{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_34956/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_34956","id":"gutenberg_34956","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34956","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Sankar Viswanathan, Chris Curnow, and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n(This file was produced from images generously made\navailable by The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                           FAIRY TALES FROM\n\n                             ALL NATIONS.\n\n\n\n                                  BY\n\n                         ANTHONY R. MONTALBA.\n\n\n\n           WITH TWENTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS BY RICHARD DOYLE.\n\n\n\n\n                               LONDON:\n\n                     CHAPMAN & HALL, 186, STRAND.\n\n                              MDCCCXLIX.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\n\nTHE ILLUSTRIOUS PATRON OF LETTERS\n\nTHE RIGHT HON. THE EARL FITZWILLIAM,\n\nThis Little Book\n\nIS HUMBLY INSCRIBED,\n\nAS A MARK OF SINCEREST GRATITUDE AND RESPECT,\n\nBY HIS MOST OBEDIENT AND DEVOTED SERVANT,\n\nA. R. MONTALBA.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe time has been, but happily exists no longer, when it would have\nbeen necessary to offer an apology for such a book as this. In those\ndays it was not held that\n\n    Beauty is its own excuse for being;\n\non the contrary, a spurious utilitarianism reigned supreme in\nliterature, and fancy and imagination were told to fold their wings,\nand travel only in the dusty paths of every-day life. Fairy tales, and\nall such flights into the region of the supernatural, were then\ncondemned as merely idle things, or as pernicious occupations for\nfaculties that should be always directed to serious and profitable\nconcerns. But now we have cast off that pedantic folly, let us hope\nfor ever. We now acknowledge that innocent amusement is good for its\nown sake, and we do not affect to prove our advance in civilisation by\nour incapacity to relish those sportive creations of unrestricted\nfancy that have been the delight of every generation in every land\nfrom times beyond the reach of history.\n\nThe materials of the following Collection have been carefully chosen\nfrom more than a hundred volumes of the fairy lore of all nations; and\nnone of them, so far as the Editor is aware, have been previously\ntranslated into English.\n\nThe Editor cannot close this brief Preface without expressing his\ngrateful acknowledgments of the enhanced attraction imparted to his\nlittle work by Mr. Richard Doyle's admirable Illustrations.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\nTALE.                          LANGUAGE.           AUTHOR.            PAGE.\n\nBIRTH OF THE FAIRY TALE                                                  1\n\nSNOW-WHITE AND ROSY-RED         _Danish_          TORGEN MOE AND\n                                                  P. ASBIORNSON          9\n\nTHE STORY OF ARGILIUS AND\nTHE FLAME KING                  _Slavonic_        COUNT MAYLATH         20\n\nPERSEVERE AND PROSPER           _Arabic_          DR. G. WEIL           38\n\nPRINCE OF THE GLOW-WORMS        _German_          FRIEDRICH VON SALLET  41\n\nTHE TWO MISERS                  _Hebrew_                                71\n\nPRINCE CHAFFINCH                _French_                                73\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE NIGHTINGALE    _Swedish_         E. M. ANNDT          105\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CROW              _Polish_          K. W. WOYCICKY       132\n\nTHE DRAGON-GIANT AND HIS\nSTONE STEED                     _Russian_         O. L. B. WOLFF       153\n\nTHE STORY OF SIVA AND MADHAVA   _Sanskrit_        SOMADEVA BHATTA      185\n\nTHE GOBLIN BIRD                 _Betschuanian_    CASALIS              201\n\nTHE SHEPHERD AND THE SERPENT    _German_                               209\n\nTHE EXPEDITIOUS FROG            _Wendian_         LEOPOLD HAUSST AND\n                                                  J. E. SCHMALER       215\n\nEASTWARD OF THE SUN, AND\nWESTWARD OF THE MOON            _Norwegian_       P. ASBIORNSON        217\n\nTHE LITTLE MAN IN GREY          _Upper Lusatian_  MONTZ HAUSST         236\n\nRED, WHITE, AND BLACK           _Norman_          L'HERITIER           243\n\nTHE TWELVE LOST PRINCESSES      _African_\nAND THE WIZARD KING.                                                   249\n\nTHE STUDY OF MAGIC UNDER\nDIFFICULTIES                    _Italian_         STRAPPAROLA          268\n\nFORTUNE'S FAVOURITE             _Hungarian_       G. VON GALL          281\n\nTHE LUCKY DAYS                  _Italian_         STRAPPAROLA          309\n\nTHE FEAST OF THE DWARFS         _Icelandish_                           313\n\nTHE THREE DOGS                  _Frieslandish_    L. BECKSTEIN         329\n\nTHE COURAGEOUS FLUTE-PLAYER     _Franconian_                           339\n\nTHE GLASS HATCHET               _Hungarian_       G. VON GALL          345\n\nTHE GOLDEN DUCK                 _Bohemian_        WOLFGARD A. GERLE    360\n\nGOLDY                           _German_          JUSTINUS KERNER      377\n\nTHE SERPENT PRINCE              _Italian_         BASILE               384\n\nTHE PROPHETIC DREAM                                                    398\n\n\nThe Illustrations drawn by RICHARD DOYLE, and engraved by G. DALZIEL,\nE. DALZIEL, ISABEL THOMPSON, C. T. THOMPSON, RICHARD THOMPSON, and W.\nT. GREEN.\n\n\n\n\nFAIRY TALES FROM ALL NATIONS\n\n\n\n\nTHE BIRTH OF THE FAIRY TALE.\n\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen nursery tales and entertaining stories did not yet exist--and\nthose were dull times for children, for then their youthful paradise\nwanted its gayest butterfly--there lived two royal children, a brother\nand sister. They played with each other in a garden allotted to them\nby their royal sire. This garden was full of the most beautiful and\nfragrant flowers; its paths were over-spread with golden sands and\nmany-coloured stones, which vied in brilliancy with the dew which\nglistened on the flowers, illuminated by the splendour of an eastern\nsun. There were in it cool grottos with rippling streams; fountains\nspouting high towards heaven; exquisitely chiselled marble statues;\nlovely arbours and bowers inviting to repose; gold and silver fish\nswam in the reservoirs, and the most beautiful birds flitted about in\ngilded cages so spacious that they scarcely felt that they were\nconfined, whilst others at full liberty flew from tree to tree,\nfilling the air with their sweet song. Yet the children who possessed\nall these delights, and saw them daily, were satiated with them and\nfelt weary. They looked without pleasure on the brilliancy of the\nstones; the fragrance of the flowers and the dancing water of the\nfountains no longer attracted them; they cared not for the fish which\nwere mute to them, nor for the birds whose warbling they did not\ncomprehend. They sat mournful and listless beside each other; having\neverything that children could desire--kind parents, costly toys, the\nrichest clothing, every delicacy the land could furnish, with liberty\nto roam from morning until evening in the beautiful garden,--still\nthey were unsatisfied and they knew not why!--they could not tell what\nelse they wanted.\n\nThen came to them the queen, their mother, beautiful and majestic,\nwith a countenance expressive of love and gentleness. She grieved to\nsee her children so mournful, meeting her with melancholy smiles,\ninstead of gaily bounding to her embrace. Her heart was sorrowful\nbecause her children were not happy as she thought they ought to be,\nfor as yet they knew not care; and, thanks to an all-good Providence,\nthe heaven of childhood is usually bright and cloudless.\n\nThe queen placed herself between her two children. She threw her full\nwhite arms round their necks, and said to them with endearing maternal\ntenderness, \"What ails you, my beloved children?\"--\"We know not, dear\nmother!\" replied the boy.--\"We do not feel happy!\" said the girl.\n\n\"Yet everything is fair in this garden, and you have everything that\ncan give you pleasure. Do all these things then afford you no\nenjoyment?\" demanded the queen, whilst tears filled her eyes, through\nwhich beamed a soul of goodness.\n\n\"What we have and enjoy seems not to be the one thing which we want,\"\nanswered the girl.--\"We wish for something else, but we know not what\nit is,\" added the boy.\n\nThe queen sat silent and sad, pondering what that might be for which\nher children pined. What could possibly afford them greater pleasure\nthan that splendid garden, the richness of their clothing, the variety\nof their toys, the delicacy of their food, the flavour of their\nbeverage? But in vain; she could not divine the unknown object of\ntheir desire.\n\n\"Oh, that I myself were again a child!\" said the queen to herself with\na deep sigh. \"I should then perhaps discover what would impart\ncheerfulness to my children. To comprehend the wish of a child, one\nshould be a child oneself. But I have already wandered too far beyond\nthe boundaries of childhood where fly the golden birds of paradise;\nthose beautiful birds without feet, that never require the repose of\nwhich all earthly creatures stand in need. Oh, that such a bird would\ncome to my assistance, and bring to my dear children that precious\ngift which should dispel their gloom and make them happy!\"\n\nAnd, behold, the queen had scarcely formed this wish, when a\nwondrously beautiful bird, whose splendour surpassed all that can be\nimagined, bent its flight from the ethereal sky, and wheeled round and\nround until it attracted the gaze of the queen and her children, who\non beholding it were filled with astonishment, and with one voice\nexclaimed: \"Oh, how wonderful is that bird!\" And wonderful indeed it\nwas, and gorgeous to behold as it gradually descended towards them.\nLike burnished gold blended with sparkling jewels shone its plumage,\nreflecting the seven colours of the rainbow, and dazzling the eye\nwhich it still rivetted anew by its indescribable charms. Beautiful as\nit was, the aspect of the bird inspired them with a kind of awe,\nwhich, though not unpleasing, increased when they felt the wafting of\nits wings, and suddenly beheld it rest in the lap of the queen. It\nlooked on them with its full eyes, which, though they resembled the\nfriendly smiling eyes of a child, had yet in them something strange\nand almost unearthly; an expression the children could not comprehend,\nand therefore feared to consider. They now observed also, that mingled\nwith the bright coloured plumage of this unearthly bird, were some\nblack feathers which they had not before perceived. But scarcely was a\nmoment permitted to them for these observations, ere the wonder-bird\nagain arose, soared aloft higher and higher till it was lost to the\nsight in the blue and cloudless ether. The queen and her children\nwatched its flight in amazement until it had entirely vanished, and\nwhen they again looked down, lo, a new wonder! The bird had deposited\nin the mother's lap an egg which beamed like the precious opal with\nmany-coloured brilliancy. With one voice, the royal children\nexclaimed: \"Oh, the beautiful egg!\" whilst the mother smiled in an\necstasy of joy; for a voice within her predicted to her that this was\nthe jewel which alone was wanting to complete the happiness of her\nchildren. This egg, she thought, within its thousand-coloured shell,\nmust contain the treasure that would ensure to her children that which\nhas ever been, and ever will be withheld from age--Contentment;--the\nlonging for that treasure and the anticipation of it would charm away\ntheir childish melancholy.\n\nThe children could not gaze their fill on the splendid egg, and soon\nin admiring it, forgot the bird that had bestowed it on them. At first\nthey hardly ventured to touch their treasure, but after a while, the\nmaiden first took courage to lay upon it one of her rosy fingers,\nexclaiming whilst a purple blush of delight over-spread her innocent\nface: \"The egg is warm!\" then the royal youth, to try the truth of his\nsister's words, cautiously touched it also, and lastly the mother\nplaced her beautifully white and taper finger on the costly egg,\nwhich then separated into two parts, and there came out from it a\nbeing most marvellous to behold. It had wings, and yet it was no bird,\nnor yet butterfly nor bee, though it was a combination of all these\ninfinitely and indescribably blended. It was in short, that multiform\nmany-coloured childish Ideal, the _Fairy Tale_, dispensing pleasure,\nand happiness, and inspiration to infancy and youth. The mother\nthenceforth no longer beheld her children pining with melancholy, for\nthe Fairy Tale became their constant companion, and remained with them\ntill the sun which shone on their last day of childhood had set. The\npossession of this wondrous being from that day endeared to them\ngarden and flowers, bowers and grottos, forests and valleys; for it\ngave new life and charms to all around them. Borne on its wings they\nflew far and wide through the great measureless world, and yet, ever\nat their wish, they were in a moment wafted back to their own home.\n\nThose royal children were mankind in their youthful paradise, and\nnature was their lovely serene and mild mother. Their wishes drew down\nfrom heaven the wonder-bird, PHANTASY, most brilliant of plumage\nalthough intermingled with its feathers, were some of the deepest\nblack: the egg deposited by this bright bird, contained the GOLDEN\nFAIRY TALES: and as the affection of the children for Fairy Lore grew\nstronger from day to day, enlivening and making happy the time of\ntheir childhood, the stories themselves wandered forth, and were\nwelcomed alike in hall and palace, castle and cottage, ever growing in\ncharms and novelty, till they at length received the mission of\npleasing manhood also. The grave, the toil-worn, and the aged, would\nlisten with pleased ear to their wonderful relations, and dwell with\nfond recollection on the golden birth of those Fairy charms.\n\n\n\n\nSNOW-WHITE AND ROSY-RED.\n\n[Danish.]\n\n\nIn a far-distant land, there reigned a queen, who was one day driving\nin a sledge over the new fallen snow, when, as it chanced, she was\nseized with a bleeding at her nose, which obliged her to alight. As\nshe stood leaning against the stump of a tree, and gazed on her\ncrimson blood that fell on the snow, she thought to herself, \"I have\nnow twelve sons, and not one daughter; could I but have a daughter\nfair as that snow and rosy as that blood, I should no longer care\nabout my sons.\" She had scarcely murmured the wish, before a sorceress\nstood beside her. \"Thou shalt have a daughter,\" said she, \"and she\nshall be fair as this snow and rosy as thy blood; but thy twelve sons\nshall then be mine; thou may'st, however, retain them with thee, until\nthy daughter shall be baptized.\"\n\nNow, at the appointed time the queen brought into the world a\ndaughter, who was fair as snow and rosy as blood, just as the\nsorceress had promised, and on that account she was called Snow-white\nand Rosy-red; and there was great joy throughout all the royal\nhousehold, but the queen rejoiced more than all the rest. But when she\nremembered her promise to the sorceress, a strange sensation oppressed\nher heart, and she sent for a silversmith, and commanded him to make\ntwelve silver spoons, one for each of the princes; she had one made\nfor the princess also. On the day that the princess was baptized, the\ntwelve princes were transformed into twelve wild ducks, and flew away,\nand were no more seen. The princess, however, grew up, and became\nwonderfully beautiful; but she was always wrapped in her own thoughts,\nand so melancholy, that no one could guess what was the matter with\nher.\n\nOne evening, when the queen was also in a very melancholy mood,\nthinking on her lost sons, she said to Snow-white and Rosy-red, \"Why\nare you always so sad, my daughter? If there is anything the matter\nwith you, tell it me. If there is anything you wish for, you shall\nhave it.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear mother,\" she replied, \"all around me seems so desolate;\nother children have brothers and sisters, but I have none, and that is\nwhy I am so sad.\"\n\n\"My daughter,\" said the queen, \"you also once had brothers, for I had\ntwelve sons, but I gave them all up in order to have you;\" and\nthereupon she related to her all that had occurred.\n\nWhen the princess heard what had befallen her brothers, she could no\nlonger remain at home in peace, and notwithstanding all her mother's\ntears and entreaties, nothing would satisfy her but she must and would\nset off in search of her brothers, for she thought that she alone was\nguilty of causing their misfortune; so she secretly left the palace.\nShe wandered about the world, and went so far that you would not\nbelieve it possible that such a delicate maiden could have gone to\nsuch a distance. Once she strayed about a whole night in a great\nforest, and towards the morning she was so tired that she lay down on\na bank and slept. Then she dreamed that she penetrated still farther\ninto the forest, till she came to a little wooden hut, and therein she\nfound her brothers. When she awoke, she saw before her a little beaten\npath through the moss, and she followed it till in the thickest of the\nforest she saw a little wooden hut, just like that she had dreamed\nof.\n\nShe entered it, but saw no one. There were, however, twelve beds and\ntwelve chairs, and on the table lay twelve spoons, and, in fact, there\nwere twelve of every article she saw there. The princess was\noverjoyed, for she could not but fancy that her twelve brethren dwelt\nthere, and that it was to them that the beds, and the chairs, and the\nspoons belonged. Then she made a fire on the hearth, swept the room,\nand made the beds; afterwards she cooked a meal for them, and set\neverything out in the best order possible. And when she had finished\nher cooking and had prepared everything for her brothers, she sat down\nand ate something for herself, laid her spoon on the table, and crept\nunder the bed belonging to her youngest brother.\n\nShe had scarcely concealed herself there, when she heard a great\nrustling in the air, and presently in flew twelve wild ducks; but the\nmoment they crossed the threshold, they were instantly transformed\ninto the princes, her brothers!\n\n\"Ah, how nicely everything is arranged here, and how delightfully warm\nit is already,\" they exclaimed.\n\n\"Heaven reward the person who has warmed our room so nicely, and\nprepared such an excellent repast for us;\" and hereupon each took his\nsilver spoon in order to begin eating. But when each prince had taken\nhis own, there was still one remaining, so like the others that they\ncould not distinguish it. Then the princes looked at each other, and\nwere very much astonished.\n\n\"That must be our sister's spoon,\" said they; \"and since the spoon is\nhere, she herself cannot be far off.\"\n\n\"If it is our sister, and if she is here,\" said the eldest, \"she shall\nbe killed, for she is the cause of our misfortune.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said the youngest, \"it would be a sin to kill her; she is not\nguilty of what we suffer; if any one is in fault, it is no other than\nour own mother.\"\n\nThen they all began to search high and low, and at last they looked\nunder all the beds, and when they came to the bed of the youngest\nprince, they found the princess, and drew her from under it.\n\nThe eldest prince was now again for killing her, but she entreated\nthem earnestly to spare her life, and said, \"Ah, do not kill me; I\nhave wandered about so long seeking for you, and I would willingly\ngive my life if that would disenchant you.\"\n\n\"Nay, but if you will disenchant us,\" said they, \"we will spare your\nlife; for you can do it if you will.\"\n\n\"Indeed; only tell me then what I am to do, for I will do anything you\nwish,\" said the princess.\n\n\"You must collect the down of the dandelion flowers, and you must\ncard, and spin, and weave it; and of that material you must cut out\nand make twelve caps, and twelve shirts, and twelve cravats, a set for\neach of us; but during the time that you are occupied in doing so, you\nmust neither speak, nor weep, nor smile. If you can do that, we shall\nbe disenchanted.\"\n\n\"But where shall I be able to find sufficient down for all the caps,\nand shirts, and cravats?\" asked she.\n\n\"That you shall soon see,\" said the princes; and then they led her out\ninto a great meadow, where were so many dandelions with their white\ndown waving in the wind and glittering in the sun, that the glitter of\nthem could be seen at a very great distance. The princess had never in\nall her life seen so many dandelions, and she began directly to pluck\nand collect them, and she brought home as many as she could carry; and\nin the evening she began to card and spin them into yarn. Thus she\ncontinued doing for a very long time; every day she gathered the down\nfrom the dandelions, and she attended on the princes also; she cooked\nfor them, and made their beds; and every evening they flew home as\nwild ducks, became princes again during the night, and in the morning\nflew away again, as wild ducks.\n\nNow it happened one day when Snow-white and Rosy-red had gone to the\nmeadow to collect the dandelion-down--if I do not mistake, that was\nthe last time that she required to collect them--that the young king\nof the country was hunting, and rode towards the meadow where\nSnow-white and Rosy-red was collecting her material. The king was\nastonished to see such a beautiful maiden walking there, and gathering\nthe dandelion-down. He stopped his horse and addressed her; but when\nhe could get no answer from her, he was still more astonished, and as\nthe maiden pleased him so well, he resolved to carry her to his royal\nresidence, and make her his wife. He commanded his attendants,\ntherefore, to lift her upon his horse; but Snow-white and Rosy-red\nwrung her hands, and pointed to the bag wherein she had her work. So\nthe king understood at last what she meant, and bade his attendants\nput the bag also on his horse. That being done, the princess, by\ndegrees, yielded to his wish that she should go with him, for the king\nwas a very handsome man, and spoke so gently, and kindly, to her. But\nwhen they arrived at the palace, and the old queen, who was the\nking's step-mother, saw how beautiful Snow-white and Rosy-red was, she\nbecame quite jealous and angry; and she said to the king:--\"Do you not\nsee, then, that you have brought home a sorceress with you? for she\ncan neither speak, nor laugh, nor cry.\" The king, however, heeded not\nhis step-mother's words, but celebrated his nuptials with the fair\nmaiden, and lived very happily with her. She, however, did not cease\nto work continually at the shirts.\n\nBefore the year was out, Snow-white and Rosy-red brought a little\nprince into the world. This made the old queen still more envious and\nspiteful than before; and when night came, she slipped into the\nqueen's room, and whilst she slept, carried off the infant, and threw\nit into a pit which was full of snakes. Then she returned, made an\nincision in one of the queen's fingers, and having smeared her mouth\nwith the blood, she went to the king, and said:--\"Come now, and see\nwhat sort of a wife you have got; she has just devoured her own\nchild.\" Thereupon the king was so distressed that he very nearly shed\ntears, and said:--\"Yes, it must be true, since I see it with my own\neyes; but she surely will not do so again; this time I will spare\nher.\" Before the year was out the queen brought into the world\nanother prince, and the same occurred this time, as before. The\nstep-mother was still more jealous and spiteful; she again slipped\ninto the young queen's room, during the night, and, whilst she slept,\ncarried off the babe, and threw it into the pit to the serpents. Then\nshe made an incision in the queen's finger, smeared her lips with the\nblood, and told the king that his wife had again devoured her own\nchild. The king's distress was greater than can be imagined, and he\nsaid:--\"Yes, it must be so, since I see it with my own eyes; but\nsurely she will never do so again; I will spare her this once more.\"\n\nBefore that year was out, Snow-white and Rosy-red brought a daughter\ninto the world, and this also the old queen threw into the serpent\nhole, as she had done the others, made an incision in the young\nqueen's finger, smeared her lips with the blood, and then again said\nto the king: \"Come and see if I do not say truly, she is a sorceress:\nfor she has now devoured her third child,\" Then the king was more\ndistressed than can be described, for he could no longer spare her,\nbut was obliged to command that she should be burnt alive. Now when\nthe pile of faggots was blazing, and the young queen was to ascend,\nshe made signs that twelve boards should be laid round the pile. This\nbeing done she placed on them, the shirts, caps, and cravats, she had\nmade for her brothers; but the left sleeve of the youngest brother's\nshirt was wanting, for she had not been able to finish it. No sooner\nhad she done this than a great rustling and fluttering was heard in\nthe air, and twelve wild ducks came flying from the wood, and each\ntook a shirt, cap, and cravat in his beak, and flew off with them.\n\n\"Are you convinced now that she is a sorceress?\" said the wicked\nstep-mother to the king: \"make haste and have her burnt before the\nflames consume all the wood.\"\n\n\"There is no need of such haste,\" said the king; \"we have plenty more\nwood, and I am very desirous to see what will be the end of all this.\"\n\nAt that moment came the twelve princes riding up, all as handsome and\ngraceful as possible, only the youngest prince, instead of a left arm,\nhad a duck's wing.\n\n\"What are you going to do?\" asked the princes.\n\n\"My wife is going to be burnt,\" said the king, \"because she is a\nsorceress, and has devoured her children.\"\n\n\"That has she not,\" said the princes. \"Speak now, sister! You have\ndelivered us, now save yourself.\"\n\n[Illustration: SNOW-WHITE AND ROSY-RED. P. 19.]\n\nThen Snow-white and Rosy-red spoke, and related all that had happened,\nand that each time she had a child, the old queen had slipped into the\nroom, taken the child, and then made an incision in her finger, and\nsmeared the blood upon her lips. And the princes led the king to the\nserpent hole, and there lay the children, playing with the serpents\nand adders, and finer children than these could not be seen. Then the\nking carried them with him to his step-mother, and asked her what the\nperson deserved who had desired to betray an innocent queen, and three\nsuch lovely children.\n\n\"To be torn in pieces by twelve wild horses,\" said the old queen.\n\n\"You have pronounced your own doom, and shall suffer the punishment,\"\nsaid the king, and forthwith the old queen was tied to twelve wild\nhorses, and torn to pieces. But Snow-white and Rosy-red set off with\nthe king, her husband, and her three children, and her twelve\nbrothers, and went home to her parents, and told them all that had\nhappened to her; and there were rejoicings throughout the kingdom,\nbecause the princess was saved, and that she had disenchanted her\ntwelve brothers.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF ARGILIUS AND THE FLAME-KING.\n\n[Slavonic]\n\n\nIn a certain distant land once reigned a king and queen, who had three\ndaughters and one son. As the king and queen were talking one day\ntogether about family matters, the king said to his consort: \"Whenever\nour daughters happen to marry we shall be obliged to give to each of\ntheir husbands a portion of our kingdom, which will thereby be greatly\ndiminished; I think therefore that we cannot do better than marry them\nall three to our son, and so the kingdom will remain entire. In\nanother eight days, harvest will be over, and then we will celebrate\nthe nuptials.\"\n\nThe son overheard this discourse, and thought within himself, \"that\nshall never come to pass.\"\n\nNow the king and queen having gone to a distant farm to superintend\nthe reapers, some one approached the window, knocked at it, and said\nto the prince: \"Little prince, I am come to marry your eldest sister.\"\n\nThe young prince replied: \"Wait a moment, you shall have her\ndirectly.\" He called his eldest sister, and as soon as she entered the\nroom, he caught her in his arms, and threw her out of the window. She\ndid not, however, fall to the ground, but on a golden bridge, which\nwas very, very long, in fact it reached to the sun. Her unknown lover\ntook her by the hand, and led her along the golden bridge to his\nkingdom in the centre of the sun, for this unknown happened to be the\nSun-king.\n\nAbout noon some one else knocked at the window and said, as the former\nhad done: \"Little prince, I want to marry your second sister.\"\n\nThe little prince replied: \"Wait a moment, you shall have her\ndirectly.\" He went into his second sister's apartment, lifted her up,\nand threw her out of the window. She did not fall to the ground\neither, but into a chariot in the air. Four horses, which never ceased\nsnorting and prancing, were harnessed to it. The unknown placed\nhimself in the chariot, and as he brandished the whip, the clouds\nspread themselves out so as to form a road, the rolling of the\nchariot wheels was like a storm, and they disappeared in an instant.\nThe unknown was the Wind-king.\n\nThe little prince was right glad to think that he had already\nestablished two sisters, and when toward evening some one else knocked\nat the window, he said: \"You need not speak, I know what you want:\"\nand out he threw his youngest sister. She fell into a silvery stream.\nThe unknown took her by the arm, and the waves bore her gently to the\nmoon, for her lover was no other than the Moon-king. The young prince\nthen went well pleased to bed.\n\nWhen the king and queen returned the next day they were very much\nsurprised at hearing what their son had done; but as they had got\nthree such powerful sons-in-law, as the kings of the Sun, Wind, and\nMoon, they were well satisfied, and said to the young prince: \"See how\ngrand your sisters are become through their husbands. You must try\nalso to find some powerful queen to be your wife.\"\n\nThe prince answered: \"I have already fixed on one Kavadiska, and no\nother shall be my wife.\"\n\nThe king and queen were quite shocked at this audacious speech, and\nendeavoured to dissuade him from the thought by all kinds of rational\narguments; as, however, they in no wise succeeded, they at length\nsaid: \"Well, then go forth, my son, and may Heaven guide thee in thy\nrash enterprise.\"\n\nThe old king then took two bottles from his chest and gave them to his\nson, with these words: \"See, my son, this bottle contains the water of\nlife, and this the water of death. If thou sprinkle a corpse with the\nwater of life it will be restored to life, but if thou sprinkle a\nliving being with this water of death, it will immediately die. Take\nthese bottles, they are my greatest treasure; perhaps they may be\nserviceable to thee.\" Now all the courtiers began to weep excessively,\nespecially the ladies, who were all very partial to the prince. He,\nhowever, was very cheerful and full of hope, kissed the hands of his\nroyal parents, placed the bottles about his person, that of life on\nthe right side, and that of death on the left, girded on his sword,\nand departed.\n\nHe had already wandered far when he reached a valley which was full of\nslain men. The young prince took his bottle of the water of life and\nsprinkled some in the eyes of one of the dead, who immediately rose\nup, rubbed his eyes, and said: \"Ha! how long I have been sleeping.\"\nThe king's son asked him, \"What has taken place here?\" to which the\ndead man replied: \"Yesterday we fought against Kavadiska and she cut\nus all to pieces.\" The king's son said: \"Since you were so weak as not\nto be able to defend yourselves against a woman, you do not deserve to\nlive;\" and then he sprinkled him with the water of death, on which the\nman fell down again, dead, amongst the other corpses.\n\nIn the next valley lay a whole army in the same condition; the prince\nagain re-animated one of the dead, and inquired: \"Did you also fight\nagainst Kavadiska?\" \"Yes,\" returned the dead. \"Why did you make war\nupon her?\" resumed the prince. \"Know'st thou not,\" rejoined the dead,\n\"that our king desires to marry her, but that she will have no one for\nher husband, but him who shall conquer her? We went out against her\nwith three armies: yesterday she destroyed one; this morning at\nsunrise the second; and she is at this moment fighting against the\nthird?\" The prince sprinkled the speaker with the water of death, and\nimmediately he also fell to the ground.\n\nIn the third valley lay the third host. The re-animated warrior said:\n\"The fight is only just now ended; Kavadiska has slain us all.\" \"Where\nshall I find her?\" asked the prince. \"Her castle is on the other side\nof that mountain,\" replied the warrior, and sank down again as soon as\nthe prince sprinkled him.\n\nArgilius--so was the prince called--crossed the mountain and came to\nKavadiska's castle. He entered. No one was within. In Kavadiska's\nchamber hung a sword, which ceased not to spring out of its sheath and\nthen in again. \"Ho, ho, since thou art so restless,\" thought Argilius,\n\"I will take possession of thee. Thou pleasest me better than my own\nsword, which never stirs unless I wield it.\" So he took off his own\nsword and exchanged it for the other. He had scarcely done so, when\nKavadiska suddenly stood before him. \"Thou darest to intrude into my\ncastle?\" exclaimed she; \"draw then, thou must fight me.\" She snatched\nthe sword from the wall. Argilius drew the blade for which he had just\nexchanged his own. They began to fight, but the first time their\nswords crossed Kavadiska's broke off in the middle. Then she said\njoyfully: \"Thou art my bridegroom!\" and fell on his neck, and kissed\nand caressed him, and forthwith became his wife.\n\nAfter they had lived some time happily together, Kavadiska said one\nmorning: \"Beloved husband, I must leave thee for a short time. It is\nthe first and last time I shall ever separate from thee. In seven\ntimes seven days I shall return, and thenceforth our life shall flow\non in uninterrupted happiness. Everything in the castle is at thy\ncommand, only do not enter the furthest room; great misfortunes may\nbefall us if you do.\" Having said these words she vanished.\n\nThe time passed very heavily for Argilius after his wife had left him;\nhe wandered through the whole castle, till at last he came to the\nfurthest chamber. Being young and thoughtless he opened it. He saw\ntherein an old man, whose beard was fire; this was the Flame-king\nHolofernes, but Argilius did not know who he was. The old man had\nthree iron hoops round his body, which bound him fast to the wall.\n\n\"Hail to thee, young man,\" said he; \"see, my beard is flame; I am very\nhot, give me a goblet of wine.\" Now, as Argilius was very kindly\ndisposed, he gave him a goblet; and as soon as he had drunk it, one of\nthe hoops round his body gave way. He chuckled and said: \"Thou hast\ngreatly relieved me; give me now another goblet.\" Argilius did so, and\nwhen the Flame-king had emptied that, another hoop gave way. He\nchuckled again and said: \"Twice hast thou given me wine, now give me\na goblet of water.\" And when Argilius had done as he was requested,\nthe third hoop sprang off, and the Flame-king disappeared.\n\nKavadiska had not performed half of her journey before Holofernes\nstood by her side. He addressed her, and his beard waved in anger:\n\"Thou hast rejected me for thy husband, thou hast slain three of my\narmies, thou hast detained me in prison: now thou art in my power; and\nnow not my wife, but the lowest of my servants shalt thou be.\" Since\nher marriage with Argilius, Kavadiska had lost all her power,\ntherefore her resistance was in vain. In three leaps the Flame-king\nhad already borne her to his realm.\n\nSeven times seven days passed, and Kavadiska did not return. Then\nArgilius became very uneasy, and he resolved to go and see his three\nbrothers-in-law, and inquire if they could give him any information\nwhere Kavadiska was. He arrived first at the Sun-king's palace, who\nwas just then coming home.\n\n\"Welcome, little brother-in-law,\" began he.\n\n\"Ah! dear brother-in-law,\" said Argilius, \"I am in search of my wife\nKavadiska; know'st thou not where she is? Hast thou not seen her?\"\n\n\"No,\" rejoined the Sun-king, \"I have not seen her. Perhaps she is only\nvisible by night, and in that case thou must inquire of our\nbrother-in-law the Moon-king.\"\n\nThey then took refreshments together, and sat till night came on, when\nArgilius went on to the Moon-king. He reached his palace just as the\nMoon-king was about to begin his night wandering, and Argilius having\ntold what he wanted, the Moon-king replied:--\n\n\"I have not seen her; but come, join me in my nightly pilgrimage,\nperhaps we shall discover her.\" They wandered all night, but did not\nget sight of her. Then said the Moon-king:--\n\n\"It is now time for me to go home; but yonder comes our brother-in-law\nthe Wind-king; speak to him; he drives about everywhere, perhaps he\nmay have seen her.\"\n\nThe Wind-king stood beside them, and when he heard his little\nbrother-in-law's business, he said:--\n\n\"Assuredly I know where she is. The Flame-king, Holofernes, has got\nher imprisoned in a subterranean cavern, and she is obliged to wash\nall his kitchen utensils in the fiery stream, and as this makes her\nvery hot, I often waft a cooling breeze upon her.\"\n\n\"I thank thee, dear brother-in-law, for having given her some relief;\npray carry me to her,\" said Argilius.\n\n\"Right willingly,\" rejoined the Wind-king: so he gave a great puff,\nand he and Argilius, together with the horse of the latter, stood the\nnext moment in the presence of his Kavadiska. Her joy was so great\nthat she let all the kitchen utensils fall into the fiery stream; but\nArgilius, without stopping to talk much, lifted her on his horse and\nrode off.\n\nThe Flame-king was at that time in his own apartment; he heard an\nextraordinary noise in the stable, and on going into it he found his\nhorse Taigarot prancing, neighing, biting the manger, and pawing the\nground. Taigarot was a very peculiar kind of horse; he understood\nhuman language, and could even speak, and he had nine feet!\n\n\"What mad tricks are you playing?\" cried Holofernes; \"have you not had\nenough hay and oats, or have they not given you drink?\"\n\n\"Oats and hay I have had in plenty,\" said Taigarot, \"and drink, too;\nbut they have carried off Kavadiska from you.\"\n\nThe Flame-king shivered with rage.\n\n\"Be calm,\" said Taigarot; \"you may even eat, drink, and sleep, for in\nthree bounds I will overtake her.\"\n\nHolofernes did as his horse bade him, and when he had sufficiently\nrested and refreshed himself, he mounted Taigarot, and in three bounds\novertook Argilius. He tore Kavadiska from his arms and cried out, as\nhe was springing home again:--\n\n\"Because you set me at liberty, I do not kill thee this time; but if\nthou returnest once again, thou art lost.\"\n\nArgilius went back very melancholy to his three brothers-in-law, and\nrelated what had happened. They took counsel together, and then\nsaid:--\n\n\"Thou must find a horse which is still swifter of foot than Taigarot;\nthere is, however, but one such horse existing, and he is Taigarot's\nyounger brother. It is true he has only four feet, but still he is\ndecidedly swifter than Taigarot.\"\n\n\"Where shall I find this horse?\" inquired Argilius.\n\nThe brothers-in-law replied:--\n\n\"The witch Iron-nose keeps the horse concealed under-ground; go to\nher, enter into her service, and demand the horse in lieu of other\nwages.\"\n\n\"Carry me thither, dear brothers-in-law,\" said Argilius.\n\n\"Immediately,\" said the Sun-king; \"but first accept this gift from thy\nbrothers-in-law, who love thee dearly.\"\n\nWith these words he gave him a little staff, which was half gold and\nhalf silver, and which never ceased vibrating. It was made of\nsunshine, moonshine, and wind.\n\n\"Whenever thou standest in need of us, stick this staff in the ground,\nand immediately we shall be by thy side.\"\n\nThen the Sun-king took his little brother-in-law on one of his beams,\nand carried him for one day; then the Moon-king did the same for a\nwhole night, and finally the Wind-king carried him for a whole day and\na whole night too, and by that time he reached the palace of the witch\nIron-nose.\n\nThe palace of the witch was constructed entirely of deaths'-heads; one\nonly was wanting to complete the building. When the old woman heard a\nknocking at her gate, she looked out of the window, and rejoiced: \"At\nlast another!\" exclaimed she, \"I have waited three hundred years in\nvain for this death's-head to complete my magnificent edifice: come\nin, my good youth!\"\n\nArgilius entered, and was a little startled when he first beheld the\nold woman, for she was very tall, very ugly, and her nose was of iron.\n\n\"I should like to enter your service,\" were his words.\n\n\"Well,\" replied she, \"what wages do you ask?\"\n\n\"The horse which you keep under-ground.\"\n\n\"You shall have him if you serve faithfully; if you fail however once\nonly, you shall be put to death.\"\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\n\"With me,\"--these were witch Iron-nose's last words,--\"with me the\nyear's service consists of only three days; you may begin your service\nat once. You will attend to my stud in the meadow, and if in the\nevening a single one is missing, you die.\"\n\nShe then led him to the stable. The horses were all of metal, neighed\nterribly, and made the most surprising leaps.\n\n\"Attend to your business,\" said Iron-nose, and then locked herself in\nher apartment. Argilius opened the covered enclosure, threw himself on\none of the metal horses and rushed out with the whole troop. They were\nno sooner on the meadow, when the horse on which he rode threw him\ninto a deep morass, where he sank up to the breast. The whole troop\nscattered themselves here and there, when Argilius stuck the little\nstaff his brothers-in-law had given him into the ground, and at once\nthe sun's rays struck with such heat on the morass, that it dried up\ninstantly, and the metal horses began to melt, and ran terrified back\nto the shed. The witch was very much surprised when she saw they were\nall driven in again. \"To-morrow you must tend my twelve coursers,\"\nsaid she; \"if you are not home again with the last rays of the sun,\nyou die: they are more difficult to manage than the metal horses.\"\n\n\"Do your duty,\" said Argilius, \"I shall do mine.\"\n\nThe twelve coursers soon ran all different ways. Argilius set his\nstaff in the ground, and a fearful storm arose. The wind blew against\nevery horse, and let them rear and prance as they would, the wind got\nthe better of them, and they were all obliged to return to their\nstable. Argilius immediately shut the stable door, and at that moment\nthe last rays of the sun went down just as Witch Iron-nose reached the\nstable. She was quite astonished when she saw the horses and Argilius.\n\n\"If you do your work well this night, to-morrow you shall be free. Go\nand milk the metal mares, and prepare a bath of the milk, which must\nbe ready with the first rays of the sun.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nArgilius went to the metal shed, and as he had a misgiving that this\nwould prove the hardest task of all, he was about to set his staff in\nthe ground, when he was met by his brother-in-law, the Moon-king.\n\n\"I was seeking thee,\" said he. \"I know already what thou needest.\nWhere my light shines, just by the metallic horses' shed, dig about\nthree spans deep, and thou wilt find a golden bridle, which, whilst\nthou holdest in thy hand, will cause all the mares to obey thee.\"\n\nArgilius did as he was desired, and all the metallic mares stood quite\nstill and suffered themselves to be milked. In the morning the bath\nwas ready, the smoke and steam rose up from the milk, which now\nboiled. Witch Iron-nose said: \"Place thyself in it.\"\n\n\"If I stand this trial,\" replied Argilius, \"I shall ride away\nimmediately after; let the horse therefore be brought out for the\npossession of which I bargained.\"\n\nThe horse instantly stood by the bath. It was small, ill-looking, and\ndirty. As Argilius approached to enter the bath, the horse put his\nhead into the milk, and sucked out all the fire, so that Argilius\nremained unhurt in it, and when he came out he was seven times\nhandsomer than before. Witch Iron-nose was much charmed by his\nappearance, and thought within herself: \"Now I in like manner will\nmake myself seven times handsomer than I am, and then I will marry\nthis youth.\"\n\nShe sprang into the bath. The horse, however, again put his head into\nthe milk, and blew back into it the fire he had previously sucked out,\nand Witch Iron-nose was immediately scalded to death.\n\nArgilius sprang on his horse and rode away. When they had got beyond\nthe Witch's domain, the horse said: \"Wash me in this stream.\"\n\nArgilius did so, and the horse became the colour of gold, and to each\nhair hung a little golden bell. The horse at one leap cleared the sea,\nand carried his master to the cave of the Flame-king. Kavadiska was\nagain standing by the side of the fiery stream, washing the kitchen\nutensils.\n\n\"Come,\" cried Argilius, \"I will rescue thee,\"\n\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed she, \"Holofernes will slay thee if he overtakes thee.\"\n\nArgilius had, however, already lifted her on his horse and ridden off.\nTaigarot again set up a wonderful noise in his stable.\n\n\"What's the matter?\" cried the Flame-king.\n\n\"Kavadiska has escaped,\" replied Taigarot.\n\n\"Well then, I will again eat, drink and sleep; in three bounds thou\nwilt overtake her as before,\" said Holofernes.\n\n\"Not so,\" rejoined Taigarot, \"mount me directly, and even then we\nshall not overtake them. Argilius rides my younger brother, and he is\nthe swiftest horse in the whole world.\"\n\nHolofernes buckled on his fire-spurs, and flew after the fugitives. It\nis true, he got sight of them, but he could not come up with them.\nThen the horse of Argilius turning back his head called out: \"Why dost\nthou let those fiery spurs be stuck in thy side, brother? They will\nburn thy entrails, they are so long; and yet thou wilt never come up\nwith me. It would be much better that we should both serve one\nmaster.\"\n\nTaigarot perceived this, and the next time Holofernes stuck the spurs\nin him, he threw the Flame-king. As they were very high up in the air,\n(in fact, they were as high as the stars), Holofernes fell to the\nground with such force, that he broke his neck. As for Argilius, he\nbrought Kavadiska back to her castle, where they again celebrated\ntheir nuptials, lived very happy; and, if they have not died since,\nthey live there to this very day.\n\n\n\n\nPERSEVERE AND PROSPER.\n\n[Arabic.]\n\n\n\"_He that seeketh shall find, and to him that knocketh shall be\nopened_,\" says an old Arab proverb. \"I will try that,\" said a youth\none day. To carry out his intentions he journeyed to Bagdad, where he\npresented himself before the Vizier. \"Lord!\" said he, \"for many years\nI have lived a quiet and solitary life, the monotony of which wearies\nme. I have never permitted myself earnestly to will anything. But as\nmy teacher daily repeated to me, '_He that seeketh shall find, and to\nhim that knocketh shall be opened_,' so have I now come to the\nresolution with might and heart to _will_, and the resolution of my\n_will_ is nothing less than to have the Caliph's daughter for my\nwife.\"\n\nThe Vizier thought the poor man was mad, and told him to call again\nsome other time.\n\nPerseveringly he daily returned, and never felt disconcerted at the\nsame often-repeated answer. One day, the Caliph called on the Vizier,\njust as the youth was delivering his statement.\n\nFull of astonishment the Caliph listened to the strange demand, and\nbeing in no peculiar humour for having the poor youth's head taken\noff, but on the contrary, rather inclined for pleasantry, his\nMightiness condescendingly said: \"For the great, the wise, or the\nbrave, to request a princess for wife, is a moderate demand; but what\nare your claims? To be the possessor of my daughter you must\ndistinguish yourself by one of these attributes, or else by some great\nundertaking. Ages ago a carbuncle of inestimable value was lost in the\nTigris; he who finds it shall have the hand of my daughter.\"\n\nThe youth, satisfied with the promise of the Caliph, went to the\nshores of the Tigris. With a small vessel he every morning went to the\nriver, scooping out the water and throwing it on the land; and after\nhaving for hours thus employed himself, he knelt down and prayed. The\nfishes became at last uneasy at his perseverance; and being fearful\nthat, in course of time, he might exhaust the waters, they assembled\nin great council.\n\n\"What is the purpose of this man?\" demanded the monarch of the fishes.\n\n\"The possession of the carbuncle that lies buried in the sluice of the\nTigris,\" was the reply.\n\n\"I advise you, then,\" said the aged monarch, \"to give it up to him;\nfor if he has the steady will, and has positively resolved to find it,\nhe will drain the last drop of water from the Tigris, rather than\ndeviate a hair's breadth from his purpose.\"\n\nThe fishes, out of fear, threw the carbuncle into the vessel of the\nyouth; and the latter, as a reward, received the daughter of the\nCaliph for his wife.\n\n\"He who earnestly _wills_, can do _much_!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCE OF THE GLOW-WORMS.\n\n[German.]\n\n\n\"No! I'll bear it no longer, you good-for-nothing vagabond!\" screamed\nthe old woman to little Julius. \"When you should be sitting with your\nbook in your hand trying to learn somewhat, if I do but turn my back\noff goes the dunce to the wood, and stays there for whole days,\nfrightening me out of my wits! What business have you in the wood,\npray? You ought to stay at home and learn your book or help me in my\nwork. And then you let one have no peace by night either. What's the\nuse of my telling you ten times over all the stories I know about the\nblack man and the grim wolf? You godless child you! You care for none\nof the things that frighten good pious children almost to death; but\nin the dead of the night off you go into the dark forest, through\nhedges and brambles, making me fine work to wash and patch your\nclothes. This is the last day I'll put up with it. The very next time\nI'll turn you out of doors; and then you may go far enough before\nyou'll find anybody to take pity on you, you lazy foundling, and feed\nyou, as I have done, out of sheer humanity!\"\n\n\"I cannot say much for your food,\" replied the boy shortly and\ncarelessly, as he sat dreamily in a corner playing with a wild flower.\n\n\"What!\" shrieked the old woman in a still sharper key; \"you ungrateful\nviper! Is that the thanks I get for so often cooking something on\npurpose, because our nice savoury potatoes and nourishing black bread\nare not good enough for you? And so, forsooth, the gentleman must have\nmilk porridge and honey cakes,--and even these he pecks at as if they\nwere not delicate enough for him, the beggarly ingrate!\"\n\n\"One might as well eat mill-stones and wood-choppers as your vile hard\npotatoes and sour bread,\" said Julius in the same tone of\nindifference.\n\nThe old woman fell into such a rage that her breath failed her for\nfurther utterance; so her husband, who was making bird-traps at the\ntable, began in his turn.\n\n\"You rascal! do you dare to blaspheme God's good gifts, when, if we\ndid not feed you out of charity--you must starve! And what return do\nyou make us, you stray vagabond? When the fellow wants to slip out at\nnight, truly he can be as sharp and cunning as any fox; but place a\nbook before him, that he may learn to be pious and wise, and he loses\nhis senses at once, and stares as stupidly at the letters as a cow at\na new gate. Does he suppose I picked him off the road for love of his\npaltry flaxen hair and his blue goggle eyes? Fool that I was for my\npains! Mark my words, and let every one beware of having anything to\ndo with a child that is not his own flesh and blood! Why was I such a\ngoose as not to let the child lie where I found him, kicking and\nscreaming in the forest?\"\n\n\"Well, why did you not?\" said Julius. \"I should have fared much better\nbeneath God's bright sky, than in your nasty smoky hovel.\"\n\nAt this, the old pair--he with a stick, and she snatching up a\nbroom--rushed furiously on the boy, screaming and scolding as if they\nhad a wager who should make most noise. But the child, light and\nactive as a roebuck, bounded away. He fled to the wood; and when at\nlast the old people had calmed down a little they heard him singing in\nthe distance--\n\n    \"You ill-favoured couple, adieu to you now!\n    I'm off to the forest where waves the green bough.\n    The bees, they know neither to read nor to write,\n    Yet they gather sweet honey in sunshine bright;\n    Though the little birds never were taught how to spell,\n    Full many a blithe song they warble right well;\n    The flowers are not fed on potato-roots vile,\n    Yet through the long summer's day sweetly they smile.\n    The butterfly, he has no tailor to pay,\n    Yet he never feels cold,--and who dresses so gay?\n    The glow-worms at eve show a lovelier light\n    Than the dim lamps that mortals consume through the night.\n    So adieu, ye vile pair, whom no more I shall see,--\n    To the wood! to the wood! there I'm wealthy and free!\"\n\nFearlessly ran Julius about in the forest, and the further he\npenetrated into it the lighter grew his heart. The dark night came on;\nand many a child would have been frightened, and fancied the tall dark\ntrees with their strangely contorted branches were giants with long\narms, or black dragons with twisted tails. But Julius was accustomed\nto wander by night, and went gaily on. When, however, it began to\nrain, and it was so dark that he found difficulty in walking, he sang\nin a clear sweet voice:--\n\n              \"You glow-worms bright,\n                You leaf-clad trees,\n              That shine in the night,\n                And that bend in the breeze;\n    Hither I came, for I trusted that you\n    Would lighten my darkness and shelter me too.\n    Come, glow-worms! light me to my mossy bed,--\n    Branches! keep off the rain-drops from my head!\"\n\nThen, a light shone suddenly through the thick tangled bushes and wild\nplants; and a multitude of glow-worms came clustering round his\nfootsteps like little torch-bearers, and guided him along a smooth and\npleasant path to a retired spot, where the bushes and trees were\nentwined so as to form a little airy cave, the ground of which was\ncovered with soft moss. Julius, being very tired, stretched himself on\nthe moss; and the branches closed over his head, making such a thick\ncovering with their leaves that not the smallest rain-drop could\npenetrate it. Then, he sang:--\n\n    \"Now, glow-worms, let your tiny torches gleam\n    To light my chamber with their emerald beam;\n    In mazy dances round and round me sweep,\n    Shedding your radiance o'er me whilst I sleep,\n    That I may gaze in slumber's vision fair\n    On heaven's bright stars and breathe earth's perfumed air!\"\n\nAt these words, a thousand glow-worms at the very least came from all\nsides. Some hung themselves on the leaves like little coronets of\nlamps. Others lay like scattered gems on the moss; whilst others again\ncircled round him executing the most intricate figures. A great number\nfixed themselves in the boy's fair hair,--so that he seemed to wear a\nstarry crown. So, in the gold green twilight, sat Julius on the soft\ngreen moss, amongst flitting lamps, and concealed by arches and\ncolumns from which streamed forth a green radiance, whilst the mild\nand perfumed air played around him, and he heard the rain drip and the\nwind murmur mysteriously--but neither could approach him. He gazed\nsmilingly around; when he suddenly heard a murmuring sound that soon\nformed itself into whispered words. It proceeded from a glow-worm that\nhad perched on the rim of his ear, and spoke to him thus:--\n\n    \"If thy thoughts are pure and mild,\n    Such as beseem a holy child,\n    A wondrous tale will please thee well,--\n    And such a tale I now can tell.\"\n\nTo this Julius replied:--\n\n    \"I seem to myself like some legend strange,\n      So thy tale I shall gladly hear:\n    So it be but one of wild chance and change,\n      Come whisper it in mine ear.\"\n\nThen, the glow-worm began her story:--\n\n\"As glow-worms bright we now appear, but little nimble elves we were;\nin form and in figure much like unto thee, but many hundred times less\nwere we. In India was our dwelling-place, far--oh how far!--away;\nwhere midst green leaves and blossoms bright we sported all the day.\nWe scaled the petals of the flowers, within their cups to lie: and\nrocked by zephyrs, passed the hours in dreamy phantasy. Our food was\nthe Aroma sweet exhaled by blossoms fair; and to and fro we darted\nfleet, light as the ambient air. 'Twas thus in careless mood we lived,\nnor good nor ill did we; when lo! an earnest man arrived, and a holy\ntale told he.\n\n\"He told us how Creation's Lord had with His own made peace; because\nHis son His blood had poured, to make His anger cease. For that\nlife-blood, He willing gave, had slaked the flames of hell; and His\nhard-wrung victory o'er the grave had broken its fierce spell. And not\nthe human race alone,--all things that breathe and move, and e'en the\ninsensate-seeming stone, were rescued by such love. Hence, through\nall nature's vast domain a universal tremor ran; a thrill like that of\ndeath's fierce pain shot through the ransomed race of man.\n\n\"'Twas thus the old man daily urged, in high and holy speech, and\ngently led us to accept the creed he came to teach:--till at length we\nlet him sprinkle us with pearly drops of dew; and he hailed us then a\nChristian race, and blessed us all anew. And in token of that\nblessing, as we bent before him low, he gently laid his finger light\nupon each fairy brow; and as the consecrating sign his finger\ntraced,--lo! there up sprang on each a brilliant star like that which\nnow I bear. Then did the old man in the ground a cross of pure white\nplace,--and calling us around him, spake in words of truth and grace.\n\n\"'Revere this holy symbol; and as ye have lived for pleasure and ease,\nwithout a creed,--by some good deed henceforward strive your Lord to\nappease. There are men living in this land who still in sin and\nblindness stand; they lay their dead in the forest's shade, and\nscatter o'er them flowers fair, but seek not their poor souls to aid\nby holy song or prayer. Wherefore, in night's still secresy, for the\nservice of the dead, be ready aye to watch and pray and your little\nlight to shed. That ye this pious work may do, lo! this fair star is\ngiven you!'--And many more high words he spake ere his departure he\ndid take. Thenceforth we led a holy life, as he command had given; and\noften in the silent night, we prayed that through our song and light,\nthe cleansed soul might win its way to heaven.\"\n\n\"How could you do that? You cannot sing, surely,\" interrupted Julius.\nTo which the glow-worm answered:\n\n\"Thou canst no other voices hear but such as thundering reach thy ear.\nThou little dull-eared earth-bound wight, thou canst not e'en perceive\nby night the stars' majestic music sounding, through the azure vaults\nrebounding, with such a full and mighty voice, that though we listen\nand rejoice, our delicate nerves shrink tremblingly beneath that storm\nof harmony. Think'st thou 'tis without sense and feeling, that in our\nspark-twined dances wheeling, some of us darting radiance throw,\nwhilst others burn with steady glow? But thou knows't not how closely\nbound by mystic tie are light and sound.\n\n\"Now hear my story on.--\n\n\"Not all of us became Christians; and one of our orders in particular,\nwhich had learnt from a Greek the philosophy of Epicurus, still held\nto its doctrines. This was the butterfly-tribes,--who like ourselves\nwere also elves. A light and godless race they were, thinking nothing\nworth their care but how to appear in colours gay; and to their\nsensual maxims true, they would drink deep of ambrosial dew, and then\nfor hours would sleep; whilst we, the star-adorned nation, sucked of\nthe flowers' sweet exhalation just so much from the humid air as for\nour nourishment we needed. But those light creatures far exceeded. The\nfragrance-breathing rose they courted, and with the young field-lilies\nsported, till at length of their strength and their perfume bereft,\nthe poor wasted flowers to perish were left. By their uncertain\nzig-zag flight, dear child, thou well may'st see, that they have drunk\nmore than is right and their senses clouded be.\n\n\"We wore a garb of simple green; but they were ever to be seen in\njackets with ribbons all gay bedight, and in every idle fashion\nlight,--so that we sometimes laughed to see their folly and their\nvanity.\n\n\"That is evident enough if you only look at their patch-work clothing\nput together without the slightest taste. The foolish fellow with the\nswallow-tails thought he had done a vastly clever thing when he\nappended to each wing a tail like that the swallows have; and after\nall, this monstrous affectation is but a trumpery imitation of that\nwhich nature to the swallows gave. Then, that insufferable ass, the\nPeacock's Eye, must copy him in his folly, and wear great spectacles\nof coloured glass, which are so far from helping him to see that his\nown clear eyes look dim, owing to that fantastic whim. Thou thinkest,\nperhaps, the one who wears a mantle grave like a funeral pall is far\nabove such senseless airs,--but he's the greatest fool of all! That\ngarb of sorrow is but worn wonder and pity to excite, to seem as if\ncondemned to mourn--a sorrow-stricken wight. Others there are who on\ntheir jackets gay, cause numbers to be traced; no doubt, you'll say,\nto mind them that the years unheeded go and teach them how to value\ntime. But no! Those youths are your Don Juans, and the numbers show in\npride how many flowers by them brought low have pined and died.\n\n\"The king who then did o'er us reign thought of a method somewhat\nstrange, by which their licence to restrain and work a beneficial\nchange. He caused to be enforced throughout the nation, a most\npeculiar kind of education. He shut the youthful butterflies within a\nnarrow case of skin, wherein they were so tightly bound they could not\nturn their bodies round--and there close prisoners they remained\ntill they a certain age attained. I must confess, the principle to me\nseemed very wrong,--and so it proved to be; for so far from the matter\nbeing mended, we had just the reverse of what the king intended. The\ncloser they were mewed in prison, the more they longed for\nliberty,--and only waited to be free, to plunge in deepest revelry.\n\n\"But angry thoughts are leading me astray,--I've wandered from my\ntheme too far away. To speak of many things I am beguiled which must\nbe meaningless to such a child.\n\n\"Thou now shalt hear the sequel of my tale. There was one set amongst\nthe butterflies more worthless than all the rest. These were the\nconfirmed old topers, who had imbibed so much of the ambrosial dew\nthat their bodies had grown fat and unwieldy, and had very large\nstomachs. Such clumsy butterflies as these had little chance the\nflowers to please; and so whenever one approached, each bent aside its\ncalyx bright in mockery of the uncouth wight. Or if by chance one\nclambered up to reach the blossom's nectar-cup, its stem would bend\nbeneath his weight, and down the awkward creature straight would go,\nand all its members dislocate. So then their evil deeds they did under\nthe cover of the night. When every flower was soundly sleeping, they\ncame like midnight robbers creeping,--then drew them softly to the\nground, and sucked from their lips their nectar breath; so that many a\nflower at morn was found, lying pale in death and sinfully robbed of\nall its wealth, that had closed its leaves in rosy health.\n\n\"Now, my child, thou may'st be sure, full little could those elves\nendure that we, on our holy mission bound, the silence and darkness\nshould chase away by our song, and our prayer, and our emerald\nray,--hoping by that solemn sound to give the dead repose.\n\n\"Those who had drunk deep by day, roused by it could not sleep away\nthe ill effects of their carouse, so they with aches and fevers rose.\nBut those deceitful spoilers of the flowers, who trusted by night's\nshade protected to work their purpose undetected, had now to\nfast,--for as we passed, the flowers who loved to hear our song saw by\nour light, that pierced the night, their foes come creeping stealthily\nalong. This with the jealousy within their hearts that glowed, because\nthe star had not on them, too, been bestowed, between our tribes\nraised feud and jar,--whence bitter grief has grown. They had a king,\nto whom was known full many a spell of gramarye; 'twas said, that he\na league had made with spirits lost, and by their aid could read the\nscroll of destiny. And there he found this dread decree, which told\nour coming misery:--\n\n\"'When the star-adorned race, shall fall from innocence and\ngrace,--when their first murder shall be done,--when their monarch's\nfirst-born son by the waves of the sea shall swallowed be;--then vain\nshall be rendered their song and their prayer,--from amongst them the\nwhite cross shall disappear,--and to insects transformed they shall\nflutter and creep, doomed far from their own land to wander and weep.\nThe fatal spell may be undone only by their king's lost son; but ere\neven he can set them free, he must their chosen sovereign be.'\n\n\"The king of the butterflies, when he heard this, began to consider\nhow he might contrive to bring us to endless wretchedness; and as by\nmagic he could appear in any form he chose to wear, an angel's guise\nhe took one day, and neared the spot where our king lay deep sleeping\nin a tulip's cup. He by the rustling wakened up, was struck with\nwonder and pious awe, when he the angel near him saw; who thus in\nwicked words began:--\n\n\"'Thy loving wife shall bear a son to thee, of whom 'tis written in\nthe Book of Fate, that if he be not whelmed beneath the sea, the elfin\nnation shall be desolate, and from their native country driven:--such\nis the mysterious will of Heaven. Therefore must thou this offering\nmake for the elfin nation's sake; else thy people's love for thee,\nwill turn to hatred when they see thou wilt not save them from their\nmisery; and thou thyself a shameful death shalt die.'\n\n\"This said, the guilty wretch departed. No longer slept the king; but\nheavy hearted, he musing lay, till break of day. And lo! just as the\nsun his radiance bright o'er earth began to shed, the queen gave birth\nunto a child, lovely and innocent and mild, and small as a pin's head!\n\n\"The king looked on it, but no pleasure glowed in his heart at this\nnew treasure; and as he gazed, an icy chill through all his members\nseemed to thrill; for love of his people, and desire to save his own\nlife, did inspire his thoughts with a ferocious plan.\n\n\"He had a faithful serving-man, to whom his secret he confided; and to\nhim command he gave to plunge the child beneath the wave, there to\nfind a watery grave. The boy, however, did not perish:--how he escaped\nI shall tell thee hereafter.\n\n\"Thus no murder yet had stained the nation; and the white cross still\nremained amongst us, and we dwelt unchanged in our accustomed spot.\nBut the servant, by remorse urged on, revealed the murder he had done.\nThen, loyal as was hitherto the nation, the crime so raised our\nindignation, that our duty we forgot.\n\n\"In the first tumult of their ire some of our fiercest spirits did\nconspire their monarch's blood to spill. They tore the thorns from the\nstem of the rose, and the strongest and longest and sharpest they\nchose to work their wicked will. Beneath their mantles green they hid\nthe spears; and sought their king, the curse-beladen one, who again in\nthe tulip lay alone in sorrow and in tears. Wildly they the stem\nascended, and in their rage they struck the deadly blow; they pierced\nhim till his heart's blood forth did flow,--and with his life, his\nsorrow ended.\n\n\"Now the sinful deed was done,--now our innocence was gone! Heaven\nwithdrew its sheltering hand. The white cross the old man had given,\nthe token of our bond with heaven,--vanished from the land! And as we\nflocked together trembling, we heard a rushing through the air, as if\nfierce winds in conflict were. Devouring grief our hearts distracted;\nour delicate limbs all suddenly contracted, and into ugly worms we\nturned!\n\n[Illustration: THE PRINCE OF THE GLOW WORMS. P. 56.]\n\n\"Yet as we were not guilty all of the vile crime that caused our fall,\nthe fair light still upon our foreheads burned. And as we sat in fear\nand gloom, a shrill voice thus pronounced our doom.\n\n\"Henceforth as homeless worms, away, away!--wander and stray, here and\nthere, and up and down, until at length ye place the crown on the brow\nof the child who by your king's decree was sunk amid the waves of the\nfoaming sea. Far, far from hence is his dwelling-place, and he seems\nlike a child of the human race,--but him ye shall know by the star on\nhis brow.\n\n\"'Your lost cross, too, ye must find once more, which he is destined\nto restore; when your king and your cross shall again be found, your\npenance shall end and the spell be unbound.'\n\n\"The gay-dressed elves who had their king deceived by treachery and\nlies, were, like ourselves, transformed, and became butterflies.\n\n\"Soon as we heard our melancholy doom, we fled, and traversed many a\ndistant land,--ever peering through the gloom, into each little\nsleeping-room; peeping about us all the night, in hope to see the\ntwinkling light on the brow of some fair boy. And we looked on many a\nblessed child, who in his sleep so sweetly smiled, that we would have\nchosen him with joy,--but the star was wanting still.\"\n\n\"Poor worms!\" said Julius; \"and thus you still are seeking now, the\nboy with the star upon his brow?\"\n\n\"Oh! no my child! by Heaven led, we have found the child with the\nlight on his head; and now I will tell what him befel.\n\n\"In his death-struggle with the waves, unto a leaflet green he clung\nwhich floated on the tide, and with a lightsome bound he sprang upon\nits upturned side. Contented thus he lay at rest, swayed by the\nbillows here and there, safely housed and free from care, in the\nleaflets' soft green breast. His only food was the radiance bright\nwhich the stars shed down on him by night, and by that delicate food\nsustained he made a voyage long.\n\n\"But why dost thou stare so fixedly?--why dreamily gaze before thee\nso?\"\n\nThen Julius said:--\n\n\"A dreamy sense is o'er me stealing, of moments long gone by:--when I\nin a green leaf thus was laid, gazing upwards on the sky, whilst the\ndancing waves around me played. I was rocked by the sea as it rippled\nlightly,--fed by the stars which shone o'er me brightly; and on I\nsailed right merrily! And feeding thus on the delicate light by the\nbright stars downward shed, my nature grew unfit to live by the\ngrosser human bread.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Now that the light is o'er thee breaking, now that thy memory is\nawaking,--hear me further,\" said the glow-worm.--\"For four long months\nthe billows bore the child, until he reached the shore of a far and\ndistant land, where they left him on the strand. A stork came proudly\nstalking by,--well pleased when he such prize did spy; for by the\ngarment green deceived, a tree-frog he the child believed. And he\nresolved the morsel rare to carry home unto his wife, who loved almost\nas her life, such choice and tender fare. He took him in his fine long\nbeak, and with him mounted in the air; but had not travelled far nor\nlong, when he beheld an eagle strong flying towards him in might; and\nbeing somewhat of a coward, surprised at this event untoward, his bill\nhe opened in a fright,--and down the elfin child from high fell to the\nearth again.\n\n\"Why dost thou start as if some pain shot through thee? Why on thy\nbreast are thy small hands pressed?\"\n\nThe boy replied:--\n\n\"I feel an icy chill through all my members thrill. It must have been\na dream, but unto me doth seem that I had such a fall one day,--and\nsuch a piercing blast right through my breast then passed, its very\nmemory takes my breath away.\"\n\nThen the glow-worm said:--\n\n\"Oft we mistake some vision vain for life's reality,--and view the\nwild creations of our brain as things long past but true. But listen,\nnow, while I conclude my tale. Thou think'st perhaps the child, in\nfalling, his limbs would break or dislocate; but as a feather would\ndescend, light fell that child on the foliage green, and not a tender\nleaf was seen beneath his weight to bend. Giddy with spinning through\nthe air, and breathless for awhile he lay; but soon to sense he did\nawaken, and found that he no harm had taken. Above his head, full,\nbright, and red, a strawberry hung, green leaves among, and its\nfragrance o'er him shed. Whether the child was of wit bereft, or that,\ndeprived of the starry spark, he had fasted so long in the stork's\nbill dark, that hunger did his sense betray, is more than I can think\nor say; but the berry to him seemed ruddy and bright, as if woven with\na web of light. This when the foolish elf-child saw, he strove with\nall his might to draw the unwholesome earth-fruit to the ground, which\nhe no easy labour found; then round his little arms he threw, and to\nhis lips the fruit he drew and sucked its ruby juice. A weary task the\nboy did find, to penetrate the tough hard rind; then for a second's\nspace he drained the nectar which the fruit contained,--one hundredth\npart at least he drank,--and mastered by its potency, upon the earth\nhe sank.\n\n\"But alas! all was now lost, that earthly food was unto him fell\npoison. Soon each little limb unseemly swelled and spread. His\nfloating golden locks, as fine as the slight thread that spiders\ntwine, became as coarse as hay; and every nerve and sinew grew thick\nand unsightly to the view. The berry's power had changed him into a\nchild of man; and he now began to scream and cry and make such direful\nnoises, as would have drowned the united sound of a thousand elfin\nvoices.\"\n\n\"Ah woe is me!\" exclaimed Julius, sobbing; \"if I had not so madly\nsucked the deadly juice of that coarse berry, I still should feed on\nthe perfumed air, and never have known vile human fare.\"\n\nThen the glow-worm, greatly excited, whispered to him:--\n\n\"Know, child beloved, I am thy mother:--the elfin queen, entranced\nwith joy at finding thee, dear human boy! Alas! that thou shouldst so\ngigantic be and I so very small, that we cannot rush into each other's\narms to seal the charms of meeting by a kiss! Thou bearest the light\nupon thy brow that dull-eyed mortals cannot see; but we have found\nthee, child, and now from the magic thrall both we and those shall\nsoon be free.\n\n\"List, and hear me, while I tell how thou may'st unbind the spell.\nFirst, thou must the white cross find; which, when withdrawn from us\nby Heaven, was to a holy hermit given. Wandering in the north, he bore\nit,--toiling in the south, he wore it,--whilst many a wonder by its\npower he wrought: and when his pious mission the holy man had ended,\nhe took it to a church where as a relic 'tis suspended. The church\nfull often hast thou seen when wandering in the forest green; and\nthither must thou go this night, nor sound nor sight must thy heart\naffright, and nought must make thee in thy purpose falter,--but boldly\ntake the cross from the high altar. Nought of evil shall come to\nthee--'tis only fear that can undo thee; for the Butterfly King will\nstrive, from fright, to make thee turn again, and all thy hopes our\nrace to right, by magic to render vain. The cross hangs to a rosary,\nand a lamp burns before it unceasingly. Now, off to thy work without\ndelay, and to the chapel gate on thy steps we will wait, to light thee\non thy way.\"\n\nThen up sprang Julius joyously. \"How light feels my bosom, my heart\nhow strong!--'tis as if I had known this all along. Hurrah! I'm the\nElfin King. Little care I for the false butterfly. The white cross\nfrom the church I'll quickly bring. Come, light me, light me on the\ntrack!--triumphant soon you will see me back!\"\n\nThen his mother, attended by all the other glow-worms, lighted him on\nhis way, and he followed with bounding steps. They drew up outside the\nchurch-door whilst he entered alone; cold blasts blowing down upon him\nfrom the lofty, pale, glimmering dome. Onward he went without fear. A\ngreat hideous bat fluttered round his head twittering: \"Return; go not\nto the altar high, for if to spurn my threat thou dare, I will stick\nmy claws into thy hair, and tear thy locks out one by one, until with\npain thou shalt cry and moan, and thy curly head shall be bald as a\nstone.\"\n\n\"For this coarse straw I little care, soon I shall have much finer\nhair,\" said Julius;--and on he went cheerfully.\n\nNext came a great black owl, with very sharp beak and claws, and\nsparkling eyes. He also fluttered round Julius, till the tips of his\nfrightful wings scratched the boy's forehead, whilst he screeched\naloud: \"Return, return, go quickly back, else thy blue eyes I will\nclaw and hack till thou shalt cry in agony, and blinded thou shalt\nbe.\"\n\n\"My eyes are not so very fine; I shall soon have some that will softer\nshine,\" answered Julius, as he approached the altar before which stood\nthe undying lamp.\n\nThen suddenly up rose a pale rattling skeleton, round whose scraggy\nneck hung the rosary with the white cross; and as the spectre glared\nat him from its eyeless sockets, it said with a hollow voice:\n\"Forbear, forbear, audacious boy! Ere that cross thy prize can be,\nthou must conquer it from me. I am Death, the strong, the mighty; no\nmortal yet has vanquished me.\"\n\nJulius shrank, and for a moment hesitated; but he heard his mother\nwhisper from the church-door: \"Away with fear, 'tis all delusion,\nmagic art and vain illusion. Fearlessly upon him look--thy gaze the\nphantom cannot brook; by thy mild look and gentle eye, thou shalt win\nthe victory. Seize the cross and banish fear, the spectre so shall\ndisappear.\"\n\nJulius then regained courage; he rushed up to the skeleton and grasped\nthe cross! Instantly the phantom vanished, and all was still around\nhim. He returned thoughtfully and without running. The elves were\nwaiting for him at the door, and lighted him back to the place whence\nthey had come. He then set up the cross on a little mossy hillock; and\nall the glow-worms formed themselves into a circle round it, and\nprayed and sang songs of gratitude,--which, however, were inaudible to\nJulius.\n\nHis mother then seated herself on the tip of his ear, and whispered:\n\"Ere our deliverance full can be, thou must once more become as we.\nThe charmed drink already in thy veins is working. Four elements it\ncontains: the sound of my voice, the forest's cool air, the fragrance\nof the flowers by night, and the brightly-coloured light which thou\ndidst so eagerly inhale whilst we were dancing round thee. If that\nthou dost desire once more thy coarse fat body to restore to its once\ndelicate form, then know, thou must henceforth to eat forego, save of\nthe rays from the bright stars beaming, save of the sweets from the\nyoung flowers streaming. Now, sleep in peace, and by to-morrow's light\nthy limbs will be more delicate and slight.\"\n\nJulius stretched himself on the moss, and slept. The next morning he\ndid not waken until it was late; and then he felt himself so\nwonderfully light that he fancied he must be able to jump as high as\nthe heavens. In order to try his strength, he made a spring, intending\nto clear a little ant-heap which he mistook for a hill; but he fell in\nthe midst of it, and had great difficulty in extricating himself, so\nsmall had he already become. He ate nothing all that day; and at\nnight, was lighted to bed by the glow-worms who danced round him\nwhilst he slept.\n\nOn the second day he had already become so diminutive that he was\nobliged to stand on tip-toe to smell a yellow primrose. When he awoke\non the third morning, he saw high in the heavens the sun with its\ngolden disk surrounded by silver-white rays. But it did not dazzle him\nin the least, let him look at it as steadfastly as he would; and, to\nhis great surprise, he observed an entirely green rainbow which\nstretched down from it to the earth. He went close to it; and then\ndiscovered that the rainbow was only a thick stem, which he grasped\nwith both hands, and by a great effort shook,--when behold! the sun\nmoved a little out of its place. He could not help laughing at\nhimself; for he now perceived that what he had taken for the yellow\nsun with the white rays and the green rainbow, was only a large daisy\non its stalk.\n\nHe had now diminished to the proper dimensions of an elf. When evening\ncame, therefore, all the glow-worms assembled round him on the moss to\nswear fealty to him. The peers of the realm brought with them a crown\nof pure star-light ore, very delicately and tastefully wrought, with\nwhich they solemnly crowned Julius, and no sooner was the crown placed\non his head, than in a moment, as if by magic touch, they were all\nchanged into little graceful elves, and on the brow of each was a\nstar. They then took the oath of fidelity, and Julius swore to\nmaintain the constitution. This done, the rejoicings began, and they\nshouted and huzzaed until the noise was as great as that which the\ngrass makes when it is growing in the sweet spring time.\n\nJulius and his mother embraced and kissed each other. She could not\nrepeat too often how pretty and slight he was, and how very much he\nresembled his father:--and then she shed oceans of tears for her\nmurdered husband.\n\nThe elves rejoiced the whole night through; but when the morning\ndawned, they said to each other with some uneasiness: \"How are we to\nget back to India, to our beautiful native land?\" Then a light breeze\nmurmured amongst the branches, and shook down a hundred-leaved rose,\nso that all its delicate curved petals were scattered to the\nground--and a voice was heard, saying:\n\n\"There your carriages, light as air, you to the spicy east shall\nbear,--and the cross you shall find in your own bright land, already\nborne there by an unseen hand.\"\n\nAll the elves now seated themselves in the rose leaves,--Julius and\nhis mother and the court occupying the finest. Then a gentle zephyr\nsprang up; which raised all the rose leaves into the air, and wafted\nthem softly in the morning dawn home to the east,--the elves\nsinging:--\n\n    To India, to India, the land of our birth!\n              Where the zephyrs blow lightly,\n              And the flowers glow brightly,\n    And the atmosphere scent-laden floats o'er the earth;\n    Where under the wide-spreading leaves we find shelter,\n    Nor care how winds whistle, nor how the storms pelter.\n              Over our heads\n              Their green roof spreads--\n\n    And safe within their vernal bowers\n              We elfin spirits dance and play,\n              While some soft and holy lay\n    Is sung by the tall and fragrant flowers\n              On their green stems bending,\n              And heavenward sending\n    Angel hymns of joyous blending.\n    In solemn pomp again we'll tread,\n              By our tapers' light,\n              In the still dark night,\n    To bring to their resting-place the dead!\n    --Away then, away! carried swift by the wind,\n    At the dawning of day to our native Ind!\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO MISERS.\n\n[Hebrew.]\n\n\nA miser living in Kufa had heard that in Bassora also there dwelt a\nMiser--more miserly than himself, to whom he might go to school, and\nfrom whom he might learn much. He forthwith journeyed thither; and\npresented himself to the great master as a humble commencer in the Art\nof Avarice, anxious to learn, and under him to become a student.\n\"Welcome!\" said the Miser of Bassora; \"we will straight go into the\nmarket to make some purchase.\" They went to the baker.\n\n\"Hast thou good bread?\"\n\n\"Good, indeed, my masters,--and fresh and soft as butter.\" \"Mark this,\nfriend,\" said the man of Bassora to the one of Kufa, \"--butter is\ncompared with bread as being the better of the two: as we can only\nconsume a small quantity of that, it will also be the cheaper,--and\nwe shall therefore act more wisely, and more savingly too, in being\nsatisfied with butter.\"\n\nThey then went to the butter-merchant, and asked if he had good\nbutter.\n\n\"Good, indeed,--and flavoury and fresh as the finest olive oil,\" was\nthe answer.\n\n\"Mark this also,\"--said the host to his guest; \"oil is compared with\nthe very best butter, and, therefore, by much ought to be preferred to\nthe latter.\"\n\nThey next went to the oil vendor:--\n\n\"Have you good oil?\"\n\n\"The very best quality,--white and transparent as water,\" was the\nreply.\n\n\"Mark that too,\" said the Miser of Bassora to the one of Kufa; \"by\nthis rule water is the very best. Now, at home I have a pail-full, and\nmost hospitably therewith will I entertain you.\" And indeed on their\nreturn nothing but water did he place before his guest,--because they\nhad learnt that water was better than oil, oil better than butter,\nbutter better than bread.\n\n\"God be praised!\" said the Miser of Kufa,--\"I have not journeyed this\nlong distance in vain!\"\n\n\n\n\nPRINCE CHAFFINCH.\n\n[French.]\n\n\nThere was once a king and queen who ruled with the greatest kindness\nand simplicity imaginable; and their subjects were just such good\nfolks as themselves, so that both parties agreed very well. As,\nhowever, there is no condition in the world which has not its cares\nand sorrows, so also this king and queen were not free from them; in\nfact, the peace of their lives was considerably disturbed by a fairy,\nwho had patronised them from their earliest years. Fairy\nGrumble-do--that was her name--was incessantly finding fault, would\nrepeat the same words a hundred times a day, and grumbled at every\nthing that was doing, and at all that had been done. Setting aside\nthis little failing, she was in all other respects the best soul in\nthe world, and it gave her the greatest satisfaction when she could\noblige or serve anybody.\n\nThe union of the royal pair had hitherto proved childless, but\nwhenever they besought Fairy Grumble-do to give them children, she\ninvariably replied:--\"Children! what do you want children for? To hear\nthem squalling from morning till night, till you, as well as I, will\nbe ready to jump out of our skins with the noise? What's the use of\nchildren? Nobody knows what to do with them; they only bring care and\ntrouble!\"\n\nSome such remarks were all the king and queen got for their\nentreaties; and the fairy's ill-humour, and the snuffling tone in\nwhich she uttered these speeches made them quite unbearable. The good\nking and queen, however, never lost their patience, so that at last\nthe fairy lost hers, and, in a pet, she all of a sudden gratified them\nwith seven princes at a birth.\n\nThe queen remarked in her usual mild and quiet manner, that she had\nnow a great many children, to which Fairy Grumble-do answered,\nsnarlingly:--\"Well, you wished for children, Madam queen, and now you\nhave got them according to your wish, and in order that you may have\nenough of them, I shall just double the number.\"\n\nNo sooner said than done, and the queen brought into the world seven\nmore princes at a birth. The royal pair were now quite in trouble;\nfourteen princes of the blood are, in fact, no joke; for however rich\none may be, fourteen princes to nurse, educate, and establish\nhandsomely, costs a good bit of money. Fairy Grumble-do was quite\nright there; fourteen princes do require a good deal of waiting on,\nand so she found plenty to do all day, with finding fault, and\nscolding first this attendant, then that nursemaid, then this servant,\nor that preceptor; and when she once got into the children's\napartment, no one could hear himself speak, for the noise she made.\nStill at bottom she meant very kindly, and she promised the anxious\nqueen that she would take good care of the princes, and one day\nprovide for them all. Those old times were very good ones, and things\nwere managed in royal residences with great simplicity. The young\nprinces played all day with the children of the towns-people, because\nthey went to the same school with them, and no one had a word to say\nagainst it, which would hardly be the case now-a-days, for kings and\neverybody else are grown much grander than they were then.\n\nQuite close to the palace dwelt an honest charcoal-burner, who lived\nin his little cottage contentedly on what he earned by the sale of his\ncharcoal. All his neighbours esteemed him as the worthiest man in the\nworld, and the king himself had great confidence in his capacity, and\nwould often ask his counsel in matters of government. He was called\nthe coal-man throughout all the country, and no one within ten miles\nround would have any coals but from him, so that he had to serve every\nhousehold, even those of the nobility and the fairies. Wherever he\ncarried his coals, he was a favourite, and even little children were\nnot afraid of him, and no one ever said to them, \"Behave prettily,\nelse the charcoal-burner will take you away.\" After working all day at\nhis business, he went to his little cottage at night to rest, and to\nenjoy his freedom, for he was sole master in the house. His wife had\nbeen long dead, and had left him only one little daughter, called\nGracious; for she was the prettiest creature in the world.\n\n[Illustration: PRINCE CHAFFINCH. P. 76.]\n\nHe loved this child beyond all measure; and, indeed, not without\nreason, for a prettier little maiden could not be found on earth; in\nspite of the coal-smoke that enveloped her, and her poor clothing, she\nalways appeared charming and agreeable, and no one could help\nloving her on account of her wonderful amiability. The king's youngest\nson, little Prince Chaffinch, who was as sprightly as he was pretty,\nwas extremely attached to Gracious, preferred her to all the other\nchildren of his acquaintance, and would play with no one but her, so\nthat they were always seen together, and indeed, they could not live\nwithout one another. Meanwhile the worthy coal-man, who felt old age\napproaching, grew very anxious about the fate of Gracious, after he\nshould have ceased to live; for the partiality of the king for him did\nnot seem to him sufficient to put him at ease about her. \"The king,\"\nhe would say to himself, as he pondered on the subject, \"has a large\nfamily of his own, and is obliged to ask so much of the fairy for his\nown necessities, that he surely will not have courage to put in a good\nword for my child. Even if he were to promise to do so, I should not\ndepend on him. For\"--thus he ever concluded his self-conferences, \"the\npoor king, is in fact, worse off than I am; he has fourteen to provide\nfor; I only one. His are princes; mine is only a poor burgher maid.\nMine therefore will be easier to provide for. A poor girl like her can\nmanage to get along in the world; she stands alone; but a poor prince\nnever; hundreds hang about him, draining him, and consuming all his\nsubstance.\" Now, after thinking it over and over, he grew quite\nunhappy at heart, and he knew not what to do. So he went one day, head\nand heart full of care, to a very beneficent fairy, who had always\nbehaved very kindly to him. She was called Fairy Bonbon; she it was,\nwho, in order to please epicures, both small and great, invented those\nsweets which now bear her name. When the good fairy saw the coal-man\nin such trouble, she asked him what ailed him; and after he had given\nher a highly sensible reply, she promised him in good earnest, that\nshe would take Gracious under her own care, and desired him to bring\nthe child to her the following Sunday.\n\nThe coal-man obeyed punctually, and when the time came he made little\nGracious put on her best clothes, and the new coloured little shoes he\nhad bought for her the day before, and set off with his dear little\ndaughter. Gracious skipped before him, then ran back to him, and took\nhold of his hand, saying:--\"We are going to the castle, we are going\nto the castle!\" for her father had not told her anything further about\nit.\n\nWhen they arrived, Fairy Bonbon received them very kindly, but\nnotwithstanding all was so fine in the castle, and that she had so\nmany bonbons and other nice things, Gracious could not be happy when\nher father went away and left her behind. For the first time in her\nlife she began to cry, and could scarcely leave off again. This\ntouched the fairy extremely, so that she grew quite fond of Gracious,\nand all who were present said:--\"My daughter would not cry so if she\nwere obliged to part from me.\" But in time little Gracious became\nreconciled to her new residence, and was so obedient and docile that\nthe good fairy Bonbon never had occasion to reprove her, nor even to\ntell her twice of the same thing, so that she took great delight in\nher.\n\nWhen her father came to visit her, the pretty child always ran to meet\nhim, and threw herself into his arms without fearing to soil the fine\nclothes which the fairy had given her. After kissing and caressing her\ndear papa to her heart's content, she always inquired after her\nfriend, Prince Chaffinch, and sent him her best bonbons and toys. The\ncoal-man always carried them very conscientiously to the prince, who\nnever failed to send his thanks and a message to say how earnestly he\nlonged to see her once again.\n\nThus Gracious lived till she was twelve years old, and then Fairy\nBonbon, who was extraordinarily fond of her, took her father one day\ninto her boudoir, and desired him to be seated, as she did not like to\nsee the old man standing up in her presence. The coal-man excused\nhimself at first, but the fairy insisted, so that at last he was\nobliged to obey, although it seemed to him a very strange thing to sit\ndown in his clothes all covered with coal-dust on a white taffeta\narm-chair, and he could not think how he should manage to prevent his\njacket from leaving marks on it.\n\nAt last, however, the fairy constrained him to be seated; and she then\nsaid to him, \"Old friend, I love your daughter.\"\n\n\"Honoured madam,\" replied he, \"you are very kind; but indeed you are\nmuch in the right, for she is a very dear child.\"\n\n\"I wish now to consult with you what I shall do,\" said the fairy; \"for\nyou must know I shall be obliged shortly to travel for a considerable\ntime in another country.\"\n\n\"Ah, madam, then do have the goodness to take her along with you,\"\nrejoined the coal-man.\n\n\"That is not in my power,\" answered she. \"I can, however, provide very\nwell for her. Only tell me what would be most agreeable to you that I\nshould do for her.\"\n\n\"Then I would most humbly beg,\" replied the coal-man, \"that you would\nhave the kindness to make her queen of a little kingdom, just such a\none as may please your ladyship.\"\n\nThough gratified by this request, the fairy represented to him, that\nthe higher the station, the more cares and sorrows it has; but the\ncoal-man assured her in return, that cares and sorrows are to be found\neverywhere, and that those of royalty are the easiest to bear.\n\n\"I do not ask of you, most gracious madam fairy,\" continued he, \"to\nmake me a king. I prefer remaining a charcoal-burner; that is my\ntrade, which I understand, and as for the trade of royalty, I do not\nthink that I understand that at all. But Gracious is still young, and\nshe can learn it, I'll be bound for it; it cannot, after all, be so\nvery difficult, for I see every day that people manage it one way or\nanother.\"\n\n\"Well,\" answered Fairy Bonbon, as she dismissed him, \"I will see what\nI can do. I must tell you beforehand, however, that Gracious will have\nmuch to suffer, and she will find it very bitter.\"\n\n\"Very possible, gracious Madam Bonbon,\" replied he. \"I also have gone\nthrough many bitter things, and have not gained very much after all,\nso have the kindness still to make a queen of her; I ask nothing.\"\n\nWith these words he took leave.\n\nMeanwhile Fairy Grumble-do had provided for almost all the fourteen\nprinces. She had sent some of them out into the wide world to seek\ntheir fortunes, whereby they had at last succeeded in obtaining\nkingdoms, and the rest she had wedded to rich princesses, so that at\nleast they were safe from want. For little Prince Chaffinch, as yet,\nhowever, she had done nothing; so she came one day to court in her\nusual agreeable humour, and found papa and mamma caressing and\nfondling their child.\n\n\"Ha,\" said she, \"that is a properly spoiled young gentleman, who will\nnever be good for anything all his days. I lay any wager he does not\nknow A from B. Repeat me your yesterday's lesson, sir, at once, and if\nyou miss a single word, you shall have a proper whipping.\"\n\nChaffinch immediately repeated his lesson, which, as usual, he had\nlearnt perfectly, and went through his examination in a style which\nwas quite wonderful for his age. The king and queen did not dare to\nlet their gratification at this appear, for fear thereby of\nredoubling Madam Grumble-do's ill-humour, for she now maintained that\nthe instruction given to the prince was not worth a farthing; that it\nwas far too difficult and too learned for him.\n\nShe then turned to the king and queen: \"Pray, what is the reason of\nyour never having asked me to do anything for him yet? It is just your\nway. I have been worried into providing for all your other\nsimpletons--they are the most stupid kings reigning; but that one, of\nwhom something might perhaps be made, is to be spoilt by you, just\nbecause he is your nest-quackel. But I will not allow it any longer.\nHe shall go out, and directly too. He is a fine youth, and it would be\na shame to leave him any longer with you. I will not have to reproach\nmyself with that; folks know that I am your friend, and they shall not\nhave to say that I encourage you in your follies. Now, let us have no\nwords about it; let us consider together what is best to be done, for\nI am not at all obstinate; I am always willing to listen to good\nadvice.\"\n\nThe king and queen said very politely that she must decide on that,\nfor she knew very well that her will was theirs.\n\n\"Well then,\" replied Fairy Grumble-do, \"he must travel; travelling\ngives a young man a proper finish.\"\n\n\"Very true,\" said both king and queen with one voice. \"But,\" continued\nthe queen, \"consider that the outfit of the other princes very much\nexhausted our coffers, and that just at present we have not the means\nwherewith to send out Chaffinch in a style befitting his rank. It\nwould be very unpleasant for folks to say, 'That is the son of a king,\nand he travels like a poor student.'\"\n\n\"So, that's your vanity, is it?\" growled the fairy; \"truly vanity is\nvastly becoming to people who have fourteen children. You say the\nother youths have cost you so much; then, I did nothing for them, I\nsuppose; you leave all that out of your calculation. Pray, what did\nthey cost you? Just their bits of meals when they were at home, and a\ncouple of boxes full of clothes when they went on their travels. Who\nfound all the rest? Not you, truly; it was I; but you are a pair of\nungrateful creatures, so you are.\"\n\n\"Kind madam,\" answered the queen, \"my husband has set down all the\nexpenses in the account-book; you can convince yourself.\"\n\n\"A pretty thing, indeed,\" rejoined Fairy Grumble-do. \"Pray, how long\nhas it been in fashion for a king to keep a debtor-and-creditor ledger\nlike a tailor? That sounds vastly regal, truly. What is the use of all\nthe good counsels I have given you, if this is the way you conduct\nyourselves. Shame on you! However, I will not worry myself, but I will\nput an end to the thing at once. The youth is as giddy as a butterfly,\nand wherever he goes he will be telling everybody 'I am a prince and\nmy father is a king,' Is it not so, eh?\"\n\n\"Dearest madam godmamma,\" interposed Prince Chaffinch, \"I will say\nnothing but what you desire me to say.\"\n\n\"Wait till you are asked, Master Pert!\" rejoined she; \"you shall say\nnothing at all, and I'll take care to prevent you from opening your\nself-sufficient beak. Only wait a moment!\"\n\nAs she blustered out this, she touched him with her wand, and\ntransformed him into the little bird which to this day bears his name.\nThe king and queen wished to embrace him, but there was no doing that\nany longer now he had become so small; they could only set him on\ntheir fingers. They had scarcely time to kiss him even, for he flew\noff, in obedience to the fairy, who pronounced these terrible words:\n\"Fly where thou canst; do what thou must.\"\n\nThe tears of the king and queen, it is true, did move Fairy Grumble-do\na little, but she would not let that be seen, and merely said, \"That\nis just like you; you are served quite rightly,\" and then she seated\nherself in her post-chaise, which was drawn by seven magpies and seven\ncocks, who made a shocking noise; and off she drove in a very\nill-humour to the assembly of the fairies, which was held that very\nday.\n\nBy chance she was seated next to the kind fairy Bonbon, and as the\nmouth is prompt to speak about that of which the heart is full, she\nrelated to the latter all the trouble she had had in providing\nsuitably for the fourteen princes; during which narration she did not\nfail to give it well to the king and queen, just as if they were\npresent. At last she asked her colleague if she happened to have a\nkingdom or a princess to bestow on Prince Chaffinch.\n\nFairy Bonbon, notoriously the best-hearted creature in the world, who\nwas quite averse to this incessant scolding, told her that she would\nwillingly undertake to find one, but only on condition that Fairy\nGrumble-do should not interfere in it, and permit her first to put\nthe young prince to the proof.\n\n\"Do what you please,\" resumed the latter, speaking more through her\nnose than ever--\"do what you please, so that I hear no more about the\nmatter.\"\n\nShe then renounced all her fairy rights over Prince Chaffinch, and\nthen drew up a formal contract, which they both signed with their own\nhands in presence of the lawyer and of competent witnesses.\n\nBonbon, who soon perceived that her two protege's were well suited to\neach other, resolved to look still closer into the matter, in order to\nproceed the more securely, and to make Gracious truly happy. But she\nwas much pressed for time as the day of her departure was irrevocably\nfixed, and was rapidly approaching. She had therefore to devise some\nmeans by which the two might have an opportunity of working out their\nown destiny by faith and truth. The first thing she did, therefore,\nwas to catch Chaffinch, whose natural sprightliness caused him to\ndelight greatly in flying about, to shut him up in a cage, and bring\nhim to her castle.\n\nAs soon as the young enchanted prince beheld Gracious he was very\njoyful, flapped his wings, and tried with all his strength to get out\nof the cage and fly to her. He was delighted, however, when she said\nto him, \"Good morrow, my little bird; dear, how beautiful you are!\"\nYet he felt grieved at the same time that he could only answer her by\nhis twittering, but he did that as agreeably as he could, and made\nevery demonstration of tenderness that a bird could. This greatly\ntouched Gracious, though she did not in the least suspect the truth;\nand she said, quite unreservedly to Bonbon, that she had always been\nparticularly fond of chaffinches; at which the kind fairy smiled, and\nmade her a present of the enchanted prince, on condition of her taking\ncare of him as of the apple of her eye. This Gracious willingly\npromised, and did so too with the greatest satisfaction.\n\nWhen the day came for the fairy to depart, she said to Gracious, \"Take\ngreat care of the chaffinch, and never let him out of the cage; for\nwere he to fly away, I should be extremely displeased.\"\n\nShe then entered her carriage, which was made of silver-paper. Her\ncastle, her garden, her domestics and her horses, all went off through\nthe air with her, and Gracious now remained alone and sorrowful in her\nlittle house of porcelain, which assuredly was very pretty; but what\navails prettiness when one is sad? The garden was constantly full of\ncherries, gooseberries, oranges, and, in short, of all imaginable\nfruits, always ripe and well-flavoured; the oven, of biscuits,\ntea-cakes, and macaroons; the store-room, of sweetmeats and\nconfectionery of all kinds: and all these good things might well have\nconsoled her, but she could not enjoy them, for the little chaffinch\nslept unbrokenly in his cage. She visited him every five minutes, but\nstill he did not wake, and she mentally reproached the fairy with\nhaving robbed her of such sweet consolation. At last, after trying\nvainly every means of awaking him, she resolved to examine him closer,\nto see if she could not discover the fairy's secret.\n\nIt is true she did not arrive at this resolution without that\nuneasiness and self-reproach which one always feels when acting\ncontrary to an express command. She even opened the cage several\ntimes, and then shut it again suddenly; but at last she blamed herself\nfor her timidity, summoned courage, and took the bird in her pretty\nlittle hand. No sooner was he out of the cage than he flew out and\nperched on the window-frame, which most unfortunately she had not\nclosed, so little had she thought on what might occur to her.\nEmbarrassed and alarmed, she endeavoured to catch him again.\n\nThe chaffinch flew into the garden, and she jumped out of the window,\nwhich fortunately was on the ground-floor; but such was her anxiety\nthat she would have sprung out, had it been on the fourth story.\nCalling him by the prettiest and tenderest names, she sought to entice\nhim, but whenever she fancied she would certainly catch him, off he\nflew, from the garden to the field, and on towards a great forest,\nwhich filled her with despair, for she knew perfectly well how useless\nit would be to hunt after a chaffinch in a forest; when suddenly, the\nbird, of which she had never lost sight, turned into the prince as she\nhad seen him when she was a child.\n\n\"What! is it you, Prince Chaffinch,\" exclaimed she,--\"and you fly me?\"\n\n\"Yes, it is I, lovely Gracious,\" replied he; \"but a supernatural force\nobliges me to keep far from thee; I desire to approach thee, and\ncannot.\"\n\nThey now indeed perceived that they were always at least four paces\ndistant from each other. Gracious, enraptured at again seeing the\nprince, forgot how disobedient she had been to the fairy, and her\nfears grew calm, in proportion as love took possession of her heart.\n\nAs neither of them dared return to the little dwelling which they had\nleft, nor indeed did they know the way back, they went into the wood,\ngathered nuts, and asked each other a hundred questions as to what had\noccurred since they last met. They then rejoiced at their good fortune\nin being again together, and refreshed themselves with the hope of now\nremaining near each other. At last they saw a peasant's hut, and went\nto it to request shelter for the night, that they might resolve on\nwhat they should do the next day.\n\nThe prince, when they got very near to it, said to Gracious, \"Wait\nhere under this great tree, whilst I go and reconnoitre the house and\nits inhabitants.\"\n\nWhen he got there, he found a woman who was sweeping before her door,\nand of her he inquired if she would receive him and Gracious for the\nnight into her house.\n\nThe old woman answered: \"You seem to me to be two disobedient\nchildren, who have run away from your parents, and do not deserve to\nmeet with compassion.\"\n\nChaffinch was, to say the truth, a little embarrassed by this remark,\nbut he said all sorts of flattering things to her, and offered to\nlabour for her; in short, he spoke like a lover willing to make any\nsacrifice for his beloved, for he began to fear that Gracious would\nhave to pass the night in the wood, exposed to the wolves, of which he\nhad heard such terrible stories.\n\nWhilst he was trying to persuade the hard-hearted old woman, it\nhappened that the giant Koloquintius, the king, or to speak more\naccurately, the tyrant of the whole district, who was hunting in the\nwood, rode past the very spot where Gracious was waiting. He thought\nher surprisingly charming, and was a good deal astonished that she did\nnot think him equally so, nor appear to be enchanted at seeing him.\nWithout saying a word to her, he desired one of his suite to lift up\nthe little maiden and place her under his arm, which being done, he\nset spurs to his horse, and galloped off to his capital city.\n\nThe cries and lamentations of Gracious did not move him in the least,\nand she now--when it was too late--repented of her disobedience. Her\ncries disturbed Prince Chaffinch and the old woman in their\nconversation; the former ran towards the spot where he had left\nGracious; but who can describe his grief, when he saw her under the\ngiant's arm! Had he been there at the right moment, he would have\nendeavoured at the risk of his life to prevent that deed of violence,\nbut now he had nothing to do but to follow her. But night overtook\nhim, he lost sight of her, and quite exhausted, he sat down to give\nfree course to his grief and tears.\n\nAs he sat, he perceived, close to him, a little light, like that of a\nglow-worm. At first he paid no attention to it, but the light grew\nlarger and larger, and at last changed into a female clothed in a\nbrown garment, who said to him: \"Console thyself, Chaffinch, do not\ngive way to despair; take this flask, which is made of a gourd, and\nthis shepherd's pouch; thou wilt find them always filled with whatever\nthou desirest to eat and drink. Take also this hazel-rod, and when\nthou hast need of me, put it under thy left foot and call me; I will\nalways come to thy assistance. This little dog is commanded never to\nleave thee, thou may'st want him. Farewell, Chaffinch. I am the kind\nBonbon.\"\n\nChaffinch was already greatly moved by these gifts, but when he heard\nthe name which Gracious had so often pronounced, he sank at the\nfairy's feet, embraced her knees, and cried: \"Ah, beneficent lady,\nGracious has been carried off, how is it possible that your Highness\ndid not hasten to deliver her?\"\n\n\"I know what has befallen her,\" replied Bonbon,--\"but she was\ndisobedient, I want not to know anything about her; thou alone must\naid her.\"\n\nAt these words, the light and the fairy disappeared, and Chaffinch sat\nin such darkness that he could not see his hand when he held it before\nhis eyes. He was however, much comforted by thinking that he could now\nbe of assistance to Gracious, though fear and anxiety still tormented\nhim greatly, and his new friend, the little dog, was unable by all its\ncaresses to divert him.\n\nAt last, the longed-for day dawned, and he was now able to continue\nhis wanderings. Towards evening he arrived at the chief city, where he\nfound everybody talking only of Gracious' beauty, and of Koloquintius'\npassion for her. It was said that the giant was very shortly to marry\nher, and that he had already commenced building a palace for the new\nqueen. This news cut little Chaffinch to the heart.\n\nWhen the people with whom he was speaking, saw his shepherd's pouch,\nthey said, \"This is a handsome little shepherd, why should he not tend\nthe king's sheep? His majesty is in want of a shepherd, and would no\ndoubt confer that high office upon him.\"\n\nThe desire of being near Gracious determined Chaffinch to take this\nhint. He therefore presented himself before Koloquintius, who regarded\nhim attentively: as he only asked for courteous treatment, and\nrequired no wages, the king appointed him to be his own private\nshepherd. His new office did not, however, bring him into the vicinity\nof Gracious, so that he did not gain much thereby. He only learned\nthat Koloquintius was very melancholy because Gracious did not respond\nto his love, and this comforted him a little.\n\nSome days after, as he was following his sheep, he saw a state\ncarriage, attended by twelve negroes on horseback, with drawn swords,\nquit the palace, and in this carriage sat Gracious. Little Chaffinch\nheroically threw himself in the way of the horses, held his shepherd's\nstaff before them, and thundered out with his feeble voice, \"Wretches!\nwhither go you?\"\n\nWhen Gracious saw her Chaffinch in such great peril, she fainted, and\nhe also lost his senses. When he came to himself, he seized his hazel\nwand,--instantly the good Bonbon stood beside him.\n\n\"Ah, kind lady!\" said he, \"Gracious is lost, perhaps already dead!\"\n\n\"No,\" replied the Fairy, \"Koloquintius is only sending her to the\ntower because he is furious at her coldness to him, and her fidelity\nto thee. Consider how thou may'st get thither also; think for thyself.\nI will assist thee; only I cannot change thee into a bird, because\nthou hast already been one; at all events Gracious will have much to\nsuffer, for the tower is a terrible prison, but it serves her quite\nright,--why was she disobedient?\"\n\nThereupon she vanished.\n\nThe prince, in great distress, conducted (that is, his little dog did\nit for him) the king's sheep along the road which the carriage that\nconveyed Gracious had taken, and he shortly came within sight of the\nterrible tower, which stood in the midst of a great plain, and had\nneither windows nor doors, only a small aperture at the top; it could\nonly be entered by a subterranean passage, the entrance to which was\nconcealed in a neighbouring mountain, which it was necessary to point\nout to those who were unacquainted with it. Prince Chaffinch was very\nglad that he had received such a clever little dog from the fairy, for\nit did all his business for him, whilst he kept his eyes constantly\nfixed on the tower. The more he considered, the more he was convinced\nof the impossibility of getting into it; but love, which conquers all\ndifficulties, at last inspired him with a plan.\n\nAfter he had lamented a thousand times that he could not again be a\nbird, he besought the good fairy Bonbon, to change him into a paper\nkite. She granted his request, and conferred on his little dog the\npower of effecting the transformation; he barked three times, took the\nhazel-rod in his mouth, and touched the prince with it, who now became\na paper kite, with power to resume his own form as occasion might\nrequire. Then, by the aid of his faithful dog, the prince succeeded in\nfirst reaching the top of the tower, and then getting within it to\nGracious.\n\nIt was no small delight to her to hear the assurances of his love, nor\nwas it a less one to him to hear the same from her, and gratefully did\nhe express his acknowledgments--for, in spite of his altered form, he\nstill retained his speech. The pleasures of this conversation would\nhave caused him to forget altogether that he could not remain for ever\nin the tower, and that he must feed his flock, if the little dog, more\nfaithful to duty than he, had not pulled the string to which he was\nfastened, just at the right moment.\n\nChaffinch no sooner reached the ground, than he resumed his own\nfigure, and drove the flock back again to the royal sheepfold; but his\nwhole thought was on the pleasure of flying to his dear Gracious,\nwhich caused him to be greatly vexed whenever the wind blew too\nstrongly for him to be able to ascend, and Gracious shared in his\ngrief.\n\nThus they went on for some time; but as there are always to be found\npeople who interfere in what does not concern them, others who want to\nknow everything, and still more, others who are always striving to\nshow themselves very obliging to the great and rich; it was soon\nobserved by some of these, that the kite very often descended from the\ndark tower. Koloquintius was informed of it; he instantly went\nthither, in order to punish the audacious persons who dared to convey\nletters in this manner to Gracious, for it never struck him that the\nkite could serve for any other purpose. Chaffinch and Gracious were\njust in the most interesting conversation, when they were disturbed\nfrom it by the vehemence with which the faithful dog pulled back the\nprince, for Koloquintius ran up to him, exclaiming vehemently: \"Where\nis the shepherd, where is the shepherd? I must kill him, because he\nhas not informed me of what is going on here.\"\n\nThe dog, fearing that Koloquintius might take the string out of his\nmouth, and so get the prince into his own hands, let the kite fly,\nwhich was carried far away by the wind, which happened to be very\nhigh, and catching up the gourd flask, and the shepherd's pouch, ran\noff to his master, whom he loved very much, and who now had resumed\nhis own figure. Favoured by the approaching night, they concealed\nthemselves in the mountains, whilst Koloquintius, foaming with rage,\nwas obliged to drive his sheep home himself. In order that no one\nshould approach little Gracious, he caused his whole army to draw up\non the plain, and commanded them to watch day and night, that no one\nwhatsoever should approach the tower.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPrince Chaffinch beheld all this from the high mountain where he and\nthe dog had placed themselves, and again appealed to Bonbon for\nassistance. She immediately appeared, but when he begged her to give\nhim an army, wherewith to combat that of Koloquintius, she vanished\nwithout saying a word, and only left him a rod, and a great bag of\nsugar-plums. When one is sad, and one's heart is heavy, one is not\nmuch inclined to take a joke; and at first Chaffinch thought she meant\nto make a jest of him; but when he reflected how kindly she had always\nacted towards him, his confidence in her returned, and he took the bag\nof sugar-plums under his arm, and the rod in his right hand, and\naccompanied by his faithful dog, advanced valiantly to meet the foe.\nAs he came nearer to them, he remarked that they grew gradually less\nand less, and that their lines contracted; and when he got so near\nthat they could hear him speak, he perceived, to his no small\nastonishment, that all these formidable soldiers, and moustached\ngrenadiers, had shrunk into children of four years old, so that he\ncried aloud to them:--\"Yield this moment, or you shall all be\nwhipped.\" Then the whole army began to cry, and ran away, pursued by\nthe dog, who soon threw them into complete disorder. To as many as he\ncould catch, Chaffinch gave sugar-plums, whereupon they immediately\nswore to obey him.\n\nEncouraged by their example, the others soon returned, and they one\nand all submitted to Chaffinch; so that Koloquintius was now left\nwithout an army to defend him, whilst the prince had a formidable one;\nfor as soon as they submitted voluntarily to him, they all recovered\ntheir former size and strength.\n\nBy this time Koloquintius arrived; but he no sooner saw Prince\nChaffinch than he likewise lost his giant form and strength, and\nbecame not merely a little child like the others, but a very little\ndwarf, with crooked legs. The prince caused a dragoon's cap, and a\ngay-coloured garment, with hanging sleeves, to be made for him, and\ndestined him to be train-bearer to Gracious, and to attend upon her in\nher apartments.\n\nAfter this great victory the first care of Chaffinch was to hasten to\nthe dark tower, in order to set his beloved free. After so many\nsufferings and sorrows, her joy at finding herself again free was\nindescribable. As they reached the city, Fairy Bonbon and Fairy\nGrumble-do also arrived there from opposite directions. The two lovers\nnow expressed to them their warmest gratitude, and requested them to\ndecide their fate. Fairy Grumble-do replied:--\n\n\"I assure you I have never troubled my head about you; I should have\nbeen a fool indeed to concern myself with such light ware. You are\nnothing to me, for the rest of your blessed family give me quite\nenough to do without you. Such a parcel of relations as belong to\nPrince Chaffinch, never did king's son, in all the wide world, possess\nbefore; a pretty brood truly.\"\n\n\"Dear madam and sister,\" interposed Fairy Bonbon, in the gentlest\nmanner, \"you know our agreement; only have the kindness to cause the\nking and queen, and the worthy coal-man, to come hither, and I will\nundertake the rest.\"\n\n\"So,\" rejoined Madam Grumble-do, \"I am to be wedding coachman--am I?\"\n\n\"Oh! not so, dear madam and sister,\" answered Bonbon; \"you have only\nto say if it is not agreeable to you, and I will go myself.\"\n\n\"A pretty errand--a dog's errand,\" snarled Madam Grumble-do, who\nnevertheless ordered her car to turn into a coach, and to bring\nthither the desired guests. Whilst Bonbon, Gracious, and Chaffinch,\nwere caressing each other, Fairy Grumble-do met the Court-dwarf,\nKoloquintius, who came in her way just at the right moment,--for\nevery one was welcome to her so that she had some one to scold,--and\nshe gave it him prettily on the text of his vanity and self-love.\n\n\"Now you are punished,\" said she, \"and nobody pities you; but, on the\ncontrary, you are the laughingstock of all your former subjects; that,\nhowever, you have always been, though formerly they ridiculed you\nsecretly, and in whispers; now, however, they do it loudly, and in the\nmarket-place; it will do you a deal of good.\"\n\nSo she continued to abuse him till the arrival of the king and queen,\nwhen she let him go and turned to them.\n\n\"You need not trouble yourselves to thank me for anything; it was not\nI who sent for you, and indeed I am very sorry you are come, for now\nthere will be no getting rid of you again. Good counsel would be\nthrown away upon you now, you irrational creatures.\"\n\nShe then perceived the old coal-man, and exclaimed:--\"A pretty\nfather-in-law that, for a prince.\"\n\nThe coal-man was not the sort of person to take such an address\npleasantly, and would soon have given her a rough answer, but that the\ngood Fairy Bonbon came up and begged the company to walk into the\nhouse. But Fairy Grumble-do did not like that neither; the general\njoy made her peevish.\n\nGracious embraced her dear father a thousand times, who all this while\nhad not suffered any privation, for Bonbon had made him a present of\nthe porcelain house in which she had often received the king and\nqueen. These fondled their little Chaffinch, and willingly consented\nto his marriage with Gracious, when proposed to them by Bonbon. The\nsubjects of Koloquintius were absolved from the oath they had sworn to\nhim, and acknowledged Prince Chaffinch as their lawful monarch. Thus\ndid the pretty prince obtain a fine kingdom and a charming wife.\n\nChaffinch and Gracious long governed in peace and happiness, and had a\ngreat many dear children, who also became kings and queens, for a good\nand pretty daughter makes not alone her own happiness, but also that\nof her parents, and her husband.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOLF AND THE NIGHTINGALE.\n\n[Swedish.]\n\n\nIn ancient times, when matters went on in the world very differently\nfrom what they now do, there reigned a king in Scotland who had the\nloveliest queen that ever graced a throne. Her beauty and amiability\nwere such, that her praise was sung by every minstrel and tale-teller,\nand they called her the Scottish phoenix. This fair queen bore to\nher husband two children, a son and a daughter, and then died in the\nprime of her youth.\n\nThe king mourned for her many years, and could not forget her; he even\nsaid that he would never marry again. But human resolutions are\nunstable, and can never be depended on; and after the lapse of years,\nwhen the children were already grown up, he took to himself a second\nwife. The new queen was an evil-disposed woman, and made indeed a\nstep-mother to the king's children. Yet the prince and princess were\nmirrors of grace and loveliness, and this was the cause of their\nstep-mother's hatred of them; for the people, who loved the memory of\nthe former queen, were constantly praising the young people, but never\nsaid anything about her; and whenever she appeared in public with the\nyoung princess, they always applauded and welcomed the latter,\nexclaiming, \"She is good and fair like her mother.\" This roused her\njealousy; she was full of spite towards them, and pondered how she\nmight play them some evil trick; but she concealed the malignity of\nher heart under the mask of friendliness, for she dared not let the\nking perceive that she was ill-disposed towards them, and the nation\nwould have stoned her and torn her in pieces if she had done them any\nharm.\n\nThe princess, who was called Aurora, was now fifteen years of age,\nblooming as a rose, and the fairest princess far and near. Many kings'\nsons, princes and counts, courted her and sought her hand; but she\nreplied to them all, \"I prefer my merry and unfettered girlhood to any\nlover,\" and thereupon they had nothing to do but to return from whence\nthey came.\n\nAt last, however, the right one came. He was a prince from the East, a\nhandsome and majestic man, and to him she was betrothed with the\nconsent and approbation of the king and of her step-mother. Already\nthe bridal wreath was twined; musicians were hired for the dance, and\nthe whole nation rejoiced at the approaching nuptials of the fair\nPrincess Aurora. But far other thoughts were in the queen's heart, and\nwith threatening gestures she said to herself, \"I will hire musicians\nwho shall play a very different tune, and those feet shall dance\nelsewhere than in the bridal chamber. For,\" continued she, \"this\nthrows me quite in the shade, and my sun must set before this Aurora;\nespecially now that she is going to have such a stately man for her\nhusband, and will give descendants to her father, for I am childless.\nThe nation, too, delights in her, and receives her with acclamation,\nbut takes no note of me. Yet I am the queen: yes, I am the queen, and\nsoon all shall know that it is I who am queen, and not Aurora.\"\n\nAnd she meditated day and night how she might ruin the princess and\nher brother; but not one of her wicked plans succeeded, for they were\ntoo well guarded by their attendants, who valued them like the apple\nof their eye, and never left them day nor night, because of the dear\nlove they bore to their mother, the departed queen.\n\nAt length the bridal day arrived, and the queen having no more time to\nlose, bethought herself of the most wicked art she knew, and\napproaching the young people in the most friendly way possible, begged\nthem to go with her into the rose-garden, where she would show them a\nwonderfully beauteous flower which had just opened. Willingly they\nwent with her, for the garden was close to the palace, and no one\nsuspected any evil, for it was only mid-day, and the king and the\ngrandees of the land were all assembled in the great hall of the\npalace where the nuptials were to be solemnised.\n\nThe queen led her step-children to the furthermost corner of the\ngarden where grew her flowers, till they came beneath a dark yew tree,\nwhere she pretended to have something particular to show to them. Then\nshe murmured to herself some words in a low tone, broke off a branch\nfrom the tree, and with it gave some strokes on the backs of the\nprince and princess. Immediately they were transformed. The prince, in\nthe shape of a raging wolf, sprang over the wall and ran into the\nforest; and the princess as a grey bird, called a nightingale, flew\ninto a tree and sang a melancholy air.\n\nSo well did the queen play her part, that no one suspected anything.\nShe ran shrieking to the castle, and with rent clothes and dishevelled\nhair sank on the steps of the hall, acting as if some great disaster\nhad befallen her, and by the king's command her women carried her to\nher chamber. A full quarter of an hour passed ere she came to herself.\nThen she assumed an attitude of grief, wept, and exclaimed, \"Ah, poor\nAurora, what a bridal day for thee! Ah, unfortunate prince!\"\n\nAfter repeatedly exclaiming in this manner, she at length related that\na band of robbers had suddenly burst into the garden, and had forcibly\ntorn the royal children from her arms, and carried them off; that they\nhad struck herself to the ground and left her half dead; and she then\nshowed a swelling on her forehead, to produce which she had purposely\nhit her head against a tree. They all believed her words, and the king\ncommanded all the great lords, and counts, and knights, and squires,\nto mount their horses and pursue the robbers. They traversed the\nforest in all directions, and visited every cave, and rock, and\nmountain, for at least three miles round the palace, but they could\nnot find a trace of either the robbers or the prince and princess. The\nking, however, could not rest, and caused further search and\nenquiries to be made, for weeks and months; and he sent messengers\ninto all the countries he could think of; but all was in vain, and at\nlength it was as if the prince and princess had never been in\nexistence, so entirely had they disappeared.\n\nThe old king, however, thought that the robbers had been tempted by\nthe fine jewels that the prince and princess wore on the wedding day,\nand that they had stripped them of those and then murdered them, and\nburied their bodies in some secret place: this so grieved him that he\nshortly after died. On his death-bed, as he had no children, he\nbestowed his kingdom on his wife, and besought his subjects to be true\nand obedient to her as they had been to him. They gave their promise,\nand acknowledged her as queen, more out of love for him than for her.\n\nThus four years passed away, when, in the second year after the king's\ndeath, the queen began to govern with great rigour; and with the\ntreasures the king had left behind him, she hired foreign soldiers\nwhom she brought over the sea to guard her and to keep watch over the\npalace; for she knew that she was not beloved by her subjects, and she\nsaid, \"That they should now do out of fear what they would not do for\nlove.\"\n\nAnd so it came to pass, that from day to day she became more hated by\nevery one, but nobody durst show his hate, for the slightest whisper\nagainst her was punished with death. Nevertheless, the murmurs and\nwhispers still went on; and it was commonly said among the people,\nthat the queen had a hand in the children's disappearance; for, in\ntruth, there were plenty of persons who, on account of her sharp eyes\nand her affected love for the children, suspected her of evil\npractices against them. These murmurs, so far from dying away, went on\nincreasing; but the queen cared not for them, and thought \"they will\nremain the brutes into which I have transformed them, and no one will\ndeprive me of the crown.\" However, things turned out otherwise than\nshe expected.\n\nMeanwhile the poor royal children led a sorry life. The prince had\nfled to the forest as a grey wolf, and was obliged to conduct himself\nlike a wolf, and howl like one too, and by day to wander about in\ndesolate places, and to prowl about at night like a thief; for wolfish\nfear had also sprung up in his heart. And also, he was obliged to live\nlike other wolves, on all sorts of prey--on wild animals and birds,\nand in the dreary winter-time he was often obliged to content himself\nwith a mouse, and live on very short commons, and with chattering\nteeth, to make his bed amongst the hard cold stones. And this\ncertainly was very different from the princely mode of life to which\nhe had been accustomed previous to his being driven into this wild\nsavage misery.\n\nHe had, however, one peculiarity, which was, that he only destroyed\nand devoured animals, and never desired to take human blood. Yet there\nwas one after whose blood he did thirst, and that was the wicked woman\nwho had transformed him; but she took very good care never to go where\nshe might be within reach of that wolf's teeth. It must not, however,\nbe supposed that the prince, who was now a wolf, still preserved human\nreason. No; all had grown dark within him, and under the form of the\nbeast as which he was condemned to scour the forest, he had also very\nlittle more than brute understanding. It is true, a dim instinct often\ndrew him towards the royal residence and its gardens, as though he had\ncause to expect that he should find prey there; but he had no clear\nremembrance of the past: how indeed should it have lasted under a\nwolf's skin? At those moments when he felt the impulse, he was always\nalso seized with unusual fierceness; but as soon as he came within a\nthousand paces of the spot, a cold shudder passed through him and\ncompelled him to retire. This was the effect of the queen's magic art,\nwhich enabled her to keep him banished from her to just that distance,\nand no further.\n\nShe, however, did all in her power to destroy him, and caused her\nattendants to hunt very frequently in the forest which surrounded the\ncastle, thinking that it was most probable that he was still there. On\nthis account, twice in almost every week, she caused noisy hunts and\nbattues after wolves and foxes to be held there; and, as a pretext for\nthese, she kept a great many pretty deer there, of which our royal\nwolf did not fail to devour as many as he could catch. He, however,\nalways contrived to escape the danger, although the dogs often had\ntheir claws in the hair of his back, and the hunters aimed many a shot\nat him. He concealed himself for the moment, and when the noise ceased\nand the bugles no longer resounded, he returned to the thicket, which\nwas close to the castle, and lay in the sunny spots where, as a boy\nand youth, he had often played. Still he knew nothing of the past, but\nit was a mysterious love that drew him thither.\n\nThe Princess Aurora as we have said had flown up into a tree, being\ntransformed into a nightingale. But her soul had not become dark\nbeneath its light feathery garb, like the prince's within the wolf's\nhide; and she knew much more than he, both of her own self and of men,\nonly she was deprived of the power of speech. But she sang all the\nmore sweetly in her solitude, and often so beautifully, that the\nbeasts skipped and leaped with delight, and the birds gathered round\nher, and the trees and flowers rustled and bent their heads. I think\nthe very stones might have danced had they but had the power to love,\nbut their hearts were too cold. Men would soon have remarked the\nlittle bird, and much talk would have arisen about her, but some\nsecret power withheld them from entering the wood, so that they never\nheard the nightingale sing.\n\nI have already related how the queen persecuted the poor royal wolf\nwith hunts and battues, so that he was the innocent cause of great\ntrouble and inconvenience to the whole wolvine family. As great evil\ntoo befel the little birds, and in those days of tyranny, it was a\ngreat misfortune to be born either a thrush, a linnet, or a\nnightingale, in the neighbourhood of the castle. For the queen, after\nthe death of the king had thrown all the power into her own hands,\nsuddenly pretended to have an illness of so peculiar a kind, that not\nonly were the cries, cawing, and chattering of birds of prey\ninsupportable to her, but even the sweetest twittering and warbling of\nthe merry little birds affected her unpleasantly; and in order to make\npeople believe this, she fainted on two occasions when she heard them\nsing.\n\nThis, however, was only a deception; her wicked aim was to kill the\nlittle nightingale, if by chance it should still frequent those groves\nand gardens. She knew full well that the little bird could not\napproach within a hundred paces of the castle, for she had cast her\nwitch-spell upon her, as well as upon her brother. Under the pretext\nof this nervous sensibility to tender and delicate sounds, war was\nwaged, not only against the pretty little royal nightingale, but\nagainst all the warblers in the vicinity. They were all proscribed and\noutlawed, and the queen's foresters and gamekeepers received the\nstrictest orders to wage war against every feathered creature, and not\nto spare even the robin: no, nor the wren, at whom no sportsman ever\nbefore fired shot.\n\nThis terrible hatred of the queen's was a misfortune for the whole\nfeathered race, not only for those which lived at large in the woods\nand groves, but even for those which were kept in the court-yards and\nhouses. No feathered creature was to be found in the capital city,\nnor in the vicinity of the royal residence; for the people thought to\npay court to the queen, and to win her favour, by imitating her\ncaprices. There was a destruction of the feathered tribe, like another\nslaughter of the innocents. How many thousand canaries, goldfinches,\nlinnets, and nightingales; nay, even how many parrots and cockatoos,\nfrom the East and West Indies, had their necks wrung! Discordant, or\nmelodious throats, the chattering, and the silent, were all menaced\nwith one fate; it became a crime to be born either a goose, or a\nturkey, or a hen; and the common domestic fowls grew as scarce as\nChinese golden pheasants. If the queen had waged such war against the\nfeathered race for another ten years, they would have quite died out\nof the country. Indeed, not only were all the birds murdered, but\nscarcely did a human being now take a walk in the wood, for fear of\nbeing suspected of going thither in hopes to hear the song of a bird.\n\nAnd thus it was, that no one ever heard the wondrous song of the\nlittle nightingale, except here and there a solitary sportsman, and\nthese never spoke of it, lest they should be punished by the queen for\nnot having shot it. And indeed, to the honour of the foresters it must\nbe said, that most of them followed their own good disposition, and\nseldom shot any little bird, but they were obliged to fire through the\nforest till it rang again. And this prevented any singing, and indeed\nmany birds withdrew from it altogether, on account of the incessant\nnoise, and never returned. The little nightingale, however, whom\nheaven especially protected, so that she escaped all the plots against\nher life, could not forsake the green forest behind the castle, where,\nin her childhood, she had played, and skipped about, so that although\nshe flew away as soon as the bugles sounded, and the halloos and\nhurrahs echoed through the wood, she always returned again. And\nalthough her little songs, as coming from a sad heart, were, for the\nmost part, melancholy and plaintive, still it was pleasing to her to\nlive so amongst the green trees, and gay flowers, and to sing\nsomething sweet to the moon and stars; and she was unhappy only during\na few months in the year. This was the season when autumn approached,\nand she was obliged to go with the other nightingales into foreign\nclimes until the return of spring.\n\nThe little feathered princess confined herself then mostly to the\ntrees and meadows where she had sported as a child; or in later years,\nwith companions of her own age, had twined wreaths and garlands; or\nin the happiest days of her life, had wandered in those solitudes with\nher beloved. Her favourite haunt was a spot where grew a thick green\noak, which spread over a murmuring rivulet, and which served as a\ncovert for the soft whispers of their love. In this place she often\nsaw the wolf, who was also led thither by a dim feeling of the past,\nbut she knew not that it was her unfortunate brother. Yet she grew\nattached to him, because he so often lay down and listened to her song\nas though he understood it; and she often pitied him for being a harsh\nand wild wolf, that could not flutter from bough to bough, like\nherself and other little birds. But now I must also tell of a man,\nwho, in that solitary forest, was often a listener to the little\nnightingale. This man was the eastern prince, her destined bridegroom\nwhen she was yet a princess.\n\nWhilst the old king yet lived, he loved this prince beyond all other\nmen, because of his virtues and valour, and on his death-bed had\nrecommended him to the queen as her counsellor and helper in all\ndifficulties and dangers, and especially as a brave and experienced\nwarrior. On this account, after the king's death, he had remained\nabout the queen, solely for love of the departed. But he soon\nperceived that the queen hated him, and was even plotting against his\nlife, so he suddenly withdrew from her court, and left the country.\nShe, however, caused him to be pursued as a traitor and a fugitive,\nand sent forth a decree, proclaiming him an outlaw, by which every one\nwas empowered to slay him, and bring his head, on which a high price\nwas set, to the royal castle. But he escaped to his father's land,\nwhich lay many hundred miles to the east of the queen's palace, and\nthere dwelt with him. Still in his heart, he found no rest, and his\ngrief for his vanished princess never subsided. A wonderful thing also\ncame upon him, for once every year he disappeared, without any one\nbeing able to discover whither he went. He then saddled his horse,\nclad himself in obscure-looking armour, and rode off so that no one\ncould trace his path. He felt himself impelled to enter the country of\nthe queen who had outlawed him, and to visit that forest wherein the\nprincess had disappeared. This powerful impulse seized him annually,\njust before the time when the princess had vanished, and he rode\nthrough wild, desolate, and remote places, until he reached the\nwell-known spots, where he had once wandered with his betrothed. The\ngreen oak by the rivulet, was also his favourite place. There he\npassed fourteen nights in tears, and prayers, and lamentations for\nhis beloved; by day, however, he concealed himself in the neighbouring\nthicket. There he had often seen and heard the little nightingale, and\ntaken delight in her wonderful, and almost bird-surpassing song.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nYet they knew nought of each other; and although the little bird\nalways felt sadness, and longing in her heart, when the knight had\nridden away, still she knew not wherefore, and her deep and\nlanguishing Tin! Tin! still resounded in his heart when he had\nreturned to his father-land. It was, however, with him, as with most\nother men who love, or do something mysterious, which puzzles all\naround them, he was not conscious of his own secret. That he was\nimpelled each year to ride stealthily away he knew full well--but\nwherefore he was so impelled, he knew not at all.\n\nNow a long time had passed since the death of the king, and it was\nalready the sixth year since the royal children had disappeared, and\nthe queen lived in splendour and enjoyments, and caused the beasts to\nbe hunted, and the birds to be shot, and was no less harsh and cruel\nto her subjects than to the wild inhabitants of the woods. She fancied\nherself almost omnipotent, and thought her good fortune and power\nwould have no end. Still, ever since that day, she had never entered\nthe forest, a secret terror had always withheld her. She, however, did\nnot allow herself to dwell upon it, nor did she perceive that a magic\nspell was the real cause.\n\nNow it came to pass that she had appointed a grand festival and\nbanquet, to which were invited all the princes and princesses of the\nkingdom, and all the nobles and all the principal officials. In the\nafternoon a grand wolf hunt was to take place in the forest, at which\nthe princes intreated her to be present. She hesitated a long while\nunder all kinds of pretences, but at last she allowed herself to be\npersuaded. She, however, placed herself in a very high chariot, and\nbade three of her bravest warriors, completely armed, to seat\nthemselves beside her. She also commanded several hundred armed\noutriders to keep before and behind and by the side of the chariot,\nand a long train of carriages, full of lords and ladies, followed. The\nwolf was never out of her thoughts, but she said to herself: \"Let the\nwolf come; nay, let a hundred wolves even come, this brave company\nwill soon make an end of them.\" Thus does providence blind even the\nmost far-seeing and cunning when they are ripe for punishment; for it\nhad been foretold to her by other masters of her godless art, that she\nmust beware of the sixth year. But of that she thought not then.\n\nAnd it was a fair and cheerful spring day, and they went out into the\nforests with trumpets and horns, and the steeds neighed and the arms\nclashed, and the naked swords and spears glittered in the sun; but the\nqueen outshone them all in her most splendid attire and all her\njewels, as she sat enthroned in her high chariot. Already the chase\nhad commenced with loud huzzas and hurrahs, and the clanging horns of\nthe hunters and the baying of the dogs. Then a lion rushed before\nthem followed by a boar; but they did not fear, and every man stood\nfirm at his post, and they struck down the monsters. But ere long came\na still more dreadful beast, which filled them all with alarm. A\ntremendous wolf rushed from the thicket upon the green plain, and\nhowled so awfully, that hunters, dogs, and riders, all took flight.\nThe wolf ran like an arrow from a bow; nay, he did not run, but flew\nbetween the men and horses, and not one of these remembered that he\nwas armed with a bow, and a spear, and a sword, so dreadful was the\naspect of the monster, and so terrifically did he open his foaming\njaws. The queen, who saw him making towards her chariot, shrieked\n\"Help! help!\" The women screamed and fainted, many a man cowardly did\nthe same. No one thought of obstructing the wolf's course, and with\none spring, he threw himself on the chariot, tore from it the proud\nwoman, and dyed his teeth and jaws in her blood. All the rest had\nfled, or stood at bay.\n\nAnd oh, wonder! when they endeavoured to rally their courage in order\nto attack, the wolf was no more to be seen, but where he had just\nstood appeared the form of a handsome and armed young man! The men\nwere astonished at the magic change, but some brandished their weapons\nas though they would attack him as a second monster. Then suddenly an\nancient lord came forward from among them, the chancellor of the\nkingdom, and forbade them, crying aloud, \"By my grey hairs I charge\nyou, men, hold off! You know not whom you would strike;\" and before\nthey could collect their thoughts he lay prostrate on the ground\nbefore the young man and kissed his knees and hands, saying, \"Welcome,\nthou noble blossom of a noble sire, who again art risen in thy beauty!\nAnd rejoice, oh nation; the son of thy lawful king is returned, and he\nis now your king!\"\n\nAt these words many hastened round and recognised the prince, and\nhailed him as their lord, and then the rest followed their example.\nThey were full of terror, and astonishment, and joy, all at once, and\nthought no more of the demolished queen nor of the wolf; for that the\nprince had been the wolf they had no idea.\n\nThe young king desired them all to follow him to his father's castle;\nhe also stopped the chase, and the horns and trumpets which just\nbefore had disturbed the woods, now resounded before him to celebrate\nhis happy return. And when again he was within, and looked down from\nhis father's turrets, tears filled his eyes, and he wept both in joy\nand sorrow; for he remembered now all his trouble and thought of the\nbitter past, which lay upon him like a heavy dream. Then suddenly all\ngrew clear in his mind, and he was able to relate to the chancellor\nand the nobles of the kingdom what had befallen him, and that only by\nthe heart's blood of the old wicked witch, who was called his\nstep-mother and their queen, could he be restored to his own form. The\nreport of this astonishing wonder immediately circulated through the\ncity and amongst the whole nation; and they all rejoiced that their\nbeloved king's son was restored to them, and that the queen, whom they\nhated, had been torn in pieces by the fangs of the wolf which she\nherself had created.\n\nBut as the prince gradually came to himself, and bethought himself of\nall that had occurred, it lay heavy on his heart where his beloved\nsister, the Princess Aurora, might be, and whether she also were\nconcealed within the skin of some animal, or feathery covering. Then\nhe remembered her melancholy bridal day. And he enquired of every one\nabout her; but all were silent, for none could give him any\ninformation. Then he again became sad and full of care, but this care\nand sadness were soon changed into joy.\n\nFor when all the noise of the wolf-chase took place, the poor prince\nfrom the East was just then lying concealed in his thicket, and the\ncharming little nightingale was silent, and hidden amongst the green\nleaves of her oak. But a mysterious sensation shot through her little\nheart as soon as the thirsty fangs of the wolf, her brother, were\nbathed in the queen's blood.\n\nNow when the chase was over, and the forest again was still, and the\nsun had set, the prince came out of his dark recess, and leant sadly\nagainst the stem of the green oak, wetting the grass with his tears,\nas was his nightly custom; and his heart seemed more than usually\noppressed with sorrow. The little bird in the branches, however, began\nto sing to him, as was her wont, and he fancied that she sang\ndifferently from before, and with more enigmatical significance, and\nalmost in a human voice. And a shudder came over him, and in great\nagitation he exclaimed, looking up amongst the branches:--\"Little\nbird, little bird, tell me, canst thou speak?\"\n\nAnd the little nightingale answered yes, just as human beings are wont\nto answer, and wondered at herself that she was able to speak, and\nfor joy she began to weep, and for a long time was silent. Then again\nshe opened her little beak, and related to the man, in an audible\nhuman voice, the whole history of her transformation, and that of her\nbrother, and by what a miracle he had again become a man. For in a\nmoment all had become clear in her mind, as if a spirit had whispered\nit all to her.\n\nThe man exulted in his heart when he heard her tale, and he reflected\nmuch within him, and revolved many a plan; and the little bird\nfrolicked and flew confidingly around him; yet although she now knew\nher own history, and what had occurred so well, she knew not in the\nleast who he was. And he enticed the little bird, and caressed it, and\nfondled it, and intreated it to come with him, and he would place it\nin a garden where bloomed eternal spring, and where no falcon ever\nentered, and no one ever fired a shot. That would be far pleasanter\nthan to flutter about in wild thickets, and have to tremble at the\nthought of winter, and of hunters and birds of prey. But the little\nbird would hear nothing of it, and praised freedom and her green oak,\nand twittered, and sang, and fluttered round the man, who took no\nheed, for he seemed plunged in other thoughts.\n\nBut see what were his thoughts! For before the little bird was aware,\nthe man had caught her by her little feet, and hastily made off, threw\nhimself on his horse, and flew full gallop as if pursued by a tempest\nto an inn which he knew in the city, not far from the castle, took\nthere a solitary chamber, and shut himself up in it with his little\nbird. When the little bird saw him take out the key, and give other\nsigns of its being her prison, she began to weep bitterly, and to\nimplore him to let her fly; for she felt quite oppressed and wretched\nin the closed room, and could not but think of her green trees, and\nher cherished liberty. But the man took no notice of her tears and\nsupplications, and would not let her fly.\n\nThen the little bird grew angry, and began to transform herself into\nvarious shapes, in order to terrify the man, that he might open the\ndoors and windows, and be glad that she should fly away. So she became\nin succession a tiger and lion, an otter, a snake, a scorpion, a\ntarantula, and at last a frightful dragon, which flew upon the man\nwith poisonous tongue. But none of these frightened him in the least,\nbut he kept his determination, and the little bird had all her trouble\nfor nothing, and was obliged to become a bird again.\n\nAnd the man stood in deep thought, for something he had read in\nancient tales came into his mind. So he drew a knife from his pocket,\nand cut a gash in the little finger of his left hand, where the\nheart's blood flows most vigorously. And he smeared the blood on the\nlittle head and body of the bird, which he had no sooner done than the\nmiracle was completed.\n\nThat very moment the little bird became a most lovely maiden, and the\nprince lay at her feet and kissed her hand, respectfully and\nsubmissively. The nightingale had now become the Princess Aurora, and\nrecognised in the man her bridegroom, the prince from the land of the\nEast. She was quite as young and beautiful as she was six years\nbefore, at the time of her transformation. For it is a peculiarity of\ntransformations that the years during which persons are transformed do\nnot add to their age, but a thousand years do not count for more than\na second.\n\nIt is easy to imagine the joy of the pair; for when two loving hearts\nwhich have remained faithful to each other, meet again, after a long\ntime, that is truly the greatest joy on earth. But they did not linger\nlong together, but caused the king to be informed that two foreign\nprinces from a distant land had arrived at his court, and requested\nhis royal hospitality. Then the king went out to welcome them, and\nrecognised his beloved sister Aurora, and his dear friend the prince\nfrom the land of the East, and was overjoyed; and the nation rejoiced\nwith him, that all was restored as before, and that the kingdom no\nlonger belonged to strangers.\n\nAfter a few days he set the royal crown upon his head, and began to\ngovern in his father's stead. He celebrated his sister's nuptials with\nthe greatest magnificence, and there was dancing and feasting and\nknightly games. She and the prince also received from him a noble\nestablishment both of land and attendants, so that they were able to\nlive almost like kings. Aurora had, however, begged her brother to\ngive her the wood, wherein as a bird she had fluttered through so many\ncheerful, and also sorrowful days, and this he willingly granted her.\nShe built there a stately royal castle by the stream where she had so\noften sat and sung, and the thick green oak came into the centre of\nthe palace-garden, and flourished yet many a year after her, so that\nher posterity still played beneath its shadow. She, however, caused a\ncommand to be issued that the wood should to all times be left in its\nnatural majesty; she also gave peace to all little singing-birds, and\nforbade, in the strongest manner, traps or snares to be set within\nthose sacred precincts, or that the little creatures should be\nmolested in any way. And her brother reigned as a great and pious\nking, and she and her brave husband lived in happy love till they\narrived at a snow-white age, and saw their children's children around\nthem, till at length, accompanied by the blessing of God and men, they\nsank softly to sleep. It has been a custom ever since, amongst their\nchildren and descendants, that the eldest prince of their house should\nbe christened Rossignol, and the eldest princess Philomela; for she\ndesired to establish a pious recollection through all times of the\nmarvellous misfortune that befel her when she was transformed into a\nnightingale. For Rossignol means, in fact, Rose-bird--the nightingales\nsing chiefly in the rose season--and Philomela, friend of song. The\nword nightingale means, however, songstress of the night, and this is\nthe best of all.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ENCHANTED CROW.\n\n[Polish.]\n\n\nIn a royal palace dwelt, once upon a time, three fair sisters, all\nequally young and pretty; the youngest, however, although not at all\nmore beautiful than the two elder, was the best and most amiable of\nthem all.\n\nAbout half a mile distant from the palace, stood another lordly\ndwelling, but which had then fallen into decay, although it still\ncould boast of a beautiful garden. In this garden the youngest\nprincess took great pleasure to wander.\n\nOnce as she was walking up and down between the lime trees, a black\ncrow hopped from under a rose-bush. The poor bird was all mutilated\nand bloody, and the princess was moved with compassion for him. The\ncrow no sooner perceived this than he broke out into the following\ndiscourse:--\n\n\"No black crow am I by birth, but an unhappy prince, suffering under a\nmalediction, and doomed to pass my years in this miserable condition.\nIf thou wilt, oh youthful princess, thou canst rescue me. But to do\nso, thou must resolve to be ever my companion, to forsake thy sisters,\nand to live in this castle. There is a habitable chamber in it,\nwherein stands a golden bed; in that chamber thou must live in\nsolitude. But forget not, that whatsoever thou mayest see and hear by\nnight, thou must let no cry of fear escape thee; for if thou shouldst\nutter but one single moan my tortures will be doubled.\"\n\nThe kind-hearted princess did forsake her father and sisters, and\nhastened to the castle; and there dwelt in the chamber which contained\nthe golden bed. She was so full of anxious thought that she could not\nsleep. As midnight drew near she heard, to her no small terror, some\none creeping in. The door opened wide, and a whole band of evil\nspirits entered the chamber. They kindled a great fire on the hearth,\nand placed over it a large cauldron, full of boiling water. With great\nnoise and loud cries they approached the bed, tore from it the\ntrembling maiden, and dragged her to the cauldron.\n\nShe was almost dead from fear, but she uttered no sound. Then suddenly\nthe cock crew, and all vanished. The crow immediately appeared, and\nhopped joyfully about the room, and thanked the princess for her\ncourageous behaviour, for the sufferings of the unhappy bird were\nalready lessened.\n\nOne of her elder sisters, who had much curiosity in her disposition,\nhaving heard of this, came to visit the princess in her ruined castle.\nShe besought her so earnestly, that the kind-hearted maiden at length\npermitted her to pass one night beside her, in the golden bed. When\nthe evil spirits appeared as usual about midnight, the elder sister\nshrieked aloud from fear, and immediately the cry of a bird in pain\nwas heard.\n\nThe young sister from that time never received the visits of either of\nher sisters. Thus did she live; solitary by day, and suffering by\nnight the most terrible alarm from the evil spirits; but the crow came\ndaily to her, and thanked her for her endurance, assuring her that his\ndreadful sufferings were greatly mitigated.\n\nThus had passed two years, when the crow came to her, and thus\naddressed her:--\n\n\"In one year more I shall be delivered from the punishment to which I\nam condemned; for then seven years will have passed over my head. But\nbefore I can re-assume my real form, and gain possession of my\ntreasures, thou must go out into the wide world, and become a\nservant.\"\n\nObedient to the will of her betrothed, the young princess served for a\nwhole year as a maid, and notwithstanding her youth and beauty, she\nescaped all the snares laid for her by the ill-disposed.\n\nOne evening while she was spinning flax, and her white hands were\nwearied with work, she heard a rustling, and an exclamation of joy. A\nhandsome young man entered her presence, knelt before her, and kissed\nthe little weary white hands.\n\n\"It is I,\" cried he, \"I am the prince, whom thou, by thy goodness,\nwhilst I wandered in the form of a black crow, didst deliver from the\nmost dreadful tortures. Return with me now to my castle, there will we\nlive together in happiness.\"\n\nThey went together to the castle where she had undergone so much\nterror. The palace was, however, no longer recognisable, it was so\nimproved and adorned, and in it did they dwell together for a hundred\nhappy and joyous years.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DRAGON-GIANT AND HIS STONE-STEED.\n\n[Russian.]\n\n\nNot one amongst the numerous wives of Vladimir the Great was\ncomparable in beauty to the Bulgarian Princess Milolika. Her eyes\nresembled those of the falcon; the fur of the sable was not more\nglossy than her eyebrows, and her breast was whiter than snow.\n\nShe had been carried off by robbers of the Volga, from the vicinity of\nBoogord, the capital of her native country, and on account of her rare\nbeauty they deemed her worthy to be a wife of the great monarch. They\ntherefore conducted her to Kiev, the residence of the mighty Vladimir,\nand presented her to him. Vladimir, a good judge of female charms, the\nmoment he beheld her, was enchanted by the surpassing beauty of the\nBulgarian princess, and in a short time his love for her became so\ngreat that he made her his consort, and dismissed all his other\nwives. The proud heart of the king's daughter was touched by this\nproof of his affection, and she rewarded his tenderness with\nreciprocal and true love.\n\nThe life of Vladimir was now one of great happiness. His conquests had\nprocured him riches in superfluity; a long period of peace had\naugmented the prosperity of his country; his subjects loved him as\ntheir father; and the tenderness of Milolika made earth seem to him as\nheaven.\n\nOne day as in company with his consort and his Bojars, he sat in the\ngolden chamber by his oaken table, holding a festival in memory of a\nvictory over the Greeks, the sound of a warrior's horn was heard at a\ndistance. The rejoicings in the lofty hall suddenly ceased. The\nmonarch and the Bojars cast their eyes to the ground, full of thought\nand heaviness. Swatorad alone, the spirited Voivode of Kiev, started\nup from the table, and leaving his goblet undrained, approached the\ngreat monarch. \"Thou art,\" spake he, as he bent low before him, \"thou\nart our father and our lord, thou art the child of renown: wherefore\nsinks thy head? Why does the sound of the warrior's horn make thy\nheart heavy? Even if it be a hostile knight who now appears before\nthe capital, hast thou not enough brave heroes to confront any foe?\nAway then! Send forth thy heralds to demand who dares to defy the\ncountry of the Russians?\"\n\nVladimir looked friendly upon the gallant Swatorad, and thus replied\nto his address: \"I thank thee for thy zeal, good Swatorad; but my\nanxiety does not arise from fear. I have defeated hosts, made myself\nmaster of fortified cities, and overthrown kings: how should I know\nfear? But it was my desire henceforth to preserve to my subjects the\nblessing of peace, and that alone is the cause that this challenge to\ncombat makes me sorrowful. If however it must be so, I will defend my\ncountry and myself. Go and send heralds to demand who dares to come\nforth against Kiev, to challenge Vladimir to battle?\"\n\nThe brave Swatorad immediately sent forth two heralds, who sprang upon\ntheir horses and rushed to the open plain, where they at once beheld a\nmonstrous tent, before which a horse of unusual size was grazing. As\nsoon as the horse perceived them, he stamped upon the ground, and\ncried aloud in a human voice: \"Awake powerful son of the dragon,\nTugarin awake! Kiev sends heralds to thee.\"\n\nThis marvel considerably astounded the heralds, and their amazement\nwas increased when they beheld issuing from the tent a giant of the\nmost monstrous kind, beneath whose footsteps the earth resounded. Yet\nthey did not lose their composure, but discharged their commission as\nbeseemed them well. \"Who art thou?\" cried they, after they had\ncourteously bent before him. \"Who art thou, bold youth from a foreign\nland? What is thy name, and how stands thy report in thy father-land?\nArt thou a Czar, or a Czarewitsch? A king or a king's son? We are sent\nby the invincible prince of Kiev, the son of renown, by Vladimir, to\nask thee why thou darest to advance against Kiev?--how thou darest to\nchallenge him to combat?\"\n\nThe questions displeased the giant, and he fell into fierce wrath.\nLightning flashed from his eyes, his nose sent forth sparks, and he\naddressed the heralds in a voice of thunder: \"Contemptible wights, how\ndare ye to put such questions to me? The herald's staff alone protects\nyou from my fury. Return, and tell your prince that I am come to fetch\nhis head, in order to carry it to the great king, Trewul, of Bulgaria,\nwho is wrath with him, for the abduction of his sister Milolika. Tell\nhim, that nought can save him; neither the summit of the mountain,\nnor the darkness of the forest, and that he cannot redeem his head by\ngold, nor by silver, by jewels, nor by pearls. What I am called, and\nwhat my report is in my country, it needs not that you should know;\nsufficient, that I show you what I can perform.\" At these words, he\ngrasped an enormous stone, which lay near the tent, and flung it with\nsuch force into the air, that it resembled a little speck.\n\nFull of terror, the heralds returned to Kiev, and presenting\nthemselves before the monarch, related what they had seen and heard.\nWhen Milolika heard that the horse had called the stranger knight\nTugarin, Son of the Dragon, she grew pale, and a stream of tears\nbedewed her cheeks. \"Ah,\" cried she, \"beloved husband, we are lost!\nNought can save us, but our flight to the sacred Bug. Tugarin is an\ninvincible enchanter. His magic power ceases only on the shores of the\nBug. Thither let us fly.\"[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: The river Bug was especially held sacred by the\nSlavonians, and its waters possessed the power to destroy all kinds of\nmagic.]\n\nVladimir endeavoured to re-assure his consort. He represented to her\nthat the brave warriors, and the walls of the impregnable Kiev, would\nafford them sufficient protection; but Milolika was not to be\ncomforted. \"Thou knowest not, beloved husband,\" said she, sobbing and\ncrying, \"how dangerous is this giant, Tugarin, to me and my family,\nand how bitterly he must hate thee, since he was my betrothed, and\nawaited my hand.\" Vladimir besought Milolika to explain to him this\nenigma, and she related the following:--\n\n\"I am the daughter of the Bulgarian king, Bogoris, and of the princess\nKuridana. My birth-place is the city Shikotin, where my parents were\nwont to pass the summer months. As this city lies on the banks of the\nVolga, it offers great facilities for fishing, a diversion to which my\nmother was extremely partial.\n\n\"Once, when my father was fighting against a neighbouring nation, my\nmother endeavoured to while away her grief at his absence by her\naccustomed diversion, and caused the nets to be spread in the Volga.\nThe fish were very plentiful, and a great number of barks and boats\ncovered the river, amongst which, the vessel in which my mother was\nembarked, was distinguishable by its magnificence and elegance.\nSurrounded by her ladies, and her body-guard, Kuridana stood in the\ncentre of the vessel, and beheld with pleasure the spectacle of the\nfishery, when suddenly a mountain, that was situated on the other side\nof the river, burst with a tremendous crash. Every eye was directed\nto the spot, and they saw issue from the aperture, a man of rude, and\nterrific aspect, seated on a car of shining steel drawn by two winged\nhorses. He directed his course towards the river, and when he reached\nthe water, the steel car rolled over the waves, as if they had been\nfirm land. When it was perceived that he was bending his way to my\nmother's bark, heralds were dispatched in a boat, to inquire why he\npresumed to approach the princess without permission. But the fierce\nbeing, who was a powerful and malignant enchanter, did not permit the\nunfortunate heralds to discharge their commission. As they began to\nspeak, he blew upon their boat, overset it, and all who were in it\nwere buried beneath the waves. At this melancholy sight, my mother's\nattendants seized their bows, and discharged a shower of arrows\nagainst the intruder; but in vain, for the arrows rebounded from him,\nand fell shivered into the water.\n\n\"The greatest amazement now seized all present, for they became\npetrified when the magician with a single word, bound every boat, with\nits crew, so that they stood motionless, whilst he, with outstretched\narms, hastened towards my mother, and endeavoured to remove her into\nhis car. But some unseen power crippled all his efforts. Each time he\nendeavoured to seize Kuridana, his arms sank powerless, and he was, at\nlength, obliged to desist from the vain enterprise. He then sprang\ninto the bark, cast himself on his knees before her, and in the most\nmoving, and earnest expressions, besought her love. He promised her\nall the treasures of the world, and the highest earthly happiness, if\nshe would reward his vehement love with reciprocal affection, or only\nlay aside the talisman which she wore upon her breast. This talisman,\nwhich now preserved her, she had received at her birth from a\nbeneficent enchantress, and as she well knew its force, she had drawn\nit out of the case where she usually concealed it, and held it before\nhis eyes.\n\n\"Then the evil one trembled so violently, that at last, as if stricken\nby lightning, he fell to the ground, and not until Kuridana had again\nenclosed the talisman, did he recover from his insensibility. He then\nsprang up, and mounted his steel car, uttering the most fearful\nthreats, 'Think not,' cried he, foaming with shame and rage, 'think\nnot to escape my hands; I will possess thee, and will force Bogoris\nhimself, by the most dreadful devastation of his country, to yield\nthee to me. Behold, I swear by Tschernobog,[2] that I will either,\nslay, or gain possession of thee. Thou shalt see me soon again,' With\nthese words he disappeared.\n\n[Footnote 2: Tschernobog was the evil spirit of the Slavonians, and no\none could swear more solemnly, than by Tschernobog.]\n\n\"Kuridana then left the spot, and not believing herself secure in\nShikotin, retired to the strong city of Boogord, where she awaited, in\ngreat anxiety, the result of this alarming adventure.\n\n\"The very next morning, appeared on the plain before the capital city,\na dreadful two-headed monster, of that dragon species which, in the\nlanguage of my country, is called Sylant. It devoured herbs, and\nflocks, and men, and devastated the surrounding country with its\npoisonous breath. In a short time, the region round Boogord became a\ndesert, and many brave warriors, who sought to free their country of\nthis demon, fell victims to their patriotism and valour. The Sylant\nappeared each morning before the walls, and bellowed out with a\nfearful voice,: 'Bogoris, give me Kuridana, or I will make thy country\na desert!'\n\n\"No sooner did my father hear of the misfortune which menaced his\npeople, and his beloved Kuridana, than he left his career of victory,\nand hastened to the capital. What were his feelings when he beheld\nthe misery which the monster had spread over his land! But greater\nbitterness still awaited him, for when the first tempest of joy and\ngrief, which his return had excited in the hearts of all, and\nespecially in that of Kuridana, had subsided, this noble-minded\nprincess proposed herself as a willing sacrifice for the king, and the\ngood Bulgarians. 'No!' cried Bogoris, 'sooner will I perish, than lose\nthee. I will combat the Dragon. Perhaps the Gods will grant me\nvictory, and if I am vanquished in the fight, at least I shall die for\nthee, and for my country,' The most generous dispute now arose between\nthe magnanimous pair, and finally they agreed to appeal to the\ndecision of the magnates of the empire, who should decide the dispute.\n\n\"The king assembled them, and when they had heard Kuridana's\nresolution, they loaded her with panegyrics, and expressions of\ngratitude. 'Thy magnanimous sacrifice alone, Kuridana,' said the\neldest of the assembly, an aged man, of a hundred years, 'can rescue\nus and Bulgaria. For, supposing that Bogoris were to fight with the\nSylant, and fall, would not our misfortune be greater still? No,\nPrince! thou must preserve thyself for thy people, in order to heal\nthe wounds which the Dragon has inflicted. Kuridana alone can save\nus.' All the magnates coincided with the old man, and Bogoris was in\ndespair.\n\n\"It was morning, and the dreadful words: 'Bogoris, give me thy wife!'\nat that moment resounded round the palace. Kuridana courageously\narose, embraced her speechless husband, and bade him an eternal\nfarewell.\n\n\"At the words '_for ever_,' Bogoris sank senseless on the ground.\nManly as his heart had been up to that hour, it could not endure\nseparation from the beloved Kuridana. The high-minded wife bedewed him\nwith her tears, but at length, turning to the nobles, who stood round\nher weeping, she said: 'Lead me where you will. I am prepared to\nendure everything for my husband and my country,' They now\nreverentially supported her trembling steps, and conducted her as\nrapidly as her weak state permitted, to the front of the city.\n\n\"Meanwhile the altars smoked with incense, and both priests and people\nsupplicated for the deliverance of their noble princess.\n\n\"Shortly after the magnates had left the palace with Kuridana, Bogoris\ncame to himself, and when he perceived that he was alone, he guessed\nhis misfortune, and his despair knew no bounds. He drew his sword,\nand was in the act of piercing his breast with it, in order not to\nsurvive Kuridana, when a matron of beautiful and majestic aspect stood\nbefore him, staid his hand, and thus addressed him:\n\n\"'What, Bogoris! Dost thou despair?--Be tranquil; the Sylant has no\npower to harm Kuridana. The talisman which she wears on her breast,\nwill, at all times, and under all circumstances, mock his power. I am\nthe enchantress Dobrada, the protectress of thy wife, she who, as thou\nknewest, hung the talisman around her immediately on her birth. But it\nis not now requisite that I should reveal to thee the causes which\ninduced me to provide her with that shield against danger. Enough,\nthat I foresaw at her birth that she would have much to fear from the\nlove of a powerful sorcerer, called Sarragur. And because I am ever\nwilling to do all the good I can, I hung around her this talisman,\nwhich protects her from his utmost power, and will now defend her from\nthe Sylant, who is no other than Sarragur himself. For, when he\nperceived that I was opposed to his passion, and had taken Kuridana\nunder my protection, he sought to avenge himself on me, by every kind\nof secret mischief, so that I was at length obliged to chastise him.\nBy my superior power, I enclosed him within a mountain by the Volga,\nand bound his fate by the most awful spell, which even Tschernobog\nrespects, to a golden fish, which I sank in the depths of the Volga.\nBy this spell, Sarragur was to remain in his subterranean prison until\nsome mortal should draw up the golden fish; and should he ever thus\nobtain his freedom, he could then never transform himself into an evil\nand noxious animal, except on the condition that he should never again\nresume his own form, and should perish shortly after the\ntransformation. It chanced that a sturgeon swallowed the golden fish,\nand this sturgeon was caught on the very day when Kuridana was\ndiverting herself with the fishery. Sarragur thus became free, and the\nfirst use he made of his freedom was to endeavour to carry off\nKuridana, whom he still loved with unabated passion.\n\n\"'When this attempt was baffled by the power of the talisman, and\nstill more, when he perceived Kuridana's aversion for him, he became\nfurious, and transformed himself into the Sylant, although he knew\nwhat must be the consequences. Madman, his hour is come, and thou,\nBogoris, art destined to destroy him. Receive from my hands the sword\nof the renowned Egyptian king, Sesostris. It possesses the wonderful\npower of destroying every spell, and with it thou wilt overpower the\nsorcerer, though he should summon all the powers of hell to succour\nhim. Only, mark what I am now about to say. In order to extirpate\nSarragur, and every remembrance of him from the earth, thou must cut\noff both the heads of the Sylant by one stroke. If thou succeed not in\ndoing this, and hewest off but one head, the sorcerer, it is true,\nwill lose his life, but he will escape to his cavern, where, before he\nexpires, he will lay an egg, in which will be enclosed all his magic\npower, and from the head hewn off, will arise a horse of stone, which\nshall receive life at the moment the bad spirits shall have hatched\nthe egg, and from this egg will issue the giant Tugarin, who, one day,\nwill be formidable to thy children. For, not only will he inherit from\nhis father the entire power to work evil, whereby so much misery has\nbefallen thee and thy land, but he will also love thy daughter as\nfiercely as Sarragur loves thy wife. Thy son Trewul will refuse him\nhis sister's hand, and then he will desolate the country, until\nMilolika's hand is promised to him. He also is to be conquered by no\nother weapon than the sword of the wise Sesostris, and a knight who\nshall live without having been born, is destined to slay him. After\nthy victory over the Sylant, hang up the sword in thy armoury amongst\nthe other swords there, and at the appointed time fate will give it\ninto the hands destined wield it. Of that which I have now told thee,\nreveal not a word, except to thy wife, and she may hereafter repeat it\nto her daughter.'\n\n\"Having uttered these words, Dobrada shrouded herself in a\nrose-coloured cloud, and disappeared. Heavenly perfumes filled the\nchamber, and Bogoris felt that all sorrow had vanished from his soul.\nHastily he vaulted on his horse, and rushed to deliver his wife and\nhis country from the fell sorcerer.\n\n\"When he reached the plain, he beheld the efforts of the Sylant to\ngrasp Kuridana, and how he was impeded by the talisman, from coming\nclose to her. Bogoris immediately unsheathed his sword, and flew upon\nthe monster. When the Sylant perceived his antagonist, he sent forth\nfire streams from both his jaws, which, however, were rendered\ninnocuous by the sword of Sesostris. In order to bring the combat to a\nspeedy conclusion, Bogoris aimed a powerful stroke at the heads of the\nmonster, which would assuredly have separated both from the trunk, and\nso have extirpated the sorcerer and all remembrance of him from the\nearth, if the Sylant, at the very moment the stroke fell, had not\nsoared into the air. By this movement, he saved one head. The other\nrolled on the ground, and immediately became stone. Awfully bellowing,\nthe impure being flew to his cavern. Bogoris pursued, but in vain; the\nSylant disappeared in the mountain by the Volga, which immediately\nclosed on him.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"My father regretted that he had not succeeded in entirely\nannihilating the sorcerer and all his brood; but joy at having\ndelivered his beloved wife and his country, soon prevailed over\nsorrow. He committed the future to the Gods, and after he had revealed\nto my mother the predictions of the good enchantress, he hung up the\nsword of Sesostris in his armoury.\n\n\"My parents passed the remainder of their lives in uninterrupted peace\nand content. When I was grown up, my mother related to me her history,\nand at the same time revealed to me what awaited me through the giant\nTugarin. She then hung round me the talisman which she had received\nfrom Dobrada. Shortly after this both my parents died. After their\ndeath I lived several years with my brother in undisturbed\ntranquillity, till one day the report arose of a wonderful phenomenon\nof nature, which was to be seen in the vicinity of the capital. The\nking, my brother, went thither, and I accompanied him. They showed us\na stone which daily increased in size, and was assuming the form of an\nenormous horse. Everybody marvelled at this sport of Nature, as they\ncalled it; but I remembered Dobrada's predictions, and doubted not\nthat the hour of Tugarin's birth, and of my misfortunes, was arrived.\nWhilst I was still thinking on it, we were alarmed by an earthquake.\nThe neighbouring Sylant Mount,--for from the time the Sylant had\nescaped thither, it had borne that name,--opened, and a giant of\nmonstrous size stepped forth. He strode across the Volga, and went\nstraight to the stone horse. The moment he laid his hand on it, it\nbecame animated. The giant sprang upon it, and dashed towards me. He\ntried to seize me, but quickly drew back his robber hands, as if they\nhad been burnt. The power of the talisman withstood him. He then\nturned towards my brother, and cried out in dreadful tones:--'Hear,\nTrewul! I see that thy sister cannot be carried off by force, and\ntherefore I require of thee to persuade her to give me her hand\nvoluntarily. I give thee three days for consideration, and when they\nare expired, I either receive Milolika from thy hands, or I make thy\ncountry desolate.' After these terrible words he departed on his\ncolossal steed, with the rapidity of lightning.\n\n\"We returned heavy-hearted to the city, where my brother immediately\nassembled the council, and laid before it the giant's demand, and his\nthreats. The counsellors were unanimously of opinion, that, as the\nprincess was averse to giving her hand to the giant, an army must be\nsent against him, of sufficient force to set his menaces at nought.\nTen thousand archers, and two thousand horsemen, in armour, were\nhastily collected, and on the dawn of the third day, were drawn out\non the plain before the city, to await the giant. Tugarin soon\nappeared, and the Bulgarians at once discharged their arrows and darts\nat him, but they proved as powerless against him as formerly against\nhis father. They rebounded from him as from a rock. At this attack,\nthe giant broke forth with mingled rage and scorn:--'What,' bellowed\nhe, 'does Trewul send troops against me? Must I then become his enemy?\nWoe to the helpless being!' And without further delay, he seized the\nhorsemen and archers by the dozen, and swallowed them a dozen at a\ntime, till not a man was left.\n\n\"He then began to lay waste and destroy everything round the city. Men\nand cattle were all engulfed in the monster's insatiable maw. He\nshattered the dwellings of the inhabitants with his gigantic fists.\nWhole forests were uprooted by him, and the hoofs of his enormous\nhorse trod down fields and meadows. At length my brother, in order to\nput a stop to the universal misery, resolved to sacrifice me. With\nbitter tears he announced to me that he knew no other means of saving\nhimself and his country from destruction, than to promise my hand to\nthe giant. I replied to him only by my tears, and he reluctantly sent\nan embassy to invite Tugarin to Boogord. He came. Proudly he advanced\nto the gate where Trewul and the nobles of the land awaited him. I was\nin despair. At length I bethought me of a means of escape. I agreed to\nbestow my hand on the giant, on condition that, through some\nbeneficent power, he should first obtain the form and stature of an\nordinary man. I trusted that this would not easily be done, and in the\nmean time I might be able to effect my escape. Tugarin, blinded by his\nlove for me, did not hesitate to accept the condition, and swore by\nTschernobog, that he would not require me to be delivered to him until\nmy requisition was satisfied. He established himself in Boogord, and\nserved my brother with great zeal. I soon found an opportunity of\nmaking my escape, and wandering a whole day without food, was at last\ntaken by the robbers of the Volga, and brought to thy court.\n\n\"You will now, my beloved husband,\" said Milolika, as she concluded\nher narration, \"easily comprehend the danger which threatens you.\nTugarin must hate thee, since thou art my husband. His power is great,\nand no one can vanquish him, except the knight who came unborn into\nthe world, and no weapon can slay him, but the sword of the wise\nSesostris. Thou and all thy brave heroes are powerless against him.\nTherefore, dear husband, let us flee. On the banks of the sacred Bug\nwe shall be safe; no magic can operate there.\"\n\nThis narration made the deepest impression on the heart of the prince;\nhe could not, however, resolve to abandon his country in the hour of\nneed, and besides, to fly before a single warrior, great as he might\nbe, seemed still not a very honourable proceeding. \"What!\" exclaimed\nhe, \"shall the monarch before whom the East trembles, whose courage\nthe whole world admires, shall he shrink in the moment of\ndanger,--shall he, with all his might, flee before a single foe? No:\nsooner a hundred times will I die the most cruel death!\" But with all\nthis how was he to comfort Milolika? How was he to withstand the\ndreadful giant, seeing that he had not, unborn, beheld the light,\nneither did he possess the sword of the Egyptian king Sesostris? These\ndifficulties weighed upon his soul. The first, however, he soon\ndisposed of. He bethought himself that the lime with which the walls\nof Kiev were constructed, had been tempered with water from the sacred\nBug, and consequently would prevent the giant from entering the city.\nThis sufficed to tranquillise Milolika, who no longer insisted on\nflight, as she perceived that her beloved Vladimir was just as secure\nin Kiev, as he would be on the shores of the Bug. As far as she\nherself was concerned, the giant could avail nothing, since the power\nof the talisman would shield her from every danger. But still the\nthought of the combat with this giant, greatly disturbed the prince.\n\"Where,\" said he, \"is the unborn mortal who is destined, with the\nsword of Sesostris, to destroy the fell Tugarin?\"\n\nLo! suddenly a knight of bold and noble aspect, armed with a costly\nsword, and cased in shining armour, but without shield or lance, rode\nat full speed into the court of the palace. He sprang from his\nspirited steed, and gave him to his lusty squire. Then he proudly\nadvanced up the steps, to the golden chamber of the great monarch, and\naddressed Vladimir as follows:--\"My name is Dobruna Mikilitsch, and I\ncome to serve thee.\"\n\n\"Thou art welcome,\" replied Vladimir, \"but how is it possible that\nthou hast escaped the giant Tugarin, who holds the road to Kiev in\nblockade?\"\n\n\"Tugarin!\" rejoined the knight, \"_I_ fear him!--already would I have\nlaid his great head at thy feet, but that I desired to achieve that\ndeed in thy presence.\"\n\nThe monarch marvelled at the boldness of the stranger-youth, and\ninquired if he seriously intended to combat the giant.\n\n\"Assuredly,\" said Dobruna, \"and with that object am I come to Kiev.\"\n\n\"But knowest thou not, that none can vanquish the giant, except only a\nknight who came into the world unborn?\"\n\n\"I know it,\" replied Dobruna, \"and that knight am I!\"\n\n\"Hast thou, then, the sword of Sesostris?\"\n\n\"Behold it,\" said Dobruna, as he drew the sword from its scabbard,\n\"and if thou wilt permit me, mighty prince, to relate to thee my\nhistory, thou wilt know that it is I who am appointed by destiny to\nrid the earth of the monster Tugarin.\"\n\nThe monarch joyfully granted him permission, and Dobruna thus\ncommenced:--\n\n\"It is true that I had both a father and a mother, but not the less\ndid I behold the light of the world without going through the process\nof being born. Shortly before my mother would have brought me forth,\nshe was slain by robbers, during a journey she was making with my\nfather, to visit a relation. My father being also killed, I must\ndoubtless have perished, if the beneficent enchantress Dobrada, who\nwas just then passing by, had not rescued me, and taken me under her\nprotection. She carried me to the beautiful island, in the ocean,\nwhere she usually dwells, and brought me up with the greatest care.\nShe nourished me with the milk of a lioness, bathed me several times a\nday in the waves of the ocean, and inured me by day and night to\nlabour and privation. This mode of education rendered my body so\nstrong, that in my tenth year, I was already able to tear up the\nstrongest trees by the root. Six ancient men instructed me in all the\nsix-and-twenty known languages, and in arms, wherein I made such\nprogress, that in my fifteenth year I was able to parry at once all\nthe six swords of my teachers. Dobrada recompensed me for my diligence\nwith the shining armour I now wear, which possesses the virtue of\nprotecting my body from every danger.\n\n\"Shortly after that time, the enchantress whom I loved and honoured as\na mother, thus addressed me:--'Dobruna Mikilitsch, thy education is\ncompleted, and it is time that in foreign lands thou shouldst by\nknightly deeds acquire renown and honour. Go forth: thou art destined\nfor great things. It is not permitted to me to reveal all the future\nto thee; but thus much thou mayst know: thou wilt obtain possession of\nthe wondrous sword of the wise Sesostris of Egypt. As soon as thou\napproachest it, the sword thou now wearest will fall of itself to the\nearth, and that of Sesostris will become agitated. Take possession of\nit in peace, for thou wilt require it, for a great service thou must\nrender to him in whose armoury thou wilt find it; for with it thou\nwilt destroy a mighty sorcerer and giant, who has worked him much woe.\nWhatever else thou mayst require during thy travels,' continued she,\n'this ring will supply. Thou hast but to turn it three times on thy\nfinger, in order to see every reasonable wish fulfilled.'\n\n\"She then bade me enter a boat into which she followed me. The boat\nshot through the waves like an arrow, and I presently sank into a\nprofound sleep. How long our journey was I know not; for when I awoke\nI found myself alone on a vast plain, not far from a large city. But\nDobrada could not have long quitted me, for the heavenly perfumes\nwhich ordinarily surrounded her, yet floated round me, and far in the\neastern horizon I saw the rose-coloured cloud which always shrouded\nher. My soul was now filled with sadness at the thought that I was\nnow separated from the wise and kind Dobrada, whom I loved as my\nmother.\n\n\"At length I regained my composure. I wished that I had a horse and\nsquire that I might ride into the city that lay near me, and as at the\nsame time I accidentally turned on my finger three times the ring,\nwhose virtue I scarcely recollected, I saw at once before me a squire\nwith two horses, of which I selected the finest and the most richly\nadorned for myself, and left the other for my squire; and thus I rode\ninto the city.\n\n\"At the gate I was informed that the city was called Boogord, and was\nthe capital of the Bulgarian empire. Trewul reigned in Boogord, and\nthe giant Tugarin was at his court. The king had been obliged to\npromise him the hand of his sister, in order to avert the total ruin\nof his country, which the giant had devastated until Trewul had\nacceded to his desire. When I appeared in the king's presence, I made\na very favourable impression on him, and he not only received me into\nhis service, but made me keeper of the armoury, the first dignity at\nthe Bulgarian court.\n\n\"From the first moment that Tugarin beheld me, he manifested the\nbitterest hate towards me; and when I heard what evil he had brought\non Trewul and his land, I doubted not that he was the sorcerer and\ngiant I was destined to overthrow. But the sword of Sesostris was\nstill wanting to me. It was however not long before this invaluable\nweapon came into my possession.\n\n\"I entered the royal armoury in order to inspect the weapons entrusted\nto my care, and I had scarcely crossed the threshold when the sword I\nwore fell to the ground, and amongst the numerous others that hung\nthere, I observed one moving to and fro. I could not doubt that this\nwas the wonderful sword of the Egyptian king with which I was to slay\nthe giant. I took possession of it with the greater confidence, from\nthe knowledge that by its aid I should rid Trewul of so dangerous an\nenemy to himself and his family. I girded it upon me, and hung mine in\nits place.\n\n\"From that moment the giant avoided me, knowing most likely by his\nmagic art that I was in possession of the sword that was to be fatal\nto him, and ere long he disappeared from Boogord, telling the king he\nwas going in search of Milolika.\n\n\"I immediately took leave of the king, and set out in pursuit of the\ngiant. I gained information on my way that he had gone to Kiev, where\nMilolika resided as thy wife. I hastened after him, and am come, as I\nsee, at the right moment to prevent misfortune. I now await thy\npermission, mighty prince, to engage in combat thy enemy and mine.\"\n\nAs he concluded Dobruna bent one knee before the monarch, who rose\nfrom his seat, and taking the golden chain from his own neck, threw it\nround the knight's with the following words: \"Let this mark of my\nfavour prove to thee, Dobruna Mikilitsch, how greatly I rejoice to\nhave so brave a knight in my service. To-morrow thou shalt engage the\ngiant, and I doubt not that thou wilt conquer.\" He then commanded that\nan apartment should be prepared for him in the palace, and all due\nhonour be paid to him. Dobruna returned thanks to the monarch for the\nfavours shown him, and took leave in order to repose after his\njourney, and to gather strength for the approaching fight.\n\nIn the mean time the heralds by Vladimir's command went round the\ncity, and summoned the people to assemble on the walls the following\nmorning, to witness the combat between the knight and the sorcerer,\nand the priests offered up solemn sacrifices to implore blessings on\nKiev and the knight against the malignant sorcerer and the powers\nwhich aided him.\n\nScarcely had the purple-tinted Simzerla[3] spread her glowing mantle\nover the sky, and decked the path of the great light of the world with\nher thousand coloured rays, before the vast population of Kiev\nimpatiently thronged to the walls in order not to delay the grand\nspectacle. The monarch attended by his consort and all the magnates of\nthe empire, ascended a tribunal which had been hastily erected over\nthe principal gate of the city for this great event.\n\n[Footnote 3: Simzerla was the Aurora of the Slavonians.]\n\nThe clangor of trumpets and horns at length announced the arrival of\nthe knight. Ten thousand corsletted warriors rode with uplifted lances\nbefore him, and drew up in two lines before the gate. After them, on a\nrichly caparisoned charger, rode the knight in his shining armour,\nbearing in his hand the precious sword of Sesostris. The people\nwelcomed him with a cry of joy, and the warriors clashed their arms as\nhe appeared before the gate. With noble bearing and knightly aspect he\nturned his horse and saluted the monarch by thrice lowering his sword.\n\"Great ruler of Russia,\" he began, \"at thy command I go forth to fight\nthe sorcerer and giant Tugarin, who has presumed to challenge thee to\ncombat.\" \"Go forth,\" replied Vladimir, \"go forth, valiant youth, and\nfight in my name the vile sorcerer: may the Gods give thee victory!\"\nDobruna then dashed at full speed through the lines of warriors to the\nwhite tent, followed by the acclamations and the blessings of the\nspectators.\n\nThe giant, who had been awakened by the unusual noise of the trumpets\nand horns, and the joyful cries of the people, had already mounted his\nhorse, and was in the act of riding towards the city to ascertain the\ncause, when he beheld the knight approaching. When he recognised in\nhim the dreaded keeper of the Bulgarian monarch's armoury, who was in\npossession of the wonderful sword, he set up a fearful yell. Foaming\nwith rage he rushed with out-spread arms against the knight to grasp\nhim; but Dobruna laughed at his impotent fury, and in order better to\novercome him, he first touched with his sword the enchanted horse,\nwhich immediately crumbled into dust. He then caused the\nmagic-destroying weapon of the wise Sesostris to gleam over the head\nof the sorcerer, who, by the sudden crumbling of his horse, had fallen\nto the earth. Tugarin's destruction seemed inevitable, and the\nbeholders from the walls already shouted forth their plaudits to the\nvictor, when at once all the powers of hell broke forth to aid\ntheir beloved son. A stream of fire crackled between the combatants,\nfiery serpents hissed around the knight, and a thick cloud of smoke\nenveloped the giant. But short was this infernal display. Dobruna\ntouched the stream with his sword, made a few strokes with it in the\nair, and the fiery flood and the hissing serpents vanished. He then\napproached the smoke which concealed the giant, but scarcely had he\nthrust his sword into it, when like the enchantments that also\ndisappeared. The giant was seen outstretched on the ground, and heard\nto roar with terror. No sooner did he perceive that the smoke which\nconcealed him had vanished, than he sprang up and rushed, as if in\nmadness, on the knight. Dobruna awaited him unmoved, and as the giant\nstretched forth his monstrous hands for the second time to seize him,\nhe cut them both off with a single stroke. The second stroke of that\nwondrous sword, wielded by the strong hand of the knight, severed the\nvile head from the shoulders. The colossus fell, and the earth shook\nbeneath his weight.\n\n[Illustration: THE DRAGON GIANT. P. 183.]\n\nThen the people lifted up a cry of joy. A hundred thousand voices\nshouted, \"Long live our monarch, and the conqueror of the giant,\nDobruna Mikilitsch!\"\n\nThe knight, who had dismounted to raise the fallen enemy's head on\nthe point of his sword in sign of victory, was about to remount in\norder to give the monarch an account of his combat, when he beheld him\ncoming towards him, accompanied by his consort and the magnates of the\nempire. The courteous knight hastened forward and laid the giant's\nhead at his feet. The great prince embraced him in presence of the\nassembled people, and placed on his finger a gold ring, whilst\nMilolika hung around him a gold-embroidered scarf. Dobruna bent his\nknee and thanked the royal pair in graceful and courteous words for\nthese marks of favour. They then all returned full of joy to the city,\nwhere the festivities and rejoicings in honour of the knight lasted\nmany weeks.\n\nVladimir also despatched messengers to his brother-in-law, Trewul, to\ninform him of his marriage with the beautiful Milolika, and the\noverthrow of their common enemy, the giant Tugarin. Dobruna however\nremained at the court of Vladimir, and performed many more great and\nvaliant deeds, which procured him great fame and honour, and rendered\ngreat service to the monarch, and he became the most beloved and most\nesteemed, both by prince and people, of all the knights in Vladimir's\ncourt.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF SIVA AND MADHAVA.\n\n[Sanskrit.]\n\n\nThere still exists a town famed for its splendour and richness, called\nRatnapura. In it there once dwelt two rogues, Siva and Madhava, who,\nwith the help of their confederates, contrived to make both rich and\npoor of that place victims to their cunning and rapacity.\n\nOnce these two individuals met together to consult. \"This town,\" they\nsaid, \"has so entirely been laid under contribution by us, that we can\nhave no reasonable hopes of any further success; let us, therefore, go\nto Ujjayini, and settle ourselves down there. The house-priest of the\nking, Sankar'aswarni by name, is considered a very rich man, and if,\nby some contrivance, we could possess ourselves of his treasures, it\nwould be easy to curry favour with the charming and lovely women of\nthe Malavese. The Brahmins, without exception, call him avaricious and\nmiserly, for, though so rich that he measures his treasures by the\nbushel, he begrudges every offering to their altars, and it is only on\ncompulsion he gives a portion of the dues. It is also well known that\nhe has a remarkably beautiful daughter, whom, if we once are able to\ngain his confidence, one of us must receive as a wife from his own\nhands.\"\n\nAfter this, these two rogues, Siva and Madhava, having first matured\ntheir plans and resolved upon the parts each individually was to play,\ntook their departure from the city of Ratnapura and soon arrived at\nUjjayini.\n\nMadhava, disguised as a Rajput, remained with his followers in a small\nvillage outside the city; but Siva, more versed in all the arts of\ndeceit, entered the town alone, garbed in the habit of a devout\npenitent. He built a cell on an elevated place on the banks of the\nSipra, from whence he could be well observed, and here he laid on the\nground a deer-skin, a pot wherein to collect alms, some darbha-grass,\nand some clay.\n\nAt the first dawn of morning he rubbed his whole body over with clay;\nhe then entered the river, and remained with his head for a\nconsiderable time under the water; leaving the bath, he steadfastly\nfixed his gaze on the sun, then, holding in his hand some kusa-grass,\nhe knelt before the image of a god, murmuring his prayers; he then\nplucked holy flowers, which he sacrificed to Siva, and when his\noffering was concluded he again began to pray, and remained long lost\nin deepest devotion.\n\nOn the following day, in order to gather alms, he wandered through the\ntown, mute, as if dumb, leaning on a staff, and his only raiment\nconsisting of the small skin of a black gazelle. After having made his\ncollections at the houses of the Brahmins, he divided the gifts\nreceived into three parts; the first he gave to the crows, the second\nto the first person he met, and with the third he fed himself; then\nslowly counting the beads of his rosary, with constant and fervent\nprayers, he returned to his cell. The nights he devoted, apparently,\nto deepest meditation, and to the solution of great religious and\nphilosophical questions.\n\nThus, by daily repeating these deceptions, he impressed on the\ninhabitants so great an idea of his sanctity that he was universally\nrevered; and, when he passed, the people of Ujjayini reverentially\nbowed and knelt before him, exclaiming, \"This is, indeed, a holy\nman!\"\n\nMeanwhile, his friend Madhava had, through his spies, received\nintelligence of all these doings, and now, magnificently dressed like\na Rajput he also entered the city. He took up his abode in an adjacent\ntemple, and went to the banks of the Sipra to bathe in the river.\nAfter having performed his ablutions, Madhava saw Siva, who, lost in\nprayer, knelt before the image of the god. The former then, along with\nhis retinue, prostrated himself in reverence before the holy man; and\naddressing the people around him, said, \"There lives not on earth a\nmore devout penitent; more than once in my travels have I seen him,\nwhen, as here, he has been visiting the sacred rivers and the holy\nplaces of pilgrimage.\"\n\nThough Siva had well observed and heard his companion, no feature\nbetrayed the fact; immoveably as before, he continued in his devotion.\nMadhava soon after returned to his dwelling.\n\nIn the depth of night in a lonely place they again met, where, after\nhaving well feasted, they consulted together upon their next\nproceedings. At the dawn of morning Siva returned to his cell, and\nMadhava commanded one of his companions at an early hour of the day as\nfollows: \"Take these two robes of honour and present them to\nSankar'aswarni, the house-priest of the king, and address him\nthus:--'A Rajput named Madhava, treacherously assaulted, and by his\nnearest relations driven from his empire, has, with the vast treasures\nof his father, taken refuge in these realms, and is anxious to present\nhimself before the king and offer him the faithful and gratuitous\nservices of himself and his brave followers. He has therefore sent me\nto thee, thou ocean of fame, to beg thy permission to visit him.'\" As\nMadhava had commanded him, the follower, holding the robes of honour\nin his hands, waited at the house of the priest. Watching a favourable\nopportunity when the priest was alone, he presented himself before\nhim, laid the presents at his feet, and delivered Madhava's message.\nThe priest, full of dignity, received them condescendingly, and\nlonging for some of the treasures to which the messenger had made no\nslight allusions, he graciously acquiesced in the demand.\n\nMadhava consequently went the following day at a proper hour to visit\nthe priest, accompanied by his followers, dressed like courtiers, in\nmagnificent robes, and with silver spears in their hands. A messenger\nwas sent in advance to announce them, and the priest receiving them\nat the entrance of his house, most reverentially saluted them, and\ngave them the very best welcome. Madhava after having passed a short\ntime in pleasant conversation, and made a favourable impression on the\npriest, returned to his own dwelling.\n\nThe following day he again sent two robes of honour, and then\npresented himself to the priest, saying: \"We are anxious as early as\npossible to enter the service of the king, for time hangs heavily on\nour hands; let our sole recompense be the honour of attending him, for\nwe have sufficient treasures for all our wants.\"\n\nWhen the priest had heard this, hoping to extract large sums from him,\nhe granted his request, and immediately went to the king, who, out of\nesteem and love for his religious adviser, at once permitted the\nintroduction of the Rajput at court.\n\nOn the following day the priest formally introduced Madhava and his\nfollowers to the king, who graciously, and with honours received them,\nand at once appointed the former to fill a high station in the\nhousehold, for he was greatly pleased with his appearance, which in\neverything resembled that of a high-born Rajput. Thus was Madhava\nfairly installed at court, but every night he went secretly to Siva,\nto consult with him about their plans. Once the avaricious priest\nsaid to Madhava, who with his rich presents had shown him marked\nattention: \"Come and live in my house,\" and as he pressed him very\nmuch, Madhava and his followers removed to the spacious dwelling of\nthe priest.\n\nMadhava had procured a great quantity of ornaments and trinkets set\nwith false stones, wondrously well imitated; these he had inclosed in\na jewel-box, which, slightly opening it that the priest might learn\nits contents, he begged him to deposit in his treasury. By this\nartifice he entirely won his confidence, and being thus secure, he\nfeigned illness, and by abstaining for several days from taking any\nfood, at last grew so thin and emaciated, that he had every appearance\nof being in a very alarming state of health. A few more days thus\npassed away, and the illness seemed to make rapid progress, when in a\nfaint voice he thus addressed the priest, who was sitting at the side\nof his bed: \"The malady which is devouring my strength and energies\nseems a retribution from the Gods for some of the sins my flesh has\ncommitted; bring therefore to me, O wise and pious man, some\ndistinguished Brahmin to whom I may bequeath my treasures to insure my\nsalvation here and there; for what man, even of ordinary wisdom\nwould, when life is ebbing, set value on gold or jewels!\"\n\nWhereupon the priest answered: \"I will do as thou wishest.\"\n\nOut of gratitude, Madhava knelt down and kissed his feet. But whatever\nBrahmin the priest brought to the sick man, not one pleased him; he\nsaid an inward voice told him that their life was not pure enough,\ntheir favour with Brahma not sufficient. When this had been several\ntimes repeated, with the same result, one of the rogues, who was\nstanding by, suggested in a low tone of voice, \"As not one of all\nthese Brahmins seems worthy of the benefits intended to be conferred;\nthe holy priest, Siva, so celebrated for his sanctity, who dwells on\nthe shores of the Sipra, might be sent for: perhaps he might find\nfavour with our master.\"\n\nMadhava when appealed to, sighed heavily, and as if unable in his\nagony to articulate, bowed his head by way of consent. The priest\nforthwith rose and went to Siva, whom he found absorbed in deepest\nmeditation. After having walked round him without being observed, he\nat last placed himself on the ground facing him. The impostor having\nfinished his long-protracted prayers, raised his eyes, when the\npriest reverentially saluted him, and said: \"Most holy man, if thou\nwouldst permit me, I have a petition to make to thee; there lives at\nmy house a very rich Rajput, by name, Madhava, born in the south, and\nlately arrived from thence. He is dying, and wishes for some holy\nindividual to whom he may give his riches; if it should please thee, I\nthink it is for thee he intends all his treasures, which consist in\nornaments and jewels of inestimable value.\"\n\nSiva having attentively listened to this, thoughtfully and slowly\nanswered: \"Brahmin, how should I, whose whole earthly striving and\nlonging is after immortal reward; whose only aspiration is heaven,\nthere to have my prayers and my privations recognised and approved;\nwhose meagre maintenance is derived from alms of the charitable; how\nshould I feel any wish or desire for earthly possessions?\"\n\nWhereupon the king's priest answered: \"Say not so, noble and pious\nman! Well you know the pleasure of the God towards the Brahmin-priest,\nwho in his own person is able to offer hospitality to the Gods and to\nman; who within his own house can welcome and relieve the devout\npilgrim; who with rich contributions can assist in the embellishments\nof their temples and the splendour of their service, and who by\ntaking a wife can extend his sphere of utility and philanthropy. Only\nby the possession of treasures these things are achievable, therefore\nit is laudable in man to strive after wealth. The father of a family\nis the best of Brahmins.\"\n\nTo which Siva answered: \"Whence should I take a wife? My poverty\nprevents my alliance with any great family.\"\n\nWhen the priest heard this he thought the treasures already his own,\nand having found a favourable opportunity, he said to him: \"I have an\nunmarried daughter, her name is Vinyasvamini; she is most beautiful;\nher I will give thee to wife. The treasure that will be thine through\nthe generosity of Madhava, I will guard and preserve for thee; choose,\ntherefore, the pleasures and the bliss of the married state.\"\n\nSiva attentively and with inward pleasure listened to the words of the\npriest, in which he saw their deep-laid scheme and their anxious\nwishes brought into fulfilment, and with diffidence he answered:\n\"Brahmin, if by so doing I shall be able to please you and gain your\nfavour, I consent to it; and as regards the treasure, to you I leave\nthe whole and sole control and management thereof, as neither my\nunderstanding nor inclination lies in that direction.\"\n\nRejoiced at this answer of Siva, the priest forthwith took him into\nhis house, assigned him a suite of apartments there, and announced to\nMadhava his arrival and what he had done, for which the latter warmly\nthanked him. Next the priest gave his unhappy daughter in marriage to\nSiva, thus sacrificing her to his avarice; and on the third day after\nthe nuptials he led the bridegroom to Madhava, who now assumed a\nfaintness as if in the last gasp of dissolution. After a pause,\napparently rallying all his strength, he said: \"In deepest humiliation\nI salute thee, most holy man, and beg of thee to accept, as I am dying\nand shall have no use for it, all that I possess of earthly wealth.\"\nHe then had the artfully imitated jewels brought from the priest's\ntreasury, and according to the sacred rites and customs on such\noccasions, had them presented to Siva. The latter, in accepting them,\nhanded them over to the priest without even looking at them, saying,\n\"Of such things I understand nothing, but you know their value.\"\n\n\"I will take care of them, as agreed between us,\" answered the priest;\nand again deposited the supposed treasure in its former place of\nsecurity. Siva, after having in solemn words pronounced his blessing\nover Madhava, returned to the apartments of his wife.\n\nThe following day Madhava seemed already greatly recovered, and\nascribed this wonderful change to the influence of his gift and the\nholiness of the man on whom he had bestowed it. In warmest terms, he\nthanked the priest for his kind interference, and assured him of his\neverlasting gratitude. With Siva he now openly allied himself,\npraising him every where, and declaring that through his great powers\nalone his life had been preserved.\n\nAfter the lapse of a few days Siva said to the priest, \"It is not\nright that I thus should continue to live in thy house where I must be\nof vast expense to thee; thou hadst better give me a sum, if only\ncorresponding with half the value of the gems, which you consider so\nprecious.\"\n\nThe priest, who in reality priced these jewels and ornaments at an\ninestimable sum, a sum capable of purchasing an empire, was very glad\nto assent to such a proposition; and with the idea of giving something\nlike the twentieth part of their value, he gave him all the money he\npossessed. He then had documents drawn out, in which on both sides the\nexchange of the properties was legally secured, for fear that Siva in\nthe course of time might repent of his bargain. They then separated,\nSiva and his wife living in greatest joy and happiness, and soon they\nwere joined by Madhava, with whom the former now divided the treasures\nof the priest.\n\nAfter some years the priest wanted money to make some purchase, and\ntaking a part of the ornaments, he went to a goldsmith who had a stand\nin the market to offer them for sale. This man, who was a great judge,\nafter narrowly examining them, cried out, full of astonishment--\"The\nman who has manufactured these must indeed be a great artisan; for\nthough of no intrinsic value, they are the finest and most wonderful\nimitations that ever were worked out of such materials; for these\nstones are nothing but glass, and the setting nothing but gilt metal.\"\n\nHaving heard this, the priest, breathless though full of despair, ran\nback to his house, fetched the contents of the whole casket, and,\nunwilling to believe, went from one merchant to the other to have his\ntreasure examined; but in every instance the answer was the\nsame--\"Only glass and brass!\" The priest, as if he had been struck by\nlightning, fell senseless on the ground, and had to be carried home;\nbut early the following morning having recovered, he ran to Siva and\nsaid to him, \"Take back thy jewels, and return me my money.\"\n\nThis the other refused, alleging that the greater part of it had\nalready been expended, and the rest he had so invested as to be most\nuseful for his wife and children.\n\nThus disputing they both went before the king, on whom Madhava at the\ntime was in attendance. The priest in the following words made the\nking acquainted with his case: \"Behold, my gracious king, these\nornaments; they are all artfully manufactured out of valueless metal,\ncoloured pieces of glass and crystal. Without knowing this, and\nbelieving them real, I have given Siva my whole fortune in exchange\nfor them, and he already has spent it.\"\n\nTo which Siva answered: \"From my very childhood, mighty king, have I\nlived in holy seclusion and devotion; from this seclusion the father\nof my wife drew me forth, pressed and entreated me to accept the gift\nof honour, with the value of which I was wholly ignorant; but he\nassured me he was aware of its great pecuniary worth, and he would\nguarantee it to me. On my accepting it, without even giving it a look,\nI handed it over to him: he afterwards voluntarily purchased it from\nme, giving me his own price, and in proof of this I adduce this\ncontract in his own handwriting: now, mighty ruler, judge between us;\nI have in truth laid the case fairly before you.\"\n\nSiva having thus concluded his defence, Madhava addressed himself to\nthe priest, saying: \"Speak not derogatorily of this holy man, now your\nson. Whatever the cause of your grievance, he is innocent, as you\nyourself are good and upright; but I also owe an explanation to my\nliege and master. In what way can I have committed myself?--neither\nfrom you nor him have I taken or accepted the least benefit. The\nfortune my father left me I had for years given into the custody of an\nold and tried friend of our house; removing it from thence I presented\nit, under the circumstances your majesty is aware of, to this Brahmin.\nBut if they had not been real gems, but only worthless metal and glass\nas this worthy priest intimates, by what means was my restoration to\nhealth so wonderfully wrought? That I gave it with pure and honest\nintention, witness for me the all but miracle by which I was saved!\"\n\nThus spoke Madhava without changing a feature; but the king and his\nministers laughed, and testified the good opinion they entertained for\nhim. They then pronounced the following judgment:--\"Neither Siva nor\nMadhava are in the least to blame, they are wholly innocent.\"\n\nIn sorrow and shame the priest went his way, robbed of his whole\nfortune, and punished for his avarice and the heartless manner in\nwhich he had sacrificed his daughter; though fortunately for her and\nno thanks to her father, she found in Siva a good and affectionate\nhusband.\n\nThe two rogues altered their mode of life: thenceforward they walked\nin the path of virtue and well-doing; and favoured by the king, whom\nthey faithfully served, they lived many years honoured, respected, and\nhappy in Ujjayini.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOBLIN BIRD.\n\n[Betschuanian, South Africa.]\n\n\nTwo brothers one day set out from their father's hut, to seek their\nfortune. The name of the elder one was Maszilo, the younger one was\ncalled Mazziloniane. After a few days' journeying they reached a\nplain, from which branched two roads; the one led eastwards, the other\nwestwards. The first road was covered with the footmarks of cattle,\nthe other with the footmarks of dogs. Maszilo followed the latter\nroad, his brother went in the opposite direction.\n\nAfter some days travelling Mazziloniane passed a hill which formerly\nhad been inhabited, and felt not a little astonished at beholding a\ngreat quantity of earthen vessels, all of which were placed upside\ndown. In the hope of finding some treasure concealed under them, he\nremoved several, until he came to one of immense size. Mazziloniane,\ngathering all his strength, gave it a violent push, but the vessel\nremained immoveable. The young traveller now doubled his exertions,\nbut in vain. Twice he was obliged to fasten the girdle round his\nloins, which through his exertions had burst; the vessel seemed as if\nrooted to the ground. But all at once, as if by magic, it was upset by\na slight touch, and revealed to the youthful and trembling\nMazziloniane, a hideous and deformed giant.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\"Why dost thou disturb me?\" demanded the monster, in a voice of\nthunder.\n\nMazziloniane, having recovered from his first fright, observed with\nhorror that one of the legs of the giant was as thick as the stem of a\nlarge tree, whilst the other was of an ordinary size.\n\n\"As a well-merited punishment for thy temerity in disturbing me, thou\nshalt henceforth carry me about;\" and so saying the monster jumped on\nthe shoulders of the unfortunate youth, who, unable to support such a\nweight, fell prostrate on the ground. Recovering himself with\ndifficulty, he endeavoured to advance a few steps, and again he fell\nto the earth, his strength now wholly failing him. But the sight of an\neland, which was swiftly passing by, presented to his mind the means\nof delivery.\n\n\"Dear father,\" said he, with trembling voice, to the abortion,\n\"release me for a moment; the reason why I cannot carry you is that I\nhave nothing wherewith to fasten you to my back; give me a few moments\nto kill the eland which has just passed by, and out of its hide I will\ncut some thongs for that purpose.\"\n\nHis demand was granted, and with the dogs that had accompanied him he\ndisappeared from the plain. After he had run a considerable distance\nhe took refuge in a cavern. But the thick-legged monster, tired of\nwaiting, soon followed, and wherever he discovered a footmark of the\nyouth, he in a mocking voice cried out:--\n\n\"The pretty little footmark of my dear child, the pretty little\nfootmark of Mazziloniane.\"\n\nThe youth heard him approaching, and felt the ground tremble under his\nsteps. Seized with despair he left the cavern, and calling his dogs,\nhe set them on the enemy; stroking and encouraging them, he said--\n\n\"On! my brave dogs, kill him, devour him, but leave his thick leg for\nme.\"\n\nThe dogs obeyed the command of their master, and soon there was\nnothing left but the deformed and shapeless leg, which now he\nfearlessly approached, and with his axe cut into pieces, and, O\nwonder! out of it came a herd of most beautiful cows, one of them\nbeing as white as the driven snow; overjoyed he drove the cattle\nbefore him, taking the road leading to his father's hut.\n\nMeanwhile the other brother having got possession of a great number of\ndogs, he also returned towards his home, and they both now met on the\nsame place where they so shortly before had separated. The younger\nembracing the elder brother, offered him part of his herd, saying to\nhim: \"As fortune has favoured me most, take what you like, but you\nmust leave me the white cow, for to no one else can she ever belong.\"\n\nBut Maszilo seemed to have placed his every desire upon this very\nanimal; regardless of all the rest, he begged and intreated his\nbrother to give up to him the possession thereof; but in vain were his\nprayers. Having journeyed together for two days, on the third day they\ncame to a spring--\"Let us tarry here,\" said Maszilo, \"I am faint and\nexhausted with thirst; let us dig a deep hole, and convey the water\ninto it, that it may get cool and fresh.\"\n\nWhen they had dug the well, Maszilo went in search of a great flat\nstone, and with it covered the hole to protect the water from being\nheated by the rays of the sun; after the water had been sufficiently\ncooled, Maszilo drank first. His brother was now going to do the same,\nbut the moment he bent himself over the well, Maszilo suddenly taking\nhim by the hair, forced his head under the water, and held it there\nuntil he was suffocated; he then pushed the corpse into the hole, and\ncovered it over with the stone.\n\nWith drooping head, though now sole master of the herd, the murderer\nproceeded on his journey, but hardly had he advanced a few steps, when\na little bird perched on the horn of the white cow, and in a mournful\ntune sang: \"Tsiri! tsiri! Maszilo killed Mazziloniane to get\npossession of the white cow which the murdered brother so much loved.\"\n\nEnraged, he killed the bird with a stone, but hardly had he\nsufficiently recovered himself to proceed on his journey, when the\nbird again came flying, placed itself on the same spot, and repeated\nthe same words; Maszilo again killed him with a stone, and then\ncrushed him with his heavy staff; but within a few minutes the bird\nreappeared for the third time, again perching on the horn of the cow,\nand repeating the same words.\n\n\"Ah, Demon!\" cried Maszilo, choking with rage, \"I will try a more\neffectual way to silence thee;\" whereupon he threw his staff at the\nhated little bird, who in such doleful tunes had stirred up and\nupbraided his conscience-stricken soul: he again killed it, and then\nlighting a fire, in it he burnt the bird to ashes, which he scattered\nin the winds.\n\n[Illustration: THE GOBLIN BIRD. P. 207.]\n\nNow convinced that the goblin-bird would return no more, Maszilo, full\nof pride and hardiness, returned to his father's dwelling. On his\narrival there, he was surrounded by all the villagers, who, full of\ncuriosity, gathered around him, in admiration of the rich flock, and\npraised his good fortune, but the first impulse of their curiosity\nsatiated, they almost with one voice inquired \"Where is Mazziloniane?\"\n\n\"I know not; we went different ways,\" answered he.\n\nMany of his relations now surrounded the white cow, and exclaimed: \"Oh\nhow beautiful she is! what fine hair! what a pure colour! happy the\nman that owns such a treasure!\"\n\nSuddenly, their exclamations were changed into deep silence, for upon\none of the horns of the much-admired animal appeared a little bird,\nsinging in most melancholy strains, \"Tsiri! tsiri! Maszilo killed\nMazziloniane, to get possession of the white cow which the murdered\nbrother so much loved.\"\n\n\"What! has Maszilo killed his brother?\" all exclaimed, and, full of\nhorror, turned away from the murderer, unable to account to themselves\nfor the emotion he inspired, and the strangeness of the disclosure.\nInfuriated, they drove Maszilo from their home, into the desert: in\nthe confusion this occasioned, the little bird flew to the murdered\nman's sister, and whispered in her ear, \"I am the soul of\nMazziloniane; Maszilo has killed me; my body lies in a well near the\ndesert, go bury it--\" and then the bird flew back into the desert,\nevermore to be the companion of the murderer.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHEPHERD AND THE SERPENT.\n\n[German, Traditional.]\n\n\nIn a peaceful, pleasantly situated little village, there once lived a\npoor shepherd youth. Near the village was a valley, a lonely retired\nspot, whither the youth always guided his flock; and it seemed as\nthough he had selected that quiet valley for his favourite retreat. He\nnever took his noon-day meal, nor lay down to repose in the cool\nshade, except in that beloved place. Thither was he ever drawn by an\nirresistible longing.\n\nThe place itself was simple enough--a rugged block of stone, beneath\nwhich murmured a little rivulet, and a wild cherry-tree which\novershadowed the stone with its leafy branches, were all that was to\nbe seen there; but the youth felt happy when he spread his meal upon\nthat stone, and drank from that streamlet. When, after having partaken\nof his meal, he stretched himself to rest upon the stone, he would\nfancy he heard a mysterious singing, and sometimes a sighing too,\nbeneath it; he would then listen and watch, but would finally slumber\nand dream. His spirit seemed to be ever wrapped in mysterious\nunearthly happiness. On going forth with his flocks in the morning,\nand returning home with them in the evening, this unaccountable\nlonging seemed always to take possession of him. He liked not to\naccompany the throng of merry village youths and maidens who went\nabout singing and frolicking on festive evenings, but preferred to\nwalk alone, silent and even melancholy. But when the fair morning\ndawned again, and he went forth with his lambs over heath and meadow,\nhis spirit grew ever more serene as he drew nearer to the beloved\nstone and to the shade of the dear cherry-tree. It often happened,\ntoo, that whilst he rested there and played upon his flute, a\nsilver-white serpent came out from under the stone, and after\nwreathing herself caressingly at his feet, would then erect herself\nand gaze upon the shepherd, until two big tears would roll from her\neyes, and then she softly slid back again: on these occasions a still\nmore peculiar and strange feeling filled the shepherd's heart.\n\nAt length he altogether ceased to associate with the merry band of\nyouths and maidens; their mirthsome noise was unpleasant to him;\nwhilst, on the contrary, the still solitude became more and more dear\nto him.\n\nOne lovely Sunday in the spring time--it was Trinity Sunday, which the\npeasants call \"Golden Sunday,\" and which they always keep with\nespecial festivity--when the youth of the village were to have a merry\ndance beneath the linden-trees, the pensive shepherd boy, drawn by\nthat inexpressible longing, directed his steps at mid-day to the\nlonely valley of the stone and cherry-tree. He gazed serenely upon the\ndear spot, and then sat down and listened musingly to the rustling of\nthe leaves and the mysterious sounds under the stone, when suddenly a\nbright light shone before his eyes, a pang of terror shot through his\nheart, and looking up he saw a beauteous form arrayed in white like an\nangel, standing before him with a soft expression and folded hands,\nwhilst with transported senses he heard a sweet voice thus address\nhim: \"O youth, fear not, but hear the supplication of an unhappy\nmaiden, and do not drive me from thee, nor flee from my misfortune. I\nam a noble princess, and have immense treasures of pearls and gold;\nbut for many hundred years I have languished under enchantment, have\nbeen banished beneath this stone, and am doomed to glide about in the\nform of a serpent. In that shape I have often gazed on thee and\nconceived the hope that thou mayest release me. Thou art still pure in\nheart as a child. Only once throughout the whole year, this very hour\non Golden Sunday, am I permitted to wander on the earth in my own\nform; and if I then find a youth with a pure heart, I may implore him\nfor my deliverance. Release me then, thou beloved one! release me, I\nimplore thee by all that is holy!\"--The maiden sank at the shepherd's\nfeet, which she clasped as she looked up to him weeping. The heart of\nthe youth heaved with transport; he raised the angelic maiden and\nfaltered out: \"Oh say only what I must do to free thee, thou fair\nbeloved one!\"\n\n\"Return hither to-morrow at the same hour,\" replied she, \"and when I\nappear before thee in my serpent form, and wind myself around thee,\nand thrice kiss thee, do not, oh! do not shudder, else must I again\nlanguish enchanted here for another century!\" She vanished, and again\na soft sighing and singing issued from beneath the stone.\n\nOn the following day, at the hour of noon, the shepherd, not without\nfear in his heart, waited at the appointed place, and supplicated\nHeaven for strength and constancy at the trying moment of the\nserpent's kiss. Already the silver-white serpent glided from beneath\nthe stone, approached the youth, twined herself round his body, and\nraised her serpent head, with its bright eyes, to kiss him. He\nremained steady, and endured the three kisses. A mighty crash was then\nheard, and dreadful thunders rolled around the youth, who had fallen\nsenseless on the ground. A magic change passed over him, and when he\nwas restored to his senses, he found himself lying on white cushions\nof silk, in a richly-adorned chamber, with the beautiful maiden\nkneeling by his couch, holding his hand to her heart. \"Oh, thanks be\nto Heaven!\" exclaimed she, when he opened his eyes; \"receive my\nthanks, beloved youth, for my deliverance, and take as thy reward my\nfair lands, and this palace with all its rich treasures, and take me\ntoo as thy faithful wife: thou shalt henceforth be happy, and have\nplenitude of joy!\"\n\nAnd the shepherd was happy and joyful; that longing of his heart which\nhad so often drawn him towards the stone, was gloriously satisfied. He\ndwelt, remote from the world, in the bosom of happiness, with his\nfair spouse; and he never wished himself back on earth, nor amongst\nhis lambs again. But in the village there was great lamentation for\nthe shepherd who had so suddenly vanished: they sought him in the\nvalley, and by the stone under the cherry-tree, whither he had last\ngone, but neither the shepherd, nor the stone, nor the cherry-tree\nwere to be found any longer; and no human eye ever again beheld any\ntrace of either.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EXPEDITIOUS FROG.\n\n[Wendian.]\n\n\nA fox came one day at full speed to a pond to drink. A frog who was\nsitting there, began to croak at him. Then, said the fox, \"Be off with\nyou, or I'll swallow you.\"\n\nThe frog, however, replied: \"Don't give yourself such airs; I am\nswifter than you!\"\n\nAt this the fox laughed; but as the frog persisted in boasting of his\nswiftness, the fox said at length: \"Now, then, we will both run to the\nnext town, and we shall see which can go the faster.\"\n\nThen the fox turned round, and as he did so, the frog leapt up into\nhis bushy tail. Off went the fox, and when he reached the gate of the\ncity, he turned round again to see if he could spy the frog coming\nafter him. As he did so, the frog hopped out of his tail on the\nground. The fox, after looking all about without being able to see the\nfrog, turned round once more in order to enter the city.\n\nThen the frog called out to him: \"So! you are come at last? I am just\ngoing back again, for I really thought you meant not to come at all.\"\n\n\n\n\nEASTWARD OF THE SUN, AND WESTWARD OF THE MOON.\n\n[Norwegian.]\n\n\nIn days of yore there lived a poor charcoal-burner who had many\nchildren. His poverty was so great, that he knew not how to feed them\nfrom day to day, and they had scarcely any clothes to cover them.\nNevertheless all the children were very beautiful, but the youngest\ndaughter was the most beautiful of them all.\n\nNow it happened on a Thursday evening, late in the autumn, that a\nterrible storm came on. It was dark as pitch, the rain came down in\ntorrents, and the wind blew till the windows cracked again. The whole\nfamily sat round the hearth, busy with their different occupations;\nsuddenly some one gave three loud knocks at the window; the man went\nout to see whom it could be, and when he got outside the door, he saw\nstanding by it, a great white bear.\n\n\"Good evening to you!\" said the bear.\n\n\"Good evening!\" said the man.\n\n\"I have called,\" said the bear, \"to say that if you will give me your\nyoungest daughter in marriage, I will make you as rich as you now are\npoor.\"\n\nThe man thought that would not be amiss, but he considered that he\nmust first consult his daughter on the subject; so he stepped in, and\ntold her that a great white bear was outside the door, who had\npromised to make him as rich as he was now poor, provided he would\ngive him his youngest daughter in marriage. The maiden, however, said\n\"No,\" and would hear nothing at all about the matter; so the man went\nout again, spoke very civilly to the bear, and told him to call again\nnext Thursday evening, and in the mean time he would try what could be\ndone. During the week they tried to persuade the maiden, and told her\nall kinds of fine things as to the riches they were to have, and how\nwell she herself would be provided for, till at last she consented. So\nshe washed the two or three things she had, dressed herself as well as\nshe could, and made herself ready for the journey.\n\n[Illustration: EASTWARD OF THE SUN AND WESTWARD OF THE MOON. P. 219.]\n\nWhen the bear returned the following Thursday evening, all was ready:\nthe maiden took her bundle in her hand, seated herself on his back,\nand off they went. When they had gone a good way, the bear asked her:\n\"Do you feel sad?\"\n\nNo, that she did not in the least.\n\n\"Mind you hold fast by my shaggy coat,\" said the bear, \"and then there\nwill be nothing to fear.\"\n\nThus she rode on the bear's back far far away--indeed nobody can say\nprecisely how far it was--and at last they arrived at a great rock.\nThe bear knocked, and a door opened, through which they entered a\nlarge castle, in which were a great many rooms, all lighted with\nlamps, and glittering with gold and silver: there was also a grand\nsaloon, and in the saloon stood a table covered with the most costly\nviands. The bear then gave her a silver bell, which he told her to\nring when she wanted anything, and it would immediately be brought to\nher. Now after she had eaten and drunk, and towards evening grew\ntired, and wished to go to bed, she rang her bell, and immediately a\ndoor opened into a chamber, where there was as beautiful a bed as she\ncould wish for, ready prepared for her; the pillows were covered with\nsilk, and the curtains fringed with gold, and all her toilette\nutensils were of silver and gold. As soon, however, as she had\nextinguished the light, and lay down in her bed, some one came and\nlay down by her side, and this happened every night; but she could\nnever see who it was, as the person never came till after the light\nwas put out, and always went away before day-break.\n\nThus she lived for some time, contented and happy, till at length she\nfelt so great a desire to see her parents, and brothers and sisters,\nthat she grew quite dull and melancholy. Then the bear asked her one\nday why she was always so still and thoughtful.\n\n\"Ah!\" replied she, \"I feel so lonely here in the castle, for I so much\nwish to see my parents, and brothers and sisters, once more.\"\n\n\"That you can easily do,\" said the bear, \"but you must promise me that\nyou will never converse with your mother alone, but only when all the\nothers are present; for she will try to take you by the hand and lead\nyou into another room, in order to speak to you alone, but do not\nconsent to it, for if you do, she will make both you and me unhappy.\"\n\nThe maiden said she would be very careful to do as he desired her.\n\nThe following Sunday the bear came to her, and said she might now\nbegin her journey to her parents. She seated herself on his back, and\nthey commenced their journey. After they had travelled a very long\ntime, they came to a great white castle, and she saw her sisters going\nin and out, and all was so beautiful and grand, it was quite a\npleasure to behold it.\n\n\"That is where your parents dwell,\" said the bear, \"now do not forget\nwhat I have said to you, or you will make yourself and me very\nmiserable.\"\n\nShe would not forget, repeated the maiden, and she entered the castle;\nthe bear, however, went back again. When her parents saw their\ndaughter, they were more delighted than it is possible to express.\nThey could not thank her enough for what she had done for them, and\nthey told how wonderfully comfortable they were now, and inquired how\nmatters went with her. Oh, she also was very happy, returned the\nmaiden, she had everything she could desire. What else she told them,\nI do not exactly know, but I believe it was no every-day tale that she\ntold them. In the afternoon, when they had dined, it happened exactly\nas the bear had foretold; the mother wanted to talk with her daughter\nin private, but the maiden remembered what the bear had said, and\nwould not go with her, but said: \"Oh, we can say what we have got to\nsay, quite as well here.\"\n\nNow, how it happened, I cannot tell, but all I know is, that her\nmother persuaded her at last, and then she got the whole history from\nher. The maiden related how some one came into her bed every night,\nbut that she had never seen who it was, and that made her so uneasy,\nand the day seemed very long to her, because she was always alone.\n\n\"Who knows!\" said the mother, \"surely it must be some wizard who\nsleeps by you; but if you will take my advice, when he is fast asleep,\nget up and strike a light, and see who it is; but be careful not to\nlet any grease drop upon him.\"\n\nIn the evening the bear came to fetch the maiden home. When they had\ngone a good way he asked her if it had not happened as he had told\nher.\n\n\"Yes,\" she could not deny that it had.\n\n\"Have you listened to your mother's counsel?\" said the bear; \"if you\nhave, you have ruined yourself and me, and our friendship is at an\nend.\"\n\n\"No,\" she had not done so, replied she.\n\nNow when they had got home, and the maiden had gone to bed, the same\nhappened as usual, some one came and lay down by her. During the\nnight, however, when she heard that he was asleep, she rose and\nkindled a light, and then she saw lying in her bed the handsomest\nprince that can be imagined, and she immediately loved him so well,\nthat she could not refrain from kissing him that very moment. But as\nshe did this, she accidentally let three drops of oil fall from her\nlamp, upon his shirt, and thereupon he awoke.\n\n\"What have you done?\" cried he, as he opened his eyes; \"now you have\nmade yourself and me unhappy for ever. If you had but held out for a\nyear, I should have been delivered; for I have a step-mother who has\nenchanted me, so that by day I am a bear, but at night I become a man\nagain. But all is over for us both, for I must now leave you, and\nreturn to her. She dwells in a castle which lies _eastward of the\nSun_, and _westward of the Moon_, and there I shall be obliged to\nmarry a princess who has a nose three ells long.\"\n\nThe maiden then began to weep and bemoan herself; but it was too late,\nthe prince was obliged to go. She asked him if she might not accompany\nhim.\n\n\"No,\" said he, \"that must not be.\"\n\n\"Can you not then tell me the road that I may find you?\" inquired\nshe; \"for I suppose I may be allowed that.\"\n\n\"Yes, that you are right welcome to do,\" said he; \"but there is no\nroad that leads to it; for the castle lies eastward of the Sun, and\nwestward of the Moon, and you will never get there.\"\n\nIn the morning when she awoke, the prince and the castle had both\nvanished, and she found herself lying on the bare earth, in a thick\ndark forest, and she was dressed in her old clothes, and near her lay\nthe same bundle that she had brought with her from her former home.\nWhen she had rubbed her eyes till she was quite awake, and had cried\ntill she could cry no longer, she began her journey, and wandered for\nmany a long day, till at last she came to a great mountain. At the\nfoot of the mountain sat an old woman, playing with a golden apple;\nthe maiden asked her if she could tell her the way to where the prince\nlived with his step-mother, in a castle which was situated eastward of\nthe Sun, and westward of the Moon, and who was to marry a princess who\nhad a nose three ells long.\n\n\"How come you to know him?\" asked the woman. \"Can you be the maiden\nwhom he wished to marry?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she replied, \"she was that maiden.\"\n\n\"So! then you are the chosen one!\" resumed the woman; \"ah! my child,\"\ncontinued she, \"I would willingly help you, but I myself know nothing\nmore of the castle than that it lies eastward of the Sun, and westward\nof the Moon, and that you are almost certain never to get there; I\nwill, however, lend you my horse, and you may ride on him to my next\nneighbour; perhaps she may be able to tell you the way thither, but\nwhen you have reached her, just give the horse a pat under the left\near, and bid him go home again; and now take this golden apple, for\nperhaps you may find a use for it.\"\n\nThe maiden mounted the horse, and rode for a long, long, time; and at\nlast arrived at another mountain, where sat an old woman with a golden\nreel. The maiden asked her if she could tell her the way to the\ncastle, which lay eastward of the Sun, and westward of the Moon. This\nold woman, however, said just like the other, that she knew nothing\nmore about the castle than that it lay eastward of the Sun, and\nwestward of the Moon, \"and you are almost sure never to find it,\"\nadded she, \"but I will lend you my horse to ride upon to my next\nneighbour, and perhaps she may tell you the way; when you get there,\nhowever, just give the horse a pat under his left ear, and tell him\nto go home; now take this reel, for perhaps you may find some use for\nit.\"\n\nThe maiden seated herself on the horse, and rode for many days and\nweeks; at last she again arrived at a mountain where an old woman sat\nspinning with a golden distaff. The maiden now again inquired about\nthe prince, and the castle which was situated eastward of the Sun, and\nwestward of the Moon.\n\n\"Are you she whom the prince wished to marry?\" asked the woman.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the maiden.\n\nBut this old woman knew no more about the castle than the two others.\n\n\"Eastward of the Sun, and westward of the Moon, lies the castle, and\nyou are almost certain never to get there. But I will lend you my\nhorse, and you may ride upon him to the East Wind; perhaps he may be\nable to tell you the way, but when you get to him, give the horse a\npat under the left ear, and bid him go home, and now take this golden\ndistaff, you will probably have occasion for it.\"\n\nShe rode now a very long time, and at last arrived where the East Wind\ndwelt, and asked him if he could not tell her how to get to the\nprince who lived in the castle which lay eastward of the Sun, and\nwestward of the Moon.\n\n\"Truly, I have often heard tell of the prince, and of the castle too,\"\nsaid the East Wind, \"but I cannot tell you the way, for I have never\nblown so far; but I will carry you to my brother, the West Wind;\nperhaps he may know, for he is much stronger than I am. You have only\nto seat yourself on my back, and I will bear you thither.\"\n\nThe maiden seated herself on his back, and off they went. When they\nreached the West Wind, the East Wind told him that he had brought a\nmaiden who was to marry the prince who dwelt in the castle that lay\neastward of the Sun, and westward of the Moon, and asked if he could\ntell the way thither.\n\n\"No,\" answered the West Wind. \"I have never blown so far. But,\" said\nhe, addressing the maiden, \"you may seat yourself on my back, and I\nwill carry you to the South Wind; he may be able to tell you, for he\nis much stronger than I, and blows and blusters every where.\"\n\nSo the maiden seated herself on his back, and when they had reached\nthe South Wind, the West Wind asked him if he did not know the way to\nthe castle which lay eastward of the Sun, and westward of the Moon,\nfor the maiden whom he had brought with him, said he, was to marry the\nprince who dwelt there.\n\n\"I have blown pretty far, and pretty strong in my time,\" said the\nSouth Wind, \"but I never went so far as that. If, however, you desire\nit,\" said he to the maiden, \"I will carry you to my brother, the North\nWind, who is the eldest and strongest of us all, and if he cannot tell\nyou the way, you may rest assured you will never find it.\"\n\nThe maiden seated herself on his back, and off they went at such a\nrate that the plain heaved again.\n\nIn a very short time they reached the North Wind; but he was so wild\nand turbulent that long before they got up to him, he blew, I know not\nhow much snow and ice, in their faces.\n\n\"What do you want?\" cried he, in a voice that made their skin creep.\n\n\"Oh, you must not be so rough with us,\" said the South Wind; \"for here\nam I, your own brother, and this is the maiden who is to marry the\nprince who dwells in the castle which lies eastward of the Sun, and\nwestward of the Moon, and she is very desirous to ask you if you\ncannot give her some information about it.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know full well where it lies,\" said the North Wind; \"I wafted\nan aspen leaf thither, once; but I was so fatigued that I could not\nblow for many a long day afterwards. If, however, you are resolved to\ngo,\" said he to the maiden, \"and are not afraid, I will take you on my\nback and try whether I can waft you so far.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the maiden, \"there I must and will go, by all possible\nmeans, and I will not be frightened either, let it be as bad as it\nmay.\"\n\n\"In that case you must pass the night here,\" said the North Wind; \"for\nwe must have the whole day before us, if we are to go there.\"\n\nEarly the next morning the North Wind awakened her, got himself into\nbreath, and grew so large and strong, that it was terrible to behold;\nand off they dashed through the air, as if the world were coming to an\nend. Then arose such an awful storm, that whole villages and forests\nwere overturned, and as they passed over the ocean, the ships sank by\nhundreds. On they went still over the water, so far as no one would\nbelieve, but the North Wind became weaker and weaker, and so weak did\nhe become, that he could scarcely blow any more, and he sank lower and\nlower, and at last got so low, that the waves flowed over his heels.\n\n\"Are you frightened?\" inquired he of the maiden.\n\n\"No, not in the least,\" said she.\n\nNow they were only a very little way from land, and the North Wind had\nscarcely any strength remaining, to enable him to reach the shore\nunder the windows of the castle that lay eastward of the Sun, and\nwestward of the Moon. When he did get there, however, he was so weary\nand faint, that he was obliged to rest many days before he could\nreturn home.\n\nIn the morning the maiden seated herself under the windows of the\ncastle, and played with her golden apple, and the first person who saw\nher, was the long-nosed princess whom the prince was to marry.\n\n\"What do you ask for your golden apple?\" inquired the princess, as she\nopened her window.\n\n\"It is not to be had for gold nor for gain;\" said the maiden.\n\n\"If you will not part with it for gold nor for gain, what will you\ntake for it?\" demanded the princess: \"I will give whatever you ask.\"\n\n\"Well, then, if you will let me pass a night by the prince's side, you\nshall have it,\" said the maiden.\n\n\"Oh! that you are quite welcome to do,\" said the princess, and took\nthe golden apple.\n\nBut when at night the maiden came into the prince's chamber, he was\nfast asleep; she called to him and shook him, and cried and moaned,\nbut she could not awaken him, and as soon as the morning dawned, the\nprincess with the long nose came and drove her out of the room.\n\nThat day the maiden again placed herself under the castle windows, and\nunwound the yarn from the golden reel, and the long-nosed princess\nspoke to her as on the day before. She asked her what she would take\nfor the reel, but the maiden said it was not to be had for gold nor\ngain, but that if she might pass another night beside the prince, the\nprincess should have it. She agreed, and took the golden reel. But\nwhen the maiden entered the chamber the prince was fast asleep; and,\nlet her call and shake him, and weep and wail as she might, she could\nnot rouse him; and when the morning dawned, the princess with the long\nnose again came and drove her away.\n\nThis day the maiden seated herself as before with her golden distaff\nand span. When the princess saw the distaff, she wanted that also, and\nopened the window, and asked what she would sell it for. The maiden\nreplied as before, neither for gold nor gain; but if the princess\nwould let her pass another night with the prince, she should have it.\nYes, she was very welcome, said the princess, and took the distaff.\nNow it happened that some persons who slept close to the prince's\napartment, had heard the lamentations and melancholy cries of the\nmaiden during the two nights, and that morning they told the prince of\nit. So in the evening when the princess brought the drink which the\nprince was accustomed to take before he went to bed, he pretended to\ndrink it, but in reality he poured it on the ground behind him, for he\nsuspected strongly that the princess had mixed a sleeping potion with\nit. Now when the maiden went into his room that night, he was wide\nawake, and was overjoyed at seeing her, and he made her tell him all\nthat had happened to her, and how she had contrived to get to the\ncastle. When she had related all he said:--\n\n\"You are come just at the right moment; for to-morrow is to be my\nwedding with the princess; but I want nothing of her and her long\nnose, for you are the only one I will wed. I shall therefore say,\nthat I want to know what my bride is fit for, and I shall require her\nto wash the three spots of oil out of my shirt. This she will\nwillingly undertake to do, but I know that she will not succeed; for\nthe spots were made by your hand, and can only be washed out again by\nChristian hands, and not by the hands of such a pack of sorcerers as\nshe belongs to. I shall, however, say, that I will have no other bride\nthan she who can succeed, and when they have all tried and failed, I\nshall call you, and desire you to try.\" So the night passed happily\naway, and on the bridal day the prince said:--\n\n\"I should like vastly to see what my bride is fit for.\"\n\n\"That is no more than fair,\" said the step-mother.\n\n\"I have such a beautiful shirt,\" said the prince, \"that I should like\nto wear it on my bridal day, but there are spots of grease on it, and\nI would willingly have them washed out; I have in consequence resolved\nto wed none but her who is able to wash them out.\"\n\nTruly, that was no such mighty matter, thought the women, and\nimmediately set to work; and the princess with the long nose began to\nwash away as fast as she could. But the longer she washed, the larger\nand darker grew the spots.\n\n\"Oh! you do not know much about the matter,\" said the old sorceress,\nher mother: \"give it to me.\"\n\nBut when she got hold of the shirt, it grew darker still, and the more\nshe washed and rubbed, the larger grew the spots. Now the other\nwitches of the establishment all tried their hands on the shirt, and\nthe longer they washed the worse it grew, and at last the whole shirt\nlooked as if it had been put up the chimney.\n\n\"Ah! you are all good for nothing,\" cried the prince; \"there sits a\npoor beggar wrench under the windows; I'll lay any wager she knows\nmore about washing than all of you put together. Come hither, wench!\"\ncried he; and when she came, he asked her:--\n\n\"Can you wash that shirt clean?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" said the maiden; \"but I think I can.\"\n\nSo the maiden took the shirt, and under her hands it soon became as\nwhite as the falling snow.\n\n\"Ah, I will have thee for my bride!\" cried the prince, and when the\nold sorceress heard that, she fell into such a tremendous rage, that\nit killed her; and I think that the princess with the long nose, and\nthe whole pack of witches, must have expired also, for I have never\nheard of them since. Then the prince and his bride set free all the\nChristians who were confined in the castle; and they took as much gold\nand silver as they could carry away, and went far away from the castle\nthat lies eastward of the Sun, and westward of the Moon. But how they\ncontrived to get away, and whither they went, I do not know; if,\nhowever, they are what I take them for, they are at no very great\ndistance from here.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LITTLE MAN IN GREY.\n\n[Upper Lusatia.]\n\n\nA miner, a blacksmith, and a nun were travelling together through the\nwide world. One day they were bewildered in a dark forest, and were so\nwearied with wandering that they thought themselves right fortunate\nwhen they saw, at a distance, a building wherein they hoped to find\nshelter. They went up to it, and found that it was an ancient castle,\nwhich, although half in ruins, still was in condition to afford a\nhabitation for such distressed pilgrims as they. They resolved\ntherefore to enter, and held a council how they might best establish\nthemselves in it, and they very soon agreed that it would be best that\none of them should always remain at home whilst the other two went out\nin search of provisions. They then cast lots who should first stay\nbehind, and the lot fell on the nun.\n\nSo when the miner and the blacksmith were gone out into the forest,\nshe prepared the food, and when noon arrived, and her companions did\nnot return, she ate her share of the provisions. As soon as she had\nfinished her meal a little man, clad in grey, came to the door, and\nshivering, said: \"Oh, I am so cold!\"\n\nThen the nun said to him: \"Come to the fire and warm thyself.\"\n\nThe little man did as the nun desired him, but presently after he\nexclaimed: \"Oh, how hungry I am!\"\n\nThen the nun said to him: \"There is food by the fire; eat some of it.\"\n\nThe little man fell upon the food, and in a very short time devoured\nit all. When the nun saw what he had done she was very angry, and\nscolded him for not having left any food for her companions. Upon this\nthe little man flew into a great passion, seized the nun, beat her,\nand threw her from one wall to the other. He then quitted the castle\nand went his way, leaving the nun on the floor. Towards evening the\ntwo companions returned home very hungry, and when they found no food\nthey reproached the nun bitterly, and would not believe her when she\ntold them what had happened.\n\nThe following day the miner proposed to keep watch in the castle, and\nsaid he would take good care that no one should have to go to bed\nfasting. So the two others went into the forest, and the miner looked\nafter the cooking, ate his share, and put the rest by on the oven. The\nlittle grey clad man came as before, but how terrified was the miner\nwhen he perceived that this time the little man had two heads. He\nshivered as on the preceding day, saying: \"Oh, how cold I am!\"\n\nMuch frightened, the miner pointed to the hearth. Then the little man\nsaid: \"Oh, how hungry I am!\"\n\n\"There is food on the oven,\" said the miner; \"eat some.\"\n\nThen the little man fell to with both his heads, and soon ate it all\nup, and licked the plates clean. When the miner reproached him for\neating all up, he got for his pains just the same treatment as the\nnun. The little man beat him black and blue, and flung him against the\nwalls till they cracked; the poor miner lost both sight and hearing,\nand at last the little man left him lying there, and went his way.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the blacksmith and the nun returned hungry in the evening, and\nfound no supper, the blacksmith fell into a great rage with the miner,\nand declared that when his turn should come next day to watch, the\ncastle, no one should want a supper. The next day, at meal time, the\nlittle man appeared again but this time he had three heads. He\ncomplained of cold, and was bidden by the blacksmith to sit by the\nhearth. When he said he was hungry, the blacksmith gave him a portion\nof the food. The little man soon dispatched that, and looked greedily\nround with his six eyes, asking for more food, and when the blacksmith\nhesitated to give it him, he tried to treat him as he had done the\nnun and the miner; the blacksmith, however, was no coward, and seizing\na great smith's hammer, he rushed on the little man, and struck off\ntwo of his heads, so that he made off as fast as he could with his\nremaining head. But the blacksmith chased him through the forest along\nmany a pathway, till at last he suddenly disappeared through an iron\ndoor. The blacksmith was thus obliged to give up the pursuit, but\npromised himself not to rest until, with the aid of his two\ncompanions, he should have brought the matter to a satisfactory\nconclusion.\n\nMeantime the nun and the miner had returned home. The smith set their\nsupper before them as he had undertaken to do, and then related his\nadventure, showing them the two heads he had cut off, with their\nstaring glazed eyes. They then all three resolved to free themselves\naltogether, if possible, from the little grey man, and the very next\nday they set to work. They searched a long time before they could find\nthe iron door through which he had disappeared the preceding day, and\ngreat toil did it cost them before they were able to break it open.\nThey then found themselves in a great vaulted chamber wherein sat a\nbeautiful maiden at a table, working. She started up, and threw\nherself at their feet, thanking them as her deliverers, and told them\nthat she was the daughter of a king, and had been confined there by a\npowerful sorcerer. Yesterday afternoon she had suddenly felt that the\nspell was loosened, and from that moment she had hourly expected her\nfreedom, but that besides herself there was the daughter of another\nking confined in the same place. They then went in search of the other\nking's daughter and set her at liberty also. She thanked them joyfully\nin like manner, and said that she also had felt since yesterday\nafternoon that the spell was unbound. The two royal maidens now\ninformed their liberators that in concealed caves of the castle great\ntreasures were hoarded, which were guarded by a terrible dog. They\nwent in search of them and at length came upon the dog, whom the\nblacksmith slew with his hammer, although he endeavoured to defend\nhimself.\n\nThe treasure consisted of whole tons of gold and silver, and a\nhandsome young man sat beside them as if to guard them. He came to\nmeet them and thanked them for setting him free. He was the son of a\nking, but had been transformed by a sorcerer into the three-headed\nlittle man and banished to that castle. By the loss of two of his\nheads the spell was taken off the two royal maidens, and when the\nblacksmith slew the terrible dog he himself was delivered from it. For\nthat service the whole of the treasure should be theirs.\n\nThe treasure was then divided, and it was a long time before they\ncould complete the distribution. The two princesses, however, out of\ngratitude to their deliverers, married the miner and the blacksmith,\nand the handsome prince married the nun; and so they passed the rest\nof their lives in peace and joy.\n\n\n\n\nRED, WHITE, AND BLACK.\n\n[Normandy.]\n\n\nThe eldest son of a mighty monarch was once walking alone in a field,\nwhich, as it was the depth of winter, happened to be covered with\nsnow. He perceived a raven flying by, and shot him. The bird fell dead\non the ground and the snow was sprinkled with his blood. The glossy\nblack of his plumage, the dazzling white of the snow, and the red\nblood, formed a combination of colours which delighted the eyes of the\nprince. The impression did not pass away from his memory; the colours\nseemed perpetually to float before his eyes, and at length he\nconceived in his heart an intense desire to possess a wife who should\nbe as rosy as that blood, as white as that snow, and have hair as\nblack as the plumage of that raven.\n\nOne day as he sat profoundly musing on the object of his desires, a\nvoice said to him:--\"My prince, go travel into Marvel-land, and there\nin the centre of an immense forest you will find an apple-tree,\nbearing larger and fairer fruit than you have ever yet beheld; pluck\nthree of the apples, but forbear to open them until you shall be again\nat home; they will present you with a bride exactly such as you\ncovet.\"\n\nMarvel-land was very remote from the prince's home, and very difficult\nof access, but nothing could deter him from undertaking the journey.\nHe started forthwith, travelled over land and sea, and searched the\nforest with the utmost diligence, till at length he found the tree. He\nbroke off three fine apples, and as, in the first transports of his\njoy, he could not resist the curiosity which urged him, he opened one\nof them on the spot. A lovely maiden came out of it so enchantingly\nfair, and so exactly corresponding to the image he had formed, that he\nwas lost in admiration. But the maiden, so far from being well\ndisposed towards him, gazed on him with looks of scorn, and bitterly\nreproaching him for having carried her off, vanished from his sight.\n\nThis great disappointment might naturally have reduced him to despair;\nbut as he was of a disposition to be easily consoled, he soon\ncomforted himself with the trust that the two remaining apples would\ngive him compensation for his loss. Full of this sweet hope, he\nresolved not to open them until he should reach his own country. But\neven the saddest experience does not always suffice to enable us to\nresist temptation. The prince's impatience was stronger than his\nreason, and a second time he yielded to his desire of opening one of\nthe remaining apples.\n\nHe was at that time on the sea, and as there is very little amusement\nto be had during a voyage on that element, perhaps very few persons\nwould have acted otherwise than he did. He persuaded himself that if\nhe caused the whole of the deck to be covered with an awning, the fair\none could not escape him. He therefore opened the second apple, and as\nbefore, a maiden of unequalled beauty stood before him; she manifested\nthe same displeasure as the former one, and notwithstanding the\nprecautions he had taken, disappeared in like manner. But even these\ntwo experiences barely sufficed to render the prince prudent.\n\nAt length however he reached his native country, and on opening the\nremaining apple, a third maiden as lovely as the others, but far more\ngentle, appeared. He immediately married her, and they were the\nhappiest couple in the world.\n\nAfter a time he was obliged to go out to war against a neighbouring\npotentate, and thus to quit his beloved. The queen-mother, in whose\npower the young bride now found herself, had never approved the\nmarriage. She caused her daughter-in-law to be murdered in a barbarous\nmanner, flung the corpse into the moat that surrounded the castle, and\nto complete her guilty deed, she substituted for the unhappy queen a\nperson who was entirely devoted to herself.\n\nWhen the prince returned he was greatly astonished to find a wife so\ndifferent from the one he had left. But the queen his mother assured\nhim confidently that the person she presented to him was his wife. She\ndid not attempt to deny the great alteration in her appearance, but\nshe ascribed the transformation to the effect of magic.\n\nIn truth, the mode by which the prince had obtained his wife did give\nsome appearance of probability to the queen's assertion, and at all\nevents, whether from softness of disposition, or absence of distrust,\nthe prince believed what he was told. But all was unavailing to make\nhim forget his first passion. Night and day he mused upon the past,\nand would pass whole hours leaning against the window of his palace.\n\nOne day as he was thus musing in deep melancholy, he perceived in the\ncastle moat a fish whose shining scales were red, white, and black. He\nwas so struck by the sight that he never withdrew his eyes from the\nfish. The old queen, who considered this extraordinary attention to\nthe fish as a consequence of his early passion, resolved to destroy\nevery object that might tend to recall it to his memory. She therefore\ncommanded the false princess to feign the most vehement longing to eat\nthe very fish which had so attracted her husband's attention. He could\nnot deny a request which in the opinion of all others was so innocent.\nThe fish was caught, served at the table of the supposed princess, and\nthe prince relapsed into his usual melancholy.\n\nNot very long after he was comforted by the appearance of a tree which\nwas red, white, and black. The tree was of an unknown genus, no one\nhad planted it, nor sown any seed; it had suddenly grown up on the\nspot where the scales of the fish had been thrown away.\n\nThis fair tree gave the prince great pleasure and the queen equal\ndispleasure; she at once resolved on its destruction in spite of the\nsad prince's remonstrances. It was uprooted and burnt; but from its\nashes suddenly arose a magnificent palace constructed of red rubies,\nwhite pearls, and black ebony. The three colours which the prince so\nloved, produced now an enchanting effect. Long did he endeavour in\nvain to enter that fair palace; the gates remained fast closed, and at\nlast he contented himself with incessantly contemplating it, and\npassed day after day in this occupation which recalled to him the\nobject of his wishes.\n\nHis constancy was at last rewarded; the gates flew open; he entered\nthe palace, and after traversing numerous apartments, he found in a\nsmall chamber his first wife whom he had so tenderly loved, and whose\nmemory was so dear to him. She reproached him for having by his\nyielding disposition caused her so much suffering, but at the same\ntime testified the vivid joy which she felt as she perceived that he\nwas so deserving of the forgiveness she bestowed on him.\n\nThe happiness of the re-united pair was not again disturbed, and they\nlived together perfectly satisfied with their destiny.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWELVE LOST PRINCESSES AND THE WIZARD KING.\n\n[African.]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a king who had twelve daughters, whom he\nloved so tenderly that he could not bear that they should be out of\nhis presence, except when he was sleeping in the afternoon, and then\nthey always took a walk. On one occasion, it happened that whilst the\nking was enjoying his afternoon's nap, the princesses went out as\nusual, but they did not return home. This threw all the inhabitants of\nthe country into the greatest trouble and affliction, but the king was\nstill more grieved than any of his subjects. He sent messengers to\nevery corner of his kingdom, and into all the foreign lands he had\never heard mentioned, causing search to be made for his daughters; but\nno tidings could he get of them.\n\nSo, after a time, it became quite clear to everybody that they had\nbeen carried off by some wizard. The report of this soon spread from\ncity to city, and from country to country, till at last it reached the\nears of another king, who lived far, far away, and this king happened\nto have twelve sons. When the twelve princes heard the marvellous tale\nabout the twelve princesses, they begged their father to permit them\nto travel in search of the missing royal maidens. The old king,\nhowever, for a long time would not hear of any such thing, for he\nfeared that he might never see his sons again; but they threw\nthemselves at his feet, and besought him so long and earnestly that at\nlast he yielded, and gave them leave to set out on their travels. He\ncaused a vessel to be equipped for them, and gave the charge of it to\none of his courtiers, called Commander Rod. Long, long did they sail,\nand whenever they touched on the coast of any country, they made every\ninquiry about the princesses, but could not discover the least trace\nof them.\n\nThey had nearly completed the seventh year since they first set sail,\nwhen a violent storm arose. It blew such a gale that they thought they\nnever should reach the shore; but on the third day the tempest\nsubsided, and suddenly it became quite calm. All on board were now so\nfatigued by the hard work they had done during the tempest that they\nall went to sleep at once, excepting only the youngest prince, who\nbecame very restless, and could not sleep at all. Now whilst he was\npacing the deck, the vessel neared an island, and on the shore was a\nlittle dog running backwards and forwards, and howling and barking\ntowards the ship as if it wanted to be taken on board. The king's son\nwhistled to it, and tried to entice it to him, but it seemed afraid to\nleave the shore, and only barked and howled louder still. The prince\nthought it would be a sin to leave the poor dog to perish, for he\nsupposed it had escaped there from some ship that had foundered during\nthe storm. He therefore set to work to lower the boat, and after\nhaving rowed to the shore, he went towards the little dog, but\nwhenever he was about to lay hold of it, it sprang from him, and so\nlured him onward, till at last he found himself unexpectedly in the\ncourt of a great and magnificent castle, when the little dog suddenly\nchanged into a beautiful princess.\n\nThe prince then noticed, sitting on the beach, a man so gigantic and\nfrightful that he was quite alarmed. \"You have no cause for\nuneasiness,\" said the man; but when the prince heard his voice he was\nmore frightened still.\n\n\"I know very well what you want; you are one of the twelve princes who\nare in search of the twelve lost princesses. I know also where they\nare. They are beside my master, each sitting on her own chair, and\ncombing the hair of one of his heads, for he has twelve. You have now\nbeen sailing about for seven years, and you have to sail for seven\nyears more before you will find them. As to what concerns yourself,\nindividually, you should be welcome to remain here and marry my\ndaughter, but you must first kill my master, for he is very harsh to\nus, and we have long been quite tired of him: and when he is dead I\nshall be king in his place. Try now if you can wield this sword,\" said\nthe wizard, for such he was.\n\nThe prince tried to grasp a rusty sword which hung against the wall,\nbut could not stir it from the spot.\n\n\"Well, then you must take a draught out of this flask,\" said the\nwizard.\n\nThe prince did so, and was then able to unhang the sword from the\nwall; after a second draught he could raise it, and the third enabled\nhim to wield it with as much ease as his own.\n\n\"When you return on board the vessel,\" said the wizard prince, \"you\nmust conceal the sword in your hammock, so that Commander Rod may not\nsee it. He cannot wield it, I know, but he will hate you on that\naccount, and try to kill you. When seven more years all but three days\nshall have passed away,\" he continued, \"the same that has befallen you\nnow will again occur: a violent gale will arise, with storm and hail,\nand when it is over, all will be again fatigued, and lie down in their\nhammocks. You must then take the sword, and row to land. You will\narrive at a castle guarded by wolves, bears, and lions, but you need\nnot fear them; they will crawl at your feet. As soon as you enter the\ncastle, you will see the giant sitting in a splendidly adorned\nchamber, and a princess will be seated on her own chair, beside one of\nhis twelve heads. As soon as you see him you must with all speed cut\noff one head after the other, before he awakes, for should he do that,\nhe will eat you alive.\"\n\nThe prince returned to the ship with the sword, and did not forget\nwhat the wizard had told him. The others were still lying sound\nasleep, so he concealed the sword in his hammock without Commander Rod\nor any of the others perceiving it. A breeze now sprang up, and the\nprince awakened the crew, and told them that with such a fair wind\nthey must no longer lie sleeping there. Time wore on, and the prince\nwas for ever thinking of the adventure that awaited him, and much\ndoubted that it would have a fortunate issue.\n\nAt last, when seven years all but three days were over, everything\nhappened just as the wizard had foretold. A fierce tempest arose, and\nlasted three days, and when it was over the whole crew were fatigued,\nand lay down to sleep in their hammocks. The youngest prince, however,\nthen rowed to the shore, and there he found the castle, guarded by\nwolves, bears, and lions, who all crawled at his feet, so that he\nentered without opposition. In one of the apartments sat the king,\nasleep, and the twelve princesses sat each on her chair, employed as\nthe wizard had said. The prince made signs to them that they should\nretire; they however pointed to the wizard, and signed to him in\nreturn that he had better quickly withdraw. But he tried to make them\nunderstand, by looks and gestures, that he was come to deliver them,\nand when, at length, they understood his design, they stole softly\naway one after the other. Then the prince rushed on the wizard king,\nand cut off his heads, so that the blood flowed like a great river,\nand when he had convinced himself that the wizard was dead, he rowed\nback to the vessel, and again concealed the sword. He thought he had\nnow done enough unaided, and as he could not carry the giant's corpse\nout of the castle without assistance, he resolved that the others\nshould help him. He therefore awakened them, and told them it was a\nshame that they should lie sleeping there, whilst he had found the\nprincesses, and delivered them out of the wizard's power. They all\nlaughed at him, and said he must have been asleep too, and had only\ndreamt that he had become such a hero; for it was far more likely that\none of themselves should deliver the princesses than such a youth as\nhe.\n\nThen the prince told them all that had happened, so they consented to\nrow to the land, and when they beheld the river of blood, and the\nwizard's castle, and his twelve heads lying there, and saw also the\ntwelve princesses, they were convinced that he had spoken the truth,\nand so assisted him in throwing the heads and the corpse of the wizard\ninto the sea. They were now all right merry and pleased, but none were\nbetter pleased than the princesses to be delivered from the task of\nsitting all day beside the giant, combing his twelve heads.\n\nThe princes and princesses, after they had collected as much of the\ngold and silver, and as many of the costly articles in the castle as\nthey could carry, returned to the vessel, and again set sail. They had\nnot gone far, however, when the princesses recollected that, in their\njoy, they had omitted to bring away with them their golden crowns,\nwhich were in a great chest, and these they very much desired to have\nwith them. As no one else seemed inclined to go back for them, the\nyoungest of the king's sons said: \"Since I have already dared to do so\nmuch, I may as well also fetch the golden crowns, if you will take in\nthe sails and wait my return.\"\n\nYes, they were willing to do that; they would lower the sails and wait\ntill he returned. But the prince was no sooner out of sight of the\nvessel than Commander Rod, who wished to play the principal part, and\nto marry the youngest princess, said: \"It was no use for us to stay\nhere waiting for the prince, who, we may be sure, will not come back;\nbesides,\" added he, \"you know full well that the king has given to me\nfull power to sail when and where I think proper;\" then he insisted\nfurther that they should all say that it was he who had set the\nprincesses free: and if any one of them should dare to say otherwise\nit should cost him his life. The princes were afraid to contradict\nhim, so they sailed away. Meanwhile the younger prince had rowed to\nthe shore, and soon found in the castle the chest containing the\ngolden crowns, and after a great deal of trouble and fatigue, for it\nwas very heavy, he succeeded in heaving it into the boat. But when he\ngot out into the open sea, the ship was no longer in sight. He looked\nnorth, south, east, and west, but no trace could he discover of it,\nand he quickly guessed what had occurred. He knew that to row after it\nwould be quite useless, so he had only to turn back and row again to\nthe shore. It is true that he was rather alarmed at the idea of\npassing the night all alone in the castle, but there was no avoiding\nit; so he screwed up his courage as well as he could, locked all the\ngates and doors, and lay down to sleep in a bed which he found ready\nprepared in one of the apartments. But he felt very uneasy, and became\nmuch more terrified, on presently hearing in the roof over his head,\nand along the walls, a creaking and cracking, as if the castle were\nabout to split asunder; and then came a great rustling close to his\nbed, like a whole haystack falling down. However, he was in some\ndegree comforted when he immediately after the noise heard a voice\nbidding him not to be alarmed.\n\n    \"Fear not, fear not, thy friend I am;\n    I am the wondrous bird called Dam.\n    When thou'rt in trouble call on me:\n    I shall be near to succour thee,\"\n\nsaid the voice, and then added: \"As soon as you wake to-morrow\nmorning, you must go directly to the Stabur[4], and fetch me four\nbushels of rye for my breakfast; I must have a good meal, otherwise I\ncan do nothing for you.\"\n\n[Footnote 4: A building used as a kind of store-room or larder, and\nsupported on short pillars or posts, so as not to allow it to touch\nthe ground.]\n\nWhen the prince awoke in the morning, he saw by his bed-side a\nterribly large bird, who had a feather at the back of his head as long\nas a half-grown fir tree. The prince immediately went to the Stabur\nand brought thence four bushels of rye, as the wondrous bird Dam had\ncommanded, who, as soon as he had taken his breakfast, desired the\nprince to hang the chest containing the golden crowns on one side of\nhis neck, and as much gold and silver as would balance it on the\nother, and then to get upon his back and hold fast by the long\nfeather. The prince obeyed and off they went, whizzing through the air\nat such a rate, that in a very short time they found themselves\nexactly above the ship. The prince then wished to go on board, that he\nmight get the sword which the wizard had given him.\n\n[Illustration: THE TWELVE LOST PRINCESSES AND THE WIZARD KING. P.\n259.]\n\nBut the wondrous bird Dam told him that he must not do so: \"Commander\nRod,\" added he, \"will not discover it; but if you go on board he will\ntry to kill you, for he very much wishes to marry the youngest\nprincess; but make yourself easy about her, for every night she places\na drawn sword on the bed by her side.\"\n\nAt last they reached the castle of the wizard prince, who gave the\nyoung prince a hearty welcome. He seemed as if he could not make\nenough of him, for having killed his sovereign, in whose stead he was\nnow king. He would willingly have given his daughter and half his\nkingdom to the young prince, but that the latter was so much in love\nwith the youngest of the twelve princesses, that he could think of no\none but her, and he was all impatience to be off again.\n\nThe wizard, however, besought him to have a little patience, and told\nhim that the princesses were doomed to sail about still for twice\nseven years before they could return home. As to the youngest\nprincess, the wizard said exactly the same as the wondrous bird Dam:\n\"You may be quite at ease concerning her,\" said he, \"for she always\ncarries a drawn sword to bed with her. And if you do not believe me,\nyou may go on board when they next sail past this place, to convince\nyourself; and, at the same time, bring me the sword I lent you, for I\nmust positively have it back.\"\n\nNow after seven years' more wandering, the princes and princesses were\nagain sailing past the island; a terrible storm came on as before, and\nafter it was over the king's son went on board and found them all fast\nasleep as on the former occasions; but by each of the princes a\nprincess also lay asleep. Only the youngest princess slept alone, with\na naked sword beside her; and on the floor, in front of the bed, lay\nCommander Rod, also sound asleep. The king's son took the sword from\nhis hammock, and rowed to the island, without any one having perceived\nthat he had been on board.\n\nThe prince, however, grew more and more impatient, always wishing to\nset out again.\n\nAt length, when the second seven years were completed all but three\nweeks, the wizard said to him: \"Now you may prepare for your voyage,\nsince you are determined not to remain with us. I will lend you an\niron boat that will go of itself on the water, by your merely saying\nto it: 'Boat, go forwards.' In the boat you will find a boat-hook,\nwhich you must lift up a little when you see the ship right before\nyou. Such a fresh breeze will then spring up, that the ship's crew\nwill forget to look after you. As soon as you get near the ship, raise\nthe boat-hook a little higher, and then a storm will arise that will\ngive them other work to do than spying after you. When you shall have\npassed the ship, raise the boat-hook for the third time, but you must\nbe careful each time to lay it down again, else there will be such a\ntempest, that you, as well as the others, will perish. On reaching the\nshore, you need take no further trouble about the boat than to turn it\nupside down, shove it into the sea, and say: 'Boat, go home again.'\"\n\nWhen the prince was departing, he received from the wizard so much\ngold and silver, together with other treasures, and clothes and linen\nwhich the princess had made for him during his long stay in the\nisland, that he was a great deal richer than any of his brothers.\n\nHe had no sooner seated himself in the boat and said, \"Boat, go\nforwards,\" than on it went, and when he came in sight of the ship, he\nraised the boat-hook, and a breeze sprang up, so that the crew forgot\nto look after him; and on nearing the vessel he did the same, when\nsuch a storm and gale arose, that the ship was covered with the white\nspray, and the waves broke over the deck, so that the crew had no\nleisure to remark him. At last when he had passed the ship, he raised\nthe boat-hook the third time, and the crew found enough to do to make\nthem quite forget him. He reached the land long before the ship, and,\nafter taking his property out of the boat, he turned it over, shoved\nit into the sea, saying, \"Boat, go home,\" and away it went.\n\nHe now disguised himself as a sailor, and went to the wretched hovel\nof an old woman, to whom he said he was a poor shipwrecked sailor, the\nonly one of the crew who had escaped drowning; and he begged shelter\nin her hut for himself and the things he had saved from the wreck.\n\n\"Ah, heaven help me,\" replied the woman, \"I can give no one shelter. I\nhave not even a bed for myself, let alone any one else.\"\n\nOh! that did not signify, said the sailor, so that he had but a roof\nover his head, it was all one to him what he lay upon; therefore she\nwould not surely refuse him the shelter of her roof, since he was\ncontent to take things as he found them.\n\nIn the evening, he brought his things to the cottage, and the old\nwoman, who did not at all dislike to have something new to talk about,\nbegan inquiring who he was, where he had been, and whither he was\ngoing; what were the things he had brought with him; on what business\nhe was travelling, and whether he had heard anything of the twelve\nprincesses who had disappeared so many years ago, with so many other\nquestions, that it would be tiresome to repeat them.\n\nBut the sailor replied that he felt so ill, and had such a terrible\nheadache from the fatigues he had undergone during the storm, that he\ncould not accurately recollect anything that had passed; but that\nafter he should have had a few days repose, and recovered from his\nlabours, she should hear all.\n\nThe next day, however, the old woman renewed her questions, but the\nsailor pretended still to have such a terrible headache, that he could\nnot rightly remember anything; though he did let a word or two drop,\nas by accident, which showed that he did know something about the\nprincesses.\n\nOff ran the old woman to tell this news to all the gossips in the\nneighbourhood, who hurried one after the other to the hut, to hear all\nabout the princesses; and to ask whether the sailor had seen them, if\nthey were soon coming, and a hundred other questions.\n\nStill the sailor had such a terrible headache, that he could not\nanswer their questions. Thus much, however, he did say: that if the\nprincesses were not wrecked during that fierce storm, they would\ncertainly arrive in fourteen days, or even sooner. He had certainly\nseen them alive, but they might have since perished.\n\nOne of the gossips went forthwith to the royal residence, and related\nall that she had heard; and when the king heard it, he desired that\nthe sailor should be brought to him.\n\nThe sailor replied, \"I have no clothes in which I can appear before\nthe king.\"\n\nBut he was told that he must go, for the king must and would see him,\nwhatever appearance he might make, for he was the first person who had\never brought any news of the princesses. So he entered the king's\npresence, when he was asked if he had really seen the princesses.\n\n\"Yes,\" said the sailor, \"but I know not if they still live, for when\nI saw them, it was during such a fierce storm, that we were wrecked.\nBut if they did not then go to the bottom, they may be here in about\nfourteen days, or perhaps sooner.\"\n\nWhen the king heard this, he was almost frantic with joy, and at the\nappointed time for the arrival of the princesses, he went down to the\nshore in state to meet them; and great was the rejoicing through the\nland, when at last the ship sailed into port, with the princes, and\nprincesses, and Commander Rod. The eleven elder princesses were in\nhigh spirits and good humour; but the youngest, whom Commander Rod was\nanxious to marry, was very sad and wept incessantly, for which the\nking chid her, and asked her why she was not happy and cheerful, like\nher sisters. She had no cause, thought he, to be sad, now she was\ndelivered from the wizard, and had such a fine man as Commander Rod\nfor her lover. The Princess however durst not tell the truth, for\nCommander Rod had told the king that it was himself who had liberated\nthe princesses, and had threatened to kill any one who should say\notherwise.\n\nNow, one day while the princesses were making their wedding clothes, a\nman in a coarse sailor's jacket, with a pedlar's pack on his back,\ncame and asked them if they would not like to buy some fine things for\ntheir wedding, for he had some costly articles of gold and silver.\n\n\"Yes,\" said they, \"very possibly they might,\" and they looked very\nattentively at the ornaments, and still more so at him, for they could\nnot help fancying that they had seen both him and the goods before.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAt last the youngest princess said, that he who had such costly\narticles, might perhaps have others still more suitable to them.\n\n\"Very possibly,\" returned the pedlar.\n\nBut her sisters bade her be quiet, and remember Commander Rod's\nthreat.\n\nShortly after, when the princesses were sitting at the window, the\nking's son came again in his coarse sailor jacket, carrying the chest\nwith the golden crowns.\n\nOn entering the hall, he opened the chest, and now when the princesses\nrecognised each her own golden crown, the youngest princess said:--\"To\nme it seems only fair and just, that he who suffers for us, should\nreceive the reward to which he is entitled; our deliverer is not\nCommander Rod, but he who has now brought us our golden crowns, is\nalso he who destroyed the wizard.\"\n\nThen the king's son threw off his jacket, and stood there far more\nsplendidly attired than any of the rest.\n\nThe king now caused Commander Rod to be put to death for his perfidy,\nand gave his daughter in marriage to the young prince.\n\nThe rejoicings in the royal residence were very great, and each prince\ntook his princess away to a different realm, so that the tale was told\nand talked about in no less than twelve distinct kingdoms.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STUDY OF MAGIC UNDER DIFFICULTIES.\n\n[Italian.]\n\n\nIn the island of Sicily, and in the fair and famous city of Messina,\ndwelt a man, Lactantius by name, who was a great proficient in two\ndifferent arts. By day, and ostensibly to his fellow-citizens, he\ncarried on the trade of a tailor; but by night, and secretly, he\nstudied the art of necromancy. One evening, when he had locked himself\nin his room, and was occupied with all kinds of magic works, as ill\nluck would have it, a young man, one of his apprentices, came to the\ndoor. Dionysius, such was his name, had returned to fetch from the\nchamber of Lactantius something which he had forgotten. When he\nperceived that the door was closed, but at the same time heard a noise\nwithin, he crept gently up, peeped through the keyhole, and witnessed\nhis master's magic doings. Such delight did this give the young man,\nthat from that moment he thought of nothing but how he might secretly\nlearn his master's art. Needle, thimble, and shears thenceforth were\nlittle troubled by him; he cared alone to learn that which no one\ncared to teach him, and so from having been an industrious, attentive,\nuseful workman, he became careless, idle, and inattentive. Lactantius\nperceiving this change in his apprentice, discharged him from his\nservice, and sent him back to his father, who was much grieved in\nconsequence.\n\nThe father having repeatedly lectured his son, with tears besought him\nto attend to his duty, and taking him back to the tailor, earnestly\nbegged him to receive his son once again, desiring him, should he\nagain neglect his business, to punish him severely.\n\nLactantius, out of kindness to the poor man, was soon persuaded; he\nagain received his pupil, and instructed him carefully every day in\ncutting out and sewing. As, however, Dionysius would absolutely learn\nnothing, his master gave him many a sound caning, so that the poor\napprentice, who received more blows than bread, was always black and\nblue, all of which he bore with the greatest patience, so insensible\nhad he become to everything through the engrossing desire to learn\nthat secret art which he night after night watched his master carry\non, as he stood peeping through the keyhole.\n\nLactantius, who took him for the stupid lout he appeared to be, at\nlast gave himself no further trouble to conceal his witchcraft from\nhim, thinking that as he could not even learn the business of\ntailoring, which is so easy, he would far less comprehend witchcraft,\nwhich is really a puzzling art. He therefore no longer made a secret\nof his practices to Dionysius, who now thought himself the most\nfortunate of men, and who although others considered him such a\nblockhead, in a very short time became such a proficient in the magic\nart, that he understood more of it than his master.\n\nOne day, as the father was passing by Lactantius' house, not seeing\nhis son in the shop, he entered, and found that, instead of working\nwith the other apprentices, he was cleaning the house, and in short,\nperforming all the offices of a housemaid.\n\nThis so disturbed the good man, that he took his son home with him,\nand thus lectured him: \"Thou knowest, Dionysius, how much I have\nexpended on thee, in the hope that thou wouldst learn a useful\nbusiness, whereby one day to support thyself and me; but, alas! I have\nsown my seed on the waters, for thou refusest to learn anything. Truly\nthis will be my death, for I am so poor I know not how to support\nmyself, nor have I any means of providing for thee. Therefore, I\nbeseech thee, my son, learn to support thyself in any respectable way\nthou canst.\"\n\nHaving said this, the old man began to weep, when Dionysius, moved by\nhis distress, replied: \"Dear father, I thank you a thousand times, and\nfrom my heart, for all the trouble and anxiety you have had on my\naccount: but I beg you will not think, because I did not learn\ntailoring, as you wished me, that I have therefore passed the time in\nidleness. On the contrary, by night-watching and unwearied efforts, I\nhave learned an art which I hope hereafter to exercise so\nefficaciously that you and I shall live all our days in peace and joy.\nThat you may not imagine that I say this merely to satisfy you for the\nmoment, I will at once give you a proof of what I affirm.\n\n\"To-morrow, by means of my secret art, I will transform myself into a\nfine horse; saddle and bridle me, and lead me to the market, and sell\nme. When you shall have made your bargain, go quietly home, your\npocket full of money, and you shall find me here again in the same\nform which I now bear. Judge therefore whether or not I have learned\nsomething useful, since in so short a time I can earn for you the\nnecessaries of life. Take especial heed, however, when you sell me,\nnot to part with my bridle; this, come what will, you must carefully\nretain, else I shall not be able to return, and perhaps you may never\nsee me again.\"\n\nThe next morning Dionysius stripped himself in presence of his father,\nand after anointing himself with a certain ointment, he murmured some\nwords, whereupon, to the inexpressible astonishment of the good old\nman, in the place of his son, a fine powerful horse suddenly appeared,\nwhich he immediately harnessed as his son had instructed him, and led\nhim to the market. As soon as the merchants and horse-dealers saw him,\nthey gathered round him, quite delighted with the beauty of the horse,\nthe action of whose limbs and whole body was so perfect, and who\nshowed such a fleetness and fire, that it was quite surprising. All\ninquired if the horse were for sale, to which the old man replied in\nthe affirmative.\n\nBy accident, Lactantius was in the market, and as soon as he saw the\nhorse, and had narrowly examined him, he at once discovered that it\nwas a magic horse. He therefore withdrew unperceived from the crowd,\nand hastened home, disguised himself as a merchant, and provided with\nan ample sum of money, returned to the market, where he found the man\nstill with his horse. He approached the animal, and after attentively\nobserving him, recognised in him his apprentice, Dionysius. He then\nasked the old man if he would sell him, and they soon concluded a\nbargain. Lactantius paid him two hundred gold pieces; but as he took\nhim by the bridle to lead him away, the old man objected, saying that\nhe had sold the horse but not the bridle, which he must have back\nagain. Lactantius however contrived to talk him over, so that he\nobtained the bridle as well as the horse, which he led home, and\nfastening him to the stall, gave him for breakfast and supper so many\nhundred blows, that the poor beast became nothing but skin and bones,\nand excited the compassion of all who beheld him.\n\nLactantius had two daughters, who, when they saw their father's\nbarbarity, went daily into the stable to do what they could for the\npoor horse. They caressed him, patted him, and treated him with all\npossible kindness, and one day went so far as to lead him by the\nhalter to drink at the stream. The moment, however, the horse found\nhimself by the water, he threw himself into it, and transforming\nhimself into a little fish, he disappeared in the waves.\n\nAt this extraordinary occurrence the maidens stood speechless with\nastonishment, and returning home, gave way to the deepest sorrow. Some\ntime after Lactantius returned, and went into the stable to administer\na little further chastisement to his horse, when to his great\nastonishment he found him gone. Very indignant thereat, he went to his\ndaughters, and beheld them in tears. Without inquiring the cause, for\nhe knew full well the cause of their trouble, he said to them: \"My\nchildren, fear nothing, only tell me what has become of the horse, in\norder that I may at once take measures concerning him.\"\n\nThe poor maidens composed themselves on hearing these words, and\nrelated to him what had happened. When the father had heard the story,\nhe hastened to the river, transformed himself into a large fish,\ndashed into the water, and as fast as his fins could carry him pursued\nthe little fish, intending to swallow him.\n\nWhen the latter beheld the voracious fish, with its terrible teeth, he\nwas dreadfully alarmed at the thought of being swallowed by him, and\napproaching the bank of the river, he left the water, and in the form\nof a beautiful ruby, set in gold, he threw himself unseen into the\nlittle basket which the king's daughter, who happened just then to be\namusing herself with picking up little pebbles on the sand, carried on\nher arm.\n\nAs soon as the princess, who was called Violante, returned home, she\ntook her treasures out of the little basket, and perceived the ring\nshining amongst the pebbles. Quite delighted, she placed it on her\nfinger, and could not desist from contemplating it.\n\nAt night, when the princess had retired to her sleeping apartment, the\nring suddenly changed into a handsome young man. He laid his hand on\nthe princess's mouth, who was about to scream aloud, then threw\nhimself at her feet and besought her forgiveness. He assured her he\nwas not there with any disrespectful purpose, but only to implore her\nassistance, and then told her his misfortune, and the persecutions he\nhad to endure.\n\nViolante, somewhat re-assured by the bright light of the lamp which\nburned in her chamber, as also by the words of the young man, whom she\nfound very handsome and attractive, felt compassion for him, and\nsaid: \"Young man, thou art very bold in entering a place where thy\npresence was not desired. But in consideration of thy misfortune, I\nwill forgive thee. Thy narration has awakened all my compassion, and I\nwill show thee that I am not made of marble, nor have a heart of\nadamant. I am even resolved, so far as my honour will permit, to give\nthee my entire protection.\"\n\nThe young man humbly returned thanks, and, when day dawned, again\ntransformed himself into the ring, which the princess placed amongst\nher most costly jewels.\n\nIt happened just about that time, that the king fell dangerously ill,\nand all his physicians declared his disease was incurable.\n\nThis came to the ears of Lactantius, who thereupon disguised himself\nas a physician, went to the royal palace, and being introduced to the\nking, inquired carefully respecting his symptoms, felt his pulse,\nexamined his countenance, and said: \"Your majesty's disease is no\ndoubt an obstinate one, and very dangerous; but take courage: in a\nshort time I will restore you to health, for I possess a remedy by\nwhich I can in a few days cure the severest and most dangerous illness\nthat exists.\"\n\n\"Master physician,\" replied the king, \"if you restore me to health, I\npromise to reward you so richly that you shall be content for the rest\nof your life.\"\n\n\"My sovereign,\" rejoined the physician, \"I desire neither rank,\nhonours, nor riches, but only request your majesty will grant me one\nfavour.\"\n\nThe king readily promised this, on condition that he should require\nnothing that was impossible.\n\n\"I ask nothing more of your majesty than a ruby set in gold, which is\nnow in the possession of the princess your daughter.\"\n\nWhen the king heard this modest request, he sent for his daughter, and\nin presence of the physician, desired her to fetch her whole stock of\njewels. The princess obeyed, leaving out, however, the precious ring.\nBut when the physician had thoroughly examined them, he said the ruby\nhe wished for was not amongst them.\n\nViolante, who valued her ruby above all the rest, affirmed that she\nhad no other jewels than those now before them; whereupon the king\nsaid to the physician: \"Retire now, and return to-morrow; I will\nundertake that my daughter shall give me the ring.\"\n\nWhen the physician was gone, the king called Violante, and inquired in\nthe gentlest manner, where was the beautiful ruby which the physician\nwished for; saying that if she would give it to him, she should have\nin its place a still more beautiful and precious one. But she\npositively denied having it in her possession.\n\nShe no sooner returned to her apartment, than she locked herself in,\nand began to weep bitterly at the thought of losing her poor ruby,\nwhich she bathed with her tears, and kissed with the utmost\ntenderness.\n\nWhen the ruby felt the hot tears that fell from the princess's eyes,\nand heard her deep sighs, it assumed the human form, and said to her:\n\"Princess, on whom my life hangs, I beseech you, do not thus\nimmoderately grieve at my misfortune. Let us rather devise some means\nof rescue; for that physician who so zealously covets the possession\nof me, is no other than my greatest foe Lactantius, who desires to\nkill me. Therefore I implore you, do not give me into his hand, but\nfeign to be indignant, and dash me against the wall: leave the rest to\nmy care.\"\n\nThe following morning the physician again visited the king, who\ninformed him that his daughter still persisted that she did not\npossess the ring. Lactantius much displeased, on hearing this,\nhowever, positively asserted that the ruby was in the princess's\ncollection.\n\nThereupon the king again sent for the princess, and in the physician's\npresence said to her: \"Violante, thou knowest that I owe the\nrestoration of my health to this man's skill and care. He requires no\nother recompense of me than that ring which he declares to be in thy\npossession, and which thou dost assert thou hast not. I should have\nthought thy love for me would have led thee not to give thy ruby\nalone, but thy very life. I beseech thee, by the obedience thou owest\nto me, by the affection I have borne thee, to withhold it from me no\nlonger.\"\n\nThe princess, on hearing her father's will so decidedly expressed,\nreturned to her room, collected all her jewels, amongst which she laid\nthe ruby, and taking them one by one in her hand, in the presence of\nher father, showed them each in succession to the physician, who, the\nmoment he saw the ruby, would have laid his hand on it, saying:\n\"Princess, this is the ring I wish for, and which the king has\npromised me.\"\n\nBut the princess, repelling him, said: \"Stay, master, you shall have\nit!\" and holding the ring in her hand, exclaimed: \"Then it is this\nprecious jewel, so infinitely dear to me, that you covet: I must\nrenounce this, for the loss of which I shall be inconsolable for life.\nBut I do not yield it willingly, but only because the king, my\nfather, requires it of me.\"\n\nWith these words she flung the ruby against the wall. As it fell to\nthe ground it instantly changed into a beautiful pomegranate, which\nburst as it fell, and its seeds were scattered all over the room.\n\nThe physician as quickly became a cock, in order to swallow all the\nseeds, and thus to destroy the unlucky Dionysius; but he had\nmiscalculated: one of the seeds had so concealed itself that the cock\ncould not discover it. The seed watched its opportunity, transformed\nitself into a fox, who throwing himself on master cock, seized him by\nthe throat, and strangled and devoured him in the presence of the\nastonished monarch and his daughter Violante. Dionysius then resumed\nhis human form, and related all to the king, who thought he could not\ndo better than immediately give him his daughter in marriage. They\nlived long together in peace and happiness, and the good old father of\nDionysius became, instead of an indigent man, a rich and powerful one;\nwhilst, on the other hand, the cruelty of Lactantius had cost him his\nlife.\n\n\n\n\nFORTUNE'S FAVOURITE;\n\nOR, THE VERY WONDERFUL ADVENTURES OF PISTA, THE SWINEHERD.\n\n[Hungarian.]\n\n\nNear the centre of a thick forest once dwelt a forester with his\nbeloved wife. The chase was his occupation, and he lived contentedly\non the provision which his ever-active bow procured him from day to\nday. In this manner he passed two years very happily; although the\nblessing of children, which he earnestly desired, had been hitherto\ndenied him. But the saying, \"Patience brings roses,\" consoled him, and\nindeed the saying did at last prove true, and in so striking a manner,\nthat it seemed as if destiny had exerted its utmost power to fulfil\nit, in his case, even to excess. In the third year, whilst the\nforester was away hunting in the wood, his family was increased by the\naddition of twelve fine, healthy sons, upon whom the attendant\nmidwife bestowed every necessary care, and then placed them in a\ncircle on the floor in the centre of the room, where the sturdy\ninfants stretched their limbs and raised their voices for the first\ntime in a tremendously loud Tutti.\n\nWhilst these events were taking place, the day declined, and evening\ngradually threw its shade over field and mountain. The light-hearted\nhunter bethought him of his supper, and returned, laden with two or\nthree hares, to his cottage.\n\nBut how thunderstruck was he when he heard that Heaven had showered\ndown upon him such an abundant blessing. He entered, gazed, and at the\nsight of the liberal gift, at once lost his reason, and rushed raving\nout of doors back into the depths of the dark forest, never to return\nagain.\n\nThe poor forsaken wife now remained in her hut with her twelve little\nsons, desiring nothing more ardently than to be able to leave her bed,\nin order to provide food for her children.\n\nThe midwife afforded her all the assistance in her power, and when at\nlength she recovered, she prepared a bow and arrows, scoured the woods\nand hills, and daily brought home as much game as was requisite for\nthe support of herself and her children. Thus she lived fifteen years;\nduring which period the little ones grew strong and healthy, and\nlearned from her to provide, by hunting, for their own necessities.\n\nBut before they reached their sixteenth year, it pleased Heaven to\ncall their mother to itself, and now the youths, deprived of parental\ncare, were abandoned to their fate. They continued to live as before,\non the products of the chase, which they fraternally divided amongst\nthem, and remained together in harmony and peace.\n\nThe distracted father meanwhile continued to wander incessantly\nthrough the forest. His habiliments had long been torn to rags, and\nhis appearance terrified every one who beheld him. Although other\nforesters occasionally met him, and brought tidings of him to his\nsons, yet no one could ever lay hold of him, as he shunned the\napproach of everybody, and at the aspect of a human being he hastened\nlike a frightened beast to hide himself in the thicket. But his\nunhappy fate was a daily increasing source of sorrow to his sons, who\nat length consulted seriously together, how they might get him into\ntheir hands, so as to be able to take care of him, and, if possible,\nrestore him to reason.\n\nThey at length agreed to betake themselves, provided with a roasted\ngoose, a pitcher of brandy, and one large boot, to a certain spring in\nthe forest, near which the foresters frequently saw him. With these\nthings they went to the appointed spot, placed them close to the\nspring, and then concealed themselves in the bushes to watch for his\narrival.\n\nThey had waited a considerable time when they heard the sound of\nfootsteps, and beheld a dark figure approaching the spring. With\nardent curiosity they peeped from their concealment, and at length\nsaw, with surprise and horror, a being more like a ghost than a man,\nbut who, however, perfectly corresponded to the description which the\nforesters had given them of their unfortunate father.\n\nWhen he approached the spring to slake his thirst he started on\nperceiving the unaccustomed objects which were beside it, and prepared\nto start off at the moment, should he perceive a human form. But as\nthe youths kept themselves entirely concealed, and made not the least\nnoise, his alarm subsided, and he ventured to drink from the spring.\n\nAfter he had refreshed himself, the roasted goose, the little pitcher,\nand the large boot seemed again to attract his attention, and he could\nnot resist the desire to make himself master of them. He laid himself\ndown quite leisurely by the boot, devoured the goose with the greatest\navidity, and emptied the pitcher with a satyr-like expression of\ncountenance.\n\nThe liquor seemed quickly to affect him; for almost as soon as he had\nswallowed it he manifested his satisfaction by fantastic leaps, and\nall kinds of ridiculous antics. He soon laid hold of the boot,\nexamined it attentively on all sides, and nodded his head knowingly,\nas if in self-approval for having devised its purpose.\n\nThus satisfied with himself, he again seated himself on the ground,\nand endeavoured to draw the boot over both feet at once; and although\nit was large enough to admit the foot of a demi-giant, it cost the\nlunatic extraordinary efforts to effect his object. Overpowered by\nfatigue, and the strength of the liquor he had drunk, he gradually\nsank down by the stream, and fell asleep.\n\nHis sons, when they perceived this, hastened with the greatest caution\nfrom the bushes, raised the intoxicated sleeper from the ground, and\ncarried him home. But before they had half reached the hut, they\ndiscovered with horror that the burthen, which at every step had\nappeared to grow heavier, was a corpse. Whether it was the effect of\nthe too hastily swallowed drink, or the too rapid satisfaction of his\nappetite after long fasting, in either case, the father lay dead in\nthe arms of his sons. With tears of regret, and self-reproaches for\ntheir ill-advised attempt, the afflicted sons buried the beloved\ncorpse, under an oak not far from the cottage.\n\nThey lived together for some time after this event, but at length,\nbeing imbued with the desire of seeing foreign countries, they\nresolved to renounce their hitherto rude mode of life, and each to set\nout in a different direction to seek his fortune.\n\nWhen they had fixed the day for their separation they once more went\nhunting together, in order to provide so much food as they might\nrequire for at least the first day of their wandering. On the day\nappointed for their departure they went to the oak which shaded their\nfather's grave, swore eternal brotherly love to each other, and after\nmutually taking an affectionate leave, each pursued his separate way.\n\nTo relate what occurred to each of these twelve brethren, and how each\nfulfilled his appointed destiny, would be a very tedious task, and the\nmore so as the fate of the younger brother was alone sufficiently\nremarkable to deserve attention.\n\nThis youth had from his earliest years an aversion to all kind of\nlabour and trouble; hence, in all his necessities he always relied on\nthe favour of Fortune, and the more so as he had more than once had\nreason to surmise that she was favourably inclined towards him. Whilst\nhis brothers laboriously pursued their game under every disadvantage\nof time, place, and weather, he would lie at his ease, with his\nweapons beside him, on a grassy hill, beneath the shade of the trees;\nand it generally came to pass that whilst his brothers pursued some\npoor hare, in the sweat of their brow, a roebuck would come, as if at\nhis call, so near to him that he could shoot it without the least\nexertion. Owing to this, he had to endure many a jeer from his\nbrethren, whose jealousy was excited by his good luck, and they called\nhim in derision Lazy Bones.\n\nHis confidence in the favour of the blind goddess guided him\nprosperously on his way. By day he shot all kinds of game, which came\nin abundance towards him, kindled a fire, roasted and eat it; at\nnight, he stretched himself on the soft grass, and slept refreshingly\ntill the next morning. After he had pursued his way in this manner for\nsix days, he arrived at a royal city altogether unknown to him. He\nentered one of the best inns, and offered the host a hare in exchange\nfor a draught of wine, to refresh himself with after the fatigue of\nhis journey. The host gave him credit for more than he was able both\nto eat and drink, offered him a bed, and charged him the most moderate\nprice.\n\nJust as he sat down to table, a multitude of persons assembled in the\nroom of the inn, and conversed with each other about a most remarkable\noccurrence which had just taken place. The affair was indeed one of no\ntrifling importance, for it concerned the royal establishment. The\nking had had ninety-nine swineherds, who one and all had disappeared,\nand in all probability would never again be heard of. The\nnine-and-ninetieth of these had been missed only the night before, and\nit was much doubted whether the king would be able to find any one\nagain who would be willing to undertake so perilous a charge. For\nalthough the highest wages were offered to any one who would undertake\nto tend the royal swine but for a single day, yet no one throughout\nthe whole kingdom had yet offered himself, and the illustrious owner\nof the swine was in great risk of losing them all.\n\nThe young stranger listened to this narration with surprise, but could\nnot conjecture what could be the difficulty attached to the service.\nAs the host had for some time been employed in looking out for\nswineherds for the king, he asked his young guest whether he would\nundertake the office, adding at the same time, that the king would\ngive a year's wages for a single day's service.\n\n\"Why not?\" replied Pista, (that was the young adventurer's name) and\nhe declared himself quite willing to undertake the charge, as he\nthought the business of a swineherd did not demand more skill and\ntrouble than he was accustomed to exert. His consent thus given, the\nhost joyfully conducted him to the king and praised throughout the\nwhole city the courageous resolution of his guest.\n\nThe monarch received them both graciously, and not only confirmed the\noffer made by the host to the youth, but promised him a gratuity into\nthe bargain, in case of his discharging his duty with zeal and\nperseverance.\n\nHe commanded a capital supper to be placed before him, and appointing\nhim to drive the swine in the morning to the heath, he dismissed him\nwith the most gracious wishes for his welfare.\n\nBefore the dawn of day, Pista was already at his post. The heath lay\nin a pleasant district, inclosed on the one side by mountains, and on\nthe other by a thick forest. On his arrival there he found all\ntranquil, and could not imagine what danger was to be apprehended.\n\nHe passed the day in expectation, and the evening approached as\npeacefully as the day had departed. The moon and stars shed their\nlight over the district, and the refreshing coolness of the air\ninvited the carefree herdsman to repose. He lay calmly down near his\nherd, commended them and himself to fortune, and slept in peace.\n\nHe had not slept an hour, when the most extraordinary of all night\nvisions awakened him. The oldest patriarch of the herd stood before\nhim, and thus addressed him: \"Fear not, for I am thy friend, and come\nto thee as a well-intentioned counsellor, to warn thee of the danger\nthat awaits thee. As I have selected thee for my protege, I will\nassist thee to the best of my power. When thou drivest us home\nto-morrow, mind to request the king to give thee a loaf of bread and a\nflask of wine, for the following day. These shall preserve thee from\nall misfortune. A great dragon who rules this forest, will endeavour\nto overthrow and swallow thee. But if thou givest him these gifts,\nthou wilt not only be able to resist him, but after he shall have\ndrunk the wine thou mayest destroy him.\"\n\nPista was not a little astonished at this apparition; he rubbed his\neyes, pricked up his ears, and collected all his senses, to convince\nhimself that he was really awake and not dreaming. But when he saw the\nboar standing bodily before him, and distinctly heard every word, he\nat last returned him grateful thanks for his friendly admonition, and\npromised punctually to observe his instructions.\n\nThe following evening he drove the herd home. The king met him, not\nwithout astonishment, caused the year's wages to be paid to him\nimmediately, and gave him permission further to ask some favour.\nPista, well pleased, put the money in his pocket, and for the present\nasked for nothing more than bread and wine for the following evening.\n\nThe cock had scarcely crowed to welcome the first hour of the morning,\nwhen our herdsman again passed out at the city gate with his herd. He\nbetook himself to the same heath where he had passed the foregoing\nnight, and had had the strange _tete-a-tete_ with the boar.\n\nAs soon as he reached the spot, his bristly Mentor again approached\nhim and said:--\n\n    \"Up and mount me without fear,\n    Swift on my back I thee will bear;\n    So that, ere many minutes' space,\n    Thou shalt reach the appointed place.\"\n\nThe youth bestrode the boar, and in a trice found himself in the\nneighbouring wood, and deposited under an enormous oak. The boar then\nrepeated what he had said to his protege the preceding day, and\nhastened back to the herd.\n\nPista prepared himself for his adventure, and before he could\naccurately reconnoitre the field of battle, so dreadful a noise\nproceeding from the interior of the forest pierced his ears, that all\nthe trees round him creaked and rustled as in a storm. It came nearer\nand nearer, and he soon perceived a monstrous dragon, rapidly making\ntowards him, tearing the bushes and trees as he passed, and even\nthrowing them to the ground. Mindful of his Mentor's words, Pista took\ncourage, offered the bread and wine to the dragon, and besought him to\nspare his life.\n\nThis liberal offer astonished the dragon more than the resistance of a\nwhole band of herdsmen would have done. He quietly received the gifts,\ndevoured the bread with much satisfaction, and as the wine speedily\ntook effect, he drowsily tumbled on the earth. Pista did not delay to\navail himself of the opportunity. When he perceived that the dragon\nslept, he drew out his knife and cut the throat of the drunken\nmonster; before, however, he had completed the operation, he saw a\ncopper key fall out of his jaws, which he picked up and put in his\npocket.\n\n[Illustration: FORTUNE'S FAVOURITE. P. 292.]\n\nIn the meantime, the herd had gradually moved towards the interior of\nthe forest, to a considerable distance from the spot where the dragon\nhad met his death. Pista, fearing he might lose the objects of his\ncharge, resolved to cut across the bend of the forest, and to go in a\nstraight line, the same by which the dragon had come, to look after\nthem.\n\nHe had not gone far, when a new overwhelming surprise banished them\nfrom his thoughts. An immense castle, entirely built of copper, stood\nbefore him, far surpassing in splendour the residence of his king, and\nwhich seemed the more to invite him to enter, inasmuch as he could\nnowhere descry a single guard to forbid his approach.\n\nSolitary and silent was all around him: not even the song of a bird\nbroke the stillness. Hastening up to the castle, he found all the\ngates locked; but suddenly remembering the key in his pocket, he drew\nit out and tried it in the nearest gate, and discovered to his joyful\nsurprise that it opened every lock. He soon found himself in the\ninterior of a most magnificent palace, with such a number of state\nrooms opening round him, that he could hardly tell which he should\nfirst enter. He passed through the grand hall and went from room to\nroom, until he at last reached a great saloon, the walls of which were\nmirrors, whilst all manner of gold and silver articles of furniture\nglittered round him. In the centre of the room stood a table of\nsilver, whereon lay a golden rod. Without precisely knowing wherefore,\nhe took up the rod and struck the table with it, upon which a young\ndragon immediately appeared, and with indescribable courtesy begged\nthat he would honour him with his commands.\n\nRecovering from his surprise, Pista expressed a wish to be shown the\nwhole interior of the palace, with the gardens belonging to it. The\nobliging dragon immediately complied with, and requested his guest to\nfollow him. He led him through all the chambers and halls of the\npalace, each of which seemed to contain the treasure of a whole\nkingdom; thence into the stables, where splendid coursers fed from\nsilver mangers on golden oats, and who neighed loudly at the entrance\nof their visitors.\n\nAt last Pista and his attendant came into a garden full of\nmarvellously beautiful flowers and delicious fruits, which seemed to\nthe stranger like a second paradise. He could not refrain from\nplucking a rose, which he stuck in his cap.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen he had seen all, he inquired of the dragon for the lord of the\npalace. The dragon bowed before him with the greatest reverence, and\nbegged him, as the owner from thenceforth of the palace and its\ntreasures, graciously to accept his homage, promising at the same time\nthat he would guard all with the utmost vigilance, and endeavour to\ndeserve his approbation.\n\nPista was not a little astonished at this address, but as all the\nevents which had befallen him within the last few days, appeared to\nhim to be nothing less than natural, he accepted the dragon's homage,\nand played the part of master as well as he could. Having nodded\napprobation to his new servitor, he left the castle with proud\ngravity. The portals closed of themselves after him with thundering\nnoise; he then carefully locked all the gates with his key, and\nreturned to seek his swine.\n\nIt was not long before he met the whole herd in the best order. The\nsun was already glowing in the west, and the shadows of the mountains\nstretched across the plains. It seemed time to turn homewards; he\nwhistled; the herd put itself in motion; and before the evening star\nshone in the heavens, they were all at home again in their sheds.\n\nPista had no sooner housed his charge, than the king's daughters came\nrunning towards him with the most unusual friendliness. The youngest\nhad seen from afar the rose in his cap, and as she could not resist\nthe desire to possess it, she begged from him the lovely flower. The\nswineherd instantly presented it to the princess, and thought himself\nhighly honoured when he saw his gift placed in the bosom of the most\ncharming of the royal maidens.\n\nThe king, meanwhile, deeply amazed at the no less punctual than safe\nreturn of his herdsman, sent for him into his presence, and inquired\nparticularly about all that had occurred to him on the heath. But\nPista carefully avoided satisfying his curiosity; gave very brief\nanswers to his questions; and said nothing that could betray his\nfortunate adventure.\n\n\"This rose,\" said he, \"which I found already plucked, and lying on the\nstem of a tree, is all that I saw on my way. I stuck it in my hat that\nit might not fade quite unenjoyed.\"\n\nThe king again expressed his entire satisfaction and favour; and\npromised for the future days the same rich reward he had already\nenjoyed.\n\nThe herdsman thanked his patron and returned to his swine, in order to\npass the night near them on his bed of straw.\n\nJust about midnight the friendly boar awakened him as on the\npreceding night, and said, \"Pista must provide himself with bread and\nwine for the coming day also, as he would have to do with a still\nlarger dragon than the former.\"\n\nHe advised him to double the measure of provisions, and told him he\nwould have nothing to fear if he encountered the monster as\ncourageously as he did that of the day before.\n\nBefore day-break Pista supplied himself with two loaves and two flasks\nof wine, and went as usual with the swine to the heath. Arrived there,\nthe boar again approached him and said:--\n\n    \"Up and mount me without fear,\n    Swift on my back I will thee bear;\n    This day thou must higher go,\n    And still higher fortune know.\"\n\nThe youth obeyed the boar, and sooner than if on a racer's back he\nfound himself by an inclosure, considerably beyond the place where he\nstopped the day before. The boar again deposited him under an oak,\nrepeated several times what he had before enforced, and left him to\nhis destiny.\n\nPista had not long to wait; he soon heard a terrible rustling\ndescending from the tops of the trees. By degrees it grew darker\naround him, and at once a monstrous dragon, much larger than the\nfirst, came sailing through the air, whose out-spread wings shaded,\nlike a thunder-cloud, the district beneath, as with furious haste he\nseemed descending on the herdsman. But Pista lost no time in offering\nhim the two loaves and the two flasks, which so fortunately appeased\nthe monster that he immediately stretched himself on the grass, and,\nmuch at his ease, swallowed the provisions, and then fell asleep and\nsnored like thunder. Pista again seized the favourable moment and cut\nthe dragon's throat, from whose jaws fell a silver key, which he put\nat once into his pocket.\n\nThen he went, as on the preceding day, into the interior of the\nforest, and soon saw a palace built entirely of silver, which dazzled\nhis eyes from afar by its brilliancy. All that he saw and did in the\nCopper Palace, he saw and did here; only the magnificence of the one\nfar exceeded that of the other, and caused him to linger here much\nlonger. After a very obsequious dragon had shown him all the\ntreasures, and at last led him into the garden, he plucked there a\nsilver rose, of which there were great numbers, and stuck it in his\ncap. He then locked the gates of his beautiful palace with the silver\nkey, returned to his herd, and as the day was declining, drove them\nquietly home.\n\nAs before, the king's daughters came familiarly to meet him, and the\nyoungest snatched the silver rose from him, and ran playfully with it\nto her father. The king sent for him as before, questioned him of all\nthat had occurred, and having received satisfactory answers, expressed\nhis entire approbation.\n\nThe same adventure occurred on the third day, with the sole difference\nthat the herdsman this time entered a Golden Palace, and brought from\nthe garden a golden rose, which the fair princess appropriated as\nbefore.\n\nIt happened that a festival which the king had long resolved to give\nto the suitors of his daughters, was just about to be held. He caused\nthree golden apples of the same size to be made, on each of which he\nhad inscribed the name of one of the princesses. These he ordered to\nbe suspended by golden threads in the front court of his castle, as\nthe prize of a trial of skill, for which the victor was to receive the\nhand of one of the princesses. Whoever, at full gallop, should succeed\nin striking down with his lance one of these apples, was to receive\nthe golden fruit and the princess whose name it bore. As the three\nsisters were no less extraordinarily beautiful than rich, it may\neasily be guessed that the number of their suitors was not small. A\ncountless number of princes from far and near were assembled in the\nroyal city, and the king's brother was also present with his nine\ndaughters. The whole kingdom took a lively interest in this festival,\nand young and old rejoiced at its commencement. Whatever the royal\ntreasures could produce was exhibited there, and all the rich and\nnoble flocked thither to contribute their share towards enhancing the\npomp of the long looked for feast.\n\nAs it was to be supposed that Pista would not willingly be absent from\nsuch a grand sight, the youngest princess, out of gratitude for her\nthree roses, invited him to witness it; advising him not to stay away\nif he had any curiosity to see all the most precious of her father's\npossessions, in horses, clothes, and jewels. But to the no small\nsurprise of the princess, the herdsman thanked her for her invitation,\nbut said he preferred remaining with his equals, and would tend the\nswine as usual.\n\nThe morning arrived, and all within and around the city was in motion.\nThe streets swarmed with countless people: even the most helpless\ncripples dragged themselves along, anxious to see the show. Pista\nalone drove forth his swine with the utmost indifference, and did not\nevince the slightest curiosity.\n\nWho could have guessed, however, what the homely youth had secretly\ndetermined, and what a trick he had resolved to play on all the\nprincely suitors? He no sooner reached the heath than he hastened to\nthe forest where his late adventures had occurred. He went to the\nCopper Palace, entered the hall, and with a stroke of the golden wand\ncommanded the serviceable dragon to provide for him the most\nmagnificent attire and the finest courser. The dragon rapidly obeyed\nhis master's order, dressed him as expeditiously and handily as the\nmost experienced valet could have done, and then as quickly cantered\nup a splendidly caparisoned steed, who seemed to breathe fire as he\nneighed with desire for the combat.\n\nPista mounted his horse, and the courts of the castle thundered\nbeneath his tramp. He flew, as if borne on the lightning's wing, over\nthe heath and road, and suddenly appeared in the lists of the royal\ndisputants. The brilliancy of his attire, the swiftness and strength\nof his horse, and the costly jewels that adorned him, dazzled all\neyes, and it could not have occurred to any one that in him they\nbeheld the swineherd. The king himself thought he must be his equal\nin dignity, and offered him the honour of precedence. But Pista\ndeclined this distinction, and requested, on the contrary, to be\nallowed to be the last on the list of suitors.\n\nAt last the signal was given. All pressed to the lists, and the race\nbegan. Riders and horses flew emulously towards the prize, but not one\nsucceeded in even touching either of the apples with his lance.\n\nSuddenly the unknown guest darted over the course like an arrow, and\nhit the first of the three apples so dexterously, that it, together\nwith the golden thread to which it was fastened, remained hanging on\nhis lance. The gaze of all was fixed upon him; but without vouchsafing\na look on any, he flew with his prize straight across the lists and\ndisappeared.\n\nThis unexpected circumstance created universal embarrassment amongst\nthe disconcerted suitors, and determined the king to postpone the\nremainder of the festival until the following day. Meanwhile he sent\nsome of his swiftest riders in search of the strange fugitive, in\norder to discover, if possible, whence he came. But before these were\nready to start, our knight had already become invisible, and, in his\nherdsman's dress, had again rejoined his swine.\n\nIn the evening, as usual, he brought them home, and attended to them\nin the customary manner. But before he retired to rest, the youngest\nof the princesses descried him, and hastening to him, related in great\nagitation the untoward event which had that day deprived her of the\napple destined to her, and at the same time of him who should have\nbeen her bridegroom. The herdsman expressed his great sympathy, and\ntried to console her, by saying that no one could tell whether the\nmisfortune that had happened might not in the end turn out to her\nadvantage.\n\nThe next day, before the ceremonies recommenced, Pista was again on\nthe heath with his herd. This day he went to the Silver Palace,\nattired himself still more splendidly, and mounted a yet finer horse.\nSwift as the wind, and resplendent in gold and jewels, he again sprang\nto the lists. All were astonished at this second apparition. All\ninclined themselves before him, and no one recognised in him the same\nguest who had so distinguished himself on the preceding day.\n\nBut, as yesterday, all eyes were riveted on him; he set spurs to his\nhorse, and sprang with hanging bridle to the prize, then flew like an\narrow, bearing the second apple across the lists, and disappeared\nfrom the sight of the astonished multitude.\n\nThe king and his illustrious guests now began to apprehend that some\nsupernatural power influenced these events, and they had nearly\ndetermined not to renew the trial of skill till the following year.\nBut as already two of the golden apples were lost, they could not\nresist their curiosity respecting the third and last. The king\ntherefore appointed the conclusion of the festival for the next\nmorning, and in the meantime endeavoured to tranquillise himself as\nwell as he could.\n\nAs before, so was it on this third occasion. The herdsman had gone\nearly to the heath, and now appeared in an attire, and mounted on a\nhorse, this time procured from the Golden Palace, both of which\ninfinitely surpassed the two former. He carried off the third apple,\nand fled, to the wonder of all, swift as the wind, far out of sight.\n\nThe festival was now over; the assembly separated; the suitors\nreturned to their homes, and the king lamented the fate of his beloved\ndaughters. The daughters shed many tears, and mourned over their fate\nas an appointment of Heaven, forbidding them ever to have a\nbridegroom.\n\nAs the very first of these occurrences had caused the king entirely\nto forget to pay the herdsman his daily wages, the latter had now\nthree days' hire due to him. Pista therefore availed himself of the\npretext of demanding his wages as a good opportunity to learn what\nimpression his three adventures had made at court. That same evening,\nwhen he brought home his herd, he presented himself before the king,\nbut apprehending that, if he left his three apples in the stall, they\nmight be purloined, he concealed them in his hat, which he retained on\nhis head, although in presence of his monarch.\n\nThe king perceived this disrespectful conduct of his herdsman not\nwithout surprise; but, as he was exceedingly well disposed towards\nhim, on account of his great services, he indulgently asked him what\nhe required. Pista had scarcely prepared himself to make his request,\nwhen the youngest, and now exceedingly discontented princess entered,\nand with an air of highly offended pride, snatched his hat off his\nhead.\n\nThe golden apples fell out of it, and rolled to the monarch's feet.\n\nWhat was the astonishment of the whole court! The princesses\nrecognised their names, and could not express their delight at finding\ntheir apples. The king pressed the youth in the most gracious terms\nto explain how he had come by them.\n\nPista replied, with the utmost frankness, that he was the winner of\nthe three apples, and therefore thought he had a full right to one of\nthe princesses for his bride.\n\nNow, as the king, mindful of the unexampled splendour, as also the\nextraordinary good fortune by which the stranger had distinguished\nhimself in the lists, anticipated some still greater advantage behind\nthe darkness of this mysterious occurrence, he admitted the herdsman's\nclaim with very little hesitation.\n\nThe youngest of the princesses felt herself suddenly cheered, and so\npowerfully attracted to the metamorphosed swineherd, that in spite of\nhis peasant's dress she threw her arms around his neck. The king\nimmediately decided that he should become her husband, and the\nfollowing morning the wedding was celebrated with the utmost\nmagnificence, in presence of the whole court, at the Golden Palace in\nthe forest, which Pista immediately selected for his residence.\n\nWhen the banquet was over, the bridegroom commanded his faithful\ndragon, who had already the day before provided a numerous\nestablishment of domestics of his own winged race, immediately to\nbring hither his eleven brothers, whose respective names he had\nfurnished him with, and had described their persons as accurately as\nhe could.\n\nBefore the sun went down the eleven brothers were seen coming at full\ngallop to the Golden Palace. By the care of the ever active dragon\nthey were all splendidly dressed, and they rejoiced and wondered not a\nlittle at the unexpected change in their destiny.\n\nTwo of them married the sisters of their royal sister-in-law, and the\nrest married the nine daughters of the other king. They soon conquered\nfor themselves as many kingdoms, and lived happily together till their\ndying day.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LUCKY DAYS.\n\n[Italian.]\n\n\nAt Casena, in Romagna, lived a poor widow, a very worthy, industrious\nwoman, by name Lucietta. She unfortunately had an only son, who, for\nstupidity and laziness, had yet to find his equal. He would lie in bed\ntill noon, and when he did resolve to rise, he took a full hour to rub\nhis eyes, and then he would be nearly as long stretching his arms and\nlegs; in short, he behaved like the veriest sluggard upon earth.\n\nThis grieved his mother very much, for she had once hoped that he\nwould some day become the support of her old age; and she never ceased\nto urge and advise him, in order to make him a little more active and\nindustrious.\n\n\"My son,\" she often said to him, \"he who would see good days in this\nworld must exert himself, be industrious, and rise at break of day;\nfor good fortune favours the industrious and the vigilant, but never\ncomes to the lazy and sluggardly. Therefore, my son, if you will\nbelieve my counsel, and follow it, then you shall see good days, and\nall will fall out to your heart's content.\"\n\nLucilio--that was the young man's name--the silliest of the silly,\nunquestionably heard what his mother said, but he did not understand\nthe meaning of her words. He got up as if he were waking out of a deep\nand heavy sleep, and sauntered along the road before the city gate,\nwhere he stretched himself, in order to finish his nap, right across\nthe pathway, so that all entering or leaving the city could not avoid\nstumbling over him.\n\nIt so happened that the very night before, three inhabitants of the\ncity had gone out to bury a treasure which they had accidentally\ndiscovered. They had succeeded in finding it again, and were in the\nact of carrying it home, when they came upon Lucilio, who still lay\nacross the road, but no longer sleeping. He had just waked up, and was\nlooking round him for one of the good days his mother had prophesied\nto him.\n\n\"Heaven send you a good day, friend,\" said the first of the three men,\nas he walked over him.\n\n\"Heaven be praised!\" said Lucilio, when he heard the words. \"Now I\nshall have a good day!\"\n\nThe man who had buried the treasure, conscious of his fault, fancied\ndirectly that these words bore reference to him, and that the secret\nhad been betrayed. This was quite natural; for whoever has a bad\nconscience, always interprets the most indifferent words as an\nallusion to himself.\n\nThe second man then stumbled over Lucilio, likewise wishing him, as\nhis predecessor had done, a good day. Whereupon Lucilio, still\ndwelling on the good days, said to himself, but half loud, \"Now I have\ntwo of them!\"\n\nThe third followed and saluted him as the two others had done, also\nwishing that Heaven might send him a good day. Up started Lucilio,\noverjoyed, and exclaiming, \"Oh! delightful! Now I have got all three\nof them! I am fortunate!\"\n\nHe alluded only to three lucky days; but the buriers of the treasure\nthought he meant them; and as they feared he might go and give\ninformation of them to the magistrate, they took him aside, told him\nthe whole affair, and, to bribe him into silence, gave him the fourth\npart of the treasure.\n\nWell pleased, Lucilio took his portion, carried it home to his mother,\nand said, \"Dear mother, Heaven's blessing has been with me; for, as I\ndid as you desired, so I have found the good days. Take this money,\nand buy with it all we require.\"\n\nThe mother was not a little pleased at the fortunate occurrence, and\nurged her son to go on exerting himself that he might find more such\ngood days.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FEAST OF THE DWARFS.\n\n[Icelandish.]\n\n\nNot very far from Drontheim, in Norway, dwelt a powerful man, blessed\nwith all the gifts of fortune. A considerable portion of the land\naround belonged to him; numerous herds grazed in his pastures, and a\nnumerous establishment of domestics contributed to the grandeur of his\ndwelling. He had an only daughter called Aslog, whose beauty was\ncelebrated far and near. The most illustrious of her countrymen sought\nto obtain her hand, but without success; and those who arrived gay and\nfull of hope, rode away in silence and with heavy hearts. Her father,\nwho thought that his daughter's rejection of so many suitors proceeded\nfrom her anxiety to make a prudent choice, did not interfere, and\nrejoiced to think that she was so discreet. At length, however, when\nhe perceived that the noblest and the most wealthy of the land were\nrejected equally with all others, he grew angry, and thus addressed\nher:--\n\n\"Hitherto I have left you at full liberty to make your own selection;\nbut, as I observe that you reject all indiscriminately, and that the\nmost eligible suitors are yet in your opinion not good enough for you,\nI shall no longer permit such conduct. Is my race, then, to be\nextinguished, and are my possessions to fall into the hands of\nstrangers? I am resolved to bend your stubborn will. I give you time\nfor consideration until the great winter nights' festival; if you\nshall not then have made your election, be prepared to accept him whom\nI determine upon for you.\"\n\nAslog loved a handsome, brave, and noble youth, whose name was Orm.\nShe loved him with her whole soul, and would have preferred death to\ngiving her hand to any one but him. But Orm was poor, and his poverty\ncompelled him to take service in her father's house. Aslog's love for\nhim was therefore kept secret, for her haughty father would never have\nconsented to an alliance with a man in so subordinate a position. When\nAslog beheld his stern aspect and heard his angry words, she became\ndeathly pale, for she knew his disposition, and was well aware that he\nwould put his threat in execution. Without offering a word in reply,\nshe withdrew to her chamber, there to consider how to escape the storm\nthat menaced her.\n\nThe great festival drew near, and her anxiety increased daily.\n\nAt length the lovers resolved to fly. \"I know a hiding place,\" said\nOrm, \"where we can remain undiscovered till we find an opportunity of\nquitting the country.\"\n\nDuring the night, whilst all were asleep, Orm conducted the trembling\nAslog across the snow and fields of ice to the mountains. The moon and\nstars, which always seem brightest in the cold winter's night, lighted\nthem on their way. They had brought with them some clothes and furs,\nbut that was all they could carry.\n\nThey climbed the mountains the whole night long, till they arrived at\na solitary spot completely encircled by rock. Here Orm led the weary\nAslog into a cave, the dark and narrow entrance to which was scarcely\nperceptible; it soon widened, however, into a spacious chamber that\npenetrated far into the mountain. Orm kindled a fire, and they sat\nbeside it, leaning against the rock, shut out from the rest of the\nworld.\n\nOrm was the first who had discovered this cavern, which is now shown\nas a curiosity; and, as at that time no one knew of its existence,\nthey were secure from the pursuit of Aslog's father. Here they passed\nthe winter. Orm went out to chase the wild animals of the lonely\nregion, and Aslog remained in the cave, attended to the fire, and\nprepared their necessary food. She frequently climbed to the summit of\nthe rock, but, far as her eye could reach, it beheld only the\nsparkling snow-fields.\n\nSpring arrived, the woods became green, the fields arrayed themselves\nin bright colours, and Aslog dared now only seldom, and with great\nprecaution, to emerge from her cavern.\n\nOne evening Orm returned home bringing news that he had recognised, at\na distance, her father's people, and that they had no doubt also\ndescried him, as they could see as clearly as himself. \"They will\nsurround this place,\" continued he, \"and not rest till they have found\nus; we must therefore instantly be off.\"\n\nThey immediately descended the mountain on the other side, and reached\nthe sea-shore, where they fortunately found a boat. Orm pushed off,\nand the boat was driven into the open sea. They had, it is true,\nescaped their pursuers, but they were now exposed to perils of another\nkind. Whither should they turn? They dared not land, for Aslog's\nfather was lord of the whole coast, and they would so fall into his\nhands. Nothing remained, therefore, for them, but to commit the boat\nto the winds and waves, which pursued its way all night, so that at\nday-break the coast had disappeared, and they saw only sky and water;\nthey had not brought any provisions with them, and hunger and thirst\nbegan to torture them. Thus they drove on for three days, and Aslog,\nweak and exhausted, foresaw their certain destruction.\n\nAt length, on the evening of the third day, they beheld an island of\nconsiderable size, surrounded by a multitude of lesser islets. Orm\nimmediately steered towards it, but, as they approached it, a gale\narose and the waves swelled higher and higher; he turned the boat in\nhopes to be able to land on some other side, but equally without\nsuccess. Whenever the bark approached the island, it was driven back\nas if by some invisible force.\n\nOrm, gazing on the unhappy Aslog, who seemed dying from exhaustion,\ncrossed himself, and uttered an exclamation, which had scarcely passed\nhis lips, when the storm ceased, the waves sank, and the little bark\nlanded without further obstruction. He then sprang on shore, and a few\nmussels which he collected, so revived and strengthened the exhausted\nAslog, that in a short time she also was able to quit the boat.\n\nThe island was entirely covered with dwarf mushrooms, and appeared to\nbe uninhabited; but when they had penetrated nearly to the centre of\nit they perceived a house, half of which only was above the ground,\nand the other half under it. In the hope that they might find human\nhelp they joyfully approached it; they listened for some sound, but\nthe deepest silence prevailed all around. At length Orm opened the\ndoor and entered with his companion; great was their astonishment,\nhowever, when they perceived everything prepared as if for\ninhabitants, but no living being visible. The fire burnt on the hearth\nin the middle of the room, and a kettle with fish hung over it,\nwaiting, probably, for some one to make a meal of its contents; beds\nwere ready prepared for the reception of sleepers. Orm and Aslog stood\nfor a time doubtful, and looked fearfully about; at length, impelled\nby hunger, they took the food and eat it. When they had satisfied\ntheir hunger, and, by the last rays of the sun, could not discover any\none far and wide, they yielded to fatigue and lay down on the beds, a\nluxury which they had so long been deprived of.\n\nThey had fully expected to be awakened in the night by the return of\nthe owners of the house, but they were deceived in their expectation;\nthroughout the following day, also, no one appeared, and it seemed as\nif some invisible power had prepared the house for their reception.\nThus did they pass the whole summer most happily; it is true they were\nalone, but the absence of mankind was not felt by them. The eggs of\nwild-fowl and the fish which they caught afforded them sufficient\nprovision.\n\nWhen autumn approached, Aslog bore a son, and in the midst of their\nrejoicing at his arrival they were surprised by a wonderful\napparition.--The door opened suddenly, and an old woman entered; she\nwore a beautiful blue garment, and in her form and manner was\nsomething dignified, and at the same time unusual and strange.\n\n\"Let not my sudden appearance alarm you,\" said she. \"I am the owner of\nthis house, and I thank you for having kept it so clean and well, and\nthat I now find everything in such good order. I would willingly have\ncome sooner, but I could not until the little heathen there--pointing\nto the infant--had established himself here. Now I have free access;\nbut do not, I pray you, fetch a priest here from the main-land to\nbaptise him, for then I shall be obliged to go away again. If you\nfulfil my wish, not only may you remain here, but every good you can\ndesire I will bestow on you; whatever you undertake shall succeed;\ngood fortune shall attend you wherever you go. But if you break this\ncondition, you may assure yourselves that misfortune on misfortune\nshall visit you, and I will even avenge myself on the child. If you\nstand in need of anything, or are in danger, you have only to\npronounce my name thrice: I will appear and aid you. I am of the race\nof the ancient giants, and my name is Guru. Beware, however, of\npronouncing, in my presence, the name that no giant likes to hear, and\nnever make the sign of the cross, nor cut it in any of the boards in\nthe house. You may live here the year round; only on Yule evening be\nso kind as to leave the house to me as soon as the sun goes down. Then\nwe celebrate our great festival, the only occasion on which we are\npermitted to be merry. If, however, you do not like to quit the house,\nremain as quietly as possible under ground, and, as you value your\nlives, do not look into the room before midnight; after that hour you\nmay again take possession of all.\"\n\nWhen the old woman had thus spoken, she disappeared, and Aslog and\nOrm, thus rendered easy as to their position, lived on without\ndisturbance contented and happy. Orm never cast his net without a good\ndraught--never shot an arrow that did not hit--in short, whatever he\nundertook, however trifling it might be, prospered visibly.\n\nWhen Christmas came they made the house as clean as possible, set\neverything in order, kindled a fire on the hearth, and on the approach\nof twilight descended to the under part of the house, where they\nremained quiet and silent. At length it grew dark, and they fancied\nthey heard a rustling and snorting in the air, like that which the\nswans make in the winter season. In the wall over the hearth was an\naperture that could be opened and shut to admit light, or to let out\nsmoke. Orm raised the lid, which was covered with a skin, and put out\nhis head, when a wonderful spectacle presented itself. The little\nsurrounding islets were illuminated by countless little blue lights,\nwhich moved incessantly, danced up and down, then slid along the\nshore, collected together, and approached nearer and nearer to the\nisland in which Orm and Aslog dwelt. When they reached it they\narranged themselves in a circle round a great stone, which stood not\nvery far from the shore, and which was well known to Orm. But how\ngreat was his astonishment, when he saw that the stone had assumed a\nperfectly human form, although of gigantic stature. He could now\nclearly distinguish that the lights were carried by dwarfs, whose pale\nearth-coloured faces, with large noses and red eyes, in the form of\nbirds' beaks and owls' eyes, surmounted mis-shapen bodies. They\nwaddled and shuffled here and there, and seemed to be sad and gay at\nthe same time. Suddenly the circle opened, the little people drew back\non either side, and Guru, who now appeared as large as the stone,\napproached with giant steps. She threw her arms around the stony\nfigure, which at that moment received life and movement. At the first\nindication of this, the little people set up, accompanied by\nextraordinary grimaces and gestures, such a song, or rather howl, that\nthe whole island resounded and shook with the noise. Orm, quite\nterrified, drew in his head, and he and Aslog now remained in the dark\nso quiet, that they scarcely dared to breathe.\n\n[Illustration: THE FEAST OF THE DWARFS. P. 322.]\n\nThe procession arrived at the house, as was clearly perceived by the\nnearer approach of the howl. They now all entered. Light and\nactive, the dwarfs skipped over the benches; heavy and dull sounded\nthe steps of the giants among them. Orm and his wife heard them lay\nout the table and celebrate their feast with the clattering of plates\nand cries of joy. When the feast was over and midnight was\napproaching, they began to dance to that magic melody which wraps the\nsoul in sweet bewilderment, and which has been heard by some persons\nin the valleys and amid the rocks, who have thus learnt the air from\nsubterranean musicians.\n\nNo sooner did Aslog hear the melody than she was seized with an\nindescribable longing to witness the dance. Orm was unable to restrain\nher. \"Let me look,\" said she, \"or my heart will break.\" She took her\ninfant and placed herself at the furthest extremity of the chamber,\nwhere she could see everything without being herself seen. Long did\nshe watch, without turning away her eyes, the dance, and the agile and\nwonderful steps and leaps of the little beings, who seemed to float in\nthe air and scarcely to touch the ground, whilst the enchanting music\nof the elfs filled her soul.\n\nIn the mean time the infant on her arm grew sleepy and breathed\nheavily, and, without remembering the promise she had made to the old\nwoman, she made the sign of the cross (as is the custom) over the\nchild's mouth, and said, \"Christ bless thee, my child!\" She had\nscarcely uttered the words when a fearful piercing cry arose. The\nsprites rushed headlong out of the house, their lights were\nextinguished, and in a few minutes they had all left the house. Orm\nand Aslog, terrified almost to death, hid themselves in the remotest\ncorner of the house. They ventured not to move until day-break, and,\nnot until the sun shone through the hole over the hearth, did they\nfind courage to come out of their hiding-place.\n\nThe table was still covered as the sprites had left it, with all their\nprecious and wonderfully wrought silver vessels. In the middle of the\nroom stood, on the ground, a high copper vessel half filled with sweet\nmetheglin, and by its side a drinking-horn of pure gold. In the corner\nlay a stringed instrument, resembling a dulcimer, on which, as it is\nbelieved, the female giants play. They gazed with admiration on all,\nbut did not venture to touch anything. Greatly were they startled,\nhowever, when, on turning round, they beheld, seated at the table, a\nmonstrous form, which Orm immediately recognised as the giant whom\nGuru had embraced. It was now a cold hard stone. Whilst they stood\nlooking at it, Guru herself, in her giant form, entered the room. She\nwept so bitterly that her tears fell on the ground, and it was long\nbefore her sobs would allow her utterance; at length she said:--\n\n\"Great sorrow have you brought upon me; I must now weep for the\nremainder of my days. As, however, I know that you did it not from any\nevil intention, I forgive you, although it would be easy for me to\ncrumble this house over your heads like an egg-shell.\n\n\"Ah!\" exclaimed she, \"there sits my husband, whom I loved better than\nmyself, turned for ever into stone, never again to open his eyes. For\nthree hundred years I lived with my father in the island of Kuman,\nhappy in youthful innocence, the fairest amongst the virgins of the\ngiant race. Mighty heroes were rivals for my hand; the sea that\nsurrounds that island is full of fragments of rock which they hurled\nat each other in fight. Andfind won the victory, and I was betrothed\nto him. But before our marriage came the abhorred Odin into the\ncountry, conquered my father, and drove us out of the island. My\nfather and sister fled to the mountains, and my eyes have never since\nbeheld them. Andfind and I escaped to this island, where we lived for\na long time in peace, and began to hope that we should never be\ndisturbed. But Destiny, which no one can escape, had decreed\notherwise; Oluff came from Britain. They called him the Holy, and\nAndfind at once discovered that his journey would be fatal to the\ngiant race. When he heard Oluf's ship dashing through the waves, he\nwent to the shore and blew against it with all his strength. The waves\nrose into mountains. But Oluf was mightier than he; his vessel flew\nunharmed through the waves, like an arrow from the bow. He steered\nstraight to our island. When the ship was near enough for Andfind to\nreach it, he grasped the prow with his right hand, and was in the act\nof sending it to the bottom, as he had often done with other ships.\nBut Oluf, the dreadful Oluf, stepped forwards, and crossing his hands,\ncried out with a loud voice:--'Stand there, a stone, until the last\nday!' and in that moment my unhappy husband became a mass of stone.\nThe ship sailed on unhindered towards the mountain, which it severed,\nand separated from it the little islands that lie around it.\n\n\"From that day all my happiness was annihilated, and I have passed my\nlife in loneliness and sorrow. Only on Yule evening can a petrified\ngiant recover life for seven hours, if one of the race embraces him,\nand is willing to renounce a hundred years of life for this purpose.\nIt is seldom that a giant does this. I loved my husband too tenderly\nnot to recall him to life as often as I could, at whatever cost to\nmyself. I never counted how often I had done it, in order that I might\nnot know when the time would come when I should share his fate, and in\nthe act of embracing him become one with him. But ah! even this\nconsolation is denied me. I can never again awaken him with an\nembrace, since he has heard the name which I may not utter, and never\nwill he again see the light until the dawn of the last day.\n\n\"I am about to quit this place. You will never again behold me. All\nthat is in the house I bestow on you. I reserve only my dulcimer. Let\nno one presume to set foot on the little surrounding islands. There\ndwells the little subterranean race, whom I will protect as long as I\nlive.\"\n\nWith these words she vanished. The following spring, Orm carried the\ngolden horn and the silver vessels to Drontheim, where no one knew\nhim. The value of these costly utensils was so great, that he was\nenabled to purchase all that a rich man requires. He loaded his vessel\nwith his purchases, and returned to the island, where he lived for\nmany years in uninterrupted happiness. Aslog's father soon became\nreconciled to his wealthy son-in-law.\n\nThe stone figure remained seated in the house. No one was able to\nremove it thence. The stone was so hard that axe and hammer were\nshivered against it, without making the slightest impression on it.\nThere the giant remained till a holy man came to the island, and with\none word restored it to its former place, where it still is to be\nseen.\n\nThe copper vessel which the subterranean people left behind them, is\npreserved as a memorial in the island, which is still called the\nIsland of the Hut.\n\n\n\n\nTHE THREE DOGS.\n\n[Frieslandish.]\n\n\nA shepherd who had two children, a son and a daughter, had, at his\ndeath, nothing to leave them but three sheep, and the little cottage\nthey inhabited. On his death-bed he blessed them, and with his last\nbreath admonished them to divide the legacy, and share it\naffectionately. When the children had buried their beloved father, the\nbrother asked the sister which part of the inheritance she would\nprefer,--the sheep or the cottage? and as she chose the cottage, he\nsaid, \"Then I will take the sheep, and wander out in the wide world;\nmany a one has there found his fortune, and I am a Sunday child.\" With\nthese words he embraced his sister, and with his inheritance left his\nnative place.\n\nFar and wide did he wander, and much did he suffer--fortune never once\nrecognising him as her son. Once, full of sorrow, uncertain whither\nto bend his steps, he sat down by a cross road, when all at once there\nstood before him a man accompanied by three large dogs, the one\ngreater than the other, strongly built, and jet black.\n\n\"Well, my brave youth,\" said the man, \"you have there three fine\nsheep, and if you choose we will exchange property; let me have your\nsheep, and you shall have my dogs.\"\n\nIn spite of his mournful disposition, the youth could not help\nlaughing at the proposal. \"What am I to do with your dogs?\" demanded\nhe; \"my sheep feed themselves, but your dogs will want to be fed.\"\n\n\"My dogs are of a peculiar kind,\" answered the stranger; \"they will\nprovide for you, instead of your providing for them, and besides they\nwill bring you great fortune. The smallest of them is called\nBring-food; the second, Tear-to-pieces; and the great and strong one\nis named Break-steel-and-iron.\"\n\nThe shepherd, persuaded by the stranger, gave up his sheep; and now,\nto try their quality, he called out \"Bring-food!\" and forthwith one of\nthe dogs ran away, and soon returned with a great basket full of the\ncostliest and daintiest victuals. The shepherd was now much pleased\nat his exchange, and travelled far and wide over the land.\n\nOnce on his road he met a carriage hung all over with black crape\ndrawn by two horses, which were covered with cloth of the same colour,\nand the coachman, too, was in deep mourning. In the carriage was\nseated a wondrously beautiful lady, also enveloped in the mournful\ncolour of sorrow, and bitterly weeping; the horses, with drooping\nheads, paced slowly along. \"What means this?\" said he to the coachman;\nbut the coachman gave an evasive answer; at last, however, after much\npressing, he related as follows: \"There dwells in this neighbourhood a\nferocious dragon who caused great havoc and destruction; to appease\nhim, and to secure the land against his devastation, a compact has\nbeen entered into with him, and he each year receives as tribute a\nfair maiden, whom he at one morsel devours and swallows. All the\nmaidens in the kingdom at the age of fourteen draw lots between them,\nand this year the lot has fallen upon the daughter of the king: on\nthis account the king and the whole state were plunged into the\ndeepest grief; but such terror did the dragon inspire, that they dared\nnot refuse him the sacrifice.\"\n\nThe shepherd felt pity for the beautiful young princess, and followed\nthe carriage, which at last stopped at a high mountain. The princess\ndescended, and, full of despair and anguish, went slowly onwards to\nmeet her awful destiny. The driver, on observing that the youth\nfollowed her, warned him; the shepherd, however, was not to be\npersuaded, but followed her steps.\n\nWhen they had thus advanced half-way up the mountain, the terrible\nmonster approached from the summit, with an awful noise, to devour the\nvictim. From its widely-extended jaws issued streams of burning\nsulphur, its body was encircled with thick horny scales, on its feet\nit had immense claws, and wings were attached to its long serpentine\nneck: already was it near enough to pounce upon its prey, when the\nshepherd cried out, \"Tear-to-pieces!\" and his second dog threw himself\nupon the dragon, and attacked him with such strength and ferocity,\nthat, after a short combat, the monster fell exhausted and dead at the\nfeet of his antagonist, who, to finish his victory, wholly devoured\nhim, leaving only two teeth; these the shepherd put in his pocket.\n\nThe princess, overcome with the extreme emotions of fear and joy, had\nfainted away; the shepherd by every means in his power tried to\nrestore her back to life, in which he at last succeeded. When fully\nrecovered, the princess threw herself at the feet of her deliverer,\nthanking, and imploring him to return with her to her father, who\nwould richly reward him for having returned him his daughter, and\nsaved the country from the scourge of the dragon.\n\nThe youth answered, he would first like to see and know a little more\nof the world; but in three years he would return, and by this\nresolution he remained. The maiden then returned to her carriage, and\nthe shepherd continued his wanderings in an opposite direction.\n\nMeanwhile the coachman, who had been a spectator of the whole, now\nmeditated in his own black mind how to turn this fortunate conclusion\nof the tragedy to his own profit and aggrandizement. As they were\npassing over a bridge, under which flowed a great stream, he turned\nhimself to the princess and said, \"Your deliverer is gone, and was not\neven anxious for your thanks. It would be a noble action of yours to\nmake the fortune of a poor man. If you, therefore, were to tell your\nfather that it was by my hand that the dragon perished, this would be\naccomplished. But should you refuse to do so, I will throw you into\nthis deep river, and no one will ever ask after you, being all\nconvinced that the dragon has devoured you.\" The maiden cried and\nprayed, but in vain; she was forced to swear that she would proclaim\nthe coachman as her deliverer, and never divulge the secret to any\nmortal.\n\nThey then returned to the capital, where all was rejoicing and\ngladness at their return. The black banners were removed from the\nsteeples of the church, and gay coloured ones were hoisted to replace\nthem. The king with tears of joy embraced his daughter and her\nsupposed deliverer: \"Thou hast not only saved my child,\" said he, \"but\nthou hast also delivered my land from the greatest pestilence by which\nit ever has been scourged: to reward you royally for your undaunted\ncourage, and in a manner commensurate with your great service, I\nintend to bestow my daughter in marriage upon you; but as she is yet\ntoo young, we will defer the ceremony for one year.\"\n\nThe coachman thanked the king, was forthwith richly apparelled,\nelevated to the rank of a duke, with the possession of a dukedom, and\ninstructed in those polite manners requisite in his new and elevated\nstation. The princess was much afflicted, and bewailed her mournful\ndestiny most bitterly, when she was informed of the promise her father\nhad made; but withal she feared to break her oath. When the year was\nat an end, in spite of all her entreaties she could not obtain from\nher father anything beyond the promise that the wedding should be\ndelayed for another year. This also expired.\n\nShe again threw herself at her father's feet imploring for yet another\nyear, for she well remembered the promise of her young and handsome\ndeliverer, that in three years he would return. The king could not\nresist her entreaties, and acquiesced in her prayer on the condition\nthat at the termination of that time she would wed the man he had\nchosen for her. The time again quickly elapsed. The auspicious day was\nalready fixed, on the towers gay banners waved in the breeze, and the\njoyful shouting of the people mounted to the sky.\n\nOn the same day a stranger, with three dogs, entered the town. On\ndemanding the reason of the public rejoicing, he was informed that the\nking's daughter, that very day, was to be united to the man that had\ndelivered her and the country from the terrible dragon, which he had\nslain.\n\nThe stranger, in no very measured terms, pronounced this man an\nimpostor, who had decked himself with other's feathers: the watch who,\npassing by, had overheard him, at once apprehended him and threw him\ninto a strong prison guarded with doors and bars of iron. As he lay on\nhis bundle of straw and sorrowfully contemplated his destiny, he\nthought he heard the whining of his dogs,--a gleam of hope suddenly\nburst upon him--\"Break-steel-and-iron!\" cried he as loud as he could,\nand hardly had he uttered the words when he saw the paws of his\nbiggest dog hard at work on the bars of his window, tearing and\nbreaking them down as if they had been reeds; the dog then jumped down\ninto the cell and bit the chains with which his master was fettered,\nto pieces; whereupon both left the prison by the window as hastily as\npossible. He was now again at liberty, but the thought painfully\noppressed him that another should have reaped the benefit of the deed\nof which he deserved the merit and reward. He felt also very hungry,\nand he called to one of his dogs, \"Bring-food,\" which dog soon\nreturned with a napkin full of costly food; the napkin was marked\nwith a royal crown.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThe king was seated at table, with all the great men of his land\naround him, when the dog made its appearance, and, as if in\nsupplication, licked the hand of the princely maiden. She at once\nrecognised the dog, and tied her own napkin round his neck, looking\nupon his appearance as foreboding her deliverance. She then prayed her\nfather for a few words in private, when she disclosed to him the whole\nof the secret: the king sent a messenger to see whither the dog went,\nand the stranger was soon after brought into the royal presence. The\nformer coachman, pale and trembling at his appearance, fell upon his\nknees imploring mercy; the princess at once recognised the stranger as\nher saviour, who moreover proved his identity by the two dragon teeth\nthat he yet carried about with him. The coachman was thrown into a\ndeep dungeon and his dignities were conferred on the shepherd, who was\nthe same day wedded to the princess.\n\nThe youthful pair lived a long time in the greatest happiness. The\nformer shepherd often thought of his sister; and, that she might\nparticipate in his felicity, a carriage and servants were sent to\nfetch her, and before long she was pressed to the breast of her\naffectionate brother; then one of the dogs said to his master, \"Our\ntime is now expired; you need us no longer; we remained thus long with\nyou to see whether in fortune also you would remember your sister, or\nwhether the sudden acquisition of wealth and power would make you\nproud, forgetful, and austere. You have not proved guilty of such\nwickedness, but have shown yourself virtuous and affectionate.\" The\ndogs then changed into birds and vanished in the air.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COURAGEOUS FLUTE-PLAYER.\n\n[A traditional tale in Franconia.]\n\n\nThere lived once a gay-hearted musician, who played the flute in a\nmasterly style, and earned his living by wandering about, and playing\non his instrument in all the towns and villages he came to. One\nevening he arrived at a farm-house, and resolved to stay there, as he\ncould not reach the next village before night-fall. The farmer gave\nhim a very friendly reception, made him sit down at his own table, and\nafter supper requested him to play him an air on his flute. When the\nmusician had finished, he looked out of the window, and saw by the\nlight of the moon, at no great distance from the farm, an ancient\ncastle, which was partly in ruins.\n\n\"What old castle is that?\" said the musician; \"and to whom did it\nbelong?\"\n\nThe farmer then related to him, that many, many years ago, a count\nhad dwelt there, who was very rich, but also very avaricious. He had\nbeen very harsh to his vassals, had never given any alms to the poor,\nand had finally died without heirs, as his avarice had deterred him\nfrom marrying. His nearest relations had then taken possession of the\ncastle, but had not been able to discover any money whatever in it. It\nwas, therefore, supposed that he must have buried the treasure, and\nthat it must still be lying concealed in some part of the old castle.\nMany persons had gone into the castle in hopes of finding the\ntreasure, but no one had ever appeared again; and on this account the\nauthorities of the village had forbidden any access to it, and had\nseriously warned all people throughout the country against going\nthere.\n\nThe musician listened attentively, and when the farmer had finished\nhis narration, he expressed the most ardent desire to go into the\ncastle, for he had a brave heart, and knew not fear. The farmer,\nhowever, entreated him earnestly, even on his knees, to have regard\nfor his young life, and not to enter the castle. But prayers and\nentreaties were vain: the musician was not to be shaken in his\nresolution. Two of the farmer's men were obliged to light a couple of\nlanterns and accompany the courageous musician to the old and dreaded\ncastle. When he reached it, he sent them home again with one of the\nlanterns, and taking the other in his hand, he boldly ascended a long\nflight of steps. Arrived at the top, he found himself in a spacious\nhall, which had doors on all sides. He opened the first he came to,\nentered a chamber, and seating himself at an old-fashioned table,\nplaced his light thereon, and began playing on his flute. Meanwhile,\nthe farmer could not close his eyes all night, through anxiety for his\nfate, and often looked out of the window towards the tower, and\nrejoiced exceedingly when he heard each time his guest still making\nsweet music. But when, at length, the clock against the wall struck\neleven, and the flute-playing ceased, he became dreadfully alarmed,\nbelieving no otherwise than that the ghost, or devil, or whoever it\nmight be that inhabited the castle, had, doubtless, twisted the poor\nyouth's neck. The musician, however, had continued playing without\nfear until he was tired, and at length finding himself hungry, as he\nhad not eaten much at the farmer's, he walked up and down the room,\nand looked about him. At last he spied a pot full of uncooked lentils,\nand on another table stood a vessel full of water, another full of\nsalt, and a flask of wine. He quickly poured the water over the\nlentils, added the salt, made a fire in the stove, as there was plenty\nof wood by the side of it, and began to cook soup. Whilst the lentils\nwere stewing, he emptied the flask of wine, and began playing again on\nhis flute. As soon as the lentils were ready, he took them off the\nfire, shook them into the plate that stood ready on the table, and eat\nheartily of them. He then looked at his watch, and saw it was about\neleven o'clock. At that moment the door suddenly flew open, and two\ntall black men entered, carrying on their shoulders a bier, on which\nlay a coffin. Without uttering a word, they placed the bier before the\nmusician, who did not interrupt himself in his meal on account of\nthem, and then they went out again at the same door, as silently as\nthey had come in. As soon as they were gone the musician hastily rose\nfrom his seat, and uncovered the coffin. A little old and shrivelled\nman, with grey hair and a grey beard, lay therein; but the young man\nfelt no fear, and lifting him out of the coffin, placed him by the\nstove, and no sooner did the body become warm, than life returned to\nit. Then the musician became quite busy with the old man, gave him\nsome of the lentils to eat, and even fed him as a mother does her\nchild. At last the old man became quite animated, and said to him,\n\"Follow me!\"\n\nThe little old man led the way, and the young flutist, taking his\nlantern, followed without trepidation. They descended a long and\ndilapidated flight of steps, and at last arrived in a deep gloomy\nvault.\n\nOn the ground lay a great heap of money. Then the little man said to\nthe youth, \"Divide this heap for me into two equal portions; but mind\nthat thou leave not anything over, for if thou dost I will deprive\nthee of life!\"\n\nThe youth merely smiled in reply, and immediately began to count out\nthe money upon two great tables, laying a piece alternately on each,\nand so in no long time he had separated the heap into two equal\nportions; but just at the last he found there was one kreutzer over.\nAfter a moment's thought he drew out his pocket-knife, set the blade\nupon the kreutzer, and striking it with a hammer that was lying there,\ncut the coin in half. When he had thrown one half on each of the\nheaps, the little man became right joyous, and said: \"Thou courageous\nman, thou hast released me! It is now already a hundred years that I\nhave been doomed to watch my treasure, which I collected out of\navarice, until some one should succeed in dividing the money into two\nequal portions. Not one of the many who have tried could do it; and I\nwas obliged to strangle them all. One of the heaps of gold is thine;\ndistribute the other among the poor. Thou happy man, thou hast\nreleased me!\"\n\nWhen he had uttered these words, the little old man vanished. The\nyouth, however, re-ascended the steps, and began again to play in the\nsame chamber as before, merry tunes on his flute.\n\nRejoiced was the farmer when he again heard the notes; and with the\nearliest dawn he went to the castle and joyfully met the youth. The\nlatter related to him the events of the night, and then descended to\nhis treasure, with which he did as the little old man had commanded\nhim. He caused, however, the old castle to be pulled down, and there\nsoon stood a new one in its place, where the musician, now become a\nrich man, took up his abode.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GLASS HATCHET.\n\n[Hungarian.]\n\n\nIn a remote land there dwelt, in former days, a wealthy count. He and\nhis consort most ardently wished for a child, to whom they might\nbequeath their riches; but a long time passed ere their wish was\ngratified. At length, after twelve weary years, the countess bore a\nson; but short was the time granted her to rejoice at the\naccomplishment of her desire, for she died the day after the child's\nbirth. Before she expired, she warned her husband never to allow the\nchild to touch the earth with his feet, for, from the moment he should\ndo so he would fall into the power of a bad fairy who was on the watch\nfor him. The countess then breathed her last.\n\nThe boy throve well, and when he had outgrown the age for being in the\nnurse's arms, a peculiarly-formed chair was constructed for him, in\nwhich he could, unassisted, convey himself about the garden of his\nfather's castle. At other times he was carried in a litter, and most\ncarefully attended to and watched, in order that he might never touch\nthe earth with his feet.\n\nAs, however, the physicians, in order to supply the absence of other\nexercise, prescribed riding on horseback, he was instructed in that\nart as soon as he was ten years of age, and soon became proficient\nenough in it to be allowed to ride out daily, without any apprehension\nof danger to him being felt by his father. On these occasions he was\nalways attended by a numerous suite.\n\nHe rode almost every day in the forest and on the plain, and returned\nsafely home. In this manner many years glided away; and the warning\ngiven by the late countess almost ceased to be dwelt upon, and the\nenjoined precautions were observed rather from old habit than from any\nimmediate sense of their importance.\n\nOne day the youth, with his attendants, rode across the fields to a\nwood, where his father frequently took the diversion of hunting. The\npath led to a rivulet, the borders of which were overgrown with\nbushes. The riders crossed it; when suddenly a hare, startled by the\ntramp of the horses, sprang from the bush and fled through the wood.\nThe young count pursued, and had almost overtaken it, when the\nsaddle-girth of his horse broke; saddle and rider rolled together on\nthe ground, and at the same moment he vanished from the sight of his\nterrified attendants, leaving no trace behind.\n\nAll search or enquiry was vain; and they recognised in the misfortune\nthe power of the evil fairy, against whom the countess had uttered her\ndying warning. The old count was deeply afflicted; but as he could do\nnothing to effect the deliverance of his son, he resigned himself to\nfate, and lived patiently and solitary, in the hope that a more\nfavourable destiny might yet one day rescue the youth from the hands\nof his enemy.\n\nThe young count had scarcely touched the earth before he was seized by\nthe invisible fairy, and carried off by her. He seemed now transported\nto quite a new world, and without a hope of ever being released from\nit. A strangely-built castle, surrounded by a spacious lake, was the\nfairy's residence. A floating bridge, which rested only on clouds,\nafforded a passage across it. On the other side were only forests and\nmountains, which were constantly wrapped in a dense fog, and in which\nno human voice, nor even that of any other living creature was ever\nheard. All around him was awful, mysterious, and gloomy; and only on\nthe eastern side of the castle, where a little promontory stretched\nout into the lake, a narrow path wound through a valley in the rocks,\nbehind which a river glistened.\n\nAs soon as the fairy with her captive arrived on her territory, she\ncommanded him fiercely to execute all her behests with the extremest\nprecision, at the risk of being punished severely for disobedience and\ndelay.\n\nShe then gave him a glass hatchet, bidding him cross the bridge of\nclouds and go into the forest, where she expected him to cut down all\nthe timber before sun-set. At the same time she warned him, on pain of\nher severest displeasure, not to speak to the dark maiden whom in all\nprobability he would meet in the forest.\n\nThe young count listened respectfully to her orders, and betook\nhimself with his glass hatchet to the appointed place. The bridge of\nclouds seemed at each step he took to sink beneath him; but fear would\nnot admit of his delaying; and so he soon arrived, although much\nfatigued by his mode of passage, at the wood, where he immediately\nbegan his work.\n\nBut he had no sooner made his first stroke at a tree, than the glass\nhatchet flew into a thousand splinters. The youth was so distressed he\nknew not what to do, so much did he fear the chastisement that the\ncruel fairy would inflict on him. He wandered hither and thither, and\nat length, quite exhausted by anxiety and fatigue, he sank on the\nground and slept.\n\nAfter a time something roused him; when upon opening his eyes, he\nbeheld the black maiden standing before him. Remembering the\nprohibition he did not venture to address her. But she greeted him\nkindly, and inquired if he did not belong to the owner of the domain.\nThe young count made a sign in the affirmative. The maiden then\nrelated that she was in like manner bound to obey the fairy who had by\nmagic transformed her and forced her to wander in that ugly form,\nuntil some youth should take pity on her and conduct her over that\nriver beyond which the domain of the fairy and her power did not\nextend. On the further side of the river she was powerless to harm any\none who, by swimming through the waves, should reach the other shore.\n\nThese words inspired the young count with so much courage, that he\nrevealed to the black maiden the whole of his destiny, and asked her\ncounsel how he might escape punishment, since the wood was not cut\ndown, and the hatchet was broken.\n\n\"I know,\" resumed the maiden, \"that the fairy, in whose power we both\nare, is my own mother; but thou must not betray that I have told thee\nthis, for it would cost me my life. If thou wilt promise to deliver\nme, I will assist thee, and will perform for thee all that my mother\ncommands thee to do.\"\n\nThe youth promised joyfully; she again warned him several times not to\nsay a word to the fairy that should betray her, and then gave him a\nbeverage, which he had no sooner drunk than he fell into a soft\nslumber.\n\nHow great was his astonishment on waking to find the glass hatchet\nunbroken at his feet, all the trees of the forest cut down and lying\nround him!\n\nHe instantly hastened back across the cloud bridge, and informed the\nfairy that her behest was obeyed. She heard with much surprise that\nthe forest was cut down, and that the glass hatchet was still\nuninjured, and being unable to believe that he had performed all that\nunassisted, she closely questioned him whether he had seen and spoken\nto the black maiden. But the count strongly denied that he had, and\naffirmed that he had not once looked up from his work. When she found\nthat she could learn nothing further from him, she gave him some bread\nand water, and showed him a little dark closet where she bade him pass\nthe night.\n\nAlmost before day-break the fairy again wakened him, assigned him for\nthat day's task to cleave, with the same glass hatchet, all the wood\nhe had felled into billets, and then to arrange them in heaps; at the\nsame time she again warned him, with redoubled threats, not to go near\nthe black maiden, or dare converse with her.\n\nAlthough his present work was in no respect easier than that of the\npreceding day, the youth set off in much better spirits, for he hoped\nfor the assistance of the black maiden. He crossed the bridge quicker\nand more lightly than the day before, and had scarcely passed it when\nhe beheld her. She received him with a friendly salutation; and when\nshe heard what the fairy had now required of him, she said, smiling,\n\"Do not be uneasy,\" and handed to him a similar beverage to that of\nyesterday. The count again fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke his\nwork was done; for all the trees of the forest were cut up into blocks\nand arranged in heaps.\n\nHe returned home quickly. When the fairy heard that he had performed\nthis task also, she was still more surprised than before. She again\ninquired if he had seen or spoken to the black maiden; but the count\nhad the prudence to preserve his secret, and she was again obliged to\ncontent herself with his denial.\n\nOn the third day she set him a new task, and this was the most\ndifficult of all. She commanded him to build, on the further side of\nthe lake, a magnificent castle, which should consist of nothing but\ngold, silver, and precious stones; and if he did not build the said\ncastle in less than one hour's time, he might expect the most dreadful\nfate.\n\nThe count listened to her commands without alarm, such was the\nconfidence he reposed in the black maiden. Cheerily he hastened across\nthe bridge, and immediately recognised the spot where the palace was\nto be erected. Pickaxes, hammers, spades, and all manner of tools\nrequisite for building, lay scattered around; but neither gold, nor\nsilver, nor jewels could he spy. He had, however, scarcely begun to\nfeel uneasy at this circumstance, when the black maiden beckoned to\nhim from a rock at some distance, behind which she had concealed\nherself from her mother's searching looks. The youth hastened to her\nwell pleased, and besought her to assist him in the execution of her\nmother's orders.\n\nThis time, however, the fairy had watched the count from a window of\nher castle, and descried him and her daughter just as they were about\nto conceal themselves behind the rock. She set up such a frightful\nscream, that the mountains and the lake re-echoed with it, and the\nterrified pair scarcely dared to look out from their hiding-place,\nwhilst the infuriated fairy, with violent gestures and hasty strides,\nher hair and garments streaming in the wind, hastened across the\nbridge of clouds. The youth gave himself up for lost; each step of the\nfairy seemed to bring him nearer to destruction. The maiden, however,\ntook courage, and bade him follow her as quickly as possible. Before\nthey hastened from the spot she broke a stone from the rock, uttered a\nspell over it, and threw it towards the place from which her mother\nwas advancing. At once a glittering palace arose before the eyes of\nthe fairy, which dazzled her with its lustre, and delayed her by the\nnumerous windings of its avenue, through which she was obliged to\nthread her way.\n\nMeanwhile the black maiden hurried the count along, in order to reach\nthe river, the opposite bank of which alone could protect her for ever\nfrom the persecutions of the raging fairy. But before they had got\nhalf way, she was again so near them that her imprecations, and even\nthe rustling of her garments reached their ears.\n\nThe terror of the youth was extreme; he dared not to look behind him,\nand had scarcely power left to advance. At every breath he fancied\nthat he felt the hand of the terrible fairy on his neck. Then the\nmaiden stopped, again uttered a spell, and was at once transformed\ninto a pond, whilst the count swam upon its waters under the figure of\na drake.\n\nThe fairy, incensed to the utmost at this new transformation, called\ndown thunder and hail on the two fugitives; but the water refused to\nbe disturbed, and whilst it remained calm no thunder-cloud would\napproach it. She now employed her power to cause the pond to vanish\nfrom the spot: she pronounced a magic spell, and called up a hill of\nsand at her feet, which she intended should choke up the pond. But the\nsand-hill drove the water still further on, and seemed rather to\naugment than diminish it. When the fairy found this would not answer,\nand that her art failed so entirely, she had recourse to cunning. She\nthrew a heap of golden nuts into the pond, hoping thereby to entice\nthe drake, and catch him; but he snapped at the nuts with his bill,\npushed them all back to the margin, dived here and there, and made\ngame of the fairy in various ways.\n\nFinding herself again cheated, and unwilling to see the reflection of\nher face in the pond, glowing, as it was, with rage and mortification,\nshe turned back full of fury to devise some other stratagem by which\nto catch the fugitives.\n\nShe concealed herself behind the very same rock which had served them\nfor a place of refuge, and watched for the moment when they should\nboth resume their natural form in order to pursue their way.\n\nIt was not long before the maiden disenchanted herself, as well as the\ncount, and as they could nowhere perceive their persecutor, they both\nhastened in good spirits to the river.\n\nBut scarcely had they proceeded a hundred paces, when the fairy burst\nout again after them with redoubled speed, shaking at them the dagger\nwith which she meant to pierce them both. But she was doomed to see\nher intentions again frustrated and derided; for just as she thought\nshe had reached the flying pair, a marble chapel rose before her, in\nthe narrow portal of which stood a colossal monk, to prevent her\nentrance.\n\nFoaming with passion she struck at the monk's face with her dagger,\nbut behold, it fell into shivers at her feet. She was beside herself\nwith desperation, and raved at the chapel till the columns and dome\nresounded. Then she determined to annihilate the whole building and\nthe fugitives with it at once. She stamped thrice, and the earth began\nto quake. A hollow murmur like that of a rising tempest was heard from\nbelow, and the monk and chapel began to totter.\n\nAs soon as she perceived this, she retired to some distance behind the\nedifice, that she might not be buried under its ruins. But she was\nagain deceived in her expectation; for she had no sooner retired from\nthe steps, than the monk and chapel disappeared, and an awful forest\nsurrounded her with its black shade, whence issued a terrible sound of\nthe mingled bellowing, roaring, howling and baying of wild bulls,\nbears, and wolves.\n\nHer rage gave way to terror at this new apparition, for she dreaded\nevery moment to be destroyed by these creatures, who all seemed to\nset her power at defiance. She therefore deemed it most prudent to\nwork her way back through bush and briar towards the lighter side of\nthe forest, in order from thence again to try her might and cunning\nagainst the hated pair.\n\nMeantime, both had pursued their way to the river with their utmost\nspeed. As this river resisted all kind of enchantment, consequently it\nwas hostile to the black maiden whose hour of deliverance had not yet\nstruck, and it might have proved fatal to her; she therefore did not\nlet the moment for her complete disenchantment escape, but reminded\nthe youth of his promise. She gave him a bow and arrows and a dagger,\nand instructed him in the use he was to make of these weapons.\n\nShe then vanished from his sight, and at the moment of her\ndisappearance, a raging boar rushed upon him, menacing to rip him up.\nBut the youth took courage and shot an arrow at him with such good\naim, that it pierced the animal's skull. It fell to the ground, and\nfrom its jaws sprang a hare, which fled as on the wings of the wind\nalong the bank of the river. The youth again bent his bow, and\nstretched the hare on the earth, when a snow-white dove rose into the\nair, and circled round him with friendly cooings. As by the\ndirections he had received from the black maiden he was equally\nforbidden to spare the dove, he sent another arrow from his bow, and\nbrought it down. Approaching to examine it more closely, he found in\nits place an egg, which spontaneously rolled to his feet.\n\nThe final transformation now drew near. A powerful vulture sailed down\nupon him with wide stretched beak threatening him with destruction.\nBut the youth seized the egg, waited till the bird approached him, and\ncast it into its throat. The monster at once disappeared, and the\nloveliest maiden the count had ever beheld stood before his delighted\neyes.\n\nWhilst these events were occurring, the fairy had worked her way out\nof the forest, and now adopted her last means of reaching the\nfugitives in case they should not already have passed the river. As\nsoon as she emerged from the forest, she called up her dragon-drawn\ncar and mounted high in the air. She soon descried the lovers, with\ninterlaced arms, swimming easily as a couple of fish towards the\nopposite bank.\n\n[Illustration: THE GLASS HATCHET. P. 358.]\n\nSwift as lightning she bore down with her dragon-car, and regardless\nof all peril, she endeavoured to reach them, even though they were in\nthe river. But the hostile stream drew down the car into its\ndepths, and dashed her about with its waves until she hung upon the\nbushes a prey to its finny inhabitants. Thus the lovers were finally\nrescued. They hastened to the paternal castle, where the count\nreceived them with transport. The following day their nuptials were\ncelebrated with great magnificence, and all the inhabitants far and\nnear rejoiced at the happy event.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN DUCK.\n\n[Bohemian.]\n\n\nDeep in the bosom of a wood once stood a little cottage, inhabited by\na poor widow. Her name was Jutta, and she had formerly lived in easy\ncircumstances, but through various misfortunes, without any fault of\nher own, she had fallen into poverty.\n\nBy the labour of her hands she with difficulty contrived to support\nherself, her daughter Adelheid, and the two children of her departed\nbrother, Henry and Emma. The children, who were good and pious,\nespecially Henry and Emma, did their utmost to assist her by their\ndiligence: the girls spun, and the boy helped the old woman to\ncultivate the garden, and tended the sheep, whose milk formed the\nprincipal part of their daily sustenance.\n\nOne evening they were all sitting together in the little cottage,\nwhilst a tremendous storm raged without. The rain poured down in\ntorrents, and flash after flash of lightning followed the thunder,\nwhich broke over the mountains, and seemed as if it would never cease.\n\nThe old woman had just sung to the children the song of the\nwater-sprite who danced with a young maiden till he drew her down into\nthe abyss, when suddenly they heard a tap at the door. The startled\nchildren huddled close together, but the mother took courage and\nopened it, when a soft female voice begged her to give shelter to a\ntraveller who had been overtaken in the forest by the storm.\n\nThe stranger was an elderly woman of a noble and dignified appearance,\nbut so kind and friendly in her manner that all were anxious to show\nher some attention. Whilst the widow was regretting that her poverty\ndid not allow her to receive such a guest in a more worthy manner,\nHenry lighted the fire, and Emma was anxious to kill her favourite\npigeons for her supper, but the lady would not permit this, and took\nonly a little milk.\n\nThe following morning, when Jutta and the children awoke, they were\nnot a little astonished at beholding, instead of the aged woman who\nhad entered the hut the night before, a youthful one of superhuman\nbeauty, arrayed in a magnificent dress which sparkled with diamonds.\n\n\"Know,\" said the stranger to the widow, \"that you yesterday received\ninto your dwelling no mortal, but a fairy; I always try those mortals\nwhom I desire to benefit, and you have stood the trial. To little Emma\nI am especially beholden, because she would yesterday have killed for\nmy supper what she most values, her pigeons. For this she shall be\ngifted. Whenever she weeps, either for joy or sorrow, pearls instead\nof tears shall drop from her eyes, and the hairs she combs from her\nhead shall turn into threads of pure gold. But beware that no ray of\nsun ever shine upon her uncovered countenance, for then a great\nmisfortune will befall her; from henceforth never let her go into the\nopen air without being covered with a veil.\"\n\nThe beneficent fairy having thus spoken, vanished; but Jutta, who was\ndesirous to prove the truth of her words, hastily spread a large cloth\non the ground, placed the little maiden on it, and commenced combing\nher long fair locks. Immediately the hairs that fell on the cloth\nbecame threads of gold, and when the old woman told the child how rich\nand grand she might now become, and what pretty toys she might buy,\nshe wept for joy, and the most beautiful pearls rolled from her eyes\nupon the linen cloth.\n\nThe next day the old woman betook herself to the nearest town, sold\nthe pearls and the threads of gold, and bought a fine veil, without\nwhich Emma was never suffered to leave the house. She often combed the\nchild's hair several times in the day, telling her all the time the\nprettiest tales, which drew from her eyes abundance of tears, either\nof pleasure or compassion, so that in a short time Jutta possessed a\nconsiderable treasure in gold and pearls.\n\nAt first she sold her treasures to Jews, and received but little for\nthem, as they believed the goods were stolen. By and by, however, when\nshe had become possessed of a small landed estate in the district, she\ntraded with jewellers and goldsmiths, who paid her according to the\nvalue of her goods, and so at length she collected a very considerable\ntreasure.\n\nMeanwhile Adelheid and Emma grew into young women. But the increasing\nwealth of the old woman, whom her neighbours had formerly known to be\nin such straitened circumstances, and who knew not how she had\nacquired her riches, gave occasion for envious tongues to utter many\nan evil speech against her. Still further were their curiosity and\nill-nature excited by the singular circumstance that Emma always went\nabout veiled, and under these circumstances, what could be more\nnatural than that the greater part of them were ready to swear without\nhesitation that old Jutta was a vile witch, and ought to be burned?\n\nNow although these evil speeches were unable to do the widow any real\ninjury, still she was not a little vexed and annoyed when they reached\nher ears, or when she perceived that she was looked upon with\nsuspicious and wondering looks; and finding it impossible by obliging\nand friendly conduct, or even by conferring benefits, to win the\nhearts of her neighbours, or to stop their calumnies, she preferred to\nabandon altogether the place where she had been known in indifferent\ncircumstances, and to go far away, where her riches would not excite\nsuspicions against her. She therefore resolved to sell her estate, and\nto take up her residence in the city of Prague. In order, however, not\nto be too precipitate, she first sent thither her nephew, Henry, that\nshe might become a little acquainted with their future residence,\nbefore removing from the former one.\n\nSo Henry went to the Bohemian capital, and, as he was a personable\nyouth, had good manners, and was richly provided with money by his\naunt, so that he could live in as good style as any of the nobles of\nthe land, he soon became on friendly terms with numerous counts and\nother illustrious persons. Judging by his personal appearance and\nexpenditure they took him for one of their own station; nay, one of\nthem, a young count, became his confidential friend, and, as wine\noften unlocks the secrets of the heart, it happened one day that Henry\nlet out the whole secret concerning his sister, quite forgetting at\nthe moment his aunt's strict prohibition ever to reveal it.\n\nWhen the count heard so much of the extraordinary understanding, good\nheart, sweetness, and beauty of the young maiden who was possessed of\nsuch wonderful gifts, his heart at once glowed with love for her, and\nhe said with great warmth:--\n\n\"I myself possess a domain of such great value, that I am in no need\nof the riches of another; but I have ever desired to have a wife\ndistinguished above all others for her beauty, virtue, and other rare\ngifts; therefore I offer my hand to your sister, and I swear to you\nthat I will do all in my power that I may call so wonderful a maiden\nmy own.\"\n\nHenry perceived his indiscretion now that it was too late, and he\ncould not withstand the earnest entreaties of his friend to obtain for\nhim the hand of his sister. In order, indeed, to lose no time, the\ncount immediately caused to be constructed an entirely closed and\nwell-covered carriage in which to transport Emma to him, without her\nbeing exposed to a breath of air.\n\nSurprising as was his proposal, it was so honourable a one, that,\nafter a few minutes' reflection, Emma could not think of refusing such\nan illustrious and amiable young man as Henry described the count to\nbe. The brother, therefore, hastened back with the news of her\nconsent, and the count immediately went to his residence, in order to\nmake preparations for the reception of his bride, and for a\nmagnificent bridal entertainment.\n\nDuring the interval, Emma, accompanied by her mother and Adelheid,\nbegan her journey, and when they had proceeded about half-way, they\ncame to a great forest. The heat was oppressive, and Emma happened to\ndraw aside her veil, just as Jutta, in order to look after the\nattendants whom the count had sent to escort his bride on the journey,\nthoughtlessly opened the door of the carriage. No sooner did a sunbeam\nshine on the maiden, than she was suddenly transformed into a golden\nduck, flew out of the carriage, and vanished from the sight of her\nterrified aunt.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nAs soon as the old woman had recovered from her first alarm, she was\ngreatly troubled how to escape the wrath of the count. They had still\nto traverse a considerable portion of the forest. So she sent the\nservants who had not perceived the occurrence, under some pretext, to\na village at some distance, and during their absence she covered her\nown daughter with Emma's veil. On their return they found the old\nwoman in the greatest distress; she wrung her hands, and related with\nwell simulated despair, that having gone with her daughter only a few\nsteps from the carriage, armed men had surprised them, and carried off\nher Adelheid.\n\nThe count's servants, deceived by the despairing words and gestures of\nthe old woman, searched the forest, in hopes of tracing the robbers,\nbut as was to be expected, without success. Meanwhile Jutta instructed\nher daughter in the part she was to play, in order that she in Emma's\nplace might become the count's wife. And as she feared she might not\nbe able to conceal the cheat from Henry, she desired the servants not\nto go through Prague, but to take the direct road to the count's\ncastle.\n\nWhen they arrived, Jutta descended alone from the carriage, carefully\nclosed it again, and besought the count, that until her niece had\nentirely recovered from the fatigue of the journey, he would permit\nthem both to occupy a chamber from which all daylight could be\nexcluded, and she forbade at first any visit from the bridegroom.\nImpatient as the latter was to see his bride, he yet submitted to this\ndelay which the old woman so earnestly requested of him. The most\nsplendid apartments were now thrown open to the mother and daughter,\nand the most inner chamber of the suite was so hung with curtains that\nno daylight could penetrate. In this room dwelt Jutta with her\ndaughter, and even Henry, who came to visit his supposed sister, was,\nunder pretext of her being indisposed, not allowed to enter. As his\naunt, however, provided him with plenty of money, and the merry life\nin Prague pleased him better than the retirement of the country, he\nsoon returned thither.\n\nThe count, whom Jutta put off from day to day under various pretexts\nfrom visiting his bride, at length lost patience, and would not be\nlonger withheld by the gold and pearls which Jutta continually brought\nhim; he forced his way into the chamber, and clasped Adelheid in his\narms.\n\nAlthough the count could not but remark that Adelheid in no degree\ncorresponded to the description her brother had given of her, he was\nstill prepared to fulfil his word, and was therefore married, though\nwith the greatest privacy, to the false bride. Very shortly, he became\naware that neither her heart nor mind possessed the excellence that\nhad been represented to him; and in consequence of this discovery,\nwhen he next met his brother-in-law, he overwhelmed him with\nreproaches. The contemptuous expressions which the count used\nrespecting his bride, whom Henry had only known as the loveliest and\nmost amiable maiden in all Bohemia, so incensed Henry, that he forgot\nall the consideration due to the rich and powerful man, and the count,\nwho, besides this, believed himself to have been deceived by Henry,\ncaused him to be seized, brought to his castle, and thrown into a deep\ndungeon.\n\nThe wife of the count, who was also most severely punished for the\ncrime in which she had taken part, overwhelmed her mother with the\nbitterest reproaches. More than once she was on the point of\nconfessing the fraud to her husband, but he drove her from him, and\nwould not listen to her.\n\nWhilst these women were thus suffering for their crime, Henry sat in\nhis dungeon, hopeless of ever recovering his freedom, or of being able\nto take vengeance on him who had so unjustly treated him; when one\nday, as he lay in despair, a sweet voice reached him, which sang a\nsong he had often listened to when his sister Emma used to sing it in\nformer days.\n\nThe youth, who distinctly recognised his sister's voice, uttered her\nname, and on looking upwards, he saw, by the light of the moon, a duck\nfluttering before him, whose feathers were of gold, and whose neck was\nadorned by a costly row of pearls.\n\nThen said the golden duck to the astonished youth, \"I am thy sister\nEmma, who, transformed into a golden duck, fly about without a home.\"\n\nShe then related to her brother what had occurred during the journey,\nand the deception her aunt had been guilty of. As she thus recounted\nher unhappy fate, which constrained her to fly about unprotected, her\nlife exposed to the snares of the hunters, whilst her beloved brother\nwas languishing in prison, she wept abundantly; and the tears rolled\nabout the tower as costly pearls, and golden feathers fell from her,\nand glittered on the dark ground.\n\nThe brother and sister pitied and tried to console each other. Henry\nespecially lamented his talkativeness, which had brought all this\nmisfortune upon them. At day-break the duck flew away, after promising\nto visit her brother every night.\n\nAfter this intercourse had lasted some time, one night she did not\nmake her appearance, which threw poor Henry into the greatest anxiety,\nfor he feared she might, for the sake of her precious feathers, have\nbeen caught, or perhaps even killed. Then, for the first time, the\ndoor of his prison was opened; the count's superintendent entered,\nannounced that he was free, and conducted him to the very same\napartments which he had occupied in happier days.\n\nBefore Henry could recover from his surprise, the count himself\nentered, tenderly embraced him, and besought his forgiveness for all\nthe suffering that had been inflicted on him.\n\nThe warder of the tower, it appeared, had remarked the golden duck,\nand heard with astonishment how she spoke with a human voice, and\nconversed with the prisoner; all of which he had disclosed to the\ncount. The count thus discovered, by listening in secret to their\nconversation, the fraud which had imposed the false bride upon him\ninstead of the true and beautiful one. Vain, however, were his efforts\nthe following night to get the golden duck into his power; she escaped\nfrom all the attendants who endeavoured to catch her; and snares and\nnets and all the artifices they practised, and all the pains they\ntook, were of no avail.\n\nThen the count entreated the intercession of the brother. Since his\nhard fate had robbed him of such an amiable wife, he besought her at\nleast in her present form to inhabit his castle. It was possible that\nhis grief, his love, might move the offended fairy to restore her to\nher former shape.\n\nHenry freely forgave the count, and promised to make his request known\nto his sister the next time she should visit him. Before, however, the\nduck's next visit, Adelheid expired, for the reproaches of her\nhusband, and her own grief and remorse, had brought her to the grave.\nAs soon as she was dead, the count banished Jutta to a remote place\nand forbade her ever to appear in his presence again. With Henry he\nlived on his former friendly terms.\n\nBoth lived in hopes of the reappearance of the golden duck. Long did\nthey wait in vain, and they began to fear that the endeavours of the\ncount to catch her had scared her from the place for ever, when one\nafternoon, as Henry was sitting alone in the dining-hall, she flew in\nat the window, and began gathering up the scattered crumbs on the\ntable. How great was the brother's joy! He addressed her by the\ntenderest names, stroked her golden feathers, and inquired why she had\nremained so long absent.\n\nThen Emma complained of the efforts to catch her, which the count's\nservants had made, and threatened never to return should such he\nrepeated. The entreaty which Henry made in the count's name that she\nwould dwell in the castle she decidedly rejected; and as she heard a\nnoise in the adjoining chamber, she hastily flew away.\n\nFor a long time the youth hesitated whether he should tell the count\nof his sister's visit; as, however, he knew the strong affection of\nhis friend, and feared he might not refrain from fresh attempts\nagainst the liberty of the golden duck, he resolved to say nothing\nabout it. But the count had seen the duck fly past, and when Henry\nsaid nothing about it, he conceived mistrust of him, and laid a new\nplan to get possession of her.\n\nThe following morning, when Emma flew into her brother's chamber, the\nwindow was suddenly closed, the count having fastened a cord to it\nfrom above, and in a few moments he entered the room thinking he had\nnow made sure of the much-desired prize. But the duck fluttered about,\nand made her exit through the keyhole.\n\nHenry was much distressed, for he feared that he should now see his\nbeloved sister no more, and heaped reproaches on the astonished count,\nwho returned them to him so liberally, that they separated in mutual\ndisgust, and Henry resolved to quit the city and wander through the\nwide world.\n\nOne day after he had long travelled he found himself in a thick fir\nwood, when suddenly a female form of great dignity stood before him,\nin whom Henry at once recognised the fairy who had so richly gifted\nhis sister.\n\n\"Wherefore,\" said she, with a reproachful look, \"didst thou leave the\ncastle at the time when thy sister's ill fortune, of which thou wert\nthe cause, was beginning to turn to good? Hasten back immediately,\nconfirm the count in the remorse for his profligate life which is now\nawakening in him, and the golden duck will then be released from her\nenchantment. And not only shall she retain the wonderful gifts she has\nhitherto possessed, but thenceforth she shall no longer have to fear\nair and sun-light.\"\n\nThe fairy disappeared, and Henry returned full of hope to the castle.\nOn his way thither he met several of the count's servants, who told\nhim their lord had sent them out with commands not to return until\nthey found him. For they added, since Henry's departure had left the\ncount so lonely and forsaken, he had fallen sick through sorrow and\nlonging after his friend.\n\nWhen Henry entered the count's chamber, he found him lying on his bed\nreally ill and unhappy. He comforted him with the fairy's promise, and\nthe count solemnly vowed that he would never more return to his wild\nand sinful mode of life.\n\nScarcely had he uttered this solemn vow, when the window flew open of\nitself, the golden duck flew into the chamber, and, perching on the\nbed-post, said, \"The period of my trials is completed. I may now\nreturn to my former figure and remain with you for ever.\"\n\nThen the golden feathers dropped from her body; the long beak rounded\ninto mouth and chin, above which gazed a pair of lovely eyes; before\nthey could look round, a wondrously beautiful maiden stood before\nthem, magnificently habited, and her joy at being re-united to her\nbrother and her bridegroom drew the purest pearls from her eyes.\n\nAt the sight of her the count felt himself at once cured of his\nillness, and, a few days after, the nuptial feast was celebrated with\nall the pomp and magnificence befitting the high station and great\nwealth of the count.\n\n\n\n\nGOLDY.\n\n[From Justinus Kerner.]\n\n\nMany a long year ago there lived in a great forest a poor herdsman,\nwho had built himself a log cabin in the midst of it, where he dwelt\nwith his wife and his six children, all of whom were boys. There was a\ndraw-well by the house, and a little garden, and when their father was\nlooking after the cattle the children carried out to him a cool\ndraught from the well, or a dish of vegetables from the garden.\n\nThe youngest of the boys was called by his parents Goldy, for his\nlocks were like gold, and although the youngest he was stronger and\ntaller than all his brothers. When the children went out into the\nfields, Goldy always went first with a branch of a tree in his hand,\nand no otherwise would the other children go, for each feared lest\nsome adventure should befall him; but when Goldy led them they\nfollowed cheerfully, one behind the other, through even the darkest\nthicket, although the moon might have already risen over the\nmountains.\n\nOne evening, on their return from their father, the children had\namused themselves by playing in the wood, and Goldy especially had so\nheated himself in their games, that he was as rosy as the sky at\nsun-set.\n\n\"Let us return,\" said the eldest, \"it seems growing dark.\"\n\n\"See,\" said the second, \"there is the moon!\"\n\nAt that moment a light appeared through the dark fir-trees, and a\nfemale form, shining like the moon, seated herself on the mossy stone,\nand span, with a crystal distaff, a fine thread, nodding her head\ntowards Goldy, singing:--\n\n    \"The snow-white finch, the gold rose, for thee;\n    The king's crown lies in the lap of the sea!\"\n\nShe was about to continue her song when the thread broke, and she was\ninstantly extinguished like the flame of a candle. It being now quite\ndark, terror seized the children, and they ran about crying piteously,\none here, and another there, over rock and pit, till they lost each\nother.\n\nMany a day and night did Goldy wander in the thick forest, but could\nfind neither his brothers nor his father's hut, nor yet the trace of a\nhuman foot, for the forest had become more dense; one hill seemed to\nrise above another, and pit after pit intercepted his path.\n\nThe blackberries, that grew in profusion, satisfied his hunger and\nslaked his thirst, otherwise he must have perished miserably. At last,\non the third day--some say it was not until the sixth or seventh--the\nforest became less and less dense, and at last he got out of it, and\nfound himself in a lovely green meadow.\n\nThen his heart grew light, and he inhaled the pure fresh air.\n\nNets were spread over the meadow, for a bird-catcher lived there, who\ncaught the birds which flew out of the wood, and carried them into the\ncity for sale.\n\n\"That is just such a boy as I want,\" thought the bird-catcher, when he\nsaw Goldy, who stood in the meadow close to the net, gazing with\nlonging eyes into the blue sky; and then in jest he drew his net, and\nimprisoned within it the astonished boy, who could not comprehend what\nhad befallen him. \"That's the way we catch the birds that come out of\nthe wood,\" said the bird-catcher, laughing heartily. \"Your red\nfeathers please me right well. So I have caught you, have I, my little\nfox? You had better stay with me, and I will teach you how to catch\nbirds!\"\n\nGoldy was well content; he thought he should lead a merry life amongst\nthe birds, especially as he abandoned all hope of again finding his\nfather's hut.\n\n\"Let us see how much you have learnt,\" said the bird-catcher to him,\nsome days after. Goldy drew the net, and caught a snow-white\nchaffinch.\n\n\"Confound you and this white chaffinch!\" screamed the bird-catcher;\n\"you are in league with the evil one!\" and he drove him roughly from\nthe meadow, at the same time treading under his feet, the white\nchaffinch which Goldy had handed over to him.\n\nGoldy could not conceive what the bird-catcher meant; he returned\nsadly, but yet not despairingly, to the forest, with the intention of\nrenewing his endeavours to find his father's hut. Day and night he\nwandered about, climbing over fragments of rock and old fallen trees,\nand often stumbled and fell over the old black roots which protruded\nin all directions from out of the ground.\n\nOn the third day, however, the forest once more became somewhat\nclearer, and he issued from it into a beautiful bright garden, full of\nthe most delightful flowers, and as he had never before seen such he\nstood gazing full of admiration. The gardener no sooner perceived\nhim--for Goldy stood beneath the sunflowers, and his locks glistened\nin the sunshine just like one of them--than he exclaimed: \"Ha! he is\njust such a boy as I want!\" and the garden-gate closed directly. Goldy\nwas very well satisfied, for he thought he should lead a gay life\namongst the flowers, and he had again lost the hope of getting back to\nhis father's cottage.\n\n\"Off with you to the forest!\" said the gardener to him one morning,\n\"and fetch me the stem of a wild rose, that I may engraft cultivated\nroses on it.\"\n\nGoldy went and returned with a rose-bush bearing the most beautiful\ngolden-coloured roses imaginable, which looked exactly as if they were\nthe work of the most skilful of goldsmiths, and prepared to adorn a\nmonarch's table.\n\n\"Confound you, with these golden roses!\" screamed the gardener; \"you\nare in league with the evil one!\" and he drove Goldy roughly out of\nthe garden, as with plenty of abuse he trampled the golden roses on\nthe ground.\n\nGoldy knew not what the gardener could mean; but he went calmly back\ninto the forest, and again set himself to seek after his father's\ncabin.\n\nHe walked on day and night, from tree to tree, from rock to rock. On\nthe third day, the forest again became clearer and clearer, and he\ncame to the shore of the blue sea. It lay before him without a\nboundary; the sun mirrored itself in the crystal surface, which\nglistened like liquid gold, and gay vessels with far-floating\nstreamers floated on the waves. Some fishermen sat in a pretty bark on\nthe shore, into which Goldy entered, and gazed with wonder out into\nthe bright distance.\n\n\"We stand in need of just such a boy,\" said the fisherman, and off\nthey pushed into the sea. Goldy was well pleased to go with them, for\nhe thought it must be a golden life there amongst the bright waves,\nand he had quite lost all hope of again finding his father's hut.\n\nThe fishermen cast their nets, but took nothing.\n\n\"Let us see if you will have better luck,\" said an old fisherman with\nsilver hair, addressing Goldy. With unskilful hands he let down the\nnet into the deep, drew it up, and lo! he brought up in it--a crown of\npure gold.\n\n\"Triumph!\" cried the ancient fisherman, at the same time throwing\nhimself at Goldy's feet. \"I hail thee as our king! A hundred years\nago, the last of our kings, having no heir, when he was about to die,\ncast his crown into the sea, and until the fortunate being destined by\nfate, should again draw up the crown from the deep, the throne,\nwithout an occupant, was to remain wrapt in gloom.\"\n\n\"Hail to our king!\" cried all the fishermen, and they placed the crown\non the boy's head. The tidings of Goldy and of the regained crown,\nresounded from vessel to vessel, and across the sea far into the land.\nThe golden surface was soon crowded with gay barks and ships, adorned\nwith festoons of flowers and branches; they all saluted with loud\nacclamations of joy the vessel in which was the Boy-king. He stood\nwith the bright crown upon his head, at the prow of the vessel, and\ngazed calmly on the sun as it sank into the sea, whilst his golden\nlocks waved in the refreshing evening breeze.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SERPENT PRINCE.\n\n[Italian.]\n\n\nThere lived once a peasant's wife who would have given all she\npossessed to have a child, but yet she never had one.\n\nOne day her husband brought home a bundle of twigs from the wood, out\nof which crept a pretty little young serpent. When Sabatella, that was\nthe peasant woman's name, saw the little serpent, she sighed deeply\nand said: \"Even serpents have their offspring; I alone am so\nunfortunate as to remain childless!\"\n\n\"Since you are childless,\" replied the little serpent, \"take me in\nlieu of a child; you shall have no cause to repent, and I will love\nyou more than a son.\"\n\nWhen Sabatella heard the serpent speak, she was at first ready to go\nout of her wits from fright; but at length taking courage said: \"If it\nbe only for your kind words, I will love you as well as if you were my\nown child.\"\n\nSo saying, she showed the serpent a cupboard in the house for his bed,\nand she gave him a share, daily, of all she had to eat, and so the\nserpent grew; and when he was quite grown up, he said to the peasant,\nCola Mattheo by name, whom he considered in the light of a father:\n\"Dear Papa, I wish to marry.\"\n\n\"I am willing,\" said Mattheo; \"we will look about for a serpent like\nyourself, and conclude the alliance at once.\"\n\n\"Why so,\" replied the serpent; \"we shall then only become connected\nwith vipers, and similar vermin. I greatly prefer to marry the king's\ndaughter; so pray go forthwith, solicit the king for her, and say that\na serpent wishes to have her for his wife.\"\n\nCola Mattheo, who was a simple-minded man, went without further delay\nto the king, and said: \"The persons of messengers are always held\nsacred. Know, therefore, that a serpent desires to have your daughter\nfor his wife; and I am come hither in my capacity of gardener to see\nwhether I can graft a dove upon a serpent.\"\n\nThe king, perceiving that he was somewhat of a booby, in order to get\nrid of him, said: \"Go home, and tell this serpent that if he can turn\nall the fruit in this garden into gold, I will give him my daughter in\nmarriage,\" and laughing heartily, he dismissed the peasant.\n\nWhen Cola Mattheo reported the king's answer, the serpent replied: \"Go\nearly in the morning and collect all the fruit kernels you can find\nthroughout the city, and sow them in the royal garden; then you shall\nbehold a wonder.\"\n\nCola Mattheo, who was a great simpleton, said nothing, but as soon as\nthe sun with his golden besom had swept away the shades of night, he\ntook his basket under his arm, went from street to street, carefully\npicking up every seed and kernel of peach, pomegranate, apricot,\ncherry, and all other fruits he could find. Then he sowed them in the\nroyal garden as the serpent had desired him,--which he had no sooner\ndone than he perceived the stems of the trees, together with their\nleaves, flowers, and fruit, all turn into shining gold; and the king,\nwhen he saw it, went almost out of his senses, and could not tell what\nto make of the affair.\n\nBut when Cola Mattheo was sent by the serpent to request the king to\nperform his promise, the king replied: \"Not so fast! For if the\nserpent really desires to have my daughter in marriage, he must do\nsomething more; and, in fact, I should like him to change the walls\nand the paths in my garden into precious stones.\"\n\nOn this new demand being reported to the serpent, he said: \"Go early\nin the morning and collect all the potsherds you can find on the\nground; strew them in the paths and on the walls of the garden; then\nwe shall soon make the king perform his promise.\"\n\nAnd when the night had passed away, Cola Mattheo took a great basket\nand collected all the bits of broken pots, pans, jugs, cups and\nsaucers, and all similar rubbish; and when he had done with them as\nthe serpent desired him, the garden was suddenly covered with\nemeralds, rubies, chalcedonies, and carbuncles, so that its brilliancy\ndazzled all eyes, and astonished all hearts. The king was almost\npetrified at this spectacle, and knew not what had befallen him.\n\nWhen, however, the serpent caused him to be again reminded of his\npromise, he answered: \"All this is nothing yet. I must have this\npalace quite filled with gold.\"\n\nWhen Cola brought this further put-off from the king, the serpent only\nsaid: \"Go and take a bunch of green herbs, and sweep the floors of the\npalace with it; then we shall see what will happen.\"\n\nMattheo directly made a great bunch of purslain, marjoram, rue, and\nchervil, with which he swept the floors of the palace, and immediately\nthe rooms were filled with gold in such quantities, that poverty must\nhave fled at least a hundred houses off.\n\nNow when the peasant went once more in the name of the serpent to\ndemand the princess, the king found himself constrained at last to\nkeep his promise. He called his daughter, and said: \"My beloved\nGrannonia, in order to make sport of an individual who requested you\nin marriage, I required things of him which seemed impossible. As,\nhowever, I now find myself obliged to fulfil my promise--I entreat\nyou, my dutiful daughter, not to bring my word to disgrace, but that\nyou will resign yourself to what Heaven wills, and I am constrained to\ndo.\"\n\n\"Do as you please, my lord and father,\" answered Grannonia, \"for I\nwill not depart one hair's breadth from what you desire.\"\n\nOn hearing this the king desired Cola Mattheo to conduct the serpent\nto his presence; who accordingly repaired to court in a carriage made\nentirely of gold, drawn by four elephants, also of gold. As they\npassed along, however, everybody fled before them, from terror at\nseeing such a dreadfully large serpent.\n\nWhen the serpent reached the palace, the courtiers shuddered and\ntrembled; even the very scullions ran away, and the king and queen\nshut themselves up in a remote chamber. Grannonia alone retained her\nself-possession; and although her royal parents called to her, saying:\n\"Fly, fly, Grannonia!\" she stirred not from the spot, and merely said:\n\"I will not flee from the husband whom you have given me.\"\n\n[Illustration]\n\nNo sooner had the serpent entered the apartment, than he encircled\nGrannonia with his tail, kissed her, then drew her into another\nchamber, locked the door, and stripping off his skin, was transformed\ninto a remarkably handsome young man, with golden locks and bright\neyes, who immediately embraced Grannonia with the utmost tenderness,\nand paid her the most flattering attentions.\n\nThe king, on seeing the serpent lock himself into another room with\nthe princess, said to his wife: \"Heaven have pity on our poor\ndaughter; for, unquestionably, all is over with her. This confounded\nserpent has, no doubt, by this time swallowed her up like the yolk of\nan egg.\" And they peeped through the keyhole to see what had happened.\n\nBut when they beheld the surprising elegance and beauty of the young\nman, and perceived the serpent skin, which had been thrown down on the\nground, they burst open the door, rushed in, and seizing the skin,\nthrew it into the fire, where it was instantly consumed. Whereupon the\nyoung man exclaimed: \"Ah! you wretched people, what have you done to\nme!\" and changing himself into a pigeon, he flew with such force\nagainst the window glass, that it broke, and he flew through, although\nvery much injured.\n\nGrannonia, who in one and the same moment beheld herself thus\nrejoicing and grieving, happy and unhappy, rich and poor, complained\nbitterly at this destruction of her happiness, this poisoning of her\njoy, this sad change of her fortune, all of which she laid to the\ncharge of her parents, although these assured her they had not\nintended to do wrong. She, however, ceased not to bemoan herself until\nnight drew in, and as soon as all the inmates of the palace were in\ntheir beds, she collected all her jewels, and went out at a back door,\ndetermined to search till she should again find her lost treasure.\nWhen she got beyond the city, guided by the moonshine, she met a fox,\nwho offered to be her companion; to which Grannonia replied: \"You are\nheartily welcome to me, neighbour, for I do not know the district very\nwell.\"\n\nThey went on together a considerable way, and reached a forest, where\nthe tops of the lofty trees met on high, and formed an agreeable\ncanopy over their heads. As they were weary with walking, and wished\nto repose, they went under the thick leafy roof, where a rivulet\nsported with the fresh grass, sprinkling it with its clear drops.\n\nThey lay down on the mossy carpet, paid the debt of sleep to nature\nfor the wear and tear of life, and did not wake until the sun with his\nwonted fire gave notice that men might resume their avocations; but\nafter they had risen, they stood awhile listening to the song of the\nlittle birds, as Grannonia took infinite pleasure in hearing their\ntwittering.\n\nWhen the fox perceived this, he said: \"If you understood, as I do,\nwhat they say, your pleasure would be infinitely greater.\"\n\nExcited by his words--for curiosity as well as love of gossip is a\nnatural gift in all women--Grannonia begged the fox to tell her what\nhe had learned from the birds.\n\nThe fox allowed her to urge him for a considerable time, in order to\nawaken still greater curiosity for what he was going to relate; but at\nlength he told her that the birds were conversing about a misfortune\nwhich had befallen the son of a king, who, having given offence to a\nwicked enchantress, had been doomed by her to remain for seven long\nyears in the form of a serpent. The period of his enchantment arriving\nat its close, he had fallen in love with the daughter of a king, and\nhaving, on finding himself in a room alone with her, stripped off his\nserpent's skin, her parents had broken in upon them and had burnt the\nskin; whereupon the prince, by flying through a window in the form of\na pigeon, had so severely injured himself, that the surgeons had no\nhope of his recovery.\n\nGrannonia, on hearing the history of her beloved prince, immediately\ninquired whose son the prince might be, and if there were any means by\nwhich his cure could be effected. The fox replied, that those birds\nhad said that he was the son of the King of Ballone-Grosso, and that\nno other means existed of stopping up the holes in his head, so that\nhis reason should not evaporate through them, but to anoint the wounds\nwith the blood of those very birds who had narrated the circumstance.\n\nOn hearing these words, Grannonia besought the fox to be so very kind\nas to catch the birds for her, that she might get their blood, and\npromised to share with him the profit she would make by curing the\nprince.\n\n\"Softly to work,\" said the fox; \"let us wait till night, and when the\nbirds are gone to roost, I will climb the tree and strangle them one\nafter the other.\"\n\nSo he passed the day talking alternately of the beauty of the king's\nson, of the father of the princess, and of the misfortune that had\nbefallen her, till at length night came on. When the fox saw all the\nlittle birds asleep on the branches, he climbed very quietly and\ncautiously up, and caught all the chaffinches, goldfinches, and\nfly-catchers that were on the tree, killed them, and put their blood\nin a little flask he carried with him, in order to refresh himself on\nthe road.\n\nGrannonia was expressing her delight at this success, when the fox\nsaid to her: \"My dear daughter, your joy is all in vain; for you have\ngained nothing at all, unless besides the blood of the birds you also\npossess mine, which I certainly do not mean to give you;\" and so\nsaying, off he ran.\n\nGrannonia, who saw that all her hopes were about to be annihilated, in\norder to obtain her desires, had recourse to cunning and flattery; so\nshe cried out to him: \"Dear daddy fox, you would be quite in the right\nto take care of your skin, if I were not so much indebted to you, and\nif there were no more foxes in the world. But since you know how much\nI have to thank you for, and that in these fields there is no lack of\ncreatures of your kind, you may rely without uneasiness on me, and\ntherefore do not act like the cow who kicks down the pail after she\nhas filled it with her milk. Stand still, do not leave me, but\naccompany me to this king's city, in order that he may hire me of you\nfor a servant.\"\n\nThe fox into whose head it never entered that a fox could ever be\nduped, found himself, however, deceived by a woman; for he had\nscarcely given his assent to accompanying Grannonia, and had not gone\nfifty paces with her, before she ungratefully knocked him down with\nthe stick she carried, killed him, and poured his blood into the\nflask.\n\nShe then ran off as fast as she could, until she reached\nBallone-Grosso. There she went straight to the royal palace, and\ncaused the king to be informed she was come to cure the prince's\nwounds.\n\nThe king had her immediately brought into his presence, greatly\nsurprised that a young maiden should promise to do that which the most\nskilful surgeons in his kingdom acknowledged themselves incompetent to\neffect. But as there would be no harm in trying, he gave her\npermission to make the experiment.\n\nGrannonia, however, said: \"If I fulfil your wishes, you must promise\nto give me your son for my husband.\" The king, who had lost all hope\nof seeing his son restored, replied: \"Only restore him to health and\nspirits, and you shall have him just as you make him. For it is not\ntoo much for me to give a husband to one who gives me a son.\"\n\nSo they went into the prince's room, and no sooner had Grannonia\nanointed him with the blood than he was entirely cured. Now when\nGrannonia saw him well and cheerful, she said to the king that he must\nkeep his word; whereupon the latter turned to his son, and spoke thus:\n\"My dear son, but lately I looked upon you as dead, and now, when I\nleast expected, I see you again living and well; and since I promised\nthis young maiden in case she restored you, that you should become her\nhusband, and as heaven has been so gracious to me, enable me, if you\nhave any regard for me, to fulfil my promise, for gratitude constrains\nme to recompense this service.\"\n\nThe prince replied: \"My lord and father, I wish my will were as free\nas my love for you is great. But since I have already given my word to\nanother woman, you would not wish that I should break my promise; and\nthis young maiden herself will not counsel me to act so faithlessly to\nher whom I love, therefore I must remain true to my choice.\"\n\nWhen Grannonia heard these words, and perceived that the prince\nretained the memory of her so vividly in his heart, she felt\nunspeakable joy, and said, whilst she blushed to crimson: \"But if I\npersuade the maiden whom you love, to renounce her claim on you,\nwould you then comply with my wish?\"\n\n\"Far be it from me,\" replied the prince, \"that I should ever efface\nthe fair image of my beloved from my breast. Whatever she may do, my\ndesire and my sentiments will remain unaltered; and were I to risk my\nlife for it, still I never would consent to the change.\"\n\nGrannonia, who could no longer conceal her feelings, now made herself\nknown; for the darkness of the chamber, where all the curtains were\ndrawn on account of the prince's illness, and her own disguise, had\nentirely prevented him from recognising her. The moment he perceived\nwho she was, he embraced her with indescribable joy, and then related\nto his father who she was, and what she had done for him.\n\nThen they sent for the parents of the princess, and the marriage\nfestival was celebrated with great rejoicings, so that it was again\nmade manifest that for the joys of love, sorrow is ever the best\nseasoning.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PROPHETIC DREAM.\n\n[Oral]\n\n\nIn a little obscure village, there once dwelt a poor shepherd, who,\nfor many years, supported himself and his family upon the very\ntrifling wages he earned by his labour. Besides his wife he had one\nonly child, a boy. He had accustomed this boy, from a very early age,\nto go out with him to the pastures, and had instructed him in the\nduties of a faithful shepherd, so that as the child grew up he could\nentrust the flocks to his care, whilst he himself could earn a few\npence by basket weaving. The young shepherd gaily led his flocks over\nthe fields and pastures, whistling or singing some cheerful song, or\ncracking his whip, that the time should not pass heavily with him. At\nnoon he lay down at his ease by his flock, ate his bread, and quenched\nhis thirst at the rivulet, and then slept for a short time before he\ndrove it further.\n\nOne day when he had lain down under a shady tree for his noontide\nrest, the young shepherd slept and had a remarkable dream. He was\njourneying on, far, far on--he heard a loud clinking sound, like to a\nheap of coins incessantly falling on the ground--a thundering noise\nlike the report of incessant firing--he saw a countless band of\nsoldiers, with glittering armour and weapons--all these sights and\nsounds encircled him and resounded about him. Then he seemed to wander\non, constantly ascending a mountain until he arrived at the summit,\nwhere a throne was erected on which he seated himself, leaving beside\nhim a vacant place, which a beautiful woman who suddenly appeared,\nimmediately occupied. The young shepherd still dreaming, rose up,\nsaying in a solemn and earnest voice: \"I am King of Spain;\" and at\nthat moment he awoke.\n\nPondering on his strange dream, the youth led on his flock, and in the\nevening, whilst he assisted his parents in their work as they sat\nbefore their cottage door cutting fodder, he related it to them, and\nconcluded by saying: \"Verily, if I dream that again, I will be off to\nSpain to see whether I shall be made king.\"\n\n\"Foolish boy,\" murmured the old father; \"thou be made king? Don't go\nand make yourself a laughingstock.\"\n\nHis mother laughed outright, rubbing her hands, and repeating in\namaze, \"King of Spain! king of Spain!\"\n\nThe next day at noon he lay down again under the same tree, and oh,\nwonder! the same dream took possession of his senses. He hardly had\npatience to watch his flock till evening; gladly would he have run\nhome, and at once set out on his journey to Spain. When at length his\nwork was done, he again related his romantic dream, saying: \"If I do\nbut dream this once again, I will go off directly, on the very same\nday.\"\n\nThe third day he lay down again under the same tree, and the same\ndream again visited him for the third time. The youth raised himself\nup in his sleep, exclaiming: \"I am King of Spain,\" and thereupon he\nawoke. He gathered up his hat, his whip, and his provision bag,\ncollected his sheep, and went back straight to the village. When he\ngot there the people began to chide him for returning so long before\nvespers; but the youth was so excited that he paid no heed to the\nreproofs either of the neighbours or of his parents, but packed up his\nSunday clothes, hung the bundle on a hazel stick, and throwing it\nover his shoulder started off without another word. He put his best\nfoot foremost, and ran so fast that one would have thought he hoped to\nreach Spain that same night.\n\nHe got no further however that day than to the borders of a forest,\nand not a village nor even a solitary cottage could he descry; so he\nresolved to take his night's rest in a thick bush. He had scarcely\nfallen asleep when he was disturbed by a great noise. A company of\nmen, conversing loudly, passed before the bush which he had made his\nbed. The youth crept softly forward, and followed the men at a little\ndistance, saying to himself: \"Perhaps thou mayest still find a\nlodging; where these men pass the night, thou surely mayest also\nsleep.\" They had not gone much further before they came to a house of\nconsiderable dimensions, which, however, was situated in the centre of\nthe dark forest. The men knocked, and were admitted, and the young\nshepherd unperceived slipped in with them into the house. Another door\nwas then thrown open, and they all entered a large and very\nimperfectly lighted room, on the floor of which lay numerous trusses\nof straw, beds and coverlids, which seemed ready prepared for the\nmen's night repose. The shepherd boy crept quickly under a heap of\nstraw, which was scattered near the door, and lay in his concealment\non the look-out for all he might see and hear. As he was a very sharp\nboy, with all his senses about him, it was not long before he made out\nthat he was amongst a band of robbers, whose captain was the owner of\nthe house. This latter, as soon as the newly arrived members of the\nband had stretched themselves on their couches, ascended an elevated\nseat, and said in a deep bass voice: \"My brave comrades, give me an\naccount of your day's work; where you have been, and what booty you\nhave got!\"\n\nA tall man, with a coal black beard, was the first to raise himself\nfrom his bed, and answered: \"My good captain, early this morning I\nrobbed a rich nobleman of his leathern breeches; these have two\npockets, and as often as they are turned inside out, and well shaken,\na heap of ducats falls on the ground.\"\n\n\"That sounds well, indeed!\" said the captain.\n\nThen uprose another, and said: \"I stole from a great general his\nthree-cornered hat; and this hat has the property, that so long as it\nis turned round upon the head shots are fired off incessantly from its\nthree corners.\"\n\n\"That's worth hearing,\" replied the captain; upon which a third man\nsat up, saying: \"I have deprived a knight of his sword, and when you\nstick the point of this sword into the earth, up starts at that very\nmoment a regiment of soldiers.\"\n\n\"A brave deed,\" exclaimed the captain; as the fourth robber then\nbegan: \"I drew off the boots of a traveller whilst he slept, and\nwhoever puts on those boots goes seven miles at every step.\"\n\n\"I commend a bold deed,\" said the captain, highly pleased; \"hang up\nyour prizes against the wall, and now eat and drink heartily, and\nsleep well.\" So saying, he left the sleeping apartment of the robbers,\nwho caroused lustily, and then slept soundly. When all was still and\nthe men in deep sleep, the young shepherd stole from his hiding-place,\nput on the leathern breeches, set the hat upon his head, girded on the\nsword, drew on the boots, and slipped softly out of the house. As soon\nas he was outside the door, the boots, to his infinite delight, at\nonce manifested their magic virtue, and it was not long before the\nyouth entered the great capital of Spain; it is called Madrid.\n\nHe asked the very first person he met to direct him to the most\nconsiderable hotel in the city; but received for answer, \"You little\nurchin, get off with you to some place where such as yourself lodge,\nand not to where great lords dine.\" A shining gold piece, however,\nsoon made his adviser a little more courteous, so that now he\nwillingly conducted the youth to the best hotel. Arrived there, he at\nonce engaged the best apartments, and said to his host: \"Well, how\ngoes it in your city? What is the latest news here?\"\n\nThe host made a long face, and replied: \"My little gentleman, you must\nbe indeed quite a stranger here. It seems that you have not yet heard\nthat his majesty, our king, is on the eve of departing for the wars\nwith an army of twenty thousand men. You must know we have enemies,\npowerful enemies. Oh, these are, indeed, dreadful times! Is your\nlittle worship disposed to join the army?\"\n\n\"No doubt!\" said the stripling, whose countenance beamed with joy.\n\nNo sooner had the host left him, than he quickly drew off his leather\nbreeches, shook out a heap of gold pieces, and purchased for himself\ncostly garments with arms and accoutrements, dressed himself in them,\nand then craved an audience of the king. As he entered the palace,\nand was being conducted by two chamberlains through a spacious and\nmagnificent hall, he was met by a young and wondrously beautiful lady,\nwho graciously saluted him, and whom he beheld surrounded by\ncourtiers, who bowed to her as he passed, whilst they whispered to\nhim, \"That is the princess--the king's daughter.\"\n\nThe young shepherd was not a little enraptured by the beauty of the\nprincess; and he was so inspired by his admiration and delight, that\nhe was able to speak boldly and confidently to the monarch.\n\n\"I come,\" said he, \"most humbly to offer to your majesty my services\nas a warrior. The army I bring to you shall gain the victory for you;\nand it shall win for your majesty whatever you may be pleased to\ndesire. But I ask of you one recompense, namely, that if I gain the\nvictory for you, I may receive your lovely daughter in marriage. Will\nyou grant me this, my most gracious king?\"\n\nThe king was astonished at the youth's bold address, and answered: \"Be\nit so--I agree to your request. If you return home a conqueror, you\nshall be my successor, and I will give you my daughter in marriage.\"\n\nThe _ci-devant_ shepherd now betook himself all alone to the open\nplain, and began to strike his sword here and there in the ground, and\nin a few minutes there stood on the plain many thousand well-armed\ncombatants, and the youth himself, richly armed and adorned, sat as\ntheir leader on a noble horse decked with gold embroidered housings\nand a lustrous bridle. The young general led his troops against the\nfoe, and a bloody battle was fought. Unceasing death-shots thundered\nfrom the commander's hat, and his sword called up one regiment after\nanother from the ground, so that in a few hours the enemy was\nvanquished and scattered, and the flag of victory waved above the\nconquered camp. The victor pursued and conquered from his foe a\nconsiderable portion of his country. Victorious, and crowned with\nglory, he returned to Spain, where his greatest good fortune still\nawaited him. The fair daughter of the king had been no less struck by\nthe handsome youth whom she met in the hall, than he had been by her;\nand the most gracious monarch knew how to value duly the great service\nrendered to him by the brave young man. He kept his word--gave him his\ndaughter in marriage, and made him heir to his throne.\n\n[Illustration: THE PROPHETIC DREAM. P. 406.]\n\nThe nuptials were celebrated with the greatest magnificence, and he\nwho had so shortly before been only a shepherd youth sat now in high\nestate. Soon after the wedding the old king resigned his crown and\nsceptre into the hands of his son-in-law, who, seated proudly on the\nthrone, with his beautiful consort beside him, received the oath of\nallegiance from his people.\n\nThen he thought of his so quickly-fulfilled dream and of his poor\nparents, and when he was alone with his wife, he thus addressed her:\n\"My beloved, know that I have parents living still, but they are very\npoor; my father is a village herdsman, dwelling far away in Germany,\nwhere I myself, as a boy, looked after cattle, until a marvellous\ndream revealed to me that I should become king of Spain. Fortune has\nbeen favourable to me; I am now a king, but I would willingly see my\nparents also prosperous, therefore with your kind consent I will\nreturn to my former home, and bring my parents hither.\"\n\nThe young queen was well content that her husband should do as he\nproposed, so he set off and travelled of course very fast, being\npossessed of the seven-mile boots. On his way the young monarch\nrestored the magical articles which he had taken from the robbers to\ntheir rightful owners, retaining only the boots; he carried back with\nhim his parents, who were almost beside themselves for joy, and to the\nformer owner of the boots he gave a dukedom in exchange for them.\nAfter that he lived happily and worthily all the rest of his days.\n\nTHE END.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"Fairy Tales From All Nations","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":79936}