{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27952/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27952","id":"gutenberg_27952","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27952","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales"],"text":"E-text prepared by Michael Gray (Lost_Gamer@comcast.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 27952-h.htm or 27952-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/9/5/27952/27952-h/27952-h.htm)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/7/9/5/27952/27952-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nFairy Tales From Flowerland\n\nAltemus' Fairy Tales Series\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CASTLE\n\nA Book of Fairy Tales from Flowerland\n\nEdited with an Introduction by\n\nHARTWELL JAMES\n\nWith Forty Illustrations by John R. Neill\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPhiladelphia\nHenry Altemus Company\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nAltemus'\nIllustrated\nFairy Tales Series\n\nThe Magic Bed\n     A Book of East Indian Tales\nThe Cat and the Mouse\n     A Book of Persian Tales\nThe Jeweled Sea\n     A Book of Chinese Tales\nThe Magic Jaw Bone\n     A Book of South Sea Islands Tales\nThe Man Elephant\n     A Book of African Tales\nThe Enchanted Castle\n     A Book of Tales from Flower Land\n\nFifty Cents Each\n\nCopyright, 1906\nBy Henry Altemus\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nEvery boy and girl--and for that matter every man and woman, too--\nrejoices when the winter snows have vanished and the earth once more\nputs on her beautiful dress of green, for then the flowers wake from\ntheir sleep and clothe the earth with beauty.\n\nBecause all boys and girls love flowers, those of them who read this\nbook will be interested in the beautiful stories they have to tell,\nloving them even more when they know something of their past history and\nsome of the events with which they are associated.\n\nHundreds of years ago, before clocks or watches were invented, people\nused to tell the time by means of flowers, and\n\n \"'Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours\n     As they floated in light away,\n  By the opening and the folding flowers\n     That laugh to the summer's day.\"\n\nOne very old writer tells us that he knew of forty-six flowers by which\nhe could tell the time, and since then a great many more have been\ndiscovered. These time-keepers open and shut their blossoms at exactly\nthe same time each day, and every hour of the day or night some flower\nopens and closes its petals.\n\nThen those who love fairies know that they have much to do with the\nflowers, and while to some they may seem very trifling occupations--this\nwriting and reading about fairies--yet\n\n  \"Another sort there be, that will\n    Be talking of the Fairies still;\n    Nor never can they have their fill\n        As they were wedded to them.\"\n\n                                         H.J.\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nThe Enchanted Castle\nThe Fair Maids of February\nThe Loveless Youth\nThe Wind Flower\nThe Fate of Hyacinthus\nSt. Leonard and the Fiery Snake\nA Fair Prisoner\nThe Ungrateful Traveler\nThe Star of Bethlehem\nThe Angel's Gift\nThe Holy Hay\nThe Search for Gold\nThe Flower Fairies\n\n\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\"'You will come to the walls of an old castle'\"\n\"'I am gathering them for Mother'\"\n\"Slowly the great door opened\"\n\"'The Key-flower will always admit you'\"\n\"Hastened home to her mother\"\n\"The skies were gray and cheerless\"\n\"'Tell me why thou weepest'\"\n\"The angel handed her the frail blossom\"\n\"When the winter snows disappear\"\n\"The monks were fond of planting the snowdrops\"\n\"The boy did not return their love\"\n\"The image in the water returned no answer\"\n\"Zephyr cared not for Lady Flora\"\n\"When the March winds blow\"\n\"She is a capital weather-glass\"\n\"They walked and drove together\"\n\"Playing a game of quoits together\"\n\"He had slain him with his own hand\"\n\"With such returning spring\"\n\"The country people warned him\"\n\"He sank, exhausted, upon the steps\"\n\"As they followed its winding course\"\n\"But St. Leonard drew his sword\"\n\"Shut up in the turret-chamber\"\n\"In the disguise of a peddler\"\n\"She fell into the court yard below\"\n\"The sweet blossoms of a tiny flower\"\n\"A great doorway in the rock\"\n\"Once more upon the bleak mountain side\"\n\"He could hear the voices of the priests\"\n\"'The Star of Bethlehem' men call it\"\n\"The bright messenger from heaven\"\n\"Then she was tied to the stake\"\n\"'Make me more lovely still'\"\n\"The birds of the air came to him\"\n\"A crown around the baby head\"\n\"His bed was of fresh, sweet hay\"\n\"They were struck with wonder\"\n\"Hunted down like wild beasts\"\n\"The Spaniards called them Marigolds\"\n\n\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CASTLE\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CASTLE\n\n\"Primroses, the Spring may love them,\nSummer knows but little of them.\"\n              --_Wordsworth._\n\nONE day a little German girl was gathering flowers in the meadows, when\nshe was met by a wonderful maiden. Wondrous fair the maiden was to look\nupon.\n\nHer dress was of pale green velvet, with streaks of bright crimson. In\nher hand she carried a basket of spring flowers, and on her head she\nwore a wreath of pale yellow blossoms. Her voice was like the sound of\nsilver bells.\n\n\"Lisbeth, you are a good child,\" she said. \"You have done your best to\nhelp your sick mother, and now tell me, what are you going to do with\nthe flowers you are gathering?\"\n\nAnd the little girl replied, \"I am gathering them for mother. She loves\nthe spring flowers, but she is too ill to gather them for herself, and\nshe cannot afford to buy them.\"\n\n\"I know that you are telling the truth,\" said the fairy. \"Your mother is\nsick and poor, and you want to help her. Now look at this, Lisbeth,\" she\ncontinued, giving the child a blossom from her basket like those upon\nher head, \"this is a primrose. Take it, and as you walk along follow the\nprimrose blossoms until you come to the walls of an old castle.\n\n\"In the wall you will find a great doorway, covered all over with\nflowers. Touch the lock gently with your 'key-flower'\" pointing to the\nprimrose she had given her, \"and the door will open so that you may\nenter the enchanted castle. I will meet you there again.\"\n\nThen the fairy vanished as suddenly as she had appeared, but the\nastonished Lisbeth did as she had been told, and followed the primroses\non the banks until she reached the castle walls.\n\nShe soon found the door covered with flowers, and moving aside some of\nthe beautiful blossoms, she placed her \"key-flower\" upon the lock.\nSlowly the great door opened, but Lisbeth was so surprised at what she\nsaw within that she was afraid to enter, and could only stand and look.\n\nGreat baskets hung from the roof of the house full of the pale yellow\nblossoms; banks of them were heaped around the walls; while upon the\nfloor and tables stood vases of all shapes and sizes containing nothing\nbut primroses.\n\nBut in a few minutes she heard a sweet voice calling her, and on\nentering she saw once more her fairy friend.\n\n\"Lisbeth,\" the fairy said, \"come in and take what you like. Under those\nsweet blossoms are chests containing gold, silver and jewels. You may\nremove the flowers and open which you please. Take as much as you can\ncarry, and come again as often as you like. The 'key-flower' will always\nadmit you.\n\n\"But there is one thing you must remember. You must not take away a\nsingle blossom, but every flower must be replaced where you find it. So\nlong as you observe this rule you will always find an entrance into this\nhome of wealth and treasure, but if you disobey punishment will quickly\nfollow.\"\n\nAs she spoke these words the fairy again vanished, and Lisbeth, seeking\namong the flowers, found the treasure of which she had been told.\nFilling her apron with gold and silver, she replaced the blossoms she\nhad removed, and hastened home to her mother.\n\nAnd great was the delight of the poor sick woman, for now she and her\nlittle daughter need be no longer poor. Many and many a time they\nvisited the enchanted castle; and ever since Lisbeth told the story to\nher friends, the boys and girls of Germany have called the primrose the\n\"key-flower.\"\n\nThey believe that as long as they are good and obedient it will unlock\nfor them the door of the enchanted castle, where treasures of wealth and\nhappiness are to be found.\n\n\n\nTHE FAIR MAIDS OF FEBRUARY\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE FAIR MAIDS OF FEBRUARY\n\n\"The frail snowdrop\nBorn of the breath of Winter.\"\n         --_Barry Cornwall._\n\nA GREAT many years ago, when Adam and Eve were turned out of Eden for\ntheir disobedience, Eve looked out over the bare and desolate earth and\nwept for the beauty she had lost.\n\nBefore this it had always been summer-time. The sun had always shone,\nand Eve had breathed the fragrance of the flowers, day after day, and\ngathered them at her own sweet will.\n\nBut now it was winter, and all was changed. The trees stood bare and\nleafless; no birds sang in their branches; no sweet blossoms raised\ntheir heads to catch the sun's warm rays. The skies were gray and\ncheerless, and ever the soft white snow kept falling silently, \"like the\nfootsteps of angels descending upon earth.\"\n\nBut the good God in Heaven saw Eve sit weeping, and looked down on her\nwith pitying eyes, and turning to one of the bright angels who stood by,\nready to do His bidding, He said:\n\n\"See how yonder poor woman sits weeping. Go swiftly and do what thou\ncanst to comfort her,\" and the angel spread her wings and sped earthward\nwith the falling snow.\n\n\"Tell me why thou weepest,\" she said, as she placed her hand gently upon\nthe head of the weeping woman.\n\nAnd Eve replied, \"I weep because the earth is bare and desolate, and\nthere is nought that is beautiful to be seen. I pray thee tell me, if\nthou canst, where are the flowers that I love so well. Tell me, shall I\never see them more?\"\n\nThe angel smiled, and stretching out her hand to catch the falling\nflakes of snow, said:\n\n\"Is not this beautiful? So white, so pure, so gentle. It is the covering\nwhich your Heavenly Father in His great love spreads over the cold\nearth.\"\n\nAnd even as she spoke the snowflake in her hand took form and budded and\nblossomed into a pure white flower, which hung its dainty head and\ntrembled as if afraid to look upon the world into which it had been\nborn.\n\nThen Eve dried her tears and broke forth into smiles as the angel handed\nher the frail blossom, saying:\n\n\"It is a snowdrop. Take it, Eve, for it is a promise of better things to\ncome. Never again doubt your Father's love. You have only to wait, and\nwhen the winter's snows have gone and the summer sun shines once more,\nthe flowers will bloom again as beautiful as ever.\"\n\nThen Eve watched the angel return to Heaven, until the gleam of her\nsilver wings was no longer to be seen. She still carried in her hand his\ntiny gift and as she turned away she saw that where the angel's feet had\nrested the snow had melted away, and on the green grass beneath was\ngrowing a lovely cluster of snowdrops.\n\nAnd every year since then, when the winter snows disappear, these sweet\nforerunners of the spring are found in the woods and dells, bringing a\nmessage of hope and a promise of brighter days to come.\n\nMany years afterwards the monks were fond of planting the snowdrop in\ntheir beautiful gardens. Not only did it teach them a lesson of faith\nand trust, but its sweet white blossoms were regarded as an emblem of\npurity. And poets have always loved to sing the praises of this, the\nearliest flower of spring.\n\n\n\nTHE LOVELESS YOUTH\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE LOVELESS YOUTH\n\n\n\"Daffodils, that come before the swallow dares,\nAnd take the winds of March with beauty.\"\n                  --_Shakespeare._\n\nYEARS and years ago the River-god wedded a beautiful water-nymph. Their\nson, Narcissus, was such a lovely boy to look upon that all who saw him\nloved him; but the boy did not return their love, for he was full of\nvanity and thought only of himself.\n\nNow as he grew to manhood Narcissus became more and more beautiful, and\neach woodland fairy or water-nymph would gladly have become his bride.\n\nAt last a gentle nymph named Echo fell in love with him, and since he\nwould not look at her, or give heed to her soft words, she pined away\nuntil nothing but her voice remained.\n\nEven to this day her plaintive cry may be heard among the hills\nanswering back again the voices of those who laugh and sing. But now the\nnymphs were angry with the loveless youth, and prayed the gods to punish\nhim for his heartlessness.\n\nSo one day when he was wandering in the fields, they caused him to see\nhis own features reflected in the clear waters of a crystal pool.\n\nNow Narcissus did not know that it was his own face which smiled up at\nhim from the depths of the pool, but took it to be that of some lovely\nwater-nymph, and full of love and admiration he determined to win her\nfor his bride.\n\nBut the image in the water returned no answer to his loving words, and\ndid but mimic his every act and movement, till at last, in despair, he\nsat down by the water's edge and wept bitter tears of disappointed love.\n\nAnd there he sat, day by day, till he grew pale and thin, and at last,\nlike poor Echo, he pined away and died.\n\nThen on the border of the lake, where his dead body lay, there sprang up\nclusters of golden blossoms. Daffodils we call them, but the gods called\nthem \"Narcissus,\" in memory of the loveless youth.\n\nAnd beautiful they were to look upon; but there was something missing,\nfor as Narcissus shed no love around his path through life, so the\nflowers which bear his name shed no fragrance upon the air.\n\n\n\nTHE WIND FLOWER\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE WIND FLOWER\n\n\"The coy Anemone, that ne'er uncloses\nHer lips, until they're blown on by the wind.\"\n                         --_H. Smith._\n\nFLORA, Queen of all the flowers, fell in love with Zephyr, the\nWest-wind, whose gentle breezes fanned her favorite blossoms, cooling\nthem when the fierce rays of the sun fell hot upon them. But Zephyr\ncared not for Lady Flora.\n\nZephyr loved a gentle nymph, who returned his affection, but ere she\ncould become his bride Flora changed her into a plant whose pale\nblossoms shine and twinkle in the woods like stars on a dark night.\n\nNow this fair nymph was beloved not only by Zephyr, the gentle\nWest-wind, but by Boreas, the cold, rough North-wind, and it happened\nthat the time at which she became a flower was at that season when\n\"the North-wind doth blow,\" so Boreas had her in his power.\n\nAnd then to punish her for bestowing her love upon another, he blew\nroughly upon her and scattered her delicate petals upon the ground. Then\nthe gods, because she was beloved by the winds, called her Anemone, the\nwind-flower.\n\nEvery year when the March winds blow she opens her dainty blossoms, and\nevery year Boreas revenges his unrequited love by shattering and\ndestroying her beauty.\n\nBut the gentle Anemone returns good for evil, for she loves the wind,\nand opens her soft pink and white petals when the March breezes blow\nloud and shrill.\n\nThe poets call her \"Child of the Wind,\" and country people tell us she\nis a capital weather-glass, for when the wind drops and rain clouds\nbegin to gather she knows that rain is coming.\n\nGentle, loving little flower, \"Waiting for the breathing of the wind,\" we\ncan all have a lesson from you. Why not be like the Anemone, and when\nothers use you roughly, seek not revenge, but rather give good for evil.\n\n\n\nTHE FATE OF HYACINTHUS\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE FATE OF HYACINTHUS\n\n\"His polish'd limbs, by strange enchantment's power,\nShoot into bud and blossom into flower.\"\n                     _--Ovid._\n\nONE day when Apollo, the Sun-god, was driving in his chariot across the\nland of Greece, he saw in the palace gardens of the King of Sparta a\nbeautiful boy at play.\n\nNo sooner did the Sun-god set ryes upon the king's son than he loved him\nand desired to have him for his own. He quickly won the boy's\naffections, and the two were like father and son, so happy were they in\ntheir love for one another.\n\nThey walked and drove together, and played at merry games in the king's\ngardens, while Apollo lavished upon the boy gifts rich and costly, for\nhe thought nothing too good for his beautiful Hyacinthus.\n\nSo all went well for quite a time, until Zephyr, the West-wind, who also\nloved the boy, grew jealous of his evident preference for the Sun-god.\n\nHe tried by all means in his power to win the love of Hyacinthus, but\nthe youth took no heed, and in spite of the West-wind's gentle words and\ntender, soft caresses, he continued to love Apollo best.\n\nThen Zephyr became angry and jealous. Day by day he watched the two\nfriends, and waited his opportunity for revenge.\n\nNow it happened one bright spring morning that Apollo and Hyacinthus\nwere playing a game of quoits together. The boy's merry laugh rang\nthrough the clear air and reached the ears of Zephyr, who was hiding in\nthe branches of a tree close by.\n\nAn angry look passed over his face as he exclaimed, \"He shall die.\nRather than give him up to Apollo, I will cause his death!\"\n\nAt that very moment Apollo raised his arm and threw his quoit. Straight\nas a dart it sped, until a strong gust of wind, raised for the purpose\nby the angry Zephyr, changed its course, so that it struck Hyacinthus\nupon the head and killed him.\n\nAnd now the revenge of the West-wind was complete, for not only had\nApollo lost the object of his love, but he had slain him with his own\nhands.\n\nThen the Sun-god was frantic with grief, and, casting himself upon the\nbody of his favorite, he wept loud and long. \"Oh! my beloved,\" he cried,\n\"come back, come back to me! woe, woe, woe is me!\"\n\nBut nothing could restore the boy to life again. There was but one thing\nhe could do, and in order that the memory of his darling might remain\nfresh and fragrant among men, he changed the beautiful but lifeless form\ninto a sweet and lovely flower. So year by year, with each returning\nspring, the Hyacinths reappear and spread a rich carpet over the woods\nand dells, reminding us of the ill-fated youth whose life was sacrificed\nto \"the green-eyed monster,\" jealousy.\n\n\n\nST. LEONARD AND THE FIERY SNAKE\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nST. LEONARD AND THE FIERY SNAKE\n\n\"A little monitor presents her page\nOf choice instruction, with her snowy bells!\nThe Lily of the Vale.\"\n\nHUNDREDS of years ago there was a vast forest in England, wherein lurked\nall manner of wild beasts and loathsome reptiles. The trees grew thick\nand tall, but beneath them the earth was brown and bare, for no grass or\nflower could grow within the gloomy forest.\n\nNow at this time there lived a good and holy knight named Saint Leonard,\nand it so happened that as he journeyed through the land, seeking how he\nmight do good and help his fellow-men, that he came in the course of his\nwanderings to the borders of the great forest.\n\nThe country people whom he met warned him against attempting to\npenetrate its depths, and said to him, \"The forest is haunted with evil\nthings, which no man shall encounter and live to tell the tale.\"\n\nNow Saint Leonard did not know what fear was, and persisted on going\ninto the perilous forest. So he left them and entered the gloomy wood,\nand before he had gone far he saw coming towards him a terrible monster\nin the form of a fiery snake.\n\nOn it came, breathing out flames of fire, and preparing to coil itself\naround the brave knight, whom it would have crushed to death in its\nfierce embrace.\n\nBut Saint Leonard drew his sword and prepared to engage in a deadly\nstruggle with the monster. For three long days and nights they fought,\nuntil on the morning of the fourth day the evil beast lay wounded and\ndying at the feet of the victorious knight.\n\nWith one stroke of his sword he severed the head of the snake from its\nbody, and then turned to retrace his steps towards the village he had\nleft.\n\nThe dying shrieks of the fiery snake had so terrified the other evil\ninhabitants of the forest that they had all taken flight, most of them\nin their great haste falling headlong into the ocean on the shores of\nthe great forest.\n\nBut the knight had been sorely wounded in the fray and blood-drops\nmarked his way through the trackless forest.\n\nAt length he reached the village and sank, exhausted and senseless, upon\nthe steps of the nearest cottage. The villagers thought he had returned\nonly to die, but after a time he opened his eyes, and in a few days he\nwas strong enough to tell his wondrous tale.\n\nThen, indeed, the villagers were filled with astonishment, and a party\nof them set off to see if the knight's story was true. To their great\nsurprise, when they reached the borders of the forest, there lay before\nthem a sunlit path strewn with pure white blossoms.\n\nAs they followed its winding course, they found that wherever the blood\nof the wounded knight had fallen, lovely \"Lilies of the Valley\" had\nsprang up. On and on they went, until they came to the spot where the\ndeath-blow had been given.\n\nThe body of the hideous monster had disappeared, but all around, the\nsweet, fragrant lilies grew in lovely clusters, and from their tiny\nbells came sweet music, repeating to the astonished villagers the story\nof the triumph of good over evil, love over hate, right over might.\n\n\n\nA FAIR PRISONER\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nA FAIR PRISONER\n\n\"The sweetest flower\nThat decks the golden breast of May.\"\n         --_Langhorne._\n\nSOME four or five hundred years ago there stood upon the banks of the\nRiver Tweed, in Great Britain, a grand and stately castle.\n\nIt was enclosed by high walls, and its gates were guarded day and night\nby soldiers, for these were warlike times, and an enemy might be lurking\nnear, watching his opportunity to make a raid upon the owner's property.\n\nAt one corner of the castle was a high tower, in the topmost chamber of\nwhich was imprisoned a beautiful maiden, the only daughter of the\nchieftain who owned the castle.\n\nAnd not far away stood another grand old castle, the lord of which was\nher father's greatest enemy, whose only son had dared to ask the\nmaiden's hand in marriage.\n\nVery terrible to see was the chieftain's anger when his child confessed\nher love for the son of his enemy; and since she would not give him up,\nor listen to the words of other suitors, he shut her up in the\nturret-chamber, where she could hold no communication with the outer world.\n\nDay after day this stern father climbed the steep staircase and bid the\nmaiden renounce her love. But the poor girl remained faithful, and\ncontinued a prisoner.\n\nAnd what of her lover? Had he deserted her? No indeed; he thought of her\nday and night, and was busy forming plans for her escape.\n\nIn the disguise of a peddler he came to offer his wares for sale at the\ncastle, and by means of rich gifts he bribed the maid who waited upon\nhis betrothed to convey to her a stout silken cord, by which she should\ndescend from the turret-window.\n\nThere he would await her, with horses, outside the castle walls, and\ntogether they would ride to the nearest church and be wedded without\ndelay.\n\nAt last the appointed day came. In the gathering twilight the maiden saw\nher lover's signal, and fastening the cord to the bars of the window she\nbegan the perilous descent.\n\nBut, alas, for the hopes of the youthful pair! Making too great haste to\naccomplish her descent, her trembling hands missed their hold of the\nropes and she fell, bruised, bleeding, and dying, into the courtyard\nbelow. Then in the words of an old song:\n\n    \"Love in pity to the deed,\n       And her loving luckless speed,\n       Twined her to this plant we call\n       Now the 'Flower of the Wall.'\"\n\nAnd ever since, upon old walls, and in the nooks and crannies of ruined\nbuildings, the golden wallflowers have bloomed, filling the air with\nfragrance as they tell their story of faithful love.\n\n\n\nTHE UNGRATEFUL TRAVELER\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE UNGRATEFUL TRAVELER\n\n\"That blue and bright-eyed flow'ret of the brook,\nHope's gentle gem, the sweet forget-me-not.\"\n           --_Coleridge._\n\nONCE a weary traveler, wandering alone on the steep side of a bare and\ndesolate mountain, came unexpectedly upon a tiny stream of water\ntrickling down between the rocks.\n\nFollowing its course down the mountain side, he entered a wooded glen,\nwhere the banks of the stream were covered with green grass, among which\nhe suddenly espied the sweet blue blossoms of a tiny flower.\n\nFor many days his path had lain across a rough and rugged country, where\nno blade of grass or star-like blossom greeted his coming, so now he\neagerly gathered a handful of the pale blue flowers and tied them for\nsafety to the handle of his staff. Then as he turned to continue his way\nhe saw before him a great doorway in the rock, which opened to him of\nits own accord.\n\nEntering, he found himself in a magnificent home, where around him on\nevery side lay heaps of treasure--gold, silver, and rich raiment--while\nfairy voices bid him help himself.\n\nHastily throwing aside his staff, and with it the \"luck-flowers\" which\nhe had gathered, he filled his pockets with jewels, and taking as much\ntreasure as he could carry in his arms he turned to retrace steps. As he\ndid so, a sweet voice sounded in his ear, crying, \"Forget-me-not!\nForget-me-not!\"\n\nBut the ungrateful traveler paid no attention t the cry, and as he left\nthe home the great door closed behind him with a crash.\n\nInstantly he found himself once more upon the bleak mountain side. The\ntreasure which he had so greedily collected vanished from his grasp. Not\neven his staff remained to him, for he had left it behind with the\n\"luck-flowers.\"\n\nThen full of grief and disappointment, he continued his journey across\nthe lonely mountain; but though he sought it far and near he never again\nfound the precious \"luck-flower,\" without which he could not gain an\nentrance to the fairy cave.\n\nThus was his ingratitude punished; and the sweet forget-me-not growing\nby the river-side contains a lesson for all who gather it, bidding them\never remember the \"Great Giver of all Good Gifts.\"\n\n\n\nTHE STAR OF BETHLEHEM\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE STAR OF BETHLEHEM\n\n\"Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.\"\n                    --_Longfellow._\n\nA GOOD and holy man sat down to rest one evening beneath the shade of\nthe palm-tree in a far Eastern country, far away from home and friends.\n\nThe sun was sinking in the west, the air was hot and sultry, and all\naround him grew strange and wondrous plants and flowers.\n\nIt was a beautiful land, but the stranger's heart was sad within him. He\nhad traveled far in order to carry the story of \"Jesus and His love\"\ninto heathen lands, but here, among the followers of the \"false\nprophet,\" none would listen to his tale. Even now as he sat beneath the\npalm-tree, the spires of the Mohammedan mosques gleamed white in the\ndistance, and he could hear the voices of the priests as they chanted\ntheir evensong.\n\n\"How ever can I serve my Master in such a land as this!\" exclaimed the\nholy man.\n\n\"All around me seems to brood the spell of an unholy influence; even the\nvery flowers have taken part in heathen rites and ceremonies.\n\n\"Help me, Lord, for I am very weak,\" and the stranger bowed his head in\nprayer.\n\nJust then a thrill of hope and joy passed through his sinking heart, for\nthere in the green grass at his feet were the familiar star-like\nblossoms of a tiny plant.\n\n\"The Star of Bethlehem\" men call it, because of its resemblance to the\nbright messenger from heaven which, years ago, led the shepherds of\nBethlehem to the birthplace of the infant Saviour.\n\nAnd many and many times had the traveler gathered its pure white\nblossoms beside his own cottage door, and now, as he saw it growing\ncontentedly beneath the shadow of those pagan plants, his soul was\nfilled with fresh courage. Here in a strange land the little flower told\nthe story of the Saviour's birth, and its presence seemed to shed a ray\nof light and hope around.\n\nCheered and strengthened, the holy man went on his way, ready once more\nto fulfil his labor of love, and to proclaim the good tidings of\nsalvation to all who would hear.\n\n\n\nTHE ANGEL'S GIFT\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE ANGEL'S GIFT\n\n\"Rose! thou art the sweetest flower\nThat ever drank the amber shower.\"\n       --_Moore._\n\nMORE than a thousand years ago, in the city of Bethlehem, a gentle\nmaiden was accused by her enemies of wicked deeds, for which she was\ncondemned to die. But the maiden was innocent; and as she was led out to\nbe burned, she prayed to God to prove her innocence.\n\nThen she was tied to the stake, and the faggots around her were set on\nfire, but to the astonishment of the bystanders they would not burn, and\nas the flames died out the stake to which the innocent maid was fastened\nbecame a tree, bearing red and white roses.\n\nThey were the first roses ever seen on earth, said the people, and never\nbefore had such lovely flowers been seen.\n\nIt is said that not long after the angel who takes care of the flowers\nin God's beautiful garden, sprinkling them with dew in the early morn,\nfell asleep one warm summer day beneath the shade of a rose tree.\n\nAwaking refreshed, she turned to the tree, saying, \"My beautiful child,\nhow can I reward thee for the cool shelter of thy sweet-scented\nbranches?\"\n\nAnd the rose replied, \"They call me the most beautiful of flowers. Make\nme, I pray thee, even more lovely still, if it be in thy power to do\nso.\"\n\nThen the angel covered her with a coat of soft green moss, wherein she\nmight hide her blushing face from the gaze of the passers-by.\n\nNow the rose is beloved by all the birds, especially by the nightingale,\nthe sweetest singer of them all. So great is his love that though\n\n   \" . . . rich the spot\n     With every flower this earth has got,\n   What is it to the nightingale\n     If there his darling rose is not?\"\n\nIt is said that when King Solomon, the wisest of kings, was reigning,\nthe birds of the air came to him one day and told him that they could\nnot sleep at night because of the weeping of the nightingale.\n\n\"But why do you weep?\" inquired the King of the nightingale.\n\nAnd the bird replied, \"Once I was dumb, but the rose taught me to sing,\nand now I cannot bear to see her rudely handled and her petals crushed\nbeneath the foot of man.\"\n\nAnd indeed the fragrant rose is worthy of our love, for it is among the\nmost beautiful of our Heavenly Father's gifts to us.\n\n\n\nTHE HOLY HAY\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE HOLY HAY\n\n\"Little deeds of kindness,\n  Little words of love,\nMake our earth an Eden\n  Like the heaven above.\"\n         --_Dr. Brewer._\n\nALMOST two thousand years ago the infant Jesus was laid to sleep in the\nmanger of the inn at Bethlehem.\n\nHis bed was of fresh, sweet hay, among which were some fragments of a\nlittle plant which had grown all unnoticed among the grass.\n\nIn wonder the tiny weed listened to the song of the angels as they sang\n\"the sweetest carol ever heard\"; in wonder it saw the precious gifts\noffered by the wise men and heard the praises of the shepherds who had\nfound their Saviour.\n\n\"There must be something I can do,\" whispered the little flower to\nitself, and presently the pretty pink blossoms opened and gently twined\nthemselves into a crown around the baby head.\n\nSome travelers standing near exclaimed \"'Tis Holy Hay,\" and ever since\nthe pretty blossoms have borne the name of \"Saint-foin;\" and ever as\nthey reappear, year by year, in the fields and meadows they remind the\nlittle ones of that land that even they can do something \"to please the\nKing of Heaven.\"\n\n\n\nTHE SEARCH FOR GOLD\n\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE SEARCH FOR GOLD\n\n\"The Marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,\nAnd with him rises weeping.\"\n           --_Shakespeare._\n\nABOUT four hundred years ago travelers returning to Europe brought back\nwondrous tales of rich gold mines in the country of Mexico, and after a\nwhile the people of Spain sent an army to fight the Mexicans and rob\nthem of their riches.\n\nWhen the Spanish army reached the City of Mexico, which stood in the\nmidst of a great plain, they were struck with wonder at the beauty and\ngrandeur of all they saw. Gold seemed to be everywhere.\n\nGold, gold, gold! But not content with taking what they could get, these\ncruel soldiers fell upon the Mexican nobles and put hundreds of them to\ndeath for the sake of the rich jewels they wore.\n\nAfter this there was a great battle, and the Mexican King was taken\nprisoner and shut up in his own palace.\n\nBut the brave people of the country were so enraged by the cruelties of\ntheir Spanish conquerors that they would not submit. Battle after battle\nwas fought, and the people were hunted down like wild beasts.\n\nAt last the King was taken out of his prison and placed in front of the\nSpanish army, and there in the fierce heat of the fight he was slain.\n\nSoon after the Mexicans fled, leaving thousands of brave men dead upon\nthe battlefield. Their royal standard of pure gold was captured and\nMexico was conquered. Then the Spaniards returned home, leaving only a\nsmall army to guard the city.\n\nIn the following summer the vast plain surrounding the capital, upon\nwhich the last great battle had been fought, was covered with a wealth\nof golden blossoms.\n\nThen the Mexicans said, \"It is the 'Death-flower.' It has sprung from\nthe blood of our brothers slain in battle by the cruel Spaniards.\"\n\nBut the Spaniards called them Marigolds, or \"Mary's gold,\" because they\nsaid the mother of Jesus had given them the victory.\n\n\n\nTHE FLOWER FAIRIES\n\n\nFairy Tales from Flowerland\nTHE FLOWER FAIRIES\n\n\"Never tread beneath your feet\n  Flowers fair and flowers sweet;\nTouch us tenderly with care\n  Flowers sweet and flowers fair.\"\n\nONE bright sunny morning little Mae went out into the fields to gather a\nbunch of flowers for her mother. She went happily along, and soon came\nto a meadow gay with yellow buttercups.\n\nShe picked a handful and then ran on, for she could see, just over the\nnext wall, the red blossoms of a field of poppies.\n\nSome of these she gathered and put among her buttercups; but she did not\nstay long in this field, for she knew that a little farther on there was\na stream, beside which grew the pretty blue forget-me-nots of which her\nmother was so fond.\n\nSo Mae gathered a big bunch of these, and now held in her hand\nbuttercups, poppies, and forget-me-nots.\n\nBut after a while she began to get tired, so she sat down on the bank to\nrest, and presently she heard a soft little voice say: \"Do you like\nbutter?\"\n\nMae looked quickly around, and saw before her a pretty little lady, with\na crown of gold upon her head and dressed all in yellow.\n\nShe was very much surprised, but being a polite little girl, replied:\n\"Yes, thank you; and will you please tell me your name?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the little lady. \"My name is Fairy Yellow, and I am\nQueen of the buttercups and daffodils, and all the yellow flowers; here\ncome my sisters, Fairy Red and Fairy Blue.\"\n\nAnd there they were, two more little ladies, one dressed in red and the\nother in blue.\n\n\"Good morning,\" said Mae.\n\n\"Good morning,\" said Fairy Red. \"I live among the poppies, and all the\nred flowers belong to me; poppies, and roses, and the holly-berries, and\nmany more besides.\"\n\nThen Fairy Blue said, \"I am mistress of the bluebells, and hare-bells,\nand forget-me-nots, and all the sweet blue flowers.\"\n\n\"I think you are all very pretty,\" said Mae, \"and I shall always think\nof you when I look at the flowers; but now I must go home; so good-bye.\"\n\n\"But we are going with you,\" said the fairies, and to Mae's astonishment\neach crept into a flower and nestled down comfortably; Fairy Yellow in a\nbuttercup, Fairy Red in a poppy, and Fairy Blue in a forget-me-not.\n\nSo Mae gathered up her flowers and set off home, and all the way the\nfairies sang to her the sweetest songs.\n\n\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\n\n\nALTEMUS' ILLUSTRATED\nFAIRY TALES SERIES\n\nAn entirely new collection of Fairy Tales from various countries,\ncarefully edited for young people\n\nProfusely Illustrated, Fifty Cents, Each\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nTHE MAGIC BED\nA Book of East Indian Fairy Tales\n\nEast Indian Fairy Tales are the oldest in existence; some in this book\nare more than two thousand years old.\n\nDecorated Cloth, Illustrated, Fifty Cents\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nTHE CAT AND THE MOUSE\nA Book of Persian Fairy Tales\n\nPersia is the land of the \"Thousand Tales.\" The initial story in this\nbook is illustrated from drawings by a Persian artist.\n\nDecorated Cloth, Illustrated, Fifty Cents\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nPHILADELPHIA\nHENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY\n\n\n\nAltemus' Illustrated Fairy Tales Series\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nTHE MAGIC JAWBONE\nA Book of Fairy Tales from the South Sea Islands.\n\nThese stories are of men who lived long before the Maoris had ever heard\nof white men. The chiefs used to tell these stories to the people.\n\nDecorated Cloth, Illustrated, Fifty Cents\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nTHE MAN ELEPHANT\nA Book of African Fairy Tales\n\nThese African stories are of a different kind; not so many princes and\nprincesses but more about animals--elephants, jackals and lions.\n\nDecorated Cloth, Illustrated, Fifty Cents\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CASTLE\nA Book of Fairy Tales from Flowerland\n\nEvery boy and girl loves flowers and will be interested in the beautiful\nstories the flowers have to tell.\n\nDecorated Cloth, Illustrated, Fifty Cents\n\n      *      *      *      *      *\n\nPHILADELPHIA\nHENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY","title":"The Enchanted Castle: A Book of Fairy Tales from Flowerland","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":6567}