{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37348/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37348","id":"gutenberg_37348","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37348","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Fairy tales"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n    THE OLD-FASHIONED FAIRY BOOK\n\n    BY\n\n    MRS. BURTON HARRISON\n\n\n    ILLUSTRATED BY\n\n    MISS ROSINA EMMET\n\n\n    LONDON\n\n    SAMPSON LOW, MARSTON, SEARLE, AND RIVINGTON\n    CROWN BUILDINGS, 188 FLEET STREET\n\n\n    [_All rights reserved_]\n\n\n    Dedicated\n\n    TO\n\n    FAIRFAX, FRANK AND ARCHY\n\n\n\n\n    CONTENTS.\n\n\n    INTRODUCTION\n\n    THE PRINCESS EGLANTINE\n\n    DAME MARTHA'S STEP-DAUGHTER; OR, THE GRANDMOTHER OF THE GNOMES\n\n    THE ADVENTURES OF HA'PENNY; OR, THE DWARF, THE\n    WITCH, AND THE MAGIC SLIPPERS\n\n    SYBILLA, MYRTILLO, AND FURIOSO\n\n    ANNETTE; OR, THE MAGIC COFFEE-MILL\n\n    JULIET; OR, THE LITTLE WHITE MOUSE\n\n    THE FAIRIES AND THE FIDDLER\n\n    ETHELINDA; OR, THE ICE KING'S BRIDE\n\n    DEEP-SEA VIOLETS\n\n    THE WILD WOODSMAN\n\n    THE FROZEN HEARTH-FAIRY\n\n    ROSY'S STAY-AT-HOME PARTIES\n\n    BLONDINA; OR, THE TURKEY-QUEEN\n\n    TIMID AGNES\n\n    THE OGRESS AND THE COOK\n\n    MISS PEGGY AND THE FROG\n\n    THE LEPERHAUN: A LEGEND OF THE EMERALD ISLE\n\n\n        ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES.\n\n\n    THE TRIALS OF SIR ISUMBRAS\n\n    BISCLAVERET\n\n    ROSWAL AND LILIAN\n\n    ELIDUC AND GUILLIADUN\n\n    THE FALCON-KING\n\n    SIR EGLAMOUR AND CRYSTABELL\n\n\n\n\nFAIRY DAYS.\n\n\n    Beside the old hall-fire--upon my nurse's knee,\n    Of happy fairy-days--what tales were told to me!\n    I thought the world was once--all peopled with princesses,\n    And my heart would beat to hear--their loves and their distresses;\n    And many a quiet night--in slumber sweet and deep,\n    The pretty fairy people--would visit me in sleep.\n\n    I saw them in my dreams--come flying east and west,\n    With wondrous fairy gifts--the new-born babe they bless'd;\n    One has brought a jewel--and one a crown of gold,\n    And one has brought a curse--but she is wrinkled and old.\n    The gentle queen turns pale--to hear those words of sin,\n    But the king he only laughs--and bids the dance begin.\n\n    The babe has grown to be--the fairest of the land,\n    And rides the forest green--a hawk upon her hand,\n    An ambling palfrey white--a golden robe and crown;\n    I've seen her in my dreams--riding up and down:\n    And heard the ogre laugh--as she fell into his snare,\n    At the little tender creature--who wept and tore her hair!\n\n    But ever when it seemed--her need was at the sorest,\n    A prince--in shining mail--comes prancing through the forest,\n    A waving ostrich-plume--a buckler burnished bright;\n    I've seen him in my dreams--good sooth! a gallant knight.\n    His lips are coral red--beneath a dark moustache;\n    See how he waves his hand--and how his blue eyes flash!\n\n    \"Come forth, thou Paynim knight!\"--he shouts in accents clear.\n    The giant and the maid--both tremble his voice to hear.\n    Saint Mary guard him well!--He draws his falchion keen,\n    The giant and the knight--are fighting on the green;\n    I see them in my dreams--his blade gives stroke on stroke,\n    The giant pants and reels--and tumbles like an oak!\n\n    With what a blushing grace--he falls upon his knee\n    And takes the lady's hand--and whispers, \"You are free!\"\n    Ah! happy childish tales--of knight and faerie!\n    I waken from my dreams--but there's ne'er a knight for me;\n    I waken from my dreams--and wish that I could be\n    A child by the old hall-fire--upon my nurse's knee!\n\n                                 W. M. THACKERAY.\n\n[Illustration: The Faithful Comrades.]\n\n[Illustration: Old-Fashioned Fairies.]\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n    _To my Young Readers._\n\n              _Children Dear_:\n\n\nNot long ago two little boys, who shall be nameless here, came to their\nmother's side at that pleasant hour of the twenty-four called by the\nEnglish \"blind-man's holiday,\" and by the French, \"between dog and\nwolf.\" The lamps had not been lighted, and the room was full of shadows;\nbut a strip of western sky, seen through the bay window, hung like a\npink veil behind which a few pale stars were beginning to show above\nthe dark line of hills. All that bright summer's day long, four little\nbusy feet had been in motion. Directly after breakfast they had raced\ndown the meadow-path, pursued by Colin Clout, their faithful Scotch\ncollie, between grass and daisies so tall that little could be seen of\nthe dog and his younger master, beyond a brown back and white-tipped\ntail curveting around a scarlet fez that bobbed up and down like a buoy\nupon the water. Soon the three companions had reappeared for a moment\nunder a low arch of fringy boughs at the entrance to the grove, and then\nhad descended a bank to the edge of a babbling brook, where, on the\ngrassy margin, the children played every day for hours, inventing a\nhundred devices of boats and dams and waterfalls, whilst Colin lay at\nease among the ferns, and from time to time emitted a bark of pure good\nfellowship. For them this shallow streamlet has a charm hardly to be\nresisted, even for a summons to drive \"over the hills and far away\"\nthrough the lovely country-side, or to assist in the delights of the\nseason when their pretty meadow grasses are laid low, tossed into\nfragrant piles, and carted away by merry haying-folk--though sometimes\nthese water-elves pause to forage the neighboring woods for \"hocky\"\nsticks and sling-shot crotches, to \"shin up\" the tall forest trees, or\npluck wild strawberries from the sunny slopes beyond their favorite\nhaunt.\n\nOn the especial evening of which I write, the faithful comrades had\nreturned, tired, and scratched by the briers of this work-a-day world,\nfrom a tramp of some miles in search of live bait for a fishing\nexcursion projected with their father at Lily Pond upon the morrow. The\ndoomed little fishes had been put into a bath-tub full of water, where\nthey were expected to suppose themselves still in their native pool. The\nboys had been washed and fed--an astonishing supper, even for those\ncormorants!--and now had elected to seek rest and refreshment at the\nmaternal knee. Colin, observing that everybody else was satisfactorily\nadjusted in affectionate attitudes, had retired under the fringe of a\ntable-cover close at hand, and lay where only his loving eyes and open\nmouth could be seen, breathing in short quick pants, or, as the boys\ncalled it, \"ha-ha-ha-ing at the company.\"\n\n\"And now, mamma, until your tea is ready, we know what you must do,\"\nsaid the children, in a breath. \"Tell us a story--a 'real, truly' fairy\ntale, about a giant and a dwarf, lots and lots of fairies, a prince and\na beautiful princess with hair to her very feet, a champion with a magic\nsword, a dragon-chariot, a witch dressed in snake-skin--and, if you can,\nan ogre. Don't punish anybody but the witch and the ogre; and _please_\ndon't have any moral, only let everybody 'live in peace and die in a pot\nof grease,' at the end of it.\"\n\n\"To be sure, we know most of mamma's stories by heart,\" said the sage\nelder of nine. \"If she could only make up some new ones that aren't in\nany of our books! Or else, mamma, tell us something you heard a little\nbit of, long, long ago, from your nurse, and then make up the rest. But\nwhatever one you tell, we'll be sure to like it anyhow.\"\n\nThe stories told, the mother fell to musing, and the result is the\nlittle book here presented to the judgment of children other than her\nown--a few new fairy tales, on the old, old pattern!\n\nIn every country of the habitable globe are found the same myths,\nvariously dressed and styled. Let the ethnologist frame what theory he\nwill upon this subject, my own private belief is that once upon a time a\ngood fairy who loved mankind put on the wings of a stormy petrel and\nflew over many lands, carrying in her hand a sieve full of tiny seeds,\nand shaking it upon those spots where there appeared to be most\nchildren. The seeds, falling to earth after this fashion, sprang up and\nbore many-colored fairy tales, to rejoice all hearts for evermore. Since\nthen, the fables you and I love have been told from father to son among\nnations living remote from each other and isolated. The Hindoo toiling\nunder the tropic sun, and the Lapp in his smoky hut banked in snow; the\nEnglish cottar resting in his ivy-covered porch, and the Russian peasant\nstretched at length upon the stove which forms his bed; the Persian\nstroking his gray beard beneath the archways of Ispahan, and the\nNorwegian carving bits of wood under his rafters of illuminated\npine--all know and repeat versions of our favorite tales. In France, in\nSpain, in Germany--mother of myths--in Italy, where they drop red from\nthe wine-press of Boccaccio--are these stories to be heard. The North\nAmerican Indian weaves them with his beads and wampum; our southern\nnegro croons them over the corn-cake baking in the spider upon his cabin\nhearth; the poetical Chinese envelops them in the language of flowers;\nand the distant dweller by the Amazon embalms them in his legendary\nlore. So much for the fairy with the sieve!\n\nBut great as is the enjoyment had in perusing the fairy tales of\ndifferent nations, to the child of Anglo-Saxon descent can come no such\npleasure so deep as that to be derived from the old romances of our\nmother country. To me this delight was first revealed by a little fat\nbook that used to be found in our nurseries--the one containing\nCinderella, immortal maid--unprincipled Puss in Boots--and Jack, the\nsplendid champion!\n\nOf late years, fairy tales seem to have suffered from their increase of\ndignity at the hands of grave scholars, who have so dressed them in fine\nlanguage, and hedged them with innumerable notes and references, that\nthe child shuns the fruit for fear of thorns about it. For my own part,\nI prefer the older specimens of ancient fairy literature known as\nchap-books. These were odd little yellow pamphlets, sprinkled with\nabundant capital letters throughout the text, and \"Illustrated with many\ndiverting cutts!\" They were carried around the country-side in England\nby peddlers, who sold them (with such other catch-penny wares as\nribbons, lace, and trinkets) indifferently at castle gate or cottage\nlattice; and if you wish to see the sort of fairies your\ngreat-grandmothers believed in, look at the three pictures that\naccompany this preface, copied from a famous chap-book.\n\nThere, quaintly depicted, first, appeared Jack in a funny full-bottomed\ncoat, diligently climbing a bean-stalk, where the ogre's castle was\nperched atop like a bird's nest; lucky Ali-Baba, too; Bluebeard--mighty\nand pitiless--with Fatima and sister Anne, their back hair down,\npleading to him on dislocated knees, their brothers, with drawn swords,\ngalloping to the rescue; and the husband in The Three Wishes, standing\nagape before his fireside, while his wife danced a jig of rage in her\nefforts to rid her nose of a pudding little smaller than a feather-bed!\nThere, also, was displayed that pushing suitor, the Yellow Dwarf, who\ninsisted on attaching to his lady-love's finger a ring made of a single\nred hair, so fastened that she could not get it off. There was the\nDesert Fairy, guarded by two lions which the wandering queen endeavored\nto appease with \"a cake made of millet, sugar-candy, and crocodile's\neggs.\" (How we children yearned to taste that cake!) And there were the\nfascinating White Cat, seated side by side with her enamored prince in a\nfine calash of blue embossed with gold, the Sleeping Beauty, the Babes\nin the Wood--hapless cherubs--the Girl who dropped pearls and diamonds\nwhen she spoke, dear Graciosa and ready Percinet, gallant\nRiquet-with-the-Tuft, and Goody Two Shoes--the latter a little of a\nprig, I fear--clever Hop o' my Thumb, Beauty and the Beast, Little Red\nRiding-hood--the long procession of charmers to whom even now my heart\nbows in salutation as I write their familiar names!\n\nChap-books of ancient date have been recently reproduced in England;\nfrom one of them, I have taken the substance of a story I never chanced\nto see elsewhere, and under the title of \"Juliet; or, the Little White\nMouse\" have given it to you in language of my own.\n\nAfter the chap-books came other cheap fairy publications, notably those\nof Mr. Newberry, a good old gentleman who, in the last century, sent out\nnumberless sixpenny booklets, many of them reaching America to give\npleasure to the infants of the colonies. Washington Irving goes so far\nas to say that if George Washington had not read Newberry's\npublications in his youth, especially \"Whittington and his Cat,\" he\nwould not have been the first and greatest President of the United\nStates! The grave Benjamin Franklin, while a printer in Philadelphia,\nemulated Newberry in publishing nursery tales, and no doubt devoured\nthem himself with relish.\n\nMany a pen of the great in history or literature has found a theme in\nthese favorites of ours. Of Cinderella, the famous Canning, premier of\nEngland, wrote in glowing rhyme:\n\n    \"Six bobtailed mice transport her to the ball.\n    And liveried lizards wait upon her call.\"\n\nAnd Thackeray has thrown around fairy lore the rays of his noble genius,\nnot only in the lines already here quoted, but in a Christmas story so\nenchanting that, if you are unfortunate enough not already to have made\nacquaintance with Valoroso and Gruffanuff, Bulbo and Angelica, I urge\nyou to try at once the magician's art and coax \"The Rose and the Ring\"\nout of the pocket of your nearest relative. By the giant Thackeray, when\nentangled in the meshes of Fairydom, one is reminded of Gulliver under\nbonds to the Lilliputians, yet wearing his bonds so easily!\n\nAnd now, I leave my new-old Fairy Book to you, my little critics. I am\nsure you will accord a generous welcome to the pictures. What would our\nbenighted great-grandmothers have said to Miss Emmet's charming\nillustrations?\n\n                                                          C. C. H.\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRINCESS EGLANTINE.\n\n\nA certain queen had twin children, a boy and a girl, both as beautiful\nas the dawn of a summer morning. As the mother was one day hanging over\nthe double cradle, shaped like two silver lilies growing on one stem, an\nold aunt of hers, who knew a good deal about magic, arrived from the\ncountry to see the babies and to spend the day.\n\nThe old lady took the Princess Eglantine in her arms, and kissed her,\nand joggled her, and clucked at her, after the fashion of all good\naunties.\n\n\"That's a girl to be proud of, my dear!\" she said, handing the baby\nback to her mamma. \"And she looks as good as she is pretty, too.\"\n\n\"They are both _wonderful_ children, nurse says,\" replied the young\nqueen, modestly. \"And the doctor thinks them the _finest pair_ he has\never seen. Only the boy is _a little_ high-tempered. He kicks and snaps\nat his attendants the whole time he is awake; so take care, aunty dear,\nand don't disturb him for the world. We always let him sleep as long as\nhe will.\"\n\n\"Hoity-toity!\" cried aunty, \"as if I came out of the woods to be\nfrightened by an owl. _I_ know how to manage _all_ children!\" and the\nboy opening his eyes at that moment, she lifted him from his crib, and\nlaid him on her lap.\n\nSad to say, he behaved like an infant tiger. Never was there seen such a\ntempestuous baby. He wriggled, and howled, and fought, and plunged,\nuntil the poor mother and nurses turned red with mortification. But the\nold aunty held on to him bravely, and examined him from top to toe.\nNothing could she find, till she came to the sole of the right foot, and\nthere was a tiny red mark like a burning torch. As soon as aunty saw\nthis she sighed, and whispered a word in the baby's ear, when he became\nas quiet as any lamb.\n\nAunty sent away the nurses, and told the poor queen there was no doubt\nabout it; her boy was bewitched, and when he grew up he would try to\ndevour his sister. The only thing was to keep them apart, and this the\nqueen told her husband; and he sent for a wise man, who confirmed what\naunty had said. The wise man added that all would go well so long as the\nprincess was kept apart from her brother, and as the brother was the\nheir of the kingdom, there was nothing left but to banish the\nunfortunate princess. The king built for his daughter, in the remotest\ncorner of his kingdom, an ivory tower. Around the tower was a crystal\nmoat full of gold and silver fish. Around the moat were lovely\nflower-beds, and around the flower-beds was a thick and thorny hedge. In\nthis tower there was a room lined with tufted blue satin, like the\ninside of a bonbon box, and all the furniture was made of fine carved\nivory. Here the princess was shut up for life, under the care of an old\ndame, Madame Veloutine by name, who once had kept a boarding-school for\nduchesses, and was very respectable indeed. Poor Eglantine was gradually\nforgotten at court, and her cannibal brother grew up without knowing he\nhad ever had a sister.\n\n[Illustration: THE PRINCESS EGLANTINE.]\n\nLike all other captive princesses, past, present, and to come, Eglantine\nwas beautiful and accomplished. She could speak in every language, work\nin silk and crewels, paint china plaques, make mince-pies, sing like a\nnightingale, and play anything on the piano at sight with her eyes shut!\nHer skin was milk-white, with a rosy flush on the cheeks, while her\nglorious golden hair never came out of crimp, but rippled from the roots\nto her very feet.\n\nOne day a prince, cantering by upon his palfrey, looked up at the tower\nwindow, and there saw this lovely creature, surrounded by a flock of\npretty white doves. Prince Charming gazed and gazed, and the longer he\nstood there, the more enraptured he became. When he heard from the\ncountry people that no one knew who or what was this mysterious beauty,\nexcepting that once a year, by night, a grand gentleman and lady visited\nher, and looked at her while asleep, the ardent young prince made a vow\nto solve the secret without delay. He engaged his old tutor to make love\nto Eglantine's governess, and this plan succeeded so well that the tutor\nwas, ere long, invited to take a cup of tea at five o'clock, in the\nground floor apartment of the tower where Madame Veloutine kept house.\nMadame Veloutine was very much fluttered by the attentions of the\ntutor, a gloomy-looking individual with savage dark mustache and\ndeep-sunken eyes. The poor old thing, who had been reading novels\nwithout any intermission for eighteen years, was very sentimental, and\nthe idea of a suitor coming to woo at some period of her existence was\nnever wholly absent from her thoughts. She dressed herself in one of the\nPrincess Eglantine's white robes, put a blue sash around her waist, and\ncovering her little red nose with rice powder, sat in a darkened corner\nwith a guitar upon her knees. The tutor flattered her, and soon she grew\nconfidential and told him the story of her charge. When the tutor took\nhis leave, Madame Veloutine sighed deeply, and pitied the poor man who\nhad fallen a victim to her charms. She did not see the fat purse of gold\nthe prince bestowed on him, upon learning the true state of the case\nabout the enchanting captive!\n\nPrince Charming rode, day and night, till he reached the king's palace.\n\"Give me your daughter for my wife,\" he said. The king turned pale at\nhearing that the secret was betrayed. \"For pity's sake speak lower,\nyoung man,\" said the anxious father. \"Only suppose her brother should\nhear of it.\" With that he told the whole story to Prince Charming, who\nforthwith rode to ask a wise man what he should do to set the princess\nfree, with safety to herself.\n\n\"Ride as far as you will, and as fast as you will with her, you may not\nescape the curse,\" said the wise man.\n\nThe prince went off heavy hearted, and visited a witch he knew. She was\nknitting a stocking, which ravelled every night as fast as it grew by\nday.\n\n\"I have been knitting this stocking for fifty years,\" said the witch,\ntaking a pinch of snuff out of the soup-tureenful that she always kept\nbeside her. \"I could as soon make it whole in one night as keep away the\ncurse from her.\"\n\nThe prince groaned as he rode away. Across his path was a green bough,\nhalf covered by a huge cobweb. In this a tiny being, no bigger than a\nfly, was entangled, and was making desperate struggles to be free.\nTravelling toward it, with tremendous strides, came an enormous red\nspider, with white spots and great protruding eyes. The prince, not\nwithout a shudder, for, like most of us, he hated the nasty things,\nkilled the spider with a blow, and set free the pretty captive, who\nproved to be a fairy. She tidied her iridescent frock, and thanked him\nvery nicely.\n\n\"You have saved my life, dear prince,\" she said. \"Pray let me do\nsomething in return for it.\"\n\n\"Perhaps you can help me,\" said the prince, eagerly. \"If you can't,\nnever mind,\" he added, politely, when he had finished telling her the\nsad story of his doomed princess. \"I don't expect much of a person of\nyour size, you know; but really it's the greatest _relief_ to talk about\nthe dear darling!\"\n\n\"A person of my size!\" said the little lady, with a shrill sniff. \"I'd\nhave you to know, prince, that I'm the fairy Buz-fuz, the discoverer of\nthe celebrated invisibility powder. It is _never_ known to fail, is made\nfrom a fern-seed that _I_ alone can pluck, and is _not_ for sale at\n_any_ druggist's! As to lifting the spell from that poor young creature,\nthe princess, I can't undertake to do it, on any terms; but with the aid\nof my powder, one pinch of which sprinkled on an object will make it\ndisappear from sight in a moment, I believe you can manage to keep clear\nof the cannibal brother.\"\n\nThe prince thanked the fairy, took the powder, and galloped off,\nlight-hearted, to his Eglantine. She, poor thing, had thought of nothing\nbut the prince and his beauty, and his kind glances and smiles, since he\nleft her. She wearied of the society of poor old Veloutine, and sighed\nfor change. Veloutine was in despair. To comfort the princess she\npromised to allow her a single meeting with the prince, should he ever\ncome that way again. \"That I am sure he will!\" said the princess. \"If\nyou had only seen his eyes when he looked at me! They were so kind, so\ntrue! Oh! Veloutine! he _will_ come back!\"\n\nSo Eglantine settled down to her embroidery. This was a gown of white\ndamask with large white satin flowers outlined with real pearls. She had\nbeen at work on it for several years, and a few stitches more would\nfinish it. She now wrought busily, until the last stitch was set, and\nthen, with trembling fingers, put it on. Around her neck and waist she\nwrapped great chains of pearls, and left her long hair rippling to her\nknees. When her toilet was complete she went to the window. It was the\nsunset of a summer's day. Around her tower grew vines heavy with\ndeep-red roses; the shining surface of the moat beneath was streaked\nwith color from the western clouds. Along the path beyond the hedge rode\na horseman gayly clad in green and gold, who, smiling, doffed a cap with\na single long white plume, and bowed to his saddle-bow. Behind him came\na splendid cavalcade of courtiers and knights on horseback, surrounding\na golden coach in which sat the father and mother of Eglantine, who had\ngiven consent to her marriage with the prince. The poor king and queen\nwere dreadfully frightened at the rashness of this proceeding. They had\nsent the cannibal brother off on a hunting excursion in a distant part\nof the country, and had come in fear and trembling, bringing with them\nthe most trustworthy of their people. They could not resist Prince\nCharming, who, in addition to his other attractions, had just lost his\nfather, the old king, and was now the sole owner and ruler of a\nneighboring kingdom, and just the match for their lovely daughter. He\nhad sworn to them that their child should be kept so securely guarded\nthat her brother could never reach her.\n\nEglantine came down from her bower, to be introduced to her father,\nmother, and lover all at once. The marriage took place without delay,\nand the new king started with his bride for the sea-shore, where they\nwere to embark for his home.\n\nThey set sail in a ship of which the sides were plated with beaten gold.\nThe sails were of pink satin, and the ropes golden threads plaited\ntogether. The young king and queen sat upon cushions of velvet on the\ndeck, and talked of their happy future, when suddenly the sky was\ndarkened as by a cloud, and, riding upon a vulture, the cannibal brother\ncame after them. He had been hunting, and a wandering breeze carried to\nhim the story of his sister's escape. Although he had never before heard\nhe possessed a sister, the first whisper of such a thing was sufficient\nto rouse in him the dreadful cannibal instinct to drink her blood. From\nwhere the king and queen sat they could distinctly hear him smacking his\nlips with joy at the prospect of his horrible meal. Queen Eglantine,\nfearing she knew not what, shuddered from head to foot, and closing her\neyes cast herself upon the king's breast for protection.\n\nThe king, bidding her be calm, sprinkled the deck of the ship with one\nof the fairy's powders, which he carried in a little crystal box. At the\nmoment the huge foul bird of prey hovered above them and gave a fierce\nswoop downward, the ship and all its contents vanished utterly from\nsight, while the vulture with his rider plunged into the sea.\n\nThe cannibal prince was a good swimmer, and although his vulture was\nimmediately drowned, managed to keep up, until he found a dolphin and\ngot astride its back.\n\n\"Now, carry me in pursuit of yonder ship, and mind you swim fast and\nwell,\" he exclaimed.\n\n\"Master, I obey,\" said the dolphin, who recognized in him a magician.\n\"But, look for yourself--blue sky above, blue water below, and not a\nsail upon the sea.\"\n\nThe prince looked, and in truth there was no ship to be seen; so,\nordering the dolphin to convey him to the nearest landing-place, he soon\nreached the shores of a beautiful country, where flags were flying, and\nall the inhabitants were dressed in holiday clothes. Over the wharf was\nan arch of most lovely flowers, and five hundred little girls were\nstrewing the roads with orange blossoms.\n\n\"What is taking place?\" asked the cannibal brother of the people around\nthe wharf.\n\n\"Where have _you_ been, pray?\" said they scornfully, \"not to know that\nour king brings home his bride to-day!\"\n\nThen the ship came in sight and the rejoicings began. The cannibal\nbrother had no sooner laid eyes upon his sister than a new longing to\ndrink her blood came over him; and he set about plotting how he could\nget hold of her, no easy matter, since the palace was guarded night and\nday by twenty white bull-dogs of the fiercest sort, besides the usual\nsoldiers and attendants. So he took service with a butcher near the\ntown, and made a bag full of little meat-balls, each one containing a\ndrop of deadly poison. One day his master sent him to the palace to\ncarry Queen Eglantine's sweetbreads and mutton-chops. \"Now,\" thought the\nbrother, \"I shall get inside;\" but he was mistaken, for the sweetbreads\nand mutton-chops were taken from him at the gate, and passed on through\ntwenty different hands till they reached the cook. As no outsider\nwhatever was allowed to penetrate the inner palace walls, behind which\nthe new queen lived surrounded by every luxury, the cannibal brother had\nto wait many days for an opportunity to get a sight of her. Meantime his\nappetite was gaining terribly, and he went to the blacksmith and had all\nhis teeth framed in iron, the better to enjoy his horrid meal.\n\nAt last King Charming was summoned to meet a neighboring monarch about a\nright of way for his armies across a certain peninsula; and, with many\ninjunctions to the queen not to admit any stranger during his absence,\nhe reluctantly set out. No sooner was he out of sight than the pretended\nbutcher's boy hastened to assume his own princely clothing, and, ringing\nboldly at the castle gate, told the servants to announce to the queen\nthat her brother had arrived, bearing messages from her father and\nmother. He sent in a golden locket containing likenesses of both the\nking and queen, his parents, which convinced Queen Eglantine that his\ntale was true. So, joyfully, she ran forth to meet him, and would have\ncast herself upon his neck, but that the trained bull-dogs rushed\nbetween, growling most horribly.\n\n\"Come here, pretty fellow, nice fellow,\" said the cannibal brother,\ncoaxingly; but the dogs only opened their jaws wider than before and\ngrowled defiance.\n\n\"Give them these little dainties, sister,\" said the wily prince,\nproducing his poisoned meat-balls. \"They are some that I always carry\nfor my own pets.\"\n\nThe innocent queen called the dogs one after another to her side, and\nfed them with the fatal balls, which they ate, licking her white hand\ngratefully. At once, as the poison began to work, they all lay down in a\nrow, and became as quiet as they had been before ferocious. The queen\nled her brother into an inner room, and bade him sit upon her silken\ncouch. The prince laughed to himself, for now, thought he, the hour has\ncome for my coveted meal. But he was seized with the notion to go into\nanother room in order to file his teeth, which were becoming rather\ndull.\n\n\"Will you not play for me upon the piano, sister?\" he asked lovingly.\n\nThe amiable queen, who never waited to be asked twice, sat down to play,\nwhile her brother hid within a closet and began to file his teeth. Up\njumped the queen's cat, in great excitement, and sat on her mistress'\nlap.\n\n\"Mistress dear,\" said the affectionate creature, \"fly, fly, as fast as\nyour feet will carry you. Your brother is at this moment getting ready\nto make a meal of you, and as he is a magician no one in the castle is\nstrong enough to defend you from him. In the stable you will find the\nking's gray steed. Jump upon his back, and be off, while I play the\npiano in your stead.\"\n\nThe terrified queen took to her royal heels, weeping as she stumbled\nover the dead bodies of her faithful dogs, and the clever cat sat\nplaying beautifully so many runs and trills that the prince, admiring\nhis sister's brilliant execution, made no haste to leave his task until\nit was finished to his entire satisfaction.\n\nAnd now, mounted upon the good gray steed, away flew Queen Eglantine in\nsearch of her beloved spouse. Pretty soon she heard footsteps, and\nthere, swifter than any horse, swifter than wind, on flew the cannibal\nbrother after her.\n\n\"What shall I do, dear steed?\" said the alarmed queen.\n\n\"Drop your cloak into the road,\" said the gray horse, who was the cat's\nown cousin.\n\nThe queen obeyed, and the cloak became a broad lake, across which the\ncannibal brother took a long time to swim. The gray horse got a good\nstart, but presently the prince came nearly up with him.\n\n\"What shall I do now, dear steed?\" said the queen, almost ready to fall\nfainting from his back.\n\n\"Drop the veil from your head,\" said the horse.\n\nThis was done, and the veil became a thick fog, causing the cannibal\nbrother to lose his way and stumble dreadfully. But he got out of it at\nlast, and came nearly up with them.\n\n\"What shall I do next, dear steed?\" said the queen, trembling in every\nlimb.\n\n\"Take your scissors and cut a long lock from your hair, and throw that\nbehind you.\"\n\nThe queen lifted the scissors that hung at her girdle, and in a moment,\nsnip! they went into her beautiful golden hair. The hair became a jungle\nof tall reeds, and through it the cannibal brother had work indeed to\ntravel. While he was puffing and blowing and struggling in the reeds,\noh, joy! the queen saw her king riding swiftly to meet her.\n\nJust as the cannibal brother, by a desperate effort of magic strength\nhad freed himself from the jungle, and emerged in swift pursuit, he had\nthe mortification of seeing the queen rush into her husband's arms. His\ndreadful hunger was now increased until it drove him to desperation.\nWith a roar of baffled rage he darted toward the royal couple, swearing\nthat both of them should be his victims; and this no doubt would have\nbeen the case--since the monster was endowed with the strength of fifty\nmen--but that the king, bidding his queen have no fear, quickly\nsprinkled them both, and their steeds, with a pinch of the fairy\nfern-seed. Immediately they disappeared from sight, and the cannibal\nbrother, coming with full force upon the spot where they had been,\nbeheld only empty space. This disappointment, combined with his now\nreally appalling appetite, made the miserable wretch fall in a fit upon\nthe ground.\n\nThe king would have killed him where he lay, but the queen pleaded for\nher brother's life, so the attendants bore him, insensible, back to the\npalace. There, the queen's clever cat advised that he should be left to\nher to deal with. She shut herself up with the patient in a tower\nbedroom, and during sixty days and nights not a morsel of food passed\nthe sufferer's lips, except the cat's magic castor-oil--a cupful every\nten minutes--each tasting more nauseous than the one before! In the\nmorning he was lifted from bed, and put into an ice-cold bath, and then\nwhipped soundly until his circulation was restored. At the end of the\nsecond month the cat stopped his bath, whipping, and medicines, offering\nhim instead a handful of parched peas and a dry crust. This diet seemed\nto him so delicious that never again could he be tempted to vary it.\nUntil he reached a green and virtuous old age this prince was never\nknown to look upon so much as a rare beefsteak without shuddering! His\nfather, mother, sister, and brother-in-law united their tears of joy at\nthis happy reform, and who should the clever cat turn out to be, but\naunty, who had taken this means of watching over her favorite Eglantine!\nThe gray steed was aunty's first cousin upon the mother's side; but when\npeace was restored he preferred to go back to his own country to live,\nalthough the grateful King Charming offered him every inducement to\nremain, in the way of marble stalls and silver mangers, rose-water to\nquench his thirst, and golden oats to eat. Aunty, too, retired to her\nown distant castle, and the reformed cannibal lived quiet and happy\nuntil the time came to reign in his good father's stead.\n\nAs for Eglantine and King Charming, they never again found use for the\nfern-seed powder. Even the faults of one were invisible to the other.\n\nNothing occurred to disturb the serenity of their entire reign but a\nsuit for breach-of-promise of marriage, brought against the king's\nformer tutor by the queen's former governess, Madame Veloutine; and this\nwas settled speedily by the tutor announcing that, rather than make any\nfuss about the matter, he would marry the old lady and be done with it,\nalthough he really could not imagine what there had been in his past\nconduct to put such an idea into her venerable head. So at last\nVeloutine got a husband, and nobody could be surprised at anything after\nthat.\n\n\n\n\nDAME MARTHA'S STEP-DAUGHTER; OR, THE GRANDMOTHER OF THE GNOMES.\n\n\nDame Martha lived at the foot of a high mountain. Her cottage was large\nenough to give shelter only to herself and two young girls, one of them\nher own child and the other the child of Dame Martha's late husband,\nwho, about six months before this story opens, slipped down a fissure in\nthe rocks and had nevermore been seen. Dame Martha did not bear a very\ngood character in the neighborhood, as she was known to be violent in\ntemper and dishonest in her dealings. While her husband lived, she had\nquarrelled with him from morning till night, and after he disappeared,\npeople used to hint that Dame Martha knew better than any one else how\nthe poor man came to his sudden death. But nothing was ever proved upon\nher, and as the dame's cottage stood in a desolate valley, overshadowed\nby a frowning cliff on which grew a single lightning-blasted pine-tree,\nchildren shunned the lonely spot, and few grown people found anything to\nattract them in that direction. Margaret, the dame's own daughter, was a\nhandsome haughty lass of about nineteen, so spoiled and self-willed that\nshe bid fair to rival her mother in temper, in the course of time.\nHilda, the step-daughter, was a fair and gentle little creature, sixteen\nyears of age, who bore with patient cheerfulness all the unhappiness of\nher lot. Sometimes, for days together, she would be left alone in the\nhouse, while Dame Martha and Margaret dressed themselves up in all their\nfinery, and went off to fairs and merrymakings in the neighboring town.\nMelancholy were the hours spent in a solitude unbroken save by the rush\nof the waterfall leaping from cliff to cliff, or the hootings of owls\nafter nightfall, and the unceasing wail of the wind through the forest.\nBut Hilda was at least spared the sound of Margaret's taunting voice and\nlaugh, and the cruel scolding tongue of her step-mother. These two\nwicked women were heartily tired of Hilda, and cast about in their\nminds how they could get rid of her, and take possession of a little bag\nof gold pieces coming to her from her father. Then, thought they, the\nold house could be shut up and left to the rats and bats, while they\nmight set out on their travels and enjoy life.\n\nOne day, when Hilda was bleaching the linen on a patch of grass near the\nbrook, her step-mother called out, \"Hilda, the red cow has strayed away,\nand I hear her bell over by the old stone quarry. Be quick, and you may\nhead her off.\"\n\nHilda secured her linen, and with nimble steps, ran up the steep\nmountain side. She did not fancy the idea of going by the old stone\nquarry, for there it had been, six months before, that her dear father\nwas last seen in life. Near that spot his hat and shepherd-staff had\nbeen found. But Hilda was accustomed to obey without remonstrance, and\naway she ran, climbing as lightly as a mountain goat. She too, could\nhear the tinkle of the little bell far up among the bushes, and guided\nby the sound, she drew near the dreaded scene of her greatest sorrow. A\nthick screen of fir bushes lay between her and the red cow's place of\nrefuge. Interwoven with evergreens, grew masses of alpine-rose, whose\ntough branches became entangled in Hilda's feet, and hid the path from\nsight. At last, she found herself in a dense thicket, not knowing how to\nemerge. As she paused for a moment to look about her, the red cow's bell\ntinkled again--a strange uncertain tinkle this--immediately behind the\nbushes at her left.\n\n\"There you are, good-for-nothing!\" cried Hilda, struggling bravely\nforward through the undergrowth in the direction indicated by the bell.\nShe heard a low mocking laugh. Surely that laugh could come only from\nher step sister! \"Margaret!\" she called. No answer, and poor Hilda,\nuttering a wild shriek for help, plunged headlong down a hidden opening\nin the ground, into a fathomless abyss, where no foot of man might\nfollow her.\n\nWicked Margaret stood on the brink of this treacherous pit-fall, known\nonly to her mother and herself, and laughed, holding in her hand the\nlittle red cow's bell, with which she had lured Hilda to her doom.\n\n\"Rest there!\" the wretched girl said, kneeling down to peer into the\ndarkness of the rocky pit. \"At any rate, you have found a burial-place\nfor your bones, alongside of your father, who was never heard to groan\nafter my mother and I pushed him over the brink here, last autumn! And\nnow, I will go home, and tell the old woman that we are rid of all our\nburdens. Ha! ha! Won't we spend the father's gold, and revel! This very\nnight must we steal away, and seek our fortune in a distant country.\"\n\nHilda fell, unharmed, upon a hillock of soft green moss, so far, so far\nbeneath the ledge whence Margaret had pushed her, that the opening above\nlooked no bigger than a star. The poor girl was overcome by her terrible\nfate, and for a long time she lay weeping as if her heart would break.\nThen, looking about her, she saw the opening to a cavern in the rocks,\nresembling an arch of crystal, so bravely did it glitter.\n\nAround the hillock where she lay was a small courtyard with turf as\nsmooth as velvet, and upon the rocky walls encircling it were trained\nvines of roses, myrtle and jasmine, covered with lovely blossoms. Hilda,\nwho knew best the alp-rose and the corn-flower, the hardy violet and the\nrock-seeking columbine, had never seen such rare and radiant flowers as\nthese, and their rich perfume intoxicated her with delight. Stealing\ndown the side of the cliff, trickled a sparkling rivulet, its stream\ncaught in a basin of gleaming pearl. Hilda, enchanted by the lovely\nscene, forgot her grief, and felt a longing desire to follow the path of\nmany-colored pebbles leading beneath the crystal arch. Without a token\nof fear, she tripped along this pretty path winding through a gallery\nsupported by pillars of frosted silver. Here and there glowed a lamp of\npink, blue or crimson, fashioned like a flower. Strains of sweet music\nwere heard in the distance, and at last Hilda reached a gate of golden\ntrellis-work, beside which slept a tiny old man, whose beard and hair\nfell over his red mantle to the very ground.\n\n\"He is very old, and no doubt needs his rest,\" said Hilda; \"I won't\ndisturb him, poor old man.\" So she sat down on the ground at his feet,\nand every time his head nodded to his knees, she would pick up the queer\nlittle red cap that fell off of it, and put it on again. After a long,\ncomfortable nap, the old fellow woke up, and saw Hilda sitting at his\nfeet.\n\n\"You are a kind maiden,\" he said, for he was of a race that know\neverything without waiting to be told--the Gnomes. \"Since you have been\nso good to me, I will let you pass the wicket. Six months ago your\nfather came this way, and if you can but make friends with our mistress,\nyou may be allowed to see him.\"\n\n\"My father! My dear father!\" cried Hilda, overjoyed. \"Oh! you good, kind\ngateman, do lead me to where he is.\"\n\n\"Hush! not a sound,\" said the Gnome, looking about him in alarm.\n\"Everything has ears and tongues too in this place. One warning will I\ngive you. Answer not when spoken to, serve faithfully, break nothing,\nshow no surprise; and when you can capture the bird that bathes daily in\nthe fountain of life, save the drops from off his plumage. Now go on;\nand farewell, as no one who passes me comes back this way.\"\n\nHilda was frightened by the mystery of the warning, but continued on her\nway, through a long and winding passage in the rocks, dimly lighted here\nand there by hanging lamps of alabaster. Reaching another little\nwicket-gate of golden trellis-work, she summoned all her courage and\nrang the bell. Out came a hideous crone, whose ears, grown to an\nenormous size, hung down upon her neck, and who, without asking her\nbusiness, opened the gate.\n\n\"If ears grow like this,\" thought Hilda, \"I had, indeed, better hold my\ntongue and say nothing to give offence.\" So, pretending to be dumb, she\ncurtsied to the crone, and made signs that she wanted food and drink.\nThe old woman led Hilda along the path of a neglected garden, to a house\nbuilt of gray lichen from the bark of trees, and thatched with hoary\nmoss. The windows were barred, and in the open doorway sat a cross old\ndame, at her knitting. She had a hump, ears larger than those of the\nlodge-keeper, and claws hooked like an eagle's.\n\n\"What! another of those foolish mortals fallen down our pit!\" she cried,\nangrily; \"I have half a mind to kill her on the spot.\" But Hilda looked\nso meek and imploring, standing there and saying not a word, that the\nGrandmother of the Gnomes relented. \"Well, well,\" she grunted,\n\"although she is decidedly overgrown, and has ridiculously small ears, I\nsuppose I may as well try her for a nurse-maid. If she proves\nunfaithful, there will be plenty to tell of it, and she will soon go the\nway of all the rest.\"\n\nHilda was pleased at the idea of being a nurse-maid, for she always got\non well with children. She followed the G. G. (really, if you will\nexcuse me, it will save a great deal of trouble sometimes to abbreviate\nthe old lady's title) inside the queer little house, and there was a\nroom full of owls, bats, toads, mice, and spiders, who came flocking\naround the new-comer, with every expression of delight.\n\n\"Oh! you pretty darlings!\" cried the old woman, kissing them\nrapturously, \"here is a new nurse for you; and mind you keep her busy.\"\n\nWhen Hilda found that she was expected to bathe, and clean, and walk out\nwith, and sleep with these loathsome creatures, she felt that she had\nrather die. But fear of the terrible G. G. kept her silent, and setting\nabout her task, she soon had them ready for an airing in the garden.\nHere she beheld many strange sights, but nothing more curious than to\nsee all the bushes and plants and trees bearing large ears, which, as\nshe drew near, became erect and fixed in an attitude of attention.\nRemembering the caution of the friendly gnome to express no surprise,\nHilda drove her little flock before her along the garden path, then\nreturning to the house, fed them and put them to bed in the most orderly\nfashion. For reward, she found, on a bench outside the door, a nice bowl\nof milk with fine white bread and butter, and after devouring it\neagerly, she fell asleep. When she awoke next day, Hilda found herself\nin another garden. This one was most beautiful. All the rose-bushes had\ngold or silver leaves, and flowers made of jewels. She longed to twitch\noff one of the shining leaves, but dared not, contenting herself with\nwatering their roots and neatly clearing up the paths, as the Gnome\nGrandmother had directed her. For reward, she had a bowl of delicious\nhot soup, and a cup of amber jelly, and falling asleep, she awakened\nnext day in still another garden. Here sported birds of radiant hue and\nplumage, singing delightfully, as they flitted about the brim of a great\nmarble fountain on a grassy lawn, surrounded by blooming flowers.\n\n\"Here, children, I bring you a new nurse-maid,\" said the Gnome\nGrandmother, presenting her to the birds; and immediately, the lovely\ncreatures surrounded Hilda, perching on her arms, her head, her\nshoulders, and caressing her with evident pleasure.\n\n\"Now that you have successfully met my three tests--the first, of your\nfidelity, by doing your duty toward the creatures you abhorred;\nsecondly, by passing through my jewel-garden without plucking a flower\nor leaf; thirdly, by showing no surprise at the wonders you have\nseen--you have proved yourself worthy to be the keeper of my birds,\"\nsaid the old woman. \"It is well for you that the ears have heard no\ngrumbling. And mind you go on as you've begun.\"\n\nHilda thanked her with beaming glances, but would not venture to speak,\nalthough she longed to ask news of her dear father. \"To those who wait,\nall things come in time,\" she remembered her father used to say, and\ndetermined not to break silence yet a while. The Grandmother of the\nGnomes disappeared, and Hilda set herself to the task of caring for her\nnew and lovely pets. Around the garden were bowers of sweet-smelling\nhoneysuckle, and in each of these hung a silver cage. Hilda's duty was\nto cover the bottoms of the cages with sand of broken diamonds, to\ngather fresh sprays of flowers to stick between their bars, and to fill\nthe jewelled drinking-troughs with dew from the cups of flowers. Day\nafter day passed in attendance upon the birds, who all became devoted to\nher, in return. Each morning the Grandmother of the Gnomes came into the\ngarden, and sometimes even smiled on Hilda, her grin making her ugliness\nand deformity seem to increase, if possible. Still Hilda dared not speak\nthe words that were always trembling on her tongue. When night came, the\nyoung girl retired to rest in a delightful little house shaped from a\nbush of growing box, out of which doors and windows had been cut. Within\nwas a bed of moss like velvet, and a coverlet made of the woven wings of\nthe butterfly, with blankets of swansdown. Her meals were served by\nunseen hands. Punctually at breakfast, dinner, and tea-time, there\nsprang up in the bower house a little table shaped like a huge mushroom,\ncovered with dainty food in dishes of gold and silver. New clothes were\nprepared for her, and laid across the foot of her couch while she slept.\nAmong them were gauzy gowns that seemed to have been cut from the clouds\nafter sunset, cobweb handkerchiefs, shoes made of mole-skin, and\nnecklaces of petrified dew-drops. Hilda might have been quite happy but\nfor the continual thought that her father was imprisoned somewhere near,\nand her longing to find him and tell him she was there. One night, while\nshe lay thinking, apparently asleep, footsteps came to the side of her\nbed, and stopped. Somebody held a lamp close to her face, but Hilda\npretended to be in a deep slumber, and soon the G. G., for she it was,\nwent away, pattering about the bower, and talking to the old\nlodge-keeper, who followed her.\n\n\"She is sound asleep, so come along. We are already a little late for\nour round among the prisoners. Foolish creatures! Why hadn't they, too,\nthe sense to restrain themselves as this child did, and they might all\nhave been working in the gardens, to this day. But no! Each one must\nneeds twitch off a leaf here, or a rose there, and stare, and chatter\nover what they saw, or else go into convulsions over the work given them\nto do for my pretty toads, and bats, and serpents. That silly father of\nhers, for example! He seemed an honest fellow, but what should he do,\nwhen he thought no one was looking, but pluck one of my choicest ruby\nroses to carry back to Hilda. Hum! much likelihood there is that Hilda\never finds out where he is hidden, after a crime like that!\"\n\nThe Grandmother of the Gnomes seemed to have worked herself up into such\nan angry state, that Hilda dared not give any sign of waking. So she\nlay, still as a mouse, till the old couple had laid across her couch the\nnew robe for next day, and trotted off. Then, gliding swiftly from her\nbed, the girl followed them, down a long green alley of the garden, to a\ngrassy bank she had often noticed. There, putting her hand upon a\ntrap-door, half hidden from sight by a mass of vines, the old crone\nknocked thrice, saying, \"Open to the Grandmother of the Gnomes!\"\n\nThe door opened, and behind it was a narrow passage-way guarded by two\ndwarfs in red. No one spoke, and the dwarfs, prostrating themselves upon\ntheir faces, remained motionless while their sovereign lady passed in.\nHilda seized this opportunity to follow, and crept unnoticed to the\nmouth of a circular vault of gray granite, hung with curtains of black\nvelvet and lighted by swinging lamps of lurid red. In the centre was a\nlong row of white marble tombs, and on each one of these tombs lay a\nhuman being apparently asleep, enclosed in a crystal casket. With a\nthrill of emotion, Hilda recognized in one of these placid sleepers her\nbeloved father. The Grandmother of the Gnomes walked past each bier,\nsprinkling it with the liquid from a vial in her hand. At once the\nsleepers aroused and sat up, rolling their eyes and extending their arms\nto her with a beseeching gesture. The G. G. sternly shook her head, and\nproceeded to open a little door in each casket, through which the old\nlodge-keeper gave food and drink to all the prisoners in turn. The poor\nwretches ate and drank in silence, then turning over on their sides, the\ncrone waved her wand above them, and instantly they fell again into a\ntrance-like sleep.\n\n\"Sleep now, till this day week!\" said the Grandmother of the Gnomes,\nsolemnly, retiring as she came. Hilda hid in a nook of the wall of rock,\nand followed her guides out, noiselessly and unnoticed by the prostrate\ndwarfs in red.\n\nAnd now her sole thought was how she might get possession of the\nreviving liquid. Alone and unprotected as she was, at the mercy of her\ngnome mistress, Hilda knew not where to turn for help. In the extremity\nof her distress, she thought of what the friendly gnome at the outer\ngate had said to her. \"When you can capture the bird that bathes in the\nwater of life, save the drops from off his plumage.\" But although Hilda\nracked her brain for a solution of the mystery, none could she find. All\nday long her birds came and went among the branches of the beautiful\ngarden, and at night returned to their silver cages in the honeysuckle\nbowers. The only bath she had ever seen them take, was in the wide\nmarble basin on the grass-plot beneath the fountain. At last, lying down\nto rest one day upon a bank of lilies, she fell asleep, and in her\ndreams, heard two of the birds talking on the bough above.\n\n\"To-morrow, our friend, the little brown wren returns from his travels\nto the Spring of Life,\" said one of them.\n\n\"Yes, he has been gone longer than usual, this time,\" said the other.\n\"What a lucky creature he is to have gained our mistress's favor, and to\nbe allowed to take those baths, which have the power to make him know\neverything, live forever, and sing more sweetly than the nightingale.\"\n\n\"There is something mysterious about that wren, undoubtedly,\" sighed the\nfirst bird. \"Nobody knows whether it is fear or favor that gains so many\nmore privileges for him than for the rest of us. Do you know that if he\nshould ever drop the single golden feather in his tail, he will become\nlike the rest of us again, a slave and captive? And the lucky person who\nfinds it, will be able to see all the hidden treasures of the caves\nbeneath the mountain, pierce his way through solid rock and iron, and\neven defy the authority of our Sovereign Lady herself!\"\n\nHilda listened, her heart beating high with hope. Next day, indeed,\nthere came a new bird among her charges, a little brown wren, who sat\nupon the topmost twig of the highest tree in the garden, and dried and\nsmoothed his feathers, singing so exquisitely that all the others\ngathered around him in delight, while the disconsolate lark and\nnightingale, canary, mocking-bird and wood-robin, retired to a thicket\nof green leaves, and wept for jealousy.\n\nSpite of all Hilda's blandishments and wiles, the little brown wren\nwould never come near enough for her to handle him. She could see him,\nflying amid the upper branches, the single golden feather in his tail\nshining splendidly, but nothing secured his presence within reach or\ntouch. Even the Grandmother of the Gnomes was powerless to control the\nwilful creature.\n\nWeeks passed and Hilda was always on guard to follow the Gnome\nGrandmother and her attendant upon their expeditions to the crypt where\nthe prisoners were kept. By means of the stratagem she had first\nemployed, she never failed to be present when her father was so\nmysteriously recalled to life, and then dismissed again into the shadowy\nborder-land of death. Although she could not speak to him, or tell him\nshe was near, it was some comfort to see him arise up strong and well.\nOh! if the day should come, when she might capture that tantalizing\nlittle brown bird! He had become less shy with her of late, and more\ninclined to perch upon the branch above her head, and, while keeping a\nsafe distance, observe her motions closely. At last, one evening, quite\ndisheartened, Hilda went within her own little bowery house, and sat her\ndown and wept. For the first time since her arrival in the gnome garden,\nshe spoke aloud.\n\n\"Oh! I can bear it no longer. My heart will break! My heart will\nbreak.\"\n\nTo Hilda's utter astonishment, a voice came from the foliage around her\nwindow, in reply.\n\n\"Cheer up, dear maiden; the sound of a human voice has broken the spell\ncast over me, and I now see you as you are. I am he whom you have known\nas the little brown bird, in reality a mortal prince, bewitched by that\nwicked old woman, the Grandmother of the Gnomes, who makes everything\nwithin her kingdom subservient to her power. She is my deadly enemy,\nbecause I once discovered the secret of her fountain of life; and, when\non a journey thither with my followers, I was captured and changed into\nmy present shape, while they, poor creatures, were carried prisoners to\nher crypt. Should I regain my shape, it can only be done by the help of\na being brave and true like yourself.\"\n\n\"But why, why did you not make friends with me at first?\" said the\njoyful Hilda.\n\n\"The spell cast upon me forbade my recognizing one of my own kind,\nunless she or he spoke, and you know how human speech is punished in\nthis place. For three long years I have lived in solitude, compelled by\nthe crone to fly back and forth to fetch her the water of life for her\nmagical incantations; what I receive upon my own plumage, while drawing\nthe water for her, has, however, secured my immortality. As for my\ngolden plume it is the magic blade presented to me at birth, by a\nwonderful old wiseman, who said that it would point me to the treasures\nbeneath the earth, defy the powers of evil, and pierce its way through\nsolid rock. This sword, the Grandmother of the Gnomes was unable, much\nas she wished to do so, to deprive me of. The utmost she could\naccomplish was to transform it into a golden plume. Should I ever be so\nunfortunate as to drop it, the finder will be my conqueror. See what\nconfidence I have in your goodness of heart, when I thus give my life\ninto your hands.\"\n\n\"Never could I be so base as to betray you, dear prince,\" said Hilda\njoyfully.\n\n\"Oh! speak on, loveliest of maidens,\" cried the disguised prince. \"Every\nsyllable you utter brings back life and hope to my sad heart. Strange\nthat I should have watched you come and go without knowing what you are.\nIt was the first utterance of your silvery voice in lamentation that\nawakened my benumbed senses. Now, shall we not work together for our\ndeliverance?\"\n\nGladly did Hilda pour forth all the story of her woes to her newly found\nconfidant. The prince bade her to be of good cheer, for it was his\nintention to set forth on the morrow upon his monthly journey in search\nof the water of life.\n\n\"A week hence I shall return, and although it would be impossible for me\nto secrete any of the precious fluid so that our mistress would fail to\nfind it out, yet I will take care to saturate my plumage with the water,\nso that you can obtain enough to free your father and the other\nsufferers. That done, we can proceed to stronger measures. Only be\nguided by me, and obey all I tell you to do, and I promise you release\nand happiness.\"\n\nHilda promised and the brown bird took his leave. Next day he was no\nlonger to be seen in the higher tree-tops, and after a week's absence,\nhe arrived at nightfall dripping wet, and perched upon Hilda's window.\n\nCarefully did Hilda collect every drop that fell from his plumage, and\nwhen next she followed the Grandmother of the Gnomes into the fatal\ncrypt, it was with joyful footsteps, for in her hand she concealed a\nleaf-cup full of the elixir of life. Not even Hilda noticed that the\nlittle brown bird also entered the crypt when she did. On this occasion,\nshe waited as usual to see the prisoners aroused and fed, then cast\nagain into sleep; but instead of following the two crones on their\nreturn, she remained concealed in her crevice of the rock, and saw close\nupon her the doors of this living tomb. Now a sudden terror overtook\nher, and her knees trembled.\n\n\"Oh, dearest little bird, were you but by my side!\" she whispered\nimploringly.\n\n\"I am here, Hilda,\" came in a well-known voice. \"Remember that all\ndepends upon your courage and obedience. Go up to the crystal caskets\nand sprinkle a drop upon each in turn.\"\n\nHilda did so, and in a few moments had the inexpressible joy of seeing\nabout twenty brave knights and other captives arise from their couches\nof marble. Last of all came her beloved father, who clasped her to his\nbreast with rapture unspeakable.\n\n\"Now there is not a moment to be lost,\" said the brown bird, flying to\nHilda. \"Here, brave maiden, pluck the golden feather from my tail.\"\n\nHilda obeyed, and found that she held a shining sword within her hand.\n\n\"Quick, stab me to the heart!\" said the bird.\n\nHilda burst into tears and pleaded with him to spare her; but the brown\nbird reminded her that, because of the water of life, he could never\nreally die; so the young girl, trembling in every limb, plunged the\nblade into his breast.\n\nAs the warm blood rushed forth, a cloud of vapor arose, filling the\ncave; and blowing presently away, it revealed to all present the face\nand figure of a gallant youth, who, proud and smiling, knelt at Hilda's\nfeet.\n\n\"Now is the enchantment banished!\" he cried, as his friends,\nrecognizing their master, came flocking around him in delight. \"But we\nmust not again venture into the precincts of the gnome's garden, for who\nknows what might befall our lovely lady here? Come, my brave sword,\npoint us a way of exit.\"\n\nSwinging it in the air above his head, he brought the blade into a\nhorizontal line in front of him. At once the sword pointed to a fissure\nin the walls of the crypt, and as the rescued band approached, it slowly\nwidened to an opening through which a man might pass.\n\nThis was not a moment too soon, for the dwarfs on guard had discovered\ntheir attempt to escape, and a shrill whistle sounded in their ears.\nSwift as the lightning flash arrived the Grandmother of the Gnomes, this\ntime in her worst aspect, fire darting from her eyes. Behind her came an\narmy of angry little men in red, with hammers in their uplifted hands,\nprepared to do battle to the death. What was their fury to find the\nbiers empty, and a long line of stalwart men, led by Hilda, escaping\nthrough a doorway in the solid rock! The last to depart was the prince,\nand advancing upon him with a horrible yell and glare of defiance came\nthe Grandmother of the Gnomes. The prince met her with extended sword,\nand the enchanted blade pierced her to the heart. The frightened gnomes,\nsurrounding their dead chief, laid her upon the marble slab from which\nHilda's father had arisen, and then flew in pursuit of the avenger. But\nit was too late. The rocky wall had closed upon the retreating party,\nand the Grandmother of the Gnomes arose no more from her final\nresting-place.\n\nThe divining-sword led Hilda and her companions straightway to the\nsurface of the earth, taking care, as they passed it by, to point out\nsufficient hidden treasure to enrich every man of the party. As for the\nprince, as he was already the owner of one of the richest kingdoms of\nthe world, all he desired was to regain it, in company with his beloved\nHilda, who by this time had pledged herself to be his bride. Hilda's\nfather accompanied them to the palace of the prince, and was by him\nennobled and enriched. The marriage took place, and just as the guests\nwere enjoying the festivities, the new queen saw her servants turning\naway from the door a miserable-looking pair of beggar women. Bidding\nthese pitiful creatures draw near to receive her alms, the queen\nrecognized in them Dame Martha and her daughter. Such was the generosity\nof her nature, that Hilda could not resist disclosing her self to them,\nand assuring them that the _accident_ of her fall had been the means of\nsecuring her wonderful good fortune.\n\nShe ordered fine clothes and fine rooms to be prepared for the couple,\nand would have forgiven them entirely, but that her father and the\nprince, interfering, ordered the wicked schemers to be driven from the\nhouse and kingdom.\n\nSome time after, Dame Martha and Margaret reappeared in the neighborhood\nof their old home. They were very sullen and close-mouthed, and were\nlast seen hovering around the mountain-side in the direction of the old\nstone quarry, after which they were lost to human view.\n\nThe facts in the case are that Dame Martha's envy of her step-daughter\nled her to the desperate resolve to herself descend into the pit in\ncompany with her amiable child. Upon reaching the dwelling of the late\nGrandmother of the Gnomes, they were immediately seized and made to do\nduty in the cellar with the toads, mice, serpents, owls, and bats, where\nin all probability they are still enjoying life in congenial\ncompanionship.\n\nHilda and her prince lived a long and happy life. The bright sword hung\nunused upon the wall, as no enemies appeared against whom to unsheath\nit, and the prince never again felt tempted to risk a visit to the\nkingdom of the gnomes.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ADVENTURES OF HA'PENNY OR, THE DWARF, THE WITCH, AND THE MAGIC\nSLIPPERS.\n\n[Illustration: Ha'penny Watching the Witch in the Underground Garden.]\n\n\nOnce upon a time lived a poor, little, crooked dwarf named \"Ha'penny.\"\nWhen he was born he was so small that his nurse exclaimed, \"Why, he is\nno bigger than a ha'penny!\" and thus the nickname settled upon him, as\nugly nicknames often do upon very worthy people. His father was not very\nkind to the unfortunate child, who, finding himself pitied and avoided\nby children of his own age, soon learned to go off to the woods alone,\nand to spend the days with birds and animals, over whom he had\nextraordinary power. The most beautiful birds of many-colored plumage\nwould flutter away from their boughs in the forest to perch upon\nHa'penny's finger, and take sugar from his lips; shy little brown\nsquirrels would scamper down the trunks of the great trees to nestle\nagainst his cheek; bees buzzed around his head without offering to sting\nhim; pretty striped snakes glided from under their stones and stumps at\nhis call; while all horses, and cows, and dogs, and cats loved to rub\nagainst him, and let themselves be stroked and petted at his will. This\nfriendship with the world of animals and insects was Ha'penny's greatest\njoy, and during the summer time, when he could live abroad, the little\ncreature was happy enough, after his fashion. In winter he had to\ncontent himself with feeding the birds, and visiting the stables to hide\nin the hay of the horses' manger, where the grooms would find him,\nmouthing and chattering in an unknown tongue. They would often scold\nhim, and put him out of the stable, for Ha'penny was no favorite with\nhis father's people. His mother had died when Ha'penny was a little\nfellow of five, and when he reached the age of fifteen (although looking\nmuch younger) his father married a second wife, who proved a cruel\nstep-mother.\n\n\"If that ugly, little, twisted fright were out of the way, I could\nreally enjoy life,\" the unkind woman would say to herself; and she lost\nno opportunity to make Ha'penny's life a burden to him, by all sorts of\npetty tricks and persecutions.\n\nHe bore all in silence, creeping away to his attic bedroom, and lying\nfor hours on the floor sobbing bitterly. His only comfort was in his\npets, and a queer lot they were. Among them were a dog, who had had both\nfore-paws cut off by the mowing-machine, a chicken with a cork leg, a\nblind cat, a land-terrapin, a dozen white mice, a number of birds which\nhe had rescued from freezing and starvation, some trained fleas, a\nsquirrel that had lost its tail--everything that was maimed, or\nhomeless, or unfortunate. These he treasured in a little empty chamber\nopening out of his, and no one but himself ever approached it. All the\npoor dumb creatures loved him, and would swarm around him when he opened\nthe door; and, in return, he spent upon them all the passion of love he\nhad never bestowed on any one of his own kind.\n\nOne day when Ha'penny had gone off to the woods to search for some ripe\npartridge-berries for his birds, the step-mother found her way to his\nhidden menagerie. One instant she looked about her, with disgust and\nfury in her face, and then calling her maids she gave them cruel\norders. Ha'penny came in from his walk, opened the door of his\ntreasure-house--and alas! what a sight met his eyes! In two corners of\nthe room hung his pet dog and cat, his terrapin was crushed under a\nheavy piece of iron, his birds were dead, his chicken's head was cut\noff, his mice were drowned in a pail; not one living thing remained to\ngreet him but the trained fleas, who had taken refuge in the rafters\noverhead after biting the wicked mistress and her maids until they\ncapered about in their misery!\n\nHa'penny gave one glance at his beloved pets thus wantonly sacrificed,\nand fell upon the floor sobbing with helpless rage and despair. He lay\nthere all day without being inquired for, and when night came he stole\nout to the orchard and buried his poor dead favorites under the light of\nthe stars. He would not go back to the house, and, forgetful of cold,\nhunger, everything but his burning sense of wrong, he wandered away,\naway, into the forest. A few berries and a crust he had carried for the\nbirds were his only food until the evening of the next day, when he came\nin sight of a queer little hut, half hidden from observation by the\ntrees that grew over it. Starving and desperate, Ha'penny was gaining\ncourage to knock at the door. All at once a little lattice window\nopened, and an old woman poked her head out saying:\n\n    \"Come and eat, the table's spread\n    With sweetest milk and whitest bread.\n    Good cheer, enough for all I've got,\n    And more is cooking in the pot.\"\n\nAt this Ha'penny pricked up his ears and licked his chaps like a hungry\ncur; and just then a number of handsome cats and dogs came running out\nof the woods and toward the cottage door, which the dame had by this\ntime opened. As no animal ever avoided Ha'penny, these creatures all\nfawned upon him, refusing to go in; and the dame, perceiving the\nnew-comer, asked him, with an angry air, what was his business.\n\n\"A little food and shelter, madam,\" said poor Ha'penny, the tears\nrunning down his cheeks.\n\n\"Begone, you rascal!\" cried the angry woman; \"I don't believe a word you\nsay. I believe you are a spy sent here to tempt away my pets. See how\nthey hang around you. You must be a magician, for in general they will\nhave nothing to do with strangers. Get you gone, sorcerer!\"\n\nHa'penny turned meekly away, but the dogs and cats followed him with\nevery show of affection. Faint with hunger as he was, his legs tottered\nunder him, and he soon fell to the ground. Then the cats and dogs\nsurrounded him, licking his face and hands in spite of all their\nmistress's endeavors to coax them away.\n\nThe old woman's anger ceased when she found the grotesque-looking little\nstranger had really fainted from exhaustion. She lifted him in her arms\nand carried him in to the fire, and rubbed his cold limbs, putting\nspoonfuls of hot broth between his lips. By and by, when Ha'penny came\nto himself, he told her all his sad story, and when he reached the part\nabout the killing of his pets, his heavy eyes flashed fire.\n\n\"She is a horrible wicked woman!\" he exclaimed.\n\nThe dame answered by striking her staff on the floor. \"See here, boy, if\nyou are honest, you may stay here and mind my animals.\"\n\nShe took him into the next room, and there--what a funny spectacle!\nTwelve cats and twelve dogs lay upon cushions before the fire. The\ncushions were made of satin, and the covers were of velvet worked in\ngold. Twenty-four silver bowls stood in a row, and every cat or dog had\nits separate comb and brush, and bath-tub and towels, and sponge and\nsoap, and perfume bottle, on a shelf. In the middle of the room played a\nfountain of rose-water, and at the windows hung pink silk curtains,\nwhich were drawn when the creatures went to sleep. All in this room was\nrich and costly, while the dame's own quarters were as plain as those of\nany other cottager. _She_ was content to sleep in a big feather bed, to\nbe covered by a clean patchwork quilt, to eat on a deal table off blue\ncrockery, with a well-scoured pewter spoon. Ha'penny's eyes sparkled at\nthe idea of waiting on the cats and dogs. He made friends with them at\nonce. The dame gave him a clean bedroom under the roof, and every day\nafter feeding and combing his charges he took them for a walk in the\nwoods.\n\n\"So long as you wait on my darlings faithfully, and mind your own\nbusiness,\" the dame said, \"no trouble will come to you. But on no\naccount ever go near the little closet in the peak of the roof. Should\nyou do so, evil will happen, and your life may pay the forfeit.\"\n\nHa'penny suspected from this that his mistress was a witch; but it\ntroubled him very little, as he was an honest lad and intended never to\ndisobey her.\n\nOne day the dame brought home a new cat, a large, white Angora, a beauty\nto look at, with pink eyes and flowing hair, fine and silken as spun\nglass. From the moment of that cat's arrival the happy family was\ncompletely upset. Felisette, for so she was named, proved to be vain,\nselfish, and greedy; she fought for the best of everything, ate up her\nneighbor's bowl of milk as well as her own, and actually bit and spit at\nHa'penny. Felisette soon became jealous of Ha'penny's affection for the\nothers, and determined to do him an evil turn. One day the dame was\ngoing to the Witches' Sabbath, and said to Ha'penny, \"Now mind and take\nespecial care of my lovely darling, Felisette. If she gets into any\ntrouble I shall hold you to answer for it, as I see the dear creature is\nnot your favorite.\"\n\nThe dame went off riding on a broom-stick, and Felisette invented a\nthousand spiteful tricks to make the time pass unpleasantly to the\nothers. At last she disappeared, and presently Ha'penny heard her crying\npitifully upstairs. He rushed to see what was the matter, and discovered\nher with her tail caught in the door of the forbidden closet, up in the\npeak of the roof. She seemed about to die of the pain she was suffering,\nand, eager to set her free, the kind lad, without a moment's\nhesitation, lifted the latch while stroking Felisette's fur, when lo! as\nthe door flew open, out came a skeleton hand, seizing poor Ha'penny in\nits grip! Up jumped Felisette, laughing heartily at the success of her\ntrick, and ran away.\n\n[Illustration: Ha'penny opens the magic closet.]\n\nHa'penny found himself held close in the embrace of two skeleton arms.\nIn vain he struggled; the dreadful clasp only grew closer. He knew that\nthis was a trap the witch had set to catch any one visiting the\nforbidden closet, so he made up his mind to die when his mistress should\nreturn. While he was in this sad way, the oldest of the dogs came up and\nlicked his hands. Tears were running from its eyes, and to Ha'penny's\ngreat surprise the dog spoke.\n\n\"My poor friend!\" said the oldest of the dogs, \"I am afraid your fate is\nsealed. Know, then, that there is but one chance left for you to escape\nthe witch's power. In this closet she keeps the magic slippers and the\nmagic staff. Wearing the slippers, you may run faster than the wind;\nholding the staff, you may discover all the hidden treasures of the\nearth.\"\n\n\"But how can I get free of this horrible trap?\" said Ha'penny.\n\nThe oldest of the dogs looked around to see that no one was listening,\nand then whispered:\n\n\"You must know that we twelve dogs were once twelve princes, and the\ntwelve cats were princesses--all of us having turn by turn fallen into\nthe power of the witch. She is bound to treat us according to our rank,\nbut there is no hope of ever regaining human shape, I fear. Still, we\nmay be able to help _you_, who have been so good to us.\"\n\nHe gave a little short bark, and up the stairs came running all the dogs\nand cats, who wept when they saw the sad plight of their friend. Up on a\nhigh shelf over the skeleton's head were the magic staff and slippers,\nand the thing was to get them down without touching the skeleton, which\nheld fast every living thing that touched it. One of the cats ran nimbly\nup the wall and let herself hang; the next cat hung to her tail, and so\non till a bridge was made, over which the oldest of the dogs scrambled,\nand got the coveted treasures. He put the staff in Ha'penny's hand, and\nfitted the slippers on his feet. Ha'penny gave a kick, and struck the\nground with his staff. Instantly the arms of the skeleton relaxed their\ngrip, and he was free. He bade a fond farewell to his dear friends,\npromising to come back to help them whenever he could. He set out to run\nfrom the house, and speedily the slippers carried him off at such a\ntremendous rate of speed that he was faint for want of breath. Vainly he\ntried to stop, but no; on, on he went with a fearful rush. He heard the\ncries of the old witch, who pursued him on her broom-stick. On, on, went\npoor Ha'penny, more dead than alive, and now the witch seemed gaining on\nhim. He could hear the gnashing of her teeth. He struck out with his\nstaff, as he passed by a rock, and instantly the rock became a mountain\nas high as the moon. The witch took some time to clamber over this, and\nmeantime Ha'penny got far ahead of her. Reaching a city, he dashed into\nthe midst of a funeral procession that was going through the street, and\nhid himself under the pall of the coffin, kicking off the slippers as he\ndid so. Immediately he could walk as other men do, and when the old\nwitch arrived she saw nothing but the funeral creeping slowly along--no\nsign of Ha'penny, who, hidden under the pall, clasped his magic slippers\nto his breast, and held tight to his magic staff. The disappointed witch\nflew homeward and whipped the cats and dogs soundly--excepting\nFelisette, who, of course, had been the tell-tale on poor Ha'penny.\n\nThe funeral train reached the cemetery, and Ha'penny thought it his duty\nto cry as bitterly as the rest of the mourners; but after the coffin had\nbeen put in the grave, and as they were turning away, he asked a\nbystander whose funeral it was.\n\n\"The king's messenger, to be sure, you simpleton,\" said the man.\n\n\"Could I get the place?\" asked Ha'penny.\n\n\"You, the king's messenger!\" said the man, scornfully. \"Why, he must be\nthe swiftest runner in the country. Look at your cork-screw legs! Look\nat your hump-back and your big head! As well expect a snail to carry\nour king's messages.\"\n\nNothing daunted, Ha'penny went to the king's chamberlain, and proffered\nhis request. The chamberlain laughed until his head nearly dropped off,\nand then called the first Goldstick-in-waiting, who called the second,\nand soon the whole court was roaring over the absurd request of this\npoor mannikin to be the king's messenger.\n\n\"All I ask is that you try me,\" said Ha'penny, stoutly holding his\nground.\n\n\"Stop! An idea occurs to me,\" said the jolly chamberlain, holding his\naching sides. \"To-morrow we shall have a running-match between this\nchampion and the swiftest runner of the kingdom. In truth, my lords,\nthis will be sport worth having,\" and he looked around at the courtiers,\nwho all set to laughing anew.\n\nNext day the match was held in a lovely grassy field. On a green mound\nin the centre was pitched a white satin tent, under which sat the king\nand queen and their children. An immense crowd assembled. Two bands of\nmusic kept playing all the time; there were free Punch and Judy shows on\nthe outskirts of the crowd, and booths where lemonade was given away,\nwith peppermint sticks and molasses taffy, to all who asked for it.\nBanners waved, trumpets blew, and then the race began. Side by side with\nHa'penny, little and insignificant and forlorn as he was, started the\nking's swiftest runner, a man of beautiful light form and splendid\nmuscle. Once around the field they ran, the dwarf lagging; but on the\nsecond round Ha'penny settled his feet well in his magic slippers, when,\nsee! like an arrow he sped past the athlete, and was in at the goal so\neasily that the spectators hardly had time to wink their astonished\neyes! Hurrah! hurrah! A mighty cheer went up for the successful\nHa'penny, and the king called him to receive the purse of gold, which\nwas the prize. Ha'penny knelt at the king's feet, and again asked to be\nmade his messenger.\n\n\"That shall you be, my mannikin!\" said the pleased monarch. So Ha'penny\nhad a gold chain round his neck, a fine velvet coat to wear every day,\nand a page to serve his meals. The king grew so fond of his new servant\nthat the rest of the courtiers became jealous. Soon Ha'penny again had\nno friends but the animals around the palace. They, as usual, followed\nhim everywhere, and caressed him fondly.\n\nOnce when the little dwarf was walking in the king's paddock,\naccompanied by a train of young deer who loved to be near him, he felt\nthe staff in his hand give a loud thump on the ground. At the same time\nall the deer formed in a circle round the spot, seeming by their eyes to\nimplore Ha'penny to remain there. At first he could not understand this,\nbut at length occurred to him what the oldest of the dogs had said about\nhidden treasure. Ha'penny had no spade to dig with, but at once the deer\nwent to work with their hoofs, and soon they had made a deep hole, at\nthe bottom of which lay a large iron ring fastened to an iron door.\n\nHa'penny was not strong enough to pull this up; but the magic staff,\nwhen passed through the ring, lifted it easily. Below was a flight of\nsteps, leading to a gallery. Ha'penny went down the steps, followed the\nwindings of the gallery, and reached a second door. Touching this with\nthe magic staff it yielded, and flying open disclosed to view a lovely\ngarden, where roamed all sorts of strange shapes--men's and women's\nbodies bearing the heads of bears, lions, wolves, foxes, dogs, cows,\nhorses, and cats. Instantly these creatures came flocking around\nHa'penny, calling him their deliverer, and telling him that they too\nwere victims of the witch, although by an accident she had only had time\nto change their heads before her spell expired. To this garden the witch\nwas in the habit of coming once a week, to see how her victims were\ngetting on, and to-day was the day of her visit. Ha'penny took the magic\nslippers from his pocket and put them on; and keeping firm hold of his\ntrusty staff he hid behind a lilac-bush.\n\nSoon, in came the witch, riding her broom-stick. Ha'penny had never\nbefore seen her in her true witch dress. It was a black, tight-fitting\ngown, made of scaly snake-skin, and she had a necklace of live coals.\nAround her high-peaked cap were twined two living serpents, and a toad\nformed her brooch. Under one arm she carried her familiar spirit, in the\nlikeness of a black cat, with a single emerald eye. She wore a mantle,\nmade of cobwebs and studded with large venomous red spiders. Oh! she was\na terror to look upon, and no mistake! Ha'penny's teeth chattered with\nfear, and so would yours at sight of her! She rode sweeping her broom\ndown the garden path, and instantly all the animals with human bodies\ncame running to do her homage. She made them kneel before her, and, with\nthe three-thonged whip of live snakes she carried, whipped them all\ncruelly, till they groaned and cried for mercy. Then, feeling tired, she\nlay down on a bank to sleep, guarded by her familiar, who kept watch\nwith its single eye of flame; and on closely observing the horrid\ncreature Ha'penny made no doubt that it was none other than his enemy,\nFelisette, in her rightful shape.\n\nWhen the witch was fairly snoring, Ha'penny crept up behind, and\nsummoning all his strength prepared to smite her with his staff.\nSuddenly the black cat spit and hunched her back. The serpents around\nthe witch's hat began to writhe and uncoil. They knew an enemy was near.\n\nHa'penny saw that he must lose no time, so aiming a fierce blow at the\nwitch's back, he broke her spinal column, just as you would break a\nstick of sugar-candy. Then the dying witch uttered a shrill command to\nher watchers, and instantly Felisette and the two serpents set upon the\naudacious Ha'penny. \"This time you shall not escape me!\" cried\nFelisette, spitting fire. The cat's breath was deadly poison, and the\nserpents' fangs no man might feel and live. Ha'penny struck, swift and\nsure, right into the middle of the cat's single eye, and pierced her\nbrain. As Felisette fell dead beside the groaning witch, the serpents\nreared their full length from the ground, and prepared to strangle the\ndwarf. The good staff proved true, and cut them both in two with a\nsingle well-aimed blow. What was his horror to find the mangled remains\nof the snakes change into four living ones, stronger than the first.\nThere was nothing for it but flight, and Ha'penny took to his heels. The\nmagic slippers carried him on and away, so swiftly that nothing could\ncatch him. He passed through the gallery and went out at the iron door,\nfinding himself safe, but a little out of breath, in the paddock with\nthe king's deer.\n\nHa'penny told nobody of this exciting adventure, but could not sleep for\nthinking of all the poor bewitched people down there in the underground\ngarden in the power of those dreadful snakes. He now suspected that\nthese two fighting serpents were of the multiplication variety. (This\nmeans that if they were cut in two they would become four, from four\nbecome eight, from eight sixteen, from sixteen thirty-two, and so on\nindefinitely; and this, we are told, is the very worst species of snake\nknown to travellers!)\n\nHa'penny got up early, went out again to the paddock, and found the deer\nin a great state of excitement and agitation. They seemed to be waiting\nfor him to come, and led the way to the secret passage in the earth.\nHa'penny went down, staff in hand, and easily passed through the first\niron door. As he neared the second door, he heard a confused noise\nbeyond it of cries and lamentations. He opened the door softly, and\ncrept into the garden unobserved. There he saw the dying witch, who, as\nwitches always require twenty-four hours to die in, was lying on the\nground writhing horribly, groaning, and shrieking to her snakes to\nmultiply, which they did until almost the whole garden was one seething,\nwriggling mass of the horrible creatures. The poor people in the garden\nhad climbed up the trees, and were every moment expecting to fall to the\nground poisoned by the breath of the serpents, which rose in a thick\nvapor.\n\nIn this terrible moment Ha'penny's heart almost failed him; but,\nmustering all his courage, he sprang upon the witch, and tore from her\nthe mantle of cobwebs, to which he noticed she was clinging. Instantly\nthe witch set up a shrill shriek.\n\n\"Give me back my mantle,\" she cried pitifully; \"if I die with that\naround me, I can be sure of rest in the grave. If you take it away, I\nshall have to fly about like a bat forever.\"\n\n\"If you order the snakes to shrivel up and die, and restore all your\nvictims to their natural shapes, I will give you the mantle,\" said\nHa'penny firmly.\n\n\"Children, come home!\" cried the witch, in a failing voice. Immediately\nthe snakes began rolling and gliding into each other, and in a short\nwhile nothing was left but the two fiery serpents, who wreathed\nthemselves quietly around the witch's hat again, as if nothing had\noccurred.\n\n\"Children, be dust!\" she said again--this time in a weaker voice--and\nthe snakes curled up and fell away, leaving behind them only two little\nshining skins.\n\n\"Be once more men and women, you accursed things!\" she said spitefully,\nmaking a sign at the transformed beings who were now flocking around\nHa'penny with delight and gratitude. As the witch spoke, the ugly\ndeformities melted away, and in their place were seen the heads of\nhandsome men and beautiful women, who wept for joy when they found\nthemselves restored.\n\nHa'penny now threw the cobweb mantle over the witch, who, clutching it\nin her arms, gave one long shudder and expired. They made a grave for\nher then and there; and Ha'penny led his companions out of the magic\ngarden, which they were glad to leave, into the long passage-way. There\nthey showed him caverns filled with gold and silver, which it had been\ntheir business to dig out of the earth and to pack away for the witch.\nHa'penny and his friends divided the spoil, although they told him it\nwas all his by right. When they got up into the light of day once more,\nthe bewitched people scattered in all directions to go to their various\nhomes, and Ha'penny was again alone in the world, although now very\nrich. He persuaded the king to discharge him from the royal service, and\nhis first thought was to journey to the cabin in the woods. This, by aid\nof the magic slippers, he did in very quick style, and there he found\nthe twelve dogs and the twelve cats living as before. This distressed\nHa'penny, as he had hoped that the breaking of the witch's spell would\nset them also free. \"What did I tell you?\" said the oldest of the dogs\nsadly. \"We are doomed _never_ to regain our shapes; but, now that\nFelisette has gone, we are comfortable here and don't repine. Only,\nthere _should_ be somebody to cook for us, and our hair has not been\ndecently brushed for a week.\"\n\nHa'penny felt a sudden thrill of joy. Here, at last, was something to\ndepend on him, something that he might live and care for. He warmed the\nwater forthwith, and gave all the dogs and cats a bath apiece, and then\nhe combed and brushed them nicely. He made the fire and heated their\nbroth, and fetched fresh cream and white bread for their breakfast.\nNothing was heard but little barks and purrs of enjoyment. Ha'penny\nwaited till all were asleep on their cushions, and then he mounted the\nstairs and nailed up the skeleton cupboard, so that it might never again\nbe opened. He could not take it quite away, you see, as every one must\nhave a skeleton of some kind in his closet, and this was the only one he\nhad. Ha'penny had never felt so happy and light-hearted as now. He had\nfound friends, and might remain alone with them in peace.\n\nSo there he continued to live, and I am almost sure that if you would\nvisit that forest, you might, even now, succeed in finding the cottage,\nthe cats, and Ha'penny himself!\n\n\n\n\nSYBILLA, MYRTILLO, AND FURIOSO.\n\n\nA certain king had a beautiful golden-haired daughter named Sybilla,\nwhose suitors came from every country, though with small success, since\nthe princess had vowed to remain single until one proving to be the\nmightiest hero of the world should appear.\n\nAt no great distance from her father's country lived a horrible giant,\nevery hair of whose head could change, at will, into a fiery serpent. He\nhad one eye, the size of a mill-wheel, and his teeth looked like rocks\nin a mighty cavern. His name was Furioso, and his strength was known to\nsurpass that of an army of ordinary men. What was the dismay of\nSybilla's father when this monster sent to request the lovely princess\nfor his wife! The king turned pale, and walked up and down his palace\nfloor all night, for he knew what it meant to refuse the request of\nFurioso, who, up to this time, had lived at peace with his neighbor's\ncountry. The queen-mother, hearing of the giant's offer, took to her\nroyal bed in kicking hysterics. As to the proud little princess, she\ncurled her pretty red lips scornfully and tossed her head. \"I'd like to\nsee him do it, the fright!\" was what she said.\n\nIn a few days what the king feared had come to pass. The giant Furioso,\non receiving the beautiful diplomatic letter the king's secretary had\nwritten him (after consultation with all the lords and lawyers of the\nrealm), frowned, scratched his head, which instantly bristled all over\nwith flaming serpents, and opening his mouth sent forth a blood-curdling\nyell of defiance that resounded in the farthest part of the king's\ndominions. Without a moment's delay he changed himself into a fearful\nhurricane, and swept over the country and the palace of the Princess\nSybilla. Fences and iron gates, stone walls and marble palaces fell to\nthe ground like card-houses. Forests were uprooted, suspension bridges\nsnapped like cobwebs, villages entire rose up into the clouds and\ndisappeared, with their inhabitants looking in astonishment out of the\nwindows! Cows and horses, dogs and elephants were seen whirling about\nin the air like Japanese day-fireworks. The king and queen found the\nroof lifted from above their heads, and went sailing out the open space\nin their nightcaps. They met all the court blowing wildly about up\nthere, and for some time it was like a mad dance without any bottom to\nit. Dizzy and terrified, the royal couple at last fell down to earth\nagain, the queen lighting on the fat cook, so that she was not seriously\ninjured--the king falling on a tennis net, which the force of the wind\nkept suspended like a hammock without any ropes.\n\nPicking themselves up, the first thought of the royal couple was for\ntheir beloved princess. As fast as different members of the court and\nhousehold fell down from the clouds, which they continued to do all the\nevening and night, the king sent them in search of the princess. Nobody\nremembered having seen Sybilla anywhere in the air, and her\nwaiting-maid, who dropped somewhere about nine o'clock A.M., next day,\nwept as she told how she was combing the princess' golden hair with the\nivory comb she still held in her hand, when the breeze came which\nseparated them. One thing was certain, the princess had disappeared.\nWhen things settled down a little, and people began taking their\nbreath, a peasant turned up who reported seeing the princess flying\nalong at a fearful rate of speed in the arms of a tall, white-haired man\nwrapped in a mantle, who hid his face as he passed. \"It were just at\nthat moment, your honors,\" said the peasant, overwhelmed by the\nquestions that rained on him, \"I were myself tooken, unexpected-like,\nand turned upside down by the wind; and when I cum to, there I were\natop a haystack in Farmer Grimes' field, five miles from home as the\ncrow flies, a-standing on my head.\"\n\nThe king and queen exchanged horrified glances.\n\nEach remembered to have heard that one of the tricks of Giant Furioso,\nwhen he wished to be particularly wicked, was to change to the semblance\nof a venerable white-haired man. No doubt about it, the whole calamity\nto court and nation was the work of Furioso, and _he_ had got the\nprincess.\n\nThe distracted king set out at the head of his army to visit Furioso's\ncastle. To his surprise, under the giant's name, upon a visiting card\ninserted above the speaking-trumpet at the gate, were pencilled these\nwords: \"Out of town till further notice.\" The windows were closed, and\ngreen shades hung behind them. No smoke came out of the chimneys, and\nthe doors were chained. Evidently the giant had retired to some one of\nhis retreats, where he could not be followed. The king and his army\nmarched back again in gloomy silence.\n\nFor six months nothing was heard of the unfortunate Sybilla, till one\nday three young princes, travelling from a distant country in search of\nadventure, found a wounded carrier-pigeon on the road. Under its wing\nwas a note, written in pale red ink, on a bit of torn linen cambric. The\nnote gave them considerable trouble to read it, but, at last, the\nyoungest prince, Myrtillo, who had always been the cleverest at school,\nmanaged to decipher these words:\n\n     \"I write this with blood taken from my finger, on a fragment of\n     my only pocket-handkerchief. I am the wretched Princess\n     Sybilla, daughter of the King Rolando, and I pray any kind\n     mortal who finds this to come to my aid, in the dungeon of\n     Furioso, under the fifth mountain of the Impassable Range. Once\n     in twenty-four hours this mountain cleaves asunder to let my\n     oppressor take the air. Watch, and rescue me, in the name of\n     humanity.\"\n\nThe Impassable Range was far away, but the princes journeyed thither\nwithout delay. They found the fifth mountain easily, and hid under the\nrocks at its base, to await developments. Exactly at sunrise a rumbling\nsound was heard, and the cliffs shook. The mountain split apart from\nsummit to base, and between two yawning jaws of rock issued forth,\nfirst, a head covered with flaming serpents, then a frightful purple\nface, and lastly, the gigantic form of Furioso. Following him came the\nwails and shrieks of his captives within the mountain, to which Furioso\npaid no attention; he only turned his back and shouted:\n\n    \"Close you, mountain, fierce and grim,\n    Open but to Banbedrim!\"\n\nThe princes fancied that this last was the password, and when the giant\nhad disappeared they tried to make the mountain open by repeating it;\nbut in his excitement each one forgot how to pronounce the magic\nsyllables. So there they stayed till sunset, when the giant came home\nfrom his hunting expedition. He had a pouch slung over his shoulder, and\nin it were crowded the new men, women, and children he had caught. The\npoor creatures were half dead with terror and rough treatment. The\nprinces watched the giant, and listened with all their ears for the\npassword. \"Banbedrim!\" thundered Furioso, and instantly the mountain\nyawned to let him and his miserable prisoners pass in, when it closed,\nas before.\n\nThe three princes laid each his hand on his sword, and swore to be\navenged of the brutal treatment of their fellow-beings. Next morning\nwhen the giant issued forth, hurling the password at the mountain, then\ndisappeared from sight, the oldest prince declared that he should be the\nfirst to enter the mountain, that his brothers should wait twenty-four\nhours for his reappearance, and that should he fail to come back the\nsecond brother might come to his assistance.\n\nBravely the young man sprang up the mountain-side, and called aloud the\npassword. Instantly amid thunderings and lightnings the ground split at\nhis feet and swallowed him from sight. They could see the tip of his\nbright sword held aloft, as he sank into the gloomy abyss.\n\nTwenty-four hours passed, and the oldest prince failed to return. Then\nthe second brother set forth, and he, too, vanished from sight. A long\nday and night of waiting had the youngest prince. Then he ascended the\nmountain where there was every reason to fear his brothers had found a\nhorrible fate. Uttering the password, Myrtillo saw, through the opening\nearth at his feet, a pit whence came fire and smoke; and he plainly\nheard the cries for help of many human voices.\n\nMyrtillo fell a great distance, landing on his feet in a desolate\ncavern. The smoke cleared away and he beheld a huge iron door before\nwhich were four trumpets--one of copper, one of silver, one of gold, and\none of brass. Over them these words: \"He who would enter here, choose\nbetween us four.\"\n\nAt the foot of the golden trumpet lay the mangled remains of his oldest\nbrother, who had perished in trying to blow it. At the foot of the\nsilver trumpet the corpse of the second prince had fallen; and now\nMyrtillo must choose between the two remaining trumpets! Without a\nmoment's hesitation he put his lips to the copper trumpet, and gave a\nloud, clear blast. At once the iron door flew open, and he was in a hall\nsurrounded by dungeons, through whose gratings he could see prisoners in\nevery stage of misery. They called to him frantically, and hailed him as\ntheir deliverer. Alas! what could the poor prince do to save them. He\nlooked about and saw a long tunnel, ending in a massive gate of stone\nand iron. As he gazed into the darkness of the tunnel something coiled\nup at the end of it seemed to stir, and a hideous snake darted toward\nhim, opening a pair of jaws as wide as an ordinary fireplace, and\nsending out a flaming tongue. Myrtillo charged upon the beast, and after\na desperate fight drove his sword down its throat, the point coming out\nat the back of the neck. As he stooped to free his sword the serpent\ngave a convulsive struggle and died. Myrtillo found a chain around its\nneck on which was fastened a golden key. He took the key and put it in\nthe great key-hole of the iron door before him, and to his joy the door\nopened. There, in a dismal dungeon within, lay a beautiful maiden in\nchains. Myrtillo set her free, and found that she was the Princess\nSybilla, whom the giant treated with especial cruelty because she\npersisted in refusing his love. She told him that the little pigeon was\none of many kept for the serpent's food, and that she had hidden it, and\nhelped it to fly out one day when the giant left her cell. \"And now,\"\nsaid the princess, when Myrtillo had in turn told her his story, \"let us\nbe quick, and lose no time. In the court beyond my cell are two\nfountains. One of them contains the water of strength, the other the\nwater of weakness. From the former fountain Furioso gains all his power.\nA little of its water sprinkled upon the dead recalls them to life, and\nwe may save your poor brothers yet.\"\n\nMyrtillo and the lady hastened to the fountains; but to their dismay a\nroaring noise and the groans of the wretched prisoners, who were\nchastised daily upon his return, announced the arrival of the giant.\n\"Quick!\" said the lady, pointing to the water of strength; \"drink once\nof this, and you will be strong enough to change the fountains, putting\neach in the place of the other.\"\n\nMyrtillo obeyed, and at once felt able to move a mountain at command. He\nseized the solid stone basins and changed them, and hardly had he done\nso when the giant came rushing in. \"Where is that insolent\nwhipper-snapper of a prince who has dared to kill my faithful serpent?\"\nroared he.\n\n\"Here he is, at your service,\" said Myrtillo, stepping forth with a\ngallant bow, and holding his glittering sword in hand.\n\n\"Just wait till I quench my thirst,\" said the giant disdainfully, as he\nstooped down to what he supposed to be his fountain of strength, and\ndrank a long, deep draught. Suddenly a strange trembling came over the\nmonster's huge bulk. His face turned pale, his eyes stared, his jaw\ndropped, he sank to the ground.\n\n\"Why, this is the water of weakness my prisoners drink,\" he cried. \"What\ntrick have you been playing me, you scoundrel?\"\n\nMyrtillo again drank of the water of strength, and now he felt as if he\ncould defy an army, single-handed. Swift as a lightning flash he\ndescended upon the giant, and severed his wicked head from his body. The\nPrincess Sybilla uttered a wild shriek of delight, which was heard and\nunderstood by all her fellow-captives, and the dungeons echoed with\nsobs and cries of joy. Myrtillo and the princess filled goblets with the\nwater of strength, and hastened to sprinkle all the prisoners, who,\nparalyzed by their chains and wasted with hunger, could in many cases\nbarely stir upon the ground where they lay. Soon, a host of strong men\nand women filled the main hall of the dungeon, and then Myrtillo had the\njoy of seeing his two brothers return to life under the action of the\nmagic water, in which he bathed their limbs. As Myrtillo only had\n_drank_ of the water of strength, he remained the strongest champion in\nthe world; and when Sybilla was taken back to her father and mother, she\ntold them that she had promised to take the Prince Myrtillo for her\nhusband. From the giant's stronghold Myrtillo brought away gems and gold\nenough to enrich him for a lifetime, even after all the giant's victims\nhad been sent home with a bag of gold apiece. His brothers found brides\nin two lovely fellow-sufferers they had led out of the giant's cavern to\nthe light of day; and so all were satisfied, and in a short time the\nGiant Furioso was forgotten. No more hurricanes visited the kingdom of\nSybilla's father, where things continued to jog along in the old-time\npeaceful fashion.\n\n\n\n\nANNETTE; OR, THE MAGIC COFFEE-MILL.\n\n\nA poor woman and her daughter, who were on the verge of starvation, saw\na little green bud of a plant growing through their cottage floor. They\nwatered it, and in a day or two it sent forth long shoots, and became a\nvine, fine and delicate to look at, but tough as an iron wire. The vine\nput forth leaves, soon covering the inner walls of the cottage. The\ntendrils waved longingly toward the sun, and so the mother and daughter\nset their lattice window open, when, lo! the vine escaped as if it had\nwings and grew quickly heavenward. Lovely flowers bloomed on it, in\nshape like morning-glories, and rare birds came to drink the honey of\ntheir chalices. The maiden leaned out of her window and looked up.\nHigher, higher climbed the vine, till it was lost in the blue sky above\nthem. The girl was seized with a yearning desire to climb up and see\nwhat could be seen. Her mother gave her leave, and she set out. Up, up,\nshe went, and the mother watched below till the clustering green and\nmany-colored bells hid her child from sight. At last the girl reached a\nwonderful new country, and stepped off the vine upon a shining silver\npath, which she followed through a green meadow till she came to a house\nmade of honey-comb that glittered, oh! so beautifully. The columns of\nthe porch were sticks of lemon-candy, and there were little benches to\nrest yourself upon, made of maple-sugar and cushioned with gingerbread.\nAnnette, for so the girl was called, ventured to open the door of the\nhouse and peep in. There she found more beautiful things than I can tell\nyou of--toys and books and pictures--and all the furniture was made of\ncake with raisins in it, so that, if one sat down to read, one need only\nturn around and nibble a knob off the chair, or pick raisins out of the\narm of the sofa. Annette played a little and read a story-book, then she\nfell asleep on a couch made of apple-dumplings. Suddenly in came three\ngoats, who were the servants of the fairy to whom this house belonged.\n\"Let us butt her to death,\" said the oldest goat. \"Let us trample on\nher, and bite her,\" said the second goat. \"Let her alone,\" said the\nthird goat, who was a kind little fellow with golden horns. \"If she\nholds her tongue, and if she don't find out the secret of the golden\ncoffee-mill, our mistress will let her stay here and work for her.\"\n\nAnnette heard this while pretending to be asleep, and when the fairy\ncame home, she jumped up and made a nice little courtesy, begging to be\nallowed to do the housework. \"Well,\" said the fairy, after looking at\nher sharply, \"I will try you; only don't undertake to grind my coffee\nfor me, and don't gossip with the goats.\"\n\nAnnette lived there for six months, and learned to make all kinds of\ngoodies; for the fairy was the queen's confectioner in that country. You\nmight eat all you pleased, provided you didn't talk; and not a word\nspoke Annette, and not a word spoke the goats. Every day the fairy went\ninto a pantry and there ground her coffee; and every day she carried two\nor three bags full of something heavy, and put them in her chariot, and\ndrove off with them. The coffee-mill looked like any other one, and\nAnnette wondered vainly what its secret was. At last curiosity overcame\nher, and she stole into the pantry and began to grind the mill. Down\nfell a stream of pure gold-dust, and it powdered Annette all over till\nshe looked like a golden image. \"How shall I get rid of this?\" she said,\ntrying to shake it off, but the gold dust stuck fast. She cried and\nsobbed, for she knew that now the fairy would certainly find her out. In\ncame the friendly goat. \"Cheer up,\" said he. \"That was the way my horns\ncame to be gilded, because I yielded to my curiosity about the mill,\nwhen I first came here to live. The fairy wanted to kill me, but she let\nme off when I vowed to serve her faithfully for seven years. The time is\njust up, and so I propose that we escape together. Take the magic mill\nunder your arm and get upon my back, and we will go down to your world.\"\n\nAnnette joyfully obeyed the friendly goat, and carrying the coffee-mill\nthey set off from the fairy's house. Unfortunately she did not know how\nto stop the mill from grinding, and it left a path of gold-dust behind\nthem as they fled, which showed the way to the fairy. The fairy followed\nthem, riding on a silver broom-stick; but the goat was swift as the wind,\nand Annette clung to his golden horns, and held the magic mill tight\nunder her arm. By good luck they reached the opening, near which the\nvine was growing, and, just as the furious fairy got near enough to\nstretch out her long arm after them, down went Annette, goat, and\ncoffee-mill, through a rift in the clouds, to a land where their enemy\ncould not follow them. The faithful vine caught them as they fell, and\nheld them up stoutly. When they had climbed down, and touched the earth\nin safety, Annette was astonished to see her goat turn into a handsome\nyoung prince, with curling golden locks and kind blue eyes.\n\n\"You have freed me from my enchantment, beautiful maiden,\" he said,\nkneeling upon the grass at her feet. \"Long years ago I and my wicked\nbrothers were captured by the fairy and became her slaves under the form\nof goats, as you saw. For fear that they may find out some way to\nfollow us, we must cut down this vine, and then we shall be free forever\nfrom all dread of disturbance.\"\n\nAnnette's mother came running out, kissed her child, and listened with\nwonder to the tale of her adventures. All this while the mill had gone\non grinding, and before they knew it the cottage floor was knee-deep in\ngold-dust. \"We shall be smothered at this rate,\" cried the prince\nlaughing, and he hastened to make a magic sign he had learned from the\nfairy. The mill ceased to flow, and then the prince took an axe and cut\nthe beautiful vine at its root. Annette wept to see the lovely leaves\nand blossoms shrivel up, but in a short time they vanished entirely from\nsight. The prince married Annette, and every day the mill ground gold\nenough to pay all the expenses of their palace and servants and horses,\nand also the expenses of Annette's mother, who had a separate palace for\nherself over the way.\n\nThe country people, for years after the time when Annette and the prince\ncame down the magic vine, showering gold-dust along their way, continued\nto talk about the wonderful rain of stars they had seen in the sky that\nmoon-lit night.\n\n\n\n\nJULIET; OR, THE LITTLE WHITE MOUSE.\n\n[Illustration: _The Queen & the Princess in prison._]\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a king and queen who loved each other so\ndearly that they were an example to all the married couples in their\nkingdom. In an adjoining country lived a wicked king, who spent his life\nin envying the happiness of his neighbors. He was a sworn enemy to all\ngood and charitable people, and his chosen companions were robbers and\nmurderers. His air was stern and forbidding. He was lean and withered,\ndressed always in black, and his hair hung in long elf-locks over his\nfiery eyes. This wicked wretch, determined to end the happiness of his\nneighbor, raised an immense army and marched to attack the kingdom of\nthe Land of Sweet Content, for so the good king's country was called.\n\nThe king of Sweet Content made a brave defence, but it was all in vain.\nThe immense numbers of the adversary overpowered him and his troops.\nOne day when his poor queen was sitting with her infant daughter in her\narms, waiting for news from the battle-field, a messenger on horseback\ngalloped up to the door, and entered the room where she was, with every\nsign of terror.\n\n\"Oh! madam,\" he cried, \"all is lost. The king is slain, the army\ndefeated, and the ferocious King Grimgouger is even now marching to take\nyou prisoner.\"\n\nThe queen fell senseless on the floor; and while her attendants were\nmaking every effort to provide a means of flight for her and the little\nprincess, the army of the foe, with banners flying and with music\nplaying, marched into the city. Surrounding the palace, they called on\nthe queen to surrender. No answer was given, and the horrid King\nGrimgouger instantly ordered a file of his most blood-thirsty soldiers\nto march through the palace and to kill everybody they met, except the\nqueen and princess.\n\nNow nothing was heard but shrieks and lamentations from the doomed\nattendants of the queen. When all were sacrificed, the tyrant Grimgouger\nwalked into the apartment where the terrified queen stood, clasping her\nchild in her arms, and prepared for death.\n\n\"You won't die now, madam,\" he thundered, seizing her by the long hair,\nand dragging her after him down the stairs and over the stones of the\ncourtyard to his chariot. She was all bruised and bleeding, and knew\nnothing more till she found herself in a tower-room, where dampness\ndripped from the walls, and the light of day could scarcely reach\nthrough a small grated window. She lay upon a little heap of mouldy\nstraw, and her child cried for food beside her, while over her stood a\nwicked fairy to whom King Grimgouger had given the prisoners in charge.\nThe fairy threw her a few crusts without any butter on them, and the\nbaby seized one eagerly, and stopped crying as she sucked it.\n\n\"That is all either of you shall have to-day,\" said the fairy.\n\"To-morrow they will decide what to do with you. Probably you, queen,\nwill be hanged, and your daughter be saved to marry the son of our good\nKing Grimgouger.\"\n\n\"What! That ugly little reptile of a prince!\" screamed the queen. \"Hang\nme, if you will, but don't give my beautiful angel to a husband like\nthat!\"\n\n\"Then she, too, will be hanged,\" said the fairy, grinning maliciously,\nand flying away with a fizz of flame, leaving behind her the smell of\nsulphur matches.\n\nNext day the fairy gave the queen three boiled peas, and a small bit of\nblack bread, and the next, and the next, until the poor queen wasted to\nskin and bone, and the baby looked like a wax doll that had been left\nout in the rain all night.\n\n\"In a few days it will be over,\" thought the poor queen. \"We shall be\nstarved to death.\"\n\nShe fell to spinning with what strength remained to her (for the fairy\nmade her work, to pay her board, she said), and just then she saw,\nentering at a small hole, a pretty little mouse as white as snow.\n\n\"Ah! pretty creature,\" cried the queen, \"you have come to a poor place\nfor food. I have only three peas, which are to last me and my child all\nday. Begone, if you, too, would not starve.\"\n\nThe little mouse ran about, here and there, skipping so like a little\nmonkey that the baby smiled, and gave it the pea she had for her\nsupper.\n\nThe instant she had fed the mouse, what was the queen's surprise to see,\nstart out of the prison floor, a neat little table, covered with a white\ncloth, having on it silver dishes, containing a roast partridge, a\nlovely cake, some raspberry jam, and for the baby a big bowl of fresh\nbread and milk, with a silver spoon! How they did eat! I leave you to\nimagine it!\n\nNext day the mouse came again, and devoured the queen's three peas, her\nwhole day's supply. The queen sighed, for she did not know where\nanything else was to come from. She stroked the little mouse, and said\ngently, \"Pretty creature, you are welcome.\" Immediately the same little\ntable sprang up out of the floor. This time there was broiled chicken\nand ice-cream, green peas, marsh-mallows and custard, with a fresh bowl\nof bread and milk for the baby. \"Oh! you dear little mouse,\" said the\nqueen. \"This must be your work! If you could only help me to get my baby\nout of this dreadful place, I would thank you forever.\"\n\nThe mouse ran up to her with some straws in its mouth. This gave the\nqueen an idea, and taking them she began to weave a basket, for she was\na clever queen, and knew how to use her pretty white hands in a variety\nof useful ways. The mouse understood her, and brought her more straws,\nuntil she had made a nice covered basket large enough to hold the baby.\nThen the queen cut her petticoat into strips, and plaited them, till she\nhad a long and strong cord. She tied the basket to this, and wrapping\nthe beautiful little smiling princess in the only covering she had, laid\nher in the basket, crying all the time as if her heart would break. Then\nshe climbed up to the window, and (the little white mouse watching her\nwith a very friendly air) looked down to see if she could attract the\nattention of any charitable person who might be passing in the street\nbelow.\n\nThere she saw an old woman leaning upon a stick and looking up at her.\n\n\"Pray, goody,\" said the queen, \"have pity on an innocent babe, and save\nit from destruction. Feed and nurse her, and heaven will reward you, if\nI cannot.\"\n\n\"I don't want money,\" said the old woman; \"but I am very nice in my\neating, and I have a positive longing for a nice, little, fat, white\nmouse. If you can find such an one in your prison, kill it and throw it\nout to me. Then, right willingly, will I take your pretty babe and nurse\nit carefully.\"\n\nWhen the queen heard this, she exclaimed to herself, \"Oh! the dreadful\nold thing!\" and began to cry. \"There is only one mouse here, madam,\" she\nsaid aloud, \"and that is so pretty and engaging that I can't find it in\nmy heart to kill it, even to save my child.\"\n\n\"Hoity-toity!\" said the angry old creature, thumping her stick on the\nground below. \"If you think more of a miserable little mouse than of\nyour child, keep them both, and be hanged to you!\"\n\nSo saying, her staff changed to a broom-stick, and with a fizz and a\nbang the old hag shot up into the sky like a rocket. And there was again\na strong smell of sulphur matches in the air!\n\nThe queen, seeing that this was, without doubt, the wicked fairy come to\ntry her, gave way to new grief. She kissed her hapless little one, and\njust then the mouse jumped into the basket. The baby's rough clothes\nchanged to finest linen and lace, and a pillow of down was under her\nhead, while a gay silver rattle was put into her hand.\n\nMore surprises! As the queen watched, the mouse's paws changed to tiny\nhands with jewelled rings upon them. The little face grew into the image\nof a smiling old woman's, and a figure of a pretty old-time fairy stood\nbefore her. As these fairies have been rather out of fashion lately, I\nwill tell you just how she was dressed. She wore a chintz gown, looped\nup over a blue silk quilted petticoat. A lace ruff was around her\nthroat, and her long-pointed bodice was laced with silver. Over her\nmob-cap she had a high sugar-loaf hat tied on with pink ribbons, and her\nfeet were clad in the prettiest black silk stockings and high-heeled\nblack satin slippers, with big diamond buckles. When you remember that\nshe was just of a size with the baby princess, you will agree that you\nwould have liked to see her.\n\n\"What is the baby's name?\" said the fairy.\n\n\"Oh--Juliet; I thought I had mentioned it,\" said the queen,\napologetically.\n\n\"I have never heard anything but 'pecious wecious,' and 'mother's\nblessing,' and things like that,\" said the fairy. \"You may stop crying\nnow, for I will save Juliet. If you had given me to the wicked fairy,\nshe would have gobbled me up in a minute, so you see I owe my life to\nyou. Henceforth I will take Juliet under my protection. She shall live\nto be an hundred years old, and never have an illness or a wrinkle.\"\n\nFancy it, children! No mumps, no measles, no whooping-cough, no\ncastor-oil! What rapture in the thought!\n\nThe queen kissed the fairy's little hand, and begged that Juliet should\nat once be taken away. So the weeping princess was put into the basket,\nand carefully let down to the bottom of the tower. Then the fairy\nresumed the shape of a mouse and ran after her down the string, which\nthe queen still held in her hands. Suddenly she came running back again.\n\"Alas! alas!\" she cried to the terrified queen, \"our enemy, the fairy\nCancaline, was hidden below, and seized upon the child, and flew away\nwith it. Unfortunately she is older and more powerful than I am, and I\ndon't know how to rescue Juliet from her hands.\"\n\nAt these words the queen uttered a loud cry, and in came running the\njailer of the tower, his men, some soldiers, and after them, gnashing\nhis teeth with rage, the horrid Grimgouger himself.\n\n\"Where is the child?\" he said, stamping.\n\n\"Alas, I know not, king,\" said the mother. \"A fairy has taken it off.\"\n\n\"Then you shall be hanged at once,\" he cried in a fury. \"Seize her,\nguards.\"\n\nThey dragged the poor queen by the hair of her head to the gallows. Just\nas the executioner was about to tie the rope around her neck, the\ngallows fell down beneath him and knocked out all his front teeth, while\ninvisible hands carried the queen through the air to a safe retreat in\nthe mountains. She found herself in a beautiful castle, where all her\nattendants were white mice. Here the queen lived for eighteen years,\nsurrounded by luxury and tender care. But she always thought of her\nlittle daughter, and dreamed of her by day and night. The mouse fairy\nmade every attempt to find news of the lost princess, but failed to do\nso.\n\nAt this period the son of the wicked King Grimgouger had grown up, and\neverybody was talking about his strange fancy for a poultry-woman's\nmaid-servant, who had refused to marry him in spite of his rank and fine\nclothes. The story went that the prince sent her, every day, a new gown\nof silk or velvet, and that the girl would not look at them. So the\nlittle white mouse fairy determined, through curiosity, to have a peep\nat this strange damsel. Accordingly she visited King Grimgouger's\ncapital, and entering the poultry-yard found there an extremely\nbeautiful young creature dressed in a coarse woollen gown, with her feet\nbare, and a cap of goat-skin on her head. Lying by her side were\nmagnificent dresses, embroidered with gold and silver and ornamented\nwith precious stones; the turkeys and other fowls that surrounded her\ntrampled on them and spoiled them. The poultry-girl sat upon a stone in\nthe yard when the king's son arrived; he was crooked, and hump-backed,\nand horrible to look upon.\n\n\"Do you still refuse to marry me, fair maiden?\" he asked. \"If so, I\nshall have you put to death immediately.\"\n\n\"I am not afraid of you, prince,\" the girl replied, modestly. \"I\ncertainly should prefer death to marriage with you. And I like the\nsociety of my chickens and turkeys better than yours, if it please your\nhighness.\"\n\nThe prince went off in a rage, and the mouse fairy appeared, in her real\nshape as a little old lady.\n\n\"Good-day, fair damsel,\" she said. \"I respect you and admire you--let me\nbe your friend.\"\n\n\"Willingly, good madam,\" said the girl. \"I am greatly in need of\nfriends, as you may see.\"\n\n\"Have you, then, no father or mother, my child?\"\n\n\"None, madam; I am an orphan, and this poultry-yard is my refuge from\nthe cruelty of the only protector I have ever known. The fairy\nCancaline, who had charge of me, used to beat me until I was nearly\nkilled. Weary of suffering I ran away from her at last; and while\nwandering in a wood I met the prince, who promised to befriend me, and\nplaced me here as poultry-girl. Alas! now that I find he is in love with\nme, I must leave this place, and where to go I know not.\"\n\n\"And what is your name, my dear?\" asked the mouse fairy, affectionately.\n\n\"Juliet, madam.\"\n\n\"Then, kiss me, my dear; I knew you before you knew yourself,\" the fairy\ncried, joyfully. \"I am delighted to see you so sensible. But your\ncomplexion is a little dark. Bathe in yonder fountain. And you should be\nbetter dressed. Put on one of these dresses, and then let me see you.\"\n\nThe girl obeyed. On taking off her cap of goat-skin her long golden\ncurls fell nearly to her knees. After bathing in the fountain she\nrevealed a complexion more bright and transparent than the choicest\npearls of India. Roses bloomed in her cheeks, and her eyes shone like\nthe brightest diamonds. Her figure was light and graceful as a young\nfir-tree. The fairy gazed at her in wonder and delight. Her next thought\nwas to restore the lost child to her mother.\n\n\"Stay here one moment,\" she said, \"while I fly back to your mother, and\nprepare her for this happiness, lest she should die of joy.\"\n\nThe son of the wicked King Grimgouger went back to his father, and cried\nand groaned dreadfully. His boo-hoo might have been heard for miles, and\nthe king naturally desired to stop it.\n\n\"What in the world are you roaring about?\" asked the father.\n\n\"I'll roar as much as I like,\" said the spoiled prince. \"If I can't\nmarry the poultry-girl, I'll roar for a week without stopping.\"\n\n\"Good gracious!\" cried the alarmed king; \"guards, go and fetch her here\nat once.\"\n\nThe guards went to the poultry-yard, and found the princess Juliet,\ndressed in gorgeous attire, and looking more beautiful than the new\nmoon.\n\n\"Whom do you seek, my good men?\" she said in a soft voice.\n\n\"Madam,\" they answered humbly, \"we are looking for a vile creature named\nJuliet; but you would never have stooped to notice her.\"\n\n\"I am she,\" the princess said, proudly.\n\nUpon this the guards seized her, bound her hands and feet, and roughly\ncarried her into the presence of the king.\n\n\"So you won't have my son, miss,\" shouted the king. \"Don't love him,\nhey? Stuff and nonsense! Love! Gammon and spinach! Marry him at once, or\nI'll have you flayed alive! Here, you rascal (addressing his son, who\nhad now roared himself quite black in the face), stop that racket, for\ngoodness' sake, or you'll split my head.\"\n\nBut the princess held out firmly. They sent for a chaplain, but the\nprincess said \"no,\" instead of \"yes,\" and when they shook her till she\ncouldn't utter a syllable, she nodded her head from side to side. So,\nfinding it quite a hopeless matter, the king ordered the prince put to\nbed with ice upon his head, and the princess to be shut up for life in a\nhigh tower, where she would never more see the light of day.\n\nAt this moment the good mouse fairy returned in her flying chariot, and\nwith her was the queen mother, who was almost crazy with delight at the\nprospect of embracing her child. When they heard the sad fate of Juliet,\nthe queen wrung her hands in agony; but the fairy bade her cheer up, as\nshe would find a way to help the captive.\n\nKing Grimgouger had gone to bed in a rage, and the little white mouse\nran up on his pillow. First she bit one ear, and made him turn over in\nhis sleep. Then she bit the other, and made him turn back again. Now the\nking woke up, and howled for his attendants. They came running in, and\nwhile they sought to stanch the blood that flowed from his royal ears,\nthe little white mouse ran to the chamber of the sleeping prince, and\nserved him exactly the same way. The prince, who, to the great relief of\nthe household, had fallen asleep in the very act of crying, now woke up\nand began again, this time with a vengeance.\n\n\"Confound that fellow, he's at it again,\" said the king, smarting from\nhis wounds. \"Stop him, somebody; and get me the court-plaster, and the\narnica, and the Pond's extract, and the chloroform; and send for all the\nsurgeons.\"\n\nWhile the attendants ran hither and thither the mouse returned to visit\nthe king. She bit his nose, and bit his toes, and bit his fingers; and\nwhen he opened his mouth to scold and yell, she bit a piece of his\ntongue off, so that he could not articulate, but could only make absurd\nmouthings, at which everybody wanted to laugh, yet dared not.\n\nThen she ran back to the prince, and ate out both of his eyes, which\nsent him flying out of bed. He seized his sword, and ran storming and\nswearing into the apartment of his father, who, on his side, had taken a\nsword, and vowed to kill everybody around him if they did not catch the\nmouse who had done this mischief.\n\nThe prince could not understand what his father said, and as he was\nblind, attacked the king furiously. The king made a violent cut back at\nhim, and in ten minutes they were in the thick of an awful fight, which\nended in both being mortally wounded at exactly the same moment. Seeing\nthem fall, their attendants, who hated the wicked tyrants, made haste to\ntie them hands and feet, and tumbled them into the swiftly flowing\nriver.\n\nThus ended the horrible King Grimgouger and his son. The good fairy now\ntook her own shape, and, leading the queen by the hand, opened the door\nof the tower where Juliet was confined. Juliet flew into her mother's\narms, and all was happiness.\n\nThe kingdom of Grimgouger and that of Sweet Content, which he had joined\nto his, were now without a sovereign, and the people, by universal\nconsent, chose Juliet to reign over them. Juliet became their queen, and\nin due time married a young king, who was rich and handsome, and wise\nand witty, and brave and modest--all that a young husband ought to be.\nThe little white mouse continued to be their chief friend and\ncounsellor.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAIRIES AND THE FIDDLER.\n\n[Illustration: Simon's Benefactor.]\n\n\nIn the pretty little village of Hayfield, not far from the borders of a\nthick forest, lived a good-natured, idle fellow, named Simon, who\nsupported his wife and two children by trapping or shooting in winter,\nand by fishing or doing odd jobs of harvest work in summer. Simon could\nplay upon the fiddle in a way to make the tears come into your eyes; or\nif he chose to be merry, his tunes would set every foot in motion, as\nthe wind starts the leaves upon an aspen tree. This accomplishment\ncaused him to be much in demand among the young people of the village,\nwho dropped many a bit of silver into his worn old hat; and at all the\nweddings and barn-dances, Simon might be seen with a huge bunch of\nflowers in his buttonhole, and his fiddle under his arm, footing it in\nthe procession. Then, too, Simon was the best man in the village to\ncoax stories from, especially the old-time gossip about the little folk\nin green, for whom in former days Hayfield had been famous. Simon knew\nhow the fairies dressed, what they ate and drank, how they punished\nsaucy human beings who offended them; and could point out the smooth\nrings of short fine grass where they had held their midnight revels.\nThat the fairies really had haunted Hayfield and its surrounding woods,\nnobody in the village doubted. They had heard too many things to prove\nit from their grandparents, whose parents were said to have lived on the\nbest of terms with the little people--setting pans of cream by the\nhearth-stone at night for them to skim--leaving, when the holidays came\naround, a cheese and bag of nuts in a hollow tree at the entrance of the\nwood--and getting all sorts of kind offices from the fairies back again.\nAlthough it had now been a long time since any one could testify to\nhaving actually seen a fairy (as it was well known that the band were\nfrightened out of Hayfield when the first stage-coach, with its noise\nand clatter, took to dashing along the village street), many people\nbelieved the men in green to be still lurking in the neighborhood. What\nelse could account for the trouble some of the good wives had with\ntheir butter and their bees? What could it be but fairy thumps and\npinches that kept the lazy folk from sleeping soundly, when their houses\nwere not to rights before they went to bed. And what could explain the\nsilver penny often found in the shoe of a tidy housekeeper, when up she\njumped at break of day to set her maids to work? For fairies never show\nby day, and it is only when the people of a house are fast asleep and\nsnoring, that they glide in by key-holes, through cracks and broken\npanes of glass, and swarm over the rooms, spying out everything amiss,\nand leaving tracks on the dust of shelves or tables, scattering the\nashes of an unswept hearth, and bewitching the inside of a dirty iron\npot, so that it never more may cook sweet porridge!\n\nOf all the villagers, as I have said, Simon alone professed to have any\nrecent acquaintance with the little folk, and the wonder was how they,\nwho were known to be sworn enemies to idleness, could keep him in their\nfavor.\n\nSimon's house was a poor little cottage on the outskirts of the town.\nHis wife, once a pretty, rosy lass, had taken to drink, and the husband\nand children led a dog's life within doors. Consequently, their one\npleasure was to roam the woods and fields, and the children were growing\nup brown and barefoot as two young gypsies. They were a boy named\nTimothy and a girl named Bess, of whom Simon was very proud, their fresh\nyoung faces making a strong contrast with his wizened visage, crossed\nwith a hundred lines, and topped with a sunburned mop of hair. As they\ngrew old enough to understand, their father instructed them in all the\narts of woodcraft. There was no tree or plant for which he had not a\nname or a virtue. The habits of all birds and fishes and animals were as\nfamiliar to him as their haunts. In this way, the vast green forest,\nwith its great tree-boles and twisted boughs, its verdant moss-carpet\nand hidden streams, became to them an enchanted world, through which the\nchildren strayed like a sylvan king and queen. A sad change it was to\ncome back to the dirt and confusion of their miserable home, where the\nmother received them either with grudging welcome if they brought\nberries or a string of brook trout, or with blows and drunken curses if\nthey came empty-handed. As his wife's intemperance increased, Simon\nstayed less and less at home, and the children dreaded lest some day\ntheir poor father would be driven to desert them altogether. So they\nresolved to keep a close watch on his movements, and to follow him\nshould he go away.\n\nOne night the harvest moon was riding her glorious way across the\nheavens, and the little village of Hayfield lay steeped in silver light.\nNot a lamp or a taper glimmered in the hamlet, and every one of the\nbrown thatched cottages was buried in profound repose. Not even a\nwatch-dog barked; and the forest-leaves yielded to the universal spell,\nand ceased to rustle.\n\nThere had been held a harvest-home that day, and Simon had been hard at\nwork with his fiddle, playing jigs and reels for the dance in the\nsquire's great barn. Between every dance, he had quenched his thirst at\nthe cider-barrel, or quaffed the big brown mug of beer they kept\nbrimming at his side. Naturally, Simon's brain was a little the worse\nfor such free potations; and when the last strains of the \"Wind that\nShakes the Barley\" had died upon his fiddle-strings, and all the gay\ncompany had gone their homeward way, Simon with his pocket full of\nsilver pennies staggered out into the field, and lay down under a\nhaystack to take his well-earned rest.\n\nThere, just before midnight, his two children, who had come in search of\nhim, found their father peacefully sleeping, his fiddle on his breast.\nNot wishing to disturb him, the children decided to have their own\nnight's sleep in the same fragrant nest of hay; and curling up at some\nlittle distance from the slumbering fiddler, they whispered together for\na while, and then were about to drop asleep. Just as their eyes were\nclosing they heard an odd sound, as of hundreds of little pattering\nfeet, and out from the shadow of the wood came into the unbroken argent\nof the field a long train of little men, women, and children, dressed\nmagnificently in cobweb gauze and green, bespangled with glittering\ngems, and wearing each a tiny crimson cap with a golden bell upon its\npeak. The two children were broad awake in a moment, for they knew that\nthese were the fairies they had so longed to see, all dressed in holiday\ncostume, and proceeding to their famous midsummer festival. The\nprocession wavered like a gleaming snake across the field, and, when\npassing near the haystack, came to a halt. To the children's surprise,\ntwo queer little old men, holding carved ivory wands, came straight up,\nand tapped the sleeping fiddler across the bridge of his nose.\n\n\"Nay, I will play no more for you, you light-of-head and light-of-heel,\"\nsaid sleepy Simon, believing himself to be still perched upon the barrel\nthat served as the fiddler's throne.\n\n\"Aye, but play you shall, at his Majesty's command,\" said the little old\nman, thumping him more sharply. \"Isn't that part of your bargain with\nus, if we allow the trout to haunt your brook, and the hares to run into\nyour traps? Come, mortal! Up with you and follow. Here's the bandage to\nblindfold your eyes, as usual; and remember that, if you peep, you are\nour prisoner for life.\"\n\nBy this time thoroughly awakened, Simon stumbled upon his feet, and\nstood making abject bows before the angry little fairy chamberlains. He\nlet his eyes be bound with a green silk ribbon, and leading-strings were\npassed around his waist. At the blast of a golden trumpet, the\nprocession moved forward with a sound of tripping feet and whirring\ngauzy wings and tinkling bells most lovely to the ear.\n\nLast of all came Simon, in fairy leading-strings, and the two children,\nunable to resist the impulse, followed noiselessly.\n\nTheir way led again into the forest, through the dense underwood, to a\nsmooth circle of velvet sward, set around with hundreds of little\nmushrooms, on which the fairies took their seats. In the centre was a\nhammock of silver cobweb, swinging by jewelled chains from the crossed\nstems of two tall white lilies, under a bower of maiden-hair ferns.\nSweet blue violets were sprinkled in the grass, making a path where the\nking and queen of the fairies marched to take their places on the\ncobweb-throne. Dew was handed around in acorn-cups, of which the fairy\nguests sipped daintily, followed by bark trays containing every variety\nof fairy refreshment. There were delicate fried butterflies,\nmarrow-bones of a field-mouse, snail soup served in nutshells, and wild\nstrawberries in baskets made of moss.\n\nWhen the banquet was at an end, the chamberlains gave notice to Simon,\nwho had been bound with ropes made of plaited grass to the trunk of a\nwide-spreading oak; the fiddle struck up a tune, and at once the dance\nbegan. Such a mad and merry dance the wondering children had never seen\nbefore! Old and young joined hands and trod a circle, then, breaking the\nchain, formed into a hundred fantastic figures; and at each touch of a\nlight footstep, the earth opened to give birth to a flower, until the\nentire fairy ring was enamelled with fragrant blossoms. Fast flew the\nfiddle-bow, but faster flew the tiny feet; and when the mirth was at its\nheight, Simon who, as we know, had taken a drop too much, was suddenly\ninspired to tear the bandage from his eyes, and crying, \"It's my turn\nnow,\" capered right into the middle of the magic ring.\n\nThe honest fellow had meant no harm, but his offence was a mortal one!\n\nInstantly, he was surrounded by a swarm of the furious little men in\ngreen, who, without waiting for an excuse, stabbed out both his eyes,\nand taking away his fiddle and bow, bound his arms behind his back.\nAgain the procession--this time sad and silent--was formed, and the king\nstriking the nearest tree with his wand, it flew open; the whole party,\nleading Simon behind them, entered the aperture, and before the children\nknew where to turn, it had closed upon their father.\n\nAnd now, in what a distressing condition were the unhappy Timothy and\nBess! Not knowing what better to do, they sat down at the foot of the\ngreat oak-tree which had swallowed up their father, and from sheer\nweariness fell asleep. When morning came, and the birds piped upon the\nboughs, the children awoke and looked in wonder about them. All was\ndewy, green, and fragrant in the deep woods, but no sign remained of the\nfairy revel, except a fine fringe of newly sprung grass, growing in a\ncircle where their ring had been.\n\nThe bark of the great oak tree was unbroken, and above stretched a broad\ncanopy of dark-green leaves, which whispered in the morning breeze, but\ntold no tales of what the children longed to know. Hunger drove them to\nretrace their steps homeward; and when they reached the cottage, their\nmother was so cross at her husband's failure to fetch her the usual\nstock of silver pennies earned at the harvest-home, that she beat them\nboth soundly, and gave them but a dry crust apiece for breakfast.\n\nStill the children hoped their father might return; and, not knowing to\nwhom to confide their wonderful tale, they kept silence. When it was\nfound Simon had disappeared in earnest, all the wise heads in Hayfield\ndecided that he had run away to escape from his good wife's tongue, an\nact of independence which had the bad effect of making more than one\nmarried man in the village unduly restless.\n\nA month passed, and the two children were again wandering in the forest\ntrying to find a few berries to appease their hunger (for things at home\nwere now worse than before), when they fancied they heard a child crying\nclose at hand. They searched everywhere, and at length the sound was\nrenewed, seeming to come from a thicket of tall ferns. Falling on their\nknees, the children worked their way under the bushes and through the\nbrakes, until they came in view of a lovely chubby elf sitting forlorn\nupon a mushroom on a hillock of soft green moss, beneath a screen of\nferns and wild flowers, and letting fall a flood of tears from his big\nblue eyes. He wore no clothing, if we may except a pair of drooping\nwings, and in his hand he held a stalk of snowy lilies.\n\n\"Who are you, dear little one, and how came you here?\" they asked.\n\n\"I am a fairy,\" the tiny creature sobbed. \"Last night was the monthly\nrevel, and we sported till the moon set. But I saw these lilies growing\nover in yonder swamp, and I wanted them so; and as I ran, they seemed to\nrun too. I had such hard work to gather them; when at last I succeeded,\nmy red cap dropped off; and without it I am as helpless as a mere\nmortal. While searching for the cap, which I have not found, a cock in\nthe village crowed, and the fairies all fled away and left me. The door\nof the mound is closed, and for a whole long month there is no hope of\nmy getting in again. Oh! I wish I could find my cap.\"\n\n\"If we help you to find the cap, will you stop crying?\" said the\nchildren.\n\nThe shivering sprite wiped his eyes and promised that he would weep no\nmore. The girl wrapped him in her apron, and then all three of them set\nout in search of the missing treasure. At last Timothy saw in the water\naround some reeds a red object which a bull-frog was opening his mouth\nto swallow; and, wading into the stream, he was able to rescue the magic\ncap, dry it in the sun, and restore it to its happy little owner.\n\n\"And now,\" said the smiling elf, who appeared to have suddenly grown old\nand wise, \"as for a whole long month I am without a home, what do you\nsay to taking me to yours? You will never regret it, that I promise\nyou.\"\n\nThe children told their new friend what a poor place their home was, but\nthe elf smiled and shook his head as if he knew what he was about. He\nbade the children lead him to their cottage, and once across the\nthreshold of the wretched place, where the drunken mother was sleeping\nheavily on a pallet of straw in the loft above, the elf took his perch\nupon the mantel-shelf.\n\n\"Next, since I am obliged to live with mortals, let me see what the\nmagic cap can do.\"\n\nHe put on the cap and immediately disappeared from the children's sight.\nWhen night came, Timothy fell asleep, but Bess watched; and at midnight\nshe saw her new friend appear upon the hearth, conducting a perfect\narmy of little workmen and workwomen. He waved his cap thrice around his\nhead, and at once little carpenters set to building up the\ncottage-walls, little whitewashers made the ceilings wholesome, little\npainters covered all the woodwork with a coat of yellow. By sunrise what\na change! The broken bricks of the floor were transformed into pretty\nblue and white tiles, lattice windows took the place of their old and\ndim ones, the pots and pans were scoured until they shone, roses looked\nin at the outer door, where rows of larkspur and of gillyflower, of\nbachelor's-button and \"Love-in-a-mist\" were growing on either side of a\nneat flagged walk to the garden gate. Instead of Timothy's old straw\nmattress, the boy lay on a clean white bed; and his sister, who had kept\nawake all night in utter wonderment, falling asleep at dawn, because her\neyes refused to stay open any longer, found him shaking her arm, and\nbegging her to come and share in the nice hot breakfast that--wonder of\nwonders!--their mother, sober, and clean, and smiling, had made ready at\nthe fire.\n\nIt was a day of marvels! The mother seemed to have entirely forgotten\nher past degraded life, and was once more the brisk and rosy woman\nSimon had fallen in love with. A dozen times a day she paused in her\nspinning, or weaving, or baking, to run to the gate and wonder when dear\nfather would come back. Timothy worked in the garden, Bess sewed and\nhelped her mother, not daring to tell what she alone knew of the magic\nchange. That night Bess slept, and Timothy kept watch. At midnight the\nfairy appeared upon the hearth, leading a dozen little bakers in white\ncaps and aprons.\n\n\"Now make ready fifty loaves of your best white bread, that the goodwife\nmay sell them on the morrow!\" the fairy ordered; and at once the tiny\nmen set to work mixing and kneading and baking, and at daybreak there\nwere fifty of the sweetest white loaves money could buy. The fame of\nSimon's widow soon spread through the village, and every one was eager\nto see the wonderful reform worked in her, no less than in her cottage.\nHer bread was bought up as fast as she could furnish it, and next night\nBess watched while Timothy slept. Then Bess saw the fairy appear at\nmidnight, followed by a swarm of bees like a cloud.\n\n\"Make fifty pounds of your clearest honey, that the goodwife may sell it\non the morrow.\"\n\nThe bees flew out of the door, and next morning the hives were found\noverflowing with luscious honey that smelt like a bed of clover all\na-blow.\n\nNext night came the bakers, and next night again the bees. Money flowed\ninto the widow's purse as rapidly as it had once flowed out. Now was\nthere lacking but one thing to complete their happiness, and that was\nthe return of Simon to his family. Bess and Timothy together planned\nwhat they should do, and when the month had passed away, and the night\nof the full moon had come once more, neither went to bed, but both hid,\nwatching for the coming of the sprite. Exactly at twelve o'clock, their\nkind little friend made his appearance, and summoning cooks and bees,\nordered them to keep up their service on alternate nights, until the\ndame's coffers should be full to last a lifetime. Seeing him about to\ntake leave, out rushed Timothy and Bess, threw themselves on their knees\nbefore the fairy, and, thanking him a thousand times over for his\ngoodness, begged for one more act of grace--their father's release and\nrestoration to his family. The fairy looked graver than they had ever\nseen him, and his brows puckered in a frown.\n\n\"Your father has committed an offence we never pardon,\" he said, after\na short silence. \"He has been punished according to our laws, and must\nabide by the sentence, which is imprisonment for life.\"\n\nThe children burst into tears at this, and cried so that the fairy\nsneezed several times.\n\n\"I believe I am taking cold in all this dampness,\" he said, shivering\nslightly. \"Come, dry up that deluge, and say good-by to me. The utmost I\ncan do is to look up your father when I get back again, and tell him you\nare well and happy. I suppose you do not know that for some years past\nhe has been attending our holiday frolics as musician, since our own\nbest player broke his arm. Simon was under oath never to look at us, or\nto betray us, and this was the first time he transgressed. But our laws\nare very strict, and I am afraid to bid you even hope to see him again.\nOne thing I may tell you. The king's chief counsellor has a mantle of\nred, worked with a device of six golden birds flying into a serpent's\nopen jaws. If you should ever find that mantle, walk boldly to the\noak-tree in the forest, knock three times, and cry, 'The King's Chief\nCounsellor!' Then you may be able to secure your father's freedom, but\nnot else. And now, good-by to you.\"\n\nThe good elf vanished, and Timothy and Bess spent more time than ever in\nthe forest. They had now taken their mother into the secret, for she,\npoor woman, had become as gentle and loving as she had before been hard\nand cruel. The one desire of the entire family was to get possession of\nthe chief counsellor's mantle, but nothing seemed more unlikely.\n\nA year passed, and Timothy had gone out to look at his rabbit-trap\nwithout particularly thinking of what it might contain, when a\ntremendous bustle inside attracted his attention. Cautiously he lifted\nthe door, and up sprang an angry little man in green, having a long\nwhite beard, and a hump upon his back, who vanished from sight as\nquickly as he had appeared. Timothy lamented the loss of such unusual\ngame, and then espied at the bottom of the trap nothing less than a tiny\ncloak of red, embroidered with six golden birds flying into a serpent's\nopen jaws!\n\nHe made a joyful dive after the little garment, but, strange to say, it\nstuck tight to the fingers of his right hand, dragging after it the\ntrap. Timothy shook it and pulled at it in vain; there it was, and not\nto be dislodged.\n\nHe ran home and called Bess to his assistance. The little girl came\nout, and no sooner had she touched her brother than she stuck fast to\nhim. The mother flew to the rescue, and became fastened to her daughter;\nand there they all were, in a long string, not knowing whether to laugh\nor cry at their strange predicament. The only thing was to make a\npilgrimage to the oak-tree in the forest. Timothy's dog followed them,\nand rubbed against his master's coat. He, too, stuck fast, and so did\nBessy's cat. Everybody they passed upon the way was attracted to the\nqueer family party, and before long a little army of curious people were\ncompelled to walk along in the direction of the forest.\n\nTimothy did not know the secret of the little cloak, which had power to\nattract everything to it, drawing even people's thoughts out of their\nhearts, as a magnet draws the needle. Only in fairy-land could the\nobjects so attracted be set free.\n\nWhen they reached the oak-tree in the forest, Timothy struck upon it\nthree times and called with a bold voice, though not without a trembling\nof the legs, for the king's chief counsellor. The bark of the great tree\ncleft slowly open, and out came the same old white-bearded fairy he had\ncaptured in the rabbit-trap. Bowing with mock humility, the old fellow\nasked what his visitors would be pleased to have.\n\n\"I demand my father, and also to be rid of this wretched little rag,\"\nsaid Timothy hotly.\n\n\"Step inside, step inside,\" said the elf with a malicious smile, for he\nknew that, once within, he might get the audacious mortals in his power,\nand force them to work his gold mines.\n\n\"Not a step will I go inside until I see my father,\" said Timothy\nfirmly.\n\n\"Then here may you abide!\" cried the old man, turning white with rage.\n\nTimothy put one hand _within_ the tree, holding the magic mantle at\narm's-length.\n\n\"I demand my father,\" he cried in a loud voice.\n\nThe power of the mantle did not fail, for, rising from the darkness\nwithin, came poor blind Simon, stretching his arms toward his child, but\nholding tight his fiddle. At the moment Timothy's hand had come inside\nthe fairy kingdom, the spell of enchantment was broken, and all of the\nstrangely linked people were set free. Simon's wife and children threw\ntheir arms around him, and welcomed his return, while his neighbors\nshook his hand in warm congratulation. As for the old fairy, he fairly\ndanced with rage. With the mantle in Timothy's possession, half the\nchief counsellor's power and reputation for wisdom would pass away. He\noffered rich bribes of gold and jewels, he threatened, he howled, he\ngrinned, he hurled curses on their heads, but Timothy was firm.\n\n\"Then name your price, you wretch!\" cried the angry fairy.\n\n\"It is that you shall restore my father's eye-sight,\" said Timothy.\n\nThis went very hard with the wicked old elf, who had been congratulating\nhimself that Simon would bear away at least one mark of fairy vengeance.\nBut he had met his match in Timothy, and there was no escape for the\nchief counsellor, who, diving down into the cavern beneath the hollow\ntree, reappeared fetching a box of magic ointment, which, rubbed upon\nSimon's eyes, made them better than ever.\n\nWhen Simon saw not only the light of day, but his two dear children, and\nhis wife looking as he had known her in her blooming youth, he uttered a\ncry of delight.\n\nThen, to relieve his feelings, he struck up the old \"Wind that Shakes\nthe Barley,\" when, behold, not only all the people there assembled, but\na score of little green folk, who had been in hiding, enjoying the\ndiscomfiture of the cross old counsellor, began to foot it on the\ngreensward. Simon himself danced, and the old counsellor, sorely against\nhis will, was forced to skip until his legs ached, for Timothy still\nheld the mantle in his hand.\n\nAt last, when all were out of breath, the elf received his mantle. With\na storm of angry words, he disappeared from sight. Immediately the sky\ndarkened, a cold wind blew, and a shower of hail-stones fell upon our\nfriends, sending them scampering and laughing away from the region where\nthe fairy's spite prevailed.\n\nUnder the spell of the kind little sprite who had been their guest, the\ncottage was never approached by any unkind visitors. Simon fiddled and\ngrew fat, his wife remained as sweet as fresh cream to the last day of\nher life, and their children came to be the pride of all the village.\n\nSo far as I have heard, that is the last visit Hayfield has had from the\nlittle men in green.\n\n\n\n\nETHELINDA; OR, THE ICE KING'S BRIDE.\n\n\nEthelinda lived alone with her father, Count Constant, in a quiet\ncountry place, which had always been her home. Her mother was dead, and\nher father had long before fallen under the displeasure of his king, and\nwas sentenced to exile for life in this lonely spot. Their castle was\ngray and venerable, half of it in ruins, and near by grew a grove of\nmelancholy pine-trees; while only some stunted rose-bushes, and a black\npool of water, in which swam a few antiquated carp, relieved the\nmonotony of the grounds within the broken walls surrounding their\ndwelling.\n\nOne day a train of liveried servants on horseback, escorting a splendid\ncarriage, stopped on the road near the castle.\n\nSome accident had happened to the springs of the vehicle, and the two\npassengers inside were forced to take refuge in the house of Ethelinda's\nfather.\n\nCount Constant himself, dressed in a faded court costume, but looking\nhandsome and stately, came forth to receive his unexpected guests. He\naided first a tall thin girl to descend from the broken carriage, and\nthen, an elderly dame, richly dressed, who, throwing back her veil,\nrevealed to him the face of his greatest enemy--the vindictive Duchess\nAmoretta. This person, whom he had not seen for years, had once been in\nlove with Count Constant, and it was because he preferred to her the\nyoung lady who afterward became his wife, that the Duchess had poisoned\nthe mind of his sovereign against him. To her he owed his banishment\nfrom court, and the loss of his estates. During his wife's lifetime he\nhad heard nothing of the Duchess, and now to have to give her the\nshelter of his roof was a terrible ordeal.\n\nThe Duchess, however, was very kind and considerate in her manner to\nhim. She made many apologies for the accident which had brought her\nthere, and introduced to him her only child, the Lady Finella, who was,\ntruth to tell, the most ill-tempered, pert minx ever seen, and a\ncomplete contrast to lovely Ethelinda.\n\nDuring supper, which the poor Count's servants tried to make presentable\nwith a few eggs cooked in an omelette, a bottle of good wine, and a dish\nof stewed pigeons, the Duchess Amoretta was pleased with everything. She\npraised the cookery, she praised the tattered tapestries on the wall,\nshe praised the Count's youthful looks, and she praised Ethelinda, till\nthat modest maiden was quite overwhelmed.\n\nWhen the two young ladies had retired (Ethelinda giving up her own\nlittle tower bedroom to her visitor, and creeping off somewhere to lie\non a threadbare couch), the Duchess became confidential. She implored\nthe Count to believe that enemies had come between them. She said that\nslanderers had arisen to tell him the wicked stories he had heard. She\ntold him that her one desire was to see him restored to rank and\nfortune. And at last she drew from her pocket a paper signed by the\nKing, in which the Count Constant was promised a free pardon on\ncondition of his immediate marriage with the Duchess Amoretta.\n\nThe wily Duchess had planned the whole affair to get possession of her\nold lover again, and at first the Count, seeing himself caught in a trap\nas it were, was very angry.\n\nThen the Duchess told him to think of his lovely young daughter, wasting\nher youth in this desolate spot. She promised to Ethelinda a life of\nhappiness and prosperity. She worked upon the poor father with such\nartful words and lying promises, that, at last, Count Constant signed\nthe contract, engaging to follow her in a few days to the capital, and\nthere to give her his hand in marriage.\n\nEthelinda watched the fine chariot roll away with their unwelcome\nguests, next morning, and when it was out of sight, turned and threw\nherself upon her father's neck and kissed him fondly.\n\n\"How glad I am to get rid of them, papa!\" she cried. \"The daughter was\nso spoilt and haughty, and the mother was even worse; somehow I could\nonly shudder when she kissed me, in spite of the beautiful bracelet she\nput upon my arm on taking leave.\"\n\n\"The Duchess means to be your best friend, my dear,\" her father said\ngravely, and went off to his study with a care-worn face. In a few days,\nhe set out upon his journey to the capital, giving Ethelinda no idea of\nwhat he meant to do there.\n\nWinter had set in, and a great snow fell. All the country-side was\ncovered with a mantle of purest white. Ethelinda loved the frost and\nsnow, and every day she put on her little brown hood and cloak with the\nscarlet lining, and set out for a walk in the forest, carrying a bagful\nof crumbs, which she would scatter for her favorite little birds. One\nday, while thus employed, she met an old woodman gathering sticks.\n\n\"Good-morning, daddy,\" said the girl in a pleasant tone.\n\n\"It's not a good morning with me, girl,\" the old man answered, crossly.\n\"I'm frozen and starving too, thanks to this accursed snow.\"\n\n\"Don't speak ill of my dear snow,\" said Ethelinda, helping him to make\nhis fagot. \"Isn't it keeping the ground warm, and sheltering our roots\nand seeds for the spring-time? Come to the castle, if you will, and you\nshall have hot soup and a corner of the kitchen-fire. But you won't be\nallowed to abuse the beautiful work of the frost, in my hearing, that\nI'll promise you.\"\n\n\"Bravely said, fair maiden!\" the old man exclaimed, dropping his bundle\nof sticks, and vanishing behind a screen of closely woven fir-trees. A\nmoment later Ethelinda saw a sleigh containing a solitary traveller,\ndrawn by a fleet black horse, dash by her like the wind. The sleigh was\nshaped like a silver swan and the bridle of the horse glittered with\ngems. The traveller appeared to be a tall and stately youth, with long\nfair locks and glowing cheeks. He was half hidden behind robes of snowy\ndown, and as he shot swiftly by, leaving in his wake a breath of icy\nwind, Ethelinda fancied she heard him say, \"We will meet again, dear\nlady, we will meet again!\"\n\nWhen, wondering over this incident, she reached the castle, it was to\nfind there a letter from her father, commanding her immediate attendance\nat court, and announcing to her his marriage, which had already taken\nplace.\n\nPoor Ethelinda, full of astonishment, and fearing she knew not what,\nbade farewell to her dear home and journeyed to the castle of the\nDuchess Amoretta. Here she was received with tenderness by her father,\nwho commended her in loving accents to the care of her new mother.\nEthelinda could not help shuddering more than before when the dreadful,\npainted old Duchess stooped down to kiss her. She dared not look her\nfather in the face, but it was easy to see that he was more unhappy in\nhis new splendor than ever he had been in exile and in poverty.\nEthelinda sighed deeply, and, looking around, encountered the snaky eyes\nof her new step-sister, fixed on her with wicked triumph.\n\nAnd now, how changed was Ethelinda's life. Little by little, her\nfather's companionship was withdrawn from her; his time was spent away\nfrom home, and soon, a war breaking out, Count Constant made haste to\ndraw his sword in his king's service. A great battle ensued, and one of\nthe first to fall, while gallantly fighting, was Ethelinda's father. He\nmurmured a blessing on his child, and saying he was glad to go, died\nupon the battle-field, in the arms of his attendant.\n\nThe Duchess Amoretta, who by this time was heartily tired of having\nEthelinda on her hands, now treated the poor girl with positive cruelty.\nA few months after the Count's death, she made up her mind to marry\nagain, and in order to rid herself of her troublesome step-daughter,\nconsulted with her own child, who was skilled in all sorts of wicked\ndevices.\n\nThey built a summer-house extending over the river, and made in the\nfloor of it a trap-door covered with moss and flowers, while beautiful\nvines grew around the pillars, and a fountain played in the centre. Into\nthis pretty spot they invited Ethelinda to wander when ever she wished\nto be alone.\n\nOne day the poor girl went inside the summer-house, and began to weep\nfor her father. Suddenly, a hand was extended by some one concealed\nbehind the trellis-work of vines, and she was rudely pushed, so that\nshe fell with all her weight upon the concealed trap-door, and instantly\nplunged into the rushing river below. One cry she uttered, and then to\nher astonishment, although it was the morning of a balmy summer's day,\nan icy breath blew over her, and above the surface of the river there\narose a bridge of glittering ice, which she was enabled to cross in\nsafety to the bank.\n\nMaking her way back to the house of her step-mother, Ethelinda was\nreceived with anger and astonishment. How she could have escaped,\nneither of her enemies could imagine. Ethelinda told nobody of the\nwonderful ice-bridge, which at the moment of her setting foot on shore\nhad vanished like frost before the sun. A few days after, she desired to\ntake her usual bath in the marble bath-room assigned to her use. No\nsooner had she entered the door than two strong women flew out from\nbehind a curtain, and, seizing her by the shoulders, thrust her into a\ntank of boiling water they had prepared for the unfortunate girl.\n\nEthelinda saw that she was about to die a terrible death, and gave\nherself up for lost, when suddenly the icy wind she had twice felt\nbefore, blew over her. As the two furies plunged her into the tank, and\nrushed away, leaving her to her fate, she felt, instead of the scalding\nheat she expected, the delicious warmth of a tepid bath close round her\nlimbs.\n\nAgain was she saved from evil by some unseen power; but now she knew\nwhat a terrible enemy was in pursuit of her, and determined to fly from\nthe castle that very night. She hid in a little closet on the staircase,\nand, when night came, glided past the sleepy servants on guard, and\nescaped through the great gate into the open country.\n\nSwift as her feet could carry her, Ethelinda fled. Out of the city, into\nthe deep woods, under the cold glitter of the watching stars, the poor\ngirl ran, every moment fancying that she heard the messengers of the\ncruel Duchess behind her. At last she fell down exhausted, saying to\nherself, \"Better to die here from cold and starvation, than to be foully\nmurdered by that wicked woman.\" She lay for a moment resting upon a bank\nof soft moss, and felt a sudden blast of icy wind.\n\nThen was heard the cracking of a whip, and out of the woods came a\nsleigh driven by a solitary traveller.\n\nEthelinda had a vague idea that she had seen him once before, but\nfainted away, and knew nothing more until she awoke to find herself in\nthe sleigh, gliding swiftly along, wrapped in warmest robes of snowy\nfur.\n\n\"Save me, save me from the Duchess!\" she murmured in a terrified voice.\n\n\"Sleep, poor child, you are safe now,\" a kind voice sounded in her ear.\n\"Are you warm? Are you comfortable?\"\n\n\"Very warm, very comfortable,\" Ethelinda answered, a strange drowsiness\ncoming over her.\n\nShe slept again, and the black horse harnessed to the sleigh bounded\nforward like the wind. And now they passed through vast forests of pine\nand fir, into the regions of perpetual snow. For Ethelinda's guide was\nthe young monarch of the frozen zone, and ruler of all ice and frost.\nLong had he loved the young girl secretly, and long had he vowed to make\nher his bride.\n\nThey stopped once, and now the sleigh was drawn by a span of magnificent\nreindeer, pure white, with collars of jewels, having their great antlers\ntipped with sparkling gems. Over snowy mountain peaks they glided, past\nchains of icebergs, with many a frozen sea shining far below like a\nsapphire. It was piercingly cold, and yet Ethelinda did not suffer. The\nonly thing she could not control was her power of speech. Not a word\ncould she utter, and the stranger, too, spoke no more, but smiled on her\nkindly, from time to time, as he drove ahead.\n\nAt last they reached a superb palace, built of ice, the roof fringed\nwith icicles. An arch of many-colored lights spanned the roof, and from\nevery door and window streamed forth a brilliant illumination.\n\n\"Welcome home!\" said the stranger. \"This is my palace, and you shall be\nmy queen, fair maiden; for I am the King of the North Pole, and never,\ntill now, have I seen one worthy to share my throne.\"\n\nA train of milk-white bears with golden chains around their necks came\nout to receive the king and Ethelinda. They entered the palace, which\nblazed with splendid jewels on roof and walls. The throne was made of a\nsingle opal, and the queen's crown, which was immediately placed on\nEthelinda's head, was composed of a circlet of diamonds, each one as\nlarge as a robin's egg.\n\nThe marriage took place at once; and Ethelinda's husband proved so kind\nand loving, that she soon forgot her early sorrows, and became as happy\nas all queens are supposed to be. Her fame spread into many countries;\nand after a time, some celebrated traveller, who visited her court, went\nback to the city where Ethelinda's wicked step-mother still lived and\nflourished, and gave the Duchess a message from the beautiful Queen of\nthe North Pole.\n\n\"Tell her that I forgive her all her unkindness to me,\" Ethelinda had\ncharged him to say, \"since it was the means of securing to me my present\njoy, and the love of my dearest husband.\"\n\nEthelinda even sent gifts to her step-mother and sister; to each a\njewelled necklace of immense value, and a robe woven from the down of\nthe King's own eider-ducks, which only sovereigns might wear. The\nDuchess and Finella eagerly seized the presents, but they almost died of\nspite to hear of Ethelinda's good luck. Night and day they wondered how\nthey, too, might have similar fortune; and at length the Duchess\ndetermined to dress her daughter in coarse clothes like those Ethelinda\nhad worn when found by the King of the North Pole, and to make her sally\nforth to the border of the forest.\n\nSnow was falling fast when the young woman reached the wood. She was\ndreadfully cold, and began complaining and quarrelling, as usual. She\ndid not hear the approach of a sleigh until it was close beside her.\nThere sat a handsome youth, driving a fleet coal-black steed. He\npolitely invited her to take a drive, and, with many groans over her\nstiff limbs, she got in. They flew over the ground, and for not a single\nminute did Finella cease finding fault with everything. She abused her\nmother for exposing her to this dreadful cold, and vowed she should have\nrheumatism and lumbago and pleurisy and influenza, all together, next\nday. Her feet had chilblains already, and her hands were so chapped they\nwould never be fit to be seen. In this agreeable strain, she went on\ntill her companion, growing impatient of her whining tones, blew a\nsudden breath upon her--when, behold! all the girl's conversation was\nfrozen on her tongue, a few cross words, like icicles, clinging to the\ntip of it!\n\nWhen they stopped at the palace door, the King of the North Pole (for he\nit was who had picked up Ethelinda's step-sister), instead of having her\nconducted in state to her apartments by a train of snow-white bears with\ngolden chains about their necks, gave the cross girl in charge to an old\nbrown bear of a housekeeper, with instructions to keep her locked up\nuntil the Queen should choose to set her free.\n\nEthelinda's kind heart softened toward her step-sister; and, begging the\nKing to forgive her, the Queen hastened to set the prisoner at liberty.\nFinella, dressed in the Queen's own robes, was taken into the royal\nnurseries to see two splendid rosy babies, rolling upon soft furs, and\nromping with a gentle little bear-cub, who was their playmate.\n\n[Illustration: _The princes & their playmate._]\n\nWhen the step-sister saw these treasures, she conceived a wicked scheme\nof punishing Ethelinda through her love for them. So, pretending to\nrepent of her past follies and unkindness, Finella was allowed by the\nKing and Queen to live in comfort in their home.\n\nOn the night of some festivity (I believe it was a special illumination\nby the Northern Lights), the King and Queen went off sleighing in style,\nthrough their dominions, leaving the babies in charge of their deceitful\nstep-aunt, who always kissed them and caressed them, before folks, as\nthough she loved them fondly.\n\nAs soon as the parents had disappeared, Finella ordered another sleigh\nto be harnessed, and taking the babies in her arms set forth. She\nattempted to guide the reindeer, but, in an instant, the great creatures\nwere off like the wind, and soared up into the air, as the King himself\nhad trained them to do. And now, how terrified was the wicked Finella!\nShe knew no words with which to stop her fiery steeds, and presently\nsank, breathless and giddy, into the bottom of the sleigh. Higher,\nfaster they went; the babies, like true sons of the frozen North,\ncrowing with delight in the piercing atmosphere.\n\nThe sleigh stopped upon an iceberg, and there in the centre of the\nglittering blue pyramid sat the imprisoned older brother of the King of\nthe North Pole. This wretch had been sentenced to be shut up there,\nbecause he had tried to kill his father, the late King. All of his body\nwas changed to ice, excepting his heart, which burnt like fire. The\nreindeer Finella had taken were those accustomed to be driven by the\nKing whenever he went to visit his wicked brother, whose eyes sparkled\nas he saw the little princes within his power. At last, he thought, he\nhad a chance to be even with his enemies. He gnashed his teeth, shook\nhis chains, and stretched out his long arms, inviting the travellers to\ncome into his castle.\n\n\"I have golden apples and many pretty things for boys in here,\" he said\ndeceitfully; but just as Finella, seeing her opportunity, was pushing\nthe children out of the sleigh into the grasp of their cruel uncle, the\nreindeer set up a peculiar cry which could be heard half round the\nglobe.\n\nInstantly a chill wind blew, and riding on the wings of a mighty\nsea-gull came the King of the North Pole. Fire flashed from his angry\neyes, and his face was so terrible that the wicked sister and brother\ncowered and cringed before it. Snatching his babies in his arms, he\nreplaced them unharmed in the sleigh. For a moment, he seemed about to\ncrush both culprits to fragments in his wrath; but, relenting, he\npronounced their sentence--and Finella was condemned to be the bride of\nthe imprisoned brother. \"Your fate is just,\" said the King of the North\nPole, to the wretch within the iceberg; \"I could not, if I tried, think\nof any worse punishment than to give you a complaining woman to share\nyour exile.\"\n\nAnd so Ethelinda was rid of her false step-sister, and from that day\nforth nothing occurred to disturb the serenity of the King's household.\n\nAs for the old Duchess (whose daughter had got a bridegroom she had not\nreckoned on in the northern country), she, like her hopeful child, lived\nand scolded forever and a day.\n\n\n\n\nDEEP-SEA VIOLETS.\n\n[Illustration: Emma Carried Off by the Sea-King.]\n\n\nIn a modest hut upon the sea-shore, half-hidden from sight by an\nenormous bank of drifted sand, lived a fisherman and his wife, with\ntheir twin-children, John and Emma. Theirs was a hard life, and full of\nprivations; but the husband and wife loved each other tenderly and did\neverything they could to provide for the little ones, who grew up, spite\nof their poverty, tall and beautiful, and happy as the day was long.\nEmma and John had a thousand pleasures that town-bred children covet.\nThey chased each other continually up and down the sandy beach, hard as\nmarble and glittering like silver in the beautiful patterns traced on it\nby the tide. They ran barefoot into the surf, defying the mad onslaught\nof the merry breakers, and dived fearlessly beneath the crested arch of\ngreen waters to seize a bit of floating seaweed. They discovered\nendless treasures in the rock-pools along the beach, and built with them\npretty grottoes, and mysterious caves, that none but themselves knew\nwhere to find. Often their father would take them out in the\nfishing-boat; for John had learned to manage the sail and the nets\nalmost as well as the fisherman himself. The two children thought it was\ngrand to feel the little boat answer to the wind, as a horse answers to\nvoice or whip. They liked to bound forward across the great green\nbillows, and to see the spray dash over them like a shower of jewels.\nThey would help their father to set his nets or lines, and wait\npatiently till it was time to haul in the big shining fish that\nsometimes lined the bottom of the boat, whiling away the hours by\nmunching bits of brown bread that served for lunch, and by telling each\nother fanciful stories of the sea.\n\nThe ocean did not always smile upon them, for there were days of heavy\nfog, of raw east wind, when the beautiful water ceased to sparkle, while\nthe surf boomed as if in warning of danger or sorrow to come. Then the\nchildren would run inside the cottage, and pile on drift-wood till the\nfire burnt cheerily. This was their time for taking down from the\nmantel-shelf their stores of shells, corals, and other sea-wonders.\nJohn and Emma had polished these shells until they shone beautifully,\nand some tiny disks of orange and gold were strung in long garlands, to\nloop around the brown walls and above the little looking-glass. Their\nmother kept the inside of the cottage as neat as a ship's cabin, which,\nin truth, it much resembled, the children's beds being nothing more than\nbroad shelves in a cupboard, with doors to close by day; while every\ncorner of the tidy place was made to do duty for some household\nimplement, tucked away in the oddest fashion, until it should be needed.\n\nSo the days passed on until the twins were about sixteen years old, John\na fine manly fellow, looking much older, and Emma a slender slip of a\ngirl, with floating locks of purest gold, and a voice in singing like a\ncarol of birds in a Maybush. Oftentimes when her father was steering his\nboat homeward, after a day of toil, he would hear the piercing strain of\nEmma's song come floating over the water from the rock where she stood\nagainst the western sky, awaiting him. And he rightly thought this the\nsweetest sound he was likely to hear before the angels should sing for\nhim in Paradise!\n\nOne day the fisherman did not come home. A storm arose, and all that\nevening the wind howled madly above the beating of the angry surf. The\nsky was pitch-black, and the wife and children walked the shore in\nsilent fear. When darkness fell, they lighted a huge bonfire upon the\nrocks, and John, begging his mother and Emma to go home to rest, stayed\nfeeding the flames with drift-wood, till morning broke over the sullen\nwaste of waters. Still no sign of his father, and at midday the familiar\nboat drifted ashore, bottom upward. Then great sorrow darkened this\nhappy little home; and nevermore the sea gave up her dead.\n\n[Illustration: Emma Singing on the Rocks.]\n\nThe fisherman's wife did not long survive him--dying, she told her\nchildren, because she could not live without her beloved husband. John\nfollowed his father's calling, and Emma kept the house, as her mother\nhad done. She was very sad and solitary in the changed life, but people\nwho work hard have not much time to give way to grief. The busy maiden\ntoiled all day over her duties in-doors, and when evening came, would go\nout on the rocks to await John's return. The greatest pleasure she now\nhad was in singing. Her voice grew strong and firm, and every day at\nsunset it might be heard, in waves of melody, mingling with the sound of\nthe breakers on the shore.\n\nOne day, when John was later than usual in returning to his supper,\nEmma wandered along the sands. It was a beautiful summer evening, the\nsky painted with radiant colors, the sea reflecting them. Here and there\na sail dotted the horizon, but the shore was completely deserted. The\ngirl saw before her a rock-pool filled with sea-anemones and star-fish;\nand, sitting down on the edge of it to study the lovely creatures, she\nbegan, as usual, to sing, without knowing that she did so.\n\nSuddenly, over the water came rolling toward her a wonderful chariot\nformed of a single conch-shell all rainbow-hued within. It was drawn by\ntwo dolphins, and the driver was a handsome young man, whose long\nfloating locks were of a changeable green color, tipped with curling\nwhite. Before Emma could recover from her astonishment, the youth spoke\nto her gently, thanking her for the song that had wooed him from his\nhome beneath the sea.\n\n\"I am the king of a wonderful country down there,\" he said, \"and if you\nwill but sing for me once more, I shall give you gems and flowers from\nmy own garden, such as never an earth-born maiden owned.\"\n\nDipping one hand carelessly over the chariot's edge, the king brought up\na string of rare carved coral with a jewelled clasp, and, smiling at\nEmma's wonder, dipped his hand a second time, when out came a garland of\nexquisite flowers. Sea-lilies, sea-roses, sea-narcissus, sea-violets\nthere were, larger and more beautiful than any upon land, and all\nglittering with the ocean brine. Emma stretched out both hands for the\npretty things, while a song of joy burst from her lips.\n\n\"May I crown your brow with my garland?\" said the king. \"For truly, I\nhave heard no voice to equal yours.\"\n\n\"Thanks--thanks,\" cried the innocent girl, her eyes sparkling with\ndelight. She leant forward to receive the chain which the king threw\naround her neck, at the same time laying the garland on her hair. At\nonce, Emma fell into a deep sleep, and the crafty sea-king, with a look\nof triumph, lifted her into the seat at his side and urged forward his\nchafing steeds; the chariot flew like a stormy petrel across the sea,\ndisappearing beneath the arch of a gigantic wave!\n\nJohn sought in vain for his cherished sister. The only trace of her, he\nand the neighbors who helped him in the search, could find, was a little\ngold cross, once her mother's, that Emma always wore. This lay in a\ncrevice of the rock, whence the sea-king had carried her away. The\nneighbors believed her dead, but something within John convinced him\nthat he should see her yet again. Long and dreary were the winter months\nwithout her. John forever wondered about Emma's disappearance; and, when\nsummer came once more, it was to find the youth still possessed of a\nlonging desire to go somewhere in search of her.\n\nSad and solitary, John was sailing his little fishing-smack along the\ncoast one day, intending to go out to the usual fishing-ground, when,\ntempted by a creek he noticed now, as if for the first time, a fancy\ntook him to follow up the windings of this silver inlet from the sea,\nrunning between banks as green as emerald. Looking into the water, as a\nlight breeze carried him along, John saw a bed of weed and kelp starred\nwith shells, where crabs of an unusual size passed in and out of a\ncircular opening. Determined to fill a basket with these desirable\ndainties, which would fetch a high price in market, John fished for them\nso skilfully as to haul up a hand-net brimful, at the first attempt.\nThese were no common crabs he discovered, one of them in particular,\nhaving its flippers set with rings of beaten gold, and a gold chain\naround its body bearing a golden key.\n\n\"My good sir,\" said the crab, speaking in a plaintive voice, \"you\nprobably don't know that I am the keeper of the sea-king's summer\ngrotto, and these are my attendants. Only to-day, his majesty sent us\nword to have all in readiness for a visit from him and his\nbride-betrothed. We are in the greatest possible hurry, and if it is\nquite the same to you, would take it as a friendly favor, if you will\nlet us go without delay.\"\n\n\"My good Mr. Crab,\" said John, laughing, \"I should like to oblige such\nan important person, but really my circumstances are almost as\nparticular as yours. I am in the greatest possible need of funds, and\nthe price you and your friends would fetch at the present market rates\nis most desirable to me.\"\n\n\"Oh! if it is only gold and silver,\" said the crab, disdainfully, \"you\nshould see his majesty's dominions. Our streets are paved with it.\"\n\nJohn became interested at this, and entered into a long conversation\nwith the crab, who was a gossipy old soul and told him of so many\nwonders of the sea-king's kingdom that the lad could scarcely contain\nhis astonishment.\n\nWhat startled him more than all, was to hear of a sweet singing maiden,\nfrom the upper world, his majesty had kept for a year past imprisoned\nin a crystal cavern! His heart beat fast with excitement, as the crab\ndescribed Emma so exactly that it was impossible to mistake her.\n\n\"Until the present time,\" the crab went on, with importance, \"his\nmajesty has not told the earth-maiden of his intention to make her his\nbride. By the laws of our kingdom, no one of us can marry a mortal,\nuntil she has lived for a year contentedly below, without uttering the\nname of any friend she knew in her former estate. But the year is up\nto-day, and they are to make a grand tour of his majesty's possessions.\nI should not wonder if the wedding were to take place in our grotto, for\nthat is the king's favorite palace, although only one of the many he\ncalls his own.\"\n\n\"One thing is false! Emma will never marry him, if she is to do it by\nforgetting those who loved her so tenderly,\" broke in John, furiously.\n\n\"You are very rough, my dear friend,\" said the crab, fanning himself\nwith his flipper. \"I think you forget you are addressing a courtier.\nWhat I tell you about the Lady Emma is undoubtedly true, since I have it\nfrom my cousin the clam. He is a close-mouthed creature, little likely\nto spread a false report. Lady Emma is happy as a queen in swansdown.\nOnce a day she sings, and then his majesty always presents her with a\nbunch of fresh sea-violets, her favorite flowers. Under the\ncircumstances, it is hardly possible she would keep up any of the\nfoolish fancies for earth-born folk she may have brought there.\"\n\nJohn pondered awhile, and finally promised the crab, who was growing\nvery impatient, to release that functionary and his companions, if they\nwould permit him to visit the wonders of the sea-king's grotto. The\ncrab, since he could not well help himself, said yes, and instructed\nJohn how to dive into the round green hole, so like the nest of some\nstrange fish, he saw at the bottom of the stream.\n\nJohn made fast his boat, and sprang overboard, having first emptied the\nnet full of captives, who went scuttling to the bottom in very\nundignified haste. So sure was his aim, that he reached without\ndifficulty the passage-way indicated, which widened from its mouth into\na funnel-shaped cavern, lined with seaweed and ferns of the rarest\nvarieties. Following the crab procession, John swam along a crystal\nstreamlet, reaching at length a second opening, larger than the first.\nWithin this was a door formed of a single sapphire. The crab put his\ngolden key into the key-hole, and admitted John into a large and\nbrilliant grotto, the sides lined with the iridescent scales of fish.\nThe roof was encrusted with jewels, through which streamed many colored\nlights, and clusters of phosphorescent flame gleamed at intervals\nbetween pillars of glittering spar. Beneath an arch of blooming\nsea-flowers, stood a throne made of snowy coral branches, and cushioned\nwith velvet moss. At its foot was a pillow of blue violets, another one\nhanging at the back. A tiny stream of clear water ran down the cavern's\nside, and shot up in a fountain in the centre. John's eyes blinked with\npleasure when he came into the pretty place, but the sound of\napproaching music made the crab hurry him into hiding, with the order on\nno account to risk showing himself in the presence of the king, who\nwould instantly have him hugged to death by a giant devil-fish. John\nkept quiet, you may be sure. The crabs formed into double rows, bowing\nand scraping, in token of their deep reverence for the king (they had\nbeen selected to be courtiers in consequence of their facility in\nwalking backward), and the sight almost made John laugh aloud; but he\nwas soon reduced to silence, not only by the imposing entry of the\nmonarch of the seas, but because, in the bride-betrothed, he saw indeed\nhis own dear Emma.\n\nEmma was greatly changed in appearance. She now wore a splendid robe of\nsome clinging white stuff, worked with little coral branches and sprays\nof silver seaweed around the hem, and her neck, arms, and hair were\nwreathed with row upon row of priceless pearls. She was pale, but more\nbeautiful than ever, and on her breast John saw a knot of big blue\nviolets. Emma was seated at the king's right hand, and lovely sea-nymphs\ndanced before her, to the music of unseen orchestras. Then his majesty\nasked Emma to sing, pledging her health in a shell full of wine, that\nshone and sparkled beautifully. Emma made no resistance, doing all that\nshe was bid, like a person walking in her sleep. Her eyes had a far-away\nlook and her voice, in singing, so unearthly a thrill, that John's\naffectionate heart ached to seize her in his arms and tear her from the\nspot. When Emma had finished singing, she appeared to be fatigued, and\ntwo sea-nymphs bore her to a couch of pearl, laid her on purple\ncushions, and combed her long hair with a golden comb, while other\nsea-maidens interlaced their white arms above the girl's head, soothing\nher to sleep.\n\n\"Let her sleep here till this day week,\" said his majesty. \"Then I will\nsummon my subjects and relations to the wedding. All of you present\nwithdraw, now, and on no account disturb her slumber.\"\n\nWhen the coast was clear, John seized his opportunity, and stealing\nforth, knelt beside his sleeping sister, and whispered in her ear. Emma\nmoved, her eyes opened slowly, and uttering a deep sigh, she looked her\nbrother full in the face. But alas! she did not recognize him. In\ndespair, John seized her hand, and tried to urge her to fly with him. He\nreminded her of her home, of their happy childhood, of their dead\nparents, of everything that could touch the heart. All in vain! Emma\nsmiled sweetly, and stroked his head as, shedding bitter tears of\ndisappointment, he bent it upon her knees; but she knew him not.\n\n\"Leave me in peace,\" she said, \"I am the sea-king's bride-betrothed, and\nyou are but a poor fisher's lad. What you say to me of earth and home I\ndo not understand. This is my home, and if the king should find you\nhere, he would take your head off. If you love me as you say, please\ngo.\"\n\nEmma lifted to her face the cluster of purple violets, and at once her\nlids drooped; and, sinking back upon her purple cushions, she slept\nagain.\n\nIn bitter disappointment, John retraced his way along the vestibule of\nthe king's grotto and emerged into the inlet where his boat was moored.\nCarefully marking the spot, he returned to it the next night, but no\ntrace could he find of the submarine opening. The old crab had taken\ngood care to prevent another visit from a marauder, who might cost him\nhis life. John felt ready to abandon all hopes, when, leaning over the\nedge of the boat, and dragging the water through habit, he felt a\nviolent struggling and fluttering within the net. Hauling it quickly in,\na swarm of silver-bright little fishes, each one wearing a pretty\nmaiden's head, escaped from the meshes, leaving behind but a single\ntoken, and that John found to be a tiny golden harp. He drew his fingers\nacross the strings, and the sweet sound it gave out was echoed by a sob\nfrom beneath a rock ledge close at hand.\n\n\"Who is there?\" cried John.\n\n\"It is I--chief of the sea-king's minstrels,\" said a voice. \"This\nevening, I and my band were amusing ourselves by the light of the moon,\nwhen your cruel net almost frightened us to death. Oh! what shall I do?\nIt's nearly time for the king's visit to his bride-betrothed in the\ngrotto; and if you will not restore to me my harp, I shall be\nbehind-hand, and in disgrace. Oh! if you only knew how strict the leader\nof the court orchestra is!\"\n\n\"Will you take me into the grotto, if I give the harp to you?\" said\nJohn, firmly.\n\n\"Oh! I dare not,\" cried the little mermaid, shivering. \"Only yesterday,\nhis majesty found out that some rude outsider had found his way into the\ngrotto, and he has placed on either side of the entrance a double-headed\nshark. For you to attempt to pass them would be certain death! Pray,\npray ask something easier; for every moment is precious to me, now.\"\n\n\"Then tell me what has caused Emma to forget all her life on earth?\"\n\n\"That I can do, right easily,\" said the mermaid, coquettishly; \"for I\nhave a sister in the band of especial hand-maidens set apart by the king\nto wait on the bride-betrothed. The fresh violets sent every day to Lady\nEmma by his majesty, have the power to make her forgetful, and\nindifferent to all save her present surroundings.\"\n\n\"I knew she had not really grown cold,\" cried John, in a burst of\ngratitude. \"Here is your harp, pretty one, but answer me one question\nmore. How can I find the entrance to the grotto?\"\n\nThe little mermaid stood on tip-tail to receive her harp, and, as she\nonce more clasped it in her arms, whispered, in a frightened tone:\n\"When the moon is at the full, its rays strike a white cliff over\nagainst yonder dark coast-line. Steer your boat evenly along the path\ntraced by those rays upon the water, and you may see the wedding\nprocession go in at the state entrance. But, of all things, take care\nnot to let yourself be perceived, for on this occasion all the monsters\nof the deep will be on guard, and your life would not be worth a broken\nclam-shell.\"\n\nJohn bade the mermaid good-by, and from that moment all his thoughts\nturned upon how he might obtain admission to the wedding festival. He\ncast his nets diligently, but with no success. All the fishes seemed to\nhave deserted their usual haunts; and no wonder, for the entire\npopulation of the sea was in a state of preparation for the great event.\n\nAt last the night of the full moon came, and you may be sure John was\nabroad and watchful, as he cast his nets in feverish anxiety. A sudden\npull made him haul in rapidly, and this time he was rewarded by a catch\nthat cost him the most tremendous struggle. What was his surprise to\ndrag into the boat a huge fish, six feet long, with a tall fin nearly\nthe length of its body. The most curious part of it was that the tips\nof this fin, and also a patch on the creature's head, shone with\nimprisoned fire. Along the sides of the body were a double row of\nluminous spots. The fish made no further fight, and John gazed at him in\nadmiration.\n\n\"In the name of wonder, what have we here?\" he said.\n\n\"My good sir,\" answered the fiery fish, \"if you had the least idea of\nthe nature of my business, I am sure you would not interrupt me for a\nmoment. I am one of his majesty's torch-bearers, and the procession is\nalready forming to go to the grotto of the bride-betrothed.\"\n\n\"Hurrah!\" said John. \"If you will manage to take me with you, I will let\nyou go, but not else.\"\n\nIn vain the torch-bearer protested and begged. John was inexorable. In\nthe end, the torch-bearer demanded time for reflection, and at last\nspoke as follows:\n\n\"I and four of my brothers lead the way, and by going with me you would\ncertainly be seen and punished. But at the very tail-end of the\nprocession, my old father and mother will jog along, accompanied by a\nswarm of their younger grandchildren. These pretty little creatures, as\nyou may not know, are called Bombay ducks, and their whole bodies glow\nwith light. They are very good-natured, and if we can but win over the\nother family who help to light the court festivals, the Chiasmodos, I\nbelieve we might smuggle you in unobserved between the old people.\"\n\n\"Who are the Chiasmodos?\" asked John.\n\n\"They are a tribe of deep-sea light-givers,\" said the torch-bearer, \"who\nconsist entirely of a mouth and a stomach. The latter organ swells to an\nenormous size, and floats beneath like a transparent balloon, while\nabove their great, wide-grinning mouth is worn a crown of light. They\nare rather snappishly inclined, these Chiasmodos, and may give us\ntrouble; but we must run the risk, if you insist. So, come along, young\nman, there's no time to waste in talking.\"\n\nJohn did not hesitate, but overboard he went, swimming after the\nreleased torch-bearer, who proved a friendly fellow after all. It was a\nbeautiful summer's night, and the moon shed a path of radiant light upon\nthe ocean, lying calm and serene beneath her spell. John and the\ntorch-bearer swam along a track of liquid silver, and opposite the white\ncliff they saw a marvellous array.\n\nThe procession was formed, and about to take up its line of march. The\ndrum-fishes were already beating a roll-call; the fiddler crabs fiddled\nwildly; while the sea-lions roared and rumbled, the whales blew their\ntrumpets, the porpoise puffed, and the electric eel, who was the court\njester, wriggled along the line, playing foolish tricks and giving\nunexpected shocks to those who did not pay attention. Such a multitude!\nTo describe them all would fill many pages of this book; and besides,\nyou would never be able to remember the hard names. The pilot-fish\ncruised around in front, the torch-bearers came next, then the mermaid\nmusicians, and a host of sea politicians with banners, preceding the\nwhales who sailed majestically ahead of the king's chariot of pearl,\ndrawn by twelve milk-white dolphins with jewelled harness.\n\nAfter them, every conceivable kind of fish, in regular order, according\nto their dignity. The octopus party was a sight to make one shudder, but\nthey were in a good humor for once, and comparatively beaming. The\nsea-serpent swam alone, considering himself too much of a rarity to\nassociate with every-day folk. The sword-fish saluted, and the skates\ntried to smile, but only succeeded in looking more hideous than before,\nvery much as if they had pains under their waistcoats. The brilliant\nangel-fishes and the fairy nautilus made the most lovely show it is\npossible to imagine; though it is hardly fair to single out one or two\nfor praise, when all did so well. Even the herrings from the public\nschools, and the vulgar little porgies, had clean faces and were allowed\nto tag after the procession. And, last of all, came the cross\nChiasmodos, fortunately swimming before the old father and mother\ntorch-bearers, who, between them, carried John along, and were followed\nby a gleaming myriad of little Bombay ducks, true glow-worms of the sea.\n\nLed by the moon rays to the white cliff on the coast, the procession\ncame to a halt; and immediately a pair of hidden doors flew back and\nrevealed a long tunnel glittering with lights, which opened directly\ninto John's well-remembered grotto.\n\nThere, within, stood Emma, decked in bridal lace, worked by ancient\nmermaids thousands of years before, to be worn by the queen at her\nbridal; and on her head was a fragrant crown of violets. She smiled as\nthe king approached, and gave him her hand; the wedding at once began.\nJohn, hidden behind a projecting crag, saw, with despair in his heart,\nthe ceremony go on.\n\nThe entire walls were lined with ranks of octopi and sharks on guard. To\ndefy them would be death to Emma and himself. He leaned further forward\nthan he intended, and was seen by one of the Chiasmodos, who, flashing\nher lantern in his face, at once informed on him to her neighbor.\nImmediately a new monster swam toward John. This was another of the\ndeep-sea torch-bearers, the Chanliodus, appointed to act as chief sentry\nto the cave. A more ferocious countenance cannot be imagined than was\nhis. The wide mouth bristled with sharp fangs, and his fins were tipped\nwith flame, while all along his sides extended a row of spots like\nlittle windows in a ship, through which light was shining.\n\nJohn saw that in another moment he would be lost. So long as the bridal\nprocession was going on, no one dared to speak; and, beckoning the\nfierce creature to come behind the rock, John met it with an open knife,\naiming so skilfully as to cut the fish open its entire length. The idea\nnow occurred to him to place himself within the body of his dead enemy,\nwhich he promptly did, and to his joy, could swim out unobserved, and\ntake his place at the bride's right hand. Just as Emma was about to say\n\"I will,\" the sentry-fish managed to place in her hand the little gold\ncross that was once her mother's. The queen-elect looked at the cross in\nsurprise, and as all had passed so quickly, not even the king understood\nwhy her head drooped forward, and she seemed about to faint. The\nsentry-fish whispered in her ear:\n\n\"It is I--John--your brother; be brave, and find some excuse for putting\noff the wedding, and we may yet be saved.\"\n\nSo long as Emma wore the crown of violets, she was unable entirely to\nbreak the charm they cast over her. But the little cross was a powerful\nreminder of her life on earth; and while she held it, she appeared to be\nawakening from a trance. Excusing herself to the king on the ground of\nillness, she was supported to her coral couch, and was surrounded by her\nmermaidens. The king ordered the crowd to withdraw, and soon the\ndisappointed revellers went away, feeling blue and cross, while his\nmajesty himself was in a terrible way, tramping up and down, tearing his\ngreen locks, and casting himself on his knees beside Emma, imploring her\nto speak to him once more.\n\nIn vain! Emma's eyes were now obstinately closed, and her cheeks were\nlike marble. The faithful sentry-fish, whose duty it was to patrol the\ngrotto, swam up and down before the couch, and every time he passed near\nEmma he whispered, \"Be brave. I am here. Soon I will rescue you. Give no\nsign of life.\"\n\nAt last the king took the advice of an old dowager mermaid, and left\nEmma to herself, consenting to go outside the grotto and smoke a seaweed\ncigarette, until his bride should be ready to go on with the interrupted\nwedding.\n\nJohn spied in the train of mermaidens the little creature whose harp he\nhad restored, and very cautiously, for fear of alarming her, he made\nhimself known. The pretty mermaid laughed and cried hysterically, when\nshe heard his story, and consented to aid him still further by removing\nthe crown of violets from Emma's head. Soon there was heard a great\nwhispering among the mermaid band, and one of the boldest of them\nventured to suggest to the dowager lady-in-waiting, that one reason for\nher majesty's continued swoon might be that her hair was plaited too\ntight. The dowager, for a wonder, took the suggestion in good part. She\nordered the attendants to unpin her majesty's long golden braids, and in\nso doing the fatal crown fell to the ground unnoticed.\n\nThe blood rushed into Emma's face; she sighed, and opening her eyes,\nlooked about her. There was the band of anxious mermaids, and a solitary\nsentry-fish swimming up and down. In next passing her, he whispered,\n\"Order your attendants to withdraw.\" This was soon done, only the\nfriendly little mermaid remaining at Emma's side. John, throwing off his\ndisguise, clasped his sister in his arms, and warm tears of human\nhappiness rushed from Emma's eyes. Trampling under foot the crown of\nviolets, and keeping firm hold of her mother's cross, she begged John to\nbear her back to their own world without delay. Cautiously putting on\nhis fish garb, John swam to the door to reconnoitre the situation. He\nfound there, on guard, only one of the shark sentries, who had taken so\nmuch sea-beer, in honor of the king's wedding-day, that John's knife\nmade quick work in despatching him.\n\nAnd now the way seemed open for their flight. The brother and sister\nbade farewell to the friendly mermaid, who pledged herself never to\nreveal the secret of Emma's escape, and started to leave the grotto.\nSuddenly, lashing the sea in his wrath and fury, both of his fierce\nmouths spiked with rows of terrible teeth, came the other double-headed\nshark! John still wore his Chanliodus disguise, and, without a moment's\nhesitation, dashed bravely to meet the foe. Wielding his trusty knife,\nhe stabbed the shark again and again through the body, darting aside\nbefore the monster could get the advantage of him. The shark, wounded\nmortally and mad with rage, darted forward in a final effort, but John\nplanted his knife in its open jaws. Uttering a horrid death-shriek, the\ncreature lay without motion upon the threshold of the cave.\n\nJohn lost no time, for the noise of the conflict had already attracted\nto the scene a number of curious loungers; and, as he feared, the king\nhimself, attended by his body-guard of monsters, now came in sight.\nDarting swiftly through the waves, with Emma clinging bravely to his\nshoulders, the assumed Chanliodus drove his sharp fin abruptly into the\nmiddle of a party of squids. These poor fellows were the disappointed\nreporters of a submarine newspaper, going home _without_ an account of\nthe wedding for their journals! The suddenness of the attack caused the\nsquids promptly to spill the contents of the ink-pots they always carry\nwith them, forming a dense black cloud, under cover of which the\nfugitives safely reached the surface of the sea.\n\nThe sun was rising, its rosy light lying upon the bright ocean like a\nveil. Now, they knew they were secure, for so long as the sun rules in\nheaven, the sea-king dares not show himself above the waves. John and\nEmma gazed upon the shore, finding themselves but a little distance from\ntheir boat at anchor, and wept tears of joy and thanksgiving for their\ndeliverance from the horrors of the deep. When they had clambered into\nthe boat, John begged his sister to cast away the embroideries and the\nropes of pearl she had brought from the sea-king's dominion. Even as he\nspoke, they saw Emma's finery vanishing like a wisp of burnt paper,\nwhile her lovely pearls had turned into strings of common pebbles. Of\nall her ornaments only the little golden cross remained, and that shone\nwith new lustre. With the full force of his stalwart arm, John cast the\nsea-king's tokens far into the water; and as they sank, both brother and\nsister fancied they saw a huge hand arise to seize them with an angry\ngrasp, and heard a growl of baffled rage beneath the waves. Wrapping his\nsister in his fisherman's cloak, John hastened to sail back to the\nhumble hut beneath the sand-drift, which had never looked so lovely in\ntheir eyes.\n\nThere they dwelt, loving and serene, until in due time a good husband\ncame for Emma, and John took to himself a fair young wife. From that day\nforth, prosperity attended them, and John sailed his own ships across\nthe ocean, while Emma lived in a beautiful home near the shore.\nStrangely enough, never again did John succeed in entrapping one of the\ntalking creatures of which, as we have clearly seen, there are plenty in\nthe sea, if one has luck to find them! And another curious thing is,\nthat never again was Emma able to lift her voice in song. The beautiful\ngift which had brought about her strange adventure, and had well-nigh\nproved so fatal to them both, had been lost forever!\n\n\n\n\nTHE WILD WOODSMAN.\n\n[Illustration: THE WILD WOODSMAN DISGUISED AS A TRAVELLER.]\n\n\nOnce there lived a peasant whose only daughter, Martha, had eyes as blue\nas corn-flowers and long hair like the silk around an ear of corn. All\nthe lads of the village were after her, but she cared only for John, a\nyoung huntsman, who was called by her father an idle vagabond, and sent\naway from his cottage in disdain. Now, the village where they lived was\nat the foot of a high mountain covered with a dense forest, into certain\nportions of which few were found to venture, so wild and lonely they\nwere. One day Martha went, unknown to her father and mother, to ramble\nin the forest. She said to some of her friends that she meant to gather\nflowers and pick berries, to sell to a rich lady who lived near them;\nbut the truth was, that a week had passed without John having set foot\nin the village, and she was anxious and uneasy, and wished to visit some\nof her lover's favorite haunts, to see if he might be there. It was no\nuncommon thing for John to be absent for several days, while trapping\nand hunting. He could sleep as well on a bank of moss as on his pallet\nat home, and he loved to go to rest under the broad canopy of the sky,\nstudded with bright stars, and to be lulled by the music of falling\nwaters.\n\nMartha, dressed in her brown cotton frock, with the scarlet handkerchief\nknotted over her fair hair, was seen to go up a rocky pathway on the\nmountain-side, where the firs and larches made a bower overhead; but\nthat night she did not come home, and next day, when John came into the\nvillage with a splendid string of birds he had shot miles away from\nthere, in an opposite direction to the one Martha had taken, it was to\nhear the sad news of the poor girl's disappearance.\n\nJohn's face grew pale and his stout heart grew faint; he thought of what\nall the others were thinking of--the Wild Woodsman, against whose magic\nhis gun and staff might avail nothing!\n\nThe mountain above was believed to be the haunt of a mysterious being,\nhalf man, half brute, fierce and cruel, from whose den no living\ncreature might ever be rescued. The Wild Woodsman, for so the natives\ncalled him, took many a shape to trap unwary travellers, and a fair\nyoung girl like Martha would be a rich prize for him. John had long\nvowed to capture the Wild Woodsman; and now he was filled with a mad\nthirst to seek him at once. Without stopping to hear more, the young man\nrushed off up the steep mountain path, bounding like a chamois from rock\nto rock, as the villagers, awe-struck and tearful, gazed after him and\ncrossed themselves in superstitious fear.\n\nThrough brake and brier, John darted on; he was soon in the dark\nrecesses of the forest, where the undergrowth was like a jungle. His\nfleet foot never tired in the chase, and, erelong, he spied a little red\nhandkerchief upon the ground. Recognizing this to be Martha's, he gazed\nabout him, and saw, by the token of broken bushes, that the girl had\nbeen dragged away from that spot up a rocky wall, which it seemed to him\nno foot could scale.\n\nStruggling to keep down his sickening dread, John determined to follow.\nHe began to climb the steep rock. His faithful dog, who had kept close\nbeside him, suddenly gave a low fierce growl, and the hair on its back\nbristled up in fury. John was already half-way up the cliff, when, on\nlooking down, there, just where he had picked up the handkerchief, he\nsaw a queer little old fellow, making shoes as quietly as if nothing at\nall had happened.\n\n\"Hallo, there!\" roared John, for he suspected mischief.\n\nThe old man looked up, and John saw that he had a young and rosy face\nwith hair as gray as a badger's. The odd creature made signs that he was\nstone deaf, and beckoned John to come down. All this time, the dog was\ngrowling fearfully, and John took warning from the sign. He levelled his\ngun without more ado, and said:\n\n\"Answer, you fellow. Who are you that have cheeks so fair, and an old\nman's locks?\"\n\n\"I?\" said the old man, hopping up with a dreadful grin, \"you will know\nme soon enough, sirrah, for I am the devil's grandfather.\"\n\nHe stretched out an arm that grew longer every minute, and his hands\nchanged to the claws of a beast. John lost no time, but taking aim fired\nat the Wild Woodsman, for he it was, and none other. Bang! The friendly\nbullet made straight for the creature's heart, and though it did not\nkill him outright, the Wild Woodsman was sorely wounded. He fell over a\nlog, groaning pitifully, and prayed John to come to the aid of a poor\nold man. John said, \"That I will with another bullet,\" when the Wild\nWoodsman darted from the spot, and was lost in the thicket.\n\nAfter him went the dog, after the dog went John. Such a hunt there never\nwas! Through spots in the woods where man's foot had never penetrated,\ninto bogs, and into serpents' lairs, past the caves where bears were\nlurking; but no animal would touch John, for the Wild Woodsman was their\ndeadly enemy.\n\nAt last they came to a cleft in a little green hillock. Here was a hut\ncovered with moss, and the Wild Woodsman, uttering a frantic yell, fell\ndead upon the threshold. John heard a shriek within the hut, and,\ndashing down the door, saw Martha, lying, bound with ropes made of\nplaited willow, in a corner.\n\nHe flew to set her free; but, to his surprise, Martha did not appear to\nknow him. She let him take her by the hand and lead her from the fearful\nspot where the inner walls were built of the bones of the Wild\nWoodsman's victims. She looked up into his face and smiled, and John saw\nshe had lost her reason. He did not stop to pick up the jewels and gold,\nstolen from murdered travellers, with which the hut was strewn, but made\nall speed to leave behind the horrid place. He lifted Martha in his\nstrong arms and carried her down a path along the far side of the\nmountain. A great storm arose, and the earth trembled under his feet;\nbut he kept bravely on his way, and looking back saw the cleft in the\nhills widen; then a great gulf opened, fire and smoke burst forth, and\nthe hut of the Wild Woodsman was swallowed forever from sight.\n\nJohn gave a shout of joy, and began singing a hymn in his clear young\nvoice. The storm ceased. The clouds parted. Down in the valley below was\ntheir own peaceful village, and the sound of the evening bells came\nfloating up to him. Martha, who had lain in his arms as if asleep,\nstirred, and recognized him. Her strength returned, and she asked to\nwalk beside him. Strangely enough, she said nothing of her late\nadventure, then or ever afterward. Not a trace of it remained in her\nmemory.\n\nWhen they reached the village, all the people came out to meet them,\nrejoicing. John told them he had rescued the lost girl, but the true\nhistory of his chase of the Wild Woodsman he kept to himself. Martha's\nfather and mother greeted her with tears of thankfulness; and before\nanother year had gone by John and Martha were married in the village\nchurch. From that day forth, peace reigned upon the mountain-side; but\nwhen stories of the Wild Woodsman were told to Martha's grandchildren,\nthey little knew the share their hale old grandsire had in ridding the\ncountry-side of such a scourge.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FROZEN HEARTH-FAIRY.\n\n\nOnce upon a time, there were a poor couple who lived in a little cottage\novergrown with vines. From roof-tree to cellar, their home was as clean\nas hands could make it, and the table and chairs were scoured every day\ntill they were as white as snow. The man went out into the woods to tie\nup fagots, and the woman kept a few bees, and sold the honey. In this\nway they managed to live, and were happy, till a great storm came, and\nswept off the roof of their house; then the lightning set it on fire,\nand it was soon burned to the ground. The man came running from the\nforest, and found his wife crying as if her heart would break, beside\nher bee-hives, which the wind had upset, scattering all their busy\ninmates, and destroying the honey.\n\n\"Where shall we sleep to-night?\" said the wife.\n\n\"Let us search till we find,\" answered the husband. So they set off and\nwandered into the woods, while the storm raged over them. Long did they\nstray, until night came. At last they saw a ruined hut, left by some\ncharcoal-burners, and thankfully entered it. There was dry straw in one\ncorner, and here the poor woman laid down, half dead with fright and\nfatigue. Both of them were hungry, and the man putting his hand in his\npouch was glad to find there a bit of bread, which he was about to give\nto his wife, when a queer little black object sprang down the wall and\nseized the crust, running nimbly off with it.\n\n\"Who are you?\" cried the poor man.\n\n\"I'm a lost hearth-fairy,\" said the little creature, in a piping voice.\n\"If you had made me a fire to warm my poor bones, I should not have\ntaken your food.\"\n\nThe hearth-fairy's teeth were chattering, and the man pulled together\nsome sticks and straw, and lighted them with his flint and steel. The\nsmoke curled up, the flames sparkled merrily. The hearth-fairy slid down\nand warmed himself.\n\n\"Hallo there! give me back my crust,\" said the poor man, whose wife kept\npulling him by the sleeve, to remind him of her hunger.\n\n\"Now that I think of it, I want this crust myself,\" said the\nhearth-fairy. \"I am off on a journey to seek a warm fireside, and I need\nsomething to strengthen me. But here is a duck instead, only you had\nbetter not kill her!\"\n\nA fine fat duck tumbled at the poor man's feet. The hearth-fairy\nvanished in the smoke. Oh! how the poor couple longed to kill and eat\nthat duck. Their mouths watered as they thought of onion-sauce, and of\nbreadcrumbs, and of sage. Faint and starving, they fell asleep in a\ncorner of the hut. When day broke the poor man rose up, and went to the\ndoor. The storm had ceased and the duck was quacking on the door-sill.\nShe waddled away, and left behind her a large egg of purest gold. Just\nthen the lord of the forest rode by with his huntsman. They saw the\nshining prize in the poor man's hand, and offered to buy it of him.\n\n\"I will give it for a loaf of brown bread and a sausage,\" he said, \"for\nmy wife lies starving, within.\"\n\nThe huntsman gave him food and drink; and the lord of the forest, after\nhearing his story, had the poor couple taken to a nice empty cottage\nnear by, and told them they should have it for their own. The golden egg\nwas sold, and the man and his wife lived in comfort all their days from\nthe money it fetched. They never saw either the hearth-fairy or the\nmagic duck again, but the good wife soon went to bee-keeping, which made\nher very happy.\n\n\n\n\nROSY'S STAY-AT-HOME PARTIES.\n\n\n\"Oh! dear, oh! dear,\" sighed Rosy, \"I'm the most unhappy little girl in\nall the world.\"\n\nShe was kneeling in a chair, gazing through the drawing-room window. In\nthe street outside was drawn up a carriage, into which Nurse was packing\nall of Rosy's brothers and sisters. Clover was there, a boy of twelve,\nlooking rather disgusted with his surroundings, and having his head\nnearly cut off by his first upright collar. Violet, Rosy's twin sister,\nwas there, dressed in the sweetest new pale blue camel's-hair, and\ntaking great care to turn the skirt of it up over her shoulders as she\nnestled into her corner of the landau. (Rosy thought with a pang of her\nown new dress, the double of Violet's, hanging upstairs in the wardrobe,\nin a melancholy way!) Jonquil was there, the chubby, golden-haired,\nbig-eyed brother, aged three. And last of all was dear wee Honeysuckle,\nlike a bundle of lace and flannel in Marie's arms; while old Nurse's\nspectacles could hardly be seen through the mass of sash-ends and fluted\npetticoats, and scarlet stockings, and velvet breeches, and flying locks\nof hair completely filling the roomy carriage. No one could doubt that\nthe children were going to a party, even if they had not announced that\nfact to everybody within ear-shot by the chatter of their busy little\ntongues!\n\nAt last all were settled, and the carriage rolled away. \"Good-by, Rosy,\"\n\"Good-by, Rosy!\" came up in a shrill chorus; and, the last Rosy's\ntear-dimmed eyes could see of them, hands and handkerchiefs were waving\na farewell to the sister left behind.\n\nThen it was that Rosy's fortitude completely forsook her, and she\ndropped sobbing into the chair. It was a bitter disappointment, for the\nparty was to be given by their aunt in honor of these children, and, in\naddition to Punch and Judy, magic, and a candy-bag, they were promised a\nhuge bran-pie, full of delightful hidden presents. Rosy had suffered\nfrom a pretty bad sore-throat the night before, and the doctor had\nforbidden her going out. It is no use for grown people to say, dear\nchildren, these disappointments of yours don't matter much, for they\n_do_. They seem as high as mountains in your path, and I fully\nsympathize with you all, and especially with little weeping Rosy.\n\nSo thought her mamma, evidently, for she came into the room just then,\nand picked the little bunch of blue serge and cardinal ribbons up in her\narms, and sat down with it in a low chair by the fire.\n\n\"Boo-hoo!\" said Rosy, breaking out afresh when she felt mamma's kisses\non her hair and wet cheeks. Mamma said very little, but by and by the\nlittle girl began to feel comforted, in spite of herself. You know how\nit is, dears! First, you stop roaring and moan, then your eyes are\nkissed dry, then you burrow your heads down and sigh, then you lie quite\nstill for a little while--and at last, after blowing your noses in an\nheroic way, you are ready to laugh again!\n\nAll this happened in Rosy's case, and for awhile she sat talking, until\nher mamma was called away to attend to some household matter. By that\ntime Rosy was quite content to be tucked into a corner of the\ncomfortable sofa, covered with a down quilt, and left to gaze into the\ndepths of a woodfire, burning gently (for it had passed the spitting,\nspluttering stage), upon two great old-fashioned brass andirons with\nclaw-feet and queer round bald heads.\n\nAround Rosy's couch was drawn a gay Japanese screen; before the fire was\nspread a great black bear-skin rug, and on either side of it stood a\ntall green porcelain jar. Clover always said these vases were like the\nones in which Morgiana hid the Forty Thieves, and the children had more\nthan once stuffed baby Honeysuckle into one of them to keep her out of\nmischief during what Nurse called their \"rampagin's to split one's\nhead.\"\n\nOver her mamma's writing-table, low enough for Rosy to look into the\nvery heart of it, hung a picture in a broad gold frame. The picture was\nof a chestnut wood in Brittany, and standing in the shadow of a drooping\nbough was a little girl of about ten, her own age. One of the little\npeasant maiden's arms was clasped around the neck of a big dog,\nharnessed to a cart of vegetables. Under the other arm she held a fat\ngoose with a dangling neck. Overhead, the sky was blue and the leaves\nseemed to be rustling in a summer wind. Around the feet of the tiny\nnut-brown maiden, with her odd high cap, grew tall heather and feathery\nferns, with here and there a clump of flame-shaped lilies. When snow was\non the ground outside Rosy always loved to gaze at this pretty scene,\nand to fancy herself stepping over the frame to have a chat about\nvegetables, and a ramble in the forest with Annette.\n\nRosy's eyes wandered from one object to another in this pleasant room.\nFluff, her mother's Skye terrier, curled up on her feet and fell asleep.\nThe clock upon the mantel ticked softly, Fluff snored contentedly,\nlittle particles of burning wood pattered into the bed of glowing embers\nbelow. Even the familiar rumble of the street cars along the\nthoroughfare at the end of their block seemed more subdued than usual;\nand Rosy lay, never stirring, until--she found herself, without the\nleast warning, slipping down through one of her mother's great porcelain\njars, into Japan! Fluff woke up, and dashed to the rescue, with his\nfierce little \"Rah!\" of a bark; but there was nothing to be seen of Miss\nRosy except the tip of a scarlet bow, with which Nurse was wont to adorn\nthe summit of her young lady's head. She felt the rustle of the dried\nrose-leaves at the bottom of the jar falling over her in a fragrant\nshower, as she fell through space, pulling up, decidedly out of breath,\nin a very queer locality.\n\nIt was a town where the houses looked as if they had been built for big\ndolls to live in. Houses with sliding walls, doors, and galleries made\nall of paper, that in two minutes you could take apart and pack up as\nyou do a box of Crandall's blocks. The streets were honeycombed with\nquaint booths, and crowded with human beings going in and out of them\nlike bees. The carriages were babies' perambulators, drawn by a tandem\nteam of brown-skinned men, wearing a single garment each, and umbrella\nhats.\n\nThere were no horses to be seen, but the cows wore blue cotton wrappers\nand shoes made of straw. Men, women, and children, at first sight,\nseemed to be dressed alike, all clattering around on high clogs,\nstooping painfully; and the funny little bald-headed babies were either\ncarried pick-a-back by their mammas, or else were tucked in the breast\nof their fathers' loose wrappers, together with pipes, tobacco pouches,\nbooks, and a variety of other useful articles.\n\nRosy looked about her in astonishment, till a girl came up and saluted\nher with solemn politeness, inviting her to a party, which was just\nabout to begin. \"You had better have your hair dressed first,\" the girl\nsaid, \"and I will lend you a decent frock.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Rosy, thinking fondly of the blue camel's-hair in the\nwardrobe at home; \"of course, this old every-day serge won't do for a\nparty.\"\n\nThe girl took her to the shop of a female barber, who made Rosy kneel\ndown before a mirror of polished steel, and parted her hair in two or\nthree long manes, which were stiffened with bandoline, and tied with\npaper twine in a wonderful bow-knot on top. A fine tortoise-shell skewer\nwas added, and the barberess, stepping back to survey her work, caught\nsight of Rosy's eyebrows.\n\n\"Tut, tut,\" she said, angrily; \"what were her parents thinking of to let\nthem grow like this?\" And without more ado Rosy's eyebrows were shaved\noff, and her face and neck were daubed with a thick white paste. Her\nunder lip had a patch of red paint, and her teeth were stained with some\nhorrid black mixture. Then she went with the Japanese girl into a paper\nhouse, where the party was to be held, and the girl lent her a loose\nsilk gown, tied round the waist by a wide sash of pink crepe. On her\nfeet were put foot mittens of white cloth, with a separate place for the\nbig toe, and high lacquered clogs.\n\n\"How can I walk?\" said Rosy, tottering around when she was finally\nequipped in her narrow uncomfortable garments.\n\n\"Sh-h! the company is arriving!\" said her hostess; and as there was no\nfurniture, not even a chair, Rosy wondered where the company would sit.\nThe company solved this difficulty by sitting on the floor; and then\ntrays were handed around, containing all sorts of wonderful sweetmeats,\nflowers and fruits in lovely colors, with conserved fruits, sugared\nbeans, and candy fish, animals, and birds. Each dainty was more tempting\nthan the one before, and Rosy found the loose front of her Japanese gown\nthe very thing for a \"party-pocket,\" if any of you know what that means!\n\nNext came games; \"Lady-go-to-see,\" \"Sick man-and-doctor,\"\nAlphabet-cards, and Proverbs; and then, more sweetmeats. Pleasant as it\nwas, a sudden stop was put to the entertainment, by a commotion,\neverybody seizing hold of another, all with frightened faces. Without\nwarning, an earthquake came and turned the house upside down. Everybody\nfell out on the ground but Rosy, who flew up in the air, becoming\nentangled in the tail of a huge man-kite, carried along by the wind at a\nfearful rate of speed.\n\nRosy thought this much more exciting than any coasting down hill she had\never tried; and she flew up, up, until the tail of the kite gave a flop,\ntossing her through a rift in the clouds. There she was, passing again\nthrough the bottom of the porcelain-jar, and in another moment she had\nlanded in the very centre of the bear-skin hearth-rug.\n\nRosy was just getting her breath, and wondering how she came to have her\nhair hanging in the usual tawny stream, when, to her great surprise, the\nbear-skin began to move.\n\n\"Hold on tight there. We are off,\" it said, in a low growling tone,\nthough not unkindly. \"Want to go to a party, hey? Well, I'll see what we\ncan do for you in my part of the world.\"\n\n\"Really you take one so unpleasantly by surprise,\" exclaimed poor Rosy,\nas she felt herself again setting forth on an airy journey. \"It is so\ncold here, I wish you had let me stop for my seal-skin jacket.\"\n\n\"Don't talk about seal-skins, child. We are going where you will see\nenough of them. Ho! but it's grand there, up among the icebergs and the\neverlasting snow-drifts, where the frozen lakes gleam like red jewels in\nthe light of the sun that never sets! Merry sports you'll see between my\nbrothers and sisters!\"\n\n\"But I should be dreadfully afraid of them,\" began Rosy, trembling. \"I\nhave never met any bears outside of cages;\" but the words were frozen on\nher tongue, and some tears coming into her eyes rolled in little round\nicicles into her lap.\n\nNow they came to a world of ice and snow. Even the fir-trees were no\nlonger seen. Clinging to the rocks was a little rough moss, which served\nfor reindeers' food. All else was chill and glittering--the sky arched\nwith radiant pink that seemed to palpitate. Far below them was a polar\nsea, locking in chill embrace a lonely ship, her shrouds sheathed in\nice, her ribs cracked against the huge silvery bulk of an iceberg, on\nwhose jagged side she leaned despairingly--no sign of life on board.\nRosy shuddered and shut her eyes, only opening them again when the\nbear-skin set her down at the side of an odd little hut, built on a\nbarren point of land above the ice-bound water.\n\nThis hut was made of blocks of ice, the chinks filled in with moss, and\nsnow-caked over all. On top was a hole whence issued a faint curl of\nsmoke, and out of an opening, somewhere, crawled a funny Esquimaux lady,\napparently as broad as she was long. She welcomed Rosy politely, and\ntook her in to the fire, a civility Rosy thought she could have done\nwithout. The whole family was collected there, with some guests invited\nin Rosy's honor, who had come in sledges drawn by dogs over the snow.\nThe dogs also were within, and half a dozen children. It made Rosy think\nof the worms in Clover's can the days when her brother went a-fishing,\nso closely packed and squirming were her new-found friends. The place\nwas full of smoke, and smelled of fish oil. The feast consisted of\nfrozen whale's blubber, handed around to be gnawed by the company, and\nof salt fish dried without cooking, with strips of reindeer meat. Rosy\ntried to be very agreeable to everybody present, but when they brought\nher the baby to kiss, she almost fainted! It was the greasiest little\nthing, without a stitch of clothes on! By-and-by, sleep overpowered the\ntraveller, and Mrs. Esquimaux laid a skin before the fire, offering her,\nfor a pillow, what _do_ you think? that self-same greasy baby!\n\nAs this ceremony is an especial compliment to a stranger among the\nEsquimaux, no one can refuse it; and Rosy, with much compunction, laid\nher head down on the poor little thing, who took it all as cheerfully as\npossible.\n\nScarcely had the weary traveller closed her eyes, when she opened them\nagain on the lounge in the drawing-room at home!\n\nThere, looking down on her with a friendly smile, was the little Breton\nmaiden in the chestnut wood.\n\n\"Come to my party,\" Rosy heard her whisper; and, charmed with such a\npretty new playmate, she stretched out her hands. The little French girl\ndropped the goose from under her arm, and leaned out of her gold frame\nto help Rosy, who, in two or three steps was safely beside her, treading\ndown the tall heather, and stirring the butterflies from their haunts\namong the flowers. How green, and cool, and sweet it was, under the\narching boughs. Far as the eye could reach, on every side, were leaves\nrustling in the fragrant air; and the trunks of the ancient trees were\ngray and hoar as the beards of the old Druids who once haunted them.\nAnnette, for so the peasant maid was called, told Rosy many strange and\ninteresting tales about this forest as they walked on, followed by the\nfaithful dog dragging his cart of vegetables so carefully that he did\nnot need a word or look to guide him.\n\n\"Ours is one of the oldest inhabited parts of France,\" said the girl,\nproudly; \"I can tell you stories about every tree and rock and hill in\nthe country-side, and I will, if you like to hear them; but we must make\nhaste to reach the market now, before the sun rises high enough to drink\nthe dew from my vegetables. I was up before day to pick them, and my\nfather has promised me that, if I sell all, I shall have a party in the\nglen. Only think! Not to work in the field all the afternoon--and to\nhave as many chestnuts as we choose, a whole loaf of brown bread, and\nperhaps--if the step-mother is good humored--a slice of seed-cake!\"\n\nRosy thought this a very poor sort of a party; but she found Annette\nsuch good company that it seemed no hardship to trudge along the hot and\ndusty road beside her, when they emerged from the shelter of the wood.\nThe two girls laughed and made merry until they reached the market town,\nand there the good dog came to a halt, while Annette arranged her cress\nand lettuces and beans and potatoes in tempting rows upon the\nstall--standing beside them with such a patient smiling face, that many\npassers-by were induced to buy of her. The fat goose went home in the\nbasket of a fat housekeeper, and left in his place a pile of silver\npieces. So, Annette and Rosy soon turned back to trudge again the dusty\nhigh-road, talking of the party they were to have in the glen that\nafternoon.\n\nAnnette's home, which the two tired little travellers reached at last,\nwas a quaint cottage, the steep moss-grown roof looking twice the height\nof its walls. Over the door grew a twisted pear-tree, and all the ground\naround it, excepting the garden patch in a sheltered spot behind, was\none waving mass of heather, strewn with gray boulders of mossy rock.\nRosy gave a little cry of delight.\n\n\"Why, it is the _sweetest_ place,\" she cried. \"It is like a bird's nest,\nAnnette. How happy you must be here.\"\n\nAnnette was about to answer, when out of the door came a cross\nstep-mother, who began scolding as soon as she saw the girls, snatched\nthe pouch of silver money from Annette's side, ordered her to the right\nand left, and then, tired as the poor child was, harnessed her to the\ncart beside the dog, and made her draw a heavy pile of linen to the\nbrook, where she was at once set to work to help her step-mother in the\nfamily washing. Rosy, half-starved by her long fast, was glad to share\nAnnette's meagre dinner of brown bread and a handful of boiled\nchestnuts, eaten under a tree by the brookside. Annette ventured to\nremind her step-mother of the promised party, and, for answer, received\na smart box on the ear.\n\n\"Is it a princess I have got to do my work, perchance?\" said the cross\nold thing. \"Thy father is far enough off in the field, not here to spoil\nthee, by luck; so do thou and that idle girl yonder set to work and\nfinish washing the linen. That's party enough for trapesing girls, in\n_my_ mind!\"\n\nSo Rosy, too, was forced into service, and all through the long\nafternoon she toiled with aching limbs. When night came, she and Annette\nwere glad to seek a straw bed in a tiny roof-chamber and cry themselves\nto sleep.\n\n\"Never mind,\" said Annette, patiently; \"to-morrow, perhaps, she may be\nkinder, and after we have worked all the forenoon in the field, who\nknows but we may have our party yet?\"\n\nRosy remembered nothing more, except opening her eyes full upon the\nhearth in her mother's drawing-room, where she was immediately addressed\nby one of the old-fashioned brass andirons.\n\n\"I should just like to show you what a party was in _my_ time,\" it said,\nin a cracked, high-pitched voice. \"We, sister Peggy and I, belonged, as\nyou know, to your mother's grandmother--a good old Revolutionary\nstock--and we lived in the old house up yonder in Salem, Massachusetts,\nuntil your mother took it into her fanciful head to fetch us here. I\nshould like to know what we have in common with that little\nfiddle-faddle Dresden china clock and shepherdesses upon the\nmantel-piece! However, I won't talk about my grievances, for sister\nPeggy always says that it is in very bad taste, and sister Peggy knows.\nWe lived in the room where your grandmother was born, my dear, and her\nfirst cap was fitted upon sister Peggy's knob----\"\n\n\"Will she never stop to take breath,\" Rosy wondered. \"I am dying to ask\nher a question. What's your name?\" she suddenly called out, so abruptly\nas to make the old andiron jump, and let fall a broken brand upon the\nhearth.\n\n\"Dear me, child, how you fluttered me!\" it said, reprovingly. \"I am\nsister Polly, of course, as you would have heard in due time. Sister\nPeggy always says that little girls should be seen and not heard, and\nsister Peggy knows--Where was I--Oh! when your grandmother grew old\nenough to invite her little friends to share her hospitality, the boys\nand girls would arrive at about three o'clock in the afternoon. The\ngirls wore plain print gowns, and muslin aprons edged with tambour work.\nInstead of that insane mop of hair you sport, with a bow in the middle,\nlooking for the world and all like your terrier, Fluff, they had decent\nmob caps. Their hands were covered with mittens, and each one earned a\nbag with a piece of white seam (or plain stitching), or else a sampler\nframe. How pretty it was to see them sitting down to their work for\nawhile! Then the tea-table was spread, with flowered china cups and\nplates, and shining silver, muffins, crumpets, sliced ham, home-made\npreserves and cream, and waffles strewn with cinnamon and sugar----\"\n\n\"You make my mouth water,\" said Rosy.\n\n\"All this took place by five o'clock,\" said sister Polly, \"and\nafterward the children had a good game of 'blind-man's-buff,' or\n'hunt-the-slipper'--and a handful of nuts with a big red apple, to stuff\nin each of their pockets upon going home. I remember a very little\nparty your mamma had once, when she was a child----\"\n\n\"Do you? Tell me about it, please,\" said Rosy, eagerly, for nothing was\never so enchanting to those children as stories about their mamma in her\nyouth.\n\n\"She was just getting over the measles, and had been very much petted\nduring her convalescence. Your grandmother promised her, in reward for\ntaking a rather nasty dose of medicine, that she should have her little\ncousins from next door, to drink tea on a trunk. This was an especial\ntreat to your mamma. A large flat-topped trunk served as table for the\nlittle girls and their dollies. On it were spread the china doll\ntea-things, and when they did not suffice in size or numbers, leaves\nfrom the grape-vine above the dining-room porch, were also heaped with\ngoodies. Those children were satisfied with broken bits of peppermint\nstick, ginger-nuts, wee biscuit, lemonade for tea, and in the centre of\nthe table a dish of horse-cakes.\"\n\n\"Oh, I know!\" said Rosy, with much interest. \"Mamma has often told us\nabout horse-cakes, and the funny little old shop where she used to buy\nthem for a cent apiece. They had currants for eyes, and the children\nnever knew whether to begin to eat at the head first or the tail----\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" said sister Polly. \"Well, as I was saying, four little girls\nin clean white birds'-eye pinafores assembled around the trunk-party,\nyour mamma at the head, to pour out the lemonade tea. Each guest had a\ndolly in her lap, and your mamma had twins on hers. I think the\ndifficulty began by her insisting that the twins should have a double\nshare of all the good things, which the guests, with some warmth,\ndisputed. At any rate, it is a sad tale to tell you, but a true one; a\nquarrel set in, and what should the hostess do, but burst into tears,\ndeclare that her company were mean horrid things, and then, dragging at\nthe table-cloth, whisk the entire contents of the tea-table upon the\nfloor!\"\n\n\"Oh!\" said Rosy, \"did my mamma do that? I don't believe a word of it!\nYou are nothing but an old tattle-tale, sister Polly, and I don't\nbelieve sister Peggy is any better!\"\n\nScarcely had Rosy uttered these disrespectful words, when the enraged\nsister Polly and sister Peggy flew out upon her from the fireplace.\nSeizing her in their brassy claws, they shook the little girl fiercely,\nbumping her head first on one side, then on the other, between their\nknobs.\n\nRosy screamed for help, and heard in return a merry peal of laughter.\nShe felt a warm shower of kisses on her face; and, opening her eyes, saw\nClover and Violet, Jonquil and the baby, mamma and the nurses, standing\nin a laughing circle around her couch, while Fluff nearly barked his\nhead off in the general excitement.\n\n\"Rosy, you had the funniest nightmare!\" said Violet; \"see here, what a\nlovely bracelet was in the bran-pie for you, and we've all saved you\nsome of our bonbons.\"\n\n\"It was rather a bully Punch and Judy,\" remarked Clover, patronizingly.\n\"That is, for the little ones, you know; _I've_ seen such lots of 'em.\"\n\n\"Punch said, 'Doody, Doody, bing up de baby,'\" squeaked happy little\nJonquil, capering about.\n\nBaby Honeysuckle had gone to sleep, after her first party.\n\nRosy jumped up, and kissed everybody around twice.\n\n\"Dear knows I've had enough of parties,\" she declared joyfully; but\nnobody knew what she meant!\n\n\n\n\nBLONDINA; OR, THE TURKEY-QUEEN.\n\n[Illustration: Queen Blondina Resting in her Garden.]\n\n\nA certain king had two daughters, one of them lovely and accomplished,\nand the other an ugly, cross-tempered personage, who early in life took\nto meddling with the black arts, and learned a great deal more of magic\nthan she did of any thing else. Blondina, on the contrary--for so the\npretty princess was named--was the joy of all her nurses, and\ngovernesses, and tutors, and music masters, from earliest infancy. Her\none fault was a tendency to laugh aloud on the slightest provocation. At\nten years old she could speak many languages, play on all known\ninstruments, write essays and sermons, dance like a sylph, sing like a\nnightingale, and make chocolate caramel. Vixetta, the elder of the two\nsisters, before she had reached the same age, had made short work of\n_her_ instructors, wearing out the health and spirits of a governess in\na week, and driving twenty-four tutors into the lunatic asylum, while\nher head-nurse was speedily reduced to skin and bone, and took a\npermanent situation as the living skeleton in a dime-museum. The poor\nking remonstrated in vain with his headstrong elder daughter. Ordinary\nscolding had not the slightest effect upon her; black marks and crosses\nagainst her name in the report-book only made her laugh scornfully; and\nany attempt at bodily punishment ended in the Princess Vixetta throwing\nherself flat upon the ground, turning purple in the face, and foaming at\nthe mouth with rage in a way to daunt the stoutest spirit. So, for this\nreason, the unfortunate girl was allowed to follow her own fancies,\nstealing off at dusk nobody knew whither, although it was suspected\nthat her favorite haunts were the black depths of a pine forest near the\npalace--where the country folk never cared to ramble, even in broad\ndaylight--or a certain ruined tower, filled with bats and owls and\nserpents. One night a peasant, who approached this tower in search of a\nlost cow, saw green lights dancing madly around the broken walls, heard\nwild shrieks of laughter issue from within, and, on venturing to insert\nhis inquisitive nose into a chink, had it tweaked by two red-hot\nfingers; immediately afterward, he averred, he had seen the Princess\nVixetta, in true witch-dress, shoot by him on a broom-stick, leaving a\ntrail of brimstone in her wake. On reaching home he found his sheep\ndead, his best cows gone dry, and his children ill of a fever. Such\ntales as these, of which there were many current in the country-side,\ncame from time to time to the king's ears, and not being able to gainsay\nthem, _because of information he had got on his own private account_,\nthe unfortunate parent resigned himself to sink slowly to the tomb. In\nfact he courted death rather than shunned it. Whenever he took cold, he\nwould sit all night long, in wet shoes, in the draft of two open\nwindows; and if that did not make him worse, would send away the\ndoctors, refuse medicine, and try to beat his brains out on the marble\nfloor of the palace bedroom. At last, one day, he choked, on too large a\nmouthful of beefsteak, and when the physicians endeavored to relieve\nhim, waved them away, and cheerfully expired!\n\n[Illustration: Vixetta]\n\n[Illustration: _Blondina_.]\n\nThe Princess Blondina was immediately proclaimed queen in her father's\nstead. Nothing was heard but praises of the charming new sovereign, who,\nafter the period of mourning had passed away, ascended the throne with\nmuch pomp and ceremony. All of this was gall and worm-wood to the\nenvious Vixetta, who, but for the kindness of her sister, would have\nbeen sent, by a vote of all the people, into exile in a distant land.\nBlondina announced that the Princess Vixetta should remain in her\npalace, and be offered an opportunity to reform her bad ways. Vixetta,\nthereupon, pretending to weep, promised to do better, and to give up\nassociating with her evil favorites, the witches, warlocks, and\nmagicians; but, in secret, her time was spent in conjuring a method to\nget rid of her beautiful sister, and to mount the throne in her stead.\n\nOne warm summer day, Queen Blondina had just come in from rowing in her\nsilver barge along the windings of the little river which watered the\npalace grounds. She rested for a while in the garden upon a bank of\nroses, myrtles, jasmine, and lilies-of-the-valley, while allowing her\nmaids-of-honor to fan her with huge fans of white ostrich plumes, and\nlistening to the drip of fountains of orange-flower water, and\neau-de-cologne. Suddenly, she espied a poor old tattered crone, carrying\na basket of luscious fruit, such as none of the queen's own gardens or\ngreen-houses could produce. Pomegranates there were, dropping sweetest\njuices when cleft in twain, purple figs that melted upon the tongue,\nrosy nectarines, crimson plums frosted with silvery dew, and bunches of\ngrapes glowing like jewels where the sunbeams touched their clusters.\nQueen Blondina sat up, and exclaimed with delight, \"Oh! Goody, pray set\nyour basket down. My servants will pay you handsomely for your lovely\nfruit.\"\n\n\"Willingly, your Majesty,\" said the old woman. \"You are welcome to the\ncontents of my basket, if you will but leave me the single hazel-nut at\nthe very bottom of it.\"\n\nThe queen consented, with a laugh at the absurdity of her wanting that\none insignificant little hazel-nut, when such a delightful treat was at\nher service. Her servants unpacked the basket, and there, sure enough,\nat the bottom, was a tiny brown nut.\n\n\"Queer, that she should desire to keep back that one little nut,\"\nthought the queen. \"I wonder why? Can it be so very delicious to the\ntaste, or what? I wish I could see its inside.\"\n\nAnd so she went on, wondering, and exciting her own imagination, till,\npretty soon, Blondina would have given all the rest of the basketful for\nthe possession of that single mysterious nut! She began by offering one\ngold piece, then another, till a glittering pile lay at the crone's\nfeet, but still the old woman held out against parting with her\ntreasure.\n\nAt last, Blondina burst into tears, when the crone appeared to be melted\nby her sorrow, and, advancing, whispered in her ear.\n\n\"If I give you this nut,\" she said, \"it shall be on one condition, only,\nyour Majesty; and that is, that you crack it in the presence of your\nprime minister alone, in some remote corner of your palace.\"\n\nBlondina gladly consented, and sending away her attendants, took\npossession of the nut, and summoned her prime minister to her side. This\nfunctionary was a very stern and important officer of State, who had\nbeen foremost in the movement to banish the Princess Vixetta from the\ncourt. He arrived all breathless, at the queen's behest, and in the\nmeantime the old crone had disappeared as mysteriously as she came.\nBlondina ordered the prime minister to follow her to a secluded\nsummer-house, where, eagerly cracking the nut with her royal high-heeled\nshoe, she found inside only a few pinches of white powder, and a scroll\ncontaining some fine writing in an unknown tongue.\n\n\"Thanks to my love of study, your Majesty,\" modestly suggested the prime\nminister, \"I have mastered the only language you have left unacquired,\nwhich happens to be Arabic. On this bit of paper, I can decipher certain\ninstructions to the finder.\"\n\n\"Tell me them, quickly, my dear lord,\" said the enchanted princess, \"and\nI will apply myself to the study of Arabic to-morrow. So much for a\nneglected education,\" she added, with a sigh that she had left anything\nso important undone; for, as I have said before, this princess had a\npassion for acquiring languages.\n\n\"If the finder of this treasure desires to acquaint himself with the\nlanguage of the animal world, and to take the form of any other living\nthing, he has only to snuff up a pinch of the enclosed powder, bow to\nthe earth three times, and cry the name of the creature he desires to\nbecome, followed by these exact words:--\n\n    'Kurri-kuree,\n    Changed would I be.'\n\n\"At once he will assume the likeness of the thing named, and will\nunderstand all he hears going on around him, remaining in that shape as\nlong as he may choose. Whenever he wishes to resume his own natural\nform, he has only to bow himself again three times to the earth, and\nrepeat the formula already given. But let him, during the period of\ntransformation, especially beware of laughing aloud--or he will\ninevitably forget the formula, and run the risk of remaining as he has\nchosen to be.\"\n\n\"This is the most delightful thing I ever had happen to me,\" said the\nmerry young queen, clapping her hands. \"Come, my lord, I am dying to try\nthe experiment. Suppose we become two turkeys, and wander into the\nbarn-yard. Nothing could please me more than a little adventure of that\nkind. Besides, you forget I have never studied Turkish, and this will be\nan excellent opportunity.\"\n\nThe prime minister, who was a man of sober years, beyond the taste for\nsuch mad-cap frolics, remonstrated in vain with his wilful mistress.\nBlondina would have her way; and, in a short time, behold both queen and\nminister indulging in a solemn pinch of white snuff, and pronouncing\ndistinctly the magic formula, while inclining themselves humbly to the\nearth!\n\nAt once, Blondina's gown of silken tissue was exchanged for a suit of\nneat brown mottled feathers, while the prime minister became just such a\nhuge and unwieldy gobbler as would take first prize in a Christmas\npoultry show!\n\n\"Oh! what splendid fun!\" the queen began, dying to laugh at her\ncompanion. But reflecting upon the possible consequences of this\nindiscretion, she became grave and silent, while the humiliated prime\nminister waddled after her into the barn-yard, whither his perverse\nlittle sovereign now took her way, leaving the hazel-nut securely hidden\nin a corner of the summer-house.\n\nIn the multitude of feathered folk assembled in the enclosure, our two\nturkeys passed almost unnoticed at first. They were surprised to find\nvery much the same sort of talk going on among their new friends, as\namong those they had left. The same struggle for prizes and for place,\nthe same greedy rapacity, the same love of gossip and display. Two new\npeacocks had that day been added to the collection, and were strutting\nup and down like fashionable loungers, discussing all the affairs of the\nnation and the conduct of the rulers; and, in listening to their\ndiscourse, the queen found herself much enlightened about many of her\nsubjects, and their doings.\n\n\"As to her Majesty, Queen Blondina,\" said one of the peacocks, sending\nhis tail up in a magnificent fan when he saw the admiring gaze of two\nyoung guinea hens bent upon him, \"I have reason to believe that this\nunfortunate young woman is doomed soon to fall a victim to the wiles of\nthat powerful enchantress, her sister, who, as is well known to all of\nus, has just become the sovereign of the underground fraternity of\nmagicians, against whose spells all other witches and warlocks can do\nnothing.\"\n\nBlondina strained her ears to catch the answer; but the two talkers had\npassed on, and she heard a sharp voice say close beside her, \"Come now,\nno struggling, if you please, Mr. Mole. I have not tasted so much as a\nmouse to-day, and you have crossed my path in the nick of time.\"\n\n\"Dear Miss Tame Owl,\" pleaded the little velvet-coated victim, held\ntight in the claws of a spinster-owl, domesticated in the barn-yard by\nBlondina's special orders, \"I must entreat you to let me off this time;\nI was hurrying to my daughter's wedding, and mistook the way, straying\ninto this dreadful place by the most unfortunate mischance. Consider the\nfeelings of my family, who are all assembled and expecting me.\"\n\n\"Come now, no nonsense,\" said the cross old thing. \"My mouth is fairly\nwatering for you.\"\n\nShe was about to cut short the victim's observations in the most abrupt\nmanner by taking him bodily into her crop, when Blondina interposed, and\nflying at the owl, boxed her ears soundly. At this, the venerable lady\nwas so unpleasantly taken by surprise, that she opened her mouth to\ngasp, and out fell the mole, who instantly scuttled away, but not\nwithout bestowing upon his turkey benefactress the most ardent thanks.\nAfter this little incident, Blondina's attention was distracted by a\nvariety of curious studies in fowl-life, and she forgot all about her\ncompanion, the prime minister, until, chancing to look around, she\nbeheld him the centre of an admiring throng of ducks, geese, and\nchickens, whose numbers were constantly increasing. \"How grand he is!\"\n\"How big!\" \"How noble!\" echoed on every side; and the prime minister,\nwho was very vain, drooped his wings, set up his tail, and puffed\nhimself into a magnificent fluffy ball. \"Never have we beheld a turkey\nof so majestic a bearing!\" cried a gushing goose-widow, and a pair of\nyoung lady ducklings rolled up their eyes in rapture and nodded assent.\nThe prime minister was in his glory.\n\n\"Yes, I am indeed the champion,\" he said, swelling into a balloon of\nfeathers. Just then, Queen Blondina's own pet kitten, Floss, wandered\nacross the yard, and having no especial occupation in view, charged at\nfull scamper upon the prime minister, who, alas! for his boasted\ndignity, subsided ingloriously, and, shutting himself up tight, fairly\nturned tail and ran away, looking so excessively crest-fallen and\nfoolish that Blondina could not resist bursting into a long and merry\npeal of laughter.\n\n\"What have you done, your Majesty?\" cried the alarmed prime minister,\nnow remembering himself, as together they took refuge in a neighboring\nfield. \"Is it possible you can have forgotten; and, for my part, I saw\nnothing to laugh about. I never imagined a more dreadful beast than that\nunmannerly little pet of yours which attacked me.\"\n\nThe queen broke out afresh into laughter, and laughed until she cried.\nThen, seeing the discomfiture of the prime minister, she decided that\nshe had for to-day had enough of the animal world, and would indulge no\nmore in such amusements until to-morrow.\n\n\"I beg ten thousand pardons, my dear lord,\" she said, shaking with\nsuppressed laughter. \"But if you could only have seen yourself! Ha, ha!\nHowever, we have nothing now to do but bow three times, thus\"--suiting\nthe action to the word, \"and say--Kik-kuk-kik! Dear me, what is it we\nmust say? I can't for the life of me remember it.\"\n\nThe prime minister was as much at a loss.\n\n\"Perhaps your Majesty has forgotten _the price you were to pay for a\nlaugh_,\" he observed, bitterly.\n\nBlondina looked at him in blank horror. Too truly had she forgotten the\nformula, and turkeys they must remain!\n\nAnd now, how sad their plight! In the midst of their other tribulations,\nhunger assailed them, and they could not eat the food provided for the\nrest. So they wandered into the fields and forest, picking at berries\nhere and there; though, when evening came, footsore and weary, they\ndetermined to go back into the palace barn-yard, and see what was taking\nplace there.\n\nThey found all the animals and fowls excited over the events of the day,\nand soon heard the news that Queen Blondina had died suddenly that\nmorning, leaving a will appointing her sister to reign in her stead.\n\nNext day a funeral took place, when the coffin was filled by a lovely\nwaxen image of the late queen, and was placed in the vault beside her\nfather. The false Vixetta, dressed in mourning, had followed weeping\nafter it.\n\nBlondina and the prime minister now saw that they were indeed under the\nspell of a powerful enchantress, and resolved to travel to the dwelling\nof a certain wise woman in search of advice.\n\nAfter a long journey, the two turkeys reached the hut of the wise woman,\nand told her their pitiful tale.\n\n\"Unfortunately, I have no power against Queen Vixetta since she has\nbecome the sovereign of the underground band,\" said the wise woman.\n\"But, if you could gain an entrance to one of their Friday councils, you\nmight pick up something to your advantage there.\" And then, as wise\nwomen speak but once in twenty-four hours, she shut the door in their\nfaces, and left them to their fate.\n\nBlondina and the prime minister repaired to the ruined tower whither\nVixetta was wont to go on Fridays; and there, hiding behind a wall, they\nsaw the wicked sorceress arrive and, lifting a trap-door in the cellar,\ndisappear from sight. While they remained above, lamenting their hard\nfate, Blondina saw a tiny black object emerge from the ground at her\nfeet, then another and another, till a troop of them were assembled.\nThese were moles, and their leader, addressing the queen, informed her\nthat he it was she had saved from the crop of the owl.\n\n\"We have heard of your distressing predicament, your Majesty,\" the mole\nadded, with deep respect; \"and hasten to offer our services to conduct\nyou to the council chamber of the underground band.\"\n\nBlondina thanked the mole fervently, and found, upon following him, that\nwith his companions he had burrowed a long and beautifully smooth\ntunnel. Glow-worms were ranged along the sides to light the way, and\nevery thing was arranged for her comfort. After a considerable time had\nelapsed, the travellers reached a gallery leading directly into a\nvaulted chamber where the witches and warlocks sat, each upon a cushion\nformed of a huge and swollen toad. In their midst, upon a throne made of\nserpents intertwined, sat the Queen Vixetta, around whose brow flickered\na wreath of blue flames. Ah! she was a terrible witch to look upon.\nBlondina shuddered to remember the kisses she had often innocently\npressed upon that skinny forehead and those lips of lurid red. Vixetta\nwas in high spirits; she and her familiars hatched mischief together,\nand gloated over their evil doings in fiendish glee. Then Vixetta\nlistened to the reports of each of the wicked creatures in turn; and, to\nBlondina's astonishment, in the narrators of these tales of witchcraft\nshe recognized more than one of the most respected of her own subjects.\nSome of them were crones ancient and palsied, others were young and\nblooming girls Vixetta had led astray; among the warlocks were the\ngray-haired miller, the good sexton, and a courtier in whom the queen\nhad placed peculiar confidence. All were attended by black deformed\ncreatures, half cat, half human being. In the centre of the circle was a\nfire, and before it they set up the very waxen image of the queen which\nhad been buried in her stead. Into this little imps were ordered to\nthrust sharp blades and needles in the region of the heart, while\nVixetta pronounced a spell, at which all the others laughed rejoicingly.\n\n\"I'll warrant my lady Blondina will be cured of her love of laughing,\nafter this--as well as of her curiosity. Long may she wander in her\npresent shape,\" said the sorceress. \"It was a merry trick I played her\nand that audacious old prime minister, who sought to do me harm.\"\n\n\"And what, pray, was the rhyme your Majesty bid them recall?\" asked the\ncourtier warlock, grinning maliciously.\n\n\"A simple one,\" replied the sorceress, \"and you will remember it was\nonce a password in our band,--\n\n    'Kurri-kuree,\n    Changed would I be.'\"\n\nBlondina almost betrayed herself in her delight. She repeated the words\nagain and again, in mind, keeping profoundly silent until the\nwitch-revels were at an end; and at cock-crow the unholy gang broke up,\nvanishing like smoke through a trap-door in the ceiling of the vault.\n\n\"And now, dear little mole, take us back again,\" said the turkey-queen,\nwho longed to breathe the free air of heaven and to break her awful\nspell.\n\n\"May it please your Majesty,\" said the mole, looking very unhappy,\n\"there is a new difficulty. Yonder image of you which they consumed in\nthe fire, is a fresh enchantment that dooms you to remain perpetually in\nthe place where you now are; and I find by consultation with a friend of\nmine, a bat who lives in this cave, and who is the most kind and\nobliging person, that on only one condition can you now leave this spot,\nand that, I hardly dare name to you.\"\n\n\"Summon this bat to appear before me immediately,\" cried the wretched\nqueen, who, finding that her feet were stuck fast to the earth, was\ntruly overwhelmed, while the prime minister gave himself up to complete\ndespair.\n\nThe bat appeared, and a more repulsive huge creature it is impossible to\npicture; but his voice was gentle and his manner most humble and\nconciliatory. He began to apologize for presenting himself before the\nqueen, when she interrupted him impetuously.\n\n\"Quick--quick! tell me the condition on which I may leave this horrible\nplace, where I shall die if I remain a moment longer. Who are you? why\nare you here? and why should we trust in you when every living thing in\nthis foul spot is devoted to the service of the evil one?\"\n\n\"I, like yourself, am a victim of, not a partner in, crime, your\nMajesty,\" said the bat, with dignity. \"If you will permit----\"\n\n\"But I can't stop to listen to anything,\" sobbed the poor little\nturkey-queen. \"Get me into the daylight somehow or other, and then I\nwill hear you gladly. Oh! kind Mr. Bat, forgive my unkind words; only\nfree me from this living tomb, if it be possible.\"\n\n\"You have been told that it is possible, lady,\" said the bat,\npathetically; \"but, to be brief, since you insist upon it--only by\npromising your fair hand in marriage to----\"\n\n\"To whom?\" cried Blondina, in astonishment\n\n\"To me,\" said the bat, withdrawing more into the shadows of the vault.\n\nBlondina screamed with horror.\n\n\"Oh! never, never,\" she exclaimed, bursting again into tears of\nanguish.\n\nThe mole, the bat and the turkey prime minister consulted together in\nlow whispers; and the last-named gentleman, addressing the queen, set\nbefore her the hopeless situation in which she now was, and urged her to\naccept the proposition of the bat.\n\n\"Hear me, too, fair queen,\" said the voice of the bat. \"I swear that if\nyou consent, you shall never regret it. Only trust me, and all will go\nwell. In consigning me to this spot, your wicked sister, who, in my\nformer estate desired to marry me herself, in spite of my aversion for\nher, swore that never should I be free from her enchantment, until a\nbeautiful young bride should come to the rescue and promise to marry me,\nas I am, without asking any questions. Then, and then only, I might\nescape, taking my bride and her attendants with me.\"\n\n\"But your appearance--pardon me,\" said poor Blondina; \"it is too\ndreadful for anything.\"\n\n\"Trust me,\" repeated the bat; and, in desperation, Blondina murmured a\npromise to be his bride.\n\nInstantly the bat flew with alacrity into a corner of the vault, and,\nbringing thence a bunch of mistletoe, angelica, and mountain-ash, waved\nit thrice in a circle around Blondina, who up to that moment had\nremained as if rooted to the spot where she stood. The spell broke, and\nBlondina, starting joyfully forward, repeated, at his request, the same\nceremony of disenchantment for the bat, as also for the prime minister;\nand all three of them, accompanied by the faithful mole, took their way\nto the upper regions without delay. Upon reaching the meadow where they\nhad entered the underground passage, Blondina and the prime minister\nlost no time in running back to the summer-house, where, regaining the\nhidden hazel nut, they safely and joyfully resumed their own true\nshapes.\n\n\"And now, gentle lady,\" said the bat, who had flown after them, keeping\nhis distance modestly, \"I pray you to perform for me another kindly\naction. Close your eyes, and sprinkle me with this powder, at the same\ntime touching my head with the witch-defying plants. Then, kindle a fire\nwith these fagots of wood left here by your gardener, and cast me into\nthe hottest portion of it.\"\n\nBlondina shrank from the task, but, finding the bat as determined as he\nwas calm and dignified, obeyed him without another word of protest.\nAided by the now alert and cheerful prime minister, she kindled a fire\nupon the hearth of the little summer-house; and when it blazed high,\nand hot coals fell into the centre, she followed the bat's directions to\nthe letter. Immediately there was a loud explosion; the hideous bat skin\nsplit asunder and shrivelled up, revealing a beautiful young prince, who\nstepped unsinged from the ring of flame, and bent his knee before the\nQueen Blondina. She recognized in him a playmate of her childhood,\nPrince Florizel, son of a neighboring monarch, who years before had\ndisappeared from his father's court, and had been mourned as dead by his\nsorrowing relatives. To enchant him, in punishment for his scorn of her,\nhad been one of the first acts of Vixetta's acquired magic; and to\naccomplish it, the wretched girl had bargained away her entire life to\nthe service of the Evil One.\n\nBlondina greeted Florizel with the utmost pleasure and assured him of\nher willingness to fulfil the pledge she had made to the dreaded\nbat-lover. They returned to the palace, and on being observed by the\nattendants, who, believing them to be ghosts, ran terrified away, had\nsome difficulty in persuading people that they were alive and in the\nflesh. Then, what joy reigned over the palace. Quickly the news spread\nthrough the city and kingdom. The indignant people flocked around the\napartments of Vixetta, who was still asleep after her orgies of the\nprevious night, and, summoning her to come forth, declared that she\nshould instantly be put to death in the presence of her victims. The\nmiserable sorceress fell upon her knees, and begged for her life. Again\nthe generous Blondina entreated that her sister might be spared; but\nPrince Florizel interfered, and insisted that, for the future safety of\nhis queen, Vixetta should then and there be compelled to take a pinch of\nthe magic powder and change herself into a bat. This was done, and the\nsorceress, flying from the window, was never heard of more.\n\nBlondina gave her hand and heart to Prince Florizel, as soon as he\nreturned from a visit to his parents, who were overjoyed to regain their\nlong-lost son and heir. The marriage took place with great magnificence,\nand the royal couple lived in peace for the remainder of their long and\nuseful lives. They would often walk in the direction of the\npoultry-yard, and Blondina loved to tell her husband of all the things\nshe had heard and seen there when in her turkey shape.\n\nBut the prime minister, after he had weeded out of the kingdom certain\nobnoxious individuals strongly resembling the warlocks seen at the\nunderground council, preferred to assume a dignified forgetfulness of\nall that had passed during his enforced experience as a feathered biped.\nTo the latest day of his life he would always cross the road to avoid\nmeeting a turkey-gobbler, and for the race of pet kittens he continued\nto maintain the most unconquerable dislike.\n\nBy the laws of the kingdom, to kill or injure a mole was made a capital\noffence; and once every year a little blind gentleman in a fine black\nvelvet coat arrived at the palace to pay his respects to their\nmajesties, who received him with every mark of favor and affection.\n\n\n\n\nTIMID AGNES.\n\n[Illustration: Shutting Agnes into the Chest.]\n\n\nOnce there lived a poor girl whose wicked aunt treated her very cruelly.\nOne morning, the aunt set out for a day of shopping and visiting to the\nneighboring town, after whipping her niece soundly (as she was in the\nhabit of doing for exercise, every morning), and shutting up the poor\ngirl in the garret, where a barrel of white sand had been spilt upon the\nfloor.\n\n\"Pick up every grain of this sand before bedtime, or I will imprison you\nin the dark closet for a week,\" said the aunt as she went away.\n\nThe poor child cried so that she could not see the tiny particles; and\nas she sat, crying and picking up what she could feel, she heard a\nlittle scratching under the lid of the old wedding-chest in the corner.\nPresently, a pretty blue mouse with topaz eyes ran down the side of the\nchest, and came up to her. Now, if there was anything poor Agnes feared\nmore than death, it was a mouse. The very sight of one had always made\nher shudder and scream and clutch at her petticoats, and climb up on\nchairs or tables or anything convenient.\n\nSo when she saw her visitor she gave a cry of terror, and climbed nimbly\nup to the top of a broken chest of drawers in the corner of the garret.\n\n\"Don't mind me,\" said the mouse, politely.\n\n\"I _beg_ your pardon, but I'm so awfully afraid of you,\" said Agnes,\nshuddering to her toes. \"I think I could endure you if it were not for\nyour horrid tail! But you really make me creep all over, don't you see?\"\n\n\"If you would only take that apron off your head, and exercise a little\nself-control,\" said the mouse, with a shade of impatience in its manner,\n\"you would soon see that I am a very superior kind of a mouse. Come,\nMiss Agnes, I have watched you very often at your work here, and I have\na great desire to be of service to you. But there is really no talking\nreason to a person hunched up on top of a chest of drawers with a pink\napron over her head; is there, now?\"\n\nAgnes, hearing the mouse talk so pleasantly, made a desperate effort to\ncome down from her perch and converse with the little creature. After a\nwhile the blue mouse's eloquence proved sufficient to induce her to\nfollow it near a crack in the wall, and to peep between the boards, as\ndirected.\n\nThere she saw a secret room, full of beautiful things--clothes and\njewels--scattered on the floor.\n\n\"All these shall be yours, fair Agnes,\" said the mouse, \"if you will\ncarry me in your pocket for a day.\"\n\nAgnes trembled with horror so that she could hardly bring herself to\nsay, \"Thank you kindly, good Mr. Blue Mouse, but I hardly need anything\nnew in the way of clothes, going out as little as I do. O--o--oh!\" she\nexclaimed, catching her breath, as the mouse seemed to scuttle toward\nher.\n\n\"Do not fear! I am entirely too proud to obtrude my company where it is\nso little desired. Farewell, Miss Agnes; I leave you. But before I go,\nallow me to arrange this little difficulty for you.\"\n\nThe gallant little mouse whisked his tail (that hateful tail!), twice\nover the pile of sand, and at once, every grain of the shining heap, and\nall that lay scattered over the garret floor, flew back into the barrel.\n\n\"Thank you, kind Mr. Blue Mouse,\" cried the grateful Agnes; but no\nanswer came. Her benefactor was nowhere to be seen. She looked in vain\nfor the crack in the wall he had led her to; it was no longer in view.\n\nWhen the wicked aunt found that Agnes had completed her task, she flew\ninto a violent rage, and determined to rid herself forever of the girl.\nSo, taking her again into the garret, she bound her hand-and-foot, tied\na handkerchief across her mouth to still her cries, and, opening the old\nwedding-chest in the corner, thrust poor Agnes bodily into it, closing\nthe lid with a vicious bang, and locking it with the great iron key.\n\n\"Lie there till doomsday, you tiresome thing!\" said the wicked aunt,\ngoing down-stairs to eat her supper.\n\nPoor Agnes thought she must soon die of suffocation, but just then she\nheard a scratching noise; four little feet scuttled over her face, and a\nlong smooth tail whisked by her ear.\n\n\"Ugh!\" groaned poor Agnes. \"It's a mouse shut up here with me! Oh! why\ndidn't she kill me, outright?\"\n\nThen little teeth began gnawing at her bandages and at the ropes that\nbound her, and in a few moments she was free.\n\n\"I am here, Miss Agnes; though, indeed, I won't touch you again!\" said\nthe familiar voice of the Blue Mouse. \"But if you would only trust me,\nand carry me in your pocket, how much I could do for you!\"\n\nAt last Agnes consented to grant his wish and, trembling in every limb,\nshe let the mouse run into her pocket. Without a moment's delay, the\nbottom of the chest gave way, and Agnes felt herself sinking, sinking.\nWhen she recovered her wits, which in that moment of terror seemed\nfairly to forsake her, there she was in a beautiful garden, filled with\nladies and gentlemen walking two and two in a grand procession along a\nbowery path strewn with roses and carnations. Fountains played in the\nsunshine, birds sang on the boughs. It was a scene so gay and beautiful,\nthat Agnes clapped her hands for joy.\n\n\"How happy I am here!\" she cried.\n\n\"And happy you shall always be here,\" said a voice behind her.\n\nAgnes, turning, saw a young gentleman dressed in a blue court costume\nwith topaz buttons, and wearing in his cap a long smooth plume of blue,\ncaught by a brilliant brooch of the same gems.\n\nHe explained to her that he was none other than the mouse she had so\nmuch feared. Condemned from childhood to remain a mouse until some fair\nmaiden should, of her own free will, allow him to run into her pocket,\nthe unfortunate prince had only now been released from his long\nimprisonment. This garden belonged to his own palace, and the ladies and\ngentlemen coming to meet him were his friends and courtiers.\n\nAgnes, shedding tears of penitence over the blindness of her former\nprejudice, bestowed her hand upon the prince, and was happy evermore.\n\n\n\n\nTHE OGRESS AND THE COOK.\n\n\nOne summer afternoon, a young girl sat upon the door-stone of her\ncottage home, awaiting the return of her father from the mill. Her day's\nwork was neatly done, and the tiny house, both within and without, was\nas tidy as hands could make it; hollyhocks and sweet-peas grew beneath\nthe windows; the plates on the cupboard shelf glittered; and a little\nfire sparkled upon the hearth, where a pot of savory broth was bubbling\ncheerfully. On the table was set a brown loaf, light as a feather and\nsweet as a nut, with a bunch of grapes from the trellis above the door,\nand a pewter mug ready to be filled with frothing ale at the moment when\nthe good man should sit down. Dimple, whose fingers rarely rested, plied\nher knitting-needles as she watched the bridge upon the road where the\nfirst glimpse of her father might be caught. By-and-by, up came an old\ncrone, dusty and way-worn.\n\n\"Pray, my kind little maiden, give me a bit of food, and a sup of drink,\nfor sweet charity's sake,\" begged the wayfarer, who looked as if she\nwere ready to drop from fatigue.\n\n\"Willingly, dame,\" said pretty little Dimple; and bidding the crone be\nseated, she ladled out for her a generous portion of the fragrant broth.\n\nThe crone's eyes sparkled; and, seizing a great horn spoon, she\ndespatched the broth in two or three mouthfuls, then asked for more.\nDimple supplied her; and in a little while, all the broth in the iron\npot had disappeared.\n\n\"Never mind,\" sighed Dimple to herself. \"The good father will have to\nput up with a rasher of bacon and some eggs, to-night.\"\n\nAs if reading her thoughts, the crone, displaying a pair of jaws opening\nas wide as a cavern and garnished with ferocious teeth, said:\n\n\"I am just beginning to feel a little refreshed. If there were only such\na thing as a couple of fat slices of home-cured bacon, and a brace of\nnew-laid eggs to help a poor old creature on her way.\"\n\nDimple ran to fetch the eggs, over the laying of which her fowls had\nscarcely ceased to cackle in the barn. Quickly and cheerfully, she\nprepared a delicious dish, which the crone despatched as before. The\nloaf of bread followed the bacon, and a gallon of ale followed the\nbread. All of the grapes, plucked and arranged in a basket for market\nnext morning, were consumed; and, when Dimple had just begun to tremble\nwith apprehension lest her voracious visitor should devour _her_ in\nconclusion, the crone pushed back her chair, jumped up with surprising\nagility and, running to the door, blew a shrill whistle.\n\nInstantly, there came flying through the air a pair of huge vampires\nharnessed to a blood-red chariot. They halted at the cottage gate; and,\nbefore Dimple had time to cry out in her terror, the crone whisked her\ninto the chariot, held her in place with a grasp of iron, and ordered\nthe foul creatures to be off. Dimple fainted away and, when she came to\nherself, found that they were high above the earth, travelling with\nfrightful speed through a thunder cloud. In vain she cried for mercy,\nand entreated to be restored to her father's house.\n\n\"Be silent, brat,\" said the furious crone, who was, in reality, an\nogress. \"Know that I have for a long time been in search of just such a\ntrig little cook-maid as you are. Ever since my husband ate up the two\nlast, I have had the greatest trouble to induce my servants to stay with\nme. Besides, we are particular about our table, and rather hard to suit.\nI dare say, now, you understand cooking a nice plump baby's thigh to\nperfection, and how to prepare a dish of rosy cheeks smothered in cream,\nhey? But it isn't every day we are in such luck as to get fare like\nthat. Many's the time I've had to palm off lamb chops for baby cutlets,\nand to swear that the pig's tails I served up were boy's fingers. Now,\nstop that ridiculous shuddering and crying, and listen to reason. If you\npromise to serve me faithfully for seven years, I'll engage to keep you\nout of his way, and to send you home with a fortune in your pocket.\"\n\nDimple's fright and horror had by this time completely taken away her\npower of speech. She sank upon the floor of the chariot in silent\ndespair; and when they reached the ogre's castle, situated on a frowning\npeak of rocks, where not the most daring human foot could climb, she\nallowed herself without resistance to be lifted out, and thrust into a\ndark cavernous kitchen. There she was ordered to prepare a large pie,\nmade of rats and bats, for the ogre's supper. While poor Dimple was thus\nengaged, a monstrous giant came home, and angrily asked for food. The\nogress greeted him affectionately, and nine young ogresses ran to meet\nhim and would have jumped upon his knees, but that he pushed them away\nand fell to scolding everybody, every syllable of his speech sounding\nlike the loudest thunder-peal. Dimple finished her hateful task, and\nsuch was her skill in cooking that the pastry on coming out of the oven\nlooked and smelt delicious. The giant ceased to frown as he devoured it,\nand smiled when he laid down his knife and fork.\n\n[Illustration: _Dimple makes rat pie._]\n\n\"Come here, lasses, and I'll kiss you all,\" he said, with rare\namiability--actually bestowing on his wife's shoulder a pat of approval\nthat would have felled Jumbo to the earth.\n\nThe young ogresses were tall and spindling creatures, as slim as young\ngiraffes. They had pasty complexions, pink eyes, and long glistening\nwhite teeth. Dimple's business was, after she had set her kitchen in\norder, to go up into the nursery and put these frights to bed, each\nrequiring to be rocked to sleep in a cradle nine feet long, and all\nhowling like an army of pinched cats until slumber overtook them. Late\nat night, when all was quiet, poor Dimple would creep up to bed in a\nlittle turret room, where the wind moaned around the windows and owls\nhooted in the ivy so that sleep was impossible. She lay on her wretched\nbed and cried all night; and when day broke, she would scramble into her\nclothes again, and steal down stairs to her work in trembling, for she\nnever knew at what moment the ogre might be prowling around in his\nstocking feet, and pounce upon her for a tid-bit. Months passed on, and\none day the ogre came home in high good humor, carrying upon his back a\nliving human being, whose feet and hands were tied and his eyes securely\nbandaged, while a gag in his mouth prevented the unfortunate victim\nfrom making a sound of remonstrance.\n\n\"Take this fellow to the kitchen,\" thundered the ogre, throwing his\nvictim down upon the stone floor of the entrance hall with a violent\nbang; \"see that he is in good condition for my table, and then serve him\nwith plenty of onions in the sauce. Just as I was beginning to hanker\nafter a young and tender morsel of human flesh, I came across this boy,\nfollowing the plough. I'll warrant, I stopped his whistle quickly, when\nI grabbed him up! Now mind, wife, supper at sharp twelve, and don't\nforget the onions!\"\n\nThe ogress lifted the prisoner as unconcernedly as one would handle a\ndead turkey and, carrying him below, threw him down upon the kitchen\ntable, repeating her lord's directions to the cook. When Dimple\nrecognized in the fainting prisoner an old schoolmate and neighbor of\nher own, Jim Hardy by name, she could scarcely refrain from a scream of\nrapture. But, pretending to be indifferent, she merely felt the poor\nyouth's arms, as a cook examines the condition of her fowls for the\ntable.\n\n\"Dear me, madam,\" she said, \"surely you don't mean to cook this tough\ncreature to-night? Why, I wouldn't dare to send up such a dish to my\nmaster. He would be in a fearful rage, and small blame to him. At least,\nallow me to fatten the bumpkin a bit.\"\n\n\"But what shall we serve my husband?\" said the alarmed ogress. \"He has\nset his heart on a dish of boy with onion sauce, and I dare not\ndisappoint him.\"\n\n\"Leave that to me,\" said clever Dimple.\n\nSo she killed a lamb, and smothered it with onions, and the ogre knew no\ndifference. The poor youth was set free, and great was his joy to find a\nfriend in his proposed executioner. Dimple told him her story, and heard\nfrom him how long and sorrowfully her father had mourned her\ndisappearance. Jim vowed to deliver her from the ogre; but both saw it\nwas necessary to act with caution, at first. She was obliged to shut him\nup in an iron coop in the courtyard near the kitchen; and every time the\nold crone came into the kitchen, she went to the coop and felt and\npinched the poor lad's legs and breast unmercifully.\n\n\"Surely he is tender enough to serve to-night, cook,\" she would say,\nimpatiently. \"Your master has an attack of the gout, and I am at my\nwit's end to keep him in good humor. Nothing would please him so much as\na slice or two of the breast, grilled with pepper and mustard.\"\n\n\"Leave that to me,\" Dimple would answer; and she forthwith killed a pig,\nand served a dish so deliciously seasoned that the ogre forgot to growl,\nfor at least an hour after eating it.\n\nOnce, while the supper was going on, Dimple and Jim crept up to listen\nat the dining-room door. After the ogre had drank a gallon or two of\nwine, he began to talk freely to his wife.\n\n\"Such a dainty dish as this you have served me deserves a reward, my\ndear,\" he said in a greasy voice, while the ogress meekly dipped some\nbread in the gravy as her share of the feast. \"Open the closet in the\ncorner yonder, and get me out my birdling.\"\n\nWhat should the birdling prove to be but a tiny nightingale shining like\ngold! When its mouth opened at the ogre's command, \"Sing, birdling,\nsing!\" out poured a rain of sapphires, diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and\namethysts, that lay in a glittering stream upon the table-cloth.\n\n\"Take these for a bracelet,\" said the ogre, gathering them up in his\nhand, and tossing them to his wife; \"and then put away my birdling, that\nno covetous eye may look upon this wonder of the world.\"\n\nDimple and Jim exchanged glances of astonishment, but dared not speak,\nas they crept silently down the flight of stairs.\n\nNext day, the ogress came again into the kitchen to see about the supper\ndish for the evening, and in her zeal to prove that Jim was really ready\nfor cooking, she bit his ear so that he could not help uttering a little\nsqueal.\n\n\"See what you have done!\" cried Dimple. \"Now that the blood flows, he\nwill not be fit for eating for another day or two. Certainly, _I_ won't\nengage to make a savory dish of him.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't be vexed, cook,\" said the ogress, who by this time had grown\nto depend absolutely upon Dimple's word in such matters. \"I have a salve\nhere that will heal all wounds, and will even cause a limb that has been\ncut off to grow again to the body.\"\n\nSo saying, she whipped out of her pocket a little box of ointment, and\nrubbed some of it on the wounded place, which at once ceased to bleed,\nbecoming whole as before.\n\n\"What did I tell you?\" asked the crone, triumphantly. \"This salve is one\nof the wonders of the world, and the recipe is handed down only in our\nfamily.\" So saying, she carefully put away the box again in her pocket.\n\nDay after day passed, Dimple continuing to make excuses for failing to\nserve the coveted dainty, and exerting all her skill to cook such dishes\nas might make the ogress forget her disappointment. Meantime, Jim\noccupied his time in the coop by weaving a rope long enough and strong\nenough to support his weight and Dimple's while making their proposed\nescape down the rocky precipice on which the castle stood. Once on the\nsea-shore beneath, they hoped to hide in some fisherman's hut until a\nship might be found sailing to their own country.\n\n\"One thing is certain, Dimple,\" said Jim, who was a bold and fearless\nfellow; \"we shall not leave this place without carrying off that\nwonderful bird of his. Why, just to remember the dazzling stream that\npoured from its mouth, makes my eyes wink.\"\n\n\"Oh! Jim,\" answered Dimple, trembling. \"Please, please, don't attempt\nsuch a thing. It will make our punishment ten times worse if we are\ncaught. Besides, what hope have you of getting inside the iron closet?\nIt is madness to talk about it. For my part, what I would like to take,\nis a little of that marvellous salve. Then, if we are bruised or our\nbones are broken on the rocks, we can make all right again----\"\n\n\"Why should you forever be talking to yourself, cook?\" exclaimed the\nogress, at that moment bursting in, carrying a bunch of keys that\nclanked like fetters. \"See here! No more nonsense! I'd just like to know\nwhen you propose to give us that chap in yonder, who must have eaten\nmore than his weight in good food since he came here?\"\n\n\"Very soon, very soon, madam,\" said Dimple, with a palpitating heart;\n\"in a very few days he should be fit for my master's table. You know\nthat kind of a creature takes uncommonly long to fatten.\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue!\" cried the ogress, exploding in sudden fury, like a\nmine of fire-crackers, and hurling at Dimple's unfortunate head a few\nconvenient saucepans, skewers, flat-irons, and dish-covers. Happily the\nthrower was of the feminine gender, and so the projectiles missed their\naim; but, as Dimple dodged around in a dark corner of the kitchen, the\nogress continued to scold her angrily.\n\n\"I know this,\" she exclaimed, \"that for only one single day longer will\nI consent to be put off by your palavering promises and excuses. The lad\nis fit to kill now, if he is ever going to be; and as day after\nto-morrow is my lord's two thousand and tenth birthday, you must prepare\na dish that shall be better than all that have gone before it.\nEverything is arranged for a night of celebration. Exactly at midnight\nto-morrow, we proceed in the vampire chariot to visit our neighbor, the\nKing of the Ghouls, and, returning, shall expect to find the feast\nserved punctually at cock-crow; the dear children may sit up for it, and\nmy brother, the Ogre of the Seven Mountains, is invited to partake.\"\n\nDuring this speech Dimple's blood ran cold, but, summoning up all her\nresolution, she answered calmly, \"All shall be ready, madam;\" and when\nthe appeased ogress took her leave, Dimple flew to the iron coop, and\nasked Jim if he had heard the conversation.\n\n\"Indeed, did I, my lass,\" said Jim, trying to put a bold face on the\nmatter. Then, they fell to consulting, and it was decided that the\nescape should be attempted that very night, as soon as the household was\nat rest. Midnight came, and not a sound save the thunderous snoring of\nthe ogre family was heard within the castle. Dimple waited upon the\nlanding, while Jim glided up to the cupboard where the nightingale was\nkept. As no one dared so much as lay a finger upon the giant's treasure\nwithout his leave, the door had been left unlocked. There sat the lovely\nbirdling upon a jewelled spray, glittering so brilliantly that it shone\nlike a lamp in the darkness. As Jim laid his hand upon it, the bird sent\nforth a note of silver sweetness, warning her captor to fly with all\nspeed, if he would escape with his life from the vengeance of the ogre.\n\n\"I humbly beg your pardon,\" said Jim, respectfully; \"I had no idea that\nyou are a talking creature.\"\n\n\"Oh! I am glad of anything for a change! You must know that I am a\nfairy, unfortunate enough to have been imprisoned in a shape assumed for\na frolic,\" the bird continued, greatly to Jim's astonishment. \"And tired\nenough I am, of being a plaything for that horrid old monster, who\ncaptured me when I had just dressed for a masquerade party, in the\nplumage that you see. Unluckily, it is my doom to remain a slave to\nwhosoever shall make a prisoner of me whilst I am thus attired and,\nalso, to have to pour forth jewels at his command. You will be a\ndifferent sort of a master, I am sure.\"\n\nJim hurriedly promised the fairy-bird to treat her with kindness, and\nhastened to place her in Dimple's keeping. They stole past the giant's\nchamber-door, but the creaking of a board aroused the tyrant, who sprang\nout of bed, roaring, \"Who is there? Answer, or I will grind you to dust\nbeneath my heel!\"\n\nJim made no reply, and lifting in both hands a heavy iron bar with which\nhe had provided himself, hid in an angle of the stairs.\n\nOut rushed the giant, sputtering ferociously, fire shooting from his\neyes and nostrils. Jim, under cover of the darkness, dealt him a\ntremendous blow upon the skull. The monster tottered, and fell crashing\ndown the long flight of stairs, carrying Jim with him to the bottom.\nDimple heard a terrible groan, and then all was silent. Feeling her way\nto the spot, she whispered imploringly, \"Jim, dear Jim, speak to me!\"\n\n\"I'm here, Dimple,\" said a stifled voice, in reply; \"but this old\nwretch (who is as dead as a door-nail, by-the-way), has fallen atop of\nme, and I believe he has broken both of my legs. Ha! there, I have freed\nmyself, but it's no use. I can't walk a step. Don't waste time on a\ncripple like me, lass; but make haste to slip down the rope and escape,\nbefore the ogress finds out what has happened.\"\n\n\"Never, dear Jim,\" cried Dimple, fervently. Just then a sleepy voice was\nheard above in the chamber of the ogress, inquiring of her husband what\nwas going on below. Quick as thought, Dimple ran up to her.\n\n\"Oh, madam!\" she said, \"such an accident! His lordship has slipped upon\nthe stairs, and sprained his ankle. You are on no account to disturb\nyourself to come down; but I beg that you will send him the box of magic\nsalve without delay.\"\n\nIn her sleepy state, it did not occur to the ogress to wonder how\nDimple, whose presence in the castle had so long been hidden from the\ngiant, should have been chosen as his messenger. She was so anxious to\nenjoy her nap in peace, that, grunting out an order to Dimple to take\nthe box from the pocket of a gown hanging upon the bed, she turned upon\nher pillow and was soon snoring as before.\n\nSeizing the magic salve with joyful fingers, Dimple flew back to Jim,\nand applied it freely to his broken legs. Instantly, Jim sprang to his\nfeet, stronger than before, and the friends prepared for flight.\nUnfortunately, in the darkness, Dimple had also anointed the dead\ngiant's head, and to their dismay it now began to roar most frightfully.\n\n\"Wife, wife, wife, come down and seize these vagabonds!\"\n\nThe ogress, turning in her sleep, exclaimed,\n\n\"Goodness! I know what that means. My husband has got into the pantry,\nin one of his hungry fits, and can't find enough to satisfy him. Dear\nme! Suppose he should devour the cook. That would be inconvenient.\nComing, my dear, coming!\" And springing nervously out of bed, she began\nto look for her dressing gown and slippers.\n\n\"Oh, madam,\" said Dimple, bursting again into the room. \"His lordship is\nin haste to butcher the nice fat prisoner he has found below, and I beg\nthat you will send him his hunting-knife, which lies upon the table.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" said the ogress, sinking back upon her pillow, greatly\nrelieved. \"Take the knife, child; you will find it at my elbow.\"\n\nArmed with this formidable weapon, a blade so keen that it could split a\nhair with ease, Dimple returned to Jim, who forthwith pierced his\nhowling enemy through the tongue, nailing him securely to the floor.\nThis was the end of the most wicked monster who had for many grievous\nyears afflicted mankind. All was still, at last, within the castle, when\nDimple and Jim, holding fast their well-earned trophies, climbed out of\nthe narrow window and began their perilous descent. The rope hung over\nthe jagged rocks of a precipice rising abruptly from the sea. The sky\nwas dark, and the sound of the hungry waves beneath was far from\ncomforting to the fugitives. When half-way down, they were discovered by\none of the vampires keeping watch upon the rampart. Uttering a\ndiscordant shriek, the vampire flew straight to the window of his\nmistress, and gave the alarm.\n\nAs soon as the ogress found out the escape of her treacherous cook, her\nanger knew no bounds. Tearing madly down toward the kitchen, she\nstumbled over the dead body of her lord, who lay pinned by his own\nhunting-knife to the floor. Her shrill cries now rent the air, and were\nechoed by those of the nine young ogresses, who ran out in their\nnight-gowns, looking truly hideous, and cast themselves upon the body\nof their father.\n\n\"My salve, my magic salve, quick!\" cried the ogress to her oldest\ndaughter. Then, remembering to whom she had consigned the treasure, she\nrushed wildly off and, leaning out of the window, seized the rope with a\nferocious jerk.\n\n\"Fly, my good vampires!\" yelled the horrid creature, \"and tear me those\nwretches to shreds before my eyes!\"\n\nNow, indeed, the fate of the fugitives seemed sealed. Dimple, clinging\nto Jim, uttered a cry of terror. But suddenly, a silvery voice came from\nthe bird-fairy hidden in her dress.\n\n\"Have no fear, maiden. Set me free, and I promise to save you both from\nthis awful fate.\"\n\nDimple gladly complied with the fairy's request. What was their surprise\nto see this tiny creature, no larger than a veritable nightingale,\ntransform herself into a mighty eagle upon whose outstretched wings the\nfugitives, seating themselves securely, were at once carried with\nastonishing speed over sea and land, never slackening until they came in\nsight of their own beloved country! Rapid as was the flight of the\nvampires in pursuit, that of the enchanted eagle was far more rapid.\nThe cruel foes were completely distanced, and it may be a satisfaction\nto you to learn that, flying homeward, in their blind rage and spite, to\ntell the ogress of the failure of their chase, the vampires ran headlong\ninto a passing thunderbolt, and were instantly killed, their bodies\nfalling upon the castle wall under the very eye of their despairing\nmistress. As it was impossible to get away from her eyrie except in the\nvampire chariot, the ogress and her nine daughters lived there for a\nyear and a day, gnashing their teeth over their changed lot; and then\nthey slowly starved to death. Her last moments in life were haunted by\nmemories of Dimple, and the scent of imagined sauces compounded by her\nclever cook arose tantalizingly to her nostrils. At the very end, a fit\nof unwonted weakness took possession of the dying ogress, and she was\nheard to murmur, as if dreaming, \"She was the best I ever had. Dear\ngirl! I feel now that I could forgive her everything--my husband's\ndeath--her treachery--my children's untimely fate--my own approaching\nend--could I but taste her batter-pudding ere I die!\"\n\n[Illustration: THE NINE YOUNG OGRESSES]\n\nHappily for Dimple, who was a tender and sympathetic soul, she knew\nnothing of the pangs that rent the spirit of her ancient foe. Our hero\nand heroine had been set down by the obliging fairy-bird at some little\ndistance from their native village. There, after giving her their\nthanks, they at once offered to set their captive free without\nconditions. The fairy-bird, overjoyed at her good fortune, insisted upon\nsinging for them a whole day, and a pile of precious gems then lay\nheaped at Dimple's feet, far surpassing in value those in the king's own\ntreasury. Dimple and Jim were now rolling in wealth and, being also in\npossession of the magic salve which cures all maladies, felt reasonably\nsecure of a prosperous future. Bidding the fairy good-by, they proceeded\non foot toward the neighboring town, carrying their treasures in some\nold potato sacks begged from a roadside hut.\n\nJim sold a few of the stones, and with the proceeds purchased\nmagnificent garments for Dimple and himself; then, hiring a train of\nservants to attend them, the two travellers returned to their own\nvillage, seated upon cushions of pale blue velvet in a crystal chariot\ndrawn by six milk-white horses, with gold and silver harness.\n\nAt the approach of this splendid procession, all the people of the\nneighborhood came flocking from their houses to see the grand prince and\nprincess, who had done them so much honor. To their astonishment, the\nchariot stopped directly in front of the miller's cottage, and out\nsprang the beautiful princess, trailing her silks and satins along the\ngarden path, and, with a scream of delight, throwing her fair arms\naround the poor old dusty miller, who sat mournfully upon his deserted\ndoor-stone, rapt in thought. In a voice that all recognized, Dimple\ncried:\n\n\"Father, don't you know me? I am your loving child.\"\n\nNext to be astonished was Jim's mother, a lone widow, who sat at her\nspinning-wheel as usual, thinking of the boy she had lost so many months\nbefore. When Jim appeared before her in all his bravery, the poor old\nthing nearly went into hysterics of delight--she had not hesitated for\none moment in recognizing the face that had never left her thoughts.\n\nDirectly afterward, all the villagers were requested to proceed in a\nbody to the church, where a splendid wedding was held. Everyone agreed\nthat Dimple made the prettiest bride that had ever stepped from the old\nchurch porch, and no one could dispute the fact that Jim was the\nproudest of bridegrooms.\n\nThe newly married pair built a superb palace in a park near their native\nvillage, and also two smaller palaces for Jim's mother and Dimple's\nfather. A large share of their wealth was spent in beautifying the homes\nof their friends; and, in time, the hamlet came to be known as the\n\"Happy Valley,\" so prosperous and fertile had it grown. No sickness came\nnear these fortunate villagers; and none of them ever died--thanks to\nthe free use made by Dimple of her inexhaustible ointment.\n\nAt last reports, neither Jim nor Dimple had confided to anyone the true\nstory of their life in the giant's castle. When people expressed\ncuriosity as to the source of such wonderful wealth, Jim always\nroguishly said that Dimple had made it all by good cooking. This report,\ngetting abroad, had the effect of inducing the girls of that country,\nfar and wide, to go into their kitchens and learn all they could of the\nmost useful of arts; which, perhaps, had as much as Dimple's magic salve\nto do with the health and contentment of the inhabitants of Happy\nValley!\n\n\n\n\nMISS PEGGY AND THE FROG.\n\n(_An old nursery tale told from memory._)\n\n\nOnce there lived a widow, whose only child was a pretty girl named\nPeggy. Peggy loved to play by the water-side with her young companions,\nand one day a large frog hopped out of the water and sat gazing at her\nwith a loving smile.\n\n\"What a queer frog!\" cried Peggy.\n\n\"I _am_ a queer frog,\" he remarked, to her surprise. \"Go back, Miss\nPeggy, and tell your mother that I want to marry you.\"\n\nPeggy ran to fetch her mother to see the talking frog. When the mother\ncame, the frog dived down into the water and brought up in his mouth a\nrich gold chain and a jewelled ring.\n\n\"This will I give the mother, and much beside,\" he said, laying the\nchain at the mother's feet; \"and this ring with many like it is for my\nbride, if Peggy will marry me.\"\n\n\"Say yes, Peggy,\" whispered the mother, who was a covetous woman. \"Of\ncourse you can't marry a frog, but you may get the gold and jewels all\nthe same.\"\n\nPeggy burst out crying, but her mother nudged and poked her in the side\ntill she said \"yes,\" in a very sobbing voice.\n\nThe frog bowed politely, laid the gold chain and the ring at their feet,\ndived down, and immediately brought up gold cups and silver dishes, with\nmany rare jewels set into them. Peggy's mother gasped for joy as he\nheaped all these riches on the grassy bank. She ran up to the house, and\nfound a basket which would hold them. While she was gone, the frog said\nnothing, but stood looking at Peggy and sighing from time to time. Peggy\nsat under a tree, and cried and sobbed. At last the frog spoke:\n\n\"Don't forget your bridegroom, Miss Peggy. This day year I shall come\nto fetch you,\" and he hopped into the water with a splash.\n\nPeggy's mother sold one of the cups for a large sum of money, and\nfurnished their house all new. She bought gay clothes for herself and\nPeggy, and went to church quite regularly, since she had so much finery\nto show. Peggy forgot all about her promise to the frog, and the year\npassed by rapidly.\n\nOn the appointed day, however, the widow and Peggy were sitting at the\ntable when they heard a knock at the door. They peeped out, and saw, to\ntheir dismay, the frog, dressed in a green and gold suit, and carrying a\njewelled sword. Peggy gave a scream, and ran and hid in the cupboard,\nwhile the mother tripped to the door, and bade her strange guest good\nmorning.\n\n\"I am sorry, but Peggy is from home to-day,\" she said.\n\n\"Oh! never mind. I will come in and wait awhile,\" answered the frog; and\nin he hopped cheerfully, and took a seat at the table. Peggy's mother\nwas too angry to offer him food, but the frog helped himself and ate out\nof Peggy's plate. He stayed and he stayed, and all the time Peggy\ncrouched in the cupboard, cramped and hungry. He stayed till night came;\nand at last poor Peggy, falling asleep, burst open the cupboard door,\nand tumbled out upon the floor.\n\nThe frog ran to pick her up, before her mother could get there.\n\n\"You are a little late, my dear,\" he said politely. \"But I can see very\nwell in the dark, so we may set out at once, for my palace in the pond.\"\n\nIn vain did the widow beg and plead. The frog would not give Peggy up,\nuntil the poor girl herself went down on her knees and implored him to\nlet her off for another year. At length he promised to go, if she would\nbe ready to marry him that day year. Peggy said \"yes,\" and off went her\nsuitor, after having laid a purse of gold in the widow's lap.\n\n\"It might have been worse, Peggy, so cheer up,\" said the woman, clapping\nthe purse in her pocket. \"A year is a long time, and perhaps he will\nforget you.\"\n\nVain hope! That day year, Peggy was spinning beside her mother, when the\nfrog knocked at the door. This time, he was dressed in blue and silver,\nand his hat had a waving plume; but he looked more hideous than before.\n\nPeggy gave a jump, and ran up the garret stairs, and thence out upon the\nroof of the cottage, where she clung to the chimney in despair. The\nmother opened the door, and said she was sorry Peggy was from home. The\nfrog replied that he did not mind, but would wait for Miss Peggy to\nreturn.\n\nHe sat in Peggy's chair; and this time he would not eat, but only sighed\nand sighed. Presently it began to rain and hail, and thunder and lighten\ndreadfully; and poor Peggy on the roof was frightened out of her life.\nShe crept into the chimney, and soon a great clap of thunder sent her\nflying down into the room where her frog-lover sat.\n\n\"You have an odd way of coming into the house, my dear,\" the frog said;\n\"but I don't mind, if you are ready to go now. It rains hard, but I am\nused to water, and you must become so; so come along.\"\n\nHe offered her his arm, but Peggy cried and implored to be let off. She\nwent down on her knees to him, and at last he went away, giving her\nanother purse and another year of freedom.\n\nNext year, the widow and Peggy barred and double-locked their doors. The\nfrog appeared, dressed in white and gold, but it was of no use for him\nto knock and call. No answer came, and he went off sadly. Peggy and her\nmother rejoiced at getting rid of the persistent suitor, and sat down to\nsupper merrily, without, however, unlocking their door.\n\nPresently, they heard a noise, and looking out saw a great army of frogs\ncoming up the hill, The frogs formed themselves into a column and,\naiming for the window, jumped through the glass, and landed on the\nfloor. They seized Peggy, and very gently carried her out of the door\nand down the hill. Peggy fainted, and knew nothing till they stopped on\nthe edge of the pond. The widow came running down the hill just in time\nto see the frogs plunge into the water with her child.\n\nPeggy sank--down, down--until she reached a beautiful grotto, where, on\na throne of coral and shells, sat her frog-lover. He looked at her\nreproachfully, and said:\n\n\"If you had not three times deceived me, Peggy, I should not have\ncarried you off in this way. Now that you are here, try to be resigned\nto me, and say that you will be my wife.\"\n\n\"Never, never,\" screamed Peggy; \"you are so horrible to look at with\nyour goggle eyes.\"\n\nThe goggle eyes filled with tears as Peggy spoke, and the frog shook his\nhead mournfully.\n\n\"I see that it is of no use,\" he said sorrowfully, and ordered Peggy to\nbe taken to a beautiful sea-garden, where she lived and amused herself\nfor a long time, gradually forgetting all about her home on land. Every\nevening the frog came and talked to Peggy through a wall of white coral;\nand in time, she grew so fond of listening to his voice, that if he was\na minute late she would cry for him to come.\n\nOnce when it was rather dark, the frog asked Peggy if she could bear to\nlook at him again. Peggy said yes, and he appeared before her. Somehow\nhe did not seem so ugly as before, and when, in a trembling voice, he\ninvited her to sit upon his knee, she at once did so. Instantly his leg\nbroke with a loud snap; and, as poor Peggy sprang to her feet in great\nremorse, she beheld, instead of her frog suitor, a beautiful young\nprince, holding out his arms to her!\n\nThe prince told her he had been bewitched by a frog godmother, who\ncondemned him to remain in that horrid shape until a young girl could be\nfound who would either consent to marry him or sit upon his knee. Peggy\nwas very glad to have such an ending of her adventure. So they were\nmarried at once, and were then very happy. When they went back for a\nwedding visit to Peggy's mother, they found she had taken all the gold\nand silver and moved away to a distant country; and they never saw the\nwicked woman more.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEPERHAUN: _A Legend of the Emerald Isle._\n\n\nOnce upon a time, by the glimmer of the nursery-fire, a little girl sat\nlistening to the tales told by her buxom Irish nurse. The details of\nmost of these--notably of one very thrilling legend of the Banshee, who\nhas ever since seemed to float upon the wind that blows after\nnightfall--have passed from memory; but the good old story of Molly\nJones and the Leperhaun remains, and, as best I can, I reproduce it\nhere.\n\nIn a comfortable farm-house upon the outskirts of a small village in\nIreland, lived a farmer with his six sons. He was a prosperous man, and,\nbesides having better cows, pigs, and potatoes than any other man in the\ncounty, was said to keep a tidy bit of money laid away in bank. Only one\nmaid-servant did the work of the house, and she had lived there for\nmany a year. At last she died, and the farmer looked about him for a\ngirl to take her place. The wages were high, and a strapping lass named\nMary Jones made up her mind that she was the right person for the\nsituation. The farmer liked her looks, and engaged her on the spot.\n\n\"Now, Molly, lass,\" said the master, when he had finished taking her\naround the house, and showing her how neat and convenient everything\nwas; \"you see what you've got to do, and that's the end of it. Nobody in\nthis house, who works well, has ever cause to want for encouragement,\nfor _there's hands to help them that aren't too curious_! The main thing\nyou'd better guard against is takin' notes and askin' questions.\"\n\nMolly protested that she was innocent of the inheritance of Mother Eve;\nand the farmer went on with his directions.\n\n\"On the first night of every month the family goes early to bed, and it\nwill be your business to see that the hearth is well swept, and fresh\nturf laid upon the fire, and to collect around it all the worn or broken\nshoes about the house. The last thing before you leave the room, be sure\nto set before the fire a nice bowl of mealy potatoes bursting from their\njackets, a couple of herrings broiled to a turn, and a jug of sweet\nbuttermilk--and, whatever you do, never forget the salt!\"\n\nMolly, though burning with curiosity, courtesied, and said nothing. All\nwent well till the first night of the coming month. \"When the family was\nretiring, the farmer whispered:\n\n\"Remember, Molly! Be abed and asleep before the clock strikes twelve;\nand _don't forget the salt_.\"\n\nMolly tidied her kitchen, swept the hearth, arranged around it all the\nworn and broken shoes in the house, her own Sunday pair included; and,\nafter setting a nice little meal, covered with a white cloth, near the\nfire, wound up the clock and went to bed. Next morning what was her\nsurprise to find not only all the boots and shoes neatly mended, but the\nempty jug and platter washed and restored to their places, while a\nbeautiful fire was blazing merrily! She dared not ask any questions of\nthe farmer or his sons, and no one appeared in the least surprised by\nwhat had occurred. That month her work went so easily that Molly thought\nit child's play. Her bread was baked brown and light, her potatoes were\na triumph, her churning was done sooner than anybody's in the place, and\nher linen was hung out to dry by sunrise on Monday mornings. For a\nmonth or two Molly never failed to set her kitchen in order, as before,\nfor the mysterious guest. But one night she was in a hurry, and forgot\nthe salt. Next morning the boots were mended, but the fire was scattered\non the hearth, ashes lay all about her neat kitchen, and the dishes were\nleft unwashed. This excited Molly's curiosity anew and, when the next\ntime came, she did everything as usual, but, instead of going to bed,\nhid behind the kitchen clock. Punctually as the clock struck twelve, out\npopped from behind a big stone in the chimney-place a queer little dwarf\ndressed all in red. Apparently he suspected something, for he sniffed\nand peered into the darkness of the kitchen. Molly held her breath\nthrough fear, and the dwarf proceeded to blow up the fire and warm\nhimself before sitting down to supper. Then, uncovering his cup and\nplatter, and finding that all was to his taste, he smacked his lips, and\nmade an excellent repast. When it was over, he whipped out of his bag\nsome shoemaker's tools, and went to work to patch and mend the shoes,\nwith twinkling fingers. In an hour's time all was finished and, after\nputting the room to rights, the dwarf took his leave.\n\nMolly told nobody that she had seen the veritable Leperhaun, the famous\nshoemaking fairy; but the next month she happened to be in an ill humor\nand hungry; so, without stopping to think of the consequences, she ate\nhis supper herself--leaving upon the platter only a heap of potato-skins\nand the bones of the well-picked herrings.\n\nThat night, while all the world was asleep, in came the Leperhaun and,\nfinding the trick that had been played on him, flew into a terrible\nrage, scattered the boots and shoes over the floor, broke the crockery\nand, seizing a broom, swept all the ashes out upon the kitchen floor.\nMolly, who was watching, ran up to the garret and, jumping into bed,\npulled the clothes over her head in a cold perspiration with terror. But\nhark! on the steps outside came the pit-pat of little feet. In rushed\nthe offended house-fairy. He seized Molly by the hair of her head, and\ndragged her down the stairs, and over the flags of the yard, saying,\n\n    \"Molly Jones! Molly Jones!\n    Potato-skins and herring-bones!\n    I'll break your bones upon the stones,\n    Molly Jones, oh! Molly Jones!\"\n\nIn vain Molly cried for mercy. The farmer and his sons were fast asleep,\nand not a soul heard her. All night long the Leperhaun dragged her\nabout; and when the cock crowed he vanished, leaving her bruised and\nsore upon the threshold of the door. More dead than alive, Molly crawled\nup to her bed, where she lay black and blue for many a day.\n\nThe farmer, suspecting what lesson had been taught her, said nothing;\nand we may be sure that, when the next time came for the visit of the\nLeperhaun, the little red dwarf had no fault to find with Molly.\n\n\n\n\nROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES\n\n\n[_The stories here following are, it is hoped, so rendered, from\nmetrical romances of the Middle Ages, as to be adapted to the taste and\nunderstanding of youthful readers._]\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRIALS OF SIR ISUMBRAS.\n\n(_From Ellis' Abridgment of the MS. in Caius College._)\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a knight so handsome, so rich, and so\nvaliant that all eyes were turned upon him. His name was Isumbras, and\nfortune had given him everything that the heart of man could wish for.\nHe had a splendid castle, surrounded by vast forests, where every day he\nwent hunting or hawking; and so generous he was with his wealth that the\npoor flocked to him from every quarter and never went away empty-handed.\n\nSir Isumbras had a beautiful wife and three lovely sons to share the\nblessings of his lot; but one thing he had not, and that was an humble\nspirit. He forgot to own the Giver of good things, and took it as a\nmatter of course that his life should flow on in ease and luxury.\n\nOne day when mounted on his favorite steed, surrounded by his dogs, and\nhaving his hawk on fist, Sir Isumbras cast up his eyes to the sky, and\nthere saw an angel, who reproached him with his pride, announcing that\nHeaven had in store for him a speedy punishment.\n\nSir Isumbras fell to his knees in prayer; but hardly had the angel\nvanished from his sight when, on remounting his horse, the noble\ncreature fell dead beneath him; the hawk dropped lifeless from his fist;\nand the faithful hounds expired in agonies at his feet. Hastening on\nfoot to his castle, he was met by a servant, who informed him his horses\nand oxen had been suddenly struck dead by lightning, and that his fowls\nhad all been stung to death by adders. Next came forward a page, who\ntold him the castle was burned to the ground, many of his servants had\nperished, and that his wife and children had taken refuge, half naked,\nin a thorn-bush close at hand. Sir Isumbras hastened to the aid of his\nbeloved family, stripping himself of his scarlet mantle and his surcoat\nto clothe them. He embraced them fondly, and thanked heaven that,\nthough all the rest of his treasures were taken, these remained. He then\nproposed to his wife that, as a sign of repentance for their sins, they\nshould all go on foot to the holy city, Jerusalem, begging their bread\nfrom land to land. He cut with his knife upon his bare shoulder the\npilgrim's sign of the cross, and then the afflicted family set forth on\ntheir travels.\n\nLong they journeyed, eating crusts when they could beg them, or berries\nfrom wayside bushes, until, faint and weary, they reached a broad but\nshallow stream. Taking his eldest son in his arms, Sir Isumbras bore him\nacross the river, and placed him beneath a bush of broom-plant, bidding\nhim play with the blossoms until his father's return. Scarcely had the\nknight left his son, when an enormous lion burst from a neighboring\nthicket and bore away the child. In like manner the second son became\nthe prey of a fierce leopard; and the poor mother, who saw them so\ncruelly torn from her sight, fainted away, with her baby on her breast.\nSir Isumbras bowed to the will of God; and when his wife revived they\njourneyed on to the shore of the Greek sea. Here they stood, and,\nthrough eyes that were full of tears, saw a great fleet of three hundred\nships coming toward them. This was the navy of a famous heathen king,\nand no sooner had he landed than the travellers, who had not touched\nbread or meat for seven days, hastened to implore his charity. The king\nsoon observed the robust limbs and tall stature of the husband; and\nperceived he was a knight in disguise, and that the wife, whose beauty\nwas as \"bright as blossoms upon tree,\" was, in spite of her ragged\nclothes, a lady of high degree. So, affecting to treat the poor couple\nwith respect, he offered them gold and treasure if the knight would\nrenounce Christianity and consent to fight under the Saracen banners.\nThis offer was at once declined, and the angry king made up his mind to\nrevenge himself by carrying away the knight's wife. So, upon an order to\nthe attendants, a purse of gold was pressed into the knight's hand, his\ninfant son was put into his arms, he was hurried ashore, cruelly beaten\nby the king's servants, and, when he recovered himself, saw a heathen\nship, with his wife on board, set sail for Africa.\n\nSir Isumbras clasped his only remaining treasure to his heart, and\nfollowed the vessel with his eyes until it vanished from sight. Night\nfound him still there, until father and babe fell asleep upon the bare\nground, too weary to keep awake. Sir Isumbras had laid the fatal present\nof the heathen king, the purse of gold, in the scarlet mantle which he\nwrapped around his child. Scarcely had the next day's sun risen upon the\nearth, when an eagle, attracted by the red cloth, darted down, carrying\noff mantle, child, and purse in his talons.\n\nThe poor knight was at last in utter despair. He fell on his knees, and\noffered what remained of his life to the God he had offended. Just then\nhe heard the noise of a blacksmith's forge, and saw, not far off, some\nmen at work. They took pity on him and fed him. He entered their\nservice, and bound himself for seven long years to learn their trade.\nDuring this time he forged a complete suit of armor for himself, being\ndetermined at the first opportunity to take up arms against the\nSaracens, whose king had not only done him such a cruel wrong, but was\noppressing God's people.\n\nAt length his opportunity came. The Christian army was to fight the\nSaracens on a field not far from the forge. Sir Isumbras buckled on his\nawkward armor and, mounting a horse that had been used by the smith to\ncarry coals, proceeded to the field of battle.\n\nHis heart beat with wild joy when he saw the foe before him. Uttering a\nfervent prayer, he dashed into the thick of the combat, attracting all\neyes at first by his sorry steed and rough armor, and again by the\nsplendid skill and courage of his charge. Early in the action his horse\nwas killed under him, and the Christian chiefs made haste to present him\nanother one, also a suit of armor more worthy of the heroic soldier he\nhad proved himself to be. All that day the battle raged.\n\nBy nightfall Sir Isumbras, single-handed, had killed the heathen king\nand many of his followers. But he was himself sorely wounded, and when\nbrought for reward before the Christian king, and asked his name, could\nhardly falter out, \"I am a smith's man, sire.\" The king swore a great\noath to make a knight of this valiant \"smith's man\"; and, with all honor\nand tenderness, Sir Isumbras was carried into a nunnery, where the good\nsisters nursed him until he recovered from his many wounds.\n\nSir Isumbras was not satisfied to remain quiet long, though he had slain\nthe heathen king. He went to the Holy Land, and for seven years wandered\nabout a pilgrim, as before, sleeping upon the ground by night, and\nvainly seeking tidings of his wife by day. Once, during this time, when\nhe was starving upon the banks of a stream, there appeared to him a\ncheering visitor.\n\n    And as he sat, about midnight,\n    There came angel fair and bright,\n    And brought him bread and wine.\n    He said, \"Palmer, well thou be!\n    The King of Heaven greeteth well thee;\n    Forgiven is sin thine.\"\n\nVery soon after this miraculous event Sir Isumbras found his wife, who\nhad dwelt, holy and charitable, in a secluded castle, where she had\nbeen shut up by the Saracen king. She welcomed him with rapture, and\ntogether they shed many tears over their lost children. They lived\ntogether for some years, until Sir Isumbras was again summoned to do\nbattle with the Saracens, who had determined at all cost to kill him.\nThe fight was again hot and long, and just when Sir Isumbras was about\nto be overpowered by numbers of the enemy, three new champions appeared\nin the field, declaring themselves on the side of the Christians. These\nwere three splendid knights, the first mounted upon a lion, the second\nupon a leopard, and the third upon an eagle. The Saracen cavalry,\nterror-stricken at sight of them, dispersed in all directions. But\nflight was in vain; three and twenty thousand unbelievers were soon laid\ndead upon the plain by the lion, leopard, and eagle, fighting with\ntireless fury, and driving all before them, until the entire heathen\narmy was utterly put to rout. Then, coming back to Sir Isumbras, the\nthree champions knelt before him, announcing themselves his long lost\nsons, mercifully protected and befriended by the savage creatures by\nwhom they had been carried off. Sir Isumbras embraced his valiant sons,\nand led them to their mother. The Christian king enriched the entire\nfamily, restoring them to their former rank. And now wealth, titles,\nhonors, and all that he had lost, came back to Sir Isumbras, and the\nremainder of his days was spent in blessed peace.\n\n    \"They lived and died in good intent;\n    Unto heaven their souls went,\n    When that they dead were.\n    Jesu Christ, heaven's king,\n    Give us, aye, his blessing,\n    And shield us from care!\"\n\n\n\n\nBISCLAVERET.\n\n(_From one of Marie's Lays._)\n\n\nOnce upon a time there lived in Brittany a baron who was handsome, wise,\ncourteous, and brave. Although admired and beloved by his neighbors, he\nremained single until late in life, when he fell desperately in love\nwith a young lady, who did not hesitate long in accepting the offer of\nso distinguished a suitor for her hand. They were married, and the bride\nreturned from her honeymoon to take up her abode in her husband's fine\ncastle.\n\nFor a little while all went well, until the lady discovered that her\nhusband was regularly absent from home during three days of every week.\nOverwhelmed with curiosity to know where he went, and how he was\noccupied during this time, she used every means in her power to coax the\nsecret from him.\n\n\"Do not ask me,\" said her kind lord; \"rest assured that I have good\nreasons for my conduct. If you know what takes me from you, it will only\nbe to hate and scorn your husband, and to ruin the happiness of our\nlife.\"\n\nThe lady persisted, going from coaxings to prayers and tears. At last\nthe poor baron gave way, and confided to her that, owing to a cruel\nspell cast on him at birth, he was during half the week a Bisclaveret,\nor Man-Wolf, taking on the body of a wolf, but keeping his own feelings\nand intelligence as a man. Upon hearing this dreadful story, the lady\nfainted away. Henceforth, although her husband was more loving than\never, she was filled with horror and loathing of him; and soon she\nsecretly resolved to destroy the monster and enjoy his wealth.\n\nBy watching his movements she ascertained that when the baron became a\nwolf he left his clothing in a deserted chapel on the edge of a certain\nwood; and she formed a plan to seize and hide the garments. So long as\nthe Bisclaveret was without his man's clothes, he was condemned to\nremain a brute.\n\nAccordingly, when, after his melancholy ramble through the woods, the\nBisclaveret went one night to resume his clothes, they were gone; and,\nin agony of spirit, he knew that he was betrayed by his wife. He took\nhimself off to the forest, and was there lost to human sight.\n\nMeanwhile the wicked wife, announcing that her husband had died while on\na journey to some foreign land, enjoyed his wealth and his castle. A\nyear later, the king went hunting in the forest, and, after a stout\nchase, had nearly run down the unhappy Bisclaveret, when that persecuted\nbeast, bounding from his thicket, fawned upon the king's feet, shedding\nreal tears and uttering almost human cries for mercy. The king, struck\nwith compassion, ordered his dogs to be whipped off, and had the strange\nanimal conveyed with care to his palace. Bisclaveret soon became the\nroyal favorite. He slept on a couch of soft furs, ate from a golden\ndish, and returned with gratitude the caresses of all who noticed him.\n\nHis gentleness and sagacity won for the man-wolf the right to roam\nwherever he desired to go, unchained. One day the king gave a splendid\nentertainment, to which were invited all the lords and ladies of the\nland. Among them, dressed in silks and satins, and sparkling with\njewels, came the false wife. No sooner did Bisclaveret espy her chatting\nwith the king's guests, than, to the surprise of all present, the\nusually mild creature rose up, growling horribly and, springing upon the\nlady, bit off her nose. Bisclaveret was seized, and would have been\nspeedily killed, but that he again fawned upon the king's feet, moaning\nand weeping as though he longed to speak. The king ordered him to be put\ninto a cage, and consulted with the oldest and wisest man in his\nkingdom, as to what could be the meaning of the wolf's sudden fury\ntoward this lady.\n\n\"Brittany is a land of wonders, sire,\" said the aged man. \"The lady who\nwas attacked is as well known for a bad name as your favorite animal is\nfor a good one. Who knows what became of her late husband, the baron?\nPerhaps this poor brute was beloved by that gentleman, and has some\nsecret wrong to avenge. At any rate, you should at once shut the lady in\nprison until she is made to tell all _she_ knows about the matter.\nMayhap it is more than we suspect.\"\n\nThe king followed his counsellor's advice; and, when the lady found\nherself likely to be kept a prisoner, she preferred speech to silence.\nWith tears of professed penitence, she confessed all, and the king lost\nno time in sending for the clothes of the late baron, and placing them\nin the cage of Bisclaveret. At first the animal seemed indifferent, and\nsurveyed them listlessly. \"Leave him to himself, sire,\" said the wise\nman. \"Above all, set him at liberty in a chamber suitable to his rank.\nThen we shall see a wonderful change, I promise you.\"\n\nThis was done, and in the morning the king ran impatiently to the\nchamber of Bisclaveret. There, on the bed, dressed in his clothes and\nsleeping sweetly, lay the baron. When his royal master entered, the\nsleeper woke and, bending his knee before his sovereign, poured forth\nhis joy and gratitude.\n\nAs for the wicked wife, her estates were taken from her and restored to\nher husband, while she herself was sent into perpetual banishment. Most\npeople would think she had been sufficiently punished by the loss of her\nnose, which never grew again!\n\n\n\n\nROSWAL AND LILIAN.\n\n(_From a Scottish Romance of the XVIth Century._)\n\n[Illustration: Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.]\n\n\nThere lived once, at Naples, a king and queen whose only son, Roswal,\nwas a paragon of beauty and of valor. The boy, who was as generous as\nthe day was long, did not at all resemble his father, for the king was\nharsh and cruel, and slow to forgive his enemies.\n\nIn the prison of the king's palace were confined three noblemen, who,\nhaving been suspected of plotting against the crown, were doomed to be\nimprisoned for life, and had the most cruel treatment lavished upon them\nevery day. Roswal could not bear to hear their groans and sighs arising\nfrom the dungeon, and one day conceived the bold project of taking the\nprison keys from under the king's pillow while he slept, and setting\nthe three poor sufferers at liberty. This was done, and Roswal restored\nthe keys to their place without having been detected.\n\nWhen it was found that the prisoners had escaped, the king grew\nfuriously angry. In vain the head jailor and his assistants declared\ntheir innocence in the matter. Their lives would have been instantly\nsacrificed to the king's wrath, had not Roswal boldly come forward and\nconfessed that he alone had freed the prisoners.\n\nAt first, the king vowed that Roswal should die for having defied him;\nbut the prayers of the queen, and perhaps the cool bravery of his son in\nconfronting him, moved him to relent. He decided to change Roswal's\nsentence to banishment for life to a distant court, where he was to be\nplaced at the service of the King of Bealm, with recommendation to make\na soldier of the lad, henceforth a stranger to his home.\n\nRoswal set out on his journey to the court of Bealm, attended only by\nthe high-steward, an envious and ambitious man, who hated the prince and\nwould gladly have done him evil.\n\nThe king, at parting with his son, had given him a letter of\nintroduction to the King of Bealm; and the fond mother had come\nsecretly to press all the gold and jewels she had, a fortune in\nthemselves, upon her beloved Roswal. Except for parting with his mother,\nRoswal did not feel very sorry to set out thus from home. He longed to\nsee what marvels the wide world contained, and the memory of the three\nbrave men he had loosed from their vile bondage cheered him in spite of\nhis father's anger.\n\nThe high-steward was full of projects of his own; and one night, when\nthey had stopped to rest by the side of a rushing torrent, and Roswal\nhad plunged into the crystal stream, as he loved to do, the wicked\nsteward seized him unawares, held him under water till he was half\nstrangled, and spared his life only on condition that Roswal would\npledge himself to give up all the money and jewels, his letter, his\nhorse and sword, and furthermore swear never to reveal the affair to\nmortal man or woman. Roswal, seeing that he could not help himself,\nsubmitted, and the false steward, laughing maliciously, put spurs to his\nhorse, leading Roswal's steed behind him, and soon disappeared from view\nwith all the treasures.\n\nRoswal found himself alone at nightfall in the forest, as hungry as a\nhawk, and very much at a loss where to find food and shelter. He\nwandered along till he saw a little brown hut, under the branches of a\nwide-spreading oak-tree. Here, in the door, sat an old woman knitting,\nand Roswal's youth and beauty soon won his way into her affections. She\nled him into her house, gave him a good meal of brown bread, eggs, honey\nand milk, and a bed of clean straw. Roswal slept as sweetly as ever he\nhad done on his golden bedstead and his pillow of down at home. Next\nday, he offered to work for the old woman, and set to cutting up wood\nand binding fagots cheerfully. For several months he lived thus, until\nthe chamberlain of the King of Bealm chanced to pass that way. Taking a\nfancy to the handsome youth, he carried him off to court, where Roswal\nwas appointed cup-bearer to the king's lovely daughter. His duties were\nlight, and the princess was kind; so Roswal had little to complain of,\nuntil one day he heard it announced that Prince Roswal, of Naples, was\nabout to wait upon the King of Bealm and demand his daughter's hand in\nmarriage.\n\nRoswal pricked up his ears at this, and immediately suspected the\nsupposed Prince of Naples to be none other than his late travelling\ncompanion, the wicked steward; though, when he heard the princess say to\nher maidens that this Prince Roswal was remarkably pushing, considering\nthat he had only recently presented a letter of introduction to them,\nand that, for her part, she could not see what her papa found to fancy\nin the young man, Roswal rejoiced. He was delighted to find that the\nprincess did not care for the impostor. Then he remembered his oath,\nnever to reveal what the steward had done to him, and his spirits fell\nagain.\n\nIn a day or two, the King of Bealm announced to his daughter that he had\naccepted the offer of the King of Naples' son, and that preparations for\ntheir marriage would immediately begin. The princess was very unhappy,\nfor she had taken a great dislike to the pretended prince. Roswal met\nhis late servant face to face at one of the bridal feasts, and the eyes\nof the steward fell before his scornful gaze. But he knew that he was\nsafe in trusting Roswal's honor not to tell the secret, and so carried\non his impudent pretence.\n\nA tournament, lasting three days, was announced in honor of the wedding,\nwhich was soon to come off. Roswal found the Princess Lilian in tears\nabout that time and, while endeavoring to console her, let her know,\nwithout intending it, that he, too, had fallen in love with her. This\nmade the pretty princess so happy, that she confessed to Roswal she had\nloved him secretly ever since he was chosen to be her cup-bearer. She\nwas sure he was of noble birth from his manners and appearance; and she\nurged him to admit that he was as worthy of her rank as of her love.\n\nRoswal was never so sorely tempted to reveal himself! He restrained the\nimpulse to confess by a strong effort, and, alone and melancholy,\nwandered out into the forest--longing for an opportunity to enter the\nlists of the tournament and prove his knightly skill before the king and\nprincess; and while he sat musing thus, there approached him a knight\nleading a magnificent white war-horse, on whose saddle was suspended a\nsuit of splendid armor.\n\n\"Prince,\" said the strange knight, bowing low before him, \"put on this\narmor, and mount this steed. The tournament has begun, and thou wilt be\nin time to prove thy prowess. I await here thy return.\"\n\nRoswal said he had led his hounds to the forest, intending to hunt a\ndeer; and so the knight offered to hunt in his absence and keep the game\nfor him. How his heart beat with joy and pride when he found himself\nonce more mounted on a noble steed, and clad in knightly armor! Thanking\nthe stranger fervently, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped off.\n\nEntering the barriers, Roswal overset all who opposed him, and then,\nwith a tremendous rush, charged at full speed upon the false prince, who\nwas riding up and down with a great show in the presence of his lady.\nThe steward recoiled in terror; but the unknown knight as suddenly\nchecked his horse, turned around, saluted the company with the utmost\ngrace, and vanished, as he had come, like a meteor.\n\nThe company applauded, and the old King of Bealm cried out that he would\ngive an earldom to find out who was the unknown knight.\n\nThat evening, while all the palace was ringing with accounts of the\nbrave stranger, Roswal came home from the forest, laden with venison and\nfollowed by his hounds.\n\nThe Princess Lilian called him to her side, and told him of the events\nof the day. It was evident that she wished to inspire Roswal with a\ndesire to break a lance in her behalf; but he appeared to be\nindifferent, and she ended in a burst of tears.\n\nNext day, when Roswal went again with his hounds to the forest, a second\nknight, leading a silver-gray war-horse laden with armor, appeared and\nrepeated the kind offer of the day before. Roswal again entered the\nlists, and found the steward impudently advancing to meet him. Roswal\nunhorsed half a dozen of the bravest riders, then, with all possible\nease, sent the steward to the ground with such a terrible crash, that\nthe miserable impostor lay as if dead for some time. The unknown knight\nglanced up at the Princess Lilian, and saw a look in her face as if she\nsuspected him. Then, quickly retiring from the ring, Roswal reappeared\nas before, at evening, with the spoils of the day of hunting. Lilian,\nwho was ready to declare that none other than her handsome young lover\ncould have been the stranger knight, was much perplexed when she found\nRoswal quietly at home engaged in his usual occupations.\n\nOn the third day, Roswal was mounted and equipped in a similar manner.\nHe had a bay horse, a red shield, green armor, and a golden helmet. He\ncast down all of the other competitors, broke two of the steward's ribs,\nthrew a gold ring into the lap of his lady-love, and rode away like a\nflash. Returning to the wood, he was met by all three of his friends,\nthe knights who had helped him. They revealed themselves, and Roswal\nfound to his delight that they were the three noblemen he had released\nfrom his father's dungeon. They told him they were well aware of all he\nhad suffered for their sakes, and were prepared to befriend him still\nfarther.\n\nNext day had been fixed upon for the wedding, and all the court was\ncalled together in a magnificent hall, to see their king bestow their\nprincess' hand upon the Prince of Naples. Pale and tearful, for she had\ncried all night, appeared the princess. She was dressed in white satin,\nwith a silver train, carried by ten little pages in blue, and on her\nhead she wore a diadem of immense diamonds. The bridegroom, who had been\npatched up by the doctors, sat, anything but cheerful, in a golden chair\nbeside the king. Behind a group of court ladies and gentlemen stood\nRoswal, handsomer than any one present, and looking every inch a\nprince, though he wore a plain brown velvet suit, with a gold chain\nround his neck, the livery of Princess Lilian's household. Suddenly\nvisitors were announced, and in came three richly clad strangers,\nscattering money among the servants, which made it an easy matter for\nthem to move along.\n\nThe king received them courteously, for he recognized three noblemen of\nthe kingdom of Naples he had known long before.\n\n\"You will be glad to salute your prince,\" the king said, when he had\ngreeted them, \"and to be present at his nuptials.\"\n\nThe noblemen refused to notice the steward, whose knees knocked together\nwith fear, for he saw he was on the brink of exposure. The three\nstrangers looked about them and, espying Roswal, ran up to him, fell on\ntheir knees and kissed his hand, hailing him as the true Prince of\nNaples. The steward, in terror, dropped upon his knees before Roswal and\nconfessed all, drawing from his pocket the casket containing the queen's\njewels, which he had been about to present to his bride. Roswal would\nhave dealt gently with the contemptible wretch, but the angry old King\nof Bealm declared that he and his daughter should not be made sport of,\nand the offender live to tell it. So the steward was hanged forthwith,\nand Roswal, owning his love for Lilian, was made happy by promise of her\nhand--he had already won her heart, as you know.\n\nThat same day arrived news of the death of the King of Naples, and the\nrecall of Roswal to the throne. He was married to Lilian; and it is\ncertain that no one who had befriended him in his days of poverty was\never forgotten by King Roswal. The good old woman in the forest was\nenriched, the three noblemen were restored to their estates and\nfortunes, and Roswal's mother was made happy by a speedy reunion with\nher son.\n\n    \"So Roswal and Lilian sheen,\n      Lived many years in good liking.\n    I pray to Jesu, heaven's king,\n      To grant us heaven to our ending.\n        Of them I have no more to say:\n        God send them rest until doom's day!\"\n\n\n\n\nELIDUC AND GUILLIADUN.\n\n(_From one of Marie's Lays._)\n\n\nEliduc was a knight of Brittany who, through the cabals of enemies, fell\nunder the displeasure of the king and was banished from his dominions.\nSir Eliduc did not wish to forsake his country, still less did he wish\nto part with the fair Lady Guildeluec, to whom he was solemnly\nbetrothed. But the king's order was law; and, taking a fond leave of his\npromised wife, while vowing ever to be faithful, Sir Eliduc called to\nhim ten of the bravest of his followers, and set sail for the English\ncoast. They had a short voyage with fair winds, landing at Totness, in\nDevonshire, and proceeded at once to Exeter. The King of Exeter was at\nthat time plunged into a most distressful war with a neighboring\nprovince, to whose prince he had refused to marry his only daughter and\nheiress. Sir Eliduc offered his services to the king, which were gladly\naccepted. After a few days a battle was fought, in which Eliduc's\nknowledge of the art of war and his bravery, as well as that of his ten\nfollowers, helped to decide the fortunes of the King of Exeter, who had\nthe satisfaction of seeing the foe put to flight. As a reward for his\naid, the king made Eliduc the supreme commander of all his armies.\nEliduc was the idol of the people, and soon the fair Princess Guilliadun\nfell in love with him, confiding to the king, her father, that she would\nhave no other husband than this valiant stranger. The king thought he\ncould do no better than secure such a noble successor to his throne, and\nsent his chamberlain to inform Eliduc of the honor in store for him.\nEliduc was now in a sad plight. He thought of his absent Guildeluec, who\nwas no doubt, even then, waiting and weeping for his return, and his\nheart grew heavy within him. On the other hand, the Princess Guilliadun\nwas by far the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and her love\nfor him was strong. To refuse her offered hand would bring down on him\nthe fierce wrath of a great king, to whom no man said nay.\n\nWhile Sir Eliduc was in this dilemma, a message came to him from his\nformer master, the Breton king, ordering his immediate return to protect\ntheir country from invasion. All Sir Eliduc's love for his own land\nstirred within him. To defend her borders he was ready to sacrifice his\npresent rank and wealth, and be a simple knight again. The image of his\npromised wife arose clear and bright before him, and he forgot the\nlovely Guilliadun, who, for a time, had so dazzled his imagination with\nher charms.\n\nLaying down his sword before the sovereign, he resigned command of the\nExeter troops, and, in spite of the king's rich offers and temptations,\nhurried to take ship for France. Among his attendants was a youth\nmuffled in a long mantle, who, when they were fairly out at sea,\nrevealed to the knight's astonished gaze the face and form of the wilful\nGuilliadun.\n\nShe had thus disguised herself to follow him, and now vowed that unless\nhe took her to be his wife, she would die by her own fair hand. There\nwas no time for discussion, for, at that moment, arose a mighty tempest\nwhich threatened to engulf the ship. In vain were the efforts of the\nsailors to manage the vessel, and all prepared for immediate death, as\nwind and waves beat furiously upon them. Suddenly, one of the sailors\nspoke up for the rest, and, in the hearing of Guilliadun, warned Sir\nEliduc that Heaven was angry with him for carrying off the princess in\ndisguise, when he was already promised in marriage to another woman.\nGuilliadun hearing these words, fell lifeless to the deck. She appeared\nso like a dead person that the crew offered to throw her overboard, but\nEliduc, seizing an oar, struck down the sailor who had spoken, and,\nhimself grasping the helm, drove the ship through foam and boiling waves\nsafely to port. In a few hours he might hope to reach the court of his\nking; but what, meantime, should he do with the body of the unfortunate\nprincess? In this emergency, he remembered that in a forest near by had\nonce lived an aged hermit, in whose cell he might possibly leave the\ncorpse of the princess, until he should be able to dispose of it in a\nstyle suited to her rank. He mounted his palfrey, took the body in his\narms, rode to the hermit's retreat, and, gaining entrance to a little\nchapel, laid on a slab in the centre of it the unhappy Guilliadun. She\nwas beautiful as ever, and looked like a waxen image. The knight,\nkneeling beside her, shed many bitter tears, and then, springing to his\nsaddle, galloped off to place himself at the service of his king.\n\nHe found the affairs of his country in a bad way, but the mere mention\nof his name sufficed to inspire the Breton soldiers with new courage.\nMarching at the head of the king's troops, he led them to battle, and in\na short time had put the foe to confusion and rout. Covered with glory,\nEliduc rode back to receive the king's congratulations and thanks.\nThere, among the ladies attending the queen, was his faithful\nGuildeluec; but when she came forward with open arms to greet him, a\nthought of the Lady Guilliadun, who had died for love of him, shot into\nhis heart like an arrow. Guildeluec quickly saw that something was\namiss; but, hiding the anguish she felt, she resolved to keep close\nwatch upon her lover, and, if possible, discover the cause of his\ncoldness.\n\nFor some days the court was given up to gaiety and festivals of all\nkinds. Guildeluec noticed that every day her knight would steal away to\nthe forest and remain there for some hours, returning to the palace more\nmelancholy than before. She set a little page to follow Eliduc, and the\nboy traced his master to a retreat all overgrown with trees, where the\nknight entered and was lost to sight.\n\nDismissing the boy with a piece of gold, the lady resolved herself to\nunravel the mystery. Wrapped in a long veil, she stole along the green\nalleys of the wood, and soon reached the little hermitage. Lifting up a\ncurtain of closely woven vines which drooped before it, she entered the\nchapel door. There, on a bier richly hung with velvet, lay a young and\nlovely maiden, apparently dead, save that her cheeks bloomed like a\nnew-blown rose. Guildeluec gazed for a while upon this sad sight, when a\nnoise of approaching footsteps startled her, and she hid behind a tomb.\nThe new-comer was none other than the brave knight Eliduc, who, casting\nhimself on the ground beside the bier, gave way to bitter grief, calling\nthe saints above to witness that he had been true to his pledge to\nGuildeluec, even to hastening to an untimely end the fair maiden before\nhim. Guildeluec heard all, and understood what had taken his love from\nher. Just then a weasel, running from behind the altar, passed near the\nbier, which angered the knight, who, at one blow, struck the little\nanimal dead upon the ground. When Eliduc had gone, the watching lady\nsaw another weasel run up to his slaughtered companion, attempt to play\nwith her, and on finding her without life, go away with every appearance\nof grief. Directly the weasel came back again, carrying a beautiful red\nflower from the wood, which was carefully inserted in the mouth of his\ncompanion. The effect was magical. Instantly, the dead weasel sprang up,\ndropped the flower, and scampered off with her happy little comrade.\n\nGuildeluec stooped to pick up the fallen blossom. For a moment she\nhesitated, for her love for the knight was very great. Then she bent\nforward, and laid the stem of the flower between the rosy lips of the\nentranced Guilliadun. Immediately there were signs of life. The girl\nstirred, a blush came into her cheeks, and her lips parted. When her\neyes opened, Guildeluec sighed and said, \"Truly, never was there seen so\nfair a creature.\"\n\nGuildeluec soon explained to the awakened princess where she was, and\nreceived her fervent thanks for delivery from so strange a spell. With\nmany tears, Guilliadun confessed to her unknown friend her love for the\nknight Eliduc, and the way she had followed him from her father's court.\nGuildeluec heard her tale in silence, and when it was at an end, led\nher away from the hermitage to the palace, where the queen took the\nprincess under her charge, and in the evening presented her with much\npomp to the members of her court. When Eliduc saw Guilliadun alive and\nwell, richly clad and lovelier than before, his heart rejoiced, but he\nturned away from her. Then came forward Guildeluec, who, with the\nqueen's permission, released him from his pledge to her, and gave him\nback his ring, saying she had determined to retire to a convent and\ndevote her days to holy works.\n\n[Illustration: Guildeluec Reviving Guilliadun.]\n\nThe queen then placed Guilliadun's hand in that of Eliduc. They were\nmarried with great rejoicings; but when the blessing was said over them\nby the priest, the knight fancied he heard a sigh breathed close in his\near. He looked around; there was no one in sight, save the group of nuns\nbehind a grating, whose voices rose pure and clear in the strains of the\nbridal hymn.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FALCON-KING.\n\n(_From one of Marie's Lays._)\n\n\nThere lived once, in Britain, an old knight who was lord of Caerwent, a\ncity situated on the River Douglas. He was wealthy and avaricious, and\nthe sole heir to his possessions, a lovely daughter, he kept locked up\nin a high tower, under the care of a cross governess. His one fear was\nthat this daughter would marry, and thus give some one the right to lay\nclaim to the gold that was dearer to him than life itself. To prevent\nher from getting a husband, the old knight used every method he could\nthink of to keep off visitors; and any stray caller at the castle was\nset upon by fierce dogs, who would tear one to pieces as soon as gnaw a\nbeef-bone!\n\nDay after day the father rode off to the hunt, the governess told her\nbeads, and the damsel moped within the tower. One morning she was at her\nwheel, singing a mournful ditty, and sighing from time to time, as she\nglanced over the tree-tops at the roofs and spires of the distant city,\nwhen suddenly the sky above her window was darkened, and she heard a\nwhirring noise, as of mighty wings astir. A falcon of huge size and\nnoble mien flew in at the casement, and lit submissively at her feet.\nThe maiden stroked his proud head, and at once the bird changed to a\nbeautiful young man, who, in a gentle voice, begged her to have no fear\nof him, as he was not only a devoted lover but the humblest of her\nslaves.\n\n\"Bid me go if you will,\" said the prince, \"and deeply as I should regret\nyour command, you will see how quickly I shall obey it. Long have I\nwatched you from afar, and dearly I love you. For your sake, I have\nacquired the art of magic, enabling me to assume this shape in order to\nreach your prison.\"\n\n\"Oh! but I _don't_ want you to go!\" cried the poor little mewed-up\ndamsel, who was tired to death of having nobody to talk to.\n\nAs she had never seen a man younger than her father, it was a great\nastonishment to her to find that the prince's hair was dark and his\ncheek unwrinkled and rosy as a ripe peach.\n\nWhat he meant by being a lover, she did not in the least understand.\nOnly, it was pleasant to hear him talk in his kind, low voice; and\npraises were so rare to her, that they sounded sweet as honey dropping\nfrom his lips.\n\nAs a matter of course, the afternoon passed quickly; but at last,\nstartled by the noise of a key grating in the lock of the door, the\nprince quickly assumed his bird-shape, and promising to come again upon\nthe morrow, flew out of the window. The governess could not imagine what\nhad put her prisoner in such a silly state of cheerfulness, as she\nthought it; and, boxing the poor girl's ears for smiling, gave her a\nlong piece of poetry to learn by heart, and allowed her nothing but\nbread and water for her tea.\n\nNext day the falcon came again, and for many days he continued his\nvisits, until the girl grew to love him as he loved her, and promised to\nbe his wife. Once a month the chaplain was accustomed to come to see\nher, and to make her say a catechism the longest ever heard of. When\nnext the day came around for his visit, what was her surprise, instead\nof the stern chaplain, to find a gentle and kind old priest, who, when\nleft alone with her, avowed himself to be a friend of the falcon-prince.\n\n\"As your father is a wicked and unworthy son of the church, and the\nprince a noble and devoted one, I cannot but approve of the marriage\nbetween you and your beloved,\" the old man said. \"The ceremony will now\nbe performed, and may heaven's blessing rest upon you both.\"\n\nThe falcon-prince arrived at the same moment, bearing in his beak a\nwedding-ring of large bright diamonds. The couple were married, and the\nprince told his wife that, very soon, he would be able to furnish her\nalso with wings to leave the tower.\n\nOne day the governess, coming in unexpectedly, found the girl toying\nwith a beautiful ring, which she hurriedly concealed in her mattress.\nSpite of all the governess' efforts, she could not find the jewel; nor\ncould she succeed in drawing from her captive any explanation of how she\nhad come by it. The governess told the father, who redoubled his\nprecautions and set spies to watch upon the outside of the tower. In a\nfew days, the spies reported to him that they had seen a bird of the\nlargest size fly in at the maiden's window, remain there for some hours,\nand then fly out again.\n\n\"I'll be a match for this carrier-pigeon of hers!\" said the old knight\nwith malicious glee. That night a trap was set upon the outside of the\nwindow, surrounded by sharp knives, so that anything passing through it\nwould inevitably be caught or wounded grievously. The young wife awaited\nher husband anxiously, for it was the day fixed for her escape. Soon he\narrived; but as he touched the window the trap fell, and although he\nmanaged to pass in, a long trail of blood was left behind him.\n\n\"Lose no time, my beloved!\" he said, in a voice altered by pain. \"Our\nenemies are upon us. Put this bracelet on your arm, and spring into the\nair after me, without fear.\"\n\nShe obeyed, and found herself upborne by magic wings, which carried her\nmore swiftly than the wind over forest tops, shining river, and city\nspires and domes. Glorious as was her airy flight, she could see that\nher companion grew weaker. They arrived in a country adjoining the one\nin which she had lived, and stopped immediately above a splendid\npalace--alighting in the marble balcony of a chamber furnished with the\nutmost magnificence. Here the falcon regained his man's shape, and, with\ndespair, his wife saw that he was deathly pale, while the blood poured\nfrom a wound beneath his heart.\n\n\"I am dying,\" he exclaimed. \"Help me to my bed yonder, and may heaven\ngrant me strength to tell my people that you are their lawful queen.\"\n\nThe poor wife aided her husband to lie down, but when he would have\nspoken to her again, his voice was gone--a moment more, and he was dead.\n\nAnd now in what a mournful plight the pretty new queen found herself!\nSoon the attendants would, no doubt, come flocking into the room, to\ndiscover their sovereign murdered in his bed, and a stranger cowering by\nhis side. Terror lent speed to her feet, and hastening back to the\nbalcony, she ran down a long flight of stairs communicating with the\nouter court and garden of the palace. Thence she escaped to wander into\nthe forest, and until day broke again she never ceased to walk. For some\ndays she remained concealed in the forest, living upon fruit and\nberries, until at last hunger drove her to the cottage of a poor\nlaborer. The wife of this man was very ill, and the queen offered to\nstay and nurse her, which was gratefully accepted. So faithful and\ndevoted an attendant she proved that, when the woman of the house got\nwell, both husband and wife insisted their stranger guest should make\nher home with them. In this secluded retreat, where only a stray\nhuntsman now and then passed by, the queen remained until a beautiful\nson was born to her. And now, she felt a burning desire to have her boy\neducated in a manner worthy of his father's rank; and poverty, that had\nseemed so light a burden to herself, grew heavy when it weighed on him.\nWhen the baby was three years old, a gay hunting-party passed that way,\namong them a rich and childless lady, who, charmed with the beauty of\nthe boy, offered to adopt him on the spot.\n\nThe poor queen wept so bitterly at thought of parting with her treasure,\nthat the lady, who was a kind-hearted person, proposed she should\naccompany them and serve in the capacity of the boy's governess.\n\nTo this plan the queen made no objection; and, bidding an affectionate\nfarewell to her humble friends, she took her place with the boy in a\ntravelling carriage sent to fetch them.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYears rolled on, and the child born in the forest had reached the age\nof twenty-one. He was a handsome, manly youth, and skilled in all\nathletic exercises. About this time, the family of his adopted mother\nwas invited to be present at a great religious ceremony in an abbey upon\nthe borders of a neighboring kingdom. Among the many attendants of the\nnobles summoned for the occasion, was the real mother, who came dressed\nin deep mourning and wearing a veil over her face; and one of the guests\nwas the wicked old knight, her father. The abbot of the monastery threw\nopen the doors of the chapel, that had long been sealed, and all flocked\ninto it. There, in the centre, stood a bier covered with cloth of gold\nand surrounded by blazing wax-lights, while about it knelt an hundred\npriests, at prayer. After a mass had been sung, the abbot announced that\nin yonder bier lay the remains of the late king, their master, who, as\nall his faithful subjects knew, was foully murdered twenty-one years\nbefore; and that, by the terms of the king's will, found some time after\nhis death, the throne rightfully belonged to a lady who had been married\nin secret by their sovereign, and was by him commended to their truest\nlove and honor. \"For many long years,\" added the good abbot, \"we have\nsought vainly for the widow of our lamented ruler; not the faintest\ntrace of her has ever been found, and we have resolved to meet here and\nchoose to-day a successor to our king.\"\n\n\"Here is a worthy successor to your king!\" cried a voice from the\nthrong; and the unfortunate queen, throwing back her veil, pointed to\nher astonished son. \"Behold the rightful heir! Who dares to say that he\nis not the image of his father? _I_ am the queen you have so long\nsought, and this youth is, unknown to himself, my son. In proof of it,\nhere is the marriage ring given me by the king.\"\n\n\"And in proof of it,\" exclaimed a venerable priest, coming forward, \"I\nattest that _I_ performed the marriage ceremony between our king and\nthis poor lady. Her appearance and her claim remove the seal from my\npromise of secresy, and I unhesitatingly declare this youth to be our\nlawful sovereign.\"\n\nAll eyes turned upon the young man, and all tongues proclaimed his\nmarvellous resemblance to the king. The abbot knelt at the young man's\nfeet and offered him a golden crown carried on a velvet cushion. Loud\ncries of joy and cheers filled the air, when suddenly the unfortunate\nqueen was seen to totter toward the bier of her husband.\n\n\"I am glad to die on this spot,\" she said, snatching up the sword that\nlay upon the tomb and placing it in her son's hand; then, bidding him\navenge the sad fate of his parents, she immediately expired. At the same\nmoment, a white-haired knight tried to steal away from the church; but\nwhen the ancient priest perceived him, the fugitive was denounced as the\nmurderer of their king. Seized by the populace, the wretched old miser\nwas hurried to instant death; his grandson was carried in triumph to the\npalace, and there installed as king.\n\nThe new monarch reigned long and wisely--an example for all future\nsovereigns.\n\n\n\n\nEGLAMOUR AND CRYSTABELL.\n\n(_From Ellis' Abstract of Copy in Garrick Collection._)\n\n[Illustration: _Eglamour & Crystabell._]\n\n\nCount Prinsamour, an independent sovereign of Artois, was famed for his\nskill in training young men in the courtesy and accomplishments of\nchivalry. His court was the resort of all youths who wished to excel in\nthose important arts. His daughter Crystabell, the heiress of Count\nPrinsamour's dominions, was very beautiful and accomplished, and her\nfather designed to marry her to some powerful monarch. The tournaments\ninstituted at his court were in her honor, and for her sake all the\nhotheaded young knights in training broke their lances.\n\nCrystabell herself had no desire to leave her own country to become the\nwife of a foreign monarch. She loved the free and stirring air around\nher father's castle, and had, unknown to the count, fallen in love with\na young knight, Sir Eglamour, who was ever victorious in the numerous\ntournaments ridden in her name.\n\nEglamour, on his side, looked up to the young countess as to a star. He\nnever dreamed of winning her love, because he was only a knight, without\nwealth or lands, depending upon his sword alone to make his way through\nlife. At last, one day, something that Crystabell said made him think\nthat she cared for him more than for the rest of her followers. Sorely\ntroubled, and yet strangely happy, the young man wandered off to think\nit over. He finally resolved to ask advice of the chamberlain, who had\nalways stood his friend. That personage counselled him to give up all\nthoughts of the countess, who, he said, was destined by her father to be\nthe bride of a rich and great king. Eglamour sighed, and admitted that\nhis friend was right. But that night, in the solitude of his chamber, he\naddressed a prayer to God:\n\n    \"Lord,\" he said, \"grant me a boon,\n      As thou on rood me bought!\n    The erle's daughter, fair and free,\n    That she may my wife be!\n\n      For she is most in my thought:\n    That I may wed her to my wife,\n    And in joy to lead our life!\n      From care then were I brought.\"\n\nIn those days a true knight thought it no shame to his manhood to take\nthe burden of his every-day cares and lay it in all simplicity at the\nfeet of his Maker. When his devotions were at an end, Sir Eglamour slept\nsoundly, and awoke in better heart.\n\nAfter a while, Sir Eglamour fell ill, and the count desired his\ndaughter, who was skilled in medicine, as were all great ladies of the\ntime, to attend upon the invalid. Crystabell, followed by her damsels,\nwent at once into the sick-room. She found Sir Eglamour feverish and\nunhappy, and on bending down to minister to him, his pulse throbbed so\nviolently at her touch, that the tears of sympathy came into her eyes.\n\"I have betrayed my love,\" thought Sir Eglamour; but what was his\nhappiness when the lady bent down to kiss his lips, confessing that the\nchamberlain had told her what was the real cause of his malady; and, to\ncomfort Eglamour, she bid him live for her sake.\n\nAfter this, Eglamour got well rapidly; but he felt it right and\nhonorable to inform the count, at once, how matters stood between the\ntwo young people. The count, who, although a brave knight, was largely\ngoverned by selfish ambition, refused Sir Eglamour with scorn. Then,\nafter thinking a while, he told the youth that he would only bestow his\ndaughter upon the champion who might accomplish three perilous feats of\narms, each one of which would expose the candidate to the most imminent\ndanger; and that the victor should not only receive the hand of\nCrystabell, but in time inherit the whole territory of Artois.\n\nOverjoyed, Sir Eglamour accepted the conditions without delay. He\ndeclared he was ready to set off that day or the next upon the\nenterprise. He did not suspect the count's real purpose in setting him\nthis task, which was to destroy the rash knight who presumed to love his\ndaughter.\n\n\"At a little distance to the westward,\" said the count, \"there is a\nforest of noble trees belonging to a most terrible giant, named Maroke.\nIn a part of the forest shut off for the giant's own hunting ground, are\nthree deer, famed for their size and speed. To hunt one of these\ncelebrated animals is, of course, to challenge an encounter with their\nowner. Consider whether you have courage enough for such an\nenterprise.\"\n\nSir Eglamour smiled, promised to kill the giant, and hurried off to tell\nhis lady-love. Crystabell trembled and wept, but bid her lover\nGod-speed. She told him that no man ever set forth upon a more arduous\njourney in a Christian country, but that she gloried in his brave\nspirit. She gave him a good greyhound, from whom no deer that ever ran\nhad yet escaped--also a sword, once found in the sea, the only one of\nthe kind in the world, and which could carve in two any helmet of steel\nor iron. Eglamour kissed her farewell, as he received these gifts, and\nset out with a light heart.\n\nReaching the giant's park, he followed the wall to a massive gate, burst\nit open, and entered the wood. This forest was of huge cypress trees,\nand Eglamour had the luck soon to come upon the three deer grazing\nquietly. They were the most immense creatures he had ever seen; and\nsingling out the largest, he attacked it. With the help of the dun\ngreyhound, he brought the stag to earth, and set to work to carve his\nspoil. Laden with venison, he then approached the giant's castle,\nblowing his horn at intervals; and, when arrived there, he sounded a\nwild and merry blast, which roused Maroke from sleep and brought him in\nfury to the gate. Sir Eglamour politely asked the monster to give him\nleave to pass through the grounds with his prey.\n\nThe giant, gnashing his teeth in rage, answered by aiming a blow with\nhis club at the saucy young knight's head. Sir Eglamour, at the same\nmoment, drew Crystabell's sword, which shone so brightly as to dazzle\nthe eyes of Maroke, striking him stone-blind where he stood. Then\nfollowed a mighty combat. Blind as the giant was, he fought well and\nskilfully for three entire days. At the end of the third day, Sir\nEglamour rallied all his strength and drove his sword into the giant's\nheart, a thrust which sent Maroke crashing like a forest tree to earth.\n\nSir Eglamour, having cut off his enemy's head, carried it, together with\nthe slaughtered stag, back to the court of his sovereign. The count\nreceived him ruefully; but fair Crystabell laughed and rejoiced, while\nthe courtiers covered their champion with praises. After Eglamour was\nrested and refreshed, the count hurried him off again. This time he was\nto journey to the distant land of Satyn, where his task was to fetch\naway the head of a prodigious boar, the terror of that ill-fated\ncountry, half of whose inhabitants the creature had already eaten up.\n\nTo reach the land of Satyn, Sir Eglamour had to travel a fortnight by\nsea, a fortnight by land. Arriving there at nightfall, he thought it\nprudent to spend the night in resting on the borders of the forest. At\nsunrise next day he approached the den of the horrible boar, who had\njust come back from taking his morning drink in the sea. The animal was\na terror to look upon, having flaming eyes and tusks a yard long. He lay\ngnawing some human bones and growling frightfully, surrounded by dead\nbodies, many of which were clad in knightly armor. At once Sir Eglamour\ndashed at him with a shout--\"For God and Crystabell!\" The boar whetted\nhis long tusks and set upon his adversary, killing at the first blow Sir\nEglamour's noble horse, his own tough hide remaining unhurt by the\nspear. Sir Eglamour now had recourse to his magic sword, and found to\nhis joy that, wherever he struck, the boar's hide was cut; although the\nlength of the animal's tusks made it difficult to close with him. This\ncombat, like that with the giant, lasted three days, and at the end Sir\nEglamour, by a sudden swift movement, made a terrible blow at the\ncreature's neck, severing the head from his body.\n\nLong before the close of this memorable fight, the boar's snorts of rage\nand defiance had attracted to the spot the King of Satyn and fifteen of\nhis knights, who happened to be hunting in the forest. When the boar\ndropped dead, Sir Eglamour fell over him, and lay there completely\nexhausted. The king and his men drew near, showered compliments on the\nstrange knight's bravery, and told him that the wicked beast of whom he\nhad rid them had sometimes destroyed as many as forty men in one day.\n\nThe king ordered a cloth to be laid upon the grass, and Sir Eglamour was\nregaled with venison and rich wine, which brought strength back to his\narm and hope to his heart. The king's men then attempted to cut up the\nboar, but failed, owing to the toughness of his hide. The sword of Sir\nEglamour was put into requisition, and in a moment the beast was cleft\nasunder along the back bone. The meat was distributed among the knights\nand men-at-arms, Sir Eglamour claiming the head alone. The King of Satyn\nafterward ordered for the champion a warm bath of certain sweet-scented\nherbs that healed his wounds and in which he rested pleasantly till\nbreak of day. Then the party went on to the king's palace, where Sir\nEglamour was asked to stay and recover from his fatigue.\n\nNow it happened that the boar just slain was an intimate friend of\nManas, a huge and frightful giant, own brother to Maroke. Manas had\nfallen in love with the King of Satyn's daughter, and had vowed to carry\nher off. When Manas came prowling around the castle that evening, and\nbeheld on the point of a spear over the gateway the head of his friend\nthe boar, he flew into an awful passion, foaming at the mouth; and as he\nlooked on that head--\n\n    \"Alas!\" he cried, \"art thou dead?\n      My trust was all in thee!\n    Now, by the law that I live in,\n    My little speckled hoglin,\n      Dear bought shall thy death be!\"\n\nManas beat upon the door and walls of the castle in a fury, demanding\nthe surrender of the murderer of his dear little speckled hoglin.\nPresently, Sir Eglamour, fully armed and equipped, mounted on a fiery\ncourser, and with lance in rest, attacked the giant at full speed.\n\nManas resisted vigorously, and in an instant overthrew man and horse.\nThe king, the princess, and the court, who had assembled on the walls of\nthe castle, began to tremble for the safety of their champion. But Sir\nEglamour, lightly springing to his feet, drew his invincible sword, and\nclosing with the giant, cut off his right arm. The monster roared with\npain, but continued to fight, though yelling at intervals as loudly as\never, till near sunset, when the patient knight, who had hitherto\nsuffered him to exhaust himself by his own efforts, suddenly rushed\nforward and completed the victory! The boar and Manas being dead,\nEglamour now took his leave of the grateful King of Satyn and his court,\nwho rejoiced greatly over the death of their two adversaries. The heads\nof the boar and the giant Manas were carefully packed up, and in due\ntime Eglamour laid them at the feet of his faithful Crystabell.\n\nCount Prinsamour, secretly disgusted at his knight's success, at once\nsent him off on another enterprise, more dangerous than the two\npreceding ones. Eglamour and Crystabell, now seeing that the false\ncount was determined to prevent their marriage, parted from each other\nwith many tears. But Crystabell vowed to marry him, with or without her\nfather's leave, so soon as he should return, if ever he did, from the\npresent journey.\n\nThe third mission was to kill a tremendous dragon, at that time\ndesolating the country around the gates of Rome. After sundry adventures\nby the way, Eglamour encountered the beast, and fought it long and\nvaliantly. He succeeded in cutting off its wings, tail, and head; but at\nlast he fell himself, exhausted by his wounds and poisoned by the\ndragon's sting, and was carried from the field.\n\nWhen Crystabell heard that her brave lover was lying at the point of\ndeath in Rome, she left her father and journeyed to the knight's\nbedside, where, to make him happy before he died, she consented to marry\nhim on the spot.\n\nEglamour rallied under the care of his beloved Crystabell; but, after\nthey had spent some happy months together, Count Prinsamour found out\nhis daughter's place of retreat, and carried her off from her husband,\nabusing him as a vile thief and imposter.\n\nCrystabell cried and lamented continually for her lost husband. After a\nwhile, a son was born to her, which made the count more angry than\nbefore. He took the unfortunate mother and child, put them, without\nfood, into an open boat, and set them adrift upon the sea. The boat\ndrifted for five days, and at last reached the shores of a country whose\nking proved to be the brother of Crystabell's own mother. He took the\nwayfarers under his care, and devoted himself to bringing up the boy,\nnamed Degrabell, to be a valiant knight.\n\nAfter a time, Eglamour travelled to Artois, and entering the count's\nhall by force, confronted his cruel father-in-law in the presence of all\nthe knights and squires. He had heard of the fate of his wife and child,\nand his wrath was terrible to see. He cast the dragon's head, wings, and\ntail before the count, reminded him that his daughter had been fairly\nwon, and called down God's judgment upon the unnatural father who had\nbereaved Eglamour of all he held dear in life. The count retreated to\nhis strongest citadel in fear before the righteous anger of this mighty\nchampion; but Eglamour seized the property of his late master, divided\nit among the count's worthy and needy subjects, and ordering masses to\nbe sung in all the churches for the soul of his lost Crystabell,\ndeparted for the Holy Land, where, during many years, he distinguished\nhimself both in battle and in tournament against the Saracens.\n\nWhen her son, Sir Degrabell, had reached the age of eighteen, Crystabell\nwas more beautiful than ever, and the king, her uncle, resolved to marry\nher to some knight who might make happy the remainder of her days.\nCrystabell, who still cherished the memory of her lost Sir Eglamour,\nbegged her son to help her in this emergency. Sir Degrabell went to the\nking and insisted that all of the knights aspiring to his mother's hand\nshould first meet him in the lists, and that only the one who should\noverthrow him might claim the princess as a wife.\n\nThe king smiled at the pretentions of this beardless youth, and gave his\nconsent. A tournament was announced, and to it came from all parts of\nthe country persons of high rank seeking adventure. Knight after knight\npresented himself in the lists, and was swiftly unhorsed by the gallant\nDegrabell. At length the boy, flushed with conquest, turned to a\nstranger of distinguished appearance who stood gazing at the spectacle,\nwithout seeming to take any great interest in it, and asked if he too\nhad a mind to break a lance. The stranger knight hesitated, then said\nthat, to amuse himself, he would do so. Mounting his horse, he rode with\nthe speed of a lightning flash against Degrabell, who was borne to the\nearth on the spot. Princess Crystabell had been watching the tourney\nwith pride, but screamed aloud at her son's overthrow, and rushed into\nthe arena, throwing herself on her knees before the stranger and\nimploring him to spare her boy. Trembling, she looked upon the victor's\nshield, and there saw depicted a rude device of a golden boat containing\na lady and a child about to perish in the waves.\n\nOn his side, the knight gazed at the lady in trembling, then bending his\nknee before her, revealed himself the long-lost Eglamour. Crystabell\nwould have swooned for joy, had not her husband caught her in his arms.\nEglamour, equally astonished and delighted, had still in store for him\nthe rapture of recognizing in his brave young antagonist the son so\nworthy of his sire.\n\nSir Eglamour and Lady Crystabell, thus happily reunited, lived together\nfor the remainder of their days in prosperity. Degrabell became a famous\nchampion. The old Count Prinsamour broke his neck by falling from his\ntower; and so, my tale is told!\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"The Old-Fashioned Fairy Book","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":66839}