{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25461/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25461","id":"gutenberg_25461","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25461","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was made using scans of public domain works in the\nInternational Children's Digital Library.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n   BO-PEEP\n\n   STORY BOOKS.\n\n   [Illustration]\n\n   CINDERELLA,\n   THE PRINCESS ROSETTA,\n   FAIR ONE AND GOLDEN LOCKS,\n   BEAUTY AND THE BEAST,\n   LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD,\n   THE SLEEPING BEAUTY,\n\n   NEW YORK:\n   LEAVITT & ALLEN BROS.,\n   No. 8 HOWARD STREET.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=Cinderella; or the Glass Slipper=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=Cinderella; or, the Glass Slipper.=\n\n\nThere once lived a gentleman, who, on becoming a widower, married a most\nhaughty woman for his second wife. The lady had two daughters by a\nformer marriage, equally proud and disagreeable as herself, while the\nhusband had one daughter, of the sweetest temper and most angelic\ndisposition, who was the complete counterpart of her late mother. No\nsooner was the wedding over, than the stepmother began to show her bad\ntemper. She could not bear her stepdaughter's good qualities, that only\nshowed up her daughters' unamiable ones still more obviously, and she\naccordingly compelled the poor girl to do all the drudgery of the\nhousehold. It was she who washed the dishes, and scrubbed down the\nstairs, and polished the floors in my lady's chamber, and in those of\nthe two pert misses, her daughters; and while the latter slept on good\nfeatherbeds in elegant rooms, furnished with full-length\nlooking-glasses, their sister lay in a wretched garret on an old straw\nmattress. Yet the poor thing bore this ill treatment very meekly, and\ndid not dare complain to her father, who was so besotted to his wife\nthat he would only have scolded her.\n\nWhen her work was done, she used to sit in the chimney corner amongst\nthe cinders, which had caused the nickname of _Cinderella_ to be given\nher by the family; yet, for all her shabby clothes, Cinderella was a\nhundred times prettier than her sisters, let them be drest ever so\nmagnificently.\n\nIt happened that the king's son gave a ball, to which he invited all the\nnobility; and, as our two young ladies made a great figure in the world,\nthey were included in the list of invitations. So they began to be very\nbusy choosing what head-dress and which gown would be the most becoming.\nHere was fresh work for poor Cinderella; for it was she, forsooth, who\nwas to starch and get up their ruffles, and iron all their fine linen;\nand nothing but dress was talked about for days together. \"I,\" said the\neldest, \"shall put on my red velvet dress, with my point-lace\ntrimmings.\" \"And I,\" said the younger sister, \"shall wear my usual\npetticoat, but shall set it off with my gold brocaded train and my\ncirclet of diamonds.\" They sent for a clever tire-woman to prepare the\ndouble rows of quilling for their caps, and they purchased a quantity of\nfashionably cut patches. They called in Cinderella to take her advice,\nas she had such good taste, and Cinderella not only advised them well,\nbut offered to dress their hair, which they were pleased to accept.\nWhile she was thus busied, the sisters said to her, \"And pray,\nCinderella, would you like to go to the ball!\" \"Nay, you are mocking\nme,\" replied the poor girl; \"it is not for such as I to go to balls.\"\n\"True enough,\" rejoined they; \"folks would laugh to see a Cinderella at\na court ball.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAny other but Cinderella would have drest their hair awry to punish them\nfor their impertinence, but she was so good natured that she dressed\nthem most becomingly. The two sisters were so delighted, that they\nscarcely ate a morsel for a couple of days. They spent their whole time\nbefore a looking-glass, and they would be laced so tight, to make their\nwaists as slender as possible, that more than a dozen stay-laces were\nbroken in the attempt.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe long-wished-for evening came at last, and off they set. Cinderella's\neyes followed them as long as she could, and then she was fain to weep.\nHer godmother now appeared, and seeing her in tears inquired what was\nthe matter. \"I wish---I wish,\" began the poor girl, but tears choked her\nutterance. \"You wish that you could go to the ball,\" interrupted her\ngodmother, who was a fairy. \"Indeed I do!\" said Cinderella, with a sigh.\n\"Well, then, if you will be a good girl, you shall go,\" said her\ngodmother. \"Now fetch me a pumpkin from the garden,\" added she.\nCinderella flew to gather the finest pumpkin she could find, though she\ncould not understand how it was to help her to go to the ball. But, her\ngodmother having scooped it quite hollow, touched it with her wand, when\nit was immediately changed into a gilt coach. She then went to the\nmousetrap, where she found six live mice, and bidding Cinderella let\nthem out one by one, she changed each mouse into a fine dapple-grey\nhorse by a stroke of her wand. She next considered what she should do\nfor a coachman, when Cinderella proposed to look for a rat in the\nrat-trap. \"That's a good thought,\" quoth her godmother, \"so go and see.\"\nSure enough, Cinderella returned with the rat-trap, in which were three\nlarge rats. The fairy chose one who had a tremendous pair of whiskers,\nand forthwith changed him into a coachman with the finest moustachios\never seen. She then said: \"Now go into the garden, and bring me six\nlizards, which you will find behind the watering-pot.\" These were no\nsooner brought, than they were turned into six footmen, with laced\nliveries, who got up behind the coach just as naturally as if they had\ndone nothing else all their lives. The fairy then said to Cinderella:\n\"Now here are all the means for going to the ball; are you not pleased?\"\n\"But must I go in these dirty clothes?\" said Cinderella, timidly. Her\ngodmother merely touched her with her wand, and her shabby clothes were\nchanged to a dress of gold and silver tissue, all ornamented with\nprecious stones. She next gave her the prettiest pair of glass slippers\never seen. She now got into the carriage, after having been warned by\nher godmother upon no account to prolong her stay beyond midnight, as,\nshould she remain a moment longer at the ball, her coach would again\nbecome a pumpkin, her horses mice, her footmen lizards, while her\nclothes would return to their former shabby condition. Cinderella\npromised she would not fail to leave the ball before midnight, and set\noff in an ecstacy of delight. The king's son, on being informed that\nsome great princess, unknown at court, had just arrived, went to hand\nher out of her carriage, and brought her into the hall where the company\nwas assembled. The moment she appeared, all conversation was hushed,\nthe violins ceased playing, and the dancing stopped short, so great was\nthe sensation produced by the stranger's beauty. A confused murmur of\nadmiration fluttered through the crowd, and each was fain to exclaim\n\"How surpassingly lovely she is!\" Even the king, old as he was, could\nnot forbear admiring her like the rest, and whispered to the queen, that\nshe was certainly the fairest and comeliest woman he had seen for many a\nlong day. The ladies were all busy examining her head-dress and her\nclothes, in order to get similar ones the very next day, if, indeed,\nthey could meet with stuffs of such rich patterns, and find workwomen\nclever enough to make them up.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAfter leading her to the place to which her rank seemed to entitle her,\nthe king's son requested her hand for the next dance, when she displayed\nso much grace as to increase the admiration her beauty had raised in the\nfirst instance. An elegant supper was next brought in, but the young\nprince was so taken up with gazing at the fair stranger, that he did not\npartake of a morsel. Cinderella went and sat by her sisters, sharing\nwith them the oranges and citrons the prince had offered her, much to\ntheir surprise, as they did not recognise her in the least.\n\nWhen Cinderella heard the clock strike three-quarters past eleven, she\nmade a low curtsey to the whole assembly, and retired in haste. On\nreaching home, she found her godmother, and after thanking her for the\ntreat she had enjoyed, she ventured to express a wish to return to the\nball on the following evening, as the prince had requested her to do.\nShe was still relating to her godmother all that had happened at court,\nwhen her two sisters knocked at the door. Cinderella went and let them\nin, pretending to yawn and stretch herself, and rub her eyes, and\nsaying: \"How late you are!\" just as if she was woke up out of a nap,\nthough, truth to say, she had never felt less disposed to sleep in her\nlife. \"If you had been to the ball,\" said one of the sisters, \"you would\nnot have thought it late. There came the most beautiful princess ever\nseen, who loaded us with polite attentions, and gave us oranges and\ncitrons.\"\n\nCinderella could scarcely contain her delight, and inquired the name of\nthe princess. But they replied that nobody knew her name, and that the\nking's son was in great trouble about her, and would give the world to\nknow who she could be. \"Is she, then, so very beautiful?\" said\nCinderella, smiling. \"Lord! how I should like to see her! Oh, do, my\nLady Javotte, lend me the yellow dress you wear every day, that I may go\nto the ball and have a peep at this wonderful princess.\" \"A likely\nstory, indeed!\" cried Javotte, tossing her head disdainfully, \"that I\nshould lend my clothes to a dirty Cinderella like you!\" Cinderella\nexpected to be refused, and was not sorry for it, as she would have been\npuzzled what to do, had her sister really lent her the dress she begged\nto have.\n\nOn the following evening, the sisters again went to the court ball, and\nso did Cinderella, drest even more magnificently than before. The king's\nson never left her side, and kept paying her the most flattering\nattentions. The young lady was nothing loth to listen to him; so it came\nto pass that she forgot her godmother's injunctions, and, indeed, lost\nher reckoning so completely, that, before she deemed it could be eleven\no'clock, she was startled at hearing the first stroke of midnight. She\nrose hastily, and flew away like a startled fawn. The prince attempted\nto follow her, but she was too swift for him; only, as she flew she\ndropped one of her glass slippers, which he picked up very eagerly.\nCinderella reached home quite out of breath, without either coach or\nfootmen, and with only her shabby clothes on her back; nothing, in\nshort, remained of her recent magnificence, save a little glass slipper,\nthe fellow to the one she had lost. The sentinels at the palace gate\nwere closely questioned as to whether they had not seen a princess\ncoming out; but they answered they had seen no one except a shabbily\ndrest girl, who appeared to be a peasant rather than a young lady.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the two sisters returned from the ball, Cinderella asked them\nwhether they had been well entertained; and whether the beautiful lady\nwas there? They replied, that she was; but that she had run away as soon\nas midnight had struck, and so quickly as to drop one of her dainty\nglass slippers, which the king's son had picked up, and was looking at\nmost fondly during the remainder of the ball; indeed, it seemed beyond a\ndoubt that he was deeply enamoured of the beautiful creature to whom it\nbelonged.\n\nThey spoke truly enough; for, a few days afterwards, the king's son\ncaused a proclamation to be made, by sound of trumpet, all over the\nkingdom, to the effect that he would marry her whose foot should be\nfound to fit the slipper exactly. So the slipper was first tried on by\nall the princesses; then by all the duchesses; and next by all the\npersons belonging to the court: but in vain. It was then carried to the\ntwo sisters, who tried with all their might to force their feet into its\ndelicate proportions, but with no better success. Cinderella, who was\npresent, and recognised her slipper, now laughed, and said: \"Suppose I\nwere to try?\" Her sisters ridiculed such an idea; but the gentleman who\nwas appointed to try the slipper, having looked attentively at\nCinderella, and perceived how beautiful she was, said that it was but\nfair she should do so, as he had orders to try it on every young maiden\nin the kingdom. Accordingly, having requested Cinderella to sit down,\nshe no sooner put her little foot to the slipper, than she drew it on,\nand it fitted like wax. The sisters were quite amazed; but their\nastonishment increased ten fold, when Cinderella drew the fellow slipper\nout of her pocket, and put it on. Her godmother then made her\nappearance; and, having touched Cinderella's clothes with her wand, made\nthem still more magnificent than those she had previously worn.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHer two sisters now recognised her for the beautiful stranger they had\nseen at the ball; and, falling at her feet, implored her forgiveness for\ntheir unworthy treatment, and all the insults they had heaped upon her\nhead. Cinderella raised them, saying, as she embraced them, that she not\nonly forgave them with all her heart, but wished for their affection.\nShe was then taken to the palace of the young prince, in whose eyes she\nappeared yet more lovely than before, and who married her shortly after.\n\nCinderella, who was as good as she was beautiful, allowed her sisters to\nlodge in the palace, and gave them in marriage, that same day, to two\nlords belonging to the court.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=Beauty and the Beast=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=Beauty and the Beast.=\n\n\nThere was once a wealthy merchant who had three sons and three\ndaughters. The latter were extremely pretty, especially the youngest,\nwho, indeed, was called in childhood the little Beauty,--a nickname that\nclung to her ever after, much to the jealous annoyance of her sisters.\nNor did she excel them more in beauty than in goodness. The two eldest\nsisters were so proud of their father's fortune that they would not\ncondescend to herd with other merchants' daughters, but were always\ndangling after persons of quality, and frequenting balls and plays, and\nlaughed at their youngest sister for spending her time in reading\ninstructive books. As they were known to be rich, many wealthy merchants\noffered to marry them; but the two eldest replied, that they could not\nthink of anybody below a Duke, or at least an Earl, while Beauty\nanswered, that she thanked them for their good opinion, but that, being\nstill very young, she wished to remain a few years longer with her\nfather.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt happened that the merchant was suddenly ruined, and nothing was left\nof all his vast property but a small house in the country, whither, he\ninformed his children, they must now remove. The two eldest replied,\nthat for their parts they need not leave town, as they had plenty of\nlovers who would be too happy to marry them even without a fortune. But\nhere they were strangely mistaken. Their lovers would not even look upon\nthem now; and, as they had made themselves odious by their pride, nobody\npitied them for their fall, though every one felt sorry for Beauty.\nIndeed, several gentlemen offered to marry her, portionless as she was;\nbut she told them she could not resolve to abandon her father in his\nmisfortunes. The family now removed into the country, where the father\nand his sons tilled the ground, while Beauty rose daily at four o'clock,\nand did all the work in the house. At first this drudgery seemed very\nhard, but after a time she grew stronger, and her health improved. When\nher work was over she read, played on the harpsichord, or sang as she\nsat at her spinning-wheel. As to her two sisters, they were perfectly\nhelpless, and a burden to themselves. They would rise at ten, and spend\nthe live-long day fretting for the loss of their fine clothes and gay\nparties, and sneer at their sister for her low-born tastes, because she\nput up with their unfortunate position so cheerfully.\n\nThe family had spent about a year in their retreat, when the merchant\nreceived a letter, informing him that a ship freighted with goods\nbelonging to him, that was thought to be lost, had just come into port.\nAt this unexpected news the two eldest sisters were half wild for joy,\nas they now hoped they would soon leave the cottage; and when their\nfather was about to go and settle his business, they begged him to bring\nthem back all sorts of dresses and trinkets. When the father perceived\nthat Beauty did not ask for anything, he inquired what he should bring\nher. \"Why, since you ask me, dear father,\" said she, \"I should like you\nto bring me a rose, as none grow in these parts.\" Now, it was not that\nBeauty particularly cared about his bringing a rose, only she would not\nappear to blame her sisters, or to seem superior to them, by saying she\ndid not wish for anything. The good man set off, but when he reached the\nport, he was obliged to go to law about the cargo, and it ended in his\nreturning as poor as he came. He was within thirty miles of home, when,\non passing by night through a large forest, he was overtaken by a heavy\nfall of snow, and, having completely lost his way, he began to be afraid\nhe should die of hunger and cold, when of a sudden he perceived a light\nat the end of a long long avenue of trees, and, on making for that\ndirection, he reached a splendid palace, where, to his surprise, not a\nhuman being was stirring in any of the court-yards. His horse followed\nhim, and, seeing a stable-door open, walked in, and here the poor jaded\nbeast fed heartily on the hay and oats that filled the crib. The\nmerchant then entered the house, where he still saw nobody, but found a\ngood fire, and a table ready laid for one person, with the choicest\nviands. Being completely drenched, he drew near the fire to dry his\nclothes, saying to himself, \"I hope the master of the house or his\nservants will excuse the liberty I am taking, for no doubt it will not\nbe long before they make their appearance.\" He then waited a\nconsiderable while, still no one came, and by the time the clock struck\neleven, he was so exhausted with hunger that he took up a chicken, which\nhe devoured in two mouthfuls, and in a perfect tremor. He next drank\nseveral glasses of wine, when, taking courage, he left the hall, and\ncrossed several suites of rooms most magnificently furnished. At last he\nfound a very nice chamber, and, as it was now past midnight, and he was\nexcessively tired, he closed the door and went to bed.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe merchant did not wake till ten o'clock on the following morning,\nwhen he was surprised to find a new suit of clothes instead of his own,\nwhich were spoiled. He now concluded the palace belonged to some\nbeneficent fairy; a notion which was completely confirmed on his looking\nout of window, and seeing that the snow had given place to flowery\narbours and the most enchanting gardens. Having returned to the great\nhall, where he had supped on the previous night, he saw a small table,\non which stood some chocolate ready for his breakfast. When his meal\nwas finished, he went to look after his horse, and, as he happened to\npass under a bower of roses, he bethought him of Beauty's request, and\nplucked a bunch to take home. No sooner had he done so than he heard a\nfrightful roar, and saw such a horrible beast stalking up to him that he\nwas ready to faint with alarm. \"You are most ungrateful,\" cried the\nBeast, in a terrific voice. \"I saved your life by admitting you into my\npalace, and you reward me by stealing my roses, which I love beyond\neverything else! You shall pay the forfeit with your life's blood.\" The\npoor merchant threw himself on his knees before the Beast, saying:\n\"Forgive me, my Lord, I did not know I should offend you by plucking a\nrose for one of my daughters, in compliance with her wishes.\" \"I am not\na lord, but a beast,\" answered the monster; \"I hate flattery, and you\nwill not come over me with any fine speeches; but, as you say you have\ndaughters, I will forgive you, provided one of them comes willingly to\ndie in your stead, but swear that, should they refuse, you will return\nin three months.\" The merchant had not the most distant intention of\nsacrificing one of his daughters, but wishing to see his children once\nmore before he died, he swore to return, and the Beast dismissed him,\ntelling him he need not go empty-handed, but that, if he returned to his\nbed-chamber, he would find a large trunk, which he was at liberty to\nfill with anything he fancied in the palace, and that it would be sent\nafter him. Somewhat comforted at the idea of leaving his children\nprovided for, the merchant returned to his room, where he found a\nquantity of gold pieces; and having filled the trunk, he left the palace\nin a far sadder mood than he had entered it. On reaching home, he gave\nthe roses to his daughter, saying: \"Take them, Beauty: you little think\nhow dear they have cost your poor father.\" And thereupon, he related all\nthat had befallen him. The two eldest sisters then began to rend the\nair with their lamentations, and to upbraid Beauty for being the cause\nof their father's death, because, forsooth, she didn't ask for dresses,\nas they did, in order to seem wiser than they; and now she had not even\na tear for the mischief she had done. But Beauty replied, it were of\nlittle use to weep, for that she was quite resolved to go, and die in\nher father's stead. \"No,\" cried the three brothers, \"we will go and seek\nthis monster, and either he or we shall perish.\" But the merchant\nassured them it was vain to attempt resisting the Beast's all-powerful\nwill, and that it was their duty to live to protect their sisters, as it\nwas his to sacrifice the few remaining years he could expect to enjoy.\nMeanwhile, the merchant, having forgotten all about the trunk, was much\nsurprised to find it on retiring to his chamber; but he said nothing\nabout it for the present to his eldest daughters, as he knew they would\npester him to return to town.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the day came that Beauty was to set out with her father, the two\nheartless sisters rubbed their eyes with an onion to appear as if they\nhad cried a great deal, while her brothers shed real tears, as well as\nthe father himself. The horse took the right road of his own accord,\nand, on reaching the palace, which was illuminated as before, he went at\nonce into the stable, while the father and daughter entered the great\nhall, where two covers were laid on a table loaded with the most dainty\nfare. After supper they heard a tremendous noise. Beauty shuddered on\nseeing the Beast enter, and when he inquired whether she had come\nwillingly, she could not help trembling as she faltered out \"Yes.\" \"Then\nI am obliged for your kindness,\" growled the Beast; and, turning to the\nfather, he added: \"As for you--get you gone to-morrow, and never let me\nsee you here again. Good night, Beauty.\" \"Good night, Beast,\" answered\nshe, and then the monster retired. The merchant again fell to entreating\nhis daughter to leave him, but the next morning she prevailed on him to\nset out; which he, perhaps, would not have done, had he not felt a faint\nhope that the Beast might, after all, relent. When he was gone, Beauty\ncould not help shedding some tears; after which she proceeded to examine\nthe various rooms of the palace, when she was surprised to find written\nupon one of the doors, \"Beauty's Apartment.\" She opened it in haste, and\nfound a magnificently furnished room, and was much struck on seeing an\nextensive library, a harpsichord, and music books; for she concluded\nthat, if she had only a day to live, such amusements would not have been\nprovided for her. Her surprise increased, on opening one of the books,\nand seeing written in golden letters, \"_Your wishes and commands shall\nbe obeyed: you are here the queen over everything_.\" \"Alas!\" thought\nshe, \"my wish would be to see what my poor father is now about.\" No\nsooner had she expressed this desire in her own mind, than she saw\ndepicted in a large looking-glass her father's arrival at home. Her\nsisters came out to meet him, and, in spite of their affected sorrow,\nit was plain enough that they rejoiced in their hearts at his returning\nalone. This vision disappeared a moment afterwards, and Beauty felt\ngrateful to the Beast for complying with her wishes. At noon she found\ndinner ready for her; and she was treated all the while to an excellent\nconcert, though she saw nobody. At night the Beast came, and asked leave\nto sup with her, which of course she could not refuse, though she\ntrembled from head to foot. Presently he inquired whether she did not\nthink him very ugly. \"Yes,\" said Beauty, \"for I cannot tell a lie; but I\nthink you very good.\" The supper passed off pleasantly enough, and\nBeauty had half recovered from her alarm, when he suddenly asked her\nwhether she would marry him. Though afraid of irritating him, she\nfaltered out: \"No, Beast,\" when he sighed so as to shake the whole\nhouse, and saying: \"Good night, Beauty,\" in a sorrowful tone, left the\nroom, much to her relief, though she could not help pitying him from her\nsoul.\n\nBeauty lived in this manner for three months. The Beast came to supper\nevery night; and, by degrees, as she grew accustomed to his ugliness,\nshe esteemed him for his many amiable qualities. The only thing that\npained her was, that he never failed to ask her whether she would marry\nhim; and when, at last, she told him that she had the greatest\nfriendship though no love for him, he begged her at least to promise\nnever to leave him. Now Beauty had seen in her glass, that very morning,\nthat her father lay sick with grief at her supposed death; and, as her\nsisters were married, and her brothers gone for soldiers, she had so\ngreat a wish to go and see him, that she told the Beast she should die\nif he refused her leave. \"No,\" said the Beast, \"I would much rather your\npoor Beast should die of grief for your absence. So you may go.\" But\nBeauty promised to return in a week; and the Beast having informed her\nthat she need only lay her ring on her toilet table before she went to\nbed, when she meant to return, he wished her good night, and retired.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOn awaking next morning, Beauty found herself in her father's cottage,\nand his delight on seeing her alive soon restored his health. He sent\nfor her sisters, who presently came accompanied by their husbands, with\nwhom they lived very unhappily, as one was so vain of his person that he\nthought nothing of his wife, and the other so sarcastic that he was\nplaying off his wit all day long on everybody around him, and most of\nall on his lady. The sisters were so jealous on finding Beauty\nmagnificently dressed, and hearing how kind the Beast was to her, that\nthey laid a plan for detaining her beyond the time allowed her to stay,\nin hopes he would be so angry as to devour her. Accordingly, when the\nweek was over, they affected such grief at her departure, that Beauty\nagreed to a stay another week, though she could not help reproaching\nherself for so doing. But on the night of the tenth day, she dreamt she\nsaw the Beast lying half dead on the grass in the palace garden, and\nwaking all in tears, she got out of bed, laid her ring on the table,\nand then went to bed again, where she soon fell asleep. She was quite\nrelieved, on waking, to find herself back in the palace, and waited\nimpatiently till supper time, but nine o'clock struck, and no Beast\nappeared. Beauty then seriously feared she had caused his death, and\nrunning into the garden towards the spot she had dreamt of, she saw the\npoor Beast lying senseless on the grass. She threw herself upon his body\nin despair, when feeling that his heart still beat, she ran to fetch\nsome water from a neighbouring stream, and threw it into his face. The\nBeast opened his eyes saying in a faint voice: \"You forgot your\npromise, and I determined to starve myself to death; but since you are\ncome, I shall, at least, die happy.\" \"No! you shall not die, dear\nBeast,\" cried Beauty, \"you shall live to be my husband, for I now feel I\nreally love you.\" No sooner had she spoken these words, than the palace\nwas brilliantly illuminated, fireworks were displayed, and a band of\nmusic struck up. The Beast had disappeared, and in his place, a very\nhandsome prince was at her feet, thanking her for having broken his\nenchantment. \"But where is my poor Beast?\" said Beauty anxiously. \"He is\nnow before you,\" said the prince. \"A wicked fairy condemned me to retain\nthat uncouth form till some beautiful maid had sufficient goodness to\nlove me in spite of my ugliness.\" Beauty, most agreeably surprised, now\nhelped the prince to rise, and they returned to the palace, where she\nfound her father. The young pair were then married, and the prince and\nhis beautiful bride were heartily welcomed by his subjects, who had\nmourned his absence, and over whom they reigned happily for many, many\nlong years.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=Princess Rosetta=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=Princess Rosetta.=\n\n\nThere once lived a king and a queen who had two very fine boys. The\nqueen always invited the fairies, on the birth of her children, to\nforetel their fortunes; so when, some years after, a daughter was born,\nshe again applied to her old friends. The little girl was so beautiful\nthat the fairies were struck with admiration; but when questioned by the\nmother as to the future fate of Princess Rosetta (for such was her\nname), they one and all pretended to have left their conjuring-book at\nhome, and said they would come another time. \"Alas!\" cried the queen,\n\"this bodes no good. Yet I do entreat you to tell me the worst.\" The\nmore unwilling the fairies seemed to speak, the greater desire the queen\nfelt to know what was the matter; so at length the principal fairy said:\n\"We are afraid, Madam, that Rosetta will prove unlucky to her brothers,\nand that they will die in some adventure on her account. That is all\nthat we are able to foresee about your pretty little girl.\" They then\ndeparted, and left the queen very sad.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSome time after, the queen was told that there was an old hermit, who\nlived in the trunk of a tree, in a neighbouring wood, and whom everybody\nwent to consult. So she went and consulted the hermit, and he answered,\nthat the best thing would be to shut the princess up in a tower, and\nnever allow her to go abroad. The queen thanked him, and having made him\na handsome present, came back and told the king what he had said. The\nking immediately ordered a high tower to be built, and when it was\nfinished, he shut the princess up in it, though he went daily to see his\ndaughter, accompanied by the queen and the two princes, who were\ndevotedly attached to their sister. By the time the princess was fifteen\nyears of age the king and queen fell ill and died the same day, to the\ngreat grief of Rosetta and her brothers. The eldest son was now raised\nto the throne, when he said to his brother: \"It is time we should let\nour sister out of the tower in which she has been so long shut up.\"\nAccordingly they crossed the garden, and having entered the tower,\nRosetta came to meet them, and said: \"I hope, Sire, now that you are\nking, you will let me out of this tower, where I am so tired of being\nshut up.\" And so saying she burst into tears. But the king told her not\nto cry, and that she should not only leave the tower, but soon be\nmarried. When Rosetta came down into the garden, she was delighted with\nall she saw, and ran about like a child to gather flowers and fruit,\nfollowed by her little dog Fretillon, who was as green as a parrot, and\nhad long ears, but who danced most admirably. But when the princess\ncaught sight of a peacock, she thought it the most beautiful creature in\nthe world, and asked her brothers what it was. On being told that it was\na bird that was occasionally eaten, she replied that it was a sin and a\nshame to eat such a beautiful bird, and added, that she would never\nmarry any one but the king of the peacocks, and then such a sacrilege\nshould be forbidden. \"But, sister,\" said the king, greatly astonished,\n\"where on earth can we find the king of the peacocks?\" \"That is your\nlook-out,\" said the young princess; \"all I can say is, that no one else\nshall become my husband.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe two brothers then led her to the palace, whither she insisted on\nhaving the peacock removed, and put into her chamber. All the ladies of\nthe court, who had not seen Rosetta, then came to pay their respects to\nher, and brought her a variety of presents, which she received with such\ninfantine grace and pretty gratitude, as to delight everybody. The king\nand his brother were thinking, meanwhile, how they should contrive to\nfind the king of the peacocks. At length they had Rosetta's picture\ntaken, and a speaking likeness it was, and with this they set off on\ntheir difficult errand, leaving the princess to govern the kingdom\nduring their absence.\n\nThey at last reached the kingdom of the Cockchafers, and such a buzzing\nthere was in it, that the king thought he should go deaf or mad. At\nlength he asked the one who appeared the most rational of the set, where\nhe could find the king of the peacocks. \"Please your majesty,\" replied\nthe cockchafer, \"his kingdom is thirty thousand miles from hence, and\nyou have taken the longest road to reach it.\" \"And pray, how can you\nknow that?\" said the king. \"Because,\" rejoined the cockchafer, \"you and\nwe are old acquaintances, for we spend two or three months in your\ngardens every year.\" The king and his brother embraced the cockchafer\nfor joy, and then they dined together; and after admiring all the\ncuriosities of the kingdom, where every leaf was worth a guinea, they\ncontinued their journey, till they reached a country where they saw all\nthe trees were filled with peacocks, who made such a screeching that\nthey were to be heard at least two leagues off. The king now said to his\nbrother: \"Should the king of the peacocks be himself a peacock, he will\nbe an odd husband for our sister. What a pity it is she ever imagined\nthat there existed such a king!\" On reaching the capital, however, they\nfound it inhabited by men and women, who wore dresses made of peacocks'\nfeathers; and presently they saw the king coming out of his palace, in a\nbeautiful little golden carriage studded with diamonds, and drawn by\ntwelve peacocks. He was extremely handsome, and wore his fine, long,\ncurly flaxen hair flowing on his shoulders, surmounted by a crown of\npeacocks' feathers. On perceiving the two strangers he stopped the\ncarriage, and inquired what had brought them to his kingdom. The king\nand prince then said they came from afar to shew him a beautiful\nportrait, and accordingly drew forth Rosetta's likeness. The king of the\npeacocks after having attentively examined it, declared he could not\nbelieve there really existed so beautiful a maiden in the world. Upon\nwhich the prince informed him that his brother was a king, and that the\noriginal of the portrait was their sister, the princess Rosetta, who was\na hundred times more beautiful than here represented, and that they came\nto offer her to him in marriage, with a bushel of golden crowns for her\nportion. \"I should willingly marry her,\" replied the king of the\npeacocks, \"but I must insist upon her being quite as beautiful as the\npicture; and, should I find her inferior in the slightest respect, I\nwill put you both to death.\" \"Agreed!\" cried the brothers. \"Well, then,\"\nsaid the king, \"you must go to prison till the princess arrives.\" This\nthey willingly did, and then wrote off to their sister to come\nimmediately to marry the king of the peacocks, who was dying of love for\nher; but they said nothing about their being shut up, for fear of\nalarming her.\n\nThe princess was half wild with joy when she heard the king of the\npeacocks was really found, and she lost no time in setting off with her\nnurse, her foster-sister, and her little green dog Fretillon, who were\nthe only companions she chose to take with her. They put to sea in a\nvessel loaded with a bushel of golden crowns, and with clothes enough\nfor ten years, supposing the princess put on two new dresses every day.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nDuring the passage, the nurse kept asking the pilot how near they were\nto the kingdom of peacocks; and when at last he told her they would soon\nreach its shores, the wicked creature said, that if he would help her to\nthrow the princess into the sea, as soon as she should be asleep that\nnight, she could then dress up her daughter in her fine clothes, and\npresent her to the king of the peacocks for his bride, and that she\nwould give him gold and diamonds so as to make his fortune. The pilot\nthought it a pity to drown such a fair princess; but the nurse having\nplied him with wine until he was quite tipsy, he gave his consent, and\nwhen night came, he helped her and her daughter to take up Rosetta, when\nshe was fast asleep, mattress, feather-bed and all, and flung her into\nthe sea. Fortunately the bed was stuffed with phoenix's feathers, which\npossess the virtue of not sinking, so that it kept floating like a\nbarge. Still, the waves wetted it by degrees, and Rosetta, feeling\nuncomfortable, kept turning about in her sleep, till she woke her little\ndog, who lay at the foot of her bed. Fretillon had a very fine scent,\nand, as he smelt the soles and the cod, he barked aloud, which in turn\nwoke the fish, who began to swim about and run foul of the princess's\nlight craft, that kept twisting about like a whirlpool.\n\nMeanwhile the wicked nurse had reached the shore, where she and her\ndaughter found a hundred carriages waiting for them, drawn by a variety\nof animals, such as lions, stags, bears, wolves, horses, oxen, eagles,\nand peacocks. The coach intended for Princess Rosetta was drawn by six\nblue monkeys, caparisoned with crimson velvet. The nurse had drest up\nher daughter in the finest gown she could find, and loaded her head with\ndiamonds; in spite of which, she appeared so frightful, with her\nsquinting eyes, oily black hair, crooked legs, and humped shoulder, that\nthe persons sent by the king of the peacocks to receive her, were\nstruck with amazement at the sight of her. Being as cross as she was\nill-favoured, she asked them tartly whether they were all asleep, and\nwhy they did not bring her something to eat; and then, distributing her\nblows pretty freely, she threatened to have them all hung if they did\nnot shew a little more alacrity in doing her bidding. As she passed\nalong in state, the peacocks perched on the trees cried out, \"Fie! what\nan ugly creature!\" which enraged her so that she ordered her guards to\ngo and kill all the peacocks; but they flew away and only laughed at her\nthe more. When the pilot heard and saw all this, he whispered to the\nnurse: \"We are in the wrong box, mistress;\" but she bid him hold his\npeace.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the king came forth to meet her, accompanied by all his nobles, his\npeacocks, and the foreign ambassadors staying at his court, preceded by\nRosetta's portrait at the end of a long pole, he was ready to die with\nrage and vexation on seeing such a fright; and, without more ado, he\nordered her to be shut up, together with the nurse and the pilot, in the\ntower prison. His rage next fell upon the two princes, whom he accused\nof making game of him; and they were much surprised when, instead of\nbeing released on their sister's arrival, they were transferred to a\nhorrible dungeon, where they remained up to their necks in water for\nthree days. At the end of that time, the king of the peacocks came and\ninsulted them through a loop-hole, and told them they were a couple of\nadventurers, whom he would have hung; upon which, the elder prisoner\nreplied indignantly, that he was as good a king as himself, and that he\nmight some day repent his insolent behaviour. Seeing him so firm, the\nking of the peacocks had almost a mind to release them at once, and send\nthem away with their sister, but one of his courtiers persuaded him that\nhis dignity required he should punish the strangers; so he had them\ntried, and they were condemned to be executed for having told a\nfalsehood, and promising the king a beautiful bride, who had turned out\na horrible fright. When they heard this sentence, they protested so\nvehemently that there must be some misunderstanding, which time would\nclear up, that they obtained a week's respite. Meanwhile, the poor\nprincess, who was greatly surprised on waking to find herself in the\nmiddle of the sea, began to weep bitterly, and fancied she had been cast\ninto the waves by order of the king of the peacocks. After being tossed\nabout for a couple of days, during which she would have died of hunger\nhad she not chanced to pass near a bed of oysters, Fretillon's incessant\nbarking attracted the notice of a good old man, who lived in a solitary\nhut on the shore. Thinking some travellers had lost their way, he came\nout to help them, when he was much surprised on beholding the princess\nin her water bed, calling out to him to save her life. The old man ran\nback to fetch a grapple, and towed the bed ashore with some difficulty,\nand the princess having wrapt herself in the counterpane, followed him\nto his cottage, where he lit a fire, and gave her some clothes that once\nbelonged to his late wife. Seeing that she must be a lady of high\ndegree, by the richness of the bed-clothes, which were of satin,\nembroidered with gold and silver, the old man questioned her, and having\nlearnt her story, he offered to go and inform the king of her arrival,\nreminding her that she would not have proper fare in his poor house.\nBut Rosetta would not hear of such a thing, and preferred borrowing a\nbasket, which she fastened to Fretillon's neck, saying, \"Go and fetch me\npot-luck from the best kitchen in the town.\" Fretillon set off; and, as\nthere was no better than the king's, he stole all that was in the pot,\nand came back to his mistress. She then sent him back to the pantry to\nfetch bread, wine, and fruit. Now, when the king of the peacocks wanted\nto dine, there was nothing left, either in the pot or the pantry, so he\nwas in a great rage, and he ordered some joints to be roasted, that he\nmight, at least, make a good supper. But when evening came, the princess\nsent Fretillon to fetch some joints from the best kitchen, and the\nlittle dog again went to the palace, and, whipping the joints off the\nspit while the cook's back was turned, he filled his basket and returned\nhome. The king having missed his dinner, wished to sup earlier than\nusual, when again nothing was to be had, and he went to bed in a perfect\nfury. The same thing happened the next day, both at dinner and at\nsupper, so that for three days the king never tasted a morsel; and this\nmight have gone on much longer had not a courtier concealed himself in\nthe kitchen, and discovered the four-footed thief, and followed him to\nthe cottage. The king immediately ordered the inmates of the cottage and\nthe dog to be taken into custody, and determined they should be put to\ndeath with the two strangers, whose respite was to expire on the morrow.\nHe then entered the hall of justice to judge the culprits. The old man\nknelt before him, and told him Rosetta's whole story; and when the king\ncast his eyes upon her, and saw how beautiful she was, he jumped for\njoy, and untied the cords that bound her. Meantime the two princes were\nsent for, together with the nurse and her daughter; and when they had\nall met, Rosetta fell on her brothers' necks, while the guilty nurse and\nher daughter, and the pilot, knelt down to implore forgiveness. The king\nwas so delighted that he pardoned them, and rewarded the old man\nhandsomely, and insisted on his remaining in his palace. The king of the\npeacocks next did all he could to make up for the ill-usage the king and\nthe prince had suffered. The nurse returned the bushel of golden crowns\nand Rosetta's fine clothes; and the wedding rejoicings lasted a whole\nfortnight. So everybody was satisfied, not forgetting Fretillon, who was\nfed with all sorts of dainties for the rest of his life.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=Little Red Riding Hood=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=Little Red Riding Hood.=\n\n\nIn a retired and pleasant village there once lived a little girl, who\nwas one of the prettiest children ever seen. Her mother loved her to\nexcess, and as to her grandmother, she was doatingly fond of her, and\nlooked upon her as the delight of her eyes, and the comfort of her\ndeclining years. The good old dame had a little hood of scarlet velvet\nmade for her darling, which became her so daintily, that for miles round\nshe had been nicknamed Little Red Riding Hood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOne day, when her mother had baked a batch of cakes, she said to Little\nRed Riding Hood: \"I hear your poor grandam has been ailing, so, prithee,\ngo and see if she be any better, and take her this cake and a little pot\nof butter.\" Little Red Riding Hood, who was a willing child, and always\nready to be useful, put the things into a basket, and immediately set\noff for the village where her grandmother lived, which lay on the other\nside of a thick wood. As she reached the outskirts of the forest, she\nmet a wolf, who would have liked vastly to have devoured her at once,\nhad there not been some woodcutters near at hand, whom he feared might\nkill him in turn. So he sidled up to the little girl, and said, in as\nwinning a tone as he could assume: \"Good morning, Little Red Riding\nHood.\" \"Good morning, Master Wolf,\" answered she, who had no idea of\nbeing afraid of so civil spoken an animal. \"And pray where may you be\ngoing so early?\" quoth the wolf. \"I am going to my grandmother's,\"\nreplied Little Red Riding Hood, who thought there could be no harm in\ntelling him. \"And what are you carrying in your basket, my pretty\nlittle maid?\" continued the wolf, sniffing its contents. \"Why, a cake\nand a pot of butter,\" answered simple Little Red Riding Hood, \"because\ngrandmother has been ill.\" \"And where does poor grandmamma live?\"\ninquired the wolf, in a tone of great interest. \"Down beyond the mill,\non the other side of the wood,\" said she. \"Well,\" cried the wolf, \"I\ndon't mind if I go and see her too. So I'll take this road, and do you\ngo through the wood, and we'll see which of us shall be there first.\"\n\nNow, the wily wolf knew well enough that he would be the winner in such\na race. For, letting alone his four feet against poor Little Red Riding\nHood's two, he could dash through the underwood, and swim across a pond,\nthat would bring him by a very short cut to the old grandam's cottage,\nwhile he shrewdly guessed that the little girl would stop to gather\nstrawberries, or to make up a posy, as she loitered along the pleasanter\nbut more roundabout path through the wood. And sure enough the wolf, who\ncared neither for strawberries nor for flowers, made such good speed\nthat he had presently reached the grandmother's cottage. Thump, thump,\nwent the wolf against the door. \"Who is there?\" cried the grandam from\nwithin. \"Only your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood,\" cried the wolf,\nimitating the little girl's shrill infantine voice as best he might. \"I\nhave come to bring you a cake and a pot of butter that mother sends\nyou.\" The grandmother, being ill, was in bed, so she called out: \"Lift\nthe latch, and the bolt will fall.\" The wolf did so, and in he went,\nand, without saying a word more, he fell upon the poor old creature, and\nate her up in no time, for he had not tasted food for the last three\ndays. He next shut the door, and, putting on the grandam's nightcap and\nnightgown, he got into bed, drew the curtain, and buried his head in the\npillow, and kept laughing in his sleeve at the trick he meant to put\nupon poor Little Red Riding Hood, and wondering how long she would be\nbefore she came.\n\nMeanwhile Little Red Riding Hood rambled through the wood with\nchild-like glee, stopping every now and then to listen to the birds that\nwere singing so sweetly on the green boughs, and picking strawberries,\nwhich she knew her grandam loved to eat with cream, till she had nearly\nfilled her basket; nor had she neglected to gather all the pretty\nflowers, red, blue, white, or yellow, that hid their sweet little heads\namidst the moss; and of these her apron was at last so full, that she\nsat down under a tree to sort them and wind them into a wreath.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhile she was thus occupied, a wasp came buzzing along, and, delighted\nat finding so many flowers without the trouble of searching for them, he\nbegan to drink up their honey very voraciously. Little Red Riding Hood\nknew well the difference of a wasp and a bee--how lazy the one, and how\nindustrious the other--yet, as they are all God's creatures, she\nwouldn't kill it, and only said: \"Take as much honey as you like, poor\nwasp, only do not sting me.\" The wasp buzzed louder, as if to thank her\nfor her kindness, and, when he had sipped his fill, flew away.\nPresently, a little tom-tit, who had been hopping about on a bough\nopposite, darted down on the basket, and pecked at one of the\nstrawberries. \"Eat as much as you like, pretty tom-tit,\" said Little Red\nRiding Hood: \"there will still be plenty left for grandam and for me.\"\nThe tom-tit replied, \"Tweat--tweat,\" in his own eloquent language; and,\nafter gobbling up at least three strawberries, flew away, and was soon\nout of sight. Little Red Riding Hood now bethought her it was time to go\non; so, putting her wreath into her basket, she tripped along demurely\nenough till she came to a brook, where she saw an aged crone, almost\nbent double, seeking for something along the bank. \"What are you looking\nfor, goody?\" said the little girl. \"For water-cresses, my pretty maid,\"\nmumbled the poor old woman; \"and a sorry trade it is, that does not\nearn me half enough bread to eat.\" Little Red Riding Hood thought it\nvery hard the poor old creature should work and be hungry too, so she\ndrew from her pocket a large piece of bread, which her mother had given\nher to eat by the way, and said: \"Sit down, goody, and eat this, and I\nwill gather your water-cresses for you.\" The old woman willingly\naccepted the offer, and sat down on a knoll, while Little Red Riding\nHood set to work in good earnest, and had presently filled her basket\nwith water-cresses. When her task was finished, the old crone rose up\nbriskly, and, patting the little maid's head, said, in quite a different\nvoice \"Thank you, my pretty Little Red Riding Hood and now, if you\nhappen to meet the green huntsman as you go along, pray give him my\nrespects, and tell him there is game in the wind.\" Little Red Riding\nHood promised to do so, and walked on; but presently she looked back to\nsee how the old woman was getting along, but, look as sharp as she\nmight, she could see no trace of her, nor of her water-cresses. She\nseemed to have vanished clean out of sight. \"It is very odd,\" thought\nLittle Red Riding Hood to herself, \"for surely I can walk faster than\nshe.\" Then she kept looking about her, and prying into all the bushes,\nto see for the green huntsman, whom she had never heard of before, and\nwondered why the old woman had given her such a message. At last, just\nas she was passing by a pool of stagnant water, so green that you would\nhave taken it for grass, and have walked into it, as Little Red Riding\nHood, who had never seen it before, though she had gone that same way\noften enough, had nearly done, she perceived a huntsman clad in green\nfrom top to toe, standing on the bank, apparently watching the flight of\nsome birds that were wheeling above his head. \"Good morning, Master\nHuntsman,\" said Little Red Riding Hood; \"the old water-cress woman sends\nher service to you, and says there is game in the wind.\" The huntsman\nnodded assent, and bent his ear to the ground to listen, and then drew\nout an arrow tipped with a green feather, and strung his bow, without\ntaking any further notice of Little Red Riding Flood, who trudged\nonwards, wondering what it all meant.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPresently the little girl reached her grandmother's well-known cottage,\nand knocked at the door. \"Who is there?\" cried the wolf, forgetting to\ndisguise his voice. Little Red Riding Hood was somewhat startled at\nfirst; then thinking her grandam had a bad cold that made her very\nhoarse, she answered, \"It is your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood,\nwho has brought you a cake and a little pot of butter, which mother\nsends you.\" The wolf then softened his voice a little, as he replied:\n\"Lift the latch, and the bolt will fall.\" Little Red Riding Hood did as\nshe was told, and then entered the cottage. The wolf then hid his head\nunder the bed-clothes, and said: \"Put the cake and the pot of butter on\nthe shelf, my dear, and then come and help me to rise.\" Little Red\nRiding Hood set down her basket, and then went and drew back the\ncurtain, when she was much surprised to see how oddly her grandmother\nlooked in her night-clothes. \"Dear me! grandmamma,\" said the little\ngirl, \"what long arms you have got!\" \"The better to hug you, my child,\"\nanswered the wolf.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"But, grandmamma, what long ears you have got!\" persisted Little Red\nRiding Hood.\n\n\"The better to listen to you, my child,\" replied the wolf.\n\n\"But, grandmamma, what large eyes you have got!\" continued the little\ngirl.\n\n\"The better to see you, my child,\" said the wolf.\n\n\"But, grandmamma, what terrible large teeth you have got!\" cried Little\nRed Riding Hood, who now began to be frightened.\n\n\"The better to eat you up,\" exclaimed the wolf, who was just about to\nmake a spring at the poor little girl, when a wasp, who had followed her\ninto the cottage, stung the wolf in his nostril, and made him sneeze\naloud, which gave the signal to a tom-tit perched on a branch near the\nopen casement, who called out \"Tweat--tweat,\" which warned the green\nhuntsman, who accordingly let fly his arrow, that struck the wolf right\nthrough the ear and killed him on the spot.\n\nLittle Red Riding Hood was too frightened, even after the wolf had\nfallen back dead, that she bounced out of the cottage, and, shutting the\ndoor, darted into the forest like a frightened hare, and ran till she\nwas out of breath, when she dropped down quite exhausted under a tree.\nHere she discovered that she had mistaken the road, when, to her great\nrelief, she espied her old friend the water-cress woman, at some\ndistance; and, feeling sure she could soon overtake the aged dame, she\nagain set off, calling out to her every now and then to stop. The old\ncrone, however, seemed too deaf to hear; and it was not till they had\nreached the skirts of the forest that she turned round, when, to Little\nRed Riding Hood's surprise, she perceived a young and beautiful being in\nplace of the decrepit creature she thought she was following. \"Little\nRed Riding Hood,\" said the fairy, for such she was, \"your goodness of\nheart has saved you from a great danger. Had you not helped the poor old\nwater-cress woman, she would not have sent word to the green huntsman,\nwho is generally invisible to mortal eyes, to save you. Had you killed\nthe wasp, or driven away the tom-tit, the former could not have stung\nthe wolf's nostril and made him sneeze, nor the latter have given the\nhuntsman the signal to fly his shaft. In future, no wild beast shall\never harm you, and the fairy folks will always be your friends.\" So\nsaying, the fairy vanished, and Little Red Riding Hood hastened home to\ntell her mother all that had befallen her; nor did she forget that night\nto thank Heaven fervently for having delivered her from the jaws of the\nwolf.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF THE\n\n=Sleeping Beauty in the Wood=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.=\n\n\nThere once lived a king and queen, who had been married many years\nwithout having any children, which was a subject of great sorrow to\nthem. So when at length it pleased Heaven to send them a daughter, there\nwas no end to the rejoicings that were made all over the kingdom, nor\nwas there ever so grand a christening seen before. All the fairies in\nthe land were invited to stand godmothers to the little princess, in the\nhope that each would endow her with some gift, as was customary in those\ndays; by which means she would be adorned with every perfection and\naccomplishment that could be devised.\n\nWhen the christening was over, the company returned to the king's\npalace, where a banquet was prepared for the fairies, seven in number,\nwho had graced the ceremony with their presence. Before each fairy was\nlaid a splendid cover, with a case of massive gold containing a knife, a\nfork, and a spoon of the purest gold, ornamented with diamonds and\nrubies. Just as they were going to sit down, in came an aged fairy who\nhad not been invited, because, having remained shut up in a tower for\nmore than fifty years, she was supposed to be either dead or under the\ninfluence of some spell. The king immediately ordered a cover to be laid\nfor her, but he could not give her a golden case like the others, as\nonly seven had been made, for the seven fairies. The old crone\nconsequently thought herself treated with disrespect, and muttered\nsundry threats betwixt her teeth, which happened to be overheard by one\nof the young fairies, who, fearing she might bestow some fatal gift on\nthe baby princess, had no sooner risen from table than she went and\nconcealed herself behind the tapestry-hangings, in order that she might\nspeak the last, and be able to neutralize, if possible, any mischief the\nill-natured hag might intend doing.\n\nThe fairies now began to bestow their gifts. The youngest endowed her\nwith surpassing beauty; another gave her wit; a third imparted grace; a\nfourth promised that she should dance to perfection; a fifth, that she\nshould sing like a nightingale; and the sixth, that she should play on\nall sorts of instruments in the most exquisite manner. It was now the\nold fairy's turn to speak; when, coming forward, with her head shaking\nfrom spite still more than from age, she declared the princess would\nprick her hand with a spindle, and die of the wound.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThis terrible sentence fell like a damp upon all the company, and there\nwas no one present but what shed tears. But just then the young fairy\ncame out from behind the tapestry-hangings, and said aloud: \"Be\ncomforted, O king and queen: your daughter shall not die of the wound.\nFor although I have not the power to undo completely the mischief worked\nby an older fairy, and though I cannot prevent the princess from\npricking her hand with a spindle, yet, instead of dying, she shall only\nfall into a sleep, that will last a hundred years, at the end of which a\nking's son will come and wake her.\"\n\nNotwithstanding the fairy's words, the king, in hopes of averting such a\nmisfortune altogether, published an edict forbidding any person to make\nuse of spindles, or even to keep them in their house, under pain of\ndeath.\n\nSome fifteen or sixteen years afterwards, it happened that the king and\nqueen went to visit one of their summer palaces; when the young\nprincess, running one morning all over the rooms, in the frolicsome\nspirits of youth, at length climbed up one of the turrets, and reached a\nlittle garret, where she found an old woman busy spinning with a\ndistaff. The poor soul had never even heard of the king's edict, and did\nnot dream that she was committing high treason by using a spindle.\n\n\"What are you doing, goody?\" cried the princess. \"I am spinning, my\npretty dear,\" replied the old woman, little thinking she was speaking to\na princess. \"Oh! how amusing it must be,\" cried the princess, \"I should\nso like to try! Pray show me how to set about it.\" But no sooner had she\ntaken hold of the spindle, than, being somewhat hasty and careless, and\nlikewise because the fairies had ordered it to come to pass, she pricked\nher hand, and fell down in a dead faint.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe good old woman becoming alarmed, called aloud for help, and a\nnumber of attendants flocked round the princess, bathed her temples with\nwater, unlaced her stays, and rubbed the palms of her hands, but all to\nno purpose. The king, who had come up stairs on hearing the noise they\nmade, now recollected what the fairies had foretold, and seeing there\nwas no help for it, ordered the princess to be laid on a bed,\nembroidered in gold and silver, in the most magnificent room in the\npalace. She looked as lovely as an angel, while thus lying in state,\nthough not dead, for the roses of her complexion and the coral of her\nlips were unimpaired; and though her eyes remained closed, her gentle\nbreathing showed she was only slumbering. The king ordered her to be\nleft quite quiet, until the time should come when she was to awake. The\ngood fairy who had saved her life, by condemning her to sleep for a\nhundred years, was in the kingdom of Mataquin, some twelve thousand\nmiles off, when the accident occurred; but, having quickly heard the\nnews through a little dwarf, who possessed a pair of seven-league boots,\nshe lost no time in coming to see her royal friends, and presently\narrived at the palace in a fiery chariot drawn by dragons. The king went\nto hand her out of the carriage. She approved of all he had done; but,\nbeing extremely prudent, she foresaw that when the princess would come\nto wake she would be puzzled what to do on finding herself all alone in\na large palace, and therefore adopted the following expedient. She\ntouched with her wand all the ladies in waiting, maids of honour,\nladies' maids, gentlemen, officers, stewards, cooks, scullions, running\nfootmen, guards, porters, pages, valets, in short, every human being in\nthe palace, except their two majesties; she next went into the stables,\nand touched all the horses, with their grooms, the large dogs in the\ncourt-yard, and, lastly, the princess's little lapdog, that lay beside\nher on the bed. No sooner had she done so, than one and all fell into a\nsound sleep that was to last till their mistress should wake, in order\nto be ready to attend her the moment she would require their services.\nEven the spits before the fire, that were roasting some savoury\npartridges and pheasants, seemed in a manner to fall asleep, as well as\nthe fire itself. And all this was but the work of a moment, fairies\nbeing never very long doing their spiriting.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe king and queen, after having kissed their beloved child, without\nwaking her, left the palace, and published a decree forbidding any one\nto approach the spot. But this proved quite a needless precaution, for\nin a quarter of an hour's time there sprung up all around the park such\na quantity of trees, both great and small, and so thick a tangle of\nbriars and brambles, that neither man nor beast could have found means\nto pass through them; in short, nothing but the topmost turrets of the\ncastle could be seen, and these were only discernible at a distance. So\nthat it seemed the fairy was determined the princess's slumber should\nnot be disturbed by idle curiosity.\n\nAt the end of one hundred years, the son of the king who then reigned\nover the land, and who did not belong to the same family as the sleeping\nprincess, happened to go a hunting one day in that neighbourhood, and,\ncatching a glimpse of the turrets peeping above a thick wood, inquired\nwhat building it was that he saw. Every one answered according to what\nthey had heard. Some said it was an old castle, that was haunted;\nothers, that it was a place of meeting for all the witches in the land;\nwhile the most prevailing opinion was, that it belonged to an ogre, who\nwas in the habit of stealing little children, and carrying them home to\neat them unmolested, and nobody could follow him, since he alone had the\npower of penetrating through the thicket. The prince did not know what\nto make of all these different accounts, when an old peasant said to\nhim: \"Please your royal highness, it is now above fifty years since I\nheard my father tell that the most beautiful princess ever seen was\nconcealed in this palace, where she was condemned to sleep for a hundred\nyears, at the end of which she was to be awakened by a king's son, whose\nbride she was destined to become.\"\n\nOn hearing this, the young prince's fancy was so inflamed with the hope\nof being himself the hero destined to end the enchantment, that he\nimmediately determined to ascertain how far the legend might prove true.\nNo sooner did he reach the wood, than the large trees, as well as the\nbriars and brambles, opened a passage for him of their own accord. He\nnow advanced towards the castle, which he could perceive at the end of a\nlong avenue, but, to his surprise, he found that none of his attendants\nhad been able to follow him, the trees having closed upon them the\nmoment he had passed through. Nevertheless, he proceeded on his way\nwithout the least concern, for a young prince who begins to feel himself\nin love must needs be brave. So he entered the outer court-yard, where\nhe witnessed a sight that might have appalled one less resolute than\nhimself. The image of death was everywhere present. The bodies of men\nand animals lay strewn about, apparently lifeless, and the silence was\ntruly awful. Still, he soon perceived, by the rubicund noses and jolly\nfaces of the porters, that they were only asleep; while their goblets,\nstill retaining a few drops of wine, proved beyond a doubt that sleep\nhad surprised them in the midst of a drunken bout. He then passed\nthrough a large court, paved with marble, and entered the guard-room,\nwhere he found a double row of soldiers shouldering their carbines, and\nsnoring loudly. He next crossed through several rooms, full of ladies\nand gentlemen in waiting, some standing and some sitting, but all fast\nasleep; and at length entered a gilt chamber, where, upon a magnificent\nbed, the curtains of which were drawn back, he saw reclining a princess,\napparently about sixteen, and of the most resplendent beauty that had\never met his sight. He felt impressed with such admiration for her\nloveliness that he could not refrain from bending his knee before her.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nJust at that moment the period of the enchantment came to a close, the\nprincess awoke, and, looking at him with more fondness than a first\ninterview would seem to warrant, she exclaimed: \"Is it you, dear prince?\nHow long I've been waiting for you!\" The prince was so charmed by these\nwords, and the manner in which they were uttered, that, feeling quite at\na loss how to express his gratitude and delight, he could only assure\nthe fair sleeper that he loved her far better than he did himself. But\nthough he did not make any set speeches, his conversation was only the\nmore acceptable to the princess, who, on her part, was much less timid\nand awkward than her lover, which is not to be wondered at, as we may\nfairly conclude that she had had ample time--namely, a century--to\nconsider what she should say to him, for it is not to be supposed but\nwhat the good fairy gave her agreeable dreams during her long slumber.\nHowever that may be, they now talked for about four hours, without\nhaving said half of what they had to say to each other.\n\nAll the inmates of the palace having awoke at the same time as the\nprincess, each began to discharge the duties of his or her office; and,\nas they were not all in love, like their mistress, they felt very\nhungry. The lady in waiting, out of all patience, at length told the\nprincess that supper was ready. The prince then gave her his hand to\nhelp her to rise, for she was ready dressed in the most magnificent\nclothes, though he took care not to observe that they were cut on the\npattern of those of his grandmother, and that she wore a ruff, which was\nnot now in fashion, but she looked quite as beautiful as if her dress\nhad been more modern.\n\nThey then went into the hall of looking-glasses, where they supped to\nthe sound of music, which was well executed by an orchestra of violins\nand hautboys although the tunes they played were at least a century out\nof date. After supper, the chaplain united the happy pair, and the next\nday they left the old castle and returned to court, where the king was\ndelighted to welcome back the prince and his lovely bride, who was\nthenceforward nicknamed, both by her contemporaries and by the\nchroniclers who handed down the legend, the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF THE\n\n=Fair One with Golden Locks=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=The Fair One With Golden Locks.=\n\n\nThere was once a princess who had such a beautiful head of hair,\nstreaming down in curls to her feet, and brilliant as a sunbeam, that\nshe was universally called the Fair One with Golden Locks. A\nneighbouring king, having heard a great deal of her beauty, fell in love\nwith her upon hearsay, and sent an ambassador with a magnificent suite\nto ask her in marriage, bidding him be sure and not fail to bring the\nprincess home with him. The ambassador did his best to fulfil the king's\ncommands, and made as fair a speech as he could to persuade the lady;\nbut, either she was not in a good temper that day, or his eloquence\nfailed to move her, for she answered, that she thanked the king, but had\nno mind to marry. So the ambassador returned home with all the presents\nhe had brought, as the princess would not accept anything of a suitor\nwhom she refused, much to the grief of the king, who had made the most\nsplendid preparations to receive her, never doubting but what she would\ncome.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNow there happened to be at court a very handsome young man, named\nAvenant, who observed, that had he been sent to the Fair One with Golden\nLocks, he would certainly have persuaded her to come; whereupon some\nill-natured persons, who were jealous of the favour he enjoyed, repeated\nhis words to the king, as though he had meant to boast that, being\nhandsomer than his majesty, the princess would certainly have followed\nhim. This threw the king into such a rage, that he ordered poor Avenant\nto be thrown into a dungeon, where he had nothing but straw to lie upon,\nand where he would have died of exhaustion had it not been for a little\nspring that welled forth at the foot of the tower in which he was\nconfined. One day, when he felt as if he were near his end, he could not\nhelp exclaiming: \"What have I done? and what can have hardened the\nking's heart against the most faithful of all his subjects?\" It chanced\nthat the king passed by just as he uttered these words, and, being\nmelted by his former favourite's grief, he ordered the prison door to be\nopened, and bid him come forth. Avenant fell at his feet, entreating to\nknow the cause of his disgrace. \"Did you not make game both of myself\nand my ambassador?\" said the king; \"and did you not boast, that had I\nsent you to the Fair One with Golden Locks, you would have prevailed on\nher to return with you?\" \"True, Sire,\" replied Avenant; \"for I should\nhave set forth all your great qualities so irresistibly, that I am\ncertain she could not have said nay. Methinks there is no treason in\nthat.\" The king was so convinced of his innocence, that he straightway\nreleased Avenant from prison and brought him back to the palace. After\nhaving given him a good supper, the king took him into his cabinet, and\nconfessed to him that he was still so in love with the Fair One with\nGolden Locks, that he had a great mind to send him to obtain her hand,\nand meant to prepare a splendid equipage befitting the ambassador of a\ngreat nation. But Avenant said: \"That is not necessary. Only give me a\ngood horse and the necessary credentials, and I will set off to-morrow.\"\n\nOn the following morning Avenant left the court, and set out alone on\nhis journey, thinking as he went of all the fine things he should say to\nthe princess, and stopping ever and anon, when any pretty conceit came\ninto his head, to jot it down on his tablets. One day as he halted for\nthis purpose in a lovely meadow by the side of a rivulet, he perceived a\nlarge golden carp that lay gasping upon the grass, having jumped so high\nto snap at the flies, that she had overreached herself, and was unable\nto get back into the water. Avenant took pity on her, and, gently\nlifting her up, restored her to her native element. The carp took a\nplunge to refresh herself, then reappearing on the surface she said:\n\"Thanks, Avenant, for having saved my life. I will do you a good turn if\never I can.\" So saying she dived back into the water, leaving Avenant\ngreatly surprised at her civility.\n\nAnother time, he saw a crow closely pursued by a large eagle, when,\nthinking it would be a shame not to defend the weak against the strong,\nhe let fly an arrow that brought the cruel bird of prey to the ground,\nwhile the crow perched upon a tree in great delight, crying: \"It was\nvery generous of you, Avenant, to help a poor crow like me. But I will\nprove grateful, and do you a good turn whenever I can.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAvenant was pleased with the crow's good feelings and continued his\njourney; when, some days after, as he crossed a thick wood, he heard an\nowl hooting, as if in great distress. After looking about him on all\nsides, Avenant found the poor owl had got entangled in a net. He soon\ncut the meshes, and set him free. The owl soared aloft, then, wheeling\nback, cried, \"Avenant, I was caught, and should have been killed without\nyour help. But I am grateful, and will do you a good turn when I can.\"\n\nSuch were the principal adventures that befel Avenant on his journey.\nWhen, at last, he reached the capital, where resided the Fair One with\nGolden Locks, it appeared so magnificent that he thought he should be\nlucky indeed if he could persuade her to leave such wonders, to come and\nmarry the king, his master. He, however, determined to do his best; so,\nhaving put on a brocaded dress, with a richly-embroidered scarf, and\nhung round his neck a small basket, containing a beautiful little dog he\nhad bought on the road, he asked for admittance at the palace gate with\nsuch graceful dignity that the guards all bowed respectfully, and the\nattendants ran to announce the arrival of another ambassador, named\nAvenant, from the king, her neighbour.\n\nThe princess bid her women fetch the blue brocaded satin gown, and\ndress her hair with fresh wreaths of flowers; and, when her toilet was\ncompleted, she entered her audience chamber, where Avenant was waiting\nfor her. Though dazzled at the sight of her rare beauty, he nevertheless\ndelivered an eloquent harangue, which he wound up by entreating the\nprincess not to give him the pain of returning without her. \"Gentle\nAvenant,\" replied she, \"your speech is fair; but you must know, that, a\nmonth ago I let fall into the river a ring that I value above my\nkingdom, and I made a vow at the time, that I would never listen to a\nmarriage proposal from anybody, unless his ambassador recovered my lost\ntreasure. So you see, were you to talk till doomsday, you could not\nshake my determination.\"\n\nAvenant, though surprised and vexed at such an answer, made a low bow,\nand requested the princess's acceptance of the dog, the basket, and the\nscarf he wore; but she refused his proffered gifts, and bid him consider\nof what she had said.\n\nAvenant went to bed supperless that night; nor could he close his eyes\nfor a long while, but kept lamenting that the princess required\nimpossible things to put him off the suit he had undertaken. But his\nlittle dog Cabriole bid him be of good cheer, as fortune would no doubt\nfavour him; and though Avenant did not much rely on his good luck, he at\nlength fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe next morning Cabriole woke up his master who dressed himself and\nwent to take a walk. His feet insensibly carried him to the river side,\nwhen he heard a voice calling out: \"Avenant! Avenant!\" He looked about\nhim, but seeing no one, was proceeding on his way, when Cabriole, who\nwas looking at the water, cried: \"Why, master, as I'm alive, it is a\ngolden carp that is hailing you.\" Upon which the carp approached,\nsaying: \"You saved my life in the meadow, and I promised to be grateful.\nSo here is the ring you are seeking for, gentle Avenant.\"\n\nHe then hastened to the palace, and, requesting an audience of the\nprincess, he presented her the ring, and asked whether she had any\nobjection now to marry his master? On seeing her ring she was greatly\namazed; but, being intent on putting him off once more, she replied:\n\"Since you are so ready to fulfil my behests, most gracious Avenant, I\npray you do me another service, without which I cannot marry. There\nlives not far from hence a giant named Galifron, who has threatened to\nravage my kingdom unless I granted him my hand. But I could not resolve\nto marry a monster who is as tall as a tower, who carries cannons in his\npocket to serve for pistols, and whose voice is so loud that people grow\ndeaf if they approach too near him. He is daily killing and eating my\nsubjects, and if you want to win my good graces on your master's behalf,\nyou must bring me the giant's head.\"\n\nAvenant was taken somewhat aback at this proposal; yet, after a few\nmoments reflection, he said, \"Well, madam, I am ready to fight Galifron;\nand, though I may not conquer, I can, at least, die the death of a\nhero.\" The princess, who had never expected Avenant would consent, now\nsought to dissuade him from so rash an attempt; but all she could say\nproved vain; and, having equipped himself for the fight, he mounted his\nhorse and departed.\n\nAs he approached Galifron's castle, he found the road strewed with the\nbones and carcases of those whom he had devoured or torn to pieces; and\npresently the giant emerged from a wood, when, seeing Avenant with his\nsword drawn, he ran at him with his iron club, and would have killed him\non the spot, had not a crow come and pecked at his eyes, and made the\nblood stream down his face; so that, while he aimed his blows at random,\nAvenant plunged his sword up to the hilt into his heart. Avenant then\ncut off his head, and the crow perched on a tree, saying: \"I have not\nforgotten how you saved my life by killing the eagle. I promised to do\nyou a good turn, and I have kept my word.\" \"In truth I am greatly\nbeholden to you, master crow,\" quoth Avenant, as he mounted his horse,\nand rode off with Galifron's head.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen he reached the city, the inhabitants gathered round him, and\naccompanied him with loud cheers to the palace. The princess, who had\ntrembled for his safety, was delighted to see him return. \"Now madam,\"\nsaid Avenant, \"I think you have no excuse left for not marrying my liege\nlord.\" \"Yes, indeed I have,\" answered she; \"and I shall still refuse him\nunless you procure me some water from the fountain of beauty. This water\nlies in a grotto, guarded by two dragons. Inside the grotto is a large\nhole full of toads and serpents, by which you descend to a small cellar\ncontaining the spring. Whoever washes her face with this water retains\nher beauty, if already beautiful, or becomes beautiful, though ever so\nugly. It makes the young remain young, and the old become young again.\nSo you see, Avenant, I cannot leave my kingdom without carrying some of\nthis water away with me.\" \"Methinks, madam,\" observed Avenant, \"you are\nfar too beautiful to need any such water; but, as you seek the death of\nyour humble servant, I must go and die.\"\n\nAccordingly, Avenant set out with his faithful little dog, and at last\nreached a high mountain, from the top of which he perceived a rock as\nblack as ink, whence issued clouds of smoke. Presently out came a green\nand yellow dragon, whose eyes and nostrils were pouring forth fire, and\nwhose tail had at least a hundred coils. Avenant drew his sword, and\ntaking out a phial given him by the Fair One with Golden Locks, said to\nCabriole, \"I shall never be able to reach the water; so, when I am\nkilled, fill this phial with my blood, and take it to the princess, that\nshe may see what she has cost me, and then go and inform the king, my\nmaster, of the fate that has befallen me.\" While he was speaking, a\nvoice called out: \"Avenant! Avenant!\" and he perceived an owl in the\nhollow of a tree, who said: \"You freed me from the bird-catcher's net,\nand I promised to do you a good turn. So give me your phial, and I will\ngo and fetch the water of beauty.\" And away flew the owl, who, knowing\nall the turnings and windings of the grotto, soon returned bearing back\nhis prize. After thanking the owl most heartily, Avenant lost no time in\ngoing back to the palace, where he presented the bottle to the princess,\nwho now agreed to set out with him for his master's kingdom.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOn reaching the capital, the king came forth to meet the Fair One with\nGolden Locks, and made her the most sumptuous presents. They were then\nmarried, amid great festivities and rejoicings; but the queen, who loved\nAvenant in her heart, could not forbear incessantly reminding the king,\nthat had it not been for Avenant she would never have come, and that it\nwas he alone who had procured her the water of beauty that was to\npreserve her ever youthful and beautiful. So it happened that some\nmeddling bodies went and told the king that she preferred Avenant to\nhimself, when he became so jealous that he ordered his faithful subject\nto be thrown into prison, and fed upon nothing but bread and water. When\nthe Fair One with Golden Locks heard of his disgrace, she implored the\nking to release him, but the more she entreated, the more obstinately\nhis majesty refused. The king now imagined that his wife perhaps did not\nthink him handsome enough, so he had a mind to try the effects of\nwashing his face with the water of beauty. Accordingly, one night he\ntook the phial from off the mantel-piece in the queen's bed-chamber,\nand rubbed his face well before he went to bed. But, unfortunately, a\nshort time previous the phial had been broken by one of the maids, as\nshe was dusting, and, to avoid a scolding, she had replaced it by a\nphial which she found in the king's cabinet, containing a wash similar\nin appearance, but deadly in its effects. The king went to sleep, and\ndied. Cabriole ran to his master to tell him the news, when Avenant bid\nhim go and remind the queen of the poor prisoner. So Cabriole slipped in\namongst the crowd of courtiers who had assembled on the king's death,\nand whispered to her majesty: \"Do not forget poor Avenant.\" The queen\nthen called to mind all he had suffered on her account, and hastening to\nthe tower, she took off his chains with her own white hands, and\nthrowing the royal mantle over his shoulders, and placing a gold crown\non his head, she said: \"I choose you for my husband, Avenant, and you\nshall be king.\" Everybody was delighted at her choice, the wedding was\nthe grandest ever seen, and the Fair One with Golden Locks, and her\nfaithful Avenant, lived happily to a good old age.\n\n\n\n\n   BO-PEEP\n   STORY BOOKS.\n\n   [Illustration]\n\n   OLD MOTHER HUBBARD,\n   LTTTLE BO-PEEP, &C.,\n   THE THREE BEARS,\n   LITTLE GOODY TWO-SHOES,\n   HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT,\n   DEATH OF COCK ROBIN.\n\n   NEW YORK:\n   LEAVITT & ALLEN BROS.,\n   No. 8 HOWARD STREET.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=Old Mother Hubbard=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=Old Mother Hubbard.=\n\n\n   Old Mother Hubbard\n   Went to the cupboard,\n     To give her poor dog a bone;\n   But when she came there\n   The cupboard was bare.\n     And so the poor dog had none.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the baker's\n     To buy him some bread,\n   And when she came back\n     Poor doggy was dead.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the joiner's\n     To buy him a coffin,\n   And when she came back\n     The dog was a-laughing\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She took a clean dish\n     To get him some tripe.\n   And when she came back\n     He was smoking his pipe.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the ale-house\n     To get him some beer,\n   And when she came back,\n     Doggy sat in a chair.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the tavern\n     For white wine and red,\n   And when she came back\n     The dog stood on his head.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the hatter's\n     To buy him a hat,\n   And when she came back\n     He was feeding the cat.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the barber's\n     To buy him a wig,\n   And when she came back\n     He was dancing a jig.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the fruiterer's\n     To buy him some fruit,\n   And when she came back\n     He was playing the flute.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the tailor's\n     To buy him a coat,\n   And when she came back\n     He was riding a goat.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the cobbler's\n     To buy him some shoes,\n   And when she came back\n     He was reading the news.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the sempstress\n     To buy him some linen,\n   And when she came back\n     The dog was a-spinning.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   She went to the hosier's\n     To buy him some hose,\n   And when she came back\n     He was dressed in his clothes.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   The dame made a curtsey,\n     The dog made a bow;\n   The dame said, \"Your servant,\"\n     The dog said, \"Bow, wow!\"\n\n\n\n\n=Little Bo-Peep=;\n\nAND\n\nOTHER TALES.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=Little Bo-Peep.=\n\n\n   Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,\n     And cannot tell where to find 'em;\n   Leave them alone, and they'll come home,\n     And bring their tails behind 'em.\n\n   Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,\n     And dreamt she heard them bleating;\n   When she awoke, she found it a joke,\n     For still they all were fleeting.\n\n   Then up she took her little crook,\n     Determined for to find them;\n   She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,\n     For they'd left their tails behind them.\n\n   It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray\n     Unto a meadow hard by;\n   There she espied their tails side by side,\n     All hung on a tree to dry.\n\n   She heaved a sigh, and wiped her eye,\n     And over the hillocks she raced;\n   And tried what she could, as a shepherdess should,\n     That each tail should be properly placed.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n=The Old Woman and her Eggs.=\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n   There was an old woman, as I've heard tell,\n   She went to the market her eggs for to sell,\n   She went to the market, all on a market day,\n   And she fell asleep on the king's highway.\n\n   There came a little pedlar, his name it was Stout,\n   He cut off her petticoats all round about;\n   He cut off her petticoats up to her knees,\n   Until her poor knees began for to freeze.\n\n   When the little old woman began to awake,\n   She began to shiver, and she began to shake;\n   Her knees began to freeze, and she began to cry,\n   \"Oh lawk! oh mercy on me! this surely can't be I.\n\n   \"If it be not I, as I suppose it be,\n   I have a little dog at home, and he knows me;\n   If it be I, he will wag his little tail,\n   But if it be not I, he'll bark and he'll rail.\"\n\n   Up jumped the little woman, all in the dark,\n   Up jump'd the little dog, and he began to bark;\n   The dog began to bark, and she began to cry,\n   \"O lawk! oh mercy on me! I see it is not I.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n=Old Mother Goose.=\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n   Old Mother Goose, when\n     She wanted to wander,\n   Would ride through the air\n     On a very fine gander.\n\n   Mother Goose had a house\n     'Twas built in a wood,\n   Where an owl at the door\n     For sentinel stood.\n\n   This is her son Jack,\n     A plain-looking lad,\n   He is not very good,\n     Nor yet very bad.\n\n   She sent him to market,\n     A live goose he bought;\n   \"Here, mother,\" says he,\n     \"It will not go for nought.\"\n\n   Jack's goose and her gander\n     Grew very fond,\n   They'd both eat together,\n     Or swim in one pond.\n\n   Jack found one morning,\n     As I have been told,\n   His goose had laid him\n     An egg of pure gold.\n\n   Jack rode to his mother,\n     The news for to tell;\n   She call'd him a good boy,\n     And said it was well.\n\n   Jack sold his gold egg\n     To a rogue of a Jew,\n   Who cheated him out of\n     The half of his due.\n\n   Then Jack went a-courting,\n     A lady so gay,\n   As fair as the lily\n     And sweet as the May.\n\n   The Jew and the Squire\n     Came close at his back,\n   And began to belabour\n     The sides of poor Jack.\n\n   They threw the gold egg\n     In the midst of the sea;\n   But Jack he jump'd in,\n     And got it back presently.\n\n   The Jew got the goose,\n     Which he vow'd he would kill,\n   Resolving at once\n     His pockets to fill.\n\n   Jack's mother came in,\n     And caught the goose soon,\n   And, mounting its back,\n     flew up to the moon.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=The Three Bears=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=The Story of the Three Bears.=\n\n\nOnce upon a time there were Three Bears, who lived together in a house\nof their own, in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and\none was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They\nhad each a pot for their porridge; a little pot for the Little, Small,\nWee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot\nfor the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a little\nchair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the\nMiddle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had\neach a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; a\nmiddle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the Great,\nHuge Bear.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOne day, after they had made the porridge for their breakfast, and\npoured it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while\nthe porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by\nbeginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little girl\nnamed Silver-hair came to the house. First she looked in at the window,\nand then she peeped in at the keyhole; and seeing nobody in the house,\nshe lifted the latch. The door was not fastened, because the Bears were\ngood Bears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody\nwould harm them. So little Silver-hair opened the door, and went in;\nand well pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she\nhad been a good little girl, she would have waited till the Bears came\nhome, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast; for\nthey were good Bears,--a little rough or so, as the manner of Bears is,\nbut for all that very good-natured and hospitable.\n\nSo first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was\ntoo hot for her. And then she tasted the porridge of the Middle Bear,\nand that was too cold for her. And then she went to the porridge of the\nLittle, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot\nnor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well, that she ate it\nall up.\n\nThen little Silver-hair sate down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear,\nand that was too hard for her. And then she sate down in the chair of\nthe Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sate down\nin the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too\nhard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and\nthere she sate till the bottom of the chair came out, and down came\nher's, plump upon the ground.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThen little Silver-hair went up stairs into the bed-chamber in which the\nThree Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great,\nHuge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay\ndown upon the bed of the Middle Bear; and that was too high at the foot\nfor her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee\nBear; and that was neither too high at the head nor at the foot, but\njust right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay there till\nshe fell fast asleep.\n\nBy this time the Three Bears thought their porridge would be cool\nenough; so they came home to breakfast. Now little Silver-hair had left\nthe spoon of the Great, Huge Bear standing in his porridge.\n\n     \"Somebody has been at my porridge!\"\n\nsaid the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice. And when\nthe Middle Bear looked at his, he saw that the spoon was standing in it\ntoo.\n\n     \"Somebody has been at my porridge!\"\n\nsaid the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.\n\nThen the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon\nin the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.\n\n     \"_Somebody has been at my 'porridge, and has eaten it all up!_\"\n\nsaid the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nUpon this the Three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their house,\nand eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look\nabout them. Now little Silver-hair had not put the hard cushion\nstraight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.\n\n     \"Somebody has been sitting in my chair!\"\n\nsaid the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.\n\nAnd little Silver-hair had squatted down the soft cushion of the Middle\nBear.\n\n     \"Somebody has been sitting in my chair!\"\n\nsaid the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.\n\nAnd you know what little Silver-hair had done to the third chair.\n\n     \"_Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sat the bottom of\n     it out!_\"\n\nsaid the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small wee voice.\n\nThen the Three Bears thought it necessary that they should make further\nsearch; so they went up stairs into their bed-chamber. Now little\nSilver-hair had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its\nplace.\n\n     \"Somebody has been lying in my bed!\"\n\nsaid the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.\n\nAnd little Silver-hair had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out of\nits place.\n\n     \"Somebody has been lying in my bed!\"\n\nsaid the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.\n\nAnd when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was\nthe bolster in its place; and the pillow in its place upon the bolster;\nand upon the pillow was little Silver-hair's pretty head,--which was not\nin its place, for she had no business there.\n\n     \"_Somebody has been lying in my bed,--and here she is!_\"\n\nsaid the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nLittle Silver-hair had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff voice\nof the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no more\nto her than the roaring of wind, or the rumbling of thunder. And she had\nheard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she had\nheard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little,\nsmall, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp, and so\nshrill, that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she saw\nthe Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled out at the other,\nand ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears, like\ngood, tidy Bears, as they were, always opened their bed-chamber window\nwhen they got up in the morning. Out little Silver-hair jumped; and away\nshe ran into the wood, and the Three Bears never saw anything more of\nher.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=Little Goody Two-Shoes=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\n=Little Goody Two-Shoes.=\n\n\nAll the world must know that Goody Two-Shoes was not a little girl's\nreal name. No; her father's name was Meanwell, and he was for many years\na large farmer in the parish where Margery was born; but by the\nmisfortunes he met with in business, and the wickedness of Sir Timothy\nGripe, and a farmer named Graspall, he was quite ruined.\n\nCare and discontent shortened the life of little Margery's father. Her\npoor mother survived the loss of her husband but a few days, and died of\na broken heart, leaving Margery and her little brother to the wide\nworld; but, poor woman! it would have melted your heart to have seen how\nfrequently she raised her head while she lay speechless, to survey with\npitying looks her little orphans, as much as to say: \"Do, Tommy,--do,\nMargery, come with me.\" They cried, poor things, and she sighed away her\nsoul, and, I hope, is happy.\n\nIt would both have excited your pity and have done your heart good, to\nhave seen how fond these two little ones were of each other, and how,\nhand in hand, they trotted about. They were both very ragged, and Tommy\nhad two shoes, but Margery had but one. They had nothing to support them\nbut what they picked from the hedges, or got from the poor people, and\nthey slept every night in a barn. Their relations took no notice of\nthem: no, they were rich, and ashamed to own such a poor ragged girl as\nMargery, and such a dirty curly-pated boy as Tommy.\n\nMr. Smith was a very worthy clergyman, who lived in the parish where\nlittle Margery and Tommy were born; and having a relation come to see\nhim, who was a charitable, good man, he sent for these children to him.\nThe gentleman ordered little Margery a new pair of shoes, gave Mr. Smith\nsome money to buy her clothes, and said he would take Tommy, and make\nhim a little sailor; and, accordingly, had a jacket and trowsers made\nfor him.\n\nAfter some days, the gentleman intended to go to London, and take little\nTommy with him. The parting between these two little children was very\naffecting. They both cried, and they kissed each other a hundred times.\nAt last Tommy wiped off her tears with the end of his jacket, and bid\nher cry no more, for that he would come to her again when he returned\nfrom sea.\n\nNothing could have supported little Margery under the affliction she was\nin for the loss of her brother but the pleasure she took in her two\nshoes. She ran to Mrs. Smith as soon as they were put on, and stroking\ndown her ragged apron, cried out: \"Two Shoes, Ma'am! see Two Shoes!\" And\nso she behaved to all the people she met, and by that means obtained the\nname of Little Goody Two-Shoes.\n\nLittle Margery saw how good and how wise Mr. Smith was, and concluded\nthat this was owing to his great learning; therefore she wanted of all\nthings to learn to read. For this purpose, she used to meet the little\nboys and girls as they came from school, borrow their books, and sit\ndown and read till they returned. By this means she soon got more\nlearning than any of her playmates, and laid the following plan for\ninstructing those who were more ignorant than herself. She found that\nonly twenty-six letters were required to spell all the words; but as\nsome of these letters are large, and some small, she with her knife cut\nout of several pieces of wood ten sets of each. And having got an old\nspelling-book, she made her companions set up the words they wanted to\nspell.\n\nThe usual manner of spelling, or carrying on the game, as they called\nit, was this: suppose the word to be spelt was plum-pudding (and who can\nsuppose a better?), the children were placed in a circle, and the first\nbrought the letter p, the next l, the next u, the next m, and so on till\nthe whole was spelt; and if any one brought a wrong letter, he was to\npay a fine or play no more. This was their play; and every morning she\nused to go round to teach the children. I once went her rounds with her,\nand was highly diverted.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt was about seven o'clock in the morning, when we set on this\nimportant business, and the first house we came to was Farmer Wilson's.\nHere Margery stopped, and ran up to the door,--tap, tap, tap! \"Who's\nthere?\" \"Only little Goody Two-Shoes,\" answered Margery, \"come to teach\nBilly.\" \"Oh, little Goody,\" says Mrs. Wilson, with pleasure in her face.\n\"I am glad to see you! Billy waits you sadly, for he has learned his\nlesson.\" Then out came the little boy. \"How do, Doody Two-Shoes?\" says\nhe, not able to speak plain. Yet this little boy had learned all his\nletters; for she threw down the small alphabet mixed together, and he\npicked them up, called them by their right names, and put them all in\norder. She then threw down the alphabet of capital letters, and he\npicked them all up, and having told their names, placed them rightly.\n\nThe next place we came to was Farmer Simpson's. \"Bow, wow, wow!\" says\nthe dog at the door. \"Sir-rah!\" says his Mistress, \"why do you bark at\nlittle Two-Shoes? Come in, Madge; here's Sally wants you sadly, she has\nlearned all her lesson.\" \"Yes, that's what I have,\" replied the little\none, in the country manner; and immediately taking the letters, she set\nup these syllables:--\n\n   ba be bi bo bu\n\n   da de di do du\n\n   ma me mi mo mu\n\n   sa se si so su\n\nand gave them their exact sounds as she composed them; after which she\nset up many more, and pronounced them likewise.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAfter this, little Two-Shoes taught Sally to spell words of one\nsyllable, and she soon set up pear, plum, top, ball, pin, puss, dog,\nhog, doe, lamb, sheep, rat, cow, bull, cock, hen, and many more.\n\nThe next place we came to was Gaffer Cook's cottage. Here a number of\npoor children were met to learn, and all came round little Margery at\nonce; who, having pulled out her letters, asked the little boy next to\nher what he had for dinner. He answered \"Bread.\" \"Well, then,\" says she,\n\"set up the first letter.\" He put up the B, to which, the next added r,\nand the next e, the next a, the next d, and it stood thus, Bread.\n\n\"And what had you, Polly Comb, for your dinner?\" \"Apple-Pie,\" answered\nthe little girl. Upon which the next in turn set up a great A, the two\nnext a p, each, and so on till the two words Apple and Pie were united,\nand stood thus, Apple-Pie. The next had potatoes, the next beef and\nturnips, which were spelt, with many others, till the game was finished.\nShe then set them another task, and after the lessons were done we\nreturned home.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWho does not know Lady Ducklington, or who does not know that she was\nburied in this parish? Well, I never saw so grand a funeral. All the\ncountry round came to see the burying, and it was late before it was\nover; after which, in the night, or rather very early in the morning,\nthe bells were heard to jingle in the steeple, which frightened the\npeople prodigiously. They flocked to Will Dobbins, the clerk, and wanted\nhim to go and see what it was; but William would not open the door. At\nlength Mr. Long, the rector, hearing such an uproar in the village, went\nto the clerk to know why he did not go into the church, and see who was\nthere. \"I go, sir!\" says William; \"why, I would be frightened out of my\nwits.\" \"Give me the key of the church,\" says Mr. Long. Then he went to\nthe church, all the people following him. As soon as he had opened the\ndoor, who do you think appeared? Why, little Two-Shoes, who, being\nweary, had fallen asleep in one of the pews during the funeral service,\nand was shut in all night. She immediately asked Mr. Long's pardon for\nthe trouble she had given him, and said she should not have rung the\nbells, but that she was very cold, and hearing Farmer Boult's man go\nwhistling by, she was in hopes he would have gone for the key to let her\nout.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe people were ashamed to ask little Madge any questions before Mr.\nLong, but as soon as he was gone they all got round her to satisfy their\ncuriosity, and desired she would give them a particular account of all\nthat she had heard or seen.\n\n\"I went to the church,\" said Goody Two-Shoes, \"as most of you did last\nnight, to see the funeral, and being very weary, I sat down in Mr.\nJones's pew, and fell fast asleep. At eleven o'clock I awoke; I started\nup, and could not at first tell where I was, but after some time I\nrecollected the funeral, and soon found that I was shut up in the\nchurch. It was dismally dark, and I could see nothing; but while I was\nstanding in the pew something jumped upon me behind, and laid, as I\nthought, its hands over my shoulders. Then I walked down the church\naisle, when I heard something pit pat, pit pat, pit pat, come after me,\nand something touched my hand that seemed as cold as a marble monument.\nI could not think what it was, yet I knew it could not hurt me, and\ntherefore I made myself easy; but being very cold, and the church being\npaved with stones, which were very damp, I felt my way as well as I\ncould to the pulpit, in doing which something rushed by me, and almost\nthrew me down. At last I found out the pulpit, and having shut the door,\nI laid down on the mat and cushion to sleep, when something pulled the\ndoor, as I thought, for admittance, which prevented my going to sleep.\nAt last it cried: 'Bow, wow, wow!' and I knew it must be Mr. Sanderson's\ndog, which had followed me from their house to the church; so I opened\nthe door and called,' Snip! Snip!' and the dog jumped upon me\nimmediately. After this, Snip and I lay down together, and had a\ncomfortable nap; for when I awoke it was almost light. I then walked up\nand down all the aisles of the church to keep myself warm; and then I\nwent to Lord Ducklington's tomb, and I stood looking at his cold marble\nface and his hands clasped together, till hearing Farmer Boult's man go\nby, I went to the bells and rung them.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere was in the same parish a Mrs. Williams, who kept a college for\ninstructing little gentlemen and ladies in the science of A B C, who was\nat this time very old and infirm, and wanted to decline this important\ntrust. This being told to Sir William Dove, he sent for Mrs. Williams,\nand desired she would examine little Two-Shoes, and see whether she was\nqualified for the office. This was done, and Mrs. Williams made the\nfollowing report in her favour: namely, that little Margery was the best\nscholar, and had the best head and the best heart of any one she had\nexamined. All the country had a great opinion of Mrs. Williams, and this\ncharacter gave them also a great opinion of Mrs. Margery, for so we must\nnow call her.\n\nThe room in which Mrs. Margery taught her scholars was very large and\nspacious, and as she knew that nature intended children should be always\nin action she placed her different letters of alphabets all round the\nschool, so that every one was obliged to get up and fetch a letter, for\nto spell a word, when it came to their turn; which not only kept them in\nhealth, but fixed the letters firmly in their minds.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nOne day as Mrs. Margery was going through the next village, she met with\nsome wicked boys who had taken a young raven, which they were going to\nthrow at. She wanted to get the poor creature out of their cruel hands,\nand therefore gave them a penny for him, and brought him home. She\ncalled him by the name of Ralph, and a fine bird he was.\n\nNow this bird she taught to speak, to spell, and to read; and as he was\nfond of playing with the large letters, the children used to call them\nRalph's Alphabet.\n\nSome days after she had met with the raven, as she was walking in the\nfields, she saw some naughty boys who had taken a pigeon and tied a\nstring to its legs, in order to let it fly and draw it back again when\nthey pleased; and by this means they tortured the poor bird with the\nhopes of liberty and repeated disappointment. This pigeon she also\nbought, and taught him how to spell and read, though not to talk. He was\na very pretty fellow, and she called him Tom. And as the raven Ralph was\nfond of the large letters, Tom the pigeon took care of the small ones.\n\nThe neighbours knowing that Mrs. Two-Shoes was very good, as, to be\nsure, nobody was better, made her a present of a little skylark. She\nthought the lark might be of use to her and her pupils, and tell them\nwhen it was time to get up. \"For he that is fond of his bed, and lies\ntill noon, lives but half his days, the rest being lost in sleep, which\nis a kind of death.\"\n\nSome time after this a poor lamb had lost its dam, and the farmer being\nabout to kill it, she bought it of him, and brought him home with her to\nplay with the children, and teach them when to go to bed; for it was a\nrule with the wise men of that age (and a very good one, let me tell\nyou) to \"Rise with the lark, and lie down with the lamb.\" This lamb she\ncalled Will, and a pretty fellow he was.\n\nNo sooner was Tippy, the lark, and Will, the ba-lamb, brought into the\nschool, than that sensible rogue Ralph, the raven, composed the\nfollowing verse, which every good little boy and girl should get by\nheart:--\n\n   \"_Early to bed, and early to rise,\n   Is the way to be healthy, wealthy, and wise._\"\n\nSoon after this, a present was made to Mrs. Margery of a little dog,\nwhom she called Jumper. He was always in a good humour, and playing and\njumping about, and therefore he was called Jumper. The place assigned\nfor Jumper was that of keeping the door, so that he might have been\ncalled the porter of a college, for he would let nobody go out nor any\none come in, without leave of his mistress.\n\nBilly, the ba-lamb, was a cheerful fellow, and all the children were\nfond of him; wherefore Mrs. Two-Shoes made it a rule that those who\nbehaved best should have Will home with them at night, to carry their\nsatchel on his back, and bring it in the morning. Mrs. Margery, as we\nhave frequently observed, was always doing good, and thought she could\nnever sufficiently gratify those who had done anything to serve her.\nThese generous sentiments naturally led her to consult the interest of\nher neighbours; and as most of their lands were meadow, and they\ndepended much on their hay, which had been for many years greatly\ndamaged by the wet weather, she contrived an instrument to direct them\nwhen to mow their grass with safety, and prevent their hay being\nspoiled. They all came to her for advice, and by that means got in their\nhay without damage, while most of that in the neighbouring village was\nspoiled. This occasioned very great noise in the country, and so greatly\nprovoked were the people who resided in the other parishes that they\nabsolutely accused her of being a witch, and sent old Gaffer Goosecap, a\nbusy fellow in other people's concerns, to find out evidence against\nher. The wiseacre happened to come to her school when she was walking\nabout with the raven on one shoulder, the pigeon on the other, the lark\non her hand, and the lamb and the dog by her side; which indeed made a\ndroll figure, and so surprised the man, that he cried out: \"A witch! a\nwitch! a witch!\"\n\nUpon this, she laughingly answered: \"A conjuror! a conjuror!\" and so\nthey parted. But it did not end thus, for a warrant was issued out\nagainst Mrs. Margery, and she was carried to a meeting of the justices,\nwhither all the neighbours followed her.\n\nAt the meeting, one of the justices, who knew little of life and less of\nthe law, behaved very badly, and though nobody was able to prove\nanything against her, asked who she could bring to her character. \"Who\ncan you bring _against_ my character, sir,\" says she. \"There are people\nenough who would appear in my defence, were it necessary; but I never\nsupposed that any one here could be so weak as to believe there was any\nsuch thing as a witch. If I am a witch, this is my charm, and (laying a\nbarometer upon the table) it is with this,\" says she, \"that I have\ntaught my neighbours to know the state of the weather.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAll the company laughed; and Sir William Dove, who was on the bench,\nasked her accusers how they could be such fools as to think there was\nany such thing as a witch. And then he gave such an account of Mrs.\nMargery and her virtue, good sense, and prudent behaviour, that the\ngentlemen present returned her public thanks for the great service she\nhad done the country. One gentleman in particular, Sir Charles Jones,\nhad conceived such a high opinion of her, that he offered her a\nconsiderable sum to take the care of his family, and the education of\nhis daughter, which, however, she refused but this gentleman sending\nfor her afterwards, when he had a dangerous fit of illness, she went,\nand behaved so prudently in the family and so tenderly to him and his\ndaughter, that he would not permit her to leave his house, but soon\nafter made her proposals of marriage. She was truly sensible of the\nhonour he intended her, but would not consent to be made a lady till he\nhad provided for his daughter. All things being settled, and the day\nfixed, the neighbours came in crowds to see the wedding; for they were\nall glad that one who had been such a good little girl, and was become\nsuch a virtuous and good woman, was going to be made a lady. But just as\nthe clergyman had opened his book, a gentleman richly dressed ran into\nthe church, and cried: \"Stop! stop!\" This greatly alarmed the\ncongregation, and particularly the intended bride and bridegroom, whom\nhe first accosted, desiring to speak with them apart. After they had\nbeen talking a few moments, the people were greatly surprised to see Sir\nCharles stand motionless, and his bride cry and faint away in the\nstranger's arms. This seeming grief, however, was only a prelude to a\nflood of joy, which immediately succeeded; for you must know that this\ngentleman so richly dressed was little Tommy Meanwell, Mrs. Margery's\nbrother, who was just come from sea, where he had made a large fortune,\nand hearing, as soon as he landed, of his sister's intended wedding, had\nridden post to see that a proper settlement was made on her, which he\nthought she was now entitled to, as he himself was able to give her an\nample fortune. They soon returned to the communion-table, and were\nmarried in tears, but they were tears of joy.\n\nSir Charles and Lady Jones lived happily for many years. Her ladyship\ncontinued to visit the school in which she had passed so many happy\ndays, and always gave the prizes to the best scholars with her own\nhands. She also gave to the parish several acres of land to be planted\nyearly with potatoes, for all the poor who would come and fetch them for\nthe use of their families; but if any took them to sell, they were\ndeprived of that privilege ever after. And these roots were planted and\nraised from the rent arising from a farm which she had assigned over for\nthat purpose. In short, she was a mother to the poor, a physician to the\nsick, and a friend to those in distress. Her life was the greatest\nblessing, and her death the greatest calamity that ever was felt in the\nneighbourhood.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF\n\n=The House that Jack Built=.\n\n[Illustration: This is the house that Jack built.]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the cow with the crumpled horn,\n   That toss'd the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the maiden all forlorn,\n   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,\n   That toss'd the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the man all tatter'd and torn,\n   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,\n   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,\n   That toss'd the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the priest all shaven and shorn,\n   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,\n   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,\n   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,\n   That toss'd the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the cock that crow'd in the morn,\n   That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,\n   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,\n   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,\n   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,\n   That toss'd the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the farmer who sow'd the corn,\n   That kept the cock that crow'd in the morn,\n   That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,\n   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,\n   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,\n   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,\n   That toss'd the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   This is the horse, and the hound, and the horn,\n   That belong'd to the farmer who sow'd the corn,\n   That kept the cock that crow'd in the morn,\n   That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,\n   That married the man all tatter'd and torn,\n   That kiss'd the maiden all forlorn,\n   That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn,\n   That toss'd the dog,\n   That worried the cat,\n   That kill'd the rat,\n   That ate the malt,\n   That lay in the house that Jack built.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF THE\n\n=Death & Burial of Cock Robin=.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n=Edited by Madame de Chatelain.=\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY\n\nOF THE\n\n=Death and Burial of Cock Robin=.\n\n\n   Who kill'd Cock robin?\n     I, said the Sparrow,\n   With my bow and arrow,\n     I kill'd Cock Robin.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who saw him die?\n     I, said the Fly,\n   With my little eye,\n     I saw him die.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who caught his blood?\n     I, said the Fish,\n   With my little dish,\n     I caught his blood.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll make his shroud?\n     I, said the Beetle,\n   With my little needle,\n     I'll make his shroud.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll dig his grave?\n     I, said the Owl,\n   With my spade and showl,\n     I'll dig his grave.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll be the parson?\n     I, said the Rook,\n   With my little book,\n     I'll be the parson.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll be the clerk?\n     I, said the Lark,\n   If it's not in the dark,\n     I'll be the clerk.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll carry him to the grave?\n     I, said the Kite,\n   If it's not in the night,\n     I'll carry him to the grave.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll carry the link?\n     I, said the Linnet,\n   I'll fetch it in a minute,\n     I'll carry the link.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll be chief mourner?\n     I, said the Dove,\n   For I mourn for my love,\n     I'll be chief mourner.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll sing a psalm?\n     I, said the Thrush,\n   As I sit in a bush,\n     I'll sing a psalm.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n   Who'll toll the bell?\n     I, said the Bull,\n   Because I can pull,\n     So, Cock Robin, farewell.\n\n   _All the birds of the air\n     Fell a sighing and sobbing,\n   When they heard the bell toll\n     For poor Cock Robin._","title":"Bo-Peep Story Books","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":21506}