{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_15164/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_15164","id":"gutenberg_15164","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15164","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Anthologies","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Patricia A. Benoy, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: An Indian Brave]\n\n\nFOLK TALES\nEvery Child Should Know\n\nEDITED BY\nHamilton Wright Mabie\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE WHAT-EVERY-CHILD-SHOULD-KNOW-LIBRARY\n\n_Published by_\n\nDOUBLEDAY, DORAN & CO., INC., _for_\nTHE PARENTS' INSTITUTE, INC.\n_Publishers of \"The Parents' Magazine\"_\n9 EAST 40th STREET, NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nACKNOWLEDGMENTS\n\n\nThe editor and publishers wish to express their appreciation to the\nfollowing firms for permission to use the material indicated:\n\nTo Messrs. G.P. Putnam's Sons for \"Why the Sea is Salt,\" \"The Lad Who\nWent to the North Wind,\" \"The Lad and the Deil,\" and \"Ananzi and the\nLion,\" by Sir George Webbe Dasent, D.C.L.; to the Macmillan Company, New\nYork, for \"The Grateful Foxes\" and \"The Badger's Money,\" by A.B.\nMitford; to Messrs. Macmillan & Company, London, for \"The Origin of\nRubies,\" by Rev. Lal Behari Day; to Messrs. Charles Scribner's Sons for\n\"The Dun Horse,\" by George Bird Grinnell; to Messrs. Little, Brown &\nCompany for \"The Peasant Story of Napoleon,\" by Honore de Balzac; to\nMessrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Company for \"Why Brother Bear Has No Tail,\"\nby Joel Chandler Harris, and for the following selections from \"Sixty\nFolk Tales, from Exclusively Slavonic Sources,\" translated by A.H.\nWratislaw, M.A.:--\"Long, Broad, and Sharpsight,\" \"Intelligence and\nLuck,\" \"George and the Goat,\" \"The Wonderful Hair,\" \"The Dragon and the\nPrince,\" and \"The Good Children.\"\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nCHAPTER\n\nI.    HANS IN LUCK\n        From Grimm's Fairy Tales.\n\nII.   WHY THE SEA IS SALT\n        From \"Popular Tales from the\n        Norse,\" by Sir George Webbe\n        Dasent, D.C.L.\n\nIII.  THE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND\n         From \"Popular Tales from the\n         Norse,\" by Sir George Webbe\n         Dasent, D.C.L.\n\nIV.    THE LAD AND THE DEIL\n         From \"Popular Tales from the\n         Norse,\" by Sir George Webbe\n         Dasent, D.C.L.\n\nV.     ANANZI AND THE LION\n         From \"Popular Tales from the\n         Norse,\" by Sir George Webbe\n         Dasent, D.C.L.\n\nVI.    THE GRATEFUL FOXES\n         From \"Tales of Old Japan,\" by\n         A.B. Mitford.\n\nVII.   THE BADGER'S MONEY\n         From \"Tales of Old Japan,\" by\n         A.B. Mitford.\n\nVIII.   WHY BROTHER BEAR HAS NO TAIL\n          From \"Nights with Uncle Remus,\"\n          by Joel Chandler Harris.\n\nIX.     THE ORIGIN OF RUBIES\n          From \"Folk Tales of Bengal,\"\n          by Rev. Lal Behari Day.\n\nX.      LONG, BROAD, AND SHARPSIGHT\n          Translated from the Bohemian\n          by A.H. Wratislaw, M.A., in\n          \"Sixty Folk Tales, from Exclusively\n          Slavonic Sources.\"\n\nXI.     INTELLIGENCE AND LUCK\n          Translated from the Bohemian\n          by A.H. Wratislaw, M.A., in\n          \"Sixty Folk Tales, from Exclusively\n          Slavonic Sources.\"\n\nXII.    GEORGE WITH THE GOAT\n          Translated from the Bohemian\n          by A.H. Wratislaw, M.A., in\n          \"Sixty Folk Tales, from Exclusively\n          Slavonic Sources.\"\n\nXIII.   THE WONDERFUL HAIR\n          Translated from the Serbian by\n          A.H. Wratislaw, M.A., in \"Sixty\n          Folk Tales, from Exclusively Slavonic\n          Sources.\"\n\nXIV.    THE DRAGON AND THE PRINCE\n          Translated from the Serbian\n          by A.H. Wratislaw, M.A., in\n          \"Sixty Folk Tales, from Exclusively\n          Slavonic Sources.\"\n\nXV.     THE GOOD CHILDREN\n          A Little Russian story of Galicia.\n          Translated by A.H.\n          Wratislaw, M.A., in \"Sixty\n          Folk Tales, from Exclusively\n          Slavonic Sources.\"\n\nXVI.    THE DUN HORSE\n          From \"Pawnee Hero Stories\n          and Folk Tales,\" by George\n          Bird Grinnell.\n\nXVII.   THE GREEDY YOUNGSTER\n          From the Norwegian tale of\n          Peter Christen Asbjoernsen.\n\nXVIII.  HANS, WHO MADE THE PRINCESS LAUGH\n          From the Norwegian tale of\n          Peter Christen Asbjoernsen.\n\nXIX.    THE STORY OF TOM TIT TOT\n          An old Suffolk Tale, given in the\n          dialect of East Anglia. From\n          \"Tom Tit Tot. An Essay on\n          Savage Philosophy in Folk\n          Tale,\" by Edward Clodd.\n\nXX.     THE PEASANT STORY OF NAPOLEON\n          From \"The Country Doctor,\"\n          by Honore de Balzac. Translated\n          by Katharine Prescott\n          Wormeley.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nWhen the traveller looks at Rome for the first time he does not realize\nthat there have been several cities on the same piece of ground, and\nthat the churches and palaces and other great buildings he sees to-day\nrest on an earlier and invisible city buried in dust beneath the\nfoundations of the Rome of the Twentieth Century. In like manner, and\nbecause all visible things on the surface of the earth have grown out of\nolder things which have ceased to be, the world of habits, the ideas,\ncustoms, fancies, and arts, in which we live is a survival of a younger\nworld which long ago disappeared. When we speak of Friday as an unlucky\nday, or touch wood after saying that we have had good luck for a long\ntime, or take the trouble to look at the new moon over the right\nshoulder, or avoid crossing the street while a funeral is passing, we\nare recalling old superstitions or beliefs, a vanished world in which\nour remote forefathers lived.\n\nWe do not realize how much of this vanished world still survives in our\nlanguage, our talk, our books, our sculpture and pictures. The plays of\nShakespeare are full of reference to the fancies and beliefs of the\nEnglish people in his time or in the times not long before him. If we\ncould understand all these references as we read, we should find\nourselves in a world as different from the England of to-day as England\nis from Austria, and among a people whose ideas and language we should\nfind it hard to understand.\n\nIn those early days there were no magazines or newspapers, and for the\npeople as contrasted with the scholars there were no books. The most\nlearned men were ignorant of things which intelligent children know\nto-day; only a very few men and women could read or write; and all kinds\nof beliefs about animals, birds, witches, fairies, giants, and the\nmagical qualities of herbs and stones flourished like weeds in a\nneglected garden. There came into existence an immense mass of\nmisinformation about all manner of things; some of it very stupid, much\nof it very poetic and interesting. Below the region of exact knowledge\naccessible to men of education, lay a region of popular fancies, ideas,\nproverbs, and superstitions in which the great mass of men and women\nlived, and which was a kind of invisible playground for children. Much\nof the popular belief about animals and the world was touched with\nimagination and was full of suggestions, illustrations, and pictorial\nfigures which the poets were quick to use. When the king says to Cranmer\nin \"Henry VIII:\" \"Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons,\" he was\nthinking of the old custom of giving children at christenings silver or\ngilt spoons with handles shaped to represent the figures of the\nApostles. Rich people gave twelve of the \"apostles' spoons;\" people of\nmore moderate means gave three or four, or only one with the figure of\nthe saint after whom the child was named. On Lord Mayor's Day in London,\nwhich came in November and is still celebrated, though shorn of much of\nits ancient splendour, the Lord Mayor's fool, as part of the\nfestivities, jumped into a great bowl of custard, and this is what Ben\nJonson had in mind when he wrote:\n\n    \"He may, perchance, in tail of a sheriff's dinner,\n     Skip with a rime o' the table, from near nothing,\n     And take his almain leap into a custard,\n     Shall make my lady Maydress and her sisters,\n     Laugh all their hoods over their shoulders.\"\n\nIt was once widely believed that a stone of magical, medicinal qualities\nwas set in the toad's head, and so Shakespeare wrote:\n\n    \"Sweet are the uses of adversity;\n     Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,\n     Wears yet a precious jewel in its head.\"\n\n\"A Midsummer Night's Dream\" is the most wonderful fairy story in the\nworld, but Shakespeare did not create it out of hand; he found the fairy\npart of it in the traditions of the country people. One of his most\nintelligent students says: \"He founded his elfin world on the prettiest\nof the people's traditions, and has clothed it in the ever-living flower\nof his own exuberant fancy.\"\n\nThis immense mass of belief, superstition, fancy, is called folk-lore\nand is to be found in all parts of the world. These fancies or faiths or\nsuperstitions were often distorted with stories, and side by side with\nfolk-lore grew up the folk-tales, of which there are so many that a man\nmight spend his whole life writing them down. They were not made as\nmodern stories are often made, by men who think out carefully what they\nare to say, arrange the different parts so that they go together like\nthe parts of a house or of a machine, and write them with careful\nselection of words so as to make the story vivid and interesting.\n\nThe folk-tales were not written out; many of them grew out of single\nincidents or little inventions of fancy, and became longer and larger as\nthey passed from one story-teller to another and were retold generation\nafter generation.\n\nMen love stories, and for very good reasons, as has been pointed out in\nintroductions to other volumes in this series; and the more quick and\noriginal the imagination of a race, the more interesting and varied will\nbe its stories. From the earliest times, long before books were made,\nthe people of many countries were eagerly listening to the men and women\nwho could tell thrilling or humorous tales, as in these later days they\nread the novels of the writers who know how to tell a story so as to\nstir the imagination or hold the attention and make readers forget\nthemselves and their worries and troubles. In India and Japan, in Russia\nand Roumania, among the Indians at the foot of the Rocky Mountains,\nthese stories are still told, not only to children by their mothers and\ngrandmothers, but to crowds of grown-up people by those who have the art\nof making tales entertaining; and there are still so many of these\nstories floating about the world from one person to another that if they\nwere written down they would fill a great library. \"Until the generation\nnow lately passed away,\" says Mr. Gosse in his introduction to that very\ninteresting book, \"Folk and Fairy Tales\" by Asbjoernsen, \"almost the only\nmode in which the Norwegian peasant killed time in the leisure moments\nbetween his daily labour and his religious observances, was in listening\nto stories. It was the business of old men and women who had reached the\nextreme limit of their working hours, to retain and repeat these ancient\nlegends in prose and verse, and to recite or sing them when called to do\nso.\" And Miss Hapgood has told us that in Russia these stories have not\nonly been handed down wholly by word or mouth for a thousand years, but\nare flourishing to-day and extending into fresh fields.\n\nThe stories made by the people, and told before evening fires, or in\npublic places and at the gates of inns in the Orient, belong to the ages\nwhen books were few and knowledge limited, or to people whose fancy was\nnot hampered by familiarity with or care for facts; they are the\ncreations, as they were the amusement, of men and women who were\nchildren in knowledge, but were thinking deeply and often wisely of what\nlife meant to them, and were eager to know and hear more about\nthemselves, their fellows, and the world. In the earlier folk-stories\none finds a childlike simplicity and readiness to believe in the\nmarvellous; and these qualities are found also in the French peasant's\nversion of the career of Napoleon.\n\nHAMILTON W. MABIE\n\n\n\n\nFOLK TALES EVERY CHILD SHOULD KNOW\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nHANS IN LUCK\n\n\nHans had served his Master seven years, and at the end of that time he\nsaid to him: \"Master, since my time is up, I should like to go home to\nmy mother; so give me my wages, if you please.\"\n\nHis Master replied, \"You have served me truly and honestly, Hans, and\nsuch as your service was, such shall be your reward;\" and with these\nwords he gave him a lump of gold as big as his head. Hans thereupon took\nhis handkerchief out of his pocket, and, wrapping the gold up in it,\nthrew it over his shoulder and set out on the road toward his native\nvillage. As he went along, carefully setting one foot to the ground\nbefore the other, a horseman came in sight, trotting gaily and briskly\nalong upon a capital animal. \"Ah,\" said Hans, aloud, \"what a fine thing\nthat riding is! one is seated, as it were, upon a stool, kicks against\nno stones, spares one's shoes, and gets along without any trouble!\"\n\nThe Rider, overhearing Hans making these reflections, stopped and said,\n\"Why, then, do you travel on foot, my fine fellow?\"\n\n\"Because I am forced,\" replied Hans, \"for I have got a bit of a lump to\ncarry home; it certainly is gold, but then I can't carry my head\nstraight, and it hurts my shoulder.\"\n\n\"If you like we will exchange,\" said the Rider. \"I will give you my\nhorse, and you can give me your lump of gold.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,\" cried Hans; \"but I tell you fairly you undertake a\nvery heavy burden.\"\n\nThe man dismounted, took the gold, and helped Hans on to the horse, and,\ngiving him the reins into his hands, said, \"Now, when you want to go\nfaster, you must chuckle with your tongue and cry, 'Gee up! gee up!'\"\n\nHans was delighted indeed when he found himself on the top of a horse,\nand riding along so freely and gaily. After a while he thought he should\nlike to go rather quicker, and so he cried, \"Gee up! gee up!\" as the man\nhad told him. The horse soon set off at a hard trot, and, before Hans\nknew what he was about, he was thrown over head and heels into a ditch\nwhich divided the fields from the road. The horse, having accomplished\nthis feat, would have bolted off if he had not been stopped by a Peasant\nwho was coming that way, driving a cow before him. Hans soon picked\nhimself up on his legs, but he was terribly put out, and said to the\ncountryman, \"That is bad sport, that riding, especially when one mounts\nsuch a beast as that, which stumbles and throws one off so as to nearly\nbreak one's neck. I will never ride on that animal again. Commend me to\nyour cow: one may walk behind her without any discomfort, and besides\none has, every day for certain, milk, butter, and cheese. Ah! what would\nI not give for such a cow!\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the Peasant, \"such an advantage you may soon enjoy; I will\nexchange my cow for your horse.\"\n\nTo this Hans consented with a thousand thanks, and the Peasant, swinging\nhimself upon the horse, rode off in a hurry.\n\nHans now drove his cow off steadily before him, thinking of his lucky\nbargain in this wise: \"I have a bit of bread, and I can, as often as I\nplease, eat with it butter and cheese, and when I am thirsty I can milk\nmy cow and have a draught: and what more can I desire?\"\n\nAs soon, then, as he came to an inn he halted, and ate with great\nsatisfaction all the bread he had brought with him for his noonday and\nevening meals, and washed it down with a glass of beer, to buy which he\nspent his two last farthings. This over, he drove his cow farther, but\nstill in the direction of his mother's village. The heat meantime became\nmore and more oppressive as noontime approached, and just then Hans came\nto a common which was an hour's journey across. Here he got into such a\nstate of heat that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, and he\nthought to himself: \"This won't do; I will just milk my cow, and refresh\nmyself.\" Hans, therefore tied her to a stump of a tree, and, having no\npail, placed his leathern cap below, and set to work, but not a drop of\nmilk could he squeeze out. He had placed himself, too, very awkwardly,\nand at last the impatient cow gave him such a kick on the head that he\ntumbled over on the ground, and for a long time knew not where he was.\nFortunately, not many hours after, a Butcher passed by, trundling a\nyoung pig along upon a wheelbarrow. \"What trick is this!\" exclaimed he,\nhelping up poor Hans; and Hans told him that all that had passed. The\nButcher then handed him his flask and said, \"There, take a drink; it\nwill revive you. Your cow might well give no milk: she is an old beast,\nand worth nothing at the best but for the plough or the butcher!\"\n\n\"Eh! eh!\" said Hans, pulling his hair over his eyes, \"who would have\nthought it? It is all very well when one can kill a beast like that at\nhome, and make a profit of the flesh; but for my part I have no relish\nfor cow's flesh; it is too tough for me! Ah! a young pig like yours is\nthe thing that tastes something like, let alone the sausages!\"\n\n\"Well now, for love of you,\" said the Butcher, \"I will make an exchange,\nand let you have my pig for your cow.\"\n\n\"Heaven reward you for your kindness!\" cried Hans; and, giving up the\ncow, he untied the pig from the barrow and took into his hands the\nstring with which it was tied.\n\nHans walked on again, considering how everything had happened just as he\nwished, and how all his vexations had turned out for the best after all!\nPresently a boy overtook him carrying a fine white goose under his arm,\nand after they had said \"Good-day\" to each other, Hans began to talk\nabout his luck, and what profitable exchanges he had made. The Boy on\nhis part told him that he was carrying the goose to a christening-feast.\n\"Just lift it,\" said he to Hans, holding it up by its wings, \"just feel\nhow heavy it is; why, it has been fattened up for the last eight weeks,\nand whoever bites it when it is cooked will have to wipe the grease from\neach side of his mouth!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hans, weighing it with one hand, \"it is weighty, but my pig\nis no trifle either.\"\n\nWhile he was speaking the Boy kept looking about on all sides, and\nshaking his head suspiciously, and at length he broke out, \"I am afraid\nit is not all right about your pig. In the village through which I have\njust come, one has been stolen out of the sty of the mayor himself; and\nI am afraid, very much afraid, you have it now in your hand! They have\nsent out several people, and it would be a very bad job for you if they\nfound you with the pig; the best thing you can do is to hide it in some\ndark corner!\"\n\nHonest Hans was thunderstruck, and exclaimed, \"Ah, Heaven help me in\nthis fresh trouble! you know the neighbourhood better than I do; do you\ntake my pig and let me have your goose,\" said he to the boy.\n\n\"I shall have to hazard something at that game,\" replied the Boy, \"but\nstill I do not wish to be the cause of your meeting with misfortune;\"\nand, so saying, he took the rope into his own hand, and drove the pig\noff quickly by a side-path, while Hans, lightened of his cares, walked\non homeward with the goose under his arm. \"If I judge rightly,\" thought\nhe to himself, \"I have gained even by this exchange: first there is a\ngood roast; then the quantity of fat which will drip out will make goose\nbroth for a quarter of a year; and then there are fine white feathers,\nwhich, when once I have put into my pillow I warrant I shall sleep\nwithout rocking. What pleasure my mother will have!\"\n\nAs he came to the last village on his road there stood a Knife-grinder,\nwith his barrow by the hedge, whirling his wheel round and singing:\n\n    \"Scissors and razors and such-like I grind;\n     And gaily my rags are flying behind.\"\n\n\nHans stopped and looked at him, and at last he said, \"You appear to have\na good business, if I may judge by your merry song?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the Grinder, \"this business has a golden bottom! A true\nknife-grinder is a man who as often as he puts his hand into his pocket\nfeels money in it! But what a fine goose you have got; where did you buy\nit?\"\n\n\"I did not buy it at all,\" said Hans, \"but took it in exchange for my\npig.\" \"And the pig?\" \"I exchanged for my cow.\" \"And the cow?\" \"I\nexchanged a horse for her.\" \"And the horse?\" \"For him I gave a lump of\ngold as big as my head.\" \"And the gold?\" \"That was my wages for a seven\nyears' servitude.\" \"And I see you have known how to benefit yourself\neach time,\" said the Grinder; \"but, could you now manage that you heard\nthe money rattling in your pocket as you walked, your fortune would be\nmade.\"\n\n\"Well! how shall I manage that?\" asked Hans.\n\n\"You must become a grinder like me; to this trade nothing peculiar\nbelongs but a grindstone; the other necessaries find themselves. Here is\none which is a little worn, certainly, and so I will not ask anything\nmore for it than your goose; are you agreeable?\"\n\n\"How can you ask me?\" said Hans; \"why, I shall be the luckiest man in\nthe world; having money as often as I dip my hand into my pocket, what\nhave I to care about any longer?\"\n\nSo saying, he handed over the goose, and received the grindstone in\nexchange.\n\n\"Now,\" said the Grinder, picking up an ordinary big flint stone which\nlay near, \"now, there you have a capital stone upon which only beat them\nlong enough and you may straighten all your old nails! Take it, and use\nit carefully!\"\n\nHans took the stone and walked on with a satisfied heart, his eyes\nglistening with joy. \"I must have been born,\" said he, \"to a heap of\nluck; everything happens just as I wish, as if I were a Sunday-child.\"\n\nSoon, however, having been on his legs since daybreak, he began to feel\nvery tired, and was plagued too with hunger, since he had eaten all his\nprovision at once in his joy about the cow bargain. At last he felt\nquite unable to go farther, and was forced, too, to halt every minute\nfor the stones encumbered him very much. Just then the thought overcame\nhim, what a good thing it were if he had no need to carry them any\nlonger, and at the same moment he came up to a stream. Here he resolved\nto rest and refresh himself with drink, and so that the stones might not\nhurt him in kneeling he laid them carefully down by his side on the\nbank. This done, he stooped down to scoop up some water in his hand, and\nthen it happened that he pushed one stone a little too far, so that both\npresently went plump into the water. Hans, as soon as he saw them\nsinking to the bottom, jumped up for joy, and then kneeled down and\nreturned thanks, with tears in his eyes, that so mercifully, and without\nany act on his part, and in so nice a way, he had been delivered from\nthe heavy stones, which alone hindered him from getting on.\n\n\"So lucky as I am,\" exclaimed Hans, \"is no other man under the sun!\"\n\nThen with a light heart, and free from every burden, he leaped gaily\nalong till he reached his mother's house.\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nWHY THE SEA IS SALT\n\n\nOnce on a time, but it was a long, long time ago, there were two\nbrothers, one rich and one poor. Now, one Christmas eve, the poor one\nhadn't so much as a crumb in the house, either of meat or bread, so he\nwent to his brother to ask him for something to keep Christmas with, in\nGod's name. It was not the first time his brother had been forced to\nhelp him, and you may fancy he wasn't very glad to see his face, but he\nsaid:\n\n\"If you will do what I ask you to do, I'll give you a whole flitch of\nbacon.\"\n\nSo the poor brother said he would do anything and was full of thanks.\n\n\"Well, here is the flitch,\" said the rich brother, \"and now go straight\nto Hell.\"\n\n\"What I have given my word to do, I must stick to,\" said the other; so\nhe took the flitch and set off. He walked the whole day, and at dusk he\ncame to a place where he saw a very bright light.\n\n\"Maybe this is the place,\" said the man to himself. So he turned aside,\nand the first thing he saw was an old, old man, with a long white beard,\nwho stood in an outhouse, hewing wood for the Christmas fire.\n\n\"Good even,\" said the man with the flitch.\n\n\"The same to you; whither are you going so late?\" said the man.\n\n\"Oh! I'm going to Hell, if I only knew the right way,\" answered the poor\nman.\n\n\"Well, you're not far wrong, for this is Hell,\" said the old man; \"when\nyou get inside they will be all for buying your flitch, for meat is\nscarce in Hell; but, mind you don't sell it unless you get the\nhand-quern which stands behind the door for it. When you come out, I'll\nteach you how to handle the quern, for it's good to grind almost\nanything.\"\n\nSo the man with the flitch thanked the other for his good advice, and\ngave a great knock at the Devil's door.\n\nWhen he got in, everything was just as the old man had said. All the\ndevils, great and small, came swarming up to him like ants round an\nanthill, and each tried to outbid the other for the flitch.\n\n\"Well!\" said the man, \"by rights, my old dame and I ought to have this\nflitch for our Christmas dinner; but since you have all set your hearts\non it, I suppose I must give it up to you; but if I sell it at all, I'll\nhave for it the quern behind the door yonder.\"\n\nAt first the Devil wouldn't hear of such a bargain, and chaffed and\nhaggled with the man; but he stuck to what he said, and at last the\nDevil had to part with his quern. When the man got out into the yard, he\nasked the old woodcutter how he was to handle the quern; and after he\nhad learned how to use it, he thanked the old man and went off home as\nfast as he could, but still the clock had struck twelve on Christmas eve\nbefore he reached his own door.\n\n\"Wherever in the world have you been?\" said his old dame; \"here have I\nsat hour after hour waiting and watching, without so much as two sticks\nto lay together under the Christmas brose.\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said the man, \"I couldn't get back before, for I had to go a long\nway first for one thing, and then for another; but now you shall see\nwhat you shall see.\"\n\nSo he put the quern on the table, and bade it first of all grind lights,\nthen a table-cloth, then meat, then ale, and so on till they had got\neverything that was nice for Christmas fare. He had only to speak the\nword, and the quern ground out what he wanted. The old dame stood by\nblessing her stars, and kept on asking where he had got this wonderful\nquern, but he wouldn't tell her.\n\n\"It's all one where I got it from; you see the quern is a good one, and\nthe mill-stream never freezes, that's enough.\"\n\nSo he ground meat and drink and dainties enough to last out till Twelfth\nDay, and on the third day he asked all his friends and kin to his house,\nand gave a great feast. Now, when his rich brother saw all that was on\nthe table, and all that was behind in the larder, he grew quite spiteful\nand wild, for he couldn't bear that his brother should have anything.\n\n\"Twas only on Christmas eve,\" he said to the rest, \"he was in such\nstraits that he came and asked for a morsel of food in God's name, and\nnow he gives a feast as if he were count or king;\" and he turned to his\nbrother and said:\n\n\"But whence, in Hell's name, have you got all this wealth?\"\n\n\"From behind the door,\" answered the owner of the quern, for he didn't\ncare to let the cat out of the bag. But later on in the evening, when he\nhad got a drop too much, he could keep his secret no longer, and brought\nout the quern and said:\n\n\"There, you see what has gotten me all this wealth;\" and so he made the\nquern grind all kind of things. When his brother saw it, he set his\nheart on having the quern, and, after a deal of coaxing, he got it; but\nhe had to pay three hundred dollars for it, and his brother bargained to\nkeep it till hay-harvest, for he thought, if I keep it till then, I can\nmake it grind meat and drink that will last for years. So you may fancy\nthe quern didn't grow rusty for want of work, and when hay-harvest came,\nthe rich brother got it, but the other took care not to teach him how to\nhandle it.\n\nIt was evening when the rich brother got the quern home, and the next\nmorning he told his wife to go out into the hay-field and toss, while\nthe mowers cut the grass, and he would stay at home and get the dinner\nready. So, when dinner-time drew near, he put the quern on the kitchen\ntable and said:\n\n\"Grind herrings and broth, and grind them good and fast.\"\n\nSo the quern began to grind herrings and broth; first of all, all the\ndishes full, then all the tubs full, and so on till the kitchen floor\nwas quite covered. Then the man twisted and twirled at the quern to get\nit to stop, but for all his twisting and fingering the quern went on\ngrinding, and in a little while the broth rose so high that the man was\nlike to drown. So he threw open the kitchen door and ran into the\nparlour, but it wasn't long before the quern had ground the parlour full\ntoo, and it was only at the risk of his life that the man could get hold\nof the latch of the house door through the stream of broth. When he got\nthe door open, he ran out and set off down the road, with the stream of\nherrings and broth at his heels, roaring like a waterfall over the whole\nfarm.\n\nNow, his old dame, who was in the field tossing hay, thought it a long\ntime to dinner, and at last she said:\n\n\"Well! though the master doesn't call us home, we may as well go. Maybe\nhe finds it hard work to boil the broth, and will be glad of my help.\"\n\nThe men were willing enough, so they sauntered homeward; but just as\nthey had got a little way up the hill, what should they meet but\nherrings, and broth, and bread, all running and dashing, and splashing\ntogether in a stream, and the master himself running before them for his\nlife, and as he passed them he bawled out: \"Would to heaven each of you\nhad a hundred throats! but take care you're not drowned in the broth.\"\n\nAway he went, as though the Evil One were at his heels, to his brother's\nhouse, and begged him for God's sake to take back the quern that\ninstant; for, said he:\n\n\"If it grinds only one hour more, the whole parish will be swallowed up\nby herrings and broth.\"\n\nBut his brother wouldn't hear of taking it back till the other paid him\ndown three hundred dollars more.\n\nSo the poor brother got both the money and the quern, and it wasn't long\nbefore he set up a farmhouse far finer than the one in which his\nbrother lived, and with the quern he ground so much gold that he covered\nit with plates of gold; and as the farm lay by the sea-side, the golden\nhouse gleamed and glistened far away over the sea. All who sailed by,\nput ashore to see the rich man in the golden house, and to see the\nwonderful quern, the fame of which spread far and wide, till there was\nnobody who hadn't heard tell of it.\n\nSo one day there came a skipper who wanted to see the quern; and the\nfirst thing he asked was if it could grind salt.\n\n\"Grind salt!\" said the owner; \"I should just think it could. It can\ngrind anything.\"\n\nWhen the skipper heard that, he said he must have the quern, cost what\nit would; for if he only had it, he thought he should be rid of his long\nvoyages across stormy seas for a lading of salt. Well, at first the man\nwouldn't hear of parting with the quern; but the skipper begged and\nprayed so hard that at last he let him have it, but he had to pay many,\nmany thousand dollars for it. Now, when the skipper had got the quern on\nhis back, he soon made off with it, for he was afraid lest the man\nshould change his mind; so he had no time to ask how to handle the\nquern, but got on board his ship as fast as he could, and set sail.\nWhen he had sailed a good way off, he brought the quern on deck and\nsaid:\n\n\"Grind salt, and grind both good and fast.\"\n\nWell, the quern began to grind salt so that it poured out like water;\nand when the skipper had got the ship full, he wished to stop the quern,\nbut whichever way he turned it, and however much he tried, it was no\ngood; the quern kept grinding on, and the heap of salt grew higher and\nhigher, and at last down sunk the ship.\n\nThere lies the quern at the bottom of the sea, and grinds away at this\nvery day, and that's why the sea is salt.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND\n\n\nOnce on a time there was an old widow who had one son and, as she was\npoorly and weak, her son had to go up into the safe to fetch meal for\ncooking; but when he got outside the safe, and was just going down the\nsteps, there came the North Wind, puffing and blowing, caught up the\nmeal, and so away with it through the air. Then the lad went back into\nthe safe for more; but when he came out again on the steps, if the North\nWind didn't come again and carry off the meal with a puff; and more than\nthat, he did so the third time. At this the lad got very angry; and as\nhe thought it hard that the North Wind should behave so, he thought he'd\njust look him up, and ask him to give up his meal.\n\nSo off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked; but at\nlast he came to the North Wind's house.\n\n\"Good day!\" said the lad, and \"thank you for coming to see us\nyesterday.\"\n\n\"GOOD DAY!\" answered the North Wind, for his voice was loud and gruff,\n\"AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME. WHAT DO YOU WANT?\"\n\n\"Oh!\" answered the lad, \"I only wished to ask you to be so good as to\nlet me have back that meal you took from me on the safe steps, for we\nhaven't much to live on; and if you're to go on snapping up the morsel\nwe have there'll be nothing for it but to starve.\"\n\n\"I haven't got your meal,\" said the North Wind; \"but if you are in such\nneed, I'll give you a cloth which will get you everything you want, if\nyou only say, 'Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good\ndishes!'\"\n\nWith this the lad was well content. But, as the way was so long he\ncouldn't get home in one day, he turned into an inn on the way; and when\nthey were going to sit down to supper, he laid the cloth on a table\nwhich stood in the corner and said:\n\n\"Cloth spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.\"\n\nHe had scarce said so before the cloth did as it was bid; and all who\nstood by thought it a fine thing, but most of all the landlady. So,\nwhen all were fast asleep, at dead of night, she took the lad's cloth,\nand put another in its stead, just like the one he had got from the\nNorth Wind, but which couldn't so much as serve up a bit of dry bread.\n\nSo, when the lad woke, he took his cloth and went off with it, and that\nday he got home to his mother.\n\n\"Now,\" said he, \"I've been to the North Wind's house, and a good fellow\nhe is, for he gave me this cloth, and when I only say to it, 'Cloth,\nspread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes,' I get any sort\nof food I please.\"\n\n\"All very true, I dare say,\" said his mother; \"but seeing is believing,\nand I shan't believe it till I see it.\"\n\nSo the lad made haste, drew out a table, laid the cloth on it, and said:\n\n\"Cloth, spread yourself, and serve all up kinds of good dishes.\"\n\nBut never a bit of dry bread did the cloth serve up.\n\n\"Well,\" said the lad, \"there's no help for it but to go to the North\nWind again;\" and away he went.\n\nSo he came to where the North Wind lived late in the afternoon.\n\n\"Good evening!\" said the lad.\n\n\"Good evening,\" said the North Wind.\n\n\"I want my rights for that meal of ours which you took,\" said the lad;\n\"for as for that cloth I got, it isn't worth a penny.\"\n\n\"I've got no meal,\" said the North Wind; \"but yonder you have a ram\nwhich coins nothing but golden ducats as soon as you say to it:\n\n\"'Ram, ram! make money!'\"\n\nSo the lad thought this a fine thing but as it was too far to get home\nthat day, he turned in for the night to the same inn where he had slept\nbefore.\n\nBefore he called for anything, he tried the truth of what the North Wind\nhad said of the ram, and found it all right; but when the landlord saw\nthat, he thought it was a famous ram, and, when the lad had fallen\nasleep, he took another which couldn't coin gold ducats, and changed the\ntwo.\n\nNext morning off went the lad; and when he got home to his mother he\nsaid:\n\n\"After all, the North Wind is a jolly fellow; for now he has given me a\nram which can coin golden ducats if I only say, 'Ram, ram! make\nmoney!'\"\n\n\"All very true, I dare say,\" said his mother; \"but I shan't believe any\nsuch stuff until I see the ducats made.\"\n\n\"Ram, ram! make money!\" said the lad; but if the ram made anything it\nwasn't money.\n\nSo the lad went back again to the North Wind and blew him up, and said\nthe ram was worth nothing, and he must have his rights for the meal.\n\n\"Well,\" said the North Wind; \"I've nothing else to give you but that old\nstick in the corner yonder; but it's a stick of that kind that if you\nsay:\n\n\"'Stick, stick! lay on!' it lays on till you say:\n\n\"'Stick, stick! now stop!'\"\n\nSo, as the way was long, the lad turned in this night too to the\nlandlord; but as he could pretty well guess how things stood as to the\ncloth and the ram, he lay down at once on the bench and began to snore,\nas if he were asleep.\n\nNow the landlord, who easily saw that the stick must be worth something,\nhunted up one which was like it, and when he heard the lad snore, was\ngoing to change the two, but just as the landlord was about to take it\nthe lad bawled out:\n\n\"Stick, stick! lay on!\"\n\nSo the stick began to beat the landlord, till he jumped over chairs, and\ntables, and benches, and yelled and roared:\n\n\"Oh my! oh my! bid the stick be still, else it will beat me to death,\nand you shall have back both your cloth and your ram.\"\n\nWhen the lad thought the landlord had got enough, he said:\n\n\"Stick, stick! now stop!\"\n\nThen he took the cloth and put it into his pocket, and went home with\nhis stick in his hand, leading the ram by a cord round its horns; and so\nhe got his rights for the meal he had lost.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE LAD AND THE DEIL\n\n\nOnce on a time there was a lad who was walking along a road cracking\nnuts, so he found one that was worm-eaten, and just at that very moment\nhe met the Deil.\n\n\"Is it true, now,\" said the lad, \"what they say, that the Deil can make\nhimself as small as he chooses, and thrust himself on through a\npinhole?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is,\" said the Deil.\n\n\"Oh! it is, is it? then let me see you do it, and just creep into this\nnut,\" said the lad.\n\nSo the Deil did it.\n\nNow, when he had crept well into it through the worm's hole, the lad\nstopped it up with a pin.\n\n\"Now, I've got you safe,\" he said, and put the nut into his pocket.\n\nSo when he had walked on a bit, he came to a smithy, and he turned in\nand asked the smith if he'd be good enough to crack that nut for him.\n\n\"Ay, that'll be an easy job,\" said the smith, and took his smallest\nhammer, laid the nut on the anvil, and gave it a blow, but it wouldn't\nbreak.\n\nSo he took another hammer a little bigger, but that wasn't heavy enough\neither.\n\nThen he took one bigger still, but it was still the same story; and so\nthe smith got wroth, and grasped his great sledge-hammer.\n\n\"Now, I'll crack you to bits,\" he said, and let drive at the nut with\nall his might and main. And so the nut flew to pieces with a bang that\nblew off half the roof of the smithy, and the whole house creaked and\ngroaned as though it were ready to fall.\n\n\"Why! if I don't think the Deil must have been in that nut,\" said the\nsmith.\n\n\"So he was; you're quite right,\" said the lad, as he went away laughing.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nANANZI AND THE LION\n\n\nOnce on a time Ananzi planned a scheme. He went to town and bought ever\nso many firkins of fat, and ever so many sacks, and ever so many balls\nof string, and a very big frying pan, then he went to the bay and blew a\nshell, and called the Head-fish in the sea, \"Green Eel,\" to him. Then he\nsaid to the fish, \"The King sends me to tell you that you must bring all\nthe fish on shore, for he wants to give them new life.\"\n\nSo \"Green Eel\" said he would, and went to call them. Meanwhile Ananzi\nlighted a fire, and took out some of the fat, and got his frying pan\nready, and as fast as the fish came out of the water he caught them and\nput them into the frying pan, and so he did with all of them until he\ngot to the Head-fish, who was so slippery that he couldn't hold him, and\nhe got back again into the water.\n\nWhen Ananzi had fried all the fish, he put them into the sacks, and\ntook the sacks on his back, and set off to the mountains. He had not\ngone very far when he met Lion, and Lion said to him:\n\n\"Well, brother Ananzi, where have you been? I have not seen you a long\ntime.\"\n\nAnanzi said, \"I have been travelling about.\"\n\n\"Oh! But what have you got there?\" said the Lion.\n\n\"Oh! I have got my mother's bones--she has been dead these forty-eleven\nyears, and they say I must not keep her here, so I am taking her up into\nthe middle of the mountains to bury her.\"\n\nThen they parted. After he had gone a little way, the Lion said: \"I know\nthat Ananzi is a great rogue; I dare say he has got something there that\nhe doesn't want me to see, and I will just follow him;\" but he took care\nnot to let Ananzi see him.\n\nNow, when Ananzi got into the wood, he set his sacks down, and took one\nfish out and began to eat; then a fly came, and Ananzi said, \"I cannot\neat any more, for there is some one near;\" so he tied the sack up, and\nwent on farther into the mountains, where he set his sacks down, and\ntook out two fish which he ate; and no fly came. He said, \"There is no\none near;\" so he took out more fish. But when he had eaten about half a\ndozen the Lion came up and said:\n\n\"Well, brother Ananzi, a pretty tale you have told me.\"\n\n\"Oh! brother Lion, I am so glad you have come; never mind what tale I\nhave told you, but come and sit down--it was only my fun.\"\n\nSo Lion sat down and began to eat; but before Ananzi had eaten two fish,\nLion had emptied one of the sacks. Then said Ananzi to himself:\n\n\"Greedy fellow, eating up all my fish.\"\n\n\"What do you say, sir?\"\n\n\"I only said you do not eat half fast enough,\" for he was afraid the\nLion would eat him up.\n\nThen they went on eating, but Ananzi wanted to revenge himself, and he\nsaid to the Lion, \"Which of us do you think is the stronger?\"\n\nThe Lion said, \"Why, I am, of course.\"\n\nThen Ananzi said, \"We will tie one another to the tree, and we shall see\nwhich is the stronger.\"\n\nNow they agreed that the Lion should tie Ananzi first, and he tied him\nwith some very fine string, and did not tie him tight. Ananzi twisted\nhimself about two or three times, and the string broke.\n\nThen it was Ananzi's turn to tie the Lion, and he took some very strong\ncord. The Lion said, \"You must not tie me tight, for I did not tie you\ntight.\" And Ananzi said, \"Oh! no, to be sure, I will not.\" But he tied\nhim as tight as ever he could, and then told him to try and get loose.\n\nThe Lion tried and tried in vain--he could not get loose. Then Ananzi\nthought, now is my chance; so he got a big stick and beat him, and then\nwent away and left him, for he was afraid to loose him lest he should\nkill him.\n\nNow there was a woman called Miss Nancy, who was going out one morning\nto get some \"callalou\" (spinach) in the wood, and as she was going she\nheard some one say, \"Good morning, Miss Nancy!\" She could not tell who\nspoke to her, but she looked where the voice came from, and saw the Lion\ntied to the tree.\n\n\"Good morning, Mr. Lion, what are you doing there?\"\n\nHe said, \"It is all that fellow Ananzi who has tied me to the tree, but\nwill you loose me?\"\n\nBut she said, \"No, for I am afraid, if I do, you will kill me.\" But he\ngave her his word he would not; still she could not trust him; but he\nbegged her again and again, and said:\n\n\"Well, if I do try to eat you, I hope all the trees will cry out shame\nupon me.\"\n\nSo at last she consented; but she had no sooner loosed him, than he came\nup to her to eat her, for he had been so many days without food that he\nwas quite ravenous, but the trees immediately cried out, \"Shame,\" and so\nhe could not eat her. Then she went away as fast as she could, and the\nLion found his way home.\n\nWhen Lion got home he told his wife and children all that happened to\nhim, and how Miss Nancy had saved his life, so they said they would have\na great dinner, and ask Miss Nancy. Now when Ananzi heard of it, he\nwanted to go to the dinner, so he went to Miss Nancy, and said she must\ntake him with her as her child, but she said, \"No.\" Then he said, \"I can\nturn myself into quite a little child and then you can take me,\" and at\nlast she said, \"Yes;\" and he told her, when she was asked what pap her\nbaby ate, she must be sure to tell them it did not eat pap, but the same\nfood as every one else; and so they went, and had a very good dinner,\nand set off home again--but somehow one of the Lion's sons fancied that\nall was not right, and he told his father he was sure it was Ananzi, and\nthe Lion set out after him.\n\nNow as they were going along, before the Lion got up to them, Ananzi\nbegged Miss Nancy to put him down, that he might run, which he did, and\nhe got away and ran along the wood, and the Lion ran after him. When he\nfound the Lion was overtaking him, he turned himself into an old man\nwith a bundle of wood on his head--and when the Lion got up to him, he\nsaid, \"Good morning, Mr. Lion,\" and the Lion said, \"Good morning, old\ngentleman.\"\n\nThen the old man said, \"What are you after now?\" and the Lion asked if\nhe had seen Ananzi pass that way, but the old man said, \"No, that fellow\nAnanzi is always meddling with some one; what mischief has he been up to\nnow?\"\n\nThen the Lion told him, but the old man said it was no use to follow him\nany more, for he would never catch him, and so the Lion wished him\ngood-day, and turned and went home again.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE GRATEFUL FOXES\n\n\nOne fine spring day two friends went out to a moor to gather fern,\nattended by a boy with a bottle of wine and a box of provisions. As they\nwere straying about, they saw at the foot of a hill two foxes that had\nbrought out their cub to play; and whilst they looked on, struck by the\nstrangeness of the sight, three children came up from a neighbouring\nvillage with baskets in their hands, on the same errand as themselves.\nAs soon as the children saw the foxes, they picked up a bamboo stick and\ntook the creatures stealthily in the rear; and when the old foxes took\nto flight, they surrounded them and beat them with the stick, so that\nthey ran away as fast as their legs could carry them; but two of the\nboys held down the cub, and, seizing it by the scruff of the neck, went\noff in high glee.\n\nThe two friends were looking on all the while, and one of them, raising\nhis voice, shouted out, \"Hallo! you boys! what are you doing with that\nfox?\"\n\nThe eldest of the boys replied, \"We're going to take him home and sell\nhim to a young man in our village. He'll buy him, and then he'll boil\nhim in a pot and eat him.\"\n\n\"Well,\" replied the other, after considering the matter attentively, \"I\nsuppose it's all the same to you whom you sell him to. You'd better let\nme have him.\"\n\n\"Oh, but the young man from our village promised us a good sum if we\ncould find a fox, and got us to come out to the hills and catch one; and\nso we can't sell him to you at any price.\"\n\n\"Well, I suppose it cannot be helped, then; but how much would the young\nman give you for the cub?\"\n\n\"Oh, he'll give us three hundred cash at least.\"\n\n\"Then I'll give you half a bu;[1] and so you'll gain five hundred cash\nby the transaction.\"\n\n\"Oh, we'll sell him for that, sir. How shall we hand him over to you?\"\n\n\"Just tie him up here,\" said the other; and so he made fast the cub\nround the neck with the string of the napkin in which the luncheon-box\nwas wrapped, and gave half a bu to the three boys, who ran away\ndelighted.\n\nThe man's friend, upon this, said to him: \"Well, certainly you have got\nqueer tastes. What on earth are you going to keep the fox for?\"\n\n\"How very unkind of you to speak of my tastes like that. If we had not\ninterfered just now, the fox's cub would have lost its life. If we had\nnot seen the affair, there would have been no help for it. How could I\nstand by and see life taken? It was but a little I spent--only half a\nbu--to save the cub, but had it cost a fortune I should not have grudged\nit. I thought you were intimate enough with me to know my heart; but\nto-day you have accused me of being eccentric, and I see how mistaken I\nhave been in you. However, our friendship shall cease from this day\nforth.\"\n\nAnd when he had said this with a great deal of firmness, the other,\nretiring backward and bowing with his hands on his knees, replied:\n\n\"Indeed, indeed, I am filled with admiration at the goodness of your\nheart. When I hear you speak thus, I feel more than ever how great is\nthe love I bear you. I thought that you might wish to use the cub as a\nsort of decoy to lead the old ones to you, that you might pray them to\nbring prosperity and virtue to your house. When I called you eccentric\njust now, I was but trying your heart, because I had some suspicions of\nyou; and now I am truly ashamed of myself.\"\n\nAnd as he spoke, still bowing, the other replied: \"Really! was that\nindeed your thought? Then I pray you to forgive me for my violent\nlanguage.\"\n\nWhen the two friends had thus become reconciled, they examined the cub,\nand saw that it had a slight wound in its foot, and could not walk; and\nwhile they were thinking what they should do, they spied out the herb\ncalled \"Doctor's Nakase,\" which was just sprouting; so they rolled up a\nlittle of it in their fingers and applied it to the part. Then they\npulled out some boiled rice from their luncheon-box and offered it to\nthe cub, but it showed no sign of wanting to eat; so they stroked it\ngently on the back and petted it; and as the pain of the wound seemed to\nhave subsided, they were admiring the properties of the herb, when,\nopposite to them, they saw the old foxes sitting watching them by the\nside of some stacks of rice straw.\n\n\"Look there! the old foxes have come back, out of fear for their cub's\nsafety. Come, we will set it free!\" And with these words they untied the\nstring round the cub's neck, and turned its head toward the spot where\nthe old foxes sat; and as the wounded foot was no longer painful, with\none bound it dashed to its parents' side and licked them all over for\njoy, while they seemed to bow their thanks, looking toward the two\nfriends. So, with peace in their hearts, the latter went off to another\nplace, and, choosing a pretty spot, produced the wine bottle and ate\ntheir noonday meal; and after a pleasant day, they returned to their\nhomes, and became firmer friends than ever.\n\nNow the man who had rescued the fox's cub was a tradesman in good\ncircumstances: he had three or four agents and two maid-servants,\nbesides men-servants; and altogether he lived in a liberal manner. He\nwas married, and this union had brought him one son, who had reached his\ntenth year, but had been attacked by a strange disease which defied all\nthe physicians' skill and drugs. At last a famous physician prescribed\nthe liver taken from a live fox, which, as he said, would certainly\neffect a cure. If that were not forthcoming, the most expensive medicine\nin the world would not restore the boy to health. When the parents heard\nthis, they were at their wits' end. However, they told the state of the\ncase to a man who lived on the mountains. \"Even though our child should\ndie for it,\" they said, \"we will not ourselves deprive other creatures\nof their lives; but you, who live among the hills, are sure to hear when\nyour neighbours go out fox-hunting. We don't care what price we might\nhave to pay for a fox's liver; pray, buy one for us at any expense.\" So\nthey pressed him to exert himself on their behalf; and he, having\npromised faithfully to execute the commission, went his way.\n\nIn the night of the following day there came a messenger, who announced\nhimself as coming from the person who had undertaken to procure the\nfox's liver; so the master of the house went out to see him.\n\n\"I have come from Mr. So-and-so. Last night the fox's liver that you\nrequired fell into his hands; so he sent me to bring it to you.\" With\nthese words the messenger produced a small jar, adding, \"In a few days\nhe will let you know the price.\"\n\nWhen he had delivered his message, the master of the house was greatly\npleased and said, \"Indeed, I am deeply grateful for this kindness, which\nwill save my son's life.\"\n\nThen the good wife came out, and received the jar with every mark of\npoliteness.\n\n\"We must make a present to the messenger.\"\n\n\"Indeed, sir, I've already been paid for my trouble.\"\n\n\"Well, at any rate, you must stop the night here.\"\n\n\"Thank you, sir: I've a relation in the next village whom I have not\nseen for a long while, and I will pass the night with him;\" and so he\ntook his leave, and went away.\n\nThe parents lost no time in sending to let the physician know that they\nhad procured the fox's liver. The next day the doctor came and\ncompounded a medicine for the patient, which at once produced a good\neffect, and there was no little joy in the household. As luck would have\nit, three days after this the man whom they had commissioned to buy the\nfox's liver came to the house: so the goodwife hurried out to meet him\nand welcome him.\n\n\"How quickly you fulfilled our wishes, and how kind of you to send at\nonce! The doctor prepared the medicine, and now our boy can get up and\nwalk about the room; and it's all owing to your goodness.\"\n\n\"Wait a bit!\" cried the guest, who did not know what to make of the joy\nof the two parents. \"The commission with which you entrusted me about\nthe fox's liver turned out to be a matter of impossibility, so I came\nto-day to make my excuses; and now I really can't understand what you\nare so grateful to me for.\"\n\n\"We are thanking you, sir,\" replied the master of the house, bowing with\nhis hands on the ground, \"for the fox's liver which we asked you to\nprocure for us.\"\n\n\"I really am perfectly unaware of having sent you a fox's liver: there\nmust be some mistake here. Pray inquire carefully into the matter.\"\n\n\"Well, this is very strange. Four nights ago, a man of some five or six\nand thirty years of age came with a verbal message from you, to the\neffect that you had sent him with a fox's liver, which you had just\nprocured, and said that he would come and tell us the price another day.\nWhen we asked him to spend the night here, he answered that he would\nlodge with a relation in the next village, and went away.\"\n\nThe visitor was more and more lost in amazement, and, leaning his head\non one side in deep thought, confessed that he could make nothing of it.\nAs for the husband and wife, they felt quite out of countenance at\nhaving thanked a man so warmly for favours of which he denied all\nknowledge; and so the visitor took his leave and went home.\n\nThat night there appeared at the pillow of the master of the house a\nwoman of about one or two and thirty years of age, who said: \"I am the\nfox that lives at such-and-such a mountain. Last spring, when I was\ntaking out my cub to play, it was carried off by some boys, and only\nsaved by your goodness. The desire to requite this kindness pierced me\nto the quick. At last, when calamity attacked your house, I thought I\nmight be of use to you. Your son's illness could not be cured without a\nliver taken from a live fox, so to repay your kindness I killed my cub\nand took out its liver; then its sire, disguising himself as a\nmessenger, brought it to your house.\"\n\nAnd as she spoke, the fox shed tears; and the master of the house,\nwishing to thank her, moved in bed, upon which his wife awoke and asked\nhim what was the matter; but he too, to her great astonishment, was\nbiting the pillow and weeping bitterly.\n\n\"Why are you weeping thus?\" asked she.\n\nAt last he sat up in bed and said: \"Last spring, when I was out on a\npleasure excursion, I was the means of saving the life of a fox's cub,\nas I told you at the time. The other day I told Mr. So-and-so that,\nalthough my son were to die before my eyes, I would not be the means of\nkilling a fox on purpose, but asked him, in case he heard of any hunter\nkilling a fox, to buy it for me. How the foxes came to hear of this I\ndon't know; but the foxes to whom I had shown kindness killed their own\ncub and took out the liver; and the old dog-fox, disguising himself as a\nmessenger from the person to whom we had confided the commission, came\nhere with it. His mate has just been at my pillow-side and told me all\nabout it. Hence it was that, in spite of myself, I was moved to tears.\"\n\nWhen she heard this, the goodwife likewise was blinded by her tears, and\nfor a while they lay lost in thought; but at last, coming to themselves,\nthey lighted the lamp on the shelf on which the family idol stood, and\nspent the night in reciting prayers and praises, and the next day they\npublished the matter to the household and to their relations and\nfriends. Now, although there are instances of men killing their own\nchildren to requite a favour, there is no other example of foxes having\ndone such a thing; so the story became the talk of the whole country.\n\nNow, the boy who had recovered through the efficacy of this medicine\nselected the prettiest spot on the premises to erect a shrine to Inari\nSama,[2] the Fox God, and offered sacrifice to the two old foxes, for\nwhom he purchased the highest rank at the court of the Mikado.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe passage in the tale which speaks of rank being purchased for the\nfoxes at the court of the Mikado is, of course, a piece of nonsense.\n\"The saints who are worshipped in Japan,\" writes a native authority,\n\"are men who, in the remote ages, when the country was developing\nitself, were sages, and by their great and virtuous deeds having earned\nthe gratitude of future generations, received divine honours after their\ndeath. How can the Son of Heaven, who is the father and mother of his\npeople, turn dealer in ranks and honours? If rank were a matter of\nbarter, it would cease to be a reward to the virtuous.\"\n\nAll matters connected with the shrines of the Shinto, or indigenous\nreligion, are confided to the superintendence of the families of Yoshida\nand Fushimi, Kuges or nobles of the Mikado's court at Kiyoto. The\naffairs of the Buddhist or imported religion are under the care of the\nfamily of Kanjuji. As it is necessary that those who as priests perform\nthe honourable office of serving the gods should be persons of some\nstanding, a certain small rank is procured for them through the\nintervention of the representatives of the above noble families, who, on\nthe issuing of the required patent, receive as their perquisite a fee,\nwhich, although insignificant in itself, is yet of importance to the\npoor Kuges, whose penniless condition forms a great contrast to the\nwealth of their inferiors in rank, the Daimios. I believe that this is\nthe only case in which rank can be bought or sold in Japan. In China, on\nthe contrary, in spite of what has been written by Meadows and other\nadmirers of the examination system, a man can be what he pleases by\npaying for it; and the coveted button, which is nominally the reward of\nlearning and ability, is more often the prize of wealthy ignorance.\n\nThe saints who are alluded to above are the saints of the whole country,\nas distinct from those who for special deeds are locally worshipped.\n\nTouching the remedy of the fox's liver, prescribed in the tale, I may\nadd that there would be nothing strange in this to a person acquainted\nwith the Chinese pharmacopoeia, which the Japanese long exclusively\nfollowed, although they are now successfully studying the art of healing\nas practised in the West. When I was at Peking, I saw a Chinese\nphysician prescribe a decoction of three scorpions for a child struck\ndown with fever; and on another occasion a groom of mine, suffering from\ndysentery, was treated with acupuncture of the tongue. The art of\nmedicine would appear to be at the present time in China much in the\nstate in which it existed in Europe in the sixteenth century, when the\nexcretions and secretions of all manner of animals, saurians, and\nvenomous snakes and insects, and even live bugs, were administered to\npatients. \"Some physicians,\" says Matthiolus, \"use the ashes of\nscorpions, burnt alive, for retention caused by either renal or vesical\ncalculi. But I have myself thoroughly experienced the utility of an oil\nI make myself, whereof scorpions form a very large portion of the\ningredients. If only the region of the heart and all the pulses of the\nbody be anointed with it, it will free the patients from the effects of\nall kinds of poisons taken by the mouth, corrosive ones excepted.\"\nDecoctions of Egyptian mummies were much commended, and often prescribed\nwith due academical solemnity; and the bones of the human skull,\npulverized and administered with oil, were used as a specific in cases\nof renal calculus. (See Petri Andreae Matthioli \"Opera,\" 1574.)\n\nThese remarks were made to me by a medical gentleman to whom I mentioned\nthe Chinese doctor's prescription of scorpion tea, and they seem to me\nso curious that I insert them for comparison's sake.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 1: _Bu._ This coin is generally called by foreigners \"ichibu,\"\nwhich means \"one bu.\" To talk of \"_a hundred ichibus_\" is as though a\nJapanese were to say \"_a hundred one shillings_.\" Four bus make a\n_riyo_, or ounce; and any sum above three bus is spoken of as so many\nriyos and bus--as 101 riyos and three bus equal 407 bus. The bu is worth\nabout 1_s._ 4_d._]\n\n[Footnote 2: Inari Sama is the title under which was deified a certain\nmythical personage, called Uga, to whom tradition attributes the honour\nof having first discovered and cultivated the rice-plant. He is\nrepresented carrying a few ears of rice, and is symbolized by a snake\nguarding a bale of rice grain. The foxes wait upon him, and do his\nbidding. Inasmuch as rice is the most important and necessary product of\nJapan, the honours which Inari Sama receives are extraordinary. Almost\nevery house in the country contains somewhere about the grounds a pretty\nlittle shrine in his honour; and on a certain day of the second month of\nthe year his feast is celebrated with much beating of drums and other\nnoises, in which the children take a special delight. \"On this day,\"\nsays the O-Satsuyo, a Japanese cyclopaedia, \"at Yeddo, where there are\nmyriads upon myriads of shrines to Inari Sama, there are all sorts of\nceremonies. Long banners with inscriptions are erected, lamps and\nlanterns are hung up, and the houses are decked with various dolls and\nfigures; the sound of flutes and drums is heard, and people dance and\nmake holiday according to their fancy. In short, it is the most bustling\nfestival of the Yeddo year.\"]\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE BADGER'S MONEY\n\n\nIt is a common saying among men that to forget favours received is the\npart of a bird or a beast: an ungrateful man will be ill spoken of by\nall the world. And yet even birds and beasts will show gratitude; so\nthat a man who does not requite a favour is worse even than dumb brutes.\nIs not this a disgrace?\n\nOnce upon a time, in a hut at a place called Namekata, in Hitachi, there\nlived an old priest famous neither for learning nor wisdom, but bent\nonly on passing his days in prayer and meditation. He had not even a\nchild to wait upon him, but prepared his food with his own hands. Night\nand morning he recited the prayer \"Namu Amida Butsu,\"[3] intent upon\nthat alone. Although the fame of his virtue did not reach far, yet his\nneighbours respected and revered him, and often brought him food and\nraiment; and when his roof or his walls fell out of repair, they would\nmend them for him; so for the things of this world he took no thought.\n\nOne very cold night, when he little thought any one was outside, he\nheard a voice calling, \"Your reverence! your reverence!\" So he rose and\nwent out to see who it was, and there he beheld an old badger standing.\nAny ordinary man would have been greatly alarmed at the apparition; but\nthe priest, being such as he has been described above, showed no sign of\nfear, but asked the creature its business. Upon this the badger\nrespectfully bent its knees and said:\n\n\"Hitherto, sir, my lair has been in the mountains, and of snow or frost\nI have taken no heed; but now I am growing old, and this severe cold is\nmore than I can bear. I pray you to let me enter and warm myself at the\nfire of your cottage, that I may live through this bitter night.\"\n\nWhen the priest heard what a helpless state the beast was reduced to, he\nwas filled with pity and said:\n\n\"That's a very slight matter: make haste and come in and warm yourself.\"\n\nThe badger, delighted with so good a reception, went into the hut, and\nsquatting down by the fire began to warm itself; and the priest, with\nrenewed fervour, recited his prayers and struck his bell before the\nimage of Buddha, looking straight before him.\n\nAfter two hours the badger took its leave, with profuse expressions of\nthanks, and went out; and from that time forth it came every night to\nthe hut. As the badger would collect and bring with it dried branches\nand dead leaves from the hills for firewood, the priest at last became\nvery friendly with it, and got used to its company; so that if ever, as\nthe night wore on, the badger did not arrive, he used to miss it, and\nwonder why it did not come. When the winter was over, and the springtime\ncame at the end of the second month, the badger gave up its visits, and\nwas no more seen; but, on the return of the winter, the beast resumed\nits old habit of coming to the hut. When this practice had gone on for\nten years, one day the badger said to the priest, \"Through your\nreverence's kindness for all these years, I have been able to pass the\nwinter nights in comfort. Your favours are such that during all my life,\nand even after my death, I must remember them. What can I do to requite\nthem? If there is anything that you wish for, pray tell me.\"\n\nThe priest, smiling at this speech, answered: \"Being such as I am, I\nhave no desire and no wishes. Glad as I am to hear your kind intentions,\nthere is nothing that I can ask you to do for me. You need feel no\nanxiety on my account. As long as I live, when the winter comes, you\nshall be welcome here.\" The badger, on hearing this, could not conceal\nits admiration of the depth of the old man's benevolence; but having so\nmuch to be grateful for, it felt hurt at not being able to requite it.\nAs this subject was often renewed between them, the priest at last,\ntouched by the goodness of the badger's heart, said: \"Since I have\nshaven my head, renounced the world, and forsaken the pleasures of this\nlife, I have no desire to gratify, yet I own I should like to possess\nthree riyos in gold. Food and raiment I receive by the favour of the\nvillagers, so I take no heed for those things. Were I to die to-morrow,\nand attain my wish of being born again into the next world, the same\nkind folk have promised to meet and bury my body. Thus, although I have\nno other reason to wish for money, still if I had three riyos I would\noffer them up at some holy shrine, that masses and prayers might be said\nfor me, whereby I might enter into salvation. Yet I would not get this\nmoney by violent or unlawful means; I only think of what might be if I\nhad it. So you see, since you have expressed such kind feelings toward\nme, I have told you what is on my mind.\" When the priest had done\nspeaking, the badger leant its head on one side with a puzzled and\nanxious look, so much so that the old man was sorry he had expressed a\nwish which seemed to give the beast trouble, and tried to retract what\nhe had said. \"Posthumous honours, after all, are the wish of ordinary\nmen. I, who am a priest, ought not to entertain such thoughts, or to\nwant money; so pray pay no attention to what I have said;\" and the\nbadger, feigning assent to what the priest had impressed upon it,\nreturned to the hills as usual.\n\nFrom that time forth the badger came no more to the hut. The priest\nthought this very strange, but imagined either that the badger stayed\naway because it did not like to come without the money, or that it had\nbeen killed in an attempt to steal it; and he blamed himself for having\nadded to his sins for no purpose, repenting when it was too late:\npersuaded, however, that the badger must have been killed, he passed his\ntime in putting up prayers upon prayers for it.\n\nAfter three years had gone by, one night the old man heard a voice near\nhis door calling out, \"Your reverence! your reverence!\"\n\nAs the voice was like that of the badger, he jumped up as soon as he\nheard it, and ran to open the door; and there, sure enough, was the\nbadger. The priest, in great delight, cried out: \"And so you are safe\nand sound, after all! Why have you been so long without coming here? I\nhave been expecting you anxiously this long while.\"\n\nSo the badger came into the hut and said: \"If the money which you\nrequired had been for unlawful purposes, I could easily have procured as\nmuch as ever you might have wanted; but when I heard that it was to be\noffered to a temple for masses for your soul, I thought that, if I were\nto steal the hidden treasure of some other man, you could not apply to a\nsacred purpose money which had been obtained at the expense of his\nsorrow. So I went to the island of Sado,[4] and gathering the sand and\nearth which had been cast away as worthless by the miners, fused it\nafresh in the fire; and at this work I spent months and days.\" As the\nbadger finished speaking, the priest looked at the money which it had\nproduced, and sure enough he saw that it was bright and new and clean;\nso he took the money, and received it respectfully, raising it to his\nhead.\n\n\"And so you have had all this toil and labour on account of a foolish\nspeech of mine? I have obtained my heart's desire, and am truly\nthankful.\"\n\nAs he was thanking the badger with great politeness and ceremony, the\nbeast said: \"In doing this I have but fulfilled my own wish; still I\nhope that you will tell this thing to no man.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" replied the priest, \"I cannot choose but tell this story. For\nif I keep this money in my poor hut, it will be stolen by thieves: I\nmust either give it to some one to keep for me, or else at once offer it\nup at the temple. And when I do this, when people see a poor old priest\nwith a sum of money quite unsuited to his station, they will think it\nvery suspicious, and I shall have to tell the tale as it occurred; but I\nshall say that the badger that gave me the money has ceased coming to my\nhut, you need not fear being waylaid, but can come, as of old, and\nshelter yourself from the cold.\" To this the badger nodded assent; and\nas long as the old priest lived, it came and spent the winter nights\nwith him.\n\nFrom this story, it is plain that even beasts have a sense of gratitude:\nin this quality dogs excel all other beasts. Is not the story of the dog\nof Totoribe Yorodzu written in the Annals of Japan? I[5] have heard that\nmany anecdotes of this nature have been collected and printed in a book,\nwhich I have not yet seen; but as the facts which I have recorded relate\nto a badger, they appear to me to be passing strange.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 3: A Buddhist prayer, in which something approaching to the\nsounds of the original Sanscrit has been preserved. The meaning of the\nprayer is explained as, \"Save us, eternal Buddha'\" Many even of the\npriests who repeat it know it only as a formula, without understanding\nit.]\n\n[Footnote 4: An island on the west coast of Japan, famous for its gold\nmines.]\n\n[Footnote 5: The author of the tale.]\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nWHY BROTHER BEAR HAS NO TAIL\n\n\n\"I 'clar' ter gracious, honey,\" Uncle Remus exclaimed one night, as the\nlittle boy ran in, \"you sholy ain't chaw'd yo' vittles. Hit ain't bin no\ntime, skacely, sence de supper-bell rung, en ef you go on dis a-way,\nyou'll des nat'ally pe'sh yo'se'f out.\"\n\n\"Oh, I wasn't hungry,\" said the little boy. \"I had something before\nsupper, and I wasn't hungry anyway.\"\n\nThe old man looked keenly at the child, and presently he said:\n\n\"De ins en de outs er dat kinder talk all come ter de same p'int in my\nmin'. Youer bin a-cuttin' up at de table, en Mars John, he tuck'n sont\nyou 'way fum dar, en w'iles he think youer off some'er a-snifflin' en\na-feelin' bad, yer you is a-high-primin' 'roun' des lak you done had mo'\nsupper dan de King er Philanders.\"\n\nBefore the little boy could inquire about the King of Philanders he\nheard his father calling him. He started to go out, but Uncle Remus\nmotioned him back.\n\n\"Des set right whar you is, honey--des set right still.\"\n\nThen Uncle Remus went to the door and answered for the child; and a very\nqueer answer it was--one that could be heard half over the plantation:\n\n\"Mars John, I wish you en Miss Sally be so good ez ter let dat chile\n'lone. He down yer cryin' he eyes out, en he ain't boddern' 'long er\nnobody in de roun' worl'.\"\n\nUncle Remus stood in the door a moment to see what the reply would be,\nbut he heard none. Thereupon he continued, in the same loud tone:\n\n\"I ain't bin use ter no sich gwines on in Ole Miss time, en I ain't\ngwine git use ter it now. Dat I ain't.\"\n\nPresently 'Tildy, the house-girl, brought the little boy his supper, and\nthe girl was no sooner out of hearing than the child swapped it with\nUncle Remus for a roasted yam, and the enjoyment of both seemed to be\ncomplete.\n\n\"Uncle Remus,\" said the little boy, after a while, \"you know I wasn't\ncrying just now.\"\n\n\"Dat's so, honey,\" the old man replied, \"but 't wouldn't er bin long\n'fo' you would er bin, kaze Mars John bawl out lak a man wa't got a\nstrop in he han', so wa't de diff'unce?\"\n\nWhen they had finished eating, Uncle Remus busied himself in cutting and\ntrimming some sole-leather for future use. His knife was so keen, and\nthe leather fell away from it so smoothly and easily, that the little\nboy wanted to trim some himself. But to this Uncle Remus would not\nlisten.\n\n\"'Tain't on'y chilluns w'at got de consate er doin' eve'ything dey see\nyuther folks do. Hit's grown folks w'at oughter know better,\" said the\nold man. \"Dat's des de way Brer B'ar git his tail broke off\nsmick-smack-smoove, en down ter dis day he be funnies'-lookin' creetur\nw'at wobble on top er dry groun'.\"\n\nInstantly the little boy forgot all about Uncle Remus's sharp knife.\n\n\"Hit seem lak dat in dem days Brer Rabbit en Brer Tarrypin done gone in\ncohoots fer ter outdo de t'er creeturs. One time Brer Rabbit tuck'n make\na call on Brer Tarrypin, but w'en he git ter Brer Tarrypin house, he\nyear talk fum Miss Tarrypin dat her ole man done gone fer ter spen' de\nday wid Mr. Mud-Turkle, w'ich dey wuz blood kin. Brer Rabbit he put out\natter Brer Tarrypin, en w'en he got ter Mr. Mud-Turkle house, dey all\nsot up, dey did, en tole tales, en den w'en twelf er' clock come dey had\ncrawfish fer dinner, en dey 'joy deyse'f right erlong. Atter dinner dey\nwent down ter Mr. Mud-Turkle mill-pon,' en w'en dey git dar Mr.\nMud-Turkle en Brer Tarrypin dey 'muse deyse'f, dey did, wid slidin' fum\nde top uv a big slantin' rock down inter de water.\n\n\"I'speck you moughter seen rocks in de water 'fo' now, whar dey git\ngreen en slipp'y,\" said Uncle Remus.\n\nThe little boy had not only seen them, but had found them to be very\ndangerous to walk upon, and the old man continued:\n\n\"Well, den, dish yer rock wuz mighty slick en mighty slantin'. Mr.\nMud-Turkle, he'd crawl ter de top, en tu'n loose, en go a-sailin' down\ninter de water--_kersplash!_ Ole Brer Tarrypin, he'd foller atter, en\nslide down inter de water--_kersplash!_ Ole Brer Rabbit, he sot off, he\ndid, en praise um up.\n\n\"W'iles dey wuz a-gwine on dis a-way, a-havin' der fun, en 'joyin'\ndeyse'f, yer come ole Brer B'ar. He year um laffin' en holl'in', en he\nhail um.\n\n\"'Heyo, folks! W'at all dis? Ef my eye ain't 'ceive me, dish yer's Brer\nRabbit, en Brer Tarrypin, en ole Unk' Tommy Mud-Turkle,' sez Brer B'ar,\nsezee.\n\n\"'De same,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en yer we is 'joyin' de day dat\npasses des lak dey wa'n't no hard times.'\n\n\"'Well, well, well!' sez ole Brer B'ar, sezee, 'a-slippin' en a-slidin'\nen makin' free! En w'at de matter wid Brer Rabbit dat he ain't j'inin'\nin?' sezee.\n\n\"Ole Brer Rabbit he wink at Brer Tarrypin, en Brer Tarrypin he hunch Mr.\nMud-Turkle, en den Brer Rabbit he up'n 'low, he did:\n\n\"'My goodness, Brer B'ar! you can't 'speck a man fer ter slip en slide\nde whole blessid day, kin you? I done had my fun, en now I'm a-settin'\nout yer lettin' my cloze dry. Hit's tu'n en tu'n about wid me en deze\ngents w'en dey's any fun gwine on,' sezee.\n\n\"'Maybe Brer B'ar might jine in wid us,' sez Brer Tarrypin, sezee.\n\n\"Brer Rabbit he des holler en laff.\n\n\"'Shoo!' sezee, 'Brer B'ar foot too big en he tail too long fer ter\nslide down dat rock,' sezee.\n\n\"Dis kinder put Brer B'ar on he mettle, en he up'n 'spon', he did:\n\n\"'Maybe dey is, en maybe dey ain't, yit I ain't a-feared ter try.'\n\n\"Wid dat de yuthers tuck'n made way fer 'im, en ole Brer B'ar he git up\non de rock he did, en squot down on he hunkers, en quile he tail und'\n'im, en start down. Fus' he go sorter slow, en he grin lak he feel good;\nden he go sorter peart, en he grin lak he feel bad; den he go mo'\npearter, en he grin lak he skeerd; den he strack de slick part, en,\ngentermens! he swaller de grin en fetch a howl dat moughter bin yeard a\nmile, en he hit de water lak a chimbly a-fallin'.\n\n\"You kin gimme denial,\" Uncle Remus continued after a little pause, \"but\ndes ez sho' ez you er settin' dar, w'en Brer B'ar slick'd up en flew\ndown dat rock, he break off he tail right smick-smack-smoove, en mo'n\ndat, w'en he make his disappear'nce up de big road, Brer Rabbit holler\nout:\n\n\"'Brer B'ar!--O Brer B'ar! I year tell dat flaxseed poultices is mighty\ngood fer so' places!'\n\n\"Yit Brer B'ar ain't look back.\"\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE ORIGIN OF RUBIES\n\n\nThere was a certain king who died leaving four sons behind him with his\nqueen. The queen was passionately fond of the youngest of the princes.\nShe gave him the best robes, the best horses, the best food, and the\nbest furniture. The other three princes became exceedingly jealous of\ntheir youngest brother, and, conspiring against him and their mother,\nmade them live in a separate house, and took possession of the estate.\nOwing to overindulgence, the youngest prince had become very wilful. He\nnever listened to any one, not even to his mother, but had his own way\nin everything. One day he went with his mother to bathe in the river. A\nlarge boat was riding there at anchor. None of the boatmen were in it.\nThe prince went into the boat, and told his mother to come into it. His\nmother besought him to get down from the boat, as it did not belong to\nhim. But the prince said, \"No, mother I am not coming down; I mean to go\non a voyage, and if you wish to come with me, then delay not but come up\nat once, or I shall be off in a trice.\" The queen besought the prince to\ndo no such thing, but to come down instantly. But the prince gave no\nheed to what she said, and began to take up the anchor. The queen went\nup into the boat in great haste; and the moment she was on board the\nboat started, and falling into the current passed on swiftly like an\narrow. The boat went on and on till it reached the sea. After it had\ngone many furlongs into the open sea, the boat came near a whirlpool\nwhere the prince saw a great many rubies of monstrous size floating on\nthe waters. Such large rubies no one had ever seen, each being in value\nequal to the wealth of seven kings. The prince caught hold of\nhalf-a-dozen of those rubies, and put them on board. His mother said,\n\"Darling, don't take up those red balls; they must belong to somebody\nwho has been shipwrecked, and we may be taken up as thieves.\" At the\nrepeated entreaties of his mother, the prince threw them into the sea,\nkeeping only one tied up in his clothes. The boat then drifted toward\nthe coast, and the queen and the prince arrived at a certain port where\nthey landed.\n\nThe port where they landed was not a small place; it was a large city,\nthe capital of a great king. Not far from the palace, the queen and her\nson hired a hut where they lived. As the prince was yet a boy, he was\nfond of playing at marbles. When the children of the king came out to\nplay on a lawn before the palace, our young prince joined them. He had\nno marbles, but he played with the ruby which he had in his possession.\nThe ruby was so hard that it broke every taw against which it struck.\nThe daughter of the king, who used to watch the games from a balcony of\nthe palace, was astonished to see a brilliant red ball in the hand of\nthe strange lad, and wanted to take possession of it. She told her\nfather that a boy of the street had an uncommonly bright stone in his\npossession which she must have or else she would starve herself to\ndeath. The king ordered his servants to bring to him the lad with that\nprecious stone. When the boy was brought, the king wondered at the\nlargeness and brilliancy of the ruby. He had never seen anything like\nit. He doubted whether any king of any country in the world possessed so\ngreat a treasure. He asked the lad where he had got it. The lad replied\nthat he got it from the sea. The king offered a thousand rupees for the\nruby, and the lad, not knowing its value, readily parted with it for\nthat sum. He went with the money to his mother, who was not a little\nfrightened, thinking that her son had stolen the money from some rich\nman's house. She became quiet, however, on being assured that the money\nwas given to him by the king in exchange for the red ball which he had\npicked up in the sea.\n\nThe king's daughter, on getting the ruby put it in her hair, and,\nstanding before her pet parrot, said to the bird, \"Oh, my darling\nparrot, don't I look very beautiful with this ruby in my hair?\" The\nparrot replied, \"Beautiful! you look quite hideous with it! What\nprincess ever puts only one ruby in her hair? It would be somewhat\nfeasible if you had two at least.\" Stung with shame at the reproach cast\nin her teeth by the parrot, the princess went into the grief-chamber of\nthe palace, and would neither eat nor drink. The king was not a little\nconcerned when he heard that his daughter had gone into the\ngrief-chamber. He went to her, and asked her the cause of her grief. The\nprincess told the king what her pet parrot had said, and added, \"Father,\nif you do not procure for me another ruby like this, I'll put an end to\nmy life by mine own hands.\" The king was overwhelmed with grief. Where\nwas he to get another ruby like it? He doubted whether another like it\ncould be found in the whole world. He ordered the lad who had sold the\nruby, to be brought into his presence. \"Have you, young man,\" asked the\nking, \"another ruby like the one you sold me?\" The lad replied: \"No, I\nhave not got one. Why, do you want another? I can give you lots, if you\nwish to have them. They are to be found in a whirlpool in the sea, far,\nfar away. I can go and fetch some for you.\" Amazed at the lad's reply,\nthe king offered rich rewards for procuring only another ruby of the\nsame sort.\n\nThe lad went home and said to his mother that he must go to sea again to\nfetch some rubies for the king. The woman was quite frightened at the\nidea, and begged him not to go. But the lad was resolved on going, and\nnothing could prevent him from carrying out his purpose. He accordingly\nwent alone on board that same vessel which had brought him and his\nmother, and set sail. He reached the whirlpool, from near which he had\nformerly picked up the rubies. This time, however, he determined to go\nto the exact spot whence the rubies were coming out. He went to the\ncentre of the whirlpool, where he saw a gap reaching to the bottom of\nthe ocean. He dived into it, leaving his boat to wheel round the\nwhirlpool. When he reached the bottom of the ocean he saw there a\nbeautiful palace. He went inside. In the central room of the palace\nthere was the god Siva, with his eyes closed, and absorbed apparently in\nintense meditation. A few feet above Siva's head was a platform, on\nwhich lay a young lady of exquisite beauty. The prince went to the\nplatform and saw that the head of the lady was separated from her body.\nHorrified at the sight, he did not know what to make of it. He saw a\nstream of blood trickling from the severed head, falling upon the matted\nhead of Siva, and running into the ocean in the form of rubies. After a\nlittle two small rods, one of silver and one of gold, which were lying\nnear the head of the lady, attracted his eyes. As he took up the rods in\nhis hands, the golden rod accidentally fell upon the head, on which the\nhead immediately joined itself to the body, and the lady got up.\nAstonished at the sight of a human being, the lady asked the prince who\nhe was and how he had got there. After hearing the story of the prince's\nadventures, the lady said, \"Unhappy young man, depart instantly from\nthis place; for when Siva finishes his meditations he will turn you to\nashes by a single glance of his eyes.\" The young man, however, would not\ngo except in her company, as he was over head and ears in love with the\nbeautiful lady. At last they both contrived to run away from the palace,\nand coming up to the surface of the ocean they climbed into the boat\nnear the centre of the whirlpool, and sailed away toward land, having\npreviously laden the vessel with a cargo of rubies. The wonder of the\nprince's mother at seeing the beautiful damsel may be well imagined.\nEarly next morning the prince sent a basin full of big rubies, through a\nservant. The king was astonished beyond measure. His daughter, on\ngetting the rubies, resolved on marrying the wonderful lad who had made\na present of them to her. Though the prince had a wife, whom he had\nbrought up from the depths of the ocean, he consented to have a second\nwife. They were accordingly married, and lived happily for years,\nbegetting sons and daughters.\n\n    Here my story endeth,\n    The Natiya-thorn withereth, etc.\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nLONG, BROAD, AND SHARPSIGHT\n\n\nThere was a king, who was already old, and had but one son. Once upon a\ntime he called this son to him and said to him: \"My dear son! you know\nthat old fruit falls to make room for other fruit. My head is already\nripening, and maybe the sun will soon no longer shine upon it; but\nbefore you bury me, I should like to see your wife, my future daughter.\nMy son, marry!\" The prince said: \"I would gladly, father, do as you\nwish; but I have no bride, and don't know any.\" The old king put his\nhand into his pocket, took out a golden key and showed it to his son,\nwith the words, \"go up into the tower, to the top story, look round\nthere, and then tell me which you fancy.\" The prince went without delay.\nNobody within the memory of man had been up there or had ever heard what\nwas up there.\n\nWhen he got up to the last story, he saw in the ceiling a little iron\ndoor like a trap-door. It was closed. He opened it with the golden key,\nlifted it, and went up above it. There was a large circular room. The\nceiling was blue like the sky on a clear night, and silver stars\nglittered on it, the floor was a carpet of green silk, and around in the\nwall were twelve high windows in golden frames, and in each window on\ncrystal glass was a damsel painted with the colours of the rainbow, with\na royal crown on her head, in each window a different one in a different\ndress, each handsomer than the other, and it was a wonder that the\nprince did not let his eyes dwell upon them. When he had gazed at them\nwith astonishment, the damsels began to move as if they were alive,\nlooked down upon him, smiled, and did everything but speak.\n\nNow the prince observed that one of the twelve windows was covered with\na white curtain; he drew the curtain to see what was behind it. There\nthere was a damsel in a white dress, girt with a silver girdle, with a\ncrown of pearls on her head; she was the most beautiful of all, but was\nsad and pale, as if she had risen from the grave. The prince stood long\nbefore the picture, as if he had made a discovery, and as he thus\ngazed, his heart pained him, and he cried, \"This one will I have, and no\nother.\" As he said the words the damsel bowed her head, blushed like a\nrose, and that instant all the pictures disappeared.\n\nWhen he went down and related to his father what he had seen and which\ndamsel he had selected, the old king became sad, bethought himself, and\nsaid: \"You have done ill, my son, in uncovering what was curtained over,\nand have placed yourself in great danger on account of those words. That\ndamsel is in the power of a wicked wizard, and kept captive in an iron\ncastle; of all who have attempted to set her free, not one has hitherto\nreturned. But what's done cannot be undone; the plighted word is a law.\nGo! try your luck, and return home safe and sound!\"\n\nThe prince took leave of his father, mounted his horse, and rode away in\nsearch of his bride. It came to pass that he rode through a vast forest,\nand through the forest he rode on and on till he lost the road. And as\nhe was wandering with his horse in thickets and amongst rocks and\nmorasses, not knowing which way to turn, he heard somebody shout behind\nhim, \"Hi! stop!\" The prince looked round, and saw a tall man hastening\nafter him. \"Stop and take me with you, and take me into your service,\nand you won't regret it!\" \"Who are you,\" said the prince, \"and what can\nyou do?\" \"My name is Long, and I can extend myself. Do you see a bird's\nnest in that pine yonder? I will bring you the nest down without having\nto climb up.\"\n\nLong then began to extend himself; his body grew rapidly till it was as\ntall as the pine; he then reached the nest, and in a moment contracted\nhimself again and gave it to the prince. \"You know your business well,\nbut what's the use of birds' nests to me, if you can't conduct me out of\nthis forest?\"\n\n\"Ahem! that's an easy matter,\" said Long, and began to extend himself\ntill he was thrice as high as the highest fir in the forest, looked\nround, and said: \"Here on this side we have the nearest way out of the\nforest.\" He then contracted himself, took the horse by the bridle, and\nbefore the prince had any idea of it, they were beyond the forest.\nBefore them was a long and wide plain, and beyond the plain tall gray\nrocks like the walls of a large town, and mountains overgrown with\nforest trees.\n\n\"Yonder, sir, goes my comrade!\" said Long, and pointed suddenly to the\nplain; \"you should take him also into your service; I believe he would\nserve you well.\" \"Shout to him, and call him hither, that I may see what\nhe is good for.\" \"It is a little too far, sir,\" said Long; \"he would\nhardly hear me, and it would take a long time before he came, because he\nhas a great deal to carry. I'll jump after him instead.\" Then Long again\nextended himself to such a height that his head plunged into the clouds,\nmade two or three steps, took his comrade by the arm, and placed him\nbefore the prince. He was a short, thick-set fellow, with a paunch like\na sixty-four-gallon cask. \"Who are you?\" demanded the prince, \"and what\ncan you do?\" \"My name, sir, is Broad; I can widen myself.\" \"Give me a\nspecimen.\" \"Ride quick, sir, quick, back into the forest!\" cried Broad,\nas he began to blow himself out.\n\nThe prince didn't understand why he was to ride away; but seeing that\nLong made all haste to get into the forest, he spurred his horse and\nrode full gallop after him. It was high time that he did ride away, or\nelse Broad would have squashed him, horse and all, as his paunch rapidly\ngrew in all directions; it filled everything everywhere, just as if a\nmountain had rolled up. Broad then ceased to blow himself out, and took\nhimself in again, raising such a wind that the trees in the forest bowed\nand bent, and became what he was at first. \"You have played me a nice\ntrick,\" said the prince, \"but I shan't find such a fellow every day;\ncome with me.\"\n\nThey proceeded further. When they approached the rocks, they met a man\nwho had his eyes bandaged with a handkerchief. \"Sir, this is our third\ncomrade,\" said Long, \"you ought to take him also into your service. I'm\nsure he won't eat his victuals for naught.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\" the prince asked him, \"and why are your eyes bandaged?\nYou don't see your way!\" \"No, sir, quite the contrary! It is just\nbecause I see too well that I am obliged to bandage my eyes; I see with\nbandaged eyes just as well as others with unbandaged eyes; and if I\nunbandage them I look everything through and through, and when I gaze\nsharply at anything it catches fire and bursts into flame, and what\ncan't burn splits into pieces. For this reason my name is Sharpsight.\"\nHe then turned to a rock opposite, removed the bandage, and fixed his\nflaming eyes upon it; the rock began to crackle, pieces flew on every\nside, and in a very short time nothing of it remained but a heap of\nsand, on which something glittered like fire. Sharpsight went to fetch\nit, and brought it to the prince. It was pure gold.\n\n\"Heigho! you're a fellow that money can't purchase!\" said the prince.\n\"He is a fool who wouldn't make use of your services, and if you have\nsuch good sight, look and tell me whether it is far to the iron castle,\nand what is now going on there?\" \"If you rode by yourself, sir,\"\nanswered Sharpsight, \"maybe you wouldn't get there within a year; but\nwith us you'll arrive to-day--they're just getting supper ready for us.\"\n\"And what is my bride doing?\"\n\n    \"An iron lattice is before her,\n       In a tower that's high\n       She doth sit and sigh,\n     A wizard watch and ward keeps o'er her.\"\n\nThe prince cried, \"Whoever is well disposed, help me to set her free!\"\nThey all promised to help him. They guided him among the gray rocks\nthrough the breach that Sharpsight had made in them with his eyes, and\nfarther and farther on through rocks, through high mountains and deep\nforests, and wherever there was any obstacle in the road, forthwith it\nwas removed by the three comrades. And when the sun was declining toward\nthe west, the mountains began to become lower, the forests less dense,\nand the rocks concealed themselves amongst the heath; and when it was\nalmost on the point of setting, the prince saw not far before him an\niron castle; and when it was actually setting, he rode by an iron bridge\nto the gate, and as soon as it had set, up rose the iron bridge of\nitself, the gate closed with a single movement, and the prince and his\ncompanions were captives in the iron castle.\n\nWhen they had looked round the court, the prince put his horse up in the\nstable, where everything was ready for it, and then they went into the\ncastle. In the court, in the stable, in the castle hall, and in the\nrooms, they saw in the twilight many richly-dressed people, gentlemen\nand servants, but not one of them stirred--they were all turned to\nstone. They went through several rooms, and came into the supper-room.\nThis was brilliantly lighted up, and in the midst was a table, and on it\nplenty of good meats and drinks, and covers were laid for four persons.\nThey waited and waited, thinking that some one would come: but when\nnobody came for a long time, they sat down and ate and drank what the\npalate fancied.\n\nWhen they had done eating, they looked about to find where to sleep.\nThereupon the door flew open unexpectedly all at once, and into the room\ncame the wizard; a bent old man in a long black garb, with a bald head,\na gray beard down to his knees, and three iron hoops instead of a\ngirdle. By the hand he led a beautiful, very beautiful damsel, dressed\nin white; she had a silver girdle round her waist, and a crown of pearls\non her head, but was pale and sad, as if she had risen from the grave.\nThe prince recognized her at once, sprang forward, and went to meet her;\nbut before he could utter a word the wizard addressed him: \"I know for\nwhat you have come; you want to take the princess away. Well, be it so!\nTake her, if you can keep her in sight for three nights, so that she\ndoesn't vanish from you. If she vanishes, you will be turned into stone\nas well as your three servants; like all who have come before you.\" He\nthen motioned the princess to a seat and departed.\n\nThe prince could not take his eyes off the princess, so beautiful was\nshe. He began to talk to her, and asked her all manner of questions, but\nshe neither answered nor smiled, nor looked at any one more than if she\nhad been of marble. He sat down by her, and determined not to sleep all\nnight long lest she should vanish from him, and, to make surer, Long\nextended himself like a strap, and wound himself round the whole room\nalong the wall; Broad posted himself in the doorway, swelled himself up,\nand stopped it up so tight that not even a mouse could have slipped\nthrough; while Sharpsight placed himself against a pillar in the midst\nof the room on the look-out. But after a time they all began to nod,\nfell asleep, and slept the whole night, just as if the wizard had thrown\nthem into the water.\n\nIn the morning, when it began to dawn, the prince was the first to wake,\nbut--as if a knife had been thrust into his heart--the princess was\ngone! He forthwith awoke his servants, and asked what was to be done.\n\"Never mind, sir,\" said Sharpsight, and looked sharply out through the\nwindow, \"I see her already. A hundred miles hence is a forest, in the\nmidst of the forest an old oak, and on the top of the oak an acorn, and\nshe is that acorn.\" Long immediately took him on his shoulders, extended\nhimself, and went ten miles at a step, while Sharpsight showed him the\nway.\n\nNo more time elapsed than would have been wanted to move once round a\ncottage before they were back again, and Long delivered the acorn to the\nprince. \"Sir, let it fall on the ground.\" The prince let it fall and\nthat moment the princess stood beside him. And when the sun began to\nshow itself beyond the mountains, the folding doors flew open with a\ncrash, and the wizard entered the room and smiled spitefully; but when\nhe saw the princess he frowned, growled, and bang! one of the iron hoops\nwhich he wore splintered and sprang off him. He then took the damsel by\nthe hand and led her away.\n\nThe whole day after the prince had nothing to do but walk up and down\nthe castle, and round about the castle, and look at the wonderful\nthings that were there. It was everywhere as if life had been lost in a\nsingle moment. In one hall he saw a prince, who held in both hands a\nbrandished sword, as if he intended to cleave somebody in twain; but the\nblow never fell: he had been turned into stone. In one chamber was a\nknight turned into stone, just as if he had been fleeing from some one\nin terror, and, stumbling on the threshold, had taken a downward\ndirection, but not fallen. Under the chimney sat a servant, who held in\none hand a piece of roast meat, and with the other lifted a mouthful\ntoward his mouth, which never reached it; when it was just in front of\nhis mouth, he had also been turned to stone. Many others he saw there\nturned to stone, each in the position in which he was when the wizard\nsaid, \"Be turned into stone.\" He likewise saw many fine horses turned to\nstone, and in the castle and round the castle all was desolate and dead;\nthere were trees, but without leaves; there were meadows, but without\ngrass; there was a river but it did not flow; nowhere was there even a\nsinging bird, or a flower, the offspring of the ground, or a white fish\nin the water.\n\nMorning, noon, and evening the prince and his companions found good and\nabundant entertainment in the castle; the viands came of themselves, the\nwine poured itself out. After supper the folding doors opened again, and\nthe wizard brought in the princess for the prince to guard. And although\nthey all determined to exert themselves with all their might not to fall\nasleep, yet it was of no use, fall asleep again they did. And when the\nprince awoke at dawn and saw the princess had vanished, he jumped up and\npulled Sharpsight by the arm, \"Hey! get up, Sharpsight, do you know\nwhere the princess is?\" He rubbed his eyes, looked, and said: \"I see\nher. There's a mountain two hundred miles off, and in the mountain a\nrock, and in the rock a precious stone, and she's that precious stone.\nIf Long carries me thither, we shall obtain her.\"\n\nLong took him at once on his shoulders, extended himself, and went\ntwenty miles at a step. Sharpsight fixed his flaming eyes on the\nmountain, the mountain crumbled, and the rock in it split into a\nthousand pieces, and amongst them glittered the precious stone. They\ntook it up and brought it to the prince, and when he let it fall on the\nground, the princess again stood there. When afterward the wizard came\nand saw her there, his eyes flashed with spite, and bang! again an iron\nhoop cracked upon him and flew off. He growled and led the princess out\nof the room.\n\nThat day all was again as it had been the day before. After supper the\nwizard brought the princess in again, looked the prince keenly in the\nface, and scornfully uttered the words, \"It will be seen who's a match\nfor whom; whether you are victorious or I,\" and with that he departed.\nThis night they all exerted themselves still more to avoid going to\nsleep. They wouldn't even sit down, they wanted to walk about all night\nlong, but all in vain; they were bewitched; one fell asleep after the\nother as he walked and the princess vanished away from them.\n\nIn the morning the prince again awoke earliest, and, when he didn't see\nthe princess, woke Sharpsight. \"Hey! get up, Sharpsight! look where the\nprincess is!\" Sharpsight looked out for a long time. \"Oh, sir,\" says he,\n\"she is a long way off, a long way off! Three hundred miles off is a\nblack sea, and in the midst of the sea a shell on the bottom, and in\nthe shell is a gold ring, and she's the ring. But never mind! we shall\nobtain her, but to-day Long must take Broad with him as well; we shall\nwant him.\" Long took Sharpsight on one shoulder, and Broad on the other,\nand went thirty miles at a step. When they came to the black sea,\nSharpsight showed him where he must reach into the water for the shell.\nLong extended his hand as far as he could, but could not reach the\nbottom.\n\n\"Wait, comrades! wait only a little and I'll help you,\" said Broad, and\nswelled himself out as far as his paunch would stretch; he then lay down\non the shore and drank. In a very short time the water fell so low that\nLong easily reached the bottom and took the shell out of the sea. Out of\nit he extracted the ring, took his comrades on his shoulders and\nhastened back. But on the way he found it a little difficult to run with\nBroad, who had half a sea of water inside him, so he cast him from his\nshoulder on to the ground in a wide valley. Thump he went like a sack\nlet fall from a tower, and in a moment the whole valley was under water\nlike a vast lake. Broad himself barely crawled out of it.\n\nMeanwhile the prince was in great trouble in the castle. The dawn began\nto display itself over the mountains, and his servants had not returned;\nthe more brilliantly the rays ascended, the greater was his anxiety; a\ndeadly perspiration came out upon his forehead. Soon the sun showed\nitself in the east like a thin slip of flame--and then with a loud crash\nthe door flew open, and on the threshold stood the wizard. He looked\nround the room, and seeing the princess was not there, laughed a hateful\nlaugh and entered the room. But just at that moment, pop! the window\nflew in pieces, the gold ring fell on the floor, and in an instant there\nstood the princess again. Sharpsight, seeing what was going on in the\ncastle, and in what danger his master was, told Long. Long made a step,\nand threw the ring through the window into the room. The wizard roared\nwith rage till the castle quaked, and then, bang! went the third iron\nhoop that was round his waist, and sprang off him; the wizard turned\ninto a raven, and flew out and away through the shattered window.\n\nThen, and not till then, did the beautiful damsel speak and thank the\nprince for setting her free, and blushed like a rose. In the castle and\nround the castle everything became alive again at once. He who was\nholding in the hall the outstretched sword, swung it into the air, which\nwhistled again, and then returned it to its sheath; he who was stumbling\non the threshold, fell on the ground, but immediately got up again and\nfelt his nose to see whether it was still entire; he who was sitting\nunder the chimney put the piece of meat into his mouth and went on\neating; and thus everybody completed what he had begun doing, and at the\npoint where he had left off. In the stables the horses merrily stamped\nand snorted, the trees round the castle became green like periwinkles,\nthe meadows were full of variegated flowers, high in the air warbled the\nskylark, and abundance of small fishes appeared in the clear river.\nEverywhere was life, everywhere enjoyment.\n\nMeanwhile a number of gentlemen assembled in the room where the prince\nwas, and all thanked him for their liberation. But he said: \"You have\nnothing to thank me for; if it had not been for my trusty servants Long,\nBroad, and Sharpsight, I too, should have been what you were.\" He then\nimmediately started on his way home to the old king, his father, with\nhis bride and servants. On the way they met Broad and took him with\nthem.\n\nThe old king wept for joy at the success of his son; he had thought he\nwould return no more. Soon afterward there was a grand wedding, the\nfestivities of which lasted three weeks; all the gentlemen that the\nprince had liberated were invited. After the wedding Long, Broad, and\nSharpsight announced to the young king that they were going again into\nthe world to look for work. The young king tried to persuade them to\nstay with him. \"I will give you everything you want, as long as you\nlive,\" said he; \"you needn't work at all.\" But they didn't like such an\nidle life, took leave of him, went away, and have been ever since\nknocking about somewhere or other in the world.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nINTELLIGENCE AND LUCK\n\n\nOnce upon a time Luck met Intelligence on a garden-seat. \"Make room for\nme!\" said Luck. Intelligence was then as yet inexperienced, and didn't\nknow who ought to make room for whom. He said: \"Why should I make room\nfor you? you're no better than I.\" \"He's the better man,\" answered Luck,\n\"who performs most. See you there yon peasant's son who's ploughing in\nthe field? Enter into him, and if he gets on better through you than\nthrough me, I'll always submissively make way for you, whensoever and\nwheresoever we meet.\" Intelligence agreed, and entered at once into the\nploughboy's head. As soon as the ploughboy felt that he had intelligence\nin his head, he began to think: \"Why must I follow the plough to the day\nof my death? I can go somewhere else and make my fortune more easily.\"\nHe left off ploughing, put up the plough, and drove home. \"Daddy,\" says\nhe, \"I don't like this peasant's life; I'd rather learn to be a\ngardener.\" His father said: \"What ails you, Vanek? have you lost your\nwits?\" However, he bethought himself and said: \"Well, if you will,\nlearn, and God be with you! Your brother will be heir to the cottage\nafter me.\" Vanek lost the cottage, but he didn't care for that, but went\nand put himself apprentice to the king's gardener. For every little that\nthe gardener showed him, Vanek comprehended ever so much more. Ere long\nhe didn't even obey the gardener's orders as to how he ought to do\nanything, but did everything his own way. At first the gardener was\nangry, but, seeing everything thus getting on better, he was content. \"I\nsee that you've more intelligence than I,\" said he, and henceforth let\nVanek garden as he thought fit. In no long space of time Vanek made the\ngarden so beautiful that the king took great delight in it, and\nfrequently walked in it with the queen and with his only daughter.\n\nThe princess was a very beautiful damsel, but ever since she was twelve\nyears old she had ceased speaking, and no one ever heard a single word\nfrom her. The king was much grieved, and caused a proclamation to be\nmade that whoever should bring it to pass that she should speak again,\nshould be her husband. Many young kings, princes, and other great lords\nannounced themselves one after the other, but all went away as they had\ncome; no one succeeded in causing her to speak. \"Why shouldn't I try my\nluck?\" thought Vanek; \"who knows whether I mayn't succeed in bringing\nher to answer when I ask her a question?\" He at once caused himself to\nbe announced at the palace, and the king and his councillors conducted\nhim into the room where the princess was. The king's daughter had a\npretty little dog, and was very fond of him, because he was so clever,\nunderstanding everything that she wanted. When Vanek went into the room\nwith the king and his councillors, he made as if he didn't even see the\nprincess, but turned to the dog and said: \"I have heard, doggie, that\nyou are very clever, and I come to you for advice. We are three\ncompanions in travel, a sculptor, a tailor, and myself. Once upon a time\nwe were going through a forest and were obliged to pass the night in it.\nTo be safe from wolves, we made a fire, and agreed to keep watch one\nafter the other. The sculptor kept watch first, and for amusement to\nkill time took a log and carved a damsel out of it. When it was\nfinished, he woke the tailor to keep watch in his turn. The tailor,\nseeing the wooden damsel, asked what it meant. 'As you see,' said the\nsculptor, 'I was weary, and didn't know what to do with myself, so I\ncarved a damsel out of a log; if you find time hang heavy on your hands,\nyou can dress her.' The tailor at once took out his scissors, needle and\nthread, cut out the clothes, stitched away, and, when they were ready,\ndressed the damsel in them. He then called me to come and keep watch. I,\ntoo, asked him what the meaning of all this was. 'As you see,' said the\ntailor, 'the sculptor found time hang heavy on his hands and carved a\ndamsel out of a log, and I for the same reason clothed her; and if you\nfind time hanging on your hands, you can teach her to speak.' And by\nmorning dawn I had actually taught her to speak. But in the morning when\nmy companions woke up, each wanted to possess the damsel. The sculptor\nsaid, 'I made her;' the tailor, 'I clothed her.' I, too, maintained my\nright. Tell me, therefore, doggie, to which of us the damsel belongs.\"\nThe dog said nothing, but instead of the dog the princess replied: \"To\nwhom can she belong but to yourself? What's the good of the sculptor's\ndamsel without life? What's the good of the tailor's dressing without\nspeech? You gave her the best gift, life and speech, and therefore she\nby right belongs to you.\" \"You have passed your own sentence,\" said\nVanek; \"I have given you speech again and a new life, and you therefore\nby right belong to me.\" Then said one of the king's councillors: \"His\nRoyal Grace will give you a plenteous reward for succeeding in unloosing\nhis daughter's tongue; but you cannot have her to wife, as you are of\nmean lineage.\" The king said: \"You are of mean lineage; I will give you\na plenteous reward instead of our daughter.\" But Vanek wouldn't hear of\nany other reward, and said: \"The king promised without any exception,\nthat whoever caused his daughter to speak again should be her husband. A\nking's word is law; and if the king wants others to observe his laws, he\nmust first keep them himself. Therefore the king _must_ give me his\ndaughter.\" \"Seize and bind him!\" shouted the councillor. \"Whoever says\nthe king _must_ do anything, offers an insult to his Majesty, and is\nworthy of death. May it please your Majesty to order this malefactor to\nbe executed with the sword?\" The king said: \"Let him be executed.\" Vanek\nwas immediately bound and led to execution. When they came to the place\nof execution Luck was there waiting for him, and said secretly to\nIntelligence: \"See how this man has got on through you, till he has to\nlose his head! Make way, and let me take your place!\" As soon as Luck\nentered Vanek, the executioners sword broke against the scaffold, just\nas if some one had snapped it; and before they brought him another, up\nrode a trumpeter on horseback from the city, galloping as swift as a\nbird, trumpeted merrily, and waved a white flag, and after him came the\nroyal carriage for Vanek. This is what had happened: The princess had\ntold her father at home that Vanek had but spoken the truth, and the\nking's word ought not to be broken. If Vanek were of mean lineage the\nking could easily make him a prince. The king said: \"You're right; let\nhim be a prince!\" The royal carriage was immediately sent for Vanek, and\nthe councillor who had irritated the king against him was executed in\nhis stead. Afterward, when Vanek and the princess were going together in\na carriage from the wedding, Intelligence happened to be somewhere on\nthe road, and seeing that he couldn't help meeting Luck, bent his head\nand slipped on one side, just as if cold water had been thrown upon him.\nAnd from that time forth it is said that Intelligence has always given a\nwide berth to Luck whenever he has had to meet him.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nGEORGE WITH THE GOAT\n\n\nThere was a king who had a daughter who never could be induced to laugh;\nshe was always sad. So the king proclaimed that she should be given to\nany one who could cause her to laugh. There was also a shepherd who had\na son named George. He said: \"Daddy! I, too, will go to see whether I\ncan make her laugh. I want nothing from you but the goat.\" His father\nsaid, \"Well, go.\" The goat was of such a nature that, when her master\nwished, she detained everybody, and that person was obliged to stay by\nher.\n\nSo he took the goat and went, and met a man who had a foot on his\nshoulder. George said: \"Why have you a foot on your shoulder?\" He\nreplied: \"If I take it off, I leap a hundred miles.\" \"Whither are you\ngoing?\" \"I am going in search of service, to see if any one will take\nme.\" \"Well, come with us.\"\n\nThey went on, and again met a man who had a bandage on his eyes. \"Why\nhave you a bandage on your eyes?\" He answered, \"If I remove the bandage,\nI see a hundred miles.\" \"Whither are you going?\" \"I am going in search\nof service, if you will take me.\" \"Yes, I'll take you. Come also with\nme.\"\n\nThey went on a bit farther, and met another fellow, who had a bottle\nunder his arm, and, instead of a stopper, held his thumb in it. \"Why do\nyou hold your thumb there?\" \"If I pull it out, I squirt a hundred miles,\nand besprinkle everything that I choose. If you like, take me also into\nyour service; it may be to your advantage and ours too.\" George replied:\n\"Well, come, too!\"\n\nAfterward they came to the town where the king lived, and bought a\nsilken riband for the goat. They came to an inn, and orders had already\nbeen given there beforehand, that when such people came, they were to\ngive them what they liked to eat and drink--the king would pay for all.\nSo they tied the goat with that very riband and placed it in the\ninnkeeper's room to be taken care of, and he put it in the side room\nwhere his daughters slept. The innkeeper had three maiden daughters, who\nwere not yet asleep. So Manka said: \"Oh! if I, too, could have such a\nriband! I will go and unfasten it from that goat.\" The second, Dodla,\nsaid: \"Don't; he'll find it out in the morning.\" But she went\nnotwithstanding. And when Manka did not return for a long time, the\nthird, Kate, said: \"Go, fetch her.\" So Dodla went, and gave Manka a pat\non the back. \"Come, leave it alone!\" And now she, too, was unable to\nwithdraw herself from her. So Kate said: \"Come, don't unfasten it!\" Kate\nwent and gave Dodla a pat on the petticoat; and now she, too, couldn't\nget away, but was obliged to stay by her.\n\nIn the morning George made haste and went for the goat, and led the\nwhole set away--Kate Dodla, and Manka. The innkeeper was still asleep.\nThey went through the village, and the judge looked out of a window and\nsaid, \"Fie, Kate! what's this? what's this?\" He went and took her by the\nhand, wishing to pull her away, but remained also by her. After this, a\ncowherd drove some cows through a narrow street, and the bull came\nrushing round; he stuck fast, and George led him, too, in the\nprocession.\n\nThus they afterward came in front of the castle, and the servants came\nout-of-doors; and when they saw such things they went and told the\nking. \"Oh, sire, we have such a spectacle here; we have already had all\nmanner of masquerades, but this has never been here yet.\" So they\nimmediately led the king's daughter to the square in front of the\ncastle, and she looked and laughed till the castle shook.\n\nNow they asked him what sort of person he was. He said that he was a\nshepherd's son, and was named George. They said that it could not be\ndone; for he was of mean lineage, and they could not give him the\ndamsel; but he must accomplish something more for them. He said, \"What?\"\nThey replied that there was a spring yonder, a hundred miles off; if he\nbrought a goblet of water from it in a minute, then he should obtain the\ndamsel. So George said to the man who had the foot on his shoulder: \"You\nsaid that if you took the foot down, you could jump a hundred miles.\" He\nreplied: \"I'll easily do that.\" He took the foot down, jumped, and was\nthere. But after this there was only a very little time to spare, and by\nthen he ought to have been back. So George said to the other: \"You said\nthat if you removed the bandage from your eyes, you could see a hundred\nmiles. Peep and see what is going on.\" \"Ah, sir! Goodness gracious! he's\nfallen asleep!\" \"That will be a bad job,\" said George; \"the time will be\nup. You, third man, you said if you pulled your thumb out, you could\nsquirt a hundred miles; be quick and squirt thither, that he may get up.\nAnd you, look whether he is moving, or what.\" \"Oh, sir, he's getting up\nnow; he's knocking the dust off; he's drawing the water.\" He then gave a\njump, and was there exactly in time.\n\nAfter this they said that he must perform one task more; that yonder, in\na rock, was a wild beast, a unicorn, of such a nature that he destroyed\na great many of their people; if he cleared him out of the world he\nshould obtain the damsel. So he took his people and went into the\nforest. They came to a firwood. There were three wild beasts, and three\nlairs had been formed by wallowing as they lay. Two did nothing: but the\nthird destroyed the people. So they took some stones and some pine-cones\nin their pockets, and climbed up into a tree; and when the beasts lay\ndown, they dropped a stone down upon that one which was the unicorn. He\nsaid to the next: \"Be quiet; don't butt me.\" It said: \"I'm not doing\nanything to you.\" Again they let a stone fall from above upon the\nunicorn. \"Be quiet! you've already done it to me twice.\" \"Indeed, I'm\ndoing nothing to you.\" So they attacked each other and fought together.\nThe unicorn wanted to pierce the second beast through; but it jumped out\nof the way, and he rushed so violently after it, that he struck his horn\ninto a tree, and couldn't pull it out quickly. So they sprang speedily\ndown from the fir, and the other two beasts ran away and escaped, but\nthey cut off the head of the third, the unicorn, took it up, and carried\nit to the castle.\n\nNow those in the castle saw that George had again accomplished that\ntask. \"What, prithee, shall we do? Perhaps we must after all give him\nthe damsel!\" \"No, sire,\" said one of the attendants, \"that cannot be; he\nis too lowborn to obtain a king's daughter! On the contrary, we must\nclear him out of the world.\" So the king ordered them to note his words,\nwhat he should say. There was a hired female servant there, and she said\nto him: \"George, it will be evil for you to-day; they're going to clear\nyou out of the world.\" He answered: \"Oh, I'm not afraid. When I was only\njust twelve years old, I killed twelve of them at one blow!\" But this\nwas the fact: when his mother was baking a flat-cake, a dozen flies\nsettled upon her, and he killed them all at a single blow.\n\nWhen they heard this, they said: \"Nothing else will do but we must shoot\nhim.\" So they drew up the soldiers, and said they would hold a review in\nhis honour, for they would celebrate the wedding in the square before\nthe castle. Then they conducted him thither, and the soldiers were\nalready going to let fly at him. But George said to the man who held his\nthumb in the bottle in the place of a stopper: \"You said, if you pulled\nyour thumb out, you could besprinkle everything. Pull it out--quick!\"\n\"Oh, sir, I'll easily perform that.\" So he pulled out his thumb and gave\nthem all such a sprinkling that they were all blind, and not one could\nsee.\n\nSo, when they perceived that nothing else was to be done, they told him\nto go, for they would give him the damsel. Then they gave him a handsome\nroyal robe, and the wedding took place. I, too, was at the wedding; they\nhad music there, sang, ate, and drank; there was meat, there were\ncheesecakes, and baskets full of everything, and buckets full of strong\nwaters. To-day I went, yesterday I came; I found an egg among the\ntree-stumps; I knocked it against somebody's head, and gave him a bald\nplace, and he's got it still.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE WONDERFUL HAIR\n\n\nThere was a man who was very poor, but so well supplied with children\nthat he was utterly unable to maintain them, and one morning more than\nonce prepared to kill them, in order not to see their misery in dying of\nhunger, but his wife prevented him. One night a child came to him in his\nsleep, and said to him: \"Man! I see that you are making up your mind to\ndestroy and to kill your poor little children, and I know that you are\ndistressed there at; but in the morning you will find under your pillow\na mirror, a red kerchief, and an embroidered pocket-handkerchief; take\nall three secretly and tell nobody; then go to such a hill; by it you\nwill find a stream; go along it till you come to its fountain-head;\nthere you will find a damsel as bright as the sun, with her hair hanging\ndown over her back. Be on your guard, that the ferocious she-dragon do\nnot coil round you; do not converse with her if she speaks; for if you\nconverse with her, she will poison you, and turn you into a fish or\nsomething else, and will then devour you but if she bids you examine her\nhead, examine it, and as you turn over her hair, look, and you will find\none hair as red as blood; pull it out and run back again; then, if she\nsuspects and begins to run after you, throw her first the embroidered\npocket-handkerchief, then the kerchief, and, lastly, the mirror; then\nshe will find occupation for herself. And sell that hair to some rich\nman; but don't let them cheat you, for that hair is worth countless\nwealth; and you will thus enrich yourself and maintain your children.\"\n\nWhen the poor man awoke, he found everything under his pillow, just as\nthe child had told him in his sleep; and then he went to the hill. When\nthere, he found the stream, went on and on alongside of it, till he came\nto the fountain-head. Having looked about him to see where the damsel\nwas, he espied her above a piece of water, like sunbeams threaded on a\nneedle, and she was embroidering at a frame on stuff, the threads of\nwhich were young men's hair. As soon as he saw her, he made a reverence\nto her, and she stood on her feet and questioned him: \"Whence are you,\nunknown young man?\" But he held his tongue. She questioned him again:\n\"Who are you? Why have you come?\" and much else of all sorts; but he was\nas mute as a stone, making signs with his hands, as if he were deaf and\nwanted help. Then she told him to sit down on her skirt. He did not wait\nfor any more orders, but sat down, and she bent down her head to him,\nthat he might examine it. Turning over the hair of her head, as if to\nexamine it, he was not long in finding that red hair, and separated it\nfrom the other hair, pulled it out, jumped off her skirt and ran away\nback as he best could. She noticed it, and ran at his heels full speed\nafter him. He looked round, and seeing that she was about to overtake\nhim, threw, as he was told, the embroidered pocket-handkerchief on the\nway, and when she saw the pocket-handkerchief she stooped and began to\noverhaul it in every direction, admiring the embroidery, till he had got\na good way off. Then the damsel placed the pocket-handkerchief in her\nbosom, and ran after him again. When he saw that she was about to\novertake him, he threw the red kerchief, and she again occupied\nherself, admiring and gazing, till the poor man had again got a good way\noff. Then the damsel became exasperated, and threw both the\npocket-handkerchief and the kerchief on the way, and ran after him in\npursuit. Again, when he saw that she was about to overtake him, he threw\nthe mirror. When the damsel came to the mirror, the like of which she\nhad never seen before, she lifted it up, and when she saw herself in it,\nnot knowing that it was herself, but thinking that it was somebody else,\nshe, as it were, fell in love with herself in the mirror, and the man\ngot so far off that she was no longer able to overtake him. When she saw\nthat she could not catch him, she turned back, and the man reached his\nhome safe and sound. After arriving at his home, he showed his wife the\nhair, and told her all that had happened to him, but she began to jeer\nand laugh at him. But he paid no attention to her, and went to a town to\nsell the hair. A crowd of all sorts of people and merchants collected\nround him; one offered a sequin, another two, and so on, higher and\nhigher, till they came to a hundred gold sequins. Just then the emperor\nheard of the hair, summoned the man into his presence, and said to him\nthat he would give him a thousand sequins for it, and he sold it to him.\nWhat was the hair? The emperor split it in two from top to bottom, and\nfound registered in it in writing many remarkable things, which happened\nin the olden time since the beginning of the world. Thus the man became\nrich and lived on with his wife and children. And that child, that came\nto him in his sleep, was an angel sent by the Lord God, whose will it\nwas to aid the poor man, and to reveal secrets which had not been\nrevealed till then.\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE DRAGON AND THE PRINCE\n\n\nThere was an emperor who had three sons. One day the eldest son went out\nhunting, and, when he got outside the town, up sprang a hare out of a\nbush, and he after it, and hither and thither, till the hare fled into a\nwater-mill, and the prince after it. But it was not a hare, but a\ndragon, and it waited for the prince and devoured him. When several days\nhad elapsed and the prince did not return home, people began to wonder\nwhy it was that he was not to be found. Then the middle son went\nhunting, and as he issued from the town, a hare sprang out of a bush,\nand the prince after it, and hither and thither, till the hare fled into\nthe water-mill and the prince after it; but it was not a hare, but a\ndragon, which waited for and devoured him. When some days had elapsed\nand the princes did not return, either of them, the whole court was in\nsorrow. Then the third son went hunting, to see whether he could not\nfind his brothers. When he issued from the town, again up sprang a hare\nout of a bush, and the prince after it, and hither and thither, till the\nhare fled into the water-mill. But the prince did not choose to follow\nit, but went to find other game, saying to himself: \"When I return I\nshall find you.\" After thus he went for a long time up and down the\nhill, but found nothing, and then returned to the water-mill; but when\nhe got there, there was only an old woman in the mill. The prince\ninvoked God in addressing her: \"God help you, old woman!\" The old woman\nreplied: \"God help you, my son!\" Then the prince asked her: \"Where, old\nwoman, is my hare?\" She replied: \"My son, that was not a hare, but a\ndragon. It kills and throttles many people.\" Hearing this, the prince\nwas somewhat disturbed, and said to the old woman: \"What shall we do\nnow? Doubtless my two brothers also have perished here.\" The old woman\nanswered: \"They have indeed; but there's no help for it. Go home, my\nson, lest you follow them.\" Then he said to her: \"Dear old woman, do you\nknow what? I know that you will be glad to liberate yourself from that\npest.\" The old woman interrupted him: \"How should I not? It captured me,\ntoo, in this way, but now I have no means of escape.\" Then he proceeded:\n\"Listen well to what I am going to say to you. Ask it whither it goes\nand where its strength is; then kiss all that place where it tells you\nits strength is, as if from love, till you ascertain it, and afterward\ntell me when I come.\" Then the prince went off to the palace, and the\nold woman remained in the water-mill. When the dragon came in, the old\nwoman began to question it: \"Where in God's name have you been? Whither\ndo you go so far? You will never tell me whither you go.\" The dragon\nreplied: \"Well, my dear old woman, I do go far.\" Then the old woman\nbegan to coax it: \"And why do you go so far? Tell me where your strength\nis. If I knew where your strength is, I don't know what I should do for\nlove; I would kiss all that place.\" Thereupon the dragon smiled and said\nto her: \"Yonder is my strength, in that fireplace.\" Then the old woman\nbegan to fondle and kiss the fireplace, and the dragon on seeing it\nburst into a laugh and said to her: \"Silly old woman, my strength isn't\nthere; my strength is in that tree-fungus in front of the house.\" Then\nthe old woman began again to fondle and kiss the tree, and the dragon\nagain laughed, and said to her: \"Away, old woman! my strength isn't\nthere.\" Then the old woman inquired: \"Where is it?\" The dragon began to\ngive an account in detail: \"My strength is a long way off, and you\ncannot go thither. Far in another empire under the emperor's city is a\nlake, in that lake is a dragon, and in that dragon a boar, and in the\nboar a pigeon, and in that is my strength.\" The next morning when the\ndragon went away from the mill, the prince came to the old woman, and\nthe old woman told him all that she had heard from the dragon. Then he\nleft his home, and disguised himself; he put shepherd's boots to his\nfeet, took a shepherd's staff in his hand, and went into the world. As\nhe went on thus from village to village, and from town to town, at last\nhe came into another empire and into the imperial city, in a lake under\nwhich the dragon was. On going into the town he began to inquire who\nwanted a shepherd. The citizens told him that the emperor did. Then he\nwent straight to the emperor. After he announced himself, the emperor\nadmitted him into his presence, and asked him: \"Do you wish to keep\nsheep?\" He replied: \"I do, illustrious crown!\" Then the emperor engaged\nhim, and began to inform and instruct him: \"There is here a lake, and\nalongside of the lake very beautiful pasture, and when you call the\nsheep out, they go thither at once, and spread themselves round the\nlake; but whatever shepherd goes off there, that shepherd returns back\nno more. Therefore, my son, I tell you, don't let the sheep have their\nown way and go where _they_ will, but keep them where _you_ will.\" The\nprince thanked the emperor, got himself ready, and called out the sheep,\ntaking with him, more-over, two hounds that could catch a boar in the\nopen country, and a falcon that could capture any bird, and carrying\nalso a pair of bagpipes. When he called out the sheep he let them go at\nonce to the lake, and when the sheep arrived at the lake, they\nimmediately spread round it, and the prince placed the falcon on a\nstump, and the hounds and bagpipes under the stump, then tucked up his\nhose and sleeves, waded into the lake, and began to shout: \"Dragon,\ndragon! come out to single combat with me to-day that we may measure\nourselves together, unless you're a woman.\"[6] The dragon called out in\nreply, \"I will do so now, prince--now!\" Erelong behold the dragon! it is\nlarge, it is terrible, it is disgusting! When the dragon came out, it\nseized him by the waist, and they wrestled a summer day till afternoon.\nBut when the heat of afternoon came on, the dragon said: \"Let me go,\nprince, that I may moisten my parched head in the lake, and toss you to\nthe sky.\" But the prince replied: \"Come, dragon, don't talk nonsense; if\nI had the emperor's daughter to kiss me on the forehead, I would toss\nyou still higher.\" Thereupon, the dragon suddenly let him go, and went\noff into the lake. On the approach of evening, he washed and got himself\nup nicely, placed the falcon on his arm, the hounds behind him, and the\nbagpipes under his arm, then drove the sheep and went into the town\nplaying on the bagpipes. When he arrived at the town, the whole town\nassembled as to see a wondrous sight because he had come, whereas\npreviously no shepherd had been able to come from the lake. The next day\nthe prince got ready again, and went with his sheep straight to the\nlake. But the emperor sent two grooms after him to go stealthily and see\nwhat he did, and they placed themselves on a high hill whence they could\nhave a good view. When the shepherd arrived, he put the hounds and\nbagpipes under the stump and the falcon upon it, then tucked up his hose\nand sleeves waded into the lake and shouted: \"Dragon, dragon! come out\nto single combat with me, that we may measure ourselves once more\ntogether, unless you are a woman!\" The dragon replied: \"I will do so,\nprince, now, now!\" Erelong, behold the dragon! it was large, it was\nterrible, it was disgusting! And it seized him by the waist and wrestled\nwith him a summer's day till afternoon. But when the afternoon heat came\non, the dragon said: \"Let me go, prince, that I may moisten my parched\nhead in the lake, and may toss you to the sky.\" The prince replied:\n\"Come, dragon, don't talk nonsense; if I had the emperor's daughter to\nkiss me on the forehead, I would toss you still higher.\" Thereupon the\ndragon suddenly left hold of him, and went off into the lake. When night\napproached the prince drove the sheep as before, and went home playing\nthe bagpipes When he arrived at the town, the whole town was astir and\nbegan to wonder because the shepherd came home every evening, which no\none had been able to do before. Those two grooms had already arrived at\nthe palace before the prince, and related to the emperor in order\neverything that they had heard and seen. Now when the emperor saw that\nthe shepherd returned home, he immediately summoned his daughter into\nhis presence and told her all, what it was and how it was. \"But,\" said\nhe, \"to-morrow you must go with the shepherd to the lake and kiss him on\nthe forehead.\" When she heard this she burst into tears and began to\nentreat her father. \"You have no one but me, and I am your only\ndaughter, and you don't care about me if I perish.\" Then the emperor\nbegan to persuade and encourage her: \"Don't fear, my daughter; you see\nwe have had so many changes of shepherds, and of all that went out to\nthe lake not one has returned; but _he_ had been contending with the\ndragon for two whole days and it has done him no hurt. I assure you, in\nGod's name, that he is able to overcome the dragon, only go to-morrow\nwith him to see whether he will free us from this mischief which has\ndestroyed so many people.\"\n\nWhen, on the morrow, the day dawned and the sun came forth, up rose the\nshepherd, up rose the maiden too, to begin to prepare for going to the\nlake. The shepherd was cheerful, more cheerful than ever, but the\nemperor's daughter was sad and shed tears. The shepherd comforted her:\n\"Lady sister, I pray you, do not weep, but do what I tell you. When it\nis time, run up and kiss me, and fear not.\" As he went and drove the\nsheep, the shepherd was thoroughly cheery, and played a merry tune on\nhis bagpipes; but the damsel did nothing but weep as she went beside\nhim, and he several times left off playing and turned toward her: \"Weep\nnot, golden one; fear nought.\" When they arrived at the lake, the sheep\nimmediately spread round it, and the prince placed the falcon on the\nstump, and the hounds and bagpipes under it, then tucked up his hose and\nsleeves, waded into the water, and shouted: \"Dragon! dragon! Come out to\nsingle combat with me; let us measure ourselves once more, unless you're\na woman!\" The dragon replied: \"I will, prince; now, now!\" Erelong,\nthere was the dragon! it was huge, it was terrible, it was disgusting!\nWhen it came out, they seized each other by the middle, and wrestled a\nsummer's day till afternoon. But when the afternoon heat came on, the\ndragon said: \"Let me go, prince, that I may moisten my parched head in\nthe lake, and toss you to the skies.\" The prince replied: \"Come, dragon,\ndon't talk nonsense; if I had the emperor's daughter to kiss me on the\nforehead, I would toss you much higher.\" When he said this, the\nemperor's daughter ran up and kissed him on the face, on the eye, and on\nthe forehead. Then he swung the dragon, and tossed it high into the air,\nand when it fell to the ground it burst into pieces. But as it burst\ninto pieces, out of it sprang a wild boar, and started to run away. But\nthe prince shouted to his shepherd dogs: \"Hold it! don't let it go!\" and\nthe dogs sprang up and after it, caught it, and soon tore it to pieces.\nBut out of the boar flew a pigeon, and the prince loosed the falcon, and\nthe falcon caught the pigeon and brought it into the prince's hands. The\nprince said to it: \"Tell me now, where are my brothers?\" The pigeon\nreplied: \"I will; only do me no harm. Immediately behind your father's\ntown is a water-mill, and in the water-mill are three wands that have\nsprouted up. Cut these three wands up from below, and strike with them\nupon their root; an iron door will immediately open into a large vault.\nIn that vault are many people, old and young, rich and poor, small and\ngreat, wives and maidens, so that you could settle a populous empire;\nthere, too, are your brothers.\" When the pigeon had told him all this,\nthe prince immediately wrung its neck.\n\nThe emperor had gone out in person, and posted himself on the hill from\nwhich the grooms had viewed the shepherd, and he, too, was a spectator\nof all that had taken place. After the shepherd had thus obtained the\ndragon's head, twilight began to approach. He washed himself nicely,\ntook the falcon on his shoulder, the hounds behind him, and the bagpipes\nunder his arm, played as he went, drove the sheep, and proceeded to the\nemperor's palace, with the damsel at his side still in terror. When they\ncame to the town, all the town assembled as to see a wonder. The\nemperor, who had seen all his heroism from the hill, called him into\nhis presence, and gave him his daughter, went immediately to church, had\nthem married, and held a wedding festival for a week. After this the\nprince told him who and whence he was, and the emperor and the whole\ntown rejoiced still more. Then, as the prince was urgent to go to his\nown home, the emperor gave him a large escort, and equipped him for the\njourney. When they were in the neighbourhood of the water-mill, the\nprince halted his attendants, went inside, cut up the three wands, and\nstruck the root with them, and the iron door opened at once. In the\nvault was a vast multitude of people. The prince ordered them to come\nout one by one, and go whither each would, and stood himself at the\ndoor. They came out thus one after another, and lo! there were his\nbrothers also, whom he embraced and kissed. When the whole multitude had\ncome out, they thanked him for releasing and delivering them, and went\neach to his own home. But he went to his father's house with his\nbrothers and bride, and there lived and reigned to the end of his days.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 6: This is intended as an insult. \"Azhdaja,\" a dragon, is\nfeminine in Servian.]\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE GOOD CHILDREN\n\n\nThe Lord was angered at mankind, and for three years there was a great\nfamine over all the world; nowhere in the world was even a grain of corn\nproduced, and what people sowed failed to come up from a drought so\ngreat that for three years there was not a drop of rain or dew. For one\nyear more people managed to live somehow or other, thrashing up what old\ncorn there was; the rich made money, for corn rose very high. Autumn\ncame. Where anybody had or purchased old seed, they sowed it; and\nentreated the Lord, hoped in the love of God, if God would give\nfertility, \"if God would forgive our sins.\" But it was not so. They did\nnot obtain the love of God. When they cast the seed into the holy earth,\nthat was the last they saw of it; if it germinated somewhat, if it sent\nup shoots, it withered away close to the ground. Woe! and abundance of\nit! God's world went on, sorrowed and wept, for now it was manifest\nthat death by hunger was approaching. They somehow got miserably through\nthe winter. Spring came. Where anybody had still any grain, they sowed\nit. What would come to pass? No blessing was poured forth, for the\nthought began with wind. Moreover, there was but little snow in the\nwinter, and everything dried up so that the black earth remained as it\nwas. It now came to this--all the world began to perish! The people\ndied; the cattle perished; as misery carried them, so did the people\nproceed.\n\nThere was at that time a powerful emperor in a certain empire: as the\nyoung ordinarily cleave to the young, so would he associate only with\nyoung men. Whether in council or in office or in the army, there were\nnone but young men; no old men had access to anything anywhere. Well, as\nyoung men, unripe in understanding, were the councillors, so was their\ncounsel also unripe. One year passed; a second passed; then, in the\nthird year, they saw that misery was already on every side, that it was\nalready coming to this, that all the world would perish. The young\nemperor assembled his young council, and they began to advise after\ntheir fashion; they advised, they advised, and ah! the resolutions they\ncame to were such that it is a sin even to give an account of their\nresolutions! Well, the emperor made proclamation after their advice,\nthat all old people were to be drowned, in order that, said he, bread\nmight not be wasted in vain, but there might be a supply of bread for\nthe young; and that no one should venture, on pain of death, to maintain\nor harbour any old man. Well, heralds went about throughout the whole\ncountry, and promulgated the emperor's command everywhere--yea, brigands\nseized old people where they chose, and drowned them without mercy.\n\nThere were then in a certain place three own brothers, who had an aged\nfather. When they heard of this edict, they told their father; and their\nfather said: \"My sons, such is the will of God and the will of the\nemperor; take me, let me perish at once, only that you, my children, may\nlive on. I am already with one foot in the grave,\" \"No, our own daddy!\nwe will die, but we will not give you up,\" cried the good sons with one\nvoice, and fell upon his neck; \"we will keep you; we will take from our\nown mouths, and will nourish you.\"\n\nThe three brothers took their aged father, conducted him into their\ncottage, dug under the raised portion of the floor, made up a bed with\nsheets and frieze-coats, for straw was scarce, and placed the old man\nthere, brought him a loaf of bread as black as the holy earth, and\ncovered him over with the floor. There the old man abode for two or\nthree months, and his sons brought him clandestinely all they had. The\nsummer passed without harvest, without mowing. September passed too.\nAutumn passed without joy. Winter passed too. Now came spring; the sun\nbecame warm. It was now time to sow, but there was no seed. The world\nwas large, but there was no seed-corn. When one kind was used up, the\npeople sowed others, hoping that there would be a crop; but when they\ncast it into the holy earth, it rotted there. It seemed as if the end of\nthe world were come.\n\nThen the three sons went to their father, and asked him: \"Daddy, what\nshall we do? It's time to sow. God is now sending showers of rain; the\nearth is warmed and is crumbling like grits; but of seed there is not a\nblessed grain,\" \"Take, my sons, and strip the old roof off the house,\nand thresh the bundles and sow the chaff.\" The lads stripped the house\nand barn (anyhow, there was nothing in it), and threshed away till the\nsweat ran from their brows, so that they crushed the bundles as small as\npoppy-seeds. When they sowed, God gave a blessing; so in a week's time\nit became green like rue; in a month's time, in two months' time, there\nwas corn, ever so much--ever so much, and all manner of seed was found\nthere: there was rye, there was wheat and barley; yea, maybe, there was\nalso a plant or two of buckwheat and millet. Wherever you went\nthroughout the world there was no corn to be seen; all the plain was\novergrown with grasses, steppe-grasses, and thistles, but with _them_\nwas corn like a forest. How people wondered and were astounded! The fame\nthereof went over the whole world, and the news reached the emperor\nhimself, that in such and such a place there were three own brothers,\nand with them corn had sprung up for all the world, and so beautiful,\nnever was the like beheld! The emperor ordered the three brothers to\nappear in the imperial presence.\n\nThe brothers heard of it, and smacked the tops of their heads with their\nhands. \"Now it will be amen with us!\" They went again to their father.\n\"Daddy! they tell us to appear before the emperor. Advise us, daddy,\nwhat to do!\" \"Go, my sons--what will be, will be; and tell the pure\ntruth before the emperor.\" The brothers started off and went to the\nemperor. The emperor inquired menacingly: \"Why, villains, did ye hoard\nup corn, when there was such a famine that so many people died of\nhunger? Tell the truth; if not I shall order you to be tortured and\nracked even unto death.\" The brothers related all as it had been, from\nthe beginning to the end. \"Now, most gracious emperor, give us over to\nany torture whatever, or let thy kindness have compassion on us!\" The\nemperor's brow became smooth, his eyes became serene. He then ordered\nthe old father to be brought before him at once, and made him sit beside\nhim close to his throne, and hearkened to his counsel till death, and\nhis sons he rewarded handsomely. He ordered the corn to be collected ear\nby ear, and to be rubbed out in men's hands; and sent it about for\nseed-corn in all empires, and from it was produced holy corn for all the\nworld.\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE DUN HORSE[7]\n\n\nI\n\nMany years ago there lived in the Pawnee tribe an old woman and her\ngrandson a boy about sixteen years old. These people had no relations\nand were very poor. They were so poor that they were despised by the\nrest of the tribe. They had nothing of their own; and always, after the\nvillage started to move the camp from one place to another, these two\nwould stay behind the rest, to look over the old camp and pick up\nanything that the other Indians had thrown away as worn out or useless.\nIn this way they would sometimes get pieces of robes, wornout moccasins\nwith holes in them, and bits of meat.\n\nNow, it happened one day, after the tribe had moved away from the camp,\nthat this old woman and her boy were following along the trail behind\nthe rest, when they came to a miserable old wornout dun horse, which\nthey supposed had been abandoned by some Indians. He was thin and\nexhausted, was blind of one eye, had a bad sore back, and one of his\nforelegs was very much swollen. In fact, he was so worthless that none\nof the Pawnees had been willing to take the trouble to try to drive him\nalong with them. But when the old woman and her boy came along, the boy\nsaid, \"Come now, we will take this old horse, for we can make him carry\nour pack.\" So the old woman put her pack on the horse, and drove him\nalong, but he limped and could only go very slowly.\n\n\nII\n\nThe tribe moved up on the North Platte, until they came to Court House\nRock. The two poor Indians followed them, and camped with the others.\nOne day while they were here, the young men who had been sent out to\nlook for buffalo, came hurrying into camp and told the chiefs that a\nlarge herd of buffalo were near, and that among them was a spotted\ncalf.\n\nThe Head Chief of the Pawnees had a very beautiful daughter, and when he\nheard about the spotted calf, he ordered his old crier to go about\nthrough the village and call out that the man who killed the spotted\ncalf should have his daughter for his wife. For a spotted robe is\n_ti-war'-uks-ti_--big medicine.\n\nThe buffalo were feeding about four miles from the village, and the\nchiefs decided that the charge should be made from there. In this way,\nthe man who had the fastest horse would be the most likely to kill the\ncalf. Then all the warriors and the young men picked out their best and\nfastest horses, and made ready to start. Among those who prepared for\nthe charge was the poor boy on the old dun horse. But when they saw him,\nall the rich young braves on their fast horses pointed at him and said,\n\"Oh, see; there is the horse that is going to catch the spotted calf;\"\nand they laughed at him, so that the poor boy was ashamed, and rode off\nto one side of the crowd, where he could not hear their jokes and\nlaughter.\n\nWhen he had ridden off some little way the horse stopped and turned his\nhead round, and spoke to the boy. He said, \"Take me down the creek, and\nplaster me all over with mud. Cover my head and neck and body and legs.\"\nWhen the boy heard the horse speak, he was afraid; but he did as he was\ntold. Then the horse said, \"Now mount, but do not ride back to the\nwarriors, who laugh at you because you have such a poor horse. Stay\nright here until the word is given to charge.\" So the boy stayed there.\n\nAnd presently all the fine horses were drawn up in line and pranced\nabout, and were so eager to go that their riders could hardly hold them\nin; and at last the old crier gave the word, \"_Loo-ah!_\"--Go! Then the\nPawnees all leaned forward on their horses and yelled, and away they\nwent. Suddenly, away off to the right, was seen the old dun horse. He\ndid not seem to run. He seemed to sail along like a bird. He passed all\nthe fastest horses, and in a moment he was among the buffalo. First he\npicked out the spotted calf, and charging up alongside of it,\n_U-ra-rish!_ straight flew the arrow. The calf fell. The boy drew\nanother arrow, and killed a fat cow that was running by. Then he\ndismounted and began to skin the calf, before any of the other warriors\nhad come up. But when the rider got off the old dun horse, how changed\nhe was! He pranced about and would hardly stand still near the dead\nbuffalo. His back was all right again; his legs were well and fine; and\nboth his eyes were clear and bright.\n\nThe boy skinned the calf and the cow that he had killed, and then he\npacked all the meat on the horse, and put the spotted robe on top of the\nload, and started back to the camp on foot, leading the dun horse. But\neven with this heavy load the horse pranced all the time, and was scared\nat everything he saw. On the way to camp, one of the rich young chiefs\nof the tribe rode up by the boy and offered him twelve good horses for\nthe spotted robe, so that he could marry the Head Chief's beautiful\ndaughter; but the boy laughed at him and would not sell the robe.\n\nNow, while the boy walked to the camp leading the dun horse, most of the\nwarriors rode back, and one of those that came first to the village went\nto the old woman and said to her, \"Your grandson has killed the spotted\ncalf.\" And the old woman said, \"Why do you come to tell me this? You\nought to be ashamed to make fun of my boy, because he is poor.\" The\nwarrior said, \"What I have told you is true,\" and then he rode away.\nAfter a little while another brave rode up to the old woman, and said to\nher, \"Your grandson has killed the spotted calf.\" Then the old woman\nbegan to cry, she felt so badly because every one made fun of her boy,\nbecause he was poor.\n\nPretty soon the boy came along, leading the horse up to the lodge where\nhe and his grandmother lived. It was a little lodge, just big enough for\ntwo, and was made of old pieces of skin that the old woman had picked\nup, and was tied together with strings of rawhide and sinew. It was the\nmeanest and worst lodge in the village. When the old woman saw her boy\nleading the dun horse with the load of meat and the robes on it, she was\nvery surprised. The boy said to her, \"Here, I have brought you plenty of\nmeat to eat, and here is a robe, that you may have for yourself. Take\nthe meat off the horse.\" Then the old woman laughed, for her heart was\nglad. But when she went to take the meat from the horse's back, he\nsnorted and jumped about, and acted like a wild horse. The old woman\nlooked at him in wonder, and could hardly believe that it was the same\nhorse. So the boy had to take off the meat, for the horse would not let\nthe old woman come near him.\n\n\nIII\n\nThat night the horse spoke again to the boy and said, \"_Wa-ti-hes\nChah'-ra-rat wa-ta_. Tomorrow the Sioux are coming--a large war party.\nThey will attack the village, and you will have a great battle. Now,\nwhen the Sioux are all drawn up in line of battle, and are all ready to\nfight, you jump on to me, and ride as hard as you can, right into the\nmiddle of the Sioux, and up to their Head Chief, their greatest warrior,\nand count _coup_ on him, and kill him, and then ride back. Do this four\ntimes, and count _coup_ on four of the bravest Sioux, and kill them, but\ndon't go again. If you go the fifth time, maybe you will be killed, or\nelse you will lose me. _La-ku'-ta-chix_--remember.\" So the boy promised.\n\nThe next day it happened as the horse had said, and the Sioux came down\nand formed in line of battle. Then the boy took his bow and arrows, and\njumped on the dun horse, and charged into the midst of them. And when\nthe Sioux saw that he was going to strike their Head Chief, they all\nshot their arrows at him, and the arrows flew so thickly across each\nother that they darkened the sky, but none of them hit the boy. And he\ncounted _coup_ on the Chief, and killed him, and then rode back. After\nthat he charged again among the Sioux, where they were gathered\nthickest, and counted _coup_ on their bravest warrior, and killed him.\nAnd then twice more, until he had gone four times as the horse had told\nhim.\n\nBut the Sioux and the Pawnees kept on fighting, and the boy stood around\nand watched the battle. And at last he said to himself, \"I have been\nfour times and have killed four Sioux, and I am all right, I am not hurt\nanywhere; why may I not go again?\" So he jumped on the dun horse, and\ncharged again. But when he got among the Sioux, one Sioux warrior drew\nan arrow and shot. The arrow struck the dun horse behind the forelegs\nand pierced him through. And the horse fell down dead. But the boy\njumped off, and fought his way through the Sioux, and ran away as fast\nas he could to the Pawnees. Now, as soon as the horse was killed, the\nSioux said to each other: \"This horse was like a man. He was brave. He\nwas not like a horse.\" And they took their knives and hatchets, and\nhacked the dun horse and gashed his flesh, and cut him into small\npieces.\n\nThe Pawnees and Sioux fought all day long, but toward night the Sioux\nbroke and fled.\n\n\nIV\n\nThe boy felt very badly that he had lost his horse; and, after the fight\nwas over, he went out from the village to where it had taken place, to\nmourn for his horse. He went to the spot where the horse lay, and\ngathered up all the pieces of flesh, which the Sioux had cut off, and\nthe legs and the hoofs, and put them all together in a pile. Then he\nwent off to the top of a hill near by, and sat down and drew his robe\nover his head, and began to mourn for his horse.\n\nAs he sat there, he heard a great wind-storm coming up, and it passed\nover him with a loud rushing sound, and after the wind came a rain. The\nboy looked down from where he sat to the pile of flesh and bones, which\nwas all that was left of his horse, and he could just see it through the\nrain. And the rain passed by, and his heart was very heavy, and he kept\non mourning.\n\nAnd pretty soon came another rushing wind, and after it a rain; and as\nhe looked through the driving rain toward the spot where the pieces lay,\nhe thought that they seemed to come together and take shape, and that\nthe pile looked like a horse lying down, but he could not see well for\nthe thick rain.\n\nAfter this came a third storm like the others; and now when he looked\ntoward the horse he thought he saw its tail move from side to side two\nor three times, and that it lifted its head from the ground. The boy was\nafraid, and wanted to run away, but he stayed.\n\nAnd as he waited, there came another storm. And while the rain fell,\nlooking through the rain, the boy saw the horse raise himself up on his\nforelegs and look about. Then the dun horse stood up.\n\n\nV\n\nThe boy left the place where he had been sitting on the hilltop, and\nwent down to him. When the boy had come near to him, the horse spoke\nand said: \"You have seen how it has been this day; and from this you may\nknow how it will be after this. But _Ti-ra'-wa_ has been good, and has\nlet me come back to you. After this, do what I tell you; not any more,\nnot any less.\" Then the horse said: \"Now lead me off, far away from the\ncamp, behind that big hill, and leave me there to-night, and in the\nmorning come for me;\" and the boy did as he was told.\n\nAnd when he went for the horse in the morning, he found with him a\nbeautiful white gelding, much more handsome than any horse in the tribe.\nThat night the dun horse told the boy to take him again to the place\nbehind the big hill, and to come for him the next morning; and when the\nboy went for him again, he found with him a beautiful black gelding. And\nso for ten nights, he left the horse among the hills, and each morning\nhe found a different coloured horse, a bay, a roan, a gray, a blue, a\nspotted horse, and all of them finer than any horses that the Pawnees\nhad ever had in their tribe before.\n\nNow the boy was rich, and he married the beautiful daughter of the Head\nChief, and when he became older he was made Head Chief himself. He had\nmany children by his beautiful wife, and one day when his oldest boy\ndied, he wrapped him in the spotted calf robe and buried him in it. He\nalways took good care of his old grandmother, and kept her in his own\nlodge until she died. The dun horse was never ridden except at feasts,\nand when they were going to have a doctors' dance, but he was always led\nabout with the Chief wherever he went. The horse lived in the village\nfor many years, until he became very old. And at last he died.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 7: From \"Pawnee Hero Stories and Folk Tales.\" Copyright, 1890,\nby George Bird Grinnell; published by Charles Scribner's Sons.]\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nTHE GREEDY YOUNGSTER\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were five women who were in a field reaping corn.\nNone of them had any children, but they were all wishing for a child.\nAll at once they found a big goose egg, almost as big as a man's head.\n\n\"I saw it first,\" said one. \"I saw it just as soon as you did,\" shouted\nanother. \"But I'll have it,\" screamed the third, \"I saw it first of\nall.\"\n\nThus they kept on quarrelling and fighting about the egg, and they were\nvery near tearing each other's hair. But at last they agreed that it\nshould belong to them all, and that they should sit on it as the geese\ndo and hatch a gosling. The first woman sat on it for eight days, taking\nit very comfortably and doing nothing at all, while the others had to\nwork hard both for their own and her living. One of the women began to\nmake some insinuations to her about this.\n\n\"Well, I suppose you didn't come out of the egg either before you could\nchirp,\" said the woman who was on the egg, \"But I think there is\nsomething in this egg, for I fancy I can hear some one inside grumbling\nevery other moment: 'Herring and soup! Porridge and milk!' You can come\nand sit for eight days now, and then we will sit and work in turn, all\nof us.\"\n\nSo when the fifth in turn had sat for eight days, she heard plainly some\none inside the egg screeching for \"Herring and soup! Porridge and milk!\"\nAnd so she made a hole in it; but instead of a gosling out came a baby,\nbut it was awfully ugly, and had a big head and a tiny little body. The\nfirst thing it screamed out for, as soon as it put its head outside the\negg, was \"Herring and soup! Porridge and milk!\" And so they called it\n\"the greedy youngster.\"\n\nUgly as he was, they were fond of him at first; but before long he\nbecame so greedy that he ate up all the meat they had. When they boiled\na dish of soup or a pot of porridge which they thought would be\nsufficient for all six, he finished it all by himself. So they would not\nhave him any longer.\n\n\"I have not had a decent meal since this changeling crept out of the\neggshell,\" said one of them, and when the youngster heard that they were\nall of the same opinion, he said he was quite willing to go his way; \"if\nthey did not want him, he was sure he did not want them,\" and with that\nhe left the place.\n\nAfter a long time he came to a farm where the fields were full of\nstones, and he went in and asked for a situation. They wanted a labourer\non the farm, and the farmer put him to pick up stones from the field.\nYes, the youngster went to work and picked up the stones, some of which\nwere so big that they would make many cartloads; but whether they were\nbig or small, he put them all into his pocket. It did not take him long\nto finish that job, so he wanted to know what he should do next.\n\n\"You will have to get all the stones out of the field,\" said the farmer.\n\"I suppose you can't be ready before you have commenced?\"\n\nBut the youngster emptied his pockets and threw all the stones in a\nheap. Then the farmer saw that he had finished the work, and he thought\nhe ought to look well after one who was so strong. He must come in and\nget something to eat, he said. The youngster thought so too, and he\nalone ate what was prepared both for master and servants, and still he\nwas only half satisfied.\n\n\"He is the right sort of man for a labourer, but he is a terrible eater,\nto be sure,\" thought the farmer. \"A man like him would eat a poor farmer\nout of house and home before anybody knew a word about it,\" he said. He\nhad no more work for him; it was best for him to go to the king's\npalace.\n\nThe youngster set out for the palace, where he got a place at once.\nThere was plenty of food and plenty of work. He was to be errand boy,\nand to help the girls to carry wood and water and do other odd jobs. So\nhe asked what he was to do first.\n\n\"You had better chop some wood in the mean time,\" they said. Yes, he\ncommenced to chop and cut wood till the splinters flew about him. It was\nnot long before he had chopped up everything in the place, both firewood\nand timber, both rafters and beams, and when he was ready with it, he\ncame in and asked what he was to do now.\n\n\"You can finish chopping the wood,\" they said.\n\n\"There is no more to chop,\" he answered.\n\nThat could not be possible, thought the overlooker, and had a look into\nthe wood-shed. But yes, the youngster had chopped up everything; he had\neven cut up the timber and planks in the place. This was vexatious, the\noverlooker said; and then he told the youngster that he should not taste\nfood until he had gone into the forest and cut just as much timber as he\nhad chopped up for firewood.\n\nThe youngster went to the smithy and got the smith to help him to make\nan axe of five hundredweight of iron, and then he set out for the forest\nand began to make a regular clearance, not only of the pine and the\nlofty fir trees, but of everything else which was to be found in the\nking's forests, and in the neighbours' as well. He did not stop to cut\nthe branches or the tops off, but he left them lying there as if a\nhurricane had blown them down. He put a proper load on the sledge and\nput all the horses to it, but they could not even move it; so he took\nthe horses by the heads to give the sledge a start, but he pulled so\nhard that the horses' heads came off. He then turned the horses out of\nthe shafts and drew the load himself.\n\nWhen he came to the palace, the king and his overlooker were standing in\nthe hall to give him a scolding for having destroyed the forest--the\noverlooker had been there and seen what he had been doing. But when the\nking saw the youngster dragging half the forest after him, he got both\nangry and afraid; but he thought he had better be a little careful with\nhim, since he was strong.\n\n\"Well, you are a wonderful workman, to be sure,\" said the king; \"but how\nmuch do you eat at a time, because I suppose you are hungry now?\"\n\nOh, when he was to have a proper meal of porridge, it would take twelve\nbarrels of meal to make it, thought the youngster; but when he had put\nthat away, he could wait awhile, of course, for his next meal.\n\nIt took some time to boil such a dish of porridge, and meantime he was\nto bring in a little firewood for the cook. He put a lot of wood on a\nsledge, but when he was coming through the door with it he was a little\nrough and careless again. The house got almost out of shape, and all the\njoists creaked; he was very near dragging down the whole palace. When\nthe porridge was nearly ready, they sent him out to call the people home\nfrom the fields. He shouted so that the mountains and hills around rang\nwith echoes, but the people did not come quick enough for him. He came\nto blows with them, and killed twelve of them.\n\n\"You have killed twelve men,\" said the king; \"and you eat for many times\ntwelve; but how many do you work for?\"\n\n\"For many times twelve as well,\" answered the youngster.\n\nWhen he had finished his porridge, he was to go into the barn to thrash.\nHe took one of the rafters from the roof and made a flail out of it, and\nwhen the roof was about to fall in, he took a big pine tree with\nbranches and all and put it up instead of the rafter. So he went on\nthrashing the grain and the straw and the hay all together. This was\ndoing more damage than good, for the corn and the chaff flew about\ntogether, and a cloud of dust arose over the whole palace.\n\nWhen he had nearly finished thrashing, enemies came into the country, as\na war was coming on. So the king told the youngster that he should take\nmen with him to go and meet the enemy and fight them, for the king\nthought they would surely kill him.\n\nNo, he would not have any men with him to be cut to pieces; he would\nfight by himself, answered the youngster.\n\n\"So much the better,\" thought the king; \"the sooner I shall get rid of\nhim; but he must have a proper club.\"\n\nThey sent for the smith; he forged a club which weighed a hundredweight.\n\"A very nice thing to crack nuts with,\" said the youngster. So the smith\nmade one of three hundredweight. \"It would be very well for hammering\nnails into boots,\" was the answer. Well, the smith could not make a\nbigger one with the men he had. So the youngster set out for the smithy\nhimself, and made a club that weighed five tons, and it took a hundred\nmen to turn it on the anvil. \"That one might do for lack of a better,\"\nthought the youngster. He wanted next a bag with some provisions; they\nhad to make one out of fifteen oxhides, and they filled it with food,\nand away he went down the hill with the bag on his back and the club on\nhis shoulder.\n\nWhen he came so far that the enemy saw him, they sent a soldier to ask\nhim if he was going to fight them.\n\n\"Yes; but wait a little till I have had something to eat,\" said the\nyoungster. He threw himself down on the grass and began to eat with the\nbig bag of food in front of him.\n\nBut the enemy would not wait, and commenced to fire at him at once, till\nit rained and hailed around him with bullets.\n\n\"I don't mind these crowberries a bit,\" said the youngster, and went on\neating harder than ever. Neither lead nor iron took any effect upon him,\nand his bag with food in front of him guarded him against the bullets as\nif it were a rampart.\n\nSo they commenced throwing bomb-shells and firing cannons at him. He\nonly grinned a little every time he felt them.\n\n\"They don't hurt me a bit,\" he said. But just then he got a bomb-shell\nright down his windpipe.\n\n\"Fy!\" he shouted, and spat it out again; but then a chain-shot made its\nway into his butter-can, and another carried away the piece of food he\nheld between his fingers.\n\nThat made him angry; he got up and took his big club and struck the\nground with it, asking them if they wanted to take the food out of his\nmouth, and what they meant by blowing crowberries at him with those\npea-shooters of theirs. He then struck the ground again till the hills\nand rocks rattled and shook, and sent the enemy flying in the air like\nchaff. This finished the war.\n\nWhen he came home again, and asked for more work, the king was taken\nquite aback, for he thought he should have got rid of him in the war. He\nknew of nothing else but to send him on a message to the devil.\n\n\"You had better go to the devil and ask him for my ground-rent,\" he\nsaid. The youngster took his bag on his back, and started at once. He\nwas not long in getting there, but the devil was gone to court, and\nthere was no one at home but his mother, and she said that she had never\nheard talk of any ground-rent. He had better call again another time.\n\n\"Yes, call again to-morrow is always the cry,\" he said; but he was not\ngoing to be made a fool of, he told her. He was there, and there he\nwould remain till he got the ground-rent. He had plenty of time to wait.\nBut when he had finished all the food in his bag, the time hung heavy on\nhis hands, and then he asked the old lady for the ground-rent again.\nShe had better pay it now, he said.\n\n\"No, she was going to do nothing of the sort,\" she said. Her words were\nas firm as the old fir tree just outside the gates, which was so big\nthat fifteen men could scarcely span it.\n\nBut the youngster climbed right up in the top of it and twisted and\nturned it as if it was a willow, and then he asked her if she was going\nto pay the ground-rent now.\n\nYes, she dared not do anything else, and scraped together as much money\nas he thought he could carry in his bag. He then set out for home with\nthe ground-rent, but as soon as he was gone the devil came home. When he\nheard that the youngster had gone off with his bag full of money, he\nfirst of all gave his mother a hiding, and then he started after him,\nthinking he would soon overtake him.\n\nHe soon came up to him, for he had nothing to carry, and now and then he\nused his wings; but the youngster had, of course, to keep to the ground\nwith his heavy bag. Just as the devil was at his heels, he began to jump\nand run as fast as he could. He kept his club behind him to keep the\ndevil off, and thus they went along, the youngster holding the handle\nand the devil trying to catch hold of the other end of it, till they\ncame to a deep valley. There the youngster made a jump across from the\ntop of one hill to the other, and the devil was in such a hurry to\nfollow him that he ran his head against the club and fell down into the\nvalley and broke his leg, and there he lay.\n\n\"There is the ground-rent,\" said the youngster when he came to the\npalace, and threw the bag with the money to the king with such a crash\nthat you could hear it all over the hall.\n\nThe king thanked him, and appeared to be well pleased, and promised him\ngood pay and leave of absence if he wished it, but the youngster wanted\nonly more work.\n\n\"What shall I do now?\" he said.\n\nAs soon as the king had had time to consider, he told him that he must\ngo to the hill-troll, who had taken his grandfather's sword. The troll\nhad a castle by the sea, where no one dared to go.\n\nThe youngster put some cartloads of food into his bag and set out again.\nHe travelled both long and far, over woods and hills and wild moors,\ntill he came to the big mountains where the troll, who had taken the\nsword of the king's grandfather, was living.\n\nBut the troll seldom came out in the open air, and the mountain was well\nclosed, so the youngster was not man enough to get inside.\n\nSo he joined a gang of quarrymen who were living at a farm on top of the\nhill, and who were quarrying stones in the hills about there. They had\nnever had such help before, for he broke and hammered away at the rocks\ntill the mountain cracked, and big stones of the size of a house rolled\ndown the hill. But when he rested to get his dinner, for which he was\ngoing to have one of the cartloads in his bag, he found it was all eaten\nup.\n\n\"I have generally a good appetite myself,\" said the youngster; \"but the\none who has been here can do a trifle more than I, for he has eaten all\nthe bones as well.\"\n\nThus the first day passed; and he fared no better the second. On the\nthird day he set out to break stones again, taking with him the third\nload of food, but he lay down behind the bag and pretended to be asleep.\nAll of a sudden, a troll with seven heads came out of the mountain and\nbegan to eat his food.\n\n\"It's all ready for me here, and I will eat,\" said the troll.\n\n\"We will see about that,\" said the youngster, and hit the troll with his\nclub, so the heads rolled down the hill.\n\nSo he went into the mountain which the troll had come out of, and in\nthere stood a horse eating out of a barrel of glowing cinders, and\nbehind it stood a barrel of oats.\n\n\"Why don't you eat out of the barrel of oats?\" asked the youngster.\n\n\"Because I cannot turn round,\" said the horse.\n\n\"But I will soon turn you round,\" said the youngster.\n\n\"Rather cut my head off,\" said the horse.\n\nSo he cut its head off, and the horse turned into a fine handsome\nfellow. He said he had been bewitched, and taken into the mountain and\nturned into a horse by the troll. He then helped the youngster to find\nthe sword, which the troll had hidden at the bottom of the bed, and in\nthe bed lay the old mother of the troll, asleep and snoring hard.\n\nSo they set out for home by water, but when they had got some distance\nout to sea the old mother came after them. As she could not overtake\nthem, she lay down and began to drink the sea, and she drank till the\nwater fell; but she could not drink the sea dry, and so she burst.\n\nWhen they came to land, the youngster sent word that the king must come\nand fetch the sword. He sent four horses, but no, they could not move\nit; he sent eight, and he sent twelve; but the sword remained where it\nwas. They were not able to stir it from the spot. But the youngster took\nit and carried it up to the palace alone.\n\nThe king could not believe his eyes when he saw the youngster back\nagain. He appeared, however, to be pleased to see him, and promised him\nland and riches. When the youngster wanted more work, the king said he\nmight set out for an enchanted castle he had, where no one dared to\nlive, and he would have to stop there till he had built a bridge over\nthe sound, so that people could get across to the castle.\n\nIf he was able to do this he would reward him handsomely, yes, he would\neven give him his daughter in marriage, said he.\n\n\"Well, I think I can do it,\" said the youngster.\n\nNo one had ever got away alive; those who had got as far as the castle,\nlay there killed and torn to pieces as small as barley, and the king\nthought he should never see him any more if he would go thither.\n\nBut the youngster started on his expedition; he took with him the bag of\nfood, a crooked, twisted block of a fir tree, an axe, a wedge, and some\nchips of the fir root, and the small pauper boy at the palace.\n\nWhen he came to the sound, he found the river full of ice, and the\ncurrent ran as strong as in a waterfall; but he stuck his legs to the\nbottom of the river and waded until he got safe across.\n\nWhen he had warmed himself and had something to eat, he wanted to go to\nsleep; but before long he heard such a terrible noise, as if they were\nturning the castle upside down. The door burst wide open, and he saw\nnothing but a gaping jaw extending from the threshold up to the lintel.\n\n\"There is a mouthful for you,\" said the youngster and threw the pauper\nboy into the swallow: \"taste that! But let me see now who you are!\nPerhaps you are an old acquaintance?\"\n\nAnd so it was; it was the devil who was about again.\n\nThey began to play cards, for the devil wanted to try and win back some\nof the ground-rent which the youngster had got out of his mother by\nthreats, when he was sent by the king to collect it; but the youngster\nwas always the fortunate one, for he put a cross on the back of all the\ngood cards, and when he had won all the money which the devil had upon\nhim, the devil had to pay him out of the gold and silver which was in\nthe castle.\n\nSuddenly the fire went out, so they could not tell the one card from the\nother.\n\n\"We must chop some wood now,\" said the youngster, who drove the axe into\nthe fir block, and forced the wedge in; but the twisted, knotty block\nwould not split, although the youngster worked as hard as he could with\nthe axe.\n\n\"They say you are strong,\" he said to the devil; \"just spit on your\nhands, stick your claws in, and tear away, and let me see what you are\nmade of.\"\n\nThe devil did so, and put both his fists into the split and pulled as\nhard as he could, when the youngster suddenly struck the wedge out, and\nthe devil stuck fast in the block and the youngster let him also have a\ntaste of the butt end of his axe on his back. The devil begged and\nprayed so nicely to be let loose, but the youngster would not listen to\nanything of the kind unless he promised that he would never come there\nany more and create any disturbance. He also had to promise that he\nwould build a bridge over the sound, so that people could pass over it\nat all times of the year, and it should be ready when the ice was gone.\n\n\"They are very hard conditions,\" said the devil; but there was no other\nway out of it--if the devil wanted to be set free, he would have to\npromise it. He bargained, however, that he should have the first soul\nthat went across the bridge. That was to be the toll.\n\nYes, he should have that, said the youngster. So the devil was let\nloose, and he started home. But the youngster lay down to sleep, and\nslept till far into the day.\n\nWhen the king came to see if he was cut and chopped into small pieces,\nhe had to wade through all the money before he came to his bedside.\nThere was money in heaps and in bags which reached far up the wall, and\nthe youngster lay in bed asleep and snoring hard.\n\n\"Lord help me and my daughter,\" said the king when he saw that the\nyoungster was alive. Well, all was good and well done, that no one could\ndeny; but there was no hurry talking of the wedding before the bridge\nwas ready.\n\nOne day the bridge stood ready, and the devil was there waiting for the\ntoll which he had bargained for.\n\nThe youngster wanted the king to go with him and try the bridge, but the\nking had no mind to do it. So he mounted a horse himself, and put the\nfat dairy-maid in the palace on the pommel in front of him; she looked\nalmost like a big fir block, and so he rode over the bridge, which\nthundered under the horse's feet.\n\n\"Where is the toll? Where have you got the soul?\" cried the devil.\n\n\"Why, inside this fir block,\" said the youngster; \"if you want it you\nwill have to spit in your hands and take it.\"\n\n\"No, many thanks! If she does not come to me, I am sure I shan't take\nher,\" said the devil. \"You got me once into a pinch, and I'll take care\nyou don't get me into another,\" and with that he flew straight home to\nhis old mother, and since that time he has never been heard or seen\nthereabouts.\n\nThe youngster went home to the palace and asked for the reward the king\nhad promised him, and when the king wanted to get out of it, and would\nnot stick to what he had promised, the youngster said it was best he got\na good bag of food ready for him and he would take his reward himself.\n\nYes, the king would see to that, and when the bag was ready the\nyoungster asked the king to come outside the door. The youngster then\ngave the king such a kick, which sent him flying up in the air. The bag\nhe threw after him that he might not be without food; and if he has not\ncome down again by this he is floating about with his bag between heaven\nand earth to this very day.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nHANS, WHO MADE THE PRINCESS LAUGH\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was a king, who had a daughter, and she was so\nlovely that the reports of her beauty went far and wide; but she was so\nmelancholy that she never laughed, and besides she was so grand and\nproud that she said \"No\" to all who came to woo her--she would not have\nany of them, were they ever so fine, whether they were princes or\nnoblemen.\n\nThe king was tired of this whim of hers long ago, and thought she ought\nto get married like other people; there was nothing she need wait\nfor--she was old enough and she would not be any richer either, for she\nwas to have half the kingdom, which she inherited after her mother.\n\nSo he made known every Sunday after the service, from the steps outside\nthe church, that he that could make his daughter laugh should have both\nher and half the kingdom. But if there were any one who tried and could\nnot make her laugh, he would have three red stripes cut out of his back\nand salt rubbed into them--and, sad to relate, there were many sore\nbacks in that kingdom. Lovers from south and from north, from east and\nfrom west, came to try their luck--they thought it was an easy thing to\nmake a princess laugh. They were a queer lot altogether, but for all\ntheir cleverness and for all the tricks and pranks they played, the\nprincess was just as serious and immovable as ever.\n\nBut close to the palace lived a man who had three sons, and they had\nalso heard that the king had made known that he who could make the\nprincess laugh should have her and half the kingdom.\n\nThe eldest of the brothers wanted to try first, and away he went; and\nwhen he came to the palace, he told the king he wouldn't mind trying to\nmake the princess laugh.\n\n\"Yes, yes! that's all very well,\" said the king; \"but I am afraid it's\nof very little use, my man. There have been many here to try their luck,\nbut my daughter is just as sad, and I am afraid it is no good trying. I\ndo not like to see any more suffer on that account.\"\n\nBut the lad thought he would try anyhow. It couldn't be such a difficult\nthing to make a princess laugh at him, for had not everybody, both grand\nand simple, laughed so many a time at him when he served as soldier and\nwent through his drill under Sergeant Nils.\n\nSo he went out on the terrace outside the princess's windows and began\ndrilling just as if Sergeant Nils himself were there. But all in vain!\nThe princess sat just as serious and immovable as before, and so they\ntook him and cut three broad, red stripes out of his back and sent him\nhome.\n\nHe had no sooner arrived home than his second brother wanted to set out\nand try his luck. He was a schoolmaster, and a funny figure he was\naltogether. He had one leg shorter than the other, and limped terribly\nwhen he walked. One moment he was no bigger than a boy, but the next\nmoment when he raised himself up on his long leg he was as big and tall\nas a giant--and besides he was great at preaching.\n\nWhen he came to the palace, and said that he wanted to make the princess\nlaugh, the king thought that it was not so unlikely that he might; \"but\nI pity you, if you don't succeed,\" said the king, \"for we cut the\nstripes broader and broader for every one that tries.\"\n\nSo the schoolmaster went out on the terrace, and took his place outside\nthe princess's window, where he began preaching and chanting imitating\nseven of the parsons, and reading and singing just like seven of the\nclerks whom they had had in the parish.\n\nThe king laughed at the schoolmaster till he was obliged to hold on to\nthe door-post, and the princess was just on the point of smiling, but\nsuddenly she was as sad and immovable as ever, and so it fared no better\nwith Paul the schoolmaster than with Peter the soldier--for Peter and\nPaul were their names, you must know!\n\nSo they took Paul and cut three red stripes out of his back, put salt\ninto them, and sent him home again.\n\nWell, the youngest brother thought he would have a try next. His name\nwas Hans. But the brothers laughed and made fun of him, and showed him\ntheir sore backs. Besides, the father would not give him leave to go,\nfor he said it was no use his trying, who had so little sense; all he\ncould do was to sit in a corner on the hearth, like a cat, rooting about\nin the ashes and cutting chips. But Hans would not give in--he begged\nand prayed so long, till they got tired of his whimpering, and so he got\nleave to go to the king's palace and try his luck.\n\nWhen he arrived at the palace he did not say he had come to try to make\nthe princess laugh, but asked if he could get a situation there. No,\nthey had no situation for him; but Hans was not so easily put off--they\nmight want one to carry wood and water for the kitchenmaid in such a big\nplace as that, he said. Yes, the king thought so too, and to get rid of\nthe lad he gave him leave to remain there and carry wood and water for\nthe kitchenmaid.\n\nOne day, when he was going to fetch water from the brook, he saw a big\nfish in the water just under an old root of a fir-tree, which the\ncurrent had carried all the soil away from. He put his bucket quietly\nunder the fish and caught it. As he was going home to the palace, he met\nan old woman leading a golden goose.\n\n\"Good day, grandmother!\" said Hans. \"That's a fine bird you have got\nthere; and such splendid feathers too! he shines a long way off. If one\nhad such feathers, one needn't be chopping firewood.\"\n\nThe woman thought just as much of the fish which Hans had in the bucket,\nand said if Hans would give her the fish he should have the golden\ngoose; and this goose was such that if any one touched it he would be\nsticking fast to it if he only said: \"If you'll come along, then hang\non.\"\n\nYes, Hans would willingly exchange on those terms. \"A bird is as good as\na fish any day,\" he said to himself. \"If it is as you say, I might use\nit instead of a fish-hook,\" he said to the woman, and felt greatly\npleased with the possession of the goose.\n\nHe had not gone far before he met another old woman. When she saw the\nsplendid golden goose, she must go and stroke it. She made herself so\nfriendly and spoke so nicely to Hans, and asked him to let her stroke\nthat lovely golden goose of his.\n\n\"Oh, yes!\" said Hans, \"but you mustn't pluck off any of its feathers!\"\n\nJust as she stroked the bird, Hans said: \"If you'll come along, then\nhang on!\"\n\nThe woman pulled and tore, but she had to hang on, whether she would or\nno, and Hans walked on, as if he only had the goose with him.\n\nWhen he had gone some distance, he met a man who had a spite against the\nwoman for a trick she had played upon him. When he saw that she fought\nso hard to get free and seemed to hang on so fast, he thought he might\nsafely venture to pay her off for the grudge he owed her, and so he gave\nher a kick.\n\n\"If you'll come along, then hang on!\" said Hans, and the man had to hang\non and limp along on one leg, whether he would or no; and when he tried\nto tear himself loose, he made it still worse for himself, for he was\nvery nearly falling on his back whenever he struggled to get free.\n\nSo on they went till they came in the neighborhood of the palace. There\nthey met the king's smith; he was on his way to the smithy, and had a\nlarge pair of tongs in his hand. This smith was a merry fellow, and was\nalways full of mad pranks and tricks, and when he saw this procession\ncoming jumping and limping along, he began laughing till he was bent in\ntwo, but suddenly he said:\n\n\"This must be a new flock of geese for the princess: but who can tell\nwhich is goose and which is gander? I suppose it must be the gander\ntoddling on in front. Goosey, goosey!\" he called, and pretended to be\nstrewing corn out of his hands as when feeding geese.\n\nBut they did not stop. The woman and the man only looked in great rage\nat the smith for making game of them. So said the smith: \"It would be\ngreat fun to see if I could stop the whole flock, many as they are!\"--He\nwas a strong man, and seized the old man with his tongs from behind in\nhis trousers, and the man shouted and struggled hard, but Hans said:\n\n\"If you'll come along, then hang on!\"\n\nAnd so the smith had to hang on too. He bent his back and stuck his\nheels in the ground when they went up a hill and tried to get away, but\nit was of no use; he stuck on to the other as if he had been screwed\nfast in the great vise in the smithy, and whether he liked it or not, he\nhad to dance along with the others.\n\nWhen they came near the palace, the farm-dog ran against them and barked\nat them, as if they were a gang of tramps, and when the princess came to\nlook out of her window to see what was the matter, and saw this\nprocession, she burst out laughing. But Hans was not satisfied with\nthat. \"Just wait a bit, and she will laugh still louder very soon,\" he\nsaid, and made a tour round the palace with his followers.\n\nWhen they came past the kitchen, the door was open and the cook was just\nboiling porridge, but when she saw Hans and his train after him, she\nrushed out of the door with the porridge-stick in one hand and a big\nladle full of boiling porridge in the other, and she laughed till her\nsides shook; but when she saw the smith there as well, she thought she\nwould have burst with laughter. When she had had a regular good laugh,\nshe looked at the golden goose again and thought it was so lovely that\nshe must stroke it.\n\n\"Hans, Hans!\" she cried, and ran after him with the ladle in her hand;\n\"just let me stroke that lovely bird of yours.\"\n\n\"Rather let her stroke me!\" said the smith.\n\n\"Very well,\" said Hans.\n\nBut when the cook heard this, she got very angry. \"What is it you say!\"\nshe cried, and gave the smith a smack with the ladle.\n\n\"If you'll come along, then hang on!\" said Hans, and so she stuck fast\nto the others too, and for all her scolding and all her tearing and\npulling, she had to limp along with them.\n\nAnd when they came past the princess's window again, she was still there\nwaiting for them, but when she saw that they had got hold of the cook\ntoo, with the ladle and porridge-stick, she laughed till the king had to\nhold her up. So Hans got the princess and half the kingdom, and they had\na wedding which was heard of far and wide.\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nTHE STORY OF TOM TIT TOT[8]\n\n\nWell, once upon a time there were a woman, and she baked five pies. And\nwhen they come out of the oven, they was that overbaked the crust were\ntoo hard to eat. So she says to her darter:\n\n\"Darter,\" says she, \"put you them there pies on the shelf an' leave 'em\nthere a little, an' they'll come agin--\" She meant, you know, the crust\n'ud get soft.\n\nBut the gal, she says to herself, \"Well, if they'll come agin, I'll ate\n'em now.\" And she set to work and ate 'em all, first and last.\n\nWell, come supper time, the woman she said, \"Goo you and git one o' them\nthere pies; I daresay they've come agin, now.\"\n\nThe gal, she went an' she looked, and there warn't nothin' but the\ndishes. So back she come and says she, \"Noo, they ain't come agin.\"\n\n\"Not none on 'em?\" says the mother.\n\n\"Not none on 'em,\" says she.\n\n\"Well, come agin, or not come agin,\" says the woman, \"I'll ha' one for\nsupper.\"\n\n\"But you can't, if they ain't come,\" says the gal.\n\n\"But I can,\" says she. \"Goo you and bring the best of 'em.\"\n\n\"Best or worst,\" says the gal, \"I've ate 'em all, and you can't ha' one\ntill that's come agin.\"\n\nWell, the woman she were wholly bate, and she took her spinnin' to the\ndoor to spin, and as she span she sang:\n\n    \"My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day--\n     My darter ha' ate five, five pies to-day.\"\n\nThe king, he were a comin' down the street and he hard her sing, but\nwhat she sang he couldn't hare, so he stopped and said:\n\n\"What were that you was a singin of, woman?\"\n\nThe woman, she were ashamed to let him hare what her darter had been\na-doin', so she sang, 'stids o' that:\n\n    \"My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day--\n     My darter ha' spun five, five skeins to-day.\"\n\n\"S'ars o' mine!\" said the king, \"I never heerd tell of any one as could\ndo that.\"\n\nThen he said: \"Look you here, I want a wife, and I'll marry your darter.\nBut look you here,\" says he, \"'leven months out o' the year she shall\nhave all the vittles she likes to eat, and all the gownds she likes to\ngit, and all the cumpny she likes to hev; but the last month o' the year\nshe'll ha' to spin five skeins iv'ry day, an' if she doon't, I shall\nkill her.\"\n\n\"All right,\" says the woman; for she thowt what a grand marriage that\nwas. And as for them five skeins, when te come tew, there'd be plenty o'\nways of gettin' out of it, and likeliest, he'd ha' forgot about it.\n\nWell, so they were married. An' for 'leven months the gal had all the\nvittles she liked to ate, and all the gownds she liked to git, and all\nthe cumpny she liked to have.\n\nBut when the time was gettin' oover, she began to think about them there\nskeins an' to wonder if he had 'em in mind. But not one word did he say\nabout 'em, an' she whoolly thowt he'd forgot 'em.\n\nHowsivir, the last day o' the last month, he takes her to a room she'd\nniver set eyes on afore. There worn't nothin' in it but a spinnin' wheel\nand a stool. An' says he, \"Now, me dear, hare you'll be shut in\nto-morrow with some vittles and some flax, and if you hain't spun five\nskeins by the night, yar hid'll goo off.\"\n\nAn' awa' he went about his business.\n\nWell, she were that frightened. She'd allus been such a gatless gal,\nthat she didn't se much as know how to spin, an' what were she to dew\nto-morrer, with no one to come nigh her to help her? She sat down on a\nstool in the kitchen, and lork! how she did cry!\n\nHowsivir, all on a sudden she hard a sort of a knockin' low down on the\ndoor. She upped and oped it, an' what should she see but a small little\nblack thing with a long tail. That looked up at her right kewrious, an'\nthat said:\n\n\"What are yew a-cryin' for?\"\n\n\"Wha's that to yew?\" says she.\n\n\"Niver yew mind,\" that said, \"but tell me what you're a cryin' for.\"\n\n\"That oon't dew me noo good if I dew,\" says she.\n\n\"Yew doon't know that,\" that said, an' twirled that's tail round.\n\n\"Well,\" says she, \"that oon't dew no harm, if that doon't dew no good,\"\nand she upped and told about the pies an' the skeins an' everything.\n\n\"This is what I'll dew,\" says the little black thing: \"I'll come to yar\nwinder iv'ry mornin' an' take the flax an' bring it spun at night\"\n\n\"What's your pay?\" says she.\n\nThat looked out o' the corners o' that's eyes an' that said: \"I'll give\nyou three guesses every night to guess my name, an' if you hain't\nguessed it afore the month's up, yew shall be mine.\"\n\nWell, she thowt she'd be sure to guess that's name afore the month was\nup. \"All right,\" says she, \"I agree.\"\n\n\"All right,\" that says, an' lork! how that twirled that's tail.\n\nWell, the next day, har husband, he took her inter the room, an' there\nwas the flax an' the day's vittles.\n\n\"Now, there's the flax,\" says he, \"an' if that ain't spun up this night,\noff goo yar hid.\" An' then he went out an' locked the door.\n\nHe'd hardly goon, when there was a knockin' agin the winder.\n\nShe upped and she oped it, and there sure enough was the little oo'd\nthing a settin' on the ledge.\n\n\"Where's the flax?\" says he.\n\n\"Here te be,\" says she. And she gonned it to him.\n\nWell, come the evenin', a knockin' come agin to the winder. She upped\nan' she oped it, and there were the little oo'd thing, with five skeins\nof flax on his arm.\n\n\"Here te be,\" says he, an' he gonned it to her.\n\n\"Now, what's my name?\" says he.\n\n\"What, is that Bill?\" says she.\n\n\"Noo, that ain't,\" says he. An' he twirled his tail.\n\n\"Is that Ned?\" says she.\n\n\"Noo, that ain't,\" says he. An' he twirled his tail.\n\n\"Well, is that Mark?\" says she.\n\n\"Noo, that ain't,\" says he. An' he twirled his tail harder, an' awa' he\nflew.\n\nWell, when har husban' he come in, there was the five skeins riddy for\nhim.\n\n\"I see I shorn't hev for to kill you to-night, me dare,\" says he.\n\"You'll hev yar vittles and yar flax in the mornin',\" says he, an' away\nhe goes.\n\nWell, ivery day the flax an' the vittles, they was browt, an' ivery day\nthat there little black impet used for to come mornin's and evenin's.\nAn' all the day the darter, she set a tryin' fur to think of names to\nsay to it when te come at night. But she niver hot on the right one. An'\nas that got to-warts the ind o' the month, the impet that began for to\nlook soo maliceful, an' that twirled that's tail faster an' faster each\ntime she gave a guess.\n\nAt last te came to the last day but one. The impet that come at night\nalong o' the five skeins, an' that said:\n\n\"What, hain't yew got my name yet?\"\n\n\"Is that Nicodemus?\" says she.\n\n\"Noo, t'ain't,\" that says.\n\n\"Is that Sammle?\" says she.\n\n\"Noo, t'ain't,\" that says.\n\n\"A-well, is that Methusalem?\" says she.\n\n\"Noo, t'ain't that norther,\" he says.\n\nThen that looks at her with that's eyes like a cool o' fire, an that\nsays, \"Woman, there's only to-morrer night, an' then yar'll be mine!\"\nAn' away te flew.\n\nWell, she felt that horrud. Howsomediver, she hard the king a-comin'\nalong the passage. In he came, an' when he see the five skeins, he says,\nsays he:\n\n\"Well, me dare,\" says he, \"I don't see but what yew'll ha' your skeins\nready to-morrer night as well, an' as I reckon I shorn't ha' to kill\nyou, I'll ha' supper in here to-night.\" So they brought supper an'\nanother stool for him, and down the tew they sot.\n\nWell, he hadn't eat but a mouthful or so, when he stops and begins to\nlaugh.\n\n\"What is it?\" says she.\n\n\"A-why,\" says he, \"I was out a-huntin' to-day, an' I got away to a place\nin the wood I'd never seen afore. An' there was an old chalk pit. An' I\nheerd a sort of a hummin', kind o'. So I got off my hobby, an' I went\nright quiet to the pit, an' I looked down. Well, what should there be\nbut the funniest little black thing yew iver set eyes on. An' what was\nthat a dewin' on, but that had a little spinnin' wheel, an' that were\na-spinnin' wonnerful fast, an' a-twirlin' that's tail. An' as that span,\nthat sang:\n\n    \"Nimmy, nimmy not,\n     My name's Tom Tit Tot.\"\n\nWell, when the darter heerd this, she fared as if she could ha' jumped\nouter her skin for joy, but she di'n't say a word.\n\nNext day, that there little thing looked soo maliceful when he come for\nthe flax. An' when night came, she heerd that a-knockin' agin the winder\npanes. She oped the winder, an' that come right in on the ledge. That\nwere grinnin' from are to are, an' Oo! tha's tail were twirlin' round so\nfast.\n\n\"What's my name?\" that says, as that gonned her the skeins.\n\n\"Is that Solomon?\" she says, pretendin' to be a-feard.\n\n\"Noo, tain't,\" that says, an' that come fudder inter the room.\n\n\"Well, is that Zebedee?\" says she agin.\n\n\"Noo, tain't,\" says the impet. An' then that laughed an' twirled that's\ntail till yew cou'n't hardly see it.\n\n\"Take time, woman,\" that says; \"next guess, an' you're mine.\" An' that\nstretched out that's black hands at her.\n\nWell, she backed a step or two, an' she looked at it, and then she\nlaughed out, an' says she, a pointin' of her finger at it:\n\n    \"Nimmy, nimmy not,\n     Yar name's Tom Tit Tot.\"\n\nWell, when that hard her, that shruck awful an' awa' that flew into the\ndark, an' she niver saw it noo more.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 8: An old Suffolk tale, given in the dialect of East Anglia.]\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nTHE PEASANT STORY OF NAPOLEON\n\n\n     [Goguelet, an old soldier who fought under Napoleon, tells the\n     story of his wonderful General and Emperor to a group of eager\n     listeners in the country doctor's barn.]\n\nYou see, my friends, Napoleon was born in Corsica, a French island,\nwarmed by the sun of Italy, where it is like a furnace, and where the\npeople kill each other, from father to son, all about nothing: that's a\nway they have. To begin with the marvel of the thing--his mother, who\nwas the handsomest woman of her time, and a knowing one, bethought\nherself of dedicating him to God, so that he might escape the dangers of\nhis childhood and future life; for she had dreamed that the world was\nset on fire the day he was born. And, indeed, it was a prophecy! So she\nasked God to protect him, on condition that Napoleon should restore His\nholy religion, which was then cast to the ground. Well, that was agreed\nupon, and we shall see what came of it.\n\n\"Follow me closely, and tell me if what you hear is in the nature or\nman.\n\n\"Sure and certain it is that none but a man who conceived the idea of\nmaking a compact with God could have passed unhurt through the enemy's\nlines, through cannon-balls, and discharges of grape-shot that swept the\nrest of us off like flies, and always respected his head. I had proof of\nthat--I myself--at Eylau. I see him now, as he rode up a height, took\nhis field-glass, looked at the battle, and said, 'All goes well.' One of\nthose plumed busybodies, who plagued him considerably and followed him\neverywhere, even to his meals, so they said, thought to play the wag,\nand took the Emperor's place as he rode away. Ho! in a twinkling, head\nand plume were off! You must understand that Napoleon had promised to\nkeep the secret of his compact all to himself. That's why all those who\nfollowed him, even his nearest friends, fell like nuts--Duroc,\nBessieres, Lannes--all strong as steel bars, though _he_ could bend them\nas he pleased. Besides--to prove he was the child of God, and made to be\nthe father of soldiers--was he ever known to be lieutenant or captain?\nNo, no; commander-in-chief from the start. He didn't look to be more\nthan twenty-four years of age when he was an old general at the taking\nof Toulon, where he first began to show the others that they knew\nnothing about manoeuvring cannon.\n\n\"After that, down came our slip of a general to command the grand army\nof Italy, which hadn't bread, nor munitions, nor shoes, nor coats--a\npoor army, as naked as a worm. 'My friends,' said he, 'here we are\ntogether. Get it into your pates that fifteen days from now you will be\nconquerors--new clothes, good gaiters, famous shoes, and every man with\na great-coat; but, my children, to get these things you must march to\nMilan, where they are.' And we marched. France, crushed as flat as a\nbed-bug, straightened up. We were thirty thousand bare-feet against\neighty thousand Austrian bullies, all fine men, well set-up. I see 'em\nnow! But Napoleon--he was then only Bonaparte--he knew how to put the\ncourage into us! We marched by night, and we marched by day; we slapped\ntheir faces at Montenotte, we thrashed them at Rivoli, Lodi, Arcole,\nMillesimo, and we never let 'em up. A soldier gets the taste of\nconquest. So Napoleon whirled round those Austrian generals, who didn't\nknow where to poke themselves to get out of his way, and he pelted 'em\nwell--nipped off ten thousand men at a blow sometimes, by getting round\nthem with fifteen hundred Frenchmen, and then he gleaned as he pleased.\nHe took their cannon, their supplies, their money, their munitions, in\nshort, all they had that was good to take. He fought them and beat them\non the mountains, he drove them into the rivers and seas, he bit 'em in\nthe air, he devoured 'em on the ground, and he lashed 'em everywhere.\nHey! the grand army feathered itself well; for, d'ye see the Emperor,\nwho was a wit, called up the inhabitants and told them he was there to\ndeliver them. So after that the natives lodged and cherished us; the\nwomen too, and very judicious they were. Now here's the end of it. In\nVentose, '96--in those times that was the month of March of to-day--we\nlay cuddled in a corner of Savoie with the marmots; and yet, before that\ncampaign was over, we were masters of Italy, just as Napoleon had\npredicted; and by the following March--in a single year and two\ncampaigns--he had brought us within sight of Vienna. 'Twas a clean\nsweep. We devoured their armies, one after the other, and made an end of\nfour Austrian generals. One old fellow, with white hair, was roasted\nlike a rat in the straw at Mantua. Kings begged for mercy on their\nknees! Peace was won.\n\n\"Could a _man_ have done that? No; God helped him, to a certainty!\n\n\"He divided himself up like the loaves in the Gospel, commanded the\nbattle by day, planned it by night; going and coming, for the sentinels\nsaw him--never eating, never sleeping. So, seeing these prodigies, the\nsoldiers adopted him for their father. Forward, march! Then those\nothers, the rulers in Paris, seeing this, said to themselves: 'Here's a\nbold one that seems to get his orders from the skies; he's likely to put\nhis paw on France. We must let him loose on Asia; we will send him to\nAmerica, perhaps that will satisfy him.' But 't was _written above_ for\nhim, as it was for Jesus Christ. The command went forth that he should\ngo to Egypt. See, again, his resemblance to the Son of God. But that's\nnot all. He called together his best veterans, his fire-eaters, the ones\nhe had particularly put the devil into, and he said to them like this:\n'My friends, they have given us Egypt to chew up, just to keep us busy,\nbut we'll swallow it whole in a couple of campaigns, as we did Italy.\nThe common soldiers shall be princes and have the land for their own.\nForward, march!' 'Forward, march!' cried the sergeants, and there we\nwere at Toulon, road to Egypt. At that time the English had all their\nships in the sea; but when we embarked, Napoleon said: 'They won't see\nus. It is just as well that you should know from this time forth that\nyour general has got his star in the sky, which guides and protects us.'\nWhat was said was done. Passing over the sea, we took Malta like an\norange, just to quench his thirst for victory; for he was a man who\ncouldn't live and do nothing.\n\n\"So here we are in Egypt. Good. Once here, other orders. The Egyptians,\nd'ye see, are men who, ever since the earth was, have had giants for\nsovereigns, and armies as numerous as ants; for, you must understand,\nthat's the land of genii and crocodiles, where they've built pyramids as\nbig as our mountains, and buried their kings under them to keep them\nfresh--an idea that pleased 'em mightily. So then, after we\ndisembarked, the Little Corporal said to us: 'My children, the country\nyou are going to conquer has a lot of gods that you must respect;\nbecause Frenchmen ought to be friends with everybody, and fight the\nnations without vexing the inhabitants. Get it into your skulls that you\nare not to touch anything at first, for it is all going to be yours\nsoon. Forward, march!' So far, so good. But all those people of Africa,\nto whom Napoleon was foretold under the name of Kebir-Bonaberdis--a word\nof their lingo that means 'the sultan fires'--were afraid as the devil\nof him. So the Grand Turk, and Asia, and Africa had recourse to magic.\nThey sent us a demon, named the Mahdi, supposed to have descended from\nheaven on a white horse, which, like its master, was bullet-proof; and\nboth of them lived on air, without food to support them. There are some\nthat say they saw them; but I can't give you any reasons to make you\ncertain about that. The rulers of Arabia and the Mamelukes tried to make\ntheir troopers believe that the Mahdi could keep them from perishing in\nbattle; and they pretended he was an angel sent from heaven to fight\nNapoleon and get back Solomon's seal. Solomon's seal was part of their\nparaphernalia which they vowed our general had stolen. You must\nunderstand that we'd given 'em a good many wry faces, in spite of what\nhe had said to us.\n\n\"Now, tell me how they knew that Napoleon had a pact with God? Was that\nnatural, d'ye think?\n\n\"They held to it in their minds that Napoleon commanded the genii, and\ncould pass hither and thither in the twinkling of an eye, like a bird.\nThe fact is, he was everywhere. At last, it came to his carrying off a\nqueen beautiful as the dawn, for whom he had offered all his treasure,\nand diamonds as big as pigeon's eggs--a bargain which the Mameluke to\nwhom she particularly belonged positively refused, although he had\nseveral others. Such matters when they come to that pass, can't be\nsettled without a great many battles; and, indeed, there was no scarcity\nof battles; there was fighting enough to please everybody. We were in\nline at Alexandria, at Gizeh, and before the Pyramids; we marched in the\nsun and through the sand, where some, who had the dazzles, saw water\nthat they couldn't drink, and shade where their flesh was roasted. But\nwe made short work of the Mamelukes; and everybody else yielded at the\nvoice of Napoleon, who took possession of Upper and Lower Egypt, Arabia,\nand even the capitals of kingdoms that were no more, where there were\nthousands of statues and all the plagues of Egypt, more particularly\nlizards--a mammoth of a country where everybody could take his acres of\nland for as little as he pleased. Well, while Napoleon was busy with his\naffairs inland--where he had it in his head to do fine things--the\nEnglish burned his fleet at Aboukir; for they were always looking about\nthem to annoy us. But Napoleon, who had the respect of the East and of\nthe West, whom the Pope called his son, and the cousin of Mohammed\ncalled 'his dear father,' resolved to punish England, and get hold of\nIndia in exchange for his fleet. He was just about to take us across the\nRed Sea into Asia, a country where there are diamonds and gold to pay\nthe soldiers and palaces for bivouacs, when the Mahdi made a treaty with\nthe plague, and sent it down to hinder our victories. Halt! The army to\na man defiled at that parade; and few they were who came back on their\nfeet. Dying soldiers couldn't take Saint-Jean d'Acre, though they rushed\nat it three times with generous and martial obstinacy. The Plague was\nthe strongest. No saying to that enemy, 'My good friend.' Every soldier\nlay ill. Napoleon alone was fresh as a rose, and the whole army saw him\ndrinking in pestilence without its doing him a bit of harm.\n\n\"Ha! my friends! will you tell me that _that's_ in the nature of a mere\nman?\n\n\"The Mamelukes, knowing we were all in the ambulances, thought they\ncould stop the way; but that sort of joke wouldn't do with Napoleon. So\nhe said to his demons, his veterans, those that had the toughest hide,\n'Go, clear me the way.' Junot, a sabre of the first cut, and his\nparticular friend, took a thousand men, no more, and ripped up the army\nof the pacha who had had the presumption to put himself in the way.\nAfter that, we came back to headquarters at Cairo. Now, here's another\nside of the story. Napoleon absent, France was letting herself be ruined\nby the rulers in Paris, who kept back the pay of the soldiers of the\nother armies, and their clothing, and their rations; left them to die\nof hunger, and expected them to lay down the law to the universe\nwithout taking any trouble to help them. Idiots! who amused themselves\nby chattering, instead of putting their own hands in the dough. Well,\nthat's how it happened that our armies were beaten, and the frontiers of\nFrance were encroached upon: THE MAN was nor there. Now observe, I say\n_man_ because that's what they called him; but 'twas nonsense, for he\nhad a star and all its belongings; it was we who were only men. He\ntaught history to France after his famous battle of Aboukir, where,\nwithout losing more than three hundred men, and with a single division,\nhe vanquished the grand army of the Turk, seventy-five thousand strong,\nand hustled more than half of it into the sea, r-r-rah!\n\n\"That was his last thunder-clap in Egypt. He said to himself, seeing the\nway things were going in Paris, 'I am the saviour of France; I know it,\nand I must go.' But, understand me, the army didn't know he was going,\nor they'd have kept him by force and made him Emperor of the East. So\nnow we were sad; for He was gone who was all our joy. He left the\ncommand to Kleber, a big mastiff, who came off duty at Cairo,\nassassinated by an Egyptian, whom they put to death by empaling him on a\nbayonet; that's the way they guillotine people down there. But it makes\n'em suffer so much that a soldier had pity on the criminal and gave him\nhis canteen; and then, as soon as the Egyptian had drunk his fill, he\ngave up the ghost with all the pleasure in life. But that's a trifle we\ncouldn't laugh at then. Napoleon embarked in a cockleshell, a little\nskiff that was nothing at all, though 'twas called 'Fortune;' and in a\ntwinkling, under the nose of England, who was blockading him with ships\nof the line, frigates, and anything that could hoist a sail, he crossed\nover, and there he was in France. For he always had the power, mind you,\nof crossing the seas at one straddle.\n\n\"Was that a human man? Bah!\n\n\"So, one minute he is at Frejus, the next in Paris. There, they all\nadore him; but he summons the government. 'What have you done with my\nchildren, the soldiers?' he says to the lawyers. 'You're a mob of\nrascally scribblers; you are making France a mess of pottage, and\nsnapping your fingers at what people think of you. It won't do; and I\nspeak the opinion of everybody.' So, on that, they wanted to battle\nwith him and kill him--click! he had 'em locked up in barracks, or\nflying out of windows, or drafted among his followers, where they were\nas mute as fishes and as pliable as a quid of tobacco. After that\nstroke--consul! And then, as it was not for him to doubt the Supreme\nBeing, he fulfilled his promise to the good God, who, you see, had kept\nHis word to him. He gave Him back His churches, and reestablished His\nreligion; the bells rang for God and for him: and lo! everybody was\npleased; _primo_, the priests, whom he saved from being harassed;\n_secundo_, the bourgeois, who thought only of their trade, and no longer\nhad to fear the _rapiamus_ of the law, which had got to be unjust;\n_tertio_, the nobles, for he forbade they should be killed, as,\nunfortunately, the people had got the habit of doing.\n\n\"But he still had the Enemy to wipe out; and he wasn't the man to go to\nsleep at a mess-table, because, d'ye see, his eye looked over the whole\nearth as if it were no bigger than a man's head. So then he appeared in\nItaly, like as though he had stuck his head through the window. One\nglance was enough. The Austrians were swallowed up at Marengo like so\nmany gudgeons by a whale! Ouf! The French eagles sang their paeans so\nloud that all the world heard them--and it sufficed! 'We won't play that\ngame any more,' said the German. 'Enough, enough!' said all the rest. To\nsum up: Europe backed down, England knocked under. General peace; and\nthe kings and the peoples made believe kiss each other. That's the time\nwhen the Emperor invented the Legion of Honour--and a fine thing, too.\n'In France'--this is what he said at Boulogne before the whole\narmy--'every man is brave. So the citizen who does a fine action shall\nbe sister to the soldier, and the soldier shall be his brother, and the\ntwo shall be one under the flag of honour.'\n\n\"We, who were down in Egypt, now came home. All was changed! He left us\ngeneral, and hey! in a twinkling we found him EMPEROR. France gave\nherself to him, like a fine girl to a lancer. When it was done--to the\nsatisfaction of all, as you may say--a sacred ceremony took place, the\nlike of which was never seen under the canopy of the skies. The Pope and\nthe cardinals, in their red and gold vestments, crossed the Alps\nexpressly to crown him before the army and the people, who clapped\ntheir hands. There is one thing that I should do very wrong not to tell\nyou. In Egypt, in the desert close to Syria, the RED MAN came to him on\nthe Mount of Moses, and said, 'All is well.' Then, at Marengo, the night\nbefore the victory, the same Red Man appeared before him for the second\ntime, standing erect and saying: 'Thou shalt see the world at thy feet;\nthou shalt be Emperor of France, King of Italy, master of Holland,\nsovereign of Spain, Portugal, and the Illyrian provinces, protector of\nGermany, saviour of Poland, first eagle of the Legion of Honour--all.'\nThis Red Man, you understand, was his genius, his spirit--a sort of\nsatellite who served him, as some say, to communicate with his star. I\nnever really believed that. But the Red Man himself is a true fact.\nNapoleon spoke of him, and said he came to him in troubled moments, and\nlived in the palace of the Tuileries under the roof. So, on the day of\nthe coronation, Napoleon saw him for the third time; and they were in\nconsultation over many things.\n\n\"After that, Napoleon went to Milan to be crowned king of Italy, and\nthere the grand triumph of the soldier began. Every man who could write\nwas made an officer. Down came pensions; it rained duchies; treasures\npoured in for the staff which didn't cost France a penny; and the Legion\nof Honour provided incomes for the private soldiers--of which I receive\nmine to this day. So here were the armies maintained as never before on\nthis earth. But besides that, the Emperor, knowing that he was to be the\nemperor of the whole world, bethought him of the bourgeois, and to\nplease them he built fairy monuments, after their own ideas, in places\nwhere you'd never think to find any. For instance, suppose you were\ncoming back from Spain and going to Berlin--well, you'd find triumphal\narches along the way, with common soldiers sculptured on the stone,\nevery bit the same as generals. In two or three years, and without\nimposing taxes on any of you, Napoleon filled his vaults with gold,\nbuilt palaces, made bridges, roads, scholars, fetes, laws, vessels,\nharbours, and spent millions upon millions--such enormous sums that he\ncould, so they tell me, have paved France from end to end with\nfive-franc pieces, if he had had a mind to.\n\n\"Now, when he sat at ease on his throne, and was master of all, so that\nEurope waited his permission to do his bidding, he remembered his four\nbrothers and his three sisters, and he said to us, as it might be in\nconversation, in an order of the day, 'My children, is it right that the\nblood relations of your Emperor should be begging their bread? No. I\nwish to see them in splendour like myself. It becomes, therefore,\nabsolutely necessary to conquer a kingdom for each of them--to the end\nthat Frenchmen may be masters over all lands, that the soldiers of the\nGuard shall make the whole earth tremble, that France may spit where she\nlikes, and that all the nations shall say to her, as it is written on my\ncopper coins, '_God protects you!_' 'Agreed!' cried the army. 'We'll go\nfish for thy kingdoms with our bayonets.' Ha! there was no backing down,\ndon't you see! If he had taken it into his head to conquer the moon, we\nshould have made ready, packed knapsacks, and clambered up; happily, he\ndidn't think of it. The kings of the countries, who liked their\ncomfortable thrones, were, naturally, loath to budge, and had to have\ntheir ears pulled; so then--Forward, march! We did march; we got there;\nand the earth once more trembled to its centre. Hey! the men and the\nshoes he used up in those days! The enemy dealt us such blows that none\nbut the grand army could have borne the fatigue of it. But you are not\nignorant that a Frenchman is born a philosopher, and knows that a little\nsooner, or a little later, he has got to die. So we were ready to die\nwithout a word, for we liked to see the Emperor doing _that_ on the\ngeographies.\"\n\nHere the narrator nimbly described a circle with his foot on the floor\nof the barn.\n\n\"And Napoleon said, 'There, that's to be a kingdom.' And a kingdom it\nwas. Ha! the good times! The colonels were generals; the generals,\nmarshals; and the marshals, kings. There's one of 'em still on his\nthrone, to prove it to Europe; but he's a Gascon and a traitor to France\nfor keeping that crown; and he doesn't blush for shame as he ought to\ndo, because crowns, don't you see, are made of gold. I who am speaking\nto you, I have seen, in Paris, eleven kings and a mob of princes\nsurrounding Napoleon like the rays of the sun. You understand, of\ncourse, that every soldier had the chance to mount a throne, provided\nalways he had the merit; so a corporal of the Guard was a sight to be\nlooked at as he walked along, for each man had his share in the victory,\nand 'twas plainly set forth in the bulletin. What victories they were!\nAusterlitz, where the army manoeuvred as if on parade; Eylau, where we\ndrowned the Russians in a lake, as though Napoleon had blown them into\nit with the breath of his mouth; Wagram, where the army fought for three\ndays without grumbling. We won as many battles as there are saints in\nthe calendar. It was proved then, beyond a doubt, that Napoleon had the\nsword of God in his scabbard. The soldiers were his friends; he made\nthem his children; he looked after us, he saw that we had shoes, and\nshirts, and great-coats, and bread, and cartridges; but he always kept\nup his majesty; for, don't you see, 'twas his business to reign. No\nmatter for that, however; a sergeant, and even a common soldier, could\nsay to him, 'my Emperor,' just as you say to me sometimes, 'my good\nfriend.' He gave us an answer if we appealed to him; he slept in the\nsnow like the rest of us; and, indeed, he had almost the air of a human\nman. I who speak to you, I have seen him with his feet among the\ngrape-shot, and no more uneasy than you are now--standing steady,\nlooking through his field-glass, and minding his business. 'Twas that\nkept the rest of us quiet. I don't know how he did it, but when he spoke\nhe made our hearts burn within us; and to show him we were his children,\nincapable of balking, didn't we rush at the mouths of the rascally\ncannon, that belched and vomited shot and shell, without so much as\nsaying, 'Look out!' Why! the dying must needs raise their heads to\nsalute him and cry, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!'\n\n\"I ask you, was that natural? would they have done that for a human man?\n\n\"Well, after he had settled the world, the Empress Josephine, his wife,\na good woman all the same, managed matters so that she did not bear him\nany children, and he was obliged to give her up, though he loved her\nconsiderably. But, you see, he had to have little ones for reasons of\nstate. Hearing of this, all the sovereigns of Europe quarrelled as to\nwhich of them should give him a wife. And he married, so they told us,\nan Austrian archduchess, daughter of Caesar, an ancient man about whom\npeople talk a good deal, and not in France only--where any one will\ntell you what he did--but in Europe. It is all true, for I myself who\naddress you at this moment, I have been on the Danube, and have seen the\nremains of a bridge built by that man, who, it seems, was a relation of\nNapoleon in Rome, and that's how the Emperor got the inheritance of that\ncity for his son. So after the marriage, which was a fete for the whole\nworld, and in honour of which he released the people of ten years'\ntaxes--which they had to pay all the same, however, because the\nassessors didn't take account of what he said--his wife had a little\none, who was King of Rome. Now, there's a thing that had never been seen\non this earth; never before was a child born a king with his father\nliving. On that day a balloon went up in Paris to tell the news to Rome,\nand that balloon made the journey in one day.\n\n\"Now, is there any man among you who will stand up here and declare to\nme that all that was human? No; it was _written above_; and may the\nscurvy seize 'em who deny that he was sent by God himself for the\ntriumph of France!\n\n\"Well, here's the Emperor of Russia, that used to be his friend, he\ngets angry because Napoleon didn't marry a Russian; so he joins with the\nEnglish, our enemies--to whom our Emperor always wanted to say a couple\nof words in their burrows, only he was prevented. Napoleon gets angry\ntoo; an end had to be put to such doings; so he says to us: 'Soldiers!\nyou have been masters of every capital in Europe, except Moscow, which\nis now the ally of England. To conquer England, and India which belongs\nto the English, it becomes our peremptory duty to go to Moscow,' Then he\nassembled the greatest army that ever trailed its gaiters over the\nglobe; and so marvellously in hand it was that he reviewed a million of\nmen in one day. 'Hourra!'[9] cried the Russians. Down came all Russia\nand those animals of Cossacks in a flock. 'Twas nation against nation, a\ngeneral hurly-burly, and beware who could; 'Asia against Europe,' as the\nRed Man had foretold to Napoleon. 'Enough,' cried the Emperor, 'I'll be\nready.'\n\n\"So now, sure enough, came all the kings, as the Red Man had said, to\nlick Napoleon's hand! Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Poland, Italy,\nevery one of them were with us, flattering us; ah, it was fine! The\neagles never cawed so loud as at those parades, perched high above the\nbanners of all Europe. The Poles were bursting with joy, because\nNapoleon was going to release them; and that's why France and Poland are\nbrothers to this day. 'Russia is ours,' cried the army. We plunged into\nit well-supplied; we marched and we marched--no Russians. At last we\nfound the brutes entrenched on the banks of the Moskva. That's where I\nwon my cross, and I've got the right to say it was a damnable battle.\nThis was how it came about. The Emperor was anxious. He had seen the Red\nMan, who said to him 'My son, you are going too fast for your feet; you\nwill lack men; friends will betray you.' So the Emperor offered peace.\nBut before signing, 'Let us drub those Russians!' he said to us. 'Done!'\ncried the army. 'Forward, march!' said the sergeants. My clothes were in\nrags, my shoes worn out, from trudging along those roads, which are very\nuncomfortable ones; but no matter! I said to myself, 'As it's the last\nof our earthquakings, I'll go into it, tooth and nail!' We were drawn up\nin line before the great ravine--front seats, as 'twere. Signal given;\nand seven hundred pieces of artillery began a conversation that would\nbring the blood from your ears. Then--must do justice to one's\nenemies--the Russians let themselves be killed like Frenchmen; they\nwouldn't give way; we couldn't advance. 'Forward!' some one cried, 'here\ncomes the Emperor!' True enough; he passed at a gallop, waving his hand\nto let us know we must take the redoubt. He inspired us; on we ran; I\nwas the first in the ravine. Ha! my God! how the lieutenants fell, and\nthe colonels, and the soldiers! No matter! all the more shoes for those\nthat had none, and epaulets for the clever ones who knew how to read.\n'Victory!' cried the whole line; 'Victory!'--and, would you believe it?\na thing never seen before, there lay twenty-five thousand Frenchmen on\nthe ground. 'Twas like mowing down a wheat-field; only in place of the\nears of wheat put the heads of men! We were sobered by this time--those\nwho were left alive. The MAN rode up; we made the circle round him. Ha!\nhe knew how to cajole his children; he could be amiable when he liked,\nand feed 'em with words when their stomachs were ravenous with the\nhunger of wolves. Flatterer! he distributed the crosses himself, he\nuncovered to the dead, and then he cried to us, 'On! to Moscow!' 'To\nMoscow!' answered the army.\n\n\"We took Moscow. Would you believe it? the Russians burned their own\ncity! 'Twas a haystack six miles square, and it blazed for two days. The\nbuildings crashed like slates, and showers of melted iron and lead\nrained down upon us, which was naturally horrible. I may say to you\nplainly, it was like a flash of lightning on our disasters. The Emperor\nsaid, 'We have done enough; my soldiers shall rest here.' So we rested\nawhile, just to get the breath into our bodies and the flesh on our\nbones, for we were really tired. We took possession of the golden cross\nthat was on the Kremlin; and every soldier brought away with him a small\nfortune. But out there the winter sets in a month earlier--a thing those\nfools of science didn't properly explain. So, coming back, the cold\nnipped us. No longer an army--do you hear me?--no longer any generals,\nno longer any sergeants even. 'Twas the reign of wretchedness and\nhunger--a reign of equality at last. No one thought of anything but to\nsee France once more; no one stooped to pick up his gun or his money if\nhe dropped them; each man followed his nose, and went as he pleased\nwithout caring for glory. The weather was so bad the Emperor couldn't\nsee his star; there was something between him and the skies. Poor man!\nit made him ill to see his eagles flying away from victory. Ah! 'twas a\nmortal blow, you may believe me.\n\n\"Well, we got to the Beresina, My friends, I can affirm to you by all\nthat is most sacred, by my honour, that since mankind came into the\nworld, never, never was there seen such a fricassee of any army--guns,\ncarriages, artillery-waggons--in the midst of such snows, under such\nrelentless skies! The muzzles of the muskets burned our hands if we\ntouched them, the iron was so cold. It was there that the army was saved\nby the pontoniers, who were firm at their post; and there that\nGondrin--sole survivor of the men who were bold enough to go into the\nwater and build the bridges by which the army crossed--that Gondrin,\nhere present, admirably conducted himself, and saved us from the\nRussians, who, I must tell you, still respected the grand army,\nremembering its victories. And,\" he added, pointing to Gondrin, who was\ngazing at him with the peculiar attention of a deaf man, \"Gondrin is a\nfinished soldier, a soldier who is honour itself, and he merits your\nhighest esteem.\n\n\"I saw the Emperor,\" he resumed, \"standing by the bridge, motionless,\nnot feeling the cold--was that human? He looked at the destruction of\nhis treasure, his friends, his old Egyptians. Bah! all that passed him,\nwomen, army-waggons, artillery, all were shattered, destroyed, ruined.\nThe bravest carried the eagles; for the eagles, d'ye see, were France,\nthe nation, all of you! they were the civil and the military honour that\nmust be kept pure; could their heads be lowered because of the cold? It\nwas only near the Emperor that we warmed ourselves, because when he was\nin danger we ran, frozen as we were--we, who wouldn't have stretched a\nhand to save a friend. They told us he wept at night over his poor\nfamily of soldiers. Ah! none but he and Frenchmen could have got\nthemselves out of that business. We did get out, but with losses, great\nlosses, as I tell you. The Allies captured our provisions. Men began to\nbetray him, as the Red Man predicted. Those chatterers in Paris, who had\nheld their tongues after the Imperial Guard was formed, now thought he\nwas dead; so they hoodwinked the prefect of police, and hatched a\nconspiracy to overthrow the empire. He heard of it; it worried him. He\nleft us, saying: 'Adieu, my children; guard the outposts; I shall return\nto you,' Bah! without him nothing went right; the generals lost their\nheads, the marshals talked nonsense and committed follies; but that was\nnot surprising, for Napoleon, who was kind, had fed 'em on gold; they\nhad got as fat as lard, and wouldn't stir; some stayed in camp when they\nought to have been warming the backs of the enemy who was between us and\nFrance.\n\n\"But the Emperor came back, and he brought recruits, famous recruits; he\nchanged their backbone and made 'em dogs of war, fit to set their teeth\ninto anything; and he brought a guard of honour, a fine body\nindeed!--all bourgeois, who melted away like butter on a gridiron.\n\n\"Well, spite of our stern bearing, here's everything going against us;\nand yet the army did prodigies of valour. Then came battles on the\nmountains, nations against nations--Dresden, Luetzen, Bautzen. Remember\nthese days, all of you, for 'twas then that Frenchmen were so\nparticularly heroic that a good grenadier only lasted six months. We\ntriumphed always; yet there were those English, in our rear, rousing\nrevolts against us with their lies! No matter, we cut our way home\nthrough the whole pack of the nations. Wherever the Emperor showed\nhimself we followed him; for if, by sea or land, he gave us the word\n'Go!' we went. At last, we were in France; and many a poor foot-soldier\nfelt the air of his own country restore his soul to satisfaction, spite\nof the wintry weather. I can say for myself that it refreshed my life.\nWell, next, our business was to defend France, our country, our\nbeautiful France, against, all Europe, which resented our having laid\ndown the law to the Russians, and pushed them back into their dens so\nthat they couldn't eat us up alive, as northern nations, who are dainty\nand like southern flesh, have a habit of doing--at least, so I've heard\nsome generals say. Then the Emperor saw his own father-in-law, his\nfriends whom he had made kings, and the scoundrels to whom he had given\nback their thrones, all against him. Even Frenchmen, and allies in our\nown ranks, turned against us under secret orders, as at the battle of\nLeipsic. Would common soldiers have been capable of such wickedness?\nThree times a day men were false to their word--and they called\nthemselves princes!\n\n\"So, then, France was invaded. Wherever the Emperor showed his lion\nface, the enemy retreated; and he did more prodigies in defending France\nthan ever he had done in conquering Italy, the East, Spain, Europe, and\nRussia. He meant to bury every invader under the sod, and teach 'em to\nrespect the soil of France. So he let them get to Paris, that he might\nswallow them at a mouthful, and rise to the height of his genius in a\nbattle greater than all the rest--a mother-battle, as 'twere. But there,\nthere! the Parisians were afraid for their twopenny skins, and their\ntrumpery shops; they opened the gates. Then the Ragusades began, and\nhappiness ended. The Empress was fooled, and the white banner flaunted\nfrom the windows. The generals whom he had made his nearest friends\nabandoned him for the Bourbons--a set of people no one had heard tell\nof. The Emperor bade us farewell at Fontainebleau: 'Soldiers!'--I can\nhear him now; we wept like children; the flags and the eagles were\nlowered as if for a funeral: it was, I may well say it to you, it was\nthe funeral of the Empire; her dapper armies were nothing now but\nskeletons. So he said to us, standing there on the portico of his\npalace: 'My soldiers! we are vanquished by treachery; but we shall meet\nin heaven, the country of the brave. Defend my child, whom I commit to\nyou. Long live Napoleon II!' He meant to die, that no man should look\nupon Napoleon vanquished; he took poison, enough to have killed a\nregiment, because, like Jesus Christ before his Passion, he thought\nhimself abandoned of God and his talisman. But the poison did not hurt\nhim.\n\n\"See again! he found he was immortal.\n\n\"Sure of himself, knowing he must ever be THE EMPEROR, he went for a\nwhile to an island to study out the nature of these others, who, you may\nbe sure, committed follies without end. Whilst he bided his time down\nthere, the Chinese, and the wild men on the coast of Africa, and the\nBarbary States, and others who are not at all accommodating, know so\nwell he was more than man that they respected his tent, saying to touch\nit would be to offend God. Thus, d'ye see, when these others turned him\nfrom the doors of his own France, he still reigned over the whole world.\nBefore long he embarked in the same little cockleshell of a boat he had\nhad in Egypt, sailed round the beard of the English, set foot in France,\nand France acclaimed him. The sacred cuckoo flew from spire to spire;\nall France cried out with one voice, 'LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR!' In this\nregion, here, the enthusiasm for that wonder of the ages was, I may say,\nsolid. Dauphine behaved well; and I am particularly pleased to know that\nher people wept when they saw, once more, the gray top-coat. March first\nit was, when Napoleon landed with two hundred men to conquer that\nkingdom of France and of Navarre, which, on the twentieth of the same\nmonth was again the French Empire. On that day our MAN was in Paris; he\nhad made a clean sweep, recovered his dear France, and gathered his\nveterans together by saying no more than three words, 'I am here.'\n\n\"'Twas the greatest miracle God had yet done! Before _him_, did ever man\nrecover an empire by showing his hat? And these others, who thought\nthey had subdued France! Not they! At sight of the eagles, a national\narmy sprang up, and we marched to Waterloo. There, the Guard died at one\nblow. Napoleon, in despair, threw himself three times before the cannon\nof the enemy without obtaining death. We saw that. The battle was lost.\nThat night the Emperor called his old soldiers to him; on the field\nsoaked with our blood he burned his banners and his eagles--his poor\neagles, ever victorious, who cried 'Forward' in the battles, and had\nflown the length and breadth of Europe, _they_ were saved the infamy of\nbelonging to the enemy: all the treasures of England couldn't get her a\ntail-feather of them. No more eagles--the rest is well known. The Red\nMan went over to the Bourbons, like the scoundrel that he is. France is\ncrushed; the soldier is nothing; they deprive him of his dues; they\ndischarge him to make room for broken-down nobles--ah, 'tis pitiable!\nThey seized Napoleon by treachery; the English nailed him on a desert\nisland in mid-ocean on a rock raised ten thousand feet above the earth;\nand there he is, and will be, till the Red Man gives him back his power\nfor the happiness of France. These others say he's dead. Ha, dead! 'Tis\neasy to see they don't know Him. They tell that fib to catch the people,\nand feel safe in their hovel of a government. Listen! the truth at the\nbottom of it all is that his friends have left him alone on the desert\nisle to fulfil a prophecy, for I forgot to say that his name, Napoleon,\nmeans 'lion of the desert.' Now this that I tell you is true as the\nGospel. All other tales that you hear about the Emperor are follies\nwithout common-sense; because, d'ye see, God never gave to child of\nwoman born the right to stamp his name in red as _he_ did, on the earth,\nwhich forever shall remember him! Long live Napoleon, the father of his\npeople and of the soldier!\"\n\n\nTHE END\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 9: Battle-cry of the Cossacks.]","title":"Folk Tales Every Child Should Know","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":45164}