{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_32389/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_32389","id":"gutenberg_32389","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/32389","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales"],"text":"Produced by Suzanne Shell, Sam W. and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                 FAVORITE\n                FAIRY TALES\n\n           THE CHILDHOOD CHOICE\n             OF REPRESENTATIVE\n               MEN AND WOMEN\n\n\n               ILLUSTRATED\n                    BY\n               PETER NEWELL\n\n\n              [Illustration]\n\n\n            NEW YORK AND LONDON\n       HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS\n                  MCMVII\n\n\n\n\n  Copyright, 1907, by Harper & Brothers.\n\n          _All rights reserved._\n         Published October, 1907.\n\n\n\n\n    [Illustration: \"Can't you render me some assistance?\"\n        See p. 209]\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n    JACK THE GIANT-KILLER. Charles Perrault\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Arthur Twining Hadley\n                    President of Yale University\n            Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler\n                    President of Columbia University\n            Dr. Henry M. Alden\n                    Editor of _Harper's Magazine_\n            J. F. Hosic\n                    Professor of English, The Chicago Normal School\n            J. M. Pereles\n                    Chairman of the Wisconsin Free Library Commission\n\n\n    CINDERELLA; OR, THE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER. Charles Perrault\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Thomas R. Lounsbury\n                    Professor of English Yale University\n            Dr. J. H. Canfield\n                    Librarian of Columbia University\n            The Honorable John Bigelow\n                    Author and Publicist\n            J. M. Pereles\n            And the Children of The Honorable Grover Cleveland\n\n\n    JACK AND THE BEAN-STALK. Charles Perrault\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler\n            Dr. Hamilton Wright Mabie\n                    President of the New York Free Kindergarten\n                      Association. Associate Editor of _The Outlook_\n\n\n    THE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD. Charles Perrault\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Shailer Mathews\n                    Professor of Systematic Theology in the University\n                      of Chicago. Editor of _The World To-day_\n            Dr. Hamilton Wright Mabie\n            Dr. Henry Van Dyke\n                    Author. Professor of English Literature in\n                      Princeton University\n\n\n    LITTLE RED-RIDING-HOOD. Charles Perrault\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Henry M. Alden\n\n\n    THE UGLY DUCKLING. Hans Christian Andersen\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            The Honorable William J. Bryan\n                    Publicist and Editor\n            Miss Jane Addams\n                    Head Resident of Hull House, Chicago\n\n\n    HOP-O'-MY-THUMB.\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Henry James\n                    Author\n\n\n    BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. From the French of Madame Gabrielle de\n      Villeneuve\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Mrs. Julia Ward Howe\n                    Author of \"The Battle Hymn of the Republic\"\n\n\n    LITTLE SNOWDROP.\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Howard Pyle\n                    Artist and Author\n\n\n    THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS. Robert Southey\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            F. A. Kendall\n                    Secretary of the Illinois Pupils' Reading Circle\n\n\n    SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED. Grimm\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Frederick Dielman\n                    President of the National Academy of Design\n\n\n    THE WILD SWANS. Hans Christian Andersen\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Henry Van Dyke\n            Mrs. Alice Meynell\n                    Poet and Essayist\n\n\n    ALADDIN AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP.\n      \"The Arabian Nights' Entertainments\"\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Charles William Eliot\n                    President of Harvard University\n            Dr. Henry Van Dyke\n            J. M. Pereles\n            Dr. Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain)\n                    Author\n\n\n    ALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES.\n      \"The Arabian Nights' Entertainments\"\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Samuel L. Clemens\n            Dr. Charles William Eliot\n            Dr. Lyman Abbott\n                    Editor of _The Outlook_\n\n\n    THE SECOND VOYAGE OF SINDBAD THE SAILOR.\n      \"The Arabian Nights' Entertainments\"\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. Lyman Abbott\n\n\n    THE HISTORY OF ALI COGIA, A MERCHANT OF BAGDAD.\n      \"The Arabian Nights' Entertainments\"\n\n        _This Story is the Choice of:_\n            Dr. William Dean Howells\n                    Author\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n    \"CAN'T YOU RENDER ME SOME ASSISTANCE?\"              _Frontispiece_\n\n    \"I WILL BROIL YOU FOR MY BREAKFAST\"              _Facing p._     2\n\n    THE SLIPPER FITTED EXACTLY                            \"         48\n\n    JUST AS HE LAID HIS HAND UPON ONE OF THEM,\n      THE LITTLE DOG BARKED MOST FURIOUSLY                \"         66\n\n    A YOUNG GIRL OF WONDERFUL BEAUTY LAY ASLEEP\n      ON AN EMBROIDERED BED                               \"         82\n\n    HE ASKED HER POLITELY WHERE SHE WAS GOING             \"         88\n\n    SOME LITTLE CHILDREN THREW PIECES OF BREAD\n      INTO THE WATER                                      \"        114\n\n    THE CHILDREN BEGAN TO CRY AS LOUD AS THEY COULD       \"        120\n\n    SHE SAW AT HER FEET A HANDSOME, GRACEFUL YOUNG\n      PRINCE                                              \"        170\n\n    \"OH, HEAVEN,\" THEY CRIED, \"WHAT A LOVELY CHILD!\"      \"        180\n\n    THE VOICE OF THE LITTLE, SMALL, WEE BEAR\n      AWAKENED HER AT ONCE                                \"        200\n\n    ELISE SAW AN ICE PALACE, WITH ONE BOLD COLONNADE\n      BUILT ABOVE ANOTHER                                 \"        238\n\n    \"I AM THE SLAVE OF THE RING, AND WILL OBEY THEE\n      IN ALL THINGS\"                                      \"        260\n\n    CASSIM FORGETS THE MAGIC WORD                         \"        294\n\n    THE MERCHANTS BEGAN THEIR SHOUTING TO FRIGHTEN\n      THE EAGLES                                          \"        318\n\n    THE CALIPH LISTENING TO THE CHILDREN'S COURT          \"        342\n\n\n    _Decorative borders by\n      Francis I. Bennett_\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nWhat are the best fairy stories? Are they not those which have lived\nmost vividly in active minds? The ripeness of after life works its\nchanges; but we are not dealing with literary judgments--rather with\nthe choice of childhood which fortunately lingers in memory, whatever\nstore of wisdom may come in later years. There is here no question of\nthe new or unusual. On the contrary, it is the ideas or visions handed\ndown for generations or centuries and set in final form that remain\nwith us as types of fancy or wisdom. Of these there are so many that a\nselection is essential. No one book can be a complete treasure-house\nof all the imagination, humor, and sentiment of the fairy tale. But it\nhas been possible to obtain a representative judgment for this volume\nwhich we believe to be of peculiar worth.\n\nThis book gives us the favorite fairy tales of men and women who have\ngained eminence in American life. It is a book, therefore, based upon\nan original plan, which stands by itself. Any collection formed by one\nperson must reflect personal preferences. It must have obvious\nlimitations, however excellent--as in the case of Miss Mulock or\nLaboulaye--the choice of the single editor may be. But to a large\nextent such a collection as this represents that consensus of opinion\nwhich invests a given work with the rank of a classic. The desire of\nthe publishers has been to determine the youthful preferences of those\nwhose opinions carry weight and to present their selections among the\nwealth of fairy tales which the world cherishes from one generation\nto another. Such a thing as a collection of _all_ good fairy tales\nwould be unthinkably cumbersome. We need guidance and selection. For\nthe expressions of personal choice afforded in the interests of this\nbook, the publishers desire to offer their grateful acknowledgments.\n\nIt has happened naturally that more than one vote has been cast for\nthe same story. For example, the president of Yale, in his selection\nof \"Jack the Giant-killer,\" had the companionship of the president of\nColumbia and of the editor of _Harper's Magazine_, who are really\nrepresented, therefore, by a second choice. The three stories\npreferred by the chairman of the Wisconsin Free Library Commission had\nall been preferred by others.\n\nBut \"Cinderella\" is evidently quite the equal of \"Jack the\nGiant-killer\" in the affections of readers, and the choice of this\nwell-loved tale has been accompanied by some charming letters from\nwhich it is impossible not to quote.\n\nThus the Hon. John Bigelow writes: \"Perrault's story of Cinderella\nmade the deepest impression upon me. It is the only one from which I\ncan now remember to have received a distinct and permanent ethical\nimpression.\"\n\n\"I am not really conscious of any special preference for one fairy\nstory over another,\" wrote Professor Lounsbury, \"but as somebody, it\nseems to me, ought to stand up for sentiment, I am going to vote for\n'Cinderella.' I hesitated a moment about 'The Sleeping Beauty,' but I\nleave that for one younger.\"\n\nIn a letter rich in personal quality, the Hon. Grover Cleveland wrote:\n\"My youthful days are so far away, and fairy stories had so little to\ndo with their enjoyment, that I do not feel that I ought to venture an\nopinion on such an important subject as that to which you refer. For\nwant of a better thing to do, I have submitted the question to my\nchildren, and so far as I am able to determine, the canvass of their\nvotes is in favor of 'Cinderella.' It is only fair to say that two of\nthe three to whom the question was submitted are little girls.\"\n\nAnother glimpse of domestic sympathy comes in the choice of the Hon.\nWilliam J. Bryan, editor and author, as well as publicist, who says:\n\"My wife assures me that I shall make no mistake if I commend the\ntales of Hans Christian Andersen, notably that of 'The Ugly\nDuckling.'\"\n\nIt is a change from public life to the world of letters to find Dr.\nVan Dyke and Dr. Mabie in agreement with Dr. Shailer Mathews regarding\nthe rank of \"The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.\" But it is not to this\nthat Dr. Van Dyke gives precedence. \"If my memory serves me right,\" he\nsays, \"the first fairy story which made a strong impression on my\nmind in boyhood was that of 'Aladdin and His Wonderful Lamp.' Next\nafter that in time, and, I think, a little beyond it in interest, came\nthe story of the 'Seven Wild Swans,' and next to that the story of\n'The Sleeping Beauty.'\"\n\nAs to \"Hop o' My Thumb\" we may be pardoned for quoting the close of a\nsingularly delightful letter from Mr. Henry James, who says: \"It is\nthe vague memory of this sense of him, as some small, precious object,\nlike a lost gem or a rare and beautiful insect on which one might\ninadvertently tread, or might find under the sofa or behind the\nwindow-cushion, that leads me to think of 'Hop o' My Thumb' as my\nearliest and sweetest and most repeated cupful at the fount of\nfiction.\"\n\nQuite literally a world removed from this was the answer of the modest\nJapanese conqueror, General Kuroki, who laughed at first and\ndisclaimed Japan's possession of fairy tales as we understand them. \"I\nalways tried to forget fairy tales,\" he said; \"but of nursery stories\nI think the most popular and the most widely known in Japan is the\nstory of Momotaro.\" But this tale of the \"son of a peach,\" which\nrelates the conquest of a stronghold of devils, and the rescue of two\ndaughters of daimios does not come within the scope of this volume.\n\nA broader choice than those which have been quoted is afforded by Mrs.\nElizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, who writes: \"As a child I was a great\nreader and lover (and a small creator) of fairy tales. But of them all\nthe only ones which come readily to my mind are Hans Christian\nAndersen's.\" Equally comprehensive is the answer of Mrs. Georgia A.\nKendrick, the lady principal of Vassar College: \"Grimm's tales stand\nto me for the best of that kind of lore.\"\n\nAn even more catholic liking breathes in the answer of President\nWoodrow Wilson, who declares: \"The truth is that I was so voracious of\nfairy tales when I was a small boy, that I loved them all almost\nequally well, and cannot now say that I had any favorite. All was\ngrist that came to my mill. I am very much interested in the\nundertaking, and wish it all success.\"\n\nIn some cases, much to the regret of the publishers, it has not been\npossible to include a choice. Thus Dr. John S. Billings, librarian of\nthe New York Public Library, tells us that the story which made the\nmost impression upon him was the \"Nibelungenlied\" as presented by\nCarlyle in the _Westminster Review_ for July, 1831, of which an odd\nnumber came in his way when he was a boy. \"I did not understand one\nquarter of it,\" Dr. Billings writes, \"but what I did impressed me\ngreatly. If I had to select from Perrault's fairy tales, I should\nprobably agree with Dr. Hadley\"--another tribute to the perennial\ncharm of \"Jack the Giant-killer.\"\n\nThe interest of these personal literary experiences justify a\nquotation from Dr. E. G. Cooley, superintendent of the Chicago\nschools: \"I was pretty well grown,\" he writes, \"before any of this\nliterature reached me. My people were not believers in fairy stories,\nand circumstances did not put them in my way. My boyhood hero was\nEumenes, as described in the second volume of Rollin's _Ancient\nHistory_.\" Unfortunately the scope of the present volume has not\npermitted the inclusion of Carlyle's version of the \"Nibelungenlied\"\nor of Rollin's tale of Eumenes, or of the old ballad of \"The Children\nin the Wood,\" which was the choice of Dr. W. H. Maxwell, City\nSuperintendent of Schools in New York.\n\nWhile the reply of that sincere nature-lover, John Burroughs,\nrepresents a gospel of negation, yet there is a vivid suggestiveness\nin the later interest of the man--one whose sympathies and perception\nhave remained fresh and wholly sincere. \"The truth is,\" he writes, \"I\nknew no fairy stories in my youth. That kind of literature did not\ncome within my reach. Our school library held no novels or fairy\nbooks. An old woman who visited our house used to tell us youngsters\nthe story of 'Jack and the Bean-stalk,' and 'Jack the Giant-killer,'\n'Bluebeard,' etc. When I had a boy of my own, I used to read Hans\nChristian Andersen to him, and get quite as much interested as he did.\nI do not recall that I ever read any fairy tales before Andersen's,\nand did not read these till past middle life.\"\n\nIt may be said again that while this book lays no claim to\ncomprehensiveness, we believe that its personal guidance represents a\nhigh value which is fitly reinforced by the distinctive imagination\nof Mr. Peter Newell. In the light of his quaint fancy, unexpected\nhumor, and sympathetic insight, these classic tales reveal a new store\nof riches, and are clothed with a charm which even those of us who\nlove them had not foreseen.\n\nIn the majority of cases these stories reproduce the excellent\nversions given in Miss Mulock's _Fairy Book_ (Harper & Brothers). But\nthe publishers desire to acknowledge the courtesy of Messrs. Longmans,\nGreen & Co., for their permission to reproduce the admirable versions\nof \"Aladdin,\" the \"Forty Thieves,\" and the \"Story of the Three Bears\"\nfrom their _Blue and Green Fairy Books_, edited by Mr. Andrew Lang.\nThe \"Second Voyage of Sindbad the Sailor\" is from the series edited by\nMr. W. T. Stead, entitled, _Books for the Bairns_.\n\n\n\n\nFAVORITE FAIRY TALES\n\n\n\n\nJACK THE GIANT-KILLER\n\n\nIn the reign of the famous King Arthur, there lived, near the Land's\nEnd of England, in the county of Cornwall, a worthy farmer who had an\nonly son named Jack. Jack was a boy of a bold temper; he took pleasure\nin hearing or reading stories of wizards, conjurors, giants, and\nfairies, and used to listen eagerly while his father talked of the\ngreat deeds of the brave knights of King Arthur's Round Table. When\nJack was sent to take care of the sheep and oxen in the fields, he\nused to to amuse himself with planning battles, sieges, and the means\nto conquer or surprise a foe. He was above the common sports of\nchildren, but hardly any one could equal him at wrestling; or, if he\nmet with a match for himself in strength, his skill and address always\nmade him the victor.\n\nIn those days there lived on St. Michael's Mount, of Cornwall, which\nrises out of the sea at some distance from the main-land, a huge\ngiant. He was eighteen feet high and three yards round, and his fierce\nand savage looks were the terror of all his neighbors. He dwelt in a\ngloomy cavern on the very top of the mountain, and used to wade over\nto the main-land in search of his prey. When he came near, the people\nleft their houses; and after he had glutted his appetite upon their\ncattle he would throw half a dozen oxen upon his back, and tie three\ntimes as many sheep and hogs round his waist, and so march back to his\nown abode.\n\n    [Illustration: \"I will broil you for my breakfast\"]\n\nThe giant had done this for many years, and the coast of Cornwall was\ngreatly hurt by his thefts, when Jack boldly resolved to destroy him.\nHe therefore took a horn, a shovel, a pickaxe, and a dark lantern, and\nearly in a long winter's evening he swam to the Mount. There he fell\nto work at once, and before morning he had dug a pit twenty-two feet\ndeep and almost as many broad. He covered it over with sticks and\nstraw, and strewed some of the earth over them, to make it look just\nlike solid ground. He then put his horn to his mouth, and blew such a\nloud and long tantivy that the giant awoke and came towards Jack,\nroaring like thunder: \"You saucy villain, you shall pay dearly for\nbreaking my rest; I will broil you for my breakfast.\" He had scarcely\nspoken these words when he came advancing one step farther; but then\nhe tumbled headlong into the pit, and his fall shook the very\nmountain.\n\n\"Oho, Mr. Giant!\" said Jack, looking into the pit, \"have you found\nyour way so soon to the bottom? How is your appetite now? Will nothing\nserve you for breakfast this cold morning but broiling poor Jack?\"\n\nThe giant now tried to rise, but Jack struck him a blow on the crown\nof the head with his pickaxe, which killed him at once. Jack then made\nhaste back to rejoice his friends with the news of the giant's death.\nWhen the justices of Cornwall heard of this valiant action, they sent\nfor Jack, and declared that he should always be called Jack the\nGiant-killer; and they also gave him a sword and belt, upon which was\nwritten, in letters of gold:\n\n    \"This is the valiant Cornishman\n    Who slew the giant Cormoran.\"\n\nThe news of Jack's exploits soon spread over the western parts of\nEngland; and another giant, called Old Blunderbore, vowed to have\nrevenge on Jack if it should ever be his fortune to get him into his\npower. The giant kept an enchanted castle in the midst of a lonely\nwood. About four months after the death of Cormoran, as Jack was\ntaking a journey into Wales, he passed through this wood, and as he\nwas very weary he sat down to rest by the side of a pleasant fountain,\nand there he fell into a deep sleep. The giant came to the fountain\nfor water just at this time and found Jack there; and as the lines on\nJack's belt showed who he was, the giant lifted him up and laid him\ngently upon his shoulder to carry him to his castle; but as he passed\nthrough the thicket the rustling of the leaves waked Jack, and he was\nsadly afraid when he found himself in the clutches of Blunderbore.\n\nYet this was nothing to his fright soon after; for when they reached\nthe castle he beheld the floor covered all over with the skulls and\nbones of men and women. The giant took him into a large room, where\nlay the hearts and limbs of persons who had been lately killed; and he\ntold Jack, with a horrid grin, that men's hearts, eaten with pepper\nand vinegar, were his nicest food, and, also, that he thought he\nshould make a dainty meal on his heart. When he had said this he\nlocked Jack up in that room, while he went to fetch another giant, who\nlived in the same wood, to enjoy a dinner off Jack's flesh with him.\nWhile he was away, Jack heard dreadful shrieks, groans, and cries from\nmany parts of the castle; and soon after he heard a mournful voice\nrepeat these lines:\n\n    \"Haste, valiant stranger, haste away,\n    Lest you become the giant's prey.\n    On his return he'll bring another,\n    Still more savage than his brother;\n    A horrid, cruel monster who,\n    Before he kills, will torture you.\n    Oh, valiant stranger! haste away,\n    Or you'll become these giants' prey.\"\n\nThis warning was so shocking to poor Jack that he was ready to go\nmad. He ran to the window and saw the two giants coming along arm in\narm. This window was right over the gates of the castle. \"Now,\"\nthought Jack, \"either my death or freedom is at hand.\"\n\nThere were two strong cords in the room. Jack made a large noose with\na slip-knot at the ends of both these, and, as the giants were coming\nthrough the gates, he threw the ropes over their heads. He then made\nthe other ends fast to a beam in the ceiling, and pulled with all his\nmight, till he had almost strangled them. When he saw that they were\nboth black in the face, and had not the least strength left, he drew\nhis sword and slid down the ropes; he then killed the giants, and thus\nsaved himself from a cruel death. Jack next took a great bunch of keys\nfrom the pocket of Blunderbore, and went into the castle again. He\nmade a strict search through all the rooms, and in them found three\nladies tied up by the hair of their heads, and almost starved to\ndeath. They told him that their husbands had been killed by the\ngiants, who had then condemned them to be starved to death, because\nthey would not eat the flesh of their own dead husbands.\n\n\"Ladies,\" said Jack, \"I have put an end to the monster and his wicked\nbrother; and I give you this castle and all the riches it contains, to\nmake you some amends for the dreadful pains you have felt.\" He then\nvery politely gave them the keys of the castle, and went farther on\nhis journey to Wales.\n\nAs Jack had not taken any of the giant's riches for himself, and had\nvery little money of his own, he thought it best to travel as fast as\nhe could. At length he lost his way, and when night came on he was in\na lonely valley between two lofty mountains. There he walked about for\nsome hours, without seeing any dwelling-place, so he thought himself\nvery lucky at last in finding a large and handsome house. He went up\nto it boldly, and knocked loudly at the gate; when, to his great\nterror and surprise, there came forth a monstrous giant with two\nheads. He spoke to Jack very civilly, for he was a Welsh giant, and\nall the mischief he did was by private and secret malice, under the\nshow of friendship and kindness.\n\nJack told him that he was a traveller who had lost his way, on which\nthe huge monster made him welcome, and led him into a room where there\nwas a good bed in which to pass the night. Jack took off his clothes\nquickly; but though he was so weary he could not go to sleep. Soon\nafter this he heard the giant walking backward and forward in the next\nroom, and saying to himself:\n\n    \"Though here you lodge with me this night,\n    You shall not see the morning light;\n    My club shall dash your brains out quite.\"\n\n\"Say you so?\" thought Jack. \"Are these your tricks upon travellers?\nBut I hope to prove as cunning as you.\" Then, getting out of bed, he\ngroped about the room, and at last found a large, thick billet of\nwood; he laid it in his own place in the bed, and hid himself in a\ndark corner of the room. In the middle of the night the giant came\nwith his great club, and struck many heavy blows on the bed, in the\nvery place where Jack had laid the billet, and then he went back to\nhis own room, thinking he had broken all his bones. Early in the\nmorning Jack put a bold face upon the matter, and walked into the\ngiant's room to thank him for his lodging.\n\nThe giant started when he saw him, and he began to stammer out: \"Oh,\ndear me! is it you? Pray how did you sleep last night? Did you hear or\nsee anything in the dead of the night?\"\n\n\"Nothing worth speaking of,\" said Jack, carelessly; \"a rat, I believe,\ngave me three or four slaps with his tail, and disturbed me a little,\nbut I soon went to sleep again.\"\n\nThe giant wondered more and more at this, yet he did not answer a\nword, and went to bring two great bowls of hasty-pudding for their\nbreakfast.\n\nJack wished to make the giant believe that he could eat as much as\nhimself, so he contrived to button a leathern bag inside his coat, and\nslipped the hasty-pudding into this bag, while he seemed to put it\ninto his mouth. When breakfast was over, he said to the giant, \"Now I\nwill show you a fine trick; I can cure all wounds with a touch; I\ncould cut off my head one minute, and the next put it sound again on\nmy shoulders; you shall see an example.\" He then took hold of the\nknife, ripped up the leathern bag, and all the hasty-pudding tumbled\nout upon the floor.\n\n\"Ods splutter hur nails,\" cried the Welsh giant, who was ashamed to\nbe outdone by such a little fellow as Jack; \"hur can do that\nhurself.\" So he snatched up the knife, plunged it into his stomach,\nand in a moment dropped down dead.\n\nAs soon as Jack had thus tricked the Welsh monster, he went farther on\nhis journey; and a few days after he met with King Arthur's only son,\nwho had got his father's leave to travel into Wales, to deliver a\nbeautiful lady from the power of a wicked magician, by whom she was\nheld in enchantment. When Jack found that the young prince had no\nservants with him, he begged leave to attend him; and the prince at\nonce agreed to this, and gave Jack many thanks for his kindness.\n\nKing Arthur's son was a handsome, polite, and brave knight, and so\ngood-natured that he gave money to everybody he met. At length he gave\nhis last penny to an old woman, and then turned to Jack. \"How shall we\nbe able to get food for ourselves the rest of our journey?\"\n\n\"Leave that to me, sir,\" replied Jack; \"I will provide for my prince.\"\n\nNight now came on, and the prince began to grow uneasy at thinking\nwhere they should lodge.\n\n\"Sir,\" said Jack, \"be of good heart; two miles farther lives a large\ngiant, whom I know well; he has three heads, and will fight five\nhundred men, and make them fly before him.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" cried the king's son, \"we had better never have been born than\nmeet with such a monster.\"\n\n\"My lord, leave me to manage him, and wait here in quiet till I\nreturn.\"\n\nThe prince now stayed behind, while Jack rode on at full speed; and\nwhen he came to the gates of the castle he gave a loud knock. The\ngiant, with a voice like thunder, roared out, \"Who is there?\"\n\nJack made answer, and said, \"No one but your poor cousin Jack.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the giant, \"what news, Cousin Jack?\"\n\n\"Dear uncle,\" said Jack, \"I have heavy news.\"\n\n\"Pooh!\" said the giant, \"what heavy news can come to me? I am a giant\nwith three heads, and can fight five hundred men, and make them fly\nbefore me.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said Jack, \"here's the king's son coming with two thousand men\nto kill you, and to destroy the castle and all that you have.\"\n\n\"Oh, Cousin Jack,\" said the giant, \"this is heavy news indeed! But I\nhave a large cellar underground, where I will hide myself, and you\nshall lock, bolt, and bar me in, and keep the keys till the king's son\nis gone.\"\n\nNow, when Jack had barred the giant fast in the vault, he went back\nand fetched the prince to the castle; they both made themselves merry\nwith the wine and other dainties that were in the house. So that\nnight they rested very pleasantly while the poor giant lay trembling\nand shaking with fear in the cellar underground. Early in the morning\nJack gave the king's son gold and silver out of the giant's treasure,\nand accompanied him three miles forward on his journey. The prince\nthen sent Jack to let his uncle out of the hole, who asked him what he\nshould give him as a reward for saving his castle.\n\n\"Why, good uncle,\" said Jack, \"I desire nothing but the old coat and\ncap, with the old rusty sword and slippers, which are hanging at your\nbed's head.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said the giant, \"you shall have them; and pray keep them for\nmy sake, for they are things of great use. The coat will keep you\ninvisible, the cap will give you knowledge, the sword will cut through\nanything, and the shoes are of vast swiftness; they may be useful to\nyou in all times of danger, so take them with all my heart.\"\n\nJack gave many thanks to the giant, and then set off to the prince.\nWhen he had come up to the king's son, they soon arrived at the\ndwelling of the beautiful lady, who was under the power of a wicked\nmagician. She received the prince very politely and made a noble feast\nfor him; when it was ended, she rose, and, wiping her mouth with a\nfine handkerchief, said, \"My lord, you must submit to the custom of my\npalace; to-morrow morning I command you to tell me on whom I bestow\nthis handkerchief, or lose your head.\" She then left the room.\n\nThe young prince went to bed very mournful, but Jack put on his cap of\nknowledge, which told him that the lady was forced, by the power of\nenchantment, to meet the wicked magician every night in the middle of\nthe forest. Jack now put on his coat of darkness and his shoes of\nswiftness and was there before her. When the lady came she gave the\nhandkerchief to the magician. Jack, with his sword of sharpness, at\none blow cut off his head; the enchantment was then ended in a moment,\nand the lady was restored to her former virtue and goodness. She was\nmarried to the prince on the next day, and soon after went back, with\nher royal husband and a great company, to the court of King Arthur,\nwhere they were received with loud and joyful welcomes; and the\nvaliant hero Jack, for the many great exploits he had done for the\ngood of his country, was made one of the Knights of the Round Table.\n\nAs Jack had been so lucky in all his adventures, he resolved not to be\nidle for the future, but still to do what services he could for the\nhonor of the king and the nation. He therefore humbly begged his\nmajesty to furnish him with a horse and money, that he might travel in\nsearch of new and strange exploits. \"For,\" said he to the king, \"there\nare many giants yet living in the remote parts of Wales, to the great\nterror and distress of your majesty's subjects; therefore, if it\nplease you, sire, to favor me in my design, I will soon rid your\nkingdom of these giants and monsters in human shape.\"\n\nNow when the king heard this offer, and began to think of the cruel\ndeeds of these blood-thirsty giants and savage monsters, he gave Jack\neverything proper for such a journey. After this, Jack took leave of\nthe king, the prince, and all the knights, and set off, taking with\nhim his cap of knowledge, his sword of sharpness, his shoes of\nswiftness, and his invisible coat, the better to perform the great\nexploits that might fall in his way. He went along over hills and\nmountains, and on the third day he came to a wide forest. He had\nhardly entered it when on a sudden he heard dreadful shrieks and\ncries, and, forcing his way through the trees, saw a monstrous giant\ndragging along by the hair of their heads a handsome knight and a\nbeautiful lady. Their tears and cries melted the heart of honest Jack;\nhe alighted from his horse, and, tying him to an oak-tree, put on his\ninvisible coat, under which he carried his sword of sharpness.\n\nWhen he came up to the giant he made several strokes at him, but could\nnot reach his body on account of the enormous height of the terrible\ncreature; but he wounded his thighs in several places, and at length,\nputting both hands to his sword, and aiming with all his might, he cut\noff both the giant's legs just below the garter; and the trunk of his\nbody, tumbling to the ground, made not only the trees shake, but the\nearth itself tremble with the force of his fall. Then Jack, setting\nhis foot upon his neck, exclaimed, \"Thou barbarous and savage wretch,\nbehold, I come to execute upon thee the just reward for all thy\ncrimes,\" and instantly plunged his sword into the giant's body. The\nhuge monster gave a groan, and yielded up his life into the hands of\nthe victorious Jack the Giant-killer, while the noble knight and the\nvirtuous lady were both joyful spectators of his sudden death. They\nnot only returned Jack hearty thanks for their deliverance, but also\ninvited him to their house, to refresh himself after his dreadful\nencounter, as likewise to receive a reward for his good services.\n\n\"No,\" said Jack, \"I cannot be at ease till I find out the den that was\nthe monster's habitation.\"\n\nThe knight, on hearing this, grew very sorrowful, and replied: \"Noble\nstranger, it is too much to run a second hazard; this monster lived in\na den under yonder mountain, with a brother of his, more fierce and\ncruel than himself; therefore, if you should go thither, and perish in\nthe attempt, it would be a heart-breaking thing to me and my lady; so\nlet me persuade you to go back with us, and desist from any further\npursuit.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" answered Jack, \"if there be another, even if there were twenty,\nI would shed the last drop of blood in my body before one of them\nshould escape. When I have finished this task, I will come and pay my\nrespects to you.\"\n\nSo when they had told him where to find them again, he got on his\nhorse and went after the dead giant's brother.\n\nJack had not ridden a mile and a half before he came in sight of the\nmouth of the cavern, and nigh the entrance of it he saw the other\ngiant sitting on a huge block of timber, with a knotted iron club\nlying by his side, waiting for his brother. His eyes looked like\nflames of fire, his face was grim and ugly, and his cheeks were like\ntwo flitches of bacon; the bristles of his beard seemed to be thick\nrods of iron wire, and his long locks of hair hung down upon his\nbroad shoulders like curling snakes. Jack got down from his horse and\nturned him into a thicket; then he put on his coat of darkness and\ndrew a little nearer to behold this figure, and said, softly, \"Oh,\nmonster! are you there? It will not be long before I shall take you\nfast by the beard.\"\n\nThe giant all this while could not see him, by reason of his invisible\ncoat, so Jack came quite close to him, and struck a blow at his head\nwith his sword of sharpness; but he missed his aim, and only cut off\nhis nose, which made him roar like loud claps of thunder. He rolled\nhis glaring eyes round on every side, but could not see who had given\nhim the blow; so he took up his iron club, and began to lay about him\nlike one that was mad with pain and fury.\n\n\"Nay,\" said Jack, \"if this be the case, I will kill you at once.\" So\nsaying, he slipped nimbly behind him, and jumping upon the block of\ntimber, as the giant rose from it, he stabbed him in the back, when,\nafter a few howls, he dropped down dead. Jack cut off his head and\nsent it, with the head of his brother, to King Arthur by a wagon which\nhe had hired for that purpose. When Jack had thus killed these two\nmonsters, he went into their cave in search of their treasure. He\npassed through many turnings and windings, which led him to a room\npaved with freestone; at the end of it was a boiling caldron, and on\nthe right hand stood a large table, where the giants used to dine. He\nthen came to a window that was secured with iron bars, through which\nhe saw a number of wretched captives, who cried out when they saw\nJack, \"Alas! alas! young man, you are come to be one among us in this\nhorrid den.\"\n\n\"I hope,\" said Jack, \"you will not stay here long; but pray tell me\nwhat is the meaning of your being here at all?\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said one poor old man, \"I will tell you, sir. We are persons\nthat have been taken by the giants who hold this cave, and are kept\ntill they choose to have a feast; then one of us is to be killed, and\ncooked to please their taste. It is not long since they took three for\nthe same purpose.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Jack, \"I have given them such a dinner that it will be\nlong enough before they have any more.\"\n\nThe captives were amazed at his words.\n\n\"You may believe me,\" said Jack, \"for I have killed them both with the\nedge of this sword, and have sent their large heads to the court of\nKing Arthur, as marks of my great success.\"\n\nTo show that what he said was true, he unlocked the gate and set the\ncaptives all free. Then he led them to the great room, placed them\nround the table, and placed before them two quarters of beef, with\nbread and wine, upon which they feasted their fill. When supper was\nover they searched the giant's coffers, and Jack divided among them\nall the treasures. The next morning they set off to their homes, and\nJack to the knight's house, whom he had left with his lady not long\nbefore.\n\nHe was received with the greatest joy by the thankful knight and his\nlady, who, in honor of Jack's exploits, gave a grand feast, to which\nall the nobles and gentry were invited. When the company were\nassembled, the knight declared to them the great actions of Jack, and\ngave him, as a mark of respect, a fine ring, on which was engraved the\npicture of the giant dragging the knight and the lady by the hair,\nwith this motto round it:\n\n    \"Behold in dire distress were we,\n      Under a giant's fierce command;\n    But gained our lives and liberty\n      From valiant Jack's victorious hand.\"\n\nAmong the guests then present were five aged gentlemen, who were\nfathers to some of those captives who had been freed by Jack from the\ndungeon of the giants. As soon as they heard that he was the person\nwho had done such wonders, they pressed round him with tears of joy,\nto return him thanks for the happiness he had caused them. After this\nthe bowl went round, and every one drank the health and long life of\nthe gallant hero. Mirth increased, and the hall was filled with peals\nof laughter.\n\nBut, on a sudden, a herald, pale and breathless, rushed into the midst\nof the company, and told them that Thundel, a savage giant with two\nheads, had heard of the death of his two kinsmen, and was come to take\nhis revenge on Jack, and that he was now within a mile of the house,\nthe people flying before him like chaff before the wind. At this news\nthe very boldest of the guests trembled; but Jack drew his sword, and\nsaid: \"Let him come; I have a rod for him also. Pray, ladies and\ngentlemen, do me the favor to walk into the garden, and you shall soon\nbehold the giant's defeat and death.\"\n\nTo this they all agreed, and heartily wished him success in his\ndangerous attempt.\n\nThe knight's house stood in the middle of a moat, thirty feet deep and\ntwenty wide, over which lay a drawbridge. Jack set men to work to cut\nthe bridge on both sides, almost to the middle, and then dressed\nhimself in his coat of darkness and went against the giant with his\nsword of sharpness. As he came close to him, though the giant could\nnot see him for his invisible coat, yet he found some danger was near,\nwhich made him cry out:\n\n    \"Fa, fe, fi, fo, fum,\n    I smell the blood of an Englishman;\n    Let him be alive, or let him be dead,\n    I'll grind his bones to make me bread.\"\n\n\"Say you so, my friend?\" said Jack; \"you are a monstrous miller,\nindeed!\"\n\n\"Art thou,\" cried the giant, \"the villain that killed my kinsmen? Then\nI will tear thee with my teeth and grind thy bones to powder.\"\n\n\"You must catch me first,\" said Jack; and throwing off his coat of\ndarkness, and putting on his shoes of swiftness he began to run, the\ngiant following him like a walking castle, making the earth shake at\nevery step.\n\nJack led him round and round the walls of the house, that the company\nmight see the monster; then, to finish the work, he ran over the\ndrawbridge, the giant going after him with his club; but when he came\nto the middle, where the bridge had been cut on both sides, the great\nweight of his body made it break, and he tumbled into the water, where\nhe rolled about like a large whale. Jack now stood by the side of the\nmoat, and laughed and jeered at him, saying, \"I think you told me you\nwould grind my bones to powder; when will you begin?\"\n\nThe giant foamed at both his horrid mouths with fury, and plunged from\nside to side of the moat; but he could not get out to have revenge on\nhis little foe. At last Jack ordered a cart-rope to be brought to him:\nhe then drew it over the giant's two heads, and, by the help of a team\nof horses, dragged him to the edge of the moat, where he cut off his\nheads; and before he either ate or drank, sent them both to the court\nof King Arthur. He then went back to the table with the company, and\nthe rest of the day was spent in mirth and good cheer.\n\nAfter staying with the knight for some time, Jack grew weary of such\nan idle life, and set out again in search of new adventures. He went\nover hills and dales without meeting any, till he came to the foot of\na very high mountain. Here he knocked at the door of a small and\nlonely house, and an old man, with a head as white as snow, let him\nin.\n\n\"Good father,\" said Jack, \"can you lodge a traveller who has lost his\nway?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the hermit, \"I can, if you will accept such fare as my\npoor house affords.\"\n\nJack entered, and the old man set before him some bread and fruit for\nhis supper. When Jack had eaten as much as he chose, the hermit said:\n\"My son, I know you are the famous conqueror of giants; now, at the\ntop of this mountain is an enchanted castle, kept by a giant named\nGalligantus, who, by the help of a vile magician, gets many knights\ninto his castle, where he changes them into the shape of beasts. Above\nall, I lament the hard fate of a duke's daughter, whom they seized as\nshe was walking in her father's garden, and brought hither through the\nair in a chariot drawn by two fiery dragons, and turned her into the\nshape of a deer. Many knights have tried to destroy the enchantment\nand deliver her, yet none have been able to do it, by reason of two\nfiery griffins, who guard the gate of the castle, and destroy all who\ncome nigh; but as you, my son, have an invisible coat, you may pass by\nthem without being seen; and on the gates of the castle you will find\nengraved by what means the enchantment may be broken.\"\n\nJack promised that in the morning, at the risk of his life, he would\nbreak the enchantment; and after a sound sleep he arose early, put on\nhis invisible coat, and got ready for the attempt. When he had climbed\nto the top of the mountain he saw the two fiery griffins; but he\npassed between them without the least fear of danger, for they could\nnot see him because of his invisible coat. On the castle gate he found\na golden trumpet, under which were written these lines:\n\n    \"Whoever can this trumpet blow,\n    Shall cause the giant's overthrow.\"\n\nAs soon as Jack had read this he seized the trumpet and blew a shrill\nblast, which made the gates fly open and the very castle itself\ntremble. The giant and the conjuror now knew that their wicked course\nwas at an end, and they stood biting their thumbs and shaking with\nfear. Jack, with his sword of sharpness, soon killed the giant, and\nthe magician was then carried away by a whirlwind. All the knights and\nbeautiful ladies, who had been changed into birds and beasts, returned\nto their proper shapes. The castle vanished away like smoke, and the\nhead of the giant Galligantus was sent to King Arthur. The knights and\nladies rested that night at the old man's hermitage, and the next day\nthey set out for the court. Jack then went up to the king, and gave\nhis majesty an account of all his fierce battles. Jack's fame had\nspread through the whole country, and at the king's desire the duke\ngave him his daughter in marriage, to the joy of all the kingdom.\nAfter this the king gave him a large estate, on which he and his lady\nlived the rest of their days in joy and content.\n\n\n\n\nCINDERELLA\n\nOR\n\nTHE LITTLE GLASS SLIPPER\n\n\nThere was once an honest gentleman who took for his second wife a\nlady, the proudest and most disagreeable in the whole country. She had\ntwo daughters exactly like herself in all things. He also had one\nlittle girl, who resembled her dead mother, the best woman in all the\nworld. Scarcely had the second marriage taken place than the\nstepmother became jealous of the good qualities of the little girl,\nwho was so great a contrast to her own two daughters. She gave her all\nthe menial occupations of the house: compelled her to wash the floors\nand staircases, to dust the bedrooms, and clean the grates; and while\nher sisters occupied carpeted chambers hung with mirrors, where they\ncould see themselves from head to foot, this poor little damsel was\nsent to sleep in an attic, on an old straw mattress, with only one\nchair and not a looking-glass in the room.\n\nShe suffered all in silence, not daring to complain to her father, who\nwas entirely ruled by his new wife. When her daily work was done she\nused to sit down in the chimney-corner among the ashes, from which the\ntwo sisters gave her the nickname of \"Cinderella.\" But Cinderella,\nhowever shabbily clad, was handsomer than they were with all their\nfine clothes.\n\nIt happened that the king's son gave a series of balls, to which were\ninvited all the rank and fashion of the city, and among the rest the\ntwo elder sisters. They were very proud and happy, and occupied their\nwhole time in deciding what they should wear, a source of new trouble\nto Cinderella, whose duty it was to get up their fine linen and laces,\nand who never could please them however much she tried. They talked of\nnothing but their clothes.\n\n\"I,\" said the elder, \"shall wear my velvet gown and my trimmings of\nEnglish lace.\"\n\n\"And I,\" added the younger, \"will have but my ordinary silk petticoat,\nbut I shall adorn it with an upper skirt of flowered brocade, and\nshall put on my diamond tiara, which is a great deal finer than\nanything of yours.\"\n\nHere the elder sister grew angry, and dispute began to run so high\nthat Cinderella, who was known to have excellent taste, was called\nupon to decide between them. She gave them the best advice she could,\nand gently and submissively offered to dress them herself, and\nespecially to arrange their hair, an accomplishment in which she\nexcelled many a noted coiffeur. The important evening came, and she\nexercised all her skill to adorn the two young ladies. While she was\ncombing out the elder's hair, this ill-natured girl said, sharply,\n\"Cinderella, do you not wish you were going to the ball?\"\n\n\"Ah, madam\" (they obliged her always to say madam), \"you are only\nmocking me; it is not my fortune to have any such pleasure.\"\n\n\"You are right; people would only laugh to see a little cinder-wench\nat a ball.\"\n\nAny other than Cinderella would have dressed the hair all awry, but\nshe was good, and dressed it perfectly even and smooth, and as\nprettily as she could.\n\nThe sisters had scarcely eaten for two days, and had broken a dozen\nstay-laces a day, in trying to make themselves slender; but to-night\nthey broke a dozen more, and lost their tempers over and over again\nbefore they had completed their toilet. When at last the happy moment\narrived, Cinderella followed them to the coach; after it had whirled\nthem away, she sat down by the kitchen fire and cried.\n\nImmediately her godmother, who was a fairy, appeared beside her. \"What\nare you crying for, my little maid?\"\n\n\"Oh, I wish--I wish--\" Her sobs stopped her.\n\n\"You wish to go to the ball; isn't it so?\"\n\nCinderella nodded.\n\n\"Well, then, be a good girl and you shall go. First run into the\ngarden and fetch me the largest pumpkin you can find.\"\n\nCinderella did not comprehend what this had to do with her going to\nthe ball, but, being obedient and obliging, she went. Her godmother\ntook the pumpkin, and, having scooped out all its inside, struck it\nwith her wand; it became a splendid gilt coach lined with rose-colored\nsatin.\n\n\"Now fetch me the mouse-trap out of the pantry, my dear.\"\n\nCinderella brought it; it contained six of the fattest, sleekest mice.\nThe fairy lifted up the wire door, and as each mouse ran out she\nstruck it and changed it into a beautiful black horse.\n\n\"But what shall I do for your coachman, Cinderella?\"\n\nCinderella suggested that she had seen a large black rat in the\nrat-trap, and he might do for want of better.\n\n\"You are right; go and look again for him.\"\n\nHe was found, and the fairy made him into a most respectable coachman,\nwith the finest whiskers imaginable. She afterwards took six lizards\nfrom behind the pumpkin frame and changed them into six footmen, all\nin splendid livery, who immediately jumped up behind the carriage, as\nif they had been footmen all their days. \"Well, Cinderella, now you\ncan go to the ball.\"\n\n\"What, in these clothes?\" said Cinderella piteously, looking down on\nher ragged frock.\n\nHer godmother laughed, and touched her also with the wand, at which\nher wretched, threadbare jacket became stiff with gold and sparkling\nwith jewels; her woollen petticoat lengthened into a gown of sweeping\nsatin, from underneath which peeped out her little feet, no longer\nbare, but covered with silk stockings and the prettiest glass slippers\nin the world. \"Now, Cinderella, depart; but remember, if you stay one\ninstant after midnight, your carriage will become a pumpkin, your\ncoachman a rat, your horses mice, and your footmen lizards; while you\nyourself will be the little cinder-wench you were an hour ago.\"\n\nCinderella promised without fear, her heart was so full of joy.\n\nArrived at the palace, the king's son, whom some one, probably the\nfairy, had told to await the coming of an uninvited princess whom\nnobody knew, was standing at the entrance ready to receive her. He\noffered her his hand, and led her with the utmost courtesy through the\nassembled guests, who stood aside to let her pass, whispering to one\nanother, \"Oh, how beautiful she is!\" It might have turned the head of\nany one but poor Cinderella, who was so used to be despised that she\ntook it all as if it were something happening in a dream.\n\nHer triumph was complete; even the old king said to the queen, that\nnever since her majesty's young days had he seen so charming and\nelegant a person. All the court ladies scanned her eagerly, clothes\nand all, determining to have theirs made next day of exactly the same\npattern. The king's son himself led her out to dance, and she danced\nso gracefully that he admired her more and more. Indeed, at supper,\nwhich was fortunately early, his admiration quite took away his\nappetite. For Cinderella herself, with an involuntary shyness she\nsought out her sisters, placed herself beside them, and offered them\nall sorts of civil attentions, which, coming as they supposed from a\nstranger, and so magnificent a lady, almost overwhelmed them with\ndelight.\n\nWhile she was talking with them she heard the clock strike a quarter\nto twelve, and making a courteous adieu to the royal family, she\nre-entered her carriage, escorted tenderly by the king's son, and\narrived in safety at her own door. There she found her godmother, who\nsmiled approval, and of whom she begged permission to go to a second\nball, the following night, to which the queen had earnestly invited\nher.\n\nWhile she was talking the two sisters were heard knocking at the\ngate, and the fairy godmother vanished, leaving Cinderella sitting in\nthe chimney-corner, rubbing her eyes and pretending to be very sleepy.\n\n\"Ah,\" cried the eldest sister, maliciously, \"it has been the most\ndelightful ball, and there was present the most beautiful princess I\never saw, who was so exceedingly polite to us both.\"\n\n\"Was she?\" said Cinderella, indifferently; \"and who might she be?\"\n\n\"Nobody knows, though everybody would give their eyes to know,\nespecially the king's son.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\" replied Cinderella, a little more interested. \"I should like\nto see her. Miss Javotte\"--that was the elder sister's name--\"will you\nnot let me go to-morrow, and lend me your yellow gown that you wear on\nSundays?\"\n\n\"What, lend my yellow gown to a cinder-wench! I am not so mad as\nthat.\" At which refusal Cinderella did not complain, for if her sister\nreally had lent her the gown she would have been considerably\nembarrassed.\n\nThe next night came, and the two young ladies, richly dressed in\ndifferent toilets, went to the ball. Cinderella, more splendidly\nattired and beautiful than ever, followed them shortly after. \"Now\nremember twelve o'clock,\" was her godmother's parting speech, and she\nthought she certainly should. But the prince's attentions to her were\ngreater even than the first evening, and, in the delight of listening\nto his pleasant conversation, time slipped by unperceived. While she\nwas sitting beside him in a lovely alcove, and looking at the moon\nfrom under a bower of orange blossoms, she heard a clock strike the\nfirst stroke of twelve. She started up, and fled away as lightly as a\ndeer.\n\nAmazed, the prince followed, but could not catch her. Indeed, he\nmissed his lovely princess altogether, and only saw running out of\nthe palace doors a little dirty lass whom he had never beheld before,\nand of whom he certainly would never have taken the least notice.\nCinderella arrived at home breathless and weary, ragged and cold,\nwithout carriage or footmen or coachman, the only remnant of her past\nmagnificence being one of her little glass slippers--the other she had\ndropped in the ballroom as she ran away.\n\nWhen the two sisters returned they were full of this strange\nadventure: how the beautiful lady had appeared at the ball more\nbeautiful than ever, and enchanted every one who looked at her; and\nhow as the clock was striking twelve she had suddenly risen up and\nfled through the ballroom, disappearing no one knew how or where, and\ndropping one of her glass slippers behind her in her flight. How the\nking's son had remained inconsolable until he chanced to pick up the\nlittle glass slipper, which he carried away in his pocket, and was\nseen to take it out continually, and look at it affectionately, with\nthe air of a man very much in love; in fact, from his behavior during\nthe remainder of the evening, all the court and royal family were\nconvinced that he had become desperately enamoured of the wearer of\nthe little glass slipper.\n\nCinderella listened in silence, turning her face to the kitchen fire,\nand perhaps it was that which made her look so rosy, but nobody ever\nnoticed or admired her at home, so it did not signify, and next\nmorning she went to her weary work again just as before.\n\nA few days after, the whole city was attracted by the sight of a\nherald going round with a little glass slipper in his hand,\npublishing, with a flourish of trumpets, that the king's son ordered\nthis to be fitted on the foot of every lady in the kingdom, and that\nhe wished to marry the lady whom it fitted best, or to whom it and\nthe fellow-slipper belonged. Princesses, duchesses, countesses, and\nsimple gentlewomen all tried it on, but, being a fairy slipper, it\nfitted nobody; and, besides, nobody could produce its fellow-slipper,\nwhich lay all the time safely in the pocket of Cinderella's old linsey\ngown.\n\nAt last the herald came to the house of the two sisters, and though\nthey well knew neither of themselves was the beautiful lady, they made\nevery attempt to get their clumsy feet into the glass slipper, but in\nvain.\n\n\"Let me try it on,\" said Cinderella, from the chimney-corner.\n\n\"What, you?\" cried the others, bursting into shouts of laughter; but\nCinderella only smiled and held out her hand.\n\nHer sisters could not prevent her, since the command was that every\nyoung maiden in the city should try on the slipper, in order that no\nchance might be left untried, for the prince was nearly breaking his\nheart; and his father and mother were afraid that, though a prince, he\nwould actually die for love of the beautiful unknown lady.\n\nSo the herald bade Cinderella sit down on a three-legged stool in the\nkitchen, and himself put the slipper on her pretty little foot, which\nit fitted exactly. She then drew from her pocket the fellow-slipper,\nwhich she also put on, and stood up--for with the touch of the magic\nshoes all her dress was changed likewise--no longer the poor, despised\ncinder-wench, but the beautiful lady whom the king's son loved.\n\nHer sisters recognized her at once. Filled with astonishment, mingled\nwith no little alarm, they threw themselves at her feet, begging her\npardon for all their former unkindness. She raised and embraced them,\ntold them she forgave them with all her heart, and only hoped they\nwould love her always. Then she departed with the herald to the king's\npalace, and told her whole story to his majesty and the royal family,\nwho were not in the least surprised, for everybody believed in\nfairies, and everybody longed to have a fairy godmother.\n\n    [Illustration: The slipper fitted exactly]\n\nFor the young prince, he found her more lovely and lovable than ever,\nand insisted upon marrying her immediately. Cinderella never went home\nagain, but she sent for her two sisters to the palace, and with the\nconsent of all parties married them shortly after to two rich\ngentlemen of the court.\n\n\n\n\nJACK AND THE BEAN-STALK\n\n\nIn the days of King Alfred there lived a poor woman whose cottage was\nin a remote country village many miles from London. She had been a\nwidow some years, and had an only child named Jack, whom she indulged\nso much that he never paid the least attention to anything she said,\nbut was indolent, careless, and extravagant. His follies were not\nowing to a bad disposition, but to his mother's foolish partiality. By\ndegrees he spent all that she had--scarcely anything remained but a\ncow.\n\nOne day, for the first time in her life, she reproached him: \"Cruel,\ncruel boy! you have at last brought me to beggary. I have not money\nenough to purchase even a bit of bread; nothing now remains to sell\nbut my poor cow! I am sorry to part with her; it grieves me sadly, but\nwe cannot starve.\" For a few minutes Jack felt remorse, but it was\nsoon over; and he began asking his mother to let him sell the cow at\nthe next village, teasing her so much that she at last consented.\n\nAs he was going along he met a butcher, who inquired why he was\ndriving the cow from home? Jack replied he was going to sell it. The\nbutcher held some curious beans in his hat; they were of various\ncolors and attracted Jack's attention. This did not pass unnoticed by\nthe man, who, knowing Jack's easy temper, thought now was the time to\ntake an advantage of it, and, determined not to let slip so good an\nopportunity, asked what was the price of the cow, offering at the same\ntime all the beans in his hat for her. The silly boy could not\nconceal the pleasure he felt at what he supposed so great an offer;\nthe bargain was struck instantly, and the cow exchanged for a few\npaltry beans. Jack made the best of his way home, calling aloud to his\nmother before he reached the door, thinking to surprise her.\n\nWhen she saw the beans and heard Jack's account, her patience quite\nforsook her; she tossed the beans out of the window, where they fell\non the garden-bed below. Then she threw her apron over her head and\ncried bitterly. Jack attempted to console her, but in vain, and, not\nhaving anything to eat, they both went supperless to bed. Jack awoke\nearly in the morning, and, seeing something uncommon darkening the\nwindow of his bedchamber, ran down-stairs into the garden, where he\nfound some of the beans had taken root and sprung up surprisingly; the\nstalks were of an immense thickness, and had twined together until\nthey formed a ladder like a chain, and so high that the top appeared\nto be lost in the clouds. Jack was an adventurous lad; he determined\nto climb up to the top, and ran to tell his mother, not doubting but\nthat she would be as much pleased as he was. She declared he should\nnot go, said it would break her heart if he did--entreated and\nthreatened, but all in vain. Jack set out, and after climbing for some\nhours reached the top of the bean-stalk quite exhausted. Looking\naround, he found himself in a strange country; it appeared to be a\nbarren desert--not a tree, shrub, house, or living creature was to be\nseen; here and there were scattered fragments of stone; and at unequal\ndistances small heaps of earth were loosely thrown together.\n\nJack seated himself pensively upon a block of stone and thought of his\nmother; he reflected with sorrow upon his disobedience in climbing\nthe bean-stalk against her will, and concluded that he must die of\nhunger. However, he walked on, hoping to see a house where he might\nbeg something to eat and drink. He did not find it; but he saw at a\ndistance a beautiful lady, walking all alone. She was elegantly clad\nand carried a white wand, at the top of which sat a peacock of pure\ngold.\n\nJack, who was a gallant fellow, went straight up to her, when, with a\nbewitching smile, she asked him how he came there. He told her all\nabout the bean-stalk. The lady answered him by a question, \"Do you\nremember your father, young man?\"\n\n\"No, madam; but I am sure there is some mystery about him, for when I\nname him to my mother she always begins to weep, and will tell me\nnothing.\"\n\n\"She dare not,\" replied the lady, \"but I can and will. For know,\nyoung man, that I am a fairy and was your father's guardian. But\nfairies are bound by laws as well as mortals, and by an error of mine\nI lost my power for a term of years, so that I was unable to succour\nyour father when he most needed it, and he died.\" Here the fairy\nlooked so sorrowful that Jack's heart warmed to her, and he begged her\nearnestly to tell him more.\n\n\"I will; only you must promise to obey me in everything, or you will\nperish yourself.\"\n\nJack was brave, and, besides, his fortunes were so bad they could not\nwell be worse, so he promised.\n\nThe fairy continued: \"Your father, Jack, was a most excellent,\namiable, generous man. He had a good wife, faithful servants, plenty\nof money; but he had one misfortune--a false friend. This was a giant,\nwhom he had succoured in misfortune, and who returned his kindness by\nmurdering him, and seizing on all his property; also making your\nmother take a solemn oath that she would never tell you anything about\nyour father, or he would murder both her and you. Then he turned her\noff with you in her arms, to wander about the wide world as she might.\nI could not help her, as my power only returned on the day you went to\nsell your cow.\n\n\"It was I,\" added the fairy, \"who impelled you to take the beans, who\nmade the bean-stalk grow, and inspired you with the desire to climb up\nit to this strange country; for it is here the wicked giant lives who\nwas your father's destroyer. It is you who must avenge him, and rid\nthe world of a monster who never will do anything but evil. I will\nassist you. You may lawfully take possession of his house and all his\nriches, for everything he has belonged to your father, and is\ntherefore yours. Now farewell! Do not let your mother know you are\nacquainted with your father's history. This is my command, and if you\ndisobey me you will suffer for it. Now go.\"\n\nJack asked where he was to go.\n\n\"Along the direct road till you see the house where the giant lives.\nYou must then act according to your own just judgment, and I will\nguide you if any difficulty arises. Farewell!\"\n\nShe bestowed on the youth a benignant smile, and vanished.\n\nJack pursued his journey. He walked on till after sunset, when to his\ngreat joy, he espied a large mansion. A plain-looking woman was at the\ndoor; he accosted her, begging she would give him a morsel of bread\nand a night's lodging. She expressed the greatest surprise, and said\nit was quite uncommon to see a human being near their house; for it\nwas well known that her husband was a powerful giant, who would never\neat anything but human flesh, if he could possibly get it; that he\nwould walk fifty miles to procure it, usually being out the whole day\nfor that purpose.\n\nThis account greatly terrified Jack, but still he hoped to elude the\ngiant, and therefore he again entreated the woman to take him in for\none night only, and hide him where she thought proper. She at last\nsuffered herself to be persuaded, for she was of a compassionate and\ngenerous disposition, and took him into the house. First they entered\na fine large hall magnificently furnished; they then passed through\nseveral spacious rooms in the same style of grandeur; but all appeared\nforsaken and desolate. A long gallery came next; it was very\ndark--just light enough to show that, instead of a wall on one side,\nthere was a grating of iron which parted off a dismal dungeon, from\nwhence issued the groans of those victims whom the cruel giant\nreserved in confinement for his own voracious appetite.\n\nPoor Jack was half dead with fear, and would have given the world to\nhave been with his mother again, for he now began to doubt if he\nshould ever see her more; he even mistrusted the good woman, and\nthought she had let him into the house for no other purpose than to\nlock him up among the unfortunate people in the dungeon. However, she\nbade Jack sit down, and gave him plenty to eat and drink; and he, not\nseeing anything to make him uncomfortable, soon forgot his fear and\nwas just beginning to enjoy himself, when he was startled by a loud\nknocking at the outer door, which made the whole house shake.\n\n\"Ah! that's the giant; and if he sees you he will kill you and me,\ntoo,\" cried the poor woman, trembling all over. \"What shall I do?\"\n\n\"Hide me in the oven,\" cried Jack, now as bold as a lion at the\nthought of being face to face with his father's cruel murderer. So he\ncrept into the oven--for there was no fire near it--and listened to\nthe giant's loud voice and heavy step as he went up and down the\nkitchen scolding his wife. At last he seated himself at table, and\nJack, peeping through a crevice in the oven, was amazed to see what a\nquantity of food he devoured. It seemed as if he never would have done\neating and drinking; but he did at last, and, leaning back, called to\nhis wife in a voice like thunder:\n\n\"Bring me my hen!\"\n\nShe obeyed, and placed upon the table a very beautiful live hen.\n\n\"Lay!\" roared the giant, and the hen laid immediately an egg of solid\ngold.\n\n\"Lay another!\" and every time the giant said this the hen laid a\nlarger egg than before.\n\nHe amused himself a long time with his hen, and then sent his wife to\nbed, while he fell asleep by the fireside and snored like the roaring\nof cannon.\n\nAs soon as he was asleep Jack crept out of the oven, seized the hen,\nand ran off with her. He got safely out of the house, and, finding his\nway along the road he came, reached the top of the bean-stalk, which\nhe descended in safety.\n\nHis mother was overjoyed to see him. She thought he had come to some\nill end.\n\n\"Not a bit of it, mother. Look here!\" and he showed her the hen. \"Now\nlay,\" and the hen obeyed him as readily as the giant, and laid as many\ngolden eggs as he desired.\n\nThese eggs being sold, Jack and his mother got plenty of money, and\nfor some months lived very happily together, till Jack got another\ngreat longing to climb the bean-stalk and carry away some more of the\ngiant's riches. He had told his mother of his adventure, but had been\nvery careful not to say a word about his father. He thought of his\njourney again and again, but still he could not summon resolution\nenough to break it to his mother, being well assured that she would\nendeavor to prevent his going. However, one day he told her boldly\nthat he must take another journey up the bean-stalk. She begged and\nprayed him not to think of it, and tried all in her power to dissuade\nhim; she told him that the giant's wife would certainly know him\nagain, and that the giant would desire nothing better than to get him\ninto his power, that he might put him to a cruel death, in order to be\nrevenged for the loss of his hen. Jack, finding that all his arguments\nwere useless, ceased speaking, though resolved to go at all events. He\nhad a dress prepared which would disguise him, and something to color\nhis skin; he thought it impossible for any one to recollect him in\nthis dress.\n\nA few mornings after he rose very early, and, unperceived by any one,\nclimbed the bean-stalk a second time. He was greatly fatigued when he\nreached the top, and very hungry. Having rested some time on one of\nthe stones, he pursued his journey to the giant's mansion, which he\nreached late in the evening. The woman was at the door as before. Jack\naddressed her, at the same time telling her a pitiful tale, and\nrequesting that she would give him some victuals and drink, and also a\nnight's lodging.\n\nShe told him (what he knew before very well) about her husband's being\na powerful and cruel giant, and also that she had one night admitted a\npoor, hungry, friendless boy; that the little ungrateful fellow had\nstolen one of the giant's treasures, and ever since that her husband\nhad been worse than before, using her very cruelly, and continually\nupbraiding her with being the cause of his misfortune. Jack felt\nsorry for her, but confessed nothing, and did his best to persuade\nher to admit him, but found it a very hard task. At last she\nconsented, and as she led the way, Jack observed that everything was\njust as he had found it before. She took him into the kitchen, and\nafter he had done eating and drinking, she hid him in an old\nlumber-closet. The giant returned at the usual time, and walked in so\nheavily that the house was shaken to its foundation. He seated himself\nby the fire, and soon after exclaimed, \"Wife, I smell fresh meat!\"\n\nThe wife replied it was the crows which had brought a piece of raw\nmeat and left it at the top of the house. While supper was preparing,\nthe giant was very ill-tempered and impatient, frequently lifting up\nhis hand to strike his wife for not being quick enough. He was also\ncontinually upbraiding her with the loss of his wonderful hen.\n\nAt last, having ended his supper, he cried, \"Give me something to\namuse me--my harp or my money-bags.\"\n\n\"Which will you have, my dear?\" said the wife, humbly.\n\n\"My money-bags, because they are the heaviest to carry,\" thundered he.\n\nShe brought them, staggering under the weight--two bags, one filled\nwith new guineas and the other with new shillings. She emptied them\nout on the table, and the giant began counting them in great glee.\n\"Now you may go to bed, you old fool.\" So the wife crept away.\n\nJack from his hiding-place watched the counting of the money, which he\nknew was his poor father's, and wished it was his own; it would give\nhim much less trouble than going about selling the golden eggs. The\ngiant, little thinking he was so narrowly observed, reckoned it all\nup, and then replaced it in the two bags, which he tied up very\ncarefully and put beside his chair, with his little dog to guard them.\n\nAt last he fell asleep as before, and snored so loud that Jack\ncompared his noise to the roaring of the sea in a high wind, when the\ntide is coming in. At last Jack, concluding all secure, stole out, in\norder to carry off the two bags of money; but just as he laid his hand\nupon one of them, the little dog, which he had not perceived before,\nstarted from under the giant's chair and barked most furiously.\nInstead of endeavoring to escape, Jack stood still, though expecting\nhis enemy to awake every instant.\n\nContrary, however, to his expectation, the giant continued in a sound\nsleep, and Jack, seeing a piece of meat, threw it to the dog, who at\nonce ceased barking and began to devour it. So Jack carried off the\nbags, one on each shoulder, but they were so heavy that it took him\ntwo whole days to descend the bean-stalk and get back to his mother's\ndoor.\n\n    [Illustration: Just as he laid his hand upon one of them, the\n      little dog barked most furiously]\n\nWhen he came he found the cottage deserted. He ran from one room to\nanother without being able to find any one; he then hastened into the\nvillage, hoping to see some of the neighbors, who could inform him\nwhere he could find his mother. An old woman at last directed him to a\nneighboring house, where she was ill of a fever. He was greatly\nshocked at finding her apparently dying, and blamed himself bitterly\nas the cause of it all. However, at sight of her dear son, the poor\nwoman revived and slowly recovered her health. Jack gave her his two\nmoney-bags. They had the cottage rebuilt and well furnished, and lived\nhappier than they had ever done before.\n\nFor three years Jack heard no more of the bean-stalk, but he could not\nforget it, though he feared making his mother unhappy. It was in vain\nendeavoring to amuse himself; he became thoughtful, and would arise at\nthe first dawn of day, and sit looking at the bean-stalk for hours\ntogether. His mother saw that something preyed upon his mind, and\nendeavored to discover the cause; but Jack knew too well what the\nconsequence would be should she succeed. He did his utmost, therefore,\nto conquer the great desire he had for another journey up the\nbean-stalk. Finding, however, that his inclination grew too powerful\nfor him, he began to make secret preparations for his journey. He\nprepared a new disguise, better and more complete than the former, and\nwhen summer came, on the longest day he awoke as soon as it was light,\nand, without telling his mother, ascended the bean-stalk. He found the\nroad, journey, etc., much as it was on the two former times. He\narrived at the giant's mansion in the evening, and found the wife\nstanding, as usual, at the door. Jack had disguised himself so\ncompletely that she did not appear to have the least recollection of\nhim; however, when he pleaded hunger and poverty, in order to gain\nadmittance, he found it very difficult indeed to persuade her. At last\nhe prevailed, and was concealed in the copper. When the giant returned\nhe said, furiously, \"I smell fresh meat!\" But Jack felt quite\ncomposed, since the giant had said this before and had been soon\nsatisfied. However, the giant started up suddenly, and,\nnotwithstanding all his wife could say, he searched all round the\nroom. While this was going forward Jack was exceedingly terrified,\nwishing himself at home a thousand times; but when the giant\napproached the copper and put his hand upon the lid, Jack thought his\ndeath was certain.\n\nBut nothing happened; for the giant did not take the trouble to lift\nup the lid, but sat down shortly by the fireside and began to eat his\nenormous supper. When he had finished he commanded his wife to fetch\ndown his harp. Jack peeped under the copper-lid and saw a most\nbeautiful harp. The giant placed it on the table, said \"Play!\" and it\nplayed of its own accord, without anybody touching it, the most\nexquisite music imaginable. Jack, who was a very good musician, was\ndelighted, and more anxious to get this than any other of his enemy's\ntreasures. But the giant not being particularly fond of music, the\nharp had only the effect of lulling him to sleep earlier than usual.\nAs for the wife, she had gone to bed as soon as ever she could.\n\nAs soon as he thought all was safe, Jack got out of the copper, and,\nseizing the harp, was eagerly running off with it. But the harp was\nenchanted by a fairy, and as soon as it found itself in strange hands\nit called out loudly, just as if it had been alive, \"Master! Master!\"\n\nThe giant awoke, started up, and saw Jack scampering away as fast as\nhis legs could carry him.\n\n\"Oh, you villain! it is you who have robbed me of my hen and my\nmoney-bags, and now you are stealing my harp also. Wait till I catch\nyou and I'll eat you up alive!\"\n\n\"Very well: try!\" shouted Jack, who was not a bit afraid, for he saw\nthe giant was so tipsy he could hardly stand, much less run; and he\nhimself had young legs and a clear conscience, which carry a man a\nlong way. So, after leading the giant a considerable race, he\ncontrived to be first at the top of the bean-stalk, and then scrambled\ndown it as fast as he could, the harp playing all the while the most\nmelancholy music till he said \"Stop,\" and it stopped.\n\nArrived at the bottom, he found his mother sitting at her cottage door\nweeping silently.\n\n\"Here, mother, don't cry; just give me a hatchet--make haste.\" For he\nknew there was not a moment to spare; he saw the giant beginning to\ndescend the bean-stalk.\n\nBut the monster was too late--his ill deeds had come to an end. Jack\nwith his hatchet cut the bean-stalk close off at the root. The giant\nfell headlong into the garden, and was killed on the spot.\n\nInstantly the fairy appeared and explained everything to Jack's\nmother, begging her to forgive Jack, who was his father's own son for\nbravery and generosity, and who would be sure to make her happy for\nthe rest of her days.\n\nSo all ended well, and nothing was ever more heard or seen of the\nwonderful bean-stalk.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD\n\n\nOnce there was a royal couple who grieved excessively because they had\nno children. When at last, after long waiting, the queen presented her\nhusband with a little daughter, his majesty showed his joy by giving a\nchristening feast so grand that the like of it was never known. He\ninvited all the fairies in the land--there were seven altogether--to\nstand godmothers to the little princess, hoping that each might bestow\non her some good gift, as was the custom of good fairies in those\ndays.\n\nAfter the ceremony all the guests returned to the palace, where there\nwas set before each fairy-godmother a magnificent covered dish, with\nan embroidered table-napkin, and a knife and fork of pure gold studded\nwith diamonds and rubies. But alas! as they placed themselves at table\nthere entered an old fairy who had never been invited, because more\nthan fifty years since she had left the king's dominion on a tour of\npleasure and had not been heard of until this day. His majesty, much\ntroubled, desired a cover to be placed for her, but it was of common\ndelf, for he had ordered from his jeweller only seven gold dishes for\nthe seven fairies aforesaid. The elderly fairy thought herself\nneglected, and muttered angry menaces, which were overheard by one of\nthe younger fairies, who chanced to sit beside her. This good\ngodmother, afraid of harm to the pretty baby, hastened to hide herself\nbehind the tapestry in the hall. She did this because she wished all\nthe others to speak first--so that if any ill gift were bestowed on\nthe child she might be able to counteract it.\n\nThe six now offered their good wishes--which, unlike most wishes, were\nsure to come true. The fortunate little princess was to grow up the\nfairest woman in the world; to have a temper sweet as an angel; to be\nperfectly graceful and gracious; to sing like a nightingale; to dance\nlike a leaf on a tree; and to possess every accomplishment under the\nsun. Then the old fairy's turn came. Shaking her head spitefully, she\nuttered the wish that when the baby grew up into a young lady, and\nlearned to spin, she might prick her finger with the spindle and die\nof the wound.\n\nAt this terrible prophecy all the guests shuddered, and some of the\nmore tender-hearted began to weep. The lately happy parents were\nalmost out of their wits with grief. Upon which the wise young fairy\nappeared from behind the tapestry, saying cheerfully; \"Your majesties\nmay comfort yourselves; the princess shall not die. I have no power to\nalter the ill-fortune just wished her by my ancient sister--her finger\nmust be pierced, and she shall then sink, not into the sleep of death,\nbut into a sleep that will last a hundred years. After that time is\nended the son of a king will find her, awaken her, and marry her.\"\n\nImmediately all the fairies vanished.\n\nThe king, in the hope of avoiding his daughter's doom, issued an edict\nforbidding all persons to spin, and even to have spinning-wheels in\ntheir houses, on pain of instant death. But it was in vain. One day,\nwhen she was just fifteen years of age, the king and queen left their\ndaughter alone in one of their castles, when, wandering about at her\nwill, she came to an ancient dungeon tower, climbed to the top of it,\nand there found a very old woman--so old and deaf that she had never\nheard of the king's edict--busy with her wheel.\n\n\"What are you doing, good old woman?\" said the princess.\n\n\"I'm spinning, my pretty child.\"\n\n\"Ah, how charming! Let me try if I can spin also.\"\n\nShe had no sooner taken up the spindle than, being lively and\nobstinate, she handled it so awkwardly and carelessly that the point\npierced her finger. Though it was so small a wound, she fainted away\nat once, and dropped silently down on the floor. The poor, frightened\nold woman called for help; shortly came the ladies in waiting, who\ntried every means to restore their young mistress, but all their care\nwas useless. She lay, beautiful as an angel, the color still lingering\nin her lips and cheeks; her fair bosom softly stirred with her breath;\nonly her eyes were fast closed. When the king, her father, and the\nqueen, her mother, beheld her thus, they knew regret was idle--all had\nhappened as the cruel fairy meant. But they also knew that their\ndaughter would not sleep forever, though after one hundred years it\nwas not likely they would either of them behold her awakening. Until\nthat happy hour should arrive, they determined to leave her in repose.\nThey sent away all the physicians and attendants, and themselves\nsorrowfully laid her upon a bed of embroidery, in the most elegant\napartment of the palace. There she slept and looked like a sleeping\nangel still.\n\nWhen this misfortune happened, the kindly young fairy who had saved\nthe princess by changing her sleep of death into this sleep of a\nhundred years was twelve thousand leagues away in the kingdom of\nMataquin. But being informed of everything, she arrived speedily in a\nchariot of fire drawn by dragons. The king was somewhat startled by\nthe sight, but nevertheless went to the door of his palace, and, with\na mournful countenance, presented her his hand to descend.\n\nThe fairy condoled with his majesty, and approved of all he had done.\nThen, being a fairy of great common-sense and foresight, she suggested\nthat the princess, awakening after a hundred years in this ancient\ncastle, might be a good deal embarrassed, especially with a young\nprince by her side, to find herself alone. Accordingly, without asking\nany one's leave, she touched with her magic wand the entire population\nof the palace, except the king and queen--governesses, ladies of\nhonor, waiting-maids, gentlemen ushers, cooks, kitchen-girls, pages,\nfootmen, down to the horses that were in the stables and the grooms\nthat attended them--she touched each and all. Nay, with kind\nconsideration for the feelings of the princess, she even touched the\nlittle fat lapdog Puffy, who had laid himself down beside his\nmistress on her splendid bed. He, like all the rest, fell fast asleep\nin a moment. The very spits that were before the kitchen fire ceased\nturning, and the fire itself went out, and everything became as silent\nas if it were the middle of the night, or as if the palace were a\npalace of the dead.\n\nThe king and queen--having kissed their daughter and wept over her a\nlittle, but not much, she looked so sweet and content--departed from\nthe castle, giving orders that it was to be approached no more. The\ncommand was unnecessary; for in one quarter of an hour there sprung up\naround it a wood so thick and thorny that neither beasts nor men could\nattempt to penetrate there. Above this dense mass of forest could only\nbe perceived the top of the high tower where the lovely princess\nslept.\n\nA great many changes happen in a hundred years. The king, who never\nhad a second child, died, and his throne passed into another royal\nfamily. So entirely was the story of the poor princess forgotten, that\nwhen the reigning king's son, being one day out hunting and stopped in\nthe chase by this formidable wood, inquired what wood it was, and what\nwere those towers which he saw appearing out of the midst of it, no\none could answer him. At length an old peasant was found who\nremembered having heard his grandfather say to his father, that in\nthis tower was a princess, beautiful as the day, who was doomed to\nsleep there for one hundred years, until awakened by a king's son, her\ndestined bridegroom.\n\nAt this the young prince, who had the spirit of a hero, determined to\nfind out the truth for himself. Spurred on by both generosity and\ncuriosity, he leaped from his horse and began to force his way through\nthe thick wood. To his amazement the stiff branches all gave way, and\nthe ugly thorns sheathed themselves of their own accord, and the\nbrambles buried themselves in the earth to let him pass. This done,\nthey closed behind him, allowing none of his suite to follow: but,\nardent and young, he went boldly on alone. The first thing he saw was\nenough to smite him with fear. Bodies of men and horses lay extended\non the ground; but the men had faces, not death-white, but red as\npeonies, and beside them were glasses half filled with wine, showing\nthat they had gone to sleep drinking. Next he entered a large court\npaved with marble, where stood rows of guards presenting arms, but\nmotionless as if cut out of stone; then he passed through many\nchambers where gentlemen and ladies, all in the costume of the past\ncentury, slept at their ease, some standing, some sitting. The pages\nwere lurking in corners, the ladies of honor were stooping over\ntheir embroidery frames, or listening apparently with polite attention\nto the gentlemen of the court, but all were as silent as statues and\nas immovable. Their clothes, strange to say, were fresh and new as\never; and not a particle of dust or spider-web had gathered over the\nfurniture, though it had not known a broom for a hundred years.\nFinally the astonished prince came to an inner chamber, where was the\nfairest sight his eyes had ever beheld.\n\n    [Illustration: A young girl of wonderful beauty lay asleep on an\n      embroidered bed]\n\nA young girl of wonderful beauty lay asleep on an embroidered bed, and\nshe looked as if she had only just closed her eyes. Trembling, the\nprince approached and knelt beside her. Some say he kissed her, but as\nnobody saw it, and she never told, we cannot be quite sure of the\nfact. However, as the end of the enchantment had come, the princess\nawakened at once, and, looking at him with eyes of the tenderest\nregard, said, drowsily: \"Is it you, my prince? I have waited for you\nvery long.\"\n\nCharmed with these words, and still more with the tone in which they\nwere uttered, the prince assured her that he loved her more than his\nlife. Nevertheless, he was the most embarrassed of the two; for,\nthanks to the kind fairy, the princess had plenty of time to dream of\nhim during her century of slumber, while he had never even heard of\nher till an hour before. For a long time did they sit conversing, and\nyet had not said half enough. Their only interruption was the little\ndog Puffy, who had awakened with his mistress, and now began to be\nexceedingly jealous that the princess did not notice him as much as\nshe was wont to do.\n\nMeantime all the attendants, whose enchantment was also broken, not\nbeing in love, were ready to die of hunger after their fast of a\nhundred years. A lady of honor ventured to intimate that dinner was\nserved; whereupon the prince handed his beloved princess at once to\nthe great hall. She did not wait to dress for dinner, being already\nperfectly and magnificently attired, though in a fashion somewhat out\nof date. However, her lover had the politeness not to notice this, nor\nto remind her that she was dressed exactly like her royal grandmother,\nwhose portrait still hung on the palace walls.\n\nDuring the banquet a concert took place by the attendant musicians,\nand considering they had not touched their instruments for a century,\nthey played extremely well. They ended with a wedding march; for that\nvery evening the marriage of the prince and princess was celebrated,\nand though the bride was nearly one hundred years older than the\nbridegroom, it is remarkable that the fact would never had been\ndiscovered by any one unacquainted therewith.\n\nAfter a few days they went together out of the castle and enchanted\nwood, both of which immediately vanished, and were never more beheld\nby mortal eyes. The princess was restored to her ancestral kingdom,\nbut it was not generally declared who she was, as during a hundred\nyears people had grown so very much cleverer that nobody then living\nwould ever have believed the story. So nothing was explained, and\nnobody presumed to ask any questions about her, for ought not a prince\nbe able to marry whomsoever he pleases?\n\nNor--whether or not the day of fairies was over--did the princess ever\nsee anything further of her seven godmothers. She lived a long and\nhappy life, like any other ordinary woman, and died at length,\nbeloved, regretted, but, the prince being already no more, perfectly\ncontented.\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE RED-RIDING-HOOD\n\n\nOnce there was a little village maiden, the prettiest ever seen. Her\nmother was foolishly fond of her, and her grandmother likewise. The\nold woman made for her a little hood, which became the damsel so well\nthat ever after she went by the name of Little Red-Riding-Hood. One\nday, when her mother was making cakes, she said, \"My child, you shall\ngo and see your grandmother, for I hear she is not well; and you shall\ntake her some of these cakes and a pot of butter.\"\n\nLittle Red-Riding-Hood was delighted to go, though it was a long walk;\nbut she was a good child, and fond of her kind grandmother. Passing\nthrough a wood, she met a great wolf, who was most eager to eat her\nup, but dared not, because of a woodcutter who was busy hard by. So he\nonly came and asked her politely where she was going. The poor child,\nwho did not know how dangerous it is to stop and speak to wolves,\nreplied, \"I am going to see my grandmother, and to take her a cake and\na pot of butter, which my mother has sent her.\"\n\n\"Is it very far from hence?\" asked the wolf.\n\n\"Oh yes; it is just above the mill which you may see up there--the\nfirst house you come to in the village.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the wolf, \"I will go there also, to inquire after your\nexcellent grandmother; I will go one way, and you the other, and we\nwill see who can be there first.\"\n\nSo he ran as fast as ever he could, taking the shortest road, but the\nlittle maiden took the longest; for she stopped to pluck roses in\nthe wood, to chase butterflies, and gather nosegays of the prettiest\nflowers she could find--she was such a happy and innocent little soul.\n\n    [Illustration: He asked her politely where she was going]\n\nThe wolf was not long in reaching the grandmother's door. He knocked,\nToc--toc, and the grandmother said, \"Who is there?\"\n\n\"It is your child, Little Red-Riding-Hood,\" replied the wicked beast,\nimitating the girl's voice; \"I bring you a cake and a pot of butter,\nwhich my mother has sent you.\"\n\nThe grandmother, who was ill in her bed, said, \"Very well, my dear,\npull the string and the latch will open.\" The wolf pulled the\nstring--the door flew open; he leaped in, fell upon the poor old\nwoman, and ate her up in less than no time, tough as she was, for he\nhad not tasted anything for more than three days. Then he carefully\nshut the door, and laying himself down snugly in the bed, waited for\nLittle Red-Riding-Hood, who was not long before she came and knocked,\nToc--toc, at the door.\n\n\"Who is there?\" said the wolf; and the little maiden, hearing his\ngruff voice, felt sure that her poor grandmother must have caught a\nbad cold and be very ill indeed.\n\nSo she answered, cheerfully, \"It is your child, Little\nRed-Riding-Hood, who brings you a cake and a pot of butter that my\nmother has sent you.\"\n\nThen the wolf, softening his voice as much as he could, said, \"Pull\nthe string, and the latch will open.\"\n\nSo Little Red-Riding-Hood pulled the string and the door opened. The\nwolf, seeing her enter, hid himself as much as he could under the\ncoverlid of the bed, and said in a whisper, \"Put the cake and the pot\nof butter on the shelf, and then make haste and come to bed, for it is\nvery late.\"\n\nLittle Red-Riding-Hood did not think so; but, to please her\ngrandmother, she undressed herself and began to get ready for bed,\nwhen she was very much astonished to find how different the old woman\nlooked from ordinary.\n\n\"Grandmother, what great arms you have!\"\n\n\"That is to hug you the better, my dear.\"\n\n\"Grandmother, what great ears you have!\"\n\n\"That is to hear you the better, my dear.\"\n\n\"Grandmother, what great eyes you have!\"\n\n\"That is to see you the better, my dear.\"\n\n\"Grandmother, what a great mouth you have!\"\n\n\"That is to eat you up!\" cried the wicked wolf; and immediately he\nfell upon poor Little Red-Riding-Hood, and ate her up in a moment.\n\n\n\n\nTHE UGLY DUCKLING\n\n\nThe country was lovely just then; it was summer! The wheat was golden\nand the oats still green; the hay was stacked in the rich, low-lying\nmeadows, where the stork was marching about on his long red legs,\nchattering Egyptian, the language his mother had taught him.\n\nRound about field and meadow lay great woods, in the midst of which\nwere deep lakes. Yes, the country certainly was delicious. In the\nsunniest spot stood an old mansion surrounded by a deep moat, and\ngreat dock leaves grew from the walls of the house right down to the\nwater's edge, some of them were so tall that a small child could\nstand upright under them. In among the leaves it was as secluded as in\nthe depths of a forest, and there a duck was sitting on her nest. Her\nlittle ducklings were just about to be hatched, but she was nearly\ntired of sitting, for it had lasted such a long time. Moreover, she\nhad very few visitors, as the other ducks liked swimming about in the\nmoat better than waddling up to sit under the dock leaves and gossip\nwith her.\n\nAt last one egg after another began to crack. \"Cheep, cheep!\" they\nsaid. All the chicks had come to life, and were poking their heads\nout.\n\n\"Quack! quack!\" said the duck; and then they all quacked their\nhardest, and looked about them on all sides among the green leaves;\ntheir mother allowed them to look as much as they liked, for green is\ngood for the eyes.\n\n\"How big the world is to be sure!\" said all the young ones; for they\ncertainly had ever so much more room to move about than when they were\ninside the egg-shell.\n\n\"Do you imagine this is the whole world?\" said the mother. \"It\nstretches a long way on the other side of the garden, right into the\nparson's field; but I have never been as far as that! I suppose you\nare all here now?\" and she got up. \"No! I declare I have not got you\nall yet! The biggest egg is still there; how long is it going to\nlast?\" and then she settled herself on the nest again.\n\n\"Well, how are you getting on?\" said an old duck who had come to pay\nher a visit.\n\n\"This one egg is taking such a long time,\" answered the sitting duck,\n\"the shell will not crack; but now you must look at the others; they\nare the finest ducklings I have ever seen! they are all exactly like\ntheir father, the rascal! he never comes to see me.\"\n\n\"Let me look at the egg which won't crack,\" said the old duck. \"You\nmay be sure that it is a turkey's egg! I have been cheated like that\nonce, and I had no end of trouble and worry with the creatures, for I\nmay tell you that they are afraid of the water. I could not get them\ninto it; I quacked and snapped at them, but it was no good. Let me see\nthe egg! Yes, it is a turkey's egg! You just leave it alone and teach\nthe other children to swim.\"\n\n\"I will sit on it a little longer; I have sat so long already that I\nmay as well go on till the Midsummer Fair comes round.\"\n\n\"Please yourself,\" said the old duck, and she went away.\n\nAt last the big egg cracked. \"Cheep, cheep!\" said the young one and\ntumbled out; how big and ugly he was! The duck looked at him.\n\n\"That is a monstrous big duckling,\" she said; \"none of the others\nlooked like that; can he be a turkey chick? well, we shall soon find\nthat out; into the water he shall go, if I have to kick him in\nmyself.\"\n\nNext day was gloriously fine, and the sun shone on all the green dock\nleaves. The mother duck with her whole family went down to the moat.\n\nSplash, into the water she sprang. \"Quack, quack!\" she said, and one\nduckling plumped in after the other. The water dashed over their\nheads, but they came up again and floated beautifully; their legs went\nof themselves, and they were all there, even the big ugly gray one\nswam about with them.\n\n\"No, that is no turkey,\" she said; \"see how beautifully he uses his\nlegs and how erect he holds himself; he is my own chick! after all, he\nis not so bad when you come to look at him properly. Quack, quack! Now\ncome with me and I will take you into the world, and introduce you to\nthe duckyard; but keep close to me all the time, so that no one may\ntread upon you, and beware of the cat!\"\n\nThen they went into the duckyard. There was a fearful uproar going on,\nfor two broods were fighting for the head of an eel, and in the end\nthe cat captured it.\n\n\"That's how things go in this world,\" said the mother duck; and she\nlicked her bill, for she wanted the eel's head for herself.\n\n\"Use your legs,\" said she; \"mind you quack properly, and bend your\nnecks to the old duck over there! She is the grandest of them all; she\nhas Spanish blood in her veins and that accounts for her size, and, do\nyou see? she has a red rag round her leg; that is a wonderfully fine\nthing, and the most extraordinary mark of distinction any duck can\nhave. It shows clearly that she is not to be parted with, and that she\nis worthy of recognition both by beasts and men! Quack now! don't\nturn your toes in, a well brought up duckling keeps his legs wide\napart just like father and mother; that's it, now bend your necks, and\nsay quack!\"\n\nThey did as they were bid, but the other ducks round about looked at\nthem and said, quite loud: \"Just look there! now we are to have that\ntribe! just as if there were not enough of us already, and, oh dear!\nhow ugly that duckling is, we won't stand him!\" and a duck flew at him\nat once and bit him in the neck.\n\n\"Let him be,\" said the mother; \"he is doing no harm.\"\n\n\"Very likely not, but he is so ungainly and queer,\" said the biter,\n\"he must be whacked.\"\n\n\"They are handsome children mother has,\" said the old duck with the\nrag round her leg; \"all good looking except this one, and he is not a\ngood specimen; it's a pity you can't make him over again.\"\n\n\"That can't be done, your grace,\" said the mother duck; \"he is not\nhandsome, but he is a thorough good creature, and he swims as\nbeautifully as any of the others; nay, I think I might venture even to\nadd that I think he will improve as he goes on, or perhaps in time he\nmay grow smaller! he was too long in the egg, and so he has not come\nout with a very good figure.\" And then she patted his neck and stroked\nhim down. \"Besides, he is a drake,\" said she; \"so it does not matter\nso much. I believe he will be very strong, and I don't doubt but he\nwill make his way in the world.\"\n\n\"The other ducklings are very pretty,\" said the old duck. \"Now make\nyourselves quite at home, and if you find the head of an eel you may\nbring it to me!\"\n\nAfter that they felt quite at home. But the poor duckling which had\nbeen the last to come out of the shell, and who was so ugly, was\nbitten, pushed about, and made fun of both by the ducks and the hens.\n\"He is too big,\" they all said; and the turkey-cock, who was born with\nhis spurs on, and therefore thought himself quite an emperor, puffed\nhimself up like a vessel in full sail, made for him, and gobbled and\ngobbled till he became quite red in the face. The poor duckling was at\nhis wit's end, and did not know which way to turn; he was in despair\nbecause he was so ugly and the butt of the whole duckyard.\n\nSo the first day passed, and afterwards matters grew worse and worse.\nThe poor duckling was chased and hustled by all of them; even his\nbrothers and sisters ill-used him, and they were always saying, \"If\nonly the cat would get hold of you, you hideous object!\" Even his\nmother said, \"I wish to goodness you were miles away.\" The ducks bit\nhim, the hens pecked him, and the girl who fed them kicked him aside.\n\nThen he ran off and flew right over the hedge, where the little birds\nflew up into the air in a fright.\n\n\"That is because I am so ugly,\" thought the poor duckling, shutting\nhis eyes, but he ran on all the same. Then he came to a great marsh\nwhere the wild ducks lived; he was so tired and miserable that he\nstayed there the whole night.\n\nIn the morning the wild ducks flew up to inspect their new comrade.\n\n\"What sort of a creature are you?\" they inquired, as the duckling\nturned from side to side and greeted them as well as he could. \"You\nare frightfully ugly,\" said the wild ducks; \"but that does not matter\nto us, so long as you do not marry into our family!\" Poor fellow! he\nhad no thought of marriage; all he wanted was permission to lie among\nthe rushes, and to drink a little of the marsh water.\n\nHe stayed there two whole days; then two wild geese came, or, rather,\ntwo wild ganders; they were not long out of the shell, and therefore\nrather pert.\n\n\"I say, comrade,\" they said, \"you are so ugly that we have taken quite\na fancy to you; will you join us and be a bird of passage? There is\nanother marsh close by, and there are some charming wild geese there;\nall sweet young ladies, who can say quack! You are ugly enough to make\nyour fortune among them.\" Just at that moment, bang! bang! was heard\nup above, and both the wild geese fell dead among the reeds, and the\nwater turned blood red. Bang! bang! went the guns, and whole flocks of\nwild geese flew up from the rushes and the shot peppered among them\nagain.\n\nThere was a grand shooting-party, and the sportsmen lay hidden round\nthe marsh; some even sat on the branches of the trees which overhung\nthe water; the blue smoke rose like clouds among the dark trees and\nswept over the pool.\n\nThe water-dogs wandered about in the swamp--splash! splash! The rushes\nand reeds bent beneath their tread on all sides. It was terribly\nalarming to the poor duckling. He twisted his head round to get it\nunder his wing, and just at that moment a frightful big dog appeared\nclose beside him; his tongue hung right out of his mouth and his eyes\nglared wickedly. He opened his great chasm of a mouth close to the\nduckling, showed his sharp teeth, and--splash!--went on without\ntouching him.\n\n\"Oh, thank Heaven!\" sighed the duckling, \"I am so ugly that even the\ndog won't bite me!\"\n\nThen he lay quite still while the shot whistled among the bushes, and\nbang after bang rent the air. It only became quiet late in the day,\nbut even then the poor duckling did not dare to get up; he waited\nseveral hours more before he looked about, and then he hurried away\nfrom the marsh as fast as he could. He ran across fields and meadows,\nand there was such a wind that he had hard work to make his way.\n\nTowards night he reached a poor little cottage; it was such a\nmiserable hovel that it could not make up its mind which way to fall\neven, and so it remained standing. The wind whistled so fiercely round\nthe duckling that he had to sit on his tail to resist it, and it blew\nharder and harder; then he saw that the door had fallen off one hinge\nand hung so crookedly that he could creep into the house through the\ncrack, and by this means he made his way into the room. An old woman\nlived there with her cat and her hen. The cat, which she called\n\"Sonnie,\" could arch his back, purr, and give off electric\nsparks--that is to say, if you stroked his fur the wrong way. The hen\nhad quite tiny short legs, and so she was called \"Chuckie-low-legs.\"\nShe laid good eggs, and the old woman was as fond of her as if she had\nbeen her own child.\n\nIn the morning the strange duckling was discovered immediately, and\nthe cat began to purr and the hen to cluck.\n\n\"What on earth is that!\" said the old woman, looking round; but her\nsight was not good, and she thought the duckling was a fat duck which\nhad escaped. \"This is a capital find,\" said she; \"now I shall have\nduck's eggs if only it is not a drake. We must find out about that!\"\n\nSo she took the duckling on trial for three weeks, but no eggs made\ntheir appearance. The cat was the master of the house and the hen the\nmistress, and they always spoke of \"we and the world,\" for they\nthought that they represented the half of the world, and that quite\nthe better half.\n\nThe duckling thought there might be two opinions on the subject, but\nthe cat would not hear of it.\n\n\"Can you lay eggs?\" she asked.\n\n\"No!\"\n\n\"Will you have the goodness to hold your tongue, then!\"\n\nAnd the cat said, \"Can you arch your back, purr, or give off sparks?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Then you had better keep your opinions to yourself when people of\nsense are speaking!\"\n\nThe duckling sat in the corner nursing his ill-humor; then he began to\nthink of the fresh air and the sunshine, an uncontrollable longing\nseized him to float on the water, and at last he could not help\ntelling the hen about it.\n\n\"What on earth possesses you?\" she asked. \"You have nothing to do;\nthat is why you get these freaks into your head. Lay some eggs or take\nto purring, and you will get over it.\"\n\n\"But it is so delicious to float, on the water,\" said the duckling;\n\"so delicious to feel it rushing over your head when you dive to the\nbottom.\"\n\n\"That would be a fine amusement,\" said the hen. \"I think you have gone\nmad. Ask the cat about it, he is the wisest creature I know; ask him\nif he is fond of floating on the water or diving under it. I say\nnothing about myself. Ask our mistress yourself, the old woman; there\nis no one in the world cleverer than she is. Do you suppose she has\nany desire to float on the water or to duck underneath it?\"\n\n\"You do not understand me,\" said the duckling.\n\n\"Well, if we don't understand you, who should? I suppose you don't\nconsider yourself cleverer than the cat or the old woman, not to\nmention me. Don't make a fool of yourself, child, and thank your stars\nfor all the good we have done you! Have you not lived in this warm\nroom, and in such society that you might have learned something? But\nyou are an idiot, and there is no pleasure in associating with you.\nYou may believe me I mean you well, I tell you home truths, and there\nis no surer way than that of knowing who are one's friends. You just\nsee about laying some eggs, or learn to purr, or to emit sparks.\"\n\n\"I think I will go out into the wide world,\" said the duckling.\n\n\"Oh, do so by all means!\" said the hen.\n\nSo away went the duckling; he floated on the water and ducked\nunderneath it, but he was looked askance at by every living creature\nfor his ugliness. Now the autumn came on, the leaves in the woods\nturned yellow and brown; the wind took hold of them, and they danced\nabout. The sky looked very cold, and the clouds hung heavy with snow\nand hail. A raven stood on the fence and croaked Caw! Caw! from sheer\ncold; it made one shiver only to think of it. The poor duckling\ncertainly was in a bad case.\n\nOne evening the sun was just setting in wintry splendor when a flock\nof beautiful large birds appeared out of the bushes. The duckling had\nnever seen anything so beautiful. They were dazzlingly white with long\nwaving necks; they were swans; and, uttering a peculiar cry, they\nspread out their magnificent broad wings, and flew away from the cold\nregions to warmer lands and open seas. They mounted so high, so very\nhigh, and the ugly little duckling became strangely uneasy; he circled\nround and round in the water like a wheel, craning his neck up into\nthe air after them. Then he uttered a shriek so piercing and so\nstrange that he was quite frightened by it himself. Oh, he could not\nforget those beautiful birds, those happy birds! And as soon as they\nwere out of sight he ducked right down to the bottom, and when he came\nup again he was quite beside himself. He did not know what the birds\nwere or whither they flew, but all the same he was more drawn towards\nthem than he had ever been by any creatures before. He did not even\nenvy them in the least. How could it occur to him even to wish to be\nsuch a marvel of beauty; he would have been thankful if only the ducks\nwould have tolerated him among them--the poor ugly creature!\n\nThe winter was so bitterly cold that the duckling was obliged to swim\nabout in the water to keep it from freezing, but every night the hole\nin which he swam got smaller and smaller. Then it froze so hard that\nthe surface ice cracked, and the duckling had to use his legs all the\ntime, so that the ice should not close in round him; at last he was so\nweary that he could move no more, and he was frozen fast into the ice.\n\nEarly in the morning a peasant came along and saw him; he went out\nonto the ice and hammered a hole in it with his heavy wooden shoe, and\ncarried the duckling home to his wife. There it soon revived. The\nchildren wanted to play with it, but the duckling thought they were\ngoing to ill-use him, and rushed in his fright into the milk pan, and\nthe milk spurted out all over the room. The woman shrieked and threw\nup her hands; then it flew into the butter cask, and down into the\nmeal tub and out again. Just imagine what it looked like by this time!\nThe woman screamed and tried to hit it with the tongs, and the\nchildren tumbled over one another in trying to catch it, and they\nscreamed with laughter. By good luck the door stood open, and the\nduckling flew out among the bushes and the new fallen snow, and it lay\nthere thoroughly exhausted.\n\nBut it would be too sad to mention all the privation and misery it\nhad to go through during that hard winter. When the sun began to shine\nwarmly again the duckling was in the marsh, lying among the rushes;\nthe larks were singing, and the beautiful spring had come.\n\nThen all at once it raised its wings, and they flapped with much\ngreater strength than before and bore him off vigorously. Before he\nknew where he was he found himself in a large garden where the\napple-trees were in a full blossom, and the air was scented with\nlilacs, the long branches of which overhung the indented shores of the\nlake. Oh! the spring freshness was so delicious!\n\nJust in front of him he saw three beautiful white swans advancing\ntowards him from a thicket; with rustling feathers they swam lightly\nover the water. The duckling recognized the majestic birds, and he was\novercome by a strange melancholy.\n\n\"I will fly to them, the royal birds, and they will hack me to\npieces, because I, who am so ugly, venture to approach them! But it\nwon't matter; better be killed by them than be snapped at by the\nducks, pecked by the hens, or spurned by the henwife, or suffer so\nmuch misery in the winter.\"\n\nSo he flew into the water, and swam towards the stately swans; they\nsaw him, and darted towards him with ruffled feathers.\n\n\"Kill me, oh, kill me!\" said the poor creature, and bowing his head\ntowards the water he awaited his death. But what did he see reflected\nin the transparent water?\n\nHe saw below him his own image; but he was no longer a clumsy, dark,\ngray bird, ugly and ungainly. He was himself a swan! It does not\nmatter in the least having been born in a duckyard if only you come\nout of a swan's egg!\n\nHe felt quite glad of all the misery and tribulation he had gone\nthrough; he was the better able to appreciate his good-fortune now,\nand all the beauty which greeted him. The big swans swam round and\nround him, and stroked him with their bills.\n\nSome little children came into the garden with corn and pieces of\nbread, which they threw into the water; and the smallest one cried\nout: \"There is a new one!\" The other children shouted with joy: \"Yes,\na new one has come!\" And they clapped their hands and danced about,\nrunning after their father and mother. They threw the bread into the\nwater, and one and all said that \"the new one was the prettiest; he\nwas so young and handsome.\" And the old swans bent their heads and did\nhomage before him.\n\n    [Illustration: Some little children threw pieces of bread into the\n      water]\n\nHe felt quite shy, and hid his head under his wing; he did not know\nwhat to think; he was so very happy, but not at all proud; a good\nheart never becomes proud. He thought of how he had been pursued and\nscorned, and now he heard them all say that he was the most beautiful\nof all beautiful birds. The lilacs bent their boughs right down into\nthe water before him, and the bright sun was warm and cheering, and he\nrustled his feathers and raised his slender neck aloft, saying, with\nexultation in his heart: \"I never dreamed of so much happiness when I\nwas the Ugly Duckling!\"\n\n\n\n\nHOP-O'-MY-THUMB\n\n\nThere once lived in a village a fagot-maker and his wife who had seven\nchildren--all boys; the eldest was no more than ten years old, and the\nyoungest was only seven. It was odd enough, to be sure, that they\nshould have so many children in such a short time; but the truth is,\nthe wife always brought him two and once three at a time. This made\nhim very poor, for not one of these boys was old enough to get a\nliving; and what was still worse, the youngest was a puny little\nfellow who hardly ever spoke a word. Now this, indeed, was a mark of\nhis good sense, but it made his father and mother suppose him to be\nsilly, and they thought that at last he would turn out quite a fool.\nThis boy was the least size ever seen; for when he was born he was no\nbigger than a man's thumb, which made him be christened by the name of\nHop-o'-my-Thumb. The poor child was the drudge of the whole house, and\nalways bore the blame of everything that was done wrong. For all this,\nHop-o'-my-Thumb was far more clever than any of his brothers; and\nthough he spoke but little he heard and knew more than people thought.\nIt happened just at this time that for want of rain the fields had\ngrown but half as much corn and potatoes as they used to grow; so that\nthe fagot-maker and his wife could not give the boys the food they had\nbefore, which was always either bread or potatoes.\n\nAfter the father and mother had grieved some time, they thought that\nas they could contrive no other way to live they must somehow get rid\nof their children. One night when the boys were gone to bed, and the\nfagot-maker and his wife were sitting over a few lighted sticks, to\nwarm themselves, the husband sighed deeply, and said: \"You see, my\ndear, we cannot maintain our children any longer, and to see them die\nof hunger before my eyes is what I could never bear. I will,\ntherefore, to-morrow morning take them to the forest, and leave them\nin the thickest part of it, so that they will not be able to find\ntheir way back: this will be very easy; for while they amuse\nthemselves with tying up the fagots, we need only slip away when they\nare looking some other way.\"\n\n\"Ah, husband!\" cried the poor wife, \"you cannot, no, you never can\nconsent to be the death of your own children.\"\n\nThe husband in vain told her to think how very poor they were.\n\nThe wife replied \"that this was true, to be sure; but if she was\npoor, she was still their mother\"; and then she cried as if her heart\nwould break. At last she thought how shocking it would be to see them\nstarved to death before their eyes, so she agreed to what her husband\nhad said, and then went sobbing to bed.\n\nHop-o'-my-Thumb had been awake all the time; and when he heard his\nfather talk very seriously, he slipped away from his brothers' side,\nand crept under his father's bed, to hear all that was said without\nbeing seen.\n\nWhen his father and mother had left off talking, he got back to his\nown place, and passed the night in thinking what he should do the next\nmorning.\n\nHe rose early, and ran to the river's side, where he filled his\npockets with small white pebbles, and then went back home. In the\nmorning they all set out, as their father and mother had agreed on;\nand Hop-o'-my-Thumb did not say a word to any of his brothers about\nwhat he had heard. They came to a forest that was so very thick that\nthey could not see each other a few yards off. The fagot-maker set to\nwork cutting down wood; and the children began to gather the twigs, to\nmake fagots of them.\n\nWhen the father and mother saw that the young ones were all very busy,\nthey slipped away without being seen. The children soon found\nthemselves alone, and began to cry as loud as they could.\nHop-o'-my-Thumb let them cry on, for he knew well enough how to lead\nthem safe home, as he had taken care to drop the white pebbles he had\nin his pocket along all the way he had come. He only said to them,\n\"Never mind it, my lads; father and mother have left us here by\nourselves, but only take care to follow me, and I will lead you back\nagain.\"\n\n    [Illustration: The children began to cry as loud as they could]\n\nWhen they heard this they left off crying, and followed\nHop-o'-my-Thumb, who soon brought them to their father's house by\nthe very same path which they had come along. At first they had not\nthe courage to go in, but stood at the door to hear what their parents\nwere talking about. Just as the fagot-maker and his wife had come home\nwithout their children a great gentleman of the village sent to pay\nthem two guineas for work they had done for him, which he had owed\nthem so long that they never thought of getting a farthing of it. This\nmoney made them quite happy; for the poor creatures were very hungry,\nand had no other way of getting anything to eat.\n\nThe fagot-maker sent his wife out immediately to buy some meat; and as\nit was a long time since she had made a hearty meal, she bought as\nmuch meat as would have been enough for six or eight persons. The\ntruth was, when she was thinking what would be enough for dinner, she\nforgot that her children were not at home; but as soon as she and her\nhusband had done eating, she cried out: \"Alas! where are our poor\nchildren? How they would feast on what we have left! It was all your\nfault, husband! I told you we should repent leaving them to starve in\nthe forest! Oh, mercy! perhaps they have already been eaten by the\nhungry wolves!\" The poor woman shed plenty of tears. \"Alas! alas!\"\nsaid she, over and over again, \"what is become of my dear children?\"\n\nThe children, who were all at the door, cried out together, \"Here we\nare, mother, here we are!\"\n\nShe flew like lightning to let them in, and kissed every one of them.\n\nThe fagot-maker and his wife were charmed at having their children\nonce more with them, and their joy for this lasted till their money\nwas all spent; but then they found themselves quite as ill off as\nbefore. So by degrees they again thought of leaving them in the\nforest: and that the young ones might not come back a second time,\nthey said they would take them a great deal farther than they did at\nfirst. They could not talk about this matter so slyly but that\nHop-o'-my-Thumb found means to hear all that passed between them; but\nhe cared very little about it, for he thought it would be easy for him\nto do just the same as he had done before. But although he got up very\nearly the next morning to go to the river's side to get the pebbles, a\nthing which he had not thought of hindered him; for he found that the\nhouse door was double locked. Hop-o'-my-Thumb was now quite at a loss\nwhat to do; but soon after this his mother gave each of the children a\npiece of bread for breakfast and then it came into his head that he\ncould make his share do as well as the pebbles by dropping crumbs of\nit all the way as he went. So he did not eat his piece, but put it\ninto his pocket.\n\nIt was not long before they all set out, and their parents took care\nto lead them into the very thickest and darkest part of the forest.\nThey then slipped away by a by-path as before, and left the children\nby themselves again. All this did not give Hop-o'-my-Thumb any\nconcern, for he thought himself quite sure of getting back by means of\nthe crumbs that he had dropped by the way; but when he came to look\nfor them he found that not a crumb was left, for the birds had eaten\nthem all up.\n\nThe poor children were now sadly off, for the farther they went the\nharder it was for them to get out of the forest. At last night came\non, and the noise of the wind among the trees seemed to them like the\nhowling of wolves, so that every moment they thought they should be\neaten up. They hardly dared to speak a word, or to move a limb, for\nfear. Soon after there came a heavy rain which wetted them to the very\nskin, and made the ground so slippery that they fell down at almost\nevery step and got dirty all over.\n\nBefore it was quite dark Hop-o'-my-Thumb climbed up to the top of a\ntree, and looked round on all sides to see if he could find any way of\ngetting help. He saw a small light, like that of a candle, but it was\na very great way off, and beyond the forest. He then came down from\nthe tree, to try to find the way to it; but he could not see it when\nhe was on the ground, and he was in the utmost trouble what to do\nnext. They walked on towards the place where he had seen the light,\nand at last reached the end of the forest, and got sight of it again.\nThey now walked faster; and after being much tired and vexed (for\nevery time they got into lower ground they lost sight of the light),\ncame to the house it was in. They knocked at the door, which was\nopened by a very poor-natured-looking lady, who asked what brought\nthem there. Hop-o'-my-Thumb told her that they were poor children who\nhad lost their way in the forest, and begged that she would give them\na bed till morning. When the lady saw that they had such pretty faces\nshe began to shed tears, and said: \"Ah, my poor children, you do not\nknow what place you are come to. This is the house of an Ogre, who\neats up little boys and girls.\"\n\n\"Alas! madam,\" replied Hop-o'-my-Thumb, who trembled from head to\nfoot, \"what shall we do? If we go back to the forest we are sure of\nbeing torn to pieces by the wolves; we would rather, therefore, be\neaten by the gentleman. Besides, when he sees us, perhaps he may take\npity on us and spare our lives.\"\n\nThe Ogre's wife thought she could contrive to hide them from her\nhusband till morning; so she let them go in and warm themselves by a\ngood fire, before which there was a whole sheep roasting for the\nOgre's supper. When they had stood a short time by the fire there came\na loud knocking at the door: this was the Ogre come home. His wife\nhurried the children under the bed and told them to lie still, and she\nthen let her husband in.\n\nThe Ogre asked if supper were ready, and if the wine were fetched from\nthe cellar; and then he sat down at the table. The sheep was not quite\ndone, but he liked it much better half raw. In a minute or two the\nOgre began to snuff to his right and left, and said he smelt child's\nflesh.\n\n\"It must be this calf, which has just been killed,\" said his wife.\n\n\"I smell child's flesh, I tell thee once more!\" cried the Ogre,\nlooking all about the room--\"I smell child's flesh; there is\nsomething going on that I do not know of.\"\n\nAs soon as he had spoken these words he rose from his chair and went\ntowards the bed.\n\n\"Ah! madam,\" said he, \"you thought to cheat me, did you? Wretch! thou\nart old and tough thyself, or else I would eat thee up too! But come,\ncome, this is lucky enough; for the brats will make a nice dish for\nthree Ogres, who are my particular friends, and who are to dine with\nme to-morrow.\"\n\nHe then drew them out one by one from under the bed. The poor children\nfell on their knees and begged his pardon as humbly as they could; but\nthis Ogre was the most cruel of all Ogres, and instead of feeling any\npity, he only began to think how sweet and tender their flesh would\nbe; so he told his wife they would be nice morsels if she served them\nup with plenty of sauce. He then fetched a large knife, and began to\nsharpen it on a long whetstone that he held in his left hand; and all\nthe while he came nearer and nearer to the bed. The Ogre took up one\nof the children, and was going to set about cutting him to pieces; but\nhis wife said to him: \"What in the world makes you take the trouble of\nkilling them to-night? Will it not be time enough to-morrow morning?\"\n\n\"Hold your prating,\" replied the Ogre; \"they will grow tender by being\nkept a little while after they are killed.\"\n\n\"But,\" said this wife, \"you have got so much meat in the house\nalready; here is a calf, two sheep, and half a pig.\"\n\n\"True,\" said the Ogre, \"so give them all a good supper, that they may\nnot get lean, and then send them to bed.\"\n\nThe good creature was quite glad at this. She gave them plenty for\ntheir supper, but the poor children were so terrified that they could\nnot eat a bit.\n\nThe Ogre sat down to his wine, very much pleased with the thought of\ngiving his friends such a dainty dish: this made him drink rather more\nthan common, and he was soon obliged to go to bed himself. Now the\nOgre had seven daughters, who were all very young like Hop-o'-my-Thumb\nand his brothers. These young Ogresses had fair skins, because they\nfed on raw meat like their father; but they had small gray eyes, quite\nround, and sunk in their heads, hooked noses, wide mouths, and very\nlong, sharp teeth, standing a great way off each other. They were too\nyoung as yet to do much mischief; but they showed that if they lived\nto be as old as their father they would grow quite as cruel as he was,\nfor they took pleasure already in biting young children and sucking\ntheir blood. The Ogresses had been put to bed very early that night;\nthey were all in one bed, which was very large, and every one of them\nhad a crown of gold on her head. There was another bed of the same\nsize in the room, and in this the Ogre's wife put the seven little\nboys, and then went to bed herself along with her husband.\n\nNow Hop-o'-my-Thumb was afraid that the Ogre would wake in the night,\nand kill him and his brothers while they were asleep. So he got out of\nbed in the middle of the night as softly as he could, took off all his\nbrothers' nightcaps and his own, and crept with them to the bed that\nthe Ogre's daughters were in; he then took off their crowns, and put\nthe nightcaps on their heads instead; next he put the crowns on his\nbrothers' heads and his own, and got into bed again; expecting, after\nthis, that, if the Ogre should come, he would take him and his\nbrothers for his own children. Everything turned out as he wished. The\nOgre waked soon after midnight, and began to be very sorry that he had\nput off killing the boys till the morning; so he jumped out of bed,\nand took hold of his large knife. \"Let us see,\" said he, \"what the\nyoung rogues are about, and do the business at once!\" He then walked\nsoftly to the room where they all slept, and went up to the bed the\nboys were in, who were all asleep except Hop-o'-my-Thumb. He touched\ntheir heads one at a time, and feeling the crowns of gold, said to\nhimself: \"Oh, oh! I had like to have made such a mistake! I must have\ndrunk too much wine last night.\"\n\nHe went next to the bed that his own little Ogresses were in, and when\nhe felt the nightcaps, he said, \"Ah! here you are, my lads\"; and so in\na moment he cut the throats of all his daughters.\n\nHe was very much pleased when he had done this, and then went back to\nhis own bed. As soon as Hop-o'-my-Thumb heard him snore he awoke his\nbrothers, and told them to put on their clothes quickly, and follow\nhim. They stole down softly into the garden, and then jumped from the\nwall into the road; they ran as fast as their legs could carry them,\nbut were so much afraid all the while that they hardly knew which way\nto take. When the Ogre waked in the morning he said to his wife,\ngrinning: \"My dear, go and dress the young rogues I saw last night.\"\n\nThe wife was quite surprised at hearing her husband speak so kindly,\nand did not dream of the real meaning of his words. She supposed he\nwanted her to help them to put on their clothes; so she went\nup-stairs, and the first thing she saw was her seven daughters with\ntheir throats cut and all over blood. This threw her into a fainting\nfit. The Ogre was afraid his wife might be too long in doing what he\nhad set her about, so he went himself to help her; but he was as much\nshocked as she had been at the dreadful sight of his bleeding\nchildren. \"Ah! what have I done?\" he cried. \"But the little rascals\nshall pay for it, I warrant them.\"\n\nHe first threw some water on his wife's face; and, as soon as she came\nto herself, he said to her: \"Bring me quickly my seven-league boots,\nthat I may go and catch the little vipers.\"\n\nThe Ogre then put on these boots, and set out with all speed. He\nstrided over many parts of the country, and at last turned into the\nvery road in which the poor children were. For they had set off\ntowards the fagot-maker's cottage, which they had almost reached. They\nwatched the Ogre stepping from mountain to mountain at one step, and\ncrossing rivers as if they had been tiny brooks. At this\nHop-o'-my-Thumb thought a little what was to be done; and spying a\nhollow place under a large rock, he made his brothers get into it. He\nthen crept in himself, but kept his eye fixed on the Ogre, to see what\nhe would do next.\n\nThe Ogre found himself quite weary with the journey he had gone, for\nseven-league boots are very tiresome to the person who wears them; so\nhe now began to think of resting, and happened to sit down on the very\nrock where the poor children were hid. As he was so tired, and it was\na hot day, he fell fast asleep, and soon began to snore so loud that\nthe little fellows were terrified.\n\nWhen Hop-o'-my-Thumb saw this he said to his brothers, \"Courage, my\nlads! never fear! you have nothing to do but to steal away and get\nhome while the Ogre is fast asleep, and leave me to shift for myself.\"\n\nThe brothers now were very glad to do whatever he told them, and so\nthey soon came to their father's house. In the mean time\nHop-o'-my-Thumb went up to the Ogre softly, pulled off his\nseven-league boots very gently, and put them on his own legs; for\nthough the boots were very large, yet being fairy-boots, they could\nmake themselves small enough to fit any leg they pleased.\n\nAs soon as ever Hop-o'-my-Thumb had made sure of the Ogre's\nseven-league boots, he went at once to the palace, and offered his\nservices to carry orders from the King to his army, which was a great\nway off, and to bring back the quickest accounts of the battle they\nwere just at that time fighting with the enemy. In short, he thought\nhe could be of more use to the King than all his mail-coaches, and so\nshould make his fortune in this manner. He succeeded so well that in a\nshort time he made money enough to keep himself, his father, mother,\nand six brothers, without the trouble of working, for the rest of\ntheir lives. Having done this, he went back to his father's cottage,\nwhere all the family were delighted to see him again. As the great\nfame of his boots had been talked of at court in this time the King\nsent for him, and indeed employed him very often in the greatest\naffairs of the state, so that he became one of the richest men in the\nkingdom.\n\nAnd now let us see what became of the wicked Ogre. He slept so soundly\nthat he never discovered the loss of his boots; but having an evil\nconscience and bad dreams, he fell in his sleep from the corner of the\nrock where Hop-o'-my-Thumb and his brothers had left him, and bruised\nhimself so much from head to foot that he could not stir; so he was\nforced to stretch himself out at full length, and wait for some one to\ncome and help him.\n\nNow a good many fagot-makers passed near the place where the Ogre lay,\nand when they heard him groan they went up to ask him what was the\nmatter. But the Ogre had eaten such a great number of children in his\nlifetime that he had grown so very big and fat that these men could\nnot even have carried one of his legs, so they were forced to leave\nhim there. At last night came on, and then a large serpent came out of\na wood just by and stung him, so that he died in great pain.\n\nBy and by, Hop-o'-my-Thumb, who had become the King's first favorite,\nheard of the Ogre's death; and the first thing he did was to tell his\nMajesty all that the good-natured Ogress had done to save the lives of\nhimself and brothers. The King was so much pleased at what he heard\nthat he asked Hop-o'-my-Thumb if there was any favor he could bestow\nupon her. Hop-o'-my-Thumb thanked the King, and desired that the\nOgress might have the noble title of Duchess of Draggletail given to\nher, which was no sooner asked than granted. The Ogress then came to\ncourt, and lived very happily for many years, enjoying the vast\nfortune she had found in the Ogre's chests. As for Hop-o'-my-Thumb,\nhe every day grew more witty and brave; till at last the King made him\nthe greatest lord in the kingdom, and set him over all his affairs.\n\n\n\n\nBEAUTY AND THE BEAST\n\n\nThere was once a very rich merchant who had six children--three boys\nand three girls. As he was himself a man of great sense, he spared no\nexpense for their education. The three daughters were all handsome,\nbut particularly the youngest; indeed, she was so very beautiful that\nin her childhood every one called her the Little Beauty; and being\nequally lovely when she was grown up, nobody called her by any other\nname, which made her sisters very jealous of her. This youngest\ndaughter was not only more handsome than her sisters, but also was\nbetter tempered. The two eldest were vain of their wealth and\nposition. They gave themselves a thousand airs, and refused to visit\nother merchants' daughters; nor would they condescend to be seen\nexcept with persons of quality. They went every day to balls, plays,\nand public walks, and always made game of their youngest sister for\nspending her time in reading or other useful employments. As it was\nwell known that these young ladies would have large fortunes, many\ngreat merchants wished to get them for wives; but the two eldest\nalways answered that, for their parts, they had no thoughts of\nmarrying any one below a duke or an earl at least. Beauty had quite as\nmany offers as her sisters, but she always answered, with the greatest\ncivility, that though she was much obliged to her lovers, she would\nrather live some years longer with her father, as she thought herself\ntoo young to marry.\n\nIt happened that, by some unlucky accident, the merchant suddenly\nlost all his fortune, and had nothing left but a small cottage in the\ncountry. Upon this he said to his daughters, while the tears ran down\nhis cheeks, \"My children, we must now go and dwell in the cottage, and\ntry to get a living by labor, for we have no other means of support.\"\nThe two eldest replied that they did not know how to work, and would\nnot leave town; for they had lovers enough who would be glad to marry\nthem, though they had no longer any fortune. But in this they were\nmistaken; for when the lovers heard what had happened, they said, \"The\ngirls were so proud and ill-tempered that all we wanted was their\nfortune; we are not sorry at all to see their pride brought down; let\nthem show off their airs to their cows and sheep.\" But everybody\npitied poor Beauty, because she was so sweet-tempered and kind to all,\nand several gentlemen offered to marry her, though she had not a\npenny; but Beauty still refused, and said she could not think of\nleaving her poor father in his trouble. At first Beauty could not help\nsometimes crying in secret for the hardships she was now obliged to\nsuffer; but in a very short time she said to herself, \"All the crying\nin the world will do me no good, so I will try to be happy without a\nfortune.\"\n\nWhen they had removed to their cottage the merchant and his three sons\nemployed themselves in ploughing and sowing the fields, and working in\nthe garden. Beauty also did her part, for she rose by four o'clock\nevery morning, lighted the fires, cleaned the house, and got ready the\nbreakfast for the whole family. At first she found all this very hard;\nbut she soon grew quite used to it, and thought it no hardship;\nindeed, the work greatly benefited her health. When she had done she\nused to amuse herself with reading, playing her music, or singing\nwhile she spun. But her two sisters were at a loss what to do to pass\nthe time away: they had their breakfast in bed, and did not rise till\nten o'clock. Then they commonly walked out, but always found\nthemselves very soon tired, when they would often sit down under a\nshady tree, and grieve for the loss of their carriage and fine\nclothes, and say to each other, \"What a mean-spirited, poor, stupid\ncreature our young sister is, to be so content with this low way of\nlife!\" But their father thought differently, and loved and admired his\nyoungest child more than ever.\n\nAfter they had lived in this manner about a year the merchant received\na letter, which informed him that one of his richest ships, which he\nthought was lost, had just come into port. This news made the two\neldest sisters almost mad with joy, for they thought they should now\nleave the cottage, and have all their finery again. When they found\nthat their father must take a journey to the ship, the two eldest\nbegged he would not fail to bring them back some new gowns, caps,\nrings, and all sorts of trinkets. But Beauty asked for nothing; for\nshe thought in herself that all the ship was worth would hardly buy\neverything her sisters wished for. \"Beauty,\" said the merchant, \"how\ncomes it that you ask for nothing? What can I bring you, my child?\"\n\n\"Since you are so kind as to think of me, dear father,\" she answered,\n\"I should be glad if you would bring me a rose, for we have none in\nour garden.\" Now Beauty did not indeed wish for a rose, nor anything\nelse, but she only said this that she might not affront her sisters;\notherwise they would have said she wanted her father to praise her for\ndesiring nothing. The merchant took his leave of them, and set out on\nhis journey; but when he got to the ship some persons went to law with\nhim about the cargo, and after a deal of trouble he came back to his\ncottage as poor as he had left it. When he was within thirty miles of\nhis home, and thinking of the joy of again meeting his children, he\nlost his way in the midst of a dense forest. It rained and snowed very\nhard, and, besides, the wind was so high as to throw him twice from\nhis horse. Night came on, and he feared he should die of cold and\nhunger, or be torn to pieces by the wolves that he heard howling round\nhim. All at once he cast his eyes towards a long avenue, and saw at\nthe end a light, but it seemed a great way off. He made the best of\nhis way towards it, and found that it came from a splendid palace, the\nwindows of which were all blazing with light. It had great bronze\ngates, standing wide open, and fine court-yards, through which the\nmerchant passed; but not a living soul was to be seen. There were\nstables too, which his poor, starved horse, less scrupulous than\nhimself, entered at once, and took a good meal of oats and hay. His\nmaster then tied him up, and walked towards the entrance-hall, but\nstill without seeing a single creature. He went on to a large\ndining-parlor, where he found a good fire, and a table covered with\nsome very nice dishes, but only one plate with a knife and fork. As\nthe snow and rain had wetted him to the skin, he went up to the fire\nto dry himself. \"I hope,\" said he, \"the master of the house or his\nservants will excuse me, for it surely will not be long now before I\nsee them.\" He waited some time, but still nobody came; at last the\nclock struck eleven, and the merchant, being quite faint for the want\nof food, helped himself to a chicken, and to a few glasses of wine,\nyet all the time trembling with fear. He sat till the clock struck\ntwelve, and then, taking courage, began to think he might as well look\nabout him; so he opened a door at the end of the hall, and went\nthrough it into a very grand room, in which there was a fine bed; and\nas he was feeling very weary, he shut the door, took off his clothes,\nand got into it.\n\nIt was ten o'clock in the morning before he awoke, when he was amazed\nto see a handsome new suit of clothes laid ready for him, instead of\nhis own, which were all torn and spoiled. \"To be sure,\" said he to\nhimself, \"this place belongs to some good fairy, who has taken pity on\nmy ill luck.\" He looked out of the window, and instead of the\nsnow-covered wood, where he had lost himself the previous night, he\nsaw the most charming arbors covered with all kinds of flowers.\nReturning to the hall where he had supped, he found a breakfast-table,\nready prepared. \"Indeed, my good fairy,\" said the merchant aloud, \"I\nam vastly obliged to you for your kind care of me.\" He then made a\nhearty breakfast, took his hat, and was going to the stable to pay\nhis horse a visit; but as he passed under one of the arbors, which was\nloaded with roses, he thought of what Beauty had asked him to bring\nback to her, and so he took a bunch of roses to carry home. At the\nsame moment he heard a loud noise, and saw coming towards him a beast,\nso frightful to look at that he was ready to faint with fear.\n\"Ungrateful man!\" said the beast, in a terrible voice, \"I have saved\nyour life by admitting you into my palace, and in return you steal my\nroses, which I value more than anything I possess. But you shall atone\nfor your fault: you shall die in a quarter of an hour.\"\n\nThe merchant fell on his knees, and, clasping his hands, said, \"Sir, I\nhumbly beg your pardon. I did not think it would offend you to gather\na rose for one of my daughters, who had entreated me to bring her one\nhome. Do not kill me, my lord!\"\n\n\"I am not a lord, but a beast,\" replied the monster; \"I hate false\ncompliments, so do not fancy that you can coax me by any such ways.\nYou tell me that you have daughters; now I will suffer you to escape\nif one of them will come and die in your stead. If not, promise that\nyou will yourself return in three months, to be dealt with as I may\nchoose.\"\n\nThe tender-hearted merchant had no thoughts of letting any one of his\ndaughters die for his sake; but he knew that if he seemed to accept\nthe beast's terms, he should at least have the pleasure of seeing them\nonce again. So he gave his promise, and was told he might set off as\nsoon as he liked. \"But,\" said the beast, \"I do not wish you to go back\nempty-handed. Go to the room you slept in, and you will find a chest\nthere; fill it with whatsoever you like best, and I will have it taken\nto your own house for you.\"\n\nWhen the beast had said this he went away. The good merchant, left to\nhimself, began to consider that as he must die--for he had no thought\nof breaking a promise, made even to a beast--he might as well have the\ncomfort of leaving his children provided for. He returned to the room\nhe had slept in, and found there heaps of gold pieces lying about. He\nfilled the chest with them to the very brim, locked it, and, mounting\nhis horse, left the palace as sorrowful as he had been glad when he\nfirst beheld it. The horse took a path across the forest of his own\naccord, and in a few hours they reached the merchant's house. His\nchildren came running round him, but, instead of kissing them with\njoy, he could not help weeping as he looked at them. He held in his\nhand the bunch of roses, which he gave to Beauty, saying, \"Take these\nroses, Beauty; but little do you think how dear they have cost your\npoor father.\" And then he gave them an account of all that he had\nseen or heard in the palace of the beast.\n\nThe two eldest sisters now began to shed tears, and to lay the blame\nupon Beauty, who, they said, would be the cause of her father's death.\n\"See,\" said they, \"what happens from the pride of the little wretch;\nwhy did not she ask for such things as we did? But, to be sure, miss\nmust not be like other people; and though she will be the cause of her\nfather's death, yet she does not shed a tear.\"\n\n\"It would be useless,\" replied Beauty; \"for father shall not die. As\nthe beast will accept of one of his daughters, I will give myself up,\nand be only too happy to prove my love for the best of fathers.\"\n\n\"No, sister,\" said the three brothers, with one voice, \"that cannot\nbe; we will go in search of this monster, and either he or we will\nperish.\"\n\n\"Do not hope to kill him,\" said the merchant; \"his power is far too\ngreat. But Beauty's young life shall not be sacrificed; I am old, and\ncannot expect to live much longer; so I shall but give up a few years\nof my life, and shall only grieve for the sake of my children.\"\n\n\"Never, father!\" cried Beauty; \"if you go back to the palace, you\ncannot hinder my going after you; though young, I am not over-fond of\nlife; and I would much rather be eaten up by the monster than die of\ngrief for your loss.\"\n\nThe merchant in vain tried to reason with Beauty, who still\nobstinately kept to her purpose; which, in truth, made her two sisters\nglad, for they were jealous of her, because everybody loved her.\n\nThe merchant was so grieved at the thoughts of losing his child that\nhe never once thought of the chest filled with gold, but at night, to\nhis great surprise, he found it standing by his bedside. He said\nnothing about his riches to his eldest daughters, for he knew very\nwell it would at once make them want to return to town; but he told\nBeauty his secret, and she then said that while he was away two\ngentlemen had been on a visit at their cottage who had fallen in love\nwith her two sisters. She entreated her father to marry them without\ndelay, for she was so sweet-natured she only wished them to be happy.\n\nThree months went by only too fast, and then the merchant and Beauty\ngot ready to set out for the palace of the beast. Upon this the two\nsisters rubbed their eyes with an onion to make believe they were\ncrying; both the merchant and his sons cried in earnest. Only Beauty\nshed no tears. They reached the palace in a very few hours, and the\nhorse, without bidding, went into the same stable as before. The\nmerchant and Beauty walked towards the large hall, where they found a\ntable covered with every dainty, and two plates laid ready. The\nmerchant had very little appetite; but Beauty, that she might the\nbetter hide her grief, placed herself at the table, and helped her\nfather; she then began to eat herself, and thought all the time that,\nto be sure, the beast had a mind to fatten her before he ate her up,\nsince he had provided such good cheer for her. When they had done\ntheir supper they heard a great noise, and the good old man began to\nbid his poor child farewell, for he knew it was the beast coming to\nthem. When Beauty first saw that frightful form she was very much\nterrified, but tried to hide her fear. The creature walked up to her\nand eyed her all over; then asked her, in a dreadful voice, if she had\ncome quite of her own accord.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Beauty.\n\n\"Then you are a good girl, and I am very much obliged to you.\"\n\nThis was such an astonishingly civil answer that Beauty's courage\nrose; but it sank again when the beast, addressing the merchant,\ndesired him to leave the palace next morning, and never return to it\nagain. \"And so good-night, merchant. And good-night, Beauty.\"\n\n\"Good-night, beast,\" she answered, as the monster shuffled out of the\nroom.\n\n\"Ah! my dear child,\" said the merchant, kissing his daughter, \"I am\nhalf dead already, at the thought of leaving you with this dreadful\nbeast; you shall go back and let me stay in your place.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Beauty, boldly, \"I will never agree to that; you must go\nhome to-morrow morning.\"\n\nThen they wished each other good-night and went to bed, both of them\nthinking they should not be able to close their eyes; but as soon as\never they had lain down they fell into a deep sleep, and did not awake\ntill morning. Beauty dreamed that a lady came up to her, who said: \"I\nam very much pleased, Beauty, with the goodness you have shown, in\nbeing willing to give your life to save that of your father. Do not be\nafraid of anything; you shall not go without a reward.\"\n\nAs soon as Beauty awoke she told her father this dream; but though it\ngave him some comfort, he was a long time before he could be persuaded\nto leave the palace. At last Beauty succeeded in getting him safely\naway.\n\nWhen her father was out of sight poor Beauty began to weep sorely;\nstill, having naturally a courageous spirit, she soon resolved not to\nmake her sad case still worse by sorrow, which she knew was vain, but\nto wait and be patient. She walked about to take a view of all the\npalace, and the elegance of every part of it much charmed her.\n\nBut what was her surprise when she came to a door on which was written\nBEAUTY'S ROOM! She opened it in haste, and her eyes were dazzled by\nthe splendor and taste of the apartment. What made her wonder more\nthan all the rest was a large library filled with books, a\nharpsichord, and many pieces of music. \"The beast surely does not mean\nto eat me up immediately,\" said she, \"since he takes care I shall not\nbe at a loss how to amuse myself.\" She opened the library, and saw\nthese verses written in letters of gold on the back of one of the\nbooks:\n\n    \"Beauteous lady, dry your tears,\n    Here's no cause for sighs or fears.\n    Command as freely as you may,\n    For you command and I obey.\"\n\n\"Alas!\" said she, sighing, \"I wish I could only command a sight of my\npoor father, and to know what he is doing at this moment.\" Just then,\nby chance, she cast her eyes on a looking-glass that stood near her,\nand in it she saw a picture of her old home, and her father riding\nmournfully up to the door. Her sisters came out to meet him, and\nalthough they tried to look sorry, it was easy to see that in their\nhearts they were very glad. In a short time all this picture\ndisappeared, but it caused Beauty to think that the beast, besides\nbeing very powerful, was also very kind. About the middle of the day\nshe found a table laid ready for her, and a sweet concert of music\nplayed all the time she was dining, without her seeing anybody. But at\nsupper, when she was going to seat herself at table, she heard the\nnoise of the beast, and could not help trembling with fear.\n\n\"Beauty,\" said he, \"will you give me leave to see you sup?\"\n\n\"That is as you please,\" answered she, very much afraid.\n\n\"Not in the least,\" said the beast; \"you alone command in this place.\nIf you should not like my company you need only say so, and I will\nleave you that moment. But tell me, Beauty, do you not think me very\nugly?\"\n\n\"Why, yes,\" said she, \"for I cannot tell a falsehood; but then I\nthink you are very good.\"\n\n\"Am I?\" sadly replied the beast; \"yet, besides being ugly, I am also\nvery stupid: I know well enough that I am but a beast.\"\n\n\"Very stupid people,\" said Beauty, \"are never aware of it themselves.\"\n\nAt which kindly speech the beast looked pleased, and replied, not\nwithout an awkward sort of politeness, \"Pray do not let me detain you\nfrom supper, and be sure that you are well served. All you see is your\nown, and I should be deeply grieved if you wanted for anything.\"\n\n\"You are very kind--so kind that I almost forgot you are so ugly,\"\nsaid Beauty, earnestly.\n\n\"Ah! yes,\" answered the beast, with a great sigh; \"I hope I am\ngood-tempered, but still I am only a monster.\"\n\n\"There is many a monster who wears the form of a man; it is better of\nthe two to have the heart of a man and the form of a monster.\"\n\n\"I would thank you, Beauty, for this speech, but I am too senseless to\nsay anything that would please you,\" returned the beast, in a\nmelancholy voice; and altogether he seemed so gentle and so unhappy\nthat Beauty, who had the tenderest heart in the world, felt her fear\nof him gradually vanish.\n\nShe ate her supper with a good appetite, and conversed in her own\nsensible and charming way, till at last, when the beast rose to\ndepart, he terrified her more than ever by saying, abruptly, in his\ngruff voice, \"Beauty, will you marry me?\"\n\nNow Beauty, frightened as she was, would speak only the exact truth;\nbesides, her father had told her that the beast liked only to have the\ntruth spoken to him. So she answered, in a very firm tone, \"No,\nbeast.\"\n\nHe did not go into a passion, or do anything but sigh deeply, and\ndepart.\n\nWhen Beauty found herself alone she began to feel pity for the poor\nbeast. \"Oh!\" said she, \"what a sad thing it is that he should be so\nvery frightful, since he is so good-tempered!\"\n\nBeauty lived three months in this palace very well pleased. The beast\ncame to see her every night, and talked with her while she supped; and\nthough what he said was not very clever, yet, as she saw in him every\nday some new goodness, instead of dreading the time of his coming, she\nsoon began continually looking at her watch, to see if it were nine\no'clock; for that was the hour when he never failed to visit her. One\nthing only vexed her, which was that every night before he went away\nhe always made it a rule to ask her if she would be his wife, and\nseemed very much grieved at her steadfastly replying \"No.\" At last,\none night, she said to him, \"You wound me greatly, beast, by forcing\nme to refuse you so often; I wish I could take such a liking to you as\nto agree to marry you, but I must tell you plainly that I do not think\nit will ever happen. I shall always be your friend, so try to let that\ncontent you.\"\n\n\"I must,\" sighed the beast, \"for I know well enough how frightful I\nam; but I love you better than myself. Yet I think I am very lucky in\nyour being pleased to stay with me; now promise me, Beauty, that you\nwill never leave me.\"\n\nBeauty would almost have agreed to this, so sorry was she for him, but\nshe had that day seen in her magic glass, which she looked at\nconstantly, that her father was dying of grief for her sake.\n\n\"Alas!\" she said, \"I long so much to see my father that if you do not\ngive me leave to visit him I shall break my heart.\"\n\n\"I would rather break mine, Beauty,\" answered the beast; \"I will send\nyou to your father's cottage, you shall stay there, and your poor\nbeast shall die of sorrow.\"\n\n\"No,\" said Beauty, crying, \"I love you too well to be the cause of\nyour death; I promise to return in a week. You have shown me that my\nsisters are married, and my brothers are gone for soldiers, so that my\nfather is left all alone. Let me stay a week with him.\"\n\n\"You shall find yourself with him to-morrow morning,\" replied the\nbeast; \"but mind, do not forget your promise. When you wish to return\nyou have nothing to do but to put your ring on a table when you go to\nbed. Good-bye, Beauty!\" The beast sighed as he said these words, and\nBeauty went to bed very sorry to see him so much grieved. When she\nawoke in the morning she found herself in her father's cottage. She\nrang a bell that was at her bedside, and a servant entered; but as\nsoon as she saw Beauty the woman gave a loud shriek; upon which the\nmerchant ran up-stairs, and when he beheld his daughter he ran to her\nand kissed her a hundred times. At last Beauty began to remember that\nshe had brought no clothes with her to put on; but the servant told\nher she had just found in the next room a large chest full of dresses,\ntrimmed all over with gold, and adorned with pearls and diamonds.\n\nBeauty, in her own mind, thanked the beast for his kindness, and put\non the plainest gown she could find among them all. She then desired\nthe servant to lay the rest aside, for she intended to give them to\nher sisters; but, as soon as she had spoken these words, the chest was\ngone out of sight in a moment. Her father then suggested perhaps the\nbeast chose for her to keep them all for herself; and as soon as he\nhad said this, they saw the chest standing again in the same place.\nWhile Beauty was dressing herself a servant brought word to her that\nher sisters were come with their husbands to pay her a visit. They\nboth lived unhappily with the gentlemen they had married. The husband\nof the eldest was very handsome, but was so proud of this that he\nthought of nothing else from morning till night, and did not care a\npin for the beauty of his wife. The second had married a man of great\nlearning; but he made no use of it, except to torment and affront all\nhis friends, and his wife more than any of them. The two sisters were\nready to burst with spite when they saw Beauty dressed like a\nprincess, and looking so very charming. All the kindness that she\nshowed them was of no use; for they were vexed more than ever when she\ntold them how happy she lived at the palace of the beast. The spiteful\ncreatures went by themselves into the garden, where they cried to\nthink of her good-fortune.\n\n\"Why should the little wretch be better off than we?\" said they. \"We\nare much handsomer than she is.\"\n\n\"Sister,\" said the eldest, \"a thought has just come into my head: Let\nus try to keep her here longer than the week for which the beast gave\nher leave, and then he will be so angry that perhaps when she goes\nback to him he will eat her up in a moment.\"\n\n\"That is well thought of,\" answered the other, \"but to do this we must\npretend to be very kind.\"\n\nThey then went to join her in the cottage, where they showed her so\nmuch false love that Beauty could not help crying for joy.\n\nWhen the week was ended the two sisters began to pretend such grief at\nthe thought of her leaving them that she agreed to stay a week more;\nbut all that time Beauty could not help fretting for the sorrow that\nshe knew her absence would give her poor beast; for she tenderly\nloved him, and much wished for his company again. Among all the grand\nand clever people she saw she found nobody who was half so sensible,\nso affectionate, so thoughtful, or so kind. The tenth night of her\nbeing at the cottage she dreamed she was in the garden of the palace,\nthat the beast lay dying on a grass-plot, and with his last breath put\nher in mind of her promise, and laid his death to her forsaking him.\nBeauty awoke in a great fright, and burst into tears. \"Am not I\nwicked,\" said she, \"to behave so ill to a beast who has shown me so\nmuch kindness? Why will not I marry him? I am sure I should be more\nhappy with him than my sisters are with their husbands. He shall not\nbe wretched any longer on my account; for I should do nothing but\nblame myself all the rest of my life.\"\n\nShe then rose, put her ring on the table, got into bed again, and soon\nfell asleep. In the morning she with joy found herself in the palace\nof the beast. She dressed herself very carefully, that she might\nplease him the better, and thought she had never known a day pass away\nso slowly. At last the clock struck nine, but the beast did not come.\nBeauty, dreading lest she might truly have caused his death, ran from\nroom to room, calling out, \"Beast, dear beast!\" but there was no\nanswer. At last she remembered her dream, rushed to the grass-plot,\nand there saw him lying apparently dead beside the fountain.\nForgetting all his ugliness, she threw herself upon his body, and,\nfinding his heart still beat, she fetched some water and sprinkled it\nover him, weeping and sobbing the while.\n\nThe beast opened his eyes. \"You forgot your promise, Beauty, and so I\ndetermined to die; for I could not live without you. I have starved\nmyself to death, but I shall die content since I have seen your face\nonce more.\"\n\n\"No, dear beast,\" cried Beauty, passionately, \"you shall not die; you\nshall live to be my husband! I thought it was only friendship I felt\nfor you, but now I know it was love.\"\n\nThe moment Beauty had spoken these words the palace was suddenly\nlighted up, and all kinds of rejoicings were heard around them, none\nof which she noticed, but hung over her dear beast with the utmost\ntenderness. At last, unable to restrain herself, she dropped her head\nover her hands, covered her eyes, and cried for joy; and, when she\nlooked up again, the beast was gone. In his stead she saw at her feet\na handsome, graceful young prince, who thanked her with the tenderest\nexpressions for having freed him from enchantment.\n\n\"But where is my poor beast? I only want him and nobody else,\" sobbed\nBeauty.\n\n    [Illustration: She saw at her feet a handsome, graceful young\n      prince]\n\n\"I am he,\" replied the prince. \"A wicked fairy condemned me to this\nform, and forbade me to show that I had any wit or sense till a\nbeautiful lady should consent to marry me. You alone, dearest Beauty,\njudged me neither by my looks nor by my talents, but by my heart\nalone. Take it, then, and all that I have besides, for all is yours.\"\n\nBeauty, full of surprise, but very happy, suffered the prince to lead\nher to his palace, where she found her father and sisters, who had\nbeen brought there by the fairy-lady whom she had seen in a dream the\nfirst night she came.\n\n\"Beauty,\" said the fairy, \"you have chosen well, and you have your\nreward, for a true heart is better than either good looks or clever\nbrains. As for you, ladies,\" and she turned to the two elder sisters,\n\"I know all your ill deeds, but I have no worse punishment for you\nthan to see your sister happy. You shall stand as statues at the door\nof her palace, and when you repent of and have amended your faults,\nyou shall become women again. But, to tell you the truth, I very much\nfear you will remain statues forever.\"\n\n\n\n\nLITTLE SNOWDROP\n\n\nOnce upon a time, in the middle of winter, when the flakes of snow\nfell like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window set in an\nebony frame, and sewed. While she was sewing and watching the snow\nfall, she pricked her finger with her needle, and three drops of blood\ndropped on the snow. And because the crimson looked so beautiful on\nthe white snow, she thought: \"Oh that I had a child as white as snow,\nas red as blood, and as black as the wood of this ebony frame!\"\n\nSoon afterwards she had a little daughter, who was as white as snow,\nas red as blood, and had hair as black as ebony. And when the child\nwas born the queen died.\n\nAfter a year had gone by the king took another wife. She was a\nhandsome lady, but proud and haughty, and could not endure that any\none should surpass her in beauty. She had a wonderful mirror, and\nwhenever she walked up to it, and looked at herself in it, she said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nThen the mirror replied:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Thou art the fairest of them all.\"\n\nAnd she was satisfied, for she knew the mirror always told the truth.\nBut Snowdrop grew ever taller and fairer, and at seven years old was\nbeautiful as the day, and more beautiful than the queen herself. So\nonce, when the queen asked of her mirror:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nit answered:\n\n    \"Lady queen, you are grand and tall,\n    But Snowdrop is fairest of you all.\"\n\nThen the queen was startled, and turned yellow and green with envy.\nFrom that hour she so hated Snowdrop, that she burned with secret\nwrath whenever she saw the maiden. Pride and envy grew apace like\nweeds in her heart, till she had no rest day or night. So she called a\nhuntsman and said: \"Take the child out in the forest, for I will\nendure her no longer in my sight. Kill her, and bring me her lungs and\nliver as tokens that you have done it.\"\n\nThe huntsman obeyed, and led the child away; but when he had drawn his\nhunting-knife, and was about to pierce Snowdrop's innocent heart, she\nbegan to weep, and said: \"Ah! dear huntsman, spare my life, and I\nwill run deep into the wild forest, and never more come home.\"\n\nThe huntsman took pity on her, because she looked so lovely, and said,\n\"Run away then, poor child!\" (\"The wild beasts will soon make an end\nof thee,\" he thought.) But it seemed as if a stone had been rolled\nfrom his heart because he had avoided taking her life; and as a little\nbear came by just then, he killed it, took out its liver and lungs,\nand carried them as tokens to the queen. She made the cook dress them\nwith salt, and then the wicked woman ate them, and thought she had\neaten Snowdrop's lungs and liver. The poor child was now all alone in\nthe great forest, and she felt frightened as she looked at all the\nleafy trees, and knew not what to do. So she began to run, and ran\nover the sharp stones, and through the thorns; and the wild beasts\npassed close to her, but did her no harm. She ran as long as her feet\ncould carry her, and when evening closed in, she saw a little house,\nand went into it to rest herself. Everything in the house was very\nsmall, but I cannot tell you how pretty and clean it was.\n\nThere stood a little table, covered with a white tablecloth, on which\nwere seven little plates (each little plate with its own little\nspoon)--also seven little knives and forks, and seven little cups.\nRound the walls stood seven little beds close together, with sheets as\nwhite as snow. Snowdrop being so hungry and thirsty, ate a little of\nthe vegetables and bread on each plate, and drank a drop of wine from\nevery cup, for she did not like to empty one entirely.\n\nThen, being very tired, she laid herself down in one of the beds, but\ncould not make herself comfortable, for one was too long, and another\ntoo short. The seventh, luckily, was just right; so there she stayed,\nsaid her prayers, and fell asleep.\n\nWhen it was grown quite dark, home came the masters of the house,\nseven dwarfs, who delved and mined for iron among the mountains. They\nlighted their seven candles, and as soon as there was a light in the\nkitchen, they saw that some one had been there, for it was not quite\nso orderly as they had left it.\n\nThe first said, \"Who has been sitting on my stool?\"\n\nThe second, \"Who has eaten off my plate?\"\n\nThe third, \"Who has taken part of my loaf?\"\n\nThe fourth, \"Who has touched my vegetables?\"\n\nThe fifth, \"Who has used my fork?\"\n\nThe sixth, \"Who has cut with my knife?\"\n\nThe seventh, \"Who has drunk out of my little cup?\"\n\nThen the first dwarf looked about, and saw that there was a slight\nhollow in his bed, so he asked, \"Who has been lying in my little bed?\"\n\nThe others came running, and each called out, \"Some one has also been\nlying in my bed.\"\n\nBut the seventh, when he looked in his bed, saw Snowdrop there, fast\nasleep. He called the others, who flocked round with cries of\nsurprise, fetched their seven candles, and cast the light on Snowdrop.\n\n\"Oh, Heaven,\" they cried, \"what a lovely child!\" and were so pleased\nthat they would not wake her, but let her sleep on in the little bed.\nThe seventh dwarf slept with all his companions in turn, an hour with\neach, and so they spent the night. When it was morning Snowdrop woke\nup, and was frightened when she saw the seven dwarfs. They were very\nfriendly, however, and inquired her name.\n\n\"Snowdrop,\" answered she.\n\n\"How have you found your way to our house?\" further asked the dwarfs.\n\nSo she told them how her stepmother had tried to kill her, how the\nhuntsman had spared her life, and how she had run the whole day\nthrough, till at last she had found their little house.\n\nThen the dwarfs said, \"If thou wilt keep our house, cook, make the\nbeds, wash, sew and knit, and make all neat and clean, thou canst stay\nwith us and shalt want for nothing.\"\n\n\"I will, right willingly,\" said Snowdrop. So she dwelt with them, and\nkept their house in order. Every morning they went out among the\nmountains, to seek iron and gold, and came home ready for supper in\nthe evening.\n\nThe maiden being left alone all day long, the good dwarfs warned her,\nsaying, \"Beware of thy wicked stepmother, who will soon find out that\nthou art here; take care that thou lettest nobody in.\"\n\n    [Illustration: \"Oh, Heaven,\" they cried, \"what a lovely child!\"]\n\nThe queen, however, after having, as she thought, eaten Snowdrop's\nlungs and liver, had no doubt that she was again the first and fairest\nwoman in the world; so she walked up to her mirror, and said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nThe mirror replied:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here you are fairest of them all;\n    But over the hills, with the seven dwarfs old,\n    Lives Snowdrop, fairer a hundredfold.\"\n\nShe trembled, knowing that the mirror never told a falsehood; she felt\nsure that the huntsman had deceived her, and that Snowdrop was still\nalive. She pondered once more, late and early, early and late, how\nbest to kill Snowdrop; for envy gave her no rest, day or night, while\nshe herself was not the fairest lady in the land. When she had planned\nwhat to do she painted her face, dressed herself like an old\npedler-woman, and altered her appearance so much that no one could\nhave known her. In this disguise she went over the seven hills to\nwhere the seven dwarfs dwelt, knocked at the door, and cried, \"Good\nwares, cheap!--very cheap!\"\n\nSnowdrop looked out of the window and cried, \"Good-morning, good\nwoman. What have you to sell?\"\n\n\"Good wares, smart wares,\" answered the queen--\"bodice laces of all\ncolors;\" and drew out one which was woven of colored silk.\n\n\"I may surely let this honest dame in!\" thought Snowdrop; so she\nunfastened the door, and bought for herself the pretty lace.\n\n\"Child,\" said the old woman, \"what a figure thou art! Let me lace thee\nfor once properly.\" Snowdrop feared no harm, so stepped in front of\nher, and allowed her bodice to be fastened up with the new lace.\n\nBut the old woman laced so quick and laced so tight that Snowdrop's\nbreath was stopped, and she fell down as if dead. \"Now I am fairest at\nlast,\" said the old woman to herself, and sped away.\n\nThe seven dwarfs came home soon after, at eventide, but how alarmed\nwere they to find their poor Snowdrop lifeless on the ground! They\nlifted her up, and, seeing that she was laced too tightly, cut the\nlace of her bodice; she began to breathe faintly, and slowly returned\nto life. When the dwarfs heard what had happened, they said, \"The old\npedler-woman was none other than the wicked queen. Be careful of\nthyself, and open the door to no one if we are not at home.\"\n\nThe cruel stepmother walked up to her mirror when she reached home,\nand said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nTo which it answered, as usual:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here you are fairest of them all;\n    But over the hills, with the seven dwarfs old,\n    Lives Snowdrop, fairer a hundredfold.\"\n\nWhen she heard this she was so alarmed that all the blood rushed to\nher heart, for she saw plainly that Snowdrop was still alive.\n\n\"This time,\" said she, \"I will think of some means that shall destroy\nher utterly;\" and with the help of witchcraft, in which she was\nskilful, she made a poisoned comb. Then she changed her dress and took\nthe shape of another old woman.\n\nAgain she crossed the seven hills to the home of the seven dwarfs,\nknocked at the door, and cried, \"Good wares, very cheap!\"\n\nSnowdrop looked out and said, \"Go away--I dare let no one in.\"\n\n\"You may surely be allowed to look!\" answered the old woman, and she\ndrew out the poisoned comb and held it up. The girl was so pleased\nwith it that she let herself be cajoled, and opened the door.\n\nWhen the bargain was struck the dame said, \"Now let me dress your hair\nproperly for once.\" Poor Snowdrop took no heed, and let the old woman\nbegin; but the comb had scarcely touched her hair before the poison\nworked, and she fell down senseless.\n\n\"Paragon of beauty!\" said the wicked woman, \"all is over with thee\nnow,\" and went away.\n\nLuckily it was near evening, and the seven dwarfs soon came home. When\nthey found Snowdrop lifeless on the ground they at once distrusted her\nstepmother. They searched, and found the poisoned comb; and as soon as\nthey had drawn it out, Snowdrop came to herself, and told them what\nhad happened. Again they warned her to be careful, and open the door\nto no one.\n\nThe queen placed herself before the mirror at home and said:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nBut it again answered:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here, you are fairest of them all;\n    But over the hills, with the seven dwarfs old,\n    Lives Snowdrop, fairer a thousandfold.\"\n\nWhen she heard the mirror speak thus she quivered with rage. \"Snowdrop\nshall die,\" she cried, \"if it costs my own life!\"\n\nThen she went to a secret and lonely chamber, where no one ever\ndisturbed her, and compounded an apple of deadly poison. Ripe and rosy\ncheeked, it was so beautiful to look upon that all who saw it longed\nfor it; but it brought death to any who should eat it. When the apple\nwas ready she painted her face, disguised herself as a peasant-woman,\nand journeyed over the seven hills to where the seven dwarfs dwelt. At\nthe sound of the knock Snowdrop put her head out of the window, and\nsaid, \"I cannot open the door to anybody, for the seven dwarfs have\nforbidden me to do so.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" replied the peasant-woman; \"I only want to be rid of my\napples. Here, I will give you one of them!\"\n\n\"No,\" said Snowdrop, \"I dare not take it.\"\n\n\"Art thou afraid of being poisoned?\" asked the old woman. \"Look here;\nI will cut the apple in two, and you shall eat the rosy side, and I\nthe white.\"\n\nNow the fruit was so cunningly made that only the rosy side was\npoisoned. Snowdrop longed for the pretty apple; and when she saw the\npeasant-woman eating it she could resist no longer, but stretched out\nher hand and took the poisoned half. She had scarcely tasted it when\nshe fell lifeless to the ground.\n\nThe queen, laughing loudly, watched her with a barbarous look, and\ncried: \"Oh, thou who art white as snow, red as blood, and black as\nebony, the seven dwarfs cannot awaken thee this time!\"\n\nAnd when she asked the mirror at home,\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nthe mirror at last replied,\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall.\n    You are the fairest of them all.\"\n\nSo her envious heart had as much repose as an envious heart can ever\nknow.\n\nWhen the dwarfs came home in the evening they found Snowdrop lying\nbreathless and motionless on the ground. They lifted her up, searched\nwhether she had anything poisonous about her, unlaced her, combed her\nhair, washed her with water and with wine; but all was useless, for\nthey could not bring the darling back to life. They laid her on a\nbier, and all the seven placed themselves round it, and mourned for\nher three long days. Then they would have buried her, but that she\nstill looked so fresh and lifelike, and had such lovely rosy cheeks.\n\"We cannot lower her into the dark earth,\" said they; and caused a\ntransparent coffin of glass to be made, so that she could be seen on\nall sides, and laid her in it, writing her name outside in letters of\ngold, which told that she was the daughter of a king. Then they placed\nthe coffin on the mountain above, and one of them always stayed by it\nand guarded it. But there was little need to guard it, for even the\nwild animals came and mourned for Snowdrop: the birds likewise--first\nan owl, and then a raven, and afterwards a dove.\n\nLong, long years did Snowdrop lay in her coffin unchanged, looking as\nthough asleep, for she was still white as snow, red as blood, and her\nhair was as black as ebony. At last the son of a king chanced to\nwander into the forest, and came to the dwarf's house for a night's\nshelter. He saw the coffin on the mountain with the beautiful Snowdrop\nin it, and read what was written there in letters of gold. Then he\nsaid to the dwarfs, \"Let me have the coffin! I will give you whatever\nyou like to ask for it.\"\n\nBut the dwarfs answered, \"We would not part with it for all the gold\nin the world.\"\n\nHe said again, \"Yet give it me; for I cannot live without seeing\nSnowdrop, and though she is dead, I will prize and honor her as my\nbeloved.\"\n\nThen the good dwarfs took pity on him, and gave him the coffin. The\nprince had it borne away by his servants. They happened to stumble\nover a bush, and the shock forced the bit of poisoned apple which\nSnowdrop had tasted out of her throat. Immediately she opened her\neyes, raised the coffin-lid, and sat up alive once more. \"Oh, heaven!\"\ncried she, \"where am I?\"\n\nThe prince answered, joyfully. \"Thou art with me,\" and told her what\nhad happened, saying, \"I love thee more dearly than anything else in\nthe world. Come with me to my father's castle, and be my wife.\"\n\nSnowdrop, well pleased, went with him, and they were married with much\nstate and grandeur.\n\nThe wicked stepmother was invited to the feast. Richly dressed, she\nstood before the mirror, and asked of it:\n\n    \"Little glass upon the wall,\n    Who is fairest among us all?\"\n\nThe mirror answered:\n\n    \"Lady queen, so grand and tall,\n    Here, you are fairest among them all;\n    But the young queen over the mountains old\n    Is fairer than you a thousandfold.\"\n\nThe evil-hearted woman uttered a curse, and could scarcely endure her\nanguish. She first resolved not to attend the wedding, but curiosity\nwould not allow her to rest. She determined to travel, and see who\nthat young queen could be, who was the most beautiful in all the\nworld. When she came, and found that it was Snowdrop alive again, she\nstood petrified with terror and despair. Then two iron shoes, heated\nburning hot, were drawn out of the fire with a pair of tongs, and laid\nbefore her feet. She was forced to put them on, and to go and dance at\nSnowdrop's wedding--dancing, dancing on these red hot shoes till she\nfell down dead.\n\n\n\n\nTHE 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.\nThey had each a pot for their porridge, a little pot for the Little,\nSmall, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a\ngreat pot for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit\nin; a little chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized\nchair for the Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear.\nAnd they had each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little,\nSmall, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a\ngreat bed for the Great, Huge Bear.\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\nwhile the porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths\nby beginning too soon to eat it. And while they were walking a little\nold woman came to the house. She could not have been a good, honest\nold woman; for, first, she looked in at the window, and then she\npeeped in at the key-hole; and, seeing nobody in the house, she lifted\nthe latch. The door was not fastened, because the bears were good\nbears, who did nobody any harm, and never suspected that anybody would\nharm them. So the little old woman opened the door and went in, and\nwell pleased she was when she saw the porridge on the table. If she\nhad been a good little old woman she would have waited till the bears\ncame home, and then, perhaps, they would have asked her to breakfast;\nfor they were good bears--a little rough or so, as the manner of bears\nis, but for all that very good-natured and hospitable. But she was an\nimpudent, bad old woman, and set about helping herself.\n\nSo first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was\ntoo hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she\ntasted the porridge of the Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her;\nand she said a bad word about that, too. And then she went to the\nporridge of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that, and that was\nneither too hot nor too cold, but just right, and she liked it so well\nthat she ate it all up; but the naughty old woman said a bad word\nabout the little porridge-pot, because it did not hold enough for her.\n\nThen the little old woman sate down in the chair of the Great, Huge\nBear, and that was too hard for her. And then she sate down in the\nchair of the Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she\nsate down in the chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was\nneither too hard nor too soft, but just right. So she seated herself\nin it, and there she sate till the bottom of the chair came out, and\ndown came she, plump upon the ground. And the naughty old woman said a\nwicked word about that, too.\n\nThen the little old woman went up-stairs into the bedchamber in which\nthe three bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the\nGreat, Huge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next\nshe lay down upon the bed of the Middle Bear; and that was too high at\nthe foot for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little,\nSmall, Wee Bear; and that was neither too high at the head nor at the\nfoot, but just right. So she covered herself up comfortably, and lay\nthere till she fell fast asleep.\n\nBy this time the three bears thought their porridge would be cool\nenough, so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old woman had\nleft the 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\nit, too. They were wooden spoons; if they had been silver ones the\nnaughty old woman would have put them in her pocket.\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\nspoon in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.\n\n    \"_Somebody has been at my porridge, and has eaten it all\n    up!_\"\n\nsaid the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.\n\nUpon this the three bears, seeing that some one had entered their\nhouse, and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, began to\nlook about them. Now the little old woman 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 the little old woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the\nMiddle Bear.\n\n    \"Somebody Has Been Sitting In My Chair!\"\n\nsaid the Middle Bear, in his middle voice.\n\nAnd you know what the little old woman had done to the third chair.\n\n    \"_Somebody has been sitting in my chair, and has sate\n    the bottom of 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\nfurther search, so they went up-stairs into their bedchamber. Now the\nlittle old woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of\nits place.\n\n    \"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!\"\n\nsaid the Great, Huge Bear, in his great, rough, gruff voice.\n\nAnd the little old woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear\nout of its 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\nwas the bolster in its place, and the pillow in its place upon the\nbolster, and upon the pillow was the little old woman's ugly, dirty\nhead--which was not in 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: The voice of the little, small, wee bear awakened\n      her at once]\n\nThe little old woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff\nvoice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was\nno more to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder.\nAnd she had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was\nonly as if she had heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she\nheard the little, small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it\nwas so sharp and so shrill that it awakened her at once. Up she\nstarted; and when she saw the Three Bears on one side of the bed she\ntumbled herself out at the other and ran to the window. Now the window\nwas open, because the bears, like good, tidy bears as they were,\nalways opened their bedchamber window when they got up in the morning.\nOut the little old woman jumped; and whether she broke her neck in the\nfall, or ran into the wood and was lost there, or found her way out of\nthe wood and was taken up by the constable and sent to the House of\nCorrection for a vagrant as she was, I cannot tell. But the Three\nBears never saw anything more of her.\n\n    From \"The Green Fairy Book,\" edited by Andrew Lang, by\n    the courtesy of Longmans, Green & Co.\n\n\n\n\nSNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED\n\n\nA poor widow lived alone in a little cottage, in front of which was a\ngarden, where stood two little rose-trees: one bore white roses, the\nother red. The widow had two children who resembled the two\nrose-trees: one was called Snow-white, and the other Rose-red. They\nwere two of the best children that ever lived; but Snow-white was\nquieter and more gentle than Rose-red. Rose-red liked best to jump\nabout in the meadows, to look for flowers and catch butterflies; but\nSnow-white sat at home with her mother, helped her in the house, or\nread to her when there was nothing else to do. The two children loved\none another so much that they always walked hand in hand; and when\nSnow-white said, \"We will not forsake one another,\" Rose-red answered,\n\"Never, as long as we live;\" and the mother added, \"Yes, my children,\nwhatever one has, let her divide with the other.\" They often ran about\nin solitary places, and gathered red berries; and the wild creatures\nof the wood never hurt them, but came confidingly up to them. The\nlittle hare ate cabbage-leaves out of their hands, the doe grazed at\ntheir side, the stag sprang merrily past them, and the birds remained\nsitting on the boughs, and never ceased their songs. They met with no\naccident if they loitered in the wood and night came on; they lay down\ntogether on the moss, and slept till morning; and the mother knew\nthis, and was in no anxiety about them. Once, when they had spent the\nnight in the wood, and the red morning awoke them, they saw a\nbeautiful child, in a shining white dress, sitting by the place where\nthey had slept, who, arising, and looking at them kindly, said\nnothing, but went into the wood. And when they looked round they found\nout that they had been sleeping close to a precipice, and would\ncertainly have fallen down it if they had gone a few steps farther in\nthe dark. Their mother told them it must have been the angel that\ntakes care of good children who had sat by them all night long.\n\nSnow-white and Rose-red kept their mother's cottage so clean that it\nwas a pleasure to look into it. In the summer Rose-red managed the\nhouse, and every morning she gathered a nosegay in which was a rose\noff each tree, and set it by her mother's bed before she awoke. In\nwinter Snow-white lighted the fire, and hung the kettle on the hook;\nand though it was only copper it shone like gold, it was rubbed so\nclean. In the evening, when the snow fell, the mother said, \"Go,\nSnow-white, and bolt the door;\" and then they seated themselves on the\nhearth, and the mother took her spectacles, and read aloud out of a\ngreat book, and the two girls listened, and sat and span. Near them\nlay a lamb on the floor, and behind them, on a perch, sat a white\ndove, with its head under its wing.\n\nOne evening, as they were thus happy together, some one knocked to be\nlet in. The mother said, \"Quick, Rose-red, open the door; perhaps it\nis a traveller who seeks shelter.\" Rose-red went and pushed the bolt\nback, and thought it was a poor man; but a bear stretched his thick\nblack head into the door. Rose-red screamed and sprang back, the\nlittle lamb bleated, the little dove fluttered about, and Snow-white\nhid herself behind her mother's bed. However, the bear began to speak,\nand said, \"Do not be frightened, I will do you no harm; I am half\nfrozen, and only want to warm myself a little.\"\n\n\"You poor bear,\" said the mother, \"lay yourself down before the fire,\nonly take care your fur does not burn.\" Then she called out:\n\"Snow-white and Rose-red, come out; the bear will not hurt you--he\nmeans honestly by us.\" Then they both came out, and, by degrees, the\nlamb and the dove also approached, and ceased to be afraid. The bear\nsaid, \"Children, knock the snow a little out of my fur;\" and they\nfetched a broom, and swept the bear's skin clean; and he stretched\nhimself before the fire and growled softly, like a bear that was quite\nhappy and comfortable. In a short time they all became quite friendly\ntogether, and the children played tricks with the awkward guest. They\npulled his hair, set their feet on his back, and rolled him here and\nthere; or took a hazel rod and beat him, and when he growled they\nlaughed. The bear was very much pleased with this frolic, only, when\nthey became too mischievous, he called out: \"Children, leave me alone.\n\n    \"Little Snow-white and Rose-red,\n    You will strike your lover dead.\"\n\nWhen bedtime came, and the others went to sleep, the mother said to\nthe bear: \"You can lie there on the hearth, and then you will be\nsheltered from the cold and the bad weather.\" At daybreak the two\nchildren let him out, and he trotted over the snow into the wood.\nHenceforward the bear came every evening at the same hour, laid\nhimself on the hearth, and allowed the children to play with him as\nmuch as they liked; and they became so used to him that the door was\nnever bolted until their black companion had arrived. When spring\ncame, and everything was green out-of-doors, the bear said one morning\nto Snow-white: \"Now I must go away, and may not come again the whole\nsummer.\"\n\n\"Where are you going, dear Bear?\" asked Snow-white.\n\n\"I must go into the wood, and guard my treasures from the bad dwarfs;\nin winter, when the ground is frozen hard, they have to stay\nunderneath, and cannot work their way through, but now that the sun\nhas thawed and warmed the earth, they break through, come up, seek,\nand steal; what is once in their hands, and lies in their caverns,\ndoes not come so easily into daylight again.\" Snow-white was quite\nsorrowful at parting, and as she unbolted the door for him, and the\nbear ran out, the hook of the door caught him, and a piece of his skin\ntore off; it seemed to Snow-white as if she had seen gold shining\nthrough, but she was not sure. But the bear ran quickly away, and soon\ndisappeared behind the trees.\n\nAfter some time, their mother sent the children into the wood to\ncollect fagots. They found there a large tree, which had been cut down\nand lay on the ground, and by the trunk something was jumping up and\ndown, but they could not tell what it was. As they came nearer they\nsaw that it was a dwarf with an old withered face, and a snow-white\nbeard a yard long. The end of the beard was stuck fast in a cleft in\nthe tree, and the little fellow jumped about like a dog on a rope, and\ndid not know how to help himself. He stared at the girls with his\nfiery red eyes, and screamed out: \"Why do you stand there? Can't you\ncome and render me some assistance?\"\n\n\"What is the matter with you, little man?\" asked Rose-red.\n\n\"Stupid little goose!\" answered the dwarf; \"I wanted to chop the tree,\nso as to have some small pieces of wood for the kitchen; we only want\nlittle bits; with thick logs the small quantity of food that we cook\nfor ourselves--we are not, like you, great greedy people--burns\ndirectly. I had driven the wedge well in, and it was all going on\nright, but the detestable wood was too smooth, and sprang out\nunexpectedly; and the tree closed up so quickly that I could not pull\nmy beautiful white beard out; now it is sticking there, and I can't\nget away. There, you foolish, soft, milk-faces, you are laughing and\ncrying out: 'How ugly you are! how ugly you are!'\"\n\nThe children took a great deal of trouble, but they could not pull the\nbeard out; it stuck too fast.\n\n\"I will run and fetch somebody,\" said Rose-red.\n\n\"You great ninny!\" snarled the dwarf, \"to want to call more people;\nyou are too many for me now. Can't you think of anything better?\"\n\n\"Only don't be impatient,\" said Snow-white. \"I have thought of\nsomething;\" and she took her little scissors out of her pocket, and\ncut the end of the beard off.\n\nAs soon as the dwarf felt himself free he seized a sack filled with\ngold that was sticking between the roots of the tree; pulling it out,\nhe growled to himself: \"You rude people, to cut off a piece of my\nbeautiful beard! May evil reward you!\" Then he threw his sack over his\nshoulders, and walked away without once looking at the children.\n\nSome time afterwards Snow-white and Rose-red wished to catch some fish\nfor dinner. As they came near to the stream they saw that something\nlike a grasshopper was jumping towards the water, as if it were going\nto spring in. They ran on and recognized the dwarf.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked Rose-red. \"You don't want to go into the\nwater?\"\n\n\"I am not such a fool as that,\" cried the dwarf. \"Don't you see the\ndetestable fish wants to pull me in?\"\n\nThe little fellow had been sitting there fishing, and, unluckily, the\nwind had entangled his beard with the line. When directly afterwards a\ngreat fish bit at his hook the weak creature could not pull him out,\nso the fish was pulling the dwarf into the water. It is true he caught\nhold of all the reeds and rushes, but that did not help him much; he\nhad to follow all the movements of the fish, and was in imminent\ndanger of being drowned. The girls, coming at the right time, held him\nfast and tried to get the beard loose from the line, but in\nvain--beard and line were entangled fast together. There was nothing\nto do but to pull out the scissors and to cut off the beard, in doing\nwhich a little piece of it was lost. When the dwarf saw that, he cried\nout: \"Is that manners, you goose! to disfigure one's face so? Is it\nnot enough that you once cut my beard shorter? But now you have cut\nthe best part of it off, I dare not be seen by my people. I wish you\nhad had to run, and had lost the soles of your shoes!\" Then he fetched\na sack of pearls that lay among the rushes, and, without saying a word\nmore, he dragged it away and disappeared behind a stone.\n\nSoon after the mother sent the two girls to the town to buy cotton,\nneedles, cord, and tape. The road led them by a heath, scattered over\nwhich lay great masses of rock. There they saw a large bird hovering\nin the air; it flew round and round just above them, always sinking\nlower and lower, and at last it settled down by a rock not far\ndistant. Directly after they heard a piercing, wailing cry. They ran\nup, and saw with horror that the eagle had seized their old\nacquaintance, the dwarf, and was going to carry him off. The\ncompassionate children instantly seized hold of the little man, held\nhim fast, and struggled so long that the eagle let his prey go.\n\nWhen the dwarf had recovered from his first fright, he called out, in\nhis shrill voice: \"Could not you deal rather more gently with me? You\nhave torn my thin coat all in tatters, awkward, clumsy creatures that\nyou are!\" Then he took a sack of precious stones, and slipped behind\nthe rock again into his den. The girls, who were used to his\ningratitude, went on their way, and completed their business in the\ntown. As they were coming home again over the heath they surprised the\ndwarf, who had emptied his sack of precious stones on a little clean\nplace, and had not thought that any one would come by there so late.\nThe evening sun shone on the glittering stones, which looked so\nbeautiful in all their colors that the children could not help\nstanding still to gaze.\n\n\"Why do you stand there gaping?\" cried the dwarf, his ash-colored\nface turning vermilion with anger.\n\nWith these cross words he was going away when he heard a loud roaring,\nand a black bear trotted out of the woods towards them. The dwarf\nsprang up terrified, but he could not get to his lurking-hole\nagain--the bear was already close upon him. Then he called out in\nanguish:\n\n\"Dear Mr. Bear, spare me, and you shall have all my treasures; look at\nthe beautiful precious stones that lie there. Give me my life; for\nwhat do you want with a poor thin little fellow like me? You would\nscarcely feel me between your teeth. Rather seize those two wicked\ngirls; they will be tender morsels for you, as fat as young quails;\npray, eat them at once.\"\n\nThe bear, without troubling himself to answer, gave the malicious\ncreature one single stroke with his paw, and he did not move again.\nThe girls had run away, but the bear called after them: \"Snow-white\nand Rose-red, do not be frightened; wait, I will go with you.\"\nRecognizing the voice of their old friend, they stood still, and when\nthe bear came up to them his skin suddenly fell off; and behold he was\nnot a bear, but a handsome young man dressed all in gold.\n\n\"I am a king's son,\" said he; \"I was changed by the wicked dwarf, who\nhad stolen all my treasures, into a wild bear, and obliged to run\nabout in the wood until I should be freed by his death. Now he has\nreceived his well-deserved punishment.\"\n\nSo they all went home together to the widow's cottage, and Snow-white\nwas married to the prince and Rose-red to his brother. They divided\nbetween them the great treasures which the dwarf had amassed. The old\nmother lived many quiet and happy years with her children; but when\nshe left her cottage for the palace she took the two rose-trees with\nher, and they stood before her window and bore every year the most\nbeautiful roses--one white and the other red.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WILD SWANS\n\n\nFar away, where the swallows take refuge in winter, lived a king who\nhad eleven sons and one daughter, Elise. The eleven brothers--they\nwere all princes--used to go to school with stars on their breasts and\nswords at their sides. They wrote upon golden slates with diamond\npencils, and could read just as well without a book as with one, so\nthere was no mistake about their being real princes. Their sister\nElise sat upon a little footstool of looking-glass, and she had a\npicture-book which had cost the half of a kingdom. Oh, these children\nwere very happy; but it was not to last thus forever.\n\nTheir father, who was king over all the land, married a wicked queen\nwho was not at all kind to the poor children; they found that out on\nthe first day. All was festive at the castle, but when the children\nwanted to play at having company, instead of having as many cakes and\nbaked apples as ever they wanted, she would only let them have some\nsand in a tea-cup, and said they must make-believe.\n\nIn the following week she sent little Elise into the country to board\nwith some peasants, and it did not take her long to make the king\nbelieve so many bad things about the boys that he cared no more about\nthem.\n\n\"Fly out into the world and look after yourselves,\" said the wicked\nqueen; \"you shall fly about like birds without voices.\"\n\nBut she could not make things as bad for them as she would have liked;\nthey turned into eleven beautiful wild swans. They flew out of the\npalace window with a weird scream, right across the park and the\nwoods.\n\nIt was very early in the morning when they came to the place where\ntheir sister Elise was sleeping in the peasant's house. They hovered\nover the roof of the house, turning and twisting their long necks, and\nflapping their wings; but no one either heard or saw them. They had to\nfly away again, and they soared up towards the clouds, far out into\nthe wide world, and they settled in a big, dark wood, which stretched\nright down to the shore.\n\nPoor little Elise stood in the peasant's room, playing with a green\nleaf, for she had no other toys. She made a little hole in it, which\nshe looked through at the sun, and it seemed to her as if she saw her\nbrothers' bright eyes. Every time the warm sunbeams shone upon her\ncheek it reminded her of their kisses. One day passed just like\nanother. When the wind whistled through the rose-hedges outside the\nhouse, it whispered to the roses: \"Who can be prettier than you are?\"\nBut the roses shook their heads and answered: \"Elise!\" And when the\nold woman sat in the doorway reading her Psalms the wind turned over\nthe leaves and said to the book: \"Who can be more pious than you?\"\n\"Elise!\" answered the book. Both the roses and the book of Psalms only\nspoke the truth.\n\nShe was to go home when she was fifteen, but when the queen saw how\npretty she was she got very angry, and her heart was filled with\nhatred. She would willingly have turned her into a wild swan too, like\nher brothers, but she did not dare to do it at once, for the king\nwanted to see his daughter. The queen always went to the bath in the\nearly morning. It was built of marble, and adorned with soft cushions\nand beautiful carpets.\n\nShe took three toads, kissed them, and said to the first: \"Sit upon\nElise's head when she comes to the bath, so that she may become\nsluggish like yourself.\" \"Sit upon her forehead,\" she said to the\nsecond, \"that she may become ugly like you, and then her father won't\nknow her! Rest upon her heart,\" she whispered to the third. \"Let an\nevil spirit come over her, which may be a burden to her.\" Then she put\nthe toads into the clean water, and a green tinge immediately came\nover it. She called Elise, undressed her, and made her go into the\nbath; when she ducked under the water, one of the toads got among her\nhair, the other got onto her forehead, and the third onto her bosom.\nBut when she stood up three scarlet poppies floated on the water; had\nnot the creatures been poisonous, and kissed by the sorceress, they\nwould have been changed into crimson roses, but yet they became\nflowers from merely having rested a moment on her head and her heart.\nShe was far too good and innocent for the sorcery to have any power\nover her. When the wicked queen saw this she rubbed her over with\nwalnut juice, and smeared her face with some evil-smelling salve. She\nalso matted up her beautiful hair; it would have been impossible to\nrecognize pretty Elise. When her father saw her, he was quite\nhorrified, and said that she could not be his daughter. Nobody would\nhave anything to say to her, except the yard dog and the swallows, and\nthey were only poor dumb animals whose opinion went for nothing.\n\nPoor Elise wept, and thought of her eleven brothers who were all lost.\nShe crept sadly out of the palace and wandered about all day, over\nmeadows and marshes, and into a big forest. She did not know in the\nleast where she wanted to go, but she felt very sad, and longed for\nher brothers, who, no doubt, like herself had been driven out of the\npalace. She made up her mind to go and look for them, but she had only\nbeen in the wood for a short time when night fell. She had quite lost\nher way, so she lay down upon the soft moss, said her evening prayer,\nand rested her head on a little hillock. It was very still and the air\nwas mild; hundreds of glow-worms shone around her on the grass and in\nthe marsh like green fire. When she gently moved one of the branches\nover her head the little shining insects fell over her like a shower\nof stars. She dreamed about her brothers all night long. Again they\nwere children playing together: they wrote upon the golden slates with\ntheir diamond pencils, and she looked at the picture-book which had\ncost half a kingdom. But they no longer wrote strokes and noughts upon\ntheir slates as they used to do; no, they wrote down all their boldest\nexploits, and everything that they had seen and experienced.\nEverything in the picture-book was alive, the birds sang, and the\npeople walked out of the book, and spoke to Elise and her brothers.\nWhen she turned over a page they skipped back into their places again,\nso that there should be no confusion among the pictures.\n\nWhen she woke the sun was already high; it is true she could not see\nit very well through the thick branches of the lofty forest trees, but\nthe sunbeams cast a golden shimmer around beyond the forest. There was\na fresh, delicious scent of grass and herbs in the air, and the birds\nwere almost ready to perch upon her shoulders. She could hear the\nsplashing of water, for there were many springs around, which all\nflowed into a pond with a lovely sandy bottom. It was surrounded with\nthick bushes, but there was one place which the stags had trampled\ndown, and Elise passed through the opening to the water side. It was\nso transparent that had not the branches been moved by the breeze she\nmust have thought that they were painted on the bottom, so plainly was\nevery leaf reflected, both those on which the sun played, and those\nwhich were in shade.\n\nWhen she saw her own face she was quite frightened, it was so brown\nand ugly; but when she wet her little hand and rubbed her eyes and\nforehead her white skin shone through again. Then she took off all her\nclothes and went into the fresh water. A more beautiful royal child\nthan she could not be found in all the world.\n\nWhen she had put on her clothes again and plaited her long hair she\nwent to a sparkling spring, and drank some of the water out of the\nhollow of her hand. Then she wandered farther into the wood, though\nwhere she was going she had not the least idea. She thought of her\nbrothers, and she thought of a merciful God who would not forsake\nher. He let the wild crab-apples grow to feed the hungry. He showed\nher a tree, the branches of which were bending beneath their weight of\nfruit. Here she made her midday meal, and, having put props under the\nbranches, she walked on into the thickest part of the forest. It was\nso quiet that she heard her own footsteps; she heard every little\nwithered leaf which bent under her feet. Not a bird was to be seen,\nnot a ray of sunlight pierced the leafy branches, and the tall trunks\nwere so close together that when she looked before her it seemed as if\na thick fence of heavy beams hemmed her in on every side. The solitude\nwas such as she had never known before.\n\nIt was a very dark night, not a single glow-worm sparkled in the\nmarsh; sadly she lay down to sleep, and it seemed to her as if the\nbranches above her parted asunder, and the Saviour looked down upon\nher with His loving eyes, and little angels' heads peeped out above\nHis head and under His arms.\n\nWhen she woke in the morning she was not sure if she had dreamed this,\nor whether it was really true.\n\nShe walked a little farther, when she met an old woman with a basket\nfull of berries, of which she gave her some. Elise asked if she had\nseen eleven princes ride through the wood. \"No,\" said the old woman,\n\"but yesterday I saw eleven swans, with golden crowns upon their\nheads, swimming in the stream close by here.\"\n\nShe led Elise a little farther to a slope, at the foot of which the\nstream meandered. The trees on either bank stretched out their rich,\nleafy branches towards each other, and where, from their natural\ngrowth, they could not reach each other, they had torn their roots out\nof the ground, and leaned over the water so as to interlace their\nbranches.\n\nElise said good-bye to the old woman and walked along by the river\ntill it flowed out into the great open sea.\n\nThe beautiful open sea lay before the maiden, but not a sail was to be\nseen on it--not a single boat. How was she ever to get any farther?\nShe looked at the numberless little pebbles on the beach; they were\nall worn quite round by the water. Glass, iron, stone, whatever was\nwashed up, had taken their shapes from the water, which yet was much\nsofter than her little hand. \"With all its rolling, it is untiring,\nand everything hard is smoothed down. I will be just as untiring!\nThank you for your lesson, you clear rolling waves! Some time, so my\npoor heart tells me, you will bear me to my beloved brothers!\"\n\nEleven white swans' feathers were lying on the sea-weed; she picked\nthem up and made a bunch of them. There were still drops of water on\nthem. Whether these were dew or tears no one could tell. It was very\nlonely there by the shore, but she did not feel it, for the sea was\never changing. There were more changes on it in the course of a few\nhours than could be seen on an inland fresh-water lake in a year. If a\nbig black cloud arose it was just as if the sea wanted to say, \"I can\nlook black too,\" and then the wind blew up and the waves showed their\nwhite crests. But if the clouds were red and the wind dropped, the sea\nlooked like a rose-leaf, now white, now green. But, however still it\nwas, there was always a little gentle motion just by the shore; the\nwater rose and fell softly, like the bosom of a sleeping child.\n\nWhen the sun was just about to go down, Elise saw eleven wild swans\nwith golden crowns upon their heads flying towards the shore. They\nflew in a swaying line, one behind the other, like a white ribbon\nstreamer. Elise climbed up onto the bank and hid behind a bush; the\nswans settled close by her and flapped their great white wings.\n\nAs soon as the sun had sunk beneath the water the swans shed their\nfeathers and became eleven handsome princes; they were Elise's\nbrothers. Although they had altered a good deal, she knew them at\nonce; she felt that they must be her brothers, and she sprang into\ntheir arms, calling them by name. They were delighted when they\nrecognized their little sister who had grown so big and beautiful.\nThey laughed and cried, and told each other how wickedly their\nstepmother had treated them all.\n\n\"We brothers,\" said the eldest, \"have to fly about in the guise of\nswans, as long as the sun is above the horizon. When it goes down we\nregain our human shapes. So we always have to look out for a\nresting-place near sunset, for should we happen to be flying up among\nthe clouds when the sun goes down we should be hurled to the depths\nbelow. We do not live here; there is another land, just as beautiful\nas this, beyond the sea; but the way to it is very long, and we have\nto cross the mighty ocean to get to it. There is not a single island\non the way where we can spend the night; only one solitary little rock\njuts up above the water midway. It is only just big enough for us to\nstand upon close together, and if there is a heavy sea the water\nsplashes over us, yet we thank our God for it. We stay there over\nnight in our human forms, and without it we could never revisit our\nbeloved Fatherland, for our flight takes two of the longest days in\nthe year. We are only permitted to visit the home of our fathers once\na year, and we dare only stay for eleven days. We hover over this big\nforest from whence we catch a glimpse of the palace where we were\nborn, and where our father lives; beyond it we can see the high\nchurch towers where our mother is buried. We fancy that the trees and\nbushes here are related to us; and the wild horses gallop over the\nmoors, as we used to see them in our childhood. The charcoal burners\nstill sing the old songs we used to dance to when we were children.\nThis is our Fatherland, we are drawn towards it, and here we have\nfound you again, dear little sister! We may stay here two days longer,\nand then we must fly away again across the ocean to a lovely country\nindeed, but it is not our own dear Fatherland. How shall we ever take\nyou with us! We have neither ship nor boat!\"\n\n\"How can I deliver you!\" said their sister, and they went on talking\nto each other nearly all night; they only dozed for a few hours.\n\nElise was awakened in the morning by the rustling of the swans' wings\nabove her; her brothers were again transformed, and were wheeling\nround in great circles till she lost sight of them in the distance.\nOne of them, the youngest, stayed behind. He laid his head against her\nbosom, and she caressed it with her fingers. They remained together\nall day. Towards evening the others came back, and as soon as the sun\nwent down they took their natural forms.\n\n\"To-morrow we must fly away, and we dare not come back for a whole\nyear, but we can't leave you like this! Have you courage to go with\nus? My arm is strong enough to carry you over the forest, so surely\nour united strength ought to be sufficient to bear you across the\nocean.\"\n\n\"Oh yes; take me with you,\" said Elise.\n\nThey spent the whole night in weaving a kind of net of the elastic\nbark of the willow bound together with tough rushes; they made it both\nlarge and strong. Elise lay down upon it, and when the sun rose and\nthe brothers became swans again they took up the net in their bills\nand flew high up among the clouds with their precious sister, who was\nfast asleep. The sunbeams fell straight onto her face, so one of the\nswans flew over her head so that its broad wings should shade her.\n\nThey were far from land when Elise woke; she thought she must still be\ndreaming, it seemed so strange to be carried through the air so high\nup above the sea. By her side lay a branch of beautiful ripe berries\nand a bundle of savory roots which her youngest brother had collected\nfor her, and for which she gave him a grateful smile. She knew it was\nhe who flew above her head shading her from the sun. They were so high\nup that the first ship they saw looked like a gull floating on the\nwater. A great cloud came up behind them like a mountain, and Elise\nsaw the shadow of herself on it, and those of the eleven swans\nlooking like giants. It was a more beautiful picture than any she had\never seen before, but as the sun rose higher, the cloud fell behind,\nand the shadow picture disappeared.\n\nThey flew on and on all day like an arrow whizzing through the air,\nbut they went slower than usual, for now they had their sister to\ncarry. A storm came up, and night was drawing on; Elise saw the sun\nsinking with terror in her heart, for the solitary rock was nowhere to\nbe seen. The swans seemed to be taking stronger strokes than ever;\nalas! she was the cause of their not being able to get on faster; as\nsoon as the sun went down they would become men, and they would all be\nhurled into the sea and drowned. She prayed to God from the bottom of\nher heart, but still no rock was to be seen! Black clouds gathered,\nand strong gusts of wind announced a storm; the clouds looked like a\ngreat threatening leaden wave, and the flashes of lightning followed\neach other rapidly.\n\nThe sun was now at the edge of the sea. Elise's heart quaked, when\nsuddenly the swans shot downward so suddenly that she thought they\nwere falling then they hovered again. Half of the sun was below the\nhorizon, and there for the first time she saw the little rock below,\nwhich did not look bigger than the head of a seal above the water. The\nsun sank very quickly, it was no bigger than a star, but her foot\ntouched solid earth. The sun went out like the last sparks of a bit of\nburning paper; she saw her brothers stand arm in arm around her, but\nthere was only just room enough for them. The waves beat upon the rock\nand washed over them like drenching rain. The heavens shone with\ncontinuous fire, and the thunder rolled, peal upon peal. But the\nsister and brothers held one another's hands and sang a psalm which\ngave them comfort and courage.\n\nThe air was pure and still at dawn. As soon as the sun rose the swans\nflew off with Elise, away from the islet. The sea still ran high; it\nlooked from where they were as if the white foam on the dark green\nwater were millions of swans floating on the waves.\n\n    [Illustration: Elise saw an ice palace, with one bold colonnade\n      built above another]\n\nWhen the sun rose higher Elise saw before her, half floating in the\nair, great masses of ice, with shining glaciers on the heights. A\npalace was perched midway a mile in length, with one bold colonnade\nbuilt above another. Beneath them swayed palm-trees and gorgeous\nblossoms as big as mill wheels. She asked if this was the land to\nwhich she was going, but the swans shook their heads, because what she\nsaw was a mirage--the beautiful and ever-changing palace of Fata\nMorgana. No mortal dared enter it. Elise gazed at it; but as she gazed\nthe palace, gardens, and mountains melted away, and in their place\nstood twenty proud churches with their high towers and pointed\nwindows. She seemed to hear the notes of the organ, but it was the sea\nshe heard. When she got close to the seeming churches they changed to\na great navy sailing beneath her; but it was only a sea mist passing\nbefore her eyes, and now she saw the real land she was bound to.\nBeautiful blue mountains rose before her with their cedar woods and\npalaces. Long before the sun went down she sat among the hills in\nfront of a big cave covered with delicate green creepers. It looked\nlike a piece of embroidery.\n\n\"Now we shall see what you will dream here to-night,\" said the\nyoungest brother, as he showed her where she was to sleep.\n\n\"If only I might dream how I could deliver you,\" she said, and this\nthought filled her mind entirely. She prayed earnestly to God for His\nhelp, and even in her sleep she continued her prayer. It seemed to her\nthat she was flying up to Fata Morgana in her castle in the air. The\nfairy came towards her; she was charming and brilliant, and yet she\nwas very like the old woman who gave her the berries in the wood and\ntold her about the swans with the golden crowns.\n\n\"Your brothers can be delivered,\" she said; \"but have you courage and\nendurance enough for it? The sea is indeed softer than your hands, and\nit molds the hardest stones; but it does not feel the pain your\nfingers will feel. It has no heart, and does not suffer the pain and\nanguish you must feel. Do you see this stinging nettle I hold in my\nhand? Many of this kind grow round the cave where you sleep; only\nthese and the ones which grow in the church-yards may be used. Mark\nthat! Those you may pluck, although they will burn and blister your\nhands. Crush the nettles with your feet and you will have flax, and of\nthis you must weave eleven coats of mail with long sleeves. Throw\nthese over the eleven wild swans and the charm is broken! But remember\nthat from the moment you begin this work till it is finished, even if\nit takes years, you must not utter a word! The first word you say will\nfall like a murderer's dagger into the hearts of your brothers. Their\nlives hang on your tongue. Mark this well!\"\n\nShe touched her hand at the same moment--it was like burning fire--and\nwoke Elise. It was bright daylight, and close to where she slept lay a\nnettle like those in her dream. She fell upon her knees with thanks to\nGod, and left the cave to begin her work.\n\nShe seized the horrid nettles with her delicate hands, and they burnt\nlike fire; great blisters rose on her hands and arms, but she\nsuffered it willingly if only it would deliver her beloved brothers.\nShe crushed every nettle with her bare feet, and twisted it into green\nflax.\n\nWhen the sun went down and the brothers came back they were alarmed at\nfinding her mute; they thought it was some new witchcraft exercised by\ntheir wicked stepmother. But when they saw her hands they understood\nthat it was for their sakes; the youngest brother wept, and wherever\nhis tears fell she felt no more pain and the blisters disappeared.\n\nShe spent the whole night at her work, for she could not rest till she\nhad delivered her dear brothers. All the following day while her\nbrothers were away she sat solitary, but never had the time flown so\nfast. One coat of mail was finished, and she began the next. Then a\nhunting-horn sounded among the mountains; she was much frightened;\nthe sound came nearer, and she heard dogs barking. In terror she\nrushed into the cave, and tied the nettles she had collected and woven\ninto a bundle, upon which she sat.\n\nAt this moment a big dog bounded forward from the thicket, and another\nand another; they barked loudly, and ran backward and forward. In a\nfew minutes all the huntsmen were standing outside the cave, and the\nhandsomest of them was the king of the country. He stepped up to\nElise; never had he seen so lovely a girl.\n\n\"How came you here, beautiful child?\" he said.\n\nElise shook her head; she dared not speak; the salvation and the lives\nof her brothers depended upon her silence. She hid her hands under her\napron, so that the king should not see what she suffered.\n\n\"Come with me,\" he said; \"you cannot stay here. If you are as good as\nyou are beautiful I will dress you in silks and velvets, put a golden\ncrown upon your head, and you shall live with me and have your home in\nmy richest palace!\" Then he lifted her upon his horse: she wept and\nwrung her hands, but the king said: \"I only think of your happiness;\nyou will thank me one day for what I am doing!\" Then he darted off\nacross the mountains, holding her before him on his horse, and the\nhuntsmen followed.\n\nWhen the sun went down the royal city with churches and cupolas lay\nbefore them, and the king led her into the palace, where great\nfountains played in the marble halls, and where walls and ceilings\nwere adorned with paintings; but she had no eyes for them, she only\nwept and sorrowed. Passively she allowed the women to dress her in\nroyal robes, to twist pearls into her hair, and to draw gloves onto\nher blistered hands.\n\nShe was dazzlingly lovely as she stood there in all her magnificence;\nthe courtiers bent low before her, and the king wooed her as his\nbride, although the archbishop shook his head, and whispered that he\nfeared the beautiful wood maiden was a witch who had dazzled their\neyes and infatuated the king.\n\nThe king refused to listen to him; he ordered the music to play, the\nrichest food to be brought, and the loveliest girls to dance before\nher. She was led through scented gardens into gorgeous apartments, but\nnothing brought a smile to her lips or into her eyes; sorrow sat there\nlike a heritage and a possession for all time. Last of all, the king\nopened the door of a little chamber close by the room where she was to\nsleep. It was adorned with costly green carpets, and made to exactly\nresemble the cave where he found her. On the floor lay the bundle of\nflax she had spun from the nettles, and from the ceiling hung the\nshirt of mail which was already finished. One of the huntsmen had\nbrought all these things away as curiosities.\n\n\"Here you may dream that you are back in your former home!\" said the\nking. \"Here is the work upon which you were engaged; in the midst of\nyour splendor, it may amuse you to think of those times.\"\n\nWhen Elise saw all those things so dear to her heart, a smile for the\nfirst time played about her lips, and the blood rushed back to her\ncheeks. She thought of the deliverance of her brothers, and she kissed\nthe king's hand; he pressed her to his heart, and ordered all the\nchurch bells to ring marriage peals. The lovely dumb girl from the\nwoods was to be queen of the country.\n\nThe archbishop whispered evil words into the ear of the king, but they\ndid not reach his heart. The wedding was to take place, and the\narchbishop himself had to put the crown upon her head. In his anger\nhe pressed the golden circlet so tightly upon her head as to give her\npain. But a heavier circlet pressed upon her heart--her grief for her\nbrothers; so she thought nothing of the bodily pain. Her lips were\nsealed, a single word from her mouth would cost her brothers their\nlives, but her eyes were full of love for the good and handsome king,\nwho did everything he could to please her. Every day she grew more and\nmore attached to him, and longed to confide in him, tell him her\nsufferings; but dumb she must remain, and in silence must bring her\nlabor to completion. Therefore at night she stole away from his side\ninto her secret chamber, which was decorated like a cave, and here she\nknitted one shirt after another. When she came to the seventh all her\nflax was worked up; she knew that these nettles which she was to use\ngrew in the church-yard, but she had to pluck them herself. How was\nshe to get there? \"Oh, what is the pain of my fingers compared with\nthe anguish of my heart?\" she thought. \"I must venture out; the good\nGod will not desert me!\" With as much terror in her heart as if she\nwere doing some evil deed she stole down one night into the moonlit\ngarden, and through the long alleys out into the silent streets to the\nchurch-yard. There she saw, sitting on a gravestone, a group of\nhideous ghouls, who took off their tattered garments, as if they were\nabout to bathe, and then they dug down into the freshly made graves\nwith their skinny fingers, and tore the flesh from the bodies and\ndevoured it. Elise had to pass close by them, and they fixed their\nevil eyes upon her; but she said a prayer as she passed, picked the\nstinging nettles, and hurried back to the palace with them.\n\nOnly one person saw her, but that was the archbishop, who watched\nwhile others slept. Surely now all his bad opinions of the queen were\njustified; all was not as it should be with her; she must be a witch,\nand therefore she had bewitched the king and all the people.\n\nHe told the king in the confessional what he had seen and what he\nfeared. When those bad words passed his lips the pictures of the\nsaints shook their heads as if to say: It is not so; Elise is\ninnocent. The archbishop, however, took it differently, and thought\nthat they were bearing witness against her, and shaking their heads at\nher sin. Two big tears rolled down the king's cheeks, and he went home\nwith doubt in his heart. He pretended to sleep at night, but no quiet\nsleep came to his eyes. He perceived how Elise got up and went to her\nprivate closet. Day by day his face grew darker; Elise saw it, but\ncould not imagine what was the cause of it. It alarmed her, and what\nwas she not already suffering in her heart because of her brothers?\nHer salt tears ran down upon the royal purple velvet, they lay upon\nit like sparkling diamonds, and all who saw their splendor wished to\nbe queen.\n\nShe had, however, almost reached the end of her labors, only one shirt\nof mail was wanting; but again she had no more flax, and not a single\nnettle was left. Once more, for the last time, she must go to the\nchurch-yard to pluck a few handfuls. She thought with dread of the\nsolitary walk and the horrible ghouls, but her will was as strong as\nher trust in God.\n\nElise went, but the king and the archbishop followed her; they saw her\ndisappear within the grated gateway of the church-yard. When they\nfollowed they saw the ghouls sitting on the gravestone as Elise had\nsee them before; and the king turned away his head because he thought\nshe was among them--she, whose head this very evening had rested on\nhis breast.\n\n\"The people must judge her,\" he groaned, and the people judged. \"Let\nher be consumed in the glowing flames!\"\n\nShe was led away from her beautiful royal apartments to a dark, damp\ndungeon, where the wind whistled through the grated window. Instead of\nvelvet and silk, they gave her the bundle of nettles she had gathered\nto lay her head upon. The hard, burning shirts of mail were to be her\ncovering, but they could have given her nothing more precious.\n\nShe set to work again, with many prayers to God. Outside her prison\nthe street boys sang derisive songs about her, and not a soul\ncomforted her with a kind word.\n\nTowards evening she heard the rustle of swans' wings close to her\nwindow; it was her youngest brother; at last he had found her. He\nsobbed aloud with joy, although he knew that the coming night might be\nher last; but then her work was almost done, and her brothers were\nthere.\n\nThe archbishop came to spend his last hours with her, as he had\npromised the king. She shook her head at him, and by looks and\ngestures begged him to leave her. She had only this night in which to\nfinish her work, or else all would be wasted, all--her pain, tears,\nand sleepless nights. The archbishop went away with bitter words\nagainst her, but poor Elise knew that she was innocent, and she went\non with her work.\n\nThe little mice ran about the floor bringing nettles to her feet, so\nas to give what help they could, and a thrush sat on the grating of\nthe window where he sang all night as merrily as he could to keep up\nher courage.\n\nIt was still only dawn and the sun would not rise for an hour when the\neleven brothers stood at the gate of the palace, begging to be taken\nto the king. This could not be done was the answer, for it was still\nnight; the king was asleep, and no one dared wake him. All their\nentreaties and threats were useless; the watch turned out, and even\nthe king himself came to see what was the matter; but just then the\nsun rose, and no more brothers were to be seen--only eleven wild swans\nhovering over the palace.\n\nThe whole populace streamed out of the town gates; they were all\nanxious to see the witch burned. A miserable horse drew the cart in\nwhich Elise was seated. They had put upon her a smock of green\nsacking, and all her beautiful long hair hung loose from the lovely\nhead. Her cheeks were deathly pale, and her lips moved softly, while\nher fingers unceasingly twisted the green yarn. Even on the way to her\ndeath she could not abandon her unfinished work. Ten shirts lay\ncompleted at her feet; she labored away at the eleventh amid the\nscoffing insults of the populace.\n\n\"Look at the witch; how she mutters! She has never a book of psalms\nin her hands; no, there she sits with her loathsome sorcery. Tear it\naway from her into a thousand bits!\"\n\nThe crowd pressed around her to destroy her work, but just then eleven\nwhite swans flew down and perched upon the cart flapping their wings.\nThe crowd gave way before them in terror.\n\n\"It is a sign from Heaven! She is innocent!\" they whispered, but they\ndared not say it aloud.\n\nThe executioner seized her by the hand. But she hastily threw the\neleven shirts over the swans, who were immediately transformed to\neleven handsome princes; but the youngest had a swan's wing in place\nof an arm, for one sleeve was wanting to his shirt of mail; she had\nnot been able to finish it.\n\n\"Now I may speak! I am innocent.\"\n\nThe populace who saw what had happened bowed down before her as if\nshe had been a saint, but she sank lifeless in her brother's arms, so\ngreat had been the strain, the terror, and the suffering she had\nendured.\n\n\"Yes, innocent she is indeed,\" said the eldest brother, and he told\nthem all that had happened.\n\nWhile he spoke a wonderful fragrance spread around as of millions of\nroses. Every fagot in the pile had taken root and shot out branches,\nand a great high hedge of red roses had arisen. At the very top was\none pure white blossom; it shone like a star, and the king broke it\noff and laid it on Elise's bosom, and she woke with joy and peace in\nher heart.\n\nAll the church bells began to ring of their own accord, and the\nsinging birds flocked around them. Surely such a bridal procession\nwent back to the palace as no king had ever seen before!\n\n\n\n\nALADDIN AND THE WONDERFUL LAMP\n\n\nThere once lived a poor tailor who had a son called Aladdin, a\ncareless, idle boy who would do nothing but play all day long in the\nstreets with little idle boys like himself. This so grieved the father\nthat he died; yet, in spite of his mother's tears and prayers, Aladdin\ndid not mend his ways. One day, when he was playing in the streets as\nusual, a stranger asked him his age, and if he was not the son of\nMustapha the tailor. \"I am, sir,\" replied Aladdin; \"but he died a long\nwhile ago.\" On this the stranger, who was a famous African magician,\nfell on his neck and kissed him, saying: \"I am your uncle, and knew\nyou from your likeness to my brother. Go to your mother and tell her I\nam coming.\" Aladdin ran home and told his mother of his newly found\nuncle. \"Indeed, child,\" she said, \"your father had a brother, but I\nalways thought he was dead.\" However, she prepared supper, and bade\nAladdin seek his uncle, who came laden with wine and fruit. He\npresently fell down and kissed the place where Mustapha used to sit,\nbidding Aladdin's mother not to be surprised at not having seen him\nbefore, as he had been forty years out of the country. He then turned\nto Aladdin, and asked him his trade, at which the boy hung his head,\nwhile his mother burst into tears. On learning that Aladdin was idle\nand would learn no trade, he offered to take a shop for him and stock\nit with merchandise. Next day he bought Aladdin a fine suit of clothes\nand took him all over the city, showing him the sights, and brought\nhim home at nightfall to his mother, who was overjoyed to see her son\nso fine.\n\nNext day the magician led Aladdin into some beautiful gardens a long\nway outside the city gates. They sat down by a fountain, and the\nmagician pulled a cake from his girdle which he divided between them.\nThey then journeyed onward till they almost reached the mountains.\nAladdin was so tired that he begged to go back, but the magician\nbeguiled him with pleasant stories, and led him on in spite of\nhimself. At last they came to two mountains divided by a narrow\nvalley. \"We will go no farther,\" said the false uncle. \"I will show\nyou something wonderful; only do you gather up sticks while I kindle a\nfire.\" When it was lit the magician threw on it a powder he had about\nhim, at the same time saying some magical words. The earth trembled a\nlittle and opened in front of them, disclosing a square flat stone\nwith a brass ring in the middle to raise it by. Aladdin tried to run\naway, but the magician caught him and gave him a blow that knocked him\ndown. \"What have I done, uncle?\" he said, piteously; whereupon the\nmagician said more kindly: \"Fear nothing, but obey me. Beneath this\nstone lies a treasure which is to be yours, and no one else may touch\nit, so you must do exactly as I tell you.\" At the word \"treasure\"\nAladdin forgot his fears, and grasped the ring as he was told, saying\nthe names of his father and grandfather. The stone came up quite\neasily, and some steps appeared. \"Go down,\" said the magician; \"at the\nfoot of those steps you will find an open door leading into three\nlarge halls. Tuck up your gown and go through them without touching\nanything, or you will die instantly. These halls lead into a garden of\nfine fruit trees. Walk on till you come to a niche in a terrace where\nstands a lighted lamp. Pour out the oil it contains, and bring it me.\"\nHe drew a ring from his finger and gave it to Aladdin, bidding him\nprosper.\n\nAladdin found everything as the magician had said, gathered some fruit\noff the trees, and, having got the lamp, arrived at the mouth of the\ncave. The magician cried out in a great hurry: \"Make haste and give me\nthe lamp.\" This Aladdin refused to do until he was out of the cave.\nThe magician flew into a terrible passion, and throwing some more\npowder onto the fire, he said something, and the stone rolled back\ninto its place.\n\nThe magician left Persia forever, which plainly showed that he was no\nuncle of Aladdin's, but a cunning magician, who had read in his magic\nbooks of a wonderful lamp, which would make him the most powerful man\nin the world. Though he alone knew where to find it, he could only\nreceive it from the hand of another. He had picked out the foolish\nAladdin for this purpose, intending to get the lamp and kill him\nafterwards.\n\n    [Illustration: \"I am the Slave of the Ring, and will obey thee in\n      all things\"]\n\nFor two days Aladdin remained in the dark, crying and lamenting. At\nlast he clasped his hands in prayer, and in so doing rubbed the ring,\nwhich the magician had forgotten to take from him. Immediately an\nenormous and frightful genie rose out of the earth, saying: \"What\nwouldst thou with me? I am the Slave of the Ring, and will obey thee\nin all things.\" Aladdin fearlessly replied: \"Deliver me from this\nplace!\" whereupon the earth opened, and he found himself outside. As\nsoon as his eyes could bear the light he went home, but fainted on the\nthreshold. When he came to himself he told his mother what had passed,\nand showed her the lamp and the fruits he had gathered in the garden,\nwhich were in reality precious stones. He then asked for some food.\n\"Alas! child,\" she said, \"I have nothing in the house, but I have spun\na little cotton and will go and sell it.\" Aladdin bade her keep her\ncotton, for he would sell the lamp instead. As it was very dirty she\nbegan to rub it, that it might fetch a higher price. Instantly a\nhideous genie appeared, and asked what she would have. She fainted\naway, but Aladdin, snatching the lamp, said boldly: \"Fetch me\nsomething to eat!\" The genie returned with a silver bowl, twelve\nsilver plates containing rich meats, two silver cups, and two bottles\nof wine. Aladdin's mother, when she came to herself, said: \"Whence\ncomes this splendid feast?\" \"Ask not, but eat,\" replied Aladdin. So\nthey sat at breakfast till it was dinner-time, and Aladdin told his\nmother about the lamp. She begged him to sell it, and have nothing to\ndo with devils. \"No,\" said Aladdin, \"since chance hath made us aware\nof its virtues, we will use it, and the ring likewise, which I shall\nalways wear on my finger.\" When they had eaten all the genie had\nbrought Aladdin sold one of the silver plates, and so on until none\nwere left. He then had recourse to the genie, who gave him another set\nof plates, and thus they lived for many years.\n\nOne day Aladdin heard an order from the Sultan proclaimed that every\none was to stay at home and close his shutters while the Princess, his\ndaughter, went to and from the bath. Aladdin was seized by a desire to\nsee her face, which was very difficult, as she always went veiled. He\nhid himself behind the door of the bath and peeped through a chink.\nThe Princess lifted her veil as she went in, and looked so beautiful\nthat Aladdin fell in love with her at first sight. He went home so\nchanged that his mother was frightened. He told her he loved the\nPrincess so deeply that he could not live without her, and meant to\nask her in marriage of her father. His mother, on hearing this, burst\nout laughing, but Aladdin at last prevailed upon her to go before the\nSultan and carry his request. She fetched a napkin and laid in it the\nmagic fruits from the enchanted garden, which sparkled and shone like\nthe most beautiful jewels. She took these with her to please the\nSultan, and set out, trusting in the lamp. The Grand Vizier and the\nlords of council had just gone in as she entered the hall and placed\nherself in front of the Sultan. He, however, took no notice of her.\nShe went every day for a week, and stood in the same place. When the\ncouncil broke up on the sixth day the Sultan said to his Vizier: \"I\nsee a certain woman in the audience-chamber every day carrying\nsomething in a napkin. Call her next time, that I may find out what\nshe wants.\" Next day, at a sign from the Vizier, she went up to the\nfoot of the throne and remained kneeling till the Sultan said to her:\n\"Rise, good woman, and tell me what you want.\" She hesitated, so the\nSultan sent away all but the Vizier, and bade her speak freely,\npromising to forgive her beforehand for anything she might say. She\nthen told him of her son's violent love for the Princess. \"I prayed\nhim to forget her,\" she said, \"but in vain; he threatened to do some\ndesperate deed if I refused to go and ask your Majesty for the hand of\nthe Princess. Now I pray you to forgive not me alone, but my son\nAladdin.\" The Sultan asked her kindly what she had in the napkin,\nwhereupon she unfolded the jewels and presented them. He was\nthunderstruck, and turning to the Vizier said: \"What sayest thou?\nOught I not to bestow the Princess on one who values her at such a\nprice?\" The Vizier, who wanted her for his own son, begged the Sultan\nto withhold her for three months, in the course of which he hoped his\nson would contrive to make him a richer present. The Sultan granted\nthis, and told Aladdin's mother that, though he consented to the\nmarriage, she must not appear before him again for three months.\n\nAladdin waited patiently for nearly three months, but after two had\nelapsed his mother, going into the city to buy oil, found every one\nrejoicing, and asked what was going on. \"Do you not know,\" was the\nanswer, \"that the son of the Grand Vizier is to marry the Sultan's\ndaughter to-night?\" Breathless, she ran and told Aladdin, who was\noverwhelmed at first, but presently bethought him of the lamp. He\nrubbed it, and the genie appeared, saying: \"What is thy will?\" Aladdin\nreplied: \"The Sultan, as thou knowest, has broken his promise to me,\nand the Vizier's son is to have the Princess. My command is that\nto-night you bring hither the bride and bridegroom.\" \"Master, I\nobey,\" said the genie. Aladdin then went to his chamber, where, sure\nenough, at midnight the genie transported the bed containing the\nVizier's son and the Princess. \"Take this new-married man,\" he said,\n\"and put him outside in the cold, and return at daybreak.\" Whereupon\nthe genie took the Vizier's son out of bed, leaving Aladdin with the\nPrincess. \"Fear nothing,\" Aladdin said to her; \"you are my wife,\npromised to me by your unjust father, and no harm shall come to you.\"\nThe Princess was too frightened to speak, and passed the most\nmiserable night of her life, while Aladdin lay down beside her and\nslept soundly. At the appointed hour the genie fetched in the\nshivering bridegroom, laid him in his place, and transported the bed\nback to the palace.\n\nPresently the Sultan came to wish his daughter good-morning. The\nunhappy Vizier's son jumped up and hid himself, while the Princess\nwould not say a word, and was very sorrowful. The Sultan sent her\nmother to her, who said: \"How comes it, child, that you will not speak\nto your father? What has happened?\" The Princess sighed deeply, and at\nlast told her mother how, during the night, the bed had been carried\ninto some strange house, and what had passed there. Her mother did not\nbelieve her in the least, but bade her rise and consider it an idle\ndream.\n\nThe following night exactly the same thing happened, and next morning,\non the Princess's refusing to speak, the Sultan threatened to cut off\nher head. She then confessed all, bidding him ask the Vizier's son if\nit were not so. The Sultan told the Vizier to ask his son, who owned\nthe truth, adding that, dearly as he loved the Princess, he had rather\ndie than go through another such fearful night, and wished to be\nseparated from her. His wish was granted, and there was an end of\nfeasting and rejoicing.\n\nWhen the three months were over, Aladdin sent his mother to remind the\nSultan of his promise. She stood in the same place as before, and the\nSultan, who had forgotten Aladdin, at once remembered him, and sent\nfor her. On seeing her poverty the Sultan felt less inclined than ever\nto keep his word, and asked his Vizier's advice, who counselled him to\nset so high a value on the Princess that no man living could come up\nto it. The Sultan then turned to Aladdin's mother, saying: \"Good\nwoman, a sultan must remember his promises, and I will remember mine,\nbut your son must first send me forty basins of gold brimful of\njewels, carried by forty black slaves, led by as many white ones,\nsplendidly dressed. Tell him that I await his answer.\" The mother of\nAladdin bowed low and went home, thinking all was lost. She gave\nAladdin the message, adding: \"He may wait long enough for your\nanswer!\" \"Not so long, mother, as you think,\" her son replied. \"I\nwould do a great deal more than that for the Princess.\" He summoned\nthe genie, and in a few moments the eighty slaves arrived, and filled\nup the small house and garden. Aladdin made them set out to the palace\ntwo and two, followed by his mother. They were so richly dressed, with\nsuch splendid jewels in their girdles, that every one crowded to see\nthem and the basins of gold they carried on their heads. They entered\nthe palace, and, after kneeling before the Sultan, stood in a\nhalf-circle round the throne with their arms crossed, while Aladdin's\nmother presented them to the Sultan. He hesitated no longer, but said:\n\"Good woman, return and tell your son that I wait for him with open\narms.\" She lost no time in telling Aladdin, bidding him make haste.\nBut Aladdin first called the genie. \"I want a scented bath,\" he said,\n\"a richly embroidered habit, a horse surpassing the Sultan's, and\ntwenty slaves to attend me. Besides this, six slaves, beautifully\ndressed, to wait on my mother; and lastly, ten thousand pieces of gold\nin ten purses.\" No sooner said than done, Aladdin mounted his horse\nand passed through the streets, the slaves strewing gold as they went.\nThose who had played with him in his childhood knew him not, he had\ngrown so handsome. When the Sultan saw him he came down from his\nthrone, embraced him, and led him into a hall where a feast was\nspread, intending to marry him to the Princess that very day. But\nAladdin refused, saying: \"I must build a palace fit for her,\" and took\nhis leave. Once home, he said to the genie: \"Build me a palace of the\nfinest marble, set with jasper, agate, and other precious stones. In\nthe middle you shall build me a large hall with a dome, its four\nwalls of massy gold and silver, each side having six windows, whose\nlattices, all except one which is to be unfinished, must be set with\ndiamonds and rubies. There must be stables and horses and grooms and\nslaves; go and see about it!\"\n\nThe palace was finished by next day, and the genie carried him there\nand showed him all his orders faithfully carried out, even to the\nlaying of a velvet carpet from Aladdin's palace to the Sultan's.\nAladdin's mother then dressed herself carefully, and walked to the\npalace with her slaves, while he followed her on horseback. The Sultan\nsent musicians with trumpets and cymbals to meet them, so that the air\nresounded with music and cheers. She was taken to the Princess, who\nsaluted her and treated her with great honor. At night the Princess\nsaid good-bye to her father, and set out on the carpet for Aladdin's\npalace, with his mother at her side, and followed by the hundred\nslaves. She was charmed at the sight of Aladdin, who ran to receive\nher. \"Princess,\" he said, \"blame your beauty for my boldness if I have\ndispleased you.\" She told him that, having seen him, she willingly\nobeyed her father in this matter. After the wedding had taken place\nAladdin led her into the hall, where a feast was spread, and she\nsupped with him, after which they danced till midnight.\n\nNext day Aladdin invited the Sultan to see the palace. On entering the\nhall with the four-and-twenty windows, with their rubies, diamonds,\nand emeralds, he cried: \"It's a world's wonder! There is only one\nthing that surprises me. Was it by accident that one window was left\nunfinished?\" \"No, sir, by design,\" returned Aladdin. \"I wished your\nMajesty to have the glory of finishing this palace.\" The Sultan was\npleased, and sent for the best jewellers in the city. He showed them\nthe unfinished window, and bade them fit it up like the others. \"Sir,\"\nreplied their spokesman, \"we cannot find jewels enough.\" The Sultan\nhad his own fetched, which they soon used, but to no purpose, for in a\nmonth's time the work was not half done. Aladdin, knowing that their\ntask was vain, bade them undo their work and carry the jewels back,\nand the genie finished the window at his command. The Sultan was\nsurprised to receive his jewels again, and visited Aladdin, who showed\nhim the window finished. The Sultan embraced him, the envious Vizier\nmeanwhile hinting that it was the work of enchantment.\n\nAladdin had won the hearts of the people by his gentle bearing. He was\nmade captain of the Sultan's armies, and won several battles for him,\nbut remained modest and courteous as before, and lived thus in peace\nand content for several years.\n\nBut far away in Africa the magician remembered Aladdin, and by his\nmagic arts discovered that Aladdin, instead of perishing miserably in\nthe cave, had escaped, and had married a princess, with whom he was\nliving in great honor and wealth. He knew that the poor tailor's son\ncould only have accomplished this by means of the lamp, and travelled\nnight and day till he reached the capital of China, bent on Aladdin's\nruin. As he passed through the town he heard people talking everywhere\nabout a marvellous palace. \"Forgive my ignorance,\" he asked, \"what is\nthis palace you speak of?\" \"Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin's\npalace,\" was the reply, \"the greatest wonder of the world? I will\ndirect you if you have a mind to see it.\" The magician thanked him who\nspoke, and having seen the palace knew that it had been raised by the\nGenie of the Lamp, and became half mad with rage. He determined to\nget hold of the lamp, and again plunge Aladdin into the deepest\npoverty.\n\nUnluckily, Aladdin had gone a-hunting for eight days, which gave the\nmagician plenty of time. He bought a dozen copper lamps, put them into\na basket, and went to the palace, crying: \"New lamps for old!\"\nfollowed by a jeering crowd. The Princess, sitting in the hall of\nfour-and-twenty windows, sent a slave to find out what the noise was\nabout, who came back laughing, so that the Princess scolded her.\n\"Madam,\" replied the slave, \"who can help laughing to see an old fool\noffering to exchange fine new lamps for old ones?\" Another slave,\nhearing this, said, \"There is an old one on the cornice there which he\ncan have.\" Now this was the magic lamp, which Aladdin had left there,\nas he could not take it out hunting with him. The Princess, not\nknowing its value, laughingly bade the slave take it and make the\nexchange. She went and said to the magician: \"Give me a new lamp for\nthis.\" He snatched it and bade the slave take her choice, amid the\njeers of the crowd. Little he cared, but left off crying his lamps,\nand went out of the city gates to a lonely place, where he remained\ntill nightfall, when he pulled out the lamp and rubbed it. The genie\nappeared, and at the magician's command carried him, together with the\npalace and the Princess in it, to a lonely place in Africa.\n\nNext morning the Sultan looked out of the window towards Aladdin's\npalace and rubbed his eyes, for it was gone. He sent for the Vizier\nand asked what had become of the palace. The Vizier looked out, too,\nand was lost in astonishment. He again put it down to enchantment, and\nthis time the Sultan believed him, and sent thirty men on horseback to\nfetch Aladdin in chains. They met him riding home, bound him, and\nforced him to go with them on foot. The people, however, who loved\nhim, followed, armed, to see that he came to no harm. He was carried\nbefore the Sultan, who ordered the executioner to cut off his head.\nThe executioner made Aladdin kneel down, bandaged his eyes, and raised\nhis scimitar to strike. At that instant the Vizier, who saw that the\ncrowd had forced their way into the court-yard and were scaling the\nwalls to rescue Aladdin, called to the executioner to stay his hand.\nThe people, indeed, looked so threatening that the Sultan gave way and\nordered Aladdin to be unbound, and pardoned him in the sight of the\ncrowd. Aladdin now begged to know what he had done. \"False wretch!\"\nsaid the Sultan, \"come hither,\" and showed him from the window the\nplace where his palace had stood. Aladdin was so amazed that he could\nnot say a word. \"Where is my palace and my daughter?\" demanded the\nSultan. \"For the first I am not so deeply concerned, but my daughter\nI must have, and you must find her or lose your head.\" Aladdin begged\nfor forty days in which to find her, promising if he failed to return\nand suffer death at the Sultan's pleasure. His prayer was granted, and\nhe went forth sadly from the Sultan's presence. For three days he\nwandered about like a madman, asking every one what had become of his\npalace, but they only laughed and pitied him. He came to the banks of\na river, and knelt down to say his prayers before throwing himself in.\nIn so doing he rubbed the magic ring he still wore. The genie he had\nseen in the cave appeared, and asked his will. \"Save my life, genie,\"\nsaid Aladdin, \"and bring my palace back.\" \"That is not in my power,\"\nsaid the genie; \"I am only the Slave of the Ring; you must ask him of\nthe lamp.\" \"Even so,\" said Aladdin, \"but thou canst take me to the\npalace, and set me down under my dear wife's window.\" He at once\nfound himself in Africa, under the window of the Princess, and fell\nasleep out of sheer weariness.\n\nHe was awakened by the singing of the birds, and his heart was\nlighter. He saw plainly that all his misfortunes were owing to the\nloss of the lamp, and vainly wondered who had robbed him of it.\n\nThat morning the Princess rose earlier than she had done since she had\nbeen carried into Africa by the magician, whose company she was forced\nto endure once a day. She, however, treated him so harshly that he\ndared not live there altogether. As she was dressing, one of her women\nlooked out and saw Aladdin. The Princess ran and opened the window,\nand at the noise she made Aladdin looked up. She called to him to come\nto her, and great was the joy of these lovers at seeing each other\nagain. After he had kissed her, Aladdin said: \"I beg of you,\nPrincess, in God's name, before we speak of anything else, for your\nown sake and mine, tell me what has become of an old lamp I left on\nthe cornice in the hall of four-and-twenty windows, when I went\na-hunting.\" \"Alas!\" she said, \"I am the innocent cause of our\nsorrows,\" and told him of the exchange of the lamp. \"Now I know,\"\ncried Aladdin, \"that we have to thank the African magician for this!\nWhere is the lamp?\" \"He carries it about with him,\" said the Princess.\n\"I know, for he pulled it out of his breast to show me. He wishes me\nto break my faith with you and marry him, saying that you were\nbeheaded by my father's command. He is forever speaking ill of you,\nbut I only reply by my tears. If I persist, I doubt not but he will\nuse violence.\" Aladdin comforted her, and left her for a while. He\nchanged clothes with the first person he met in the town, and having\nbought a certain powder returned to the Princess, who let him in by a\nlittle side door. \"Put on your most beautiful dress,\" he said to her,\n\"and receive the magician with smiles, leading him to believe that you\nhave forgotten me. Invite him to sup with you, and say you wish to\ntaste the wine of his country. He will go for some and while he is\ngone I will tell you what to do.\" She listened carefully to Aladdin,\nand when he left her arrayed herself gayly for the first time since\nshe left China. She put on a girdle and head-dress of diamonds, and\nseeing in a glass that she was more beautiful than ever, received the\nmagician, saying, to his great amazement: \"I have made up my mind that\nAladdin is dead, and that all my tears will not bring him back to me,\nso I am resolved to mourn no more, and have therefore invited you to\nsup with me; but I am tired of the wines of China, and would fain\ntaste those of Africa.\" The magician flew to his cellar, and the\nPrincess put the powder Aladdin had given her in her cup. When he\nreturned she asked him to drink her health in the wine of Africa,\nhanding him her cup in exchange for his, as a sign she was reconciled\nto him. Before drinking the magician made her a speech in praise of\nher beauty, but the Princess cut him short, saying: \"Let us drink\nfirst, and you shall say what you will afterwards.\" She set her cup to\nher lips and kept it there, while the magician drained his to the\ndregs and fell back lifeless. The Princess then opened the door to\nAladdin, and flung her arms round his neck; but Aladdin put her away,\nbidding her leave him, as he had more to do. He then went to the dead\nmagician, took the lamp out of his vest, and bade the genie carry the\npalace and all in it back to China. This was done, and the Princess in\nher chamber only felt two little shocks, and little thought she was at\nhome again.\n\nThe Sultan, who was sitting in his closet, mourning for his lost\ndaughter, happened to look up, and rubbed his eyes, for there stood\nthe palace as before. He hastened thither, and Aladdin received him in\nthe hall of the four-and-twenty windows, with the Princess at his\nside. Aladdin told him what had happened, and showed him the dead body\nof the magician, that he might believe. A ten days' feast was\nproclaimed, and it seemed as if Aladdin might now live the rest of his\nlife in peace; but it was not to be.\n\nThe African magician had a younger brother, who was, if possible, more\nwicked and more cunning than himself. He travelled to China to avenge\nhis brother's death, and went to visit a pious woman called Fatima,\nthinking she might be of use to him. He entered her cell and clapped a\ndagger to her breast, telling her to rise and do his bidding on pain\nof death. He changed clothes with her, colored his face like hers,\nput on her veil, and murdered her, that she might tell no tales. Then\nhe went towards the palace of Aladdin, and all the people, thinking he\nwas the holy woman, gathered round him, kissing his hands and begging\nhis blessing. When he got to the palace there was such a noise going\non round him that the Princess bade her slave look out of the window\nand ask what was the matter. The slave said it was the holy woman,\ncuring people by her touch of their ailments, whereupon the Princess,\nwho had long desired to see Fatima, sent for her. On coming to the\nPrincess the magician offered up a prayer for her health and\nprosperity. When he had done the Princess made him sit by her, and\nbegged him to stay with her always. The false Fatima, who wished for\nnothing better, consented, but kept his veil down for fear of\ndiscovery. The Princess showed him the hall, and asked him what he\nthought of it. \"It is truly beautiful,\" said the false Fatima. \"In my\nmind it wants but one thing.\" \"And what is that?\" said the Princess.\n\"If only a roc's egg,\" replied he, \"were hung up from the middle of\nthis dome, it would be the wonder of the world.\"\n\nAfter this the Princess could think of nothing but the roc's egg, and\nwhen Aladdin returned from hunting he found her in a very ill humor.\nHe begged to know what was amiss, and she told him that all her\npleasure in the hall was spoiled for the want of a roc's egg hanging\nfrom the dome. \"If that is all,\" replied Aladdin, \"you shall soon be\nhappy.\" He left her and rubbed the lamp, and when the genie appeared\ncommanded him to bring a roc's egg. The genie gave such a loud and\nterrible shriek that the hall shook. \"Wretch!\" he cried, \"is it not\nenough that I have done everything for you but you must command me to\nbring my master and hang him up in the midst of this dome? You and\nyour wife and your palace deserve to be burnt to ashes but that this\nrequest does not come from you, but from the brother of the African\nmagician whom you destroyed. He is now in your palace disguised as the\nholy woman--whom he murdered. He it was who put that wish into your\nwife's head. Take care of yourself, for he means to kill you.\" So\nsaying, the genie disappeared.\n\nAladdin went back to the Princess, saying his head ached, and\nrequesting that the holy Fatima should be fetched to lay her hands on\nit. But when the magician came near, Aladdin, seizing his dagger,\npierced him to the heart. \"What have you done?\" cried the Princess.\n\"You have killed the holy woman!\" \"Not so,\" replied Aladdin, \"but a\nwicked magician,\" and told her of how she had been deceived.\n\nAfter this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace. He succeeded the\nSultan when he died, and reigned for many years, leaving behind him a\nlong line of kings.\n\n    From \"The Blue Fairy Book,\" edited by Andrew Lang, by\n    permission of Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co.\n\n\n\n\nALI BABA AND THE FORTY THIEVES\n\n\nIn a town in Persia there dwelt two brothers, one named Cassim, the\nother Ali Baba. Cassim was married to a rich wife and lived in plenty,\nwhile Ali Baba had to maintain his wife and children by cutting wood\nin a neighboring forest and selling it in the town. One day, when Ali\nBaba was in the forest, he saw a troop of men on horseback coming\ntowards him in a cloud of dust. He was afraid they were robbers, and\nclimbed into a tree for safety. When they came up to him and\ndismounted, he counted forty of them. They unbridled their horses and\ntied them to trees. The finest man among them, whom Ali Baba took to\nbe their captain, went a little way among some bushes, and said:\n\"Open, Sesame!\"[1] so plainly that Ali Baba heard him. A door opened\nin the rocks, and having made the troop go in, he followed them, and\nthe door shut again of itself. They stayed some time inside, and Ali\nBaba, fearing they might come out and catch him, was forced to sit\npatiently in the tree. At last the door opened again, and the Forty\nThieves came out. As the Captain went in last he came out first, and\nmade them all pass by him; he then closed the door, saying: \"Shut,\nSesame!\" Every man bridled his horse and mounted, the Captain put\nhimself at their head, and they returned as they came.\n\n    [1] Sesame is a kind of grain.\n\nThen Ali Baba climbed down and went to the door concealed among the\nbushes, and said: \"Open, Sesame!\" and it flew open. Ali Baba, who\nexpected a dull, dismal place, was greatly surprised to find it large\nand well lighted, and hollowed by the hand of man in the form of a\nvault, which received the light from an opening in the ceiling. He saw\nrich bales of merchandise--silk, stuff-brocades, all piled together,\nand gold and silver in heaps, and money in leather purses. He went in\nand the door shut behind him. He did not look at the silver, but\nbrought out as many bags of gold as he thought his asses, which were\nbrowsing outside, could carry, loaded them with the bags, and hid it\nall with fagots. Using the words: \"Shut, Sesame!\" he closed the door\nand went home.\n\nThen he drove his asses into the yard, shut the gates, carried the\nmoney-bags to his wife, and emptied them out before her. He bade her\nkeep the secret, and he would go and bury the gold. \"Let me first\nmeasure it,\" said his wife. \"I will go borrow a measure of some one\nwhile you dig the hole.\" So she ran to the wife of Cassim and borrowed\na measure. Knowing Ali Baba's poverty, the sister was curious to find\nout what sort of grain his wife wished to measure, and artfully put\nsome suet at the bottom of the measure. Ali Baba's wife went home and\nset the measure on the heap of gold, and filled it and emptied it\noften, to her great content. She then carried it back to her sister,\nwithout noticing that a piece of gold was sticking to it, which\nCassim's wife perceived directly her back was turned. She grew very\ncurious, and said to Cassim when he came home: \"Cassim, your brother\nis richer than you. He does not count his money, he measures it.\" He\nbegged her to explain this riddle, which she did by showing him the\npiece of money and telling him where she found it. Then Cassim grew so\nenvious that he could not sleep, and went to his brother in the\nmorning before sunrise. \"Ali Baba,\" he said, showing him the gold\npiece, \"you pretend to be poor and yet you measure gold.\" By this Ali\nBaba perceived that through his wife's folly Cassim and his wife knew\ntheir secret, so he confessed all and offered Cassim a share. \"That I\nexpect,\" said Cassim; \"but I must know where to find the treasure,\notherwise I will discover all, and you will lose all.\" Ali Baba, more\nout of kindness than fear, told him of the cave, and the very words to\nuse. Cassim left Ali Baba, meaning to be beforehand with him and get\nthe treasure himself. He rose early next morning, and set out with ten\nmules loaded with great chests. He soon found the place, and the door\nin the rock. He said: \"Open, Sesame!\" and the door opened and shut\nbehind him. He could have feasted his eyes all day on the treasures,\nbut he now hastened to gather together as much of it as possible; but\nwhen he was ready to go he could not remember what to say for\nthinking of his great riches. Instead of \"Sesame,\" he said: \"Open,\nBarley!\" and the door remained fast. He named several different sorts\nof grain, all but the right one, and the door still stuck fast. He was\nso frightened at the danger he was in that he had as much forgotten\nthe word as if he had never heard it.\n\nAbout noon the robbers returned to their cave, and saw Cassim's mules\nroving about with great chests on their backs. This gave them the\nalarm; they drew their sabres, and went to the door, which opened on\ntheir Captain's saying: \"Open, Sesame!\" Cassim, who had heard the\ntrampling of their horses' feet, resolved to sell his life dearly, so\nwhen the door opened he leaped out and threw the Captain down. In\nvain, however, for the robbers with their sabres soon killed him. On\nentering the cave they saw all the bags laid ready, and could not\nimagine how any one had got in without knowing their secret. They cut\nCassim's body into four quarters, and nailed them up inside the cave,\nin order to frighten any one who should venture in, and went away in\nsearch of more treasure.\n\n    [Illustration: Cassim forgets the magic word]\n\nAs night drew on Cassim's wife grew very uneasy, and ran to her\nbrother-in-law, and told him where her husband had gone. Ali Baba did\nhis best to comfort her, and set out to the forest in search of\nCassim. The first thing he saw on entering the cave was his dead\nbrother. Full of horror, he put the body on one of his asses, and bags\nof gold on the other two, and, covering all with some fagots, returned\nhome. He drove the two asses laden with gold into his own yard, and\nled the other to Cassim's house. The door was opened by the slave\nMorgiana, whom he knew to be both brave and cunning. Unloading the\nass, he said to her: \"This is the body of your master, who has been\nmurdered, but whom we must bury as though he had died in his bed. I\nwill speak with you again, but now tell your mistress I am come.\" The\nwife of Cassim, on learning the fate of her husband, broke out into\ncries and tears, but Ali Baba offered to take her to live with him and\nhis wife if she would promise to keep his counsel and leave everything\nto Morgiana; whereupon she agreed, and dried her eyes.\n\nMorgiana, meanwhile, sought an apothecary and asked him for some\nlozenges. \"My poor master,\" she said, \"can neither eat nor sleep, and\nno one knows what his distemper is.\" She carried home the lozenges and\nreturned next day weeping, and asked for an essence only given to\nthose just about to die. Thus, in the evening, no one was surprised to\nhear the wretched shrieks and cries of Cassim's wife and Morgiana\ntelling every one that Cassim was dead. The day after, Morgiana went\nto an old cobbler near the gates of the town who opened his stall\nearly, put a piece of gold in his hand, and bade him follow with his\nneedle and thread. Having bound his eyes with a handkerchief, she took\nhim to the room where the body lay, pulled off the bandage, and bade\nhim sew the quarters together, after which she covered his eyes again\nand led him home. Then they buried Cassim, and Morgiana his slave\nfollowed him to the grave, weeping and tearing her hair, while\nCassim's wife stayed at home uttering lamentable cries. Next day she\nwent to live with Ali Baba, who gave Cassim's shop to his eldest son.\n\nThe Forty Thieves, on their return to the cave, were much astonished\nto find Cassim's body gone and some of their money-bags. \"We are\ncertainly discovered,\" said the Captain, \"and shall be undone if we\ncannot find out who it is that knows our secret. Two men must have\nknown it; we have killed one, we must now find the other. To this end\none of you who is bold and artful must go into the city dressed as a\ntraveller, and discover whom we have killed, and whether men talk of\nthe strange manner of his death. If the messenger fails he must lose\nhis life, lest we be betrayed.\" One of the thieves started up and\noffered to do this, and after the rest had highly commended him for\nhis bravery he disguised himself, and happened to enter the town at\ndaybreak, just by Baba Mustapha's stall. The thief bade him good-day,\nsaying: \"Honest man, how can you possibly see to stitch at your age?\"\n\"Old as I am,\" replied the cobbler, \"I have very good eyes, and you\nwill believe me when I tell you that I sewed a dead body together in a\nplace where I had less light than I have now.\" The robber was\noverjoyed at his good-fortune, and, giving him a piece of gold,\ndesired to be shown the house where he stitched up the dead body. At\nfirst Mustapha refused, saying that he was blindfolded; but when the\nrobber gave him another piece of gold he began to think he might\nremember the turnings if blindfolded as before. This means succeeded;\nthe robber partly led him, and was partly guided by him, right in\nfront of Cassim's house, the door of which the robber marked with a\npiece of chalk. Then, well pleased, he bade farewell to Baba Mustapha\nand returned to the forest. By and by Morgiana, going out, saw the\nmark the robber had made, quickly guessed that some mischief was\nbrewing, and, fetching a piece of chalk, marked two or three doors on\neach side, without saying anything to her master or mistress.\n\nThe thief, meantime, told his comrades of his discovery. The Captain\nthanked him, and bade him show him the house he had marked. But when\nthey came to it they saw that five or six of the houses were chalked\nin the same manner. The guide was so confounded that he knew not what\nanswer to make, and when they returned he was at once beheaded for\nhaving failed. Another robber was despatched, and, having won over\nBaba Mustapha, marked the house in red chalk; but Morgiana being again\ntoo clever for them, the second messenger was put to death also. The\nCaptain now resolved to go himself, but, wiser than the others, he did\nnot mark the house, but looked at it so closely that he could not fail\nto remember it. He returned, and ordered his men to go into the\nneighboring villages and buy nineteen mules, and thirty-eight leather\njars, all empty, except one which was full of oil. The Captain put one\nof his men, fully armed, into each, rubbing the outside of the jars\nwith oil from the full vessel. Then the nineteen mules were loaded\nwith thirty-seven robbers in jars, and the jar of oil, and reached\nthe town by dusk. The Captain stopped his mules in front of Ali Baba's\nhouse, and said to Ali Baba, who was sitting outside for coolness: \"I\nhave brought some oil from a distance to sell at to-morrow's market,\nbut it is now so late that I know not where to pass the night, unless\nyou will do me the favor to take me in.\" Though Ali Baba had seen the\nCaptain of the robbers in the forest, he did not recognize him in the\ndisguise of an oil merchant. He bade him welcome, opened his gates for\nthe mules to enter, and went to Morgiana to bid her prepare a bed and\nsupper for his guest. He brought the stranger into his hall, and after\nthey had supped went again to speak to Morgiana in the kitchen, while\nthe Captain went into the yard under pretence of seeing after his\nmules, but really to tell his men what to do. Beginning at the first\njar and ending at the last, he said to each man: \"As soon as I throw\nsome stones from the window of the chamber where I lie, cut the jars\nopen with your knives and come out, and I will be with you in a\ntrice.\" He returned to the house, and Morgiana led him to his chamber.\nShe then told Abdallah, her fellow-slave, to set on the pot to make\nsome broth for her master, who had gone to bed. Meanwhile her lamp\nwent out, and she had no more oil in the house. \"Do not be uneasy,\"\nsaid Abdallah; \"go into the yard and take some out of one of those\njars.\" Morgiana thanked him for his advice, took the oil-pot, and went\ninto the yard. When she came to the first jar the robber inside said\nsoftly: \"Is it time?\"\n\nAny other slave but Morgiana, on finding a man in the jar instead of\nthe oil she wanted, would have screamed, and made a noise; but she,\nknowing the danger her master was in, bethought herself of a plan, and\nanswered quietly: \"Not yet, but presently.\" She went to all the jars,\ngiving the same answer, till she came to the jar of oil. She now saw\nthat her master, thinking to entertain an oil merchant, had let\nthirty-eight robbers into his house. She filled her oil-pot, went back\nto the kitchen, and, having lit her lamp, went again to the oil-jar\nand filled a large kettle full of oil. When it boiled she went and\npoured enough oil into every jar to stifle and kill the robber inside.\nWhen this brave deed was done she went back to the kitchen, put out\nthe fire and the lamp, and waited to see what would happen.\n\nIn a quarter of an hour the Captain of the robbers awoke, got up, and\nopened the window. As all seemed quiet, he threw down some little\npebbles which hit the jars. He listened, and as none of his men seemed\nto stir he grew uneasy, and went down into the yard. On going to the\nfirst jar and saying, \"Are you asleep?\" he smelled the hot boiled\noil, and knew at once that his plot to murder Ali Baba and his\nhousehold had been discovered. He found all the gang were dead, and,\nmissing the oil out of the last jar, became aware of the manner of\ntheir death. He then forced the lock of a door leading into a garden,\nand climbing over several walls made his escape. Morgiana heard and\nsaw all this, and, rejoicing at her success, went to bed and fell\nasleep.\n\nAt daybreak Ali Baba arose, and, seeing the oil-jars there still,\nasked why the merchant had not gone with his mules. Morgiana bade him\nlook in the first jar and see if there was any oil. Seeing a man, he\nstarted back in terror. \"Have no fear,\" said Morgiana; \"the man cannot\nharm you: he is dead.\" Ali Baba, when he had recovered somewhat from\nhis astonishment, asked what had become of the merchant. \"Merchant!\"\nsaid she, \"he is no more a merchant than I am!\" and she told him the\nwhole story, assuring him that it was a plot of the robbers of the\nforest, of whom only three were left, and that the white-and-red\nchalk-marks had something to do with it. Ali Baba at once gave\nMorgiana her freedom, saying that he owed her his life. They then\nburied the bodies in Ali Baba's garden, while the mules were sold in\nthe market by his slaves.\n\nThe Captain returned to his lonely cave, which seemed frightful to him\nwithout his lost companions, and firmly resolved to avenge them by\nkilling Ali Baba. He dressed himself carefully, and went into the\ntown, where he took lodgings in an inn. In the course of a great many\njourneys to the forest he carried away many rich stuffs and much fine\nlinen, and set up a shop opposite that of Ali Baba's son. He called\nhimself Cogia Hassan, and as he was both civil and well dressed he\nsoon made friends with Ali Baba's son, and through him with Ali Baba,\nwhom he was continually asking to sup with him. Ali Baba, wishing to\nreturn his kindness, invited him into his house and received him\nsmiling, thanking him for his kindness to his son. When the merchant\nwas about to take his leave Ali Baba stopped him, saying: \"Where are\nyou going, sir, in such haste? Will you not stay and sup with me?\" The\nmerchant refused, saying that he had a reason; and on Ali Baba's\nasking him what that was, he replied: \"It is, sir, that I can eat no\nvictuals that have any salt in them.\" \"If that is all,\" said Ali Baba,\n\"let me tell you that there shall be no salt in either the meat or the\nbread that we eat to-night.\" He went to give this order to Morgiana,\nwho was much surprised. \"Who is this man,\" she said, \"who eats no salt\nwith his meat?\" \"He is an honest man, Morgiana,\" returned her master;\n\"therefore do as I bid you.\" But she could not withstand a desire to\nsee this strange man, so she helped Abdallah to carry up the dishes,\nand saw in a moment that Cogia Hassan was the robber Captain, and\ncarried a dagger under his garment. \"I am not surprised,\" she said to\nherself, \"that this wicked man, who intends to kill my master, will\neat no salt with him; but I will hinder his plans.\"\n\nShe sent up the supper by Abdallah, while she made ready for one of\nthe boldest acts that could be thought on. When the dessert had been\nserved, Cogia Hassan was left alone with Ali Baba and his son, whom he\nthought to make drunk and then to murder them. Morgiana, meanwhile,\nput on a head-dress like a dancing-girl's, and clasped a girdle round\nher waist, from which hung a dagger with a silver hilt, and said to\nAbdallah: \"Take your tabor, and let us go and divert our master and\nhis guest.\" Abdallah took his tabor and played before Morgiana until\nthey came to the door, where Abdallah stopped playing and Morgiana\nmade a low courtesy. \"Come in, Morgiana,\" said Ali Baba, \"and let\nCogia Hassan see what you can do.\" And, turning to Cogia Hassan, he\nsaid: \"She's my slave and my housekeeper.\" Cogia Hassan was by no\nmeans pleased, for he feared that his chance of killing Ali Baba was\ngone for the present; but he pretended great eagerness to see\nMorgiana, and Abdallah began to play and Morgiana to dance. After she\nhad performed several dances, she drew her dagger and made passes with\nit, sometimes pointing it at her own breast, sometimes at her\nmaster's, as if it were part of the dance. Suddenly, out of breath,\nshe snatched the tabor from Abdallah with her left hand, and, holding\nthe dagger in her right, held out the tabor to her master. Ali Baba\nand his son put a piece of gold into it, and Cogia Hassan, seeing that\nshe was coming to him, pulled out his purse to make her a present;\nbut while he was putting his hand into it, Morgiana plunged the dagger\ninto his heart.\n\n\"Unhappy girl!\" cried Ali Baba and his son, \"what have you done to\nruin us?\" \"It was to preserve you, master, not to ruin you,\" answered\nMorgiana. \"See here,\" opening the false merchant's garment and showing\nthe dagger; \"see what an enemy you have entertained! Remember, he\nwould eat no salt with you, and what more would you have? Look at him!\nhe is both the false oil merchant and the Captain of the Forty\nThieves.\"\n\nAli Baba was so grateful to Morgiana for thus saving his life that he\noffered her to his son in marriage, who readily consented, and a few\ndays after the wedding was celebrated with great splendor. At the end\nof a year Ali Baba, hearing nothing of the two remaining robbers,\njudged they were dead, and set out to the cave. The door opened on\nhis saying: \"Open, Sesame!\" He went in, and saw that nobody had been\nthere since the Captain left it. He brought away as much gold as he\ncould carry, and returned to town. He told his son the secret of the\ncave, which his son handed down in his turn, so the children and\ngrandchildren of Ali Baba were rich to the end of their lives.\n\n    By the courtesy of Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co.,\n    publishers of \"The Blue Fairy Book,\" edited by Andrew\n    Lang.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECOND VOYAGE OF SINDBAD THE SAILOR\n\n\nI designed, after my first voyage, to spend the rest of my days at\nBagdad, but it was not long ere I grew weary of an indolent life, and\nI put to sea a second time, with merchants of known probity. We\nembarked on board a good ship, and after recommending ourselves to\nGod, set sail. We traded from island to island, and exchanged\ncommodities with great profit. One day we landed on an island covered\nwith several sorts of fruit trees, but we could see neither man nor\nanimal. We walked in the meadows, along the streams that watered them.\nWhilst some diverted themselves with gathering flowers, and others\nfruits, I took my wine and provisions, and sat down near a stream\nbetwixt two high trees, which formed a thick shade. I made a good\nmeal, and afterwards fell asleep. I cannot tell how long I slept, but\nwhen I awoke the ship was gone.\n\nIn this sad condition, I was ready to die with grief. I cried out in\nagony, beat my head and breast, and threw myself upon the ground,\nwhere I lay some time in despair. I upbraided myself a hundred times\nfor not being content with the produce of my first voyage, that might\nhave sufficed me all my life. But all this was in vain, and my\nrepentance came too late. At last I resigned myself to the will of\nGod. Not knowing what to do, I climbed up to the top of a lofty tree,\nfrom whence I looked about on all sides, to see if I could discover\nanything that could give me hopes. When I gazed towards the sea I\ncould see nothing but sky and water; but looking over the land I\nbeheld something white; and coming down, I took what provision I had\nleft, and went towards it, the distance being so great that I could\nnot distinguish what it was.\n\nAs I approached, I thought it to be a white dome, of a prodigious\nheight and extent; and when I came up to it, I touched it, and found\nit to be very smooth. I went round to see if it was open on any side,\nbut saw it was not, and that there was no climbing up to the top, as\nit was so smooth. It was at least fifty paces round.\n\nBy this time the sun was about to set, and all of a sudden the sky\nbecame as dark as if it had been covered with a thick cloud. I was\nmuch astonished at this sudden darkness, but much more when I found it\noccasioned by a bird of a monstrous size, that came flying towards me.\nI remembered that I had often heard mariners speak of a miraculous\nbird called the roc, and conceived that the great dome which I so much\nadmired must be its egg. In short, the bird alighted, and sat over the\negg. As I perceived her coming I crept close to the egg, so that I had\nbefore me one of the legs of the bird, which was as big as the trunk\nof a tree. I tied myself strongly to it with my turban, in hopes that\nthe roc next morning would carry me with her out of this desert\nisland. After having passed the night in this condition, the bird flew\naway as soon as it was daylight, and carried me so high that I could\nnot discern the earth; she afterwards descended with so much rapidity\nthat I lost my senses. But when I found myself on the ground I\nspeedily untied the knot, and had scarcely done so when the roc,\nhaving taken up a serpent of a monstrous length in her bill, flew\naway.\n\nThe spot where it left me was encompassed on all sides by mountains\nthat seemed to reach above the clouds, and so steep that there was no\npossibility of getting out of the valley. This was a new perplexity;\nso that when I compared this place with the desert island from which\nthe roc had brought me, I found that I had gained nothing by the\nchange.\n\nAs I walked through this valley I perceived it was strewed with\ndiamonds, some of which were of a surprising bigness. I took pleasure\nin looking upon them; but shortly saw at a distance such objects as\ngreatly diminished my satisfaction, and which I could not view without\nterror--namely, a great number of serpents, so monstrous that the\nleast of them was capable of swallowing an elephant. They retired in\nthe daytime to their dens, where they hid themselves from the roc,\ntheir enemy, and came out only in the night.\n\nI spent the day in walking about in the valley, resting myself at\ntimes in such places as I thought most convenient. When night came on\nI went into a cave, where I thought I might repose in safety. I\nsecured the entrance, which was low and narrow, with a great stone, to\npreserve me from the serpents, but not so far as to exclude the light.\nI supped on part of my provisions, but the serpents, which began\nhissing round me, put me into such extreme fear that I did not sleep.\nWhen day appeared the serpents retired, and I came out of the cave\ntrembling. I can justly say that I walked upon diamonds without\nfeeling any inclination to touch them. At last I sat down, and\nnotwithstanding my apprehensions, not having closed my eyes during the\nnight, fell asleep, after having eaten a little more of my provisions.\nBut I had scarcely shut my eyes when something that fell by me with a\ngreat noise awaked me. This was a large piece of raw meat; and at the\nsame time I saw several others fall down from the rocks in different\nplaces.\n\nI had always regarded as fabulous what I had heard sailors and others\nrelate of the valley of diamonds, and of the stratagems employed by\nmerchants to obtain jewels from thence; but now I found that they had\nstated nothing but the truth. For the fact is that the merchants come\nto the neighborhood of this valley, when the eagles have young ones,\nand throwing great joints of meat into the valley, the diamonds, upon\nwhose points they fall, stick to them; the eagles, which are stronger\nin this country than anywhere else, pounce with great force upon those\npieces of meat, and carry them to their nests on the precipices of the\nrocks to feed their young; the merchants at this time run to their\nnests, disturb and drive off the eagles by their shouts, and take away\nthe diamonds that stick to the meat.\n\nI perceived in this device the means of my deliverance.\n\nHaving collected together the largest diamonds I could find, and put\nthem into the leather bag in which I used to carry my provisions, I\ntook the largest of the pieces of meat, tied it close round me with\nthe cloth of my turban, and then laid myself upon the ground with my\nface downward, the bag of diamonds being made fast to my girdle.\n\nI had scarcely placed myself in this posture when one of the eagles,\nhaving taken me up with the piece of meat to which I was fastened,\ncarried me to his nest on the top of the mountain. The merchants\nimmediately began their shouting to frighten the eagles; and when they\nhad obliged them to quit their prey, one of them came to the nest\nwhere I was. He was much alarmed when he saw me; but, recovering\nhimself, instead of inquiring how I came thither, began to quarrel\nwith me, and asked why I stole his goods. \"You will treat me,\"\nreplied I, \"with more civility when you know me better. Do not be\nuneasy; I have diamonds enough for you and myself--more than all the\nother merchants together. Whatever they have they owe to chance; but I\nselected for myself, in the bottom of the valley, those which you see\nin this bag.\" I had scarcely done speaking when the other merchants\ncame crowding about us, much astonished to see me; but they were much\nmore surprised when I told them my story.\n\n    [Illustration: The merchants began their shouting to frighten the\n      eagles]\n\nThey conducted me to their encampment, and there, having opened my\nbag, they were surprised at the largeness of my diamonds, and\nconfessed that they had never seen any of such size and perfection. I\nprayed the merchant who owned the nest to which I had been carried\n(for every merchant had his own) to take as many for his share as he\npleased. He contented himself with one, and that, too, the least of\nthem; and when I pressed him to take more, without fear of doing me\nany injury, \"No,\" said he, \"I am very well satisfied with this, which\nis valuable enough to save me the trouble of making any more voyages,\nand will raise as great a fortune as I desire.\"\n\nI spent the night with the merchants, to whom I related my story a\nsecond time, for the satisfaction of those who had not heard it. I\ncould not moderate my joy when I found myself delivered from the\ndanger I have mentioned. I thought myself in a dream, and could\nscarcely believe myself out of danger.\n\nThe merchants had thrown their pieces of meat into the valley for\nseveral days, and each of them being satisfied with the diamonds that\nhad fallen to his lot, we left the place the next morning, and\ntravelled near high mountains, where there were serpents of a\nprodigious length, which we had the good-fortune to escape. We took\nshipping at the first port we reached, and touched at the isle of\nRoha, where the trees grow that yield camphor. The tree is so large,\nand its branches so thick, that one hundred men may easily sit under\nits shade. The juice, of which the camphor is made, exudes from a hole\nbored in the upper part of the tree, is received in a vessel, where it\nthickens to a consistency, and becomes what we call camphor. After the\njuice is thus drawn out, the tree withers and dies.\n\nIn this island is also found the rhinoceros, an animal less than the\nelephant, but larger than the buffalo. It has a horn upon its nose,\nwhich is solid, and cleft through the middle. The rhinoceros fights\nwith the elephant, runs his horn into his belly, and carries him off\nupon his head; but the blood and the fat of the elephant running into\nhis eyes and making him blind, he falls to the ground, and then,\nstrange to relate, the roc comes and carries them both away in her\nclaws, for food for her young ones.\n\nHere I exchanged some of my diamonds for merchandise. From hence we\nwent to other islands, and at last, having touched at several trading\ntowns of the continent, we landed at Bussorah, from whence I proceeded\nto Bagdad. There I immediately gave large presents to the poor, and\nlived honorably upon the vast riches I had brought, and gained with so\nmuch fatigue.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HISTORY OF ALI COGIA, A MERCHANT OF BAGDAD\n\n\nIn the reign of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid there lived at Bagdad a\nmerchant named Ali Cogia, who was neither of the richest nor yet of\nthe lowest order. He dwelt in his paternal house without either wife\nor children. He lived contented with what his business produced, and\nwas as free in his actions as in his will. During this period he had\nfor three successive nights a dream, in which an old man appeared to\nhim, with a venerable aspect but a severe countenance, who reprimanded\nhim for not having yet performed a pilgrimage to Mecca.\n\nThis dream troubled Ali Cogia very much. As a good Mussulman, he was\naware of the necessity for this pilgrimage; but as he was encumbered\nwith a house and furniture, and a shop, he had always considered these\nas excuses, and he endeavored to make up for the neglect by charitable\ndeeds. But since he had these dreams his conscience disturbed him, and\nhe was so fearful of some misfortune that he resolved no longer to\ndefer this act of duty.\n\nTo enable himself to perform this in the following year, Ali Cogia\nbegan to sell his furniture; he then disposed of his shop, together\nwith the greatest part of the merchandise, reserving only such as\nmight be salable at Mecca; and he found a tenant for his house.\n\nHaving thus arranged everything, he was ready to set out at the time\nthat the caravan for Mecca was to take its departure. The only thing\nwhich remained to be done was to find some secure place in which he\ncould leave the sum of a thousand pieces of gold, which remained over\nand above the money he had set apart for his pilgrimage.\n\nAli Cogia chose a jar of a proper size, and put the thousand pieces of\ngold into it, and then filled it up with olives. After having closed\nthe jar tightly, he took it to a merchant who was his friend.\n\"Brother,\" said he to him, \"you are not unacquainted with my intention\nof setting out on a pilgrimage to Mecca with the caravan which goes in\na few days; I beg the favor of you to take charge of this jar of\nolives till my return.\" The merchant instantly replied: \"Here, this is\nthe key of my warehouse; take the jar there yourself, and place it\nwhere you think fit. I promise you that you shall find it in the same\nplace when you come for it again.\"\n\nThe day for departure arriving, Ali Cogia joined the caravan with a\ncamel laden with the merchandise he had made choice of, which also\nserved him as a sort of saddle to ride on, and he arrived in perfect\nsafety at Mecca. He, together with the other pilgrims, visited the\ntemple--that edifice, so celebrated and so frequented every year by\nall the Mussulman nations, who repair thither from all parts of the\nglobe, to observe the religious ceremonies which are required of them.\nWhen he had acquitted himself of the duties of his pilgrimage, he\nexposed the merchandise he had brought with him for sale.\n\nTwo merchants, who were passing that way, and saw the goods of Ali\nCogia, found them so beautiful that they stopped to look at them,\nalthough they did not want to purchase them. When they had satisfied\ntheir curiosity, one said to the other as he was walking away: \"If\nthis merchant knew the profit he could make of his goods at Cairo, he\nwould take them there in preference to selling them here, where they\nare not of so much value.\"\n\nThis speech did not escape Ali Cogia, and as he had often heard of the\nbeauties of Egypt, he instantly resolved to travel to that country.\nHaving, therefore, packed up his bales, he joined the caravan that was\ngoing to Cairo. When he arrived he found it so much to his advantage,\nthat in a few days he had disposed of all his merchandise with much\ngreater profit than he could possibly have expected. He then purchased\nother goods, intending to go to Damascus, and while he was waiting for\nthe convenience of a caravan, which was to go in six weeks, he not\nonly visited everything that was worthy of his curiosity in Cairo, but\nalso went to view the pyramids, extended his journey to some distance\nup the Nile, and inspected the most celebrated cities that are\nsituated on its banks.\n\nAs the caravan was passing through Jerusalem, Ali Cogia took the\nopportunity to visit the temple, which is considered by all Mussulmans\nas the most sacred after that of Mecca, and from which the place\nitself has obtained the title of the Holy City. Ali Cogia found the\ncity of Damascus so delicious a spot, from the abundance of its\nstreams, its meadows, and enchanting gardens, that everything he had\nread of its delights, in different accounts of the place, appeared to\nbe far below the truth, and he was tempted to prolong his stay. As,\nhowever, he did not forget that he had to return to Bagdad, he at\nlength took his departure and went to Aleppo, where he also passed\nsome time, and from thence, after having crossed the Euphrates, he\ntook the road to Moussoul, intending to shorten his journey by going\ndown the Tigris.\n\nBut when Ali Cogia had reached Moussoul, the Persian merchants with\nwhom he had travelled from Aleppo, and had formed an intimacy, gained\nso great an ascendancy over his mind by their obliging manners and\nagreeable conversation, that they had no difficulty in persuading him\nto accompany them to Shiraz, from whence it would be easy for him to\nreturn to Bagdad, and with considerable profit. They took him through\nthe cities of Sultania, Rei, Coam, Kaschan, Ispahan, and then to\nShiraz, where he was induced to go with them to India, and then return\nagain to Shiraz.\n\nIn this way, reckoning also the time Ali Cogia resided in each city,\nit was now nearly seven years since he had quitted Bagdad, and he\ndetermined to return. Till this period the friend to whom he had\nintrusted the jar of olives before he left that city had never thought\nmore of him or his jar. At the very time that Ali Cogia was on his\nreturn with a caravan from Shiraz, one evening as his friend the\nmerchant was at supper with his family, the conversation by accident\nturned upon olives, and his wife expressed a desire of eating some,\nadding that it was a long time since any had been produced in her\nhouse.\n\n\"Now you speak of olives,\" said the merchant, \"you remind me that Ali\nCogia, when he went to Mecca seven years since, left me a jar of them,\nwhich he himself placed in my warehouse, that he might find them there\non his return. But I know not what is become of Ali Cogia. Some one,\nit is true, on the return of the caravan, told me that he was gone\ninto Egypt. He must have died there, as he has never returned in the\ncourse of so many years; we may surely eat the olives if they are\nstill good. Give me a dish and a light, and I will go and get some,\nthat we may taste them.\"\n\n\"In the name of God,\" replied the wife, \"do not, my dear husband,\ncommit so disgraceful an action; you well know that nothing is so\nsacred as a trust of this kind. You say that it is seven years since\nAli Cogia went to Mecca, and he has never returned; but you were\ninformed he was gone into Egypt, and how can you ascertain that he has\nnot gone still farther? It is enough that you have received no\nintelligence of his death; he may return to-morrow or the day after\nto-morrow. Consider how infamous it would be for you, as well as your\nfamily, if he were to return, and you could not restore the jar into\nhis hands in the same state as when he intrusted it to your care. For\nmy part, I declare that I neither wish for any of these olives, nor\nwill eat any of them. What I said was merely by way of conversation.\nBesides, do you suppose that, after so long a time, the olives can be\ngood? They must be spoiled. And if Ali Cogia returns, as I have a\nforeboding that he will, and he perceives that you have opened the\njar, what opinion will he form of your friendship and integrity? I\nconjure you to abandon your design.\"\n\nThis good woman argued at length, because she saw, by her husband's\ncountenance, that he was resolved to have his own way. In fact, he got\nup, and, taking a light and a dish, went to his warehouse. \"Remember\nat least,\" said the wife, \"that I have no share in what you are going\nto do; so do not attribute any fault to me if you have hereafter to\nrepent of the action.\"\n\nThe merchant still persisted in his purpose. When he had entered the\nwarehouse he opened the jar, and found the olives all spoiled; but to\nsee whether those that were underneath were as bad as the upper ones\nhe poured some out into the dish, and as he shook the jar to make them\nfall out the easier some pieces of gold fell out also. At the sight of\nthis money the merchant, who was naturally avaricious, looked into\nthe jar, and perceived that he had emptied almost all the olives into\nthe dish, and that what remained was money in pieces of gold. He put\nthe olives again into the jar, and, covering it, left the warehouse.\n\n\"You spoke the truth, wife,\" said he, when he returned. \"The olives\nare all spoiled, and I have stopped up the jar again, so that if Ali\nCogia ever comes back he will not discover that I have touched it.\"\n\"You would have done better to take my advice,\" returned the wife,\n\"not to have meddled with it. God grant that no evil may come of it.\"\nThe merchant paid as little attention to these last words of his wife\nas he had done to her former remonstrance. He passed almost the whole\nnight in devising means to take possession of Ali Cogia's money in\nsuch a way that he might enjoy it in security should the owner ever\nreturn and claim the jar. The next morning, very early, he went out\nto buy some olives of that year's growth. He threw away those which\nhad been in Ali Cogia's jar, and, taking out the gold, he put it in a\nplace of safety; then filling the jar with the fresh olives he had\njust bought he put on the same cover, and placed it in the same spot\nwhere Ali Cogia had left it.\n\nAbout a month after the merchant had committed this treacherous act\nAli Cogia arrived at Bagdad, after his long absence from that city. As\nhe had leased his house before his departure he alighted at a khan,\nwhere he took a lodging until he had informed his tenant of his\nreturn, that the latter might procure himself another residence.\n\nThe next day Ali Cogia went to see his friend the merchant, who\nreceived him with open arms, testifying the utmost joy at seeing him\nagain, after an absence of so many years, which he said almost made\nhim despair of ever beholding him any more.\n\nAfter the usual compliments, Ali Cogia begged the merchant to return\nhim the jar of olives which he had left in his care, at the same time\napologizing for having troubled him. \"My dear friend,\" replied the\nmerchant, \"do not think of making excuses; your jar has been no\nencumbrance to me, and I should have done the same with you had I been\nsituated as you were. Here is the key of my warehouse, go and take it;\nyou will find it where you put it yourself.\"\n\nAli Cogia went to the warehouse and took out the jar, and having given\nthe key to the merchant, he thanked him for the favor he had done him,\nand returned to the khan where he lodged. He opened the jar, and,\nthrusting his hand to the depth where he supposed the thousand pieces\nof gold might be, he was extremely surprised at not feeling them. He\nthought he must be deceived, and to relieve his doubts he took some of\nthe dishes and other utensils of his travelling kitchen and emptied\nout all the olives without finding one single piece of money. He was\nmotionless with astonishment, and raising his eyes and hands towards\nheaven, \"Is it possible,\" he at length exclaimed, \"that a man whom I\nconsidered as my friend could be capable of so flagrant a breach of\ntrust?\"\n\nAli Cogia, exceedingly alarmed at the idea of so considerable a loss,\nreturned to the merchant. \"My good friend,\" said he, \"do not be\nsurprised that I should return to you so quickly; I confess that I\nknew the jar of olives which I just now took out of your warehouse to\nbe mine; but I had put a thousand pieces of gold in it with the\nolives, and these I cannot find; perhaps you have wanted them in your\ntrade, and have made use of them. If that be the case, they are much\nat your service; I only beg of you to relieve my fears, and give me\nsome acknowledgment for them; after this you will return them to me\nwhenever it may be most convenient.\"\n\nThe merchant, who expected Ali Cogia to return to him, had prepared an\nanswer. \"My friend,\" replied he, \"when you brought me the jar of\nolives, did I touch it? Did I not give you the key of my wareroom? Did\nyou not deposit it there yourself? and did you not find it in the same\nplace where you put it, exactly in the same state, and covered in the\nsame manner? If you put money in it, there you must find it. You told\nme it contained olives, and I believed you. This is all I know about\nthe matter; you may believe me or not as you please, but I assure you\nI have not touched it.\"\n\nAli Cogia used the gentlest means to enable the merchant to justify\nhimself. \"I love peaceable measures,\" said he, \"and I should be sorry\nto proceed to extremities, which would not be very creditable to you\nin the eyes of the world. Consider that merchants, such as we are,\nshould abandon all private interests to preserve their reputation.\nOnce more I tell you that I should be sorry if your obstinacy compels\nme to apply to the forms allowed by justice, for I have always\npreferred losing something of my right to having recourse to those\nmeans.\"\n\n\"Ali Cogia,\" resumed the merchant, \"you confess that you have\ndeposited a jar of olives with me, that you took possession of it\nagain, and that you carried it away; and now you come to demand of me\na thousand pieces of gold. Did you tell me they were contained in the\njar? I am even ignorant that there were olives in it; you did not show\nthem to me! I am surprised that you did not require pearls and\ndiamonds rather than money. Take my advice: go home, and do not\nassemble a crowd about my door.\"\n\nSome people had already stopped before his shop; and these last\nwords, pronounced in an angry voice, not only collected a larger\nnumber, but made the neighboring merchants come out of their shops to\ninquire the reason of the dispute. When Ali Cogia had explained to\nthem the subject, the most earnest in the cause asked the merchant\nwhat reply he had to make.\n\nThe merchant owned that he had kept the jar belonging to Ali Cogia in\nhis warehouse, but he denied having touched it, and made oath that he\nonly knew that it contained olives because Ali Cogia had told him so,\nand that he considered them all as witnesses of the insulting affront\nwhich had been offered to him in his own house.\n\n\"You have drawn the affront on yourself,\" said Ali Cogia, taking him\nby the arm; \"but since you behave so wickedly, I cite you by the law\nof God. Let us see if you will have the face to say the same before\nthe cadi.\"\n\nAt this summons, which every true Mussulman must obey, unless he\nrebels against his religion, the merchant had not the courage to offer\nany resistance. \"Come,\" said he, \"that is the very thing I wish; we\nshall see who is wrong, you or I.\"\n\nAli Cogia conducted the merchant before the tribunal of the cadi,\nwhere he accused him of having stolen a thousand pieces of gold which\nwere deposited in his care, relating the fact as it took place. The\ncadi inquired if he had any witnesses. He replied that he had not\ntaken this precaution, because he supposed the person to whom he had\nintrusted his money to be his friend, and till now an honest man.\n\nThe merchant urged nothing more in his defence than what he had\nalready said to Ali Cogia in the presence of his neighbors, and he\nconcluded by offering to take his oath not only that it was false that\nhe had taken the thousand pieces of gold, but even that he had any\nknowledge of their being in his possession. The cadi accepted the\noath, after which he was dismissed as innocent.\n\nAli Cogia, extremely mortified to find himself condemned to suffer so\nconsiderable a loss, protested against the sentence, and declared to\nthe cadi that he would lay his complaint before the Caliph\nHaroun-al-Raschid, who would do him justice; but the cadi did not\nregard this threat, and he considered it merely as the effect of the\nresentment natural to all who lose their cause, and he thought he had\nperformed his duty by acquitting one who was accused without any\nwitnesses to prove the fact.\n\nWhile the merchant was triumphing in his success over Ali Cogia, and\nindulging his joy at having made so good a bargain of the thousand\npieces of gold, Ali Cogia went to draw up a petition. And the next\nday, having chosen the time when the caliph should return from midday\nprayers, he placed himself in a street which led to the mosque, and\nwhen he passed, held out his hand with the petition. An officer to\nwhom this function belongs, who was walking before the caliph,\ninstantly left his place and came to take it, that he might present it\nto his master.\n\nAs Ali Cogia knew that it was the usual custom of the Caliph\nHaroun-al-Raschid, when he returned to his palace, to examine with his\nown eyes all the petitions that were presented to him in this way, he\ntherefore followed the procession, went into the palace, and waited\ntill the officer who had taken the petition should come out of the\napartment of the caliph. When he made his appearance he told Ali Cogia\nthat the caliph had read his petition, and appointed the following day\nto give him an audience; and having inquired of him where the\nmerchant lived, he sent to give him notice to attend the next day\nat the same time.\n\n    [Illustration: The caliph listening to the children's court]\n\nOn the evening of the same day, the caliph, with the grand vizier\nGiafar and Mesrour, the chief of the eunuchs, all three disguised in\nthe same manner, went to make his usual excursion into the city, as it\nwas his custom frequently to do. In passing through a street the\ncaliph heard a noise. He hastened his pace, and came to a door which\nopened into a court, where ten or twelve children, who had not gone to\nrest, were playing by moonlight, as he perceived by looking through a\ncrevice.\n\nThe caliph, feeling some curiosity to know what these children were\nplaying at, sat down on a stone bench, which was placed very\nconveniently near the door; and as he was looking at them through the\ncrevice he heard one of the most lively and intelligent among them say\nto the others: \"Let us play at the cadi. I am the cadi. Bring before\nme Ali Cogia and the merchant who stole the thousand pieces of gold\nfrom him.\"\n\nThese words of the child reminded the caliph of the petition which had\nbeen presented to him that day, and which he had read; he therefore\nredoubled his attention to hear the result of the trial.\n\nAs the affair between Ali Cogia and the merchant was a new thing, and\nmuch talked of in the city of Bagdad, even among children, the rest of\nthis youthful party fully agreed to the proposal, and each chose the\ncharacter he would perform. No one disputed the part of the cadi with\nhim who had made choice of it; and when he had taken his seat with all\nthe pomp and gravity of a cadi, another, personating the officer who\nattends the tribunal, presented two others to him, one of whom he\ncalled Ali Cogia, and the next the merchant against whom Ali Cogia\npreferred his complaint.\n\nThe pretended cadi then addressed the feigned Ali Cogia. \"Ali Cogia,\"\nsaid he, \"what do you require of this merchant?\" He who personated\nthis character then made a low bow, and informed the cadi of the\nfacts, and concluded by beseeching him to be pleased to interpose his\nauthority to prevent his sustaining so considerable a loss. The\nfeigned cadi, after having listened to Ali Cogia, turned to the\nmerchant, and asked him why he did not return to Ali Cogia the sum he\ndemanded of him. This young merchant made use of the same arguments\nwhich the real one had alleged before the cadi of Bagdad, and also in\nthe same manner asked him to suffer him to swear that what he said was\nthe truth.\n\n\"Not so fast,\" replied the pretended cadi; \"before we come to swearing\nI should like to see the jar of olives. Ali Cogia,\" said he,\naddressing the boy who acted this part, \"have you brought the jar\nwith you?\" As the latter replied that he had not, he desired him to go\nand fetch it.\n\nAli Cogia disappeared for a few minutes, and then returning, pretended\nto bring a jar to the cadi, which he said was the same that had been\ndeposited with the merchant, and was now returned to him. Not to omit\nany of the usual forms, the cadi asked the merchant if he owned it to\nbe the same jar, and the merchant proving by his silence that he could\nnot deny it, he ordered it to be opened. The feigned Ali Cogia then\nmade a motion as if he were taking off the cover, and the cadi that of\nlooking into the jar. \"These are fine olives; let me taste,\" said he.\nThen, pretending to take one to taste, he added: \"They are excellent.\nBut,\" continued he, \"I think that olives which have been kept seven\nyears would not be so good. Order some olive merchants to be called,\nand let them give their opinion.\" Two boys were then presented to\nhim. \"Are you olive merchants?\" he inquired; to which they having\nreplied in the affirmative, he added: \"Tell me, then, if you know how\nlong olives, that are prepared by people who make it their business,\ncan be preserved good to eat?\"\n\n\"Sir,\" replied the feigned merchants, \"whatever care may be taken to\npreserve them, they are worth nothing after the third year; they lose\nboth their flavor and color, and are only fit to be thrown away.\" \"If\nthat be the case,\" resumed the young cadi, \"look at this jar, and tell\nme how long the olives have been kept that are in it.\"\n\nThe feigned merchants then pretended to examine and taste the olives,\nand told the cadi that they were fresh and good. \"You are mistaken,\"\nreplied the cadi; \"here is Ali Cogia, who says that he put them into\nthe jar seven years ago.\" \"Sir,\" said the merchants, \"we can assure\nyou that these olives are of this year's growth, and we will maintain\nthat there is not a single merchant in Bagdad who will not be of the\nsame way of thinking.\" The accused merchant was going to protest\nagainst this testimony of the others, but the cadi did not allow him\ntime. \"Silence!\" said he; \"thou art a thief, and shalt be hanged.\" The\nchildren then clapped their hands, showed great marks of joy, and\nfinished their game by seizing the supposed criminal, and carrying him\noff as if to execution.\n\nIt is impossible to express how much the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid\nadmired the wisdom and acuteness of the boy, who had pronounced so\njust a sentence on the very case which was to be pleaded before him on\nthe morrow. Taking his eyes from the crevice, he rose, and asked the\ngrand vizier, who had been attending to all that passed, if he had\nheard the sentence given by the boy, and what he thought of it.\n\"Commander of the Faithful,\" replied Giafar, \"I am astonished at the\nwisdom evinced by this boy at so early an age.\"\n\n\"But,\" resumed the caliph, \"do you know that to-morrow I am to give my\ndecision on this very affair, and that the true Ali Cogia has this\nmorning presented a petition to me on the subject?\"\n\n\"So I understand from your majesty,\" replied the grand vizier. \"Do you\nthink,\" said the caliph, \"that I can give a juster sentence than that\nwe have now heard?\" \"If the affair be the same,\" returned the grand\nvizier, \"it appears to me that your majesty cannot proceed in a better\nmanner, nor give any other judgment.\" \"Notice well this house, then,\"\nsaid the caliph, \"and bring me the boy to-morrow, that he may judge\nthe same cause in my presence. Order the cadi, also, who acquitted the\nmerchant, to be at the palace, that he may learn his duty from this\nchild, and correct his deficiencies. I desire, too, that you will tell\nAli Cogia to bring with him his jar of olives, and do you procure two\nolive merchants to be present at the audience.\" The caliph gave this\norder as he continued his walk, which he finished without meeting with\nanything else that deserved his attention.\n\nOn the morrow the grand vizier repaired to the house where the caliph\nhad been witness to the game the children had played at, and he asked\nto speak to the master of it, but he being gone out, he was introduced\nto the mistress. He asked her if she had any children; she replied\nthat she had three, whom she brought to him. \"My children,\" said he to\nthem, \"which of you acted the cadi last night as you were playing\ntogether?\" The eldest replied that it was he; and as he was ignorant\nof the reason for this question, he changed color. \"My child,\" said\nthe grand vizier, \"come with me; the Commander of the Faithful wishes\nto see you.\"\n\nThe mother was extremely alarmed when she saw that the vizier was\ngoing to take away her son. \"Sir,\" said she, \"is it to take away my\nson entirely that the Commander of the Faithful has sent for him?\" The\ngrand vizier quieted her fears by promising that her son should be\nsent back again in less than an hour, and that when he returned she\nwould learn the reason of his being sent for, which would give her\ngreat pleasure. \"If that be the case, sir,\" replied she, \"permit me\nfirst to change his dress, that he may be more fit to appear before\nthe Commander of the Faithful.\" And she immediately put on her son a\nclean suit.\n\nThe grand vizier conducted the boy to the caliph, and presented him at\nthe time appointed for hearing Ali Cogia and the merchant.\n\nThe caliph, seeing the child rather terrified, and wishing to prepare\nhim for what he expected him to do, said to him: \"Come here, my boy,\ndraw near. Was it you who yesterday passed sentence on the case of Ali\nCogia and the merchant who robbed him of his gold? I both saw and\nheard you, and am very well satisfied with you.\" The child began to\ngain confidence, and modestly answered that it was he. \"My child,\"\nresumed the caliph, \"you shall see the true Ali Cogia and the merchant\nto-day; come and sit down next to me.\"\n\nThe caliph then took the boy by the hand, and seated himself on his\nthrone, and having placed him next to him, he inquired for the\nparties; they advanced, and the name of each was pronounced as he\ntouched with his forehead the carpet that covered the throne. When\nthey had risen, the caliph said to them: \"Let each of you plead your\ncause; this child will hear and administer justice to you, and if\nanything be deficient, I will remedy it.\"\n\nAli Cogia and the merchant each spoke in his turn; and when the\nmerchant requested to be allowed to take the same oath he had taken on\nhis first examination, the boy answered that it was not yet time, for\nit was first necessary to inspect the jar of olives. At these words\nAli Cogia produced the jar, placed it at the feet of the caliph, and\nuncovered it. The caliph looked at the olives, and took one, which he\ntasted. The jar was then handed to some skilful merchants who had been\nordered to appear, and they reported it as their opinion that the\nolives were good, and of that year's growth. The boy told them Ali\nCogia assured him they had been in the jar seven years, to which the\nreal merchants returned the same answer which the children as feigned\nmerchants had made on the preceding evening.\n\nAlthough the accused merchant plainly saw that the two olive\nmerchants had thus pronounced his condemnation, yet he nevertheless\nattempted to allege reasons in his justification; the boy, however,\ndid not venture to pronounce sentence on him and send him to\nexecution. \"Commander of the Faithful,\" said he, \"this is not a game;\nit is your majesty alone who can condemn to death seriously, and not\nI; I did it yesterday only in play.\"\n\nThe caliph, fully persuaded of the treachery of the merchant, gave him\nup to the ministers of justice to have him hung; and this sentence was\nexecuted after he had confessed where the thousand pieces of gold were\nconcealed, which were then returned to Ali Cogia. This monarch, in\nshort, so celebrated for his justice and equity, after having advised\nthe cadi who had passed the first sentence, and who was present, to\nlearn from a child to be more exact in the performance of his office,\nembraced the boy, and sent him home again with a purse containing a\nhundred pieces of gold, which he ordered to be given him as a proof of\nhis liberality.\n\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note\n\nMinor typographic errors--for example, punctuation errors, omitted or\ntransposed letters--have been repaired. Archaic spelling is preserved\nas printed.\n\nThe frontispiece illustration has been moved to follow the title page.\nOther illustrations have been moved where necessary so that they are\nnot in the middle of a paragraph.","title":"Favorite Fairy Tales: The Childhood Choice of Representative Men and Women","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":58904}