, where he ran up the wall with the +Princess. In the morning the King and Queen saw well enough where their +daughter had been, and they took the Soldier and put him in prison. + +There he sat. Oh, but it was dark and disagreeable there! And they said +to him: “To-morrow you shall be hanged.” That was not amusing to hear, +and he had left his Tinder-box at the inn. In the morning he could see, +through the iron grating of the little window, how the people were +hurrying out of the town to see him hanged. He heard the drums beat and +saw the soldiers marching. All the people were running out, and among +them was the shoemaker’s boy with leather apron and slippers, and he +galloped so fast that one of his slippers flew off, and came right +against the wall where the Soldier sat looking through the iron +grating. + +“Halloo, you shoemaker’s boy! you needn’t be in such a hurry,” cried +the Soldier to him: “it will not begin till I come. But if you will run +to where I lived and bring me my Tinder-box, you shall have four +shillings: but you must put your best leg foremost.” + +The shoemaker’s boy wanted to get the four shillings, so he went and +brought the Tinder-box, and—well, we shall hear now what happened. + +Outside the town a great gallows had been built, and round it stood the +soldiers and many hundred thousand people. The King and Queen sat on a +splendid throne, opposite to the judges and the whole council. The +soldiers already stood upon the ladder; but as they were about to put +the rope round his neck, he said that before a poor criminal suffered +his punishment an innocent request was always granted to him. He wanted +very much to smoke a pipe of tobacco, and it would be the last pipe he +should smoke in the world. The King would not say “No” to this; so the +Soldier took his Tinder-box and struck fire. One—two—three!—and there +suddenly stood all the dogs—the one with eyes as big as teacups, the +one with eyes as large as mill wheels, and the one whose eyes were as +big as round towers. + +“Help me now, so that I may not be hanged,” said the Soldier. + +And the dogs fell upon the judges and all the council, seized one by +the leg and another by the nose, and tossed them many feet into the +air, so that they fell down and were all broken to pieces. + +“I won’t!” cried the King; but the biggest dog took him and the Queen, +and threw them after the others. Then the soldiers were afraid, and the +people cried: “Little Soldier, you shall be our king, and marry the +beautiful Princess.” + +So they put the Soldier into the King’s coach, and all the three dogs +darted on in front and cried “Hurrah!” and the boys whistled through +their fingers, and the soldiers presented arms. The Princess came out +of the copper castle, and became Queen, and she liked that well enough. +The wedding lasted a week, and the three dogs sat at the table too, and +opened their eyes wider than ever at all they saw. + + + + +THE CONSTANT TIN SOLDIER + + +By Hans Christian Andersen + +There were once five-and-twenty tin soldiers; they were all brothers, +for they had all been born of one old tin spoon. They shouldered their +muskets, and looked straight before them; their uniform was red and +blue, and very splendid. The first thing they had heard in the world, +when the lid was taken off the box, had been the words “Tin soldiers!” +These words were tittered by a little boy, clapping his hands; the +soldiers had been given to him, for it was his birthday; and now he put +them upon the table. Each soldier was exactly like the rest; but one of +them had been cast last of all, and there had not been enough tin to +finish him; but he stood as firmly upon his one leg as the others on +their two; and it was just this soldier who became remarkable. + +On the table on which they had been placed stood many other playthings, +but the toy that attracted most attention was a neat castle of +cardboard. Through the little windows one could see straight into the +hall. Before the castle some little trees were placed round a little +looking-glass, which was to represent a clear lake. Waxen swans swam on +this lake, and were mirrored in it. This was all very pretty; but the +prettiest of all was a little Lady, who stood at the open door of the +castle; she was also cut out in paper, but she had a dress of the +clearest gauze, and a little narrow blue ribbon over her shoulders that +looked like a scarf; and in the middle of this ribbon was a shining +tinsel rose, as big as her whole face. The little Lady stretched out +both her arms, for she was a dancer, and then she lifted one leg so +high that the Tin Soldier could not see it at all, and thought that, +like himself, she had but one leg. + +“That would be the wife for me,” thought he; “but she is very grand. +She lives in a castle, and I have only a box, and there are +five-and-twenty of us in that. It is no place for her. But I must try +to make acquaintance with her.” + +And then he lay down at full length behind a snuffbox which was on the +table; there he could easily watch the little dainty lady, who +continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. + +When the evening came, all the other tin soldiers were put into their +box, and the people in the house went to bed. Now the toys began to +play at “visiting,” and at “war,” and “giving balls.” The tin soldiers +rattled in their box, for they wanted to join, but could not lift the +lid. The Nutcracker threw somersaults, and the Pencil amused itself on +the table; there was so much noise that the Canary woke up, and began +to speak too, and even in verse. The only two who did not stir from +their places were the Tin Soldier and the Dancing Lady; she stood +straight up on the point of one of her toes, and stretched out both her +arms: and he was just as enduring on his one leg; and he never turned +his eyes away from her. + +Now the clock struck twelve—and, bounce!—the lid flew off the snuffbox; +but there was not snuff in it, but a little black goblin; you see, it +was a trick. + +“Tin Soldier,” said the Goblin, “don’t stare at things that don’t +concern you.” + +But the Tin Soldier pretended not to hear him. “Just you wait till +to-morrow!” said the Goblin. But when the morning came, and the +children got up, the Tin Soldier was placed in the window; and whether +it was the Goblin or the draft that did it, all at once the window flew +open, and the Soldier fell, head over heels, out of the third story. +That was a terrible passage! He put his leg straight up, and struck +with his helmet downward, and his bayonet between the paving stones. + +The servant maid and the little boy came down directly to look for him, +but though they almost trod upon him they could not see him. If the +Soldier had cried out, “Here I am!” they would have found him; but he +did not think it fitting to call out loudly, because he was in uniform. + +Now it began to rain; the drops soon fell thicker, and at last it came +down in a complete stream. When the rain was past, two street boys came +by. + +“Just look!” said one of them, “there lies a tin soldier. He must come +out and ride in the boat.” + +And they made a boat out of a newspaper, and put the Tin Soldier in the +middle of it; and so he sailed down the gutter, and the two boys ran +beside him and clapped their hands. Goodness preserve us! how the waves +rose in that gutter, and how fast the stream ran! But then it had been +a heavy rain. The paper boat rocked up and down, and sometimes turned +round so rapidly that the Tin Soldier trembled; but he remained firm +and never changed countenance, and looked straight before him, and +shouldered his musket. + +All at once the boat went into a long drain, and it became as dark as +if he had been in his box. + +“Where am I going now?” he thought. “Yes, yes, that’s the Goblin’s +fault. Ah! if the little Lady only sat here with me in the boat, it +might be twice as dark for what I should care.” + +Suddenly there came a great water rat, which lived under the drain. + +“Have you a passport?” said the Rat. “Give me your passport.” + +But the Tin Soldier kept silence, and only held his musket tighter than +ever. + +The boat went on, but the Rat came after it. Hu! how he gnashed his +teeth, and called out to the bits of straw and wood: + +“Hold him! hold him! he hasn’t paid toll—he hasn’t showed his +passport!” + +But the stream became stronger and stronger. The Tin Soldier could see +the bright daylight where the arch ended; but he heard a roaring noise, +which might well frighten a bolder man. Only think—just where the +tunnel ended the drain ran into a great canal; and for him that would +have been as dangerous as for us to be carried down a great waterfall. + +Now he was already so near it that he could not stop. The boat was +carried out, the poor Tin Soldier stiffening himself as much as he +could, and no one could say that he moved an eyelid. The boat whirled +round three or four times, and was full of water to the very edge—it +must sink. The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water, and the boat +sank deeper and deeper, and the paper was loosened more and more, and +now the water closed over the Soldier’s head. Then he thought of the +pretty little dancer, and how he should never see her again; and it +sounded in the Soldier’s ears: + +“Farewell, farewell, thou warrior brave, +Die shalt thou this day.” + + +And now the paper parted, and the Tin Soldier fell out; but at that +moment he was snapped up by a great fish. + +Oh, how dark it was in that fish’s body! It was darker yet than in the +drain tunnel; and then it was very narrow, too. But the Tin Soldier +remained unmoved, and lay at full length, shouldering his musket. + +The fish swam to and fro; he made the most wonderful movements, and +then became quite still. At last something flashed through him like +lightning. The daylight shone quite clear, and a voice said aloud, “The +Tin Soldier!” The fish had been caught, carried to market, bought, and +taken into the kitchen, where the cook cut him open with a large knife. +She seized the Soldier round the body with both her hands, and carried +him into the room, where all were anxious to see the remarkable man who +had traveled about in the inside of a fish; but the Tin Soldier was not +at all proud. They placed him on the table, and there—no! What curious +things may happen in the world! The Tin Soldier was in the very room in +which he had been before! he saw the same children, and the same toys +stood upon the table; and there was the pretty castle with the graceful +little Dancer. She was still balancing herself on one leg and held the +other extended in the air. She was faithful, too. That moved the Tin +Soldier: he was very near weeping tin tears, but that would not have +been proper. He looked at her, but they said nothing to each other. + +Then one of the little boys took the Tin Soldier and flung him into the +stove. He gave no reason for doing this. It must have been the fault of +the Goblin in the snuffbox. + +The Tin Soldier stood there quite illuminated, and felt a heat that was +terrible; but whether this heat proceeded from the real fire or from +love he did not know. The colors had quite gone off from him; but +whether that had happened on the journey, or had been caused by grief, +no one could say. He looked at the little Lady, she looked at him, and +he felt that he was melting; but he stood firm, shouldering his musket. +Then suddenly the door flew open, and the draft of air caught the +Dancer, and she flew like a sylph just into the stove to the Tin +Soldier, and flashed up in a flame, and then was gone! Then the Tin +Soldier melted down into a lump, and when the servant maid took the +ashes out next day, she found him in the shape of a little tin heart. +But of the Dancer nothing remained but the tinsel rose, and that was +burned as black as coal. + + + + +THE FIR TREE + + +By Hans Christian Andersen + +Out in the woods stood a nice little Fir tree. The place he had was a +very good one; the sun shone on him; as to fresh air, there was enough +of that, and round him grew many large-sized comrades, pines as well as +firs. But the little Fir wanted so very much to be a grown-up tree. + +He did not think of the warm sun and of the fresh air; he did not care +for the little cottage children that ran about and prattled when they +were in the wood looking for wild strawberries. The children often came +with a whole pitcher full of berries, or a long row of them threaded on +a straw, and sat down near the young Tree and said, “Oh, how pretty he +is! what a nice little fir!” But this was what the Tree could not bear +to hear. + +At the end of a year he had shot up a good deal, and after another year +he was another long bit taller; for with fir trees one can always tell +by the shoots how many years old they are. + +“Oh, were I but such a high tree as the others are,” sighed he. “Then I +should be able to spread out my branches, and with the tops to look +into the wide world! Then would the birds build nests among my +branches; and when there was a breeze, I could bend with as much +stateliness as the others!” + +Neither the sunbeams, nor the birds, nor the red clouds which morning +and evening sailed above him, gave the little Tree any pleasure. + +In winter, when the snow lay glittering on the ground, a hare would +often come leaping along, and jump right over the little Tree. Oh, that +made him so angry! But two winters were past, and in the third the Tree +was so large that the hare was obliged to go round it. “To grow and +grow, to get older and be tall,” thought the Tree—“that, after all, is +the most delightful thing in the world!” + +In autumn the woodcutters always came and felled some of the largest +trees. This happened every year; and the young Fir tree, that had now +grown to a very comely size, trembled at the sight; for the magnificent +great trees fell to the earth with noise and cracking, the branches +were lopped off, and the trees looked long and bare: they were hardly +to be recognized; and then they were laid in carts, and the horses +dragged them out of the wood. + +Where did they go to? What became of them? In spring, when the Swallows +and the Storks came, the Tree asked them: “Don’t you know where they +have been taken? Have you not met them anywhere?” + +The Swallows did not know anything about it; but the Stork looked +musing, nodded his head, and said: “Yes; I think I know; I met many +ships as I was flying hither from Egypt; on the ships were magnificent +masts, and I venture to assert that it was they that smelled so of fir. +I may congratulate you, for they lifted themselves on high most +majestically!” + +“Oh, were I but old enough to fly across the sea! But how does the sea +look in reality? What is it like?” + +“That would take a long time to explain,” said the Stork, and with +these words off he went. + +“Rejoice in thy growth!” said the Sunbeams, “rejoice in thy vigorous +growth, and in the fresh life that groweth within thee!” + +And the Wind kissed the Tree, and the Dew wept tears over him; but the +Fir understood it not. + +When Christmas came, quite young trees were cut down; trees which often +were not even as large or of the same age as this Fir tree, who could +never rest, but always wanted to be off. These young trees, and they +were always the finest looking, retained their branches; they were laid +on carts, and the horses drew them out of the wood. + +“Where are they going to?” asked the Fir. + +“They are not taller than I; there was one indeed that was considerably +shorter;—and why do they retain all their branches? Whither are they +taken?” + +“We know! we know!” chirped the Sparrows. “We have peeped in at the +windows in the town below! We know whither they are taken! The greatest +splendor and the greatest magnificence one can imagine await them. We +peeped through the windows, and saw them planted in the middle of the +warm room, and ornamented with the most splendid things—with gilded +apples, with gingerbread, with toys, and many hundred lights!” + +“And then?” asked the Fir tree, trembling in every bough. “And then? +What happens then?” + +“We did not see anything more: it was incomparably beautiful.” + +“I would fain know if I am destined for so glorious a career,” cried +the Tree, rejoicing. “That is still better than to cross the sea! What +a longing do I suffer! Were Christmas but come! I am now tall, and my +branches spread like the others that were carried off last year! Oh, +were I but already on the cart! Were I in the warm room with all the +splendor and magnificence! Yes; then something better, something still +grander, will surely follow, or wherefore should they thus ornament me? +Something better, something still grander, must follow—but what? Oh, +how I long, how I suffer! I do not know myself what is the matter with +me!” + +“Rejoice in our presence!” said the Air and the Sunlight; “rejoice in +thy own fresh youth!” + +But the Tree did not rejoice at all; he grew and grew, and was green +both winter and summer. People that saw him said, “What a fine tree!” +and toward Christmas he was one of the first that was cut down. The ax +struck deep into the very pith; the tree fell to the earth with a sigh: +he felt a pang—it was like a swoon; he could not think of happiness, +for he was sorrowful at being separated from his home, from the place +where he had sprung up. He well knew that he should never see his dear +old comrades, the little bushes and flowers around him, any more; +perhaps not even the birds! The departure was not at all agreeable. + +The Tree only came to himself when he was unloaded in a courtyard with +the other trees, and heard a man say, “That one is splendid! we don’t +want the others.” Then two servants came in rich livery and carried the +Fir tree into a large and splendid drawing-room. Portraits were hanging +on the walls, and near the white porcelain stove stood two large +Chinese vases with lions on the covers. There, too, were large +easy-chairs, silken sofas, large tables full of picture books, and full +of toys worth hundreds and hundreds of crowns—at least the children +said so. And the Fir tree was stuck upright in a cask that was filled +with sand: but no one could see that it was a cask, for green cloth was +hung all round it, and it stood on a large gayly colored carpet. Oh, +how the Tree quivered! What was to happen? The servants, as well as the +young ladies, decorated it. On one branch there hung little nets cut +out of colored paper, and each net was filled with sugarplums; and +among the other boughs gilded apples and walnuts were suspended, +looking as though they had grown there, and little blue and white +tapers were placed among the leaves. Dolls that looked for all the +world like men—the Tree had never beheld such before—were seen among +the foliage, and at the very top a large star of gold tinsel was fixed. +It was really splendid—beyond description splendid. + +“This evening!” said they all; “how it will shine this evening!” + +“Oh,” thought the Tree, “if the evening were but come! If the tapers +were but lighted! And then I wonder what will happen! Perhaps the other +trees from the forest will come to look at me! Perhaps the sparrows +will beat against the windowpanes! I wonder if I shall take root here, +and winter and summer stand covered with ornaments!” + +He knew very much about the matter! but he was so impatient that for +sheer longing he got a pain in his back, and this with trees is the +same thing as a headache with us. + +The candles were now lighted. What brightness! What splendor! The Tree +trembled so in every bough that one of the tapers set fire to the +foliage. It blazed up splendidly. + +“Help! help!” cried the young ladies, and they quickly put out the +fire. + +Now the Tree did not even dare tremble. What a state he was in! He was +so uneasy lest he should lose something of his splendor, that he was +quite bewildered amid the glare and brightness; when suddenly both +folding doors opened, and a troop of children rushed in as if they +would upset the Tree. The older persons followed quietly; the little +ones stood quite still. But it was only for a moment; then they shouted +so that the whole place reechoed with their rejoicing; they danced +round the Tree, and one present after the other was pulled off. + +“What are they about?” thought the Tree. “What is to happen now!” And +the lights burned down to the very branches, and as they burned down +they were put out one after the other, and then the children had +permission to plunder the Tree. So they fell upon it with such violence +that all its branches cracked; if it had not been fixed firmly in the +cask, it would certainly have tumbled down. + +The children danced about with their beautiful playthings; no one +looked at the Tree except the old nurse, who peeped between the +branches; but it was only to see if there was a fig or an apple left +that had been forgotten. + +“A story! a story!” cried the children, drawing a little fat man toward +the Tree. He seated himself under it, and said: “Now we are in the +shade, and the Tree can listen too. But I shall tell only one story. +Now which will you have; that about IvedyAvedy, or about Klumpy-Dumpy +who tumbled downstairs, and yet after all came to the throne and +married the princess?” + +“Ivedy-Avedy,” cried some; “Klumpy-Dumpy,” cried the others. There was +such a bawling and screaming!—the Fir tree alone was silent, and he +thought to himself, “Am I not to bawl with the rest?—am I to do nothing +whatever?” for he was one of the company, and had done what he had to +do. + +And the man told about Klumpy-Dumpy that tumbled down, who +notwithstanding came to the throne, and at last married the princess. +And the children clapped their hands, arid cried out, “Oh, go on! Do go +on!” they waited to hear about Ivedy-Avedy too, but the little man only +told them about Klumpy-Dumpy. The Fir tree stood quite still and +absorbed in thought: the birds in the wood had never related the like +of this. “Klumpy-Dumpy fell downstairs, and yet he married the +princess! Yes, yes! that’s the way of the world!” thought the Fir tree, +and believed it all, because the man who told the story was so +good-looking. “Well, well! who knows, perhaps I may fall downstairs +too, and get a princess as wife!” And he looked forward with joy to the +morrow, when he hoped to be decked out again with lights, play-things, +fruits, and tinsel. + +“I won’t tremble to-morrow!” thought the Fir tree. “I will enjoy to the +full all my splendor! To-morrow I shall hear again the story of +Klumpy-Dumpy, and perhaps that of Ivedy-Avedy too.” And the whole night +the Tree stood still and in deep thought. + +In the morning the servant and the housemaid came in. + +“Now then the splendor will begin again,” thought the Fir. But they +dragged him out of the room, and up the stairs into the loft; and here, +in a dark corner, where no daylight could enter, they left him. “What’s +the meaning of this?” thought the Tree. “What am I to do here? What +shall I hear now, I wonder?” And he leaned against the wall lost in +reverie. Time enough had he too for his reflections; for days and +nights passed on, and nobody came up; and when at last somebody did +come, it was only to put some great trunks in a corner out of the way. +There stood the Tree quite hidden; it seemed as if he had been entirely +forgotten. + +“’Tis now winter out-of-doors!” thought the Tree. “The earth is hard +and covered with snow; men cannot plant me now, and therefore I have +been put up here under shelter till the springtime comes! How +thoughtful that is! How kind man is, after all! If it only were not so +dark here, and so terribly lonely! Not even a hare. And out in the +woods it was so pleasant, when the snow was on the ground, and the hare +leaped by; yes—even when he jumped over me; but I did not like it then. +It is really terribly lonely here!” + +“Squeak! squeak!” said a little Mouse at the same moment, peeping out +of his hole. And then another little one came. They snuffed about the +Fir tree, and rustled among the branches. + +“It is dreadfully cold,” said the Mouse. “But for that, it would be +delightful here, old Fir, wouldn’t it?” + +“I am by no means old,” said the Fir tree. “There’s many a one +considerably older than I am.” + +“Where do you come from,” asked the Mice; “and what can you do?” They +were so extremely curious. “Tell us about the most beautiful spot on +the earth. Have you never been there? Were you never in the larder, +where cheeses lie on the shelves, and hams hang from above; where one +dances about on tallow candles; that place where one enters lean, and +comes out again fat and portly?” + +“I know no such place,” said the Tree. “But I know the wood, where the +sun shines, and where the little birds sing.” And then he told all +about his youth; and the little Mice had never heard the like before; +and they listened and said: + +“Well, to be sure! How much you have seen! How happy you must have +been!” + +“I!” said the Fir tree, thinking over what he had himself related. +“Yes, in reality those were happy times.” And then he told about +Christmas Eve, when he was decked out with cakes and candles. + +“Oh,” said the little Mice, “how fortunate you have been, old Fir +tree!” + +“I am by no means old,” said he. “I came from the wood this winter; I +am in my prime, and am only rather short for my age.” + +“What delightful stories you know!” said the Mice; and the next night +they came with four other little Mice, who were to hear what the Tree +recounted; and the more he related, the more plainly he remembered all +himself; and it appeared as if those times had really been happy times. +“But they may still come—they may still come. Humpy-Dumpy fell +downstairs, and yet he got a princess!” and he thought at the moment of +a nice little Birch tree growing out in the woods; to the Fir, that +would be a real charming princess. + +“Who is Klumpy-Dumpy?” asked the Mice. So then the Fir tree told the +whole fairy tale, for he could remember every single word of it; and +the little Mice jumped for joy up to the very top of the Tree. Next +night two more Mice came, and on Sunday two Rats, even; but they said +the stories were not interesting, which vexed the little Mice; and +they, too, now began to think them not so very amusing either. + +“Do you know only one story?” asked the Rats. + +“Only that one,” answered the Tree. “I heard it on my happiest evening; +but I did not then know how happy I was.” + +“It is a very stupid story! Don’t you know one about bacon and tallow +candles? Can’t you tell any larder stories?” + +“No,” said the Tree. + +“Then good-by,” said the Rats and they went home. + +At last the little Mice stayed away also; and the Tree sighed: “After +all, it was very pleasant when the sleek little Mice sat round me and +listened to what I told them. Now that too is over. But I will take +good care to enjoy myself when I am brought out again.” + +But when was that to be? Why, one morning there came a quantity of +people and set to work in the loft. The trunks were moved, the tree was +pulled out and thrown—rather hard, it is true—down on the floor, but a +man drew him toward the stairs, where the daylight shone. + +“Now a merry life will begin again,” thought the Tree. He felt the +fresh air, the first sunbeam—and now he was out in the courtyard. All +passed so quickly, there was so much going on around him, that the Tree +quite forgot to look to himself. The court adjoined a garden, and all +was in flower; the roses hung so fresh and odorous over the balustrade, +the lindens were in blossom, the Swallows flew by, and said +“Quirre-vit! my husband is come!” but it was not the Fir tree that they +meant. + +“Now, then, I shall really enjoy life,” said he, exultingly, and spread +out his branches; but, alas! they were all withered and yellow. It was +in a corner that he lay, among weeds and nettles. The golden star of +tinsel was still on the top of the Tree, and glittered in the sunshine. + +In the courtyard some of the merry children were playing who had danced +at Christmas round the Fir tree, and were so glad at the sight of him. +One of the youngest ran and tore off the golden star. + +“Only look what is still on the ugly old Christmas tree!” said he, +trampling on the branches, so that they all cracked beneath his feet. + +And the Tree beheld all the beauty of the flowers, and the freshness in +the garden; he beheld himself, and wished he had remained in his dark +corner in the loft: he thought of his first youth in the wood, of the +Merry Christmas Eve, and of the little Mice who had listened with so +much pleasure to the story of Humpy-Dumpy. + +“’Tis over—’tis past!” said the poor Tree. “Had I but rejoiced when I +had reason to do so! But now ’tis past, ’tis past!” + +And the gardener’s boy chopped the Tree into small pieces; there was a +whole heap lying there. The wood flamed up splendidly under the large +brewing copper, and it sighed so deeply! Each sigh was like a shot. + +The boys played about in the court, and the youngest wore the gold star +on his breast which the Tree had had on the happiest evening of his +life. However, that was over now—the Tree gone, the story at an end. +All, all was over; every tale must end at last. + + + + +THE FLYING TRUNK + + +By Hans Christian Andersen + +There was once a merchant, who was so rich that he could pave the whole +street with gold, and almost have enough left for a little lane. But he +did not do that; he knew how to employ his money differently. When he +spent a shilling he got back a crown, such a clever merchant was he; +and this continued till he died. + +His son now got all this money; and he lived merrily, going to the +masquerade every evening, making kites out of dollar notes, and playing +at ducks and drakes on the seacoast with gold pieces instead of +pebbles. In this way the money might soon be spent, and indeed it was +so. At last he had no more than four shillings left, and no clothes to +wear but a pair of slippers and an old dressing gown. + +Now his friends did not trouble themselves any more about him as they +could not walk with him in the street, but one of them, who was +good-natured, sent him an old trunk, with the remark: “Pack up!” Yes, +that was all very well, but he had nothing to pack, therefore he seated +himself in the trunk. + +That was a wonderful trunk. So soon as any one pressed the lock the +trunk could fly. He pressed it, and whirr! away flew the trunk with him +through the chimney and over the clouds farther and farther away. But +as often as the bottom of the trunk cracked a little he was in great +fear lest it might go to pieces, and then he would have flung a fine +somersault! In that way he came to the land of the Turks. He hid the +trunk in a wood under some dry leaves, and then went into the town. He +could do that very well, for among the Turks all the people went about +dressed like himself in dressing gown and slippers. Then he met a nurse +with a little child. + +“Here, you Turkish nurse,” he began, “what kind of a great castle is +that close by the town, in which the windows are so high up?” + +“There dwells the Sultan’s daughter,” replied she. “It is prophesied +that she will be very unhappy respecting a lover; and therefore nobody +may go near her, unless the Sultan and Sultana are there too.” + +“Thank you!” said the Merchant’s Son; and he went out into the forest, +seated himself in his trunk, flew on the roof, and crept through the +window into the Princess’s room. + +She was lying asleep on the sofa, and she was so beautiful that the +Merchant’s Son was compelled to kiss her. Then she awoke, and was +startled very much; but he said he was a Turkish angel who had come +down to her through the air, and that pleased her. + +They sat down side by side, and he told her stories about her eyes; and +he told her they were the most glorious dark lakes, and that thoughts +were swimming about in them like mermaids. And he told her about her +forehead; that it was a snowy mountain with the most splendid halls and +pictures. And he told her about the stork who brings the lovely little +children. + +Yes, those were fine histories! Then he asked the Princess if she would +marry him, and she said, “Yes,” directly. + +“But you must come here on Saturday,” said she. “Then the Sultan and +Sultana will be here to tea. They will be very proud that I am to marry +a Turkish angel. But take care that you know a very pretty story, for +both my parents are very fond indeed of stories. My mother likes them +high-flown and moral, but my father likes them merry, so that one can +laugh.” + +“Yes, I shall bring no marriage gift but a story,” said he; and so they +parted. But the Princess gave him a saber, the sheath embroidered with +gold pieces and that was very useful to him. + +Now he flew away, bought a new dressing gown, and sat in the forest and +made up a story; it was to be ready by Saturday, and that was not an +easy thing. + +By the time he had finished it Saturday had come. The Sultan and his +wife and all the court were at the ‘Princess’s to tea. He was received +very graciously. + +“Will you relate us a story?” said the Sultana; “one that is deep and +edifying.” + +“Yes, but one that we can laugh at,” said the Sultan. + +“Certainly,” he replied; and so began. And now listen well. + +“There was once a bundle of Matches, and these Matches were +particularly proud of their high descent. Their genealogical tree, that +is to say, the great fir tree of which each of them was a little +splinter, had been a great old tree out in the forest. The Matches now +lay between a Tinder-box and an old Iron Pot; and they were telling +about the days of their youth. ‘Yes, when we were upon the green +boughs,’ they said, ‘then we really were upon the green boughs! Every +morning and evening there was diamond tea for us—I mean dew; we had +sunshine all day long whenever the sun shone, and all the little birds +had to tell stories. We could see very well that we were rich, for the +other trees were only dressed out in summer, while our family had the +means to wear green dresses in the winter as well. But then the +woodcutter came, like a great revolution, and our family was broken up. +The head of the family got an appointment as mainmast in a first-rate +ship, which could sail round the world if necessary; the other branches +went to other places, and now we have the office of kindling a light +for the vulgar herd. That’s how we grand people came to be in the +kitchen.’ + +“‘My fate was of different kind,’ said the Iron Pot, which stood next +to the Matches. ‘From the beginning, ever since I came into the world, +there has been a great deal of scouring and cooking done in me. I look +after the practical part, and am the first here in the house. My only +pleasure is to sit in my place after dinner, very clean and neat, and +to carry on a sensible conversation with my comrades. But except the +Waterpot, which is sometimes taken down into the courtyard, we always +live within our four walls. Our only newsmonger is the Market Basket; +but he speaks very uneasily about the government and the people. Yes, +the other day there was an old pot that fell down, from fright, and +burst. He’s liberal, I can tell you!’—‘Now you’re talking too much,’ +the Tinder-box interrupted, and the steel struck against the flint, so +that sparks flew out. ‘Shall we not have a merry evening?’ + +“‘Yes, let us talk about who is the grandest,’ said the Matches. + +“‘No, I don’t like to talk about myself,’ retorted the Pot. ‘Let us get +up an evening entertainment. I will begin. I will tell a story from +real life, something that everyone has experienced, so that we can +easily imagine the situation, and take pleasure in it. On the Baltic, +by the Danish shore—’ + +“‘That’s a pretty beginning!’ cried all the Plates. ‘That will be a +story we shall like.’ + +“‘Yes, it happened to me in my youth, when I lived in a family where +the furniture was polished, the floors scoured, and new curtains were +put up every fortnight.’ + +“‘What an interesting way you have of telling a story!’ said the Carpet +Broom. ‘One can tell directly that a man is speaking who has been in +woman’s society. There’s something pure runs through it.’ + +“And the Pot went on telling the story, and the end was as good as the +beginning. + +“All the Plates rattled with joy, and the Carpet Broom brought some +green parsley out of the dust hole, and put it like a wreath on the +Pot, for he knew that it would vex the others. ‘If I crown him to-day,’ +it thought, ‘he will crown me tomorrow.’ + +“‘Now I’ll dance,’ said the Fire Tongs; and they danced. Preserve us! +how that implement could lift up one leg! The old chair-cushion burst +to see it. ‘Shall I be crowned too?’ thought the Tongs; and indeed a +wreath was awarded. + +“‘They’re only common people, after all!’ thought the Matches. + +“Now the Tea Urn was to sing; but she said she had taken cold and could +not sing unless she felt boiling within. But that was only affectation: +she did not want to sing, except when she was in the parlor with the +grand people. + +“In the window sat an old Quill Pen, with which the maid generally +wrote: there was nothing remarkable about this pen, except that it had +been dipped too deep into the ink, but she was proud of that. ‘If the +Tea Urn won’t sing,’ she said, ‘she may leave it alone. Outside hangs a +nightingale in a cage, and he can sing. He hasn’t had any education, +but this evening we’ll say nothing about that.’ + +“‘I think it very wrong,’ said the Teakettle—he was the kitchen singer, +and half brother to the Tea Urn—‘that that rich and foreign bird should +be listened to. Is that patriotic? Let the Market Basket decide.’ + +“‘I am vexed,’ said the Market Basket. ‘No one can imagine how much I +am secretly vexed. Is that a proper way of spending the evening? Would +it not be more sensible to put the house in order? Let each one go to +his own place, and I will arrange the whole game. That would be quite +another thing.’ + +‘Yes, let us make a disturbance, cried they all. Then the door opened, +and the maid came in, and they all stood still; not one stirred. But +there was not one pot among them who did not know what he could do and +how grand he was. ‘Yes, if I had liked,’ each one thought, ‘it might +have been a very merry evening.’ + +“The servant girl took the Matches and lighted the fire with them. +mercy! how they sputtered and burst out into flame! ‘Now everyone can +see,’ thought they, ‘that we are the first. How we shine! what a +light!’—and they burned out.” + +“That was a capital story,” said the Sultana. “I feel myself quite +carried away to the kitchen, to the Matches. Yes, now thou shalt marry +our daughter.” + +“Yes, certainly,” said the Sultan, “thou shalt marry our daughter on +Monday.” + +And they called him thou, because he was to belong to the family. + +The wedding was decided on, and on the evening before it the whole city +was illuminated. Biscuits and cakes were thrown among the people, the +street boys stood on their toes, called out “Hurrah!” and whistled on +their fingers. It was uncommonly splendid. + +“Yes, I shall have to give something as a treat,” thought the +Merchant’s Son. So he bought rockets and crackers, and every imaginable +sort of fire-work, put them all into his trunk, and flew up into the +air. + +“Crack!” how they went, and how they went off! All the Turks hopped up +with such a start that their slippers flew about their ears; such a +meteor they had never yet seen. Now they could understand that it must +be a Turkish angel who was going to marry the Princess. + +What stories people tell! Everyone whom he asked about it had seen it +in a separate way; but one and all thought it fine. + +“I saw the Turkish angel himself,” said one. “He had eyes like glowing +stars, and a beard like foaming water.” + +“He flew up in a fiery mantle,” said another; “the most lovely little +cherub peeped forth from among the folds.” + +Yes, they were wonderful things that he heard; and on the following day +he was to be married. + +Now he went back to the forest to rest himself in his trunk. But what +had become of that? A spark from the fireworks had set fire to it, and +the trunk was burned to ashes. He could not fly any more, and could not +get to his bride. + +She stood all day on the roof waiting; and most likely she is waiting +still. But he wanders through the world, telling fairy tales; but they +are not so merry as that one he told about the Matches. + + + + +THE DARNING NEEDLE + + +By Hans Christian Andersen + +There was once a darning needle, who thought herself so fine, she +imagined she was an embroidery needle. + +“Take care, and mind you hold me tight!” she said to the Fingers that +took her out. “Don’t let me fall! If I fall on the ground I shall +certainly never be found again, for I am so fine!” + +“That’s as it may be,” said the Fingers; and they grasped her round the +body. + +“See, I’m coming with a train!” said the Darning Needle, and she drew a +long thread after her, but there was no knot in the thread. + +The Fingers pointed the needle just at the cook’s slipper, in which the +upper leather had burst, and was to be sewn together. + +“That’s vulgar work,” said the Darning Needle. “I shall never get +through. I’m breaking! I’m breaking!” And she really broke. “Did I not +say so?” said the Darning Needle; “I’m too fine!” + +“Now it’s quite useless,” said the Fingers; but they were obliged to +hold her fast, all the same; for the cook dropped some sealing wax upon +the needle, and pinned her handkerchief together with it in front. + +“So, now I’m a breastpin!” said the Darning Needle. “I knew very well +that I should come to honor: when one is something, one comes to +something!” + +And she laughed quietly to herself—and one can never see when a darning +needle laughs. There she sat, as proud as if she was in a state coach, +and looked all about her. + +“May I be permitted to ask if you are of gold?” she inquired of the +pin, her neighbor. “You have a very pretty appearance, and a peculiar +head, but it is only little. You must take pains to grow, for it’s not +everyone that has sealing wax dropped upon him.” + +And the Darning Needle drew herself up so proudly that she fell out of +the handkerchief right into the sink, which the cook was rinsing out. + +“Now we’re going on a journey,” said the Darning Needle. “If I only +don’t get lost!” + +But she really was lost. + +“I’m too fine for this world,” she observed, as she lay in the gutter. +“But I know who I am, and there’s always something in that!” + +So the Darning Needle kept her proud behavior, and did not lose her +good humor. And things of many kinds swam over her, chips and straws +and pieces of old newspapers. + +“Only look how they sail!” said the Darning Needle. “They don’t know +what is under them! I’m here, I remain firmly here. See, there goes a +chip thinking of nothing in the world but of himself—of a chip! There’s +a straw going by now. How he turns! how he twirls about! Don’t think +only of yourself, you might easily run up against a stone. There swims +a bit of newspaper. What’s written upon it has long been forgotten, and +yet it gives itself airs. I sit quietly and patiently here. I know who +I am, and I shall remain what I am.” + +One day something lay close beside her that glittered splendidly; then +the Darning Needle believed that it was a diamond; but it was a bit of +broken bottle; and because it shone, the Darning Needle spoke to it, +introducing herself as a breastpin. + +“I suppose you are a diamond?” she observed. + +“Why, yes, something of that kind.” + +And then each believed the other to be a very valuable thing; and they +began speaking about the world, and how very conceited it was. + +“I have been in a lady’s box,” said the Darning Needle, “and this lady +was a cook. She had five fingers on each hand, and I never saw anything +so conceited as those five fingers. And yet they were only there that +they might take me out of the box and put me back into it.” + +“Were they of good birth?” asked the Bit of Bottle. + +“No, indeed,” cried the Darning Needle, “but very haughty. There were +five brothers, all of the finger family. They kept very proudly +together, though they were of different lengths: the outermost, the +thumbling, was short and fat; he walked out in front of the ranks, and +only had one joint in his back, and could only make a single bow; but +he said that if he were hacked off a man, that man was useless for +service in war. Daintymouth, the second finger, thrust himself into +sweet and sour, pointed to sun and moon, and gave the impression when +they wrote. Longrnan, the third, looked at all the others over his +shoulder. Goldborder, the fourth, went about with a golden belt round +his waist; and little Playman did nothing at all, and was proud of it. +There was nothing but bragging among them, and therefore I went away.” + +“And now we sit here and glitter!” said the Bit of Bottle. + +At that moment more water came into the gutter, so that it overflowed, +and the Bit of Bottle was carried away. + +“So he is disposed of,” observed the Darning Needle. “I remain here, I +am too fine. But that’s my pride, and my pride is honorable.” And +proudly she sat there, and had many great thoughts. “I could almost +believe I had been born of a sunbeam, I’m so fine! It really appears as +if the sunbeams were always seeking for me under the water. Ah! I’m so +fine that my mother cannot find me. If I had my old eye, which broke +off, I think I should cry; but, no, I should not do that: it’s not +genteel to cry.” + +One day a couple of street boys lay grubbing in the gutter where they +sometimes find old nails, farthings, and similar treasures. It was +dirty work, but they took great delight in it. + +“Oh!” cried one, who had pricked himself with the Darning Needle, +there’s a fellow for you!” + +“I’m not a fellow; I’m a young lady!” said the Darning Needle. + +But nobody listened to her. The sealing wax had come off, and she had +turned black; but black makes one look slender, and she thought herself +finer even than before. + +“Here comes an eggshell sailing along!” said the boys; and they stuck +the Darning Needle fast in the eggshell. + +“White walls, and black myself! that looks well,” remarked the Darning +Needle. “Now one can see me. I only hope I shall not be seasick!” But +she was not seasick at all. “It is good against seasickness, if one has +a steel stomach, and does not forget that one is a little more than an +ordinary person! Now my seasickness is over. The finer one is, the more +one can bear.” + +“Crack!” went the eggshell, for a wagon went over her. + +“Good heavens, how it crushes one!” said the Darning Needle. “I’m +getting seasick now—I’m quite sick.” + +But she was not really sick, though the wagon went over her; she lay +there at full length, and there she may lie. + + + + +PEN AND INKSTAND + + +By Hans Christian Andersen + +The following remark was made in a poet’s room, as the speaker looked +at the inkstand that stood upon his table: + +“It is marvelous all that can come out of that ink-stand! What will it +produce next? Yes, it is marvelous!” + +“So it is!” exclaimed the Inkstand. “It is incomprehensible! That is +what I always say.” It was thus the Inkstand addressed itself to the +Pen, and to everything else that could hear it on the table. “It is +really astonishing all that can come from me! It is almost incredible! +I positively do not know myself what the next thing may be, when a +person begins to dip into me. One drop of me serves for half a side of +paper; and what may not then appear upon it? I am certainly something +extraordinary. From me proceed all the works of the poets. These +animated beings, whom people think they recognize—these deep feelings, +that gay humor, these charming descriptions of nature—I do not +understand them myself, for I know nothing about nature; but still it +is all in me. From me have gone forth, and still go forth, these +warrior hosts, these lovely maidens, these bold knights on snorting +steeds, those droll characters in humbler life. The fact is, however, +that I do not know anything about them myself. I assure you they are +not my ideas.” + +“You are right there,” replied the Pen. “You have few ideas, and do not +trouble yourself much with thinking, if you did exert yourself to +think, you would perceive that you ought to give something that was not +dry. You supply me with the means of committing to paper what I have in +me; I write with that. It is the pen that writes. Mankind do not doubt +that; and most men have about as much genius for poetry as an old +inkstand.” + +“You have but little experience,” said the ink-stand. “You have +scarcely been a week in use, and you are already half worn out. Do you +fancy that you are a poet? You are only a servant: and I have had many +of your kind before you came—many of the goose family, and of English +manufacture. I know both quill pens and steel pens. I have had a great +many in my service, and I shall have many more still, when he, the man +who stirs me up, comes and puts down what he takes from me. I should +like very much to know what will be the next thing he will take from +me.” + +“Ink tub!” said the Pen. + +Late in the evening the Poet returned home. He had been at a concert, +had heard a celebrated violin player, and was quite enchanted with his +wonderful performance. It had been a complete gush of melody that he +had drawn from the instrument. Sometimes it seemed like the gentle +murmur of a rippling stream, sometimes like the singing of birds, +sometimes like the tempest sweeping through the mighty pine forests, he +fancied he heard his own heart weep, but in the sweet tones that can be +heard in a woman’s charming voice. It seemed as if not only the strings +of the violin made music, but its bridge, its pegs, and its sounding +board. It was astonishing! The piece had been a most difficult one; but +it seemed like play—as if the bow were but wandering capriciously over +the strings. Such was the appearance of facility, that everyone might +have supposed he could do it. The violin seemed to sound of itself, the +bow to play of itself. These two seemed to do it all. One forgot the +master who guided them, who gave them life and soul. Yes, they forgot +the master; but the Poet thought of him. He named him, and wrote down +his thoughts as follows: + +“How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow, were they to be +vain in their performance! And yet this is what so often we of the +human species are. Poets, artists, those who make discoveries in +science, military and naval commanders—we are all proud of ourselves; +and yet we are all only the instruments in our Lord’s hands. To Him +alone be the glory! We have nothing to arrogate to ourselves.” + +This was what the Poet wrote; and he headed it with: “The Master and +the Instruments.” + +“Well, madam,” said the Pen to the Inkstand when they were again alone, +“you heard him read aloud what I had written.” + +“Yes, what I gave you to write,” said the Ink-stand. “It was a hit at +you for your conceit. Strange that you cannot see that people make a +fool of you! I gave you that hit pretty cleverly. I confess, though, it +was rather malicious.” + +“Inkholder!” cried the Pen. + +“Writing stick!” cried the Inkstand. + +They both felt assured that they had answered well; and it is a +pleasant reflection that one has made a smart reply—one sleeps +comfortably after it. And they both went to sleep; but the Poet could +not sleep. His thoughts welded forth like the tones from the violin, +trilling like pearls, rushing like a storm through the forest. He +recognized the feeling of his own heart—he perceived the gleam from the +everlasting Master. + +To Him alone be the glory! + + + + +CINDERELLA + + +Retold by Miss Mulock + +There was once an honest gentleman who took for his second wife a lady, +the proudest and most disagreeable in the whole country. She had two +daughters exactly like herself in all things. He also had one little +girl, who resembled her dead mother, the best woman in all the world. +Scarcely had the second marriage taken place, than the stepmother +became jealous of the good qualities of the little girl who was so +great a contrast to her own two daughters. She gave her all the menial +occupations of the house; compelled her to wash the floors and +staircases; to dust the bedrooms, and clean the grates; and while her +sisters occupied carpeted chambers hung with mirrors, where they could +see themselves from head to foot, this poor little damsel was sent to +sleep in an attic, on an old straw mattress, with only one chair and +not a looking-glass in the room. + +She suffered all in silence, not daring to complain to her father, who +was entirely ruled by his new wife. When her daily work was done, she +used to sit down in the chimney corner among the ashes; from which the +two sisters gave her the nickname of Cinderella. But Cinderella, +however, shabbily clad, was handsomer than they were with all their +fine clothes. + +It happened that the king’s son gave a series of balls, to which were +invited all the rank and fashion of the city, and among the rest the +two elder sisters. They were very proud and happy, and occupied their +whole time in deciding what they should wear; a source of new trouble +to Cinderella, whose duty it was to get up their fine linen and laces, +and who never could please them however much she tried. They talked of +nothing but their clothes. + +“I,” said the elder, “shall wear my velvet gown and my trimmings of +English lace.” + +“And I,” added the younger, “will have but my ordinary silk petticoat, +but I shall adorn it with an upper skirt of flowered brocade, and shall +put on my diamond tiara, which is a great deal finer than anything of +yours.” + +Here the elder sister grew angry, and the dispute began to run so high +that Cinderella, who was known to have excellent taste, was called upon +to decide between them. She gave them the best advice she could, and +gently and submissively offered to dress them herself, and especially +to arrange their hair, an accomplishment in which she excelled many a +noted coiffeur. The important evening came, and she exercised all her +skill to adorn the two young ladies. While she was combing out the +elder’s hair, this ill-natured girl said sharply, “Cinderella, do you +not wish you were going to the ball?” + +“Ah, madam” (they obliged her always to say madam), “you are only +mocking me; it is not my fortune to have any such pleasure.” + +“You are right; people would only laugh to see a little cinder wench at +a ball.” + +Any other than Cinderella would have dressed the hair all awry, but she +was good, and dressed it perfectly even and smooth, and as prettily as +she could. + +The sisters had scarcely eaten for two days, and had broken a dozen +staylaces a day, in trying to make themselves slender; but to-night +they broke a dozen more, and lost their tempers over and over again +before they had completed their toilet. When at last the happy moment +arrived, Cinderella followed them to the coach; after it had whirled +them away, she sat down by the kitchen fire and cried. + +Immediately her godmother, who was a fairy, appeared beside her. “What +are you crying for, my little maid?” + +“Oh, I wish—I wish—” Her sobs stopped her. + +“You wish to go to the ball; isn’t it so?” + +Cinderella nodded. + +“Well then, be a good girl, and you shall go. First run into the garden +and fetch me the largest pumpkin you can find.” + +Cinderella did not comprehend what this had to do with her going to the +ball, but being obedient and obliging, she went. Her godmother took the +pumpkin, and having scooped out all its inside, struck it with her +wand; it became a splendid gilt coach, lined with rose-colored satin. + +“Now fetch me the mousetrap out of the pantry, my dear.” + +Cinderella brought it; it contained six of the fattest, sleekest mice. +The fairy lifted up the wire door, and as each mouse ran out she struck +it and changed it into a beautiful black horse. + +“But what shall I do for your coachman, Cinderella?” + +Cinderella suggested that she had seen a large black rat in the rat +trap, and he might do for want of better. + +“You are right; go and look again for him.” + +He was found; and the fairy made him into a most respectable coachman, +with the finest whiskers imaginable. She afterward took six lizards +from behind the pumpkin frame, and changed them into six footmen, all +in splendid livery, who immediately jumped up behind the carriage, as +if they had been footmen all their days. “Well, Cinderella, now you can +go to the ball.” + +“What, in these clothes?” said Cinderella piteously, looking down on +her ragged frock. + +Her godmother laughed, and touched her also with the wand; at which her +wretched threadbare jacket became stiff with gold, and sparkling with +jewels; her woolen petticoat lengthened into a gown of sweeping satin, +from underneath which peeped out her little feet, no longer bare, but +covered with silk stockings, and the prettiest glass slippers in the +world. “Now, Cinderella, depart; but remember, if you stay one instant +after midnight, your carriage will become a pumpkin, your coachman a +rat, your horses mice, and your footmen lizards; while you, yourself, +will be the little cinder wench you were an hour ago.” + +Cinderella promised without fear, her heart was so full of joy. + +Arrived at the palace, the king’s son, whom some one, probably the +fairy, had told to await the coming of an uninvited princess, whom +nobody knew, was standing at the entrance, ready to receive her. He +offered her his hand, and led her with the utmost courtesy through the +assembled guests, who stood aside to let her pass, whispering to one +another, “Oh, how beautiful she is!” It might have turned the head of +anyone but poor Cinderella, who was so used to be despised, that she +took it all as if it were something happening in a dream. + +Her triumph was complete; even the old king said to the queen, that +never since her majesty’s young days had he seen so charming and +elegant a person. All the court ladies scanned her eagerly, clothes and +all, determining to have theirs made next day of exactly the same +pattern. The king’s son himself led her out to dance, and she danced so +gracefully that he admired her more and more. Indeed, at supper, which +was fortunately early, his admiration quite took away his appetite. For +Cinderella, herself, with an involuntary shyness, sought out her +sisters; placed herself beside them and offered them all sorts of civil +attentions, which coming as they supposed from a stranger, and so +magnificent a lady, almost overwhelmed them with delight. + +While she was talking with them, she heard the clock strike a quarter +to twelve, and making a courteous adieu to the royal family, she +reentered her carriage, escorted tenderly by the king’s son, and +arrived in safety at her own door. There she found her godmother, who +smiled approval; and of whom she begged permission to go to a second +ball, the following night, to which the queen had earnestly invited +her. + +While she was talking, the two sisters were heard knocking at the gate, +and the fairy godmother vanished, leaving Cinderella sitting in the +chimney corner, rubbing her eves and pretending to be very sleepy. + +“Ah,” cried the eldest sister maliciously, “it has been the most +delightful ball, and there was present the most beautiful princess I +ever saw, who was so exceedingly polite to us both.” + +“Was she?” said Cinderella indifferently; “and who might she be?” + +“Nobody knows, though everybody would give their eyes to know, +especially the king’s Son.” + +“Indeed!” replied Cinderella, a little more interested; “I should like +to see her. Miss Javotte”—that was the elder sister’s name—“will you +not let me go to-morrow, and lend me your yellow gown that you wear on +Sundays?” + +“What, lend my yellow gown to a cinder wench! I am not so mad as that;” +at which refusal Cinderella did not complain, for if her sister really +had lent her the gown, she would have been considerably embarrassed. + +The next night came, and the two young ladies, richly dressed in +different toilets, went to the ball. + +Cinderella, more splendidly attired and beautiful than ever, followed +them shortly after. “Now remember twelve o’clock,” was her godmother’s +parting speech; and she thought she certainly should. But the prince’s +attentions to her were greater even than the first evening, and in the +delight of listening to his pleasant conversation, time slipped by +unperceived. While she was sitting beside him in a lovely alcove, and +looking at the moon from under a bower of orange blossoms, she heard a +clock strike the first stroke of twelve. She started up, and fled away +as lightly as a deer. + +Amazed, the prince followed, but could not catch her. Indeed he missed +his lovely princess altogether, and only saw running out of the palace +doors, a little dirty lass whom he had never beheld before, and of whom +he certainly would never have taken the least notice. Cinderella +arrived at home breathless and weary, ragged and cold, without +carriage, or footman or coachman; the only remnant of her past +magnificence being one of her little glass slippers—the other she had +dropped in the ballroom as she ran away. + +When the two sisters returned, they were full of this strange +adventure, how the beautiful lady had appeared at the ball more +beautiful than ever, and enchanted everyone who looked at her; and how +as the clock was striking twelve she had suddenly risen up and fled +through the ballroom, disappearing no one knew how or where, and +dropping one of her glass slippers behind her in her flight. How the +king’s son had remained inconsolable, until he chanced to pick up the +little glass slipper, which he carried away in his pocket, and was seen +to take it out continually, and look at it affectionately, with the air +of a man very much in love; in fact, from his behavior during the +remainder of the evening, all the court and royal family were convinced +that he had become desperately enamored of the wearer of the little +glass slipper. + +Cinderella listened in silence, turning her face to the kitchen fire, +and perhaps it was that which made her look so rosy, but nobody ever +noticed or admired her at home, so it did not signify, and next morning +she went to her weary work again just as before. + +A few days after, the whole city was attracted by the sight of a herald +going round with a little glass slipper in his hand, publishing with a +flourish of trumpets, that the king’s son ordered this to be fitted on +the foot of every lady in the kingdom, and that he wished to marry the +lady whom it fitted best, or to whom it and the fellow slipper +belonged. Princesses, duchesses, countesses, and simple gentlewomen all +tried it on, but being a fairy slipper, it fitted nobody; and besides, +nobody could produce its fellow slipper, which lay all the time safely +in the pocket of Cinderella’s old linsey gown. + +At last the herald came to the house of the two sisters, and though +they well knew neither of themselves was the beautiful lady, they made +every attempt to get their clumsy feet into the glass slipper, but in +vain. + +“Let me try it on,” said Cinderella from the chimney corner. + +“What, you?” cried the others, bursting into shouts of laughter; but +Cinderella only smiled, and held out her hand. + +Her sisters cou1d not prevent her, since the command was that every +young maiden in the city should try on the slipper, in order that no +chance might be left untried, for the prince was nearly breaking his +heart; and his father and mother were afraid that though a prince, he +would actually die for love of the beautiful unknown lady. + +So the herald bade Cinderella sit down on a three-legged stool in the +kitchen, and himself put the slipper on her pretty little foot, which +it fitted exactly; she then drew from her pocket the fellow slipper, +which she also put on, and stood up—for with the touch of the magic +shoes all her dress was changed likewise—no longer the poor despised +cinder wench, but the beautiful lady whom the king’s son loved. + +Her sisters recognized her at once. Filled with astonishment, mingled +with no little alarm, they threw themselves at her feet, begging her +pardon for all their former unkindness. She raised and embraced them; +told them she forgave them with all her heart, and only hoped they +would love her always. Then she departed with the herald to the king’s +palace, and told her whole story to his majesty and the royal family, +who were not in the least surprised, for everybody believed in fairies, +and everybody longed to have a fairy godmother. + +For the young prince, he found her more lovely and lovable than ever, +and insisted upon marrying her immediately. Cinderella never went home +again, but she sent for her two sisters to the palace, and with the +consent of all parties married them shortly after to two rich gentlemen +of the court. + + + + +LITTLE RED RIDING-HOOD + + +By Charles Perrault + +Once upon a time there lived in a certain village a little country +girl, the prettiest creature ever seen. Her mother was very fond of +her, and her grandmother doted on her still more. This good woman had +made for her a little red riding-hood, which became the girl so well +that everybody called her Little Red Riding-Hood. + +One day her mother, having made some custards, said to her: + +“Go, my dear, and see how thy grandmamma does, for I hear she has been +very ill; carry her a custard and this little pot of butter.” + +Little Red Riding-Hood set out immediately to go to her grandmother, +who lived in another village. + +As she was going through the wood she met with Gaffer Wolf, who had a +very great mind to eat her up, but he durst not, because of some fagot +makers hard by in the forest. He asked her whither she was going. The +poor child, who did not know that it was dangerous to stop and listen +to a wolf, said to him: + +“I am going to see my grandmamma and carry her a custard and a little +pot of butter from my mamma.” + +“Does she live far off?” said the Wolf. + +“Oh! yes,” answered Little Red Riding-Hood; “it is beyond that mill you +see there, at the first house in the village.” + +“Well,” said the Wolf, “I’ll go and see her, too. I’ll go this way and +you go that, and we shall see who will be there soonest.” + +The Wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the nearest way, and +the little girl went by the longest, diverting herself in gathering +nuts, running after butterflies, and making nosegays of such little +flowers as she met with. The Wolf was not long before he got to the old +woman’s house. He knocked at the door—tap, tap. + +“Who’s there?” + +“Your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood,” replied the Wolf, imitating +her voice; “who has brought you a custard and a little pot of butter +sent you by mamma.” + +The good grandmother, who was in bed, because she was ill, cried out: + +“Pull the bobbin, and the latch will go up.” + +The Wolf pulled the bobbin, and the door opened, and he fell upon the +good woman and ate her up in a moment, for it was above three days that +he had not touched a bit. He then shut the door and went into the +grandmother’s bed, expecting Little Red Riding-Hood, who came some time +afterward and knocked at the door—tap, tap. + +“Who’s there?” + +Little Red Riding-Hood, hearing the big voice of the Wolf, was at first +afraid; but believing her grandmother had got a cold and was hoarse, +answered: + +’Tis your grandchild, Little Red Riding-Hood, who has brought you a +custard and a little pot of butter mamma sends you.” + +The Wolf cried out to her, softening his voice as much as he could: + +“Pull the bobbin and the latch will go up.” + +Little Red Riding-Hood pulled the bobbin and the door opened. + +The wolf, seeing her come in, said to her, hiding himself under the +bedclothes: + +“Put the custard and the little pot of butter upon the stool, and come +and lie down with me.” + +Little Red Riding-Hood undressed herself and went into bed, where, +being greatly amazed to see how her grandmother looked in her night +clothes, she said to her: + +“Grandmamma, what great arms you’ve got!” + +“That is the better to hug thee, my dear.” + +“Grandmamma, what great legs you’ve got!” + +“The better to run, my child.” + +“Grandmamma, what great ears you’ve got!” + +“The better to hear, my child!” + +“Grandmamma, what great eyes you’ve got!” + +“The better to see, my child.” + +“Grandmamma, what great teeth you’ve got!” + +“To eat thee up!” + +And saying these words, the wicked Wolf fell upon Little Red +Riding-Hood and ate her all up. + + + + +THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS + + +By Robert Southey + +Once upon a time there were three Bears, who lived together in a house +of their own in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and +one was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They +had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the Little, Small, +Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot +for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in: a little +chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the +Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had +each a bed to sleep in: a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; +and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the +Great, Huge Bear. + +One day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast and +poured it into their porridge pots, they walked out into the wood while +the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by +beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking a little old +woman came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest, old +woman; for, first, she looked in at the window, and then she peeped in +at the keyhole, and, seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. +The door was not fastened, because the bears were good bears, who did +nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would harm them. So +the little old woman opened the door and went in; and well pleased she +was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she had been a good +little old woman she would have waited till the bears came home, and +then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast, for they were +good hears—a little rough or so, as the manner of bear’s is, but for +all that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad +old woman, and set about helping herself. + +So first she tasted the porridge of the Great Huge Bear, and that was +too hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she +tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her; +and she said a bad word about that, too. And then she went to the +porridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that, and that was +neither too hot nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well +that she ate it all up; but the naughty old woman said a bad word about +the little porridge pot, because it did not hold enough for her. + +Then the little old woman sat down in the chair of the Great, Huge +Bear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sat down in the chair +of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sat +down in the chair of the Little Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither +too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and +there she sat till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came she, +plump upon the ground. And the naughty old woman said wicked words +about that, too. + +Then the little old woman went upstairs into the bedchamber in which +the three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the +Great, Huge Bear, but that was too high at the head for her. And next +she lay down upon the bed of the Middle Bear, and that was too high at +the foot for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, +Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too high at the head nor at the +foot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay +there till she fell asleep. By this time the three Bears thought their +porridge would be cool enough, so they came home to breakfast. Now the +little old woman had left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear standing in +his porridge. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!” + + +said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great gruff voice. And when the +Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it, +too. They were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones the naughty +old woman would have put them in her pocket. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!” + + +said the middle Bear, in his middle voice. + +Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon +in the porridge pot, but the porridge was all gone. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE, AND HAS EATEN IT ALL UP!” + + +said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice. + +Upon this the three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their house +and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear’s breakfast, began to look +about them. Now the little old woman had not put the hard cushion +straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!” + + +said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. + +And the little old woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the +Middle Bear. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!” + + +said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice. + +And you know what the little old woman had done to the third chair. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR, AND HAS SAT THE BOTTOM OUT OF +IT!” + + +said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice. + +Then the three bears thought it necessary that they should make further +search; so they went upstairs into their bedchamber. Now the little old +woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its place. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!” + + +said the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. + +And the little old woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out +of its place. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!” + + +said the Middle Bear, in his middle voice. + +And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was +the bolster in its place, and upon the pillow was the little old +woman’s ugly, dirty head—which was not in its place, for she had no +business there. + +“SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED—AND HERE SHE IS!” + + +said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice. + +The little old woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff +voice of the Great, Huge Bear, but she was so fast asleep that it was +no more to her than the moaning of wind or the rumbling of thunder. And +she had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as +if she had heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the +little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so +sharp and so shrill that it awakened her at once. Up she started, and +when she saw the three bears on one side of the bed she tumbled herself +out at the other and ran to the window. Now the window was open, +because the Bears, like good, tidy bears as they were, always opened +their bedchamber window when they got up in the morning. Out the little +old woman jumped, and whether she broke her neck in the fall or ran +into the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of the wood and +was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of Correction for a +vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the three Bears never saw +anything more of her. + + + + +PUSS IN BOOTS + + +By Charles Perrault + +A miller, dying, divided all his property between his three children. +This was very easy, as he had nothing to leave but his mill, his ass, +and his cat; so he made no will, and called in no lawyer. The eldest +son had the mill; the second, the ass; and the youngest, nothing but +the cat. The young fellow was quite downcast at so poor a lot. “My +brothers,” said he, “by putting their property together, may gain an +honest living, but there is nothing left for me except to die of +hunger, unless, indeed, I were to kill my cat and eat him, and make a +muff of his skin.” + +The cat, who heard all this, sat up on his four paws, and looking at +him with a grave and wise air, said: “Master, I think you had better +not kill me; I shall be much more useful to you alive.” + +“How so?” asked his master. + +“You have but to give me a sack and a pair of boots, such as gentlemen +wear when they go shooting, and you will find you are not so ill off as +you suppose.” + +Now, though the young man did not much depend upon the cat’s words, +still he thought it rather surprising that a cat should speak at all. +And he had before now seen him play a great many cunning tricks in +catching rats and mice, so that it seemed advisable to trust him a +little further; especially as—poor young fellow—he had nobody else to +trust. + +When the cat got his boots, he drew them on with a grand air, and +slinging his sack over his shoulder, and drawing the cords of it round +his neck, he marched bravely to a rabbit warren hard by, with which he +was well acquainted. Then, putting some bran and lettuces into his bag, +and stretching himself out beside it as if he were dead, he waited till +some fine, fat young rabbit, ignorant of the wickedness and deceit of +the world, should peep into the sack to eat the food that was inside. +This happened very shortly, for there are plenty of foolish young +rabbits in every warren; and when one of them, who really was a +splendid fat fellow, put his head inside, Master Puss drew the cords +immediately, and took him and killed him without mercy. Then, very +proud of his prey, he marched direct to the palace, and begged to speak +with the King. + +He was told to ascend to the apartment of his majesty, where, making a +low bow, he said: “Sire, here is a magnificent rabbit, killed in the +warren, which belongs to my lord the Marquis of Carabas, and which he +told me to offer humbly to your majesty.” + +“Tell your master,” replied the King, politely, “that I accept his +present, and am very much obliged to him.” + +Another time, Puss went out and hid himself and his sack in a wheat +field, and there caught two splendid fat partridges in the same manner +as he had done the rabbit. When he presented them to the King, with a +similar message as before, his majesty was so pleased that he ordered +the cat to be taken down into the kitchen and given something to eat +and drink; where, while enjoying himself, the faithful animal did not +cease to talk in the most cunning way of the large preserves and +abundant game which belonged to his lord the Marquis of Carabas. + +One day, hearing that the King was intending to take a drive along the +riverside with his daughter, the most beautiful princess in the world, +Puss said to his master: “Sir, if you would only follow my advice, your +fortune is made.” + +“Be it so,” said the miller’s son, who was growing disconsolate, and +cared very little what he did: “Say your say, cat.” + +“It is but little,” replied Puss, looking wise, as cats can. “You have +only to go and bathe in the river at a place which I shall show you, +and leave all the rest to me. Only remember that you are no longer +yourself, but my lord the Marquis of Carabas.” + +“Just so,” said the miller’s son, “it’s all the same to me;” but he did +as the cat told him. + +While he was bathing, the King and all the court passed by, and were +startled to hear loud cries of “Help! help! my lord the Marquis of +Carabas is drowning.” The King put his head out of the carriage, and +saw nobody but the cat, who had at different times brought him so many +presents of game; however, he ordered his guards to fly quickly to the +succor of my lord the Marquis of Carabas. While they were pulling the +unfortunate marquis out of the water, the cat came up, bowing, to the +side of the King’s carriage, and told a long and pitiful story about +some thieves who, while his master was bathing, had come and carried +away all his clothes, so that it would be impossible for him to appear +before his majesty and the illustrious princess. + +“Oh, we will soon remedy that,” answered the King, kindly and +immediately ordered one of the first officers of the household to ride +back to the palace with all speed, and bring thence a supply of fine +clothes for the young gentleman, who kept out of sight until they +arrived. Then, being handsome and well-made, his new clothes became him +so well, that he looked as if he had been a marquis all his days, and +advanced with an air of respectful ease to offer his thanks to his +majesty. + +The King received him courteously, and the princess admired him very +much. Indeed, so charming did he appear to her, that she hinted to her +father to invite him into the carriage with them, which, you may be +sure the young man did not refuse. The cat, delighted at the success of +his scheme, went away as fast as he could, and ran so swiftly that he +kept a long way ahead of the royal carriage. He went on and on, till he +came to some peasants who were mowing in a meadow. “Good people,” said +he, in a very firm voice, “the King is coming past here shortly, and if +you do not say that the field you are mowing belongs to my lord the +Marquis of Carabas, you shall all be chopped as small as mincemeat.” + +So when the King drove by, and asked whose meadow it was where there +was such a splendid crop of hay, the mowers all answered, trembling, +that it belonged to my lord the Marquis of Carabas. + +“You have very fine land, marquis,” said his majesty to the miller’s +son, who bowed, and answered that “it was not a bad meadow, take it +altogether.” + +Then the cat came to a wheat field, where the reapers were reaping with +all their might. He bounced in upon them: “The King is coming past +to-day, and if you do not tell him that this wheat belongs to my lord +the Marquis of Carabas, I will have you everyone chopped as small as +mincemeat.” The reapers, very much alarmed, did as they were bid, and +the King congratulated the marquis upon possessing such beautiful +fields, laden with such an abundant harvest. + +They drove on—the cat always running before and saying the same thing +to everybody he met, that they were to declare that the whole country +belonged to his master; so that even the King was astonished at the +vast estate of my lord the Marquis of Carabas. + +But now the cat arrived at a great castle where dwelt an Ogre, to whom +belonged all the land through which the royal carriage had been +driving. This Ogre was a cruel tyrant, and his tenants and servants +were terribly afraid of him, which accounted for their being so ready +to say whatever they were told to say by the cat, who had taken pains +to inform himself all about the Ogre. So, putting on the boldest face +he could assume, Puss marched up to the castle with his boots on, and +asked to see the owner of it, saying that he was on his travels, but +did not wish to pass so near the castle of such a noble gentleman +without paying his respects to him. When the Ogre heard this message, +he went to the door, received the cat as civilly as an Ogre can, and +begged him to walk in and repose himself. + +“Thank you, sir,” said the cat; “but first I hope you will satisfy a +traveler’s curiosity. I have heard in far countries of your many +remarkable qualities, and especially how you have the power to change +yourself into any sort of beast you choose—a lion, for instance, or an +elephant.” + +“That is quite true,” replied the Ogre; “and lest you should doubt it I +will immediately become a lion.” + +He did so; and the cat was so frightened that he sprang up to the roof +of the castle and hid himself in the gutter—a proceeding rather +inconvenient on account of his boots, which were not exactly fitted to +walk with on tiles. At length, perceiving that the Ogre had resumed his +original form, he came down again, and owned that he had been very much +frightened. + +“But, sir,” said he, “it may be easy enough for such a big gentleman as +you to change himself into a large animal; I do not suppose you could +become a small one—a rat, or mouse, for instance. I have heard that you +can; still, for my part, I consider it quite impossible.” + +“Impossible!” cried the other, indignantly. “You shall see!” and +immediately the cat saw the Ogre no longer, but a little mouse running +along on the floor. + +This was exactly what Puss wanted; and he fell upon him at once and ate +him up. So there was an end to the Ogre. + +By this time the King had arrived opposite the castle, and had a strong +wish to go into it. The cat, hearing the noise of the carriage wheels, +ran forward in a great hurry, and, standing at the gate, said, in a +loud voice: “Welcome, sire, to the castle of my lord the Marquis of +Carabas.” + +“What!” cried his majesty, very much surprised, “does the castle also +belong to you? Truly, marquis, you have kept your secret well up to the +last minute. I have never seen anything finer than this courtyard and +these battlements. Let us go in, if you please.” + +The marquis, without speaking, offered his hand to the princess to help +her to descend, and, standing aside that the King might enter first, +followed his majesty to the great hall, where a magnificent dinner was +laid out, and where, without more delays they all sat down to feast. + +Before the banquet was over, the King, charmed with the good qualities +of the Marquis of Carabas, said, bowing across the table at which the +princess and the miller’s son were talking very confidentially +together: “It rests with you, marquis, whether you will marry my +daughter.” + +“I shall be only too happy,” said the marquis, and the princess’s +cast-down eyes declared the same. + +So they were married the very next day, and took possession of the +Ogre’s castle, and of everything that had belonged to him. + +As for the cat, he became at once a great lord, and had nevermore any +need to run after mice, except for his own diversion. + + + + +JACK THE GIANT-KILLER + + +Retold by Joseph Jacobs + +In the reign of the famous King Arthur there lived in Cornwall a lad +named Jack, who was a boy of a bold temper and took delight in hearing +or reading of conjurers, giants, and fairies; and used to listen +eagerly to the deeds of the knights of King Arthur’s Round Table. + +In those days there lived on St. Michael’s Mount, off Cornwall, a huge +Giant, eighteen feet high and nine feet round; his fierce and savage +looks were the terror of all who beheld him. + +He dwelt in a gloomy cavern on the top of the mountain, and used to +wade over to the mainland in search of prey, when he would throw half a +dozen oxen upon his back, and tie three times as many sheep and hogs +round his waist, and march back to his own abode. + +The Giant had done this for many years when Jack resolved to destroy +him. + +Jack took a horn, a shovel, a pickaxe, his armor, and a dark lantern, +and one winter’s evening he went to the mount. There he dug a pit +twenty-two feet deep and twenty broad. He covered the top over so as to +make it look like solid ground. He then blew such a blast on his horn +that the Giant awoke and came out of his den, crying out: “You saucy +villain, you shall pay for this! I’ll broil you for my breakfast!” + +He had just finished, when, taking one step farther, he tumbled +headlong into the pit, and Jack struck him a blow on the head with his +pickaxe which killed him. Jack then returned home to cheer his friends +with the news. + +Another Giant, called Blunderbore, vowed to be revenged on Jack if ever +he should have him in his power. + +This Giant kept an enchanted castle in the midst of a lonely wood, and +some time after the death of Cormoran, Jack was passing through a wood, +and, being weary, sat down and went to sleep. + +The Giant, passing by and seeing Jack, carried him to his castle, where +he locked him up in a large room, the floor of which was covered with +the bodies, skulls, and bones of men and women. + +Soon after, the Giant went to fetch his brother, who was likewise a +Giant, to take a meal off his flesh, and Jack saw with terror through +the bars of his prison the two Giants approaching. + +Jack, perceiving in one corner of the room a strong cord, took courage, +and making a slip-knot at each end, he threw them over their heads, and +tied it to the window-bars; he then pulled till he had choked them. +When they were black in the face he slid down the rope and stabbed them +to the heart. + +Jack next took a great bunch of keys from the pocket of Blunderbore and +went into the castle again. He made a strict search through all the +rooms, and in one of them found three ladies tied up by the hair of +their heads and almost starved to death. They told him that their +husbands had been killed by the Giants, who had then condemned them to +be starved to death. + +“Ladies,” said Jack, “I have put an end to the monster and his wicked +brother, and I give you this castle and all the riches it contains to +make some amends for the dreadful pains you have felt.” He then very +politely gave them the keys of the castle and went farther on his +journey to Wales. + +As Jack had but little money, he went on as fast as possible. At length +he came to a handsome house. + +Jack knocked at the door, when there came forth a Welsh Giant. Jack +said he was a traveler who had lost his way, on which the Giant made +him welcome and let him into a room where there was a good bed to sleep +in. + +Jack took off his clothes quickly, but though he was weary he could not +go to sleep. Soon after this he heard the Giant walking backward and +forward in the next room and saying to himself: + +“Though here you shall lodge with me this night, +You shall not see the morning light; +My club shall dash your brains out quite!” + + +“Say you so?” thought Jack. “Are these your tricks upon travelers? But +I hope to prove as cunning as you are.” Then, getting out of bed, he +groped about the room and at last found a thick tog of wood. He laid it +in his own place in the bed, and then hid himself in a dark corner of +the room. + +The Giant, about midnight, entered the apartment, and with his bludgeon +struck many blows on the bed, in the very place where Jack had laid the +log; and then he went back to his own room, thinking he had broken all +Jack’s bones. + +Early in the morning Jack put a bold face upon the matter and walked +into the Giant’s room to thank him for his lodging. The Giant started +when he saw him, and began to stammer out: “Oh! dear me; is it you? +Pray, how did you sleep last night? Did you hear or see anything in the +dead of the night?” + +“Nothing worth speaking of,” said Jack, carelessly; “a rat, I believe, +gave me three or four slaps with its tail, and disturbed me a little; +but I soon went to sleep again.” + +The Giant wondered more and more at this; yet he did not answer a word, +but went to bring two great bowls of hasty-pudding for their breakfast. +Jack wanted to make the Giant believe that he could eat as much as +himself so he contrived to button a leathern bag inside his coat and +slip the hasty-pudding into this bag while he seemed to put it into his +mouth. + +When breakfast was over he said to the Giant: “Now I will show you a +fine trick. I can cure all wounds with a touch; I could cut off my head +in one minute, and the next put it sound again on my shoulders. You +shall see an example.” He then took hold of the knife, ripped up the +leathern bag, and all the hasty-pudding tumbled out upon the floor. + +“Ods splutter hur nails!” cried the Welsh Giant, who was ashamed to be +outdone by such a little fellow as Jack, “hur can do that hurself;” so +he snatched up the knife, plunged it into his own stomach, and in a +moment dropped down dead. + +Jack, having hitherto been successful in all his undertakings, resolved +not to be idle in future; he therefore furnished himself with a horse, +a cap of knowledge, a sword of sharpness, shoes of swiftness, and an +invisible coat, the better to perform the wonderful enterprises that +lay before him. + +He traveled over high hills, and on the third day he came to a large +and spacious forest through which his road lay. Scarcely had he entered +the forest when he beheld a monstrous Giant dragging along by the hair +of their heads a handsome Knight and his lady. Jack alighted from his +horse, and tying him to an oak-tree, put on his invisible coat, under +which he carried his sword of sharpness. + +When he came up to the Giant he made several strokes at him, but could +not reach his body, but wounded his thighs in several places; and at +length, putting both hands to his sword and aiming with all his might, +he cut off both his legs. Then Jack, setting his foot upon his neck, +plunged his sword into the Giant’s body, when the monster gave a groan +and expired. + +The Knight and his 1ady thanked Jack for their deliverance, and invited +him to their house to receive a proper reward for his services. “No,” +Said Jack, “I cannot be easy till I find out this monster’s +habitation.” So taking the Knight’s directions, he mounted his horse +and soon after came in sight of another Giant, who was sitting on a +block of timber waiting for his brother’s return. + +Jack alighted from his horse, and, putting on his invisible coat, +approached and aimed a blow at the Giant’s head, but missing his aim he +only cut off his nose. On this the Giant seized his club and laid about +him most unmercifully. + +“Nay,” said Jack, “if this be the case I’d better dispatch you!” So +jumping upon the block, he stabbed him in the back, when he dropped +down dead. + +Jack then proceeded on his journey, and traveled over hills and dales +till, arriving at the foot of a high mountain, he knocked at the door +of a lonely house, when an old man let him in. + +When Jack was seated the hermit thus addressed him: “My son, on the top +of this mountain is an enchanted castle, kept by the Giant Galligantus +and a vile magician. I lament the fate of a duke’s daughter, whom they +seized as she was walking in her father’s garden, and brought hither +transformed into a deer.” + +Jack promised that in the morning, at the risk of his life, he would +break the enchantment; and after a sound sleep he rose early, put on +his invisible coat, and got ready for the attempt. + +When he had climbed to the top of the mountain he saw two fiery +griffins; but he passed between them without the least fear of danger, +for they could not see him because of his invisible coat. On the castle +gate he found a golden trumpet, under which were written these lines: + +Whoever can this trumpet blow +Shall cause the giant’s overthrow. + + +As soon as Jack had read this he seized the trumpet and blew a shrill +blast, which made the gates fly open and the very castle itself +tremble. + +The Giant and the conjurer now knew that their wicked course was at an +end, and they stood biting their thumbs and shaking within fear. Jack, +with his sword of sharpness, soon killed the Giant, and the magician +was then carried away by a whirlwind; and every knight and beautiful +lady who had been changed into birds and beasts returned to their +proper shapes. The castle vanished away like smoke, and the head of the +Giant Galligantus was sent to King Arthur. + +The knights and ladies rested that night at the old man’s hermitage, +and next day they set out for the Court. Jack then went up to the King +and gave his Majesty an account of all his fierce battles. + +Jack’s fame had now spread through the whole country, and at the King’s +desire the Duke gave him his daughter in marriage, to the joy of all +his kingdom. After this the King gave him a large estate, on which he +and his lady lived the rest of their days in joy and contentment. + + + + +TOM THUMB + + +Retold by Joseph Jacobs + +In the days of the great Prince Arthur, there lived a mighty magician, +named Merlin, the most learned and skillful enchanter the world has +ever seen. + +This famous magician, who could take any form he pleased, was +travelling about as a poor beggar, and being very tired he stopped at +the cottage of a Ploughman to rest himself, and asked for some food. + +The countryman bade him welcome, and his wife, who was a very +good-hearted woman, brought him some milk in a wooden bowl and some +coarse brown bread on a platter. + +Merlin was much pleased with the kindness of the Ploughman and his +wife; but he could not help noticing that though everything was neat +and comfortable in the cottage, they both seemed to be very unhappy. He +therefore asked them why they were so melancholy, and learned that they +were miserable because they had no children. + +The Poor Woman said, with tears in her eves: “I should be the happiest +creature in the world if I had a son although he was no bigger than my +husband’s thumb.” + +Merlin was so much amused with the idea of a boy no bigger than a man’s +thumb that he determined to grant the Poor Woman’s wish. Accordingly, +in a short time after, the Ploughman’s wife had a son, who, wonderful +to relate! was not a bit bigger than his father’s thumb. + +The Queen of the fairies, wishing to see the little fellow, came in at +the window, while the mother was sitting up in bed admiring him. The +Queen kissed the child, and, giving it the name of Tom Thumb, sent for +some of the fairies, who dressed her little godson according to her +orders: + +An oak-leaf hat he had for his crown; +His shirt of web by spiders spun; +With jacket wove of thistle’s down; +His trousers were of feathers done. +His stockings, of apple rind, they tie +With eyelash from his mother’s eye: +His shoes were made of mouse’s skin, +Tann’d with the downy hair within. + + +Tom never grew any larger than his father’s thumb, but as he got older +he became very cunning and full of tricks. When he was old enough to +play with the boys, and had lost all his own cherry stones, he used to +creep into the bags of his play-fellows, fill his pockets, and, getting +out without their noticing him, would again join in the game. + +One day, as he was coming out of a bag of cherry stones, where he had +been stealing as usual, the boy to whom it belonged chanced to see him. +“Ah, ah! my little Tommy,” said the boy, “so I have caught you stealing +my cherry stones at last, and you shall be rewarded for your thievish +tricks.” On saying this, he drew the string tight round his neck, and +gave the bag such a hearty shake that poor little Tom’s legs, thighs +and body were sadly bruised. He roared out with pain and begged to be +let out, promising never to steal again. + +A short time afterwards his mother was making a batter pudding, and +Tom, being anxious to see how it was made, climbed up to the edge of +the bowl; but his foot slipped, and he plumped over head and ears into +the batter, without his mother noticing him, who stirred him into the +pudding-bag, and put him in the pot to boil. + +The batter filled Tom’s mouth, and prevented him from crying; but, upon +feeling the hot water, he kicked and struggled so much in the pot that +his mother thought that the pudding was bewitched, and, pulling it out +of the pot, she threw it outside the door. A poor tinker, who was +passing by, lifted up the pudding, put it in his bag, and walked off. +As Tom had now got his mouth cleared of the batter, he began to cry +aloud, which so frightened the tinker that he flung down the pudding +and ran away. The pudding being broke to pieces by the fall, Tom crept +out covered all over with the batter, and walked home. His mother, who +was very sorry to see her darling in such a woeful state, put him into +a teacup and soon washed off the batter; after which she kissed him and +laid him in bed. + +Soon after the adventure of the pudding, Tom’s mother went to milk her +cow in the meadow, and she took him along with her. As the wind was +very high, for fear of being blown away, she tied him to a thistle with +a piece of fine thread. The cow soon observed Tom’s oak-leaf hat, and +liking the appearance of it, took poor Tom and the thistle at one +mouthful. While the cow was chewing the thistle Tom was afraid of her +great teeth, which threatened to crush him in pieces, and he roared out +as loud as he could: “Mother, mother!” + +“Where are you, Tommy, my dear Tommy?” said his mother. + +“Here, mother,” replied he, “in the red cow’s mouth.” + +His mother began to cry and wring her hands; but the cow, surprised at +the odd noise in her throat, opened her mouth and let Tom drop out. +Fortunately his mother caught him in her apron as he was falling to the +ground, or he would have been dreadfully hurt. She then put Tom in her +bosom and ran home with him. + +Tom’s father made him a whip of barley straw to drive the cattle with, +and having one day gone into the fields, Tom slipped a foot and rolled +into the furrow. A raven, which was flying over, picked him up and flew +with him over the sea, and there dropped him. + +A large fish swallowed Tom the moment he fell into the sea, which was +soon after caught and bought for the table of King Arthur. When they +opened the fish in order to cook it, every one was astonished at +finding such a little boy, and Tom was quite delighted at being free +again. They carried him to the King, who made Tom his dwarf, and he +soon became a great favorite at court; for by his tricks and gambols he +not only amused the King and Queen, but also the Knights of the Round +Table. + +It is said that when the King rode out on horseback he often took Tom +along with him, and if a shower came on he used to creep into his +Majesty’s waistcoat pocket, where he slept till the rain was over. + +King Arthur one day asked Tom about his parents, wishing to know if +they were as small as he was, and whether they were well off. Tom told +the King that his father and mother were as tall as anybody about the +court, but in rather poor circumstances. On hearing this, the King +carried Tom to his treasury, the place where he kept all his money, and +told him to take as much money as he could carry home to his parents, +which made the poor little fellow caper with joy. Tom went immediately +to procure a purse which was made of a water-bubble, and then returned +to the treasury, where he received a silver three-penny piece to put +into it. + +Our little hero had some difficulty in lifting the burden upon his +back; but he at last succeeded in getting it placed and set forward on +his journey. Without meeting with any accident, and after resting +himself more than a hundred times by the way, in two days and two +nights he reached his father’s house in safety. + +Tom had traveled forty-eight hours with a huge silver piece on his +back, and was almost tired to death, when his mother ran out to meet +him and carried him into the house. But he soon returned to court. + +As Tom’s clothes had suffered much in the batter pudding and the inside +of the fish, his Majesty ordered him a new suit of clothes, and to be +mounted as a knight on a mouse. + +Of Butterfly’s wings his shirt was made, + His boots of chicken’s hide; +And by a nimble fairy blade, +Well learned in the tailoring trade, + His clothing was supplied. + A needle dangled by his side; + A dapper mouse he used to ride, + Thus strutted Tom in stately pride! + + +It was certainly very amusing to see him in this dress and mounted on +the mouse, as he rode out a-hunting with the King and nobility, who +were all ready to expire with laughter at Tom and his fine prancing +charioteer. + +The King was so charmed with his address that he ordered a little chair +to be made, in order that Tom might sit upon his table, and also a +palace of gold, a span high, with a door an inch wide, to live in. He +also gave him a coach, drawn by six small mice. + +The Queen was so enraged at the honors conferred on Sir Thomas that she +resolved to ruin him, and told the King that the little knight had been +saucy to her. + +The King sent for Tom in great haste, but being fully aware of the +danger of royal anger, he crept into an empty snail shell, where he lay +for a long time until he was almost starved with hunger; at last he +ventured to peep out, and seeing a fine large butterfly on the ground, +near the place of his concealment, he got close to it and jumping +astride on it was carried up into the, air. The butterfly flew with him +from tree to tree and from field to field, at last returned to the +court, where the King and nobility all strove to catch him; but at last +poor Tom fell from his seat into a watering-pot, in which he was almost +drowned. + +When the Queen saw him she was in a rage, and said he should be +beheaded; and he was again put into a mouse trap until the time of his +execution. + +However, a cat, observing something alive in the trap, patted it about +till the wires broke, and set Thomas at liberty. + +The King received Tom again into favor, which he did not live to enjoy, +for a large spider one day attacked him; and although he drew his sword +and fought well, yet the spider’s poisonous breath at last overcame +him. + +King Arthur and his whole court were so sorry at the loss of their +little favorite that they went into mourning and raised a fine white +marble monument over his grave with the following epitaph: + +Here lies Tom Thumb, King Arthur’s knight, +Who died by a spider’s cruel bite. +He was well known in Arthur’s court, +Where he afforded gallant sport; +He rode a tilt and tournament, +And on a mouse a-hunting went. +Alive he filled the court with mirth; +His death to sorrow soon gave birth. +Wipe, wipe your eyes, and shake your head +And cry,—Alas! Tom Thumb is dead! + + + + +BLUE BEARD + + +By Charles Perrault + +There was once a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a +deal of silver and gold plate, embroidered furniture, and coaches +gilded all over with gold. But this man was so unlucky as to have a +blue beard, which made him so ugly that all the women and girls ran +away from him. + +One of his neighbors, a lady of quality, had two daughters who were +perfect beauties. He asked her for one of them in marriage, but neither +of them could bear the thought of marrying a man who had a blue beard. +Besides, he had already been married several times, and nobody ever +knew what became of his wives. + +In the hope of making them like him, Blue Beard took them, with their +mother and three or four ladies of their acquaintance, and other young +people of the neighborhood, to one of his country houses, where they +stayed a whole week. + +There were parties of pleasure, hunting, fishing, dancing, mirth, and +feasting all the time. Nobody went to bed, but all passed the time in +merry-making and joking with one another. Everything succeeded so well +that the youngest daughter began to think the master of the house was a +very civil gentleman. And his beard not so very blue after all. + +As soon as they returned home, the marriage took place. About a month +afterward Blue Beard told his wife that he was obliged to take a +journey for six weeks, about affairs of great consequence, desiring her +to amuse herself in his absence, to send for her friends and +acquaintances, to carry them in to the country if she pleased, and to +have a good time wherever she was. + +“Here,” said he, “are the keys of the two great wardrobes wherein I +have my best furniture; these are of my silver and gold plate, which is +not every day in use; these open my strong boxes, which hold my money, +both gold and silver; these my caskets of jewels; and this is the +master key to all my apartments. This little one here is the key of the +closet at the end of the great gallery on the ground floor. Open them +all; go into all and every one of them, except that little closet, +which I forbid you; if you happen to open it, there’s nothing but what +you may expect from my just anger and resentment.” + +She promised to observe exactly whatever he ordered; so, having +embraced her, he got into his coach and proceeded on his journey. + +Her neighbors and good friends did not wait to be sent for, so great +was their impatience to see all the rich furniture of her house. They +ran through all the rooms, closets, and wardrobes, which were all so +fine and rich that they seemed to surpass one another. + +After that they went up into the two great rooms, where were the best +and richest furniture; they could not sufficiently admire the number +and beauty of the tapestries, beds, couches, cabinets, stands, tables, +and looking-glasses, in which you might see yourself from head to foot; +some of them were framed with glass, others with silver, plain and +gilded, the finest and most magnificent ever seen. + +They ceased not to compliment and envy their friend, but she was so +much pressed by her curiosity to open the closet on the ground floor +that, without considering that it was very uncivil to leave her +company, she went down a little back staircase with such haste that she +had twice or thrice like to have broken her neck. + +Arriving at the closet door, she hesitated, thinking of her husband’s +orders and considering what unhappiness might attend her if she was +disobedient; but the temptation was so strong she could not overcome +it. She took the little key and opened it, trembling, but could not at +first see anything plainly because the windows were shut. After some +moments she began to perceive that the floor was all covered with +blood, in which lay the bodies of several dead women, ranged against +the walls. (These were the wives whom Blue Beard had married and +murdered, one after another.) She thought she would die for fear, and +the key, which she pulled out of the lock, fell out of her hand. + +After having somewhat recovered from the shock, she took up the key, +locked the door, and went upstairs to her bedroom to rest. Having +observed that the key of the closet was stained with blood, she tried +two or three times to wipe it off, but the stain would not come out; in +vain did she wash it, and even rub it with soap and sand, the blood +still remained, for the key was magical; when the blood was removed +from one side it came again on the other. + +Blue Beard returned from his journey the same evening, and said he had +received letters upon the road informing him that the affair he went +about was ended to his advantage. His wife did all she could to +convince him she was extremely glad of his speedy return. + +Next morning he asked her for the keys, which she gave him, but with +such a trembling hand that he easily guessed what had happened. + +“What!” said he, “is not the key of my closet among the rest?” + +“I must certainly,” said she, “have left it above upon the table.” + +“Fail not,” said Blue Beard, “to bring it to me presently.” + +After several goings backward and forward she was forced to bring him +the key. Blue Beard attentively considered it and said to his wife: + +“How comes this blood upon the key?” + +“I do not know,” cried the poor woman, paler than death. + +“You do not know!” replied Blue Beard. “I very well know. You were +resolved to go into the closet, were you not? Very well, madam; you +shall go in and take your place among the ladies you saw there. + +Upon this she threw herself at her husband’s feet, and begged his +pardon with all the signs of a true repentance, vowing that she would +never again be disobedient. She would have melted a rock, so beautiful +and sorrowful was she; but Blue Beard had a heart harder than any rock! + +“You must die, madam,” said he, “and that; very soon.” + +“Since I must die,” answered she, her eyes bathed in tears, “give me +some little time to say my prayers.” + +“I give you,” replied Blue Beard, “half a quarter of an hour, but not +one moment more.” + +When she was alone she called out to her sister: + +“Sister Anne, go up, I beg you, on top of the tower and see if my +brothers are not coming; they promised me that they would come to-day, +and if you see them, give them a sign to make haste.” + +Sister Anne went up on the top of the tower, and the poor afflicted +wife cried out from time to time: + +“Anne, sister Anne, do you see anyone coming?” + +And sister Anne replied: + +“I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which +looks green.” + +In the meanwhile Blue Beard, holding a great saber in his hand, cried +out as loud as he could bawl to his wife: + +“Come down instantly, or I shall come up after you.” + +“One moment longer, if you please,” said his wife; and then she cried +out softly: “Anne, sister Anne, dost thou see anybody coming?” + +And sister Anne answered: + +“I see nothing but the sun, which makes a dust, and the grass, which is +green.” + +“Come down quickly,” shouted Blue Beard, “or I will come up after you.” + +“I am coming,” answered his wife; and then she cried: “Anne, sister +Anne, dost thou not see any one coming?” + +“I see,” replied sister Anne, “a great dust, which comes on this side.” + +“Are they my brothers?” + +“Alas! no, my dear sister, I see a flock of sheep.” + +“Will you not come down?’ roared Blue Beard. + +“One moment longer,” said his wife, and then she cried out: “Anne, +sister Anne, dost thou see nobody coming?” + +“I see,” said she, “two horsemen, but they are yet a great way off.” + +“God be praised!” replied the poor wife joyfully; “they are my +brothers; I will make them a sign, as well as I can, for them to make +haste.” + +Then Blue Beard bawled out so loud that he made the whole house +tremble. The distressed wife came down and threw herself at his feet, +all in tears, with her hair about her shoulders. + +“That will not help you,” says Blue Beard; “you must die;” then, taking +hold of her hair with one hand, and lifting up the sword with the +other, he was going to cut off her head. The poor lady, turning to him +and looking at him with dying eyes, begged him to give her one little +moment more. + +“No, no,” said he; “say your prayers,” and was just about to strike… + +At this very instant there was such a loud knocking at the gate that +Blue Beard looked up in alarm. The gate was opened and two horsemen +entered, who drew their swords and ran directly at Blue Beard. He knew +them to be his wife’s brothers, one a dragoon, the other a musketeer; +so that he quickly ran to save himself; but the two brothers pursued so +close that they overtook him before he could get to the steps of the +porch, and ran their swords through his body and left him dead. The +poor wife was almost as dead as her husband, and had not strength +enough to rise and welcome her brothers. + +Blue Beard had no heirs, and so his wife became mistress of all his +estate. She made use of one part of it to marry her sister Anne to a +young gentleman who had loved her a long while; another part to buy +captains’ commissions for her brothers, and the rest to marry herself +to a very worthy gentleman, who made her forget the unhappy time she +had passed with Blue Beard. + + + + +THE BRAVE LITTLE TAILOR + + +Anonymous + +One summer’s day a little Tailor sat on his table by the window in the +best of spirits and sewed for dear life. As he was sitting thus a +peasant woman came down the street, calling out: “Good jam to sell! +good jam to sell!” This sounded sweetly in the Tailor’s ears; he put +his little head out of the window and shouted: “Up here, my good woman, +and you’ll find a willing customer!” The woman climbed up the three +flights of stairs with her heavy basket to the tailor’s room, and he +made her spread out the pots in a row before him. He examined them all, +lifted them up and smelt them, and said at last: “This jam seems good; +weigh me four ounces of it, my good woman; and even if it’s a quarter +of a pound I won’t stick at it.” The woman, who had hoped to find a +good market, gave him what he wanted, but went away grumbling +wrathfully. “Now Heaven shall bless this jam for my use,” cried the +little Tailor, “and it shall sustain and strengthen me.” He fetched +some bread out of a cupboard, cut a round off the loaf, and spread the +jam on it. “That will taste good,” he said; “but I’ll finish that +waistcoat first before I take a bite.” He placed the bread beside him, +went on sewing, and out of the lightness of his heart kept on making +his stitches bigger and bigger. In the meantime the smell of the sweet +jam rose to the ceiling, where swarms of flies were gathered, and +attracted them to such an extent that they swarmed on to it in masses. +“Ha! who invited you?” said the Tailor, and chased the unwelcome guests +away. But the flies, who didn’t understand English, refused to let +themselves be warned off, and returned again in even greater numbers. +At last the Tailor, losing all patience, reached out of his +chimney-corner for a duster, and exclaiming, “Wait, and I’ll give it to +you!” he beat them mercilessly with it. When he left off he counted the +slain, and no fewer than seven lay dead before him with outstretched +legs. “What a brave fellow I am!” said he, and was filled with +admiration at his own courage. “The whole town must know about this;” +and in great haste the little Tailor cut out a girdle, hemmed it, and +embroidered on it in big letters, “Seven at a blow.” “What did I say, +the town? no, the whole world shall hear of it,” he said; and his heart +beat for joy as a lamb wags his tail. + +The Tailor strapped the girdle round his waist and set out into the +wide world, for he considered his workroom too small a field for his +bravery. Before he set forth he looked round about him, to see if there +was anything in the house he could take with him on his journey; but he +found nothing except an old cheese, which he took possession of. In +front of the house he observed a bird that had been caught in some +bushes, and this he put into his wallet beside the cheese. Then he went +on his way merrily, and being light and quick he never felt tired. His +way led up a hill on the top of which sat a powerful Giant, who was +calmly surveying the landscape. The little Tailor went up to him, and +greeting him cheerfully said: “Good-day, friend; there you sit at your +ease viewing the whole wide world. I’m just on my way there. What do +you say to accompanying me?” The Giant looked contemptuously at the +Tailor, and said: “What a poor, wretched little creature you are!” +“That’s a good joke,” answered the little Tailor, and unbuttoning his +coat he showed the Giant the girdle. “There, now, you can read what +sort of a fellow I am.” The Giant read: “Seven at a blow,” and thinking +they were human beings the Tailor had slain, he had a certain respect +for the little man. But first he thought he’d test him; so taking up a +stone in his hand, he squeezed it till some drops of water ran out. +“Now you do the same,” said the Giant, “if you really wish to be +thought strong.” “Is that all?” said the little Tailor; “that’s child’s +play to me.” So he dived into his wallet, brought out the cheese, and +pressed it till the whey ran out. “My squeeze was better than yours,” +said he. The Giant didn’t know what to say, for he couldn’t have +believed it of the little fellow. To prove him again, the Giant lifted +a stone and threw it so high that the eye could hardly follow it. “Now, +my little dwarf, let me see you do that.” “Well thrown,” said the +Tailor; “but, after all, your stone fell to the ground; I’ll throw one +that won’t come down at all.” He dived into his wallet again, and +grasping the bird in his hand he threw it up into the air. The bird, +enchanted to be free, soared up into the sky, and flew away never to +return. “Well, what do you think of that little piece of business, +friend?” asked the Tailor. “You can certainly throw,” said the Giant; +“but now let’s see if you can carry a proper weight.” With these words +he led the Tailor to a huge oak-tree which had been felled to the +ground, and said: “If you are strong enough, help me carry the tree out +of the wood.” “Most certainly,” said the little Tailor: “just you take +the trunk on your shoulder; I’ll bear the top and branches, which is +certainly the heaviest part.” The Giant laid the trunk on his shoulder, +but the Tailor sat at his ease among the branches; and the Giant, who +couldn’t see what was going on behind him, had to carry the whole tree, +and the little Tailor into the bargain. There he sat behind in the best +of spirits, lustily whistling a tune, as if carrying the tree were mere +sport. The Giant after dragging the heavy weight for some time, could +get on no farther, and shouted out: “Hi! I must let the tree fall.” The +Tailor sprang nimbly down, seized the tree with both hands as if he had +carried it the whole way, and said to the Giant: “Fancy a big lazy +fellow like you not being able to carry a tree!” + +They continued to go on their way together, and as they passed by a +cherry-tree the Giant grasped the top of it, where the ripest fruit +hung, gave the branches into the Tailor’s hand, and bade him eat. But +the little Tailor was far too weak to hold the tree down, and when the +Giant let go the tree swung back into the air, bearing the little +Tailor with it. When he had fallen to the ground again without hurting +himself, the Giant said: “What! do you mean to tell me you haven’t the +strength to hold down a feeble twig?” “It wasn’t strength that was +wanting,” replied time Tailor; “do you think that would have been +anything for a man who has killed seven at a blow? I jumped over the +tree because the huntsmen are shooting among the branches near us. Do +you do the like if you dare.” The Giant made an attempt, but couldn’t +get over the tree, and stuck fast in the branches, so that here, too, +the little Tailor had the better of him. + +“Well, you’re a fine fellow, after all,” said the Giant; “come and +spend the night with us in our cave.” The little Tailor willingly +consented to do this, and following his friend they went on till they +reached a cave where several other giants were sitting round a fire, +each holding a roast sheep in his hand, of which he was eating. The +little Tailor looked about him, and thought: “Yes, there’s certainly +more room to turn round in here than in my workshop.” The Giant showed +him a bed, and bade him lie down and have a good sleep. But the bed was +too big for the little Tailor, so he didn’t get into it, but crept away +into the corner. At midnight, when the Giant thought the little Tailor +was fast asleep, he rose up, and taking his big iron walking-stick, he +broke the bed in two with a blow, and thought he had made an end of the +little grasshopper. At early dawn the Giants went off to the wood, and +quite forgot about the little Tailor, till all of a sudden they met him +trudging along in the most cheerful manner. The Giants were terrified +at seeing him, and, fearing lest he should slay them, they all took to +their heels as fast as they could. + +The Little Tailor continued to follow his nose, and after he had +wandered about for a long time he came to the courtyard of a royal +palace, and feeling tired he lay down on the grass and fell asleep. +While he lay there the people came, and looking him all over read on +his girdle, “Seven at a blow.” “Oh!” they said, “what can this great +hero of a hundred fights want in our peaceful land? He must indeed be a +mighty man of valor.” They went and told the King about him, and said +what a weighty and useful man he’d be in time of war and that it would +be well to secure him at any price. This counsel pleased the King, and +he sent one of his courtiers down to the little Tailor, to offer him, +when he awoke, a commission in their army. The messenger remained +standing by the sleeper, and waited till he stretched his limbs and +opened his eyes, when he tendered his proposal. “That’s the very thing +I came here for,” he answered; “I am quite ready to enter the King’s +service.” So he was received with all honor, and given a special house +of his own to live in. + +But the other officers were angry at the success of the little Tailor, +and wished him a thousand miles away. “What’s to come of it all?” they +asked one another; “if we quarrel with him, he’ll let out at us, and at +every blow seven will fall. There’ll soon be an end of us.” So they +resolved to go in a body to the King, and all to send in their papers. +“We are not made,” they said. “to hold out against a man who kills +seven at a blow.” The King was grieved at the thought of losing all his +faithful servants for the sake of one man, and he wished heartily that +he had never set eyes on him, or that he could get rid of him. But he +didn’t dare to send him away, for he feared he might kill him and place +himself on the throne. He thought long and deeply over the matter, and +finally came to a conclusion. He sent for the Tailor and told him that, +seeing what a great and warlike hero he was, he was about to make him +an offer. In a certain wood of his kingdom there dwelt two Giants who +did much harm by the way they robbed, murdered, burnt, and plundered +everything about them; “no one could approach them without endangering +his life. If he could overcome and kill these two giants he should have +the King’s only daughter for a wife, and half his kingdom into the +bargain; he might have a hundred horsemen, too, to back him up.” +“That’s the very thing for a man like me,” thought the little Tailor; +“one doesn’t get the offer of a beautiful princess and half a kingdom +every day.” “Done with you,” he answered; “I’ll soon put an end to the +Giants. But I haven’t the smallest need of your hundred horsemen; a +fellow who can slay seven men at a blow need not be afraid of two.” + +The little Tailor set out, and the hundred horsemen followed him. When +he came to the outskirts of the wood he said to his followers: “You +wait here, I’ll manage the Giants by myself;” and he went on into the +wood, casting his sharp little eyes right and left about him. After a +while he spied the two Giants lying asleep under a tree, snoring till +the very boughs bent with the breeze. The little Tailor lost no time in +filling his wallet with stones, and then climbed up the tree under +which they lay. When he got to about the middle of it he slipped along +a branch till he sat just above the sleepers, when he threw down one +stone after the other on the nearest Giant. The Giant felt nothing for +a long time, but at last he woke up, and pinching his companion said: +“What did you strike me for?” “I didn’t strike you,” said the other; +“you must be dreaming.” They both lay down to sleep again, and the +Tailor threw down a stone on the second Giant, who sprang up and cried: +“What’s that for? Why did you throw something at me?” “I didn’t throw +anything,” growled the first one. They wrangled on for a time, till as +both were tired, they made up the matter and fell asleep again. The +little Tailor began his game once more, and flung the largest stone he +could find in his wallet with all his force, and hit the first Giant on +the chest. “This is too much of a good thing!” he yelled, and springing +up like a madman, he knocked his companion against the tree till he +trembled. He gave, however, as good as he got, and they became so +enraged that they tore up trees and beat each other with them, till +they both fell dead at once on the ground. Then the little Tailor +jumped down. “It’s a mercy,” he said, “that they didn’t root up the +tree on which I was sitting, or I should have had to jump like a +squirrel on to another, which, nimble though I am, would have been no +easy job.” He drew his sword and gave each of the Giants a very fine +thrust or two on the breast, and then went to the horsemen and said: +“The deed is done; I’ve put an end to the two of them; but I assure you +it has been no easy matter, for they even tore up trees in their +struggle to defend themselves; but all that’s of no use against one who +slays seven men at a blow.” “Weren’t you wounded?” asked the horsemen. +“No fear,” answered the Tailor; “they haven’t touched a hair of my +head.” But the horsemen wouldn’t believe him till they rode into the +wood and found the Giants weltering in their blood, and the trees lying +around, torn up by the roots. + +The little Tailor now demanded the promised reward, but the King +repented his promise, and pondered once more how he could rid himself +of the hero. “Before you obtain the hand of my daughter and half my +kingdom,” he said to him, “you must do another deed of valor. A unicorn +is running about loose in the wood and doing much mischief; you must +first catch it.” “I’m even less afraid of one unicorn than of two +Giants; seven at a blow, that’s my motto.” He took a piece of cord and +an axe with him, went out to the wood, and again told the men who had +been sent with him to remain outside. He hadn’t to search long, for the +unicorn soon passed by, and, on perceiving the Tailor, dashed straight +at him as though it were going to spike him on the spot. “Gently, +gently,” said he; “not so fast, my friend;” and standing still he +waited till the beast was quite near, when he sprang lightly behind a +tree; the unicorn ran with all its force against the tree, and rammed +its horn so firmly into the trunk that it had no strength left to pull +it out again, and was thus successfully captured. “Now, I’ve caught my +bird,” said the Tailor, and he came out from behind the tree, placed +the cord round its neck first, then struck the horn out of the tree +within his axe, and when everything was in order led the beast Before +the King. + +Still the King didn’t want to give him the promised reward and made a +third demand. The Tailor was to catch a wild boar for him that did a +great deal of harm in the wood; and he might have the huntsmen to help +him. “Willingly,” said the Tailor; “that’s mere child’s play.” But he +didn’t take the huntsmen into the wood with him, and they were well +enough pleased to remain behind, for the wild boar had often received +them in a manner which did not make them desire its further +acquaintance. As soon as the boar perceived the Tailor it ran at him +with foaming mouth and gleaming teeth, and tried to knock him down; but +our alert little friend ran into a chapel that stood near, and got out +of the window with a jump. The boar pursued him into the church, but +the Tailor skipped round to the door and closed it securely. So the +raging beast was caught, for it was far too heavy and unwieldy to +spring out of the window. The little Tailor summoned the huntsmen +together, that they might see the Prisoner with their own eyes. Then +the hero betook himself to the King, who was obliged now, whether he +liked it or not, to keep his promise, and hand him over his daughter +and half his kingdom. Had he known that no hero-warrior, but only a +little tailor, stood before him, it would have gone even more to his +heart. So the wedding was celebrated with much splendor and little joy, +and the Tailor became a King. + +After a time the Queen heard her husband saying one night in his sleep: +“My lad, make that waistcoat and patch these trousers, or I’ll box your +ears.” Thus she learned in what rank the young gentleman had been born, +and next day she poured forth her woes to her father, and begged him to +help her to get rid of a husband who was nothing more nor less than a +tailor. The King comforted her, and said: “Leave your bedroom door open +tonight; my servants shall stand outside, and when your husband is fast +asleep they shall enter, bind him fast, and carry him on to a ship, +which shall sail away out into the wide ocean.” The Queen was well +satisfied with the idea, but the armor-bearer, who had overheard +everything, being much attached to his young master, went straight to +him and revealed the whole plot. “I’ll soon put a stop to the +business,” said the Tailor. That night he and his wife went to bed at +the usual time; and when she thought he had fallen asleep she got up, +opened the door, and then lay down again. The little Tailor, who had +only pretended to be asleep, began to call out in a clear voice: “My +lad, make that waistcoat and patch these trousers, or I’ll box your +ears. I have killed seven at a blow, slain two giants, led a unicorn +captive, and caught a wild boar, then why should I be afraid of those +men standing outside my door?” The men, when they heard the Tailor +saying these words, were so terrified that they fled as if pursued by a +wild army, and didn’t dare go near him again. So the little Tailor was +and remained a King all the days of his life. + + + + +THE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD + + +By Charles Perrault + +There was once in a distant country a King and Queen whose only sorrow +was that they had no children. At last the Queen gave birth to a little +daughter and the King showed his joy by giving a christening feast so +grand that the like of it was never known. He asked all the fairies in +the land—there were seven found in the kingdom—to stand godmothers to +the little Princess; hoping that each might bestow on her some good +gift. + +After the christening all the guests returned to the palace, where +there was placed before each fairy godmother a magnificent covered +dish, and a knife, fork, and spoon of pure gold, set with precious +stones. But, as they all were sitting down at table there entered an +old fairy who had not been invited, because it was more than fifty +years since she had gone out of a certain tower, and she was thought to +be dead or enchanted. The King ordered a cover to be placed for her, +but it was of common earthenware, for he had ordered from his jeweler +only seven gold dishes, for the seven fairies aforesaid. The old fairy +thought herself neglected, and muttered angry threats, which were +overheard by one of the younger fairies, who chanced to sit beside her. +This good godmother, afraid of harm to the pretty baby, hastened to +hide herself behind the hangings in the hall. She did this because she +wished to speak last and repair any evil the old fairy might intend. + +The fairies now offered their good wishes, which, unlike most wishes, +were sure to come true. The first wished that the little Princess +should grow up the fairest woman in the world; the second, that she +should have wit like an angel; the third, that she should be perfectly +graceful; the fourth, that she should sing like a nightingale; the +fifth, that she should dance perfectly well; the sixth, that she should +play all kinds of music perfectly. Then the old fairy’s turn came. +Shaking her head spitefully, she uttered the wish that when the baby +grew up into a young lady, and learned to spin, she might prick her +finger with a spindle and die of the wound. + +This terrible prophecy made all the company tremble; and every one fell +to crying. Upon which the wise young fairy appeared from behind the +curtains and said: “Assure yourselves O King and Queen; the Princess +shall not die. I have no power to undo what my elder has done. The +Princess must pierce her finger with a spindle and she shall then sink, +not into the sleep of death, but into a sleep that will last a hundred +years. After that time is ended, the son of a King shall come and awake +her.” + +Then all the fairies vanished. + +The King, in the hope of avoiding his daughter’s doom, issued an edict +forbidding all persons to spin, and even to have spinning wheels in +their houses, on pain of instant death. But it was in vain. One day +when she was just fifteen years of age, the King and Queen left their +daughter alone in one of their castles, where, wandering about at her +will, she came to a little room in the top of a tower, and there found +a very old woman, who had not heard of the King’s edict, busy with her +spinning wheel. + +“What are you doing, good old woman?” said the Princess. + +“I’m spinning my pretty child.” + +“Ah, how pretty! Let me try if I can spin also.” + +She had no sooner taken up the spindle than, being hasty and unhandy, +she pierced her finger with the point. Though it was so small a wound, +she fainted away at once and dropped on the floor. The poor old woman +called for help; shortly came the ladies-in-waiting, who tried every +means to restore their young mistress; but all in vain. She lay, +beautiful as an angel, the color still lingering in her lips and +cheeks, her fair bosom softly stirred with her breath; only her eyes +were fast closed. When the King, her father, and the Queen, her mother, +beheld her thus, they knew that all had happened as the cruel fairy +meant, and that their daughter would sleep for one hundred years. They +sent away all the physicians and attendants, and themselves sorrowing +laid her upon a bed in the finest apartment in the palace. There she +slept and looked like a sleeping angel still. + +When this misfortune happened, the kindly young fairy who had saved the +Princess by changing her sleep of death into this sleep of a hundred +years, was twelve thousand leagues away, in the kingdom of Mataquin. +But, being informed of everything by a little dwarf who wore +seven-league boots, she arrived speedily in a chariot of fire drawn by +dragons. The King handed her out of the chariot, and she approved of +all he had done. Then, being a fairy of great common sense and +foresight, she thought that the Princess, awakening after a hundred +years in this old castle, might not know what to do with herself if she +found herself alone. Accordingly, she touched with her magic wand +everybody and everything in the palace except the King and Queen: +governesses, ladies of honor, waiting maids, gentlemen ushers, cooks, +kitchen girls, pages, footmen; even the horses that were in the +stables, and the grooms that attended them, she touched each and all. +Nay, the dogs, too, in the outer court, and the little fat lapdog, +Mopsey, who had laid himself down beside his mistress on her splendid +bed, were also touched, and they, like all the rest, fell fast asleep +in a moment. The very spits that were before the kitchen fire fell +asleep, and the fire itself, and everything became as still as if it +were the middle of the night, or as if the palace were a palace of the +dead. + +The King and Queen, having kissed their daughter, went out of the +castle, giving orders that it was to be approached no more. The command +was unnecessary, for in one quarter of an hour there sprang up around +it a wood so thick and thorny that neither beasts nor men could attempt +to penetrate there. Above this dense mass of forest could only be seen +the top of the high tower where the lovely Princess slept. + +When a hundred years were gone the King had died, and his throne had +passed to another royal family. The reigning King’s son, being one day +out hunting, was stopped in the chase by this great wood, inquired what +wood it was and what were those towers which he saw appearing out of +the midst of it. Every one answered as he had heard. Some said it was +an old castle haunted by spirits. Others said it was the abode of +witches and enchanters. The most common story was that an Ogre lived +there, a giant with long teeth and claws, who carried away naughty +little boys and girls and ate them up. The Prince did not know what to +think. At length an old peasant was found who remembered having heard +his grandfather say to his father that in this tower was a Princess, +beautiful as the day, who was doomed to sleep there for one hundred +years, until awakened by a king’s son, who was to marry her. + +At this the young Prince, who had the spirit of a hero, determined to +find out the truth for himself. + +Spurred on by love and honor, he leaped from his horse and began to +force his way through the thick wood. To his amazement the stiff +branches all gave way, and the ugly thorns drew back of their own +accord, and the brambles buried themselves in the earth to let him +pass. This done, they closed behind him, allowing none to follow. +Nevertheless, he pushed boldly on alone. + +The first thing he saw was enough to freeze him with fear. Bodies of +men and horses lay extended on the ground; but the men had faces, not +death white, but red as roses, and beside them were glasses half filled +with wine, showing that they had gone to sleep drinking. Next he +entered a large court paved with marble, where stood rows of guards +presenting arms, but as still as if cut out of stone; then he passed +through many chambers where gentlemen and ladies, all in the dress of +the past century, slept at their ease, some standing, some sitting. The +pages were lurking in corners, the ladies of honor were stooping over +their embroidery frames or listening to the gentlemen of the court; but +all were as silent and as quiet as statues. Their clothes, strange to +say, were fresh and new as ever; and not a particle of dust or spider +web had gathered over the furniture, though it had not known a broom +for a hundred years. Finally, the astonished Prince came to an inner +chamber, where was the fairest sight his eyes ever beheld. + +A young girl of wonderful beauty lay asleep on an embroidered bed, and +she looked as if she had only just closed her eyes. Trembling, the +Prince approached and knelt beside her. Some say he kissed her; but as +nobody saw it, and she never told, we cannot be quite sure of the fact. +However, as the end of the enchantment had come, the Princess waked at +once, and, looking at him with eyes of the tenderest regard, said, +sleepily: “Is it you, my Prince? I have waited for you very long.” + +Charmed with these words, and still more by the tone in which they were +uttered, the Prince assured her that he loved her more than his life. +For a long time did they sit talking, and yet had not said half enough. +Their only interruption was the little dog Mopsey, who had awakened +with his mistress, and now began to be jealous that the Princess did +not notice him as much as she was wont to do. + +Meanwhile all the attendants, whose enchantment was also broken, not +being in love, were ready to die of hunger after their fast of a +hundred years. A lady of honor ventured to say that dinner was served, +whereupon the Prince handed his beloved Princess at once to the great +hall. She did not wait to dress for dinner, being already perfectly and +magnificently attired, though in a fashion somewhat out of date. +However, her lover had the politeness not to notice this, nor to remind +her that she was dressed exactly like his grandmother whose portrait +still hung on the palace walls. + +During dinner a concert by the attendant musicians took place, and, +considering they had not touched their instruments for a century, they +played the old tunes extremely well. They ended with a wedding march, +for that very evening the Prince and Princess were married. + +After a few days they went together out of the castle and enchanted +wood, both of which immediately vanished, and were nevermore beheld by +mortal eyes. The Princess was restored to her ancestral kingdom, and +after a few years the Prince and she became King and Queen, and ruled +long and happily. + + + + +THE FAIR ONE WITH GOLDEN LOCKS + + +Retold by Miss Mulock + +There was once a King’s daughter so beautiful that they named her the +Fair One with Golden Locks. These golden locks were the most remarkable +in the world, soft and fine, and falling in long waves down to her very +feet. She wore them always thus, loose and flowing, surmounted with a +wreath of flowers; and though such long hair was sometimes rather +inconvenient, it was so exceedingly beautiful, shining in the sun like +ripples of molten gold, that everybody agreed she fully deserved her +name. + +Now there was a young King of a neighboring country, very handsome, +very rich, and wanting nothing but a wife to make him happy. He heard +so much of the various perfections of the Fair One with Golden Locks, +that at last, without even seeing her, he fell in love with her so +desperately that he could neither eat nor drink, and resolved to send +an ambassador at once to demand her in marriage. So he ordered a +magnificent equipage—more than a hundred horses and a hundred +footmen—in order to bring back to him the Fair One with Golden Locks, +who, he never doubted, would be only too happy to become his Queen. +Indeed, he felt so sure of her that he refurnished the whole palace, +and had made by all the dressmakers of the city, dresses enough to last +a lady a lifetime. But, alas! when the ambassador arrived and delivered +his message, either the princess was in bad humor, or the offer did not +appear to be to her taste; for she returned her best thanks to his +majesty, but said she had not the slightest wish or intention to get +married. She also, being a prudent damsel, declined receiving any of +the presents which the King had sent her; except that, not quite to +offend his majesty, she retained a box of English pins, which were in +that country of considerable value. + +When the ambassador returned, alone and unsuccessful, all the court was +very much affected, and the King himself began to weep with all his +might. Now, there was in the palace household a young gentleman named +Avenant, beautiful as the sun, besides being at once so amiable and so +wise that the King confided to him all his affairs; and every one loved +him, except those people—to be found in all courts—who were envious of +his good fortune. These malicious folk hearing him say gaily: “If the +King had sent me to fetch the Fair One with Golden Locks, I know she +would have come back with me,” repeated the saying in such a manner, +that it appeared as if Avenant thought so much of himself and his +beauty, and felt sure the princess would have followed him all over the +world; which when it came to the ears of the King, as it was meant to +do, irritated him so much that he commanded Avenant to be imprisoned in +a high tower and left to die there of hunger. The guards accordingly +carried off the young man, who had quite forgotten his idle speech, and +had not the least idea what fault he had committed. They ill-treated +him very much, and then left him with nothing to eat and only water to +drink. This, however, kept him alive for a few days, during which he +did not cease to complain aloud, and to call upon the King, saying: “Oh +King, what harm have I done? You have no subject more faithful than I. +Never have I had a thought which could offend you.” + +And it so befell that the King, coming by chance, or else with a sort +of remorse, past the tower, was touched by the voice of the young +Avenant, whom he had once so much regarded. In spite of all the +courtiers could do to prevent him, he stopped to listen, and overheard +these words. The tears rushed into his eyes; he opened the door of the +tower, and called: “Avenant!” Avenant came, creeping feebly along, fell +at the King’s knees, and kissed his feet: + +“Oh sire, what have I done that you should treat me so cruelly?” + +“You have mocked me and my ambassador; for you said, if I had sent you +to fetch the Fair One with Golden Locks, you would have been successful +and brought her back.” + +“I did say it, and it was true,” replied Avenant fearlessly; “for I +should have told her so much about your majesty and your various high +qualities, which no one knows so well as myself, that I am persuaded +she would have returned with me.” + +“I believe it,” said the King, with an angry look at those who had +spoken ill of his favorite; he then gave Avenant a free pardon and took +him back with him to the court. + +After having supplied the famished youth with as much supper as he +could eat, the King admitted him to a private audience, and said: “I am +as much in love as ever with the Fair One with Golden Locks, so I will +take thee at thy word, and send thee to try and win her for me.” + +“Very well, please your majesty” replied Avenant cheerfully; “I will +depart to-morrow.” + +The King, overjoyed with his willingness and hopefulness would have +furnished him with a still more magnificent equipage and suite than the +first ambassador but Avenant refused to take anything except a good +horse to ride, and letters of introduction to the Princess’s father. +The King embraced him and eagerly saw him depart. + +It was on a Monday morning when, without any pomp or show, Avenant thus +started on his mission. He rode slowly and meditatively, pondering over +every possible means of persuading the Fair One with Golden Locks to +marry the King; but, even after several days journey towards her +country, no clear project had entered into his mind. One morning, when +he had started at break of day, he came to a great meadow with a stream +running through it, along which were planted willows and poplars. It +was such a pleasant, rippling stream that he dismounted and sat down on +its banks. There he perceived gasping on the grass a large golden Carp, +which, in leaping too far after gnats, had thrown itself quite out of +the water, and now lay dying on the greensward. Avenant took pity on +it, and though he was very hungry, and the fish was very fat, and he +would well enough have liked it for his breakfast, still he lifted it +gently and put it back into the stream. No sooner had the Carp touched +the fresh cool water than it revived and swam away; but shortly +returning, it spoke to him from the water in this wise: + +“Avenant, I thank you for your good deed. I was dying, and you have +saved me; I will recompense you for this one day.” + +After this pretty little speech, the fish popped down to the bottom of +the stream, according to the habit of Carp, leaving Avenant very much +astonished, as was natural. + +Another day he met with a Raven that was in great distress, being +pursued by an Eagle, which would have swallowed him up in no time. +“See,” thought Avenant, “how the stronger oppress the weaker! What +right has an Eagle to eat up a Raven?” So taking his bow and arrow, +which he always carried, he shot the Eagle dead, and the Raven, +delighted, perched in safety on an opposite tree. + +“Avenant,” screeched he, though not in the sweetest voice in the world, +“you have generously succored me, a poor miserable Raven. I am not +ungrateful, and I will recompense you one day.” + +“Thank you,” said Avenant, and continued his road. + +Entering in a thick wood, so dark with the shadows of early morning +that he could scarcely find his way, he heard an Owl hooting, like an +owl in great tribulation. She had been caught by the nets spread by +bird-catchers to entrap finches, larks, and other small birds. “What a +pity,” thought Avenant, “that men must always torment poor birds and +beasts who have done them no harm!” So he took out his knife, cut the +net, and let the Owl go free. She went sailing up in the air, but +immediately returned hovering over his head on her brown wings. + +“Avenant,” said she, “at daylight the bird-catchers would have been +here, and I should have been caught and killed. I have a grateful +heart; I will recompense you one day.” + +These were the three principal adventures that befell Avenant on his +way to the kingdom of the Fair One with Golden Locks. Arrived there, he +dressed himself with the greatest care, in a habit of silver brocade, +and a hat adorned with plumes of scarlet and white. He threw over all a +rich mantle, and carried a little basket, in which was a lovely little +dog, an offering of respect to the Princess. With this he presented +himself at the palace gates, where even though he came alone, his mien +was so dignified and graceful, so altogether charming, that every one +did him reverence, and was eager to run and tell the Fair One with +Golden Locks, that Avenant, another ambassador from the King, her +suitor, awaited an audience. + +“Avenant!” repeated the Princess. “That is a pretty name; perhaps the +youth is pretty too.” + +“So beautiful,” said the ladies of honor, “that while he stood under +the palace window we could do nothing but look at him.” + +“How silly of you!” sharply said the Princess. But she desired them to +bring her robe of blue satin, to comb out her long hair, and adorn it +with the freshest garland of flowers; to give her her high-heeled +shoes, and her fan. “Also,” added she, “take care that my +audience-chamber is well swept and my throne well dusted. I wish in +everything to appear as becomes the Fair One with Golden Locks.” + +This done she seated herself on her throne of ivory and ebony and gave +orders for her musicians to play, but softly, so as not to disturb +conversation. Thus, shining in all her beauty, she admitted Avenant to +her presence. + +He was so dazzled that at first he could not speak; then he began and +delivered his harangue to perfection. + +“Gentle Avenant,” returned the Princess, after listening to all his +reasons for her returning with him, “your arguments are very strong, +and I am inclined to listen to them; but you must first find for me a +ring, which I dropped into the river about a month ago. Until I recover +it, I can listen to no proposition of marriage.” + +Avenant, surprised and disturbed, made her a profound reverence and +retired, taking with him the basket and the little dog Cabriole, which +she refused to accept. All night long he sat sighing to himself. “How +can I ever find a ring which she dropped into the river a month ago? +She has set me an impossibility.” + +“My dear master,” said Cabriole, “nothing is an impossibility to one so +young and charming as you are; let us go at daybreak to the +river-side.” + +Avenant patted him, but replied nothing; until, worn out with grief, he +slept. Before dawn Cabriole wakened him, saying: “Master, dress +yourself and let us go to the river.” + +There Avenant walked up and down, with his arms folded and his head +bent, but saw nothing. At last he heard a voice, calling from a +distance, “Avenant, Avenant!” + +The little dog ran to the water-side.—“Never believe me again, master, +if it is not a golden Carp with a ring in its mouth!” + +“Yes, Avenant,” said the Carp, “this is the ring which the Princess has +lost. You saved my life in the willow meadow, and I have recompensed +you. Farewell!” + +Avenant took the ring gratefully and returned to the palace with +Cabriole, who scampered about in great glee. + +Craving an audience, he presented the Princess with her ring, and +begged her to accompany him to his master’s kingdom. She took the ring, +looked at it, and thought she was surely dreaming. + +“Some fairy must have assisted you, fortunate Avenant,” said she. + +“Madam, I am only fortunate in my desire to obey your wishes.” + +“Obey me still,” she said graciously. “There is a prince named +Galifron, whose suit I have refused. He is a giant as tall as a tower, +who eats a man as a monkey eats a nut: he puts cannons into his pockets +instead of pistols; and when he speaks, his voice is so loud that every +one near him becomes deaf. Go and fight him, and bring me his head.” + +Avenant was thunderstruck; but after a time he recovered himself. “Very +well, madam, I shall certainly perish, but I will perish like a brave +man. I will depart at once to fight the Giant Galifron.” + +The Princess, now in her turn surprised and alarmed, tried every +persuasion to induce him not to go, but in vain. Avenant armed himself +and started, carrying his little dog in its basket. Cabriole was the +only creature that gave him consolation: “Courage, master! While you +attack the giant, I will bite his legs: he will stoop down to strike +me, and then you can knock him on the head.” Avenant smiled at the +little dog’s spirit, but he knew it was useless. + +Arrived at the castle of Galifron, he found the road all strewn with +bones, and carcasses of men. Soon he saw the giant walking. His head +was level with the highest trees, and he sang in a terrific voice: + +“Bring me babies to devour; +More—more—more—more— +Men and women, tender and tough; +All the world holds not enough.” + + +To which Avenant replied, imitating the tune: + +“Avenant you here may see, +He is come to punish thee: +Be he tender, be he tough, +To kill thee, giant, he is enough.” + + +Hearing these words, the giant took up his massive club, looked around +for the singer, and perceiving him, would have slain him on the spot, +had not a Raven, sitting on a tree close by, suddenly flown out upon +him and picked out both his eyes. Then Avenant easily killed him and +cut off his head, while the Raven, watching him, said: + +“You shot the Eagle who was pursuing me: I promised to recompense you, +and to-day I have done it. We are quits.” + +“No, it is I who am your debtor, Sir Raven,” replied Avenant, as, +hanging the frightful head to his saddle-bow, he mounted his horse and +rode back to the city of the Fair One with Golden Locks. + +There everybody followed him, shouting: “Here is brave Avenant, who has +killed the giant,” until the Princess, hearing the noise, and fearing +it was Avenant himself who was killed, appeared, all trembling; and +even when he appeared with Galifron’s head, she trembled still, +although she had nothing to fear. + +“Madam,” said Avenant, “your enemy is dead; so I trust you will accept +the hand of the King my master.” + +“I cannot,” replied she thoughtfully, “unless you first bring me a +phial of the water in the Grotto of Darkness. It is six leagues in +length, and guarded at the entrance by two fiery dragons. Within, it is +a pit, full of scorpions, lizards, and serpents, and at the bottom of +this place flows the Fountain of Beauty and Health. All who wash in it +become, if ugly, beautiful, and if beautiful, beautiful forever; if +old, young; and if young, young forever. Judge then, Avenant, if I can +quit my kingdom without carrying with me some of this miraculous +water.” + +“Madam,” replied Avenant, “you are already so beautiful that you +require it not; but I am an unfortunate ambassador whose death you +desire; I will obey you, though I know I shall never return.” + +So he departed with his only friends—his horse and his faithful dog +Cabriole; while all who met him looked at him compassionately, pitying +so pretty a youth bound on such a hopeless errand. But, however kindly +they addressed him, Avenant rode on and answered nothing, for he was +too sad at heart. + +He reached a mountain-side, where he sat down to rest, leaving his +horse to graze, and Cabriole to run after the flies. He knew that the +Grotto of Darkness was not far off, yet he looked about him like one +who sees nothing. At last he perceived a rock, as black as ink, whence +came a thick smoke; and in a moment appeared one of the two dragons, +breathing out flames. It had a yellow and green body, claws, and a long +tail. When Cabriole saw the monster, the poor little dog hid himself in +terrible fright. But Avenant resolved to die bravely; so taking a phial +which the Princess had given him, he prepared to descend into the cave. + +“Cabriole,” said he, “I shall soon be dead; then fill this phial with +my blood, and carry it to the Fair One with Golden Locks, and afterward +to the King, my master, to show him I have been faithful to the last.” + +While he was thus speaking a voice called: “Avenant, Avenant!”—and he +saw an Owl sitting on a hollow tree. Said the Owl: “You cut the net in +which I was caught, and I vow to recompense you. Now is the time. Give +me the phial; I know every corner of the Grotto of Darkness—I will +fetch you the water of beauty.” + +Delighted beyond words, Avenant delivered up his phial; the Owl flew +with it into the grotto, and in less than half an hour reappeared, +bringing it quite full and well corked. Avenant thanked her with all +his heart, and joyfully took once more the road to the city. + +The Fair One with Golden Locks had no more to say. She consented to +accompany him back, with all her suite, to his master’s court. On the +way thither she saw so much of him, and found him so charming, that +Avenant might have married her himself had he chosen; but he would not +have been false to his master for all the beauties under the sun. At +length they arrived at the King’s city, and the Fair One with Golden +Locks became his spouse and Queen. But she still loved Avenant in her +heart, and often said to the King her lord: “But for Avenant I should +not be here; he has done all sorts of impossible deeds for my sake; he +has fetched me the water of beauty, and I shall never grow old—in +short, I owe him everything.” + +And she praised him in this sort so much that at length the King became +jealous; and though Ayenant gave him not the slightest cause of +offense, he shut him up in the same high tower once more—but with irons +on his hands and feet, and a cruel jailer besides, who fed him with +bread and water only. His sole companion was his little dog Cabriole. + +When the Fair One with Golden Locks heard of this, she reproached her +husband for his ingratitude, and then throwing herself at his knees, +implored that Avenant might be set free. But the King only said: “She +loves him!” and refused her prayer. The Queen entreated no more, but +fell into a deep melancholy. + +When the King saw it, he thought she did not care for him because he +was not handsome enough; and that if he could wash his face with her +water of beauty, it would make her love him the more. He knew that she +kept it in a cabinet in her chamber, where she could find it always. + +Now it happened that a waiting-maid, in cleaning out this cabinet, had, +the very day before, knocked down the phial, which was broken in a +thousand pieces, and all the contents were lost. Very much alarmed, she +then remembered seeing, in a cabinet belonging to the King, a similar +phial. This she fetched, and put in the place of the other one, in +which was the water of beauty. But the King’s phial contained the water +of death. It was a poison, used to destroy great criminals—that is, +noblemen, gentlemen, and such like. Instead of hanging them or cutting +their heads off, like common people, they were compelled to wash their +faces with this water; upon which they fell asleep, and woke no more. +So it happened that the King, taking up this phial, believing it to be +the water of beauty, washed his face with it, fell asleep, and—died. + +Cabriole heard the news, and, gliding in and out among the crowd which +clustered round the young and lovely widow, whispered softly to +her—“Madam, do not forget poor Avenant.” If she had been disposed to do +so, the sight of his little dog would have been enough to remind her of +him—his many sufferings, and his great fidelity. She rose up, without +speaking to anybody, and went straight to the tower where Avenant was +confined. There, with her own hands, she struck off his chains, and +putting a crown of gold on his head, and a purple mantle on his +shoulders, said to him, “Be King—and my husband. + +Avenant could not refuse: for in his heart he had loved her all the +time. He threw himself at her feet, and then took the crown and +scepter, and ruled her kingdom like a king. All the people were +delighted to have him as their sovereign. The marriage was celebrated +in all imaginable pomp, and Avenant and the Fair One with Golden Locks +lived and reigned happily together all their days. + + + + +BEAUTY AND THE BEAST + + +By Mme. d’Aulnoy + +There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three boys +and three girls. As he was himself a man of great sense, he spared no +expense for their education. The three daughters were all handsome, but +particularly the youngest; indeed, she was so very beautiful, that in +her childhood everyone called her the Little Beauty; and being equally +lovely when she was grown up, nobody called her by any other name, +which made her sisters very jealous of her. This youngest daughter was +not only more handsome than her sisters, but also was better tempered. +The two eldest were vain of their wealth and position. They gave +themselves a thousand airs, and refused to visit other merchants’ +daughters; nor would they condescend to be seen except with persons of +quality. + +They went every day to balls, p1ays, and public walks, and always made +game of their youngest sister for spending her time in reading or other +useful employments. As it was well known that these young ladies would +have large fortunes, many great merchants wished to get them for wives; +but the two eldest always answered, that, for their parts, they had no +thoughts of marrying anyone below a duke or an earl at least. Beauty +had quite as many offers as her sisters, but she always answered, with +the greatest civility, that though she was much obliged to her lovers, +she would rather live some years longer with her father, as she thought +herself too young to marry. + +It happened that, by some unlucky accident, the merchant suddenly lost +all his fortune, and had nothing left but a small cottage in the +country. Upon this he said to his daughters, while the tears ran down +his cheeks, “My children, we must now go and dwell in the cottage, and +try to get a living by labor, for we have no other means of support.” +The two eldest replied that they did not know how to work, and would +not leave town; for they had lovers enough who would be glad to marry +them, though they had no longer any fortune. But in this they were +mistaken; for when the lovers heard what had happened, they said, “The +girls were so proud and ill-tempered, that all we wanted was their +fortune; we are not sorry at all to see their pride brought down; let +them show off their airs to their cows and sheep.” But everybody pitied +poor Beauty, because she was so sweet-tempered and kind to all, and +several gentlemen offered to marry her, though she had not a penny; but +Beauty still refused, and said she could not think of leaving her poor +father in this trouble. At first Beauty could not help sometimes crying +in secret for the hardships she was now obliged to suffer; but in a +very short time she said to herself, “All the crying in the world will +do me no good, so I will try to be happy without a fortune.” + +When they had removed to their cottage, the merchant and his three sons +employed themselves in ploughing and sowing the fields, and working in +the garden. Beauty also did her part, for she rose by four o’clock +every morning, lighted the fires, cleaned the house, and got ready the +breakfast for the whole family. At first she found all this very hard; +but she soon grew quite used to it, and thought it no hardship; indeed, +the work greatly benefited her health. When she had done, she used to +amuse herself with reading, playing her music, or singing while she +spun. But her two sisters were at a loss what to do to pass the time +away; they had their breakfast in bed, and did not rise till ten +o’clock. Then they commonly walked out, but always found themselves +very soon tired; when they would often sit down under a shady tree, and +grieve for the loss of their carriage and fine clothes, and say to each +other, “What a mean-spirited, poor stupid creature our young sister is, +to be so content within this low way of life!” But their father thought +differently; and loved and admired his youngest child more than ever. + +After they had lived in this manner about a year the merchant received +a letter, which informed him that one of his richest ships, which he +thought was lost, had just come unto port. This news made the two +eldest sisters almost mad with joy; for they thought they should now +leave the cottage, and have all their finery again. When they found +that their father must take a journey to the ship, the two eldest +begged he would not fail to bring them back some new gowns, caps, +rings, and all sorts of trinkets. But Beauty asked for nothing; for she +thought in herself that all the Ship was worth would hardly buy +everything her sisters wished for. “Beauty,” said the merchant, “how +comes it that you ask for nothing: what can I bring you, my child?” + +“Since you are so kind as to think of me, dear father,” she answered, +“I should be glad if you would bring me a rose, for we have none in our +garden.” Now Beauty did not indeed wish for a rose, nor anything else, +but she only said this that she might not affront her sisters; +otherwise they would have said she wanted her father to praise her for +desiring nothing. The merchant took his leave of them, and set out on +his journey; but when he got to the ship, some persons went to law with +him about the cargo, and after a deal of trouble he came back to his +cottage as poor as he had left it. When he was within thirty miles of +his home, and thinking of the joy of again meeting his children, he +lost his way in the midst of a dense forest. It rained and snowed very +hard, and, besides, the wind was so high as to throw him twice from his +horse. Night came on, and he feared he should die of cold and hunger, +or be torn to pieces by the wolves that he heard howling round him. All +at once, he cast his eyes toward a long avenue, and saw at the end a +light, but it seemed a great way off. He made the best of his way +toward it, and found that it came from a splendid palace, the windows +of which were all blazing with light. It had great bronze gates, +standing wide open, and fine court-yards, through which the merchant +passed; but not a living soul was to be seen. There were stables, too, +which his poor, starved horse, less scrupulous than himself, entered at +once, and took a good meal of oats and hay. His master then tied him +up, and walked toward the entrance hall, but still without seeing a +single creature. He went on to a large dining parlor, where he found a +good fire, and table covered with some very nice dishes, but only one +plate with a knife and fork. As the snow and rain had wetted him to the +skin, he went up to the fire to dry himself. “I hope,” said he, “the +master of the house or his servants will excuse me, for it surely will +not be long now before I see them.” He waited some time, but still +nobody came: at last the clock struck eleven, and the merchant, being +quite faint for the want of food, helped himself to a chicken, and to a +few glasses of wine, yet all the time trembling with fear. He sat till +the clock struck twelve, and then, taking courage, began to think he +might as well look about him: so he opened a door at the end of the +hall, and went through it into a very grand room, in which there was a +fine bed; and as he was feeling very weary, he shut the door, took off +his clothes, and got into it. + +It was ten o’clock in the morning before he awoke, when he was amazed +to see a handsome new suit of clothes laid ready for him, instead of +his own, which were all torn and spoiled. “To be sure,” said he to +himself, “this place belongs to some good fairy, who has taken pity on +my ill luck.” He looked out of the window, and instead of the +snow-covered wood, where he had lost himself the previous night, he saw +the most charming arbors covered with all kinds of flowers. Returning +to the hall where he had supper, he found a breakfast table, ready +prepared. “Indeed, my good fairy,” said the merchant aloud, “I am +vastly obliged to you for your kind care of me.” He then made a hearty +breakfast, took his hat, and was going to the stable to pay his horse a +visit; but as he passed under one of the arbors, which was loaded with +roses, he thought of what Beauty had asked him to bring back to her, +and so he took a bunch of roses to carry home. At the same moment he +heard a loud noise, and saw coming toward him a beast, so frightful to +look at that he was ready to faint with fear. “Ungrateful man!” said +the beast in a terrible voice, “I have saved your life by admitting you +into my palace, and in return you steal my roses, which I value more +than anything I possess. But you shall atone for your fault—die in a +quarter of an hour. + +The merchant fell on his knees, and clasping his hands, said, “Sir, I +humbly beg your pardon: I did not think it would offend you to gather a +rose for one of my daughters, who had entreated me to bring her one +home. Do not kill me, my lord!” + +“I am not a lord, but a beast,” replied. the monster, “I hate false +compliments: so do not fancy that you can coax me by any such ways. You +tell me that you have daughters; now I will suffer you to escape, if +one of them will come and die in your stead. If not, profuse that you +will yourself return in three months, to be dealt with as I may +choose.” + +The tender-hearted merchant had no thoughts of letting any one of his +daughters die for his sake; but he knew that if he seemed to accept the +beast’s terms, he should at least have the pleasure of seeing them once +again. So he gave his promise, and was told that he might then set off +as soon as he liked. “But,” said the beast, “I do not wish you to go +back empty handed. Go to the room you slept in, and you will find a +chest there; fill it with whatsoever you like best, and I will have it +taken to your own house for you.” + +When the beast had said this, he went away. The good merchant, left to +himself, began to consider that as he must die—for he had no thought of +breaking a promise, made even to a beast—he might as well have the +comfort of leaving his children provided for. He returned to the room +he had slept in, and found there heaps of gold pieces lying about. + +He filled the chest with them to the very brim, locked it, and, +mounting his horse, left the palace as sorrowful as he had been glad +when he first beheld it. The horse took a path across the forest of his +own accord, and in a few hours they reached the merchant’s house. His +children came running round him, but, instead of kissing them with joy, +he could not help weeping as he looked at them. He held in his hand the +bunch of roses, which he gave to Beauty, saying, “Take these roses, +Beauty; but little do you think how dear they have cost your poor +father;” and then he gave them an account of all that he had seen or +heard in the palace of the beast. + +The two eldest sisters now began to shed tears, and to lay the blame +upon Beauty, who, they said, would be the cause of her father’s death. +“See,” said they, “what happens from the pride of the little wretch; +why did not she ask for such things as we did? But, to be sure, Miss +must not be like other people; and though she will be the cause of her +father’s death, yet she does not shed a tear.” + +“It would be useless,” replied Beauty, “for my father shall not die. As +the beast will accept one of his daughters, I will give myself up, and +be only too happy to prove my love for the best of fathers.” + +“No, sister,” said the three brothers with one voice, “that cannot be; +we will go in search of this monster, and either he or we will perish.” + +“Do not hope to kill him,” said the merchant, “his power is far too +great. But Beauty’s young life shall not be sacrificed; I am old, and +cannot expect to live much longer; so I shall but give up a few years +of my life, and shall only grieve for the sake of my children.” + +“Never, father!” cried Beauty; “if you go back to the palace, you +cannot hinder my going after you; though young, I am not over-fond of +life; and I would much rather be eaten up by the monster, than die of +grief for your loss.” + +The merchant in vain tried to reason with Beauty who still obstinately +kept to her purpose; which, in truth, made her two sisters glad, for +they were jealous of her, because everybody loved her. + +The merchant was so grieved at the thoughts of losing his child, that +he never once thought of the chest filled with gold, but at night, to +his great surprise, he found it standing by his bedside. He said +nothing about his riches to his eldest daughters, for he knew very well +it would at once make them want to return to town; but he told Beauty +his secret, and she then said, that while he was away, two gentlemen +had been on a visit at her cottage, who had fallen in love with her two +sisters. She entreated her father to marry them without delay, for she +was so sweet-natured, she only wished them to be happy. + +Three months went by, only too fast, and then the merchant and Beauty +got ready to set out for the palace of the beast. Upon this, the two +sisters rubbed their eyes with an onion, to make believe they were +crying; both the merchant and his sons cried in earnest. Only Beauty +shed no tears. They reached the palace in a very few hours, and the +horse, without bidding, went into the stable as before. The merchant +and Beauty walked toward the large hall, where they found a table +covered with every dainty and two plates laid already. The merchant had +very little appetite; but Beauty, that she might the better hide her +grief, placed herself at the table, and helped her father; she then +began to eat herself, and thought all the time that, to be sure, the +beast had a mind to fatten her before he ate her up, since he had +provided such good cheer for her. When they had done their supper, they +heard a great noise, and the good old man began to bid his poor child +farewell, for he knew it was the beast coming to them. When Beauty +first saw that frightful form, she was very much terrified, but tried +to hide her fear. The creature walked up to her, and eyed her all +over—then asked her in a dreadful voice if she had come quite of her +own accord. + +“Yes,” said Beauty. + +“Then you are a good girl, and I am very much obliged to you.” + +This was such an astonishingly civil answer that Beauty’s courage rose: +but it sank again when the beast, addressing the merchant, desired him +to leave the palace next morning, and never return to it again. “And so +good-night, merchant. And good-night, Beauty.” + +“Good-night, beast,” she answered, as the monster shuffled out of the +room. + +“Ah! my dear child,” said the merchant, kissing his daughter, “I am +half dead already, at the thought of leaving you with this dreadful +beast; you shall go back and let me stay in your place.” + +“No,” said Beauty, boldly, “I will never agree to that; you must go +home to-morrow morning.” + +They then wished each other good-night, and went to bed, both of them +thinking they should not be able to close their eyes; but as soon as +ever they had lain down, they fell into a deep sleep, and did not awake +till morning. Beauty dreamed that a lady came up to her, who said, “I +am very much pleased, Beauty, with the goodness you have shown, in +being willing to give your life to save that of your father. Do not be +afraid of anything; you shall not go without a reward.” + +As soon as Beauty awoke she told her father this dream; but though it +gave him some comfort, he was a long time before he could be persuaded +to leave the palace. At last Beauty succeeded in getting him safely +away. + +When her father was out of sight, poor Beauty began to weep sorely; +still, having naturally a courageous spirit, she soon resolved not to +make her sad case still worse by sorrow, which she knew was vain, but +to wait and be patient. She walked about to take a view of all the +palace, and the elegance of every part of it much charmed her. + +But what was her surprise, when she came to a door on which was +written, BEAUTY’S ROOM! She opened it in haste, and her eyes were +dazzled by the splendor and taste of the apartment. What made her +wonder more than all the rest, was a large library filled with books, a +harpsichord, and many pieces of music. “The beast surely does not mean +to eat me up immediately,” said she, “since he takes care I shall not +be at a loss how to amuse myself.” She opened the library and saw these +verses written in letters of gold in the back of one of the books:— + +“Beauteous lady, dry your tears, +Here’s no cause for sighs or fears. +Command as freely as you may, +For you command and I obey.” + + +“Alas!” said she, sighing; “I wish I could only command a sight of my +poor father, and to know what he is doing at this moment.” Just then, +by chance, she cast her eyes upon a looking-glass that stood near her, +and in it she saw a picture of her old home, and her father riding +mournfully up to the door. Her sisters came out to meet him, and +although they tried to look sorry, it was easy to see that in their +hearts they were very glad. In a short time all this picture +disappeared, but it caused Beauty to think that the beast, besides +being very powerful, was also very kind. About the middle of the day +she found a table laid ready for her, and a sweet concert of music +played all the time she was dining, without her seeing anybody. But at +supper, when she was going to seat herself at table, she heard the +noise of the beast, and could not help trembling with fear. + +“Beauty,” said he, “will you give me leave to see you sup?” + +“That is as you please,” answered she, very much afraid. + +“Not in the least,” said the beast; “you alone command in this place. +If you should not like my company, you need only say so, and I will +leave you that moment. But tell me, Beauty, do you not think me very +ugly?” + +“Why, yes,” said she, “for I cannot tell a falsehood; but then I think +you are very good.” + +“Am I?” sadly replied the beast; “yet, besides being ugly, I am also +very stupid; I know well enough that I am but a beast.” + +“Very stupid people,” said Beauty, “are never aware of it themselves.” + +At which kindly speech the beast looked pleased, and replied, not +without an awkward sort of politeness, “Pray do not let me detain you +from supper, and be sure that you are well served. All you see is your +own, and I should be deeply grieved if you wanted for anything.” + +“You are very kind—so kind that I almost forgot you are so ugly,” said +Beauty, earnestly. + +“Ah! yes,” answered the beast, with a great sigh; “I hope I am +good-tempered, but still I am only a monster.” + +“There is many a monster who wears the form of a man; it is better of +the two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster.” + +“I would thank you, Beauty, for this speech, but I am too senseless to +say anything that would please you,” returned the beast in a melancholy +voice; and altogether he seemed so gentle and so unhappy that Beauty, +who had the tenderest heart in the world, felt her fear of him +gradually vanish. + +She ate her supper with a good appetite, and conversed in her own +sensible and charming way, till at last, when the beast rose to depart, +he terrified her more than ever by saying abruptly, in his gruff voice, +“Beauty, will you marry me?” + +Now Beauty, frightened as she was, would speak only the exact truth; +besides her father had told her that the beast liked only to have the +truth spoken to him. So she answered, in a very firm tone, “No, beast.” + +He did not get into a passion, or do anything but sigh deeply, and +depart. + +When Beauty found herself alone, she began to feel pity for the poor +beast. “Oh!” said she, “what a sad thing it is that he should be so +very frightful, since he is so good-tempered!” + +Beauty lived three months in this palace very well pleased. The beast +came to see her every night, and talked with her while she supped; and +though what he said was not very clever, yet, as she saw in him every +day some new goodness, instead of dreading the time of his coming, she +soon began continually looking at her watch, to see if it were nine +o’clock; for that was the hour when he never failed to visit her. One +thing only vexed her, which was that every night before he went away, +he always made it a rule to ask her if she would be his wife, and +seemed very much grieved at her steadfastly replying “No.” At last, one +night, she said to him, “You wound me greatly, beast, by forcing me to +refuse you so often; I wish I could take such a liking to you as to +agree to marry you; but I must tell you plainly that I do not think it +will ever happen. I shall always be your friend; so try to let that +content you. + +“I must,” sighed the beast, “for I know well enough how frightful I am; +but I love you better than myself. Yet I think I am very lucky in your +being pleased to stay with me; now promise, Beauty, that you will never +leave me. + +Beauty would almost have agreed to this, so sorry was she for him, but +she had that day seen in her magic glass, which she looked at +constantly, that her father was dying of grief for her sake. + +“Alas!” she said, “I long so much to see my father, that if you do not +give me leave to visit him, I shall break my heart.” + +“I would rather break mine, Beauty,” answered the beast; “I will send +you to your father’s cottage: you shall stay there, and your poor beast +shall die of sorrow.” + +“No,” said Beauty, crying, “I love you too well to be the cause of your +death; I promise to return in a week. You have shown me that my sisters +are married, and my brothers are gone for soldiers, so that my father +is left all alone. Let me stay a week with him.” + +“You shall find yourself with him to-morrow morning,” replied the +beast; “but mind, do not forget your promise. When you wish to return, +you have nothing to do but to put your ring on a table when you go to +bed. Good-by, Beauty!” The beast sighed as he said these words, and +Beauty went to bed very sorry to see him so much grieved. When she +awoke in the morning, she found herself in her father’s cottage. She +rang a bell that was at her bedside, and a servant entered; but as soon +as she saw Beauty the woman gave a loud shriek; upon which the merchant +ran upstairs, and when he beheld his daughter he ran to her, and kissed +her a hundred times. At last Beauty began to remember that she had +brought no clothes with her to put on; but the servant told her she had +just found in the next room a large chest full of dresses, trimmed all +over with gold, and adorned within pearls and diamonds. + +Beauty, in her own mind, thanked the beast for his kindness, and put on +the plainest gown she could find among them all. She then desired the +servant to lay the rest aside, for she intended to give them to her +sisters; but, as soon as she had spoken these words, the chest was gone +out of sight in a moment. Her father then suggested, perhaps the beast +chose for her to keep them all for herself: and as soon as he had said +this, they saw the chest standing again in the same place. While Beauty +was dressing herself, a servant brought word to her that her sisters +were come with their husbands to pay her a visit. They both lived +unhappily with the gentlemen they had married. The husband of the +eldest was very handsome, but was so proud of this that he thought of +nothing else from morning till night, and did not care a pin for the +beauty of his wife. The second had married a man of great learning; but +he made no use of it, except to torment and affront all his friends, +and his wife more than any of them. The two sisters were ready to burst +with spite when they saw Beauty dressed like a princess, and looking so +very charming. All the kindness that she showed them was of no use; for +they were vexed more than ever when she told them how happy she lived +at the palace of the beast. The spiteful creatures went by themselves +into the garden, where they cried to think of her good fortune. + +“Why should the little wretch be better off than we?” said they. “We +are much handsomer than she is.” + +“Sister!” said the eldest, “a thought has just come into my head; let +us try to keep her here longer than the week for which the beast gave +her leave; and then he will be so angry that perhaps when she goes back +to him he will eat her up in a moment.” + +“That is well thought of,” answered the other, “but to do this, we must +pretend to be very kind.” + +They then went to join her in the cottage, where they showed her so +much false love that Beauty could not help crying for joy. + +When the week was ended, the two sisters began to pretend such grief at +the thought of her leaving them that she agreed to stay a week more; +but all that time Beauty could not help fretting for the sorrow that +she knew her absence would give her poor beast for she tenderly loved +him, and much wished for his company again. Among all the grand and +clever people she saw, she found nobody who was half so sensible, so +affectionate, so thoughtful, or so kind. The tenth night of her being +at the cottage, she dreamed she was in the garden of the palace, that +the beast lay dying on a grass plot, and with his last breath put her +in mind of her promise, and laid his death to her forsaking him. Beauty +awoke in a great fright, and she burst into tears. “Am not I wicked,” +said she, “to behave so ill to a beast who has shown me so much +kindness? Why will I not marry him? I am sure I should be more happy +with him than my sisters are with their husbands. He shall not be +wretched any longer on my account; for I should do nothing but blame +myself all the rest of my life.” + +She then rose, put her ring on the table, got into bed again, and soon +fell asleep. In the morning she with joy found herself in the palace of +the beast. She dressed herself very carefully, that she might please +him the better, and thought she had never known a day pass away so +slowly. At last the clock struck nine, but the beast did not come. +Beauty, dreading lest she might truly have caused his death, ran from +room to room, calling out: “Beast, dear beast;” but there was no +answer. At last she remembered her dream, rushed to the grass plot, and +there saw him lying apparently dead beside the fountain. Forgetting all +his ugliness, she threw herself upon his body, and finding his heart +still beating, she fetched some water and sprinkled it over him, +weeping and sobbing the while. + +The beast opened his eyes. “You forgot your promise, Beauty, and so I +determined to die; for I could not live without you. I have starved +myself to death, but I shall die content since I have seen your face +once more.” + +“No, dear beast,” cried Beauty, passionately, “you shall not die; you +shall live to be my husband. I thought it was only friendship I felt +for you, but now I know it was love.” + +The moment Beauty had spoken these words, the palace was suddenly +lighted up, and all kinds of rejoicings were heard around them, none of +which she noticed, but hung over her dear beast with the utmost +tenderness. At last, unable to restrain herself, she dropped her head +over her hands, covered her eyes, and cried for joy; and, when she +looked up again, the beast was gone. In his stead she saw at her feet a +handsome, graceful young prince, who thanked her with the tenderest +expressions for having freed him from enchantment. + +“But where is my poor beast? I only want him and nobody else,” sobbed +Beauty. + +“I am he,” replied the prince. “A wicked fairy condemned me to this +form, and forbade me to show that I had any wit or sense, till a +beautiful lady should consent to marry me. You alone, dearest Beauty, +judged me neither by my looks nor by my talents, but by my heart alone. +Take it then, and all that I have besides, for all is yours.” + +Beauty, full of surprise, but very happy, suffered the prince to lead +her to his palace, where she found her father and sisters, who had been +brought there by the fairy-lady whom she had seen in a dream the first +night she came. + +“Beauty,” said the fairy, “you have chosen well, and you have your +reward, for a true heart is better than either good looks or clever +brains. As for you, ladies,” and she turned to the two elder sisters, +“I know all your ill deeds, but I have no worse punishment for you than +to see your sister happy. You shall stand as statues at the door of her +palace, and when you repent of, and have amended your faults, you shall +become women again. But, to tell you the truth, I very much fear you +will remain statues forever.” + + + + +JACK AND THE BEANSTALK + + +Anonymous + +Once upon a time there was a poor widow who lived in a little cottage +with her only son Jack. + +Jack was a giddy, thoughtless boy, but very kindhearted and +affectionate. There had been a hard winter, and after it the poor woman +had suffered from fever and ague. Jack did no work as yet, and by +degrees they grew dreadfully poor. The widow saw that there was no +means of keeping Jack and herself from starvation but by selling her +cow; so one morning she said to her son, “I am too weak to go myself, +Jack, so you must take the cow to market for me, and sell her.” + +Jack liked going to market to sell the cow very much; but as he was on +his way, he met a butcher who had some beautiful beans in his hand. +Jack stopped to look at them, and the butcher told the boy that they +were of great value, and persuaded the silly lad to sell the cow for +these beans. When he brought them home to his mother instead of the +money she expected for her nice cow, she was very vexed and shed many +tears, scolding Jack for his folly. He was very sorry, and mother and +son went to bed very sadly that night; their last hope seemed gone. + +At daybreak Jack rose and went out into the garden. + +“At least,” he thought, “I will sow the wonderful beans. Mother says +that they are just common scarlet-runners, and nothing else; but I may +as well sow them.” + +So he took a piece of stick, and made some holes in the ground, and put +in the beans. + +That day they had very little dinner, and went sadly to bed, knowing +that for the next day there would be none, and Jack, unable to sleep +from grief and vexation, got up at day-dawn and went out into the +garden. + +What was his amazement to find that the beans had grown up in the +night, and climbed up and up till they covered the high cliff that +sheltered the cottage, and disappeared above it! The stalks had twined +and—twisted themselves together till they formed quite a ladder. + +“It would be easy to climb it,” thought Jack. + +And, having thought of the experiment, he at once resolved to carry it +out, for Jack was a good climber. However, after his late mistake about +the cow, he thought he had better consult his mother first. + +So Jack called his mother, and they both gazed in silent wonder at the +Beanstalk, which was not only of great height, but it was thick enough +to bear Jack’s weight. + +“I wonder where it ends,” said Jack to his mother; “I think I will +climb up and see.” + +His mother wished him not to venture up this strange ladder, but Jack +coaxed her to give her consent to the attempt, for he was certain there +must be something wonderful in the Beanstalk; so at last she yielded to +his wishes. + +Jack instantly began to climb, and went up and up on the ladder-like +bean till everything he had left behind him—the cottage, the village, +and even the tall church tower—looked quite little, and still he could +not see the top of the Beanstalk. + +Jack felt a little tired, and thought for a moment that he would go +back again; but he was a very persevering boy, and he knew that the way +to succeed in anything is not to give up. So, after resting for a +moment, he went on. + +After climbing higher and higher, till he grew afraid to look down for +fear he should be giddy, Jack at last reached the top of the Beanstalk, +and found himself in a beautiful country, finely wooded, with beautiful +meadows covered with sheep. A crystal stream ran through the pastures; +not far from the place where he had got off the Beanstalk stood a fine, +strong castle. + +Jack wondered very much that he had never heard of or seen this castle +before; but when he reflected on the subject, he saw that it was as +much separated from the village by the perpendicular rock on which it +stood as if it were in another land. + +While Jack was standing looking at the castle, a very strange-looking +woman came out of the wood and advanced toward him. + +She wore a pointed cap of quilted red satin turned up with ermine, her +hair streamed loose over her shoulders, and she walked with a staff. +Jack took off his cap and made her a bow. + +“If you please, ma’am,” said he, “is this your house?” + +“No,” said the old lady. “Listen, and I will tell you the story of that +castle.” + +“Once upon a time there was a noble knight, who lived in this castle, +which is on the borders of Fairyland. He had a fair and beloved wife +and several lovely children; and as his neighbors, the little people, +were very friendly toward him, they bestowed on him many excellent and +precious gifts. + +“Rumor whispered of these treasures; and a monstrous giant who lived at +a great distance, and who was a very wicked being, resolved to obtain +possession of them. + +“So he bribed a false servant to let him inside the castle, when the +knight was in bed and asleep, and he killed him as he lay. Then he went +to the part of the castle which was the nursery, and also killed all +the poor little ones he found there. + +“Happily for her, the lady was not to be found. She had gone with her +infant son, who was only two or three months old, to visit her old +nurse, who lived in the valley; and she had been detained all night +there by a storm. + +“The next morning, as soon as it was light, one of the servants at the +castle, who had managed to escape, came to tell the poor lady of the +sad fate of her husband and her pretty babes. She could scarcely +believe him at first, and was eager at once to go back and share the +fate of her dear ones; but the old nurse, with many tears, besought her +to remember that she had still a child, and that it was her duty to +preserve her life for the sake of the poor innocent. + +“The lady yielded to this reasoning, and consented to remain at her +nurse’s house as the best place of concealment; for the servant told +her that the Giant had vowed, if he could find her, he would kill both +her and her baby. Years rolled on. The old nurse died, leaving her +cottage and the few articles of furniture it contained to her poor +lady, who dwelt in it, working as a peasant for her daily bread. Her +spinning-wheel and the milk of a cow which she had purchased with the +little money she had with her, sufficed for the scanty subsistence of +herself and her little son. There was a nice little garden attached to +the cottage, in which they cultivated peas, beans, and cabbages, and +the lady was not ashamed to go out at harvest time and glean in the +fields to supply her little son’s wants. + +“Jack, that poor lady is your mother. This castle was once your +father’s, and must again be yours. + +Jack uttered a cry of surprise. + +“My mother! oh, madam, what ought I to do? My poor father! My dear +mother!” + +“Your duty requires you to win it back for your mother. But the task is +a very difficult one, and full of peril, Jack. Have you courage to +undertake it?” “I fear nothing when I am doing right,” said Jack. + +“Then,” said the lady in the red cap, “you are one of those who slay +giants. You must get into the castle, and if possible possess yourself +of a hen that lays golden eggs, and a harp that talks. Remember, all +the Giant possesses is really yours.” + +As she ceased speaking, the lady of the red hat suddenly disappeared, +and of course Jack knew she was a fairy. + +Jack determined at once to attempt the adventure; so he advanced, and +blew the horn which hung at the castle portal. The door was opened in a +minute or two by a frightful Giantess, with one great eye in the middle +of her forehead. + +As soon as Jack saw her he turned to run away, but she caught him, and +dragged him into the castle. + +“Ho, ho!” she laughed terribly. “You didn’t expect to see me here, that +is clear! No, I shan’t let you go again. I am weary of my life. I am so +overworked, and I don’t see why I should not have a page as well as +other ladies. And you shall be my boy. You shall clean the knives, and +black the boots, and make the fires, and help me generally when the +Giant is out. When he is at home I must hide you, for he has eaten up +all my pages hitherto, and you would be a dainty morsel, my little +lad.” + +While she spoke she dragged Jack right into the castle. The poor boy +was very much frightened, as I am sure you and I would have been in his +place. But he remembered that fear disgraces a man; so he struggled to +be brave and make the best of things. “I am quite ready to help you, +and do all I can to serve you, madam,” he said, “only I beg you will be +good enough to hide me from your husband, for I should not like to be +eaten at all.” + +“That’s a good boy,” said the Giantess, nodding her head; “it is lucky +for you that you did not scream out when you saw me, as the other boys +who have been here did, for if you had done so my husband would have +awakened and have eaten you, as he did them, for breakfast. Come here, +child; go into my wardrobe: he never ventures to open that; you will be +safe there.” + +And she opened a huge wardrobe which stood in the great hall, and shut +him unto it. But the keyhole was so large that it admitted plenty of +air, and he could see everything that took place through it. By and by +he heard a heavy tramp on the stairs, like the lumbering along of a +great cannon, and then a voice like thunder cried out: + +“Fe, fa, fi-fo-fum, +I smell the breath of an Englishman. +Let him be alive or let him be dead, +I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.” + + +“Wife,” cried the Giant, “there is a man in the castle. Let me have him +for breakfast.” + +“You are grown old and stupid,” cried the lady, in her loud tones. “It +is only a nice fresh steak off an elephant, that I have cooked for you, +which you smell. There, sit down and make a good breakfast.” + +And she placed a huge dish before him of savory steaming meat, which +greatly pleased him, and made him forget his idea of an Englishman +being in the castle. When he had breakfasted he went out for a walk, +and then the Giantess opened the door, and made Jack come out to help +her. He helped her all day. She fed him well, and when evening came put +him back in the wardrobe. + +The Giant came in to supper. Jack watched him through the keyhole, and +was amazed to see him pick a wolf’s bone, and put half a fowl at a time +into his capacious mouth. + +When the supper was ended he bade his wife bring him his hen that laid +the golden eggs. + +“It lays as well as it did when it belonged to that paltry knight,” he +said; “indeed, I think the eggs are heavier than ever.” + +The Giantess went away, and soon returned with a little brown hen, +which she placed on the table before her husband. + +“And now, my dear,” she said, “I am going for a walk, if you don’t want +me any longer.” + +“Go, said the Giant; “I shall be glad to have a nap by and by.” + +Then he took up the brown hen and said to her: + +“Lay!” And she instantly laid a golden egg. + +“Lay!” said the Giant again. And she laid another. + +“Lay!” he repeated the third time. And again a golden egg lay on the +table. + +Now, Jack was sure this hen was that of which the fairy had spoken. + +By and by the Giant put the hen down on the floor, and soon after went +fast asleep, snoring so loud that it sounded like thunder. + +Directly Jack perceived that the Giant was fast asleep, he pushed open +the door of the wardrobe and crept out; very softly he stole across the +room, and, picking up the hen, made haste to quit the apartment. he +knew the way to the kitchen, the door of which he found was left ajar; +he opened it, shut and locked it after him, and flew back to the +Beanstalk, which he descended as fast as his feet would move. + +When his mother saw him enter the house she wept for joy, for she had +feared that the fairies had carried him away, or that the Giant had +found him. But Jack put the brown hen down before her, and told her how +he had been in the Giant’s castle, and all his adventures. She was very +glad to see the hen, which would make them rich once more. + +Jack made another journey up the Beanstalk to the Giant’s castle one +day while his mother had gone to market; but first he dyed his hair and +disguised himself. The old woman did not know him again, and dragged +him in as she had done before, to help her to do the work; but she +heard her husband coming, and hid him in the wardrobe, not thinking +that it was the same boy who had stolen the hen. She bade him stay +quite still there, or the Giant would eat him. Then the Giant came in, +saying: + +“Fe, fa, fi-fo-furn, +I smell the breath of an Englishman. +Let him he alive or let him be dead, +I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.” + + +“Nonsense!” said the wife, “it is only a roasted bullock that I thought +would be a titbit for your supper; sit down and I will bring it up at +once. + +The Giant sat down, and soon his wife brought up a roasted bullock on a +large dish, and they began their supper. Jack was amazed to see them +pick the bones of the bullock as if it had been a lark. As soon as they +had finished their meal, the Giantess rose and said: + +“Now, my dear, with your leave I am going up to my room to finish the +story I am reading. If you want me, call for me.” + +“First,” answered the Giant, “bring me my money bags, that I may count +my golden pieces before I sleep.” The Giantess obeyed. She went and +soon returned with two large bags over her shoulders, which she put +down by her husband. + +“There,” she said: “that is all that is left of the knight’s money. +When you have spent it you must go and take another baron’s castle.” + +“That he shan’t, if I can help it,” thought Jack. + +The Giant, when his wife was gone, took out heaps and heaps of golden +pieces, and counted them, and put them in piles, till he was tired of +the amusement. Then he swept them all back into their bags, and leaning +back in his chair fell fast asleep, snoring so loud that no other sound +was audible. + +Jack stole softly out of the wardrobe, and taking up the bags of money +(which were his very own, because the Giant had stolen them from his +father), he ran off, and with great difficulty descending the +Beanstalk, laid the bags of gold on his mother’s table. She had just +returned from town, and was crying at not finding Jack. “There, mother, +I have brought you the gold that my father lost.” + +“Oh, Jack! you are a very good boy, but I wish you would not risk your +precious life in the Giant’s castle. Tell me how you came to go there +again.” + +And Jack told her all about it. + +Jack’s mother was very glad to get the money, but she did not like him +to run any risk for her. + +But after a time Jack made up his mind to go again to the Giant’s +castle. + +So he climbed the Beanstalk once more, and blew the horn at the Giant’s +gate. The Giantess soon opened the door; she was very stupid, and did +not know him again,. but she stopped a minute before she took him in. +She feared another robbery; but Jack’s fresh face looked so innocent +that she could not resist him, and so she bade him come in, and again +hid him away in the wardrobe. + +By and by the Giant came home, and as soon as he had crossed the +threshold he roared out: + +“Fe, fa, li-fo-fum, +I smell the breath of an Englishman. +Let him be alive or let him be dead, +I’ll grind his bones to make my bread.” + + +“You stupid old Giant,” said his wife, “you only smell a nice sheep, +which I have grilled for your dinner.’ + +And the Giant sat down, and his wife brought up a whole sheep for his +dinner. When he had eaten it all up, he said: + +“Now bring me my harp, and I will have a little music while you take +your walk.” + +The Giantess obeyed, and returned with a beautiful harp. The framework +was all sparkling with diamonds and rubies, and the strings were all of +gold. + +“This is one of the nicest things I took from the knight,” Said the +Giant. “I am very fond of music, and my harp is a faithful servant.” + +So he drew the harp toward him and said: + +“Play!” + +And the harp played a very soft, sad air. + +“Play something merrier!” said the Giant. + +And the harp played a merry tune. + +“Now play me a lullaby,” roared the Giant; and the harp played a sweet +lullaby, to the sound of which its master fell asleep. + +Then Jack stole softly out of the wardrobe, and went into the huge +kitchen to see if the Giantess had gone out; he found no one there, so +he went to the door and opened it softly, for he thought he could not +do so with the harp in his hand. + +Then he entered the Giant’s room and seized the harp and ran away with +it; but as he jumped over the threshold the harp called out: “MASTER! +MASTER!” + +And the Giant woke up. + +With a tremendous roar he sprang from his seat, and in two strides had +reached the door. + +But Jack was very nimble. He fled like lightning with the harp, talking +to it as he went (for he saw it was a fairy), and telling it he was the +son of its old master, the knight. + +Still the Giant came on so fast that he was quite close to poor Jack, +and had stretched out his great hand to catch him. But, luckily, just +at that moment he stepped upon a loose stone, stumbled, and fell flat +on the ground, where he lay at his full length. + +This accident gave Jack time to get on the Bean stalk and hasten down +it; but just as he reached their own garden he beheld the Giant +descending after him. + +“Mother! mother!” cried Jack, “make haste and give me the ax.” + +His mother ran to him with a hatchet in her hand, and Jack with one +tremendous blow cut through all the Beanstalks except one. + +“Now, mother, stand out of the way!” said he. Jack’s mother shrank +back, and it was well she did so, for just as the Giant took hold of +the last branch of the Beanstalk, Jack cut the stem quite through and +darted from the spot. + +Down came the Giant with a terrible crash, and as he fell on his head, +he broke his neck, and lay dead at the feet of the woman he had so much +injured. + +Before Jack and his mother had recovered from their alarm and +agitation, a beautiful lady stood before them. + +“Jack,” said she, “you have acted like a brave knight’s son, and +deserve to have your inheritance restored to you. Dig a grave and bury +the Giaint, and then go and kill the Giantess.” + +“But,” said Jack, “I could not kill any one unless I were fighting with +him; and I could not draw my sword upon a woman. Moreover, the Giantess +was very kind to me.” + +The Fairy smiled on Jack. + +“I am very much pleased with your generous feeling,” she said. +“Nevertheless, return to the castle, and act as you will find needful.” + +Jack asked the Fairy if she would show him the way to the castle, as +the Beanstalk was now down. She told him that she would drive him there +in her chariot, which was drawn by two peacocks. Jack thanked her, and +sat down in the chariot with her. + +The Fairy drove him a long distance round, till they reached a village +which lay at the bottom of the mill. Here they found a number of +miserable-looking men assembled. The Fairy stopped her carriage and +addressed them: + +“My friends,” said she, “the cruel Giant who oppressed you and ate up +all your flocks and herds is dead, and this young gentleman was the +means of your being delivered from him, and is the son of your kind old +master, the knight.” + +The men gave a loud cheer at these words, and pressed forward to say +that they would serve Jack as faithfully as they had served his father. +The Fairy bade them follow her to the castle, and they marched thither +in a body, and Jack blew the horn and demanded admittance. + +The old Giantess saw them coming from the turret loophole. She was very +much frightened, for she guessed that something had happened to her +husband; and as she came downstairs very fast she caught her foot in +her dress, and fell from the top to the bottom and broke her neck. + +When the people outside found that the door was not opened to them, +they took crowbars and forced the portal. Nobody was to be seen, but on +leaving the mall they found the body of the Giantess at the foot of the +stairs. + +Thus Jack took possession of the castle. The Fairy went and brought his +mother to him, with the hen and the harp. He had the Giantess buried, +and endeavored as much as lay in his power to do right to those whom +the Giant had robbed. + +Before her departure for fairyland, the Fairy explained to Jack that +she had sent the butcher to meet him with the beans, in order to try +what sort of lad he was. + +“If you had looked at the gigantic Beanstalk and only stupidly wondered +about it,” she said, “I should have left you where misfortune had +placed you, only restoring her cow to your mother. But you showed an +inquiring mind, and great courage and enterprise, therefore you deserve +to rise; and when you mounted the Beanstalk you climbed the Ladder of +Fortune.” + +She then took her leave of Jack and his mother. + + + + +HOP-O’-MY-THUMB + + +Retold by Joseph Jacobs + +Once upon a time there was a Wood-cutter and his wife who had seven +children, all boys. The eldest was only ten years old. They were very +poor, and their seven children were a great burden, since not one of +them was able to earn his living. + +What troubled them still more was the fact that the youngest was not +only very delicate, but silent, which they took for stupidity, but +which was really a mark of his good sense. He was very small, and when +he was born he was scarcely bigger than one’s thumb, which caused him +to be called little “Hop-o’-My-Thumb.” This poor child was the +scapegoat of the house, and was blamed for everything. He was, however, +sharper and wiser than all his brothers, and though he spoke little, he +listened a great deal. + +At last there came a bad year, and so great a famine, that the poor +people resolved to rid themselves of their children. One evening, when +the children were all in bed, and the Wood-cutter with a sorrowful +heart, was sitting by the fire with his wife, he said to her: “You know +that we can no longer support our children. I cannot let them die of +hunger before my eyes, and I am resolved to take them to the wood +to-morrow, and lose them. It will be easy to do this, for, while they +amuse themselves tying my sticks, we have only to slip away without +their seeing us.” + +“Ah!” cried his Wife, “would you then destroy your children?” In vain +did her husband set forth to her their great poverty: she would not +consent. She was poor, she said. But she was their mother. At last, +having considered what a grief it would be to her to have them die of +hunger before her eyes, she agreed to her husband’s plan, and went, +weeping, to bed. + +Hop-o’-My-Thumb had listened to all that they had said, for having +heard them, from his bed, talking of family matters, he had risen +softly and slipped under his father’s stool, in order to hear without +being seen. He then went back to bed, but lay awake the rest of the +night, thinking what he should do. He rose early and went to a brook, +where he filled his pocket with little white pebbles, and then returned +to the house. + +Soon after, they all set off, but Hop-o’-My-Thumb did not tell his +brothers anything of what he knew. They went into a forest, so thick +that they could not see each other at a distance of ten paces. The +Wood-cutter began to fell a tree, while the children gathered sticks to +make up into bundles. The father and mother, seeing them thus employed, +slipped away unnoticed, and then fled rapidly, by a little winding +path. + +When the children found they were alone, they began to scream and cry +with all their strength. Hop-o’-My-Thumb let them cry, knowing well how +to get home; for, while walking, he had dropped along the path the +little white pebbles which he had in his pockets. + +He therefore said to them, “Fear not, brothers, my father and mother +have left us here, but I will lead you to the house only follow me.” + +They obeyed at once, and he led them home along the same path by which +they had come into the forest at first. They did not dare to go into +the house, but placed themselves near the door, in order to hear what +their father and mother were saying. + +Now it had so happened that, just as the Woodcutter and his Wife +reached home, the lord of the village had sent them ten crowns, which +he had long owed them, and which they had never hoped to obtain. This +gave them new life, for the poor creatures were almost dead from +hunger. + +The Wood-cutter immediately sent his Wife to the butcher’s, where, as +it was long since they had eaten anything, she bought three times as +much meat as was needed for the supper of two people. + +When they were seated at table, the Wife said, “Alas! where now are our +poor children? They would make good cheer with what we have left. But +it is you who wished to lose them. I always said we should repent it. +What are they doing now in the forest? Alas! alas! perhaps the wolves +have already eaten them! You were most cruel thus to lose your +children.” + +The Wood-cutter at last grew impatient, for she repeated more than +twenty times that they would repent what they had done, and that she +had told him so. He threatened to beat her if she was not silent. The +Wood-cutter did not do this because he was less sorry than his Wife, +but because her reproaches angered him. His Wife now shed tears, and +cried out, “Alas! where are my children, my poor children?” + +She said this so loud that the children, who were at the door, heard +her, and all cried out together, “Here we are! here we are!” + +She ran quickly to open the door, and said, as she embraced them, “How +overjoyed I am to see you again, my darling children! you must be very +tired and very hungry; and you, Peter, how muddy you are! come, let me +brush you.” Peter was her eldest son, whom she loved more than all the +others. + +The children then sat down at the table, and ate with an appetite which +delighted their father and mother, to whom they described, all speaking +at once, how frightened they had been in the forest. + +These good people were filled with joy to have their children with them +again, and this joy lasted as long as the ten crowns held out. But when +the money was spent, they fell back into their former misery, and +resolved to lose them once more; and in order not to fail again, they +determined to take them much further into the forest than the first +time. + +They could not, however, speak of this so secretly but that they were +overheard by Hop-o’-My-Thumb, who laid his plans to escape as before. +Although he got up early in order to go out and pick up some little +stones, he could not succeed in his purpose, for he found the door of +the house shut and double-bolted. He was wondering what he should do, +when, his mother having given them each a bit of bread for breakfast, +he thought that he might use his bread instead of pebbles by dropping +crumbs along the paths as they walked. He therefore slipped the bread +into his pocket. + +Their father and mother led them this time into the thickest and +darkest part of the forest, and, as soon as they were there, ran away +and left them. + +Hop-o’-My-Thumb was not much troubled, because he believed he could +easily find his way by means of the bread which he had scattered as he +passed along. What was his surprise when he could not find a single +crumb: the birds had come and eaten it all. + +Now was their lot indeed wretched; the more they wandered about, the +deeper they buried themselves in the forest. Night came, and a great +wind arose which frightened them terribly. They thought they heard on +all sides the howling of hungry wolves coming to eat them up. They did +not dare to speak, or even turn their heads. Rain began to fall, which +wet them to the skin. They slipped at every step, and, if they fell, +got up so covered with mud that they could hardly move their hands. + +Finally, Hop-o’-My-Thumb climbed to the top of a tree, to see if he +could not discover something. Having looked on all sides, he at last +saw a little gleam of light, like that from a candle, but it was very +far off, beyond the forest. He got down from the tree: but when he was +on the ground he no longer saw anything, which troubled him greatly. +However, having walked for some time with his brothers in the direction +where he had seen the light, he again saw it as they came out of the +wood. At last they reached the house where the candle was, though not +without many alarms, for they lost sight of it whenever they descended +unto a hollow place. + +They knocked at the door, which was opened to them by a woman. She +asked them what they wanted. Hop-o’-My-Thumb replied that they were +poor children who had lost themselves in the forest, and who asked, for +charity’s sake, a place to sleep. + +The woman, seeing how bitter they were, began to weep, and said to +them, “Alas! my poor children, whence do you come? Do you not know that +this is the house of an Ogre, who eats little children?” + +“Alas, madam,” said Hop-o’-My-Thumb, who like his brothers was shaking +with fear, “what shall we do? The wolves of the forest will certainly +devour us to-night, if you will not give us shelter. This being the +case, we had rather be eaten by the Ogre, and he, perhaps, will take +pity on us, if you will beg him to do so.” + +The Ogre’s wife, who thought she might be able to conceal them from her +husband till the next morning, let them come in, and placed them near a +good fire, where a whole sheep was roasting for the Ogre’s supper. + +When they had begun to get warm, they heard three or four heavy knocks +at the door. It was the Ogre. His wife hastily hid the children under +the bed, and then opened the door. + +The Ogre asked first if supper was ready, and the wine drawn; and then +sat down at the table. The mutton was nearly raw, but he liked it all +the better on that account. + +He then began to sniff about, saying that he smelled fresh meat. + +“It must be this calf which I have just been dressing that you smell,” +said the wife. + +“I smell fresh meat, I tell you again,” said the Ogre, looking fiercely +at his wife; “and there is something more of which I do not know.” + +Saying these words, he rose from the table and went straight to the +bed, where he found the poor children. + +“Ah!” said he, “this, then, is the way you wish to deceive me, wicked +woman. I know not what prevents me from eating you, too. Here is game, +which comes to me very conveniently to treat three Ogres of my +acquaintance, who are coming to visit me about this time.” + +He then drew the little boys from under the bed, one after another. The +poor children threw themselves on their knees begging for pardon. But +they had to do with the most cruel of all the Ogres, who, far from +having pity, devoured them already with his eyes, and said to his wife +that they would be delicious morsels fried, when she had made a good +sauce for them. + +He took out a great knife, and, approaching the poor children, began to +sharpen it on a long stone, which he held in his left hand. He then +seized one of them, when his wife said to him, “Why do you begin at +this time of night? Shall you not have time to-morrow?” + +“Be silent,” replied the Ogre; “they will be more tender if I kill them +now.” + +“But you have already so much meat on hand,” replied his wife. “Here +are a calf, two sheep, and half a pig.” + +“You are right,” said the Ogre; “give them a good supper, that they may +not grow thin, and put them to bed.” + +The good woman was overcome with joy, and brought them their supper at +once; but they were too frightened to eat. + +As for the Ogre, he set himself to drinking, delighted to have +something with which to regale his friends. He drank a dozen cups more +than usual, which went to his head, and obliged him to go early to bed. + +Now this Ogre had seven daughters, who were still only children. These +little Ogresses all had beautiful complexions, for they ate fresh meat +like their father. They had little round gray eyes, crooked noses, and +great mouths filled with long teeth, very sharp and far apart. They +were not yet very wicked, but they promised well, for they already bit +little children whenever they got the chance. They had been put to bed +early, and were all seven in one bed, each having a golden crown on her +head. + +There was in the same room another bed of the same size. Here it was +that the Ogre’s wife put the seven little boys, after which she went +to bed in her own chamber. + +Hop-o’-My-Thumb, who had remarked that the Ogre’s daughters had golden +crowns on their heads, was afraid that the Ogre might regret not having +killed him and his brothers that evening. So he rose about the middle +of the night, and, taking his nightcap and those of his brothers, he +went very softly and placed them on the heads of the Ogre’s seven +daughters, after having removed their golden crowns. He then put the +crowns on his brothers’ heads and on his own, so that the Ogre might +mistake them for his daughters, and his daughters for the boys whom he +wished to kill. + +The plan succeeded as he had expected. The Ogre, having awakened about +midnight, was sorry that he had put off till next day what he might +have done that evening. He jumped quickly out of bed, and, taking his +great knife, “Let us see,” said he, “how our little friends are getting +on.” + +He went on tiptoe to the room of his daughters, and approached the bed +where the little boys were all asleep, except Hop-o’-My-Thumb, who was +terribly frightened when he felt the Ogre’s hand touching his head, as +he had already touched his brothers’. But when the Ogre felt the golden +crowns, he said, “Indeed, I was near making a nice piece of work of it. +I see that I drank too much in the evening.” + +He then went to the bed of his daughters, where he felt the boys’ +little nightcaps. “Ah! here they are,” said he, “the fine fellows! I +must go boldly to work.” Saying these words, and without hesitating, he +cut the throats of his seven daughters. Very well pleased with his +expedition, he went back to bed. As soon as Hop-o’-My-Thumb heard the +Ogre snoring, he awakened his brothers, and told them to dress +themselves quickly and follow him. They went softly down unto the +garden, and leaped over the walls. They hurried away, and ran almost +all night, without knowing whither they went. + +The Ogre, when he woke up, said to his wife, “Go upstairs and dress +those little fellows who were here last night.” + +The Ogress was very much astonished at the kindness of her husband, not +suspecting for a moment the way in which he meant that she should dress +them. Believing that he simply wished her to put on their clothes, she +went upstairs, where she was amazed to see her seven daughters with +their throats cut. She was so overcome that she immediately fainted. +The Ogre, thinking his wife was too slow, went upstairs to assist her. +He was no less astonished than his wife when the frightful sight met +his eyes. + +“Ah! what have I done here?” he cried; “but those little wretches shall +pay for this, and at once.” + +He then threw a bucket of water into his wife’s face, and, having +revived her, said, “Give me quickly my seven-league boots, that I may +go after those boys and catch them.” + +He then started out into the country at once, and, having rushed about +in all directions, came at last to the road where the poor children +were walking, and then not more than a hundred steps from their +father’s house. They saw the Ogre striding from mountain to mountain, +and crossing rivers as if they were little brooks. + +Hop-o’-My-Thumb, who saw a hollow rock near the place where they were, +hid himself and his six brothers there, and watched carefully what +became of their enemy. The Ogre, who was very tired with his long and +fruitless journey, wished to rest himself, and sat down, by chance, on +the very rock where the little boys were hidden. + +As he was overcome with fatigue, he soon fell asleep, and began to +snore so frightfully that the poor children were as much frightened as +when he held his knife ready to cut their throats. Hop-o’-My-Thumb was +less afraid, and told his brothers to run into the house while the Ogre +slept, and not to worry about him. They followed his counsel, and +quickly reached the house. + +Hop-o’-My-Thumb then approached the Ogre, softly drew off his boots, +and put them on himself. The boots were very long and very large; but, +as they were fairy boots, they had the gift of becoming larger or +smaller, according to the size of the wearer’s leg. In fact, they +fitted Hop-o’-My-Thumb as if they had been made for him. + +He then went straight to the Ogre’s house, where he found his wife +weeping over her daughters. + +“Your husband,” said Hop-o’-My-Thumb, “is in great danger, for he has +been taken by a band of robbers, who will kill him if he does not give +them all his gold and silver. Just when they held their knives to his +throat he perceived me, and besought me to come and tell you of the +state in which he was, and to direct you to give me all that he has, +without retaining anything, since otherwise they would slay him without +mercy. As time passed, he wished that I should take his seven-league +boots, as you see, in order to make haste, and also that you might not +think me an impostor.” + +The good woman, very much frightened, gave him all she had; for this +Ogre was a good husband, although he did eat little children. + +Hop-o’-My-Thumb, being then loaded with all the Ogre’s treasures, +returned to his father’s house, where he was welcomed with great joy +and where they all lived happily ever after. + + + + +THE GOOSE-GIRL + + +Anonymous + +There was once upon a time an old Queen whose husband had been dead for +many years, and she had a beautiful daughter. When the princess grew up +she was betrothed to a prince who lived at a great distance. When the +time came for her to be married, and she had to ,journey forth into the +distant kingdom, the aged Queen packed up for her many costly vessels +of silver and gold, and trinkets also of gold and silver; and cups and +jewels, in short, everything which appertained to a royal dowry, for +she loved her child with all her heart. She likewise sent her maid in +waiting, who was to ride with her, and hand her over to the bridegroom, +and each had a horse for the journey, but the horse of the King’s +daughter was called Falada, and could speak. So when the hour of +parting had come, the aged mother went into her bedroom, took a small +knife and cut her finger with it until it bled, then she held a white +handkerchief to it into which she left three drops of blood fall, gave +it to her daughter and said: “Dear child, preserve this carefully, it +will be of service to you on your way.” + +So they took a sorrowful leave of each other: the princess put the +piece of cloth in her bosom, mounted her horse, and then went away to +her bridegroom. After she had ridden for a while she felt a burning +thirst and said to her waiting-maid: “Dismount, and take my cup which +thou hast brought with thee for me, and get me some water from the +stream, for I should like to drink.” “If you are thirsty,” said the +waiting-maid, “get off your horse yourself, and lie down and drink out +of the water; I don’t choose to be your servant.” So in her great +thirst the princess alighted, bent down over the water in the stream +and drank, and was not allowed to drink out of the golden cup. Then she +said, “Ah, Heaven!” and the three drops of blood answered: + +“If thy mother knew this, her heart would break.” + +But the King’s daughter was humble, said nothing, and mounted her horse +again. She rode some miles further, but the day was warm, the sun +scorched her, and she was thirsty once more, and when they came to a +stream of water, she again cried to her waiting-maid: “Dismount, and +give me some water in my golden cup,” for she had long ago forgotten +the girl’s ill words. But the waiting-maid said still more haughtily: +“If you wish to drink, drink as you can, I don’t choose to be your +maid.” Then in her great thirst the King’s daughter alighted, bent over +the flowing stream, wept and said: “Ah, heaven!” and the drops of blood +again replied: “If thy mother knew this, her heart would break.” And as +she was thus drinking and leaning right over the stream, the +handkerchief with the three drops of blood fell out of her bosom, and +floated away with the water without her observing it, so great was her +trouble. + +The waiting-maid, however, had seen it, and she rejoiced to think that +she had now power over the bride, for since the princess had lost the +drops of blood, she had become weak and powerless. So now when she +wanted to mount her horse again, the one that was called Falada, the +waiting-maid said: “Falada is more suitable for me, and my nag will do +for thee,” and the princess had to be content with that. Then the +waiting-maid, with many hard words, bade the princess exchange her +royal apparel for her own shabby clothes; and at length she was +compelled to swear by the clear sky above her, that she would not say +one word of this to any one at the royal court, and if she had not +taken this oath she would have been killed on the spot. But Falada saw +all this, and observed it well. + +The waiting-maid now mounted Falada, and the true bride the bad horse, +and thus they traveled onward, until at length they entered the royal +palace. There were great rejoicings over her arrival, and the prince +sprang forward to meet her, lifted the waiting-maid from her horse, and +thought she was his consort. She was conducted upstairs, but the real +princess was left standing below. Then the old King looked out of the +window and saw her standing in the courtyard, and how dainty and +delicate and beautiful she was, and instantly went to the royal +apartment, and asked the bride about the girl she had with her who was +standing down below in the courtyard, and who she was. “I picked her up +on my way for a companion; give the girl something to work at, that she +may not stand idle.” But the old King had no work for her, and knew of +none, so he said: “I have a little boy who tends the geese, she may +help him.” The boy was called Conrad, and the true bride had to help +him to tend the geese. + +Soon afterward the false bride said to the young King: “Dearest +husband, I beg you to do me a favor.” He answered: “I will do so most +willingly.” “Then send for the knacker, and have the head of the horse +on which I rode here cut off, for it vexed me on the way.” In reality +she was afraid that the horse might tell how she had behaved to the +King’s daughter. Then she succeeded in making the King promise that it +should be done, and the faithful Falada was to die; this came to the +ears of the real princess, and she secretly promised to pay the knacker +a piece of gold if he would perform a small service for her. There was +a great dark-looking gateway in the town, through which morning and +evening she had to pass with the geese: would he be so good as to nail +up Falada’s head on it, so that she might see him again, more than +once. The knacker’s man promised to do that, and cut off the head, and +nailed it fast beneath the dark gateway. + +Early in the morning, when she and Conrad drove out their flock beneath +this gateway, she said in passing: + +“Alas, Falada, hanging there + + +Then the head answered: + +“Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! +If this your tender mother knew, +Her heart would surely break in two.” + + +Then they went still further out of the town, and drove their geese +into the country. And when they had come to the meadow, she sat down +and unbound her hair which was like pure gold, and Conrad saw it and +delighted in its brightness, and wanted to pluck out a few hairs. Then +she said: + +“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say, +Blow Conrad’s little hat away, +And make him chase it here and there, +Until I have braided all my hair, +And bound it up again. + + +And there came such a violent wind that it blew Conrad’s hat far away +across country, and he was forced to run after it. When he came back +she had finished combing her hair and was putting it up again, and he +could not get any of it. Then Conrad was angry, and would not speak to +her, and thus they watered the geese until the evening, and then they +went home. + +Next day when they were driving the geese out through the dark gateway, +the maiden said: + +“Alas, Falada, hanging there + + +Falada answered: + +“Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! +If this your tender mother knew, +Her heart would surely break in two.” + + +And she sat down again in the field and began to comb out her hair, and +Conrad ran and tried to clutch it, so she said in haste: + +“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say, +Blow Conrad’s little hat away, +And make him chase it here and there, +Until I have braided all my hair, +And bound it up again. + + +Then the wind blew, and blew his little hat off his head and far away, +and Conrad was forced to run after it, and when he came back, her hair +had been put up a long time, and he could get none of it, and so they +looked after their geese till evening came. + +But in the evening after they had got home, Conrad went to the old +King, and said: “I won’t tend the geese with that girl any longer!” +“Why not?” inquired the aged King. “Oh, because she vexes me the whole +day long.” Then the aged King commanded him to relate what it was that +she did to him. And Conrad said: “In the morning when we pass beneath +the dark gateway with the flock, there is a sorry horse’s head on the +wall and she says to it: + +“Alas, Falada, hanging there!” + + +And the head replies: + +“Alas, young Queen, how ill you fare! +If this your tender mother knew, +Her heart would surely break in two.” + + +And Conrad went on to relate what happened on the goose pasture, and +how when there he had to chase his hat. + +The aged King commanded him to drive his flock out again next day, and +as soon as morning came, he placed himself behind the dark gateway, and +heard how the maiden spoke to the head of Falada, and then he too went +into the country, and hid himself in the thicket in the meadow. There +he soon saw with his own eyes the goose-girl and the goose-boy bringing +their flock, and how after a while she sat down and unplaited her hair, +which shone with radiance. And soon she said: + +“Blow, blow, thou gentle wind, I say, +Blow Conrad’s little hat away, +And make him chase it here and there, +Until I have braided all my hair, +And bound it up again.” + + +Then came a blast of wind and carried off Conrad’s hat, so that he had +to run far away, while the maiden quietly went on combing and plaiting +her hair, all of which the King observed. Then, quite unseen, he went +away, and when the goose-girl came home in the evening, he called her +aside, and asked why she did all these things. “I may not tell you +that, and I dare not lament my sorrows to any human being, for I have +sworn not to do so by the heaven which is above me; if I had not done +that, I should have lost my life.” He urged her and left her no peace, +but he could draw nothing from her. Then said he: “If thou wilt not +tell me anything, tell thy sorrows to the iron stove there,” and he +went away. Then she crept into the iron stove, and began to weep and +lament, and emptied her whole heart, and said: “Here am I deserted by +the whole world, and yet I am a King’s daughter, and a false +waiting-maid has by force brought me to such a pass that I have been +compelled to put off my royal apparel, and she has taken my place with +my bridegroom, and I have to perform menial service as a goose-girl. If +my mother did but know that, her heart would break.” + +The aged King, however, was standing outside by the pipe of the stove, +and was listening to what she said and heard it. Then he came back +again, and bade her come out of the stove. And royal garments were +placed on her, and it was marvellous how beautiful she was! The aged +King summoned his son, and revealed to him that he had got the false +bride who was only a waiting-maid, but that the true one was standing +there, as the sometime goose-girl. The young King rejoiced with all his +heart when he saw her beauty and youth, and a great feast was made +ready to which all the people and all good friends were invited. At the +head of the table sat the bridegroom with the King’s daughter at one +side of him and the waiting-maid on the other, but the waiting-maid was +blinded, and did not recognize the princess in her dazzling array. When +they had eaten and drunk, and were merry, the aged King asked the +waiting-maid as a riddle, what a person deserved who had behaved in +such and such a way to her master, and at the same time related the +whole story, and asked what sentence such an one merited? Then the +false bride said: “She deserves no better fate than to be stripped +entirely naked, and put in a barrel which is studded inside with +pointed nails, and two white horses should be harnessed to it, which +will drag her along through one street after another, till she is +dead.” “It is thou,” said the aged King, “and thou must pronounce thine +own sentence, and thus shall it be done unto thee.” And when the +sentence had been carried out, the young King married his true bride, +and both of them reigned over their kingdom in peace and happiness. + + + + +HE WHO KNEW NOT FEAR + + +Anonymous + +A certain father had two sons, the elder of whom was sharp and +sensible, and could do everything, but the younger was stupid and could +neither learn nor understand anything, and when people saw him they +said: “There’s a fellow who will give his father some trouble!” When +anything had to be done, it was always the elder who was forced to do +it; but if his father bade him fetch anything when it was late, or in +the night-time, and the way led through the churchyard, or any other +dismal place, he answered: “Oh, no, father, I’ll not go there, it makes +me shudder!” for he was afraid. Or when stories were told by the fire +at night which made the flesh creep, the listeners often said: “Oh, it +makes us shudder!” the younger sat in a corner and listened with the +rest of them, and could not imagine what they could mean. “They are +always saying: ‘It makes me shudder, it makes me shudder!’ It does not +make me shudder,” thought he. “That, too, must be an art of which I +understand nothing!” + +Now it came to pass that his father said to him one day: “Hearken to +me, thou fellow in the corner there, thou art growing tall and strong, +and thou, too, must learn something by which thou canst earn thy +living. Look how thy brother works, but thou dost not even earn thy +salt.” “Well, father,” he replied, “I am quite willing to learn +something—indeed, if it could but be managed, I should like to learn +how to shudder. I don’t understand that at all yet.” The elder brother +smiled when he heard that, and thought to himself: + +“Good God, what a blockhead that brother of mine is! He will never be +good for anything as long as he lives! He who wants to be a sickle must +bend himself betimes.” + +The father sighed, and answered him: “Thou shalt soon learn what it is +to suffer, but thou wilt not earn thy living by that.” + +Soon after this the sexton came to the house on a visit, and the father +bewailed his trouble, and told him how his younger son was so backward +in every respect that he knew nothing and learned nothing. “Just +think,” said he, “when I asked him how he was going to earn his bread, +he actually wanted to learn to shudder.” “If that be all,” replied the +sexton, “he can learn that with me. Send him to me, and I will soon +polish him.” The father was glad to do it, for he thought: “It will +train the boy a little.” The sexton, therefore, took him into his +house, and he had to ring the bell. After a day or two the sexton awoke +him at midnight, and bade him arise and go up into the church tower and +ring the bell. “Thou shalt soon learn what shuddering is,” thought he, +and secretly went there before him; and when the boy was at the top of +the tower and turned around, and was just going to take hold of the +bell rope, he saw a white figure standing on the stairs opposite to the +sounding hole. “Who is there?” cried he, but the figure made no reply, +and did not move or stir. “Give an answer,” cried the boy, “or take +thyself off; thou hast no business here at night.” + +The sexton, however, remained standing motionless, that the boy might +think he was a ghost. The boy cried a second time: “What dost thou want +here?—speak if thou art an honest fellow, or I will throw thee down the +steps!” The sexton thought, “He can’t intend to be as bad as his +words,” uttered no sound and stood as if he were made of stone. Then +the boy called to him for the third time, and as that was also to no +purpose, he ran against him and pushed the ghost down the stairs, so +that it fell down ten steps and remained lying there in a corner. +Thereupon he rang the bell, went home, and without saying a word went +to bed and fell asleep. The sexton’s wife waited a long time for her +husband, but he did not come back. At length she became uneasy, and +wakened the boy, and asked, “Dost thou not know where my husband is? He +went up the tower before thou didst.” “No, I don’t know,” replied the +boy, “but someone was standing by the sounding hole on the other side +of the steps, and as he would neither give an answer nor go away, I +took him for a scoundrel, and threw him down stairs; just go there and +you will see if it was he, I should be sorry if it were.” The woman ran +away and found her husband, who was lying moaning in the corner, and +had broken his leg. + +She carried him down, and then with loud screams she hastened to the +boy’s father. “Your boy,” cried she, “has been the cause of a great +misfortune! He has thrown my husband down the steps and made him break +his leg. Take the good-for-nothing fellow away from our house.” The +father was terrified, and ran thither and scolded the boy. “What wicked +tricks are these?” said he; “the devil must have put this into thy +head.” “Father,” he replied, “do listen to me. I am quite innocent. He +was standing there by night like one who is intending to do some evil. +I did not know who it was, and I entreated him three times either to +speak or to go away.” “Ah,” said the father, “I have nothing but +unhappiness with thee. Go out of my sight. I will see thee no more.” + +“Yes, father, right willingly, wait only until it is day. Then will I +go forth and learn how to shudder, and then I shall, at any rate, +understand one art which will support me.” “Learn what thou wilt,” +spake the father, “it is all the same to me. Here are fifty thalers for +thee. Take these and go into the wide world, and tell no one from +whence thou comest, and who is thy father, for I have reason to be +ashamed of thee.” “Yes, father, it small be as you will. If you desire +nothing more than that, I can easily keep it in mind.” + +When day dawned, therefore, the boy put his fifty thalers into his +pocket, and went forth on the great highway, and continually said to +himself, “If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!” + +Then a man approached who heard this conversation which the youth was +holding with himself, and when they had walked a little further to +where they could see the gallows, the man said to him, “Look, there is +the tree where seven men have married the ropemaker’s daughter, and are +now learning how to fly. Sit down below it, and wait till night comes, +and thou wilt soon learn how to shudder.” “If that is all that is +wanted,” answered the youth, “it is easily done; but if I learn how to +shudder as quickly as that, thou shalt have my fifty thalers. Just come +back to me early in the morning.” Then the youth went to the gallows, +sat down below it, and waited till evening came. And as he was cold, he +lighted himself a fire, but at midnight the wind blew so sharp that in +spite of his fire he could not get warm. And as the wind knocked the +hanged men against each other, and they moved backward and forward, he +thought to himself: “Thou shiverest below by the fire, but how those up +above must freeze and suffer!” And as he felt pity for them, he raised +the ladder, and climbed up, unbound one of them after the other, and +brought down all seven. Then he stirred the fire, blew it, and set them +all round it to warm themselves. But they sat there and did not stir, +and the fire caught their clothes. So he said: + +“Take care, or I will hang you up again.” The dead men, however, did +not hear, but were quite silent, and let their rags go on burning. On +this he grew angry, and said: “If you will not take care, I cannot help +you, I will not be burned with you, and he hung them up again each in +his turn. + +Then he sat down by his fire and fell asleep, and next morning the man +came to him and wanted to have the fifty thalers, and said: “Well, dost +thou know how to shudder?” “No,” answered he, “how was I to get to +know? Those fellows up there did not open their mouths, and were so +stupid that they let the few old rags which they had on their bodies +get burned.” Then the man saw that he would not carry away the fifty +thalers that day, and went away saying: + +“One of this kind has never come in my way before.” + +The youth likewise went his way, and once more began to mutter to +himself: “Ah, if I could but shudder! Ah, if I could but shudder!” A +wagoner who was striding behind him heard that and asked: “Who art +thou?” “I don’t know,” answered the youth. Then the wagoner asked: + +“From whence comest thou?” “I know not.” “Who is thy father?” “That I +may not tell thee.” “What is it that thou art always muttering between +thy teeth?” “Ah,” replied the youth, “I do so wish I could shudder, but +no one can teach me how to do it.” “Give up thy foolish chatter,” said +the wagoner. “Come go with me, I will see about a place for thee.” The +youth went with the wagoner, and in the evening they arrived at an inn +where they wished to pass the night. Then at the entrance of the room +the youth again said quite loudly, “If I could but shudder! If I could +but shudder!” The host who heard that, laughed and said: “If that is +your desire, there ought to be a good opportunity for you here.” “Ah, +be silent,” said the hostess; “so many inquisitive persons have already +lost their lives, it would be a pity and a shame if such beautiful eyes +as these should never see the daylight again.” + +But the youth said: “However difficult it may be, I will learn it, and +for this purpose indeed have I journeyed forth.” He let the host have +no rest, until the latter told him, that not far from thence stood a +haunted castle where any one could very easily learn what shuddering +was, if he would but watch in it for three nights. The King had +promised that he who would venture this should have his daughter to +wife, and she was the most beautiful maiden the sun shone on. Great +treasures likewise lay in the castle, which were guarded by evil +spirits, and these treasures would then be freed, and would make a poor +man rich enough. Already many men had gone into the castle, but as yet +none had come out again. Then the youth went next morning to the King, +and said that if he were allowed he would watch three nights in the +enchanted castle. The King looked at him, and as the youth pleased him, +he said: “Thou mayst ask for three things to take into the castle with +thee, but they must be things without life.” Then he answered, “Then I +ask for a fire, a turning-lathe, and a cutting-board with the knife.” +The King had these things carried into the castle for him during the +day. When night was drawing near, the youth went up and made himself a +bright fire in one of the rooms, placed the cutting-board and knife +beside it, and seated himself by the turning-lathe. “Ah, if I could but +shudder!” said he, “but I shall not learn it here either.” Toward +midnight he was about to poke his fire, and as he was blowing it, +something cried suddenly from one cornier, “Au, miau! how cold we are!” +“You simpletons!” cried he, “what are you crying about? If you are +cold, come and take a seat by the fire and warm yourselves.” And when +he had said that, two great black cats came with one tremendous leap +and sat down on each side of him, and looked savagely at him with their +fiery eyes. After a short time, when they had warmed themselves, they +said: “Comrade, shall we have a game at cards?” “Why not?” he replied, +“but just show me your paws. Then they stretched out their claws. “Oh,” +said he, “what long nails you have! Wait, I must first cut them a +little for you.” Thereupon he seized them by the throats, put them on +the cutting-board and screwed their feet fast. “I have looked at your +fingers,” said he, “and my fancy for card-playing has gone, and he +struck them dead and threw them out into the water. But when he had +made away with these two, and was about to sit down again by his fire, +out from every hole and corner came black cats and black dogs with +red-hot chains, and more and more of them came until he could no longer +stir, and they yelled horribly, and got on his fire, pulled it to +pieces, and wanted to put it out. He watched them for a while quietly, +but at last when they were going too far, he seized his cutting knife, +and cried: “Away with ye, vermin,” and began to cut them down. Part of +them ran away, the others he killed, and threw out into the fish pond. +When he came back he blew up the embers of his fire again and warmed +himself. And as he thus sat, his eyes would keep open no longer, and he +felt a desire to sleep. Then he looked round and saw a great bed in the +corner. “That is the very thing for me,” said he, and got into it. When +he was just going to shut his eyes, however, the bed began to move of +its own accord, and went over the whole of the castle. “That’s right,” +said he, “but go faster.” Then the bed rolled on as if six horses were +harnessed to it, up and down, over thresholds and steps, but suddenly, +hop, hop, it turned over upside down, and lay on him like a mountain. +But he threw quilts and pillows up in the air, got out and said: “Now +any one who likes may drive,” and lay down by his fire, and slept until +it was day. In the morning the King came, and when he saw him lying +there on the ground, he thought the spirits had killed him and he was +dead. Then said he: “After all it is a pity—he is a handsome man.” The +youth heard it, got up, and said: “It has not come to that yet.” Then +the King was astonished, but very glad, and asked how he had fared. +“Very well indeed,” answered he; “one night is over, the two others +will get over likewise.” Then he went to the innkeeper, who opened his +eyes very wide, and said: “I never expected to see thee alive again! +Hast thou learned how to shudder yet?” “No,” said he, “it is all in +vain. If some one would but tell me!” + +The second night he again went up into the old castle, sat down by the +fire, and once more began his old song: “If I could but shudder!” When +midnight came, an uproar and noise of tumbling about was heard; at +first it was low, but it grew louder and louder. Then it was quiet for +a while, and at length with a loud scream, half a man came down the +chimney and fell before him. “Hollo!” cried he, “another half belongs +to this. This is too little!” Then the uproar began again, there was a +roaring and howling, and the other half fell down likewise. “Wait,” +said he, “I will just blow up the fire a little for thee.” When he had +done that and looked round again, the two pieces were joined together, +and a frightful man was sitting in his place. “That is no part of our +bargain,” said the youth, “the bench is mine.” The man wanted to push +him away; the youth, however, would not allow that, but thrust him off +with all his strength, and seated himself again, in his own place. Then +still more men fell down, one after the other; they brought nine dead +men’s legs and two skulls, and set them up and played at ninepins with +them. The youth also wanted to play and said: “Hark you, can I join +you?” “Yes, if thou hast any money.” “Money enough,” replied he, “but +your balls are not quite round.” Then he took the skulls and put them +in the lathe and turned them till they were round. “There, now, they +will roll better!” said he. “Hurrah! now it goes merrily!” He played +with them and lost some of his money, but when it struck twelve, +everything vanished from his sight. He lay down and quietly fell +asleep. Next morning the King came to inquire after him. “How has it +fared with thee this time?” asked he. “I have been playing at +ninepins,” he answered, “and have lost a couple of farthings.” “Hast +thou not shuddered then?” “Eh, what?” said he, “I have made merry. If I +did but know what it was to shudder!” + +The third night he sat down again on his bench and said quite sadly: +“If I could but shudder.” When it grew late, six tall men came in and +brought a coffin. Then said he: “Ha, ha, that is certainly my little +cousin, who only died a few days ago,” and he beckoned with his finger, +and cried: “Come, little cousin, come.” They placed the coffin on the +ground, but he went to it and took the lid off, and a dead man lay +therein. He felt his face, but it was cold as ice. “Stop,” said he, “I +will warm thee a, little,” and went to the fire and warmed his hand and +laid it on the dead man’s face, but he remained cold. Then he took him +out, and sat down by the fire and laid him on his breast and rubbed his +arms that the blood might circulate again. As this also did no good, he +thought to himself: “When two people lie in bed together, they warm +each other,” and carried him to bed, covered him over and lay down by +him. After a short time the dead man became warm too, and began to +move. Then said the youth: “See, little cousin, have I not warmed +thee?” The dead man, however, got up and cried, “Now will I strangle +thee.” + +“What!” said he, “is that the way thou thankest me? Thou shalt at once +go into thy coffin again,” and he took him up, threw him into it, and +shut the lid. + +Then came the six men and carried him away again. “I cannot manage to +shudder,” said he. “I shall never learn it here as long as I live.” + +Then a man entered who was taller than all others, and looked terrible. +He was old, however, and had a long white beard. “Thou wretch,” cried +he, “thou shalt soon learn what it is to shudder, for thou shalt die.” +“Not so fast,” replied the youth, “If I am to die, I shall have to have +a say in it.” “I will soon seize thee,” said the fiend. “Softly, +softly, do not talk so big. I am as strong as thou art, and perhaps +even stronger.” “We shall see,” said the old man. “If thou art +stronger, I will let thee go—come, we will try.” Then he led him by +dark passages to a smith’s forge, took an ax, and with one blow struck +an anvil into the ground. “I can do that better still,” said the youth, +and went to the other anvil. The old man placed himself near and wanted +to look on, and his white heard hung down. Then the youth seized the +ax, split the anvil with one blow, and struck the old man’s beard in +with it. “Now I have thee,” said the youth. “Now it is thou who wilt +have to die.” Then he seized an iron bar and beat the old man till he +moaned and entreated him to stop, and he would give him great riches. +The youth drew out the ax and let him go. The old man led him back into +the castle, and in a cellar showed him three chests full of gold. “Of +these,” said he, “one part is for the poor, the other is for the king, +the third is thine.” In the meantime it struck twelve, and the spirit +disappeared; the youth, therefore, was left in darkness. “I shall still +be able to find my way out,” said he, and felt about, found the way +into the room, and slept there by his fire. Next morning the King came +and said, “Now thou must have learned what shuddering is?” “No,” he +answered; “what can it be? My dead cousin was here, and a bearded man +came and showed me a great deal of money down below, but no one told me +what it was to shudder.” “Then,” said the King, “thou hast delivered +the castle, and shalt marry my daughter.” “That is all very well,” said +he, “but still I do not know what it is to shudder!” + +Then the gold was brought up and the wedding celebrated; but howsoever +much the young King loved his wife, and however happy he was, he still +said always: “If I could but shudder—if I could but shudder.” And at +last she was angry at this. Her waiting-maid said, “I will find a cure +for him; he shall soon learn what it is to shudder.” She went out to +the stream which flowed through the garden, and had a whole bucketful +of gudgeons brought to her. At night when the young King was sleeping, +his wife was to draw the clothes off him and empty the bucketful of +cold water with the gudgeons in it over him, so that the little fishes +would sprawl about him. When this was done, he woke up and cried: “Oh, +what makes me shudder so?—what makes me shudder so, dear wife? Ah! now +I know what it is to shudder!” + + + + +ÆSOP’S FABLES + + +This has come to be the commonly accepted name for the well-known +collection of stories about animals, though we cannot be sure that any +of them, were written by the Greek slave of that name, who, Herodotus +tells us, lived about the year 55O B.C. The fable about animals is +probably the oldest form of story known. Its object is to teach a +lesson to men and women, without seeming to do so, and because of this +concealed lesson it has always been a great favorite with all nations. +In Russia, for example, where a man did not dare say what he thought +about a Government officer, he could tell a fable about the Dog in the +Manger. + + + + +THE TOWN MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY MOUSE + + +Now you must know that a Town Mouse once upon a time went on a visit to +his cousin in the country. He was rough and ready, this cousin, but he +loved his town friend and made him heartily welcome. Beans and bacon, +cheese and bread, were all he had to offer, but he offered them freely. +The Town Mouse rather turned up his long nose at this country fare, and +said: “I cannot understand, Cousin, how you can put up with such poor +food as this, but of course you cannot expect anything better in the +country; come you with me and I will show you how to live. When you +have been in town a week you will wonder how you could ever have stood +a country life.” No sooner said than done: the two mice set off for the +town and arrived at the Town Mouse’s residence late at night. “You will +want some refreshment after our long journey,” said the polite Town +Mouse, and took his friend into the grand dining-room. There they found +the remains of a fine feast, and soon the two mice were eating up +jellies and cakes and all that was nice. Suddenly they heard growling +and barking. “What is that?” said the Country Mouse. “It is only the +dogs of the house,” answered the other. “Only!” said the Country Mouse. +“I do not like that music at my dinner.” Just at that moment the door +flew open, in came two huge mastiffs, and the two mice had to scamper +down and run off. “Good-by, Cousin,” said the Country Mouse. “What! +going so soon?” said the other. “Yes,” he replied; + +“BETTER BEANS AND BACON IN PEACE +THAN CAKES AND ALE IN FEAR.” + + + + +THE MAN, THE BOY, AND DONKEY + + +A man and his son were once going with their Donkey to market. As they +were walking along by its side a countryman passed them and said: “You +fools, what is a Donkey for but to ride upon?” + +So the Man put the Boy on the Donkey and they went on their way. But +soon they passed a group of men, one of whom said: “See that lazy +youngster, he lets his father walk while he rides.” + +So the Man ordered his Boy to get off, and got on himself. But they +hadn’t gone far when they passed two women, one of whom said to the +other: “Shame on that lazy lout to let his poor little son trudge +along.” + +Well, the Man didn’t know what to do, but at last he took his Boy up +before him on the Donkey. By this time they had come to the town, and +the passers-by began to jeer and point to them. The Man stopped and +asked what they were scoffing at. The men said: “Aren’t you ashamed of +yourself for overloading that poor Donkey of yours—you and your hulking +son?” + +The Man and Boy got off and tried to think what to do. They thought and +they thought, till at last they cut down a pole, tied the Donkey’s feet +to it, and raised the pole and the Donkey to their shoulders. They went +along amid the laughter of all who met them till they came to Market +Bridge, when the Donkey, getting one of his feet loose, kicked out and +caused the Boy to drop his end of the pole. In the struggle the Donkey +fell over the bridge, and his fore-feet being tied together he was +drowned. + +“That will teach you,” said an old man who had followed them: + +“PLEASE ALL, AND YOU WILL PLEASE NONE.” + + + + +THE SHEPHERD’S BOY + + +There was once a young Shepherd Boy who tended his sheep at the foot of +a mountain near a dark forest. It was rather lonely for him all day, so +he thought upon a plan by which he could get a little company and some +excitement. He rushed down toward the village calling out “Wolf, Wolf,” +and the villagers came out to meet him, and some of them stopped with +him for a considerable time. + +This pleased the boy so much that a few days afterward he tried the +same trick, and again the villagers came to his help. + +But shortly after this a Wolf actually did come out from the forest, +and began to worry the sheep, and the boy of course cried out “Wolf, +Wolf,” still louder than before. But this time the villagers who had +been fooled twice before, thought the boy was again deceiving them, and +nobody stirred to come to bis help. + +So the Wolf made a good meal off the boy’s flock, and when the boy +complained, the wise man of the village said: + +“A LIAR WILL NOT BE BELIEVED, EVEN WHEN HE SPEAKS THE TRUTH.” + + + + +ANDROCLES + + +A slave named Androcles once escaped from his master and fled to the +forest. As he was wandering about there he came upon a Lion lying down +moaning and groaning. + +At first he turned to flee, but finding that the Lion did not pursue +him, he turned back and went up to him. + +As he came near, the Lion put out his paw, which was all swollen and +bleeding, and Androcles found that a huge thorn had got into it, and +was causing all the pain. He pulled out the thorn and bound up the paw +of the Lion, who was soon able to rise and lick the hand of Androcles +like a dog. + +Then the Lion took Androcles to his cave, and every day used to bring +him meat from which to live. + +But shortly afterward both Androcles and the Lion were captured, and +the slave was sentenced to be thrown to the Lion, after the latter had +been kept without food for several days. The Emperor and all his Court +came to see the spectacle and Androcles was led out into the middle of +the arena. Soon the Lion was let loose from his den, and rushed +bounding and roaring toward his victim. But as soon as he came near to +Androcles he recognized his friend, and fawned upon him, and licked his +hands like a friendly dog. The Emperor, surprised at this, summoned +Androcles to him, who told him the whole story. Whereupon the slave was +pardoned and freed, and the Lion let loose to his native forest. + +“GRATITUDE IS THE SIGN OF NOBLE SOULS.” + + + + +THE FOX AND THE STORK + + +At one time the Fox and the Stork were on visiting terms and seemed +very good friends. So the Fox invited the Stork to dinner, and for a +joke put nothing before her but some soup in a very shallow dish. This +the Fox could easily lap up, but the Stork could only wet the end of +her long bill in it, and left the meal as hungry as when she began. + +“I am sorry,” said the Fox, “the soup is not to your liking.” + +“Pray do not apologize,” said the Stork. “I hope you will return this +visit, and come and dine with me soon.” + +So a day was appointed when the Fox should visit the Stork; but when +they were seated at table all that was for their dinner was contained +in a very long-necked jar with a narrow mouth, in which the Fox could +not insert his snout, so all he could manage to do was to lick the +outside of the jar. + +“I will not apologize for the dinner,” said the Stork: + +“ONE BAD TURN DESERVES ANOTHER.” + + + + +THE CROW AND THE PITCHER + + +A crow, half-dead with thirst, came upon a Pitcher which had once been +full of water; but when the Crow put its beak into the mouth of the +Pitcher he found that only very little water was left in it, and that +he could not reach far enough down to get at it. + +He tried, and he tried, but at last had to give up in despair. + +Then a thought came to him, and he took a pebble and dropped it into +the Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped it into the +Pitcher. Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. +Then he took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he +took another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. Then he took +another pebble and dropped that into the Pitcher. + +At last, at last, he saw the water mount up near him; and after casting +in a few more pebbles he was able to quench his thirst and save his +life. + +“LITTLE BY LITTLE DOES THE TRICK.” + + + + +THE FROGS DESIRING A KING + + +The Frogs were living as happy as could be in a marshy swamp that just +suited them; they went splashing about caring for nobody and nobody +troubling with them. But some of them thought that this was not right, +that they should have a King and a proper constitution, so they +determined to send up a petition to Jove to give them what they wanted. +“Mighty Jove,” they cried, “send unto us a King that will rule over us +and keep us in order.” Jove laughed at their croaking, and threw down +into the swamp a huge Log, which came down—kerplash—into the swamp. The +Frogs were frightened out of their lives by the commotion made in their +midst, and all rushed to the bank to look at the horrible monster; but +after a time, seeing that it did not move, one or two of the boldest of +them ventured out toward the Log, and even dared to touch it; still it +did not move. Then the greatest hero of the Frogs jumped upon the Log +and commenced dancing up and down upon it, thereupon all the Frogs came +and did the same; and for sometime the Frogs went about their business +every day without taking the slightest notice of the new King Log lying +in their midst. + +But this did not suit them, so they sent another petition to Jove, and +said to him: “We want a real King; one that will really rule over us.” +Now this made Jove angry, so he sent among them a big Stork that soon +set to work gobbling them all up. Then the Frogs repented when too +late. + +“BETTER NO RULE THAN CRUEL RULE.” + + + + +THE FROG AND THE OX + + +“Oh, father,” said a little Frog to the big one sitting by the side of +a pool, “I have seen such a terrible monster! It was as big as a +mountain, with horns on its head, and a long tail, and it had hoofs +divided in two.” + +“Tush, child, tush,” said the old Frog, “that was only Farmer White’s +Ox. It isn’t so big either; he may be a little bit taller than I, but I +could easily make myself quite as broad; just you see.” So he blew +himself out, and blew himself out, and blew himself out. “Was he as big +as that?” asked he. + +“Oh, much bigger than that,” said the young Frog. + +Again the old one blew himself out, and asked the young one if the Ox +was as big as that. + +“Bigger, father, bigger,” was the reply. + +So the Frog took a deep breath, and blew and blew and blew, and swelled +and swelled and swelled. And then he said: “I’m sure the Ox is not as +big as ______” But at this moment he burst. + +“SELF-CONCEIT MAY LEAD TO SELF-DESTRUCTION.” + + + + +THE COCK AND THE PEARL + + +A cock was once strutting up and down the farmyard among the hens when +suddenly he espied something shining and the straw. “Ho! ho!” quoth he, +“that’s for me,” and soon rooted it out from beneath the straw. What +did it turn out to be but a Pearl that by some chance had been lost in +the yard? “You may be a treasure,” quoth Master Cock, “to men that +prize you, but for me I would rather have a single barley corn than a +peck of pearls.” + +“PRECIOUS THINGS ARE FOR THOSE THAT CAN PRIZE THEM.” + + + + +THE FOX WITHOUT A TAIL + + +It happened that a Fox caught its tail in a trap, and in struggling to +release himself lost all of it but the stump. At first he was ashamed +to show himself among his fellow foxes. But at last he determined to +put a bolder face upon his misfortune, and summoned all the foxes to a +general meeting to consider a proposal which he had to place before +them. + +When they had assembled together the Fox proposed that they should all +do away with their tails. He pointed out how inconvenient a tail was +when they were pursued by their enemies, the dogs; how much it was in +the way when they desired to sit down and hold a friendly conversation +with one another. He failed to see any advantage in carrying about such +a useless encumbrance. + +“That is all very well,” said one of the older foxes; “but I do not +think you would have recommended us to dispense with our chief ornament +if you had not happened to lose it yourself.” + +“DISTRUST INTERESTED ADVICE.” + + + + +THE FOX AND THE CAT + + +A fox was boasting to a Cat of its clever devices for escaping its +enemies. “I have a whole bag of tricks,” he said, “which contains a +hundred ways of escaping my enemies.” + +“I have only one,” said the Cat; “but I can generally manage with +that.” Just at that moment they heard the cry of a pack of hounds +coming toward them, and the Cat immediately scampered up a tree and hid +herself in the boughs. “This is my plan,” said the Cat. “What are you +going to do?” The Fox thought first of one way, then of another, and +while he was debating the hounds came nearer and nearer, and at last +the Fox in his confusion was caught up by the hounds and soon killed by +the huntsmen. Miss Puss, who had been looking on, said: + +“BETTER ONE SAFE WAY THAN A HUNDRED ON WHICH YOU CANNOT RECKON.” + + + + +THE DOG IN THE MANGER + + +A dog looking out for its afternoon nap jumped into the Manger of an Ox +and lay there cosily upon the straw. But soon the Ox, returning from +its afternoon work, came up to the Manger and wanted to eat some of the +straw. The Dog in a rage, being awakened from its slumber, stood up and +barked at the Ox, and whenever it came near attempted to bite it. At +last the Ox had to give up the hope of getting at the straw, and went +away muttering: + +“AH, PEOPLE OFTEN GRUDGE OTHERS WHAT THEY CANNOT ENJOY THEMSELVES.” + + + + +THE FOX AND THE GOAT + + +By an unlucky chance a Fox fell into a deep well from which he could +not get out. A Goat passed by shortly afterward, and asked the Fox what +he was doing down there. “Oh, have you not heard?” said the Fox; “there +is going to be a great drought, so I jumped down here in order to be +sure to have water by me. Why don’t you come down, too?” The Goat +thought well of this advice, and jumped down into the well. But the Fox +immediately jumped on her back, and by putting his foot on her long +horns managed to jump up to the edge of the well. “Good-by, friend,” +said the Fox;—“remember next time, + +“NEVER TRUST THE ADVICE OF A MAN IN DIFFICULTIES.” + + + + +BELLING THE CAT + + +Long ago, the mice held a general council to consider what measures +they could take to outwit their common enemy, the Cat. Some said this, +and some said that; but at last a young mouse got up and said he had a +proposal to make, which he thought would meet the case. “You will all +agree,” said he, “that our chief danger consists in the sly and +treacherous manner in which the enemy approaches us. Now, if we could +receive some signal of her approach, we could easily escape from her. I +venture, therefore, to propose that a small bell be procured, and +attached by a ribbon round the neck of the Cat. By this means we should +always know when she was about, and could easily retire while she was +in the neighborhood.” + +This proposed met with general applause, until an old mouse got up and +said: “That is all very well, but who is to bell the Cat?” The mice +looked at one another and nobody spoke. Then the old mouse said: + +“IT IS EASY TO PROPOSE IMPOSSIBLE REMEDIES.” + + + + +THE JAY AND THE PEACOCK + + +A jay venturing into a yard where Peacocks used to walk, found there a +number of feathers which had fallen from the Peacocks when they were +moulting. He tied them all to his tail and strutted down toward the +Peacocks. When he came near them they soon discovered the cheat, and +striding up to him pecked at him and plucked away his borrowed plumes. +So the Jay could do no better than go back to the other Jays, who had +watched his behavior from a distance; but they were equally annoyed +with him, and told him + +“IT IS NOT ONLY FINE FEATHERS THAT MAKE FINE BIRDS.” + + + + +THE ASS AND THE LAP-DOG + + +A farmer one day came to the stables to see to his beasts of burden: +among them was his favorite Ass, that was always well fed and often +carried his master. With the Farmer came his Lap-dog, who danced about +and licked his hand and frisked about as happy as could be. The Farmer +felt in his pocket, gave the Lap-dog some dainty food, and sat down +while he gave his orders to his servants. The Lap-dog jumped into his +master’s lap, and lay there blinking while the Farmer stroked his ears. +The Ass, seeing this, broke loose from his halter and commenced +prancing about in imitation of the Lap-dog. The Farmer could not hold +his sides with laughter, so the Ass went up to him, and putting his +feet upon the Farmer’s shoulder attempted to climb into his lap. The +Farmer’s servants rushed up with sticks and pitchforks and soon taught +the Ass that + +“CLUMSY JESTING IS NO JOKE.” + + + + +THE ANT AND THE GRASSHOPPER + + +In a field one summer’s day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping +and singing to its heart’s content. An Ant passed by, bearing along +with great toil an ear of corn he was taking to the nest. + +“Why not come and chat with me,” said the Grasshopper, “instead of +toiling and moiling in that way?” + +“I am helping to lay up food for the winter,” said the Ant, “and +recommend you to do the same.” + +“Why bother about winter?” said the Grasshopper; “we have got plenty of +food at present.” + +But the Ant went on its way and continued its toil. + +Then the winter came the Grasshopper had no food, and found itself +dying of hunger, while it saw the ants distributing every day corn and +grain from the stores they had collected in the summer. Then the +Grasshopper knew + +IT IS BEST TO PREPARE FOR THE DAYS OF NECESSITY. + + + + +THE WOODMAN AND THE SERPENT + + +One wintry day a Woodman was tramping home from his work when he saw +something black lying on the snow. When he came closer, he saw it was a +Serpent to all appearance dead. But he took it up and put it in his +bosom to warm while he hurried home. As soon as he got indoors he put +the Serpent down on the hearth before the fire. The children watched it +and saw it slowly come to life again. Then one of them stooped down to +stroke it, but the Serpent raised its head and put out its fangs and +was about to sting the child to death. So the Woodman seized his axe, +and with one stroke cut the Serpent in two. “Ah,” said he, + +“NO GRATITUDE FROM THE WICKED.” + + + + +THE MILKMAID AND HER PAIL + + +Patty, the Milkmaid, was going to market carrying her milk in a Pail on +her head. As she went along she began calculating what she would do +with the money she would get for the milk. “I’ll buy some fowls from +Farmer Brown,” said she, “and they will lay eggs each morning, which I +will sell to the parson’s wife. With the money that I get from the sale +of these eggs I’ll buy myself a new dimity frock and a chip hat; and +when I go to market, won’t all the young men come up and speak to me! +Polly Shaw will be that jealous; but I don’t care. I shall just look at +her and toss my head like this.” As she spoke, she tossed her head +back, the Pail fell off it and all the milk was spilt. So she had to go +home and tell her mother what had occurred. “Ah, my child,” said her +mother, + +DO NOT COUNT YOUR CHICKENS BEFORE THEY ARE HATCHED. + + + + +THE LION AND THE MOUSE + + +Once when a Lion was asleep a little Mouse began running up and down +upon him; this soon wakened the Lion, who placed his huge paw upon him, +and opened his big jaws to swallow him. “Pardon, O King,” cried the +little Mouse; “forgive me this time, I shall never forget it: who knows +but what I may be able to do you a turn some of these days?” The Lion +was so tickled at the idea of the Mouse being able to help him, that he +lifted up his paw and let him go. Some time after the Lion was caught +in a trap, and the hunters, who desired to carry him alive to the King, +tied him to a tree while they went in search of a wagon to carry him +on. Just then the little Mouse happened to pass by, and seeing the sad +plight in which the Lion was, went up to him and soon gnawed away the +ropes that bound the King of the Beasts. “Was I not right?” said the +little Mouse. + +“LITTLE FRIENDS MAY PROVE GREAT FRIENDS.” + + + + +HERCULES AND THE WAGONER + + +A wagoner was once driving a heavy load along a very muddy way. At last +he came to a part of the road where the wheels sank halfway into the +mire, and the more the horses pulled, the deeper sank the wheels. So +the Wagoner threw down his whip, and knelt down and prayed to Hercules +the Strong. “O Hercules, help me in this my hour of distress,” quote +he. But Hercules appeared to him, and said: + +“Tut, man, don’t sprawl there. Get up and put your shoulder to the +wheel.” + +“THE GODS HELP THEM THAT HELP THEMSELVES.” + + + + +THE LION’S SHARE + + +The Lion went once a-hunting along with the Fox, the Jackal, and the +Wolf. They hunted and they hunted till at last they surprised a Stag, +and soon took its life. Then came the question how the spoil should be +divided. “Quarter me this Stag,” roared the Lion; so the other animals +skinned it and cut it into four parts. Then the Lion took his stand in +front of the carcass and pronounced judgment: “The first quarter is for +me in my capacity as King of Beasts; the second is mine as arbiter; +another share comes to me for my part in the chase; and as far the +fourth quarter, well, as for that, I should like to see which of you +will dare to lay a paw upon it.” + +“Humph!” grumbled the Fox as he walked away with his tail between his +legs; but he spoke in a low growl— + +“YOU MAY SHARE THE LABORS OF THE GREAT, BUT YOU WILL NOT SHARE THE +SPOIL.” + + + + +THE FOX AND THE CROW + + +A fox once saw a Crow fly off with a piece of cheese in its beak and +settle on a branch of a tree. “That’s for me, as I am a Fox,” said +Master Reynard, and he walked up to the foot of the tree. “Good-day, +Mistress Crow,” he cried. “How well you are looking to-day: how glossy +your feathers; how bright your eye. I feel sure your voice must surpass +that of other birds, just as your figure does; let me hear but one song +from you that I may greet you as the Queen of Birds.” The Crow lifted +up her head and began to caw her best, but the moment she opened her +mouth the piece of cheese fell to the ground, only to be snapped up by +Master Fox. “That will do,” said he. “That was all I wanted. In +exchange for your cheese I will give you a piece of advice for the +future— + +“DO NOT TRUST FLATTERERS. + + + + +THE DOG AND THE SHADOW + + +It happened that a Dog had got a piece of meat and was carrying it home +in his mouth to eat it in peace. Now on his way home he had to cross a +plank lying across a running brook. As he crossed, he looked down and +saw his own shadow reflected in the water beneath. Thinking it was +another dog with another piece of meat, he made up his mind to have +that also. So he made a snap at the shadow in the water, but as he +opened his mouth the piece of meat fell out, dropped into the water and +was never seen more. + +“BEWARE LEST YOU LOSE THE SUBSTANCE BY GRASPING AT THE SHADOW.” + + + + +THE WOLF AND THE LAMB + + +Once upon a time a Wolf was lapping at a spring on a hillside, when, +looking up, what should he see but a Lamb just beginning to drink a +little lower down. “There’s my supper,” thought he, “if only I can find +some excuse to seize it.” Then he called out to the Lamb, “How dare you +muddle the water from which I am drinking?” + +“Nay, master, nay,” said Lambikin; “if the water be muddy up there, I +cannot be the cause of it, for it runs down from you to me.” + +“Well, then,” said the Wolf, “why did you call me bad names this time +last year?” + +“That cannot be,” said the Lamb; “I am only six months old.” + +“I don’t care,” snarled the Wolf; “if it was not you it was your +father;” and with that he rushed upon the poor little Lamb and— + +WARRA WARRA WARRA WARRA WARRA— + + +ate her all up. But before she died she gasped out— + +“ANY EXCUSE WILL SERVE A TYRANT.” + + + + +THE BAT, THE BIRDS, AND THE BEASTS + + +A great conflict was about to come off between the Birds and the +Beasts. When the two armies were collected together the Bat hesitated +which to join. The Birds that passed his perch said: “Come with us;” +but he said: “I am a Beast.” Later on, some Beasts who were passing +underneath him looked up and said: “Come with us;” but he said: “I am a +Bird.” Luckily at the last moment peace was made, and no battle took +place, so the Bat came to the Birds and wished to join in the +rejoicings, but they all turned against him and he had to fly away. He +then went to the Beasts, but soon had to beat a retreat, or else they +would have torn him to pieces. “Ah,” said the Bat, “I see now + +HE THAT IS NEITHER ONE THING NOR THE OTHER HAS NO FRIENDS.” + + + + +THE BELLY AND THE MEMBERS + + +One fine day it occurred to the Members of the Body that they were +doing all the work and the Belly was having all the food. So they held +a meeting, and after a long discussion, decided to strike work till the +Belly consented to take its proper share of the work. So for a day or +two the Hands refused to take the food, the Mouth refused to receive +it, and the Teeth had no work to do. But after a day or two the Members +began to find that they themselves were not in a very active condition: +the Hands could hardly move, and the Mouth was all parched and dry, +while the Legs were unable to support the rest. So thus they found that +even the Belly in its dull quiet way was doing necessary work for the +Body, and that all must work together or the Body will go to pieces. + + + + +THE FOX AND THE GRAPES + + +One hot summer’s day a Fox was strolling through an orchard till he +came to a bunch of Grapes just ripening on a vine which had been +trained over a lofty branch. “Just the thing to quench my thirst,” +quoth he. Drawing back a few paces, he took a run and a jump, and just +missed the bunch. Turning round again with a One, Two, Three, he jumped +up, but with no greater success. Again and again he tried after the +tempting morsel, but at last had to give it up, and walked away with +his nose in the air, saying: “I am sure they are sour.” + +“IT IS EASY TO DESPISE WHAT YOU CANNOT GET.” + + + + +THE SWALLOW AND THE OTHER BIRDS + + +It happened that a Countryman was sowing some hemp seed in a field +where a Swallow and some other birds were hopping about picking up +their food. “Beware of that man,” quoth the Swallow. “Why, what is he +doing?” said the others. “That is hemp seed he is sowing; be careful to +pick up every one of the seeds, or else you will repent it.” The birds +paid no heed to the Swallow’s words, and by and by the hemp grew up and +was made into cord, and of the cords nets were made, and many a bird +that had despised the Swallow’s advice was caught in nets made out of +that very hemp. “What did I tell you?” said the Swallow. + +“DESTROY THE SEED OF EVIL, OR IT WILL GROW UP TO YOUR RUIN.” + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE JUNIOR CLASSICS, VOLUME 1 *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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