{"collection":"folklore-oral-tradition","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_18872/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_18872","id":"gutenberg_18872","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18872","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Brad Norton, Suzanne Shell and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: MERCURY GOD OF MERCHANDISE LOOK ON WITH FAVOURABLE\nEYES]\n\n[Illustration:\n\nTHE FIELD OF CLOVER\n\nBy Laurence Housman\n\nDOVER PUBLICATIONS, INC., NEW YORK\n\nENGRAVED BY CLEMENCE HOUSMAN\n\nBE KINDLY TO THE WEARY DROVER & PIPE THE SHEEP INTO THE CLOVER]\n\n\nThis Dover edition, first published in 1968, is an unabridged and\nunaltered republication of the work originally published by Kegan\nPaul, Trench, Truebner & Co. in 1898.\n\n_Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 68-30802_\n\nManufactured in the United States of America\nDover Publications, Inc.\n180 Varick Street\nNew York, N. Y. 10014\n\n\n\n\nContents\n\n\n  THE BOUND PRINCESS (_in six parts_) PAGE\n      I THE FIRE-EATERS                  3\n     II THE GALLOPING PLOUGH            13\n    III THE THIRSTY WELL                23\n     IV THE PRINCESS MELILOT            33\n      V THE BURNING ROSE                45\n     VI THE CAMPHOR WORM                57\n  THE CROWN'S WARRANTY                  69\n  THE WISHING-POT                       81\n  THE FEEDING OF THE EMIGRANTS         111\n  THE PASSIONATE PUPPETS               119\n\n\n\n\nTO MY DEAR WOOD-ENGRAVER\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOUND PRINCESS\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE BOUND PRINCESS\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE FIRE-EATERS\n\n\nA long time ago there lived a man who had the biggest head in the\nworld. Into it he had crammed all the knowledge that might be gathered\nfrom the four corners of the earth. Every one said he was the wisest\nman living. \"If I could only find a wife,\" said the sage, \"as wise for\na woman as I am for a man, what a race of head-pieces we could bring\ninto the world!\"\n\nHe waited many years before any such mate could be found for him:\nyet, at last, found she was--one into whose head was bestowed all the\nwisdom that might be gathered from the four quarters of heaven.\n\nThey were both old, but kings came from all sides to their wedding,\nand offered themselves as god-parents to the first-born of the new\nrace that was to be. But, to the grief of his parents, the child, when\nhe arrived, proved to be a simpleton; and no second child ever came to\nrepair the mistake of the first.\n\nThat he was a simpleton was evident; his head was small and his\nlimbs were large, and he could run long before he could talk or do\narithmetic. In the bitterness of their hearts his father and mother\nnamed him Noodle, without the aid of any royal god-parents; and from\nthat moment, for any care they took in his bringing-up, they washed\ntheir wise hands of him.\n\nNoodle grew and prospered, and enjoyed life in his own foolish way.\nWhen his father and mother died within a short time of each other,\nthey left him alone without any friend in the world.\n\nFor a good while Noodle lived on just what he could find in the house,\nin a hand-to-mouth sort of way, till at last only the furniture and\nthe four bare walls were left to him.\n\nOne cold winter's night he sat brooding over the fire, wondering where\nhe should get food for the morrow, when he heard feet coming up to the\ndoor, and a knock striking low down upon the panel. Outside there was\na faint chirping and crackling sound, and a whispering as of fire\nlicking against the woodwork without.\n\nHe opened the door and peered forth into the night. There, just before\nhim, stood seven little men huddled up together; three feet high they\nwere, with bright yellow faces all shrivelled and sharp, and eyes\nwhose light leaped and sank like candle flame before a gust.\n\nWhen they saw him, they shut their eyes and opened famished mouths at\nhim, pointing inwards with flickering finger-tips, and shivering from\nhead to foot with cold, although it seemed to the youth as if the\nwarmth of a slow fire came from them. 'Alas!' said Noodle, in reply to\nthese signs of hunger, 'I have not left even a crust of bread in the\nhouse to give you! But at least come in and make yourselves warm!' He\ntouched the foremost, making signs for them all to enter. 'Ah,' he\ncried, 'what is this, and what are you, that the mere touch of you\nburns my finger?'\n\nWithout answer they huddled tremblingly across the threshold; but\nso soon as they saw the fire burning on the hearth, they yelped all\ntogether like a pack of hounds, and, throwing themselves face forwards\ninto the hot embers, began ravenously to lap up the flames. They\nlapped and lapped, and the more they lapped the more the fire sank\naway and died. Then with their flickering finger-tips they stirred\nthe hot logs and coals, burrowing after the thin tapes and swirls of\nvanishing flame, and fetching them out like small blue eels still\nwriggling for escape.\n\nAfter each blue wisp had been gulped down, they sipped and sucked at\ntheir fingers for any least tricklet of flavour that might be left;\nand at the last seemed more famished than when they began.\n\n'More, more, O wise Noodle, give us more!' they cried; and Noodle\nthrew the last of his fuel on the embers.\n\nThey breathed round it, fanning it into a great blaze that leaped and\ndanced up to the rafters; then they fell on, till not a fleck or a\nflake of it was left. Noodle, seeing them still famished, broke up\na stool and threw that on the hearth. And again they flared it with\ntheir breath and gobbled off the flame. When the stool was finished he\nthrew in the table, then the dresser, and after that the oak-chest and\nthe window-seat.\n\nStill they feasted and were not fed. Noodle fetched an axe, and broke\ndown the door; then he wrenched up the boards from the floor, and\npulled the beams and rafters out of the ceiling; yet, even so, his\nguests were not to be satisfied.\n\n'I have nothing left,' he said, 'but the house itself; but since you\nare still hungry you shall be welcome to it!'\n\nHe scattered the fire that remained upon the hearth, and threw it out\nand about the room; and as he ran forth to escape, up against all\nthe walls and right through the roof rose a great crackling sheaf of\nflame. In the midst of the fire, Noodle could see his seven guests\nlying along on their bellies, slopping their hands in the heat, and\nlapping up the flames with their tongues. 'Surely,' he thought, 'I\nhave given them enough to eat at last!'\n\nAfter a while all the fire was eaten away, and only the black and\nsmouldering ruins were left. Day came coldly to light, and there sat\nNoodle, without a home in the world, watching with considerate eye his\nseven guests finishing their inordinate repast.\n\nThey all rose to their feet together, and came towards him bowing; as\nthey approached he felt the heat of their bodies as it had been seven\nfurnaces.\n\n'Enough, O wise Noodle!' said they, 'we have had enough!' 'That,'\nanswered Noodle, 'is the least thing left me to wonder at. Go your\nways in peace; but first tell me, who are you?' They replied, 'We are\nthe Fire-eaters: far from our own land, and strangers, you have done\nus this service; what, now, can we do to serve you?' 'Put me in the\nway of a living,' said Noodle, 'and you will do me the greatest\nservice of all.'\n\nThen the one of them who seemed to be chief took from his finger a\nring having for its centre a great firestone, and threw it into the\nsnow, saying, 'Wait for three hours till the ring shall have had time\nto cool, then take it, and wear it; and whatever fortune you deserve\nit shall bring you. For this ring is the sweetener of everything that\nit touches: bread it turns into rich meats, water into strong wine,\ngrief into virtue, and labour into strength. Also, if you ever need\nour help, you have but to brandish the ring, and the gleam of it will\nreach us, and we will be with you wherever you may be.'\n\nWith that they bowed their top-knots to the ground and departed,\ninverting themselves swiftly till only the shining print of seven\npairs of feet remained, red-hot, over the place where they had been\nstanding.\n\nNoodle waited for three hours; then he took up the firestone ring, and\nputting it on his finger set out into the world.\n\nAt the first door he came to, he begged a crust of bread, and touching\nit with the ring found it tasted like rich meats, well cooked and\ndelicately flavoured. Also, the water which he drew in the hollow of\nhis hand from a brook by the roadside tasted to him like strong wine.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nII\n\nTHE GALLOPING PLOUGH\n\n\nNoodle went on many miles till he came near to a rich man's farm.\nThough it was the middle of winter, all the fields showed crops of\ncorn in progress; here it was in thin blade, and here green, but in\nfull ear; and here it was ripe and ready for harvest. 'How is this,'\nhe said to the first man he met, 'that you have corn here in the\nmiddle of winter?' 'Ah!' said the man, 'you have not heard of the\nGalloping Plough; you too have to fall under bondage to my master.'\n'What is your master?' inquired Noodle, 'and in what bondage does he\nbind man?'\n\n'My master, and your master that shall soon be,' answered the old man,\n'is the owner of all this land and the farmer of it. He is rich and\nsleek and fat like his own furrows, for he has the Galloping Plough as\nhis possession. Ah, that! 't is a very miracle, a wonder, a thing to\ncatch at the heartstrings of all beholders; it shines like a moonbeam,\nand is better than an Arab mare for swiftness; it warms the very\nground that it enters, so that seeds take root and spring, though it\nbe the middle of winter. No man sees it but what he loses his heart to\nit, and sells his freedom for the possession of it. All here are men\nlike myself who have become slaves because of that desire. You also,\nwhen you see it, will become slave to it.'\n\nNoodle went on through the summer and the spring corn, till he came\nto bare fields. Ahead of him on a hill-top he saw the farmer himself,\nsleek and rosy, and of full paunch, lolling like a lord at his ease;\nyet with a working eye in the midst of his leisure.\n\nTo and fro, up to him and back, shot a silver gleam over the purple\nbrown of the fields; and Noodle's heart gave a thump at the sight, for\nthe spell of the Galloping Plough was on him.\n\nNow and then he heard a clear sound that startled him with its note.\nIt was like the sweet whistling cry of a bird many times multiplied.\nEver when the silver gleam of the Plough had run its farthest from the\nfarmer, the cry sounded; and at the sound the gleam wavered and stayed\nand flew back dartingly to the farmer's side. So Noodle understood how\nthis was the farmer's signal for the Plough to return; and the Plough\nknew it as a horse its master's voice, and came so fast that the wind\nwhistled against its silver side.\n\nAs he watched, Noodle's heart went down into the valley and up the\nhillside, following in the track of the Galloping Plough. 'I can never\nbe happy again,' thought he; 'either I must possess it, or must die.'\n\nHe came to the farmer where he sat calling his Plough to him and\nletting it go; and the farmer smiled, the wide indulgent smile of a\nman who knows that a bargain is about to fall his way.\n\n'What is the price,' asked Noodle, 'of yonder Galloping Plough, that\nruns like an Arab mare, and returns to you at your call?'\n\nSaid the farmer, 'A year's service; and if the Plough will follow you,\nit is yours; if not, then you must be my bondman until you die!'\n\nNoodle looked once the way of the Galloping Plough, and his heart\nflapped at his side like a sail which the wind drops and lets go; and\nhe had no thought or will left in him but to be where the Galloping\nPlough was. So he closed hands on the bargain, to be the farmer's\nservant either for a year, or for his whole life.\n\nFor a year he worked upon the farm, and all the while plotted how he\nmight win the Galloping Plough to himself. The farmer kept no watch\nupon it, nor put it under lock and key, for the Plough recognised no\nvoice but his own, nor went nor came save at his bidding. In the night\nNoodle would go down to the shed or field where it lay, and whistle to\nit, trying to put forth notes of the same magical power as those which\ncame through the farmer's lips.\n\nBut no sound that came from his lips ever stroked life into its silver\nsides. The year was nearly run out, and Noodle was in despair.\n\nThen he remembered the firestone ring, the Sweetener. 'May be,' said\nhe, 'since it changes to sweetness whatever I eat and drink, it will\nsweeten my voice also, so that the Plough will obey.' So he put the\nring between his lips and whistled; and at the sound his heart turned\na somersault for joy, for he felt that out of his mouth the farmer's\nmagic had been over-topped and conquered.\n\nThe Galloping Plough stirred faintly from the furrow where it lay,\nbreaking the ground and marring its smooth course. Then it shook its\nhead slowly, and returned impassively to rest.\n\nIn the morning the farmer came and saw the broken earth close under\nthe Plough's nose. Noodle, hiding among the corn hard by, heard him\nsay, 'What hast thou heard in the night, O my moonbeam, my miracle,\nthat thy lily-foot has trodden up the ground? Hast thou forgotten\nwhose hand feeds thee, whose corn it is thou lovest, whose heart's\ncare also cherishes thee?'\n\nThe farmer went away, and presently came back bearing a bowl of corn;\nand Noodle saw the Plough lift its head to its master's palm, and feed\nlike a horse on the grain.\n\nThen Noodle, gay of heart, waited till it was night, and surely his\ntime was short, for on the morrow his wages were to be paid, and the\nPlough was to be his, or else he was to be the farmer's bondservant\nfor the rest of his life. He took with him three handfuls of corn, and\nwent down to where the Plough stood waiting by the furrow. Shaping his\nlips to the ring, he whistled gently like a lover, and immediately the\nPlough stirred, and lifted up its head as if to look at him.\n\n'O my moonbeam, my miracle,' whispered Noodle, 'wilt thou not come to\nthe one that feeds thee?' and he held out a handful of corn. But the\nPlough gave no regard to him or his grain: slowly it moved away from\nhim back into the furrow.\n\nThen Noodle laughed softly and dropped his ring, the Sweetener, into\nthe hand that held the grain; and barely had he offered the corn\nbefore he felt the silver Plough nozzling at his palm, and eating as a\nhorse eats from the hand of its master.\n\nThen he whistled again, placing the Sweetener back between his lips;\nand the Galloping Plough sprang after him, and followed at his heels\nlike a dog.\n\nSo, finding himself its master, he bid it stay for the night; and in\nthe morning he said to the farmer, 'Give me my wages, and let me go!'\nAnd the farmer laughed, saying, 'Take your wages, and go!'\n\nThen Noodle took off his ring, the Sweetener, and laid it between his\nlips and blew through it; and up like a moonbeam, and like an Arab\nmare, sprang the Galloping Plough at his call. So he leaped upon its\nback, crying, 'Carry me away out of this land, O thou moonbeam, and\nmiracle of beauty, and never slacken nor stay except I bid thee!'\n\nVainly the farmer, borne down on a torrent of rage and amazement,\nwhistled his best, and threw corn and rice from the rear; for the\nwhistling of Noodle was sweeter to the ear, and his corn sweeter to\nthe taste, and he nearer to the heart of the Galloping Plough than was\nthe old master whom it left behind.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIII\n\nTHE THIRSTY WELL\n\n\nSo they escaped, slitting the swift hours with ungovernable speed. The\nfurrow they two made in the world that day, as they went shooting over\nthe round of it, was called in after times the Equator, and men still\nknow it by the heat of it, though it has since been covered over by\nthe dust of ages.\n\nTo Noodle, as he went careering round it, the whole world's circuit\nran in a line across his brain, entering his vision and passing\nthrough it as a thread through the needle's eye. Nor would he of his\nown will ever have stopped his galloping, but that at the completion\nof the first round a mighty thirst took hold of him. 'O my moonbeam,'\nhe said, choking behind parched lips, and sick at heart, 'check me,\nor I faint!' And the Galloping Plough stopped at once, and set him to\nearth in a green space under the shadow of overhanging boughs.\n\nHe found himself in a richly grown garden, a cool paradise for a\ntraveller to rest in. Close at hand and inviting to the eye was a well\nwith a bucket slung ready to be let down. Noodle had little thought of\nseeking for the owner of the garden to beg for a drink, since water is\nan equal gift to all and the right of any man; but as he drew near he\nfound the means to it withheld from him, the lid being fast locked. He\nwent on in search of the owner, till at length he came upon the same\nlying half asleep under a thorn-bush with the key in her hand. She was\nan old woman, so withered and dry, she looked as if no water could\nhave ever passed her lips.\n\nWhen Noodle asked for a drink from the well, she looked at him bright\nand sharp, and said: 'Before any man drinks of my water he must make a\nbargain with me.' 'What is the bargain?' asked Noodle; and she led him\ndown to the well.\n\nThen she unlocked the lid and bade him look in; and at the sight\nNoodle knew for a second time that his heart had been stolen from him,\nand that to be happy he must taste that water or die.\n\nAgain he asked, with his eyes intent upon the blue wrimpling of the\nwater in the well's depth, 'What is the bargain?' And the old woman\nanswered, 'If you fail to draw water out of the well you must fling\nyourself into it.' For answer Noodle swung down the bucket, lowering\nit as fast as it would go; then he set both hands to the windlass and\nwound.\n\nHe heard the water splashing off the sides of the bucket all the way\nup, as the shortening rope brought it near; but when he drew it over\nthe well's brink wonder and grief held him fast, for the bucket was as\nempty as vanity. From behind him came a noise of laughter, and there\nwas the old witch running round and round in a circle; and everywhere\na hedge of thorns came shooting up to enclose him and keep him fast\nfor her.\n\n'What a trap I am in!' thought Noodle; but once more he lowered the\nbucket, and once more it returned to him empty.\n\nThe old woman climbed up into the thorn-hedge, and sat on its top,\nsinging:\n\n  'Overground, underground, round-about spell;\n  The Thirsty has come to the Thirsty Well!'\n\nAgain Noodle let down the bucket; and this time as he drew it up he\nlooked over into the well's heart, and saw all the way up the side a\nhundred blue arms reaching out crystal scallops and drawing water\nout of the bucket as hard as they could go. He saw thick lips like\nsea-anemones thrust out between the crevices of the wall, sucking the\ncrystals dry as fast as they were filled. 'Truly,' he said to himself,\n'this is a thirsty well, but myself am thirstier!'\n\nWhen he had drawn up the bucket empty for the third time, he stood\nconsidering; and at last he fastened to it the firestone ring, the\nSweetener, and lowered it once more. Then he laughed to himself as he\ndrew up, and felt the bucket lightening at every turn till it touched\nthe surface of things.\n\nEmpty he found it, with only his firestone hanging by the rim, and\nonce again he let it down to be refilled. But this time as he wound\nup, nothing could keep him from letting a curious eye go over the\nbrink, to see how the Well-folk fared over their wine; and in what he\nbeheld there was already comfort for his soul.\n\nThe blue arms went like oars out of unison; like carpet-beaters\nstricken in the eyes and throat with dust, they beat foolishly against\nthe sides and bottom of the bucket, shattering and letting fall their\ngoblets in each unruly attempt. And because Noodle wound leniently at\nthe rope, willing that they should have their fill, at the last gasp\nthey were able to send the bucket empty to the top. It was the last\nstaving off of destiny that lay in their power to make; thereafter\nwine conquered them.\n\nQuickly Noodle drew out the ring, and sent the bucket flying on its\nlast errand. It smacked the water, heeled over, and dipped under a\nfull draught. Then Noodle spun the windlass with the full pinch of his\nenergies, calling on the bucket to ascend. He heard the water spilling\nfrom its sides, and knew that the blue arms were there, battling to\narrest it as it flew, and to pay him back once more with emptiness and\nmockery. Yet in spite of them the bucket hasted and lightened not, but\nwas drawn up to the well's head brimming largely, and winking a blue\neye joyously to the light of day.\n\nOver head and ears Noodle plunged for the quenching of his thirst, nor\nstayed nor drew back till his head had smitten upon the bottom of the\nbucket in his pursuit of the draught. Then it was apparent that only\na third of the water remained, the rest having obeyed the imperative\nsuction of his throat, and that the thirsty well had at last found a\nmaster under the eye of heaven.\n\nIn the depth of the bucket the water flashed like a burning sapphire\nand swung circling, curling and coiling, tossing this way and that,\nas if struggling to get out. At last with a laugh it threw down the\nbucket, and tore back into the well with a crash like thunder.\n\nUp from the well rose a chant of voices:\n\n  'Under Heaven, over Hell,\n  You have broken the spell,\n  You are lord of the Well.'\n\nNoodle stepped over the brink of his new realm, calling the Well-folk\nto reach hands for him and bear him down. All round, the blue arms\nstarted out, catching him and handing him on from one to another\nladderwise, down, and down, and down. As he went, anemone lips came\nout of the crannies in the wall, and kissed his feet and hands in\ntoken of allegiance. 'You are lord of the well!' they said, as they\npassed him each one to the next.\n\nHe came to the bottom of the well; under his feet, wherever he stepped\nupon its waters, hands came up and sustained him. The knowledge of\neverything that was there had become his. 'Give me,' he said, 'the\ncrystal cup that is for him who holds kingship over you; so shall I be\nlord of you in all places wherever I go.'\n\nA blue arm reached down and drew up from the water a small crystal,\nthat burned through the darkness with a blue fire, and gave it to\nNoodle. 'Now I am your king, however far from you!' said Noodle. And\nthey answered, chanting:\n\n  'Under Heaven, over Hell,\n  You have broken the spell,\n  You are lord of the Well.'\n\n'Lift me up!' said he; and the blue arms caught him and lifted him up;\nfrom one to another they passed him in ascending circles, till he came\nto the mouth of the well.\n\nThere overhead was the old witch, crouching and looking in to know\nwhat had become of him; and her hair hung far down over her eyes into\nthe well. He caught her to him by it over the brink. 'Old witch,' he\nsaid, 'you must change places with me now!' and he tossed her down to\nthe bottom of the well.\n\nShe went like a falling shuttlecock, shrieking as she fell; and as she\nstruck the water, the drowned bodies of the men she had sent there\ncame to the surface, and caught her by the feet and hair, and drew her\ndown, making an end of her, as she also had made of them.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIV\n\nTHE PRINCESS MELILOT\n\n\nWhen Noodle, carrying the crystal with him, set foot once more upon\ndry land, straightway he was again upon the back of the Galloping\nPlough, with the world flying away under him. But now weariness came\nover him, and his head weighed this way and that, so that earth and\nsky mixed themselves before his gaze, and he was so drugged with\nsleep that he had no wits to bid the Plough slacken from its speed.\nTherefore it happened that as they passed a wood, a hanging bough\ncaught him, and brushed him like a feather from his place, landing him\non a green bosom of grass, where he slept the sleep of the weary, nor\never lifted his head to see the Plough fast disappearing over hill and\nvalley and plain, out of sound of his voice or sight of his eye.\n\nWhen Noodle awoke and found that the Plough was gone, he was bitter\nagainst himself for his folly. 'So poor a use to make of so noble\na steed!' he cried; 'no wonder it has gone from me to seek for a\nworthier master! If by good fortune I find it again, needs must I do\ngreat things by its aid to be worthy of its service.' So he set out,\nfollowing the furrow of its course, determined, however far he must\nseek, to journey on till he found it.\n\nFor a whole year he travelled, till at length he came, footsore and\nweary, to a deserted palace standing in the midst of an overgrown\ngarden. The great gates, which lay wide open, were overrun with\ncreepers, and the paths were green with weeds. That morning he had\nthought that he saw far away on the hills the gleam of his silver\nPlough, and now hope rose high, for he could see by its track that\nthe Plough had passed before him into the garden of the palace. 'O my\nmoonbeam,' he thought, 'is it here I shall find you at last?'\n\nWithin the garden there was a sound of cross questions and crooked\nanswers, of many talking with loud voices, and of one weeping apart\nfrom the rest. When he got quite close, he was struck still with awe,\nand joy, and wonder. For first there lay the Galloping Plough in the\nmiddle of a green lawn, and round it a score of serving-men, tugging\nat it and trying to make it move on. Near by stood an old woman,\nwringing her hands and begging them to leave it alone: 'For,' cried\nshe, 'if the Plough touches but the feet of the Princess, she will be\nuprooted, and will presently wither away and die. Of what use is it to\nbreak one, if the other enchantments cannot be broken?'\n\nIn the centre of the lawn grew a bower of roses, and beneath the bower\nstood the loveliest princess that ever eye beheld; but she stood there\nmotionless, and without sign of life. She seemed neither to hear, nor\nsee, nor breathe; her feet were rooted to the ground; though they\nseemed only to rest lightly under her weight upon the grass, no man,\nnor a hundred men, could stir her from where she stood. And, as the\nspell that held her fast bound to the spot, even so was the spell that\nsealed her senses,--no man might lift it from her. When Noodle set\neyes upon her he knew that for the third time his heart had been\nstolen from him, and that to be happy he must possess her, or die.\n\nHe ran quickly to the old woman, who, unregarded by the serving-men,\nstood weeping and wringing her hands. 'Tell me, said Noodle, 'who is\nthis sleeper who stands enchanted and rooted like a flower to earth?\nAnd who are you, and these others who work and cry at cross purposes?'\n\nThe old woman cried from a wide mouth: 'It is my mistress, the\nhoney-jewel of my heart, whom you see here so grievously enchanted.\nAll the gifts of the fairies at her christening did not prevent what\nwas foretold of her at her birth. In her seventeenth year, as you see\nher now, so it was told of her that she should be.'\n\n'Does she live?' asked Noodle; 'is she asleep? She is not dead; when\nwill she wake? Tell me, old woman, her history, and how this fate has\ncome upon her.'\n\n'She was the daughter of the king of this country by his first wife,'\nsaid the old woman, 'and heir to the throne after his death; but when\nher mother died the king married again, and the three daughters he had\nby his second wife were jealous of the beauty, and charm, and goodness\nwhich raised their sister so high above them in the estimation of all\nmen. So they asked their mother to teach them a spell that should rob\nMelilot of her charms, and make them useless in the eyes of men. And\ntheir mother, who was wise in such arts, taught to each of them a\nspell, so that together they might work their will.\n\n'One day they came running to Melilot, and said, \"Come and play with\nus a new game that our mother has taught us!\" Then they began turning\nthemselves into flowers. \"I will be a hollyhock!\" said one. \"And I\nwill be a columbine!\" said another; and saying the spell over each\nother they became each the flower they had named.\n\n'Then they unloosed the spells, and became themselves again. \"Oh, it\nis so nice to be a flower!\" they cried, laughing and clapping their\nhands. But Melilot knew no spell.\n\n'At last, seeing how her sisters turned into flowers, and came back\nsafe again, \"I will be a rose!\" she cried; \"turn me into a rose and\nout again!\"\n\n'Then her three sisters joined their tongues together, and finished the\nspell over her. And so soon as she had become a rose-tree, the three\nsisters turned into three moles, and went down under the earth and\ngnawed at the roots.\n\n'Then they came up, and took their own forms again, and sang,--\n\n  '\"Sister, sister, here you are now,\n  Till the ploughman come with the Galloping Plough!\"\n\n'Then they turned into bees, and sucked out the honey from the roses,\nand coming to themselves again they sang,--\n\n  '\"Sister, here you must doze and doze,\n  Till they bring you a flower of the Burning Rose!\"\n\n'Then they shook the dewdrops out of her eyes, crying,--\n\n  \"Sister, your brain lies under our spell,\n  Till water be brought from the Thirsty Well!\"\n\n'Then they took the top blossom of all, and broke it to pieces, and\nthrew the petals away as they cried,--\n\n  \"Sister, your life goes down for a term,\n  Till they bring you breath from the Camphor-Worm!\"\n\n'And when they had done all this, they turned her back into her true\nshape, and left her standing even as you see her now, without warmth,\nor sight, or memory, or motion, dead saving for her beauty, that never\nchanges or dies. And here she must stand till the spells which have\nbeen fastened upon her have been unloosed. No long time after,\nthe wickedness of the three sisters and of their cruel mother was\ndiscovered to the king, and they were all put to death for the crime.\nYet the ill they had done remained; and the king's grief became so\ngreat to see his loved daughter standing dead before him that he\nremoved with his court to another place, and left this palace to the\ncare of only a few serving-men, and myself to keep watch and guard\nover the Princess.\n\n'So now four-fold is the spell that holds her, and to break the\nlightest of them the water of the Thirsty Well is needed; with two of\nits drops laid upon her eyes memory will come back to her, and her\nmind will remember of the things of the past. And for the breaking\nof the second spell is needed a blossom of the Burning Rose, and the\nplucking of that no man's hand can achieve; but when the Rose is laid\nupon her breast, her heart will belong to the world once more, and\nwill beat again under her bosom. And for the breaking of the third\nspell one must bring the breath of the Camphor-Worm that has lain for\na whole year inside its body, and breathe it between her lips; then\nshe will breathe again, and all her five senses will return to her.\nAnd for the last spell only the Galloping Plough can uproot her back\nto life, and free her feet for the ways of earth. Now, here we have\nthe Galloping Plough with no man who can guide it, and what aid can it\nbe? If these fools should be able to make it so much as but touch the\nfeet of my dear mistress, she will be mown down like grass, and die\npresently for lack of earth; for only the three other charms I have\ntold you of can put whole life back into her.'\n\n'As for the mastery of the Plough,' said Noodle, 'I will fetch that\nfrom them in a breath. See, in a moment, how marvellous will be the\nuplifting of their eyes!' He put to his lips the firestone ring--the\nSweetener--and blew but one note through it. Then in a moment the\ncrowd divided hither and thither, with cries of wonder and alarm, for\nthe Plough turned and bounded back to its master quickly, as an Arab\nmare at the call of her owner.\n\nThe old woman, weeping for gladness, cried: 'Thou art master of the\nPlough! Art thou master of all the other things as well?'\n\nHe said: 'Of one thing only. Tell me of the Burning Rose and the\nCamphor-Worm; what and where are they? For I am the master of the ends\nof the earth by reason of the speed with which this carries me; and I\nam lord of the Thirsty Well, and have the Fire-eaters for my friends.'\n\nThe old woman clapped her hands, and blessed him for his youth, and\nhis wisdom, and his courage. 'First,' she said, 'restore to the\nPrincess her memory by means of the water of the Thirsty Well; then I\nwill show you the way to the Burning Rose, for the easier thing must\nbe done first.'\n\nThen Noodle drew out the crystal and breathed in it, calling on the\nWell-folk for the two drops of water to lay on Princess Melilot's\neyes. Immediately in the bottom of the cup appeared two blue drops\nof water, that came climbing up the sides of the glass and stood\ntrembling together on the brim. And Noodle, touching them with the\nfirestone ring to make the memory of things sweet to her, bent back\nthe Princess's face, and let them fall under her closed lids.\n\n'Look!' cried the faithful nurse, 'light trembles within those eyes of\nhers! In there she begins to remember things; but as yet she sees and\nhears nothing. Now it is for you to be swift and fetch her the blossom\nof the Burning Rose. Be wise, and you shall not fail!'\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nV\n\nTHE BURNING ROSE\n\n\nShe told him how he was to go, across the desert southward, till he\nfound a giant, longer in length than a day's journey, lying asleep\nupon the sand. Over his head, it was told, hung a cloud, covering him\nfrom the heat and resting itself against his brows; within the cloud\nwas a dream, and within the dream grew the garden of the Burning\nRose. Than this she knew no more, nor by what means Noodle might gain\nentrance and become possessor of the Rose.\n\nNoodle waited for no more; he mounted upon the Galloping Plough, and\npressed away over the desert to the south. For three days he travelled\nthrough parched places, refreshing himself by the way with the water\nof the Thirsty Well, calling on the Well-folk for the replenishment of\nhis crystal, and turning the draught to wine by the sweetness of his\nmagic ring.\n\nAt length he saw a cloud rising to him from a distance; like a great\nopal it hung motionless between earth and heaven. Coming nearer he saw\nthe giant himself stretched out for a day's journey across the sand.\nHis head lay under the colours of the dawn, and his feet were covered\nwith the dusk of evening, and over his middle shone the noonday sun.\n\nUnder the giant's shadow Noodle stopped, and gazed up into the cloud;\nthrough the outer covering of its mists he saw what seemed to be balls\nof fire, and knew that within lay the dream and the garden of the\nBurning Rose.\n\nThe giant laughed and muttered in his sleep, for the dream was sweet\nto him. 'O Rose,' he said, 'O sweet Rose, what end is there of\nthy sweetness? How innumerable is the dance of the Roses of my\nRose-garden!'\n\nNoodle caught hold of the ropes of the giant's hair, and climbed till\nhe sat within the hollow of his right ear. Then he put to his lips the\nring, the Sweetener, and sang till the giant heard him in his sleep;\nand the sweet singing mixed itself with the sweetness of the Rose in\nthe giant's brain, and he muttered to himself, saying: 'O bee, O sweet\nbee, O bee in my brain, what honey wilt thou fetch for me out of the\nRoses of my Rose-garden?'\n\nSo, more and more, Noodle sweetened himself to the giant, till the\ngiant passed him into his brain, and into the heart of the dream, even\ninto the garden of the Burning Rose.\n\nFar down below the folds of the cloud, Noodle remembered that the\nGalloping Plough lay waiting a call from him. 'When I have stolen the\nRose,' thought he, 'I may need swift heels for my flight.' And he put\nthe Sweetener to his lips and whistled the Plough up to him.\n\nIt came, cleaving the encirclement of clouds like a silver gleam of\nmoonlight, and for a moment, where they parted, Noodle saw a rift of\nblue sky, and the light of the outer world clear through their midst.\n\nThe giant turned uneasily in his sleep, and the garden of the Burning\nRose rocked to its foundations as the edge of things real pierced into\nit.\n\n'While I stay here there is danger,' thought Noodle. 'Surely I must\nmake haste to possess myself of the Rose and to escape!'\n\nAll round him was a garden set thick with rose-trees in myriads of\nblossom, rose behind rose as far as the eye could reach, and the\nfragrance of them lay like a heavy curtain of sleep upon the senses.\nNoodle, beginning to feel drowsy, stretched out his hand in haste to\nthe nearest flower, lest in a little while he should be no more than a\npart of the giant's dream. 'O beloved Heart of Melilot!' he cried, and\ncrushed his fingers upon the stem.\n\nThe whole bough crackled and sprang away at his touch; the Rose turned\nupon him, screaming and spouting fire; a noise like thunder filled all\nthe air. Every rose in the garden turned and spat flame at where he\nstood. His face and his hands became blistered with the heat.\n\nLeaping upon the back of his Plough, he cried, 'Carry me to the\nborders of the garden where there are open spaces! The price of the\nPrincess is upon my head!'\n\nThe Plough bounded this way and that, searching for some outlet by\nwhich to escape. It flew in spirals and circles, it leaped like a\nflea, it burrowed like a mole, it ploughed up the rose-trees by the\nroots. But so soon as it had passed they stood up unharmed again, and\nto whatever point of refuge the Plough fled, that way they all turned\ntheir heads and darted out vomitings of fire.\n\nIn vain did Noodle summon the Well-folk to his aid; his crystal shot\nforth fountains of water that turned into steam as they rose, and fell\nback again, scalding him.\n\nThen with two deaths threatening to devour him, he brandished the\nring, calling upon the Fire-eaters for their aid.\n\nThey laughed as they came. 'Here is food for you!' he cried. 'Multiply\nyour appetites about me, or I shall be consumed in these flames!'\n\n'Brandish again!' cried they--the same seven whom he had fed. 'We are\nnot enough; this fire is not quenchable.'\n\nNoodle brandished till the whole garden swarmed with their kind. One\nfastened himself upon every rose, a gulf opposing itself to a torrent.\nAll sight of the conflagration disappeared; but within there went a\nroaring sound, and the bodies of the Fire-eaters crackled, growing\nlarge and luminous the while.\n\n'Do your will quickly and begone!' cried the Fire-eaters. 'Even now we\nswell to bursting with the pumping in of these fires!'\n\nNoodle seized on a rose to which one hung, sucking out its heats. He\ntugged, but the strong fibres held. Then he locked himself to the back\nof the Plough, crying to it and caressing its speed with all names\nunder heaven, and beseeching it in the name of Melilot to break free.\nAnd the Plough giving but one plunge, the Rose came away into Noodle's\nhand, panting and a prisoner. All blushing it grew and radiant, with a\nsoft inner glow, and an odour of incomparable sweetness. He seemed to\nsee the heart of Melilot beating before him.\n\nBut now there came a blast of fire behind him, for the Fire-eaters had\ndisappeared, and all was whirling and shaken before his eyes; and the\nPlough sped desperately over earthquake and space. For the plucking\nof the Rose had awakened the giant from his sleep; and the dream\nshrivelled and spun away in a whirl of flame-coloured vapours. Leaping\ninto clear day out of the unravelment of its mists, Noodle found\nhimself and his Plough launching over an edge of precipice for a\ndownward dive into space. The giant's hair, standing upright from his\nhead in the wrath and horror of his awakening, made a forest ending in\nhis forehead that bowered them to right and to left. Quitting it they\nslid ungovernably over the bulge of his brow, and went at full spurt\nfor the abyss.\n\nDexterously the Plough steered its descent, catching on the bridge and\nfurrowing the ridge of the nose; nine leagues were the duration of a\nsecond.\n\nThe giant, thinking some venomous parasite was injuring his flesh,\naimed, and a moment too late had thumped his fist upon the place. But\nalready the Plough skirting the amazed opening of his mouth was lost\nin the trammels of his beard. Thence, as it escaped the rummaging\nof his fingers, it flew scouring his breast, and inflicted a flying\nscratch over the regions of his abdomen. Then, still believing it to\nbe the triumphal procession of a flea, he pursued it to his thigh, and\nmistaking the shadow for the substance allowed it yet again to escape.\nAt his knee-cap there was but a hair's-breadth between Noodle and the\nweight of his thumb; but thereafter the Plough out-distanced his every\neffort, and, with Noodle preserved whole and alive, sped fast and far,\nbearing the Burning Rose to the heart of the beloved Melilot.\n\nThe crone was aware of his coming before she heard him, or saw the\ngleam of his Plough running beam-like over the land. From her seat by\nthe Princess's bower she clapped her hands, and springing to his neck\nere he alighted: 'A long way off, and a long time off,' she cried, 'I\nknew what fortune was with you; for when you plucked off the Rose,\nand bore it out of the heart of the dream, the scent of it filled the\nworld; and I felt the sweetness of youth once more in my blood.'\n\nThen she led him to the Princess, and bade him lay the Rose in her\nbreast, that her heart might be won back into the world. Looking at\nher face again, Noodle saw how memory had made it more beautiful than\never, and how between her lips had grown the tender parting of a\nsmile. Then he laid the Rose where the movement of the heart should\nbe; and presently under the white breast rose the music of its\nbeating.\n\n'Ah!' cried the old nurse, weeping for happiness, 'now her heart that\nloved me is come back, and I can listen all day to the sound of it!\nYou have brought memory to her, you have brought love; now bring\nbreath, and the awakening of her five senses. Surely the light of her\neyes will be your reward!'\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nVI\n\nTHE CAMPHOR-WORM\n\n\n'Tell me quickly of the Camphor-Worm,' cried the youth as he feasted\nhis eyes on the Princess's loveliness, made more unendurable by the\nawakening within of love. 'Where and what is it?' 'It is not so far as\nwas the way to the Burning Rose,' answered the crone; 'an hour on the\nback of the Plough shall bring it near to you; but the danger\nand difficulty of this quest is more, not less. For to reach the\nCamphor-Worm you need to be a diver in deep waters, whose weight\ncrushes a man; and to touch its lips you must master the loathing of\nyour nature; and to carry away its breath you must have strength of\nwill and endurance beyond what is mortal.' 'You trouble me with things\nI need not know,' cried Noodle. 'Tell me,' he said, 'how I may reach\nthe Camphor-Worm; and of it and its ways.'\n\n'By this path, and by that,' said the old woman, pointing him, 'go on\ntill you come to the thick waters of the Bitter Lake; they are blacker\nthan night, and their weight is heavier than lead, and in the depths\ndwells the Camphor-Worm. Once a year, when the air is sweetest with\nthe scents of summer, she rises to breathe, lifting her black snout\nthrough the surface of the waters. Then she draws fresh air into her\nlungs, flavoured with leaves and flowers, and after she has breathed\nit in she lets go the last bubble of the breath she drew from the\nsummer of the year before; and it is this bubble of breath alone that\nwill give back life to the five senses of Princess Melilot. But the\nWorm's time for rising is far; and how you shall bear the weight in\nthe depths of those waters, or make the Worm give up the bubble before\nher time, or at last bear back the bubble to lay it on the lips of the\nPrincess so that she may wake,--these are things I know not the way\nof, for to my eyes they seem dark with difficulty and peril.'\n\nThen Noodle, opening the petals of the Burning Rose as it lay upon the\nheart of Melilot, drew out honey from its centre, filling his hand\nwith the golden crumblings of fragrance; and he leapt upon the\nGalloping Plough, urging it in the way the Princess's nurse had\npointed out to him. As they went he caressed it with all the names\nunder heaven, stroking it with his hand and praising it for the\ndelicacy of its steering: saying, 'O my moonbeam, if thou wouldst save\nthe life of thy master, or restore the five senses of the Princess\nMelilot, thou must surpass thyself to-day. Listen, thou heaven-sent\nlimb, thou miracle of quicksilver, and have a long mind to my words;\nfor in a short while I shall have no speech left in me till the\nthing be done, and the deliverance, from head to feet, of my Beloved\naccomplished.'\n\nEven while he spoke they came to the edge of the Bitter Lake--a small\npool, but its waters were blacker than night, and heavier than lead to\nthe eye. Then Noodle leapt down from the Plough, and caressed it for\nthe last time, saying: 'Set thy face for the garden where the Princess\nMelilot is; and when I am come back to thee speechless out of the Lake\nand am striding thee once more, then wait not for a word but carry me\nto her with more speed than thou hast ever mustered to my aid till\nnow; go faster than wind or lightning or than the eye of man can see!\nSo, by good fortune, I may live till I reach her lips; but if thou\ntarry at all I am a dead man. And when thou art come to Melilot set\nthy share beneath the roots of her feet, and take her up to me out of\nthe ground. Do this tenderly, but abate not speed till it be done!'\n\nThen the youth put into his mouth the honey of the Burning Rose, and\ninto his lips the Sweetener, and stripped himself as a bather to the\npool. And the Plough, remembering its master's word, turned and set\nits face to where lay the garden with Melilot waiting to be relieved\nof her enchantment. Whereat Noodle, bowing his head, and blessing it\nwith lips of farewell, turned shortly and slid down into the blackness\nof the lake.\n\nThe weight of that water was like a vice upon his limbs, and around\nhis throat, as he swam out into the centre of the pool. As he went he\nbreathed upon the water, and the scent of the honey of the Burning\nRose passing through the Sweetener made an incomparable fragrance,\ngentle, and subtle, and wooing to the senses.\n\nWhen he came to the middle of the lake he stayed breathing full\nbreaths, till the air deepened with fragrance around him. Presently\nunderneath him he felt the movement of a great thing coming up from\nthe bottom of the pool. It touched his feet and came grazing along his\nside; and all at once shuddering and horror took hold upon him, for\nhis whole nature was filled with loathing of its touch.\n\nOut of the pool's surface before him rose a great black snout, that\nopened, showing a round hole. Then he thought of Melilot and her\nbeauty laid fast under a charm, and drawing a full breath he laid his\nlips containing the ring, the Sweetener, to the lips of the Worm.\n\nThe Worm began to breathe. As the Worm drank the air out of him, he\ndrew in more through his nostrils, and more and more, till the great\ngills were filled and satisfied.\n\nThen the Worm let go the last bubble of air which remained from the\nyear before, and had lain ever since in its body, by which alone life\ncould be given back to the five senses of Melilot. Then drawing in\nits head it lowered itself once more to the bottom of the pool; and\nNoodle, feeling in his mouth the precious globule of air, fastened his\nlips upon it and shot out for shore.\n\nAgainst the weight of those leaden waters a longing to gasp possessed\nhim; but he knew that with the least breath the bubble would be lost,\nand all his labour undone. Not too soon his feet caught hold of the\nbank, and drew him free to land. He cast himself speechless across the\nback of the Galloping Plough and clung.\n\nThe Plough gathered itself together and sprang away through space.\nRemembering its master's word it showed itself a miracle of speed;\nlike lightning became its flight.\n\nThe eye of Noodle grew blind to the passing of things; he could take\nno count of the collapsing leagues. More and more grew the amazingness\nof the Plough's leaps, things only to be measured by miles, and\ncounted as joltings on the way; while fast to the back of it clung\nNoodle, and endured, praying that shortness of breath might not\novermaster him, or the check of his lungs give way and burst him to\nthe emptiness of a drum. His senses rocked and swayed; he felt the\ngates of his resolve slackening and forcing themselves apart; and\nstill the Galloping Plough plunged him blindly along through space.\n\nBut now the shrill crying of the crone struck in upon his ears, and\nhe stretched open his arms for the accomplishment of the deliverance.\nEven in that nick of time was the end of the thing brought about; for\nthe Plough, guiding itself as a thread to the needle's eye, gave the\nuprooting stroke to the white feet of Melilot; and Noodle, swooning\nfor the last gasp, saw all at once her beauty swaying level to his\ngaze and her body bending down upon his.\n\nThen he fastened his lips upon hers, and loosed the bubble from his\nmouth; and panting and sobbing themselves back to life they hung in\neach other's arms. She warmed and ripened in his embrace, opening upon\nhim the light of her eyes; and the greatness and beauty of the reward\nabashed him and bore him down to earth.\n\nHe heard the old crone clucking and crowing, like a hen over its egg,\nof the happiness that had come to her old years; till recognising the\nyouth's state she covered him over with a cloak amid exclamations of\nastonishment.\n\nThe Princess saw nothing but her lover's face and the happy feasting\nof his eyes. She bent her head nearer and nearer to his, and the story\nof what he had done became a dream that she remembered, and that\nwaking made true. 'O you Noodle,' she said, laughing, 'you wise, wise\nNoodle!' And then everything was finished, for she had kissed him!\n\nSo Noodle and the Princess were married, and came to the throne\ntogether and reigned over a happy land. The Fire-eaters were their\nfriends, and the gifts of fortune were theirs. The Galloping Plough\nmade all the waste places fertile; and the water of the Thirsty Well\nrose and ran in rivers through the land; and over the walls of their\npalace, where they had planted it, grew the flower of the Burning\nRose.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CROWN'S WARRANTY\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE CROWN'S WARRANTY\n\n\nFive hundred years ago or more a king died, leaving two sons: one\nwas the child of his first wife, and the other of his second, who\nsurviving him became his widow. When the king was dying he took off\nthe royal crown which he wore, and set it upon the head of the elder\nborn, the son of his first wife, and said to him: 'God is the lord of\nthe air, and of the water, and of the dry land: this gift cometh to\nthee from God. Be merciful, over whatsoever thou holdest power, as God\nis!' And saying these words he laid his hands upon the heads of his\ntwo sons and died.\n\nNow this crown was no ordinary crown, for it was made of the gold\nbrought by the Wise men of the East when they came to worship at\nBethlehem. Every king that had worn it since then had reigned well and\nuprightly and had been loved by all his people: but only to himself\nwas it known what virtue lay in his crown; and every king at dying\ngave it to his son with the same words of blessing.\n\nSo, now, the king's eldest son wore the crown; and his step-mother\nknew that her own son could not wear it while he lived, therefore she\nlooked on and said nothing. Now he was known to all the people of his\ncountry, because of his right to the throne, as the king's son; and\nhis brother, the child of the second wife, was called the queen's son.\nBut as yet they were both young, and cared little enough for crowns.\n\nAfter the king's death the queen was made regent till the king's son\nshould be come to a full age; but already the little king wore the\nroyal crown his father had left him, and the queen looked on and said\nnothing.\n\nMore than three years went by, and everybody said how good the queen\nwas to the little king who was not her own son; and the king's son,\nfor his part, was good to her and to his step-brother, loving them\nboth; and all by himself he kept thinking, having his thoughts guarded\nand circled by his golden crown, 'How shall I learn to be a wise king,\nand to be merciful when I have power, as God is?'\n\nSo to everything that came his way, to his playthings and his pets, to\nhis ministers and his servants, he played the king as though already\nhis word made life and death. People watching him said, 'Everything\nthat has touch with the king's son loves him.' They told strange tales\nof him: only in fairy books could they be believed, because they were\nso beautiful; and all the time the queen, getting a good name for\nherself, looked on and said nothing.\n\nOne night the king's son was lying half-asleep upon his bed, with wise\ndreams coming and going under the circle of his gold crown, when a\nmouse ran out of the wainscot and came and jumped up upon the couch.\nThe poor mouse had turned quite white with fear and horror, and was\ntrembling in every limb as it cried its news into the king's ear. 'O\nking's son,' it said, 'get up and run for your life! I was behind the\nwainscot in the queen's closet, and this is what I heard: if you stay\nhere, when you wake up to-morrow you will be dead!'\n\nThe king's son got up, and all alone in the dark night stole out of\nthe palace, seeking safety for his dear life. He sighed to himself,\n'There was a pain in my crown ever since I wore it. Alas, mother, I\nthought you were too kind a step-mother to do this!'\n\nOutside it was still winter: there was no warmth in the world, and not\na leaf upon the trees. He wandered away and away, wondering where he\nshould hide.\n\nThe queen, when her villains came and told her the king's son was not\nto be found, went and looked in her magic crystal to find trace of\nhim. As soon as it grew light, for in the darkness the crystal could\nshow her nothing, she saw many miles away the king's son running to\nhide himself in the forest. So she sent out her villains to search\nuntil they should find him.\n\nAs they went the sun grew hot in the sky, and birds began singing. 'It\nis spring!' cried the messengers. 'How suddenly it has come!' They\nrode on till they came to the forest.\n\nThe king's son, stumbling along through the forest under the bare\nboughs, thought, 'Even here where shall I hide? Nowhere is there a\nleaf to cover me.' But when the sun grew warm he looked up; and there\nwere all the trees breaking into bud and leaf, making a green heaven\nabove his head. So when he was too weary to go farther, he climbed\ninto the largest tree he could find; and the leaves covered him.\n\nThe queen's messengers searched through all the forest but could not\nfind him; so they went back to her empty handed, not having either the\nking's crown or his heart to show. 'Fools!' she cried, looking in her\nmagic crystal, 'he was in the big sycamore under which you stopped to\ngive your horses provender!'\n\nThe sycamore said to the king's son, 'The queen's eye is on you; get\ndown and run for your life till you get to the hollow tarn-stones\namong the hills! But if you stay here, when you wake to-morrow you\nwill be dead.'\n\nWhen the queen's messengers came once more to the forest they found\nit all wintry again, and without leaf; only the sycamore was in full\ngreen, clapping its hands for joy in the keen and bitter air.\n\nThe messengers searched, and beat down the leaves, but the king's son\nwas not there. They went back to the queen. She looked long in her\nmagic crystal, but little could she see; for the king's son had hidden\nhimself in a small cave beside the tarn-stones, and into the darkness\nthe crystal could not pry.\n\nPresently she saw a flight of birds crossing the blue, and every bird\ncarried a few crumbs of bread in its beak. Then she ran and called to\nher villains, 'Follow the birds, and they will take you to where the\nlittle wizard is; for they are carrying bread to feed him, and they\nare all heading for the tarn-stones up on the hills.'\n\nThe birds said to the king's son, 'Now you are rested; we have fed\nyou, and you are not hungry. The queen's eye is on you. Up, and run\nfor your life! If you stay here, when you wake up to-morrow you will\nbe dead.'\n\n'Where shall I go?' said the king's son. 'Go,' answered the birds,\n'and hide in the rushes on the island of the pool of sweet waters!'\n\nWhen the queen's messengers came to the tarn-stones, it was as though\nfive thousand people had been feeding: they found crumbs enough to\nfill twelve baskets full, lying in the cave; but no king's son could\nthey lay their hands on.\n\nThe king's son was lying hidden among the rushes on the island of the\ngreat pool of sweet waters; and thick and fast came silver-scaled\nfishes, feeding him.\n\nIt took the queen three days of hard gazing in her crystal, before\nshe found how the fishes all swam to a point among the rushes of the\nisland in the pool of sweet waters, and away again. Then she knew: and\nrunning to her messengers she cried: 'He is among the rushes on the\nisland in the pool of sweet waters; and all the fishes are feeding\nhim!'\n\nThe fishes said to the king's son: 'The queen's eye is on you; up, and\nswim to shore, and away for your life! For if they come and find you\nhere, when you wake to-morrow you will certainly be dead.'\n\n'Where shall I go?' asked the king's son. 'Wherever I go, she finds\nme.' 'Go to the old fox who gets his poultry from the palace, and ask\nhim to hide you in his burrow!'\n\nWhen the queen's messengers came to the pool they found the fishes\nplaying at _alibis_ all about in the water; but nothing of the king's\nson could they see.\n\nThe king's son came to the fox, and the fox hid him in his burrow, and\nbrought him butter and eggs from the royal dairy. This was better fare\nthan the king's son had had since the beginning of his wanderings, and\nhe thanked the fox warmly for his friendship. 'On the contrary,' said\nthe fox, 'I am under an obligation to you; for ever since you came to\nbe my guest I have felt like an honest man.' 'If I live to be king,'\nsaid the king's son, 'you shall always have butter and eggs from the\nroyal dairy, and be as honest as you like.'\n\nThe queen hugged her magic crystal for a whole week, but could make\nnothing out of it: for her crystal showed her nothing of the king's\nson's hiding-place, nor of the fox at his nightly thefts of butter and\neggs from the royal dairy. But it so happened that this same fox was\na sort of half-brother of the queen's; and so guilty did he feel with\nhis brand-new good conscience that he quite left off going to see her.\nSo in a little while the queen, with her suspicions and her magic\ncrystal, had nosed out the young king's hiding-place.\n\nThe fox said to the king's son: 'The queen's eye is on you! Get out\nand run for your life, for if you stay here till to-morrow, you will\nwake up and find yourself a dead goose!'\n\n'But where else can I go to?' asked the king's son. 'Is there any\nplace left for me?' The fox laughed, and winked, and whispered a word;\nand all at once the king's son got up and went.\n\nThe queen had said to her messengers, 'Go and look in the fox's hole;\nand you shall find him!' But the messengers came and dug up the\nburrow, and found butter and eggs from the royal dairy, but of the\nking's son never a sign.\n\nThe king's son came to the palace, and as he crept through the gardens\nhe found there his little brother alone at play,--playing sadly\nbecause now he was all alone. Then the king's son stopped and said,\n'Little brother, do you so much wish to be king?' And taking off the\ncrown, he put it upon his brother's head. Then he went on through\nunderground ways and corridors, till he came to the palace dungeons.\n\nNow a dungeon is a hard thing to get out of, but it is easy enough to\nget into. He came to the deepest and darkest dungeon of all, and there\nhe opened the door, and went in and hid himself.\n\nThe queen's son came running to his mother, wearing the king's crown.\n'Oh, mother,' he said, 'I am frightened! while I was playing, my\nbrother came looking all dead and white, and put this crown on my\nhead. Take it off for me, it hurts!'\n\nWhen the queen saw the crown on her son's head, she was horribly\nafraid; for that it should have so come there was the most unlikely\nthing of all. She fetched her crystal ball, and looked in, asking\nwhere the king's son might be, and, for answer, the crystal became\nblack as night.\n\nThen said the queen to herself, 'He is dead at last!'\n\nBut, now that the king's crown was on the wrong head, the air, and the\nwater, and the dry land, over which God is lord, heard of it. And the\ntrees said, 'Until the king's son returns, we will not put forth bud\nor leaf!'\n\nAnd the birds said, 'We will not sing in the land, or breed or build\nnests until the king's son returns!'\n\nAnd the fishes said, 'We will not stay in the ponds or rivers to get\ncaught, unless the king's son, to whom we belong, returns!'\n\nAnd the foxes said, 'Unless the king's son returns, we will increase\nand multiply exceedingly and be like locusts in the land!'\n\nSo all through that land the trees, though it was spring, stayed as if\nit were mid-winter; and all the fishes swam down to the sea; and all\nthe birds flew over the sea, away into other countries; and all the\nfoxes increased and multiplied, and became like locusts in the land.\n\nNow when the trees, and the birds, and the beasts, and the fishes led\nthe way the good folk of the country discovered that the queen was a\ncriminal. So, after the way of the flesh, they took the queen and\nher little son, and bound them, and threw them into the deepest and\ndarkest dungeon they could find; and said they: 'Until you tell us\nwhere the king's son is, there you stay and starve!'\n\nThe king's son was playing all alone in his dungeon with the mice who\nbrought him food from the palace larder, when the queen and her son\nwere thrown down to him fast bound, as though he were as dangerous as\na den of lions. At first he was terribly afraid when he found himself\npursued into his last hiding-place; but presently he gathered from the\nqueen's remarks that she was quite powerless to do him harm.\n\n'Oh, what a wicked woman I am!' she moaned; and began crying\nlamentably, as if she hoped to melt the stone walls which formed her\nprison.\n\nPresently her little son cried, 'Mother, take off my brother's crown;\nit pricks me!' And the king's son sat in his corner, and cried to\nhimself with grief over the harm that his step-mother's wickedness had\nbrought about.\n\n'Mother,' cried the queen's son again, 'night and day since I have\nworn it, it pricks me; I cannot sleep!'\n\nBut the queen's heart was still hard; not if she could help, would she\nyet take off from her son the crown.\n\nHours went by, and the queen and her son grew hungry. 'We shall be\nstarved to death!' she cried. 'Now I see what a wicked woman I am!'\n\n'Mother,' cried the queen's son, 'some one is putting food into my\nmouth!' 'No one,' said the queen, 'is putting any into mine. Now I\nknow what a wicked woman I am!'\n\nPresently the king's son came to the queen also, and began feeding\nher. 'Someone is putting food into _my_ mouth, now!' cried the queen.\n'If it is poisoned I shall die in agony! I wish,' she said, 'I wish I\nknew your brother were not dead; if I have killed him what a wicked\nwoman I am!'\n\n'Dear step-mother,' said the king's son 'I am not dead, I am here.'\n\n'Here?' cried the queen, shaking with fright. 'Here? not dead! How\nlong have you been here?'\n\n'Days, and days, and days,' said the king's son, sadly.\n\n'Ah! if I had only known _that_!' cried the queen. '_Now_ I know what\na wicked woman I am!'\n\nJust then, the trap-door in the roof of the dungeon opened, and a\nvoice called down, 'Tell us where is the king's son! If you do not\ntell us, you shall stay here and starve.'\n\n'The king's son is here!' cried the queen.\n\n'A likely story!' answered the gaolers. 'Do you think we are going to\nbelieve that?' And they shut-to the trap.\n\nThe queen's son cried, 'Dear brother, come and take back your crown,\nit pricks so!' But the king's son only undid the queen's bonds and his\nbrother's. 'Now,' said he, 'you are free: you can kill me now.'\n\n'Oh!' cried the queen, 'what a wicked woman I must be! Do you think I\ncould do it now?' Then she cried, 'O little son, bring your poor head\nto me, and I will take off the crown!' and she took off the crown and\ngave it back to the king's son. 'When I am dead,' she said, 'remember,\nand be kind to him!'\n\nThe king's son put the crown upon his own head.\n\nSuddenly, outside the palace, all the land broke into leaf; there was\na rushing sound in the river of fishes swimming up from the sea, and\nall the air was loud and dark with flights of returning birds. Almost\nat the same moment the foxes began to disappear and diminish, and\ncease to be like locusts in the land.\n\nPeople came running to open the door of the deepest and darkest\ndungeon in the palace: 'For either,' they cried, 'the queen is dead,\nor the king's son has been found!'\n\n'Where is the king's son, then?' they called out, as they threw wide\nthe door. 'He is here!' cried the king; and out he came, to the\nastonishment of all, wearing his crown, and leading his step-mother\nand half-brother by the hand.\n\nHe looked at his step-mother, and she was quite white; as white as the\nmouse that had jumped upon the king's bed at midnight bidding him fly\nfor his life. Not only her face, but her hair, her lips, and her very\neyes were white and colourless, for she had gone blind from gazing too\nhard into her crystal ball, and hunting the king's son to death.\n\nSo she remained blind to the end of her days; but the king was more\ngood to her than gold, and as for his brother, never did half-brothers\nlove each other better than these. Therefore they all lived very\nhappily together, and after a long time, the queen learned to forget\nwhat a wicked woman she had been.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISHING-POT\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE WISHING-POT\n\n\nTulip was the son of a poor but prudent mother; from the moment of his\nbirth she had trained him to count ten before ever he wanted or asked\nfor anything. An otherwise reckless youth, he acquired an intrinsic\nvalue through the practice of this habit. Only once, just as he was\nreaching, but had not quite reached, years of discretion, did his\nhabit of precaution fail him; and this same failure became in the end\nthe opening of his fortunes.\n\nBathing one day in the river, to whose banks the woods ran down in\nsteep terraces, he heard a voice come singing along one of the upper\nslopes; and looking up under the boughs of cedar and sycamore, he saw\na pair of green feet go dancing by, up and down like grasshoppers on\nthe prance.\n\nThere was such rhythm in them, and such sweetness in the voice, that\nhis heart was out of him before he could harness it to the number ten,\nand he came out of the water the most natural and forlorn of lovers.\n\nBefore he was dressed the green feet and the voice were gone, and\nbefore he got home his health and his appetite seemed to have gone\nalso. He pined industriously from day to day, and spent all his hours\nin searching among the woods by the river side for his lady of the\ndear green feet. He did not know so much as the size or colour of her\nface; the sound of her voice alone, and the running up and down of her\nfeet, had, as he told his mother, 'decimated his affections.'\n\nIn his trouble he could think of only one possible remedy, and that he\ncounted well over, knowing its risk. Away in the loneliest part of the\nforest there lived a wise woman, to whom, now and then, folk went for\nhelp when everything else had failed them. So he had heard tell of a\ncertain Wishing-Pot that was hers in which people might see the thing\nthey desired most, and into which for a fee she allowed lovers and\nother poor fools of fortune to look. One thing, however, was told\nagainst the virtues of this Wishing-Pot, that though many had had a\nsight of it, and their wishes revealed to them therein, others had\ngone and had never again returned to their homes, but had vanished\naltogether from men's sight, nor had any news ever been heard of them\nafter. There were some wise folk who held that they had only gone\nelsewhere to seek the fortune that the Wishing-Pot had shown to them.\nNevertheless, for the most part the wise woman and her Wishing-Pot had\nan ill name in that neighbourhood.\n\nTo a lover's heart risk gives value; so one fine morning Tulip kissed\nhis mother, counted ten, and set out for the woods.\n\nTowards evening he came to the house of the witch and knocked at the\ndoor. 'Good mother,' said he, when she opened to him, 'I have brought\nyou the fee to buy myself a wish over the Wishing-Pot.' 'Ay, surely,'\nanswered the crone, and drew him in.\n\nIn one corner of the room stood a great crystal bowl. Nearly round it\nwas, and had a small opening at the top, to which a man might place\nhis eye and look in. To Tulip, as he looked at it, it seemed all\ncoloured fires and falling stars, and a soft crackling sound came\nfrom it, as though heat burned in its veins. It threw long shapes and\nlustres upon the walls, and within innumerable things writhed, and\nran, and whiffed in the floating of its vapours.\n\n'You may have two wishes,' said the old witch, 'a one and a two.' And\nshe said the spell that undid the secret of the Pot to the wisher.\n\nThen Tulip bent down his head and looked in, counting softly to\nhimself, and at ten, he let the wish go to his lady of the dear green\nfeet.\n\nThe colours changed and sprang, as though stirred and fed with fresh\nfuel; and down in the depths of the Wishing-Pot he saw the feet of his\nBeloved go by in twinkling green slippers.\n\nAs soon as he saw that he began counting ten in great haste for the\nsecond wish. 'O to be inside the Wishing-Pot with her!' was his\nthought now. He had got to nine, and the wish was almost on his\ntongue, when he caught sight of the old woman's eye looking at him.\nAnd the eye had become like a large green spider, with great long\nlimbs that kept clutching up and out again!\n\nHis heart queegled to a jelly at the sight; but the green feet lured\nhim so, that he still thought how to get to them and yet be safe.\nSurely, to be in the Wishing-Pot and out by the sound of the next\nAngelus became the shape of his wish. He shut his eyes, cried ten upon\nthe venture, and was in the Wishing-Pot!\n\nThe little green feet were trebling over the glass with a sound like\nrunning water; and he himself began running at full speed, shot off\ninto the Wishing-Pot like a pellet from a pop-gun. Nothing could he\nsee of his dear but her wee green feet. But above them as they ran he\nheard showery laughter, and he knew that his lady was there before\nhim, though invisible to the eye.\n\nThe Pot, now he was in it, seemed bigger than the biggest dome in the\nworld; to run all round it took him two or three minutes. Away in the\ncentre of its base stood a great opal knob, like the axle to a wheel\nround which he and the green feet kept circling.\n\nHowever much he wished and wished, the green feet still kept their\ndistance, for now he was _in_ the Wishing-Pot wishes availed him\nnothing. The green feet flew faster than his; the light laugh rang\nfurther and further away; right across to the other side of the hall\nhis lady had passed from him now.\n\nThe magic fires of the crystal leapt and crackled under his tread;\nnow it seemed as if his feet ran on a green lawn, out of which broke\ncrocuses and daffodils, and now roses reddened in the track, and now\nthe purple of grapes spurted across the path like spilled wine. The\nsound of the green feet and the running of overhead laughter, as they\ndistanced him in front, came nearer and nearer behind him from across\nthe hall. He felt that he must follow and not turn, however beaten he\nmight be.\n\nPresently a voice, that he knew was his Beloved's, cried,--\n\n  'Heart that would have me must hatch me!\n  Feet that would find me must catch me!\n  Man that would mate me must match me!'\n\nOh, how? wondered spent feet, and failing heart, and reeling brain.\nHe stumbled slower and slower in the race, till presently with quick\ninnumerable patterings the green feet grew closer, and were overtaking\nhim from the rear.\n\nWarm breath was in his hair,--lips and a hand; he turned, open armed,\nto snatch the mischievous morsel, but all that he clasped was a gust\nof air; and he saw the green feet scudding out and away on a fresh\nstart before him.\n\nAgain, with laughter, the voice cried,--\n\n  'Lap for lap you must wind me:\n  Equal, before you can find me!\n  You are a lap behind me!'\n\nWhere they raced the surface of the glass sloped slightly to the\nupward rise of its walls; Tulip shifted his ground, and ran where the\nfooting was leveller toward the centre, and the circle began to go\nsmaller. So he began to gain, till the green slippers, seeing how the\nadvantage had come about, shifted also in their turn.\n\nThus they ran on; there were no inner posts to mark the course, only\nthe great opal standing in the centre of all formed the pivot of the\nrace, and round and round it, a great way off, they ran.\n\nAll at once a big thought came into Tulip's head; he waited not to\ncount ten, but, before Green Slippers knew what he was after, he had\nreached the opal centre, and was circling it. Then quickly all the\nlaughter stopped; the green feet came twinkling sixteens to the\ndozens, so as to get round the post before him and away.\n\nOne lap, he was before her; two laps, he turned again to her coming,\nand found her falling into his arms. She blossomed into sight at his\ntouch: from top to toe she was there! All rosy and alive he had her in\nhis clasp, laughing, crying, clinging, yet struggling to be free. She\nmade a most endless handful, till Tulip had caught her by the hair and\nkissed her between the eyes.\n\nAll round and overhead the magic crystal reared up arches of fire, to\na roof that dropped like rain, while Tulip and his prize sank down\nexhausted on the great hub of opal to rest. As he touched it all the\nsecret wonders of the Wishing-Pot were opened and revealed to his\ngaze.\n\nCrowds and crowds of faces were what he most saw; everywhere that he\nturned he saw old friends and neighbours who, he thought, had been\ndead and gone, looking sadly, and shaking long sorrowful faces at\nhim. 'You here too, Tulip?' they seemed forever to be saying. 'Always\nanother, and another; and now you here too!'\n\nThere was the dairyman's wife, who had waited seven years to have a\nchild, holding a little will-o'-the-wisp of a thing in her arms. Now\nand then for a while it would lie still, and then suddenly it would\nleap up and dart away; and she, poor soul, must up and after it,\nthough the chase were ever so long!\n\nThere also was Miller Dick with his broad thumbs, counting over a rich\npile of gold, which, ever and anon, spun up into the air, and went\nstrewing itself like dead leaves before the wind. Then he too must\nneeds up and after it, till it was all caught again, and added\ntogether, and made right.\n\nThere were small playmates of Tulip's childhood, each with its little\nconceit of treasure: one had a toy, and another a lamb, another a\nbird; and all of them hunted and caught the thing they loved, and\nkissed it and again let go. So it went on, over and over again, more\nsad than the sight of a quaker as he twiddles his thumbs.\n\nWhenever they were at peace for a moment, they turned their eyes his\nway. 'What, you here too, Tulip?' was always the thing they seemed to\nbe saying.\n\nWhile Tulip sat looking at them, and thinking of it all, suddenly his\nlady disappeared, and only her green feet darted from his side and\nbegan running round and round in a circle. Then was he just about to\nset off running after them, when he felt himself caught up to the\ncoloured fires of the roof and sent spinning ungovernably through\nspace. Suddenly he was dumped to the ground, and just as his feet were\ngathering themselves up under him he heard the Angelus bell ringing\nfrom the village below the slopes of the wood.\n\nHe was standing again by the side of the Wishing-Pot, and the old\nwoman sat cowering, and blinking her spider-eye at him, too much\nastonished to speak or move.\n\nTulip looked at her with a pleasant and engaging air. 'Oh, good\nmother, what a treat you have given me!' he said. 'How I wish I had\nmoney for another wish! what a pity it was ever to have wished myself\nback again!'\n\nWhen the old witch heard that she thought still to entrap him, and\nanswered joyfully, 'Why, kind Sir, surely, kind Sir, if you like it\nyou shall look again! Take another wish, and never mind about the\nmoney.' So she said the spell once more which opened to him the\nwonders of the Wishing-Pot.\n\nThen cried Tulip, clapping his hands, 'What better can I wish than to\nhave you in the Wishing-Pot, in the place of all those poor folk whom\nyou have imprisoned with their wishes!'\n\nHardly was the thing said than done; all the children who had been\nTulip's playmates, and Miller Dick with his broad thumbs, and the\ndairyman's wife, were every one of them out, and the old witch woman\nwas nowhere to be seen.\n\nBut Tulip put his eye to the mouth of the Wishing-Pot; and there down\nbelow he saw the old witch, running round and round as hard as she\ncould go, pursued by a herd of green spiders. And there without doubt\nshe remains.\n\nAnd now everybody was happy except Tulip himself; for the children had\nall of them their toys, and the old miller his gold, and as for the\ndairyman's wife, she found that she had become the mother of a large\nand promising infant. But Tulip had altogether lost his lady of the\ndear green feet, for in thinking of others he had forgotten to think\nof himself. All the gratitude of the poor people he had saved was\nnothing to him in that great loss which had left him desolate. For his\npart he only took the Wishing-Pot up under his arm, and went sadly\naway home.\n\nBut before long the noise of what he had done reached to the king's\nears; and he sent for Tulip to appear before him and his Court. Tulip\ncame, carrying the Wishing-Pot under his arm, very downcast and sad\nfor love of the lady of the dear green feet.\n\nAt that time all the Court was in half mourning; for the Princess\nRoyal, who was the king's only child, and the most beautiful and\naccomplished of her sex, had gone perfectly distraught with grief, of\nwhich nothing could cure her. All day long she sat with her eyes shut,\nand tears running down, and folded hands and quiet little feet. And\nall this came, it was said, from a dream which she could not tell or\nexplain to anybody.\n\nThe king had promised that whoever could rouse her from her grief,\nshould have the princess for his wife, and become heir to the throne;\nand when he heard that there was such a thing in the world as a\nWishing-Pot, he thought that something might be done with it.\n\nFrom Tulip he learned, however, that no one knew the spell which\nopened the resources of the Wishing-Pot save the old witch woman who\nwas shut up fast for ever in its inside. So it seemed to the king that\nthe Pot could be of no use for curing the princess.\n\nBut it was so beautiful, with its shooting stars and coloured fires,\nthat, when Tulip brought it, they carried it in to show to her.\n\nAfter three hours the princess was prevailed upon to open her eyes;\nand directly they fell upon the great opal bowl, all at once she\nstarted to her feet and began laughing and dancing and singing.\n\nThese are the words that they heard her sing,--\n\n  'Lap for lap I must wind you;\n  Equal, before I can find you;\n  I am a lap behind you!'\n\nTulip, as soon as he heard the sweetness of that voice, and the words,\npushed his way past the king and all his court, to where the princess\nwas. And there over the heads of the crowd he saw his lady of the dear\ngreen feet laughing and opening her white arms to him.\n\nAs she set eyes on his face the dream of the princess came true, and\nall her unhappiness passed from her. So they loved and were married,\nto the astonishment and edification of the whole court; and lived to\nbe greatly loved and admired by all their grandchildren.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FEEDING OF THE EMIGRANTS\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE FEEDING OF THE EMIGRANTS\n\n\nOver the sea went the birds, flying southward to their other home\nwhere the sun was. The rustle of their wings, high over head, could be\nheard down on the water; and their soft, shrill twitterings, and the\nthirsty nibbling of their beaks; for the seas were hushed, and the\nwinds hung away in cloud-land.\n\nFar away from any shore, and beginning to be weary, their eyes caught\nsight of a white form resting between sky and sea. Nearer they came,\ntill it seemed to be a great white bird, brooding on the calmed water;\nand its wings were stretched high and wide, yet it stirred not. And\nthe wings had in themselves no motion, but stood rigidly poised over\ntheir own reflection in the water.\n\nThen the birds came curiously, dropping from their straight course, to\nwonder at the white wings that went not on. And they came and settled\nabout this great, bird-like thing, so still and so grand.\n\nOnto the deck crept a small child, for the noise of the birds had come\ndown to him in the hold. 'There is nobody at home but me,' he said;\nfor he thought the birds must have come to call, and he wished to be\npolite. 'They are all gone but me,' he went on, 'all gone. I am left\nalone.'\n\nThe birds, none of them understood him; but they put their heads\non one side and looked down on him in a friendly way, seeming to\nconsider.\n\nHe ran down below and fetched up a pannikin of water and some biscuit.\nHe set the water down, and breaking the biscuit sprinkled it over the\nwhite deck. Then he clapped his hands to see them all flutter and\ncrowd round him, dipping their bright heads to the food and drink he\ngave them.\n\nThey might not stay long, for the waterlogged ship could not help\nthem on the way they wished to go; and by sunset they must touch land\nagain. Away they went, on a sudden, the whole crew of them, and the\nsound of their voices became faint in the bright sea-air.\n\n'I am left alone!' said the child.\n\nMany days ago, while he was asleep in a snug corner he had found for\nhimself, the captain and crew had taken to the boats, leaving the\ngreat ship to its fate. And forgetting him because he was so small, or\nthinking that he was safe in some one of the other boats, the rough\nsailors had gone off without him, and he was left alone. So for a\nwhole week he had stayed with the ship, like a whisper of its vanished\nlife amid the blues of a deep calm. And the birds came to the ship\nonly to desert it again quickly, because it stood so still upon the\nsea.\n\nBut that night the mermen came round the vessel's side, and sang; and\nthe wind rose to their singing, and the sea grew rough. Yet the child\nslept with his head in dreams. The dreams came from the mermen's\nsongs, and he held his breath, and his heart stayed burdened by the\ndeep sweetness of what he saw.\n\nDark and strange and cold the sea-valleys opened before him; blue\nsea-beasts ranged there, guarded by strong-finned shepherds, and\nfishes like birds darted to and fro, but made no sound. And that was\nwhat burdened his heart,--that for all the beauty he saw, there was no\nsound, no song of a single bird to comfort him.\n\nThe mermen reached out their blue arms to him, and sang; on the top of\nthe waves they sang, striving to make him forget the silence of the\nland below. They offered him the sea-life: why should he be drowned\nand die?\n\nAnd now over him in the dark night the great wings crashed, and beat\nabroad in the wind, and the ship made great way. And the mermen swam\nfast to be with her, and ceased from their own song, for the wind sang\na coronach in the canvas and cordage. But the little child lifted his\nhead in his sleep and smiled, for his soul was eased of the mermen's\nsong, and it seemed to him that instead he heard birds singing in a\nfar-off land, singing of a child whose loving hand had fed them, faint\nand weary, in their way over the wide ocean.\n\nIn that far southern land the dawn had begun, and the birds, waking\none by one, were singing their story of him to the soft-breathing\ntamarisk boughs. And none of them knew how they had been sent as\na salvage crew to save the child's spirit from the spell of the\nsea-dream, and to carry it safely back to the land that loved him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut with the child's body the white wings had flown down into the\nwave-buried valleys, and to a cleft of the sea-hills to rest.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PASSIONATE PUPPETS\n\n[Illustration]\n\nTHE PASSIONATE PUPPETS\n\n\nWhen the long days of summer began, Killian, the cow-herd, was able\nto lead his drove up into the hills, giving them the high pastures to\nrange. Then from sunrise to sunset he was alone, except when, early\neach morning, Grendel and the other girls came up to carry down the\nmilk to the villages.\n\nAll day long the cow-bells sounded in his ears, but still the time of\nhis wedding was a long way off; it would be five years before he and\nGrendel could afford to set up a house and farm, with cows of their\nown.\n\nThe great stretch of world that lay out under him, like a broad map\ncoloured blue and green, made him full of a restless longing for a\nmove in life. Yonder he could pick out the towns with their spires and\nglittering roofs, and the overhead mists, that gave token of crowded\nlife below. It was there that wealth could be got; and with wealth men\nmarried soon, and were at ease. Somewhere, he had heard, lived kings\nand queens, wearing rich robes and gold crowns on the top of their\nheart's desire. For kings and queens, he supposed, loved as did he and\nGrendel, regarding nothing else as much in the world besides.\n\nSo Killian put heart into his deft hands, and presently had set to\nwork.\n\nOne evening Grendel came up from the valley, after her day's work, to\nhave a look at her lover; she had brought him some brown cakes and a\nbottle of wine. But Killian, who had caught sight of her eyes over the\ngreen rise at his feet, was hiding something behind his back.\n\n'Whatever have you there?' she asked, as she saw chips, and tools, and\nbits of bright foil, lying scattered about the ground. Yet for three\ndays he would show her nothing, only he said, 'What I do is because we\nlove each other so.'\n\nAt the end of that time, he showed her what he had done. There she saw\na little king and queen, about six inches high; he was in blue, and\nshe in white; and they were both as dear as they were small. The king\nwas partly like a cow-herd, having a crown over his broad-brimmed hat,\nwith thick wooden shoes, and leather-bound legs; and the queen was\nlike Grendel, with great long plaits past her waist, and a gold-worked\nbodice, such as Grendel had for Sunday wear. 'Aye, aye,' cried\nGrendel, 'why, it is you and me!'\n\nThen Killian showed her how the joints of the little puppets moved on\ndelicate wires, and how five strings ran up, one from each limb, to be\nfastened to the player's fingers, so that he might make them act as\nthough life were in them.\n\n'I shall take these down with me to the valley,' said Killian. 'First\nI shall go about among the villages; then, when I can do better, I\nshall go to the towns. After that no doubt the kings and queens will\nhear of me, and will send for me to play before them, and I shall\nbecome rich. Then I shall come home and marry you.'\n\nGrendel thought her lover the most wonderful man in the world, and it\nis the truth he was very clever; she kissed him a hundred times, and\nthe little marionettes also. 'Ah,' she said, 'now we shall not have to\nwait five years! in five months you will come back rich and famous,\nand we shall marry, and live happily.'\n\nHow Killian had loved her while making his puppets, only she knew as\nwell as he. Truly, he had put his heart into them, so that they were\nlike living beings,--and so small that their very smallness made them\na marvel. Being a lover, he had put inside each breast a little heart,\nand, for the luck of the thing, had christened them with a drop of his\nown blood, and a drop of Grendel's; so each heart had in it one little\ndrop of blood. Now he was to go out, and try his fortune.\n\nHe found a lad to come and take his place and see after the cows;\nthen he said good-bye to Grendel, and set off on a round of all the\nvillages of the plain.\n\nAt every inn where he put up, he called the country folk together to\nthe sound of his shepherd's bag-pipes, and showed them his play. It\nwas only himself and Grendel, no story at all, merely lovers parting\nand meeting again, each believing the other dead, and in the end\nliving happily to the sound of cow-bells, that showed how rich they\nwere in herds.\n\nAnd the villagers laughed and cried, and gave him pence, and a night's\nlodging, and food; so that presently he was able to make himself a\nlittle travelling-stage, and hire a piper to play dance-music for him.\nBut it was always the one story of himself and Grendel, and no other,\nthough the two puppets wore crowns upon their heads.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe little marionettes had hearts. That was the beginning of things:\nthey remembered nothing else. When their eyes had grown open to the\nfact, then for them life had begun. After that they lived like bee and\nblossom, only that the bee never flew away, and the honey remained in\nthe blossom.\n\nHow this came to pass was a question they never asked; why they loved\neach other they did not know. If they had had to think of it they\nwould have said, 'It is because we cannot help it.' And every day\none same thing happened to them that they could not help, the most\nbeautiful thing in life. It came to them by instinct, taking hold of\nthem from head to feet and saying, 'love, love, love,' in all sorts of\nwonderful ways.\n\nWhenever this thing happened they began to move about softly, going to\nand fro, and round and round, dancing, and holding each other by\nthe hand, putting their cheeks so close together that their eyelids\nbrushed, and sometimes their little hearts that heaved. And all the\nwhile music from somewhere was giving a meaning to these things; and\nover and over again, 'love, love, love,' was what it kept saying to\nthem.\n\nTheir happiness was so great, that they would begin playing with it,\npretending that it was all turned into grief. First he would kiss her\nfrom forehead to chin, and into the hollow of her little throat; and\nthen all down each dear arm, even to the finger-tips; and last of all\nher feet; and again last of all her lips, and again last of all her\nbreast. And then he would go away, walking backwards most of the time,\nor if not, still turning round and round to take another look at her.\nThen when he was altogether out of sight, she would sit down and cry,\nthough all the while he would be peeping at her from his hiding-place,\nto let her know that he was not really gone. Then she would lie down,\nand cry more, and at last leave off crying and stay almost still on a\nlittle bed, that seemed to come to her from nowhere, just when she was\nready to fall on it. Then, at last, she would shut her eyes, and cover\nher face up very slowly with a sheet, and lie so still that he would\ngrow quite frightened, and come running from his hiding-place, and\nlift the sheet, and look at her; then he would fall down as if his\nlegs had been cut from under him; then he would get up and throw\nflowers over her, and at last catch her up and begin to carry her;\nand at that she would wake up all at once and kiss him, to a sound of\nbells.\n\nThey did not know why they did this; it was so beautiful they could\nnot have thought of it for themselves, and yet it said everything of\nlife that they wanted to say. For love was the beginning and the end\nof it; and always, as they came to the sad part, they had tender\ntremblings for fear the other should think the sorrow was real: he,\nlest she should think he had really gone away and left her, never to\nreturn; and she, lest he should believe that she always meant to lie\nso cruelly still, with a sheet over her eyes. Yet the kissings that\ncame after made the fearfulness almost the sweetest thing in their\nprayer-sayings to each other.\n\nFor to them this was a daily prayer, the most solemn thing in their\nlives; heart praying to heart, and hand reaching to hand; and from\nsomewhere overhead gentle monitions as to what they must do next\ncoming to them, so that they knew how to pray best, now by lifting a\nhand, or now by turning the head, or now by running fast with both\nfeet. And all this beautiful worship of love their bodies learned to\ndo more perfectly day by day; yet the little quaking of fear was still\nin the centre of it all.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nKillian's fingers grew nimble; and yet he often wondered to see how\ntrue to life his puppets were, how they sighed, how they embraced and\nclung, as if their hearts were coming in two when the parting drew\nnear. How lingeringly the little queen drew up the sheet over her\nface, when her lover did not return, and let it fall to cover her with\na quiet sigh. Often he cried when she did that part, so like Grendel\nwas it,--the tender waiting, and the last giving in! And then, how the\nlittle king shuddered as he drew the cloth from her face; and how he\nthrew the flowers, as if there were not enough in the world to express\nhis grief! And yet it was only a play, made by the twitching of the\nstrings tied to his fingers, with love as the beginning and end of it.\n\nKillian was getting quite rich in copper coin, so he sent some of it\nhome to Grendel, that she might buy stock for the home that was so\nsoon to be theirs. And presently he made bold to go into the towns,\nwhere, instead of copper, he might gain silver. He built a bigger\nstage, and had more music to go to the dance; but still it was the\nstory of himself and Grendel, with crowns upon their heads, and\nnothing more.\n\nAnd now, indeed, people began to cry, 'Here is a wonderful new actor!\nHe has it all at the ends of his fingers! What a pity he has no better\nplay in which to show himself off!' But Killian said, 'It is the only\nplay I know how to do.'\n\nPresently there came a sharp fellow to him, who said: 'If you will\ngo shares with me, I will make your fortune. We have only to put our\nheads together, and the thing is done. I will write the plays for you,\nand you shall play them on the strings. What is wanted is a little\nmore real life.'\n\nKillian was a simple fellow, who believed all the world to be wiser\nthan himself. He was glad enough to meet with a clever fellow who\ncould write plays for him. His partner wanted him to make new dresses\nfor the marionettes, to suit their new parts; but to that Killian\nwould not agree. So whatever they were they still wore their broad\nhats and crowns, and their wooden shoes, that still he might watch\nin his own mind himself and Grendel making their way to fortune and\nhappiness.\n\nThe marionettes grew bewildered with their new taking; they did not\nunderstand the meaning of all the coarse things they had to do. So in\nthe middle of a play, the little queen would fail now and then in\nher part, and move awkwardly, wondering what her lover meant when he\nsprawled to and fro, and seemed trying to find in the air more feet\nthan he had upon the ground.\n\nYet the crowd found her bashful fear so irresistibly funny, that it\nroared again. Also, when the little cow-herd with a crown on his head,\nlifted his hand or foot toward his partner, and then shrank trembling\naway, it roared yet more at the poltroon manner of the thing.\n\nKillian's partner said, 'You alter all my plays, but the way you do\nthem is something to marvel at. Only, why do you always bring them\nround again to that silly lover's ending?'\n\n'I cannot help it,' said Killian; 'often now, with these new plays, I\ncan't get the strings to work properly. I think the poor puppets are\ngetting worn out.'\n\nHis partner began examining the puppets, and watching how Killian\nplayed them, with more attention; and presently he knew that there was\nmore in it than met the eye. 'It is the puppets who are the marvel,\nnot the man,' he said to himself. 'I could work them better myself, if\nI had practice.'\n\nSoon after this he proposed that they should set off for another town;\nit was the chief town of all, where they hoped at last to be allowed\nto show their plays to the queen herself. 'It must be a real play this\ntime,' said the partner, 'a tragedy; but it wants a third person. You\nmust make another puppet, while I write the play!'\n\nSo Killian set to work. But he had no love for the third puppet, which\nwas neither himself nor Grendel, and he put no heart inside it, and no\nlittle drop of blood. So the new marionette was but limbs, and a head\ndrawn on wires.\n\n'Soon,' thought Killian, 'I shall be rich enough to go home and marry\nGrendel. Then I will throw this stupid third one away; but the other\ntwo we will always keep close to the niche with the statue of Saint\nLady, to help to make us thankful for the good things God gives us in\nthis world.'\n\nIt was beautiful late spring weather when he and his companion set out\nfor the capital. On the way Killian's partner told him the play that\nwould have to be played before the queen, and said, 'In case three\nshould be too much for you to manage, you had better teach me also\nto handle the strings.' So Killian began to teach him, with the two\nlittle marionettes alone, the first play which he had brought down\nwith him from the mountains,--that being the easiest of all to learn,\nand the one he loved best to teach.\n\nThe partner was surprised to find how wonderfully the puppets followed\nthe leading-strings; in spite of his clumsiness the story acted itself\nto perfection.\n\nSimple-hearted Killian was charmed. 'Ah! you clever townsman,' said\nhe, 'see how at first trial you equal poor me, who have been at it for\nmonths! It had better be you, after all, to do the play when it is\ncalled for at the court.' And this Killian proposed truly out of pure\nmodesty, but also because he did not like the play his partner had\nmade for him. 'It is too cruel a one!' he said. 'After they have\nplayed it together so long, I feel as if my two puppets can do nothing\nelse so well as love each other, and live happily.'\n\n'Ah, but,' said his partner, 'the queen would find that very dull!'\nKillian could not see why, but he believed that the townsman was wiser\nthan himself, and gave in. All he wanted now was to get money enough\nto run back home with, and throw himself into his dear Grendel's arms\nfor life.\n\nSo they journeyed on, and at last, one day, they came in sight of\nthe capital. But it had been such a long way to come that when they\nreached the gates they found them shut.\n\nThe night was warm, and a high moon was overhead. 'Come,' said\nKillian, 'and let us lie down in one of these orchards that are\noutside the walls!' So they left the high-road, and went and lay down.\n\nFirst they ate some food that they carried with them. Then Killian\nopened the case in which lay the two marionettes, and looked them over\nto see that they were in working order. His partner took up the odd\nnumber, and began practising it; but Killian's attention all went to\nthe little king cow-herd and his queen.\n\nHe fondled them gently with his hands, and as he looked at them his\nheart went up into the mountains to pray for his dear Grendel.\n\nPresently he began dreaming to himself like Jacob, only his dream was\njust of the simple things of earth. Down the great green uplands came\ntroops of white cattle; but to him they seemed to be bridesmaids\ncoming to Grendel's wedding day, and the ringing of the cow-bells was\nas sweet to him as the songs of angels. Before he was fast asleep the\ntwo marionettes had slipped off his knee and lay in the deep grass\nlooking up at the sky.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThey had never seen so beautiful a sight before, for never had they\nspent a night in the sweet open air till now. Over their heads swung\ndusky clusters of blossom, that would look white by day; and over them\nthe moon went kissing its way from star to star.\n\nNow and then single blossoms dropped as if they had something to say\nto the little cow-herd and his queen, lying there in the cool grass.\n\nBut the marionettes said nothing; their hearts were very full; now, at\nlast, they found their old happiness return to them. Their prayers,\nthat they used to say to each other so tenderly, had been going wrong\nfor quite a long time; sudden starts and tremblings of fear had taken\nhold of their light-hearted deceptions of each other; and every day\nthings had been going worse. But now they felt like entering upon a\nlong rest.\n\nAs they lay, their hands met together. The little cow-herd could\ncount her fingers across the palm of his hand, and never once did she\npretend to be drawing them away. How good it all seemed!\n\nClose by them the odd man was strutting in stiff, ungainly attitudes,\ncricking his neck and elbows, and tossing up his toes. How foolish he\nseemed to them in their innocent wisdom! They knew he was nothing to\nthem, for he had no heart; he was nothing but a trick on springs. Yet\nthey wished he would go away, and give them room to be alone, while\nthe moon was making a white dream over their lives.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe partner grumbled to himself at the awkward ways of the new\npuppet. Instead of obeying, it kicked at the leading strings, and did\neverything like a stick, all angles and corners. Presently he put it\nback into its box; and then he saw the little king and queen lying\ntogether on the damp grass. He picked them up, growling at Killian as\na simpleton, for leaving them there to get rusty with the dew. Then he\nput them also away, and curled himself up to dream about the success\nof his play on the morrow.\n\nQuite early in the morning he and Killian went into the city, and set\nup their stage in a corner of the marketplace. The wonderful acting of\nthe little king and queen, compared with the ungainly hobblings and\njerkings of the odd man, threw the townspeople into ecstasies of\nlaughter. They declared they had never seen so funny a sight in their\nlives as the beautiful nervous acting of the pair, side by side with\nthe stiff-jointed awkwardness of the other.\n\nPresently, sure enough, the queen heard tell of this new form of\nentertainment, and sent word for the mummers to appear at the palace.\n\nKillian said to his partner: 'There is something the matter with the\npuppets to-day; they want careful handling. I am glad we settled\nthat you are to do the new play; for, before the queen and her great\nladies, I am likely to lose my head.'\n\nAll the court was gathered together to watch the puppet-play, while\nbehind the scenes the partner took all the leading strings into his\nown hands.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe two marionettes opened their eyes, and saw daylight; they began\nmoving to and fro softly; every now and then they put their faces\ntogether and kissed. The stupid odd man seemed to have gone; they were\nso glad to be left alone.\n\nSoon the little king lay down, pretending to be tired, but it was only\nthat he might put his head in the queen's lap. She bent over him, and\nlaid her fingers on his eyes, seeming to say, 'Go to sleep, then! I\nwill shut your eyes for you.' How pretty it was of her!\n\nThen she covered his face over with her handkerchief; and all at once\nin came the odd man, walking on the points of his toes. The little\nking, now that the handkerchief was over his face, opened his eyes,\nand looked through it, to see what his dear queen would be doing now.\nThe odd man had his arms round her neck, and was kissing her, and the\nqueen looked as if she were going to kiss him back; but all at once\nshe had pushed away the odd man so hard that he fell down with his\nheels in the air; and then she snatched the handkerchief from the\nking's face, and began trembling, and kissing him.\n\nThe whole of the court shouted, first with laughter at the odd man's\nfall, and then with admiration at the wonderful acting of the little\nqueen.\n\nBehind the scenes the partner began grumbling to Killian: 'They are\ngoing all wrong! It's all your doing, leaving them to lie in the damp\ngrass last night!'\n\nBut still the whole court shouted and applauded. So the play went on;\nand now, more and more, the showman had cause to grumble. Whenever he\ncame to a part where the play required that the queen should turn from\nher own cow-herd to the ugly odd man, everything went wrong. 'Very\nwell,' thought he at last, 'she may be as innocent as Desdemona but it\nwill all come to the same at the last!'\n\nAnd so, still more, as the play went on, the little marionettes\ntrembled and shook with fear. They wished the silly odd man would go\naway, and not come interrupting their prayers; and all the while they\nloved each other so! No idea of jealousy ever entered the little\nking's head; and as for the queen, if the odd man came and put his\narms round her neck and kissed her, could she help it? All she could\ndo was to run and put her arms round her own lover when he reappeared;\nand how the court shouted and applauded, when she went so quick from\none to the other.\n\nAt last the final act was begun; the king came running in with a sword\nin his hand, why, he did not know, until he saw his poor little queen\nstruggling in the arms of the odd man. 'Ah,' thought he, 'it is to\ndrive him away! Then we shall be by ourselves again, and happy.'\n\nNo one ever fought so wonderfully on a stage before as the little\ncow-herd. All the court started to their feet, shouting; and still,\nwhile they shouted, they laughed to see the impossible odd man\nscooping about with his sword, and jerking head over heels, and high\nup into the air, to get away from the little king's sword-play. The\npartner had to keep snatching him up out of harm's way, for fear of a\nwrong ending. Then, suddenly he let him come down with a jump on the\nlittle king's head. And at that the king fell back upon the ground,\nand felt a sharp pain go through his heart.\n\nThe odd man drew out his sword and laughed; on the end of it was a\ntiny drop of blood. The poor little queen ran up, and bent down to\nlook in her lover's face, to know if he were really hurt. And then a\nterrible thing happened.\n\nThree times the little king raised his sword and pointed it at her\nheart, and dropped it again. And all the time the partner was tugging\nat the strings, and swearing by all the worst things he knew.\n\nThe little king felt himself growing weak; he was very frightened. He\nfelt as if he were going away altogether, and leaving her to think\nhe did not love her any more. And still his arm went up and down,\npointing the sword at her heart.\n\nThe showman tugged angrily; then there was the sound of a wire that\nsnapped--the king had thrown away his sword.\n\nHe reached up his two arms, and laid them fast round the queen's neck.\n'Now at last she knows that I have not left off loving her.' He felt\nher drawing herself away, he held her more and more tightly to his\nbreast; and now her little face lay close against his. Nothing should\ntake her away from him now!\n\nThe showman pulled violently with all his might, to get her away;\nthere was a snapping of strings, and then--the queen reached out two\nweak little hands, and laid them under her lover's head.\n\nThey lay quite still, quite still for a long time, and never moved.\n'The play is over!' said the showman, disgusted and angry at the wreck\nof his plot.\n\nSuddenly the whole stage became showered with gold; the great queen\nand all her court threw out showers of it like rain. It fell all over\nthe two marionettes, covering them where they lay, just as the babes\nin the wood when they died were covered over with leaves.\n\nKillian dropped his head on to the boards of the little stage, and\nsobbed. The partner let down the curtain, and began gathering up the\ngold.\n\nAnd still, from without, the queen and her court clapped, and cried\ntheir applause; and still within lay Killian with his head upon the\nstage, sobbing for the two little marionettes, lying still with all\nthe springs and strings of their bodies quite broken. Inside, though\nhe could not see them, their hearts were broken also. 'Now,' he\nthought, 'I must go back to Grendel, or I too shall die!'\n\nThat night, in the middle of the night, the partner went away,\ncarrying with him all the gold that the little marionettes had earned\nby their deaths. And these, indeed, he left, seeing that they were\nuseless any more. But to Killian, when he woke the next morning, they\nwere the only things left him in the world, to take back to Grendel.\n\nHe took them just as they were, locked in each other's arms, and went\nback all the long way to Grendel, up into the hills of his home, as\npoor in money as when he first started.\n\nBut Grendel saw that he had come back rich; for his face was grown\ntender and wise. And for five years they waited very patiently\ntogether, till by cow-keeping he had earned enough for them to keep\nsome cows of their own, and to live in married happiness.\n\nThe little marionettes they put on a shelf, beneath the cross, and the\nstatue of our Lady; and there, locked in each other's arms, those two\ndisciples and martyrs of love lie at peace, feeling no pain any more\nin their broken hearts.","title":"The Field of Clover","tradition":"folklore-oral-tradition","translated_text":null,"word_count":20573}