{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44425/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44425","id":"gutenberg_44425","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44425","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories","Legends -- Juvenile literature"],"text":"Produced by David Widger (This file was produced from\nimages generously made available by The Internet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nRIVER LEGENDS\n\nOR FATHER THAMES AND FATHER RHINE\n\nBy E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen\n\nWith Illustrations By Gustave Dor\u00e9\n\n1875\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF ENGRAVINGS.\n\n\nFULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n     Hans and his Prisoner................Frontispiece\n\n     The Baron\u2019s Oath.....To face page.............107\n\n     The Father of all Giants......................140\n\n     Powle\u2019s Advance on the Castle.................242\n\n\nTEXT ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n     Father Thames and Father Rhine................003\n\n     The Messenger.................................005\n\n     Father Thames after his Ale...................006\n\n     The Boar......................................008\n\n     The Boar\u2019s Family.............................010\n\n     The Infant Smith..............................013\n\n     The Sacrifice of Smith\u2019s Father...............015\n\n     Smith in Toad-land............................018\n\n     The Snakes....................................022\n\n     Bertha the Druidess...........................027\n\n     The Road into the Forest......................035\n\n     The Last of the Boar..........................046\n\n     The Baroness and her back hair................056\n\n     Father Rhine and his Elves....................059\n\n     The River-Demon Thief.........................064\n\n     The Greedy Child..............................067\n\n     The Devilet...................................072\n\n     Martha rousing the Peasants...................078\n\n     Father Rhine and the three Baronesses.........081\n\n     The Swan-sisters..............................084\n\n     Crazy Timothy.................................092\n\n     The Old Harper................................097\n\n     She keeps the Pigs............................115\n\n     She watches the Battle........................132\n\n     Giants Mountain-building......................143\n\n     Bramble-buffer Storm-making...................148\n\n     He uproots the Tree...........................153\n\n     Hans sent aloft...............................163\n\n     Hans in the Giant\u2019s Mouth.....................166\n\n     The Mouth Fortified...........................167\n\n     The Giant weeps...............................170\n\n     The Giant\u2019s Release...........................173\n\n     The Castle....................................181\n\n     Mannikins at Play.............................187\n\n     Goody Tickleback\u2019s Steed......................188\n\n     Flight of the Witches.........................202\n\n     The Sea-serpent...............................225\n\n     Father Rhine\u2019s Retreat........................252\n\n\n{001}\n\n\n\n\nRIVER LEGENDS\n\nOR\n\nFATHER THAMES AND FATHER RHINE\n\nI HAD been down to spend a summer\u2019s day at Eton. Dear old Eton! There is\nno place where a summer\u2019s day can be more happily spent, especially by\nthose to whom the spot is hallowed by the memory of boyish days. The\n\u201cplaying-fields\u201d are delightful, in spite of the passage through the\nsame being a service of danger when cricket-balls whiz recklessly past\nyour ear, and a courteous \u201cthank you!\u201d invites your hand to restore to\nits owner the engine which has nearly broken your head. \u201cPoet\u2019s Walk\u201d\n is charming, although its memories may not be entirely pleasant if you\nchance in your boyhood to have been \u201cfag\u201d to some \u201csixth-form\u201d\n master whose tea you had to carry out to that pleasant resort. The\n\u201cschool-yard\u201d also is not without its recommendations, though when one\nhas attained the mature age of forty-five one feels rather as if one had\nno business there, standing among a crowd of fellows of a younger and\nhappier age, the only idler among the number.\n\nOn {002}the particular day of which I speak, I had rambled about\nwith those boys I knew, gathered as much pleasure as I could from\nthe memories which clung around the precincts of the old college, and\nafterwards strolled out along the banks of the river in the direction of\nSurly. The weather being rather hot, although evening was approaching,\nI thought it well to halt in the immediate neighbourhood of Surly Hall,\nand having seated myself in the shadiest place I could find, began to\nthink over the various \u201cFourths of June\u201d and \u201cElection Saturdays\u201d which\nI had witnessed in that famous locality, until I not unnaturally fell\nfast asleep. I do not know how long I remained in this comfortable\nstate, but I was suddenly aroused by the sound of voices, and\nimmediately opened my eyes and looked around to discover the quarter\nfrom which they proceeded. It was not long before I was enlightened upon\nthis point.\n\nNearly opposite the spot upon which I had seated myself was a little\nisland in the very middle of the river, dividing the water which flowed\non each side of it and left it high and dry. This island was of no great\nsize, and, I should imagine, of no great value either, being covered\nwith reeds and willows, and apparently fit for nothing except to afford\nshelter to moor-hens and water-rats, which creatures probably found\nit an exceedingly convenient habitation. Upon the present occasion,\nhowever, beings of a different nature altogether appeared to have taken\npossession of the island. At a plain deal table were seated two ancient\nindividuals of kingly and majestic mien. He who sat at the end of the\ntable wore a white beard of mighty size, which streamed downward to his\nwaist; whilst his companion, who {003}sat at his right hand, and was of\na dark and swarthy complexion, boasted but little beard, but made up\nfor the deficiency by the size and length of the black appendages which\nadorned his upper lip. Each of these two kings (for such the crowns upon\ntheir heads betokened them to be, and the regal dignity of their general\nappearance gave further proof of their condition) grasped in his hand a\ntumbler which was apparently full of liquor more potent than the water\nwhich flowed around them, whilst a huge pewter pot (which constituted\nthe only other furniture of their table) bore witness to the quarter\nfrom whence their potations had been supplied.\n\n[Illustration: 016]\n\nAs I regarded these two strange beings with an astonishment not\naltogether unmixed with reverential awe (for I saw at once that they\nwere more than ordinary mortals), he at the end of the table broke\nsilence, and striking his fist upon the board in an emphatic manner,\nthus addressed his companion: \u201cBrother Rhine!\u201d {004}said he, \u201cwelcome to\nold England. Thames gives thee hearty welcome.\u201d The other gravely bowed\nhis head in acknowledgment of this cordial speech, but uttered no word\nin reply, and methought I perceived upon his royal countenance some\nsigns such as appear upon the face of a passenger between Dover and\nCalais whom the ocean has rudely shaken. Father Thames (for as such I\ninstinctively recognised the first speaker) appeared to make a somewhat\nsimilar observation, for he forthwith addressed his friend a second time\nin these words: \u201cWhat aileth thee, Brother Rhine? Lovest thou not this\nchange of climate, or dost thou fear that thy waters will overflow or\nthy tributary streams rebel during thy brief absence?\u201d\n\nHe who was thus accosted smiled grimly, and stroked his dark moustache\nas he made answer: \u201cNeither the one nor the other, Brother Thames. It\nis but thine English ale which is somewhat more potent than my native\ndrink. But, craving thy pardon, the matter will soon be set right. A\ntrusty messenger should by this time be arriving with a supply of mine\nown Rhine wine, and I would fain have thee try the vintage.\u201d\n\nThe countenance of Father Thames visibly darkened. \u201cI forsake not mine\nale,\u201d said he gloomily. \u201cIt gladdens the heart and strengthens the frame\nmore than the juice of grape.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet,\u201d replied the other, \u201cthere are merry hearts, strong frames,\nand brave spirits in plenty upon my banks; and thus it has ever been, as\nmany an old legend can well bear witness.\u201d\n\n\u201cDoubtless,\u201d responded Father Thames, though still somewhat moodily.\n\u201cBut yet for legends and stories of {005}the olden time my river lacketh\nnot a good supply, nor are British hearts less merry or British spirits\nless brave than those of whom thou makest thy boast.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 018]\n\n\u201cI doubt it not, I doubt it not,\u201d rejoined the monarch of the Rhine.\n\u201cBut see, here comes my messenger!\u201d As he spoke, I looked up and beheld\nan enormous eagle, carrying a huge silver flagon in his beak and another\nin each of his claws, and hovering immediately over the heads of the two\nkings. Presently he alighted, deposited his precious burdens upon the\ntable directly in front of the Rhine king, and obediently waited for\norders {006}behind his master. The latter lost no time in hesitation\nover his course of procedure. Taking up the vessel from which he had\nrecently drank, he dipped it several times in the running water at his\nfeet until all traces of the ale had disappeared, then, filling it\nfull with sparkling wine from one of the flagons before him, he looked\nsteadily at his companion, gravely inclined his head towards him, and\nthen tossed off his liquor with an air of supreme satisfaction, and\nreplaced his tumbler upon the table.\n\n[Illustration: 019]\n\nFather Thames meanwhile had not been idle. Whilst his brother king\nwas thus engaged, he had drawn the pewter pot nearer to himself and\nreplenished his tumbler with foaming ale. \u201cYour health, Brother Rhine,\u201d\n he shouted in a stentorian voice, and winking one eye in a peculiar but\nnot unpleasant manner, he drained his glass to the dregs. A change at\nonce appeared to come over his countenance--it positively sparkled with\nfun; a species of light appeared to play around his head as if the rays\nof the sun had come to give a parting radiance to his crown before they\nretired for the night. His whole face beamed with internal and intense\nsatisfaction, and once more striking his hand on the table, he spoke\nthus: \u201cBrother Rhine, we have each his own liquor and each his own\nriver. Let {007}each enjoy his own! Live and let live. But whilst we sit\nhere so happily, let us while away the time by recounting some of the\nlegends for which our banks are so famous, and of which we each have a\ngood store.\u201d\n\n\u201cAgreed!\u201d cried he of the Rhine; \u201cand as thou hast proposed the pastime,\nBrother Thames, do thou begin.\u201d Thus adjured, Father Thames, having\npreviously filled and emptied his tumbler once more, cleared his throat\nand commenced the history of--\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREAT BOAR OF WINDSOR FOREST\n\nI need scarcely tell you that England was not always what it is to-day,\nand that the advance of time has wrought very considerable changes in\nthe scenery of the country through which the waters of the Thames hold\ntheir course. The river which bears my name now washes fertile shores\nwhich were once barren plains, and pleasant towns and smiling meadows\nhave replaced wild thickets and dense forests. I suppose there never\nwas a more delightful forest than that of which Windsor can boast. When\nmortals speak of Windsor Forest, they generally associate therewith the\nname of Herne the Hunter, who was quite a character in his way, had an\noak of his own, and has had more than one very readable story written\nabout him. But Herne the Hunter is quite a modern hero compared with\nthose of whom I am about to tell you. I speak of old, very old days,\nand if I do not give you the exact date when the events occurred which I\nshall presently relate, it is only because I haven\u2019t the least idea\nwhat that {008}date may have been. But, be it what you will, it is an\nundoubted fact that long, long ago there was a forest which stretched\ndown to the very edge of my river near to this particular spot, and this\nforest was the abode of many strange and incomprehensible beings.\n\n[Illustration: 021]\n\nPerhaps the most curious and most disagreeable of these in the days\nI speak of was a personage familiarly termed the Wild {009}Boar of\nWindsor. This creature was of enormous size and strength, and was\ngenerally acknowledged as the king of his tribe.\n\nWild boars were at that time numerous in England, and I believe, if the\ntruth were known, that fairies and Fairyland power had much to do with\ntheir existence. That power has passed away now, or at least has so\ngreatly diminished that, although there are plenty of persons left who\nmay be correctly described by a word which sounds exactly like the name\nof the animal in question, yet the fairies have nothing to do with\nthis. Magic power no longer converts the objects of its wrath into brute\nbeasts or hideous monsters, as was frequently the case in the good old\ntimes of which I speak. Whether the Wild Boar in question was the victim\nof some such vengeance, or whether he had always been what he appeared\nin those days, it is not necessary to inquire. Anyhow, he was certainly\nmore than mortal. He had apparently the gift of prophecy, for his grunts\nwere often repeated by his subservient followers as having foretold\nsubsequent events with singular accuracy, and he was not unfrequently\nsought out by persons who desired to be acquainted beforehand with\nfuture events, which has in all ages been a foolish weakness to which\nhuman nature has been subject.\n\nThis Boar had a numerous family, who were daily fed out of silver\ndishes, sitting all in a row and eating with as much decorum as could be\nexpected. It is not, however, of his family or domestic life that I am\nabout to tell you to-day, but of the extraordinary events which occurred\nin connection with the efforts made by mankind to rid themselves of this\nexceedingly troublesome creature. {010}For although, as I have already\nsaid, the ignorant peasants of the neighbourhood held the Boar in great\nreverence, and used to creep timidly into the forest in search of the\nknowledge which he was said to possess, and which _they_ certainly\nlacked, there were others who regarded the kingly Boar as an unmitigated\nnuisance. This was scarcely wonderful, since he and his tribe had the\nmost unpleasant habit of issuing forth from the forest, and devastating\nthe country far and wide, making everybody as uncomfortable as possible.\n\n[Illustration: 023]\n\nEver since I have known this country, which is now a good many years\nago, the people who inhabit it have liked to be as comfortable as they\ncould be, especially when living quietly in their own homes, intrusion\ninto which they have always greatly resented. \u201cAn Englishman\u2019s house is\nhis castle\u201d is a very old proverb amongst them, and they have a strong\nattachment to the particular localities in which they have been bom and\nbred. So that when this Boar ravaged right and left, {011}respected no\nman\u2019s castle, uprooted everybody\u2019s crops, and made himself generally\ndisagreeable, it was quite natural that the worthy people who suffered\nfrom his depredations should feel exceedingly annoyed. After a while,\nthis annoyance took the form of an earnest desire to get rid of\nthe monster. The question, however, of the means to be employed to\naccomplish this desirable result was by no means easy of solution. To\ndig pits, such as were in those days commonly used for the destruction\nof wild animals, would have been an utterly useless proceeding when\nemployed against a creature of such supernatural sagacity. Guns had not\nbeen invented; no dog could be found strong and fierce enough to attack\nthe monster; and the more the poor people thought of the matter the more\nhopeless did their case appear. Law and order were not then what they\nare now, and there existed no county constabulary to whom, in the\npresent day, the business would at once be referred with a perfect\ncertainty that the wrong-doer would be forthwith arrested and punished.\nNor had the pious founder of Eton College as yet existed, or doubtless\naid would have been sought by the sufferers from the provost and fellows\nof that famous abode of learning. Their prayers at least would have been\ninvoked, for these saintly men have always been persons of great age,\nprofound wisdom, and extreme piety, and the only doubt might have been\nlest, as the Boar had been so long in existence, they might not have\nconsidered him as one of the institutions of their country, and declined\nto take any steps against him in consequence. But, as they themselves\ndid not then exist, the question did not arise, and the Boar continued\nsupreme.\n\nFor {012}aught I know, he might have continued so down to this day but\nfor the circumstances which I am about to relate.\n\nA poor woman of the neighbourhood dreamed that she was about to become\nthe mother of the largest family that the world had ever seen. This\nbeing a thing which her husband, being in straitened circumstances,\ndeemed by no means desirable, he received the news with disgust only\ntempered by disbelief, and treated his helpmate to language of a rough\nand discourteous character. His frame of mind changed, however, when,\nas years rolled on, one child only claimed him for its father, which\nof course entitled him to sneer at his wife and her dreams as a good\nhusband would naturally do under such circumstances. The child, however,\nwas one of no ordinary description. Not only was he the largest and\nmost strongly made child ever seen in these parts, but he showed from an\nearly age a singular and precocious intelligence. Before the time when\ninfants are supposed to be able to convey their meaning to their friends\nby intelligible utterances, a very remarkable instance of this precocity\noccurred. The father and mother (whose names have not been handed down\nto posterity) were discussing the future of their promising babe in his\npresence, and one asked of the other the question what distinguishing\nname should be given to so fine a child. The astonishment of the\nparents may be imagined when the infant, suddenly sitting upright in his\nmother\u2019s lap, and steadfastly regarding his father, winked his left eye\nviolently, laid the first finger of his right hand against his little\nnose in a confidential manner, and emphatically pronounced the word\n\u201cSmith.\u201d\n\nWhether {013}this proceeding was, by the powers of magic, ordered\nand decreed with a view to the fulfilment of the dream of the child\u2019s\nmother, is a question upon which (like most others) various opinions may\nbe entertained. Certain, however, it is that the result justifies the\nidea, inasmuch as the astonished parents obeyed the commands of their\noffspring, and gave him that name which has since been borne by so many\nof the inhabitants of this island, and of which, (despite all other\naccounts bearing the stamp of probability) this child was the inventor\nand founder.\n\n[Illustration: 026]\n\nAs the babe grew older, his wondrous strength was the subject of general\nremark. His favourite plaything was a club, much thicker at one end than\nthe other, and nearly as tall as himself. This he would brandish about\nover his head to the imminent danger of the bystanders, {014}or would\nlovingly encircle with his arm, leaning his head against it, as he sat\nupon the ground pondering over some plans only known to himself with a\nmore than childish gravity.\n\nThese, you must know, were the days of the worthy Druids, who guided\nthe religious feelings of the country, and, as has been occasionally\nthe fashion of ecclesiastics in all ages, used the ignorance and\nsuperstition of the people to establish their own authority.\u2019Take them\nall in all, I don\u2019t know that they were worse than other priests whom I\nhave seen upon my banks in later ages; but they had an awkward habit of\noccasionally discovering that their personal enemies were required by\nthe gods as a sacrifice, and thus not unfrequently managed to propitiate\ntheir own vengeance and that of the irate deities at one and the same\nmoment. Smith\u2019s father, having been unlucky enough to fall under the ban\nof one of these respectable gentlemen, was sacrificed one fine\nmorning, in spite of all his protestations; and, his mother having died\npreviously, the child was left an orphan, poor and desolate. Under these\ncircumstances you will wonder what became of him.\n\nThere were no poor-laws, and consequently no workhouses, in those days.\n\u201cRelieving officers\u201d were unknown, and even parish beadles had not come\ninto being. Indeed, if this had been the case, I should have no legend\nto relate to you upon my present theme. Smith would have lived\na different life altogether. He would very likely have been the\ninteresting subject of discussion between several parishes, each\nlaudably anxious to escape being called upon to pay for his nurture and\neducation, who would possibly have spent in {015}the contest more than\nwould have fed and educated twenty Smiths.\n\n[Illustration: 028]\n\nEventually he would have been consigned to the workhouse school until\nhe had arrived at an age when he might possibly have been able to learn\nsomething, {016}at which moment this would very properly have been\nprevented by his being transferred to the enlivening employment of\nrook-keeping, from which he would have gradually risen to the position\nof a day-labourer upon some neighbouring farm, unless he had evinced\nsufficient intellectual ability to have aspired to the rank and dignity\nof \u201cwaggoner\u2019s mate.\u201d This brilliant career, however, was not open to\nour hero in the benighted days of which I speak. This being so, he not\nunnaturally did something else. He disappeared from the eyes of the\nworld in a manner which would have been perfectly marvellous if there\nhad been anybody who cared to marvel at it. This, however, was not the\ncase.\n\nThe venerable Druid who had sacrificed the child\u2019s father took no\ntrouble about the child, though he would probably have sacrificed him\ntoo with the greatest pleasure had any hint been given him upon the\nsubject. The people who had permitted and sanctioned the deed never\ngave a thought to the infant who had thereby been left destitute. Public\nopinion was not in existence, and as this island had not then, as it\nhas now, what is popularly called \u201cthe blessing of a Free Press,\u201d\n the attention of the neighbourhood was not called to such trifling\noccurrences. So Smith\u2019s father perished and Smith disappeared, without\nnotice or remark from anybody. What really happened to the lad is known,\nof course, to me, and is sufficiently laughable. He wandered into the\nforest, and became the friend and companion of the toads, for which\nWindsor has always been famous.\n\nNow, although mortals are not generally aware of the fact, it is well\nknown, brother, to you and me, that toads {017}are among the wisest and\nmost intelligent of animals. They may be called ugly by those who only\njudge of character and worth by the standard of that beauty which is\nafter all but skin-deep; they may be termed slimy and unpleasant by\nthose who cannot see below the surface; they may even be deemed stupid\nby people who are unable to discern the intellectual vigour which shines\nforth in the extraordinary brightness of the eye of a well-bred toad.\nBut, as we know full well, a toad is one of the most powerful of created\nbeings in his knowledge of magic and of hidden art. How many are the\nburied treasures over which a toad sits as guardian, laughing to himself\nat the busy mortals above who would give their eyes and ears to possess\nthat which is really within their reach if they did but know it!\nAnd, apart from this peculiar point of view, how happy the life of a\nwell-regulated toad!--how simple his tastes; how free from care his\nheart, how tranquil his existence, so long as he is permitted to enjoy\nit without being stamped upon by the cruel heel of mortal, or swallowed\nby the voracious mouth of snake. With the toads of the forest, then,\nSmith made his home; and often did I see him in those old days, sporting\nwith his strange playmates among the roots of the gigantic trees which\ngrew down to my very water\u2019s edge, sometimes playing leap-frog, at other\nmoments hopping races, and not unfrequently reclining by the side of one\nof the worthy toads, his arm thrown around it, and its body serving as a\nresting-place for his infant head and shoulders.\n\nFrom these strange instructors did little Smith receive an education\nwhich fitted him for the career which {018}he had chalked out for\nhimself. From them he learned more than ordinary mortals could have\ntaught him; and meanwhile the wholesome and quiet life which he led in\nthe forest caused him to increase daily in bodily strength, so that he\nbid fair to rival Hercules before he arrived at manhood.\n\n[Illustration: 031]\n\nAll this time the Boar continued to pursue his ravages unchecked and\nunmolested, and had become more than ever the terror of the surrounding\ncountry. In vain did the Druids denounce him: the more they cursed the\nmore he seemed to prosper, and the whole framework of society was shaken\nby this terrible animal, The effect, moreover, {019}throughout the whole\nisland, was the reverse of agreeable.\n\nWe have noticed, in the struggles of mankind for supremacy, that when\none particular nation has obtained, whether by good fortune or good\norganization, great military successes, it sometimes happens that the\ncitizens of that nation become puffed up and insolent beyond measure,\nconsidering that the mere fact of belonging to that victorious country\nstamps a man (however intellectually poor or morally imbecile) as\nsomething superior to his fellow-creatures, and gives him a right to\nbe as rude and disagreeable as he pleases. Such was at this time the\nprecise result of the Boar\u2019s undiminished power. Every pig in the island\nthought himself far superior to any other animal. The insolence of\nPigdom became rapidly intolerable; these unpleasant animals thrust their\nsnouts into everybody else\u2019s dish, and England was threatened with a\nporcine yoke which would inevitably have interfered with that great\nfuture which she was destined to achieve in afteryears. However, England\nhas never been without her Smith in the hour of danger, and this, the\nfirst individual of that illustrious name, set the example which his\ndescendants, have so often followed.\n\nHaving formed the noble determination to free his country or perish in\nthe attempt, he next determined to avoid the latter alternative if he\npossibly could. The manner in which he should proceed required, indeed,\nhis most careful consideration. Instructed as he had been in magic arts\nby the excellent toads, he knew full well that he had to cope with\nan adversary who was said to be able to fight with the same weapons.\nCaution, {020}therefore, as well as skill, was certainly necessary, and\nhis first object was to discover the extent of the enemy\u2019s power, and\nwhether there existed any means by which it could be lessened. To\ndo this, however, it was necessary to employ some spy to obtain\nintelligence upon which reliance might be placed.\n\nNo mortal had ever dared to penetrate the lair of the great Boar; and\nthose who wished to hear him grunt had never ventured to do more than\ncreep, with stealthy step and timorous aspect, on the outer verge of\nthe great thicket which he had been seen to enter after his marauding\nexcursions. Nor, indeed, was it easy to find any four-footed animal who\nwould undertake the task. The wolves and foxes, of which there were a\nvery great number in Windsor Forest, respectfully but firmly declined;\nthe hares and rabbits squeaked and ran away at the very idea; and the\nstoats and weasels declared that it was no business of theirs, and they\ncould not interfere in such matters. Then there were the birds; but\nthese simple creatures have always had a horror of magic and witchcraft,\nand there was nothing to be done with _them._ The tender wood-pigeons\ncoo\u2019d out their reluctance to dabble with anything which was not pure\nand holy and loving; the robin pretended not to hear, and sang his\nmorning hymn with a provoking vehemence whilst Smith was accosting him;\nthe owl shook her head gravely and gave vent to a low hoot of determined\nrefusal; while the gaudy jays flew away laughing and shrieking in a most\nimpertinent manner, which left no hope of their compliance.\n\nThus baffled in his first attempt, Smith once more consulted the toads,\nand asked the oldest and wisest of them {021}for his advice, which was\npromptly given. \u201cThe Foul Swine,\u201d said he, \u201cis not the great magician\nwhich he pretends. His tusks are long and his years many, but there are\nthose within and without the forest more powerful than he. Your task\nis certainly one of some difficulty. Nevertheless, there is an ancient\nproverb well known among us toads which will be of great use to you,\nand which we are bound never to repeat to mortal ear save under certain\nconditions. The first of these is, that the mortal to whom we may repeat\nit must have passed at least half his life with our own people, and have\nlearned to speak the toad language like a native. As you have now passed\nconsiderably more than the prescribed period among us, and (except\nperhaps as regards spitting) are in all respects a regular toad, this\nfirst condition has evidently been fulfilled in your case. The second\ncondition requires that the person to whom the proverb shall be imparted\nmust have rendered service to the toad people by killing at least\ntwenty of our natural enemies, the snakes. This service you have yet to\nperform. The third condition simply stipulates that the individual\nin question shall bind himself by the most solemn oath known to\ntoads--namely, by the eyes of the two golden toads which sit day and\nnight at the foot of the throne of the Emperor of China--that he\nwill set himself strenuously to perform the task to which the proverb\nalludes. About this you will probably find no difficulty, and therefore\nit is really only with the second condition that you need trouble\nyourself at all.\u201d\n\nSmith listened with great attention to the remarks made by his ancient\nfriend, and lost no time in qualifying {022}himself to be the recipient\nof the desired information by destroying the requisite number of\nsnakes. That very evening his art as a snake-charmer was so successfully\npractised, that more than fifty of the creatures lay twisting and\nwrithing in front of the toads\u2019 favourite trees, and were presently\ndispatched by vigorous blows from the stalwart arm of Smith.\n\n[Illustration: 035]\n\nThis feat having been performed, he requested the venerable toad to\nimpart the proverb upon which so much might depend. The worthy old\ngentleman was nothing loath, and, having given an exulting croak over\nthe bodies of his slain foemen, spat twice in the air for joy, and\nproceeded to administer the toad-oath, which pledged Smith to strive\nhis utmost to perform some task as yet unknown. Great, however, was his\ndelight at finding that this task was {023}none other than the very\none to which he had already determined to devote his life, namely, the\ndestruction of the Great Boar. And thus ran the proverb:--\n\n     \u201cBlood of slayer and of slain\n          Must together blended be\n     Ere the Boar\u2019s detested reign\n          Cease, and Windsor shall be free.\u201d\n\nThese words having been pronounced by the toad with due solemnity, he\nagain went through the apparently unnecessary, not to say unpleasant,\nprocess of spitting twice, after which he quietly subsided, and crept\nunder a large root, with a view to a long nap, which might last for a\nday, a year, or a century, as the humour took him.\n\nSmith now set himself seriously to consider what should be done, and\nwhat was the exact meaning of the proverb. It was his earnest wish that\nthe \u201cdetested reign\u201d of the Boar should cease as soon as possible, but\nwhat the blending together of the blood of the slayer and the slain\ncould possibly mean was an exceedingly hard puzzle, and one which he\nknew not how to unravel. As, however, he was bound to do his best to\nperform the task to the accomplishment of which he had pledged himself,\nhe determined to sally forth from the forest and endeavour to seek the\naid which the birds and beasts within it were unable to afford him.\nAccordingly, he marched back into society, which, if not precisely\ncivilised, was somewhat different from that of the toads and other\ncreatures who had for the best part of his life been his only\ncompanions. Had he lived some years later, there can be little doubt\nthat his reappearance would {024}have created considerable surprise, and\nhis costume would have been in singular contrast with that of ordinary\nmen. As, however, at that period of the island\u2019s history, men wore very\nlittle costume at all beyond that which nature had bestowed upon them,\nthis was no difficulty in the way of our hero\u2019s return. Moreover, the\neducation given him by the toads had been so vastly superior to that\nwhich he would have received at the hands of his fellow-men, that there\nwas nothing strange, uncouth, or remarkable either in his speech or\nmanners, which, in fact, contrasted favourably with those of the human\nbeings whom he was likely to meet.\n\nIn those days the villages were small and the dwellings comparatively\nfew and far between. The country upon the borders of the forest\npresented a barren and miserable appearance, mainly in consequence\nof the extreme poverty of its inhabitants, who were deterred from the\nagricultural pursuits which they would otherwise have followed by the\nconstant ravages of the cruel Boar. It was, therefore, a rare thing to\nsee many people in that part of the country, and Smith, had he known it,\nwould have been surprised at the number he saw as he strode forward\non his way. As, however, he had been so long in the forest as to\nhave forgotten the usual habits of the peasantry outside, he was not\nastonished at all, and saw without wonder that people were hurrying\nalong in the same direction as himself from every quarter. It struck him\nas rather strange that they should all be going the same way, and, being\ndesirous ol knowing the reason why, he took the not unnatural course of\nasking a peasant woman whom he overtook. \u201cDo you not know?\u201d she replied.\n\u201cAre you a stranger in {025}the country, not to have heard that the\ngreat Druidess Bertha sacrifices to-day on Ascot Heath?\u201d\n\n\u201cI knew it not,\u201d returned Smith, and followed up his answer by an\ninquiry as to who the great Druidess Bertha might be. The peasant woman\nappeared to be quite shocked at his ignorance, but, with the gossiping\npropensity which occasionally besets the weaker portion of her sex,\nbegan instantly to impart to him all she knew and a good deal more.\n\nBertha, it seemed, was a person whose origin was shrouded in mystery.\nShe had been educated by the Druids, and brought up as a female\npriestess of that reverend society. Although still young, she was\nsupposed to have attained to great sanctity, and was immensely venerated\nby the peasantry. One thing alone distinguished her from the other\nDruids, namely, her unconquerable objection to human sacrifice; and\nSmith found, on further inquiry, that to-day\u2019s ceremony was to consist\nonly of the slaughter of oxen and sheep, and the offering of corn and\nfruits to the deities, whose aid was to be once more invoked against\nthe tyranny of the Great Boar of Windsor. The account which he had heard\nmade our hero more than ever desirous to witness the ceremony and to see\nthe Druidess, and he accordingly followed the crowd to the sacred heath\nupon which it was to take place.\n\nAscot Heath was at that time somewhat different from its present\ncondition. You remember, Brother Rhine, when you were last in England,\nwhat a sight we saw together in that celebrated locality. All London\nseemed to have emptied itself upon Windsor and its neighbourhood. The\nheath was thronged with excited crowds.\n\nHundreds {026}upon hundreds of carts, gigs, and carriages of every\ndescription crowded one upon the other, and you owned that Rhineland\nhad nothing to equal our Ascot week. Very different was the condition of\nthings at the time of which I speak. I need hardly tell you that there\nwas no \u201cgrand stand\u201d in those days; the \u201cring\u201d was as yet unknown; \u201cAunt\nSally\u201d was not, and never a gipsy had as yet appeared in the country.\nBut the heath was wide and wild, rough and rugged, a fit place for the\nenactment of any such strange rites as those which his companion had led\nSmith to anticipate. He pushed boldly forward until he reached a spot\nfrom whence he could view the ceremony.\n\nOn the very edge of the forest, beneath a gigantic oak, upon a piece of\nrising ground, stood a figure upon which he, in common with every one\nelse around him, riveted his eyes with the most intense interest and\nattention. It was a woman of more than ordinary height, clothed from\nhead to foot in white drapery, her hair failing loosely upon her\nshoulders, with a simple chaplet of oak-leaves over her forehead. Her\nfeatures were such as impelled you to look a second time after you had\nonce gazed upon her. Nobility was stamped upon her brow. Courage,\ntruth, and every other virtue which ennobles those of mortal mould were\nimprinted upon the lineaments of that countenance. Erect she stood,\ngazing down upon the peasant crowd below; and while her right hand held\nthe sickle with which she had been performing some of the mystic rites\nof her order, her left arm was far outstretched as she pointed in the\ndirection of that part of the forest in which the mighty Boar had made\nhis home.\n\n[Illustration: 040]\n\nIt {027}was evident to Smith that the sacrifice, whatever it that\n{028}not one word should escape him; and as all the people seemed\nanimated by the same desire, a solemn and almost awful silence prevailed\nthroughout the whole crowd. Then the Druidess spoke; her words fell\nclear and shrill upon the ears of her audience like the clarion notes of\nthe trumpet which calls forth hosts to battle, and they pierced at once\nto the heart of Smith as they rang through the startled air. And thus\nspoke the Druidess:--\n\n           \u201cMen of Britain\u2019s Holy Isle,\n                Spiritless and idle still\n           Rest ye here, and all the while\n                Forest demons work their will?\n\n           Barren lie your hungry fields,\n                Yielding nought for human food,\n           While your spirit tamely yields\n                To the Tyrant of the Wood.\n\n           Hear the Future! To the gods\n                While libations Druids pour,\n           Britain\u2019s Oak to ruin nods,\n                Rotten to the very core!\n\n           Craven spirits fear and hide\n                From the devastating foe.\n           Can the gods be satisfied\n                With a race of cowards? No!\n\n           What the mighty gods inspire\n                Bertha to her race imparts.\n           Hear ye all! the gods require\n                Stalwart arms and valiant hearts.\n\n           All the blood of victims slain\n                Never can your country save,\n           Till that country you sustain\n                With the daring of the brave.\n\n           Yet are ye no craven race;\n                If yourselves ye learn\u2019d to know,\n           Never would ye turn your face\n                From the coming of the foe.\n\n           Ah! the spirit moves me now,\n                Ancient spirit of the oak;\n           \u2018Neath its mighty spell I bow,\n                Hear the words the gods evoke!\n\n           \u2018Mid the throng I see below\n                Stands a man of courage true,\n           And I see a light I know\n                Flashing from his eye of blue.\n\n           \u2018Tis the light of valiant strength,\n                And its flash reveals to me\n           That the hour is near at length\n                When my people shall be free;\n\n           Free from terror and from yoke\n                Of the sanguinary Boar.\n           Let the hero strike the stroke;\n                Ye are free for evermore!\u201d\n\nThe {029}Priestess pronounced her last words with such intense\nanimation, as if inspired by some supernatural power, that they produced\na wondrous effect upon those to whom they were addressed. Indeed, it was\nnot only her manner of speaking, but the matter of the words to which\nshe gave utterance, which was well calculated to excite the people.\nBowed down and dispirited for years under a great misfortune, they\nsuddenly heard that deliverance was at hand, and that he by whom it\nmight be wrought was actually standing among them at that moment. The\ngreatest excitement, therefore, naturally prevailed, and a low murmur of\nmingled joy, surprise, and awe ran through the crowd.\n\nThe Druidess, meanwhile, stood still as a stone statue upon the hillock\nunder the oak, gazing forward with eyes, fixed upon vacancy as if she\nwere reading far into the Book of the Future, under the influence of\nsome mighty spell. Her appearance, as of one in a trance, increased\nthe reverential awe of the superstitious people, who remained for a few\nmoments in a state of increasing doubt and wonder. Then some of them\ngathered courage and found voice to express the dearest wish of their\nhearts. \u201cHoly Bertha!\u201d they cried. \u201cSacred Maiden! {030}Tell us who is\nour deliverer. Who is he that shall strike the stroke for our freedom?\nWhere is he? How shall we find him?\u201d And, as he spoke, the people\npressed forward eagerly as near to the sacred hillock as their dread of\nthe maiden\u2019s sanctity would permit them to approach. With an imperious\ngesture she waved them back, and then, passing her hand across her brow,\nas if to brush away the trance which still partially obscured her vision\nfor things present, she uttered the following words in a low and hurried\ntone:--\n\n     \u201cThe strength of a god and the skill of a toad\n          Unite in the man who shall Windsor deliver;\n     His name shall be hallow\u2019d in every abode,\n          And henceforth shall be known in old England for ever!\u201d\n\nThese words, although they possibly went but a very little way towards\ngiving to the inquiring crowd the information they so anxiously desired,\nwere of course very intelligible to Smith, even without the aid of any\nof that magic knowledge which he had acquired from his forest teachers.\nHe was now certain, beyond all reasonable doubt, that the Druidess\nreferred to him as the deliverer from the Great Boar, and that, having\ncommitted herself to such a prophecy, she and the priests of her order\nwould, for their own sakes if for no better reason, do their very best\nto secure its fulfilment. But I am bound to say that other thoughts also\noccupied the breast of our hero. From the very first moment that he had\nset eyes upon the Druidess he had been struck with wondrous admiration.\nThere was something in her appearance so majestic, so noble, and at\nthe same time so winning, that the heart of Smith throbbed with new\nemotions, nor did he cease to gaze earnestly {031}at the sacred maiden\nduring the whole time of her discourse. In fact, I believe that, almost\nunconsciously to himself, a fervent desire that Bertha the Druidess\nshould become Mrs. Smith took possession of our hero\u2019s soul, and he fell\na hopeless victim to \u201cLove at first sight\u201d without being aware of the\nfact.\n\nAny friendly feeling, moreover, which might have been suggested by the\noutward appearance of the holy maid was tenfold increased when her words\ngave evidence that she was ready to help his accomplishment of that\ngreat object to which he had devoted his life. To be singled out from\nthe crowd for praise, compliment, and prophecy of future distinction is\nan honour of which any man may be proud under general circumstances; but\nwhen the person who singles you out happens to be young and lovely, the\nflattery is not unfrequently of double sweetness, and tends to evoke a\nfeeling which, if it takes its origin in gratitude, is not unlikely to\nbecome something warmer. Be this as it may, Smith felt towards the young\nDruidess as he had never felt before, and was by no means sorry that the\ncircumstances in which he found himself rendered it absolutely necessary\nthat he should seek a private interview with her as soon as possible.\nFor, as no one but he himself could know that her words referred\nunmistakably to him, it was unlikely that he would be recognised as\na leader or clothed with any authority unless some further steps were\ntaken in the matter.\n\nAfter having pronounced the last words, Bertha had hastily retreated\nbehind the oak, and there was little chance that she would show herself\nagain upon that occasion.. But Smith had underrated both the foresight\nof {032}the Druidess and the intelligence of her hearers. Many of these\nhad observed the presence amongst them of an entire stranger, and as,\nfrom a very early period of their history, Britons have been tolerably\ngood hands at \u201cputting two and two together,\u201d they had arrived at the\nconclusion that this individual was extremely likely to be the deliverer\nwhom the Priestess had declared she saw amid the throng below.\n\nIn those days, bashful modesty was not, as now, the characteristic of\na British crowd. Instinctively they pressed around the stranger, and\naddressed to him several observations which savoured more of curiosity\nthan politeness. They were good-natured, to be sure, as British crowds\nare even to the present day; but not recognising in him at once the\nqualities which had been so easily perceptible to the inspired Bertha,\nthey questioned him familiarly and as one of themselves. It was not\nlong, however, before their manner changed. Smith told them plainly that\nhe came from the forest, that toads and toad-mysteries were known to\nhim, and that so far at least he answered to the description which they\nhad lately heard as that of their deliverer.\n\nAs they listened to his words, the respect of the simple rustics for the\nspeaker greatly increased; his answers were whispered from one to the\nother, and there appeared a general disposition to welcome him as their\nleader, if leader indeed there was to be. Seeing that the opportunity\nwas favourable, but yet too cautious to push matters far upon the first\nonset, Smith begged the crowd to disperse, but promised that, if they\nwere of the same mind three days hence, he would meet them upon the\nheath at that time. To this they agreed; and {033}having with some\ndifficulty escaped from sundry loiterers who followed him, gaping\nand staring as if he had been some newly discovered monster, our hero\nreturned to the forest and reported his adventures to his friends the\ntoads. The latter listened with much satisfaction to his account of\nall that had happened, and gave him valuable advice as to his future\nproceedings. In accordance with their instructions, he again journeyed\nto the oak of Ascot Heath upon the next evening, and sought an interview\nwith the Priestess upon whom his hopes were centred.\n\nInterviews with Druidesses were not, in those days, very easy of\naccomplishment, and were not unattended with danger. For, if the Druids\ndid not happen to approve, and _did_ happen to discover the fact, the\nculprit stood an excellent chance of being speedily sacrificed. Smith,\nhowever, had no fear, and, as is proverbially the case, fortune favoured\nthe brave. He met the holy maiden walking in the forest before he\nreached the oak. I really cannot tell you exactly what passed at the\ninterview, but I know it resulted (as such interviews not unfrequently\ndo) in the appointment of another. This also took place without any\nobstacle arising, and the result was that, when the time appointed for\nthe reassembling of the people had arrived, Smith\u2019s plans were pretty\nwell matured.\n\nStanding near the sacred oak, he addressed the crowd before him in\nbrief but energetic words. He pointed out to them the misery which their\ncountry had so long endured through the ravages of the Great Boar. He\ndeclared that the thing, was intolerable, and that it only rested with\nthemselves to put an end to it by a great {034}and united effort. He\nprofessed himself willing to lead them if they would only engage to\nfollow him, and was confident that, if he were obeyed, all would go\nwell. If, indeed, they had any doubt about his being a fit person to\nlead them, let them only say so and he would at once yield to another.\nThese words were received with much favour by many of his audience, but\nsome of the more timid and doubtful still hesitated as to their course,\nwhen suddenly a voice spoke from the old oak in words of unmistakable\nimport:--\n\n          \u201cThis is the man and this the hour\n               To break the tyrant\u2019s hateful power.\n          No longer, Englishmen, delay;\n               Choose--listen--follow--and obey!\u201d\n\nThese words at once reassured every one, and effectually settled the\nquestion. Smith was unanimously elected leader, and, like other leaders,\nproceeded at once to declare his policy. He told his followers that the\nfirst thing to be done was to make a good road right into the heart\nof the forest. People are apt to magnify dangers about which they know\nlittle, and the thick and impenetrable nature of the Boar\u2019s retreat\ngreatly added to the idea of his wondrous power. The first thing, then,\nwas to let the light of day in upon him, and, accordingly, the very next\nmorning, a strong body of labourers commenced to work at a good, broad\nroad, which should penetrate the heart of the forest.\n\nOf course this undertaking occupied some time, during which the secret\ninterviews between Smith and the fair Druidess were not unfrequent,\nand the brave young leader obtained much good advice as to his mode of\nprocedure.\n\nThe {035}most extraordinary part of the story is that, all this time,\nno one heard or saw anything of the Boar. Whether he knew less of magic\nthan was supposed, and, being engaged on the other side of the forest,\ndid not know what was going on near Ascot Heath--or whether he knew\nand didn\u2019t think it worth while to interfere--or whether he was idle,\nsleepy, ill, or anything else--I don\u2019t know; but he never interfered at\nall until a long length of road had been made, and a gang of labourers\nhad got very near his lair.\n\n[Illustration: 048]\n\nThen, one fine morning, he rushed out with a number of his followers,\nripping and goring right and left, and driving everything before him.\nIt so happened that Smith was not with the workmen that day. Probably\nhe had gone on some errand for the Druidess; but, however this may have\nbeen, the result was the same, and, in the absence of {036}our hero, the\nBoar had it all his own way. In consequence of this triumph, the monster\ngave a great feast of hogwash and potatoes to all his subjects,\nand their grunting afterwards was so loud and horrible that it was\nremembered for a period of many years in the neighbourhood of Windsor.\n\nSmith, as you may suppose, was thoroughly disgusted when he found what\nhad occurred, and all the more so as he felt that his presence might,\nand probably would, have prevented the misfortune. Nothing daunted,\nhowever, he resolved to repair the mischief as quickly as possible. He\nsent far and wide throughout the country for all the white horses which\ncould possibly be secured, and begged as many of their owners as felt\nmartially inclined to accompany their steeds. This was done under\nthe sage advice of the toads, to whom it was well known that to white\nanimals beyond all others has been given the power of resisting the\ninfluences of magic arts. The knowledge that Smith\u2019s movement was\nsupported by the Druids materially operated to promote the success of\nhis request. From all quarters white horses and horsemen came flocking\nto the appointed place on Ascot Heath, and upon a certain day which he\nhad fixed the leader found himself at the head of a numerous body of\ncavalry. He next proceeded to arm every man with a long wooden spear\npointed with iron, and having given them their watchword and rallying\ncry, \u201cBacon,\u201d marched boldly towards the forest. And now began the\ncontest with the powers of magic.\n\nThe Boar sent forth his legions, having for the nonce converted hundreds\nof pigs into creatures bearing the form {037}of man, whilst his own\nregiment of sharp-tusked boars acted as a reserve force in their own\nshape and form. They could not, however, prevail against the white army,\nprotected by the wisdom of the toads and backed by the incantations of\nthe saintly Druids. After a combat along the whole line which lasted for\nsome hours, the magic forces of the Boar gave way on every side. Their\nresistance, indeed, stout and dogged as it had been at first, gave way\nat the sight of an enormous ham, boiled and ready for use, which at a\ncritical moment of the contest was displayed by the orders of Smith at\nthe top of a long pole. No porcine nature could withstand this spell,\nsure be-tokener of the fate of every vanquished and slaughtered pig. The\nenchanted animals (as the toads had privately told Smith would certainly\nbe the case) resumed their natural shape by hundreds at the sight\nof this wondrous emblem, and fled with wild grunts into the forest,\nfollowed by the victorious army. On every side the white horsemen rode\ndown the flying porkers, impaling them on their iron-tipped spears, and\nshouting \u201cBacon\u201d until the forest rang again with the martial sound.\nSmith himself performed prodigies of valour, overthrowing and slaying\nnumbers of the foe, and greatly assisting in bringing about the complete\nand terrible defeat which befell the forces of the Boar.\n\nSo it was that towards eventide the battle was practically over, for not\na pig but had resumed his natural shape, not a foe but had either\nfallen or fled into the deep recesses of the forest and sought safety in\nignominious concealment from the face of day. Yet fast within his lair\nremained the Great Boar himself, and no one {038}had as yet beheld him\nupon that day so fatal to his tribe. Why or wherefore he had not headed\nhis troops is more than I can say. One would have supposed that his\npresence would have encouraged them, and that his continued seclusion\nwithin his lair must have been the most foolish proceeding on the part\nof the chief of an army who had so much at stake. But whatever reason\nhe had, it is certain that he never appeared, and his people were\nslaughtered right and left without his ever coming to the rescue.\n\nSmith, however, was not to be treated in this manner by his mighty\nenemy. Unless the latter were dealt with in some satisfactory way, he\nknew well enough that his victory would have been all in vain, and that\nthe evil with which his country had so long been afflicted would be by\nno means ended. He hesitated not, therefore, to push boldly forward into\nthe heart of the forest, and seek the tyrant in his lair. The wood was\nuncommonly thick, and progress extremely difficult. Gigantic brambles\nformed an almost insuperable barrier, twining round the legs of the\ntraveller in a manner remarkably disagreeable, and forming at certain\nplaces an almost impregnable network of defence. The bushes, too, grew\nthickly where the brambles did not, huge oaks stood about wherever there\nwas any space clear from bush and bramble, strange weeds cropped up\naround, and altogether the place was as wild and difficult of access\nas you can well imagine. Yet Smith pushed bravely on, with some of his\nchosen companions, until he suddenly found himself in an open space some\nsixty feet square, almost entirely surrounded by oak-trees, plentifully\nencircled by ivy of the most luxuriant growth. As he entered {039}this\nspace, a deep voice uttered these words in terrible accents:--\n\n          \u201cHow dares the child of loathsome toad.\n               Unasked to enter this abode?\n          No longer press thy childish whim,\n               Back! or I tear thee limb from limb.\u201d\n\nThe followers of the great deliverer were visibly staggered by these\nawful words, more especially as the speaker was nowhere to be seen.\nSmith himself, however, being perfectly prepared for some such\nproceeding on the part of his enemy, was not for a moment disconcerted\nin the smallest degree. By the advice of the powers which had directed\nand shielded him throughout the whole of his arduous enterprise, he had\narmed himself with an oaken staff, cut from a sacred tree which grew\nnear to my banks, and which was held in peculiar estimation by the\npeople. This staff, having been dipped in my river, and afterwards\nheavily tipped with lead, was a weapon of considerable power, and the\ngallant Smith brandished it on high above his head as he replied to his\ninvisible enemy in the following words:--\n\n          \u201cBoast loud and long, thou villain Boar,\n               And trust in dealings magic;\n          More humbly shalt thou shortly roar,\n               And meet an ending tragic.\n\n          Come forth and try! I thee defy,\n               By mighty aid of Druid,\n          And this good staff, which lately I\n               Have dipt in Thames\u2019s fluid.\n\n          Come forth, I say! No more delay!\n               You rascal! what, you _won\u2019t_ stir?\n          I brand thee, in the face of day,\n               A vile and hideous monster! \u201d\n\nThe words were scarcely out of his mouth, when a horrible {040}noise\nbetween a grunt and a roar burst upon the ears of the attacking party,\nand the Great Boar of Windsor broke from his lair and rushed furiously\nupon his enemies. His eyes glared like fireballs--his bristles were\nerect and awful to see--his tusks seemed sharper and more enormous than\nany one would have supposed possible--and his whole appearance evinced\nsuch a mixture of strength and ferocity as might well have caused\nthe stoutest heart to quail before his approach. Fury was in his\ncountenance, and frightful was the expression of his face as he charged\nheadlong down upon Smith, with a force which it seemed impossible to\nwithstand. Uttering his war-cry in the shape of a suppressed but horrid\ngrunt, he held his head low, and was evidently bent upon ripping up the\nintruder with the least possible delay.\n\nTo be ripped up, however, was by no means Smith\u2019s intention. Springing\nhastily aside, he dealt the Boar a blow with his staff as he passed in\nthe mad career which he was unable to check. The blow, dealt with the\nhero\u2019s full force upon the back of the monster\u2019s head, changed his grunt\ninto a squeak of pain, but otherwise had no visible effect upon him.\nRendered doubly furious by the failure of his first rush, the Boar now\nturned upon some of Smith\u2019s companions, upon whom he trusted to have\nwreaked an easy vengeance. But, with admirable sagacity, Smith had\nforeseen the possibility of such an occurrence, and, instructed by the\ntoads, had carefully provided against it. Each of his followers who had\nentered the lair, besides being armed with spears as I have described,\nhad in his hand a short stick upon the end of which was fastened a\nsausage.\n\nThe {041}order given was, that, if the Boar attacked, this should simply\nbe held out in front of the person in danger, which order you may well\nbelieve was faithfully obeyed. The effect was certainly marvellous. At\nthe sight of each sausage the Boar\u2019s powers appeared to fail him, and\nhe turned with a disappointed groan to find another victim. One man,\nindeed, found the protection useless, and was miserably ripped up\nand destroyed by the monster. A momentary panic prevailed, but it was\nfortunately remembered that the luckless individual had brought his own\nsausage from his own manufactory, and that sundry of his neighbours who\nhad lost their cats had more than once thrown the darkest suspicion\nupon the character and quality of the article which he supplied. It is\ntherefore probable that the virtue inherent in sausages made from the\nlawful animal was wanting in his case, and that he perished justly as a\ndeceiver of his fellow-men.\n\nBut the Boar could make no head against a body of men so well prepared\nfor his assault. He foamed at the mouth--he roared--he grunted--he\nhowled--he rushed madly to and fro--but all his efforts were useless.\nThen once more he turned himself round and rushed with a frantic force\nupon the leader of his foes. Smith was at that instant standing close to\nan oak-tree, and so sudden was the Boar\u2019s attack that he had barely time\nto avoid it by a vigorous spring which he made, catching as he did so a\nbranch above his head, and swinging himself up out of harm\u2019s way.\n\nThe Boar, meanwhile, unable to stop himself, rushed with great\nforce against the tree. To his infinite surprise, and indeed to the\nastonishment of all who saw it, the {042}hard surface of the oak yielded\nto his touch, his tusks penetrated the bark, and he remained there\nfirm and fast, caught by the head and held as if by a vice. At the same\nmoment a strain of sweet and solemn music burst upon the ears of those\nwho were present, and from behind the oak-tree stepped the figure of the\nPriestess Bertha, clad as she had been on the previous occasion of her\naddressing the people, save that she wore upon her head a wreath of\nmistletoe, bright and glistening with berries. Walking up to the still\nstruggling Boar, she calmly sat down upon him, just as if he had been a\ncamp-stool, upon which he groaned audibly, but remained perfectly still.\nThen the Priestess proceeded to speak:--\n\n          \u201cThe Boar is vanquished in the fight,\n               And ended is his former might.\n          Cursed by his yoke no more ye be,\n               But Windsor\u2019s children shall be free.\n\n          Yet be ye cautious, firm, and wise,\n               Or other foes may still arise,\n          And ye may scarcely yet escape\n               From boars in brute or human shape.\n\n          Still, good advice I give to you:\n               Be honest, loyal, just, and true;\n          Drink not the wine that tastes of cork;\n               Keep down the pigs by eating pork;\n\n          Love sausages (avoiding shams);\n               And don\u2019t forget to cure your hams.\n          So, if your lives are good and pure,\n               Your happiness shall be secure;\n\n          Windsor to high renown shall soar,\n               And ne\u2019er again be spoiled by boar.\n          Meanwhile, \u2019tis time I play my part,\n               And banish hence foul magic art!\u201d\n\nThen, slowly rising from her strange seat, and extending her arm high\nin the air above the miserable Boar, She began to mutter to herself in\na low tone mystic words {043}of dark and wondrous import, which had\nall the more effect upon her hearers because nobody understood them.\nPresently she turned again to the listening army, and thus addressed\nthe Boar, her countenance bearing a stern expression and her whole\nappearance being one of queenly dignity:--\n\n          \u201cFoul beast! henceforth thy power is stayed,\n               Thy former vassals shall be free;\n          Thine art no more shall be displayed,\n               But Windsor Forest boarless be!\n\n          Yet must thou not this forest leave,\n               Or quit the place, alive or dead,\n          Whence thou hast caused the land to grieve,\n               And tears in oceans to be shed.\n\n          In altered form remaining here,\n               Receive, vile tyrant, this thy ban:\n          Be filled henceforth with timid fear,\n               And tremble at the sight of man.\n\n          Henceforth on roots and insects feed;\n               And yet, when nobler creatures die,\n          Be thou suspected of the deed,\n               A hated sight to keeper\u2019s eye!\u201d\n\nShe spoke; and as the words fell from her inspired lips, a wondrous\nand melancholy change came over the unhappy animal to whom they were\naddressed. His tusks fell off, his head diminished, his body grew\nsmaller even while she was speaking, and, as she ceased, the once great\nBoar stood there in the presence of his enemies, neither more nor less\nthan an unusually large hedgehog. Shouts of mingled joy and astonishment\nbroke from the surrounding peasants as they perceived this highly\nsatisfactory transformation taking place upon their dreaded foe. There\nhe stood, trembling and shivering before them, furtively casting his\neyes right and left as if in search of some hiding-place to which he\n{044}might betake himself at once. Then, after a moment or two, he\ncurled himself up after the general manner of hedgehogs into a round,\nimpenetrable ball, a proceeding which evoked shouts of laughter from\nthose who had lately trembled at his very glance, but who now felt the\nmost supreme contempt for their vanquished enemy. As they stood and\ngazed upon him, the transformed animal presently unrolled himself again,\nand scuttled away as fast as he could among the dry leaves, making, with\na new but natural instinct, for a place of concealment beneath the roots\nof the enormous trees which grew around the spot. And in fact, so far as\nthis history concerns the Great Boar of Windsor, Brother Rhine, I might\nas well bring it to a close at once, for little more was ever heard\nof him. The blow struck at Boardom throughout the kingdom by the\ndestruction of his power was very great, and the race gradually died\naway and became extinct. Not so by any means the hedgehogs, who from\nthat time forth mightily increased all over England, and who down to the\npresent day love to make it their boast that they are lineally descended\nfrom the Great Boar of Windsor. So proud of ancient ancestry are even\nthe brute beasts of creation, aping that arrant fool, man, in this as\nwell as sundry other follies.\n\nIt is curious to observe how exactly the prophecy of the Druidess has\nbeen fulfilled with regard to these hedgehogs. They live, as we know,\nupon roots and insects, and it has been over and over again demonstrated\nby learned naturalists that their physical formation is such as to\npreclude the possibility of their being carnivorous animals. But tell a\ngamekeeper this, and he will laugh you {045}to scorn. The words of the\nDruidess have come true enough in this instance; and if a nest of eggs\nis found destroyed, or a young pheasant torn or slain, the hedgehog is\ndeclared to be the culprit, and his unhappy race is persecuted even unto\ndeath.\n\nTradition says, however, that death has never fallen upon the Great Boar\nhimself, or that if his body has really perished, as one would suppose\nto have been the case long ago, his spirit still haunts the locality\nwhich his power and his crimes rendered so celebrated in those days of\nyore. Certain it is, that if you happen to know the site of the Boar\u2019s\nlair, which of course I know, Brother Rhine, but which is hidden from\nthe knowledge of all mortals save those favoured by Fairyland power,\nyou may sometimes hear tidings of its former occupant. Wander forth on\na clear moonlight night, hide yourself securely among the brushwood or\nbehind the gigantic oaks which still exist, and you will see all that is\nleft of the monster who was so long the scourge and terror of the place.\nA large hedgehog, bearing the weight of many years upon his back, will\nissue from beneath the roots of some of the old trees, followed by\nseveral smaller beings of the same species. Slowly and sadly he will\ncreep, with feeble steps and decrepit gait, down the open space in front\nof the trees, and pass before you, uttering a low grunt of retrospective\nmisery as he crawls over the altered scenes of his departed greatness.\nMove not; raise not a finger; keep entire silence; and as you gaze upon\nthe unhappy wretch, let pity rather than scorn take possession of your\nheart; and when after his short walk he returns shaking with age and\nsorrow, and once more creeps into his humble hiding-place, {046}ponder\nover the shortness and instability of earthly power and wealth, and\nremember that you have beheld all that remains of that terrible being\nwho was once so infamously notorious as the Great Boar of Windsor.\n\n[Illustration: 059]\n\nBut although I told you that, so far as the Boar was concerned, my story\nmight very well have ended here, you cannot have listened to me with\nthe attention which you have deigned to bestow without wishing to know\nsomething more of the fortunes of the other personages of whom I\nhave spoken. As soon as the hedgehog had retired, {047}and their\napprehensions were once and for all removed, the worthy peasants broke\nout into what is nowadays called a \u201ctruly British cheer.\u201d While they\ndid this, the Priestess Bertha took the opportunity of retiring into\nthe forest, so that when the good people had cheered enough, and were\ngetting rather hoarse, they found that she had disappeared. The whole\nof their attention, therefore, was concentrated upon Smith, whom they\nsurrounded with expressions of the warmest gratitude, and overwhelmed\nwith thanks for the ability, courage, and discretion which he had\nevinced in the conduct of the whole affair. Had it been a few centuries\nlater, they would doubtless have presented him with the freedom of their\ncity, supposing them to have had one. As it was, they could do little\nbut thank him, and declare themselves anxious that he should be their\nchief, or king, or anything else he pleased. Smith, however, stood\nmoodily aside, leaning upon his spear, and declined to accept the\noffered dignity. The people were still crowding around him and urging\nhim to complete the good work which he had just begun, by ruling over\nthose whom he had freed from an intolerable yoke, when an event took\nplace which entirely changed the character of the proceedings.\n\nSuddenly there appeared among the trees and amid the people a number\nof Druids, clad in the vestments which they habitually wore, and\nbrandishing the weapons with which they usually perpetrated the\nsacrifices which accompanied their most solemn rites. Without more\nado they proceeded to seize upon Smith, and declared to the astonished\npeople that the gods had intimated their will that he should be\nimmediately sacrificed.\n\nThis {048}was by no means welcome news to those who heard it, nor could\nthey readily understand why the Druids should desire the life of one who\nhad hitherto shown the greatest reverence for them and their religion,\nand who had, moreover, just rendered a great public service.\n\nMurmurs began to arise from the crowd, murmurs deep and angry, to the\neffect that jealousy of Smith\u2019s influence was at the bottom of the\nmovement, and that the Druids, who had never been able to get rid of the\nBoar until Smith had appeared on the scene, were ready to kill him out\nof the way as soon as ever he had accomplished the task which had been\ntoo much for themselves. Anxious to remove an impression which, if\nallowed to remain, might become the source of danger to their authority\nover the people, one of the chief Druids jumped upon the trunk of\na fallen tree and begged leave to explain. This having been readily\ngranted, the venerable man stated that the people ought to know by this\ntime that reverend ecclesiastics never did anything wrong, and that mean\nor ignoble motives were never harboured in their holy hearts. \u201cBut,\u201d he\ncontinued, \u201calthough Smith had certainly rendered considerable service\nto the people (and this the Druids would be the last to deny), he had\nnullified all his claims to their gratitude by the commission of an\noffence which struck a deep blow at the very root of that religion which\nwas the sole basis of their social order, and their only hope alike for\nthe present and the future. He had ventured to speak of love to the holy\nDruidess Bertha, and there was every reason to believe that they were\nprivately married!\u201d\n\nAt {049}these words a thrill of horror ran through the crowd, who had\nbeen taught to believe a Druidess to be a species of being superior to\nthe ordinary feelings of mortals, and one to whom marriage should have\nbeen an entire impossibility. They dared offer no further opposition\nto the Druids, and were about to suffer their gallant defender and\ndeliverer to be dragged away to a cruel death without further effort\nto save him. But all was not over yet. Smith had allies of whom his\ncowardly followers and his bigoted persecutors were alike ignorant.\nWith a mighty effort he shook off the priests who held him, and in a\nstentorian voice shouted aloud the words of magic token, \u201cHelp, oh,\nmy Toddlekins!\u201d Scarce were the words out of his mouth when a toad\nof extraordinary size hopped from the forest into the open space, and\nlooked around with eyes that sparkled with angry indignation. At the\nsight of him the Druids felt their hearts fail; their arms dropped by\ntheir sides, their weapons fell from their hands, and they lacked alike\nthe will and the power to harm their intended victim.\n\nMeanwhile the toad who had been adjured under the name of Toddlekins\ngave a jerk with his legs right and left, shook off his toad-skin,\nand appeared in the shape of a young man of singularly prepossessing\nappearance. His form was tall and manly, his beautifully shaped head\nwas covered with dark hair, and the remarkably sweet expression of his\ncountenance was enhanced by the extraordinary beauty and brightness of\nhis eyes. Looking about him right and left, and waving his hand in a\ncareless manner, he addressed the people as follows: \u201cMy friends,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201cyou will excuse me for making the remark that you are a set of\nvery particular {050}fools. In order to convince you that I have a right\nto say this, I will tell you with plain brevity who and what _I_ am. I\nwas born, never mind when or where, into this world, and being found in\nall respects much too good for it, the Fates decided that I should\nwait for a certain number of centuries before I again came into it as a\nmortal, and should meanwhile pass my time as a powerful fairy. As such\nI have lived in Toadland for some time past, and have especially watched\nover the education of my friend Smith. That is all I shall tell you\nabout myself, except that my power has aided you to achieve your\nfreedom, and will now prevent you from suffering a crime to be\nperpetrated which would disgrace you for ever. But I have something more\nto tell you about the person called Smith. He is one for whom I cherish\na particular regard, and you ought to do the same. For has he not\ndelivered you from your ancient enemy? But he has done more. The very\ncrime of which he is accused, if crime it be, has been done in _your_\nservice. He has fulfilled the old proverb, which it was necessary to do\nbefore the Boar\u2019s power could be destroyed. This proverb declared that\nthe blood of the \u2018slayer and the slain\u2019 must be blended together before\nthe Boar\u2019s reign should cease. Do you ask how this has been done? I will\nread you the riddle. The father of the Priestess Bertha was none other\nthan an old Druid who sacrificed (most improperly) the male parent of my\nfriend Smith. He had no right to a daughter at all, but of this I will\nsay nothing except that the holy maiden has possession of the very\nspectacles which he always wore on sacrificing days, and which he\nbestowed upon her at his death, conveying {051}to her at the same time\nthe information respecting her birth which I have just given you. Thus,\nthen, the blood of the slayer and slain have been blended together by\nthe marriage of the daughter of the former with the son of the latter.\nThe Boar has consequently been got rid of, and unless you are the most\nungrateful set of varlets that ever breathed, you will tell the Druids\nto go home and mind their own business, will celebrate the nuptials of\nthe happy couple by a jolly good dinner, and break up at the close of\nthe evening with \u2018three cheers for Smith!\u2019\u201d\n\nThis speech of the fairy Toddlekins was received with rapturous applause\nby every one present, especially the closing allusion to a \u201cjolly good\ndinner,\u201d which in every age has had a decided attraction for Englishmen.\nThe Druids, who were wise in their generation, at once determined not to\nrisk the loss of their influence by further opposition to that which was\nevidently the popular will, and was moreover supported by the powers of\nFairyland. So, determined to make the best of it without further delay,\nthey pretended to have been entirely convinced by the speech they\nhad just heard, and not only joined in the cheers which greeted its\nconclusion, but volunteered to stand the dinner into the bargain! They\nproceeded to do still more; within an incredibly short space of time\nthey fetched Bertha (who had previously stood no inconsiderable chance\nof being sacrificed too), and presented her and Smith together before\nthe fairy youth for his approving benediction. This, as you may easily\nsuppose, was freely and kindly given.\n\nI hardly think I need tell you any more. Smith still declined {052}to\nreign over the people, and, considering the experience he had had of\ntheir fickle nature, I don\u2019t think he was far wrong. Nor do I deem\nhim to have erred in his determination to leave that particular\nneighbourhood, being under the belief that when holy men have once\nintended to sacrifice a fellow, they are never very safe customers for\nhim afterwards. So the happy couple very soon departed from Windsor,\nand I know very little more about them except that their family is not\nextinct at the present day, and is by no means likely to become so. I\nbelieve they lived very happily, and I never heard of any unpleasantness\nbetween them. Still I confess that, if I had been Smith, I should have\nbeen afraid to marry a woman who could change a boar into a hedgehog,\nlest at any time she should take it into her head to exercise her powers\nupon her husband in a manner which might have been inconvenient, to say\nthe least of it.\n\nI am scarcely in a position to tell you whether the fairy Toddlekins has\never left Toadland again and come once more upon earth as a mortal.\nI might make a guess, Brother Rhine, if I chose, even at _this_, but\nperhaps I had better be silent. Many a pleasant youthful face, worthy of\nFairyland, frequents my waters at times, and the old college of Eton\nhas sent me such over and over again. But if I should single out any\nparticular face and form, and declare to the astonished world that\ntherein I recognised the noble fairy Toddlekins of the Druid times, I\ndon\u2019t suppose anybody would believe me; and even you, Brother Rhine,\nmight think it possible that I was mistaken. So now I have finished my\nlegend, and as I see that you {053}have not neglected your flagon\nof wine meanwhile, I hope that you have derived therefrom sufficient\ninspiration to be able to give me a tale of your own fair country which\nshall eclipse in interest the account which I have ventured to give you\nof the Great Boar of Windsor!\n\nAs soon as Father Thames had thus concluded his story, his companion\nclapped his hands in an approving manner. \u201cThat,\u201d he remarked, \u201cis a\ncapital legend, and ends, as a legend should, in a comfortable manner. I\nhave many curious tales of my own river, but none, I think, more curious\nthan the one you have related. However, as it is now my turn, I will do\nmy best, and, with your good leave, will tell you the famous story of\n\u2018Martha\u2019s Vengeance.\u2019\u201d\n\nFather Thames having gravely bowed approval, the monarch of the Rhine\nthus proceeded:--\n\n\n\n\nMARTHA\u2019S VENGEANCE\n\nThe Baroness Von Bandelboots was a woman of an awful temper. Her husband\ntrembled before her, her servants hardly felt that their souls were\ntheir own when she spoke, the vassals of the Bandelboots estates\nshivered in their shoes when they met her, and the neighbours all kept\nout of her way as much as possible. And yet there was no reason why this\nlady should have been so violent and have made herself and others so\nmiserable! You would have thought she had everything to content her. The\nhusband, good easy man, let her do just as she liked, and cared nothing\nfor her indulgence {054}of all her whims and fancies, so long as he was\nsecure of his favourite pipe and his comfortable armchair after dinner.\n\nShe had several daughters of various ages who had never caused her a\nmoment\u2019s uneasiness, and after some years of anxious expectation a son\nhad been bom who would in due course of time succeed to the honours\nof the family, and who meanwhile was, naturally enough, the legitimate\nobject of her maternal devotion. Moreover, the Baroness lacked not\nriches. Not only were the estates of the Baron large and productive\naround his castle on the Rhine, but he had other distant property which\nbrought him in no inconsiderable revenue, and he readily gave to his\nbeloved wife control over wealth sufficient to have contented the most\nextravagant of females. Besides this, she had a house which was really\ncharming, built upon an island in the middle of a lake, only a short\ndistance from my beloved river, and furnished with everything that\ngood taste could support and a full purse supply. Nor was she without\nneighbours, even in a country wherein neighbours are generally scarce.\nSeveral other castles stood within driving distance of the Bandelboots\ndomain, and the Baroness could with very little exertion procure for\nherself society, if society she desired.\n\nNevertheless the good dame\u2019s temper was a curse to herself and everybody\nshe came near, and she seemed to delight in scolding for scolding\u2019s\nsake. This unfortunate propensity had been productive of much discomfort\nand inconvenience to the Baron\u2019s household, even before the particular\nevents which I am about to relate. Several old and valuable servants had\nleft, either having been {055}dismissed by the Baroness in moments of\npassion, or having found themselves unable to stay consistently with\ntheir self-respect, after having been subjected to the strong language\nwhich she frequently used upon such occasions, which was, I am sorry to\nsay, more than once followed by personal violence.\n\nOne servant she had indeed retained for several years, and this was\nher own maid, Martha Scweinvolt. This woman was one of a singularly\nunprepossessing appearance, and of a certain age. Her nose was long\nand somewhat like a hook, her forehead receded in a strange angle\nimmediately above her eyebrows, her ears were remarkably large and low\ndown on her head, her chin protruded, her neck was of unnatural length,\nher hands and feet larger than those of ordinary women, and her figure\ntall, lank, and ungainly. To such a person did the Baroness entrust the\ncare of her wardrobe and the adorning of her noble self; and although\nshe frequently indulged her with a good scolding, the maid received it\nall with stolid indifference, perhaps because, as her vinegar aspect\nseemed to denote, she herself could be cross upon occasions, and thought\nit not unreasonable that her mistress should be the same.\n\nOne day it chanced, indeed, that the kettle, so to speak, boiled over.\nMartha Scweinvolt had been engaged upon her mistress\u2019s back hair, and\nthe latter, seated in \u201cdemi-toilette\u201d upon a low stool, had been reading\na novel. Suddenly she took it into her head to drop the book and take\nup a small hand looking-glass to see how her maid was getting on. In\nso doing she made a forward movement, which, as Martha happened at that\ninstant to have the hair tight in hand, had the {056}natural effect\nof making the lady feel as if her maid had suddenly given her hair a\nviolent and unpleasant pull. Without for a moment considering that\nit was entirely her own fault, the Baroness directly flew into a most\nfurious passion. She stormed and raved against the woman until she was\nalmost black in the face, and then, to finish matters off, struck her\nwith either hand a violent box on the ears on each side of her head,\nand hustled her out of the room as if she was more than half inclined to\nkick her down-stairs then and there.\n\n[Illustration: 069]\n\nOnce outside the door, Martha Scweinvolt became perfectly livid with\nrage. She turned round on the top of the stairs, faced the Baroness\u2019s\nroom, and shook her fist {057}vehemently towards it, vowing by her\neleven-o\u2019clock bread and cheese and beer (the most solemn oath known\namong domestic servants of the feminine gender) that she would have\nher revenge. Nor was Martha a person by any means likely to forget\nor neglect such a vow. Day and night she brooded over the matter, and\nground her teeth savagely together as she remembered the indignity\nto which she had been subjected. And the more she brooded, the more\ndetermined did she become to seek vengeance from some quarter whence it\ncould be surely and safely obtained. By herself she knew she could do\nbut little; and as she was by no means popular among the other servants\nof the household, she could place but little reliance on any assistance\nfrom them. How to proceed, therefore, she had great doubts, but to\nproceed in some manner she was quite determined.\n\nNow unfortunately for me, Brother Thames, as you may perhaps be aware, a\npart of my stream has always been more or less under the influence of\na class of river demons from which you in England are happily free.\nI believe a milder kind of demon exists in Scotland under the name of\nwater kelpie, and possibly there may be something of the sort here and\nthere even in your favoured English rivers, but you have nothing to\nmatch the demons of the Rhine. It is not a theme upon which I love to\ndwell. No respectable river desires to have anything to do with such\ncreatures, and I frankly confess that at times they have brought my\nwaters into great disrepute.\n\nWell (or rather not at all \u201cwell,\u201d according to my view of the case), it\nhappened that the Rhine near the castle of the Baron von Bandelboots was\nterribly infested {058}by these noxious spirits, only too ready at all\ntimes to do any mischief in their power to any human being, or to assist\none mortal in gratifying his or her malice against another. To these\ndemons did Martha Scweinvolt determine to appeal, and made up her mind\nto risk, if necessary, body and soul in order to obtain vengeance upon\nher hated mistress.\n\nVery often I am able to prevent the wicked plans and machinations of\nthese spirits, and I never fail to do so if I can manage it. If things\nhad gone rightly, I should have stopped the affair of which I am about\nto tell you, and nipped it in the bud if possible, either by overflowing\nmy banks suddenly and drowning the wretch Martha, or by some other means\nwhich my knowledge of the world would have enabled me to provide. But\nit most unfortunately happened that the nymphs and trolls and friendly\nelves of the river and forests near had given me an entertainment that\nvery evening, at which they played me several very curious tricks.\nThe jovial rascals insisted on my drinking my Steinbergh in large pint\nmeasures, so that I got rather more than my usual allowance; then they\nfastened a huge white beard upon my chin, pulled my whiskers, combed\nmy hair, whispered soft things in my ear, climbed on my knees, and\naltogether kept me so well amused, that I never went out at all that\nevening to patrol the river banks, according to my usual habit, and was\ntherefore entirely ignorant of all that occurred, until I was told it\nsome time after by a member of the Rhine Conservancy Board, who had it\nfrom good authority.\n\nIt. seems that Martha Scweinvolt, having gone out late {059}that\nevening, wandered down to the river, and there prayed vehemently to\nthe demons for aid. Such prayers are hardly necessary to procure the\nassistance of bad spirits, when their object is to do mischief to\nsomebody else.\n\n[Illustration: 072]\n\nA demon, therefore, who happened to be near the spot, forthwith\npresented himself to the waiting-maid, and that so suddenly that she\nfainted away immediately. Demons, however, being very skilful in the\nways of women, know perfectly well that the best way to ensure their\nspeedy recovery in such cases is to take no notice whatever of their\nproceeding. The evil spirit, therefore, followed this sensible plan,\nand waited patiently until Martha \u201ccame to,\u201d when he politely inquired\n{060}what her wishes might be and what service he could render.\n\nThe woman unfolded her grievance, and used several bad expressions\nwith regard to her mistress, which caused her companion to grin with\nsympathetic pleasure. He then inquired what revenge she desired to take;\nto which Martha replied that she should like to have the power given her\nof inflicting severe personal chastisement upon the Baroness. But the\ndemon scouted the idea. The pride of birth and rank work too much good\nto the objects which are dear to evil spirits to make them partial to\nany plan for the degradation of either one or the other, and such a\ndegradation would have been inflicted had the well-born Baroness been\nsubjected to personal chastisement at the hands of her menial. Besides\nthis, the power of the demon was but limited, and this would have been\npossibly beyond it.\n\nMartha suggested several other things, but at length she broke out in\njoyful tones, as if an unusually bright idea had suddenly struck her:\n\u201cI know!\u201d she cried; \u201clet\u2019s do something to the child, the young Baron\nHubert. Strangle him, or lame him for life, or make him humpbacked; that\nwill wring her old heart-strings!\u201d\n\nOn hearing these words, the demon, who was a decent fellow at bottom,\nthough withal up to any mischief of a reasonable kind, positively\nshuddered at the bitterness of the waiting-maid\u2019s speech, accompanied as\nit was with a look of fiendish exultation which would have done credit\nto the worst of devils.\n\n\u201cStop a bit, miss, stop a bit,\u201d said he. \u201cFair and softly wins the race;\nyou go too fast, and want too much, all at once. You must know that we\ndemons cannot do everything {061}just how and when, we please, as you\nseem to imagine. Not a bit of it! Fortunately for mortals who have\nenemies (and who has not?) our power is limited; and even suppose you\nhad the child with you at this moment, I could not do what you require.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d exclaimed Martha angrily, \u201cwhat in the name of goodness _can_\nyou do?\u201d\n\nAt these words the demon shuddered visibly. \u201cDon\u2019t use such language,\nyoung lady,\u201d said he, \u201cif you want _my_ help, but listen attentively to\nwhat I am about to say.\u201d\n\nMuch flattered at being called a young lady, and probably all the more\nso from her knowledge that to neither the substantive nor the adjective\nhad she any right whatever, Martha bent her head forward eagerly, to\nhear what the water-demon had to suggest.\n\n\u201cIf you like,\u201d said he, \u201cI can change the child.\u201d\n\n\u201cChange the child!\u201d cried the disappointed woman; \u201cwhy, what would be\nthe good of _that?_\u201d\n\n\u201cAll the good in the world,\u201d replied her counsellor, \u201cif you really wish\nto plague the mother. In the first place, the child I shall put in the\nplace of the young Baron will not be nearly so pretty as the real child,\nand this will gall the mother\u2019s heart not a little, unless baronesses\nare unlike other women. Then this false child will have a very much\nworse disposition. He will be cunning, ill-natured, greedy, mischievous,\nand a plague to the whole household.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe deuce he will!\u201d cried Martha hurriedly. \u201cBut he won\u2019t plague _me_,\nwill he?\u201d\n\n\u201cBetter language by a good deal, my dear,\u201d rejoined the demon, smiling\ngood-humouredly at the exclamation {062}of his companion; \u201cbut as to\nthe inquiry you make, I can hardly reply. Should the little changeling,\nhowever, prove any annoyance even to yourself, I am sure you would\nwillingly submit thereto in consideration of the glorious revenge which\nyou will wreak upon the wretched mother. Why, your poor ears must even\nnow be tingling from the effects of those shameful slaps, and, if I were\nin your place, it would be long enough before I forgot them!\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be afraid, Mr. Demon,\u201d answered the maid, gnashing her teeth\nfiercely as she spoke. \u201cI am not one to forget or forgive either, and,\nafter all, a child can\u2019t really annoy me much. I\u2019ll risk it, anyhow, so\nthat my brute of a mistress is made to suffer.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s right, my brave girl,\u201d merrily replied her friend, smiling with\nas pleasant a look as he knew how to put on. \u201cThat shows the true spirit\nof a German lady. Never fear, you shall have your revenge, and that\nspeedily.\u201d Thereupon he commenced a series of questions as to the habits\nof the household and the rooms which were occupied by the youthful\nBaron, and having ascertained all the particulars which he required,\nbade Martha Scweinvolt return home, and rest assured that her desire\nshould be accomplished upon the innocent baby, and his mother made to\nrue bitterly the hour when she first laid hands upon her waiting-maid.\n\nMartha departed, having, I suppose, in the first instance given some\nsuch pledge to the demon as these creatures are in the habit of exacting\nfrom those who seek their good offices, which usually consists of a\nsimple arrangement regarding their future which they have no power\nwhatever to make, and which may hereafter {063}be set aside on an appeal\nto the proper tribunal.\n\nMeanwhile, the Baroness von Bandelboots had not the slightest suspicion\nof the calamity which was hanging over herself and her family. She ate,\ndrank, slept, and scolded after her usual fashion, and did not alter her\nbehaviour one whit after the adventure with her waiting-maid, which had\nso painfully affected the latter.\n\nThe young Baron Hubert was but a few months old, and his nurse, Sophie\nGrutchen, had the sole charge of his precious person. His nursery was,\nas luck would have it, on the side of the castle facing the river; but I\napprehend that to demons and creatures of that description the situation\nof the apartment would have made but little difference, and indeed there\nwas the lake to cross in any case.\n\nLate one evening the demon set out to fulfil his promise. He swam the\nlake, climbed the wall of the castle, entered the room in which the\nyoung Baron slept by the window, and, during the scarcely more than\nmomentary absence of the nurse, abstracted the baby from his cot,\ndeposited therein an elfin child of the same size, and departed with the\nreal baby by the same way he had come.\n\nNow, the little Baron had, from his first entrance into the world, been\ndistinguished by his remarkably docile and tractable nature. He rarely\ncried, never fretted, and was, in consequence, a general pet, so far as\nsuch a term can be applied to an infant of such tender age. Within an\nhour or two, however, after the occurrence which I have just related,\nMother Grutchen began to find {064}her charge less quiet and more\ntroublesome than had previously been the case. She forthwith reported\nthe fact to the Baroness, who, however, took her to task sharply for the\nsame, saying that it was all fancy, and that the dear child was a little\nangel. This the poor nurse by no means wished to deny, but it entered\nher head that there were different kinds of angels, and that vowed\n{065}and declared that this was not the right child.\n\n[Illustration: 077]\n\nThis was an unpleasant and curious exclamation, and put Mother Grutchen\nin a terrible flurry. She owned that she thought the young Baron looked\nrather queer, but remarked that babies varied considerably from time to\ntime; and, moreover, that as she had scarcely had him out of her sight\nsince the day he was born, he could not by any possibility be anything\nelse than the young Baron. Still the Baroness held to her opinion, and\neven some of these might occasionally be troublesome. She determined\nfaithfully to do her duty by the child nevertheless, and to make no more\ncomplaints to her mistress. The latter was not slow, however, to find\nout that something was amiss with the infant. The very next morning,\nwhen it was brought to her, she looked at it with a strange and startled\nexpression, and declared that it was not her child.\n\nUpon this the Baron was appealed to at once. He, poor man, was terribly\nannoyed at being asked the question. Proud as he had been from the first\nof his infant son, he was one of those who held the theory that all\nbabies are, up to a certain age, very much alike, and was positively\nquite incapable of pronouncing upon the identity of his own child. He\nput on his large gold-rimmed spectacles, stared vacantly down upon the\ninfant, and said several things which had nothing whatever to do with\nthe question.\n\nThis put the Baroness in a passion, which by no means mended matters\nat all, and there seemed every probability of a general row. But\nMartha Scweinvolt, who had been hovering about the door, waiting to be\nsummoned, now found an excuse for entering the room, and so strongly\nexpressed her decided belief and conviction that the child was the right\nchild, and none other, that the good nurse felt her own opinion coming\nmore strongly to the same conclusion. The Baron, for very peace and\nquietness, agreed with the two servants; and the Baroness, finding them\nall against her, had a regular good scold all round, and said no more\nabout it.\n\nThus it came to pass, Brother Thames, that the child Hubert was carried\noff by the water-demon, and a wretched little changeling put in his\nplace and accepted as the young heir. It was not long before his evil\npropensities began to develop themselves. He could scarcely walk alone\nbefore he was in mischief, and, indeed, long before this time he knocked\nover his mother\u2019s morning cup of tea whenever he could manage to do so\nin {066}his early visits to her bed, and scratched the Baron\u2019s face, as\nhe lay asleep, with a tiny fist which seemed hardly capable of hurting\nso much as it did.\n\nHe grew fast for a short time, and then remained as if he would never\ngrow any bigger. But his appetite was more like that of a full-grown\nman, nor was he particular where or what he ate. At breakfast he would\nfinish off a huge bowl of porridge, and make his old nurse tilt over\nthe bowl so that he might lick off the last drop from the edge. He\nwould clutch at everything on the dining-room table if brought in\nduring meals, and roar and cry loudly if the things he wanted were not\nimmediately given to him.\n\nAs he grew older, his conduct by no means improved. Not only was he\nabominably rude to his supposed father and mother, but he took every\nopportunity of endeavouring to make them fall out. He would, with an\nutter disregard of truth, but with a wonderful air of innocence, tell\nthe Baroness how he had heard the Baron say she had a bad temper, and\nwas a disagreeable woman; whilst he would tell the Baron, as an affair\nof everyday occurrence, that his wife spoke of him as a lazy sot,\nwho was no companion whatever to her, and spent his life in eating,\ndrinking, and smoking.\n\nThese little things were scarcely calculated to improve the happiness\nof the worthy couple, but this was by no means the only channel through\nwhich the little wretch poured discomfort upon the household. He\nset everybody by the ears whenever he could, and showed an utter\nheartlessness of character, coupled with a reckless depravity of\ndisposition, which was perfectly horrible. He roared with laughter on\nbeing told of any misfortune having {067}happened to another person, and\nscowled sulkily when any one fell in with a piece of good luck. Crushing\nflies on the windows was one of his earliest amusements, and when this\nhad become monotonous, he used to torture any animal he could get hold\nof with a cruelty beyond belief.\n\n[Illustration: 080]\n\nHe would stick pins in his pony\u2019s neck to {068}make it dance, as he\nsaid, and indulge in screams of laughter at its suffering. He snipped\noff his dog\u2019s ears with a sharp pair of scissors, put the house-cat into\nthe copper full of boiling water until its yells brought the cook to\nsave it, and loved better than anything to get hold of some of the\nskewers out of the kitchen, in order to impale upon them any unfortunate\nmouse which he could find in the traps.\n\nIf any visitor came to the castle, he was fortunate indeed if he escaped\nunhurt. The little wretch began upon him as soon as he entered the\nhouse, creeping slyly behind him in order to cut off the buttons of his\ncoat, give him a cruel pinch when least expected, and even sometimes\nwent the length of running a pin into his leg. And when the unhappy\ngentleman rose to depart, if he did not find his coat-tails tied fast to\nthe chair, ten to one but he was tripped up, as he ran down the stairs,\nby a thin but strong string, tied ankle-high by the young Baron about\nhalf-way down, nearly sure to produce a most awkward fall, the annoyance\nof which was increased by the triumphant and insulting chuckle of the\nlittle villain, who, perched on the highest step, or peeping through the\nbanisters above, would watch with eager delight to witness the effects\nof his wicked trick.\n\nIt is not surprising that the young rascal was cordially detested\nthroughout the whole household. Indeed, they had small cause to do\nanything else but detest him. There was no trouble he did not give\nthe servants, and no trick which he did not play them. If he met the\nhousemaids on the stairs or in the passages he invariably blew out their\ncandles, or ran hastily against them, as if {069}by accident, so as if\npossible to make them drop any tray or jug they might be carrying. He\nrang the bell constantly for nothing, and pointed and laughed at the\nfootman who came hurrying to answer it. He turned the lamp-oil into the\nsoup just as the cook was about to send it up for the Baron\u2019s dinner,\nput a quantity of vinegar into the beer which the butler had carefully\ndrawn for the \u201chall\u201d supper, and smeared the groom of the chamber\u2019s\nchair in \u201cthe room\u201d so thickly with bird-lime, that the respected\nindividual in question had the greatest difficulty in ever getting out\nof it again. In short, he became the torment of the house, and everybody\nwished most devoutly that he had never been born.\n\nThe only consolation was that, somehow or other, he selected Martha\nScweinvolt as his principal victim. That woman\u2019s life became a burden to\nher. Her thimble was constantly missing, and, when put on hastily, was\nmore than once full of tar or glue, cunningly placed therein by the\nmalicious urchin. \u201cBooby-traps\u201d were constantly set for her, in the\nshape of heavy books or jugs of water skilfully balanced on the top of\nthe door of the Baroness\u2019s room, which was then left just ajar, and\nthe bell hastily rung, so that, coming down-stairs and entering the\napartment in a hurry, she was sure to get the benefit of the jug or\nbooks upon her devoted head. These tricks, however, were by no means\nhis worst. The supposed young Baron, in his visits to the housekeeper\u2019s\nroom, never missed the chance of paying attention to Martha\u2019s comfort\nafter his own peculiar fashion. He put salt in her beer when her\nhead was turned; slyly inserted needles in her bread, which more than\n{070}once proved nearly fatal to the woman; and upon one occasion\ndoctored her tea with some drugs which he had abstracted from his\nmother\u2019s medicine-chest, and which produced serious and most unpleasant\nresults. Not content with these practical jokes, the urchin never spared\nthe feelings of anybody, and Martha was oftentimes almost goaded\nto madness by his insulting remarks upon her personal appearance,\ndisposition, and situation in life. As time went on, matters seemed to\nget rather worse than better, and the wretched woman experienced to her\ncost that revenge, sweet as it may be, cannot be purchased without a\nheavy sacrifice.\n\nWhile these things were passing in the castle of Bandelboots, the\nquestion may not unnaturally be asked of me what had become of the real\nchild, the unfortunate young Hubert, who had been carried away by the\nriver-demon. It may easily be supposed that his was no pleasant fate.\nFortunately for him, those who had taken him from his happy home had\nno power either to kill or injure him, neither could they alter the\ngoodness of his natural disposition. The latter, however, rendered his\ncondition somewhat more uncomfortable than would otherwise have been the\ncase, for being forced to consort with witches, demons, imps, and other\nlow and disreputable society, he was constantly brought into contact\nwith many things and people most disagreeable and revolting to anything\npure and good. He was obliged to attend the \u201cbad language class\u201d of\nthe water-imps, where prizes were given for swearing and wicked\nconversation; the art of tormenting was taught him by an elderly demon,\nto whom the task was congenial; and general instruction in devilry was\nafforded him {071}by means of public lectures delivered by a spirit\nspecially appointed for the purpose. Such, however, was his natural\ngoodness, that he steadily refused to be perverted, maintaining a\ndignified silence amid the jesting and ribaldry of the imps around, and\ninvariably declining to join in any of their misconduct.\n\nAll that the demons could do, under the circumstances, was to alter,\nwithout permanently injuring, the form with which he had entered the\nworld. This they did by giving to his well-shaped body the appearance of\na round and ill-made bulk, upon which they placed a bullet-head with a\npair of short horns over the forehead, and ornamented it, moreover, with\na long tail and a pair of bat\u2019s wings. Thus being changed into a regular\nlittle devilet, it was marvellous that the boy should have continued to\npreserve the goodness and purity of his disposition. So it was, however;\nand as demons who live by tempting mortals to sin have a very large\nfield over which to practise their skill, and cannot afford to devote to\nany one individual more than a fair share of their attention, they got\ntired after a while of trying it on with the young Baron, and ended\nby leaving him very much to himself. Then it was that the boy found\namusement in flying about along the banks of the river.\n\nBy the mysterious laws of magic, he knew, and yet did not know, the\nmisfortune which had befallen him, and the crime of which he had been\nmade the victim. In other words, he knew that something was as it should\nnot be, and that, somehow or other, he had been cruelly wronged, but\nof the exact nature of the wrong he was as yet ignorant. Still, some\ninstinct led him to the lake in which was situated the island upon which\nstood his father\u2019s {072}castle, and he loved better than anything else\nto fly by night round and round the old place, uttering from time to\ntime mournful cries, which now and then found their way to the ears\nof some of the Baron\u2019s household. Whenever the false heir heard these\nsounds, it was noticed that he, shivered terribly, and crept, groaning\nand growling; under the nearest sofa, or anywhere out of sight.\n\nAnd upon one occasion, when the cry sounded louder and clearer than\nusual, and there came a noise as if a wing--had flapped against window\nof the state-room in which the family were assembled that evening, he\nhowled miserably, the ground, and almost went into convulsions with\nalarm.\n\n[Illustration: 085]\n\nThis behaviour on the part of his supposed son struck the Baron as\nstrange, and was, indeed, the cause of some coldness between him and his\nwife. For, being a man somewhat proud of the chivalry and courage of\nhis high ancestry, this display of cowardice on the part of his\n{073}probable heir and successor greatly irritated the old gentleman,\nand he boldly declared that he was sure it all came from the mother\u2019s\nside. Such an accusation naturally put the Baroness into one of her\npassions, in the course of which she went so far as to pull off her\nhusband\u2019s wig and slap his cheeks. This indignity was one to which the\nBaron could scarcely be expected to submit, and having soundly shaken\nhis respected consort, he left the room in high dudgeon, and took his\nmeals alone for the next three days, which annoyed the Baroness more\nthan anything else, as it left her only her daughters and servants to\nscold, which had become rather insipid. After a while this conduct of\nthe child was set down to constitutional timidity, and the Baron only\nsmiled contemptuously when it was repeated.\n\nSo time wore on, and it really seemed as if there was no reason why the\ntruth should ever be discovered, or the success of Martha Scweinvolt\u2019s\nwicked scheme be otherwise than complete. It was not, however, wholly\nsatisfactory to the waiting-maid herself, for, independently of the\nunpleasant behaviour of the false heir towards her, she had not even the\nsatisfaction of seeing her mistress suffer as she had hoped. So it is\nthat people who consult demons, or, what is nearly as bad, follow the\ndictates of their own evil passions, are generally deceived in the\nresult, and find that the good to themselves which they expected to\nobtain pretty certainly ends in disappointment.\n\nAlthough the Baroness had at first declared that the child brought to\nher by Sophie Grutchen on that eventful morning was not her own, she\nhad become reconciled to the state of things in a marvellously short\n{074}time, fancied that, after all, she must have been under some\ndelusion, and in a very few days took kindly to the infant. As he grew\nup, her fondness for him increased, and, in spite of what has been so\noften said and written about the unfailing instinct of a mother, she\nfirmly believed him to be her own son. Instead, therefore, of her\nheart-strings being wrung, as Martha had charitably hoped would have\nbeen the case, she was by no means unhappy. True it is, she suffered\nsomewhat from the urchin\u2019s behaviour, but, when it did not happen\nto affect her own personal comfort, she took his part against the\ncomplaints of others, stood up for him when the Baron found fault, and\nscarcely ever endeavoured to check him in his mischievous and tormenting\nways.\n\nThus did Martha find that she had brought a plague upon herself without\nreally securing her revenge, and that the only person who had been\npunished was the innocent child against whom she had borne no grudge.\nThis was by no means a pleasant reflection, and in some natures would\nhave produced a repentance for the evil done, and a sincere desire to\nundo it if possible. I regret to be obliged to state that this was by no\nmeans the case with Martha. On the contrary, her desire for revenge was\nunappeased, and the more she discovered that she had failed, the more\nshe resolved that she would, somehow or other, ultimately succeed. With\nthis view, therefore, she once more sought the river side, and summoned\nto her aid her former friend the water-demon.\n\nAs there was nothing attractive in her appearance, or delightful in her\nsociety, the demon, who knew moreover {075}that his hold upon her was\nsufficiently secure to make it a matter of indifference to him whether\nshe committed any more crimes or not, did not come until she had adjured\nhim by many entreaties and employed all the incantations of which\nshe was the mistress. When at last he appeared, he treated her with\ncontemptuous coldness, and derided her complaints that she had not\nenjoyed her promised revenge. In fact he told her, in so many words,\nthat he had fulfilled his part of the bargain, and that she had no\nbusiness to trouble him any more.\n\nMost people would have taken this for a final answer, but Martha was not\ndisposed to be put off after such a fashion. She told the demon that she\nwas quite ready to own that he had done what he had promised, although\nthe result had not been so satisfactory as she had been led to expect.\nShe had, however, another plan, in which she required his assistance,\nand put it plainly to him, as a well-bred devil, whether he could refuse\na lady under the peculiar circumstances of the case. Besides, she said,\nthere would be crime committed by other persons, and possibly misery\nto many, if her plan could be carried out, and these should be powerful\ninducements to any right-minded demon, who understood the interests of\nhis class, to render his willing and active assistance.\n\nHer plan, then, was to stir up the neighbouring peasants and shepherds\nto revolt against the Baron. By constantly dinning into their ears\nstories of the lazy and useless life he led, and the abominable temper\nand tyranny of the Baroness, Martha had little doubt that a spirit of\ndisaffection might be excited among these ignorant {076}people which she\nwould eventually be able to turn to good account. If she could induce\nthem to rise against the Baron, and suddenly attack the castle, she\nwould take good care that the Baroness should not escape; and even if\nthe movement was not successful, she would be able in the confusion to\nwreak her revenge, by dagger or poison, upon her hated mistress. Such an\nattempt, in any case, could not fail to be productive of much evil and\ndiscomfort to one side or the other, and must, therefore, be a scheme\nwhich should at once recommend itself to the individual whom she was\naddressing.\n\nThe demon listened with attention to Martha\u2019s speech, and at its\nconclusion warmly complimented her upon the fertility of her brain,\nand expressed his candid opinion that she deserved to have been a demon\nherself. He owned that he felt bound, as a gentleman and a devil, to\ngive her every assistance in his power, and asked her several questions\nas to the manner in which she thought he could be of most use in\nfurthering her views. The waiting-maid replied that her only fear was\nas to her being able to persuade the people to take her advice and\nrise against the Baron. The old feudal principle still lurked in their\nbreasts, and although they were certainly poor they were tolerably\nhonest, and having been generally treated with kindness by the\ninhabitants of the castle, might possibly be weak enough to entertain\ntowards them sentiments of affection and gratitude.\n\nThe demon, however, who knew better than Martha how little of either of\nthese feelings exists in the heart of man, smiled a contemptuous smile\nat her ignorance of human nature, and told her that she need feel no\nuneasiness {077}upon the point. He added, however, that as she doubted\nher persuasive powers, he would give her such valuable aid as would\nmaterially improve her chances of success. He would forthwith speak to\ntwo highly respectable wehr-wolves of his acquaintance, who would be\nready, for his sake, to accompany her whenever she went out among the\npeasants. By following her closely, these animals would add to the\nestimation in which the ignorant rustics would hold her, and although\nthey would not speak when she was in the company of other mortals, they\nwould give her many private hints which she would find immeasurably\nuseful in persuading those with whom she would have to do.\n\nMuch gratified by this assurance, Martha wended her way homewards in\nbetter spirits than she had enjoyed for some time past, and was even\nable to smile contemptuously when she found that the young Baron had\ntaken the opportunity of her absence to put a hedgehog in her bed, and\nempty a bottle of castor oil into her best Sunday boots. She lost no\ntime in commencing operations, and almost every afternoon walked out\ninto the country to spread disaffection among the people.\n\nAt first, it is true, she was rather frightened at the appearance of the\nwehr-wolves, whom the demon had been as good as his word in sending to\nmeet her. They always waited for her at the corner of a neighbouring\nwood, and accompanied her to the cottages of the peasants. After a short\ntime she began to hold small meetings of the latter, at which she held\nforth concerning the wrongs they suffered at the hands of the Baron: how\nshameful it was that _he_ should be so rich and _they_ so poor, and how\none man was just as good as another.\n\nShe {078}always took care to wind up by attributing much of their\nparticular miseries to the bad influence of the Baroness, whom she\ndenounced as an upholder of everything bad, a cruel tyrant in her\nhousehold, and altogether a monster of iniquity. As she lectured in this\nway, one of the wehr-wolves generally sat just behind her and the other\nat the other end of the room, and the presence of these animals made a\nvast impression upon the ignorant peasants. In this manner, little by\nlittle, the wicked Martha obtained considerable influence over the poor\npeople, who became gradually more and more moody and discontented, until\nat last they really came to look upon the Baron as a hateful tyrant, and\nregarded the Baroness as a monster in human form.\n\n[Illustration: 091]\n\nWhile all these things were going on, you must not suppose, Brother\nThames, that evil was allowed to enjoy an uninterrupted triumph in\nRhineland. I am glad to be able to say that such has never been the\ncase for long; and that although my stream has always been more or\nless troubled by demons, imps, devilets, and water-rats {079}(which are\nnearly as bad), it has never been without a redeeming element in the\nshape of good fairies, nymphs, and an occasional stray mermaid, come up\nfrom the sea for change of air and scenery. These creatures have, from\ntime to time, performed many acts of kindness to mankind, and when the\npowers of evil have proved too strong for them for a time, they have now\nand then requested me to interfere.\n\nIn the present instance a strong deputation of nymphs waited upon me,\nand brought before me a particular part of the case which I am now about\nto enter upon. Among those persons who were most greatly plagued by the\nfalse heir, were his three supposed sisters, the elder children of the\nBaron and Baroness von Bandelboots. These young ladies were endowed\nwith considerable personal attractions, and were girls of whom a brother\nmight well have been proud. Dora, Bertha, and Elladine were the names of\nthe three, and up to the time of the changing of the children they\nhad lived lives as happy and contented as was compatible with the\never-varying temper of their worthy mother. They were quite young,\nindeed, when the event occurred which so destroyed the comfort of the\nBandelboots household, and at the time at which I have now arrived in my\nnarration were just budding into womanhood, three as fair flowers as you\nwould wish to see. Their young devilet of a brother, or rather he who\nwas supposed to be their brother, contrived to make their existence\nperfectly miserable; and as the Baroness invariably took his part\nagainst them, their lives at last became positively unendurable.\n\nIt was not only that a chignon was constantly hidden or {080}stolen just\nwhen it was wanted, stays were mysteriously cut, gloves spoiled, best\nbonnets crammed up the chimney, and best boots deposited in the bath.\nThese discomforts were unpleasant enough, but the little wretch went far\nbeyond them. He pinched and nipped the poor girls whenever he met them,\ntrod on their toes suddenly, drew away their chairs just as they were\nabout to sit down, and put rhubarb and magnesia into their five o\u2019clock\ntea. Moreover, he carried all kinds of tales about them to the Baroness,\nand told falsehood upon falsehood for the mere purpose of getting them\ninto disgrace. Then, when the Baroness inflicted punishment upon them,\nhe would jeer and taunt and tease the poor girls, rendering it doubly\ndisagreeable by his ill-natured and malicious joy. Nothing delighted\nhim so much as to see others suffer, and it seemed as if he lived\nfor nothing else save to procure as much misery as possible for his\nneighbours.\n\nThis state of things gradually drove Dora, Bertha, and Elladine to\ndesperation; and, after many plans and consultations, they determined to\nseek advice from some of the good spirits of my river. As it happened,\nhowever, that, although they are very willing to give good advice and to\nassist mortals whenever they can, my nymphs and fairies are restrained\nby etiquette from active interference with the demons in those parts\nof the river especially appropriated to the latter, the good creatures\nthought it better to bring the matter before me; and on being consulted\nby the young ladies, the nymph who saw them upon the subject told them\nto come again at a certain time, before which she waited upon me, as I\nhave said, with a deputation.\n\nWhen {081}the case had been fairly represented to me, I saw at once that\nit was one in which something should be done, and I accordingly promised\nthat if the three young persons would bathe together at a certain spot\non the following morning, I would present myself before them and hear\ntheir story.\n\n[Illustration: 094]\n\nThe time came, and I can assure you, Brother Thames, that in order to\ninspire confidence in the breasts of the maidens, I made my appearance\nas venerable as I could previous to my appearance before their\nastonished eyes.\n\nThe {082}sweet creatures stood in the water clinging fondly to each\nother, as they implored my assistance; and whilst I listened to their\nartless tale of woe, I leaned my head upon my hand, and pondered deeply\nover the best course to be taken in order to afford them that assistance\nwhich I at once determined to render.\n\nI was not long in making up my mind, and in resolving that the demons\nshould not be allowed to have things all their own way. However, as you\nknow very well, the laws of magic must not be broken, and it would never\nhave done for me to have rudely and suddenly exercised my superior power\nin order to set matters right in the castle of Bandelboots. All I could\nfairly do was to put mortals in the way of helping themselves, at the\nsame time interfering, if need should arise, with just as much exercise\nof power as might be necessary. So, having spoken words of comfort\nto the three girls, I told them to go home and try and bear their\nmisfortunes for three days more, and at the end of that time, if matters\nwere no better, they might again pay me a visit.\n\nThere was, as you may suppose, no improvement in their condition during\nthe appointed time. In fact, their supposed brother was, if possible,\nrather worse than ever. He cut off a great bit of Bertha\u2019s back hair,\nstole up behind Elladine and boxed her ears violently, and finished up\nby giving Dora\u2019s pet canary to the cat, which he afterwards hung, as he\nsaid, for the murder. It was no matter of surprise to me, then, when\nthe three maidens again presented themselves before me, weeping bitterly\nover their many misfortunes and sorrows.\n\nI no longer hesitated as to the course which I should pursue, {083}but\nimmediately changed the sisters into three magnificent swans, desiring\nthem to frequent as much as possible the lake on which their father\u2019s\ncastle stood. This course, as you will readily perceive, had a double\neffect of a most useful character. For one thing, it of course showed\nthe inhabitants of the castle that something was wrong, and aroused\nboth the Baron and Baroness to exertions for the recovery of their lost\ndaughters which would very likely result in their finding out from\nthe powers of magic something, as the lawyers say, \u201cvery much to their\nadvantage.\u201d But above and beyond this was the circumstance that, as\nswans are gifted with the miraculous power of seeing through magical\ndisguises, the young ladies would be perfectly certain to encounter and\nrecognise their real brother in some of his flittings over the lake, and\nthus would eventually be brought about the consummation so devoutly to\nbe desired.\n\nYou may well believe that the disappearance of the three girls plunged\nthe castle into the direst confusion. No one could imagine where they\nhad gone to, and all kinds of surmises were afloat. The Baron smoked\ntwice as many pipes as usual; the Baroness flew into a more violent\npassion than had been the case for a month before; poor old nurse\nGrutchen wept bitterly; Martha Scweinvolt seemed to have more vinegar\nthan ever in her countenance; and the false heir ran about teasing and\nworrying everybody twice as much as usual, and was apparently in the\nhighest possible spirits at the loss of his sisters. Every hole and\ncorner of the castle was searched, the river was dragged, the crier\nwas sent through the straggling hamlets of the neighbourhood, special\n{084}messengers were despatched in every direction, but it is needless\nto say that no success attended any of these proceedings.\n\n[Illustration: 097].\n\nAnd the stately swans swam all the time around the ancient walls of\ntheir ancestral home, and floated upon the waters of the lake they knew\nso well, thankful for the peace and rest which they at last enjoyed,\nand caressing each other with the tender love of creatures who knew\nthat upon their mutual love and sympathy depended the whole comfort and\nhappiness of their lives. Nor indeed were they long left in ignorance of\nthe truth as to their unhappy brother. Scarcely had they been two days\nupon the old lake, before the transformed child came flying up from the\nriver to take his mournful look at the home from which he had been so\ncruelly ravished. As he flew low over the waters he passed close to the\nthree lovely swans, and they, casting their eyes upon him as they\nsat mournfully watching, recognised their brother at once through the\nhideous disguise {085}he wore, and called him to them with loud cries of\njoy.\n\nThe bat-boy paused in his flight, hovered for a moment near to the noble\nbirds, and then, as he heard them speak, the whole of his sad story came\nback to him, the memories of his first few months upon earth as a mortal\nchild were stirred in his bosom, and he knew clearly and fully his true\nnature and origin, and the cruel wrongs he had endured at the hands of\nthe treacherous waiting-maid and her wicked ally the river-demon. As\nsoon as he had fully realised the truth, the boy tenderly embraced\nhis swan-sisters, and the four wept together over the sorrows of their\nfamily. Being well aware, however, that weeping would be of very little\nservice unless followed by active measures, they discontinued that\namusing pastime after a while, and consulted together as to the best\ncourse to be pursued.\n\nAlthough comparatively happy in their new shape, the sisters readily\nconfessed that they should infinitely prefer to resume their human\nbodies, provided that they could be assured of being able to live\nquietly and comfortably, and of being no longer troubled with the malice\nof the devilet heir. The youthful Hubert had of course no affection\nwhatever for the form to which he had been condemned, and therefore the\nobject of the four was clear enough, namely, to return to their natural\nshapes as soon as possible under more favourable conditions than those\nin which they had left them. The question was as to the wisest and best\nmeans of securing this desirable object, and here the magic knowledge\ngenerally possessed by swans came to their assistance.\n\nThey {086}knew full well that their brother could never become his\nformer self until the devilet who now possessed his shape and claimed\nrights which were his should be compelled to abandon both. They knew,\nmoreover, that to bring this about would be a work requiring caution,\nsince the river-demon was powerful and cunning enough to counteract all\ntheir efforts unless they could contrive to outwit him. It was, however,\nrevealed to the sisters that there was one way in which this might\nbe done, and by which the retransformation of their brother might be\neffected, and the false heir be obliged to return to him that sent him.\n\nThere lived far up in the great mountains, which could be seen in the\ndistance from the castle windows, a being endowed with wondrous powers.\nHe was commonly known by the name of the Harper, and a strange fellow\nhe certainly was. No one quite knew whether he was merely mortal or\nsomething more. All that was certain was, that he lived the life of a\nhermit, was by no means particular in his dress or remarkably clean\nin his appearance, and wore a flat hat with ivy and oak leaves\nwoven together on the crown. His harp was of the rudest and simplest\ncharacter, but it had such extraordinary virtue that if he played it,\naccompanying himself while he sang or chanted to its tune, everybody and\neverything seemed obliged to yield to its magic powers. The sisters\nof Bandelboots knew full well that if this individual\u2019s aid could be\nsecured things would be pretty sure to go right, and therefore made up\ntheir minds to seek it without delay.\n\nThat night nothing could be done; the swans brooded quietly on the lake,\nand their brother flitted mournfully round {087}the castle, uttering\nhis melancholy cries, and hovering close to the windows of the home that\nshould have been his. But early next morning the three swans rose from\nthe water and took their flight towards the great mountains. Upwards\nand upwards they flew, pausing not for one moment\u2019s rest, until they had\ncrossed the river, passed over the large forest beyond, and reached the\nsteep rocks and crags amid which the Harper had his home. There was snow\non the heights, and the poor birds felt the chill strike through their\nwarm plumage to their tender breasts as they flew higher and higher.\nSuddenly they came to a small grove of trees which grew on a platform\nof flat land, which was curiously placed just beneath one of the highest\ncrags. At the extremity of this was a cave hollowed out in the rock,\nand in this cave dwelt the worthy Harper, only coming forth to the world\nbelow when specially summoned for some purpose beneficial to weak and\nsuffering humanity.\n\nAlighting at the mouth of the cave, the three sisters began to sing\ntheir sweetest song, which not unnaturally brought the owner of the\ncave out to see what was the matter. This his knowledge of magic soon\nenabled him to ascertain, and it is hardly necessary that I should\ngive you the details of the interview. Suffice it to say that when they\nparted the worthy old gentleman nodded his head and winked his eyes\nknowingly at the young ladies, as much as to assure them that it\nwould be \u201call right,\u201d and that the three swans flew back to the lake\nexceedingly well satisfied with the result of their expedition.\n\nMeanwhile, Martha Scweinvolt had very nearly brought {088}her plans to\nmaturity. The peasantry had become thoroughly discontented, and were\nprepared to take action against the family whom they had been taught\nto regard as their oppressors. Martha\u2019s desire was that they should\nsurprise the castle by a sudden assault, she on her part undertaking\nthat one of the gates should be unfastened when they arrived, and only\nstipulating that, if success attended their attempt, the Baroness should\nbe delivered up to her mercy. The chief difficulty was in the means\nof transit, for the castle, being upon an island, could not easily be\nattacked except the latter were first reached by its assailants.\n\nAt one side the island was very near the mainland, from which a strip of\nland jutted out into the lake, and a large wooden bridge connected the\ntwo. This was the ordinary means of approach; and as a strong gate was\nplaced at the island end of the bridge, over which a sentinel always\nwatched, it was not very easy for any considerable body of men to cross\nover without their coming being made known to the inhabitants of the\ncastle. Martha, however, was equal to the occasion. She managed to make\nfriends with the sentinel on the night for which the attack was planned,\nand having induced him to abandon his post for a time, gave him a cup of\ntea so well drugged that he was quite unable to return there. The\neffect upon this man, I may here mention, was a melancholy one. From\nthenceforth he eschewed tea for ever, and took to drinking ale and\nspirits for the rest of his life, which should be a warning to all\npersons to take care what they put into their tea, and by whom they\nallow themselves to be tempted to partake of that usually refreshing\nbeverage.\n\nHaving {089}thus obtained possession of the key, Martha stole out and\nunlocked the bridge-gate, and returned to the castle delighted with her\nsuccess. Once on the little island, the invaders of the castle would\nhave little difficulty. The drawbridge was left down, the doors\ngenerally left open, and such was the security of the Baron in\nthose peaceful days, that no precautions, further than guarding the\nbridge-gate, were ever taken against surprise. Besides the servants,\nthere were not above five-and-twenty men-at-arms in the castle; and as\nseveral hundred peasants were likely to attack, there could be little\ndoubt of the result, provided always that the surprise was as complete\nas Martha intended.\n\nThe night was clear and moonlight when the attacking party drew near.\nThey were a strange-looking body of men, rudely and poorly clad, and\narmed with weapons of a varied and curious character. Some had clubs,\nsome stakes sharpened at the points, some knives, daggers, and oddly\nfashioned swords, whilst not a few had only spades or prongs, and some\nappeared unprovided with any weapons save those which nature had given\nthem. They crossed the bridge without opposition, found to their delight\nthat the gate was open, passed quietly through it, and got safely upon\nthe island. They advanced to the drawbridge, crossed it, and had nothing\nto do but to enter the doors beyond, and find themselves inside the\ncastle.\n\nThe family had passed a somewhat unpleasant day. The Baron had taken\ndeeply to heart the loss of his daughters, of whom he had become more\nthan usually fond since his supposed son had shown himself of such\na disagreeable character. The latter had been that day more\n{090}mischievous and troublesome than ever: as the Baroness had a\nheadache, he had amused himself with making as much noise as he possibly\ncould, and had, moreover, indulged his passion for practical jokes\nby putting live toads into the maid-servants\u2019 beds, and turning the\nink-bottle into the Baron\u2019s after-dinner decanter of port wine. The\nhousehold not having been rendered more comfortable or harmonious by\nthese innocent pastimes of the pretended Hubert, were about to retire\nto rest, when the sudden arrival of the insurgent peasants gave them\nsomething else to think of.\n\nAs soon as they were well inside the doors, the attacking party kept\nsilence no longer, but, with loud shouts, began their work of plunder.\nThe defenders of the castle were really so completely surprised, that\nresistance was almost impossible. The trembling servants hid themselves\nwherever they could--the groom of the chamber shutting himself up\nsecurely in the housemaid\u2019s closet, the housekeeper flying instantly\nto the butler\u2019s pantry, and the latter functionary betaking himself\nimmediately to the beer-cellar, from which he was with difficulty\ndragged when the affair was over, but was never the same man afterwards.\nThe men-at-arms, I am sorry to say, did but little better. Utterly\nbewildered at the whole business, they made no attempt at resistance\nuntil it was too late, and within a very short time the castle was in\nthe hands of the invaders.\n\nAs soon as the Baron heard the first outcry he rang the bell loudly,\nand, as nobody answered, presently repeated the performance, with a\nprecisely similar result. He had been just about to retire to rest, but\nfinding that the {091}uproar increased, and that something serious had\ncertainly happened, he desisted from the act of pulling off his boots,\nseized his sword, and rushed down into the large state-room, where he\nwas presently joined by some eight or ten of the men-at-arms and two or\nthree of the household servants. As soon as he found that the castle\nhad been attacked, and was actually in possession of an enemy, the Baron\ngnashed his teeth with rage at having been thus caught unprepared; but,\nbeing a man of courage, despite his natural laziness, determined to sell\nhis life dearly at the least. He and his few retainers had just time\nto barricade the door at one end of the room, and place the large\nlibrary-table and some other articles of furniture in such a position\nas to give them a better chance of self-defence if attacked by numbers,\nwhen the doors at the other end of the room were thrown violently open,\nand a crowd of peasants rushed in, yelling and bawling in loud and\ndiscordant tones as they advanced towards the master of the castle. It\nwas at this moment that the old blood of the Bandelboots showed itself\nto advantage. The Baron displayed no signs of fear, but, drawing himself\nup to his full height (which, being barely four feet six inches, was of\nitself not imposing), and violently stamping his foot upon the floor, he\nthus addressed the intruders:--\n\n\u201cHow now, varlets! Whence and for what object come ye here? How do ye\ndare, ye scum of the earth, to enter your Baron\u2019s castle and beard a\nBandelboots in his lair?\u201d\n\nThen stepped there forth a tattered, ragged, famished-looking man, well\nknown in those parts by the name of Crazy Timothy; his eyes were wild\nand staring, his dress {092}torn, and his whole appearance seemed amply\nto justify his nickname.\n\n[Illustration: 105]\n\n\u201cWe want our rights!\u201d he cried in a loud voice. \u201cWhat is a Bandelboots\nto us more than anybody else? We are starving, whilst you and your vile\nBaroness revel in plenty. Give us our rights--these are the days when\nthe poor are as good as the rich! No more starvation for the poor\npeasant! Give us our rights!\u201d\n\nAnd thereupon the whole crew took up the chorus. \u201cOur rights! our\nrights!--give us our rights!\u201d and made as though they would advance upon\nthe old Baron. The latter quailed not for a moment, but, curling his\nlips scornfully, thus made reply:--\n\n\u201cRights? But what are they? Is it your rights to enter a peaceful\ndwelling and rob its owner? If these are your rights, why are they\n_yours_ more than the rights of all the rest of the world? What better\ntitle have you to your homes than I to mine? And if you may enter and\nrob my castle, what protection has any one of you for his own cottage,\nwhich some one may say it is _his_ right to enter and destroy? Poor\nchurls! ye are deceived, and will but bring ruin upon yourselves. Retire\nbefore it is too late, and ye shall yet be pardoned!\u201d Whatever might\nhave been the Baron\u2019s intention in uttering {093}these words, I am sorry\nto say that they had no conciliatory effect upon those to whom they were\naddressed. Shouting aloud and brandishing their weapons, they were about\nto advance upon the venerable nobleman, when, from a side door, some\nnew personages suddenly appeared upon the scene. Pushed along in a chair\nupon wheels, to which she was securely bound, came the Baroness, in the\ncustody of several peasants, who were under the more immediate guidance\nand control of Martha Scweinvolt. The latter, with a face beaming with\ndelight, followed triumphantly behind, whilst the false heir, weeping\nand howling piteously, trotted by the side of the chair, driven forward\nby the peasants who ushered the Baroness into the room.\n\nThe poor Baroness presented a spectacle sad indeed to behold. She was in\na towering rage, but at the same time perfectly helpless, and foamed at\nthe mouth with fury as she strove in vain to get loose from the cords\nwith which she was tied.\n\nWhen these new arrivals had advanced into the room between the Baron and\nthe peasants, there was a momentary pause, during which Martha stepped\nin front of the chair upon which the poor Baroness was fastened, and,\npointing at her with outstretched arm and scornful gesture, addressed\nthe peasants in these words:--\n\n\u201cHere she is, good people; here is the source of all your ills--the\ncause of all your woes! The poor fool of a Baron would do no harm but\nfor this vile woman. See what a passion she is in now! This is her usual\ntemper; and no wonder she is such a tyrant, and makes her husband the\nsame!\u201d\n\nAt {094}this point the Baroness broke in, having previously-vented her\nrage in sobs and incoherent shrieks. \u201cLet me loose! let me loose!\u201d\n she cried. \u201cYou riff-raff--you vagabonds--you traitors--let me loose\ndirectly! This wretched creature has deceived you all; she is a\nworthless, good-for-nothing hussy. Let me loose, or I vow you shall all\nbe hanged!\u201d And the Baroness shrieked for fury again, her temper being\nby no means improved by the false heir, who, despite all his fears for\nhimself, seeing her securely tied, could not resist the temptation of\ngiving her a fearful pinch in the fleshy part of the arm, for which a\npeasant instantly knocked him down.\n\nBefore Martha could speak again, the Baron, who was a good old chap in\nthe main, roared out aloud: \u201cBy my grandfather\u2019s monument!\u201d cried he (an\noath all the more terrible from the edifice in question being well known\nto be the largest and ugliest of its kind for miles around); \u201cthis is\npast all bearing! Knaves! will ye list to the falsehoods of this base\nharridan, who has eaten our salt for years, and now wags her evil tongue\nagainst a kind, though perhaps somewhat hasty, mistress? Never has the\nBaroness said a word against one of ye. _My_ faults, whatever they be,\nare mine own, and for them _I_ will answer. But what has the Baroness\ndone? Who sends ye alms and food when sickness is amongst ye? Who helps\nyour wives and children when trouble is in your homes? Who but the\nBaroness? And is _this_ your gratitude?\u201d\n\nThere was some truth in what the Baron now said, for his wife was by no\nmeans unkind to the poor, nor would they have readily turned against her\nbut for the wiles {095}of Martha, assisted by the magical powers of the\nwehr-wolves. But Martha knew too well to let the Baron continue. She\nbroke in upon his discourse with her shrill, sharp voice: \u201cHear the good\nman, my friends; he is right to stand up for his wife, no doubt, but he\nknows well that he is false to the truth. She is a wretch, a tyrant,\na termagant! Yes, Madam the Baroness,\u201d she continued, coming close in\nfront of the chair, and approaching her face much nearer to that of the\npoor lady than the latter deemed at all pleasant--\u201cyes, your reign is at\nan end--do you hear, you old fright? Your back hair shall be pulled out;\nthough, as it is nearly all false, it will cause you but little pain.\nYour nose shall be wrung!--your ears shall be slit!--and you shall serve\n_me_--do you hear? Oh, _you\u2019re_ a pretty one to box a person\u2019s ears.\nI\u2019ll pay you out _now_ for _that_, I\u2019ll warrant me!\u201d And as she spoke\nshe lifted up her arm, about to give the Baroness a box on the ears\nwith her full force. But in the very act she paused--stopped--and stood\ntrembling and irresolute, as if suddenly arrested by some superior\npower.\n\nAt the same moment, and apparently by the same influence, the peasants\none and all felt themselves restrained from moving forwards, the\nBaroness ceased to scream, and a dead silence fell upon the whole of\nthe party, whilst, with a low and miserable moan, the false heir crept\nbehind the coal-scuttle, and crouched himself down within as small a\ncompass as possible. The whole of this marvellous effect had apparently\nbeen produced by a very trifling cause. The low, tinkling sound of a\nharp was heard, and those who looked round in the right direction saw,\nstanding in the embrasure of one {096}of the windows which looked\nout upon the lake, an old man of by no means noble or prepossessing\nexterior, with a leaf-crowned hat upon his head, and a harp of very\nsimple construction in his hands, from the strings of which he elicited\nthe sound they had heard, to which he now added that of his own\nvoice. And thus he sang, in a dull, monotonous tone, to the astonished\naudience:--\n\n          \u201cWhoever murders, robs, and loots,\n               Within these walls of Bandelboots,\n          Must hear his doom and take his choice,\n               Instructed by the Harper\u2019s voice.\n\n          Ye men of form and manners rough,\n               Old Bandelboots has woes enough,\n          The which when ye have heard and known\n               You\u2019ll leave the worthy man alone.\n\n          To you and yours he\u2019s done no harm,\n               But, subject to a potent charm,\n          Has suffered woes, by demon sent,\n               Enough to make your hearts relent.\n\n          T\u2019 expose the wickedness be mine\n               (In spite of demons of the Rhine),\n          And ye who list shall know ere long\n               The truth and justice of my song.\n\n          There was an infant once, who smiled\n               On those around like angel child;\n          A child of soul and temper rare--\n               Of Bandelboots the precious heir.\n\n          Where now that child is to be found,\n               Who knows? I pause, and look around,\n          And ask if this description suits\n               The present heir of Bandelboots?\n\n          What is that wretched changeling worth?\n               Come forth, vile elf, at once come forth!\u201d\n\nHere the stranger paused, and, to the wonder and surprise of all those\nwho heard and saw, the supposed young heir crept moaning and whining\nfrom behind the coal-scuttle, and shambled across the room towards the\nwindow {097}at which the old harper was standing. As he did so, the\nstrange bard continued his song,--\n\n          \u201cForm of boy, with heart of ape,\n               Resume at once thy former shape!\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, a strange transformation came at once over the wretched\nimp. His boyish shape disappeared; a tail shot out where tails usually\ngrow; the wings of a bat sprang upon his shoulders; his form became ugly\nand misshapen, and he stood before them all a regular devilet, and no\nmistake! At the very same instant the window behind the harper flew open\nas if by magic, and in flew a figure similar to that before them, from\nwhich, however, the wings and tail dropped, the evil shape disappeared,\nand a handsome, well-proportioned boy, with a remarkably sweet\nexpression upon his countenance, stood before the astonished party.\n\n[Illustration: 110]\n\nIn an instant a shriek of joy was heard from the corner in which some\nof the trembling servants were assembled, and old nurse Grutchen rushed\nforward and threw herself upon the boy\u2019s neck with a burst of mingled\nsobs and laughter. \u201cMy pet! my darling! my child!\u201d she cried. \u201cIt _is_\nyou! I know it is you! Come to old Sophie then, my pearl of the world;\u201d\n and again she shrieked with joy.\n\nMore {098}wonders followed before any of the audience had recovered from\ntheir astonishment at what had already occurred. With a yell and a\nhowl the devilet flew towards the window, his passage through which was\nmightily assisted by a hearty kick from the old harper, and he was seen\nno more. Scarcely, however, had he left the scene when the rushing of\nwings was heard, and three magnificent swans sailed through the window\nand alighted in the room, exactly in front of the old harper, to whom\nthey looked up with longing and affectionate glances. The worthy man at\nonce struck his harp again, and sang as follows:--\n\n          \u201cOld Bandelboots, as well ye wot,\n               Had once three lovely daughters,\n          For whom the place became too hot,\n               Through imps from river waters.\n\n          Then the Rhine King (a wondrous thing,\n               Which needs some explanation)\n          His aid did to the maidens bring,\n               Gave each Swan\u2019s plumage, neck, and wing,\n          And caused their transformation.\n\n          Now here the three together be\n               (Performed their destined duties),\n          And I decree they shall be free\n               Once more. Arise, my beauties!\u201d\n\nAs he ceased speaking the feathers fell off from the three swans, their\nbeaks changed into beautiful noses, their forms became those of lovely\nyoung ladies, and Dora, Bertha, and Elladine once more stood in their\nproper shapes before their surprised and delighted parents.\n\nWhilst this had been going on, the youthful Hubert, making one bound\nforward, sprang to his mother\u2019s chair, and, seizing a dagger from the\nhand of a bewildered {099}peasant, set her free in an instant. Upon this\nthe Baroness, overcome by mingled emotions of joy and wonder, wept upon\nher boy\u2019s neck, and the old harper thus continued, addressing himself\nemphatically to the crowd of peasants before him:--\n\n          \u201cPoor knaves! who quake and shake with fear,\n               O\u2019erwhelmed with terror and with shame,\n          The powers of evil lured ye here:\n               Theirs and not yours, the chiefest blame.\n\n          Hence! fly! be off! your injured lord\n               For this day\u2019s work will pardon give:\n          For him I speak this kindly word:,\n               To-day he knows his children live.\n\n          Begone, I say! and, as to wrongs,\n               Yours are but small; the fiends beshrew ye.\n          If e\u2019er ye listen to false tongues\n               Which lie about your masters to ye!\n\n          Be each contented with his lot--\n               Both rich and poor this world containeth;\n          But let this truth be ne\u2019er forgot--\n               O\u2019er rich and poor \u2018tis God that reigneth;\n\n          Nor is full happiness e\u2019er given\n               To mortal man this side of heaven.\u201d\n\nHe spoke, and, as he concluded, the peasants, half frightened and half\nashamed, began to steal away by twos and threes at a time, until none\nof them were left behind. The Baron, who had listened with the utmost\nattention to the words of the old harper, now stepped forward and\ntenderly embraced his daughters, after which he clasped his recovered\nboy to his heart, and vowed that upon that joyous day no one should be\npunished, and even the treacherous peasants who had invaded his castle\nshould be freely forgiven.\n\nThe Baroness fell weeping on her husband\u2019s heart, loudly bewailed her\nown infirmity of temper, and vowed that she would never fly into a\npassion again. At this the {100}Baron, whilst her face was hidden upon\nhis shoulder, slowly elevated his right hand, placed his forefinger\nhorizontally against the side of his nose, and winked knowingly at his\ndaughters.\n\nPresently the Baroness raised her head, and, in tones of some feeling,\nasked what had become of that wretched Martha, gnashing her teeth as\nshe spoke with an air that inspired considerable doubts as to her being\u2019\nable to keep her new resolution. This, however, was not put to the test\nas far as Martha was concerned. As soon as she perceived that things\nwere going wrong, but that the harper was not alluding to _her_ in his\nverse, that worthy person slipped quietly from the room and the castle,\nand sought refuge in the wood where her wehr-wolves usually met her. The\nanimals were there as at other times, but their reception of her was not\nthe same. No sooner was she within the wood than the expression of their\ncountenances grew strange and fierce, so that the woman trembled all\nover. In another instant they seized upon her and dragged her, one on\neach side, near to where the wood touched the banks of the river. Wildly\nshe shrieked for aid, and in another moment the form of the River-demon\nappeared upon the bank. This time, however, he had no cheering counsel\nto give. With a wild and derisive laugh he pointed jeeringly at\nthe unhappy woman, whom the wehr-wolves held fast, while they\ngrowled-fearfully and savagely all the while.\n\n\u201cHa, Martha!\u201d he cried, \u201chast thou come to the end of thy revenge at\nlast? They who seek demon-help must have demon-punishment, and thine\nhour is come to-day. Know this, poor wretch! that those who yield to\ntheir passions cherish within them that which will one {101}day tear and\ndestroy them as the wehr-wolves are about to do to thee, and those who\nwish for a happy end must control and govern themselves on the\njourney!\u201d Then, with a fiendish leer and grin, he nodded his head to the\nwehr-wolves, and in another moment the wretched Martha was tom limb from\nlimb, and perished miserably. Folks say that her spirit still haunts\nthat wood, and that on dark and stormy nights her shrieks may be heard,\naccompanied by the growling of the wehr-wolves and the laugh of the\nexulting demon. But you and I, Brother Thames, know well how foolish\nmortals are with their tales of horror, and how ready they are to\nmistake a creaking tree for a shriek and a moonbeam for a spirit.\n\nI have nothing more to say except that when the Baron and Baroness\nturned round to bless the old harper for his kindly aid, they saw\nnothing where he had been standing save the light of the sweet, pale\nmoon shining in through the window. The harper had gone without waiting\nto be thanked, and they saw him no more. From thenceforth no spirits\ntroubled the Bandelboots family, save when the Baron took an extra glass\nof brandy, which occasionally flew to his toe. The Baroness decidedly\nimproved in temper, profiting by the example of her son, who grew up to\nbe one of the most sweet-tempered and agreeable young noblemen that ever\nlived upon the banks of my river. Of the three girls, I can only\nsay that as they made excellent daughters and capital sisters, they\nsucceeded equally well when they entered upon the cares and joys of\nmatrimony, and no women, married or single, were more often toasted\nin good Steinburgh than the three famous beauties, {102}the swan-like\ndaughters of the Baron von Bandelboots.\n\nFather Rhine here ceased, and as soon as he had done so Father Thames\nstruck a tremendous blow upon the table and vowed that the story he\nhad just heard was one of the best that had ever been told. \u201cI wish,\nhowever,\u201d said he, \u201cthat you could have told us a little more upon one\nor two points, Brother Rhine. It would be satisfactory to know that the\nrascally little scamp of a devilet was well punished when he got home;\nbut I suppose you know not whether such was the case or what became of\nhim afterwards?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d Brother Thames, gravely replied the monarch of the Rhine, \u201cI know\nnot; and in fact I have always kept as much as possible aloof from the\ndemons of my river, only showing them that ordinary civility which is\nrendered necessary by my position. I have little doubt, however, that\nthe imp had misery enough in his future existence. No one who habitually\nannoys and injures others can ever have any real happiness himself, and,\nwhether imp or mortal, unkindness and malice always recoil upon those\nwho practise the one and are influenced by the other.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d remarked Father Thames, \u201cyour words are true. But what\nbecame of the Baroness? Did she outlive the Baron, and was he cured of\nhis laziness as well as she of her bad temper?\u201d\n\n\u201cBrother,\u201d said his companion in an expostulating tone, \u201cyou really ask\nmore than I can recollect. There are very many castles in the vicinity\nof my river, and to remember the details of the family history of all\ntheir inhabitants {103}is more than even I, as a river monarch, can\nventure to \u2018undertake. I may, however, safely say that the Baroness died\nbefore the Baron, for I happen to be able to recall the circumstances of\nher death. She was inordinately fond of dried cherries, and would insist\nupon swallowing the stones. For some time this had no effect, but at\nlast she was taken ill and died of a disease so mysterious that they\ndetermined to have her body opened, when no less than two hundred and\nforty-six cherry-stones were found inside her.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t say so!\u201d exclaimed Father Thames in great surprise. \u201cBut now\ntell me what happened to the Baron.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must positively decline,\u201d answered the other. \u201cA legend is a legend,\nand I have told you mine. It is now your turn, and I hope you will lose\nno time, for I expect the Rhone, the Danube, and the Seine upon a matter\nof business to-morrow, and shall be late for my appointment if we waste\nour time in unnecessary talking.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll right, brother,\u201d shouted Father Thames, and, clearing his throat,\nbegan without further delay the story of--\n\n\n\n\nTHE FAMILY FEUD\n\nThe Baron Simon de Guerre-\u00e0-mort (whose name, considerably transformed\nby his Saxon neighbours, was familiarly rendered as \u201cOld Grammar\u201d) was\nan individual who, not to belie the said name, was of a somewhat warlike\ndisposition. His ancestors had come over to these peaceful shores with\n\u201cBilly the Norman, that very great war-man,\u201d as the old song calls him,\nand very {104}great war-men had _they_ been also from the time of their\nfirst arrival. They warred against the Saxons as long as the latter\nshowed fight; then they warred with their brother barons; then they went\nto the crusades; afterwards they joined Simon de Montfort in his gallant\nstruggle for English liberties; they had a turn at the Welsh at one\ntime, and took their share in the Scotch wars at another; in short,\nwherever and whenever opportunity for fighting offered itself, the\nGuerre-\u00e0-mort family or its representative eagerly seized it and rushed\ninto the thickest of the battle as cheerfully as a duck into water. Nor\nwas the Baron Simon one whit behind his ancestors in this respect.\nOn the contrary, he was as ready for war as any of them, and fully\nmaintained the character and traditions of his house.\n\nIn the days of which I write it was very much the fashion for great\nfamilies to indulge in the luxury of hereditary foes, and a feud of long\nstanding between this and that ancient house was such a customary thing\nthat a nobleman who lived peaceably with all his neighbours was regarded\nas a slow kind of fellow, whose acquaintance was hardly worth having.\nThere were generally wars of greater or less magnitude going on either\nwithin England herself or with some foreign enemy, which, one would have\nimagined, might have furnished sufficient employment to the fighting\nnobility of the day. This, however, was by no means the case; and though\nprivate feuds were sometimes left in abeyance for a time, when something\nmore attractive in the way of battle and bloodshed happened to\noffer, yet they were never allowed to slumber too {105}long, and were\ninvariably revived as soon as more peaceful times permitted their\nproprietors to indulge their private feelings and natural love of\nquarrelling.\n\nThe hereditary enemy of Simon de Guerre-\u00e0-mort was the house of St.\nAunay, which, like his own, had been first known in England after the\nBattle of Hastings had flooded the country with Norman nobility, and\nwhich was at the moment of which we speak represented by Count Horace as\nthe head of its race. It is difficult to say why or wherefore these\ntwo families should have been at variance, since there was no apparent\nreason for such a state of things. Their castles were upon opposite\nsides of my dear old river, at no great distance, though neither of\nthem within sight of it. Their lands stretched down to my waters, which\nformed a reasonable and proper boundary, and there was consequently none\nof that intermingling of field with field or farm with farm which has in\nall ages proved a fertile source of unpleasantness between neighbouring\nlanded proprietors. Moreover, the two noblemen had never brushed against\neach other or differed materially upon any public matters. In fact there\nwas no probability of their doing so; for Baron Simon was at this time\nthe wrong side of sixty by several years, whilst Count Horace had not\nlived half the years which constitute that respectable age. No: it was a\ngood, respectable old family feud, and I verily believe that it was\nmore from family feeling than for any other reason that it was still\ncherished by both houses.\n\nIt was, according to my firm belief, entirely in consequence of their\nprivate differences that, when the wars {106}of the Roses broke out,\nthe two Norman noblemen took different sides, the Count of St. Aunay\nstanding forward boldly for the House of York, whilst the Lord of\nGuerre-\u00e0-mort was Lancastrian to the backbone. As the latter was\na leader of great repute, and could muster around his standard no\ninconsiderable number of retainers, he might probably have rendered\ngreat service to the cause he had espoused if he had acted with those\nwell-known men who led its armies and managed its councils. But the\nBaron greatly preferred going his own way and fighting for his own\nhand and as soon as the country was well into the war, and everybody\nwas harassing and worrying everybody else as much as they could, he\ndetermined that by far the best thing he could do to aid Henry of\nLancaster was to cross the river and demolish the Castle of St. Aunay.\nAccordingly, he collected his forces, summoned his vassals and friends\nfrom all quarters and prepared for the expedition.\n\nI remember, as well as if it were but yesterday, when the Baron\u2019s army\nwas halted along my banks preparatory to their crossing the river early\non the following morning. The old chieftain himself, mounted on his\npowerful black charger, from whose eyes and nostrils the fire of war\nseemed to stream forth as he impatiently pawed the ground, rode out upon\na hill above his troops, and gazed upon the scene before him. The moon\nwas rising behind the distant hills, the evening was calm and still;\nbut the heavens were cloudy, and strange lights from time to time darted\nacross the sky, as if presaging the days of war and bloodshed which were\nabout to come upon unhappy England. The old Baron was {107}completely\narmed, and his long, straggling beard fell down upon his horse\u2019s mane\nbefore him as he sat erect in his saddle. I saw him elevate his mighty\nsword and shield, raising each arm on high as he looked with flashing\neye and threatening gesture upon the country upon the other side of the\nriver, and then and there he vowed a solemn vow that before he recrossed\nthe Thames the Castle of St. Aunay should be sacked, his pride lowered,\nand his banner trailed in the dust. On high he shook his weapon as he\ntook the oath, and full well I knew that the proud Norman would not\nfail to keep it, unless his foeman (who was probably taking an oath of\na similar character about the same time) should have strength or cunning\nenough to prevent its accomplishment.\n\n[Illustration: 121]\n\nBut before I proceed any further with my story I am bound to introduce\nyou to a person who, as you will soon perceive, is the main cause and\nreason why I have any story at all to tell. The Baron de Guerre-\u00e0-mort\nhad an only daughter. As, from the beginning of time, it has been the\nconstant habit of maidens similarly circumstanced to fall in love with\nthe person most objectionable to their respected father, Mathilde de\nGuerre-\u00e0-mort formed no exception to this most natural and reasonable\nrule. As a matter of course, she was desperately attached to Horace de\nSt. Aunay, who, for his part, having fallen head over ears in love\nwith her at their first interview, remained in the same condition with\nunwearied resolution. How they first came to meet I cannot say. One\nwould have supposed that there would have been difficulties, considering\nthe hostility, existing between the two families; but the young lady\u2019s\nmother having {108}been dead for many years, she enjoyed more liberty\nthan was common to females of her rank and age in those days, and\nprobably met the Count in some of her country rambles after birds\u2019\nnests, violets, or blackberries--three things which all young people who\nhave lived much in the country find more or less attractive at certain\nseasons of the year. However this may be, it is certain that these two\nindividuals met, took a mutual fancy to each other, and would, in all\nhuman probability, have been thought by their friends to have been\nexactly suited, had it not been for the highly respectable feud of which\nI have already spoken.\n\nThe Baron, who had not the remotest idea of the state of the case,\ngrieved and afflicted his daughter beyond measure by the manner in which\nhe abused her lover upon every possible occasion. Mathilde, poor\ngirl, bore it all with exemplary fortitude, although she invariably\nendeavoured to turn the conversation into more pleasant channels. But\nwhen the matter went beyond words, and her father actually commenced to\nmake preparations to invade his enemy\u2019s country and destroy his castle,\nthe agony of the poor young lady can be more easily imagined than\ndescribed. She came down each morning with eyes red from crying all\nthrough the night; she grew daily paler and paler; lost her appetite;\ncould scarcely take her five o\u2019clock tea; sat with her hands before her,\ndoing nothing; and burst out into hysterical fits of sobbing upon the\nslightest provocation. This sad condition of his daughter troubled the\nworthy baron not a little, and, naturally attributing it to any and\nevery cause but the right one, he determined to try what change of air\nwould do for her, and accordingly sent her to stay with {109}his sister,\nwho was the superior of a convent in Reading. Here it was his hope that\nthe society of the nuns would cheer the sweet damsel and restore her\nspirits, whilst the change of air and scenery might benefit her health.\nThere were those, indeed, including her faithful old Saxon nurse\nElfreda, who declared that the conversation of nuns was, as a rule,\nanything but enlivening, and Reading by no means particularly healthy or\nreinvigorating; but as nobody dared question the Baron\u2019s superior wisdom\nupon every subject, nothing was said against his plan, and Mathilde de\nGuerre-\u00e0-mort was safely transmitted to and domesticated in the convent\njust before the expedition against her lover\u2019s castle was undertaken by\nher respected parent.\n\nHorace de St. Aunay, although he received warning of the coming attack,\nwas by no means in a condition to offer such resistance as he could\nhave wished. The Lancastrians were by far the stronger party in his\nneighbourhood, and the Baron\u2019s forces greatly outnumbered his own. I\nneed not dwell upon the particulars of the events which followed. The\nGuerre-\u00e0-mort army crossed the river, defeated the levies of St. Aunay\nin a skirmish on the plain, and drove them in every direction before\ntheir victorious advance. Horace de St. Aunay, wounded by an arrow, was\nreported killed, and it was impossible to rally his people under another\nleader. The haughty Baron had it all his own way; he plundered the\nfarmyards, raised a bonfire of what he didn\u2019t want to carry away, and\nmade himself as unpleasant as possible to the harmless population, who,\nnaturally and properly enough, no doubt, always have to suffer for the\nwhims and quarrels of the great. He next {110}marched upon the Castle of\nSt. Aunay, but found that it was deserted, and, having by that time\nhad enough of burning and plundering for a time, contented himself with\nthrowing down the big gates, breaking a few windows, and flaunting\nhis own banner over the highest turret. Then, having collected all his\nbooty, he turned homewards, and, having satisfied his private grudge\nagainst his neighbour, felt his interest in the Lancastrian cause\nwonderfully lessened, and began to want his daughter back again.\n\nShe, poor girl, had passed by no means a happy time in her convent,\nwhere the good nuns devoutly prayed for the Lancastrians, and especially\nfor her worthy father, upon every possible opportunity, and where she\nnever had a chance of hearing any news of her lover, or of saying a\nkind word for him or any other of his party. At last, one day, the lady\nsuperior informed her with an air of triumph that news had come of the\ndefeat of St. Aunay\u2019s people by her father, and that the Count had been\nkilled in the battle. The poor girl turned deadly pale, and swooned away\nat this intelligence. Fortunately for her, the Lady Superior, being a\nperson of extraordinary intelligence, knew at once that such a result\nmust certainly have been produced by Mathilde\u2019s alarm for her father\u2019s\nsafety, and gratitude for his success. Having therefore taken the usual\nmeans to recover her from her fainting fit, the good lady loudly praised\nher filial affection, and held her up to the rest of the sisterhood\nas an example worthy of imitation, Mathilde thought it best to receive\nthese compliments without taking any steps to alter the opinion of her\nworthy relative, but her suspense and anxiety were very {111}great, and\nall the more so from the fact that the difficulty of obtaining news of\nan authentic character was so considerable, that in all probability\nit would be weeks, and perhaps months, before she learned for certain\nwhether her beloved Horace was alive or dead.\n\nDays rolled on--days of miserable uncertainty, which was scarcely\nremoved by a missive from her noble sire, which informed her indeed of\nthe triumph of his arms, but at the same time only casually mentioned\nthat the head of the rival house of St. Aunay had received a blow from\nwhich he would never recover. Now, it was obvious that this might be\ninterpreted in two ways--either that the young Count had been grievously\nwounded in body, or that the fortunes of his house had been seriously\ninjured. The latter was undoubtedly the case; but was the former also\ntrue? In this state of things uncertainty became madness, and Mathilde\nfelt herself almost driven to desperation. This, however, being\na condition of mind hardly suitable to a Norman lady of rank, she\ndetermined not to give way to it, but to take measures to relieve her\nanxiety. She resolved that she would, if possible, leave the convent\nand obtain, somehow or other, tidings of the being whom she so tenderly\nloved. It was not, however, in those days, a very easy thing to leave\nconvents just when you pleased. If you were rich and well born, you\ncould enter these institutions with but little difficulty; but quitting\nthem was a different question altogether. Nor do I believe Mathilde\nwould have accomplished her purpose had she not chanced to have a great\nfriend in a worthy person who carried on the trade of a washerwoman\nin the town, and was fortunate enough to have secured the convent\n{112}custom. Being devoted to the Guerre-\u00e0-mort family, and especially\nso to the young Baroness, this worthy woman agreed to smuggle her out of\nthe convent in a large basket of dirty linen, in which pleasant manner\nshe successfully carried out her project.\n\nOnce free, the question which Mathilde naturally had to consider was,\nwhat should she do next? She had forgotten to settle this before leaving\nher late abode, and yet it was a question which must certainly be\nsettled without delay. The poor washerwoman, who had incurred great\nperil by assisting the escape of an inmate of a religious house, dared\nnot keep her a moment longer than she could avoid, and there was no one\nin the town to whom she could trust herself. Under these circumstances\nshe thought that the best thing to be done was to wander forth into the\ncountry, and this she accordingly did, having made such alterations\nin her dress as appeared necessary to prevent her being recognised as\nsomething different from the peasant woman for whom she wished to pass.\nThe police were not very efficient in those days, and there were no\ndetectives to speak of, so that she was not likely to be discovered by\nsuch agency. Newspapers also had not yet begun, and the advertisement\nsystem was unknown; otherwise her escape might have been attended with\ngreater difficulties than was actually the case. As it was, she walked\naway from Reading without anybody taking the slightest notice of her,\nand wandered for many miles perfectly unmolested.\n\nAt last, as luck would have it, she reached a large farmhouse, and as\nshe had by this time become weary and hungry, she followed her natural\ninstincts, knocked at {113}the door, and asked for victuals and leave to\nrest herself. It was an old woman who opened the door, whose husband was\nthe occupier of the farm, and being kindly-disposed people, they granted\nMathilde\u2019s request, allowed her to sit down in the kitchen, and gave her\na bowl of milk and a large piece of brown bread, which she gratefully\ndevoured, and felt much the better for it. Then the old couple began\nto question her about her condition and ways of life, and when she had\ninvented some tale about having seen better days, and being driven by\nmisfortune to seek a living where she could get it, they expressed great\npity, and professed themselves very willing to assist her in any manner\nwithin their power. True, they had not much to offer; but the boy who\nkept the pigs had lately gone off to the wars, and if pig-keeping was\nnot beyond her, why, the place was very much at her service.\n\nNow, if there was anything which Mathilde disliked, it was a pig. The\ngreediness and dirtiness of the animal she deemed objectionable, and\nextended her dislike to it even when cooked and salted. She never\ntouched roast pork, avoided it all the more when boiled, abhorred\nsausages, and looked the other way when anybody offered her bacon. But,\nhaving no very definite idea as to where she could go to if she left\nthe farm, and thinking that, at all events, it might serve her as a\ntemporary home until something better should turn up, she determined\nupon accepting the generous offer of the worthy couple, and expressed\nher gratitude in terms which increased the favourable opinion they had\nalready formed of her manners and character.\n\nThat night she slept beneath their hospitable roof, and {114}next\nmorning her duties were pointed out to her, and she wandered forth upon\nthe side of the hill near the farm, in close attendance upon a herd\nof pigs, to watch whom would be her daily duty. Although Mathilde\u2019s\nobjection to the creatures may have been foolish and unreasonable,\nit will probably be conceded that the pig is not an animal which the\nmajority of mankind would choose as a special pet or favourite; and to\na person nurtured in the luxurious habits of a baronial castle,\nand trained in the intellectual refinement of conventual life, the\noccupation of keeping pigs on the side of a hill could hardly ever be\ncongenial. It is, therefore, not surprising that Mathilde found it\nfirst monotonous, secondly tiresome, thirdly exceedingly disagreeable.\nShe would sit for hours together, grasping in both hands her pig-driving\nstick, and musing upon things far removed from considerations of pigs or\npork.\n\nAt nights she would return to the farmhouse, heavy and dispirited,\nso that the old farmer and his wife would rally her on her dejected\nappearance, and declare to each other that she must either be in love,\nor have committed some offence over which she now brooded with remorse.\nYet her youth appeared to contradict the probability of the latter\nsupposition, and she looked them both so straight in the face when she\nspoke, that the old man remarked that no one who did _that_ could be\nguilty of anything serious.\n\nMeanwhile, it may be supposed that the Baron was not very well pleased\nwhen the news reached him that his daughter had disappeared. He hurried\noff at once to the convent, and refused for some time to believe that\nit {115}could really be the case. If he had lived a little later there\nwould have been plenty of people to suggest to him that Mathilde\u2019s\ndisappearance was only an invention of the Lady Superior\u2019s, and that\nthe poor girl was certainly either bricked up alive, or immersed in some\ndungeon below the convent.\n\n[Illustration: 130]\n\nAs it was, however, that age being comparatively ignorant, the Baron\nwas told the simple truth, and actually believed it. His daughter\nhad disappeared, and no one was more distressed thereat than the Lady\nSuperior herself. The discipline of her convent was so good, and the\nsisterhood were all so much attached to her, that it was with difficulty\nthat she could {116}bring herself to believe that any of them had\nassisted the runaway to escape; and as to the washerwoman, no thought\nof her connivance ever entered the Lady Superior\u2019s head. Had it done so,\nindeed, she would never have believed that a daughter of the noble house\nof Guerre-\u00e0-mort would have so far demeaned herself as to hide in a\nbox of dirty clothes, or wander forth, alone and unattended, into the\ncountry. The good Lady, never having admitted the god of love into her\nwell-regulated breast, did not know his powers, which experience has\nproved to be such as are able to overcome all considerations of rank and\ndignity, and occasionally to make people do things even more strange and\nincongruous than hide in dirty-linen boxes or keep pigs on a hill-side.\n\nThe Baron was easily convinced that no blame was to be attributed to his\nsaintly relative, but this by no means put an end to his trouble.\nHis daughter had gone, and he had no clue whatever to her place of\nconcealment. Under these circumstances, he determined that the best\nthing he could do was to consult the powers of magic, who in those\ndays were the substitute for our present Rural Police, and occasionally\ndischarged their functions in a manner equally satisfactory. Those were\nnot days in which witches and warlocks were so common as in earlier\nages; but, scattered about the country, there were a goodly number of\nthe creatures; and the Baron had little difficulty in determining whom\nto consult.\n\nThe Witch of Salt Hill was a famous personage in those days. The\nvicinity of Eton and Slough was at that time a favourite resort of\nwitches, who used to flit about {117}through Windsor Forest at\nnights, and, I suppose, preferred to have their day-residences not\ninconveniently remote therefrom. It is not improbable that they would\nhave continued to frequent the neighbourhood down to the present day,\nbut for the establishment of the sacred foundation of Eton College.\nThere, as we know, the Provost and Fellows have, from the very earliest\ndays of the college, been a body of men of singularly holy as well as\nlearned reputation. Their blameless and saintly lives have driven evil\nfar from the locality in which they dwell, and in the days of which\nI tell their power was already beginning to be felt. It gradually\nincreased until, as I say, all witches and warlocks left the\nneighbourhood, although one of the last of them is said to have uttered\na prophecy that the powers of evil should again return when Eton should\nbe governed by others than her own children; and if what I have lately\nheard be true--namely, that the ancient government by Provost and\nFellows has been superseded, and a new authority instituted, of which\na portion is non-Etonian--it may be that the days of witchcraft will\nreturn, and the powers of darkness once more inhabit the neighbourhood.\nAll this, however, has nothing to do with my present story.\n\nNo sooner had the Baron made up his mind that this was the best course\nto pursue than he rode off to Salt Hill to consult the celebrated\nwitch whom I have mentioned. He found her with very little trouble,\nprincipally from knowing exactly where to look for her, which it is\nalways well to ascertain, if you can, before you go in search of any one\nwhom you wish to find. There was a very large thorn-tree, growing near\na spring {118}at the side of a hill, close to which a species of rude\ncottage had been built into the hill, so that it had the appearance of\nbeing--and perhaps was--the way by which those who had the right, and\nthe will to do so, could enter into the bowels of the earth. When the\nwitch chose to come forth, she sat under the thorn-tree; at other times,\nthose who sought her had to approach the door of the cottage, and strive\nto attract her attention in the best way they could.\n\nWhen the Baron arrived near the place, with some dozen of retainers, he\nleft his horse with the latter at a short distance from the spot, and\nwalked up to the spring alone. The witch was not to be seen outside, so\nthe anxious father strode up to the cottage, and would have knocked at\nthe door, only there did not happen to be any. The place was built of\nhuge stones, and the entrance was through a large hole, left open as if\nfor a door, which had never been put up. It was as dark as pitch\nwhen you looked in, and the Baron, fearless as he was, felt a kind of\nunpleasant sensation stealing over him as he stood opposite the hole.\nHowever, he had come on business which could not be delayed; so, after a\nmoment\u2019s hesitation, he shouted out at the top of his voice, \u201cHalloa!\nis any one within?\u201d and waited for a reply. As none came, the Baron\npresently tried again, saying, in an equally loud voice, \u201cI am come to\nconsult the wise woman of Salt Hill. Is it here she dwells?\u201d Still no\nanswer came from within, and the haughty Norman stamped impatiently on\nthe ground, chafing at the delay which his imperious spirit could have\nill brooked at any time, but which was more than ever galling at the\npresent moment, when his anxiety about his {119}daughter had thrown him\ninto a state of feverish irritation and excitement. He doubted as to the\nnext step which he should take, and was just considering whether he had\nomitted any form which ought to have been observed in approaching such a\nperson as a witch, when a voice suddenly spoke from within the cottage,\nsaying, in a somewhat gruff voice--\n\n          \u201cWho comes to Salt Hill\u2019s ancient dame?\n               Tell both thine errand and thy name.\u201d\n\nNow the Baron was little accustomed to be addressed so unceremoniously,\nor to be asked his name in this manner, so his first impulse was to\nrefuse to reply, or at least to rebuke the speaker for the incivility\nof the question. However, as he had come on important business, and was\nreally desirous of obtaining information as to his beloved daughter, a\nmoment\u2019s reflection convinced him that it would be an act of folly on\nhis part to fly into a passion about a trifle, or to stand upon ceremony\nwith a power which might be able to assist him, and willing to do so or\nnot according to his own behaviour. So he made up his mind to tell his\nname and errand at once, and was about to do so, when, even whilst he\nhesitated, the voice spoke again:--\n\n          \u201cOur Norman lords are men of war,\n               And love their foemen to defy;\n          But, come he here from near or far,\n               Who with the Guerre-\u00e0-mort can vie?\u201d\n\nAt this unexpected mention of his own name, the Baron started back, but\nimmediately recovering himself, he spoke in as reverential a tone as\nhe could manage to find for the occasion. \u201cSince thou knowest who I\nam, good {120}dame,\u201d said he, \u201cmine errand is very likely also known to\nthee. I want my beloved daughter, who has disappeared from the convent\nat Reading, and can nowhere be found. If thou canst find her for me and\nrestore her to mine arms, I will grudge thee no reward that my castle\ncan give.\u201d\n\nAt these words a low sigh proceeded from the interior of the cottage,\nas if the offer of a bribe had given pain to its virtuous inmate, or\nthe Baron\u2019s request had been of an unexpected and afflicting character.\nHowever, after a few moments\u2019 pause, the same voice again spoke:--\n\n          \u201cWhi\u2019st on this earth we live and move,\n               Some sweetness in our lives is found;\n          But what more sweet than children\u2019s love,\n               Our very heart-strings twined around?\n\n          Yet to each parent comes an hour\n               (Though fain he would the same delay)\n          When other and resistless power\n               Will steal the youthful heart away.\n\n          And when a father here inquires\n               For daughter lost; then, let him learn\n          That daughters, though they love their sires,\n               To other loves some day will turn;\n\n          Nor convent rules nor home\u2019s own charms,\n               Will keep them from a lover\u2019s arms.\u201d\n\nAs the voice uttered these strange and not altogether consoling words,\nthe Baron stroked his beard, pulled his moustache, and racked his brains\nin the vain endeavour to bring to mind any lover with whom it was at all\nlikely that his daughter should have eloped. The idea of her eloping\nat all was unpleasant; but those were strange times, and he knew well\nenough that such things had happened before, and would not improbably\nhappen {121}again. The puzzle to him was as to the happy-individual upon\nwhom Mathilde could possibly have placed her affections. He thought\nof all their acquaintances, turning over in his mind the circumstances\nunder which his child had met them, and, one after the other, he\nrejected the possibility of any one of them being the favoured\nindividual. There was Baron Eau-de-vie, who lived within calling\ndistance, but his habits of intemperance put him at once out of the\nquestion; then the lord of Burnham was a worthy man, but being past\neighty, and totally blind, was scarcely likely to have become the object\nof a maiden\u2019s affection; these and various others he thought over, and\nremained musing for a short time before he spoke again.\n\nThen it came into his head that perhaps it was all false after all, and\nthe witch was either chaffing him, or knew nothing about it at all,\nand was making a guess at a solution of his difficulty, which, however\nlikely to be correct as regarded the generality of young ladies, was\nmost improbable with respect to a damsel of high degree, so well and\ncarefully brought up as he considered his child to have been. As this\nthought struck him, he spoke out aloud at once. \u201cWhat meanest thou?\u201d he\ncried. \u201cMen will woo, and girls will have lovers, as we all know full\nwell; but to suppose that the young Baroness of Guerre-\u00e0-mort would fly\nfrom her convent with any lover that ever was born is an error and an\ninsult to boot. Trifle not with me, then, whoever thou art, but tell me\ntruly, an thou knowest, what has really become of my daughter?\u201d\n\nA low laugh issued from the cottage as the same voice replied to this\nappeal with the following words:--\n\n     \u201cOh mighty are Barons in battle array,\n          Full swift are their steeds and full sharp are their swords;\n     But the heart of a maiden must have its own way,\n          And Love is far stronger than Barons and Lords.\n\n     He climbs the high walls of the castle so strong,\n          In vain your defences your treasure to shield;\n     To words which are whispered by lover\u2019s true tongue,\n          The peeress and peasant will equally yield.\u201d\n\nThis {122}reply was by no means more satisfactory to the Baron than\nthe first had been, and he saw that there was evidently but little\ninformation to be obtained from the Witch of Salt Hill. Turning away,\ntherefore, with a moody air, he rejoined his servants, mounted his\nsteed, and returned to his castle, very much disgusted with his want of\nsuccess. Scarcely had he left the place before the head of an old woman\npeered forth from the entrance of the cottage, and presently the whole\nfigure followed. It was that of an aged crone, clad in a long grey\ncloak, with a strange head-covering of handkerchiefs twined in the form\nof a turban, from which a few grey locks escaped and fluttered in the\nwind around the venerable head. She held in her hand a strong staff,\nupon which she leaned, whilst she carefully looked right and left\nto make sure that her visitors had all departed. As soon as she had\nconvinced herself of this fact, she turned round again to the entrance\nof the cottage and called in a low voice--\u201cIt is quite safe; come forth,\nmy lord, come forth!\u201d Upon this there was a movement inside the place,\nand there presently stepped forth a young man, the pallor of whose\nhandsome countenance betokened recent illness, and who supported himself\nupon a stout oaken staff. Had the Baron stood where he had been standing\nbut a few {123}minutes before, he would scarcely have departed so\neasily, for in this individual he would have seen the hereditary enemy\nof his house standing close beside him.\n\nIn truth, Brother Rhine, the witch of Salt Hill had been, somehow or\nother, greatly indebted to the St. Aunay family; and after Count Horace\nhad been wounded in his skirmish with the Baron, he had found a secure\nretreat in her abode at Salt Hill. There, carefully nursed, and perhaps\ndoctored by some wondrous charms of which mortals who do not happen to\nbe witches know nothing, the young nobleman had rapidly recovered from\nthe effects of his wound. The country, however, was still so much under\nthe control of the Lancastrian party, that Count Horace deemed it his\nwisest plan to remain for some time in concealment, especially since\nhe found that the report of his death had evidently so far softened the\nBaron that he had not pursued his work of devastation as he probably\nwould have done if he had believed that the head of the house of St.\nAunay was still alive and likely to take the field against him upon a\nfavourable opportunity. This, then, was the reason of the Count\u2019s being\nin the cottage of the witch upon the very day of the Baron\u2019s visit, and\nas soon as the latter had departed, the wise woman began to discuss the\nsubject of his daughter and her supposed elopement. Whether or not her\narts had enabled her to discover the direction of Mathilde\u2019s flight, and\nher present place of abode, is a question we need hardly pause to ask.\nIt is very likely that her statement to the Baron had been little more\nthan a shrewd guess that if a young lady fled secretly from a convent,\nthere was in all probability {124}a gentleman in the case, in which\nsurmise she was certainly not far wrong. But if she had known where\nMathilde was she certainly would not have disclosed it to the anxious\nfather whilst St. Aunay was close by, nor indeed under any circumstances\nwithout the consent of the latter. He had informed her fully of the true\nstate of the case between the young Baroness and himself, and after the\nBaron had gone off, eagerly inquired of her as to where the fair lady\nwas really to be found.\n\nNow witches, although exceedingly wise, cannot tell more than they\nknow, and are not obliged to tell all that they _do_ know, except under\nextraordinary circumstances, therefore the witch of Salt Hill thought it\nbest to assume a very grave and solemn air, and mysteriously assured her\nfriend that all would be right, and that he would know everything that\nought to be known as soon as the proper time for knowing it had arrived.\nThis assurance was scarcely satisfactory to the young man, who pressed\nhard for an answer which should at least give him some indication of the\ncourse which he had better pursue in order to obtain tidings of the lost\none. No such answer, however, could he obtain; and all that the old dame\nwould tell him was to \u201ckeep his heart up,\u201d and to \u201chave patience\u201d--two\npieces of advice which are excellent in themselves, but little\ncalculated to allay the impatience of a young man who has lost his\nsweetheart and wants to find her as soon as possible. Patience the young\nCount found it impossible to have, and, finding himself very much better\nthe next day, he determined to set out and see what he could accomplish\nby his own exertions.\n\nIt {125}was a lovely morning, and as St. Aunay walked through the\nfields, he felt new life rising in his\u2019 veins, and his whole being\nseemed reinvigorated by the bright sun and fresh air. He walked for\nmiles without any very definite idea as to where he was going or what\nhe should do, in which it will be observed he strongly resembled the\ncondition of his beloved Mathilde. Still, disguised in the garb of a\npeasant, he wandered on, and towards evening reached no other place than\nthe very farm at which the young Baroness was employed as a pig-keeper.\nNor was this his only piece of good fortune, for, as luck would have it,\nhe came upon the fair damsel herself, disconsolately sitting by the side\nof her pigs, and wishing herself anywhere else. This wish, as may easily\nbe imagined, was immediately changed when she found that the strange\npeasant who approached was no other than her own Horace. She flew into\nhis arms with the smallest possible delay, and he was forthwith able\nsatisfactorily to explain to her that he was by no means dead, and\nalmost entirely recovered from his wound.\n\nThe prospects of the two lovers did not, however, seem particularly\nbright even after they had thus met; and after a long discussion they\ncould hardly make up their minds what would be the best course to\npursue. Mathilde had the greatest objection to returning home, where\nshe should hear nothing but abuse of her Horace and his family, not\nimprobably coupled with reproaches directed against herself for having\nquitted the convent. To return to the latter was out of the question,\nand equally so to accompany the Count, who had no home to which he\ncould take her. The only conclusion, therefore, at which {126}they found\nthemselves able to arrive was that the lady had better continue\nher pig-keeping at least for a time, and that they should both wait\npatiently until better days. This arrangement though not exactly\npleasant to either of them, seemed most expedient upon the whole, and\nhaving finally come to the determination that such was the case, they\ntook an affectionate leave of each other, and again separated.\n\nFrom that day Mathilde passed several months of weary suspense, being\nquite unable to content herself with the unusual pastime of looking\nafter pigs, although she found some consolation in reading and\nwriting--two accomplishments in which she had become tolerably perfect\nduring her stay in the convent. Books, however, were, not in those days\nwhat they now are, and those young ladies who depend for their literary\namusement upon circulating libraries and sensation novels, may thank the\ngood fortune which decreed that they should come into the world some few\ncenturies later than the days I speak of. Mathilde had one vast book of\ncurious manuscript, which she had discovered in the farmhouse, and which\nwas her constant companion. I am not sure as to the subjects of which\nit treated, but as it was probably of monkish compilation, it is most\nlikely that it dealt either with the lives of saints or the theories of\ncookery, which were two subjects much in favour with the Eccelesiastical\nfraternities of that day. Whatever it was however, Mathilde made it the\nsubject of her constant study, and varied her amusement by the use of\nthe quill pens which she manufactured, from the good farmer\u2019s geese. You\nmust not ask me questions, Brother Rhine, as to the manner in which she\nobtained paper and {127}ink. None of these particulars have ever been\nhanded down, and I have never cared to inquire. I can only say that in\na certain noble family a huge scroll, covered with curious writing, has\nbeen long preserved, which tradition attributes to the ancestress who\nonce kept pigs on that. Berkshire hill-side; and if the tradition is\nnot strictly true, I would merely observe that it is just as provable as\nmany another, upon the veracity of which the scoffer has never ventured\nto cast a doubt.\n\nDuring this time the Baron de Guerre-\u00e0-mort was not sitting idly at\nhome. He made every inquiry for his daughter, and was exceedingly vexed\nat his total want of success in discovering where she was. It is likely\nenough that he would have found her if she had been further off or\nmore carefully concealed. But it may be observed as a rule which obtains\npretty generally, that the things which are immediately under our noses\nescape our observation more than those which require a careful search. A\nhare sometimes squats-securely in the middle of a ploughed field whilst\nthe sportsman is seeking her in the thick wood; the nest of the grey\nthrush, built in the bare cleft of a laurel-tree, often escapes the eye\nof the school-boy more easily than the nest more carefully hidden in\nthe thick bushes; or, to take another comparison an elderly gentleman\nsometimes makes entirely ineffectual search for the spectacles which\nhe has pushed up from his nose to his forehead, whereas, had they been\nhidden among papers, or left in some unusual place, he would quickly\nhave discovered them. So it was, at any rate, that the Baron sought far\nand wide for his daughter without success, whilst she, poor girl,\nwas keeping pigs on the hill-side all the time, a very {128}few miles\ndistant from the castle of her respected parent.\n\nThe good man, however, found that before long he had other business\nto attend to than the agreeable occupation of daughter-hunting. The\nfortunes of the two great parties in the state underwent a considerable\nchange. Instead of being any longer in the ascendant, the Lancastrians\nexperienced heavy reverses, and those who had espoused the cause of the\nHouse of York gained ground continually on every side. In those times it\nwas not so easy to change one\u2019s politics or one\u2019s party as has been the\ncase in some later periods of the history of this country, especially if\none had supported one\u2019s opinions by the carrying of fire and sword into\nthe territory of one\u2019s opponents. Therefore the old Baron, who, as we\nhave seen, had adopted this old-fashioned method of proceeding, would\nhave found it somewhat difficult to change sides even if he had wished\nto do so. Nothing, however, could have been further from his intention.\nHe believed the cause of the House of Lancaster to be just and right,\nand even if he had thought otherwise, I do not believe that he would\never have deserted a cause which he had once thoroughly espoused. So he\nremained loyal to the Lancastrian standard, and was as ready to fight\nfor it in adversity as he had ever been when it seemed likely to\ntriumph. The consequences, however, were not likely to be agreeable.\n\nThe Yorkists were daily gathering strength, and so devoted an adherent\nof the rival house could hardly escape their kind attention. Moreover,\nthose who had seen their own homes despoiled by the Baron\u2019s invasion\nwere not unmindful of their oppressor when the opportunity {129}for\nrevenge appeared to present itself. So it came about that the Baron\u2019s\nposition was somewhat precarious. Some of his outlying farms were\nplundered; his retainers, when caught singly or in small numbers, were\ninsulted and rudely treated, and threats of something worse likely to\nhappen occasionally reached his ears. As yet, however, no armed body\nof Yorkists had appeared in the neighbourhood, and the strength of his\ncastle, as well as the number and devotion of his followers, rendered\nthe Baron de Guerre-\u00e0-mort tolerably secure against any attack save one\nfrom a powerful and well-organized force. Still he could see the storm\nlowering in the distance, and gathering in strength sufficient to give\nhim cause for uneasiness. At last it seemed ready to burst. Small bands\nof Yorkists had been reported as hovering about various places in the\nvicinity of the castle, and rumour now had it that these bands were\nlikely to be united at Reading under the command of some leader of\nnote, who would forthwith proceed to march through Berkshire and\nBuckinghamshire, putting down all those who still dared to uphold the\nfalling fortunes of the House of Lancaster.\n\nUp to this time the Baron had remained within his castle walls, gloomily\nwatching the signs of the times, and only taking precautions to preserve\nthe efficiency of his troops by constant drill, and to protect his\nfortress and people against possible attack. But as soon as the\nabove-mentioned rumours became well authenticated, he bethought himself\nthat some more active steps should be taken. If the enemy should once\nconcentrate his forces at Reading, he would probably carry all before\nhim, and resistance would be doubly difficult, if not impossible.\n{130}But if such concentration could be prevented, and the various\nbodies of Yorkists, who were said to be scattered over the face of the\ncountry, could be attacked and routed in detail, the tide might even\nyet be turned, and the drooping flag of Lancaster be once more raised\nas high as ever. Animated by such thoughts as these, and determined,\nif possible, to carry out the plan which appeared to him, and which\nprobably was, the best under the circumstances, the Baron summoned his\nmen, and leaving a small detachment to guard the castle, sallied forth\nwith the intention of cutting off the advance of the Yorkists upon\nReading.\n\nIt is difficult, however, for one body of men, unless greatly superior\nin numbers, position, and generalship, to act with success against four\nor five, and so it happened that before he had been many days in the\nfield the Baron de Guerre-\u00e0-mort found that he had before him a task\nbeyond his powers. A detachment of Yorkists was marching from Oxford,\nwhilst at the same moment another party moved from Windsor; and from the\ndirection of Basingstoke in one quarter, and Marlborough in another,\na third and fourth body converged towards the same point. It will be\neasily understood that the Baron now ran no inconsiderable risk in his\ndaring attempt. In the first place, he was by no means certain that his\narmy was more numerous than any one of the Yorkist parties; and in the\nsecond, if he should engage and defeat one, he might have another on his\nflank before he was by any means ready to renew the combat. Prudence,\ntherefore, would have seemed to dictate a retreat, unless indeed he\ncould be sure of encountering his various enemies at the place and\nmoment of his own choosing.\n\nSuch {131}was the state of things on one lovely day in June, when\nMathilde was engaged in her usual employment, which day by day grew more\nirksome to her as time wore on. She was seated under a tree, shading\nherself from the rays of the summer sun, her pen held listlessly in her\nhand, her scroll and book by her side, whilst she mused on the past,\nmade plans for the future, and forgot the present, after the custom of\npersons when pretty comfortably seated and rather sleepily inclined. A\ndistant noise aroused her from her reverie after a time, and as it drew\nnearer and nearer she knew but too well that she heard the shouts of\nmen engaged in battle, and that one of those struggles was taking place\nwhich at that time, alas! were but too common in unhappy England.\n\nFrom the tree under which she was seated she commanded an extensive\nview over the plain below, and ere long she was able to discern the\ncontending forces as they issued from a pass between the hills, one\nparty being apparently driven before the other. In the plain they\nrallied, and a desperate combat appeared to be going on; then, whilst\nthe wave of men surged to and fro, horse and foot apparently mingled\nin an undistinguishable mass, a third body appeared upon the scene,\nmarching round the base of one of the hills, and joining themselves to\nthose who had first emerged from the pass. For a time all was confusion\nand clamour, and, amid the dust and din, Mathilde could make out nothing\nas to the exact character of the combatants. Presently, however, a light\nbreeze lifted the dust, and she had a clearer view of the sight before\nher eyes. The reinforcements which had just arrived had at once altered\nthe {132}fortunes of the battle, and the party which had at first driven\nits opponents victoriously before it was now evidently giving way. It\nneeded no second glance to tell which was the winning side, for the\nbanner of the white rose floated on high, and triumphant shouts of \u201cA\nYork! a York!\u201d rent the air.\n\n[Illustration: 147]\n\nBaffled and beaten, the Lancastrians vainly endeavoured to hold\ntogether; slowly but surely they gave way before the pressure of\nsuperior numbers, and it was evident that the question was now only\nbetween an orderly retreat and an utter rout. Straining her eyes to the\nutmost, {133}Mathilde beheld at the head of the retreating party a tall\nand martial figure which she recognised but too clearly. Conspicuous\namong the throng by his height and noble bearing, and carrying him right\ngallantly even when matters were going so decidedly against him, the\nnoble old Baron little knew whose eyes were fixed upon him with eager\nand agonized gaze.\n\nAt that moment I doubt whether Mathilde had a thought even for the lover\nfor whose sake she had suffered so much; her father, the fond parent who\nhad nurtured her from earliest infancy, upon whose knees she had sat\nand prattled, whose eyes had never lighted on her save with glances of\ntender love, whose conduct towards her had been one continued indulgence\nfrom the first hour of her recollection,--the father, moreover, whom she\nhad selfishly left to live alone and bear his solitary lot in the world\nwithout his idolised child--that father was now in peril of his life,\nand probably about to perish before the very eyes of his ungrateful\ndaughter. There she saw him, the brave old man, sitting upon his charger\nas if he were part of the animal, dealing blows right and left with the\nstrength and vigour of a far younger man, parrying strokes aimed with\nright good will at his devoted head, and ever and anon shielding from\nattack some wounded follower, and covering the retreat of some retiring\nfriends. And whilst the battle raged furiously around him, ever and\nanon the old man raised his war-cry aloud, \u201cA Guerre-\u00e0-mort! a\nGuerre-\u00e0-mort!\u201d and at each cry it seemed as if a new spirit animated\nhis yielding troops, and with fresh energy they rallied and made head\nagainst the superior forces of their opponents. But the fight was\ntoo unequal to last. {134}That had happened which might have been\nanticipated. The Baron had attacked and partially routed a Yorkist band,\nwhen another party, directed by the shouts of battle, had hastened from\ntheir line of march and arrived in time to take part in the fray, and\nto throw a great preponderance of numbers on the side of the cause for\nwhich they fought.\n\nThe Baron strove in vain to perform an impossibility, and to convert\ndefeat into victory. His men fell fast by his side, and he was soon left\nalmost alone, surrounded by the triumphant enemy. Mathilde could bear\nthe sight no longer, and, covering her face with her hands, burst into\na flood of tears. But even thus the suspense was too terrible to bear.\nPresently, she lifted her eyes, and beheld the Lancastrians scattering\nin headlong flight, pursued by the triumphant partisans of the House of\nYork. But where, oh! where was her father? She had not far to look. The\nold horse she knew so well lay dead upon the plain, but around him\nwere clustered a group of men, evidently still engaged in some fierce\nconflict. In another moment they fell back, and she perceived a figure\nrecumbent upon the ground, whilst a second figure stood over it, not\nto destroy, but to guard it from the blows of others. Could she--was\nit possible that she could--be mistaken? No: it was as she thought and\nhoped--her own Horace standing over the prostrate body of her father,\nwas guarding his hereditary enemy from the destroying Yorkists.\n\nAye, so it was indeed, Brother Rhine, nor was this the first nor the\nlast instance where love has proved stronger than hate in this curious\nworld, and where chivalrous and valiant men have respected in others\nthe bravery {135}which they so well knew how to practise themselves. St.\nAunay was the commander of the Yorkist party who had turned the tide of\nthat day\u2019s battle. Recognising his ancient foe, he would no doubt have\nsought him out with every intention of then and there taking his revenge\nfor the past, had it not been for the special reasons which induced him\nto adopt a contrary course of proceeding. He watched, with an admiration\nwhich it was impossible to withhold, the gallant behaviour of the\nold nobleman when fighting against fearful odds. He refrained from\ninterference whilst it could do no good; but when he saw the Baron\u2019s\nhorse slain by the thrust of a pike, and its rider thrown upon the\nground, he rushed forward to protect the fallen leader from those who\nwould otherwise very speedily have disposed of him after a ruthless\nfashion. It was no easy or pleasant task; for the soldiery were excited\nby the stubborn resistance of the old Baron, and St. Aunay had to\nstrike, strongly and fiercely, before he could rescue his foe from his\nown friends. He succeeded, however, and, in a few moments, the Baron,\nwho had been partially stunned, as well by his fall, as by several blows\nby no means of a light character, which he had received in spite of\nSt. Aunay\u2019s efforts for his preservation, rose from the ground without\nhaving sustained any such vital injury as had recently appeared to be\nalmost inevitable. Bitter, however, were his feelings when he discovered\nto whom it was that he owed his life; for so deeply had the family feud\nbecome engraven upon his heart, that it is almost doubtful whether he\nwould not have preferred death, to escape therefrom by means of the aid\nof a St. Aunay.\n\nThere {136}was no time, however, for much to be said on either side. The\nYorkists were pursuing their flying foes, and but few were left around\nthe two noblemen, when from the hill-side, but a short distance off,\nthey beheld a female figure hurrying towards them with eager gestures\nand evident excitement. Both recognised her at the same moment--both\nhastened to meet her--and in a brief space of time Mathilde was once\nmore folded to her father\u2019s heart. Horace de St. Aunay could have wished\nthat another breast had been the resting-place, but could hardly have\nexpected it under the peculiar circumstances. He waited patiently,\ntherefore (having no other reasonable alternative), until the father and\ndaughter had indulged their natural affection for each other, and had\nentered upon certain mutual explanations, which appeared upon the whole\nto be satisfactory. Then the Baron turned to him, and for some time was\nunable to utter a word. The struggle was severe in his heart between his\nnatural affection for his child and his cherished hatred for the foe of\nhis house. But, luckily for all parties, the former prevailed.\n\nThe Baron was no fool, and probably felt that if Mathilde had run away\nonce to look for her lover, it was exceedingly likely that she might do\nit again. Moreover, the Lancastrian cause was now in that condition\nthat those who still upheld it would ere long have nothing else to\nuphold, and, whatever might become of himself, the old Baron had no\ndesire to see his beloved daughter dispossessed of her patrimony, and\npossibly driven from house and home, or reduced to that employment as\na necessity which she had recently adopted as a temporary--though most\nuncongenial--occupation.\n\nSo, {137}like a sensible man, he allowed his reason and common sense to\novercome his prejudice, and gave his consent to his daughter\u2019s marriage\nwith the Count of St. Aunay. He could not have done a wiser thing. The\nCount\u2019s influence with the winning party in the state was naturally\nconsiderable, and was efficiently exercised in favour of his\nfather-in-law, who was allowed to retain his castle and property, when\nothers, less fortunate in their daughters\u2019 marriages, lost both on\naccount of their political opinions.\n\nHorace and Mathilde were speedily united, and, as old story-books\nusually say, \u201cthey lived very happily all the rest of their lives.\u201d\n It will also be doubtless satisfactory to you to know that none of the\nconvent authorities ever discovered that the old washerwoman had had\nanything whatever to do with the disappearance of the young Baroness;\nthat the farmer and his wife were liberally rewarded for their kindness\nto the latter; and that the followers and believers in the Witch of Salt\nHill had a higher opinion than ever of her supernatural powers, since it\nhad so plainly been proved that it was, as she had said, on account of\na lover that the Baron\u2019s daughter had left the convent. And this is the\nway that there came a happy termination to \u201cThe Family Feud.\u201d\n\nFather Thames here paused, and took a deep draught of ale; whilst he was\nengaged with which, his brother of the Rhine calmly and gravely put\nto him the singular question: \u201cAnd what became of the pigs, Brother\nThames?\u201d\n\nThe potentate of our English river hastily put down his {138}glass,\nchoked violently as he did so, and then answered with a laugh, \u201cConfound\nyour jokes, Brother Rhine, you made my liquor go the wrong way, which is\na very unpleasant thing, let me tell you. But, after all, the rebuke\nwas deserved, for my cross-questioning you so closely after your last\nlegend. I own that legends are things which should be received with much\nfaith and no questions, or the beauty of them is lost at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cI quite agree with you,\u201d responded he of the Rhine, \u201cand it was with\nthe object of bringing you to express your concurrence in this view that\nI asked the remarkably stupid question about the pigs. There are some\npeople who always want to know a great deal more than is good for them,\nand who insist upon asking what became of each and every character of\nwhom mention has been made in a legend. This is simply ridiculous,\nand very disagreeable to the teller of the story, who is obliged to\nintroduce many minor characters into his tale, in order to fill up gaps,\nand illustrate the position of the principal personages, but who cannot\nbe expected to know the final history and eventual fate of them all.\nSince, then, you agree with me, Brother Thames, I shall ask you to be\ngood enough to listen to my next legend with a sincere determination\nto believe it if you can, and in any case to demand no explanation of\ncircumstances which may seem strange, or with regard to persons who may\nappear to be unusual in name or character, or in both the two together.\u201d\n\n\u201cI promise to do as you wish,\u201d replied Father Thames to this request,\nupon which the other commenced at once as follows:--\n\n\n\n\nTHE GIANT BRAMBLE-BUFFER\n\n\u201cThere {139}was once a Daddyroarer--\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat the deuce is a Daddyroarer?\u201d hastily interposed Father Thames.\n\nThe monarch of the Rhine gave him an indignant glance. \u201cIs this the\nway you keep your promise?\u201d he inquired, in a tone of some severity.\n\u201cAnother such interruption and I shall decline to continue the amusement\nof legend-telling. I have no objection, however, to inform you that the\nword Daddyroarer signifies a giant, though whence its derivation I am\nunable to tell you with any degree of certainty. It probably comes from\ntwo Teutonic words, but I should be sorry to attempt to give them in the\noriginal. There is something about the name, however, which conveys\nthe idea of a giant. \u2018Daddy,\u2019 indeed, being the familiar appellation by\nwhich children occasionally designate their male parent, points, not\nso much to the paternal relationship of a giant with mankind, as to his\nsize and proportions, which are as much larger than those of man as are\nthe proportions and size of a father to those of his young children. I\npresume that the term \u2018roarer\u2019 is not intended to convey, as in the case\nof a horse, the notion of broken wind, but has rather reference to the\ngruff and deep-toned voice which usually characterizes the giant.\n\n\u201cBut, be this as it may, I repeat the fact that there was once a certain\nDaddyroarer, or giant, who lived among the mountains near a certain part\nof my beautiful river. For many years, indeed, in the old, old times,\nthe men of Rhineland were grievously troubled with giants {140}of\ndifferent sorts and sizes. Tradition tells us that they all sprang from\nthe mighty giant Senoj, who, as is well known, was born, nobody knows\nhow or where, among the loftiest peaks of the Alps, and is down to this\nday popularly known in Rhineland as the father of all giants.\n\n[Illustration: 156]\n\n\u201cCertain it is that his descendants, if such they were, proved\nexceedingly troublesome to mankind in general, and Rhenish mankind in\nparticular. These creatures were, indeed, a plague and a pest to the\ncountry. They ate voraciously, and were not particular as to the food\nwith which they satisfied their appetites. I am not prepared to say\nwhether or no they were actually cannibals, and will therefore give them\nthe benefit of the doubt; nevertheless, they were exceedingly unpleasant\nneighbours. The quantity of food which they required was alone\nsufficient to have placed this fact beyond question, for if you\nrecollect the feats performed in the way of swallowing by your own old\ngiant--\n\n          \u2018Robin-a-bobbin-a-Bilberry Ben,\n              Who ate more victuals than three-score men,\u2019\n\nand consider what would have been the effect upon your country of\nhalf-a-dozen Robins, you will have no trouble in understanding the\ndifficulty which Rhineland experienced in supporting these worthies.\n\n\u201cWhat made it much worse, too, was the exceedingly loose notions which\nthese beings entertained upon the subject of the rights of property.\nThey apparently laboured under the delusion that the world was made for\ngiants, and for giants alone--a theory exceedingly convenient for those\nwho happened to be giants, but the reverse {141}of agreeable to those\nwho did not come within that somewhat limited category. These excellent\nindividuals took exactly what they pleased from its owner, without so\nmuch as \u2018by your leave\u2019 or \u2018with your leave,\u2019 and never for a moment\ndreamed of paying the value of the article in question. This was not a\ncomfortable state of things for the people of the land, who saw their\nsheep and oxen, pigs and poultry, and other possessions which they\nprized, taken away by the great bullies against whom they dared not lift\na voice nor wag a finger.\n\n\u201cBut this was not all. It is bad enough to be robbed by another person,\nand not pleasant to be assaulted, but I am not sure whether to be\nutterly ignored and despised is not worse than either, especially when\naccompanied by such aggravating circumstances as those to which I am now\ngoing to allude. These huge creatures used to go walking about just as\nif there were no such things as men and women in the world. They would\nkick over a cottage for fun, sit down upon a barn or outhouse and crush\nits roof with their weight, out of mere ignorance or wanton folly; and\neven now and then set their foot on a human being and crush him into the\nearth, as if he were a snake, taking no account whatever of his prayers\nand struggles. In fact, they got into the habit of treating people as if\nthey were merely an inferior part of creation placed upon the earth to\ncultivate and make it more useful for giants, and intended to be robbed,\nmaltreated, trodden under foot, and put out of the way, just when and\nhow it suited their imperious masters, for whom, and for whose sake\nalone, the universe had been created.\n\n\u201cYou {142}may well imagine, Brother Thames, that this state of affairs\nwas pre-eminently unsatisfactory to my poor people. No man\u2019s life or\nproperty was secure, and all improvement was entirely prevented. Indeed,\nwhat was the use of building a house which was liable to be knocked down\nor kicked over by a giant at any moment? Of what avail would it have\nbeen to plant a field with wheat, oats, or barley, when at any and\nevery period of the year all might be trodden down by the ruthless\nfoot of the same monster, and the reapers possibly be stamped into the\nground, together with the crops which they were gathering? Who would\nrear sheep and oxen of which he was sure to be robbed? and who would\nspend time, labour, and money upon anything when all was so insecure and\nuncertain? So it came about that the population diminished, no houses\nwere built, few fields were sown, lands went out of cultivation, and it\nseemed as if, in a little time longer, the country would be neither more\nnor less than a dreary wilderness. Indeed, the whole face of the country\nwas changed by the strange freaks of the Daddyroarers.\n\n\u201cSometimes they would amuse themselves by lifting huge masses of rock,\nand therewith building a mountain; at another time they would fling\nenormous stones at each other in sport, which was pastime anything but\ndelightful to their neighbours, whose lives and property were thereby\ngrievously imperilled. And not the least part of the mischief they did\nwas when they took a fancy to snowball each other, which the survivors\nof them still practise, especially in some parts of Switzerland, where\nthe avalanche, which occasionally overwhelms the unhappy traveller,\nalthough mistakenly attributed to natural {143}causes, is in reality\nnothing more than the fall of a larger snowball than usual, hurled by\nthe mighty arm of one of those mountain giants.\n\n[Illustration: 160]\n\n\u201cAt the time I speak of there was one particular giant who had for a\nlong while been remarkably troublesome. Not only was his appetite more\ninsatiable than that of his brethren, but he was endowed with a spirit\nof mischief, which rendered him an especially disagreeable neighbour.\nIf he met a man he generally gave him a kick, which sent him off fifty\nyards up in the air, and in most instances proved fatal. He never passed\na cottage without sitting down on the roof, or kicking the wall down,\nand would walk away from a farm with a couple of haystacks, one under\neach arm, simply for the love of plunder, and when he really did not\nrequire the hay for his own purposes.\n\n\u201cYou {144}will hardly require much argument in order to convince you\nthat this giant was a most obnoxious person, and was consequently held\nin great detestation by all the poor creatures who had the misfortune to\ndwell near him. By these he was generally called by the euphonious name\nof \u2018Old Bramble-Buffer,\u2019 although the title by which he was known among\nhis own kith and kin was probably quite different, and has not been\nhanded down to posterity. For many years he tyrannized over the country\nround, and the story which I am about to tell you will show how great\nhis fame and physical strength must have been, and thus remove any\nsurprise which you might otherwise possibly have felt at the power of\none monster to keep a whole neighbourhood in subjection.\n\n\u201cWhen their houses had been again and again destroyed, the wretched\ninhabitants began to seek shelter in holes in the caves and rocks, in\nwhich they hid themselves, their wives, families, and effects, and only\nissued forth by stealth at night, or when they had reason to believe\nthat their terrible oppressor was away from home. In consequence of\nthis state of things, our friend the Daddyroarer found his fun somewhat\ndiminished. He seldom encountered a man now, the opportunities afforded\nhim for kicking down houses were comparatively rare, and he began to\nthink life in the country, under such circumstances, rather tedious. It\nwas in vain that he occupied himself in mountain-building with some of\nhis fellow-giants, snowballing was cold work, and became tiresome after\na time; and when he once tried to amuse himself by baling out my river,\nhe found the task too great for even one of his gigantic strength.\n{145}He kept on at it for some time, being too stupid to understand\nthat my river, being well supplied at its sources, and aided by many a\ntributary stream and mountain torrent, was in no sort of way affected by\nthe abstraction of the few millions of gallons of which his puny efforts\nrobbed it, and his exertions only caused intense mirth to my elves and\ndemons, without for a moment lessening the volume of water in the river,\nor in any way diminishing the strength and rapidity of the current.\n\n\u201cSo when Master Bramble-buffer became tired of all these occupations and\namusements he had few resources left. Persons of his description are not\ngiven to literary or intellectual pursuits, and in all probability\nboth reading and writing were accomplishments entirely unknown to the\nordinary class of giants. Eating, drinking, and sleeping appeared to\nbe the chief objects for which these creatures existed, except to make\nthemselves generally disagreeable to their neighbours, which was an\nobject in which it is quite true that they rarely failed to achieve\ncomplete success. So when the excellent Bramble-buffer had found out\nthat the task of emptying the Rhine was beyond his powers, and cared\nnot to fall back upon the old pastimes, of which he had had his fill,\nhe took to the practice of taking long walks, and journeying into other\ncountries wherein he might find fresh people to terrify, new fields to\ndestroy, and a wider scope for the exercise of his vast strength and\nmalevolent disposition.\n\n\u201cHe marched over a great extent of ground, and did a vast deal of\nmischief during these excursions. Such was his size and weight, that the\ncommonest action on his part {146}was sometimes fraught with the most\nunexpected results and the direst consequences to mankind. For instance,\nif he carelessly slung his walking-stick as he moved along the road,\nthe implement, being of the size and thickness of a well-grown fir-tree,\nbrushed off the heads of trees--and of people too, for that matter,\nif it came in contact with them,---just as a stick in the hand of an\nordinary mortal knocks over poppies and thistles if employed for that\npurpose. Then if he sat down on a small hill to rest, it was as if a man\nhad jumped with his full weight on a mole-hill of which the earth was\nnewly thrown up and consequently soft. The ground trembled beneath\nhis weight as if with the shock of a sudden earthquake; and very often\nsquashed under him so as to jut out on either side, and cause sudden and\nmost inconvenient alterations in the fields and woods on each side of\nthe hill, more especially so in those cases in which dwellings happened\nto have been erected thereupon. And woe betide the owner of ponds or\nwells when the Daddyroarer happened to be thirsty as he passed by them.\nIt was no unusual thing for him to empty a pond at a draught, and I have\nknown a whole village affected with drought for weeks together because\nold Bramble-buffer had taken a fancy to drink of the wells by which it\nwas supplied with water.\n\n\u201cIn his journey at last the old fellow came to the seashore, and having\nnever before visited the blue ocean, he was abundantly delighted at all\nhe saw. Even the coarse and blunted nature of a giant cannot fail to be\nstruck with admiration at the first sight of the glorious sea. The waves\nbreaking with regular and solemn force upon the shore, as if protesting\never against their enforced {147}restraint within prescribed limits: the\nfoam dancing lightly upon the water far away out at sea; the bright rays\nof the sun reflected in varying lights upon the shifting waters; the\nships riding at anchor, or merrily cleaving the waves asunder in their\nonward course; the sea-birds skimming along the bosom of the sea, ever\nand anon with shrill scream dipping their long wings in the spray of the\nwave, and mounting again in high air with joyous flight; the huge fish\nshowing his scaled form for an instant in the light of day, and the next\nmoment burying himself fathoms deep in the world of waters below;\nall these things, passing before the eye at the same moment with the\nrapidity of thought, strike the beholder, be he giant or man, with\nmingled awe and wonder.\n\n\u201cIn the case of old Bramble-buffer, however, neither feeling lasted\nlong, and after a very short space of time the spirit of mischief arose\nwithin his breast, and tempted him to try his powers of doing evil\nunder the new circumstances before him. Placing himself in a recumbent\nposture, and supporting his huge frame upon his two stalwart arms, he\nbegan to blow violently down upon the sea below, with all the force of\nhis mighty lungs. The effect was instantaneous. The bosom of the deep\nwas troubled as with a terrible hurricane. The waves reared up their\nheads, the foam danced higher than ever, the sea-birds shrieked more\nloudly, and the fishes were astonished at the wondrous commotion which\nhad arisen upon the surface of their watery home. The poor mariners,\nwho were taken totally unawares by the extraordinary suddenness of the\nstorm, were, as may well be supposed, in considerable trouble. Their\nships were {148}driven from their moorings, masts were snapt asunder,\nsails and rigging rent and injured irreparably, and several men and boys\nblown overboard by the violence of the terrible blast. Indeed, more\nthan one vessel was lost, and an immense amount of property utterly\ndestroyed; and all because of this mad freak of the mischievous old\ngiant.\n\n[Illustration: 165]\n\n\u201cBut the best of the joke in this case was that the poor mortals had\nno idea whatever of the cause of the disaster which had so unexpectedly\nbefallen them, and a lengthy correspondence was carried on in the\nnewspapers {149}of a certain country whose inhabitants think themselves\nwiser than anybody else, as to the cause of storms, the efficacy of\nstorm signals, and the possibility of foretelling when the weather is\ngoing to be calm or rough. Some people wrote letters which appeared to\nthe world exceedingly wise, whilst others published ideas which every\none agreed to be remarkably foolish, but none of them ever hit upon\nthe right cause of this catastrophe, and possibly many others of a like\ncharacter, nor did any person ever dream for a moment that the whole of\nthe affair was owing to the whim of old Bramble-buffer and his desire to\ntry his strength upon the waves of the ocean. When he had accomplished\nhis purpose, put everybody and everything into the greatest confusion,\nand done all the mischief he could in the shortest possible time, the\nfellow sat up, folded his arms, and indulged in a series of hearty\nlaughs and strange roars of pleasure which the innocent people of the\nneighbourhood took for claps of thunder, and said it was a good thing;\nthat the thunder-storm would clear the air, and the wind would soon be\nlulled.\n\n\u201cGiants, however, like men, find pleasures greater in anticipation than\nin realisation, and our old friend thought it too much trouble to repeat\nthe experiment of raising the wind, which is one never to be performed\nwithout a certain amount of difficulty. Accordingly, he resolved to seek\nfor some other amusement, and turning away from the sea-shore, again\npenetrated into the interior of the country. It would be endless to\ntell: you all the strange pranks he played, and how gradually his name\nbecame known and detested throughout the whole country through which\nthe river which bears my name holds {150}its course. It he desired\nnotoriety, he certainly had it to his heart\u2019s content, and never was\nthere a being more feared and hated since the beginning of the world.\n\n\u201cAt last, having travelled far enough, he returned by easy stages to the\ncountry from whence he had set out, and there recommenced his old\nevil practices with the smallest possible delay. He had always a spite\nagainst my beautiful river, I suppose because he had failed in emptying\nit; but, whatever the reason may have been, he liked it not, and used to\nvary his occupations sometimes by pitching pieces of mountain into\nit, and close by its side, so as to make its shores if possible\nunapproachable by mortal foot, in doing which he added greatly to the\nwild beauty of the scenery, without in reality doing the smallest harm\neither to the river or to mankind.\n\n\u201cAfter a while, old Bramble-buffer began to find that the effects of his\nbad and cruel conduct towards mankind had so diminished the number\nof those who used to dwell in houses, that he had some difficulty in\nobtaining supplies from farms and homesteads as before. He therefore,\nmuch against his will, was obliged to take to hunting and trapping wild\nanimals, in which he was not very skilful, but for this he was in\nsome measure compensated by the advantages of size and strength, which\nenabled him to catch creatures which his skill alone would never have\nbrought within reach of his devouring jaws.\n\n\u201cIn his search after game he was in the habit of roaming far and wide\nover the mountains and through the forests of Rhine-land, and his loud\ncries and roars were often heard for miles, sending the frightened\npeople into their holes and caves, where with trembling hearts they\nsought {151}a refuge from the mighty Daddyroarer. At last, one day, the\nold fellow had been more than commonly successful in his hunting. Chance\nhad thrown in his way several roe-buck and sundry hares, of which he had\nmade a very hearty meal, and naturally felt rather sleepy afterwards.\nHe therefore wandered slowly through the forest, looking for some\nconvenient and comfortable spot upon which he might deposit his huge\ncarcase, and indulge in that after-dinner nap which is ordinarily so\nagreeable to persons of a certain age. In a giant\u2019s case, such naps are\nalmost always unnaturally long and deep, and in fact these vast beings\nhave been known not unfrequently to sleep round from one dinnertime to\nanother, when their repast has happened to be somewhat larger and more\nsatisfactory to themselves than common.\n\n\u201cOld Bramble-buffer looked about, and not seeing any eligible\nresting-place at hand, determined to make one for himself by pulling\nup a tree or two, and so finding a pillow in their roots and the earth\nwhich would be upturned therewith. So taking hold of a large tree near\nhim, he gave it a twist and a turn, such as a gardener might do in\npulling up a radish, or a labourer in performing the same office upon a\nturnip, and produced precisely the same effect. The tree was uprooted,\nand remained in the hands of its destroyer. But it so happened that this\nwas not an ordinary tree, or rather that there were some extraordinary\ncircumstances connected with it. It was of very great size, and growing\non the side of a hill; in which a large cave had been excavated beneath\nand among the roots of the trees, which served as props and supports for\nthe sides and roof of the same.\n\n\u201cThis {152}cave was inhabited by a number of unhappy mortals, who had\nbeen driven hither by the careless cruelty of the great giant, and who\nlittle thought that the tyranny of their oppressor would follow them\neven into this dark and hidden retreat. They, of course, were thrown\ninto the most terrible consternation by his present feat. The uprooting\nof the tree was to them the destruction of their home once more, the\nruin of all they loved, the literal annihilation of their property,\nand the loss of all that could still make life dear to them. Fancy the\nmiserable, the extraordinary results which would happen if one\u2019s house\nwere suddenly lifted up, and the walls, ceilings, beams, and rafters\nfell in around us on every side. Well, this was precisely what happened\nto these unfortunate creatures. Nor had they the smallest time for\npreparation. It all came upon them in a moment.\n\n\u201cAs we have seen, it was only the desire of the giant to provide himself\nwith a pillow which caused him to pull up the tree, and although he\nwould probably have done so just the same, or perhaps all the more, if\nhe had known what the result would be, there is no reason to suppose\nthat of such result he had the least idea, or indeed that he ever\ntroubled his head about the possible or probable result of his action to\nanybody but himself. As soon, however, as he had pulled up the tree, and\nperceived the effects which he had thus produced, the old rascal burst\ninto a roar of laughter. Indeed the sight was probably as amusing to him\nas it must have been horrible to one of the sufferers. The poor little\nmortals were running to and fro, each with the most woebegone expression\nof countenance, unable to make out {153}what had happened to them. Some,\nindeed, were entangled in the roots of the tree, and whirled up aloft\nwith it in the giant\u2019s hands, some were half smothered by the fallen\nearth, and the rest were endeavouring to make their escape best manner\nthat they could to repair the injury he had done, or leaving the poor\ncreatures whom he had so cruelly disturbed to repair it for themselves\nif they could.\n\n[Illustration: 170]\n\nOn the contrary, he made matters worse, and just for the fun of the\nthing, stamped several of the mortals into the earth as they were wildly\nflying from the ruins of their home, and thus put an {154}end to their\nlives and troubles together. Probably, out of mere mischief, he would\nhave destroyed more of them, if he had happened to have fallen in with\nthe pastime before dinner. Having dined, however, he was much less\ninclined to any active exertion, and therefore contented himself with\nputting his foot upon those who were more immediately within his reach,\nand then, feeling somewhat fatigued, sat down on that very spot and\nprepared for his usual nap. First, however, he indulged in another laugh\nat the curious incident which had just occurred; then he peered down\ninto the cave below, and wondered how any living creatures could exist\nin such a dark, dismal place, and what the nature and habits of such\ncreatures could be. This being a subject too vast and deep for the\nintellect of a giant, he could not entertain it without giving a\ntremendous yawn, which still more inclined him to sleep. So, arranging\nhis position as comfortably as he could upon his back, which is a\ngiant\u2019s natural posture when about to turn in for the night, he composed\nhimself to slumber, without a thought of remorse for the unhappy beings\nwhom he had just treated in so ruthless a manner, and in a very short\ntime was buried in the land of dreams.\n\n\u201cNow, amongst those who had been driven from the shelter of the cave,\nand rendered houseless and homeless in a moment by the act of the giant,\nwas a worthy person of the name of Hans. His other name is unknown to\nme, or at least I have forgotten it at the present moment, which comes\nto much the same thing. Hans had followed the honourable profession of\na tailor in happier days, before the tyranny of the giant had destroyed\ntrade, crippled commerce, and made men careless {155}as to whether they\nwore coats or trousers at all when their whole lives were so full of\nmisery and uncertainty. When tailoring, like other handicrafts, thus\nfell into disuse, and men who were homeless and houseless frequently\nbecame clothes-less also, Hans faced the matter boldly, and lived by his\nwits like the others, making himself exceedingly useful in the cave-life\nwhich he and his companions found themselves obliged to adopt. No one\nknew better how to arrange the interior of the caves after the best\nand most convenient fashion; no one was more urbane to the men, or\nmore courteous and obliging to the women; no one, in short, had\nproved himself a more useful and agreeable companion in that banished\ncommunity.\n\n\u201cHaving been engaged in some domestic occupation within the cave at\nthe time of the misfortune which befell its inmates, Hans bore his full\nshare in the general calamity, and indeed only owed his escape with life\nto his activity and presence of mind. Whirled upwards with the tree, he\nclung tightly to the nearest root, and had the wisdom to drop himself\njust at the right moment upon the ground, and run lightly away into the\nbrushwood. As soon, however, as the assault was over, and the destroyer\nof his brethren had lain down to sleep, the bold Hans again came forth.\n\n\u201cMany men would have fled as far as possible from that scene of sorrow\nand destruction, and thought only of the preservation of their own lives\nfrom the fate which had befallen so many of their kind. But Hans had too\nmuch public spirit to take any such selfish course. He descended without\ndelay into the cave, and ascertained as well as he could the full extent\nof the damage which had {156}been sustained. Then he ran to and fro\namong his fellows, exhorting them to bear with courage this terrible\nreverse, and begging them to meet at once in a cave hard by, and consult\nas to the best measures which could be taken under the circumstances in\nwhich they found themselves.\n\n\u201cIn a very short time, owing to his exertions, more than a hundred of\nthe unhappy mortals assembled together and began to take counsel for\nthe future. As is usual in all such cases, there was a great variety of\nopinion. One man advised that they should all forthwith hang themselves,\nas life had become so insecure as to be almost worthless. It was urged,\nhowever, that this would afford no remedy for the existing state of\nthings, and would be like throwing away your gold because you had been\nrobbed of your silver. Besides, it would be an undignified thing to come\nto a general termination of so inglorious a character, and the proposal\nwas speedily scouted as one totally unworthy of consideration.\n\n\u201cThen it was suggested by another person that a subscription should\nimmediately be raised for the sufferers, and advertisements to that\neffect be inserted in all the daily papers. As the speaker was the\nproprietor and editor of one of these, it is possible that he had an eye\nto business in making the suggestion, which, however, fell flat upon the\nears of the audience. No one there had any money to spare, and everybody\nwas more or less a sufferer from a calamity which had fallen so\ngenerally upon the race of man. Some advised that they should all\nemigrate, but then they didn\u2019t know where to go to, and, in short, it\nseemed as if they were likely {157}to come to no agreement; everybody\nobjected to everything that anybody else said, no one seemed to have any\nweight or authority in the assembly, and it really appeared a hopeless\ncase altogether.\n\n\u201cAt last Hans, who had kept a respectful silence for some time, as\nbecame one in his position, whilst others talked nonsense (which is\noccasionally done at public meetings, as well as elsewhere, down to\nthe present day), came forward, and asked leave to offer his advice.\n\u2018Gentlemen,\u2019 he said, \u2018I hope you will agree with me that it is\nnecessary to do something in this case. To sit still with our hands\nfolded, and do nothing, would be certainly the very worst course we\ncould possibly pursue. The horrible cruelty of the vile Daddyroarer\nhas first driven us from our former happy homes, destroyed our hopes of\nprosperity, and condemned us to an almost savage life; then, not content\nwith the amount of misery which he had already inflicted on us, the\ntyrant has followed us even into the forest, uprooted and ruined the new\nhome which we had formed for ourselves, and once more turned adrift upon\nthe wide world those of us who have been lucky enough to escape with\nlife. How long then are we to endure such a state of things as this?\nWhile this huge monster walks the earth unchecked and unrestrained, no\nman\u2019s life will be safe; and even if we run away and find for ourselves\nfresh hiding-places, what security have we that at any moment he may not\nappear amongst us and again inflict upon us ruin and destruction? Depend\nupon it, gentlemen, this question must be looked in the face. It cannot\nbe evaded any longer. Running away is useless. The enemy must be\nno longer avoided. At this moment he sleeps in security over our\n{158}ruined homes. He must be attacked! Never was there a more\nauspicious moment! Let us take courage, and assail the giant where he\nlies!\u2019\n\n\u201cAs Hans spoke a thrill of horror ran through the meeting, who could by\nno means bring themselves to realise the idea of attacking a monster\nso many sizes larger than themselves, and gifted with strength so\ninfinitely greater\u201d than the united efforts of many \u2018of them put\ntogether. So a murmur of voices, all in the negative, greeted the little\ntailor when he resumed his seat; and presently one of those present,\nwho, being the oldest, was reputed the wisest (which, however, is by\nno means a safe rule to go by), stood up and spoke in his turn. He said\nthat it was folly to talk after the fashion of the speech to which they\nhad just listened; and, as this remark was somewhat personal, it was at\nonce much applauded, which encouraged the orator to proceed. He remarked\nthat since the first man came into the world down to that day no man had\never-dreamed of attacking a giant, and, therefore, that it could not now\nbe done. This sentiment also commended itself to many of his\nhearers, who cherished the belief that no new scheme ought ever to be\nentertained, as the world had gone on so far very well without it,\nand that what had never been done before had better not be attempted.\nFinding his audience possessed with such a good conservative spirit, the\nold man said further, that as giants had from time immemorial tyrannized\nover man, it was doubtless intended that they should do so, and it might\nsavour of impiety to endeavour to alter a state of things which had\nlasted so long. Moreover, the power and authority of giants over men was\nso well established {159}that it would be almost impossible to reverse\nthe order of things. Comparing such an attempt with efforts made in\nother countries, it seemed to him to be almost as absurd as an attempt\nto reform a House of Lords, or reverse the decision of a Governing Body.\nThen, hazarding a joke (which was very well received), he said, that\nif his friend the little tailor wanted \u2018his goose cooked,\u2019 no doubt he\ncould get that operation performed by attacking authority, and if he\nchose to run his head against a wall, no one could prevent him. But\nhe (the speaker) would appeal to those before him, as sensible and\npractical men, and ask them to reject as idle and absurd the wild\ntheories placed before them by little Hans. Giants would be giants, and\nmen would be men to the end of the world, and they must put up with the\nmisfortune which had befallen them as well as they could, and not make\nit worse by entering upon such a hopeless enterprise as that which had\nbeen proposed.\n\n\u201cThis speech met with so much approval from the mortals there assembled,\nwho were thoroughly cowed and subdued in spirit by the long course of\nsuffering which they had undergone, that Hans at first felt his heart\nsink within him. He knew well enough that he could do nothing alone, and\nit seemed as if all were against him. But, remembering the old adage,\nthat \u2018Fortune favours the brave,\u2019 and being a man of undaunted pluck\nand resolution, he determined not to be put down either by taunts or\nclaptrap. He therefore rose again, and ignoring, like a wise man, the\nfoolish and vulgar joke directed against his own most respectable trade,\nproceeded to state his views to the best of his ability. He acknowledged\nthat reverence ought to be paid {160}to age, and that the last speaker\nwas consequently-entitled to every attention. At the same time he could\nnot but observe, that if his doctrine were to hold good, that things\nshould be left to go on as they are merely _because_ they are, and that\nnothing new ought ever to be attempted for fear of failure, the world\nwould be in a very lamentable condition, and no improvement would\never take place in anything. He modestly remarked that, according to\ntradition, mankind at one period of their history wore only the skins of\nanimals, and at a previous time no clothes at all, and that, if the old\ngentleman\u2019s views were correct, they never ought to have quitted the\nlatter condition. \u2018Moreover,\u2019 said he, to cut a long story short,\n\u2018it has been suggested to me that _I_ may attack the giant alone if\nI please, and no one will interfere. Be it so: I only ask for six\nothers--half-a-dozen volunteers--and sooner than submit any longer to\nthe present misery and degradation in which I and my fellow-men are\nplaced, I will make the attempt; I can but perish, and, in such a cause,\ndeath will be glorious.\u2019\n\n\u201cAt these words of the valiant tailor a low murmur of applause ran\nthrough the audience, who now began to perceive that he was really in\nearnest, and had not spoken at first out of mere bravado. For the honour\nof that oppressed race, I am glad to be able to add, that before any\nlong time had elapsed, the six volunteers whom Hans had demanded were\nforthcoming in the persons of that number of sturdy young men, who felt\nthat the hour had come when one great effort must be made to set their\nrace free from slavery, and were prepared to follow their brave leader\nin his perilous enterprise. {161}Indeed, a number of others offered\nthemselves as soon as the thing was fairly started, for man is an\nimitative animal, and like a flock of sheep, if the leader once makes a\ndash down a lane or up a bank, there are always plenty to follow. Hans,\nhowever, carefully selected six of his own acquaintance, whom he knew to\nbe skilled in certain trades, of which a knowledge would be requisite in\norder to carry out his plans, and upon whom he knew he could thoroughly\nrely. He now looked proudly round upon the other mortals, and calling\nhis six friends to follow him, left the place of meeting, attended\nby the good wishes of those whose deliverance he was about to\nattempt,--not, however, altogether unmixed with sundry depreciatory\nsneers on the part of the old gentleman and his immediate followers.\n\n\u201cWithout any delay, Hans journeyed back to the spot upon which the\nmighty Bramble-buffer lay fast asleep, his gigantic carcase resting\nat full length upon the ground. Hard by, the little tailor stopped\nhis troop, and unfolded to them the plan which his fertile brain\nhad conceived, and for the execution of which he depended upon their\nassistance. This was none other than to capture the monster, and either\nput him to death or render him the dependant and slave of those over\nwhom he had so long tyrannized. It would of course be no easy task, but,\non the contrary, one which would require much courage and determination,\nnot to say self-sacrifice, as a possibility by no means remote. For,\nshould the giant awake during the operations which were contemplated, he\nwould probably make short work of Hans and his six followers; and thus,\nin attempting {162}to achieve the freedom of their people, they would\nemphatically have walked out of the frying-pan into the fire.\n\n\u201cNothing daunted, however, Hans, speaking in a low tone of voice,\ninformed his friends of all that he had planned in his head, and,\nknowing how valuable is example upon all such occasions, he told them\nthat he would himself approach the enemy in the first instance, so that\nif he should suddenly awake, none other save the leader of the attack\nneed of necessity be lost. The gallant six all expressed their readiness\nto go too, but Hans told them that they must in every respect obey his\norders if he was to continue their leader, and upon this they yielded\nthe point, and graciously consented to remain in comparative safety,\nwhilst the valiant tailor advanced upon the foe. This he did very\ncautiously, and walked twice all round the sleeping giant in order to be\nquite sure that he was really fast asleep. This was indeed the case, as\nhe speedily assured himself: there was no pretence about the matter; the\ndeep, regular breathing of the sleeper, his closed eyes, and the air of\nrepose visible in every feature, told their own tale, and Hans felt\nthat no moment could be more propitious for his design. Accordingly, he\nclimbed up into the branches of a neighbouring tree, and choosing one\nof them, which appeared from its position and size to be suitable to his\npurpose, swung himself lightly down, and alighted upon the giant\u2019s\nchin, close to his mouth, to reconnoitre which was his first object and\nintention.\n\n\u201cHe had a stick in his hand, and in entering the mouth, which was to him\nlike some enormous cave, unfortunately touched with it some tender place\nin the skin, {163}which caused the monster to be seized with a violent\ndesire to sneeze, which he accordingly did with an effect hardly\nanticipated by the luckless Hans, who, stick and all (the latter being\nbroken in several\u2019 pieces), was sent up many feet in the air, and fell,\nmore nearly frightened than he had ever been before in his life, upon\nthe enormous breast of the creature who had thus treated him.\n\n[Illustration: 180]\n\n\u201cMost fortunately for the little fellow, giants sleep longer and more\nsoundly than any other created beings, and it was not one sneeze that\ncould cause old Bramble-buffer to awake from an after-dinner nap. The\nfall of Hans upon his breast was to him no more than would have been\nthe dropping of a nut from an overhanging tree, {164}and with a kind of\nhalf-grunt, half-snore, he almost immediately became again completely\nunconscious, and, with his mouth wide open, returned to the land of\ndreams and snored audibly.\n\n\u201cThis, then, was the opportunity for which Hans had earnestly hoped, and\nhe beckoned forward his followers, who approached at once, in order to\nperform their part of the tremendous task before them. They were divided\ninto two parties, whose occupation was essentially different. Three\nof them employed themselves upon the beard and hair of the sleeping\nmonster. They\u2019 carefully, and with the lightest possible touch,\nseparated hair from hair, and then fastening to each single hair a\nstrong rope, as far as their ropes would go, bound it down to the ground\nwith pegs or nails, or fastened it securely to the branch of some tree\nnear at hand. They took every precaution not to wake the creature upon\nwhom they were at work, and they performed their business with a skill\nand quickness which showed that Hans had made a good selection in the\nvolunteers whom he had accepted. The monster was ere long bound by\ninnumerable ties to the earth, and the number and strength of these was\nmomentarily increased. Nor, indeed, were the operations of the three men\nconfined to the hairs of the head and beard: the old Daddyroarer was a\nvery hairy person, and they found upon his legs and arms so many hairs\nof the thickness of a large-sized rope, that by turning their attention\nto these limbs and to other parts of his body, they multiplied many\ntimes over the links by which they gradually bound him more and more\nsecurely to mother earth.\n\n\u201cMeanwhile the other three volunteers were actively engaged {165}in an\noccupation if possible still more dangerous. It was the mouth of the\ngiant upon which Hans had always known he should have to make his great\nattempt. For should every other part of his huge frame be brought under\nsubjection and his mouth left free, the direst consequences might be\napprehended. His roars might bring to his assistance others of his kind\nfrom a distance; and even if this did not actually occur, the whole\npopulation of the country would be alarmed, if indeed the volunteers\nthemselves were not deafened and rendered senseless by the sound. It\nwas bad enough even when they commenced, for the snores of the sleeping\ngiant were like very loud thunder, closer to the earth than common, or\nthe roar of many cannons in some great conflict of human armies. Luckily,\nhowever, he only snored at intervals, between which much could be done,\nand by carefully filling their ears with cotton wool, the four men were\nable to proceed with their task, the noise being somewhat deadened by\nthis wise precaution.\n\n\u201cHans, armed with a long spear sharpened at both ends, boldly entered\nthe mouth first. It was as dark as an oven, and almost as hot, whilst\nthe odour was far less agreeable, as the monster liked his venison high,\nand had eaten rather an unusual quantity that day. In fact, from time to\ntime the men were obliged to creep out, faint and sick, and take a whiff\nof fresh air and a drop of brandy before they could go on with their\nwork. Hans carefully placed his long spear in such a position between\nthe jaws that they could not possibly be closed upon him. He was obliged\nto be exceedingly careful in climbing round and over the teeth, which\nwere of such size, {166}length, and sharpness, that to traverse them was\nlike climbing over a wall with enormously long pointed iron spikes at\nthe top of it. In fact, but for the circumstance of the existence of\nvarious holes and crevices through which he could creep, Hans would have\nfound his task even more difficult than was actually the case.\n\n[Illustration: 183]\n\n\u201cHis three companions, meanwhile, had provided themselves with a great\nquantity of beams, joists, rafters, and all other necessary articles\nfor the purpose which they intended to accomplish. They set to work with\ngreat zeal to fortify the giant\u2019s mouth after a novel fashion, fixing\nstrong beams of oak between the teeth, and building in planks of oak and\nfir so as to create a fixed and strong roof within the mouth which\nno power could remove save in the same manner by which it had been\n{167}erected, namely, by carpenters\u2019 work performed by skilful\noperators. As the darkness of the interior of the mouth rendered it\ndifficult to work therein, the workmen, who became bolder after they had\nworked for some time without interruption, fetched a lantern, which\nHans carefully hung from one of the beams, and, by the assistance of its\nlight, the work proceeded more rapidly; and after a time the four men\narrived at the conclusion that there was little more to do in order to\nsecure the object for which they had undertaken their hazardous task.\n\n[Illustration: 184]\n\n\u201cAccordingly they all left the mouth, except their valiant leader, who\nnow struck a severe blow upon the tongue of the giant with a fragment of\nbeam, in order to awake and summon him to surrender. Such, however, was\nthe thickness of the monster\u2019s skin, that even upon this most sensitive\npart a second and harder blow was necessary before the desired effect\ncould be produced.\n\nHaving {168}dealt this with all his force, Hans went forth and stood\nupon the protruding lip of the giant, whence lie was presently hurled\ndown once more upon his breast, as the huge frame trembled and, with a\nsigh, the monster awoke. Hans was speedily upon his legs again, climbed\nat once boldly through the beard and whiskers of his prostrate enemy,\nand standing upon the lower part of his cheek, and elevating his\nlantern, shouted at the top of his voice, \u2018You vile old murdering\nDaddy-roarer! surrender yourself as my prisoner. Villain, you shall now\npay dearly for all the mischief you have done, and the innocent lives\nwhich you have sacrificed. Monster, you must die!\u2019\n\n\u201cOld Bramble-buffer, half asleep and half awake, at first made no\nresponse whatever to this appeal, which, in fact, he scarcely heard.\nNeither could he see the individual by whom he was addressed; all he\nheard was a noise as of a shrill penny trumpet close to his ear, and it\nwas some few seconds before he recovered his senses sufficiently to make\nout what was said to him. All he saw was the feeble ray of a lantern,\nand he waited for awhile in hopeless confusion. Then, at last, he\nperceived the strange little figure which had addressed him in so\nhaughty a tone, and for an instant a feeling of contemptuous mirth took\npossession of his soul. This, however, did not last long, for Hans spoke\nagain.\n\n\u201c\u2018You don\u2019t believe you are captive, don\u2019t you?\u2019 he cried. \u2018Just try to\nmove, you old beggar, will you, and you\u2019ll soon know the rights of it!\u2019\n\n\u201cBramble-buffer, on hearing these words, immediately followed the advice\nwhich they gave, but found that he was so firmly secured to the ground\nby more than {169}half the hairs of his head and body, that he could not\nmove an inch. Then he tried to roar, or at all events to speak to his\nvanquisher, and discover what it all meant, but found himself totally\nunable to do so. His mouth was so carefully and solidly fortified, that\nhe could no more close it than fly, and he found that he was completely\nand absolutely in the power of those who had taken advantage of his\nsleep to make him a helpless captive.\n\n\u201cAs soon as he saw that the giant was aware of his condition, Hans\ncarefully kicked him on the nostril, and went on to say, \u2018Now, you old\nrascal, you will have time to repent, perhaps, but no more. The crows\nand ravens will soon come and pick out your eyes, and the wolves and\nother animals for whom the flesh of an old giant is not too strong, will\ndoubtless make an end of you before long. If, however, these should not\narrive soon, you may starve here as comfortably as you can, and die\nof hunger at your leisure.\u2019 With these words the little tailor stamped\nviolently on the old Daddy-roarer\u2019s cheek, and laughed scornfully as he\ndid so.\n\n\u201cPerfectly helpless, overcome with sorrow at his miserable condition,\nand struck with horror at the melancholy and wretched fate which he saw\nimpending, Bramble-buffer could bear up no longer, but burst into\ntears, in doing which he very nearly destroyed his conqueror, who\nwould certainly have been washed away by the stream which suddenly came\ngushing down the cheek on which he was standing, had he not with his\nwonted agility jumped on one side, and swung himself off by the whiskers\non to the ground.\n\n\u201cSeeing his enemy thus completely prostrate in body and {170}soul, and\nevidently perfectly conscious of the helplessness of his position, the\nacute brain of Hans began immediately to consider whether there might\nnot be some better way of turning the giant to account than by either\nkilling him or leaving him to die, especially as there would be\nconsiderable practical inconvenience in getting rid of so huge a\ncarcase, which would moreover attract all the wolves, foxes, vultures,\ncrows, and other disagreeable animals from far and near, and render the\nplace unbearable for months to come. A happy thought struck him, and he\ninstantly struck the giant in consequence, climbing back again on to his\nlip in order to do so. \u2018Listen to me, Daddy roarer!\u2019 he cried at the top\nof his voice. \u2018You can purchase your life if you wish it. What do you\nsay to that?\u2019\n\n[Illustration: 187]\n\n\u201cFastened as he was, and unable to speak or move his mouth, the old\nfellow could only signify his delight by {171}winking his eyes, which he\nforthwith did with as much expression as could be expected from a\nperson of his intellectual capacity. Hans perfectly understood that an\naffirmative reply was intended, and he thus proceeded to explain his\nmeaning to the giant. \u2018Now, look here, old chap! you must confess that\nyou have been a regular ruffian: destroying crops, throwing down houses,\nbagging sheep and cattle, stamping upon people who never did _you_ any\nharm, and generally playing Old Harry with the whole country. Now, if I\nand my mates let you off this time, and spare your life, you must vow,\npromise, and solemnly declare that you will do just exactly the reverse\nand opposite of all you have hitherto done. You must watch over the\ninterests of mankind, and, in fact, you must be our slave, perform the\ntasks which we shall impose upon you, and yield a ready and implicit\nobedience to all commands which shall be laid upon you by properly\nconstituted authorities among mankind, from the Emperor of Germany down\nto the parish constable. If you\u2019re game for this, old fellow, wink your\neye again, and it\u2019s a bargain.\u2019\n\n\u201cIt may perhaps be objected to our hero Hans, Brother Thames, that his\nlanguage was somewhat of what is termed a \u2018slang\u2019 character; but if\ncritics make, as critics will, such remarks, they should remember that,\nin the days of which I am speaking, tailors were not, as now, upon an\nequality with educated gentlemen, and their language was not unnaturally\nsomewhat less polished and refined than might otherwise have been the\ncase. I should willingly put into the mouth of Hans expressions of a\nnature better calculated to please the superlatively well-conditioned\ngentlemen who, in these days {172}when all men are equal, speak with\nacknowledged accuracy of taste and grammar, whether they chance to have\nbeen half, wholly, or not at all educated, and cannot endure in the\nmouths of others anything which falls short of their own high standard;\nbut I speak of things and people as they really were in those old days,\nand I cannot alter the truth for anybody.\n\n\u201cHans was only a tailor, and perhaps a little vulgar into the bargain,\nand he certainly accosted the old giant with more slang expressions and\nless respect than his age and rank might have entitled him to expect. So\nit was, however, and, what is more, the result was the same as it would\nprobably have been if Hans had used other and better language to express\nhis meaning.\n\n\u201cOld Bramble-buffer no sooner heard the conditions imposed than he\nwinked his eye again without the smallest hesitation, in order to\nsignify that he agreed to the bargain. Upon this our friend Hans\nimmediately summoned his companions, who came at once, and, being\nordered by him to do so, climbed upon the face of the still-prostrate\nfoe, and, at Hans\u2019 further commands, took up the positions which he\nindicated. Three of them sat quietly upon his forehead, whilst two\nothers sat, one over each of his eyes, holding in their hands a sharp\ndagger which they kept suspended just above his eyelids.\n\n\u201c\u2018Now, old boy,\u2019 shouted Hans again, right into the ear of the giant,\n\u2018look here; I am going to keep my part of the bargain, and begin to set\nyou free. If, when your mouth is open, you cry out for help, or say or\ndo anything unpleasant, straight into your eyes go these two daggers,\nand you will find that you will fare much {173}worse than if you had\nkept your word. As soon as your voice is free, you will swear the Big\nOath of the giants to be the slave of our people henceforth; and\nyou shall then be set free from the other bonds by which you are now\nconstrained.\u2019\n\n[Illustration: 190]\n\n\u201cHaving said these words, Hans boldly descended once more into the huge\nmouth of his former enemy, accompanied by his remaining companions, who\ncarried a lantern. Then, taking up his spear, which he had removed from\nits position in the giant\u2019s jaws as soon as the beams and rafters had\nbeen all fixed and securely built in, he carefully moved one of these,\nwhich was the key {174}to the whole edifice, and then, jumping out of\nthe mouth, told the owner thereof that he could do the rest himself.\nThis, indeed, was the case, for with a vigorous crunch of his jaws,\nBramble-buffer now smashed beams, rafters, joists, and planks all into\none shapeless mass, which he forthwith spat out of his mouth as fast as\nhe could, and afterwards indulged in a long, deep sigh of relief. It was\na moment of agonizing suspense to the men. Suppose the giant should play\nfalse? They might indeed put out his eyes, but his roars would probably\nbring other giants to his aid before long, and, when free, his vengeance\nwould be terrible. A very few seconds, however, put an end to their\ndoubts, and dissipated all their fears. The race of giants are a curious\ncombination of good and evil, and if the latter generally predominates,\nit is really not so much from natural or inherent vice as from defective\neducation, there being a sad want of elementary schools among giants,\nand few people big enough to undertake the instruction of their youth.\nBut no well-born giant of average respectability breaks the great giant\noath, and this was what Bramble-buffer had promised to take. Nor was he\nfalse to his promise: as soon as he had recovered his powers of speech,\nhis very first words were as follows, pronounced in rhyme, doubtless for\nthe sake of emphasis:--\n\n          \u2018By the mountains of the earth;\n               By the ground which gave me birth;\n          By the streams which here do flow;\n               By the cots I\u2019ve oft laid low;\n\n          By the woods and forests great;\n               By the woven web of Fate;\n          By the waters of the Rhine,\n               Swear I now this oath of mine:--\n\n          War with man henceforth t\u2019 eschew,\n               To their cause for e\u2019er be true,\n          All their mandates to obey,\n               Willing slave by night or day,\n\n          To their will submissive bow,\n               Since they grant my freedom now!\u2019\n\n\u201cIt {175}is but doing justice to the estimation in which the character\nof the giants as vow-keepers stood, to say that from the moment that old\nBramble-buffer pronounced these words, not one of the seven heroes who\nstood on and about his face at the time of his dozing had the smallest\nfear for themselves, or for those to whom he had just vowed obedience.\nThey felt, on the contrary, such entire confidence in the moral probity\nof their old enemy, and in his honest intention to observe his oath\nin the most religious manner, that they immediately threw down their\ndaggers (in such a reckless manner as might have proved serious to\nthe face of the old giant if they had not fortunately fallen in his\nwhiskers), and proceeded without delay to climb down and set free the\nhairs which they had so securely fastened with cords and ropes. Little\nby little they separated those disagreeable knots and ties, and the\nemancipated Bramble-buffer at last rose once more from the ground a free\ngiant.\n\n\u201cAs soon as he was upon his legs, the first thing he did was to shake\nhimself violently, and in so doing cause the earth to tremble beneath\nhim as from the shock of an earthquake. He then spoke humbly to Hans,\nand asked his will; but as in doing this he employed his ordinary voice,\nwhich was not unlike thunder, his conqueror made the first use of\nhis power by desiring his slave to speak in a whisper for the future,\n{176}unless he should happen to be standing at a great distance from the\nperson addressed. He next directed the captive Bramble-buffer to carry\nhim and his companions to the cave in which they had left the rest of\nthe mortals. This cave was formed out of rocks, close to the vast ruins\nof an ancient castle, which at some distant time had been built in a\nvery strong position, but which age or giants had long ago partially\ndemolished. In front of the cave huge rocks jutted out on all sides, and\non a plateau of rock there came out several of the mortals to receive\nHans and his prisoner, as soon as the news had spread that they were\nnear at hand.\n\n\u201cBramble-buffer had meekly obeyed the commands of his master, and\nbrought him and his six volunteers safely to the place they desired.\nThen Hans, having directed that he should be placed upon a table of rock\njust opposite that on which the other mortals were standing, and which\nwas about on a level with the giant\u2019s head as he stood below, introduced\ntheir new slave to his fellow-men, and related to them the perils and\nadventures through which he and his six friends had passed, and the\nsuccessful issue to which they had brought the affair which had been\nentrusted to them. Upon this the men all set up a shout of joy, as they\ngazed with unfeigned delight upon their old enemy, humbled and brought\nlow as he was.\n\n\u201cThen there followed the usual course of action in such matters.\nEverybody praised Hans, and everybody pretended that _they_ had known\nhis talents, skill, and bravery from the first, and had always been in\nfavour of the expedition which he had planned and executed.\n\nOne {177}would have thought that the old gentleman, at least, would have\nremained silent, but this was far from being the case. On the contrary,\nhe was foremost in offering his congratulations to the triumphant Hans,\nand even went so far as to say that he could not help taking some credit\nto himself in the matter, for that, highly approving of his scheme from\nthe first moment he heard it, and being most anxious for its success, he\nhad known that a little pretended opposition was the only way to get up\na feeling in favour of it among the general throng, and had therefore\nspoken doubtfully in order to secure this result. His wisdom, he added,\nhad been amply justified; Hans had succeeded as he, the old gentleman,\nhad always known he must and would succeed, and he hoped he would ever\nbe grateful to those whose age and experience had assisted him at the\nfirst beginning of the affair.\n\n\u201cHans listened with respectful attention to this speech, and to many of\na similar character from that large class of persons who always tell\none after an event has happened that they perfectly well knew it would\noccur, and had often prophesied it beforehand. He did not deem it\nnecessary to make any answer, but accepted all the compliments offered\nhim with becoming modesty, and told his friends plainly that he had\nacted for the general benefit, and was very thankful that success had\ncrowned his efforts. Many rewards were, of course, bestowed upon the\nhero: he was made a knight of several orders, which conferred the right\nto wear certain stars and crosses at court, which was accounted a great\nprivilege in those days, and was all the more valued because it was\nalways so uncertain to whom {178}it would be given, some persons who had\ndone nothing to deserve it being frequently thus decorated, while\nothers were left out who had fairly earned it by service rendered to the\npublic. But everybody rejoiced in the honours showered upon Sir Hans,\nand tailoring immediately grew fashionable and has so continued ever\nsince.\n\n\u201cFrom that time forth there is but little of interest to relate to\nyou concerning the giant Bramble-buffer. He honestly and diligently\nperformed his duty to his masters, making and altering mountains for\nthem when required, holding a gigantic umbrella over particular crops\nwhich the rain would have damaged when a storm happened to break over\nthem, and performing very many other offices for the performance of\nwhich brute strength was required. In short, he proved a most faithful,\nuseful, and obedient servant, never grumbled at being required to rise\nearly, complained of his victuals, or said that, \u2018it wasn\u2019t his place\u2019\nto do any particular service asked of him, but did his duty like a true\nand good giant, and was consequently happy and contented during the\nwhole of his remaining life. I cannot tell you precisely when that life\nterminated, but I rather fancy his head got confused when two great\nnations took to quarrelling as to which of them had the best claim to\nmy river, and consequently to the giant who served the population of the\ncountry near, and if this absurdity on the part of mortals turned with\nthem into madness, it is not a matter of surprise that the same disease\nfell upon the less powerful intellect of the poor giant, and that he put\nan end to himself when, like the nations themselves, he was labouring\nunder \u2018temporary insanity.\u2019 At all events, I have told you his legend\nas {179}far as it has been well authenticated, and will now leave you to\npass your opinion thereupon.\u201d\n\n\u201cA good tale, indeed, Brother Rhine,\u201d remarked Father Thames at the\nconclusion of this story.\n\n\u201cI am glad you approve of it,\u201d replied the other. \u201cHave you never had\ngiants of this kind in your own country, Brother Thames?\u201d\n\nThus addressed, the old king pondered for awhile, and then made answer\nas follows:--\u201cYes, we have had giants, of one sort or another, in old\nEngland, but rarely of the size, and scarce even of the mischievous\ncharacter, of your Daddyroarers. But since you have told me a tale of\nthe giant, let me give you a legend of the small people;\u201d and so saying\nFather Thames commenced the history of--\n\n\n\n\nTHE MANNIKINS\u2019 CASTLE\n\nI don\u2019t pretend, Brother Rhine, to have as many haunted castles upon my\nbanks as you have on and about the sides of your famous river. I have\nalways denied that the chief merit of a castle consists in its being\nhaunted, and the simple-minded people who inhabit this old England of\nours look to the circumstance of their houses being comfortable to live\nin, free from draughts and bad smells, large enough to entertain their\nfriends, and possessed of good kitchen arrangements, rather than to\ntheir being the residence of any supernatural beings such as those of\nwhich you and your castles appear to be so proud. Moreover I have often\nobserved that the presence of such creatures is constantly connected\nwith the commission of some frightful {180}crime at a distant period of\ntime, the perpetrator of which appears desirous to perpetuate its\nmemory by haunting the place where it was performed as much as he or she\nconveniently can. We islanders, on the contrary, when any of us happen\nto commit a crime, prefer that it should be forgotten as soon as\npossible, and think it very indecent and improper of any member of a\nrespectable family who may have distinguished himself in the paths of\nvice if he seeks to keep up the remembrance thereof, and throw a stain\nupon the escutcheon of his house by coming back again to earth after he\nhas once left it for the benefit of the survivors. There are exceptions,\nof course, to this rule, but I state what I believe to be the popular\nfeeling here upon the subject; and although I am going to tell you a\nstory which concerns a castle, and also beings not strictly mortal or\nordinary, I may at once tell you that, so far as I know, no murder was\never committed there, and no ghost or demon of an unpleasant character\never entered the place, except under the casual circumstances which I\nshall presently relate.\n\nIt was an old castle, however; a very old castle, built much more\nmassively than the structures of modern times, and full of curious old\nbits of wall, over which antiquaries would puzzle nowadays to determine\ntheir date, and having here and there wonderful windows with huge stone\nmullions set into the great, deep walls, and apparently built with the\nintention of lasting until the end of the world. In the chief window\nof this old ruin--for a ruin it was at the time of my story--there\nhabitually sat a large black owl, who was generally supposed to be the\nlord and ruler of the place.\n\n[Illustration: 181]\n\n[Illustration: 198]\n\nPerhaps _he_ was a spirit if one only knew it, but as no one _did_ know\n{182}it, it never entered anybody\u2019s head to say so. He was hardly mortal\nthough, for he not only hooted like an ordinary owl, but spoke like\na Christian; at least so I suppose, or how would he have made himself\nunderstood by other beings who were _not_ owls, and who yet had to\ncommunicate with him? For beings more extraordinary than owls inhabited\nthe old castle. A large number of mannikins had taken possession of it\nsome years after its abandonment by mortals, and here the merry little\ncreatures would sport and gambol all the livelong day. They used to\nclamber about the strong ivy-trees that grew up the sides of the old\nwalls, playing at hide and seek among the thick leaves, and making the\nplace re-echo with their joyous shouts. They were wont to sport and play\nwith the large lizards which basked upon the walls when the sun came out\nwith rays bright and strong, and warm enough to tempt them to do so, and\nthey would scamper up and down the whole place, trying their skill in\nascending and descending the steepest and most perpendicular places in\nthe old walls, where the stone was crumbling away from sheer age, and\nwhere no being of mortal frame and mould could have found a secure\nfooting for a moment. Oh, they were merry little chaps, those mannikins!\n\nWithin the precincts of the castle itself, in the ancient courtyards\nwhich once reverberated with the shrill blast of trumpets calling men\nforth to war; where men-at-arms formerly strode boldly along, filled\nwith warlike ardour, and where martial sounds rang out loud and oft in\nthe days of old, grass was now growing long and rank, which was trodden\nunder foot only by the lively mannikins in their daily and nightly\ndances, whilst their shrill and merry cries replaced those sterner\nsounds which had long {183}since ceased, and those who had caused them\nhad passed for ever from mortal ken and mortal vision. All was indeed\nchanged; but I am not prepared to say that the change was not for the\nbetter, for I was never fond of the old feudal times myself; and the\nbarons who used to possess such castles, and send forth their retainers\nto fight, were much more troublesome people to the world at large,\nand their neighbours in particular, than were the little mannikins who\nplayed around the old place, or the wise old owl who blinked his eyes\ncosily and comfortably in the stone window.\n\nYou would have thought that such innocent creatures as owls and\nmannikins could have had no enemies, but must have been on good terms\nwith all their fellow-creatures of every description. True, they\nsometimes made themselves disagreeable in the way of taking new-laid\neggs from farmyards which were within temptingly easy reach of their own\nabode, and now and then they were shrewdly suspected of having milked a\ncow with which they had no business, and stolen cream when the dairymaid\nhad been careless enough to leave the dairy-door unlocked. In these\nparticulars, though, they were, after all, no worse than mortals have\nfrequently been, and in fact not half so bad, inasmuch as they made\nwhat return they could to the country people who might have now and then\nsuffered from their depredations, sometimes going out in the moonlight\nnights and making their hay for them or finishing the cutting of a\ncornfield, and even condescending so far, on more than one occasion, as\nto sweep a chimney and thoroughly dust a kitchen floor. For they were\nvery active little fellows, those mannikins, and could turn their hands\nto almost anything if they saw fit to do so.\n\nThey {184}had some enemies no doubt, in wild and evil-disposed animals,\nfor they loved to warn the lamb when the wolf was lying in wait for him,\nand often saved the poultry by a timely notice that the fox was coming,\nwhereby they incurred the wrath and hatred of these midnight marauders.\nBut the chief and principal of their enemies were the witches, who have\nduring all ages been a plague to this otherwise favoured land. I say\nadvisedly, in all ages, because this is indeed the truth, although in\ntheir form and shape, as well as in their method of doing mischief,\npersons of this class have wonderfully changed. In old times they were\ngenerally of repulsive appearance, oftentimes clad in a red cloak,\ngenerally with a stick in one hand, and almost invariably humpbacked or\nmisshapen in some way, and attended by a familiar in the shape of a cat.\nThey were consulted only on serious affairs, or when somebody wanted to\nbe revenged upon somebody else; they were malicious in their words\nand actions; hated everything good, respectable, and handsome; and, if\npossible, transformed it as soon as they could into something quite the\nreverse. Nowadays, our English witches are entirely different: their\nshape is usually beautiful, their figure perfect, their eyes bright and\nfull of expression, and their dress made in admirable good taste and\nafter an exceedingly becoming fashion. They have no familiar spirit, and\nthe best of them allow no one to be too familiar with them; neither\ndo they change the form and shape of mankind into those of hideous\ncreatures, but, on the contrary, rather prefer that men should be\nhandsome and well shaped; but they still exercise over them an almost\nresistless sway, which, however, is far more {185}willingly obeyed\nthan was the power of the witches of the old times; and they are now\nconsulted, not so much on matters of hate and revenge, as on those which\nconcern feelings far more desirable to be cherished in the human breast.\n\nBut the witches of whom I have to speak to-day hated the mannikins as\nmuch as a certain person is said to hate holy water. The reason of\nthis was sufficiently obvious, and arose from the entire and radical\ndifference between the views of the two sets of beings. The mannikins\nwere, as I have said, although mischievous, the friends of mankind; the\nwitches were the enemies of everything human which was not as wicked\nas themselves: the mannikins found pleasure in the most innocent\namusements; the witches had no satisfaction in anything which did\nnot injure or give pain to somebody else: the mannikins were gay and\ncheerful, the witches dull and morose, save when under the influence of\nstrong drink: the mannikins generally ran about on their own legs; the\nwitches habitually rode broomsticks, or toads, or whatever else came in\ntheir way and could be made to serve as a horse--in fine, the mannikins\nand witches did not, could not, and were never likely to, agree upon any\none point or in any one feature of resemblance, and therefore it was not\nunnatural that they should be animated by feelings of hostility the one\nagainst the other. I am bound to say, however, that the mannikins never\nwished to interfere with or annoy the witches, and would have been well\ncontent to keep out of their way altogether if they could only have\nmanaged to do so. It was the witches who went out of their way to tease\nand bully the mannikins whenever they could, and who were {186}entirely\nresponsible for all the troubles which occurred in consequence.\n\nNot far from the owl\u2019s castle was a large forest, in which all kinds\nof creatures dwelt, and of which the little people from the castle made\ngreat and frequent use. They dearly loved to wander amongst the enormous\ntrees, climbing over their branches, and playing around their gigantic\ntrunks. One tree in particular there was which they held very precious.\nIt had fallen down, and lay in the forest, covering a prodigious space\nof ground. On, under, and around it, wherever they could do so, the\nlittle mannikins planted a large number of fungi, under which they\nsought shelter from the rays of the sun or the pelting of the storm, and\nwhich they called their summer palace. Here they would spend hour after\nhour when the weather was favourable, and I have often wandered up from\nmy river to have a sly peep at the merry little creatures sporting and\nplaying whilst the distant moon shone upon them from afar, lighting up\nthe walls of the old castle in the distance, and bathing with a flood\nof light the forest and fallen tree and the mannikins\u2019 playground around\nthe latter. There they would be, sure enough, night after night, running\none after the other round the tree and under the fungi, having sometimes\ncoaxed a butterfly or two, a big blue-bottle fly, or some other lively\ninsect, to sit up with them and make a night of it.\n\nOne would have thought that it would have been scarcely worth the\nwitches\u2019 while to have troubled themselves with these harmless people,\nwhen there was so much more mischief of a practical character to be done\nin the world without. But there is no accounting for tastes, {187}and\nwhen the evil passion of malice once seizes upon any one, whether mortal\nor witch, no one can tell to what extremities it will lead. Accordingly,\nseveral of the most notorious witches in that part of the country (and\never since England was a country, Berkshire and Buckinghamshire have\nbeen the favourite abodes of witches) resolved to harass and worry the\nmannikins by every means within their power.\n\n[Illustration: 204]\n\nDame Stokes, Mother Wandle, and old Goody Tickleback {188}were the names\nof the three principal plotters, and a rare bad lot they were when you\ncame to know them. Dame Stokes lived at Datchet, whence she generally\nsallied forth upon one of the biggest broomsticks ever known in that\npart of the country.\n\n[Illustration: 205]\n\nMother Wandle frequently assumed the shape of a large bat, under\nwhich disguise she flitted about all over the country; whilst Goody\nTickleback, who resided not far from the playing-fields at Eton,\nhabitually rode the carcase of a fearful antediluvian monster whose\nskeleton she had found in some queer place, and which, animated by her\nparticular evil spirit, made her a capital horse, and struck terror\n{189}into the souls of all those who were unfortunate enough to see\nit. These foul creatures, having secured the aid of others as bad as\nthemselves, determined to root out the family of mannikins if they\npossibly could, or at all events drive them once for all from the castle\nand its neighbourhood.\n\nThey first endeavoured to obtain as allies the nymphs who frequented\nmy banks, coming down oftentimes to bathe from their homes in the shady\nrecesses of Windsor Forest, where their dances were most beautiful to\nbehold, showing off their graceful figures to perfection, and making me\nanxious that they should become permanent residents within the waters\nof my river. These ladies, however, would have nothing to say to the\nwitches, whom they declared to be frightful as well as disreputable\npeople, not fit for the society of well-conducted females who had any\nrespect for themselves. They stated, moreover, that, in their opinion,\nthe mannikins had done nothing for which they deserved to be punished,\nbut were inoffensive and gentlemanlike little people, who ought rather\nto be encouraged than the reverse. Then the witches tried to cajole my\nelves, and to persuade them to splash, duck, and, if possible, drown\ntheir enemies when they came down to play upon the river banks. But\nthe elves were exceedingly indignant at the request, remarking that the\nwitches had nothing whatever to do with _them_, whilst the mannikins\nwere their first cousins once removed, and that \u201cblood was thicker than\nwater.\u201d\n\nSo, as they could get no other allies, the old hags were obliged to\ncontent themselves with the snakes and bats, the inferior class of\ntoads, rats, hedgehogs, and other {190}low-lived and despicable animals.\nAnd, first of all, they determined to try and get rid of the old owl,\nwho was the guardian and protector of the mannikins, and the extent of\nwhose power was very little known. So they began by spreading all kinds\nof false and wicked reports about the worthy bird. They caused it to be\nsaid that he had been seen carrying off young chickens, that he had been\ndetected in robbing several pheasants\u2019 nests, and that his private life\nwas no better than it should be. Unfortunately, however, for the\nsuccess of this scheme, the owl took no newspapers and saw no company.\nConsequently, he never heard or read of the reports in question, and\ntherefore of course never took the trouble to contradict them. The\nresult was that, as is usually the case under similar circumstances,\npeople, seeing that the individual attacked took no notice of what was\nsaid, thought they had better take the same course, and the reports\ndropped gradually out of circulation, until no one believed them at all.\n\nIt was thus made evident to the witches that they must resort to more\nactive measures if they desired to disturb the owl. So they poisoned\na young rabbit, and put it near the window in which the ancient bird\ncommonly sat. But the owl was too many for them. A fox came and looked\nat the rabbit, but having done so, although its appearance was tender\nand tempting, he winked his eye and passed on. Then the owl slowly\nraised his claws to his beak, chuckled a little in a sepulchral tone,\nand told a couple of mannikins to bury that carcass out of the way,\nand watch any one who came and brought such an article again, and, if\npossible, bring them to his presence.\n\nIt {191}was plain that the owl was not to be caught asleep, and the\nwitches must betake themselves to some new plan. So they sent for some\nhawks, and persuaded them that the owl was the natural and terrible\nenemy of their race, and that by a combined attack upon him, they might\nget rid of him at once and for ever. The hawks went to take a look at\nthe bird and the place, and, after a careful inspection, came to the\nconclusion that there was nothing to be gained by attacking either.\nTheir eyes were so sharp, that they saw through the plan of the witches,\nand were perfectly certain that they had some end of their own in view.\nSo they told the old ladies that they had been entirely mistaken in the\nmatter, that the owl was by no means a bad sort of person, and that they\ncould not interfere in any way in the private quarrels of other people.\n\nDisappointed at this, the three witches next went to the jays, and\neasily succeeded in inducing these mischievous birds to make such a\nfrightful and discordant screaming around the owl\u2019s abode as would, in\nall probability, oblige him to leave it. But the owl did no such thing.\nHe simply told the mannikins to tell the jays that unless their noise\ninstantly ceased, and was not again renewed, a birdsnesting party should\nbe organized by the little people as soon as ever the nesting season\nshould arrive, and that every jay in or near the wood should have to\ndeplore the loss of eggs and young. This was most alarming news to the\njays, who knew pretty well that the owl had full power to carry out his\nthreat, and that if he did so, the mannikins, who had eyes like needles,\nand could climb with so much ease and agility, would certainly take\nevery jay\u2019s egg in the place, and thus {192}wreak a fearful vengeance on\nthe disturbers of their monarch\u2019s rest. So the birds desisted forthwith\nfrom their noise, and observed that they had only done it for a \u201clark,\u201d\n and meant no harm; to which the wise bird replied, that there was a\ngreat difference between an owl and a lark, which difference they had\nbetter fully recognise before troubling him again in such a manner.\n\nStill the witches would not desist from their attempt to obtain, by\nsecret cunning, the result which they feared to seek by open attack.\nThey hired bats to flit around the castle walls by night, with the\nintention of pulling out the owl\u2019s tail and wing-feathers, and thus\ncrippling him in his sleep, when he might be attacked with less fear\nof evil consequences to the aggressors. The attempt, however, miserably\nfailed. The worthy bats, who really belonged to the castle, had\nexperienced such great and unvarying kindness from the owl, that they\nhad neither reason nor desire to prove faithless to him. They easily and\nimmediately detected the strange birds who entered the precincts of\nthe castle, and, having forced them to declare the object of their\nintrusion, drove them out with blows and insults, so that they retired\nin the utmost confusion.\n\nThen the witches began to see that the owl was not to be outwitted by\ncunning, or destroyed by fraud. War, open war, was the only resource\nleft; and the next question would be how it could be carried on with the\nbest chance of success. They had the impudence to send a deputation of\nlittle witchlings to me, calmly asking me to overflow and put the castle\nand its grounds under water, so that it might become too damp for\nthe mannikins to dwell in any longer. This, however, I naturally\n{193}refused to do, having much better use to make of the waters of my\nriver than to employ them upon any such purpose to suit the pleasure of\nsuch low and wicked creatures, and, moreover, I told them that, if they\ndared to come to me any more with such base proposals, I would drown\nhalf-a-dozen of them by way of teaching them manners.\n\nThey retired somewhat discomfited; but, knowing that I was too\ngood-natured to do them any injury as long as they left me quiet,\nvery soon came down to my banks again, and entered into successful\nnegotiations with a large number of water-rats. These creatures they\nhired, with a bribe of moorhens\u2019 eggs, which they took from the poor\nbirds in a cruel and reckless manner, to join with a number of land-rats\nin an attack upon the castle. The rat-contingent was to unite on the\nbanks of the river, and thence to advance upon the castle through that\npart of the wood which lay nearest the stream. They were to be supported\nby a strong auxiliary force of frogs and toads of the worst character,\nand a body of snakes would simultaneously creep upon the doomed place\nfrom the other side. A number of bats, hooded crows, night-hawks, and\nsuch evil birds and beasts as they could obtain for the service, would\nconstitute the reserve, which the three witches themselves would command\nin person. The plan was that the castle should be invested on all\nsides at once by the noxious reptiles and animals which constituted the\nwitches\u2019 army, and that a bold, and it was hoped decisive, effort should\nbe made to destroy the whole race of mannikins.\n\nSome difficulty was experienced from the fact of the frogs, toads, and\nrats objecting to fight side by side with the {194}snakes, who were\nnot averse to them as food, and might perhaps remember their natural\ninstincts if overtaken by hunger in the hour of battle. The witches had\nforeseen this probable objection on the part of the weaker animals, and\ntook measures to remove it without delay. Each of them was made to pass\nbefore the great witch, Goody Tickleback, who dropped upon the body of\nevery one a single drop of magic fluid of extraordinary virtue, which\nwas warranted to prevent the creature so touched from being eaten by\nany other. As she performed this strange process, she pronounced these\nwords:--\n\n          \u201cThis wondrous sign of magic art\n               From hurting thee each snake shall stop\n          For forty hours. If out of heart,\n               Come back and take another drop.\u201d\n\nThis went on until the whole of that part of the army which had\nentertained fears, founded upon the habits and natures of those with\nwhom they were about to serve as comrades, had passed before the witch,\nand been treated in the manner which I have described.\n\nAll now seemed ready, and at the appointed time the attacking force\nmoved forward in the order which had been previously arranged. It was a\nlovely evening; not a breath was stirring in the sky above, the moon was\nshining clearly, and everything was calm and peaceful, save the hearts\nof the wicked creatures who were plotting and endeavouring to accomplish\nthe utter ruin and destruction of the innocent mannikins. They,\nmeanwhile, would very likely have been taken by surprise if they had\nbeen left to their own unassisted strength. Such was the simplicity of\ntheir nature, that they suspected {195}no evil, even when preparations\nagainst them were being made so actively and openly that they might\neasily have guessed that mischief was brewing. Nevertheless, they paid\nno attention whatever to what was going on, but played about just the\nsame as usual until the enemy had matured his plans and was almost ready\nfor action. Then, indeed, they were roused by the wise and powerful\nprotector whose authority they acknowledged.\n\nThe owl summoned them from their sports upon the very day for which the\nwitches had appointed the assault upon the castle, and informed them\nthat they must prepare to defend themselves against an enemy who was\nabout to attack them. He gave minute instructions as to what was to be\ndone, and how the castle was to be saved, if possible, from its enemies;\nand pointed out to his subjects that upon the result of the combat their\nhappiness for the future, nay, their very lives, depended. Should the\nwitches be successful, the mannikins would be either killed or driven\naway, unless, indeed, they suffered the still worse fate of being taken\nprisoners, in which case they would probably be transformed into ugly\nand loathsome creatures by their victorious enemies, whom they would\nhave to serve in abject and miserable slavery for the remainder of their\nexistence. It therefore behoved them to be up and stirring, in order to\nsave themselves and their friends from so cruel a fate.\n\nThe little people required no further words in order to awaken their\nmartial enthusiasm: they had already suffered enough from the cruel and\nunprovoked enmity of the witches, and this daring attempt to destroy\ntheir beloved {196}home and themselves was enough to excite the spirit\nof the quietest and most peaceable mannikin. So without delay they began\ntheir preparations for resistance to the coming attack, and implicitly\nobeyed the directions of their monarch in each and every particular.\nThey were hurrying to and fro all the day, but by nightfall all was\nready, and the inhabitants of the castle awaited with calmness and\nconfidence the approach of the hostile army.\n\nThe wood around the castle seemed alive that night. The eyes of the\nnumerous creeping animals glittered like fireballs as they crawled\nthrough the leaves, and the rustling of the bats\u2019 wings sounded like the\nwind among the trees as they hastened forward. On all sides the castle\nwas surrounded by its enemies, and the witches gave the signal for an\nimmediate assault. With marvellous rapidity the snakes glided in at\nevery hole and crevice of the old walls; the rats scampered up them in\nevery direction, squeaking violently; whilst the hoarse croaking of the\nfrogs, mingled with the spitting of the toads, sounded fearfully through\nthe forest in the stillness of that summer\u2019s night.\n\nThe attacking party found their first obstacle to be one of an\nunexpected character. Hardly had any of the snakes insinuated his\nwriggling body into a hole before he found that it was in every instance\nfull of minute fragments of broken glass, with the sharp points upwards,\nwhich so lacerated his skin that he could hardly move backwards or\nforwards without considerable pain, and some of those who had dashed\nforward with the greatest impetuosity, so injured themselves in\nthe passage that they never reached the interior of the castle, but\n{197}remained fixed in the holes which they had attempted to pass,\nlingering until sunset next day (at which time alone snakes can die),\nand then perishing miserably. The rats found a similar difficulty, but,\nbeing resolute and crafty, ran over the walls where they could not creep\nthrough, and arrived in the courtyard of the castle without losing any\nconsiderable number of their forces. But the toads and frogs had a rough\ntime of it. To them it would have been a long and tedious business to\nclimb over the walls, and the few breaches which were left temptingly\nopen and undefended on their side of the attack were the only mode of\nentrance which they could try with any hopes of success. These, however,\nwere entirely flooded with liquid tar, which the mannikins had poured\nwith great care upon the flat stones and hard ground, and which caused\nthe attacking party the greatest possible difficulty, a great many of\nthem remaining fast stuck in the disagreeable mixture, until death by\nstarvation terminated their sufferings. After a time, however, by dint\nof clambering over each other\u2019s bodies, a large number of them succeeded\nin obtaining an entrance, and the courtyards of the castle were filled\nwith noxious creatures of all sorts.\n\nAll this time not a mannikin had shown himself, and no visible sign,\nother than the obstacles which I have mentioned, had been given that the\ncastle was defended by any one. The witches, who of course were close\nat hand, scarcely liked the ominous silence which prevailed on the part\nof their enemies; there was something mysterious about it which they did\nnot understand. They knew, however, that their friends within must not\nbe left unsupported, and accordingly sounded the advance {198}of the\nreserve. Mother Wandle, heading a large force of bats, flew gallantly\nforward on one side; Dame Stokes, with a body of Cats and evil animals,\ncharged on the other; whilst old Goody Tickleback hovered about close\nby on her awful steed, surrounded by the hooded crows and other wicked\nbirds who had joined the witches\u2019 army; for the wary old woman, who knew\nmore about magic than any of her mates, had her own suspicions as to\nthe possible strength of the powers arrayed against her, and had always\ndetermined from the first that she would throw as much of the hard work\nof fighting as she could upon the others, and, Under pretence of keeping\na small force in reserve for contingencies, would remain outside the\nwalls of the owl\u2019s castle. You will presently judge of her wisdom by the\nevents which followed.\n\nScarcely had the bats On one side, and the cats on the other, passed\nthe castle walls, when a voice, the loud and clear accents of which were\ndistinctly heard above the cries of the assaulting party, exclaimed,\n\u201cLight the gas!\u201d and in another moment a blaze of light illuminated the\nwhole place with a brightness beyond that of the sun\u2019s own rays. Every\ncorner and crevice was lighted up with wondrous brilliancy, and no\nconcealment was any longer possible for any mortal being. Then, in every\nniche of the old walls, upon the old staircases, at the windows, and\non the crumbling ledges around, a quantity of armed mannikins were seen\nstanding ready for action, whilst one window alone remained unlit and\nmysteriously dark, and there were those present who knew at that moment,\nif they had never known before, that the owl who sat in that window was\na mighty magician, {199} and that a Power unseen and unfelt as yet, but\ntoo terrible for evil witches and their followers, dwelt within those\nold walls.\n\nThe effect of the light upon the unhappy bats was perfectly marvellous;\ndazzled and blinded, they knew not what to do nor where to fly; some\ndashed themselves up against the walls and put an end to their own\nlives; others flew straight up to the mannikins, and fell an easy prey\nto the latter, who, with their little swords drawn, stood ready to\nstrike down each foeman as he approached, and dealt stout blows upon the\nblinded bats who came within their reach. Mother Wandle herself by no\nmeans relished her reception; she was nearly overwhelmed by her own\nretreating forces, and at the same time the light, to which she had a\ngreat objection, annoyed her extremely, and she began to consider that\nher best course would be to retreat as fast as possible. As she did so,\nhowever, she felt, to her great disgust and horror, an invisible hand,\nor rather claw, laid upon her neck, whilst a voice whispered in low but\nperfectly audible tones close to her ear--\n\n     \u201cVile daughter of evil, who wast not afraid\n          The mighty Owl\u2019s castle and home to invade,\n     Do thou and thy sisters look well to this text--.\n          _A whipping the first time; beware of the next!_\u201d\n\nAnd, as the voice ceased, the claw was loosened from her neck, and she\ninstantly felt upon her bat\u2019s body severe strokes as of a birch-rod\naimed by the strong arm and unerring eye of a resolute head-master:\nquick and sharp the blows descended upon the luckless old hag, and as\nthe skin of a witch (these creatures being, from the evil consciences\nwhich prevent their getting fat, {200}rarely burdened with much flesh)\nis proverbially tender, she suffered considerably more than any of my\nboys here at Eton would have done under similar circumstances. Mother\nWandle, however, shrieked and fled as fast as she could, followed by as\nmany of her bats as were destined to escape at all from that ill-fated\nday.\n\nDame Stokes and her cats fared but little better on their side. Although\nthe light had not the same effect upon this party as upon the bats, they\nfound it exceedingly disagreeable, whilst there was something else which\naffected their nerves even in a still greater degree. The mannikins who\nstood upon a portion of the inner walls of the castle exactly opposite\nto that outer wall upon which the cats had climbed to the assault,\nopened upon the latter a fire, so to speak, of a novel character. They\nhad arranged and brought to bear upon this part of the wall several\ngarden watering-engines of great power, numerous squirts, and the\nspecial engine of the Windsor Fire Brigade of that day. By means of\nthese instruments they received the invaders with such a continuous\nvolley and volume of water as would have checked persons to whom the\nelement is more agreeable than is the case with cats. These animals\nhave, as is well known to the student of natural history, an instinctive\naversion to wetting their fur. Under the peculiar circumstances of the\ncase, they might have put up with a shower of rain, or have endured a\ncasual wetting, followed by facilities for drying themselves immediately\nafterwards. But to be received by a heavy and violent shower of water\nright in their faces, drenching them at once through and through,\n{201}and being immediately repeated, and continued without any\nintermission, was more than the bravest cat could bear; and as soon as\nthey found what kind of reception they were to experience, no thought of\nshame or disgrace deterred the feline contingent from turning tail and\nretreating as fast as ever they could by the same way they had come,\nonly some twenty or thirty dropping down within the castle wall. As they\nfled in this manner, the same mysterious voice whispered to Dame\nStokes the identical words of warning which had greeted the ears of her\nsister-witch, Mother Wandle; and although, having assumed no other\nform than her own, her sex might have protected her from so great\nan indignity, I grieve to say that precisely the same punishment was\nadministered to the old creature, and that so efficaciously that she\npresently fled, shrieking and rubbing herself with pain as she left the\ncastle, which she devoutly wished she had never entered.\n\nThe results which I have just described occupied barely ten minutes,\nand within a quarter of an hour the three witches, with their attendant\nbats, cats, hooded crows, and other animals who had constituted the\nreserve, were in full flight from the castle. A certain number of the\nsnakes also made their escape in a curious manner. A strange-looking\nbeing, in the shape of a man, with a huge vessel before him, had\nmysteriously appeared near the castle wall just as the assault began,\nand as soon as it was plain that the day was going against the attacking\nparty, he gathered up as many of the snakes as he could from their\npainful position on and about the walls, filled the aforesaid vessel\nwith them (handling them all the while with the greatest tenderness),\nand throwing it on his {202}shoulders, joined the witches in their\nheadlong flight, keeping up with them in a manner which would have been\nmarvellous, had not his love for the reptiles under whose form mankind\nwas first tempted to sin, his wild glances, and, above all, the tail\nwith which he was adorned, shown pretty clearly that he was Someone\nwhom no good people can think of without hoping he is very far from\nthemselves.\n\n[Illustration: 219]\n\nAs the most formidable of their adversaries thus dashed off in headlong\nflight from the castle, a ringing cheer arose from the mannikins within,\nand a clear hoot of triumph proceeding from the owl {203}evinced his\nsympathy with the victory of his subjects and friends.\n\nAll, however, was not over yet. A certain quantity of snakes, who had\neither wriggled through holes in which the broken glass had been\nless plentifully strewn, or the superior toughness of whose skin had\nprotected them better than that of their comrades, were still hissing\nfrightfully in the outer courtyard, which was also occupied by a\nconsiderable number of rats, frogs, and toads. These evil creatures,\nbeing left without the guidance of the witches who had lured them to the\nplace, were in considerable difficulty what, to do, and their alarm and\nhorror were great indeed when, loud sounding through the air, the\nsame voice which had given orders for the lighting up of the castle\npronounced the following words:--\n\n          \u201cThose who have sought to enter here,\n               Protected by the witches\u2019 charm,\n          May learn that nought can interfere\n               With power of Owl to work them harm.\n\n          Within this castle\u2019s sacred wall,\n               Though mighty may the witches seem,\n          Their magic has no might at all--\n               The Owl and Nature reign supreme.\n\n          So, creatures foul, who crouch below,\n               Your usual instincts quickly take;\n          Cats, recognise your rat-like foe;\n               Frogs, tremble at the fangs of snake!\u201d\n\nEven as the voice ceased the creatures to whom the above words were\naddressed seemed to feel their effects and to act at once upon the\ninstructions given. Without any delay, the cats who had dropped down\ninside the castle walls on receiving the watery deluge with which the\nmannikins had greeted them, rushed with fury upon the {204}unhappy rats\nwhom they saw before them, apparently forgetful of everything except\nthose natural instincts which led them to destroy and eat animals whom\nthey had ever been accustomed to regard as fit objects wherewith to\nsatisfy their hungry appetites. At the same instant it seemed to strike\nthe snakes that a perfectly legitimate opportunity had arisen for\nfeasting upon those frogs who were congregated in their immediate\nvicinity, and, acting at once upon the idea, they commenced to swallow\nthe wretched creatures without any unnecessary delay.\n\nThe mannikins calmly looked down meanwhile, and watched their enemies\ndestroying each other until there was scarcely a live rat or frog left\nin the place, and the toads had fled frantically into the wood for fear\nthe snakes should mistake them for frogs and they should be subjected to\na fate from which all their dabblings in magic art might not have been\nable to preserve them. When the cries of the devouring and devoured\ncreatures below had pretty well ceased, and few save cats and snakes\nwere any longer to be seen in the courtyard, the owl gave a signal at\nwhich the mannikins turned on the water which, unknown to any person\nsave themselves and their master, had been laid on to supply the castle\nin case of fire, and which by a judicious arrangement of pipes could be\nmade to flood the courtyard at pleasure. The gorged cats and snakes were\nunable to make any effort to escape, although the latter might probably\nhave swum safely off, many of them being water-snakes, and entertaining\nno great objection to the element. But, alas for them! there was\none little circumstance which entirely prevented it. The _water was\nboiling_; {205}having been conducted through the kitchen of the castle,\nthe large boilers of which had, by the owl\u2019s orders, been carefully\nheated for the occasion. The shrieks of the wretched animals were\ndreadful to hear, when they became aware of the trap in which they had\nbeen Caught and the cruel fate which awaited them, from which escape\nwas hopeless. They strove in vain to clamber up the walls or to creep\nthrough the holes; wherever they succeeded in raising themselves up from\nthe water on to the walls, the mannikins with drawn swords and fierce\nlooks relentlessly pushed them back into the hot bath below, so that,\nafter a space of some twenty minutes or so, any person who desired a\nmeal of boiled cat and snake-sauce might have been easily accommodated,\nand every one of the wretched creatures had perished.\n\nThus the castle was rid of the last of its invaders, and the mannikins\nhad only to let the water off, which they did by means of a large sewer\nunderneath the courtyard, the stone covering of which having been lifted\nby means of a spring worked from above, the bodies of the slain were\nwashed below, and all traces of the battle and its victims were swept\naway from that part of the castle in an incredibly short space of time.\nVictory, entire and complete, now rested with the defenders of the\ncastle, and their joy may he easily imagined. Not a mannikin had been\nslain or hurt, so effectually had they been protected by the power of\nthe great owl, and the defeat and loss which had been inflicted upon\ntheir enemies had been of a character to prevent, or at all events\ngreatly to lessen, the probability of any future attacks.\n\nThe {206}little people passed the rest of the night in the most sensible\nand proper way possible; that is to say, they put out the lights and\nwent to bed, which is a thing which every reasonable creature should do\nat a proper hour, unless he happens to be desirous of weakening mind and\nbody by depriving both of their natural rest, and thereby shortening the\nterm of his existence.\n\nThe mannikins were astir early the next morning, putting everything\nto rights after the confusion of the night\u2019s adventures. The glass\nwas carefully picked out of the holes in the wall, the courtyards were\ncleaned, the bodies of those of the enemy who had fallen outside\nwere decently buried, and the whole place resumed its former peaceful\nappearance within a very few hours. Then the mannikins returned to their\nusual lives; their swords were put away, their angry feelings forgotten,\nand their time spent in singing, dancing, and merriment as heretofore.\n\nMeanwhile the three witches were in a frame of mind by no means\nenviable. Dame Stokes and Mother Wandle still smarted considerably from\nthe effects of the severe whipping which they had each received; and\nalthough Goody Tickleback had, by her superior cunning, escaped that\ndisagreeable punishment, she suffered bitterly from mortified vanity and\ndisappointment at having been so entirely defeated in the attack which\nshe had planned against the castle of the mannikins. The three old women\ntook counsel together as to whether there was anything more to be done\nagainst those whom they chose to consider their deadly enemies, or\nwhether they had better give it up as a bad job. Evil, however, never\nsleeps or remains quiet if it can possibly help it, and {207}so strong\nwas the spirit of evil\u2019s power over these wretched creatures that they\nfelt themselves constrained to go on with their wicked work, and to plot\nand scheme something more against the innocent objects of their hatred.\nTheir proceedings, however, had been rendered somewhat more difficult by\nthe total failure which they had just experienced. They found the cats\nresolute in their refusal to embark in any further enterprises of a\nsimilar character to the last. The toads glared and spat dreadfully\nfrom fright when the subject was merely alluded to; and as to the rats,\nsnakes, and frogs, they had suffered so heavily in the recent disaster\nthat it was impossible to expect that anything short of absolute\ncompulsion would induce a single one of them to take the field.\n\nUnder these circumstances the witches had recourse to the stoats and\npolecats, who were a fierce and bloodthirsty race, and might be of\nessential service if they could be persuaded to undertake the matter.\nIndeed, Goody Tickleback bit her lips with vexation at having forgotten\nto secure these powerful allies before, as she felt that they would have\nmaterially contributed to the strength of her former expedition, and\nconsequently to its chance of success. Accordingly, having bribed them\nwith large promises of tender young rabbits, and having paid a portion\nof the bribe in advance, which the cunning creatures insisted upon as a\ncondition of their doing anything at all, the wicked old women succeeded\nin bringing a considerable army of stoats into the field, together with\na small but compact band of polecats. The wily dames had sorely tempted\nthe foxes and badgers of Windsor forest, but the former animals made\nvarious {208}excuses, and the latter, having consulted a famous old\nbadger who lived at that time in the Brocas clump, declined altogether\nto have anything to do with the matter. So the three witches led forth\ntheir army, composed only of the animals I have mentioned, and arranged\nto cross the river upon a certain evening. The particular place upon\nwhich they had fixed to cross was at a considerable distance from any\nbridge, and some of these animals therefore had to swim, whilst those\nwho could not or would not do so were provided with boats and rafts\nconstructed by the magic powers of the old women. They themselves\nflew over in the usual manner, one as a bat, another on her famous\nbroomstick, and the third on her awful steed. Then they stood on the\nopposite bank, awaiting their army, who, when they had finished all\ntheir preparations, sharpened their teeth and claws, and made other\nnecessary arrangements, plunged into the river, and began to follow\ntheir leaders.\n\nAnd now occurred one of the most singular scenes which it has ever been\nmy good fortune to witness since I first presided over the destinies of\nthis noble river. I have seen a great many strange things and people,\nBrother Rhine, and been a spectator of a great many curious sights.\nMoreover, during a long period of years, I have carefully inquired into\nand studied the natural habits and ways of living which distinguish the\nnumerous animals, birds, and beasts which inhabit the banks and waters\nof my stream, in all of whom, indeed, I have ever taken that lively\ninterest which becomes a person in my position. But I may as well\nfrankly tell you at once that nothing ever astonished me more than the\nscene which followed the attempt of the stoats and polecats to cross\n{209}the river in order to attack the owl\u2019s castle. They got nearly\nhalf-way across without anybody offering to dispute their passage. Then,\nall of a sudden, a strange, wild sound was heard, and a song was borne\ndown upon the breeze which I knew full well as the war-song of the noble\nswans who honour my river by making it their home, and who are well\nknown as the finest and handsomest swans in all Christendom.\n\n          \u201cThe swan swam up the stream;\n               Swim, swan, swim!\n          The swan swam down again;\n               Well swam, swan!\u201d\n\nThis was the whole of the song; the words are simple, and apparently\nconvey no particular meaning, being little more than the statement of a\nfact which may without difficulty be accepted as true, coupled with an\nexpression of approval of the manner in which the bird in question had\nperformed a natural and not uncongenial task. But if you were to hear\nthis song sung by a number of swans together, all keeping tune exactly,\nand sailing down upon you as they sung, with flashing eyes and arched\nnecks, evidently actuated by no friendly feeling, it is very doubtful\nwhether you would care much about either the words or their meaning, and\nnot improbable that you would prefer to be somewhat farther off from the\nsounds of the entrancing melody. So at least it certainly was with the\nallies of the witches, when a body of at least fifty or sixty swans\n(being a larger number than I had ever previously seen together in\nany part of my river) suddenly appeared sailing down upon them at full\nspeed. It was altogether a most extraordinary proceeding on the part\nof the noble birds, who, although {210}ready and most able to defend\nthemselves if attacked, are generally of a quiet and peaceful nature,\nand had hitherto, as far as my knowledge went, interfered with none of\nthe other dwellers in or near the river, but lived in friendship and\nharmony with all.\n\nTheir intentions, however, upon the present occasion were never for a\nmoment doubtful after their first appearance. They charged down upon\nthe army of stoats and polecats with a force and velocity which rendered\nresistance impossible. The boats and rafts were at once overset by\nthe impetuous fury of their attack, and the occupants thereof were in\nanother instant struggling in the waters. Nor did the swimmers fare\nany better, for the powerful blows inflicted by a swan\u2019s beak in every\ninstance either stunned the animal struck, or so disabled him that he\ncould swim no farther, but sank beneath the water to rise no more. The\nwretched creatures could do nothing to defend themselves, for the swans\nwere too wary to approach their breasts near enough to any of the savage\nlittle animals to allow of their getting hold of their soft feathers.\nThey kept far enough off for their own safety, after once upsetting the\nboats, and yet sufficiently near to deal out the pecks of death upon the\nstruggling carcases with little or no risk to themselves. They utterly\nbroke through and dispersed at once the line of the swimming and\nfloating army, and then, turning round and coming up stream, slew\nmultitudes of the wretched animals as they swam for their lives one\nway or another. A very few moments sufficed for the total rout of the\nwitches\u2019 army, not one of which ever reached the shore to which they\nwere bound, though a few managed to swim back in safety, and those who\nhad been {211}only just about to enter the river naturally gave up\nany further idea of doing so, and fled in great confusion back to the\nshelter of the forest from which they had come. The swans, meanwhile,\nwho had ceased singing their war-song as soon as they reached the enemy,\nand had commenced a violent and angry hissing, which they only suspended\nwhen they bowed their heads in order to peck an enemy to his death, now\nrecommenced their musical strains so soon as they had completely routed\nand destroyed the invading army, and swam back up the river with heads\nelevated high in the air, shaking themselves now and then with an air of\nconscious strength and exultation.\n\nDuring the progress of these events, Brother Rhine, the state of mind\nand general feelings of the three witches may be better imagined than\ndescribed. They wept, they howled, they tore what hair they had, they\nused language with which I will not sully my lips, and manifested every\ntoken of frantic rage and consternation. Charms and incantations they\nwould have tried, but they knew well enough that they had no power\nwhatever over things or beings in my sacred waters. The swans only\nlaughed at their wild fury and strange gesticulations, and the old\nwomen remained upon the bank, perfectly helpless. Once more their plans\nagainst the owl and his mannikins had utterly failed; and they saw the\ndestruction of the army which they had taken so much pains to raise,\nwithout the smallest power to avert the catastrophe which again dashed\ntheir fondest hopes to the ground.\n\nAt the conclusion of the scene which had terminated so disagreeably to\nthemselves, the witches, having nearly {212}exhausted themselves with\ntheir rage, calmed down a little, and began to look at each other and\nwonder what they should do next. This, however, was not a matter long\nleft within their own choice; even as they stood, the heavens grew dark\nwith a mysterious and unnatural darkness, low mutterings of distant\nthunder were heard, and the wind wailed mournfully as it swept across\nthe river and through the trees of the adjoining wood in which stood the\ncastle of the mannikins.\n\nA deep and distant terror seized upon the three witches as these things\noccurred; they felt, somehow or other, that those were near against\nwhom their magic arts were powerless, and that some wonderful and awful\nPresence was at hand which they could neither withstand nor avoid.\nTrembling in every limb, they cowered upon the bank, shivering as if\nwith cold, their teeth chattering, their eyes ready to start out of\ntheir heads with fright, and their hearts beating with that fear of\ncoming judgment which wickedness always brings sooner or later to hearts\nthat conceive and practise it. Some internal and inscrutable feeling\nseemed to warn them that their hour of punishment was near, and that\nretribution was at hand--retribution for all the pain and misery which\nthey had caused to others ever since they first sold themselves to work\nevil instead of endeavouring to lead good and pious lives, and to be a\ncomfort instead of a plague and torment to their fellow-creatures.\n\nThe suspense which they endured during this time was probably something\nmore terribly painful than one can imagine, and the uncertainty of their\ncoming doom made it all the more dreadful in anticipation. This state\nof things lasted for some little while, and a stillness, solemn {213}and\nawful in its intensity, reigned around. The wind fell again, and the\nsound of thunder ceased; only the old river went rolling on in its calm,\nceaseless stream, the soothing ripple of which smote upon the ear of the\nunhappy witches as the solemn tones of a judge must fall upon the guilty\ncriminal before him. Each moment seemed an hour to the terror-stricken\nold hags, and I imagine that no child who has waited in a dentist\u2019s room\nuntil that popular operator was ready for him has ever endured half the\nagony of expectation which was experienced at this time by the three\nwitches.\n\nAt last the silence was broken, and that in a manner which it would have\nbeen impossible for them to have anticipated. The low roll of a drum was\nheard in the wood, which sound swelled gradually upon the ear, and was\nthen mingled with other martial music, evidently betokening the approach\nof an army. In a few moments more there issued from the direction of\nthe owl\u2019s castle a strange and unwonted procession. First of all came\na splendid array of cock pheasants, gay with their bright and gaudy\ncolours, and carrying their well-known banner of dark blue, in the\ncentre of which is depicted a magnificent bird of their species looking\nround with a defiant air, whilst underneath him is inscribed the\ncelebrated motto of his race--\u201cGame to the last.\u201d The pheasants were\nfollowed by a strong detachment of partridges, each with his brown\nhorseshoe strongly developed upon his breast, whilst a golden\nwheat-sheaf upon a banner of russet brown, and the motto, \u201cHurrah for\nthe harvest-fields!\u201d showed the character of the regiment. They were\nfollowed by a body of woodcocks and snipes, marching {214}in alternate\nranks, and displaying their respective banners, being a bird of each\nrace worked in blue upon a white ground, and represented as tossing his\nlong beak high in the air and saying, in the inscription below, \u201cSettle\nmy bill if you can!\u201d To these succeeded a gallant regiment of bantams,\nwhose arrogant motto, \u201cCock of the walk,\u201d was displayed upon their\ncrimson flags; whilst the \u201cCome back! come back!\u201d of the Guinea-fowl was\nseen upon the banners of the next comers. Other bands of birds followed,\neach with its own peculiar standard and device, and all marched in slow\nand solemn order from the wood to the music already mentioned, which was\nplayed by an invisible band within the leafy shade of the same.\n\nAs each regiment emerged from the wood, it advanced within a stone\u2019s\nthrow of the three witches, and took up ground at that distance, so that\nthe old women found a semicircle gradually forming around them, which\nextended on all sides save that on which the river flowed. When numerous\ncompanies of birds had arrived and taken their places, there next\nappeared a strong detachment of squirrels--animals to which it is well\nknown that witches entertain a peculiar dislike, on account of the\nrestless activity of their nature, and their constant habit of\ndropping nutshells suddenly on the heads of persons engaged in unholy\nincantations and rites in the forests wherein they happen to dwell. The\nold women shuddered afresh then, when these creatures appeared upon the\nscene, especially as they came on, each armed with a bag of nuts, and\nwith eyes full of mischief. They were followed by a quantity of rabbits,\nwhose grave and martial appearance would have led you to suppose that\nthere {215}were no such things as weasels or ferrets in the world; and\nafter the rabbits came the principal part of the performance.\n\nMore than one hundred mannikins, fully armed and equipped, rode out of\nthe wood, each mounted upon a prancing hare. Their saddles were made\nof mouse-skin, their bridles were of the best red tape, and their\ntortoiseshell bits rattled in the mouths of their fiery steeds. Each\nmannikin had upon his head a burnished helmet of mother-of-pearl, in\nwhich was a plume from the wing of a kingfisher, and the armour of each\nwas of the best wrought tin, and sparkled gaily in the sunlight, which\nnow again spread over the heavens as the troops emerged from the trees.\nThe mannikins rode forward in loose order, whilst immediately after\nthem came a close carriage, drawn by twelve cream-coloured hares, and\nsurrounded by twenty mannikins on either side, and a number of owls of\nevery species and description following behind. The mannikins who had\nridden in front gave way when they approached the witches, falling back\non either side so as to allow the carriage to pass between their\nranks. It drew up immediately before the three trembling hags, and the\nattendant mannikins, bowing low and uncovering their heads, opened the\ndoors for its occupant to descend.\n\nYou can have little doubt, Brother Rhine, as to who that occupant was,\nnor, indeed, was doubt long permitted to the personages most immediately\ninterested in the drama about to be performed. From forth the carriage\nstepped a figure which all at the same moment recognised as that of the\nblack owl of the castle. Not long, however, did he remain in the shape\nin which his audience {216}were most accustomed to behold him. Throwing\nback the head-dress and feathery cloak which begirt him, the figure of\na noble youth stood before the astonished witches. His head was thrown\nback in contemptuous scorn, his eyes flashed with the indignation which\nvirtue always experiences in the presence of vice; he stretched forth\nhis hand, in which was grasped an ash stick, carefully peeled, so that\nit shone fresh and white, and this he waved gently in the air as he\nspoke in clear and sounding accents--\u201cVile hags!\u201d he exclaimed; and as\nhe uttered the words, Dame Stokes, Mother Wandle, and Groody Tickleback\nfell on their knees, whining and moaning in piteous tones--\u201cVile hags!\nonce more have ye presumed to tempt your fate by plotting and scheming\nthe destruction of my mannikins. The warning which ye had previously\nreceived seems to have produced no effect whatever upon ye, and ye will\nnow have to endure the punishment ye have so well earned!\u201d\n\nAs he spoke the old women grovelled on the earth at his feet, and\nmumbled forth in low and beseeching accents, \u201cOh, sir! _please_ let us\noff this time; just this once; it is the first time--we\u2019ll never, never,\ndo it again. _Please_ \u2018give us first fault\u2019!\u201d\n\nThis expression, always well known among witches, and intended to\nexpress the forgiveness of an offence because of its being on that\noccasion committed for the first time, appeared greatly to increase the\nanger of the person addressed.\n\n\u201cFirst fault!\u201d he exclaimed, indignantly, \u201cwhy, how dare you utter such\na falsehood? You have been complained of a dozen times at least by my\nmannikins, and I {217}have only spared you hitherto from a hope that you\nmight reform, and give up your evil practices. You have not only made\nyourselves the pest of the whole place for a long time past, but you\nhave now for the second time projected an attack upon the castle which I\nspecially protect. First fault indeed! Two of you were well flogged\nthe other day, and there is now nothing for it but to send you away\naltogether.\u201d\n\nAt these words the wretched creatures burst into a howl of anguish, upon\nwhich the young man waved his hand, and a burst of sound arose from\nthe invisible band, in which the tones of the bagpipe were distinctly\naudible, and which completely drowned the cries of the miserable\nwitches. As soon as the latter and the music had ceased together, the\nyoung man continued to speak in a voice as stern as clear--\n\n\u201cI have hesitated,\u201d he said, \u201cas to the precise punishment which I\nshould inflict upon each of you, for indeed I hardly know of any which\nis sufficiently severe for the crimes which you have committed. I had\nthought, indeed, of transforming you into shapes different from your\nown, but still possessing human form, and causing you to experience in\nthem the greatest trouble and misery to which human life is subject. I\nhave still a great mind to do so. I am very much disposed to make one of\nyou a leader in the world of fashion, the second a Member of Parliament,\nand the third the Head Master of a Public School, which is under the\ncontrol of a Governing Body.\u201d\n\nAt this point such a dreadful shriek broke simultaneously from the three\nwitches, that the squirrels were obliged to be called in and ordered to\npelt them with nuts, {218}until they again crouched trembling but silent\non the ground before their judge.\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d continued he, without noticing the interruption, \u201cit shall never\nbe said of me that I was guilty of unnecessary cruelty. There _are_,\nI must own, punishments too severe even for crimes such as yours,\nand among such these might possibly be included. As I am a great and\npowerful, so am I a merciful fairy, and I shall not award you one iota\nof suffering more than is your due. Dame Stokes of Datchet, though bad\nenough, you are in some respects the best of the three. You have at\nleast, as a rule, preserved your natural form; and could you but have\npersuaded yourself to give up that abominable, not to say ridiculous,\nhabit of riding on a broomstick, you might have passed through life with\nall the ordinary comforts of an English peasant, and ended your days\nin respectability and the parish workhouse. Since, however, you have\npersisted in using as a horse that which was intended as a harmless\nand useful domestic implement, you must pay the penalty of your\nindiscretion. You will be changed into a donkey, and as such may remain\nin your native place.\u201d\n\nDame Stokes was just commencing a loud howl at the news of her impending\nfate, when a gaily attired young mannikin stepped before the fairy,\nand, making a low obeisance, craved leave to speak, which was at once\ngraciously accorded.\n\n\u201cNoble master,\u201d said he, \u201cif a poor mannikin may put in a word, is this\nsentence one which requires any transformation at all? A person who,\nbeing able to ride on anything else, chooses a broomstick, must\nalready be such {219}a donkey as to render a further change in the same\ndirection quite unnecessary.\u201d\n\nThe great fairy smiled.\n\n\u201cYour words are true, my child,\u201d he replied, \u201cin one sense, but they\nonly tend to confirm the wisdom of my sentence. A donkey in thought and\naction is not always a donkey in shape. Were it otherwise, the world\nwould be much more largely populated by those worthy and industrious\nanimals. It is no terrible fate to which I condemn the aged Stokes.\nShe will forthwith enter upon an existence in which she may render no\ninconsiderable service to mortals, who, whilst they despise, will not\nscruple to use her; and should she, as is highly probable, at any period\nof time, become the property of an itinerant vendor of brooms, she will\nhave every chance of acquiring a further knowledge of the purposes to\nwhich a broomstick may be properly applied.\u201d\n\nHe spoke, and as he concluded, a change at once came over the figure\nand appearance of Dame Stokes. Great ears sprung up on each side of her\nhead, which became at once altered and elongated into that of a donkey;\nher body followed the example; a huge tail appeared in the usual\nplace allotted to such appendages, and in another moment she stood, a\nveritable ass, before the assembled throng.\n\nThen the young man turned to the terrified Mother Wandle, and sternly\naddressed her in her turn.\n\n\u201cYou,\u201d he said, \u201cthough not so bad as the third, are worse than the\nfirst of your party. Not content with your own shape (which I will,\nhowever, own was not prepossessing), you have gone about the country\nin disguise, and have, moreover, disgraced the family of bats (many of\n{220}whom are honest and owl-fearing creatures) by-assuming the shape of\none of them, and in this form perpetrating your wicked deeds. Now one of\ntwo things must be true. Either you were _not_ by rights a bat, and\nhad therefore no right to the shape of one, or, being a bat, you had no\nbusiness to disgrace the family. In either case you are equally guilty,\nand your punishment must be proportionately severe. Since you have\nevinced, by the most practical means within your power, the undoubted\npreference which you cherish for the form of a bat, a bat you shall\nremain for ever, and, once for all, quit that human shape which you have\nso foolishly despised. Henceforth be your life that of the animal whom\nyou have loved to imitate in your midnight flittings. Behind shutters,\nunder eaves, beneath old boards and barn-sides be hidden, wretch, from\nthe face of the sun, and only come forth when the shades of evening\nsteal over the face of the earth. Shun the gaze of mankind, whom you\nhave only lived to annoy, and rank for the rest of your existence\namongst the most lowly and feeble of animals.\u201d\n\nHe spoke, and, as in the case of Dame Stokes, the form and figure\nof Mother Wandle changed even as he ceased speaking, and a huge and\nunsightly bat occupied the place of the old woman, whilst a murmur\nof applause and approval was uttered by all who witnessed the\ntransformation.\n\nThen the owl-fairy turned upon the wretched Goody Tickleback, who stood\nin gloomy silence awaiting the doom which she full well knew her crimes\nhad deserved, but which was not likely to be one whit more palatable on\nthat account.\n\n\u201cVile {221}and degraded creature,\u201d exclaimed the fairy, regarding the\nobject of his address with a stern and angry countenance, \u201cyou have\nat last been brought to account for your numerous crimes, which exceed\nthose of your companions in guilt, and have rightly made you detested\nby every one to whom you are known. You have gone on for a long time in\nyour nefarious course, unchecked by any consideration for those\ninnocent beings against whom your evil practices have been directed, and\nundeterred either by the pangs of that remorse, which must at times have\novershadowed even such a hardened soul as yours, or by the fear of that\npunishment which, though long deferred, was certain to arrive at last.\nIn your life you have exhibited the ferocity of a tiger, the cruelty of\nan hy\u00e6na, and the craft of a serpent. A serpent therefore you shall\nbe for the future, and as you have, like the rest of your fraternity,\nalways entertained a great horror of water, you shall be consigned for\never to that element, and become a sea-serpent for the rest of your\nexistence.\u201d\n\nA wild yell broke from Goody Tickleback as these words left the lips\nof the royal fairy, and she burst forth into a desperate cry for a\nmitigation of so terrible a sentence..\n\n\u201cOh no! oh no!\u201d she shrieked aloud in the madness of her despair; \u201cnot\nthat, not that, for mercy\u2019s sake! anything but that! Make me a stone, or\na stick, or a good birch-rod if you will, great fairy. I promise I will\nact up to my name, and tickle with good-will every back that comes under\nme, if you will only make me this instead of a horrible snake. Oh do! oh\ndo! oh don\u2019t----\u201d\n\nAnd {222}she ended her speech with a yell more awful than before as she\nfelt the dreadful transformation which had been awarded begin slowly but\nsurely to steal over her decrepit frame.\n\nThe fairy smiled coldly.\n\n\u201cCruel to the last,\u201d he observed. \u201cThe vile hag would be made an\ninstrument of torture in an inanimate shape, since she may no longer\ntorment people in her original form. But it may not be. The doom has\nbeen pronounced, and already begins to take effect.\u201d\n\nEven as he spoke, the form of the old woman gradually changed into\nthat of an enormous sea-serpent, and her yells culminated in a fearful\nhissing, from which the legions of valiant birds instinctively recoiled.\nA scaly monster of the deep occupied the place--and rather more than the\nplace--lately filled by old Goody Tickle-back, and the last of the three\nwitches had now received her allotted punishment. The owl-fairy then\nstruck the ground sharply three times with his ashen stick, and each of\nthe three culprits departed different ways. The donkey stretched out its\ntail, erected its ears, elevated its head, and gave vent to sundry of\nthose loud and discordant noises by which creatures of that particular\nspecies are distinguished from other four-footed beasts. Then, looking\naround once more, it slowly set off at a trot, which presently became\na galop; and, passing through the ranks of the bird and mannikin army,\nwhich divided for its passage, took the direction of Datchet, and\nhastened thither as fast as it could lay legs to the ground.\n\nI will not follow the adventures of the poor beast any longer, though\nI may as well tell you, Brother. Rhine, that {223}I know for a fact she\nlingered in the same neighbourhood for a very long time. Indeed, not\nmany weeks since, whilst walking upon Dorney Common, I heard cries as\nof an animal in distress, and, looking round, beheld a seller of brooms\nvehemently belabouring a half-starved ass with a broomstick. The poor\nbeast was in sad condition. It was laden with a heavy load of brooms,\nand its speaking eyes seemed to tell of much privation and suffering. I\nseemed somehow or other to remember the expression of the face, and in a\nfew moments recalled the circumstances of which I have just been telling\nyou. There indeed was old Dame Stokes, serving out her time in long\napprenticeship to misery and punishment, and experiencing that practical\napplication of the broomstick which the owl-fairy had foretold. I passed\non my way to the river, and sighed as I thought over her fate, pondering\nmeanwhile upon the melancholy fact that sin should be so attractive as\nit had proved to this old woman, when its punishment, sooner or later,\nis so certain and is of so much more enduring a character than the\nquestionable pleasure which has earned it.\n\nAs to Mother Wandle, there is but little to tell of her. As soon as\nshe was permitted to do so, she flitted away across my river in the\ndirection of Windsor Forest, and, for anything I know, may be there\nstill. Bats are not creatures that one ever hears much of, nor have I\nbeen accustomed to interest myself particularly in their proceedings;\nbut if you happen to see an especially ugly and repulsive bat, it is\nquite as likely to be old Mother Wandle as anybody else, and you may be\nsure that she is still enduring the punishment so justly inflicted upon\nher by a righteous judge.\n\nGoody {224}Tickleback\u2019s exit from the scene was of a more marked and\nsingular character. It would have been difficult to have disposed of so\ngigantic a monster by any ordinary process. It could not have travelled\nby land to the ocean, except on wheels; and although it might have been\npossible to have paid expenses by sending it thither in the caravan of\na travelling showman--supposing a vehicle of that description, and of\nsufficiently large size, to have been in being--such a course would have\nbeen scarcely consistent with the usage of fairyland, or with the nature\nand circumstances of the case. It might, of course, have been possible\nto have floated the creature down the waters of my river, but against\nsuch a proceeding my nymphs, elves, and swans would have protested\nindignantly, even had I been disposed for a moment to sanction it.\nBesides this, the inconvenience to traffic, and the bad odour which so\nfoul a reptile would leave in the water, not to mention its possible\nindulgence in some mischievous and destructive habits which would have\nbrought the river into bad repute, were all difficulties in the way. I\ncould not allow a \u201cThames nuisance\u201d to be thus originated which would\nhave been probably fraught with most unpleasant consequences, and could\nhave done no possible good to anybody. This, therefore, being out of the\nquestion, it only remained for the owl-fairy to exercise his magic power\nsomewhat further, and get rid of the vast and cumbrous body which he\nhad seen fit to create. The wonderful being made not the slightest\ndifficulty. Waving his rod three times above his head, and describing\nwith it a circle in the air, he struck upon the ground, which\nimmediately opened wide beneath the hideous {225}serpent, and exhibited\nan enormous chasm, down which it slowly disappeared, and was seen no\nmore in those regions of the earth.\n\n[Illustration: 242]\n\nMarvellous legends, however, have been told of the great Sea-serpent\nsince that day, and those who know the circumstances which I have\nrelated are able to judge of their truth better than the ignorant and\nunlearned.\n\nAt times, when, far out at sea, the waves are running mountains high,\nthe ship can scarce weather the storm, and some of the affrighted\nsailors have betaken themselves to their boats in hopes to preserve\ntheir lives, a hideous monster is said to rise from the deep, encircling\nand crushing the boat with its gigantic coil, and striking with its\ncruel fangs the drowning mariners. At other times, when all is calm,\nand the surface of the ocean ripples softly, like a lake stirred by the\nzephyrs\u2019 softest breath, {226}a huge and awful form may be seen floating\non the waves, slowly making its way through the waters, and ever\nand anon raising its hideous serpent-head aloft, as if in search of\nsomething to injure or destroy. Wonderful tales do the sailor men bring\nhome of this extraordinary creature, and wise folk oftentimes shake\ntheir heads and affect to disbelieve in its existence. But we, Brother\nRhine, who know this chronicle of early days which I have just been\ntelling, shake no heads over the matter, and entertain no doubt of the\nreality of the sight which the sons of Neptune aver that they have seen.\nOld Goody Tickleback is the great Sea-serpent, and my only wonder is\nthat, when the great owl-fairy was about it, he did not put her out of\nthe way altogether, instead of leaving her in a position in which she\ncould still work so much mischief to mortal men. I suppose, however,\nthat fairies, like other people, know their own business best; and there\nwas probably some reason against this self-evidently wise course which\ndoes not occur to those who do not happen themselves to be fairies.\n\nIn this manner, anyhow, the three witches were comfortably disposed of,\nand, to my mind, there never was a clearer case of \u201ca good riddance of\nbad rubbish.\u201d Having accomplished his task, the owl-fairy now reentered\nhis carriage, and directed the troops to pass before him, which they\naccordingly did, each company saluting as it passed. The review being\nfinished, the whole procession returned to the wood in the same order\nas that in which they had emerged from it, and in a very short time the\nbanks of the river were as quiet as if nothing unusual had happened.\nThe mannikins were never {227}afterwards molested by witches or any such\nnefarious customers, and, as long as they chose to inhabit the castle,\nthey were perfectly free from disturbance or attack. Time at last did\nits work upon the old walls, and when the hum of the steam-engine began\nto be heard in the land this was no longer a place for mannikins. They\nflitted I know not where, and the owl-fairy doubtless went with them. I\ncould perhaps tell you more, but melancholy thoughts come over me as I\nspeak of the departure of old friends and neighbours, and I think, with\nyour good leave, I will here bring my legend to a conclusion.\n\n\u201cThanks, good brother,\u201d said the Monarch of the Rhine, as Father Thames\nceased speaking. \u201cYet would I fain inquire who or what was this great\nowl-fairy?\u201d\n\nHis companion smiled grimly. \u201cHast thou so soon forgotten thine own\nobjection to questions concerning our legends when finished?\u201d he asked.\n\u201cNevertheless I would tell thee if I could, but I fear to speak with\ncertainty upon a subject which has ever been shrouded in doubt. Most\nauthorities agree that this mighty being could be none other than he\nof whom mention was made in my first legend--that of the Wild Boar\nof Windsor Forest. But the great fairy, Toddlekins, did not announce\nhimself on the occasion of the transformation of the three witches;\nand the only proof that it was he who reigned over the mannikins and\ndelivered them from their enemies consists in the similarity of his\nappearance with that of the rescuer of Smith in the Druid days. I\nincline to think it may have been him; and we know that wherever\nToddlekins has power good prevails {228}and evil flies from his\npresence; but more I cannot tell you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe it so, brother,\u201d returned he of the Rhine; \u201cthe matter, anyhow,\nended well, and I would that my Rhineland had a fairy Toddlekins as well\nas thy favoured country.\u201d\n\nFather Thames smiled grimly. \u201cThere never could be two such as\nToddlekins in this world,\u201d replied he; \u201cand it is a blessing for me and\nmine that there has been one. But come, Brother Rhine, there is yet\ntime for another legend. Hast thou none of the old war times, and of the\nbrave German barons who fought so oft and so fiercely?\u201d\n\n\u201cAy, that have I, many an one,\u201d responded the other. \u201cI bethink me,\nmoreover, of one which is not strictly or wholly of mine own land, nor\nin truth do I know precisely to what land it can be said entirely to\nbelong. It is one, however, which has been handed down to us in verse,\nif you object not to a tale told in such fashion.\u201d\n\n\u201cObject, indeed!\u201d cried jolly old Father Thames in a pleasant voice.\n\u201cHow or why should I object? Are not some of our very best English\nlegends told in verse? Witness that excellent old story of--\n\n          \u2018Old King Cole was a merry old soul,\n               And so was old King Tudor;\n          But merrier still was Miss Mary Cole,\n               When the Earl of Pembroke woo\u2019d her.\u2019\n\nThat _is_ a fine legend, if you please! I heard it all told by a\ndescendant of the Cole family, who stumbled on the story in an old\nmanuscript, and instantly went out to Cannes, in the South of France,\nwhere he studied it carefully {229}with a view to producing it for the\nbenefit of the English public, and was only prevented from doing so by\nhis sisters, who insisted upon it that the wooing done in their family,\neven at a remote period, was a matter of private history which should\nnever be allowed to become public property. Perhaps they had some affair\nof the same kind in hand themselves, and did not want to establish an\ninconvenient precedent.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery likely,\u201d remarked the Rhine King somewhat sulkily; \u201cbut if you go\non like this I shall never get away. Pray give a fellow a chance, and\ndon\u2019t keep all the talk to yourself--you and your Coles.\u201d\n\n\u201cHold hard!\u201d cried Father Thames at this. \u201cI am not going to be \u2018called\nover the coals\u2019 by any foreigner.\u201d\n\n\u201cA truce to your puns!\u201d said he of the Rhine; and as Father Thames said\nno more, he at once began the song of:--\n\n\n\n\nSIR RODERICK FOWLE--A LEGEND OF THE OLDEN TIME.\n\n     I.\n\n     Sir Roderick Fowle has returned from the East,\n         Where believers are fighting the Paynim;\n     Though they slaughtered his squire, and they wounded his beast,\n         No Saracen foeman has slain him.\n\n     II.\n\n     He has crossed the salt seas, and has come to the land\n         Where no man of battle afraid is,\n     But all have, in war, a keen blade and strong hand,\n         And, in peace, a true heart for the ladies.\n\n     III.\n\n     To {230}the land of the Gaul is Sir Roderick come\n         (Concluded his Saracen fighting),\n     And with joy and delight is struck perfectly dumb,\n         On the shores of his country alighting--\n\n     IV.\n\n     The land where he\u2019d lived as an innocent child\n        (And now he\u2019s a vigorous man, see!),\n     Where Ida, the lovely, had first on him smiled\n        And captured his heart and his fancy.\n\n     V.\n\n     Sweet Ida, the daughter of Montmolon\u2019s lord\n        (How blest to possess such a daughter!),\n     Was fairest of fair demoiselles--in a word,\n         All the marrying bachelors sought her.\n\n     VI.\n\n     But \u201cattentions\u201d she cared for but little, said she,\n         And, really, seemed scarcely to heed\u2019em;\n     And for marrying! oh! \u2019twas like \u201cfelo de se,\u201d\n          If you _could_ keep your spinsterly freedom.\n\n     VII.\n\n     So she turned up her aquiline nose at them all,\n          And refused a round dozen of offers\n     From lords and from knights, who would constantly fall\n          At her feet with their hearts and their coffers.\n\n     VIII.\n\n     Till fate in her way threw Sir Roderick Fowle,\n          Before he departed this war on,\n     Then love made the damsel as blind as an owl,\n          And she promised herself to the Baron.\n\n     IX.\n\n     The {231}war was declared--there was no time to woo,\n          When legions and armies were forming,\n     But, handsome and bold, he knew well what to do,\n          So he carried the fortress by storming.\n\n     X.\n\n     And she promised to wed, if he shouldn\u2019t be dead,\n         When the Christians had settled the Paynim.\n     He must go there, he said; but she wanted, instead,\n          By her apron-string still to detain him.\n\n     XI.\n\n     But he\u2019d promised to go, and he would, and he must\n         (These men are such obstinate cattle!),\n     So his heart to her keeping the lover did trust,\n         And set off, like a man, to the battle.\n\n     XII.\n\n     He went, and he came, and sustained his great name,\n          For when was a Fowle e\u2019er behindhand?\n     And returned to receive the sweet laurels of fame\n          From his Ida\u2019s most willing and kind hand.\n\n     XIII.\n\n     When a man\u2019s seeking _laurels_, to keep him at _bay_\n          Is a deed most exceedingly cruel,\n     So we\u2019ll hasten our baron along on his way\n          To the casket which held his bright jewel.\n\n     XIV.\n\n     Lofty and high were the Montmolon towers,\n         And fortified, too, beyond measure,\n     Lest any bold lord of the neighbouring powers\n         Should harry the Montmolon treasure.\n\n     XV.\n\n     Sir {232}Roderick gazed on the gloomy old wall,\n          Which the ivy was slowly corroding,\n     When a sight met his eyes which his heart did appal,\n          And fill with a fearful foreboding.\n\n     XVI.\n\n     Where the Montmolon banner of old used to wave,\n          And merrily flaunt in the breezes,\n     No banner hung now--all was still as the grave,\n          Or the form that death\u2019s quietude seizes.\n\n     XVII.\n\n     The place looked so bleak--\u2018tis a sad thing to speak,\n          But sad things sometimes must be spoken;\n     And the winds they did shriek through that castle antique,\n          For there wasn\u2019t a window unbroken!\n\n     XVIII.\n\n     The mark of a foe did Sir Roderick know\n          Full well--far too well to mistake it;\n     And he groaned deep and low, in sad accents of woe,\n          Ere he turned round his horse to forsake it.\n\n     XIX.\n\n     But he stopped; for a groan quite as sad as his own\n          Seemed to come from the shrubberies near him,\n     And an old man he spied, sitting there all alone,\n          Who appeared in no manner to fear him.\n\n     XX.\n\n     He approached, and affright half gave way to delight\n          At the chance his lost bride to regain her,\n     When he recognised quite, in this dolorous wight,\n          A Montmolon former retainer.\n\n     XXI.\n\n     \u201cOld {233}man!\u201d he cried out, \u201cwhat\u2019s this fuss all about?\n          And has there been any disaster?\n     You seemed crippled, no doubt: is\u2019t rheumatics or gout?\n          And where are your mistress and master?\u201d\n\n     XXII.\n\n     With a guttural sigh, like one going to die,\n          The man raised him up on his knees, and\n     Thus made him reply, though the news, by-the-bye,\n          He scarce could get out of his weasand.\n\n     XXIII.\n\n     \u201cI\u2019ve a sad tale to crack. Noble sir, you\u2019ve come back\n          To a house sacked from basement to attics;\n     Too long do I lack kitchen chimney and jack\n          For gout--let alone the rheumatics!\n\n     XXIV.\n\n     \u201cI speak but with pain, for I\u2019m slaughtered and slain\n          (Just look at my garments all gory),\n     But my breath I would fain a while longer retain\n          Till I\u2019ve told you our terrible story.\n\n     XXV.\n\n     \u201cFair Ida, I fear, you will scarcely find here,\n          Though the room which was hers still you may see,\n     For \u2018tis nearly a year since with bow and with spear\n          Hither hastened Sir Marmaduke Tracy.\n\n     XXVI.\n\n     \u201cWith soldiers in scores, ammunition, and stores,\n          He attacked our unfortunate village;\n     He battered our doors [\u2018twas the greatest of bores).\n          And allowed all his people to pillage.\n\n     XXVII.\n\n     \u201cWhen {234}the storm \u2018gan to lower, folks fled to the tower,\n          Young and old the same thing very soon did;\n     We did all in our power, and young Ida\u2019s own bower\n          Was turned into a ward for the wounded.\n\n     XXVIII.\n\n     \u201cFor months four or five we continued to strive;\n          None ventured on shirking or shamming,\n     Till one-half of our hive were no longer alive--\n          Consumed between firing and famine.\n\n     XXIX.\n\n     \u201cWhen our lord \u2018gainst the rout could no longer hold out,\n          He gave in, like a sensible covey;\n     No food was about, save one bottle of stout,\n          Half a loaf, and a pot of anchovy.\n\n     XXX.\n\n     \u201cThen at length did we let (though with wondrous regret)\n          Sir Marmaduke through the portcullis;\n     And the treatment we met no one there will forget,\n          Unless he a regular gull is.\n\n     XXXI.\n\n     \u201cThe Tracy began, and took ev\u2019ry tenth man \u2018\n          Of the Baron of Montmolon\u2019s people,\n     Saying, \u2018Fly, if ye can, for ye soon will be dan--\n          Cling from top of the neighbouring steeple.\n\n     XXXII.\n\n     \u201c\u2018Since ye foolishly list, Tracy\u2019s arms to resist,\n          Ye shall see how his mercy shall treat ye;\n     And your wives shall be kissed, if by them ye are missed\n          In your homes, while the carrion eat ye.\u2019\n\n     XXXIII.\n\n     \u201cHis {235}men had the knack; not a rope was too slack,\n          Not a victim could loosen or slip cord.\n     Our baron looked black; but his arms \u2018hind his back\n          Were fastened together with whipcord.\n\n     XXXIV.\n\n     \u201cHe hanged these poor chaps, but I fancy that, perhaps,\n          The other men\u2019s lot was the sorest;\n     Without clothes, shoes, or caps, but with plenty of slaps,\n          He turned them adrift in the forest.\n\n     XXXV.\n\n     \u201cSome starved, sank, and died; some few went beside\n          Themselves with cold, hunger, and sorrow.\n     \u2018Twas little you spied of the Montmolon pride,\n          When you looked at this place on the morrow.\n\n     XXXVI.\n\n     \u201cThat truculent Goth, Sir Tracy, took both\n          Our lord and his beautiful daughter.\n     \u2018To wed me,\u2019 he quoth, \u2018though the damsel be loth,\n          To reason I soon shall have brought her.\u2019\n\n     XXXVII.\n\n     \u201cI, escaping from hurt, more by chance than desert\n          (My brother on Tracy\u2019s estate is),\n     Have lived, I assert, sitting here in the dirt,\n          Upon nothing but berries and praties.\n\n     XXXVIII.\n\n     \u201cI was wounded, indeed; don\u2019t you see how I bleed?\n          And I\u2019ve had ne\u2019er a surgeon, which _is_ hard;\n     But my master\u2019s sad need, and the loss of his breed,\n          \u2018Tis _that_, sir, which sticks in my gizzard.\n\n     XXXIX.\n\n     \u201cMy {236}strength \u2018gins to fail: want of beef and of ale\n          (How well I remember the brewin\u2019!)\n     My frame doth assail; but I\u2019ve told you the tale,\n          And your eyes may behold the sad ruin.\u201d\n\n     XL.\n\n     He stopped: faint and sore, he could utter no more,\n          But sank on the ground, softly sighing;\n     His troubles were o\u2019er: he was turned of four-score,\n          And was dead ere he knew he was dying.\n\n     XLI.\n\n     Sir Roderick stood at the tidings aghast:\n          Sad change from glad anticipation;\n     But he spoke out at last; not too loud or too fast,\n          But in accents of deep indignation.\n\n     XLII.\n\n     \u201cBy all that is holy, by all that is blue,\n          By the eyes of adorable Ida,\n     Sir Marmaduke Tracy shall bitterly rue\n          The moment when first he espied her!\n\n     XLIII.\n\n     \u201cI vow and declare, and I solemnly swear,\n          That, fearless of dagger or bullet,\n     I\u2019ll rout out that bear from his murderous lair,\n          And slit his detestable gullet.\n\n     XLIV.\n\n     \u201cMy life to the project henceforth I devote;\n          All else to this _one_ shall knock under,\n     Till I fasten my hand on his treacherous throat\n          And tear the vile spoiler asunder!\n\n     XLV.\n\n     \u201cWhen {237}next here I tread, it shall be to be wed;\n          But I mustn\u2019t stay now any longer;\n     This old fellow\u2019s dead--there\u2019s no more to be said,\n          He has perished of wounds and of hunger.\u201d\n\n     XLVI.\n\n     Then he turned his horse round (who sprang off with a bound,\n          Accustomed in battle to dash on),\n     And with clattering sound, galloped over the ground\n          In a most irrepressible passion.\n\n     XLVII.\n\n     Two months had elapsed since that terrible day\n          When the Montmolon castle was taken,\n     And the baron and Ida were carried away\n          With small prospect of \u201csaving their bacon.\u201d\n\n     XLVIII.\n\n     The Tracy had taken them off to the rock\n          On which his own castle was builded;\n     Which, he boasted, was safe from an enemy\u2019s shock,\n          Whatever his valour or skill did.\n\n     XLIX.\n\n     Glenlighton its name; \u2019twas a beautiful place,\n          As you saw when you came nigh and nigher it;\n     But delectable Ida averted her face,\n          Too wrapt in her grief to admire it.\n\n     L.\n\n     Arrived, they were placed in a large suite of rooms,\n          Locked up, and a strong guard set by \u2018em,\n     And for weeks they saw none but retainers and grooms,\n          Who were ordered with food to supply \u2018em.\n\n     LI.\n\n     For {238}Sir Marmaduke Tracy had reason to ride\n          To some lord\u2019s in the neighbouring valley:\n     Ere he thought of a bride, he the spoils must divide\n          With the friends who\u2019d connived at his sally.\n\n     LII.\n\n     But returning (too soon!) one fine morning in June,\n          When brightly and warmly the sun shone,\n     He came whistling a tune all along the saloon,\n          And joined the small party at luncheon.\n\n     LIII.\n\n     \u201cNow, Baron,\u201d quoth he, \u201cprithee hearken to me:\n          To escape you may shortly the way see:\n     If you e\u2019er would be free, you must quickly agree,\n          That your daughter becomes Lady Tracy.\n\n     LIV.\n\n     \u201cI am elderly, true; it were better for you\n          That death hadn\u2019t taken my son John.\n     But refuse! if you do, why, the day you shall rue\n          In a most insalubrious dungeon.\u201d\n\n     LV.\n\n     Says the Baron, \u201cI burn your assault to return,\n          And, spite of your luncheons and _he_ cook,\n     My child will soon learn your proposals to spurn,\n          You lubberly son of a sea-cook!\n\n     LVI.\n\n     \u201cThe battle you\u2019ve won, vile son of a gun,\n          Though more by your cunning than merit;\n     But, much though you\u2019ve done, I can tell you that none\n          Can break the true Montmolon spirit.\n\n     LVII.\n\n     \u201cSir {239}Guy de la Vaux, I assuredly know,\n          Will avenge the foul trick that you\u2019ve played me;\n     And the Lord Montereaux to my rescue will go,\n          Though houseless and homeless you\u2019ve made me.\n\n     LVIII.\n\n     \u201cNo daughter of mine to a man will incline\n          Who has murdered her father\u2019s retainers.\n     Those are _my_ views in fine; my brave girl, I opine,\n          Will in language more pretty explain hers!\u201d\n\n     LIX.\n\n     Then Ida, \u201cPapa, all your sentiments are\n          My own--you are always so ready.\n     And besides, much I fear, that though mighty in war,\n          Sir Marmaduke\u2019s rather unsteady.\n\n     LX.\n\n     \u201cAnd I\u2019m bound to declare, though hardly I dare\n          (And my courage is quite down at zero),\n     For _another_ I care, and it wouldn\u2019t be fair\n          To give up my faithful young hero.\n\n     LXI.\n\n     \u201cI met him, you know, nearly five years ago,\n          Abroad, at the Henley regatta,\n     So I\u2019m bound to reply to Sir Marmaduke \u2018No,\u2019\n          Although his attentions may flatter.\u201d\n\n     LXII.\n\n     The Tracy laughed loud at the maiden so proud,\n          But, says he, \u201cCome, a truce to your chaffing;\n     It must be allowed that you don\u2019t seem much cowed,\n          But you\u2019ll find it no matter for laughing.\n\n     LXIII.\n\n     \u201cYou, {240}madam, when cool, your affections must school\n          To follow Sir Marmaduke\u2019s pleasure;\n     And, Baron, you fool and cantankerous mule,\n          In a dungeon shall ponder at leisure.\n\n     LXIV.\n\n     \u201cNor think you secure that your friends will be truer\n          Than others have been in like cases;\n     Sir Guy is too poor, and I\u2019m perfectly sure\n          \u2018Twill be long ere the Tracy he faces.\n\n     LXV.\n\n     \u201cAnd the Lord Montereaux died lately, I know\n          (He always was rather dyspeptic);\n     \u2018Tis a good week ago since they popped him below,\n          Carried off by a fit epileptic.\n\n     LXVI.\n\n     \u201c\u2018Tis never my bent, you must know, to relent,\n          And trouble you\u2019re surely enough in,\n     So your aid must be lent to make Ida consent,\n          Unless you\u2019re a regular muffin.\n\n     LXVII.\n\n     \u201cMeantime, to a dungeon I\u2019ll order you off,\n          Where the damp very constant and dense is;\n     And when crippled entirely with fever and cough,\n          You\u2019ll probably come to your senses.\u201d\n\n     LXVIII.\n\n     He spoke, and withdrew, and the baron they threw\n          Into dungeon both damp and unpleasant;\n     And left him to ponder, as well he might do,\n          On the change from the past to the present.\n\n     LXIX.\n\n     Still, {241}with wonderful pluck, to his orders he stuck\n          That his child shouldn\u2019t marry the tyrant;\n     And Ida, sweet duck, though quite \u201cdown on her luck,\u201d\n           Still frowned on the daring aspirant.\n\n     LXX.\n\n     Then Sir Tracy, irate, said she tempted her fate,\n          Declining so firmly to choose him;\n     For he ne\u2019er could abate in his love for a mate,\n          Who he knew would be sorry to lose him.\n\n     LXXI.\n\n     Ten days he\u2019d allow her, he swore, when much vexed,\n          And partially drunk on his own ale;\n     But each day she refused to be his, on the next\n          Should be wrenched from her father a toe-nail!\n\n     LXXII.\n\n     Now the baron was gouty and tender of feet,\n          A man, too, of delicate nurture,\n     And to injure him thus would be making complete\n          The system of underground torture.\n\n     LXXIII.\n\n     So Ida she stood on the turreted wall\n          On that very identical even,\n     And loudly for aid and assistance did call\n          On Roderick Fowle and on Heaven.\n\n     LXXIV.\n\n     What is it she sees through the leaves of the trees?\n          By Jove! \u2019tis a warrior\u2019s banner,\n     And men, thick as bees, drawing nigh by degrees\n          In a most unmistakable manner.\n\n     LXXV.\n\n     She {242}views them approaching the castle so dread,\n          And prays they may soon overwhelm it;\n     For she sees they are led by a chief at their head\n          With a Hen, painted large, on his helmet.\n\n     [Illustration: 260]\n\n     LXXVI.\n\n     At this gladdening sight, she exclaimed in delight,\n          \u201cMy Fowle is at hand to assist me!\n     I\u2019m positive quite I shall soon be all right,\n          And again those dear lips will have kissed me!\u201d\n\n     LXXVII.\n\n     Sir Roderick true, as he came full in view\n          And espied his adorable lady,\n     Like a cock loudly crew, \u201cIm coming to you!\u201d\n           And a spring towards the battlements made he.\n\n     LXXVIII.\n\n     He\u2019d got a siege-train (as I here should explain),\n          And a terrible ram for to batter,\n     Which with might and with main, plied again and again,\n          The walls of the fortress should shatter.\n\n     LXXIX.\n\n     Then he shouted his war-cry,--well known in the East,--\u2019\n          \u201cCock-a-doodle!\u201d and brandished his pennon,\n     Rushed on to the castle, not fearing the least,\n          But urging his valorous men on.\n\n     LXXX.\n\n     The cruel Sir Marmaduke Tracy, meanwhile,\n          Had been taking a quiet siesta,\n     For he\u2019d promised poor Ida, with sinister smile,\n          That day, that he wouldn\u2019t molest her.\n\n     LXXXI.\n\n     But, {243}hearing the shock, at the foot of the rock,\n          He came up by the maiden upon it,\n     Of his foeman took stock, and exclaimed, \u201cMy young cock,\n          \u2018Tis a daring attempt, had you won it!\u201d\n\n     LXXXII.\n\n     Fowle, clambering high, could invent no reply;\n          Says Tracy, \u201cThough parleying _you_ shun,\n     Your end is so nigh, let me hope that to die\n          You prepared ere you planned this intrusion.\u201d\n\n     LXXXIII.\n\n     Then a vast mass of brickwork he moved on a ledge\n          Just above the unfortunate lover,\n     And with all his great strength pushed it just to the edge\n          Of the turret, then toppled it over.\n\n     LXXXIV.\n\n     With a rush and a roar, it went tumbling o\u2019er,\n          With but little less rumble than thunder;\n     Fowle\u2019s chance, small before, what event can restore\n          If that terrible mass he lies under?\n\n     LXXXV.\n\n     Then Sir Marmaduke bowed to the maiden quite cowed\n          While her flesh with sheer terror was creeping,\n     And said, \u201cMadam so proud, it must now be allowed,\n          There\u2019s no catching the Tracy a-sleeping.\u201d\n\n     LXXXVI.\n\n     \u201cCome near, without dread,\u201d he tauntingly said,\n          \u201cOn this ledge I will make by my side room;\n     See, your lover is dead! so we now may be wed,\n          And I\u2019ll make you a capital bridegroom!\u201d\n\n     LXXXVII.\n\n     But {244}she looked with disdain, for, that moment, again\n          From the thick cloud of dust just emerging,\n     Fowle stood forth quite plain \u2018mid the wounded and slain\n          His heroes to energy urging.\n\n     LXXXVIII.\n\n     \u201cFalse Tracy,\u201d he cried, \u201cfrom my beautiful bride\n          Avert your detestable gazes,\n     Descend to my side that the fight may be tried!\u201d\n           Says Sir Marmaduke, \u201cFowle, go to blazes!\u201d\n\n     LXXXIX.\n\n     Quoth he, with a sneer, and a laugh and a jeer,\n          \u201cGo home with your battering ram, Fowle;\n     \u2018Tis perfectly clear I am better up here,\n          So I think I shall stay where I am, Fowle!\u201d\n\n     XC.\n\n     He stood, winking his eye, on that battlement high,\n          And was turning, poor Ida to wheedle,\n     When the maiden, so spry, clapt her hand to his thigh,\n          And thrust up to the hilt a sharp needle.\n\n     XCI.\n\n     With pain did he flush--gave a jump and a rush--\n          Lost his balance--strove hard to re-win it,\n     When she gave him a push, and with terrible crush\n          He was over the cliff in a minute!\n\n     XCII.\n\n     The sides of the hill he clutched at, until--\n          He found that he couldn\u2019t quite come it,\n     So at last had his fill, and, exhausted, lay still,\n          Having rolled to the foot from the summit.\n\n     XCIII.\n\n     And {245}there did he lay, dying fast, in a way\n          Which nobody willingly chooses;\n     For the light of the day did his carcase display,\n          A mass of incurable bruises.\n\n     XCIV.\n\n     Fowle\u2019s soldiers stood o\u2019er the poor man in his gore,\n          Who groaned, \u201cI must go to \u2018Old Harry;\u2019\n     \u2018Tis a terrible bore! I shall soon be no more,\n          And you, Fowle, the damsel will marry.\n\n     XCV.\n\n     \u201cLady Ida,\u201d quoth he, \u201chas been too much for me;\n          Her will in rough fashion she teaches.\n     One comfort will be, that Fowle, do you see,\n          Will find that his dame \u2018wears the breeches\u2019!\n\n     XCVI.\n\n     \u201cI am, I confess, in the deuce of a mess,\n          With numbers of sins to repent of:\n     There are some you may guess, but a lot more, unless\n          I told you, you\u2019d never get scent of.\n\n     XCVII.\n\n     \u201cI\u2019ve had wives a full score: aye, I think twenty-four,\n          Who at times I\u2019d by fraud or by force court:\n     And I own that before I sought after more\n          I ought to have tried the Divorce Court!\n\n     XCVIII.\n\n     \u201cIn a dungeon down-stairs you\u2019ll find some of the \u2018fairs:\u2019\n          I hadn\u2019t the heart to destroy \u2018em;\n     But, in spite of their prayers, if they gave themselves airs,\n          Sent them down, in the dark to enjoy \u2018em.\n\n     XCIX.\n\n     \u201cMy {246}soldiers are bold; they had better be told\n          There\u2019s nothing the fight should be won for:\n     Their leader, though old, by a girl has been \u2018sold,\u2019\n          And is most undeniably \u2018done for\u2019!\u201d\n\n     C.\n\n     He raised himself then, and bawled out to his men,\n          \u201cNo reason, my hearties, to fight on:\n     The crest of the Hen will float over my den--\n          Farewell to the Lord of Glenlighton!\u201d\n\n     CI.\n\n     Then he gave a great groan (as the Baron had done\n          If they\u2019d tortured and made him a sore nail),\n     And his side turning on, exclaimed, \u201cCrikey! I\u2019m gone\n          And was instantly \u201cdead as a door-nail\u201d!\n\n     CII.\n\n     What need to relate how they opened the gate,\n          And admitted Sir Fowle and his forces?\n     How he entered in state, and showed clemency great,\n          All this a mere matter of course is.\n\n     CIII.\n\n     And how the fair Ida sprang into his arms;\n          How they built up the Montmolon Tower, I\n     Dare say you can guess; and additional charms\n          Fowle found in her ladyship\u2019s dowry.\n\n     CIV.\n\n     Glenlighton they seized; there was none to dispute:\n          And Tracy\u2019s broad lands fared the same, too:\n     The place and the country their fancy did suit,\n          So they took all the land they laid claim to.\n\n     CV.\n\n     Nor {247}need it be said that ere long they were wed,\n          These lovers, no more to be parted:\n     Full soon the tree spread; and young children were bred;\n          True _Fowles_--who were ne\u2019er _chicken-hearted_.\n\n     CVI.\n\n     That fort on the rocks (when repaired from the knocks\n          Received in Sir Roderick\u2019s fighting)\n     Made a snug little box, where, like true fighting-cocks,\n          They live, at the hour I am writing.\n\n     CVIII.\n\n     Fowle\u2019s deeds are well known--not in _that_ land alone,\n          But, where\u2019er tales of valour hearts quicken,\n     Men exclaim in loud tone to this day, \u201cWe must own\n          Such or such man\u2019s \u2018_as game as a chicken_.\u2019\u201d\n\n     CVIII.\n\n     The Baron lived long; he was healthy and strong,\n          And never ate things one had best shun;\n     So went in \u201cding dong\u201d at the sound of the gong,\n          And was blest with a wondrous digestion.\n\n     CIX.\n\n     Now I\u2019ve told all I know about Fowle and his foe,\n          There\u2019s no more that requires explanation:\n     On all I\u2019ll bestow my blessing, and so\n          Conclude, with a bow, my narration.\n\nAs soon as the Monarch of the Rhine had finished his poetical legend (to\nwhich his companion listened with the most profound attention), he rose\nfrom his seat, and declared {248}that he could really wait no longer,\nor he should be late for his appointment with those other continental\nrivers to which he had already alluded. Regret was plainly visible upon\nthe countenance of Father Thames as his Brother Rhine expressed this\ndetermination, and he began to endeavour to persuade him to stay a\nlittle longer. He of the Rhine, however, seemed to be inexorable, and\nreminded his entertainer of the good old motto, \u201cWelcome the coming,\nspeed the parting guest,\u201d which he declared that he had always held to\nbe an exceedingly wise and proper saying.\n\nFather Thames raised no objection to this, but at the same time observed\nthat he also had several rivers who desired to see him, but that he had\npostponed their visit in order to do full justice to that of his foreign\nfriend. The Isis and the Cam had indeed sent representatives to wait\nupon him, as was their annual custom, and enormous crowds of people\nin steamers, on barges, and on his banks had come out to witness the\narrival and triumphant progress of these, which had taken place between\nPutney and Mortlake, and had as usual created great excitement. But\nother visitors he had put off, and had still more time to devote to the\nRhine Monarch if he could be prevailed upon to stay. This, however, was\nimpossible, and the two friends were about to part when Father Thames\ncasually observed, \u201cI hope all will go well with you, Brother Rhine,\nuntil we meet again.\u201d\n\nThe other heaved a deep sigh. \u201cI hope so, indeed,\u201d he replied; \u201cbut in\nthese days of progress who can tell what will happen next? Instead of\nhaunted castles I have now Legislative Bodies, which are often possessed\nby much worse spirits than those which occupied the old {249}ruins;\ninstead of giants I have Ministers; and in the place of river-demons an\nenlightened Press; and goodness only knows what may become of me at any\nmoment.\u201d\n\n\u201cI, too,\u201d responded Father Thames, \u201chave trials which are almost\nbeyond endurance. What with Water Companies, Conservancy Boards, and\nEmbankments, I have of late years been driven nearly wild; and although\nthey have at some places given up the fine old practice of draining into\nmy waters everything that was foul and abominable, and thus creating\na public nuisance in the shape of disagreeable and unwholesome odours,\nwhich they afterwards had the impudence to attribute to me, and\nassociate the nuisance with my name, yet I am scurvily treated by\nmankind in general, and made the unwilling receptacle of dead cats\nand other unpleasant objects, and have my water taken from me in large\nquantities, when I would much rather retain it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll this is very bad,\u201d remarked the Rhine King. \u201cWhy not leave such a\ncountry and come home with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, thank you,\u201d drily returned Father Thames, \u201cnot even the blessings\nwhich you have enumerated as now in your possession could tempt me to\ntake such a step. I should miss my beef and ale too much.\u201d\n\n\u201cAle!\u201d hastily interrupted his companion. \u201cHow you continue to harp upon\nthat beverage of yours, which, after all, cannot compare with that which\nI drink on mine own river. Come, good brother, before I go let me sing\nyou one of our famous Rhine songs in honour of the immortal wine with\nwhich my banks are blessed.\u201d And without more ado about the matter, the\nRhine {250}Monarch sang as follows in a rich and voice:--\n\n\n     I.\n\n     \u201cA fig for your sherry or foaming champagne!\n          I\u2019d not give a groat for the whole of your stock;\n     Of thirst if I hear my companions complain,\n          I hold out my bottle with--\u2018Accipe Hoc!\n     Accipe Hoc, Accipe Hoc!\u2019\n          I hold out my bottle with--\u2018Accipe Hoc!\u2019\n\n     II.\n\n     \u201cAt night your port-wine bibber drowsily nods,\n          And wakes hot and heavy at crowing of cock;\n     The liquor offer is fit for the gods,\n          And blesses the drinker, so--\u2018Accipe Hoc!\n     Accipe Hoc, Accipe Hoc!\u2019\n          It blesses the drinker, so--\u2018Accipe Hoc!\u2019\n\n     III.\n\n     \u201cOf brandy and whisky I sing not in praise,\n          For feet they make stagger and heads they make rock;\n     But the man who is hoping to lengthen his days,\n          Should list to my counselling--\u2018Accipe Hoc!\n     Accipe Hoc,\u2019 &c.\n\n     IV.\n\n     \u201cAway with your brewing, away with your ale!\n          (Though such a proposal your feelings may shock;)\n     For all your malt liquors infallibly pale\n          Before my Rhine vintage, so--\u2018Accipe Hoc!\n     Accipe Hoc,\u2019 &c.\n\n     V.\n\n     \u201c\u2018Tis wine that ne\u2019er robs man of senses or wit,\n          But hearts can make lively and tongues can unlock;\n     Makes dull men for once for good company fit,\n          And bright ones still brighter, so--\u2018Accipe Hoc!\n     Accipe Hoc,\u2019 &c.\n\n     VI.\n\n     \u201cCome, fill up your glasses! the toast shall be mine,\n          And loud in applause on the table you\u2019ll knock;\n     When I give you \u2018The glorious vintage of Rhine!\u2019\n          And long may each comrade sing, \u2018Accipe Hoc!\n     Accipe Hoc, Accipe Hoc!\u2019\n          Long may each comrade sing, \u2018Accipe Hoc!\u2019\u201d\n\nAs {251}the Monarch of the Rhine proceeded, I observed a cloud gathering\nover the brow of Father Thames, which grew darker when uncomplimentary\nallusion was made to his favourite ale, and by the time that his guest\nhad concluded his song had deepened into a tremendous and awful frown.\nScarcely was the last word out of the singer\u2019s mouth than he burst forth\nin fury. \u201cBrooks and fountains!\u201d he exclaimed in a loud voice, \u201cis it\nthus I am to be insulted upon mine own waters? and am I to sit still and\nbe silent while these insolent foreigners extol their thin and miserable\ndrinks at the expense of the noble beverage upon which Britons have\nfattened and thriven ever since they were a people? Off with thee now,\nthen, as soon as thou listest, thou hock-swilling loon, for I cannot put\nup with such trash!\u201d\n\nThe Rhine King had already risen; but at these words the greatest\nastonishment was depicted upon his countenance, for he had really\nmeant no offence, so far as I could see, and for my own part I was\nmyself astonished at the conduct of Father Thames in taking notice of\nsuch a trifle. He did so, however, and was apparently quite ready to\nfollow up his words with corresponding actions; for, reaching out his\nleft hand, he raised from beside him a species of instrument somewhat\nresembling a three-pronged fork, which I had not noticed before,\nand overset his tumbler with his right hand in the action. {252}This\nappeared to exasperate him still more, and as his companion muttered\nsomething about the effects of too much ale being to make a man lose his\ntemper, he appeared to get more and more angry, and made as though he\nwould rise.\n\n[Illustration: 271]\n\nUpon this the Monarch of the Rhine tarried no longer, but made a sudden\nbolt of it, carrying a couple of curiously shaped spears in his left\nhand, and leading in his right his attendant eagle, tied with a string\nwhich was fastened to a collar round its neck. In this undignified\nmanner the Rhine King rushed off the island, and I was so thoroughly\nashamed at the rude and inhospitable conduct of my native river that I\nanxiously started forward to stop the stranger king\u2019s flight, to offer\napologies, and, if possible, to set matters right between the two. In so\ndoing, however, something struck my hat from my head, and with the shock\nI awoke, and sat up amazed. There, indeed, was {253}the dear old river\nflowing on and on at my feet; there was the island, and upon it were the\nreeds and willows as usual, but the River Monarchs were nowhere to be\nseen. They had passed away like a dream, and no doubt I should be\ntold that all I had seen and heard was only the results of a visit to\ndreamland during my nap that afternoon.\n\nIt was getting dark, and I could only just see the stately shape of\nWindsor Castle rearing itself above the town in the distance, whilst, to\nthe left, the buildings of my beloved Eton appeared to be shadows\nfading away in the fast-approaching darkness of night. \u201cAbsit omen!\u201d I\nexclaimed as I sprang to my feet. \u201cThe glory of Eton shall never fail\nwhilst England is England; and, least of all, shall the love of her sons\nfor the dear old college ever fade or lessen whilst life endures. I,\nat least, will be a boy as long as I live in my love for Eton and Eton\nboys, and to their approval will I submit the legends which I have heard\nhere to-day.\u201d\n\nFilled with these thoughts, I hurried home as fast as I could, and wrote\ndown from memory what I had heard and seen, resolving, if possible,\nto obtain some further information from the same sources if ever the\nopportunity should again present itself.\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\u2019s River Legends, by E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen","title":"River Legends; Or, Father Thames and Father Rhine","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":66175}