{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_66819/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_66819","id":"gutenberg_66819","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66819","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore -- Finland","Tales -- Finland"],"text":"HEROES OF THE OLDEN TIME\n\n\n                               THE SAMPO\n                     A WONDER TALE OF THE OLD NORTH\n\n\n                                   BY\n                             JAMES BALDWIN\n                       Illustrated by N. C. Wyeth\n\n\n                                NEW YORK\n                        CHARLES SCRIBNER\u2019S SONS\n                                  1917\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPROEM\n\n\nThis is a tale which the runolainen of the far North used to sing in\nhovel and hall, and which the heroes of primeval times learned by heart\nand taught to their children. In its original form it was related, not\nin plain, unvarnished prose, as you shall find it here, but in endless\nmonotonous measures, tuned to the music of the kantele. [A] It was made\nup of numerous stories, songs, folk-melodies, and incantations, with\nwhich were interwoven many independent episodes that are neither\ninteresting nor necessary to its completeness. The weaver of tales, who\nnow relates these adventures to modern readers, has chosen to deviate\nwidely from the methods of the ancient story-tellers. He has combined\nvarious parts, as pleased his fancy, into one complete harmonious\nfabric, and, while he has retained much of the original warp and woof,\nhe has added various and many colorings and connecting threads of his\nown invention. In doing this he has merely exercised the time-honored\nright of poets and story-tellers\u2014the right to make new cloth out of\nold.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n    CHAPTER                                         PAGE\n\n    I       MISTRESS AND MINSTREL                      1\n    II      THE MAID OF BEAUTY                        14\n    III     THE GRAYBEARD AND HIS SON                 21\n    IV      THE WICKED HORNET                         32\n    V       THE TREE OF MAGIC                         43\n    VI      THE SMITHY                                49\n    VII     THE TEMPEST                               59\n    VIII    THE RECIPE                                66\n    IX      THE CALDRON                               73\n    X       THE FORGING OF THE SAMPO                  86\n    XI      THE HOMESICK HERO                         97\n    XII     THE UNFINISHED BOAT                      109\n    XIII    THE LAND OF TUONELA                      125\n    XIV     THE HAG OF THE ROCK                      137\n    XV      THE HERO\u2019S RETURN                        145\n    XVI     THE WISDOM KEEPER                        151\n    XVII    THE LAUNCHING                            162\n    XVIII   THE MAID OF THE MORNING                  168\n    XIX     THE UNEXPECTED JOURNEY                   178\n    XX      THE FRIENDLY RIVALS                      190\n    XXI     THE BARKING DOGS                         196\n    XXII    THE OLD MAN\u2019S WOOING                     207\n    XXIII   THE FIELD OF SERPENTS                    214\n    XXIV    THE GREAT PIKE                           225\n    XXV     THE BRIDEGROOM\u2019S TRIUMPH                 235\n    XXVI    THE WEDDING FEAST                        242\n    XXVII   THE HOME COMING                          253\n    XXVIII  THE SLAVE BOY                            257\n    XXIX    A DREADFUL VENGEANCE                     271\n    XXX     THE GOLDEN MAIDEN                        278\n    XXXI    THE FAMINE                               292\n    XXXII   THE WEEPING SHIP                         298\n    XXXIII  THE KANTELE                              311\n    XXXIV   THE TRIUMPH OF MUSIC                     320\n    XXXV    THE FLIGHT                               332\n    XXXVI   THE PURSUIT                              346\n    XXXVII  THE FATE OF THE SAMPO                    353\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n    The Golden Maiden                               Frontispiece\n\n        The flames died suddenly away, and out of the\n        vessel there sprang a wonderful image\u2014the image\n        of a beautiful maiden.\n\n                                                     FACING PAGE\n\n    The Magician and the Maid of Beauty                       16\n\n        High in the sky he saw a rainbow, and on it the\n        Maid of Beauty.\n\n    The Hag of the Rock                                      138\n\n        An old, old woman, gray-eyed, hook-nosed, wrinkled,\n        was sitting on the rock and busily spinning.\n\n    The Slave Boy                                            262\n\n        Then, at length, when all were peacefully feeding,\n        he sat down upon a grassy hummock and looked around\n        him, sad, lonely, vindictive.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE SAMPO\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nMISTRESS AND MINSTREL\n\n\n\u201cYou must rise early in the morning,\u201d said Dame Louhi, the Wise Woman\nof the North. She stood at the door of her chamber and looked back into\nthe low-raftered hall where her daughter was spinning. Her face was\nwrinkled and grim, her thin lips were puckered over her toothless\nmouth, her gray-green eyes sparkled beneath her shaggy eyebrows.\n\nShe paused and listened. No answer came from her busy daughter. The day\nwas almost ended. Already the swallows were asleep under the eaves, the\nreindeer were lying down in their paddock, all the underlings of Dame\nLouhi\u2019s household had retired to rest. So near was her dwelling to the\nsea that she could hear the waves lapping on the beach and the\nice-floes crunching and grinding and pounding against the shore. But\nother sounds there were none.\n\nThe Mistress, Dame Louhi, grew impatient. She stamped her foot angrily,\nand loudly repeated her command: \u201cYou must rise early in the morning,\nmy daughter.\u201d\n\nThis time the maiden heard her. She ceased twirling her spindle, and\nsweetly answered, \u201cYes, mother, for there is a great deal to be done\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\nThe Mistress was satisfied; and as she turned to enter her chamber you\nshould have seen how unlike the mother was the fair daughter whom men\ncalled the Maid of Beauty. Nature had given to the maiden all the\nloveliness that had been denied to the dame. And she was not only\nsurpassingly beautiful, but she was wise and skilful and very\nindustrious. The housekeeping in the roomy dwelling beside the sea\nwould have been shabbily attended to had it not been for her daily\ncare; and the sun would have shone but seldom in the Frozen Land [B]\nhad not the Maid of Beauty encouraged it with her smiles.\n\nSo, on the morrow, long before any one else had risen, she was up and\nbustling hither and thither, attending to this thing and that and\nputting the house in order. She went out to the sheepfold and sheared\nsix fat lambs. She spun their six white fleeces into snowy yarn, and of\nthe yarn she wove enough cloth for six warm garments.\n\nThen she went into the kitchen and rekindled the fire upon the hearth.\nShe swept the floor and dusted the long benches. She scrubbed the\nbirchwood tables till they were as white and glistening as the\nfrost-covered meadows. She made the rooms neat and tidy and set the\nbreakfast things to cooking. By this time the day was dawning; the sky\nin the east was becoming flecked with yellow and red; the cock was\ncrowing, wild ducks were quacking by the shore, sparrows were chirping\nunder the eaves.\n\nThe maiden paused and listened\u2014listened long and intently. She heard\nthe joyful sounds of the morning; she heard the cold waves lapping and\nsplashing upon the shore. She looked out of the door and saw the first\nrays of the sun dancing and glancing upon the uneasy surface of the\nsea. Away from the shore, she saw the broad meadows lying lonely and\nstill under the lonely sky and beyond them the dark line which marked\nthe beginning of the forest and the rugged land of mountains.\n\nSuddenly, as she looked and listened, she heard a wailing which was not\nthe wailing of the sea. She held her breath and listened again. She\nheard a cry which was not the cry of a sea-bird.\n\n\u201cOh, mother,\u201d she called, \u201cwhat is that strange sound? The wild geese\nnever call so hoarsely; the waves never make such moaning. Listen,\nmother! What can it be?\u201d\n\nWise old Louhi, grim and toothless, rose quickly and hastened to the\ndoor, chattering and mumbling and grumbling. She paused and listened,\nbut the sound seemed very faint. She ran down to the landing-place\nbefore the house, and there she listened again. Soon the sound came to\nher ears, louder and more distinct, and yet hard to make out. Once,\ntwice, thrice she heard the call; and then she knew what it meant.\n\n\u201cIt is a man\u2019s voice,\u201d she said. \u201cSome hero has been shipwrecked near\nour shore. He is in distress; he calls for help.\u201d\n\nShe leaped nimbly into her boat. She pushed it from the shore and rowed\nwith speed out of the little inlet and around the rocky point which\njutted far into the sea. The cries grew louder, the calls were more\nfrequent as she urged her boat forward over the sullen, icy-cold waves.\n\nSoon she saw the shipwrecked man. He was not fighting the waves as she\nhad supposed, but was clinging to the branches of a tree that had been\nuprooted and carried to sea. Ah, the sad plight of the poor man! He\nseemed wounded and helpless; his face was gaunt and pale; his eyes were\nfilled with sadness and salt-water; he was shivering with cold and deep\ndespair.\n\nShouting words of cheer, the Mistress hurried to him. She lifted him\nfrom the place of danger and seated him in her boat. Then with steady\narms and mighty strokes she rowed homeward, nor did she pause until the\nboat\u2019s keel grated on the beach before her door.\n\nShe carried the stranger into the house; she placed him by the warm\nfire; she bathed his limbs, his face, his head in tepid water and\nwrapped him up in soft skins of the reindeer. For three long days\u2014yes,\nfor four summer days\u2014she tended him as though he were her son, and no\nquestions did she ask. Then, to her great joy, he sat up and soon grew\nwell and strong.\n\n\u201cNow, friend and fellow of the sea,\u201d said the gray woman, \u201ctell me your\nname. Tell me why and how you have come to our lovely land and to\nPohyola, the sweetest of homes.\u201d\n\nThe stranger, who also was old and gray, answered, \u201cMy name is\nWainamoinen, and all the world knows me; for I am the first of\nminstrels, the prince of wizards, the man whom other men delight to\nhonor. Luckless was the hour when I embarked on a ship to go fishing;\nstill more luckless was it when a storm overturned the vessel. Nine\ndays did the sea toss me\u2014yes, ten days did the waves buffet me\u2014ere I\nwas cast upon these shores.\u201d\n\n\u201cI welcome you, Wainamoinen!\u201d cried the grim Mistress. \u201cWelcome,\nwelcome to this northern land! Your name is well known to me, and long\nhave I honored it. Men call you the sweet singer of Hero Land, and they\nsay that no other songs cheer the dreary hours of winter as yours do.\nYou shall stay here in Pohyola and sing to me and my people. My house\nshall be your home and this delightful land shall be your country.\u201d\n\nThe gray-bearded Minstrel shook his head and sighed. He looked out and\nsaw the lonely meadows and the snowy mountains and the cold gray sea.\nThen his eyes filled with tears and he wept.\n\n\u201cO singer of Hero Land, why are you so sad?\u201d asked the woman. \u201cHave I\nnot been kind to you? Why, then, do you weep and gaze towards the sea?\u201d\n\n\u201cI weep for my own dear country; I am sick for my home,\u201d answered the\nMinstrel. \u201cI do not wish to remain in this Frozen Land. I am lonely and\nheart-broken.\u201d\n\n\u201cCheer up, cheer up!\u201d said Dame Louhi, trying to look pleasant.\n\u201cBeautiful Pohyola shall be your country. This comfortable house shall\nbe your home. My fireside shall be your fireside, and my friends shall\nbe your friends.\u201d\n\nBut the Minstrel still wept.\n\n\u201cStay here and be our honored guest,\u201d continued the Mistress. \u201cYou\nshall sleep in the warmest corner, you shall sit at the head of our\ntable. Good food we will give you\u2014choice bacon, fresh salmon from the\nsea, white cakes of barley, hot from the oven. Stay with us and cheer\nus with your sweet songs.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay!\u201d moaned the sad Minstrel. \u201cHow can I sing in a strange land?\nMy own country is the fairest; my own home is the dearest; my own table\nis the sweetest. All that I can ever do in this Frozen Land is to sigh\nand weep; and I shall sigh and weep till my eyes are out and my voice\nis gone forever.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are foolish,\u201d then said the unlovely Mistress. \u201cPohyola is the\nfairest place in all the world, and you must learn to love it.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel still shook his head and sighed. All his thoughts were\nwith his home land.\n\nThe summer passed swiftly, but to Wainamoinen the days were full of\nloneliness. He wandered over the silent meadows, he went out with the\nfishermen to catch salmon in the sea, he visited one place and another\nin the vast Frozen Land, vainly trying to forget his grief. And not\nonce did he open his lips in song, for there was no music in his heart;\nand how shall a minstrel sing if his heart is empty?\n\nAt length Dame Louhi relented.\n\n\u201cHow much will you give me if I send you back to your own country?\u201d she\nasked. \u201cCome, let us make a bargain.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow much will I give?\u201d answered he. \u201cI have nothing here that is my\nown, but I promise to send you many rich treasures. I will send you\ngold, I will send you silver.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you claim to be a mighty wizard,\u201d said Dame Louhi. \u201cShow us some\nof your work in magic.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever was there a greater magician than I,\u201d returned the Minstrel\nboastfully. \u201cYou have but to name some wonderful act and forthwith I\nwill perform it. But first, I must have your promise to send me home.\nMy heart is so full of the thought.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, then,\u201d answered the gray woman. \u201cIf you will make the magic\nSampo for me, I promise to send you home at once. It must be the real,\nthe wonderful Sampo; I will have nothing else.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Sampo! What is that?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you ask me what is the Sampo? Minstrels from the earliest times\nhave sung of its power, and all the wizards of the North have tried\ntheir spells, hoping to make something equally precious and potent. And\ndo you, a minstrel and a wizard, ask what it is?\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel was cunning, and he answered: \u201cIn my own country we call\nit by another name. If you will describe it I will tell you what that\nname is and also some strange things which no other minstrel knows.\u201d\n\nThe Mistress was off her guard. \u201cThe Sampo,\u201d she said, \u201cis the mill of\nfortune which wise men, since the beginning of things, have sought to\ninvent. It is the magic mill which grinds out all sorts of treasures\nand gives wealth and power to its possessor. One has only to whisper\nhis wishes to it and they will all come true.\u201d [C]\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cIn our country we call it the Stone of\nthe Wise Men.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a good name. And now, if I promise to send you safe home, will\nyou try your magic power and forge me such a mill? Have you the skill\nto fit it with wheels and levers? Can you hammer into shape a becoming\nlid for it\u2014a lid of rainbow colors?\u201d\n\nWainamoinen sat silent for a long time, shaking his head and thinking.\nThen he said:\n\n\u201cIt is a thing so strange and so difficult that I must have time to\nconsider my strength. In three days you shall have my answer.\u201d\n\nHe went out alone, and for many tedious hours he walked up and down by\nthe seashore pondering upon the subject. He repeated all the magic\nrunes that he remembered, he recited spells to the winds and the waves\nand the gray-blue sky, he recalled all the words of power that he had\nlearned from the sages of old. Then, at length, on the third day, he\nwent back to the house where Dame Louhi was still sitting by her\nfireside.\n\n\u201cI cannot make the Sampo for you,\u201d he said. \u201cMy magic is not strong\nenough; my skill is not of the kind that forges mills of fortune. But I\nhave a friend who can do wonderful things. It was he who shaped the sky\nthat bends above our country; and, surely, to forge the Sampo is no\nmore difficult than that.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, that is the man whom I am looking for,\u201d cried the woman eagerly.\n\u201cWhat is his name? Will you send him to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cHis name is Ilmarinen, and he is dear to me as a brother,\u201d answered\nthe Minstrel. \u201cHe is the prince of all smiths, and there is nothing in\nmagic or in smithing that he cannot do. If you will permit me to return\nto my dear home land, to the Land of Heroes, I will send him to you\nwithout delay.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut suppose he doesn\u2019t wish to come?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I will send him against his will. My magic is strong enough to\ncommand him.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan I trust you? Do you promise?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have my word, and I will perform,\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cNever\nyet have I failed to do that which I have agreed to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall go home, then, quickly,\u201d said the gray woman. \u201cYou may\npromise the skilful smith a rare reward if he will forge the Sampo for\nme. I will even give him, if he so desire, my daughter for his\nwife\u2014this I promise.\u201d\n\nForthwith she hurried to the paddock. She chose the fleetest reindeer\nand harnessed it to her birchwood sledge. She brought warm furs for the\nMinstrel to wrap around him. She put the whip and the long reins in his\nhands.\n\n\u201cNow fare you well, and speed you to your home land!\u201d she said. \u201cDrive\nswiftly while the sun shines, but remember to keep your eyes upon your\npathway, and do not look upward. If you should gaze towards the\nmountain top or the sky, sad misfortune will befall you. Fare you well,\nfirst of minstrels! Send me the wizard, the prince of smiths, and fail\nnot, lest my curses follow you and blight your life.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel cracked his whip joyfully, the reindeer sprang forward,\nthe journey homeward was begun. Merrily did the birchwood runners\nwhistle as they glided over the half-frozen earth. With a glad heart\ndid Wainamoinen speed across the brown meadows and into the silent\nforest; his face beamed like the sunlight, his eyes glowed like twin\nstars, and a song was ready to burst from his lips.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE MAID OF BEAUTY\n\n\nSwiftly as a shooting star did the reindeer rush through the forest\nways. In his sledge, the Minstrel sat upright and deftly handled the\nwhip and the reins. His eyes were upon the road before him, and all his\nthoughts were about his home land and his own pleasant fireside so far,\nfar away.\n\nNow he was among the snowy mountains; and now his sledge was skimming\nalong untravelled paths in the deep and shadowy valleys. Suddenly his\nthoughts were disturbed by a strange sound in the air above him. Was it\nthe song of a bird? Was it the sighing of the wind? Was it the humming\nof wild bees? Or was it the sound of some distant waterfall?\n\nHe listened. Could it be the buzzing of a weaver\u2019s shuttle shooting\nthrough some loom on the craggy heights above him? It certainly sounded\nso; and yet it was so loud, so musical. Forgotten, then, was Dame\nLouhi\u2019s latest caution. Quickly the Minstrel checked his reindeer\nsteed; quickly, and in wonder, he lifted his eyes and looked aloft.\nHigh in the sky he saw a rainbow, and on it sat the Maid of Beauty,\nbusily weaving with a golden shuttle. Swiftly, to and fro, she drove\nthe shuttle, and the fabric which she wove was wondrously fine. Threads\nof silver, threads of gold, threads of every brilliant color were\nmingled in that web of magic. But fairer than that fairy fabric, fairer\nthan all else in that radiant vision was the maiden\u2019s radiant face.\n\nWainamoinen pulled upon the reins with all his might; his steed stopped\nshort upon a hillside. Then he called loudly to the maiden on the\nrainbow.\n\n\u201cCome hither, come hither, most beautiful one,\u201d he said. \u201cCome down and\nsit in this sledge by my side.\u201d\n\nFaster and faster flew the magic shuttle, and the buzzing sounded\nlouder; but the maiden had heard the Minstrel\u2019s call. She turned her\nface towards him and spoke disdainfully.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d she asked. \u201cAnd why should I sit in your sledge?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Wainamoinen, chief of singers, master of wizards,\u201d answered the\nhero. \u201cI am now on my way to my sweet home country, the Land of Heroes.\nI know you would love that land, and I would rejoice to take you\nthither with me. You shall be the queen of my house. You shall bake my\nhoney cakes, fill my cups with barley-water, sing at my table. All my\npeople will honor you.\u201d\n\nThe Maid of Beauty looked down from her rainbow seat and laughed.\n\n\u201cYou are a foolish old man,\u201d she said, \u201cto think that I care for you or\nfor all that you promise. Let me tell you a story.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d said the Minstrel.\n\n\u201cWell, yesterday I was walking in the meadows of the West. I was\npicking flowers and making this wreath which you see on my head.\nSuddenly I heard a thrush singing sweetly to his mate and nestlings. I\nstopped and listened to the little songster, and this is what I heard\nhim sing:\n\n\n           \u201cSummer days are warm and bright;\n            A maiden\u2019s heart is always light.\n            Winter days are bitter cold;\n            Beware, beware of the suitor bold\u2014\n            Beware the more if he is old.\u201d\n\n\n\u201cThat was a very silly bird,\u201d said Wainamoinen, \u201cand I wonder that his\nmate listened to such foolish chatter.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut his song was very pretty,\u201d laughed the maiden.\n\n\u201cI too can sing,\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cI am the sweet singer of Hero\nLand. I am a great wizard. I am a hero. Come with me to my dear home\nland and be my queen.\u201d\n\nThe Maid of Beauty looked down from her rainbow throne, and the\nmountains echoed with her laughter.\n\n\u201cIf you are indeed a wizard,\u201d she said, \u201cshow me some of your magic\narts. Can you split a hair with a knife which has no edge? Can you\nsnare a bird\u2019s egg with a thread too small to be seen?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing is easier to one skilled in magic,\u201d answered the hero. And\nthereupon he picked up a golden hair which the maiden had let fall, and\nwith a blunted knife he split it into halves and quarters. Then from a\nbird\u2019s nest on the side of the cliff he drew up an egg with a snare too\nfine for eyes to see.\n\n\u201cNow I have done what you wished,\u201d he said. \u201cCome and sit in my\nbirchwood sledge. Swiftly will we speed to Hero Land, and great honor\nshall be yours, for you shall be a minstrel\u2019s queen.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot yet, not yet, O matchless hero,\u201d she answered, still laughing.\n\u201cLet me see some more of your wonderful magic. Split this cliff of\nsandstone with your bare fingers. Then cut a whipstock from the ice in\nthe gorge below you and leave no splinter.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing is easier to one skilled in magic,\u201d answered the hero. Then he\nclimbed the tall cliff and split the sandstone with his fingers; and\nnext he leaped upon the river of ice beneath him and cut therefrom a\nslender whipstock, losing not the smallest fragment.\n\n\u201cYou have done well,\u201d said the Maid of Beauty, and she smiled from her\nrainbow throne. \u201cBut I will give you another task. Here is my spindle\nand here is my shuttle. See, I break them into splinters and I throw\nthe fragments at your feet. If you wish me to go home with you, you\nmust pick up these fragments and build a boat from them. Then you must\nlaunch the boat, using neither arm nor foot to set it floating. Is your\nmagic equal to that?\u201d\n\nWainamoinen stroked his gray beard, for he was puzzled. \u201cYour task is\nvery hard,\u201d he said, \u201cand I am the only person under the sun who can\nperform it. But perform it I will, and you shall see what a master of\nmagic I am.\u201d\n\nThen he picked up the fragments of the spindle, he took the splinters\nof the shuttle in his hands, and began to build the fairy boat. But\nsuch a task could not be done in a moment. It required time. One whole\nday he swung his hammer; two whole days he plied his hatchet; three\ndays and more he worked to join the many pieces together.\n\nAt length the boat was almost finished. Proudly the Minstrel looked\nupon it. He hewed it on this side, he shaped it on that, he smoothed it\nfore and aft; and the Maid of Beauty looked on and smiled. Suddenly the\nhero\u2019s sharp-edged hatchet of iron flew from his grasp. It broke the\nfairy boat in pieces, undoing the work of many days. It struck the\nMinstrel\u2019s knee, cutting a red gash that was both wide and deep.\n\nA stream of blood gushed forth; it flowed like a crimson torrent down\nthe mountain side; it stained the snow in the forest and the brown\ngrass in the meadows. Great pain fell upon the Minstrel, and yet he was\nfearless and undaunted. He quickly gathered lichens and mosses from the\ntree trunks and the rocks, and these he bound upon the wound to stanch\nthe bleeding.\n\n\u201cO cruel hatchet,\u201d he cried, \u201cwhy were you so disobedient, so\nungrateful? You may cut the pine tree and the willow; you may cut the\nbirch tree and the cedar; but turn not your edge against your master.\u201d\n\nHe looked upward. The rainbow had vanished and the Maid of Beauty had\nfled. Then, too late, he remembered Dame Louhi\u2019s caution: \u201cKeep your\neyes upon your pathway. If you should gaze towards sky or mountain top,\nsad misfortune will befall you.\u201d\n\nHis wound was very painful, so painful that he groaned with anguish. He\nfelt that he must find help, and find it quickly. He looked about for\nthe reindeer which the Mistress had lent him and which had wandered\ninto the woods while he was working magic. When he had found the beast\nhe harnessed it to the sledge again. Then he climbed in carefully,\npainfully, and sat down on the soft furs. He cracked his whip, he\nshouted, and the long-legged racer flew swiftly over meadows and\nforests, over mountains and lowlands.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE GRAYBEARD AND HIS SON\n\n\nAll night the Minstrel rode wildly towards the South Country, never\nlooking behind him, never pausing to rest. The day was breaking when he\nreached the end of the mighty forest. There, on the slope of a barren\nmountain, the road divided into three paths, and at the end of each\npath he saw a small house with smoke rising from the chimney. And now\nhis pain increased, and the blood began to pour anew from his deep\nwound.\n\nWeak and weary, he turned boldly into the lowest pathway and drove his\nsteed up to the little homestead.\n\n\u201cHail, ho!\u201d he cried; and a piping voice inside answered, \u201cHail, ho!\u201d\n\nThe door was open, and the Minstrel saw a little child sitting on the\nhearth beside the blazing fire.\n\n\u201cHail, ho!\u201d he cried again; and the child laughed and said, \u201cWelcome,\nstranger!\u201d\n\nWainamoinen sat upright in his sledge; his wound pained him; he was in\nmuch distress.\n\n\u201cIs there any one in this house that can heal the wounds of Iron?\u201d he\nasked.\n\n\u201cNo, no,\u201d answered the child. \u201cAll gone but me. Drive away, big man!\nDrive away to some other house.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel pulled the reins and turned his sledge about. He cracked\nhis whip, and the steed leaped forward. Soon he came into the middle\npathway, and madly he drove to the second little cottage. He drove\nright up under the window and looked in. There he saw an old woman\nresting on a couch, while another woman was spinning by the fire. They\nwere telling pleasant tales of their neighbors and of goblins and\nghosts and unnamable things.\n\n\u201cHail, ho!\u201d cried the Minstrel, not too loudly.\n\nThe women jumped up in alarm; but when they saw his pale and weary face\nthey answered, \u201cWelcome, stranger! Alight, and rest thyself by our\nfireside.\u201d\n\nWainamoinen sat still in his sledge. The blood was pouring in torrents\nfrom his wound.\n\n\u201cTell me,\u201d he said, \u201cis there any one in this house that can stop the\nflow of blood, that can heal the wounds of Iron?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, no!\u201d answered the elder of the two, and her three teeth gnashed\ntogether. \u201cNaught do we know about blood or iron. Drive away to some\nother house. Speed thee, rash man!\u201d\n\nAgain the Minstrel pulled the reins and turned the sledge about in the\nnarrow pathway. Again he cracked his whip, and the steed rushed onward.\nWith furious speed he drove into the upper pathway, and paused not\nuntil he reached the highest cottage. There he drew up before the\ndoorway and called as before, but very feebly:\n\n\u201cHail, ho! Hail, ho!\u201d\n\n\u201cWelcome, stranger!\u201d was the answer from within. Then an old Graybeard\nopened the door and repeated, \u201cWelcome, stranger!\u201d\n\n\u201cWelcome, stranger!\u201d echoed the Graybeard\u2019s son, peeping over his\nfather\u2019s shoulder. \u201cAlight and rest yourself and your steed.\u201d\n\n\u201cFirst tell me,\u201d said the Minstrel feebly, \u201ctell me if you can stop\nthis flow of blood and heal this wound of Iron.\u201d\n\n\u201cThree magic words may stop the flood, three magic drops may heal the\nwound,\u201d answered the Graybeard.\n\nAnd the young man added, \u201cCome in and let us see what can be done.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel climbed out of his sledge slowly, painfully. He staggered\ninto the house. He lay down upon the couch by the fireside. The wound\nwas bleeding sorely.\n\n\u201cAh, save us!\u201d cried the Graybeard. \u201cWhat hero is this? Bring something\nto catch the flowing blood.\u201d\n\nHis son ran quickly and fetched a golden goblet; but it was far too\nsmall to hold the gushing flood. He ran for other vessels. Seven pails\nhe brought, then eight, and all were filled to overflowing. The\nGraybeard shook his head; he lifted his eyes; he clinched his fists.\nThen he spoke harshly to the crimson flood:\n\n\u201cHear me, O thou blood-stream! Cease thy flowing. Fill no more pails.\nFlow not upon the floor. Stay in the veins of this hero and give him\nstrength. Stay in his heart and give him courage. Hear me, O thou\nblood-stream!\u201d\n\nForthwith the red stream grew smaller; but still the drops trickled\nfrom the wound. All the strength of the Minstrel was gone.\n\nThe Graybeard looked upward, he turned his face towards heaven. He\nspoke in tones that were soft and pleading:\n\n\u201cO thou great Creator, thou lover of heroes! Come down and help us.\nStop this rushing red river. Heal this gaping wound. Restore to this\nhero the strength that is rightfully his.\u201d\n\nThen he grasped the Minstrel\u2019s knee just above the place where the\nwicked axe had struck it. He pressed the sides of the wound together\nfirmly, gently. The bleeding ceased; and now not even the smallest drop\nescaped. The Graybeard bound soft bands of linen around the limb, he\nlaid the Minstrel upon his own rude bed, he covered him with warm robes\nand bade him rest quietly.\n\n\u201cThe flow of blood is stanched,\u201d he said; \u201cwe must now heal Iron\u2019s\nbitter bite, we must close up the gaping, ugly wound.\u201d\n\nThen turning to his son, he said, \u201cGo now to our smithy on the\nmountain. Take with you a supply of healing herbs, as I have taught\nyou. Bake them, boil them, mix them, brew them into a magic ointment\nthat will heal all manner of wounds. When you have finished the mixture\nand tested it, bring it hither to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I will do, father,\u201d answered the young man; and with a basket on\nhis arm and a glad song rising from his lips, he hastened away.\n\nHalf-way up the mountain side he came to a gnarly old oak.\n\n\u201cFriend oak, so good and strong,\u201d he said, \u201chave you any honey on your\nbranches?\u201d\n\n\u201cLook and see,\u201d answered the oak. \u201cYesterday I had such plenty that the\nbees came to carry it away.\u201d\n\nThe young man gathered many handfuls of slender twigs from the tree,\nand saw that on each twig was a tiny drop of dew. Then he wandered\nhither and thither among the rocks, seeking all kinds of healing herbs\nand putting them in his basket. When, at length, the basket was filled,\nhe went on, whistling, to the little smithy on the mountain top.\n\nSoon a fire was roaring in the furnace. A pot was filled with the herbs\nand twigs and set to boiling on the coals. The pungent odor of the\nmixture pervaded the air; every corner of the smithy was lit up with\nthe glare of the flames; the smoke rolled in clouds from the smoke hole\nin the roof.\n\nFor three sunny days and three lonely nights the youth stood over the\nfurnace and stirred the magic mixture. He threw fuel upon the flames,\nhe poured fresh spring water into the seething pot. And all the while\nhe sang weird songs and muttered strange charms such as his father had\ntaught him. Then for nine nights he caught the moonbeams and mingled\nthem with the mixture; and for nine days he entrapped the sunlight and\nadded it to the magic ointment.\n\nOn the tenth day he looked into the pot and saw that all was of a rich\ngolden color, bright and sparkling, with pretty rainbows mingled here\nand there in many a curious pattern.\n\n\u201cIt is done,\u201d he said. \u201cI will test its power.\u201d\n\nHe lifted the pot from the fire and allowed the mixture to cool, still\nsinging his songs of magic. Then he went out to find something that had\nbeen wounded and might be healed.\n\nHalf-way down the mountain side there was a giant pine tree which the\nlightning had split from crown to roots. Its two halves gaped wide\napart; its torn and broken branches hung dangling in the wind.\n\n\u201cAh! here is a case to test,\u201d said the young man. Then, with the\ngreatest care, he took a small portion of the ointment upon his finger;\nhe smeared it gently upon the trunk and branches of the wounded pine;\nhe sang softly a little song of magic:\n\n\n           \u201cMake it whole and make it strong,\n            Heal it all its length along;\n              Join part to part, restore its heart,\n              And make it straight as hunter\u2019s dart.\n            Thus your magic power show,\n            And let all men your virtue know.\u201d\n\n\nAs he spoke the last words he clapped his hands together and shouted;\nand lo! the parts of the pine tree came suddenly into their right\nplaces, and it stood there as whole and as beautiful as it had been\nbefore the lightning smote it.\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d cried the young man. \u201cThe ointment is as it should be. None\ncould be better.\u201d\n\nThen, with the pot balanced carefully on his shoulder, he started\nhomeward. Every now and then, as he went down the slope, he paused to\ntry the healing mixture on splintered rocks and broken bowlders; and he\nsmiled as he saw the rough stones knit themselves together and the\ngaping fissures close up and disappear.\n\nWhen at length he approached his father\u2019s cottage he heard loud groans\nwithin\u2014groans of some one suffering deadly pain. He listened and knew\nthat they came from the wounded Minstrel; he knew that now there was\ngreat need of his magic ointment.\n\nThe Graybeard met him at the door. \u201cWhat news, my son?\u201d\n\n\u201cGood news, my father,\u201d he answered. \u201cNever was there better salve than\nthis. I could fuse the hills together with it if I had the mind to\ntry.\u201d\n\nThe father took the pot and carried it into the house. He dipped his\nfinger gently into the ointment; he touched it to the tip of his\ntongue.\n\n\u201cThe mixture seems perfect,\u201d he said. \u201cNow we shall see wonders.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel was lying upon the bed and groaning at every breath. True,\nthe bleeding had ceased, but the fever of Iron was upon him. He knew\nnot where he was. He had forgotten his family, his home, and his sweet\ncountry. The madness of Iron had clouded his mind.\n\nThe Graybeard smeared a little of the ointment on the Minstrel\u2019s\nwounded knee; he stroked the poor man\u2019s back, his hands, his head. He\nwaved his palms slowly to and fro before his eyes. And all the while he\nsoftly muttered a little song of wisdom and power.\n\nThe groans of the wounded man waxed louder and louder. He turned this\nway and that, seeking ease; but at each moment the pain grew greater,\nand he writhed in anguish. Then the Graybeard raised his voice and\nangrily commanded the pain to depart.\n\n\u201cHear me, pitiless pain!\u201d he cried. \u201cGo away from this house! Depart!\nVanish! Leave this worthy stranger and betake yourself to your own\nplace. Hide yourself in the Hill of Tortures. There, if you choose, you\nmay fill the stones with anguish; you may rend the rocks with torment.\nBut now let this hero rest in peace. Depart! Depart! Depart!\u201d\n\nAs he uttered the last word the pain vanished. The Minstrel\u2019s mind grew\nclear; he felt his strength returning; he laughed right joyfully and\nrose from his bed. The wound was healed, the ugly gash had disappeared,\nevery trace of pain had vanished from his body.\n\n\u201cI never felt so well in my life!\u201d he shouted as he danced about the\nroom. Then remembering himself, he threw his arms around the\nGraybeard\u2019s neck and thanked him for his exceeding kindness.\n\n\u201cNo thanks are due to me,\u201d said the old man, leading him to a seat by\nthe fireside. \u201cI have done nothing myself; Jumala did it all. Give\npraises to Jumala, the great Creator, from whom all good things come.\u201d\n\nThereupon the Minstrel raised his hands towards heaven, and cried, \u201cTo\nthee, O Jumala, the gracious, I humbly offer thanks. To thee I owe my\nlife, my strength, my all\u2014accept my gratitude.\u201d\n\n\u201cJumala only is good,\u201d said the Graybeard. \u201cHe only is merciful and\nkind. But what shall we say of Iron\u2014of Iron, the spiteful, the\ntreacherous, the wicked? Tell me, my friend, why should Iron bear a\ngrudge against you? Why should he seek to destroy your life?\u201d\n\nWainamoinen, first of minstrels, answered, \u201cIron has no grudge against\nme. He wounded me, it is true, but not purposely. Had it not been for a\nwicked hornet, Iron would never have harmed me\u2014would never have harmed\nany one. Blame not Iron. Blame the hornet that made him what he is.\u201d\n\n\u201cPray tell me how that can be,\u201d said the Graybeard.\n\nThen, sitting by the pleasant fireside, the Minstrel answered him by\ntelling a story\u2014a story as old as the race of man on earth.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE WICKED HORNET\n\n\nThis is the tale [D] which Wainamoinen, old and truthful, told to the\nlistening Graybeard while the fire blazed and crackled on the hearth\nbetween them. It is a tale which he himself had learned from the\nminstrels of a former age.\n\nThe first of all mothers was Air, and she had three daughters. Of these\nthree maidens there is much to be said. They were as lovely as the\nrainbow after a storm; they were as fair as the full moon shining above\nthe mountains. They walked with noiseless feet among the clouds and\nshowered gifts upon the earth. They sent the refreshing rain, the\nsilent dew, and the nipping frost, each in its season. They gave life\nto the fields, and strength to the mountains, and grandeur to the sea.\nAnd because of their bounty the earth was glad and the stars twinkled\nfor joy.\n\n\u201cWhat more can we do to make the land fit for men to dwell in?\u201d asked\nthe eldest of the sisters.\n\nAnd the youngest said, \u201cLet us send down iron\u2014iron of which tools may\nbe made, iron of which sharp weapons may be shaped. For without tools\nman will not be able to plough, to reap, or to build; and without\nweapons he cannot defend himself against the savage beasts of the\nforest.\u201d\n\nSo, when the sun was about going down, the sisters went forth in\ntrailing robes of purple and crimson and gold; and in their hands they\nbore mighty vessels of foaming milk. The eldest sprinkled red milk in\nthe brooks and marshes and along the banks of the rivers. The middle\none scattered white milk on the wooded hills and the stony mountains.\nThe youngest showered blue milk in the valleys and by the gray\nseashore. And on the morrow, where the red milk had been sprinkled, red\nand brittle ore of iron flecked the ground; where the white milk had\nbeen scattered, powdery ore of a yellow hue abounded; and where the\nblue milk had been showered, flaky masses of crude iron, tough and\ndark, lay hidden beneath the soil.\n\nThus came Iron into the world\u2014Iron, the youngest of three brothers.\nNext older than he was Fire, a raging, dangerous fellow when free, but\nloving and faithful when held in bonds. Older still was Water, terrible\nin strength but, when not aroused, as gentle as a mother\u2019s caress.\n\nYears upon years went by, and at length one day Iron set out to visit\nhis brothers. He found Water at home in the deep sea, and by him he was\nwelcomed kindly enough. But when he climbed a mountain to see his\nsecond brother he had quite another reception. Fire was in a raging\nmood. The terrible fellow leaped and roared, and stretched out his long\nred fingers as though he would devour his visitor.\n\nIron was so terrified that he turned and fled down the steep slopes,\nnever stopping nor pausing to look behind. He ran on, hiding in clefts\nand chasms, creeping under rocks, and lurking in the dry beds of\nmountain torrents. When, by and by, he reached the level plain, he\nglanced backward. The hills and the whole mountain top were aflame.\n\nWild with terror, he hurried on, hiding himself in the woods and under\nthe roots of trees, and resting at last in reedy marshes where swans\nbuild their nests and wild geese rear their young.\n\nFor ages and ages\u2014nobody knows how many\u2014Iron lay hidden in bogs and\nforests and lonely caverns. Fear of his raging brother made him lurk in\nlonely places, made him cover up his face. Lazy bears went ambling\nthrough the rocky places; wolves rushed madly over the oozy marshlands;\nand timid deer ran and leaped among the trees. In time the\nhiding-places of Iron were uncovered. Where the paws of bears had\nplodded often, where the feet of wolves had pattered, where the sharp\nhoofs of deer had trodden, there the timid metal, red, gray, yellow,\nblack, peeped shyly out.\n\nAt length, into that same land there came a skilful Smith. He carried a\nhammer of stone in one hand and tongs of bronze in the other; and a\nsong of peace was upon his lips. On a green hillock, where the south\nwind blew, he built him a smithy, and in it he placed the tools of his\ncraft. His anvil was a block of gray granite; his forge was carefully\nbuilded of sand and clay; his bellows was made of the skins of mountain\ngoats sewn together.\n\nThe Smith heaped live coals in his forge and blew with his bellows\nuntil the flames leaped up, roaring and sparkling, and the smoke rose\nin dense clouds over the roof of the smithy. \u201cThis forge will do its\nwork well,\u201d he said. Then he checked the bellows and smothered the\nflames and raked ashes upon the fire until the red coals slumbered\nunseen at the mouth of the forge.\n\nOut into the forest the Smith wandered. Closely he scanned the\nhillsides and the boggy thickets and the paths among the trees. And\nthere, where the bears had trailed and the wolves had rushed and the\ndeer had left their footprints, he found ruddy Iron, dusky Iron, yellow\nore of Iron peeping, trembling, hiding. The heart of the Smith was\nglad. His eyes danced merrily, and he sang a song of magic to the timid\nmetal:\n\n\n       \u201cIron, Iron, hearken while I call you!\n        Let no false and foolish fears appall you,\n        Come from out the crevices that hide you,\n        Leave the worthless stones that are beside you,\n        Leave the earth that lies around, above you,\n        And come with me, for I do dearly love you.\u201d\n\n\nIron moved not, but timidly answered, \u201cI dare not leave my\nhiding-places; for Fire, my brother, waits to devour me. He is strong\nand fierce. He has no pity.\u201d\n\nThe Smith shook his head and made reply, still singing:\n\n\n       \u201cNo! your brother does not wish to harm you,\u2014\n        Willingly he never would alarm you.\n        With his glowing arms he would caress you,\n        Make you pure and with his kisses bless you.\n        So come with me, my smithy waits to greet you;\n        In my forge your brother waits to meet you\u2014\n        Waits to throw his loving arms around you,\n        Glad indeed that thus, at last, he\u2019s found you.\u201d\n\n\nThese words made Iron feel much braver; and they were spoken in tones\nso sweet and persuasive that he was almost minded to obey without\nanother word. But he asked, \u201cWhy should I leave these places where I\nhave rested so long? What will become of me after I have made friends\nwith Fire?\u201d\n\nThe Smith answered:\n\n\n       \u201cCome with me, for kindly we will treat you.\n        On my anvil gently will I beat you;\n        With my tongs, then, deftly will I hold you;\n        With my hammer I will shape and mould you\n        Into forms so fair that all will prize you,\n        Forms so rare that none will e\u2019er despise you:\n        Axes, knives (so men will wish to use you)\n        Needles, pins (so women too, will choose you).\n        Come with me, your brother will not harm you,\n        Come with me, my smithy sure will charm you.\u201d\n\n\nHearing this, Iron came out of his lurking-places and without more ado,\nbashfully followed the cunning Smith. But no sooner was he in the\nsmithy than he felt himself a prisoner. The tongs of bronze gripped him\nand thrust him into the forge. The bellows roared, the Smith shouted,\nand Fire leaped joyfully out of the ashes and threw his arms around his\nhelpless younger brother. And bashful, bashful Iron turned first red\nand then white, and finally became as soft as dough and as radiant as\nthe sun.\n\nThen the tongs of bronze drew him forth from the flames, and twirled\nhim in the air, and threw him upon the anvil; and the hammer of stone\nbeat him fiercely again and again until he shrieked with pain.\n\n\u201cOh, spare me! spare me!\u201d he cried. \u201cDo not deal so roughly with me.\nLet me go back to my lonely hiding-places and lie there in peace as in\nthe days of old.\u201d\n\nBut the tongs pinched him worse than before, and the hammer beat him\nstill harder, and the Smith answered: \u201cNot so, not so! Be not so\ncowardly. We do not hurt you; you are only frightened. Be brave and I\nwill shape you into things of great use to men. Be brave and you shall\nrule the world.\u201d\n\nThen, in spite of Iron\u2019s piteous cries, he kept on pounding and\ntwisting and turning and shaping the helpless metal until at length it\nwas changed into many forms of use and beauty\u2014rings, chains, axes,\nknives, cups, and curious tools. But it was so soft, after being thus\nheated and beaten, that the edges of the tools were quickly dulled. Try\nas he might, the Smith did not know how to give the metal a harder\ntemper.\n\nOne day a honeybee strolled that way. It buzzed around the smithy and\nthen lit on a clover blossom by the door.\n\n\u201cO bee,\u201d cried the busy Smith, \u201cyou are a cunning little bird, and you\nknow some things better than I know them. Come now and help me temper\nthis soft metal. Bring me a drop of your honey; bring the sweet liquor\nwhich you suck from the meadow flower; bring the magic dew of the\nwildwood. Give me all such things that I may make a mixture to harden\nIron.\u201d\n\nThe bee answered not\u2014it was too busy with its own affairs. It gathered\nwhat honey it could from the blossom, and then flew swiftly away.\n\nUnder the eaves above the smithy door an idler was sitting\u2014a\nmischief-making hornet who heard every word that the Smith said.\n\n\u201cI will help him make a mixture,\u201d this wicked insect muttered. \u201cI will\nhelp him to give Iron another temper.\u201d\n\nForthwith he flew to the thorny thickets and the miry bogs and the\nfever-breeding marshes, to gather what evils he might. Soon he returned\nwith an armload\u2014the poison of spiders, the venom of serpents, the\nmiasmata of swamps, the juice of the deadly nightshade. All these he\ncast into the tub of water wherein the Smith was vainly trying to\ntemper Iron.\n\nThe Smith did not see him, but he heard him buzzing, and supposed it\nwas the honeybee with sweets from the meadow flowers.\n\n\u201cThank you, pretty little bird,\u201d he said. \u201cNow I hope we shall have a\nbetter metal. I hope we shall make edges that will cut and not be\ndulled so easily.\u201d\n\nThereupon he drew a bar of the metal, white-hot, from the forge. He\nheld it, hissing and screeching, under the water into which the poisons\nhad been poured. Little thought he of the evil that was there. He heard\nthe hornet humming and laughing under the eaves.\n\n\u201cTiny honeybee,\u201d he said, \u201cyou have brought me much sweetness. Iron\ntempered with your honey will be sweet although sharp. Nothing shall be\nwrought of it that is not beautiful and helpful and kind.\u201d\n\nHe drew the metal from the tub. He thrust it back among the red coals.\nHe plied the bellows and the flames leaped up. Then, when the metal was\nglowing again, he laid it on the anvil and beat it with strong, swift\nstrokes; and as he worked he sang:\n\n\n           \u201cDing! Ding! Ding-a-ling, ding!\n            Of Iron, sharp Iron, strong Iron, I sing,\n            Of Iron, my servant, of Iron, my king\u2014\n            Ding! Ding-a-ling, ding!\u201d\n\n\nForthwith, Iron leaped up, angry and biting and fierce. He was not a\nsoft and ductile metal as before, but Iron hardened into tough blue\nsteel. Showers of sparks flew from him, snapping, burning, threatening;\nand from among them sprang swords and spears and battle-axes, and\ndaggers keen and pointed. Out of the smithy and out through the great\nworld these cruel weapons raced, slashing and clashing, thrusting and\ncutting, raging and killing, and carrying madness among men.\n\nThe wicked hornet, idling under the eaves, rejoiced at the mischief he\nhad wrought. But the Smith was filled with grief, and the music of his\nanvil became a jangling discord.\n\n\u201cO Iron,\u201d he cried, \u201cit was not for this that I caused you to leave\nyour hiding-places in the hills and bogs! The three sisters intended\nthat you should be a blessing to mankind; but now I greatly fear that\nyou will become a curse.\u201d\n\nAt that moment the honeybee, laden with the sweets of field and wood,\ncame buzzing into the smithy. It whispered hopefully into the ear of\nthe Smith: \u201cWait until my gifts have done their work.\u201d\n\n\n\nHere the Minstrel paused.\n\n\u201cIs that all?\u201d asked the Graybeard.\n\n\u201cYes, it is all,\u201d was the answer; \u201cfor now I can think of nothing but\nmy dear home land. My sweet country calls me, and I must hasten on my\njourney. So, let my sledge be made ready and the steed harnessed before\nit, and I will bid you good-bye.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the morning you may go,\u201d said the Graybeard.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE TREE OF MAGIC\n\n\nVery early in the morning the Minstrel rose from his couch. He opened\nthe door and looked out. The sun was not yet up, but a tinge of yellow\nin the eastern sky foretold the coming of brilliant day. The stars of\nthe Great Bear were still visible, twinkling dimly above the pine\ntrees. The air was sharp and biting; the frost lay thick on the\nhilltops and the barren moorland; patches of newly formed ice glared\nwhite in the marshes.\n\n\u201cWhat a fine day for my journey!\u201d said the Minstrel.\n\nPresently the Graybeard\u2019s son brought the red reindeer to the door and\nharnessed it to the birchwood sledge.\n\n\u201cYou will have a fine day for your journey,\u201d he said.\n\nThe Graybeard helped the Minstrel into the sledge; he wrapped the robes\nof fur around him and threw over his shoulders a bearskin cloak that\nwas both ample and warm. Then he packed beneath the seat a store of\nfood for the long journey\u2014eight large jars of bread and deer meat, yes,\nnine great jars of toothsome victuals.\n\n\u201cFarewell, kind host and skilful surgeon!\u201d\n\n\u201cFarewell, great guest! My blessings go ever with you!\u201d\n\nThus the good-bye words were spoken. Then the Minstrel seized the reins\nand cracked his long whip. The reindeer leaped forward; the journey was\nbegun.\n\nSwift as the wind the well-built sledge glided on its course. Loudly\nthe birchwood runners rang upon the frozen ground, smoothly they sped\nover the hoarfrost and the glistening ice. Through fens and woodlands,\nacross the meadows and the moorlands, the red reindeer rushed\nunwearied, never pausing to rest, never thinking of food.\n\nFor one whole day the Minstrel held the reins and shouted urgently to\nhis faithful steed. Yes, for two days and two long, silent nights he\nsat in the sledge and drove onward with no slackening of speed\u2014so\nimpatient was he to reach his dear home land, to behold his own\nfireside. The third day came, and still onward flew the tireless\nreindeer. The fourth day came; it was half gone when the Minstrel\nuttered a shout so joyful that the woodlands rang with the sound, and\nthe wild geese in the marshes answered it gleefully.\n\nHe shouted again and again, for now he was among familiar scenes. Here\nwas the forest road which he had often travelled in his youth and later\nmanhood. Here was the long, rough causeway across the treacherous fen\nland\u2014he knew it so well that it seemed like the face of a friend.\nStraight ahead, only three leagues farther, the little village of\nWainola was nestling warmly in a wooded glen close by the sea; in that\nvillage was the snug cottage which the Minstrel called his home; and in\nthat cottage was the fireside around which his friends were sitting and\nbewailing his absence. What wonder that he shouted so joyfully!\n\nAll at once, however, his joy was dimmed; the memory of something\nunpleasant came into his mind. A cloud passed over his face, and the\nlast shout died, half-uttered, on his lips. The birchwood runners\nbumped hard on the rough causeway. The reindeer slackened its speed; it\nseemed ready to sink in its tracks. The Minstrel\u2019s mind was far away;\nit was with the grim, gray Mistress of the Frozen Land. For suddenly he\nhad thought of the promise he had given her\u2014\u201cI will send you Ilmarinen,\nthe skilfulest of smiths; he will forge the Sampo for you.\u201d\n\nIn another hour\u2014yes, in half that time\u2014he would meet Ilmarinen face to\nface. Would he be able to redeem his promise?\n\n\u201cI am a wizard; I can do wonderful things by magic,\u201d said the Minstrel\nto himself. \u201cIf my friend, the Smith, will not be persuaded, I will\nprevail upon him through other means.\u201d\n\nThen he chuckled to the reindeer, and the birchwood runners glided more\nsmoothly over the causeway.\n\nOn the farther side of the great fen there was a grove of pine trees,\nand in the midst of the grove was a green, grassy space as round as the\nmoon and as level as the sea. At this spot the Minstrel paused; he\nbrought the reindeer to a sudden stop. He leaped from the sledge and\nbegan to draw magic circles upon the ground. He muttered strange words\nwhich only wizards and magicians know. He lifted his arms above his\nhead, and sang a song so weird and wild that the pine trees shuddered\nand shrieked.\n\nHe ceased; and instantly in the centre of the green space a slender\ntwig sprang out of the ground and grew. It grew and grew, unfolding\nleaves and buds and blossoms. It grew and grew until it became a\nflower-crowned tree which seemed to pierce the clouds and sweep the\nsolemn sky. No one knows how tall it might have grown. It might have\ngrown till it touched the stars had not the Minstrel bidden it to cease\nexpanding.\n\nThen he sang another song quite different from the first\u2014a song so\nsweet, so persuasive, that the wild creatures in the forest and the fen\ncame out of their dens and listened to it. The white-faced moon heard,\nand sat herself down among the branches of the tree of magic. The seven\nstars of the Great Bear also heard; and they came circling from the sky\nand began to dance and play amid the leaves and blossoms.\n\nCunning, indeed, was Wainamoinen, cunning and old; and when he saw the\nwork of his magic, he was pleased beyond measure. He clapped his hands\ntogether in triumph; he leaped and danced around the tree like one gone\nmad. Then he climbed into the sledge and sat down upon the furry robes;\nhe shook the long reins and spoke gently to his steed. Slowly and\nthoughtfully, as one well contented with himself, he drove onward along\nthe well-known pathway that led towards the village. His sharp gray\neyes looked first this way and then that; his ears were open to the\nslightest sound; all his senses were alert.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE SMITHY\n\n\nAs the Minstrel journeyed onward the road gradually became broader and\nthere were more signs of travel. Wainamoinen remembered every object;\nhe knew every shrub and tree and every hummock and bog-hole. A sunny\nsmile overspread his face, and his eyes twinkled for joy; for was he\nnot again in his own dear home land, and would he not soon grasp the\nhands of his kinsmen and friends whom he had not seen for many months?\n\nAt every turn in the road the country became more open, and little by\nlittle the forest gave way to fields. Then in the distance thin wreaths\nof smoke could be seen rising above the crest of a hill\u2014and the\nMinstrel knew that at the foot of that hill his own little village of\nWainola was nestling in peace and quietude. His heart beat fast and his\nhands trembled as he thought of the welcome that was waiting for him\nthere.\n\nSuddenly, as he rounded a turn in the road, he came in full view of a\ngrove of poplar trees in the middle of a field. He drove forward\nslowly, cautiously. He approached the field and paused quite near to\nthe grove, listening, smiling as though he expected something. Then\nsuddenly, from among the poplars, came well-remembered sounds\u2014the sound\nof a hammer, cling-clanging upon an anvil, and the melodious tones of a\nmanly voice singing in unison therewith. The Minstrel had heard that\nsong a thousand times before; nevertheless, it seamed strangely new to\nhim, and he leaned forward to listen to the words:\n\n\n       \u201cCling, cling, clinkety cling!\n        With Iron I labor, of Iron I sing;\n        I heat it, I beat it, I make it ring, ring,\n        I scold it, I mould it\u2014my hammer I swing\u2014\n        Cling, cling, clinkety cling!\n\n       \u201cDing, ding, dinkety ding!\n        O honeybee, hasten, come hither and bring\n        Your sweets from the wildwood, the flowers of spring,\n        Help make of this Iron some beautiful thing\u2014\n        Ding, ding, dinkety ding!\n\n       \u201cCling, cling, clinkety cling!\n        Beware of the hornet, beware of his sting,\n        Beware of the evils he surely will bring;\n        In all things be gentle, O Iron, my king\u2014\n        Cling, cling, clinkety cling!\u201d\n\n\nThe Minstrel from his sledge could see the smithy from which the music\ncame\u2014a long, low building of logs in the very centre of the grove. It\nwas dark and dingy and begrimed with smoke, but through the open door\nthe fire of the forge glowed brightly, lighting up the whole interior\nand revealing even the smallest object; and there, before his anvil,\nstood the Smith, swinging his hammer and twirling his tongs and\nthinking only of his pleasant work.\n\nWainamoinen leaped from his sledge and ran forward; he stood in the\ndoorway and called loudly to his busy friend:\n\n\u201cHail, ho, Ilmarinen! Hail, dearest brother!\u201d\n\nThe astonished Smith dropped his tongs; he threw his hammer down; he\nran to greet his unexpected visitor.\n\n\u201cO Wainamoinen!\u201d he cried. \u201cWainamoinen, prince of minstrels, wisest of\nmen, best of friends\u2014welcome, welcome! How glad I am to see you!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how sweet it is to grasp your hand again,\u201d said the Minstrel\nwarmly. \u201cOh, what joy to see home and comrades and country once again!\u201d\n\nIlmarinen led the Minstrel into the smithy; he made him sit down on the\nedge of his workbench; and all the time he kept his arm around his neck\nin loving, brotherly embrace. Each gazed into the other\u2019s eyes, and for\na time not another word was spoken\u2014the hearts of both were so full of\njoy.\n\nAt length the Smith made out to stammer, \u201cTell me, my brother, where\nhave you been these many months?\u201d\n\n\u201cFar from home, Ilmarinen\u2014yes, very far,\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cI\nhave been tossed on the sea; I have been in many countries; I have seen\nthe whole vast world.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me all about it,\u201d said the Smith. \u201cYou were gone so long that we\ngave you up as lost. Where have you been these many weeks, these long,\nlong months? Tell me all about it.\u201d\n\nThen, in a few words wisely spoken, the Minstrel told of his shipwreck,\nand how for eight days\u2014yes, for nine long, wearisome days\u2014he had been\ncarried hither and thither on the crests of the waves.\n\n\u201cI see! I understand!\u201d said the impatient Smith. \u201cHard, indeed, was\nyour lot, and fraught with danger. Tell me quickly, how did you escape\nfrom the seething waters? To what place did the mad waves carry you? On\nwhat savage shore were you cast?\u201d\n\n\u201cHave patience, brother, and I will tell you all,\u201d answered the\nMinstrel. \u201cNever did I think that Fate would carry me to the cold and\nmisty shores of Pohyola, the Frozen Land; but it happened even so.\nThere, for three months\u2014yes, for four long and dismal months\u2014I was\nforced to tarry. I learned wisdom from the Mistress of that land; and\nindeed it was she who snatched me from the jaws of the sea and nursed\nme to health and strength. Never saw I a wiser woman, although she is\nnot strikingly fair. I sat by her fireside; I listened to her words; I\nate at her table. On her snowshoes I skimmed hither and thither over\nher cheerless land. In her boat I went fishing in the quiet inlets of\nthe shore. But no matter where I went, no matter what I did, my heart\nwas always sick for my home land; I sighed for the dear friends I had\nleft behind me.\u201d\n\n\u201cO great Wainamoinen!\u201d cried the Smith, embracing him again. \u201cO cunning\nmagician, sweetest of singers! Tell me now about your escape from that\ndismal land. Tell me about your journey homeward. I am anxious to\nhear.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is not much to say,\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cThe journey\nhomeward was easy\u2014it was delightful. As for my escape\u2014well, I escaped\nby promising to send you to the Frozen Land, my dear brother.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you say?\u201d cried the Smith in wonder. \u201cSend me to the Frozen\nLand! Never will I go\u2014no, not even to please my best friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed you must go,\u201d said the Minstrel curtly and decisively. \u201cI have\npromised, and you know the penalty of a broken promise.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay, great Wainamoinen!\u201d and dismay was pictured in the face of\nthe Smith. \u201cIs this your love for me, that you cause me to perish in\norder to save yourself?\u201d\n\n\u201cCalm yourself, young brother,\u201d said the Minstrel soothingly. \u201cYou\nshall not perish. I have arranged it all. You are to do some skilful\nblacksmithing\u2014use a little of your wondrous magic\u2014and your reward shall\nbe the loveliest wife in the world. The Mistress of Pohyola has\npromised.\u201d\n\nThe Smith spoke quickly, angrily: \u201cYou may make bargains for yourself,\nnot for me. I want no wife. My own mother is the queen of my house, and\nnone other shall enter my door. Our dear village of Wainola is my home;\nit is the place of all places; I will never leave it.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if you could know how lovely she is\u2014this Maid of Beauty\u2014you would\ndo as I desire, you would go to Pohyola,\u201d said the Minstrel with\nincreasing earnestness.\n\n\u201cNever! never!\u201d shouted the Smith, trembling with anger.\n\n\u201cYes, I am sure you would go,\u201d said the cunning Minstrel. \u201cThere is no\nother maiden like unto this daughter of the Frozen Land. She is wise,\nindustrious, brave. Her face is fairer than the moonlight on a\nmidsummer eve; her eyes are like two suns; her lips are like twin\nberries, red and luscious; her voice is sweeter than the song of the\nmeadow lark. All the young men in the countries of the North have\nsought to win her.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd win her they may!\u201d shouted the Smith. \u201cNow say no more about her;\nchange the subject; tell me a new story. I am sick of such twaddle.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, come, dear brother!\u201d said the Minstrel gently, as though\nconceding all. \u201cLet us not quarrel. You are wise, your judgment is\ngood, and I love you. Forgive me if I have offended you. Come and sit\nby me again, and we will talk of other things.\u201d\n\nThe Smith forgot his anger; he threw his arms about the Minstrel\u2019s neck\nand burst into tears.\n\n\u201cThere! there!\u201d said his old friend kindly, coaxingly. \u201cThink no more\nof my words. I was hasty; I was rash. Come now and let us hasten home,\nfor I long to see my own dear fireside\u2014to hear the voices of my\nkinsmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, let us go,\u201d said the Smith joyfully; and he hastened to cover the\nfire in his forge, to put his tools in their places, to remove his\nsooty apron.\n\n\u201cWe will ride together in my birchwood sledge,\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cMy\nreindeer steed will carry us briskly over the hill. But I wish first to\ndrive back to the end of the causeway and show you a wonderful tree\nthat I saw standing there.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will go with you willingly, gladly,\u201d answered the Smith, \u201cbut I know\nevery tree in the forest and the fen, and I call none of them\nwonderful. Indeed, I passed by the end of the causeway yesterday, and I\nsaw only whispering pines and dwarf oaks and a few stunted poplars.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, but the tree which I saw there is the most wonderful sight in\nthe world,\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cIts topmost branches brush the sky. It\nis full of gorgeous flowers. The white moon sits on one of its\nbranches; and the seven stars of the Great Bear play hide-and-seek\namong its leaves and blossoms. I saw it all with my own eyes not an\nhour ago.\u201d\n\nThe Smith laughed loudly, merrily. \u201cOh, my wise and truthful brother,\ntell me a story, two stories tell me! Travellers\u2019 tales are wondrous,\npleasing; but only fools believe them.\u201d\n\nThey climbed into the birchwood sledge; they sat down on the furs; they\ntalked of this thing and of that as the reindeer drew them swiftly back\ntowards the fen and the long causeway. The road seemed short to both,\nand both were surprised when they found themselves in the grove of pine\ntrees beside the green and magic circle.\n\n\u201cWonderful! wonderful!\u201d cried the astonished Smith as he gazed upward\nat the flower-crowned tree of magic. \u201cForgive me, my best of friends,\nsweetest of minstrels. You spoke the truth; you always speak the truth.\nI will believe whatever you say, I will do whatever you bid\u2014only, I\nwill never go to Pohyola.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d said the cunning Minstrel, \u201clet us make what we can of\nthis wonderful tree; for it may disappear as suddenly as it came. I am\nold, my legs are stiff, my arms rheumatic. It is long since I climbed a\ntree. But you\u2014you are young and nimble, strong and supple, and spry as\na squirrel when the nuts are ripening. You can climb and never grow\ntired.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, dear Minstrel, but why should I climb?\u201d asked Ilmarinen.\n\n\u201cTo gather those gorgeous blossoms,\u201d answered Wainamoinen; \u201cto pick the\nrare fruit which you see; and, most of all, to bring down the\nwhite-faced moon and the seven golden stars that are playing among the\nbranches. O Ilmarinen, skilfulest of men, if you are not afraid, climb\nquickly up and fetch down those matchless treasures.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not afraid,\u201d cried Ilmarinen; and he began at once to climb the\ntree of magic.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nTHE TEMPEST\n\n\nWith painful labor, Ilmarinen climbed from branch to branch. He looked\nupward and saw the moon with silver face smiling from the topmost\nboughs. He saw the seven stars of the Bear glittering like gold amid\nthe leaves and blossoms. They seemed almost within his grasp. They\nbeckoned to him, called to him; and he, with right goodwill, climbed\nup, up, towards the moonlight and the starlight.\n\n\u201cFoolish fellow!\u201d he heard a voice whispering. \u201cFoolish fellow! foolish\nfellow! foolish fellow!\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is it that calls me names\u2014me the prince of all smiths?\u201d he asked\nin anger.\n\n\u201cIt is I,\u201d came the answer. \u201cI am the tree which you are\nclimbing\u2014foolish fellow, foolish fellow, foolish fellow! The moon which\nyou are after is only a shadow, foolish fellow. The stars are false as\njack-o\u2019-lanterns, foolish fellow. Even I, the tree, am a delusion. Save\nyourself while you may, foolish fellow, foolish fellow!\u201d\n\nThe Smith heard, but he heeded not. The moon was just a little above\nhim; the stars were right at his fingers\u2019 ends; in another moment he\nwould grasp them all. On the ground far below him, the Minstrel was\nworking his spells of magic. Ilmarinen saw him dancing, heard him\nsinging, but understood him not.\n\n\n           \u201cCome storm wind, come whirlwind,\n              Come swiftly, I say now;\n            Pick up the wise blacksmith\n              And bear him away, now.\n\n           \u201cSeize on him, and into\n              Your flying boat lay him;\n            Then far to the Frozen North,\n              Gently convey him.\n\n           \u201cBlow storm wind, blow whirlwind,\n              Let nothing delay you.\n            Blow swiftly, blow fiercely,\n              Blow, blow, I pray you!\u201d\n\n\nSuddenly there was a roaring in the air and in the tree tops, and the\nsky grew dark and very dark. Then a mighty tempest came hurtling over\nthe land. In a moment the tree of magic melted into nothingness, and\nthe fairy moon and the dancing stars vanished in the murk and gloom.\nThe winds lifted the venturesome Smith in their arms; they laid him\nsoftly in their swiftly sailing cloud boat; they hurried him over\nforests and marsh lands, over mountains and sea, and at the hour of\nmidnight dropped him gently on the frozen shores of Pohyola.\n\nWise old Louhi, gray and grim and toothless, was standing in her\ndoorway. She heard the roar of the tempest and the shrieks of the night\nwind. She saw the inky clouds swiftly sailing from the South Land and\nthe gray wolves of the air racing madly over the sea. Then in the misty\ndarkness she heard footsteps; but the watch dogs lay sleeping in the\nsledgeway, their ears were closed, they did not bark. She listened, and\npresently a voice\u2014a strange and manly voice\u2014was heard above the storm\nwind\u2019s roar; but still the watch dogs slept and gave no alarm.\n\nThe Mistress, grim and fearless, spoke up bravely in the darkness,\nheeding not the dreadful turmoil. \u201cWho goes there?\u201d she cried. \u201cWho is\nit that comes on the storm wind\u2019s back, and yet so quietly that he does\nnot rouse nor waken my watch dogs?\u201d\n\nThen the voice answered from out the turmoil and the gloom, and a young\nman tall and handsome stepped into view. \u201cI am a wayfarer and a\nstranger,\u201d he said, \u201cand I am not here through my own choice.\nNevertheless, I beg that I may find in this place some shelter till\nthis fearful storm has passed.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have no need to ask shelter of me,\u201d answered the woman; \u201cfor when\ndid the Mistress of Pohyola turn a stranger from her door? When did she\nrefuse to give a wayfarer the warmest place by her fireside?\u201d\n\nForthwith she led him into her long, low hall; she gave him a seat by\nthe pleasant fire. She brought food in plenty and set it before him.\nShe did everything that would take away his weariness, everything that\nwould add to his comfort.\n\nAt length, when he had warmed and rested himself and had satisfied his\nhunger, she ventured to ask him a question. \u201cHave you ever in all your\ntravels met a minstrel, old and steady, whom men call Wainamoinen?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes, surely,\u201d answered the Smith. \u201cHe is an ancient friend of\nmine, dear as a brother, precious as a father. He has just returned\nhome from a long visit to this North Country. He tells wonderful\nstories of the good people of Pohyola\u2014pleasant tales of a pleasant\nland.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow glad I am,\u201d said the Wise Woman. \u201cNow tell me if in all your\ntravels you have ever met a certain smith, young and wondrously\nskilful, whom men call Ilmarinen.\u201d\n\nThe stranger leaped to his feet and answered, \u201cSurely, surely, I have\noften met that famous workman. Indeed, I myself am he; I am Ilmarinen,\nthe Prince of Smiths, the maker of beautiful things, the skilfulest of\nmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, welcome, welcome!\u201d cried Louhi, grim and gray; and she grasped\nthe stranger\u2019s hand. \u201cWe have been waiting for you a long time. We\nexpect you to forge the Sampo for us. I know you will do so, for\nWainamoinen the Minstrel promised me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Sampo! the Sampo! What is the Sampo?\u201d stammered Ilmarinen. \u201cThe\nMinstrel spoke of skilful smithing, but he mentioned not the Sampo.\nNever have I heard that name, although I have travelled wide.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you shall hear enough about it, and you will forge it for us, I\nknow,\u201d said the Mistress, grim but joyful. And then she turned and left\nhim\u2014left him standing by the hearth-side and gazing sadly,\nthoughtfully, into the flames.\n\n\u201cNow I understand it all,\u201d he softly muttered to himself. \u201cWainamoinen\nhas betrayed me. He has sent me to this dreary Frozen Land to do a task\ntoo great for his skill, too wonderful for his magic. He is old, he is\ncunning, he has outwitted me; shall I do the thing which he sent me to\nperform?\u201d\n\nMeanwhile the gray Mistress of the Frozen Land hurried from the long\nhall. She paused not till she reached her daughter\u2019s chamber. Briskly\nshe went in, and softly she closed the door behind her.\n\n\u201cMy child, my beautiful child,\u201d she cried, \u201che has come at last. He is\nyoung and tall and handsome. He will forge the Sampo for us; he will\nput the wonderful mill together; henceforth we shall want for nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mother,\u201d said the Maid of Beauty.\n\n\u201cDress yourself, now, fair daughter. Put on your finest raiment and\ndeck your hair with jewels. Don\u2019t forget the golden chain that goes\naround your neck; nor the belt with copper buckle; nor your earrings;\nnor the silken ribbons for your hair; nor the jewelled band that goes\nupon your forehead. And oh, my dear child, do look pleasant, pretty,\ncomely, and let your face be bright and cheerful.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mother,\u201d said the dutiful daughter.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nTHE RECIPE\n\n\nSmith Ilmarinen stood thoughtfully, silently, beside the fire. The low,\ndark hall was full of shadows; dim figures lurked in the corners and\ndanced among the rafters; the air was grimy with smoke; the flames\nburned blue and fitfully on the ash-strewn hearth.\n\nOut-of-doors the storm was raging. The winds whooped and howled in\nsavage combat. They reached their chilly fingers down through the\nchimney-hole as though they would snatch up the luckless Smith and bear\nhim still farther away into regions untraversed and unknown.\n\nHe stood and listened. He heard the shrieking of the tempest demons; he\nheard the hail pelting upon the roof and the rain dashing and splashing\nupon the half-frozen ground; he heard the sea roaring fearfully in the\ndarkness and the mad waves pounding upon the dumb and patient shore.\n\n\u201cIn such a storm as this, any shelter is sweet,\u201d he said; and he\nstirred the fire logs till the sparks shot upward and filled the hall\nwith the sound of their merry snapping. Then the thought came to him of\nhis own fireside at home\u2014of his mother and sister and the friends whom\nhe loved\u2014and he groaned aloud in anguish.\n\n\u201cO Wainamoinen, prince of minstrels!\u201d he moaned. \u201cWhy have you treated\nme so unkindly? Why have you betrayed me\u2014me your friend and brother?\nNever could I have believed that your magic power was so much greater\nthan my own. Never\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nHe paused suddenly, for he heard a rustling which was not the rustling\nof leaves, a breathing which was not the breathing of the South Wind, a\npitty-pat of soft footsteps upon the floor. He turned and looked, and\nlo! a radiant vision appeared before him in the firelight. It was the\nMaid of Beauty, the peerless daughter of the grim Mistress of Pohyola.\nRight winsomely she came forward to greet him, her cheeks blushing red,\nher eyes sparkling and joyous. The Smith\u2019s heart was beating hard and\nfast like a sledge-hammer beneath his waistcoat. He trembled and grew\npale. Never had he seen, never had he imagined, a maiden so wondrously\nfair.\n\n\u201cO Prince of Smiths,\u201d she said in tones more sweet than the warble of\nbirds, \u201cI welcome you to our pleasant land of Pohyola.\u201d\n\nNot even when the storm winds seized him had Ilmarinen felt so helpless\nand utterly overcome. He could scarcely say a word in answer; he could\nhardly lift his eyes; his hands hung as though palsied at his side; his\nfeet were rooted to the floor. Then, ere he could recover from his\nconfusion, he saw the Mistress herself advancing\u2014the grim and toothless\nMistress of the Frozen Land. She spoke, and her voice was cracked and\nharsh and grating.\n\n\u201cO master of smiths,\u201d she said, \u201cthis is my daughter, the fairest of\nall maidens. Now say, will you not forge the Sampo? Will you not hang\nits weights, adjust its levers? Will you not hammer its lid of many\ncolors, even as your brother, the Minstrel, assured me you would?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, yes!\u201d stammered the poor Smith, scarcely knowing what he\nsaid. \u201cI will do anything, everything that lies in my power. But I have\nnever seen a Sampo, and I know not what it is. Tell me what it is like;\ntell me of its various uses.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Sampo,\u201d answered the Maid of Beauty\u2014and her voice was like the\nripple of wavelets on the shore of the summer sea\u2014\u201cthe Sampo is the\nmill of fortune\u2014the magic grinder that will grind whatever its owner\nmost desires: money, houses, ships, silver, flour, salt\u2014everything!\u201d\n\n\u201cSilver, flour, salt\u2014everything!\u201d echoed the Smith.\n\n\u201cYes. Do you think that you have the skill to forge it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I have done greater things than that,\u201d he answered boastingly.\n\u201cLong ago, when the world was young, I found Iron, ruddy Iron, hiding\nin the bogs, skulking in the woods, basking in the sunlight of the\nhills. I caught him and subdued him; I taught him to serve me; I gave\nhim to the world to be a joy forever.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have often heard of your skill, and your praise is in all men\u2019s\nmouths,\u201d said the eager Mistress. \u201cBut the Sampo can be forged only by\na great master of magic. Your friend, the Minstrel, although he was\nable to do many very wonderful things, would not undertake a task so\ndifficult.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, I have performed harder tasks,\u201d answered the boaster. \u201cWhy, it\nwas I that forged the blue sky that bends over the earth in summer. I\nhammered it out of a single piece of metal. I fashioned it into a\ndome-shaped lid to shut down over the earth and air. I painted it pale\nblue and azure and murky brown. Nothing is too great for my magic. Give\nme but one hint regarding its shape and nature, and I will make the\nSampo\u2014yes, a hundred Sampos\u2014for you.\u201d\n\nToothless though she was, the wise old Mistress smiled\u2014she smiled\nfearfully, cunningly, as one pleased and plotting.\n\n\u201cI cannot describe its shape,\u201d she answered, \u201cfor it is still uncreated\nand therefore formless; but its composition is quite simple and its\ningredients are of the commonest kind. If by your power in magic you\ncan mix these ingredients properly, the mill is made\u2014it will do its\nwork. But talk not of a hundred Sampos; the world can never hold but\none.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I promise that with my magic skill I will put that one together,\u201d\nsaid the Smith; \u201cbut what can you tell me about its ingredients? Tell\nme all you know about its composition.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have a recipe which has come down through the ages,\u201d said the woman,\n\u201ca recipe for making the Sampo; but no magician has ever yet been wise\nenough, strong enough to make use of it. Here it is, written in runes\non a white whalebone:\n\n\n          \u201c\u2018Take the tips of two swan feathers;\n            Add the milk of a young heifer;\n            Add a single grain of barley;\n            Mix and stir with wool of lambkin;\n            Heat the mixture, quickly, rightly;\n            In a magic caldron boil it;\n            On a magic anvil beat it;\n            Hammer its lid of many colors;\n            Furnish it with wheels and levers;\n            Set it up, and start it going.\u2019\u201d\n\n\nIlmarinen listened. \u201cThe directions are plain and easily followed,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cTo a smith who has shaped the mountains and hammered out the sky\nit will be an easy task, the pleasant pastime of a few fleeting days.\nBut it must not be undertaken in the winter time. We must wait till the\nsky is clear and the sun shines warm on land and sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd will you then forge the much-desired Sampo?\u201d inquired the\nMistress.\n\n\u201cI promise you,\u201d answered the Smith.\n\nThus the boasting Ilmarinen, having come suddenly, unexpectedly,\nunwillingly to the land of Pohyola, was conquered by the power of\nbeauty. And thus he promised, not once alone, but thrice, promised\nsolemnly on his honor, that he with his magic power would forge the\nwondrous mill of fortune and shape its lid of rainbow colors. And the\ncunning Mistress grimly smiled and joyfully gave him a home in her\nbroad, low dwelling\u2014she gave him food and lodging, the softest seat\nbeside her hearth, the warmest bed beneath her rafters. And he,\nforgetful of his home and kinsmen, sat content in the glow of the\nblazing fire logs, and counted the days till the storm should pass, the\nweeks till the winter should end.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nTHE CALDRON\n\n\nAll through the long and dreary winter, Ilmarinen waited idly by old\nLouhi\u2019s hearth-side. \u201cNo great thing in magic can be done in stormy\nweather,\u201d he said. \u201cSummer and fair days of sunshine are the wizard\u2019s\ntime for action.\u201d\n\nThe wise men of the North Land came often to see him. Herdsmen from the\nfrozen meadows, savage fellows from the forest, fishermen from the icy\ninlets\u2014these also came to hear the words of the wizard Smith and be\ntaught by him. They came on snowshoes and in reindeer sledges, battling\nwith the wintry storm winds and heeding not the cold. Singly and by\ntwos and threes they came and squatted round Dame Louhi\u2019s fireplace,\nrubbing their hands together, warming their shins, and staring into the\nface of the marvellous stranger. And Ilmarinen sat in their midst and\ntold them many tales of wonder, chiefly tales of his own rare skill and\ncunning.\n\nHe told them how he had broken the mountains with his hammer, how he\nhad conquered wild Iron and imprisoned him in his smithy, and how, from\na single lump of metal, he had hammered out the sky and set it up as a\nlid to cover the land and the sea. \u201cAll these things,\u201d said he, \u201cwere\ndone by me\u2014me, the prince of smiths, me, the skilfulest of men.\u201d\n\nThen all his listeners, wise men, herdsmen, fishermen, wild men, looked\nat him with awe and admiration. They drew up closer to the fire, they\nthrew fresh logs into the flames, they turned their faces towards him\nand asked a thousand curious questions.\n\n\u201cWho painted the sky and gave it its blue and friendly color?\u201d asked\nthe wise men.\n\n\u201cI painted it\u2014I, the first of smiths,\u201d answered Ilmarinen. \u201cAnd when I\nswept my brush across from east to west, some drops of blue fell into\nthe sea and colored it also.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are the stars that glitter so brightly above us when the nights\nare clear?\u201d asked the herdsmen.\n\n\u201cThey are the sparks from my forge,\u201d was the answer. \u201cI caught them and\nfixed them securely in their places; I welded them into the vast\nsky-lid so they should never fall out nor fly away.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is the home of the Great Pike, the mightiest of all the\ncreatures that swim in the water?\u201d asked the fishermen.\n\n\u201cThe Great Pike lurks in the hidden places of the deep sea,\u201d said\nIlmarinen; \u201cfor he knows that I have forged a hook of iron that will\nsome day be the cause of his undoing.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! ah! ah!\u201d muttered the wild men. Their mouths were open and their\neyes were staring at the rafters where hung long rows of smoked salmon,\nslabs of bacon, and dried herbs of magic power. \u201cAh! ah! ah! What shall\nwe do when we are hungry and there are no nuts to be gathered, no roots\nto be digged, no small beasts to be captured, no food of any kind? Ah!\nah! ah!\u201d\n\n\u201cForget to-day, think only of to-morrow\u2014for then there will be plenty,\u201d\nanswered Ilmarinen. \u201cGo back to your old haunts in the forest, and\nto-morrow I will send you so many nuts and roots and small beasts that\nyou shall grow fat with the eating of them.\u201d\n\nThus, all through the wintry weather, Ilmarinen dispensed wisdom to the\ninquiring men who desired it, and there was no question which he could\nnot answer, no want which he could not satisfy. And at length, when\nevery mind was filled with knowledge, and every stomach with food from\nDame Louhi\u2019s bountiful stores, the visitors departed. Singly, or by\ntwos and threes, in sledges, on snowshoes, on foot, they returned to\ntheir respective haunts and homes. \u201cWe have seen him, and there is\nnothing more to be desired,\u201d they said.\n\nAnd now the snow was melting, the grass was green on the hillsides, the\nreeds were springing up in the marshes, and the birds were twittering\nunder the eaves.\n\nForthwith, brave Ilmarinen sallied out to find a smithy. Ten men,\nwilling and strong, followed him, prepared to do any sort of labor, to\nundergo any sort of privation. Long did he seek, and far and wide did\nhe travel, and many were the vain inquiries which he made; but nowhere\nin all the Frozen Land could he discover forge or chimney, bellows or\ntongs, anvil or hammer. In that dismal, snowy country men had never\nneeded iron; they had no tools save tools of fish-bone; they had no\nweapons save sticks and stones and fists and feet. What wonder, then,\nthat they had no smithy?\n\nSome men would have given up in despair, but not so Ilmarinen. \u201cWomen\nmay lose their courage,\u201d he said; \u201cfools may give up a task because it\nis hard; but heroes persevere, wizards and smiths conquer.\u201d\n\nSo, still followed by his serving-men, he set out to find a fit place\nin which to build a smithy. For nine days he sought\u2014yes, for ten long\nsummer days he wandered over the brown meadows and among the gloomy\nhills of Pohyola. At length, deep in the silent forest he found a great\nstone all streaked and striped in colors of the rainbow.\n\n\u201cThis is the place,\u201d he said, never doubting; and he gave orders to\nbuild his smithy there.\n\nThe first day\u2019s task was to build the furnace and the forge with\nyawning mouth and towering chimney. On the second day he framed the\nbellows and covered it with stout reindeer hide. On the third he set up\nhis anvil, a block of hardest granite heavy for ten men to roll.\n\nThen he made his tools. For a hammer he took a smooth stone from the\nbrook; for tongs he cut a green sapling and bent it in the middle,\nforcing the two ends together. Thus his smithy was completed; but how\nwas he to forge the magic Sampo? With what was he to form its\niridescent lid?\n\n\u201cOnly weaklings say, \u2018I cannot,\u2019\u201d said he. \u201cOnly want-wits say, \u2018It is\ntoo difficult.\u2019 Heroes never give up. Nothing is impossible to a true\nsmith.\u201d\n\nThen from a secret pocket he drew the things most needful for his\nforging. He counted them over, giving to each a magic number\u2014two tips\nof white swan feathers, a bottle of milk from a young red heifer, a\ngrain of barley grown in a land beyond the sea, and the fleece of a\nlambkin not one day old. These he mixed in a magic caldron, throwing\nupon them many bits of precious metals, with strange wild herbs and\nrank poisons and sweet honey dew. And all the while, he kept muttering\nharshly the spells and charms which none but smiths and skilful wizards\nunderstand.\n\nAt length the mixture was completed. Ilmarinen set the caldron firmly\nin the furnace, he pushed it far into the yawning cavern. Then he\nkindled the fire, he heaped on fuel, he closed the furnace door and\nbade the serving-men set the bellows to blowing.\n\nTirelessly the ten men toiled, taking turns, five by five, at the\nmighty lever. Like the fierce North Wind sweeping over the hills and\nrushing through the piney forest, the heaving bellows roared. The\nflames leaped up and filled the furnace and the forge. The black smoke\npoured from the chimney and rose in cloudlike, inky masses to the sky.\nIlmarinen heaped on more fuel, he opened the draughts of the furnace,\nhe danced like a madman in the light of the flames, he shouted strange\nwords of magic meaning. Thus, for three long summer days and three\nbrief summer nights, the fire glowed and the furnace roared and the men\ntoiled and watched unceasingly. And round about the feet of the workmen\nlichens and leafy plants grew up, and in the crannies of the rocks wild\nflowers bloomed, nourished by the warmth from the magic forge.\n\nOn the fourth day, the wizard Smith bade the workmen pause while he\nstooped down and looked into the caldron far within the fire-filled\nfurnace. He wished to see whether anything had begun to shape itself\nfrom the magic mixture, whether anything had been brought forth by the\nmighty heat.\n\nAs he looked, lo! a crossbow rose from out the caldron\u2014a crossbow,\nperfect in form and carved with figures fantastical and beautiful. On\neach side it was inlaid with precious gold, and the tips were balls of\nsilver. The shaft was made of copper, and the whole bow was wondrously\nstrong.\n\n\u201cThis is a beautiful thing,\u201d said Ilmarinen, \u201cbut it is not the Sampo.\u201d\n\nForthwith the crossbow leaped from the caldron; it flew out of the\nfurnace; it stood humbly bowing before the wizard Smith.\n\n\u201cHail, my master!\u201d it said. \u201cHere I am, ready to serve you as you\ncommand. My task is to kill, and I love it, I love it! Send me forth\nquickly, and let me begin. On every work-day I\u2019ll kill at least one. On\nevery holiday I\u2019ll kill more\u2014sometimes two, and sometimes very many.\nOh, yes, I will kill, I will kill!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat will you kill?\u201d asked Ilmarinen.\n\n\u201cIn war, men; in peace, singing birds and timid deer. Oh, I can kill, I\ncan kill!\u201d\n\nAnd having said this, the crossbow began to shoot arrows recklessly\nabout to the great peril of the ten serving-men. This made Ilmarinen\nangry. \u201cYou are bad!\u201d he cried. \u201cYou love only evil. I have no use for\nyou!\u201d and he seized the bow and threw it back into the boiling caldron.\nThen he bade the workmen blow the bellows as before; and he heaped on\nmore fuel and more fuel, singing meanwhile a wild, weird song which\nmade the flames leap out from the very top of the chimney.\n\nAll day, all night, the bellows roared; all day again, and again all\nnight, the furnace glowed, white-hot, and furious. Then, just at\nsunrise, the Smith called to the bellows-men, \u201cHalt!\u201d He stooped down\nand gazed steadfastly, curiously, into the magic caldron. As the flames\nsubsided and the furnace began to grow cool, behold a ship rose from\nthe mixture\u2014a ship complete with pointed beak and oars and sails, all\nready to be launched upon the sea. Its hull was painted blue and\nyellow, its ribs were golden, its prow was of copper, and its sails\nwere of white linen whereon were depicted most wonderful figures of\ndragons and savage beasts; and on its deck and within its hold were all\nmanner of weapons of war\u2014axes and spears, bows and arrows, sharp\ndaggers and gleaming swords.\n\n\u201cHere I am, my master!\u201d said the ship. \u201cI am ready for your service, if\nyou please. You see that I am well fitted for war, well fitted to\nplunder and rob the seaports of other lands. Send me out, that I may\nhelp you slay your enemies and make your name a terror throughout the\nworld.\u201d\n\nThe wizard Smith drew the ship toward him. Beautiful and well-laden\nthough it was, he was by no means pleased with it. \u201cI like you not!\u201d he\ncried. \u201cYou are a destroyer and not a builder. You love evil, and I\nwill have no part nor parcel of you,\u201d and he broke the ship into a\nthousand pieces, and threw the fragments back into the caldron. Then he\nbade the serving-men blow the bellows with all their might, while he\nheaped fresh fuel upon the flames and sang wild songs of wizardry and\nenchantment.\n\nOn the fourth morning Ilmarinen looked again into the caldron. \u201cSurely\nsomething good has been formed by this time,\u201d he said.\n\nFrom the caldron a mist was slowly rising, hot, pungent, fog-like;\nwithin it, the magic mixture could be heard bubbling, seething,\nhissing. The Smith looked long ere he could see what was forming. Then\nsuddenly the mist cleared away and a beautiful young heifer sprang out\ninto the sunlight. Her color was golden, her neck and legs were like\nthe wild deer\u2019s, her horns were ivory, her eyes were wondrous large,\nand on her forehead was a disc of steely sunshine.\n\nThe Smith was delighted, his heart was filled with admiration.\n\u201cBeautiful, beautiful creature!\u201d he cried. \u201cSurely, she will be of use\nto mankind.\u201d\n\nScarcely had he spoken when the heifer rushed out of the smithy,\npausing not a moment to salute her master. She ran swiftly into the\nforest, bellowing, horning, fighting, spurning everything that came in\nher way.\n\n\u201cAh, me!\u201d sighed the Smith, \u201cshe, too, has an evil nature. Alas, that\none so wickedly inclined should be blessed with so beautiful a form!\u201d\n\nThen he bade the serving-men bring her back to the smithy; and when,\nwith infinite labor, they had done this, he cut her in pieces and threw\nher back into the caldron. And now the bellows was set to blowing\nagain, and it roared like a tempest in a forest of pines; the smoke\nrolled darkly from the chimney; and the fire glowed hotter than before\naround the seething caldron. And all that day, and through the\nmidsummer night, the master and his men toiled unceasingly.\n\nAt sunrise on the fifth day, Ilmarinen looked again into the caldron.\nAs he stooped and gazed, a plough rose suddenly from the magic mixture.\nLike a thing of life it glided softly through the furnace door, bowed\nlow before the wizard Smith, and waited to receive his judgment. It had\nbeen shaped and put together with great skill, and every line was a\nline of beauty. The frame was of copper, the share was of gold, the\nhandles were tipped with silver.\n\n\u201cHere I am, my master,\u201d it said. \u201cSend me forth to do your bidding.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat good thing can you do?\u201d asked Ilmarinen.\n\n\u201cI can turn things over, tear things up,\u201d answered the plough. \u201cNothing\nin the fields can stand against me. I will overturn the sod, I will\nuproot all growing things whether good or bad. I will go into gardens,\nmeadows, cornfields, and stir the soil; and woe to the plant that comes\nin my way, for I will destroy it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are beautiful and you are useful,\u201d said the Smith; \u201cbut you are\nrude and unkind. You do not know how to discriminate between the evil\nand the good. You give pain, you cause death, and therefore I do not\nlove you.\u201d\n\nHe waited not for the plough\u2019s answer, but struck it with his hammer\nand broke it into a thousand fragments; then he threw the fragments\nback into the magic caldron and closed the door of the furnace.\n\nLong and thoughtfully he sat, silent but not despairing. His elbows\nrested upon his knees, his head was bowed upon his hands. And he\nrepeated to himself his favorite saying: \u201cNone but cowards say, \u2018I\ncannot,\u2019 none but weaklings say, \u2018Impossible,\u2019 none but women weep for\nfailure.\u201d\n\nAt length he rose and called to his serving-men; he dismissed them,\nevery one, and summoned the winds to come and be his helpers.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nTHE FORGING OF THE SAMPO\n\n\nThe four winds heard the magic call of Ilmarinen, and they hastened\nfrom the corners of the sky to do his bidding. First came the East\nWind, riding over the sea, combing the crests of the waves with his\nclammy fingers, and rushing with chilly breath through the dank marshes\nand across the lonely meadows. He knocked at the door of the smithy, he\nrattled the latch, and shrieked down the chimney:\n\n\u201cMaster of wizards and prince of all smiths, what will you have me do?\u201d\n\nAnd Ilmarinen answered, \u201cSet my bellows to blowing that I may forge the\nwondrous Sampo.\u201d\n\nNext there was heard a joyous whistling among the pine trees, and a\nwhir-whirring as of the wings of a thousand birds; and there was a\nfragrance in the air like the fragrance of countless wildflowers, and a\nsoft breathing like the breath of a sleeping child. The South Wind\ncrept softly up to the smithy door, it peeped slyly in, and said\nmerrily:\n\n\u201cWhat now, old friend and companion? What will you have me do?\u201d\n\nAnd Ilmarinen answered, \u201cBlow into my furnace, and blow hard, that I\nmay forge the wondrous Sampo.\u201d\n\nThen came the jolly West Wind, roaring among the mountains, dancing in\nthe valleys, playing among the willows and the reeds, and frolicking\nwith the growing grass. He laughed as he lifted the roof of the smithy\nand peered down at the furnace and the forge and the tools of the\nSmith.\n\n\u201cHa, ha!\u201d he called. \u201cHave you some work for me? Let me get at it at\nonce.\u201d\n\nAnd Ilmarinen answered, \u201cFeed my fire, so that I may forge the wondrous\nSampo.\u201d\n\nHe had scarcely spoken when the sky was overcast and heavy gray clouds\nobscured the sun. The North Wind, like an untamed monster, came\nhurtling over the land, howling and shrieking, as fierce as a thousand\nwolves, as fleet as the swiftest reindeer. He filled the air with\nsnowflakes, he covered the hills with a coating of ice. The pine trees\nshivered and moaned because of his chilly breath, and the brooks and\nwaterfalls were frozen with fear.\n\n\u201cWhat do you wish, master of wizards?\u201d he called from every corner of\nthe smithy. \u201cTell me how I can serve you.\u201d\n\nAnd Ilmarinen answered, \u201cFan the flames around my magic caldron, so\nthat I may forge the wondrous Sampo.\u201d\n\nSo, the chilling East Wind, the whistling South Wind, the laughing West\nWind, and the blustering North Wind, joined together in giving aid to\nthe wizard Smith. From morning till evening, from evening till another\nmorning, they worked with right good will, as their master directed\nthem. The great bellows puffed and groaned and shook the very ground\nwith its roaring. The flames filled the furnace; they wrapped\nthemselves around the caldron; they burst out through a thousand cracks\nand crevices; they leaped, in tongues of fire, through the windows of\nthe smithy. Showers of red sparks issued from the chimney and flew\nupward to the sky. The smoke rose in clouds of ink-like blackness and\nfloated in vast masses over the mountains and the sea.\n\nFor three anxious days and three sleepless nights the winds toiled and\npaused not; and Ilmarinen sang magic incantations, and heaped fresh\nfuel upon the fire, and cheered his helpers with shouts and cries and\nwords of enchantment which wizards alone can speak.\n\nOn the fourth day he bade the winds cease their blowing. He knelt down\nand looked into the furnace. He pushed the cinders aside; he uncovered\nthe caldron and lifted the lid, slowly, cautiously. How strange and\nbeautiful was the sight that rose before him! Colors of the rainbow,\nforms and figures without number, precious metals, floating vapors\u2014all\nthese were mingled in the caldron.\n\nIlmarinen drew the vessel quickly out of the furnace. He thrust his\ntongs into the mixture, and seized it with the grip of a giant. He\npulled it bodily from the caldron, writhing, creeping, struggling, but\nunable to escape him. He twirled it in the air as blacksmiths sometimes\ntwirl small masses of half-molten iron; then he held it firmly on his\nanvil of granite, while with quick and steady strokes he beat it with\nhis heavy hammer. He turned it and twisted it and shaped it, and put\neach delicate part in its proper place. All night and all day, from\nstarlight till starlight, he labored tirelessly and without ceasing.\n\nSlowly, piece by piece and part by part, the magic Sampo with its\nwheels and levers grew into being. The wizard workman forged it with\ninfinite skill and patience, for well he knew that one false stroke\nwould undo all his labor, would be fatal to all his hopes. He scanned\nit from every side; he touched up the more delicate parts; he\nreadjusted its springs and wheels; he tested its strength and the speed\nof its running. Finally, after the mill itself was proved satisfactory,\nhe forged the lid to cover it; and the lid was the most marvellous part\nof all\u2014as many-colored as the rainbow and embossed with gold and lined\nwith silver and ornamented with beautiful pictures.\n\nAt length everything was finished. The fire in the furnace was dead;\nthe caldron was empty and void; the bellows was silent; the anvil of\ngranite was idle. Ilmarinen called to his ten serving-men and put the\nprecious Sampo upon their shoulders. \u201cCarry this to your Mistress,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201cand beware that you touch not the lid of magic colors.\u201d\n\nThen, leaving the smithy and all his tools in the silence of the\nforest, he followed the laborers to Pohyola, proud of his great\nperformance, but pale and wan and wellnigh exhausted from long labor\nand ceaseless anxiety.\n\nThe Wise Woman was standing in the doorway of her smoke-begrimed\ndwelling. She smiled grimly as she saw the working men returning. She\nwelcomed Ilmarinen not unkindly, and he placed before her the result of\nhis long and arduous labors.\n\n\u201cBehold, I bring you the magic Sampo!\u201d he said. \u201cIn all the world there\nis no other wizard that could have formed it, no other smith that could\nhave welded its parts together or forged its lid of many colors. You\nhave only to whisper your wishes into the small orifice on the top of\nthe mill, and it will begin to run\u2014you can hear its wheels buzzing and\nits levers creaking. Lay it on this side and it will grind flour\u2014flour\nfor your kitchen, flour for your neighbors, flour for the market. Turn\nthe mill over, thus, and it will grind salt\u2014salt for seasoning, salt\nfor the reindeer, salt for everything. But the third side is the best.\nLay the mill on that side and whisper, \u2018Money.\u2019 Ah! then you will see\nwhat comes out\u2014pieces of gold, pieces of silver, pieces of copper,\ntreasures fit for a king!\u201d\n\nThe Mistress of Pohyola was overcome with joy. Her toothless face\nexpanded into a smile\u2014a smile that was grim and altogether ill-favored.\nShe tried to express her feelings in words, but her voice was cracked\nand broken, and her speech sounded like the yelping of a gray wolf in\nthe frozen marshes. Without delay she set the mill to grinding; and\nwonderful was the way in which it obeyed her wishes. She filled her\nhouse with flour; she filled her barns with salt; she filled all her\nstrong boxes with gold and silver.\n\n\u201cEnough! enough!\u201d she cried, at length. \u201cStop your grinding! I want no\nmore.\u201d\n\nThe tireless Sampo heard not nor heeded. It kept on grinding, grinding;\nand no matter on which side it was placed, its wheels kept running, and\nflour or salt or gold and silver kept pouring out in endless streams.\n\n\u201cWe shall all be buried!\u201d shouted the Mistress in dismay. \u201cEnough is\ngood, but too much is embarrassment. Take the mill to some safe place\nand confine it within strong walls, lest it overwhelm us with\nprosperity.\u201d\n\nForthwith she caused the Sampo to be taken with becoming care to a\nstrong-built chamber underneath a hill of copper. There she imprisoned\nit behind nine strong doors of toughest granite, each of which was held\nfast shut by nine strong locks of hardest metal. Then she laughed a\nlaugh of triumph, and said; \u201cLie there, sweet mill, until I have need\nof you again. Grind flour, grind salt, grind wealth, grind all things\ngood for Pohyola, but do not smother us with your bounties.\u201d\n\nThey closed the strong doors and bolted them and left the Sampo alone\nin its dark prison-house; but through the key-hole of the ninth lock of\nthe ninth door there issued a sweet delightful whirring sound as of\nwheels rapidly turning. The Sampo was grinding treasures for Dame\nLouhi\u2019s people, and laying them up for future uses\u2014richness for the\nland, golden sap for the trees, and warm and balmy breezes to make all\nthings flourish.\n\nMeanwhile Ilmarinen sat silent and alone in the Mistress\u2019s hall,\nthinking of many things, but mostly of the reward which he hoped to\nreceive for his labor. For an hour he sat there, waiting\u2014yes, for a day\nof sunlight he remained there, his eyes downcast, his head uncovered.\n\nSuddenly Dame Louhi, the Wise Woman, came out of the darkening shadows\nand stood before him. The flames which darted up, flickering, from the\nhalf-burned fagots, lighted her grim features and shone yellow and red\nupon her gray head and her flour-whitened face. Very unlovely, even\nfearful, did she seem to Ilmarinen. She spoke, and her voice was gruff\nand unkind.\n\n\u201cWhy do you sit here idle by my hearth-stone?\u201d she asked. \u201cWhy, indeed,\ndo you tarry so long in Pohyola, wearing out your welcome, and wearying\nus all with your presence?\u201d\n\nThe Smith answered her gently, politely, as men should always answer\nwomen: \u201cHave I not forged the Sampo for you\u2014the wondrous Sampo which\nyou so much desired? Have I not hammered its lid of rainbow colors?\nHave I not made you rich\u2014rich in flour, in salt, in silver and gold? I\nam now waiting only for my reward\u2014for the prize which you promised.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever have I promised you any reward,\u201d cried the Mistress angrily.\n\u201cNever have I offered to give you a prize;\u201d and her gaunt form and\ngruesome features seemed truly terrible in their ugliness.\n\nBut Ilmarinen did not forget himself; the master of magic did not\nfalter.\n\n\u201cI have a friend whose name is Wainamoinen,\u201d he answered. \u201cHe is the\nfirst of all minstrels, a singer of sweet songs, a man of honor, old\nand truthful. Did you not say to him that you would richly reward the\nhero who should forge the magic Sampo\u2014that you would give him your\ndaughter, the Maid of Beauty, to be his wife?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, but that was said to him and not to you,\u201d said the Mistress, and\nshe laughed until her toothless mouth seemed to cover the whole of her\nmisshapen face.\n\n\u201cBut a promise is a promise,\u201d gently returned the Smith; \u201cand so I\ndemand of you to fulfil it.\u201d\n\nThe features of the unlovely Mistress softened, they lost somewhat of\ntheir grimness as she answered: \u201cWillingly would I fulfil it, prince of\nwizards and of smiths; but I cannot. Since Wainamoinen\u2019s visit, the\nMaid of Beauty has become of age. She is her own mistress, she must\nspeak for herself. I cannot give her away as a reward or prize\u2014she does\nnot belong to me. If you wish her to go to the Land of Heroes with you,\nask her. She has a mind of her own; she will do as she pleases.\u201d\n\nShe ceased speaking. The firelight grew brighter and then suddenly died\naway, and the room became dark.\n\n\u201cI will see her in the morning,\u201d said Ilmarinen.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nTHE HOMESICK HERO\n\n\nThe sunlight was streaming white and yellow, over sea and land. The\nwild geese were honking among the reeds. The swallows were twittering\nunder the eaves. The maids were milking the reindeer in the paddock\nbehind Dame Louhi\u2019s dwelling. Ilmarinen had slept late. He rose\nhurriedly and hastened to go out, not to listen to the varied sounds of\nthe morning, but to ponder concerning the great problem that was soon\nto be solved.\n\nHe opened the door, but quickly started back, trembling, and pale. What\nhad he seen to give him pause, to cause him to be frightened? Right\nbefore him, so near that he might have touched her with his hand, stood\nthe Maid of Beauty. Her cheeks were like the dawn of a summer\u2019s\nmorning; her lips were like two ripe, red berries with rows of pearls\nbetween; her eyes were like glorious suns, shining softly in the midst\nof heaven. Who would not have trembled in the presence of such\nmarvellous beauty?\n\nIlmarinen was overcome with bashfulness. He stammered, he paused, he\nlooked into those wonderful eyes and was covered with confusion. Then\nhe spoke to his own heart and said, \u201cWhy am I so cowardly\u2014I who have\nhitherto feared nothing under the sun? I will be brave. I will ask her\nthe momentous question and abide by her answer.\u201d\n\nSo, with quivering lips and downcast eyes he spoke: \u201cFairest of\nmaidens, my task is done. I have forged the Sampo, I have hammered its\nmarvellous lid, I have proved myself worthy to be called the Prince of\nSmiths. Will you not now go with me to my far distant home\u2014to the Land\nof Heroes in the sunny south? There you shall be my queen; you shall\nrule my house, keep my kitchen, sit at the head of the table. O Maid of\nBeauty, it was for you that I forged the Sampo and performed those acts\nof magic which no other man would dare to undertake. Be kind, and\ndisappoint me not.\u201d\n\nThe maiden answered softly, and she blushed as she spoke: \u201cWhy should I\nleave my own sweet home to go and live with strangers, to be a poor\nman\u2019s wife in a poor and distant land? My mother\u2019s hall would be\ndesolate; her kitchen would be cold and ill-cared for were I to go\naway. She herself would grieve and die of loneliness.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay,\u201d said Ilmarinen, \u201cshe is not the sort of woman to feel sorrow;\nher heart is too hard to be crushed so easily.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there are others who would miss me,\u201d said the maiden softly. \u201cIf I\nshould go away, who would feed the reindeer at the break of day? Who,\nin the early springtime, would welcome the cuckoo and answer his joyous\nsong? Who, in the short summer, would caress the wildflowers in the\nwooded nooks and sing to the violets in the meadows? Who, in the\nautumn, would pick the red cranberries in our marshes? Who, at winter\u2019s\nbeginning, would tell the songbirds to fly southward, and who would\ncheer the wild geese on their way to summer lands?\u201d\n\nThe Smith had now grown bolder, and he answered wisely: \u201cThe cuckoo\ncomes to my country as well as yours. There are flowers in the forests\nof Wainola more beautiful than any in this chilly land. There are\ncranberries in our marshes also, redder and larger than any you have\never picked. The songbirds live in the Land of Heroes half of every\nyear, and the wild geese tarry there and build their nests in the sedgy\ninlets.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll that may be true,\u201d said the Maid of Beauty, \u201cbut your cuckoo is\nnot my cuckoo, and so how could I welcome it in the springtime? All\nthings in Wainola would be strangers to me, while all things in Pohyola\nare friends. The North Country, the Frozen Land as you call it, would\nbe very lonely if I were to leave it; the meadows would be joyless, the\nhills would be forlorn, the shores would be desolate. Were I not here\nto paint the rainbow, the storm clouds would never vanish. Were I not\nhere to note the change of seasons, the songbirds would surely forget\nto come, the flowers would neglect to bloom, the cranberries would\nperish ungathered. No, Ilmarinen, I must not go with you. You are\nskilful, you are wise, you are brave, you are the prince of wizards and\nof smiths\u2014but I love my native land. Say no more; I will not go with\nyou.\u201d\n\nThe Smith was speechless; his tongue was motionless, and he could not\nmake reply. He turned slowly away, and with head bowed down and cap\npulled over his eyes, he sought his favorite place by the side of the\nsmouldering hearth-fire.\n\nAll day he sat there, pondering, wondering how now by any makeshift he\ncould escape from Pohyola and return to his native land. The longer he\nthought, the larger his troubles appeared. He had no boat to sail by\nsea, no sledge nor reindeer to travel by land, no money in his purse,\nno knowledge of the road. Would not magic avail him? Could he not call\nupon the winds to carry him, as they had once done against his will?\nAlas, no! All his magic lore, all his magic power, had been exhausted\nin the forging of the Sampo; he was utterly bankrupt.\n\nWhile he sat thus, homesick, disappointed, and forlorn, Dame Louhi came\nsuddenly into the hall. She was white with flour and laden with silver,\nand she wore a look of triumph on her grim and unlovely face.\n\n\u201cHa! forger of the Sampo!\u201d she cried. \u201cWhy do you sit here moping day\nafter day? What ails you\u2014you, who hammered out the sky and set the\nstars in their places\u2014you, the prince of wizards, the king of\nboasters?\u201d\n\nIlmarinen groaned and pulled his cap still lower over his eyebrows; but\nhe answered not a word.\n\nThe Mistress went on with her bantering; she laid salt on the poor\nman\u2019s wounds and briskly rubbed it in. \u201cWhy do you groan so like an\nice-floe breaking up at the end of winter? Why do you weep salt tears,\nextinguishing the fire on my hearth? Have you the toothache, ear-ache,\nheartache, stomach-ache? Did you eat too much at dinner? Surely, the\nprince of wizards ought to curb his appetite.\u201d\n\nThe Smith\u2019s heart was filled with anger; his brain burned, his cheeks\nwere flushed with shame. Much had he suffered from this woman\u2019s greed\nand cunning; painfully was he stung by her bitter words. Yet he\nanswered her with becoming gentleness\u2014for was she not the mother of the\nMaid of Beauty?\n\n\u201cI have no ache nor bodily pain,\u201d he said; \u201cbut I am sick of this\nwretched country, this Frozen Land. I am sick of its mists, of its\nstorms, of its long nights and its cheerless days. And, most of all, I\nam sick of its thankless people.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! I understand,\u201d answered the woman; and she closed her toothless\njaws tightly, restraining her anger. \u201cIn other words, you are homesick;\nyour heart is filled with longing for your own country and your own\nfireside.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak rightly,\u201d answered Ilmarinen. \u201cMy heart is in the South\nLand, in the Land of Heroes. Unwillingly did I come to your bleak and\nchilly Pohyola; unwillingly have I remained here, cheered by a single\nhope which has at last been blasted. And now my only wish is to return\nhome, to see once more the friends whom I love, to cheer my mother in\nher loneliness.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely, the lad who cries for his mother should be comforted,\u201d said\nthe Mistress derisively. \u201cAt what moment would you like to start on\nyour homeward journey?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt the break of day?\u201d answered the Smith, his face brightening as his\nhopes were strengthened.\n\n\u201cIt shall be as you wish,\u201d said the woman, and her tones were\nuncommonly tender and kind. \u201cI will see that everything is in\nreadiness. At the break of day a boat will be waiting for you at the\nlanding. Delay not a moment, but go on board and ask no questions. You\nshall be safely carried to the haven that is so dear to you.\u201d\n\nIlmarinen stammered his thanks. His eyes grew brighter, his heart was\ncheered with hope.\n\nVery impatiently the hero waited through the short hours of night, and\ngladly did he hail the first gray streak of dawn that heralded the\nmorning.\n\nHe hastened out to the shore. The promised boat was there, moored to\nthe landing by a hempen rope. It was a small vessel, but roomy enough\nfor one passenger who would also be captain and crew. Its hull was of\ncedar and the trimmings were of maple. Its prow was tipped with copper,\nsharp and strong. The oar also was of copper, and the sail was painted\nred and yellow.\n\nIn the boat a great store of food was packed\u2014deer meat, smoked herring,\ncakes of barley, toothsome victuals enough for many days.\n\nIlmarinen asked no man any questions, although many persons were\ngathered on the shore, wondering whence came the strange vessel and\nwhither it was going. He climbed over the polished gunwales and stepped\nboldly on board. Then, as the sun was peeping out of the sea, he raised\nthe square sail of red and yellow. He cut the mooring rope, and took\nthe copper paddle in his hands; he sat down in the stern to do the\nsteering.\n\nA gentle wind filled the sail, and the boat glided smoothly, swiftly\naway from the land. Ilmarinen looked back; he saw all the folk of\nPohyola standing along the shore, and he heard them shouting their\ngood-byes and bidding him god-speed. He looked again, and saw the Maid\nof Beauty among them; she was waving her hand, and her face seemed to\nhim tenfold more beautiful than before; her cheeks were wet with tears,\nand there was a look of great regret in her wonderful eyes.\n\nAnd there also stood the Mistress of Pohyola, gray and grim and\ntoothless, but noble in mien and of queenly appearance. She lifted her\narms, she raised her eyes towards heaven, and called to the North Wind\nto prosper the voyage for her departing guest:\n\n\n           \u201cCome, thou North Wind, great and strong,\n              Guide this hero to his home;\n            Gently drive his boat along\n              O\u2019er the dashing white sea-foam.\n\n           \u201cPush him with your mighty hand;\n              Blow him o\u2019er the blue-backed sea;\n            Carry him safe to Hero Land,\n              And let him ne\u2019er come back to me.\u201d\n\n\nThe North Wind heard her, and he came, strong, swift, and steady. Like\na waterfowl in some sheltered cove, the boat glided with incredible\nsmoothness over the chilly waters. Joyfully the prince of smiths\nhandled the oar, and loudly he shouted to the wind as he saw the red\nprow cleaving the waves and knew that he was speeding homeward.\n\nThree days the voyage lasted. As the morning of the fourth was dawning,\nIlmarinen beheld on his left the lofty headland and pleasant shore of\nhis native land, green with summer-leafing trees and odorous with the\nbreath of wildflowers. The sun rose above the eastern hills, and then\nhis eyes were rejoiced with the sight of the weather-stained roofs of\nWainola, and curling clouds of smoke rising from the hearths of many\nwell-known dwellings.\n\nGently, then, the glad voyager guided his boat into the harbor. He\ndismissed the North Wind with warm thanks for his friendly service; and\nthen with a few skilful strokes of the oar, he drove his stanch little\nboat high up on the sloping beach.\n\n\u201cHome! home at last!\u201d he cried as he leaped out. He paused not a\nmoment, he took no care to tie his little vessel to the mooring-post,\nbut with eager, impatient feet he hastened towards the village.\n\nScarcely had he walked half-way to the nearest dwelling, when a man\nstepped suddenly into the road before him. It was Wainamoinen, the\ncunning wizard, the first of all minstrels.\n\n\u201cO Ilmarinen, dearest of brothers!\u201d shouted the aged man, so wise, so\ntruthful, so skilled in tricks of magic. \u201cHow delighted I am to behold\nyour face again! Where have you been hiding through all these anxious\nmonths?\u201d\n\nThe Smith answered curtly, coldly, yet politely: \u201cYou know quite well\nmy hiding-place, for it was you who sent me thither. I thank you for\nthe journey; but it will be long ere I climb another one of your magic\ntrees.\u201d\n\n\u201cWisest and skilfulest of metal workers, why do you speak in riddles?\u201d\nsaid the Minstrel, appearing to be hurt. \u201cNever have I sought to harm\nyou; but all that I did was for your own good. Now, I welcome you back\nto Wainola. Let us be brothers as in the days of yore. Come! here is my\nhand; let us forgive and forget!\u201d\n\nThe generous Smith could not cherish ill-feeling in his heart. He loved\nthe aged Minstrel as he would have loved a father. So he grasped the\nproffered hand, gently, warmly; he embraced his friend twice, three\ntimes, as had been his wont whenever fondness prompted his warm heart.\nThen he said, \u201cI forgive you, sweetest of minstrels.\u201d\n\nSide by side, arm in arm, the two old comrades walked homeward.\n\n\u201cTell me, Ilmarinen,\u201d said the Minstrel, \u201cdid you perform my errand?\nDid you fulfil my promise and forge the magic Sampo? Did you win the\nprize?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I forged the Sampo,\u201d answered Ilmarinen; \u201cand I hammered its\nrainbow cover. Therefore your debt is paid, and you are freed from your\npromise. But as for me\u2014well, as you see, I have not won the Maid of\nBeauty.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nTHE UNFINISHED BOAT\n\n\nNever were two pledged lovers more stanch and true than the ancient\nMinstrel and the youthful Smith, and their affection for each other\ngrew stronger and stronger as the days went by. The brief summer waned,\nand the long winter came with its sleet and snow and furious storms;\nbut through all the weather changes and the varying fortunes of the\nyear, the mutual devotion of the two heroes remained steadfast.\nIlmarinen toiled daily in his smithy, hammering out chains and hoes and\naxes, and shaping things of beauty and of use for his kinsfolk and\nneighbors in Wainola. And the Minstrel also toiled, composing new songs\nof love and conflict, retelling old tales of mystery and magic, and\nstudying to discover the secrets of nature and of life.\n\n\u201cCome and live with me,\u201d said the younger hero to the older. \u201cMy\ncottage is roomy, my table is large, and my hearth is cozy and warm. My\nmother, Lokka, will welcome you; she will serve you and prepare\ntoothsome victuals for your meals. Your sweet songs will enliven the\nhours of evening, and we will converse often together concerning those\nthings that are nearest to your heart and mine. Come! Come and be my\nelder brother!\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you,\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cWe shall both be happy.\u201d\n\nAnd so, without further persuasion, he took up his abode in the home of\nhis friend; and Dame Lokka the Handsome, the best of all the matrons in\nHero Land, kept house for them both.\n\n\u201cWhat have you wrought in your smithy to-day?\u201d old Wainamoinen would\nask as they met at the evening meal.\n\nThen the master Smith, grimy with soot and gray with ashes, would begin\nto tell of a hoe he had beaten out, or a gold ring he had fashioned;\nbut ere he had spoken a dozen words his mind would wander far away to a\nlow-roofed dwelling in the Frozen Land, and the rest of his speech\nwould be a burning discourse in praise of the Maid of Beauty.\n\n\u201cNow, sing to us your newest song, sweetest of minstrels,\u201d the younger\nhero would say as they sat together beside the evening fire.\n\nAnd the Minstrel would begin with a hymn of creation, or a tale of\nmighty strife and heroism; but at the end of the strain he would forget\nhis subject and begin to chant a ballad of love or a ditty recounting\nthe charms of the matchless maiden of Pohyola.\n\nThus, ere long, it came about that the two friends were constantly and\nforever recalling the sweetest memories of their lives\u2014memories which,\nstrange to say, were also mingled with thoughts of experiences that had\nbeen unpleasant, painful, humiliating. They talked daily of their\nstrange adventures in Pohyola; and now, in the halo of long absence,\nthe Frozen Land was remembered only as a land of spring showers and\nsummer sunshine, and their days of sadness and gloom were forgotten in\ncontemplation of the blessedness which they had felt in the presence of\nthe Maid of Beauty. And now her image seemed always before their eyes,\nand her voice seemed calling to them through the misty and frost-laden\nair of the desolate North Land.\n\nGradually, and by a process unknown to himself, Ilmarinen came to think\nof her as he thought of the sun and the stars and the wonderful sea, as\nsomething mysterious, sublime, incomprehensible, which he might worship\nfrom afar but never hope to possess or understand. She was his deity,\nhis Jumala, as far superior to him as he, the prince of smiths and\nwizards, was superior to the beasts of the fields and woods.\n\nBut the Minstrel, old and steadfast, was more worldly-minded. He\nremembered how the maiden had laughed at him and twitted him as she sat\non the rainbow plying her magic shuttles and weaving the web of the\nunmeasured sky; and as he thought of her words and her taunting manner,\nhis feeling of reverence for her was tempered with a desire for some\nsort of revenge. Therefore he resolved that he would get even with her;\nverily he would show her that he, too, was one of the mighty\u2014a magician\nunexcelled in power, a master of things seen and unseen. And having\ndone this, what would be easier than to make her his own?\n\nLong did he ponder, and many were the thoughts that came into his old,\nexperienced mind. Day after day, week after week, he sat by Dame\nLokka\u2019s fireside, thinking, thinking, thinking\u2014yet keeping all his\nthoughts to himself.\n\n\u201cHe is composing some new, sweet song,\u201d said the motherly matron; and\nshe refrained from disturbing him.\n\nAt last, when the wild geese were again honking in the quiet fjords and\nthe frogs were making the marshes musical, he perfected a secret plan\nby which he hoped to win the object of his desires, and at the same\ntime add much to his already matchless fame. He told no one of his\nproject, but he clenched his hands together and shut his teeth hard\nwith determination.\n\n\u201cNone but women say \u2018I cannot\u2019; none but cowards say \u2018I dare not,\u2019\u201d he\nrepeated to himself again and again as though he would bolster up his\ncourage.\n\nThen, unknown to Ilmarinen\u2014unknown to all his friends and neighbors\u2014he\nset to work to build a boat, roomy and stanch and shaped for swiftest\nsailing.\n\nIt was his intention, when this boat was finished, to make a secret\nvoyage to the Frozen Land and boldly make known his suit to the Maid of\nBeauty. If she would listen to him and accept the high place of honor\nwhich he had once before offered her\u2014if she would consent to be the\nmistress of his kitchen, to bake his honey cakes and sing at his table,\nwell and good; the fame of Wainamoinen, prince of minstrels, would be\ncarried to the ends of the earth.\n\nBut what if she should scorn him as before? Was he not a magician?\nThrough the power of magic he would subdue her; he would carry her\naboard his vessel; he would bring her, willy nilly, to the Land of\nHeroes; she would have no choice but to be the queen of his dwelling in\nWainola.\n\nThe boat itself was to be built by magic. By magic spells the beams\nwere to be hewn and properly placed, the keel was to be laid, the hull\nwas to be made stanch and shapely. No hammer was to be used in the work\nof building, but every nail and spike must be driven in the right place\nby a magic word that was known only to the prince of wizards, the first\nof all minstrels.\n\nThe place which Wainamoinen chose for the building of his boat was on\nthe shore of a shady island well concealed behind a lofty headland.\nTrees grew along the shore, and there were thousands of them covering\nthe hillside; but they were small trees, mere saplings, and would be of\nlittle use in boat-building. Where could the Minstrel find fit timber\nfor his vessel? Who would cut it for him? Who would saw the boards, and\nwho would carry them to the shore? The Minstrel could not do these\nthings by magic alone. He must have help.\n\nIn a cave on the hillside there dwelt a brown dwarf, the last of the\nancient race of earth men. He was small of stature, wrinkled, and\nold\u2014so old that he himself had long ago lost all reckoning of his age.\nMen called him Sampsa, and they told many a tale of his wisdom and\ncunning, and how in former times he had guarded the treasures of kings.\nHis days were spent in the forest and his nights in the unexplored\nchambers of his cavern home. He knew by name every tree and shrub that\ngrew in the Land of Heroes, and he understood the language of birds and\nof beasts and of every living thing. Who better than he could be the\nMinstrel\u2019s helper?\n\nWith a golden axe upon his shoulder Sampsa sauntered, singing, through\nthe forest. To each slender sapling and to every beast and bird he\nsaid, \u201cGood-morning!\u201d and every bird and beast and growing tree\nreturned the salutation. Presently the little man paused beside an\naspen, smooth of bark, and tall and graceful. The tree trembled and\nevery leaf upon it quivered when he held before it his sharp-edged axe\nwith golden poll and copper handle.\n\n\u201cO master! O man of earth,\u201d it whispered, \u201cwhat do you wish of me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am seeking timber for a boat,\u201d answered Sampsa. \u201cThe Minstrel is\nbuilding a magic vessel to cruise on northern seas, and he has sent me\nto find a tree from which to make the beams and keel. May I have your\ntrunk, my friend?\u201d\n\nThe aspen groaned, and every one of its thousand leaves seemed to have\na tongue as it softly murmured: \u201cSurely, I am not fit for boat timber.\nMy branches are hollow; a grub has eaten my heart. My wood is soft and\npithy; it would never float upon the water. I pray you, pass me by, O\nmaster!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak well,\u201d said the dwarf; \u201cstay where you are and enjoy the\nsoft breezes from the sea. Whisper your light songs to the birds, and\nlet them nest among your branches. I will look elsewhere for boat\ntimber.\u201d\n\nHe shouldered his golden axe and trudged onward, deeper and deeper into\nthe forest. In a secluded valley between two mountains, he found a pine\ntree, green and slender and beautiful. He struck it lightly with his\nsharp axe-blade, and every needle on its branches shrieked as though in\nsudden terror.\n\n\u201cWhy so rough, good Sampsa?\u201d asked the tree, bowing its head and\nbending before the little master.\n\n\u201cFriend pine tree,\u201d he answered, \u201chow will your trunk do for boat\ntimber? The prince of minstrels, Wainamoinen, has sent me to find some\nfor the magic vessel he is building.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy trunk is not fit for such use,\u201d said the pine tree, speaking\nloudly. \u201cMy wood is knotty, gnarly, scraggy, hard to fashion in any\nmanner. It is brittle, unsmooth, easily split and broken. It would make\nbut a poor boat.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would make good beams and a fine mast,\u201d said Sampsa.\n\n\u201cBut very unlucky, very unlucky,\u201d answered the pine. \u201cThree times this\nsummer a crow has sat on one of my branches, croaking misfortune and\nforetelling disaster.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen fare you well, my evergreen friend,\u201d said the dwarf, kindly; \u201cI\nwill look elsewhere for my boat timber;\u201d and again he shouldered his\naxe and resumed his walk through the forest.\n\nIt was noon and the sun shone hot on land and sea when he came to a\ngiant oak tree on the summit of a green hill. This oak tree had long\nbeen the monarch of the woods. Its branches reached out on every side\nnine fathoms from the trunk, and its topmost twigs seemed to brush the\nsky.\n\n\u201cGood-morning, friendly oak tree!\u201d said Sampsa; and a tremor of joy ran\nthrough every leaf and branch as the noble tree answered,\n\u201cGood-morning, master!\u201d\n\n\u201cOur friend, the Minstrel, is building a boat,\u201d said the dwarf. \u201cHe\nwants good timber with which to make the beams and the keel and the\nboards for the hull. He would have it broad and high and very swift. He\nwould have it beautiful and graceful and strong. But as yet he has\nfound no wood that is fit.\u201d\n\nThen from every leaf of the great tree there came a sound of music, a\nsong of joy; and the acorn-bearer answered, \u201cO master, I will gladly\ngive him of my wood. It is tough and stout and free from knots and worm\nholes. The grain of it is straight, and no other wood can equal it for\nwithstanding the weather and the salt sea-water.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is good,\u201d said the dwarf; \u201cbut what omens of good or evil are\nyours?\u201d\n\n\u201cOmens of good fortune are written on my branches,\u201d said the oak.\n\u201cThree times this summer a cuckoo has rested on my topmost bough. On\nevery clear day, sunbeams have danced among my leaves. On every clear\nnight, the silver moon has looked down and smiled upon me. And so I\npray you to take me for the Minstrel\u2019s magic vessel. I long\u2014oh, I long!\nto float on the blue-backed sea, to carry treasures from land to land,\nto fight with the storm and conquer the waves.\u201d\n\nForthwith, the earth man smote the oak with his magic axe, and the tree\nuttered a cry of joy as it fell prone upon the earth. Then with skill\nand great patience Sampsa hewed and cleaved and shaped it into beams\nand boards, more in number than he could reckon. He planed them, he\nsawed them, he fashioned them with infinite care until each was of the\nproper length and thickness. And when, at last, all were finished, he\ncarried them out of the forest, one by one, and laid them on the beach\nwhere the Minstrel had directed.\n\n\u201cBehold, O singer of songs!\u201d he said. \u201cHere is the wood for your magic\nboat. These are for the beams, these for the keel, and these for the\nwell-shaped hull. May the fairy ship float lightly upon the waves and\nbear you whithersoever you desire to go! May it be a joy to the sea and\na wonder to all the world!\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel thanked him and then began to chant the magic spells by\nwhich to put the beams and boards in their places. These, one after the\nother he sang, and he recited the runes whereby to shape the whole into\na stanch and swift-sailing vessel. With one song the keel was\nfashioned; with a second the gunwales were laid; with a third the\nboat\u2019s ribs were fastened in their places; with a fourth the rudder was\nhung at the stern. No hammer was used, no axe nor mallet; but every\nnail and spoke and bolt was driven by a word of magic from the lips of\nthe prince of minstrels.\n\nAt length every spell was recited, every rune was sung, every magic\nword was spoken, and the wonderful vessel was completed\u2014all except the\nnailing down of three long boards at the bottom of the hull. The\nMinstrel stood aghast\u2014without three words more his boat could not be\nlaunched; it could not be made water-tight; it would never skim the\nfoam-capped waves of the northern seas. He stroked his chin, he tapped\nhis forehead with his forefinger; no word of magic, not even the\nshortest, could he call to memory.\n\n\u201cHow unlucky I am!\u201d he cried. \u201cMisfortune follows me, and all my wisdom\nis in vain. Never can my task be finished unless I can find the three\nwords of power that are lacking. My plans will fail utterly.\u201d\n\nHe sat down upon the white sand and pondered upon the troubles that\nconfronted him. For five summer days he sat there\u2014yes, for six long\ndays he tarried by the shore not knowing what to do. And the little\nripples on the beach laughed at him, and the sea birds flapped their\nwings in his face, and he felt himself to be helpless.\n\nOn the seventh day a white swan flew down as though inspecting his\nboat, a gray goose made its nest under the well-hung rudder, and a\nflock of swallows sat twittering upon the gunwales. \u201cAh! Perhaps the\nwords that I need so badly have been stolen by some of these birds.\nPerhaps they are concealed in the head of a swan, in the brain of a\ngoose, or under the tongue of a swallow. I will examine into this\nmatter and see.\u201d\n\nThe next day, therefore, he took his bow and arrows and went hunting.\nHe slew a whole flock of swans; he killed great numbers of geese; and\nhundreds of swallows fell, pierced by his unerring weapons. But in the\nbrains of all these creatures he found not a single word, nor yet so\nmuch as the half of one; and under the tongues of the swallows, there\nwas nothing uncommon.\n\nThe Minstrel was not wholly discouraged. \u201cPerhaps the missing words are\nbeneath the tongue of some four-footed animal,\u201d he said. \u201cPerhaps a\nsquirrel, perhaps a summer reindeer, or perhaps a gray and skulking\nwolf is hiding the precious secrets in its throat or between its jaws.\nI will search and find out if this be true.\u201d\n\nSo, for nine days\u2014yes, for ten days of terror\u2014he went stalking hither\nand thither through the woodlands and the meadows and the boggy\nthickets, shooting every timid creature that his eyes could see. He\nslew an army of squirrels; he killed a field full of reindeer; he\nslaughtered gray wolves without number. Cruelly, as one devoid of pity,\nhe filled the forest with sorrow and death. He found strange words in\nplenty, groans and shrieks and cries of pain, but among them all there\nwas not one syllable of magic.\n\nAt length he ceased his bloody work, he laid his weapons down, grief\novercame him, and sorrow for the destruction he had wrought. All night\nlong he sat on the sand beside his unfinished boat and bemoaned his\nevil fortune. All day he wept\u2014but his mind was strong within him, and\nhe would not give up his undertaking. On the second day, as the sun\nrose red above the hilltops, a raven flew croaking among the trees.\n\u201cCaw! caw! caw!\u201d cried the bird of ill-omen.\n\n\u201cStop your cawing! Stop your crying!\u201d shouted the Minstrel, full of\nanger. \u201cDid Tuoni send you hither to taunt me? Begone! Return, I say,\nto your master, Tuoni!\u201d\n\nThe bird flapped its wings, and Wainamoinen heard from far in the\nforest the echo of his words, \u201cTuoni! Tuoni!\u201d\n\nThen a strange thought came into his mind. He leaped to his feet, he\nclapped his hands, he shouted his oft-repeated maxim: \u201cNone but cowards\nsay, \u2018I dare not!\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak truly,\u201d said a voice beside him\u2014it was the voice of Sampsa,\nthe little man of the woods: \u201cYou speak truly; and since you are not a\ncoward, what will you next dare to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cFar away, on the world\u2019s edge,\u201d answered the Minstrel, \u201cthere is a\nland of silence and fear, the Land of Shades, the kingdom of Tuoni.\nMany men have travelled thither\u2014heroes not a few, woodsmen, fishermen,\neven fair women and tender children\u2014but never has any one returned to\ntell of that land. All things that are lost, all things that are\nforgotten, are stored away there; they lie in King Tuoni\u2019s treasure\nhouse waiting for the day when all things will be remembered. The three\nmagic words that I desire are hidden there\u2014the raven, Tuoni\u2019s bird, has\nreminded me of it by his croaking.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd will you dare to go thither and get them?\u201d asked the dwarf.\n\n\u201cI will dare,\u201d answered the Minstrel.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE LAND OF TUONELA\n\n\nTuonela\u2014the Land of Shades! Does any one know where that country lies?\nOn what chart is its location shown? Where are its boundary lines, and\nwhat is its extent?\n\nMany are they who have gone thither\u2014some by land, some by sea\u2014yet none\nhave returned to tell others of what they have learned. They who once\nenter that mysterious land may not hope to depart therefrom, neither\nmust they send word home to their kindred and friends. They are\nthenceforth the subjects of King Tuoni, and must abide forever with\nhim.\n\nIs the place very far? Is the road thither a long one? Is it difficult\nto find?\n\nOh, the distance is great, but all roads lead to that land. You may\narrive there quickly, in a day, in an hour, perhaps even in the\ntwinkling of an eye\u2014and quite before you expect to do so. You need not\ninquire the way nor ask about the road\u2014you cannot fail to find it; and\nsooner or later you must walk in it, whether you wish or not.\n\nThe Minstrel\u2019s journey was both long and hard, [E] for he had\nundertaken it of his own free will. The road was exceeding rough, and\nperils beset him at every step. Dark were the forests through which he\npassed; broad and deep were the rivers which he crossed; high and\nrugged were the mountains which reared themselves before him. For six\ndays\u2014yes, for seven painful days he toiled through thickets of thorns;\nfor seven eventful days he cut his way through a magic wilderness of\nhazel; for seven other days he groped through dark hedges of juniper\nand tangled masses of wild briars; and then, for three times seven days\nhe wandered through desert lands and wide wastes of snow where there\nwas no shelter from the storm and no place to rest his weary feet.\n\nThree score and ten days, three score and ten nights, were the measure\nof his journey; and at length he found himself on the shore of a mighty\nriver, deep, dark, and sluggish. He looked, and on the farther side he\nsaw a gray castle and a long white shore, and he knew that it was\nTuoni\u2019s land\u2014the land of silence and of mystery. He walked up and down\nthe river bank, hoping to find some way to cross, but the water was\neverywhere deep, and the current, although sluggish, was everywhere\nstrong. At length, however, he saw a sort of landing-place, where was a\npost for mooring a boat, and at the top of the post was a sign-board\nwith words painted upon it:\n\n\n                        FERRY TO TUONELA\n\n            CALL TO THE KEEPER ON THE FARTHER SHORE;\n            THE KEEPER WILL QUICKLY FERRY YOU O\u2019ER.\n\n\nWainamoinen stood upon the sand and shouted with all his might:\n\n\u201cHo! Keeper of the ferry! Bring thy boat quickly. Here is a traveller\nwho desires to be carried over the water. Haste thee hither!\u201d\n\nThe unwonted sound of a human voice rolled thunderously across the\nriver, stirring the sluggish stream to its very depths; it awakened the\nechoes in the distant colorless hills of Tuonela, and with deafening\nroar broke the silence of ages.\n\nThe water-door of the castle opened, and a dwarfish maiden came forth,\nlooking inquiringly across the river. Very small she was, but\nwell-shaped and comely. Her eyes gleamed like lightning and her face\nwas stern and pitiless. She was the daughter of Tuoni, and to her\nbelonged the duty of keeping the ferry whereby the shades of mortals\nwere carried to her father\u2019s kingdom. Sharply, and in shrill, cutting\ntones, she answered the call of the Minstrel:\n\n\u201cWho are you who calls so lustily? Why have you come to this river with\nbody so strong and active? Tell me truly if you would be ferried to\nTuonela.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel was old and cunning, and because he feared to tell the\nmaiden the truth, he answered her with guileful words: \u201cI am a poor\nwoodsman from the Land of Heroes. Yesterday, as I was felling a tree,\nyour father, Tuoni, smote me. He smote me and made me his thrall; he\nmade me his thrall and bade me come hither to his kingdom. This is why\nI stand on the shore and call to you so lustily.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak falsely!\u201d cried the dwarfish maiden, with anger in her\ntones. \u201cIf my father had made you his thrall, he would be with you now.\nHis hat would be on your head and his gloves would be on your hands.\nHis mark would be on your forehead and your voice would not resound\nlike thunder upon the water. Tell me who you are, and tell me truly, or\nnever will I ferry you to Tuonela.\u201d\n\nBut Wainamoinen still trusted in his cunning, and he made up another\nguileful story to deceive her. \u201cPerhaps it was not Tuoni who sent me,\u201d\nhe said. \u201cNow that I think of it, it was Iron who smote me. Sharp Iron,\npitiless Iron in shape of a sword pierced my heart, and I was forced\nunwillingly to seek the kingdom of Tuoni. So come, I pray you, and\nferry me over the river.\u201d\n\nThe dwarfish maiden could scarce contain herself for anger. She smote\nthe air with her fists and shouted, \u201cNow I know that you are a liar! If\nIron had smitten you I would see blood trickling from your wounds; your\nface would be scarlet; your hands would be crimson. But there you stand\nunscarred, unmarked, with the hue of health upon your cheeks. What do\nyou hope to gain by trying to deceive me?\u201d\n\n\u201cFar be it from me to deceive you,\u201d said the artful hero, foolishly and\nwithout judgment. \u201cO daughter of Tuoni, I will tell you the truth! Now\nthat I think of it, I am quite sure that it was Water that sent me\nhither. I was a fisherman, and I sailed too far from the shore. The\ndeep sea overcame me, and the raging waves seized me, and when my\nbreath failed me and my strength was gone, Water commanded me to come\nquickly to Tuonela. So, hasten, I pray you, and row me over the river.\u201d\n\nThe sharp-eyed daughter of the king was furious. With savage looks and\nthreatening gestures, she answered the cunning Minstrel: \u201cO foolish\nfellow, why do you tell such falsehoods? Do you think that I will\nbelieve you? If the waves had overcome you, if Water had sent you, your\ncoat would be wringing wet and your wan face would be overspread with\nmoisture. How, then, do you stand so proudly, your hair dry, your\ncheeks glowing, and your clothing untouched by dampness? Tell me the\ntruth, for you will gain nothing by falsehoods.\u201d\n\nThe foolish Minstrel listened, and his heart grew stubborn. Then he\nanswered her with flattering words, deeming that thus she would be\npleased and therefore easily deceived. \u201cO lovely keeper of Tuoni\u2019s\nferry, speak not so harshly to a lone, weary, traveller! Never have I\nseen such beauty as yours; never have I heard a voice so sweet. And now\nI will tell you truly why I have come hither. I am the victim and the\nthrall of Fire. Three days ago I was seized by Fire, the elder brother\nof Iron. Very roughly did he handle me, and little mercy did he show.\nAnd this is why my clothing is dry and my hair untouched by dampness.\nSo, sweet lady, hasten to be kind and carry me over the ferry.\u201d\n\nTuoni\u2019s daughter trembled now with rage and shame. Her patience was\nwellnigh gone, she no longer felt pity for the aged traveller. Yet she\nanswered him once again and in tones decided and severe:\n\n\u201cO foolish, foolish fellow!\u201d she said. \u201cIf Fire had seized you and sent\nyou hither, your hair and beard would be singed, your eyebrows would be\nscorched, your feet would be blistered. Three falsehoods you have told\nme\u2014yes, four barefaced lies you have shouted across the water. Now,\nbeware that you tell me not another. Speak with clean lips and say\ntruly why you have come hither with healthy body and with red heart\nbeating lustily.\u201d\n\nThen Wainamoinen saw that it was vain to practice deceit with one so\nskilled in the ways of life and death. So he answered her truthfully\nand half-ashamed: \u201cI pray you, pardon the slippings of my tongue, for\nmy heart does not lend itself to falsehood. Months ago I began to build\na magic vessel in which to sail the northern seas. With one song I laid\nthe keel, with another I framed the gunwales, with a third I fastened\nthe ribs in their places. All my tools, my hammer, my auger, my saw, my\nchisels, were words of magic. But, when my work was almost finished,\nlo! my tools failed me. Three smooth holes still needed boring, three\nstrong bolts still needed driving, three broad planks still needed\nfastening\u2014and I lacked the three mystic words with which to do these\nthings. So I have come boldly to Tuonela to borrow the tools which I\ndesire so greatly\u2014the three lost words that shall make my boat\nseaworthy and safe. This, fair maiden, is the truth!\u201d\n\n\u201cStupid fellow!\u201d cried Tuoni\u2019s daughter. \u201cYou have neither wit nor\nwisdom. Have you lived to be an old, old man and yet never learned that\nthe liar is sure to be discovered? And now that you speak the truth, do\nyou think that you deserve any favors from me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI deserve nothing,\u201d answered the Minstrel, humbly, contritely, yet\ncunningly. \u201cI only pray you to do me a great, although undeserved,\nfavor. Come and ferry me over the water.\u201d\n\nThe dwarfish maiden hesitated, standing beside her boat. Then in\nhalf-sad tones, as though in pity, she said, \u201cYou do not know what you\nask, foolish hero. Never has any one who came to my father\u2019s palefaced\ncountry returned to home or friends. This river being once crossed by\nyou, you can never cross again. Turn back while you can, and think not\nto visit my father in his strong castle. Hasten away, and seek your own\nhome and kindred ere it is too late.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel heeded not her warning; for never yet had he abandoned a\ntask once begun.\n\n\u201cI am old,\u201d he said, \u201cand many are the perils I have faced and many the\ndangers I have escaped. I am not a woman that I should say, \u2018I cannot\u2019;\nI am not a coward that I should say, \u2018I dare not!\u2019 So, come now, tiny\ndaughter of Tuoni. Come, and quickly row me over your ferry.\u201d\n\nThe maiden said not another word. She leaped into her boat, she seized\nthe oars, and with lightning speed she crossed the river. The broad,\nflat-bottomed vessel grated against the shore where the Minstrel was\nstanding; he saw that it was roomy and large, and he stepped quickly\naboard, not looking behind him. Then, instantly, and without sound, ten\nthousand shades who had been waiting unseen and intangible on the\nshore, glided also into the boat and stood beside him. The tiny maiden\nreceived each one silently, taking note of every mark or sign or other\nmeans of recognition. When all were safely aboard, she again seized the\noars and with swift and sturdy strokes rowed her strong craft across\nthe stream.\n\n\u201cFarewell, brave but foolhardy hero!\u201d she said as the boat touched the\nfarther shore and Wainamoinen leaped out upon the beach. \u201cNone but the\nprince of wizards could thus have come to Tuonela; and yet there is no\nmagic strong enough to save you from your doom.\u201d\n\nBut the Minstrel was undaunted. He buckled his girdle about him, and\nwith long strides hastened toward the great house which he knew must be\nKing Tuoni\u2019s palace.\n\nAt the door the queen met him and softly welcomed him. \u201cCome in, most\nhonored of guests!\u201d she said. \u201cNever before has a living hero dared to\ncross this threshold.\u201d\n\nShe led him into the broad hall, she seated him on soft cushions, she\nthrew a mantle of finest cloth over his shoulders. Then she brought him\nfood and drink, and bade him refresh himself and be joyful. But when he\nlifted the covers of the enticing dishes, and when he looked into the\nfoaming pitchers, what did he see? Vile things in plenty\u2014the poison of\nserpents, the spawn of toads, shiny lizards, squirming worms\u2014a medley\nof horrors indescribable and foul.\n\n\u201cI thank you, mighty queen,\u201d the Minstrel said politely, \u201cbut my errand\nin Tuonela permits neither eating nor drinking. No morsel of food will\nI taste until I have made known the business that brings me hither.\u201d\n\nThen in a few words wisely spoken he told her plainly, truly, the\nobject of his visit.\n\nThe queen listened, and her ashy-pale face grew paler still and an\nunpitying smile overspread her joyless countenance. When he had\nfinished she answered him briefly and sternly:\n\n\u201cTruly there are magic words in plenty stored up in Tuoni\u2019s treasure\nhouses; but they are neither sold nor lent nor yet given away. The king\nimparts his knowledge to none; the secrets of his kingdom remain\nunknown forever. Rash man! You have come hither uninvited; you shall\nnot soon depart.\u201d\n\nEven while she was speaking she began her spells of enchantment. She\nwaved her wand of slumber and chanted strange runes never heard on this\nside of the dark water. Softly, very softly, she began to sing a weird\nlullaby\u2014a song of the silent land. And Wainamoinen neither spoke nor\nmade resistance, but, wrapping his cloak about him, he laid himself\ndown to sleep on the dread couch of King Tuoni.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nTHE HAG OF THE ROCK\n\n\nSilently, stealthily, Tuoni\u2019s queen glided from the room in which the\nMinstrel lay asleep. Hastily she went out from the castle, furtively\nshe glanced backward over her shoulder as though fearful of pursuit.\nDown to the river-side she went, nor did she pause or slacken her speed\nuntil she came to a sudden turn in the shore where a huge ledge of rock\njutted far out into the stream.\n\nAn old, old woman, gray-eyed, hook-nosed, wrinkled, was sitting on the\nrock and busily spinning.\n\n\u201cHail, O Hag of the Rock!\u201d said the queen. \u201cWhat are you spinning\nto-night?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat am I spinning?\u201d answered the Hag. \u201cI am spinning the thread of\nmany a man\u2019s life. For those who are honest and true and deserving, I\nspin joy and honor and length of days; for those who are false and\ncruel and selfish, I spin grief and punishment and an early journey to\nTuoni\u2019s kingdom.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, I know!\u201d cried the queen impatiently; \u201cbut what kind of\nthread do you spin to-night for that rash, foolhardy man who has come\ninto our kingdom unbidden and before his time?\u201d\n\nThe old woman paused in her spinning; her fingers twitched uneasily,\nher thin lips grew thinner still, and her gray eyes shone with\nphosphorescent light. Then she asked hoarsely, \u201cIs there such a man?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is,\u201d answered the queen; \u201cand he sleeps now on Tuoni\u2019s couch, in\nthe great hall of our dwelling. He is old, his hair is snow-white,\nwrinkles are beneath his eyes; yet he is wise and fearless, and his\nlimbs are strong. He would fain return to his own country, carrying\nwith him the secrets that none should know save those of Tuoni\u2019s\nhousehold.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat he shall never do!\u201d cried the old woman, fiercely, savagely. \u201cNo\nman, whether hero or slave, shall ever recross our river to tell his\nfriends and countrymen how matters fare on this side of the stream.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he is very wise; he possesses many powerful runes; he is master of\nmany magic spells,\u201d said the queen. \u201cMy cunning may detain him for a\nwhile; Tuoni may hold him for a season; but it is not given to us to\ndestroy him. I would that we might keep him here forever\u2014one hero in\nthe flesh among a myriad of formless shades!\u201d\n\n\u201cLeave that to me, sweet queen,\u201d said the spinner soothingly. \u201cI will\nhedge him about with prison walls and perils through which he can never\nescape. His doom is fixed.\u201d\n\nThen, without deigning to speak another word, she resumed her spinning.\nBut the threads were not of the sort she had spun before. She twirled\nher spindle to the right, and drew out threads of iron; she twirled it\nto the left, and wires of copper, small but exceeding strong, ran\nthrough her fingers; she twirled it upward, downward, and a thousand\ncoils of twisted metal soon lay in the moonlight beside her.\n\nHigher up, on the same ledge of rocks, an old wizard was sitting\u2014a\ngrisly, misshapen creature who, in times long past, had been a\ncounsellor of kings. This wizard had but one hand, and on it were three\nlong and crooked fingers, fearful to behold, which he used in weaving\nnets. As fast as the Hag of the Rock spun threads of iron, wires of\ncopper, or coils of twisted metal, he would gather them up and\nintertwine them together, making a fabric both pliable and strong.\nThus, in that short silent night of summer, he wove a hundred broad\nnets of iron\u2014yes, a thousand small-meshed nets of twisted metal.\n\nAt length the Hag of the Rock cried, \u201cEnough!\u201d and the Wizard of the\nRock ceased his weaving.\n\n\u201cNow spread your nets cunningly wherever a fish may attempt to swim,\u201d\nsaid the hag.\n\nSo the wizard, with his hard and crooked fingers, stretched them, one\nby one, across the river; he stretched them, this way and that, along\nthe sullen stream; he stretched them all around the gray-peaked island,\nthe kingdom of Tuoni. Nowhere in the darksome water did he leave an\nopen space through which a shiny fish could wriggle. How, then, would\nit be possible for a living man, a breathing hero, to escape through\nthis wall of nets so closely woven and so cunningly spread?\n\n\n\nBy and by the day began to dawn. The sun rose pale and sickly above the\nashy-gray hills, the lonely woodlands, and the empty plains. Its garish\nlight fell upon the face of the Minstrel and woke him from his slumber.\nHe sat up and looked around, scarcely remembering where he was.\n\nHow fearful was the silence! How ghost-like seemed the very air! A\ndreadful horror seized him, his blood ran cold, his heart seemed\nfrozen.\n\nThen suddenly and with great effort he leaped to his feet and fled from\nTuoni\u2019s hall. The gates were open and unguarded, and he ran out into\nthe fields, into the vast unknown beyond. Terror pursued him, and new\nhorrors came into view at every moment of his flight. On each side of\nthe way he beheld yawning chasms filled with yellow flames. From\nbeneath rocks and from crevices in the earth snakes peeped out, licking\nwith fiery tongues. From every tree hideous creatures looked down and\ngrinned at him.\n\nThe wind blew strong and cold, yet made no sound. The trees swayed back\nand forth as though rocked by the fiercest of storms, yet there was\nsilence everywhere. The Minstrel could not hear his own footfalls as he\nran blindly, aimlessly, among traps and snares, and through a\nwilderness of perils. At length, however, his tongue was loosened in\nprayer; it moved in his mouth, but uttered not even a whisper.\n\n\u201cO Jumala, the mighty!\u201d\u2014these were the words which the Minstrel tried\nto frame. \u201cO Jumala, the mighty! O Jumala, ruler over all! O Jumala,\nJumala! Help me, save me!\u201d\n\nAnd Jumala heard where there was no sound; for he led the hero straight\nto the river\u2019s bank, he showed him how to avoid every snare, and how to\nescape every peril. With the courage of despair, Wainamoinen leaped\ninto the dark water and swam with hasty, sturdy strokes toward the\nshore of safety. He swam not far, however, for the nets of wire rose up\nagainst him\u2014the nets of twisted metal which the three-fingered wizard\nhad spread to catch him. He tried to avoid them. He turned this way and\nthat, he dived into the black depths of the stream, he sought\neverywhere for an opening through which he might pass. But the meshes\nwere fine; the nets were laid close together; there seemed to be no way\nof escape.\n\nAgain he called upon Jumala the mighty; and then he bethought him of\nall the magic he had practised erstwhile in the Land of Heroes. His\nvoice came to him, and he muttered a spell of enchantment; he recited\nthe runes which no other wizard knew; in the midst of the whelming\nwaters he cried aloud and sang weird songs to charm the evil powers\nthat were seeking to entrap and destroy him.\n\nThe old net weaver, the three-fingered wizard, heard him and came\nswimming out into the sluggish stream; with his gaunt and hideous\nfingers he seized one net after another and tore the meshes apart; he\nmade a way between the wires through which the Minstrel might squeeze\nhis by no means slender body.\n\nWhy did the grim Wizard of the Rock thus undo his own work? In the\nspells and songs which Wainamoinen uttered, the maker of nets had found\nhis master; the power of magic had overcome him; naught could he do but\nobey the will of the mighty Minstrel.\n\nAnd the Minstrel was glad when he saw that his enchantment had worked\nhis deliverance. He uttered still another magic spell, and suddenly his\nbody became slender and sinuous like that of an eel or water-serpent.\nThen, with ease and quickness, he squirmed and glided, this way, that\nway, through the broken meshes and between the nets so cunningly\nspread. Across the broad stream he labored; through a thousand narrow\nholes he squeezed and clambered; and, at length, wearied exceedingly,\nhe reached the shore of safety and climbed panting upon the dry, warm,\nthrobbing land of the living.\n\n\u201cO Jumala, I thank thee!\u201d he cried. \u201cGrant, mighty Jumala, that no\nother man shall be so rash, so foolhardy, as I have been. Grant that no\nother hero may ever see the sights that I have seen, or feel the fear\nthat I have felt. Not for gold, nor for power, nor for lost words of\nmagic, should any mortal dare to trespass upon the forbidden realms of\nKing Tuoni.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nTHE HERO\u2019S RETURN\n\n\nIt was midwinter in Wainola, and the shortest day of the year. The sun\nhad not been able to rise above the horizon and short was the interval\nbetween night and night. The North Wind came hurtling over the sea,\ncarrying the storm spirit in his arms. He buried the earth in snow and\nfilled the air with blinding frost. He roared on the hill-tops, and\nshrieked in the tree-tops, and threatened to overwhelm everything that\nstood in his way.\n\nBut, safely sheltered in their low-roofed dwellings, the villagers\nthought but little of the turmoil out-of-doors. They sat gossiping and\nnodding beside their cheerful hearth-fires, and were glad that their\nlives had been cast in the pleasant Land of Heroes. To sleep, to eat,\nto rejoice together in the hour that was their own\u2014this, to them, was\nthe sum of all happiness\u2014and this, too, is wisdom.\n\nSuddenly, far down the snow-drifted road, a sound was heard which was\nnot the noise of the wind, a cry was heard which was not the voice of\nthe storm spirit. It was repeated again and again, each time a little\nnearer. Men heard it and ran to their doors to look out and listen.\nWomen left off their knitting, they forgot their baking, and peered out\nwonderingly, into the gloomy twilight. Again the call was heard. It was\nthe call of a human voice; but by whom was it uttered? Was it the cry\nof a stranger, or was it the shout of a home-coming hero?\n\nPresently, some of the watchers saw in the distance a dim figure\nbattling with the storm, struggling through the heaped-up snowdrifts.\nFriend or stranger, it mattered not, this man needed help. A dozen\nheroes ran forward to save him, a dozen strong arms were stretched out\nto succor him\u2014and lo! to the wonder and joy of all, they perceived that\nit was Wainamoinen, their honored neighbor, their best-loved\ncountryman. His face was haggard and worn, and his body was bent with\nweariness from long journeying and much buffeting with the storm.\n\n\u201cO sweetest of singers! Is this indeed you?\u201d cried his rescuing\nfriends.\n\nHe could answer them not a word, so feeble had he become; his eyes grew\nsuddenly dim, and he fainted away in their arms.\n\nThey lifted him gently; they carried him to Ilmarinen\u2019s dwelling and\nlaid him on his own bed. There the master Smith and his mother, Dame\nLokka, did all that they could for his comfort. They covered him with\nsoft robes, they wrapped his half-frozen feet in warm flannels and\nchafed his icy hands between their own cheer-giving palms. Then, as he\ngradually came to himself, the good matron brought him that which would\nsatisfy his hunger. She fed him warm milk of the reindeer, food most\nnourishing; soups and gruels she also gave him till his strength\nrevived. All this and more did these kind people do for the returning\nhero\u2014gave him rest and quiet, asking no questions, saying nothing,\nsuffering no one to disturb him.\n\nOn the third day the poor man rose and sat in his old accustomed seat\nby the fire\u2014he seemed quite well and strong. Then the neighbors flocked\nin to see him. They came by twos and threes\u2014men, women, and\nchildren\u2014and each one brought him some gift to cheer him in his\nillness.\n\n\u201cWhy did you leave us, O best of singers?\u201d they asked. \u201cWe have missed\nyou sadly, and great was our fear that we should never see you again.\u201d\n\n\u201cO my friends,\u201d answered the hero, \u201cit is only through Jumala\u2019s\ngoodness that I am here! For surely I have been in dreadful places, I\nhave seen dreadful sights, I have suffered dreadful hardships.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell us about it,\u201d cried both men and women. \u201cTell us of the dreadful\nplaces in which you have been. It will ease your mind and make you\nstronger.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy friends,\u201d then answered the Minstrel, \u201cI have been to the land of\nTuonela. Oh, whisper not that name, breathe it not to your children or\nto one another! For it is a land indescribable, full of terrors, full\nof fearful creatures. Many heroes have gone unwittingly to Tuoni\u2019s\nkingdom, but none have ever returned. O my friends, pray now to Jumala,\nthe almighty! Pray that the day may be far away when you shall cross\nthe dark river into that unnamable region.\u201d\n\nHe could say no more. His friendly neighbors saw how sadly the memory\nof his journey distressed him, and they asked no more questions. They\ntalked of the storm, of their household affairs, of their children, of\nIlmarinen\u2019s latest work in smithing; and all thoughts of the dark river\nand Tuoni\u2019s kingdom were banished from their minds.\n\nDays passed, and strength returned to the hero minstrel. Soon all his\nancient courage came to him again, and the happy habits of by-gone days\nwere resumed. Again he sat with the master Smith through the evening\nhours, and pleasantly discussed the charms of the Maid of Beauty; again\nin every dwelling he was a welcome visitor, and his voice was heard\nsinging the sweet songs of the older times; and again the children of\nthe village clustered round him to listen to his words of wisdom and to\nbe taught the lore of the ancients.\n\n\u201cNow, every child of Hero Land, listen to me,\u201d he would say. \u201cHere are\nfive rules for you to remember\u2014yes, six which you must write down in\nyour hearts and never, no, never, forget:\n\n\n            Honor father, honor mother;\n            Kindly bear with one another;\n            Help the helpless, cheer the friendless;\n            Let your deeds of love be endless;\n            Cheat your trusting neighbor never;\n            Speak the truth, and speak it ever.\n\n\nObey these rules, my children, and you will be happy. And when the time\ncomes for you to cross the dark river you need have no fears of King\nTuoni, for messengers of light will lead you into the valley of rest\nprepared for the good and the true. Pray earnestly to Jumala to help\nyou.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nTHE WISDOM KEEPER\n\n\nAt length the South Wind came again and stripped the earth of its white\nsnow mantle. The wild geese returned to their old haunts in the\nsheltered inlets and reedy streams, and the voice of the cuckoo was\nheard in the groves of poplar. Joyful then were the voices of the\nchildren as they sought for the first wildflowers in the woods, and\njocund were the songs of maid and matron as they bustled hither and\nthither, caring for the house, caring for the garden, caring for the\nlambs and the young reindeer.\n\nVery early one morning, the Minstrel went out secretly to the place\nwhere he had sought to build his magic boat. There, high on the shore,\nthe unfinished vessel lay, its hull of oakwood smooth and flawless, its\nprow of copper gleaming in the sunlight. Only three things were lacking\nto make it ready for the launching\u2014three magic strokes to drive the\nthree bolts that would fasten the three planks which still hung loose\nat the bottom of the hull. The Minstrel looked at the fair boat\nsteadfastly; he viewed it from this side and from that, and then hot\ntears came into his eyes and trickled down upon his beard. He threw\nhimself headlong upon the ground, and groaned with anguish.\n\n\u201cAh, my beautiful, my beautiful one!\u201d he murmured. \u201cWho would believe\nthat for the lack of only three words thou shouldst lie here forever,\nunnoticed, unfinished, forgotten? Alas! I shall never see thee skimming\nover the waves; thou wilt never carry me to Pohyola\u2019s dreary shores;\nthou wilt never bring the Maid of Beauty hither to be the queen of my\nhouse and the joy of my heart!\u201d\n\nSuddenly he sprang up, startled by a voice. He looked around him, and,\nhalf hidden among the brushwood, he saw the dwarfish earth man, Sampsa,\nstanding with cap in hand, his small eyes twinkling.\n\n\u201cMaster, why do you grieve so sorely?\u201d asked the little planter of the\nforests.\n\n\u201cO friend and gentle helper,\u201d answered Wainamoinen, \u201cI grieve for the\nlack of three words with which to finish my magic vessel. Do you know\nwhere they are? Can you tell me how to find them?\u201d\n\nThe little man came out of the brushwood and stood on the sand beside\nthe unfinished boat. He pointed with his right hand towards the forest\nand the blue hills beyond it, and spoke in low, half-whispered tones as\nif revealing a forbidden secret:\n\n\u201cFar away, near at hand, in his own large realm of mystery, lies the\ngiant Wipunen, the Wisdom Keeper, whom men sometimes call Nature. He is\nwiser than all wizards and stronger than all strong men. From him you\nmay learn a hundred wisdom words\u2014yes, a thousand volumes of wisdom\nwords\u2014if you will only do that which is required to earn such great\nknowledge. Go, find him and ask him for what you need.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how shall I go, not knowing the road? Where is he to be found?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe footpath to his kingdom is a magic highway,\u201d said the earth man.\n\u201cIt lies deep, deep in the forest, and you must travel far upon it.\nFirst, you must walk long leagues upon the points of needles. Then your\nfeet must press upon the sharpened blades of a thousand swords. Lastly,\nyou must pick your way between the points of glistening spears and the\nedges of gleaming battle-axes. Have you the courage to undertake the\njourney?\u201d\n\n\u201cCourage!\u201d cried the Minstrel. \u201cDid I not once venture even to cross\nthe dark river that divides our world from Tuoni\u2019s kingdom? Why should\nI talk of courage?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Wipunen will not tell you his secrets willingly,\u201d said the dwarf.\n\u201cYou must overcome him in fair battle, and then he will whisper sweet\nwords of magic into your ear. If you fail in the contest your life will\nbe forfeited. Will you take the risk?\u201d\n\n\u201cTrust me for that,\u201d said the Minstrel fearlessly. Then he thanked the\nearth man heartily for his counsel, and with hopeful steps hastened to\nthe smithy where Ilmarinen was toiling beside his flaming forge.\n\n\u201cFriend and brother,\u201d he said, breathing fast with eagerness, \u201cI have\ncome to ask your help. I am going on a journey to find some lost words\nthat are very necessary to a minstrel. I am going to seek the mighty\ngiant, even Wipunen, the all-knowing. He it is who understands every\nsecret and who keeps the key to all the mysteries of earth and sky. I\ndoubt not but I may obtain the words from him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou need not travel far,\u201d answered the Smith. \u201cWipunen the giant lies\nall around us, under us, above us. He dwells in the fields, he rests in\nthe forests, he sings in the brooks, he abides in the deep sea. You are\na wise man, my brother. It is strange that you should have lived so\nlong without becoming acquainted with this mighty power.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay!\u201d cried Wainamoinen impatiently. \u201cThe Wipunen that I seek\ndwells in his own kingdom, far from the haunts of men. I know him, and\nI know of the footpaths which lead to his distant abode. Waste no more\ntime in idle talking. Ask me no questions; but if you love me make for\nme the things I must have for my journey. Make two shoes of iron for my\nfeet, and a pair of copper gloves for my hands, and a slender spear of\nstrongest metal to be my weapon. Do this for me promptly, quickly, for\nI am impatient to be gone.\u201d\n\nIlmarinen answered not a word, but hastened to obey. He heaped fresh\nfuel upon his fire and turned again to his bellows and his forge. All\nthat day and all that night the smoke rolled black from the smithy\nchimney, and the hammer and anvil sang continuously their sweetest\nsong. And lo! at sunrise time on the second day the work was done.\n\n\u201cHere, my dearest brother, are the shoes, the gloves, and the slender\nspear\u2014the best that were ever made,\u201d said the Smith. \u201cTake them, and\nmay they speed you on your way!\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel thanked him; and when he had donned his strange armor of\niron and copper he started on his perilous journey. With the aid of\nSampsa, the forest planter, he found the footpath to Wipunen\u2019s kingdom.\nNarrow indeed it was, and crooked, and intricate; but for one whole\nday\u2014yes, for two days and even three\u2014he followed it, never swerving. On\nthe fourth day, he ran for leagues upon the sharpened points of\nneedles; but his shoes of iron protected him. On the fifth day he\ntoiled over the upturned edges of mighty swords; but his gloves of\ncopper turned them aside that they did him no harm. On the sixth day he\ndodged one way then another to escape the cruel points of spears and\nthe gleaming blades of battle-axes. And lo! on the seventh day, he came\nsuddenly upon the great giant himself, lying prone upon the earth amid\nthe vast, eternal solitudes\u2014lying prone upon the earth and gazing\nupward into the solemn sky and the unmeasured depths of infinity.\n\nOld, yes older than all other things, was this mighty Wipunen, the\nWisdom Keeper, the guardian of the world\u2019s secrets. On each of his\nshoulders an aspen tree was growing; his eyebrows were groves of\nbirches; willow bushes formed his matted beard. His eyes were two\ncrystal lakes of wondrous depth and clearness. His mouth was a yawning\ncavern flanked by teeth of whitest marble. And from his nostrils came a\nsweetness like that of the gentle South Wind after it has passed over\nvast gardens of early violets.\n\nFilled with wonder and awe, the Minstrel drew nearer. Then he saw that\nin one of the giant\u2019s hands was a casket wherein were contained the\nmagic songs of all the ages, while in the other lay the golden key to\nthe mystic house of knowledge. He peered into the half open, cavernous\nmouth of Wipunen, and lo! on the tip of his tongue were the wisdom\nwords of every people and clime.\n\n\u201cRise, O master of magicians!\u201d cried Wainamoinen, boldly, loudly.\n\u201cRise, O fountain of knowledge! Make me a partaker of your wisdom. Give\nme I pray you three words of magic power\u2014three words that I lack and\ngreatly desire.\u201d\n\nBut the giant heeded not. He lay motionless and silent, gazing\nsteadfastly into the heavens and framing new thoughts of beauty and\npower to add to the treasures of wisdom that were in his keeping.\n\nThen the Minstrel grew impatient and shouted his prayer still louder.\nHe raised the sharp spear which Ilmarinen had fashioned, and struck the\ngiant fiercely, forcibly. He struck him in the side, not once only, but\ntwice\u2014yes, nine times, ten times\u2014without fear or pity. With the tenth\nstroke the Wisdom Keeper quivered and turned his head and, in tones\nmightier than thunder, began to sing.\n\nHe sang of the birds and the flowers, of the vast forest and the\neternal hills, of the boundless sea and of still waters in sunny\nplaces. He sang of the heroes and the wise men of ancient days; he sang\nof youth and age, of good and evil, of life and death. Then he raised\nhis voice still higher, and the music of his words was echoed from the\nfour corners of the sky. He sang of the creation: how the earth arose\nin the midst of the waters; how the forests were planted and the\nwildflowers were taught to bloom; how the monsters of land and sea and\nthe timid creatures of the fields and woods were given life; and lastly\nhow the sky was shaped and the sun and moon and twinkling stars were\nset in their places.\n\nAll day, from dawn till evening twilight, and all night, from darkness\ntill morning sunlight, the mighty Wipunen sang without ceasing. For two\nwhole days\u2014yes, for three long summer days\u2014his singing continued. And\nsuch was the spell of his song that the moon stood still and listened,\nthe stars danced in the northern sky, and the deep sea hushed its\nmurmuring. Never before had such music been heard, never since has any\nsong been sung that equalled it, and never so long as the world endures\nshall man again listen to words so sweet or to harmonies so divine.\n\nAnd Wainamoinen? He sat entranced by the side of the mighty singer and\nlaid each word of song deep down in the treasury of his memory. He\nlearned not only the three wisdom words which he had sought so\nzealously, but a thousand others of rare beauty and splendid power.\n\n\u201cO mighty master!\u201d he cried, when at length the singing ceased. \u201cO\nmatchless giant of the solitudes! I have found what I desired, I have\nreceived priceless gifts of which I never dreamed. Lie still now and\nrest again in the silent loneliness of your chosen kingdom. Rest till\nsome other eager, earnest, querying learner shall venture hither in\nquest of wisdom. I give you thanks, thanks, thanks; for well I know\nthat you desire no other fee. Farewell!\u201d\n\nThen, without more ado, he hastened homeward through the forest.\nSwiftly as a red deer when chased by wolves, swiftly as a sparrow on\nthe wing, he glided over hills and marsh lands till at last he came\nagain to Wainola and the smithy of Ilmarinen.\n\n\u201cWelcome, welcome, daring brother!\u201d cried the master Smith. \u201cDid you\nfind the Wisdom Keeper in his own mysterious abode? Have you learned\nthe three lost words so necessary to your business?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, dear comrade!\u201d answered the joyful Minstrel. \u201cNot only three\nwords have I learned, but a hundred; and a thousand wonderful secrets\ndo I know\u2014secrets which the master of knowledge whispered in my ear.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow fortunate you are!\u201d said the master Smith, \u201cand your good fortune\nshall be ours also; for I know that we shall soon hear some wonderful\nnew songs from your lips. Perhaps, also, you will tell us all about\nthose strange bits of wisdom which you have acquired from the mighty\nkeeper.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps!\u201d answered the Minstrel.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nTHE LAUNCHING\n\n\nAll night long the Minstrel lay open-eyed upon his bed, sleepless and\nalert. He called to mind all the wisdom words that he had learned from\ngreat Wipunen; he repeated them softly, one by one, and his heart\nswelled with pride when he thought of the power he had gained by\nlistening to the song of wisdom. Then he thought of his neglected boat,\nlying high upon the shore and waiting for the finishing touches which\nhe was now prepared to give. And when he remembered his object in\nbuilding it he chuckled to himself, feeling that finally there was\nnothing to prevent the carrying out of the plans which he had cherished\nso long and so earnestly. Yes! he would finish the magic vessel, and he\nwould sail forthwith to the Frozen Land and win the Maid of Beauty for\nhis queen!\n\nVery early in the morning he arose. The swallows under the eaves had\nnot yet begun to twitter at the approach of day. The cuckoo was silent\nin her nest, and the cattle were slumbering in their paddock. Scarcely\nwas there a tinge of yellow in the eastern sky\u2014the day was so young.\n\nThe Minstrel rose quietly and stole out of the house very cautiously\u2014so\ncautiously that the dogs who were sleeping by the doorway were not\naroused. Hastily he made his way to the seashore, the day growing\nbrighter with every step. Impatiently he ran to the secret spot where\nhis magic boat was lying.\n\n\u201cO little ship, so stanch, so strong!\u201d he cried. \u201cYou shall no longer\nlie there unfinished and useless. Soon you shall float on the waves,\nthe South Wind will caress you, the deep sea will welcome you.\u201d\n\nHe walked slowly around the little vessel, looking at it lovingly from\nevery side. Three times he walked around it, three times he drew a\nmagic circle about it. Then, slowly and in commanding tones, he uttered\nthe three words of power which he had learned at so great cost of time\nand trouble. Three times he pronounced them, and immediately the three\nholes were bored, the three bolts were fitted therein, and the three\nlast planks were fastened in their proper places: the hull was\nfinished, the boat was water-tight and seaworthy.\n\nThe Minstrel looked at his finished work and was pleased\u2014but he was not\nyet satisfied. The hull was bare and unadorned, the copper prow was\nrough and unshapely, the deck was uneven and uninviting. The boat as a\nwhole was not beautiful.\n\n\u201cO little ship,\u201d he said, \u201cwherefore are you so crude, so rough, so\nill-finished? Do you think that I know only three words of magic? I\nknow a hundred\u2014yes, I have a thousand which I caught as they fell from\nthe tongue of Wipunen, the mighty master. You shall hear some of them\nand profit by them.\u201d\n\nThereupon he began to sing one of the strange, weird, wonderful songs\nthat he had learned from the Wisdom Keeper; and as he sang, strange\nchanges came over the magic vessel. First, the prow was overlaid with\nsunbright gold and its forward part was beautifully carved and shaped\ninto the form of a swan with outspread wings. Then the deck was covered\nwith plates of shining silver ornamented with figures of birds and\nbeasts and little fishes. Finally, the broad, well-shaped hull and the\ngunwales, fore and aft, were painted in bright colors\u2014blue and yellow\nand scarlet\u2014and the slender mast was coated with snow-white enamel. And\nnow, like a queen clad in her gorgeous robes, the little vessel sat\nupon the sandy beach and smiled at the morning sun and the rippling\nwaves of the sea. She looked so beautiful, so grand, that the Minstrel\nclapped his hands and shouted for excess of joy, and the songs and\nwords of the mighty Wipunen fell faster and louder from his lips.\n\nVery earnestly did the Minstrel sing, and gradually his tones became\nsweeter and lower and more persuasive, like the murmuring of the waters\non a peaceful summer morning. The song was of the sea, it seemed to\ncome from the sea. It was as if the waves were calling gently, ever so\ngently, to the little vessel waiting on the shore:\n\n\n       \u201cCome, come, O magic boat,\n        Come, and on the billows float!\n        Come to the wrinkled sea and glide\n        With swiftness o\u2019er its rolling tide.\u201d\n\n\nSoon there was a sound of creaking, rumbling, scraping\u2014a sound not\nloud, but distinct and growing stronger. Then, gracefully and with\ndignity, like a princess on her wedding day, the little ship glided\nacross the shelving beach and in another moment was floating lightly,\nsmoothly, nobly upon the water.\n\nThe Minstrel, still singing and still reciting his magic spells, had\nalready climbed upon the deck. He now lifted the mast in its place; he\nhoisted the sails\u2014one red and one blue\u2014and spread them to the winds.\nGracefully and proudly, like a great swan on some quiet lake, the\nlittle vessel glided away from the shore and was soon moving swiftly\nalong the borders of the boundless sea. Wainamoinen sat down at the\nstern, and with his long oar guided her northward, never losing sight\nof the land, never going far from the shore. As the magic boat speeded\nonward, cutting the waves with its gilded prow and dashing the white\nspray to left and right, the Minstrel\u2019s heart glowed with joy and\npride. He lifted up his voice and sang a prayerful song to the mighty\npowers into whose keeping he had ventured to intrust himself.\n\n\n       \u201cO great Jumala let thy arm\n        Protect this little ship from harm;\n        Make its weak captain brave and strong,\n        And listen to his humble song.\n\n       \u201cSweet South Wind, whispering soft and low,\n        Come fill these sails and gently blow\u2014\n        Breathe mildly while the storm winds sleep,\n        And waft us swiftly o\u2019er the deep.\n\n       \u201cO restless Waves, be kind, I pray\n        To this small craft while on its way;\n        Drive it along with gentle force,\n        Let nothing swerve it from its course.\u201d\n\n\nThus did the Minstrel sing as he sat at the boat\u2019s stern and guided it\nalong its watery path. The sea was calm; the waves were sleeping; the\nwinds breathed very softly on the sails of red and blue. The fairy\nvessel glided onward, steadily, proudly, towards its goal in the\ndistant North.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nTHE MAID OF THE MORNING\n\n\nThe voyage was scarcely begun. Close on the starboard side appeared the\nheadland of Wainola; directly in front lay the bar, a long, narrow,\npebbly beach, jutting far out into the deep sea. Like an old and\nskilled seaman, the Minstrel suddenly changed his vessel\u2019s course,\nveering sharply towards the west in order to pass round the low-lying\nbarrier. But, just as the boat was gliding through the shallow water\nnear the end of the bar, the wind ceased blowing. The sails hung\nuseless from the mast; not a breath of air was stirring; scarcely a\nripple could be seen on the face of the sea. The fairy vessel\nhesitated, then stopped stock-still not forty paces from dry land.\n\nWas the South Wind angry? Why should she treat the prince of minstrels\nin this ungrateful manner? But Wainamoinen did not stop to argue; he\nwas too wise to find fault with wind and weather. He looked on this\nside of the little ship\u2014nothing but water, growing deeper and deeper\nand stretching away and away to the blue horizon. He looked on that\nside\u2014the shallow water, the narrow bar, and beyond it the great\nnorthern sea and the winding shore which marked the way to the Frozen\nLand. Then quickly he seized his other oar, and thrust it out over the\ngunwales.\n\nHe was preparing to row the boat around the bar, when suddenly he was\nstartled by hearing his name called, not harshly, but in tones of\nfriendship and inquiry. He looked up. His face grew red with confusion,\nhis lips trembled with vexation; for, right before his eyes, he saw one\nwhom he by no means wished to see.\n\nMidway between the boat and the sandy, pebbly bar a maiden was standing\nknee-deep in the quiet water. Her head was bare, save for the long,\ndark tresses that fell in profusion over her shoulders and dipped their\nends into the wavelets that were playing modestly above her bare white\nankles. Her cheeks were red\u2014red as the dawn of a summer day. Her eyes\nwere dark\u2014dark as the midnight hour in winter. One of her fair hands\nwas raised to shade her face from the glaring noonday sun; in the other\nshe held a bundle of long silken ribbons which she had been washing in\nthe sea.\n\n\u201cO Wainamoinen!\u201d called the maiden. \u201cO hero of the sea, do you know\nme?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly do I know you,\u201d answered the Minstrel; and, pulling in his oar,\nhe dropped it with a crash upon the deck. \u201cYou are Anniki, the maid of\nthe morning. You are the sister of my dearest friend, the master Smith.\nIt was only yesterday that we sat together at the table of your good\nmother, Dame Lokka. So, why should I not know you?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said the maiden, and she laughed while speaking, \u201cmemories are\nsometimes short, and even a minstrel may forget. Aren\u2019t you glad to see\nme?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, your face should make the surliest of men happy,\u201d answered the\ngallant Minstrel; \u201cbut, tell me, what errand has brought you hither?\nWhy are you here, so far from home and all alone?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, this is our wash day,\u201d laughed Anniki, and she danced in the water\nuntil the white bubbles floated all around her. \u201cSee these ribbons that\nI have just cleaned. See the clothes that are spread on the sandy beach\nto dry. There are still others hanging on the bushes a little way up\nthe shore. Don\u2019t you think that I am in-dus-tri-ous?\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely, Anniki; and you deserve to be the wife of an industrious man.\nI wonder how any maiden can do so much washing in one short morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I get up early,\u201d said the maiden, pirouetting in the shallow\nwater. \u201cI was here at the break of day, and not a minute have I been\nidle since. But now my work is done and I\u2019m going to play. Tra-la-la!\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel stood on the deck of his becalmed and motionless ship and\nlooked at her. His face betrayed both wonder and vexation, and he\nmuttered to himself: \u201cShe is a witch and I know it. She has done more\nthan wash clothes. It is she that has lulled the South Wind to sleep\nand halted my voyage at its very beginning. She will spoil all my\nplans.\u201d\n\nSuddenly Anniki paused in the midst of her dancing and cried out, \u201cO\nWainamoinen! Where are you going in that fine boat?\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel frowned, he pursed his lips, vexation filled his heart.\nThen he answered curtly, \u201cI am going around to the great north bay to\nfish for salmon.\u201d\n\nAnniki shrieked with laughter. \u201cDo you think I\u2019ll believe that story?\u201d\nshe said. \u201cI know something about salmon fishing. Father and\ngrandfather used to go out often in the season for catching such fish.\nTheir boat was a plain one\u2014no golden prow nor silver-plated deck nor\nrainbow-colored sail. It was full of nets and snares and other tackle.\nThe decks were littered with poles and lines and fishing spears. The\nsmell of fish filled the vessel and floated thick in the air around it.\nOh, I know something about salmon fishing!\u201d\n\nThen she danced another gleeful dance, splashing the water over herself\nand over the Minstrel, and making little waves that rocked the fairy\nboat to and fro but did not stir it from its place. At length, growing\ntired, she spoke again:\n\n\u201cO Wainamoinen! Everybody says that you are wise and truthful. Now tell\nme truly, where are you going in that beautiful boat?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am on my way to the quiet inlets of yonder northern shore,\u201d said the\ncunning Minstrel. \u201cIn those pleasant waters many wild geese abound, and\nthere they build their nests and rear their young. It is fine sport to\nlay traps for those red-beaked waterfowl, and better still to shoot\nthem on the wing. I hope to fill my boat with the fat fellows, to carry\na thousand home for winter eating.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis no such thing!\u201d cried the maiden angrily, and she beat the water\nwith her feet until the sea seemed boiling around her. \u201cWhy, I know\nsomething about goose hunting. Father and grandfather used to go out\noften in the wild-goose season. Then their long bows stood ready,\ntight-strung, at the prow of their swift rowboat. They kept a fine bird\ndog always tethered at the stern, and three or four puppy dogs ran\nwhining about the deck. But where are your dogs, and where is your long\nbow? If you are wise and truthful, don\u2019t be foolish. I know you are not\ngoing to hunt wild geese.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps not,\u201d answered the Minstrel, growing somewhat ashamed;\n\u201cperhaps I am going after larger game. In the North a war is raging,\nthe strong are oppressing the weak, as is usual in wars. I am sailing\nthitherward, hoping to do my part in the struggle and to lend my aid to\nthose who deserve it most. The wild geese that I shall capture are the\nfoes that I shall overcome in battle.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2019Tis no such thing!\u201d again cried the impatient Anniki. \u201cWhy, I know\nsomething about war and battle. Father used to go out to fight for\nfriends and country, to help the weak and worry the strong. He went in\na large ship which required a hundred men to row it. A thousand men\nstood beside him, fully armed. Their shields hung all round the hull of\nthe mighty vessel and a black dragon floated from the masthead. Their\nsword-blades clanged against each other and glittered in the morning\nlight, and their winged helmets were like golden birds of victory\nresting on their brows. Oh, yes, Wainamoinen, I know something about\nwar and battle, and you are not going on any fighting errand, I\u2019m sure.\nYou have in mind some trick of cunning, and you shall sail no farther\nin your pretty boat until you tell me truly what that trick is.\u201d\n\nThe wary Wainamoinen was too proud to be outwitted by a simple maiden,\nand so he tried another subterfuge. He answered her gently,\npersuasively, and his words were full of guile: \u201cO wise and beautiful\nmaid of the morning, I have been speaking to you in riddles, trusting\nthat you would understand their secret meaning. Fain would I make\neverything clear, but I dare not tell it to you where you stand: the\nfishes would hear me and carry the secret to every corner of the sea;\nthe birds would hear me and convey the news to every land under the\nsun.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen speak out, and be famous,\u201d said Anniki disdainfully.\n\n\u201cNay, nay, dear sister! I would whisper it in your ear. The water is\nnot deep, so wade out hither and sit by my side on this shining,\nsilvery deck, and I will tell you the plain truth and a wonderful\nsecret. I know your power, Anniki. I know that you have chained the\nwinds so that they will carry me no farther on my voyage until you have\nlearned what you wish. So why should I try to deceive you? Come hither\nand see the treasures that I have in my boat, and listen to a wonderful\nstory.\u201d\n\nThe maiden retreated to the shore, splashing the water angrily at every\nstep. When she reached the dry sand she turned and looked back at the\npuzzled hero and his little ship. Then she raised both her hands\nskyward and cried out, \u201cYes, the winds are mine and they obey me. If\nyou try again to deceive me, I will command the East Wind to fall upon\nyour pretty vessel and sink it in the sea. If you fail to tell me the\ntruth, I will cause the waves to rise up and swallow you! Do you hear?\u201d\n\nGreat and powerful wizard though he was, the Minstrel felt himself\nhelpless before this slender girl. He was conquered, and well he knew\nthe folly of trying further to deceive her. So, speaking softly,\ngently, as becomes a vanquished hero, he proposed this modest bargain:\n\u201cIf I tell you where I am going and for what purpose, will you promise\nto waken the South Wind that he may drive my ship forward on its\nperilous voyage?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, friend Wainamoinen,\u201d answered Anniki, very generous as\nbecomes a conqueror. \u201cYou shall have a fair wind and a smooth sea and\nmy best wishes to the end of your adventure.\u201d\n\n\u201cListen, then,\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cThis little vessel is a magic boat,\nbuilt of strange runes and words of wisdom. On it I am hoping to sail\nto that distant, dismal country of which you have often heard me\ntalk\u2014to Pohyola, the Frozen Land, where wild men live under the ground\nand eat each other. My errand thither is to woo the Maid of Beauty and\nbring her, willy-nilly, to the Land of Heroes where she shall be the\nmistress of my dwelling and the joy of my heart\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cDoes my brother know about it?\u201d asked Anniki, open-eyed, anxious,\nstill suspicious. \u201cDid you tell Ilmarinen about your plans?\u201d\n\n\u201cI told no one,\u201d answered the Minstrel; \u201cneither must you do so,\nAnniki, for this is a secret voyage and if any person should learn why\nI have undertaken it, all will come to naught.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake care of your boat! The South Wind is awake!\u201d cried Anniki, and\nthe next moment she was running to the mainland with the speed of a\ndeer. Her washing was left behind, where she had spread the pieces to\ndry; her ribbons were scattered upon the sand; even her shoes were\nforgotten, so hasty was her flight. Before the astonished Minstrel\ncould think of anything to say, yes, before he could call to mind a\nsingle magic word, she had reached the higher ground and was lost to\nsight among the stunted pines and cedars.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nTHE UNEXPECTED JOURNEY\n\n\nIn his smoky smithy Ilmarinen was toiling alone, fashioning crude bits\nof metal into forms most delicate and beautiful. His face and arms were\nbegrimed with sweat and black soot, his eyebrows were gray with ashes,\nhis shoulders and head were besprinkled with dust and flaky cinders.\nLike a weird elf, or some uncanny dweller in the underworld, he stood\nin the lurid light of his forge and deftly wielded his heavy hammer.\nHis bellows roared and his anvil tinkled sweet music, and a song burst\nfrom his lips as he welded and wrought and gave shape to wonderful\nthings.\n\nSo busy, indeed, was the master Smith that he heard nothing, saw\nnothing, thought of nothing, save the work which he had in hand;\ntherefore, when his sister Anniki came suddenly to the outer door and\ncalled to him, he did not hear her.\n\n\u201cIlmarinen, dearest brother!\u201d she repeated. But the Smith, invisible in\nthe midst of the smoke, did not hear her. He kept on singing and\nhammering and blowing his bellows, altogether forgetful of everything\nsave the work in hand.\n\nAnniki called a third time, a fourth, \u201cIlmarinen! O Ilmarinen!\u201d But the\nhammer continued to strike, the anvil kept on singing, the fire in the\nforge flamed higher, and there was no pause in the Smith\u2019s sweet\nsinging. His thoughts were centred on the trinket he was forging and\nshaping, but his song was of a maiden in a far-away land.\n\nAnniki called a fifth time. Then, losing patience, she ran through the\nthick of the smoke and seized her brother\u2019s arm just as he was taking a\nfresh bit of glowing metal from the fire.\n\n\u201cHo! little sister of the morning!\u201d he cried in surprise. \u201cWhat now?\nHave you finished your washing? Have you brought me something from the\nshore?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes, dear brother!\u201d she answered, still breathless from running\nand excitement. \u201cI\u2019ve brought you a great secret. What\u2019ll you give me\nfor it? It\u2019s about Wainamoinen and the Maid of Beauty. Would you like\nme to tell it to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if it\u2019s anything important I will listen,\u201d said Ilmarinen. \u201cSo,\nout with it quickly, before this piece of metal gets cold. Tell me your\nwonderful secret.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, but it is too important to give away,\u201d said his sister. \u201cIt\nconcerns you, and the Maid of Beauty, and the Frozen Land, and the\nSampo, and, and\u2014Well, wouldn\u2019t you like to know what it is?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me all about it, Anniki.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat will you give me if I do?\u201d\n\n\u201cA kiss, dear sister.\u201d\n\n\u201cBah! kisses are for lovers. Will you make me a finger ring?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will make you a dozen.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf gold?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, of iron.\u201d\n\n\u201cFie, fie! None of your jesting;\u201d and Anniki stamped her foot angrily,\nwhile she gave her brother a look which told him more plainly than\nwords that this was no unimportant matter. \u201cI tell you that the Maid of\nBeauty is in great danger. Now, if you wish to know more you must make\nme a gold ring\u2014yes, six gold rings to grace my pretty fingers.\u201d\n\nPouting and haughty, she turned as if going away; but Ilmarinen held\nher by the hand.\n\n\u201cYou shall have the six gold rings, my sister,\u201d he said\u2014\u201cyes, I will\nmake you seven this very day.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd four or five pretty girdles inlaid with silver?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, certainly, Anniki\u2014anything that you wish. But make haste and tell\nme the secret.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you make me a pair of gold earrings with blue stones in them?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf your secret is worth so much.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd a brooch of woven silver?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will make it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd a golden comb for my hair?\u201d\n\n\u201cI promise it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, if you will surely keep your promise, I will tell you all that I\nknow, and tell you truly. Is it a bargain?\u201d\n\nIlmarinen looked down into his sister\u2019s dark eyes and answered, \u201cIf\nwhat you tell me is worth anything I will give you all that you have\nasked for\u2014finger rings, earrings, brooch, comb, and five or six\nbeautiful girdles. If you are fooling me, you shall have no trinket nor\nring nor precious jewel\u2014for I will teach you not to hinder me with\ntrifles.\u201d\n\n\u201cI bring you no trifles,\u201d said Anniki; \u201cand I shall hold you to your\npromise.\u201d\n\nThen, in a few words plainly spoken, she told her brother all that she\nhad seen and heard that morning. She told him of the Minstrel\u2019s magic\nboat, and of the voyage which he had planned, and of his cunning scheme\nto gain possession of the Maid of Beauty. \u201cAnd now, brother,\u201d she\nadded, \u201cwhy do you toil here in the smoke and the heat while your false\nfriend is hurrying northward to rob you of the treasure that ought to\nbe your own?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe shall not rob me,\u201d said the Smith coolly, earnestly. Then he heaped\nmore fuel upon his fire and blew his bellows till the flames leaped up\nto the roof of his smithy. \u201cAnniki, your news is worth the price. I\nwill fashion the pretty girdles for you, I will make the rings and the\nearrings and the brooch and the comb, and I will bring them all to you\nbefore the sun goes down.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a good brother!\u201d cried the maiden. \u201cI knew you would do it. Now\nI am sure that a great resolve is in your heart, and you will do\nsomething worthy of your name and fame. How can I help you?\u201d\n\n\u201cHasten home and heat the bath house for me,\u201d answered Ilmarinen. \u201cHeap\nthe wood around the big bath-stones; put plenty of dry kindlings\nunderneath, then lay hot coals around and make a roaring fire. Fetch\nwater and fill the pails and the tubs, for I shall need not a little of\nit. Make a handful of soap, for nothing else will cleanse my smoky,\ngrimy visage. Get everything ready, and tell mother that I am going on\na long journey.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, brother,\u201d said Anniki. \u201cI know what is in your mind, and\neverything shall be done as you desire;\u201d and then with hasty steps,\nsmiling and proud, she ran out of the smithy and hurried to her\nmother\u2019s house in the village.\n\n\u201cMother!\u201d she cried, \u201cIlmarinen is coming home early to-day. I think he\nmust be going on a journey, for he wishes to take a bath.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell then, my daughter,\u201d said good Dame Lokka, \u201cit is for you to make\nthe bath house ready. Put plenty of wood around the bath-stones and\nbuild a roaring fire. See that the water is ready, and put everything\nneedful in the right place. And you should see that his clothes are\nmended and brushed and fit for him to wear.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mother!\u201d answered the dutiful maiden.\n\nAnniki ran into the forest and gathered armloads of pine-knots, dry and\nresinous and impatient to be burned. She carried them into the bath\nhouse and heaped them up on the big hearth; she brought hot coals from\nthe kitchen and made a roaring fire. She filled the pails and the great\nkettles with water. She placed the bath-stones where they would heat\nthe quickest. She dipped some sprigs of white birches in wild honey and\nthrew them into the water. Then she ran again to the kitchen and\nbrought a handful of reindeer fat. She mixed this with milk and ashes,\nand thus made a magic soap that was pure and white and cleansing.\n\n\u201cMy brother will have a good bath when he comes home,\u201d she said. \u201cIt\nwill not be my fault if he doesn\u2019t come out of it clean.\u201d\n\nMeanwhile the master Smith was toiling steadily at his forge, making\nthe ornaments which he had promised to give to his sister. First, he\nhammered out the finger rings of gold and the precious earrings. Then\nhe made six girdles of rare and most wonderful beauty; nor did he\nforget the comb and the brooch and some golden pins which he knew would\nplease Anniki\u2019s fancy. He finished all these quickly, skilfully. Then\nhe raked the coals from his forge; he laid his hammer down in its place\nbeside the anvil; he took off his leather apron and hung it on a peg;\nhe went out of his smithy and closed the door behind him. With long,\nimpatient strides he hurried home and laid the precious gifts in his\nsister\u2019s hands.\n\n\u201cHere are your wages, Anniki,\u201d he said.\n\n\u201cOh, brother, I thank you,\u201d she answered. \u201cThey are even more beautiful\nthan I expected. Now make haste and take your bath. The bath-stones are\nhot, and the fire burns low; your soap, your brushes, your combs\u2014all\nare ready. And your best clothes, they are hanging on the pegs, close\nby the bath-kettle.\u201d\n\nIlmarinen surely needed a washing. Grimy with soot and gray with ashes,\nhe quickly obeyed his sister. He stepped into the bath house. Out of\ndoors the sun was shining; by the window a cuckoo was calling; in the\nair sweet voices were sounding. He looked, he listened, his heart\nthrobbed with joy as he disrobed himself and poured the water slowly\nupon the red-hot bath-stones. Soon the house was filled with a mighty\nsteam; the Smith was lost to view in the dense hot vapor.\n\nAn hour passed by, the sun went down, and at length the Smith came\nforth from his bathing. Who would have known him? Who would have\nthought that a bath could work such wonders? His hair was a golden\nyellow; his cheeks were as ruddy as cranberries in the late days of\nautumn; his eyes sparkled like two full moons when the sky is clear and\nthe winds are at rest.\n\nAnd he was clothed, oh, so beautifully! His coat was of linen, dyed\nyellow and beautifully embroidered by his mother. His trousers were of\nsoft flannel, scarlet-colored. His vest was of crimson silk. His\nstockings, too, were silken and very long. His shoes were made of\nsoftest leather\u2014leather tanned from the skin of a reindeer. Over his\nshoulders he wore a sky-blue shawl, thick and soft. Around his waist\nwas a magic girdle fastened with gold buckles. His hands were incased\nin reindeer gloves of wondrous warmth and beauty; and on his head was\nthe finest cap that had ever been seen\u2014a cap which his father and\ngrandfather had worn in their youth when they went wooing.\n\nAnniki clapped her hands for joy when she saw her brother thus arrayed,\nand Lokka, his mother, threw her arms around his neck and wept for very\npride and happiness.\n\n\u201cO my beautiful boy!\u201d she cried. \u201cNever was your father more handsomely\ndressed. Never was any bridegroom more fitly arrayed. Good luck to you!\nGood luck to you!\u201d\n\nIlmarinen put her off gently, kissing her on the cheek and thanking her\nfor her words of praise. \u201cNow bring me the horse,\u201d he said. \u201cHarness my\ntrusty steed and hitch him to my enchanted sledge. I am going to the\nNorth Country, to the Frozen Land and the dreary shores of Pohyola.\nLong will it be ere I again return to home and country.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich steed shall it be?\u201d asked the serving-man. \u201cThere are seven\nracers in your stables, all trusty and true\u2014seven fleet-footed steeds\nof rare strength and mettle. Which shall it be?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe gray is the best,\u201d answered Ilmarinen. \u201cHitch the gray steed to my\nenchanted sledge. Put in food and feed for seven days\u2019 journey\u2014yes, for\neight days of wintry weather. Remember, too, the big bearskin and the\nsoft fur robes to be wrapped about me, for in the North Country the air\nis always chilly and the winds are always cold.\u201d\n\n\u201cEverything shall be done as you wish, my master,\u201d said the\nserving-man.\n\nVery soon the fleet-footed gray steed and the enchanted sledge were\nbrought to the door. The soft fur robes, the skins of two great bears,\nblankets in plenty were put in their proper places; a jar of reindeer\nmeat, a string of smoked herring, food for many days, were stowed\nbeneath the seat; everything was done to speed the traveller on his\nway.\n\nThe hero had bidden his mother good-bye, he had kissed Anniki\u2019s lips\nand whispered a word of magic in her ear, and he had sent messages of\nlove to all his friends. Now he stepped out of the door, clad in his\nbeautiful garments, princely in form and bearing. He climbed quickly\ninto the sledge and sat down upon the great bearskins. They wrapped the\nwarm robes around him and put the long reins in his hands. The last\ngood-byes were spoken. The hero cracked his whip, and the gray racer\nbounded forward and sped swiftly away. Like the wind he flew through\nthe woods and the marshes and along the pebbly shores of the sea; and\nthe heart of the brave Smith was cheered with courage and hope.\n\nThen in the dim evening twilight the hero perceived six cuckoos perched\non the dashboard before him, and beside them seven small bluebirds were\nsitting. They had been placed there by the trusty serving-man, and now\nthey all began twittering and singing, and the faster they travelled\nthe louder was their sweet music.\n\n\u201cThey are omens of good fortune!\u201d cried Ilmarinen. \u201c\u2019Tis thus that the\nmerry springtime journeys to the Frozen Land! Good luck, good luck,\ngood luck!\u201d\n\nThen he cracked his whip again and shouted loudly, joyfully. The gray\nracer neighed shrilly and flew onward with redoubled speed. The waves\nof the sea rippled with joy upon the sands, and the very stars in the\nsky twinkled and danced as the enchanted sledge glided like a swift\nmeteor toward the frozen North Country.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE FRIENDLY RIVALS\n\n\nNorthward, northward, along the low-lying seashore, Ilmarinen pursued\nhis course, never pausing, never faltering. All night long he travelled\nin the moonlight and the starlight. All day, from dawn till evening\ntwilight, his brave gray racer flew over the half-frozen earth; and the\ncuckoos chattered on the dashboard, and the bluebirds sang their\nsweetest songs. For two short nights and one long day the journey was\ncontinued with never slackening speed. Then, as the sun was rising on\nthe second morning, the hero looked out toward the gray sea, and what\ndid he behold?\n\nQuite close to the shore, so close that Ilmarinen might have thrown a\nstone upon its deck, a little ship was becalmed in the smooth waters.\nIts prow was like gold, its deck was plated with silver, and its sails\nwere of rainbow colors. The Smith drew hard upon the reins; his racer\nceased speeding, and the sledge runners grated on the beach. A pause\nwas made in the journey.\n\n\u201cHail, ho!\u201d shouted Ilmarinen.\n\nThe captain of the fairy vessel looked up. His eyes were full of wonder\nand his face grew sour with vexation.\n\n\u201cHail, ho!\u201d he answered; but there was no heartiness in his tones, the\nwords labored in his mouth before they could escape from his lips, they\nfell coldly, like ice on a stormy shore.\n\n\u201cWhither are you sailing, brave Minstrel?\u201d asked the Smith kindly, but\nwith a sense of victory.\n\nThe Minstrel was overcome with surprise. The winds would not serve him,\nthe waves would not waft him away from the shore. He felt that he was\nat the mercy of his pursuer. All his magic would not avail him. So he\ndissembled his feelings and with his tongue made glad answer while his\nheart was burning with disappointment.\n\n\u201cO my dearest friend and brother, how happy I am to see you! I have\nlong been thinking of you, wishing for you; and fain would I have you\nas my companion to sail with me up and down this pleasant coast. Leave\nnow your sledge and your travel-worn steed and come hither and sit by\nme on the deck of this fairy little vessel. The voyage back to Wainola\nwill be as pleasant as a summer holiday.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever will I sail in your enchanted vessel,\u201d answered the Smith half\nangrily, and he rose in his sledge and shook the furry robes from his\nshoulders.\n\n\u201cAh, Ilmarinen, prince of wizards,\u201d said the Minstrel, still\nflattering, still dissembling, \u201chow like a prince you appear! Whither\nare you journeying so gayly, so fleetly, so like a bridegroom going to\nhis wedding?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know where I am going,\u201d said Ilmarinen. \u201cAll your cunning is in\nvain, friend Wainamoinen. All your magic shall come to naught, for you\nshall never steal the Maid of Beauty from her home land, never put her\nin your magic vessel, never carry her over the treacherous sea.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel saw now that he was beaten; he felt that all his secret\nplans had been discovered, and so he concealed his bitter feelings\nwhile he acknowledged defeat. \u201cWisest of smiths,\u201d he said, \u201cwe are\nfriends and brothers, and therefore we must not fall out and quarrel.\nLet us still be lovers as of old. I assure you, I swear to you, I will\ndo nothing to offend you. Ride on and woo the Maid of Beauty, and I\nwill return alone to our dear home in the Land of Heroes.\u201d\n\nThe heart of the Smith was touched by the generosity of his friend. He\nfelt that he must not be less generous, and in an instant all his anger\nvanished.\n\n\u201cO brother, tried and true!\u201d he answered, \u201cI know the thoughts of your\nheart, I know your great ambition. Let us agree each to woo this maiden\nhonorably as a man and a hero would woo her. Let her freely choose one\nof us, or let her a second time refuse us both. Do you agree to this,\nmy elder brother?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, I do,\u201d said the Minstrel heartily. \u201cI promise\u2014yes, I swear to\nyou that I will do naught that is dishonorable or unfair. If the maiden\nshall prefer you, I will not be envious; for your good luck will be my\ngood fortune, and my success will be your triumph.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you, Wainamoinen!\u201d shouted the Smith, waving his hand.\n\n\u201cI thank you, Ilmarinen!\u201d returned the Minstrel, bowing to his friend.\n\nThen with speed each resumed his journey, one travelling by sea, the\nother by land. Swiftly the gray racer flew along the shore; fleetly the\nboat of magic skimmed over the wrinkled waters. The hills and forests\nrang with the clattering hoofs of Ilmarinen\u2019s wizard steed. The white\nwaves danced and trembled in the wake of Wainamoinen\u2019s gold-beaked\nvessel. The cuckoos twittered, the bluebirds sang merrily, and the\nbirchwood runners of the enchanted sledge whizzed over the sand and\nthen glided through the new-fallen snow. The South Wind breathed on the\nsails of blue and red, and the West Wind whispered joy in the nostrils\nof the fleeting gray racer.\n\n\u201cGood luck to my steed, good luck to my sledge, good luck to me!\u201d\nshouted the hero Smith. \u201cO Jumala, kind protector, helper, guide! Be my\nsafeguard in this journey, lead me rightly on my way!\u201d\n\nAnd the Minstrel, standing at the prow of his fairy vessel, shouted\nwords of magic to the winds and waves, while he too prayed for guidance\nand help. \u201cO Jumala, just and true, think not hard of me if I have gone\nastray! Pardon me if I have been false to my friend. Give me fair winds\nand a gentle sea, and guide me safely to my journey\u2019s end. Good luck to\nme, good luck to my boat, good luck to everybody!\u201d\n\nThus the two heroes journeyed onward, the one by land, the other by\nsea.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI\n\nTHE BARKING DOGS\n\n\nSpringtime had dawned in the Frozen Land. The sun was riding high in\nthe sky, and the air was balmy with the breath of the south. The snow\nhad melted on the meadows, and the ice had floated out of the inlets.\nThe sea was no longer gray and shivering, but pale blue and motionless.\nThe wild geese honked noisily in the marshy lakes and sought their\nnesting places by the creeks. Swallows twittered under the eaves and\ncuckoos called to each other among the budding bushes.\n\nOn her couch beside the door Dame Louhi, the Wise Woman of the North,\nsat reclining. Very ugly she was, toothless and grim, wrinkled with age\nand altogether unlovely. The Maid of Beauty was busy at her housework,\nsweeping, spinning, baking, weaving. The doors were open and warm\nbreezes from southern seas breathed through the low-raftered hall,\nplaying with the deerskin curtains and with the maiden\u2019s silken hair.\n\nSuddenly an uproar was heard, a sound feeble at first but every moment\ngrowing louder. It was not an unusual sound, but it was unusually\ndisturbing, unusually persistent and annoying.\n\n\u201cWhat is that, my daughter?\u201d inquired Dame Louhi, sitting up and\nlistening.\n\n\u201cOh, it is naught but the dogs barking,\u201d answered the maiden. \u201cThey are\nover at the fishermen\u2019s huts by the shore. Perhaps they see some beggar\nor wild man coming down the path from the forest.\u201d\n\nThe noise increased, it was spreading. It sounded as though a score of\nwatchdogs were barking in concert.\n\nThe Wise Woman was disturbed and growing nervous. \u201cDaughter,\u201d she said,\n\u201cI never heard such barking. Surely something strange is happening. Go\nout to the gate, look down the road, and see what is the matter.\u201d\n\nThe Maid of Beauty heeded not, but kept right on with her household\nduties.\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d she said, \u201cI am too busy to bother with barking dogs. The\nbread must be baked, and this pile of wool must be spun, and from its\nyarn six new blankets must be woven this very day. I have no time to\nstand gaping at the gate, listening to the noise of barking curs.\u201d\n\nThe uproar increased. The ancient house-dog, infirm and toothless as\nhis mistress, rose from his place in the ashes; he dragged himself to\nthe door and set up a mournful howling.\n\n\u201cO my daughter, what indeed can be the matter?\u201d cried the Wise Woman.\n\n\u201cI know not,\u201d answered the maiden.\n\nIn his hut beside the reindeer paddock the keeper of the herds was\nsitting. He was old and fat and lazy, and the noise of the dogs\nawakened him from pleasant reveries.\n\n\u201cWife! wife!\u201d he cried. \u201cDo you hear that barking? Go quickly to the\ndoor and see what is the matter!\u201d\n\nBut the aged woman kept on with her knitting. \u201cI am too busy to run to\nthe door every time a dog barks,\u201d she said. \u201cI must earn something to\nfeed our children, to clothe them, to keep them neat. I have no time to\nlisten to the prattle of dogs.\u201d\n\nStill the clamor grew and grew. The black watchdog in the courtyard of\nLouhi\u2019s dwelling joined his voice to the general uproar. He pulled at\nhis chain and howled most dismally.\n\nBy the smouldering fire in his own small hut the head serving-man was\nsitting; his eldest son was working beside the door. \u201cMy son,\u201d said the\nolder man, \u201cdo you hear the black watchdog? Surely some stranger is\ncoming this way. Run out to the road and see what manner of man he is.\u201d\n\nThe youth kept on with his work. \u201cI am too busy to listen to\nwatchdogs,\u201d he said. \u201cMy axe is dull and I must grind it. The wood must\nbe brought for the kitchen fire; and who will split it if I go running\nafter dogs? Let old Growler howl; I have no time to bother with dogs.\u201d\n\nLouder and still louder waxed the tumult. All the puppies, all the\nhouse-curs, all the sledge-dogs, all the watchdogs were barking,\nbaying, yelping, howling.\n\nThe head serving-man was greatly disturbed, and yet he liked not to\nrise from his seat, for he was old and his limbs were stiff.\n\n\u201cIn my lifetime I have heard much barking,\u201d he said, \u201cbut never such\nbarking as this. Perhaps the dogs have scented a bear escaped from an\nice-floe; perhaps they see a band of robbers coming up from the shore.\nKuli, my little daughter, listen to me!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is it, papa?\u201d answered the child, sitting still on the floor.\n\n\u201cRun out to the turf pile, Kuli,\u201d said her father, \u201cclimb up on the\nvery top of it and look around. See what the dogs are barking at, and\nthen run back quickly and tell your tired father.\u201d\n\n\u201cO papa, I am too busy,\u201d answered Kuli. \u201cI want to play with my dolly;\nI want to put her to sleep. I have no time to run after dogs.\u201d\n\nThe head serving-man was perplexed, he was uneasy and half-way angry.\n\n\u201cEverybody is busy to-day,\u201d he said. \u201cNobody has the time to do\nanything. Nobody cares for the dogs and nobody cares for me. But I must\nfind out what all the noise is about.\u201d\n\nHe rose from his seat, grumbling because of the pains in his joints. He\ndrew on his boots, he pulled his fur cap over his head. Then he went\nstamping out of the door and across the broad yard. The black watchdog\nwas still tugging at his chain, still howling dolorously. The old\nserving-man took notice of his actions.\n\nThe brute first pointed his nose towards the sea, then he looked far\naway at the meadows and the misty, mysterious hills. The serving-man\ndid likewise. He looked seaward, then landward\u2014but naught did he behold\nsave, on this side, the blue water and the sloping shore and the\nfishermen\u2019s huts, and, on that side, the brown marsh lands and the\nlong, winding, indistinct roadway that led nowhere and came from\neverywhere.\n\n\u201cHow now, old Growler?\u201d he said angrily. \u201cWhy is all this clamor? Why\nis all this tumult? Hush your barking, I bid you.\u201d\n\nBut the beast still tugged at his chain, and all the smaller dogs\njoined him in a chorus of howling. Then the serving-man looked again\nand with greater care. On the broad face of the sea he discerned a\nstrange speck, white, yellow, and scarlet, gliding swiftly landward,\nglistening bright on the blue and silent water. On the winding meadow\npathway he saw another speck, scarlet, yellow, and blue, moving fleetly\ntowards Pohyola, smoothly gliding like a flying bird.\n\n\u201cOh, surely the dogs are right!\u201d said the astonished man. \u201cHere is\ncause enough for barking; plenty of cause for yelping and snarling. One\nstranger comes by sea, another comes by land, and the poor beasts have\nscented them both while yet they are far away.\u201d\n\nA third time he looked this way, then that. He put his half-closed\nright hand to his eye and looked through it as men sometimes in these\nlater days look through a spy-glass. Now he could see quite clearly;\nsoon he could discern what manner of wayfarers those were that had\ncaused the doggish clamor.\n\nThe speck upon the meadows was a sledge of many colors drawn by a fleet\nand tireless racer. The speck upon the waters was a fairy ship, its\nprow all golden, its hull bright scarlet, its sails blue and red.\n\n\u201cHow strange!\u201d said the faithful man. \u201cBe it war or be it peace, I must\nhasten and warn the Mistress.\u201d\n\nHe found the Wise Woman at her door, gazing sharply at the sky, the\nsea, the earth, to learn for herself the reason for the unusual uproar.\nTo her he told his story quickly, briefly, adding also a word of\nwarning. The face of the woman grew grayer, grimmer as she listened,\nand in her eyes was a look of puzzled apprehension.\n\nShe called loudly, shrilly to the Maid of Beauty, now busy with her\nweaving, busy with the wool and the blankets.\n\n\u201cDaughter, daughter, do you hear?\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, mother, I hear the dogs,\u201d answered the maiden. \u201cLet them bark\nif it pleases them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey bark because they have scented some strangers coming. A ship is\napproaching by sea, and a wonderful sledge is bringing some hero hither\nby land.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, how fine!\u201d said the maiden.\n\n\u201cBut who can these strangers be? How shall we receive them? Shall we\nwelcome them as friends or flee from them as foes?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not,\u201d said the daughter. \u201cI know not why such strangers should\ncome to Pohyola.\u201d\n\n\u201cTry the rowan branch!\u201d croaked a voice from the dark corner beyond the\nhearth. It was the voice of old Sakko, the dwarf, the last daughter of\nthe race of earth men. No guest came oftener than she to Dame Louhi\u2019s\ndwelling, no other was more welcome to the Wise Woman\u2019s table and\nfireside. \u201cTry the rowan branch,\u201d she repeated. \u201cThe rowan branch is\nthe sure omen that never fails. If drops of red sap ooze from it, then\nlook for foes and trouble. If only clear water bubbles, hissing, from\nits tiny pores, then be sure that friends are coming bringing rich\ngifts and joyful tidings. Try the rowan branch.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, let us try the rowan branch,\u201d said the Mistress, anxious, uneasy,\ntrembling with alarm.\n\nQuickly the Maid of Beauty ran to the wood-pile beside the door. With\nmuch care she chose a stick of rowan, straight, smooth-barked, and full\nof sap. She carried it to the hearth and laid it on the coals; then all\nstood round to watch it.\n\nThe brown bark crackled with the heat, it shriveled and began to burn.\nThe smoke curled lightly upward, the coals grew redder, the heat of the\nfire increased.\n\n\u201cO thou magic branch of rowan, tell us truly, tell us quickly, who\nthose are who come so swiftly\u2014friends or foes who come so swiftly!\u201d\nchanted Sakko, the dwarfish wise one.\n\n\u201cO thou noble branch of rowan, bring only friends. Let naught but\nclearest water ooze from thy pores so tiny,\u201d muttered the Mistress of\nPohyola.\n\n\u201cO thou pretty branch of rowan, bring good luck, bring fortune only,\nbring peace to all who dwell here\u2014bring joy to our home and home land,\u201d\nsoftly murmured the Maid of Beauty.\n\nThe smoke grew blacker, it curled round the branch of rowan, the green\nwood was growing hot amid the heaped-up coals. Then there came a\nwhistling, sizzling sound, and the sap began to trickle slowly from the\ntiny pores. The dwarf Sakko deftly seized the heated branch and held it\naloft that all might see the oozing drops.\n\n\u201cThey are not red!\u201d cried the Mistress, Dame Louhi.\n\n\u201cThey are not clear water!\u201d said the Maid of Beauty.\n\n\u201cI see only common sap,\u201d said the head serving-man.\n\n\u201cNay, nay!\u201d muttered Sakko, the dwarf woman. \u201cThey are neither crystal\nnor crimson, but sweetest honey. And what do the honey-drops tell? They\ntell us that these strangers are better than friends, that they are\nsuitors and have come hither as wooers.\u201d\n\n\u201cLook again and tell me whom they will woo,\u201d said Dame Louhi.\n\nSakko lifted the branch again and turned it this way and that,\ncarefully examining the sizzling sap. She listened to the shrill little\nsound that came from it.\n\n\u201cThree women are in this house,\u201d she said, \u201cand one of them is she whom\nthe strangers seek. Is it the Mistress? Her youth has fled. Is it poor\nSakko, the earth woman? Never has she known a lover. Is it the Maid of\nBeauty, the rainbow maiden? All the world adores her.\u201d\n\nShe twirled the rowan branch once, twice, thrice in the air above her\nhead, and then cast it upon the hearth, scattering the ashes to right\nand left and sending a cloud of cinders upward through the smoke hole.\n\n\u201cThe strangers will soon be at your door,\u201d she croaked. \u201cBe ready to\nwelcome them.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly, my daughter,\u201d said Dame Louhi, \u201cit becomes us to give these\nheroes joy after their perilous journey.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mother,\u201d answered the Maid of Beauty.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII\n\nTHE OLD MAN\u2019S WOOING\n\n\nArrayed in becoming garments, the Maid of Beauty stood beside her\nmother. Together they went out from their weather-worn dwelling. They\nwalked across the courtyard to the dry ground beyond, and to the heap\nof stones beside the seashore. The young grass was upspringing beneath\ntheir feet. The sunlight was beaming around them. The swallows were\nflitting above them. The lonely sea was before them, the lonelier\nmeadows were behind.\n\nThe Mistress looked out over the water, and then she bade her daughter\nlook. Not far from the land they saw the strange boat gliding. Its\ngilded prow was gleaming in the sunlight; its sails were flapping\nloosely on the slender mast; and who was the sun-browned hero that\nstood on the deck guiding the vessel with an oar of copper?\n\n\u201cI do believe it is that old, old Minstrel from the Land of Heroes,\u201d\nsaid the Mistress in tones of surprise. \u201cYou surely remember him, my\ndaughter\u2014how he came to us from the sea, how he sat at our fireside,\nhow he ate from our table!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mother, I remember,\u201d answered the Maid of Beauty. \u201cAnd he grew\nhomesick, he pined for his own fireside, he longed to return to his\nkinsfolk and friends, and notwithstanding our kindness he sang not one\nsong during all his stay with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust so,\u201d rejoined the aged one; \u201cand you surely remember the noble\nreindeer and the swift sledge that I lent him, so that he might return\nto his home land?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly, mother, there are some things that I can never forget.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, my child,\u201d said the mother, \u201cthis is surely the same great hero,\nthe famous Wainamoinen, the first of all minstrels. He is rich, and no\ndoubt his ship is filled with treasures. If he has really come to woo\nyou, treat him kindly, listen to his words of honey, and answer \u2018Yes\u2019\nto every question; for never will you have a nobler suitor.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, mother, I like him not,\u201d answered the Maid of Beauty.\n\nThen she turned away from the sea, weary of looking at the approaching\nvessel. Her eyes wandered to the bleak, brown meadows, and she gazed\nwistfully towards the pathway which led from the distant hills. There\nshe beheld the other visitor, speeding forward, drawing nearer, and now\nin plain view from the spot where she was standing.\n\nYoung and proud and strong seemed this landward comer. He was sitting\nin a sledge of scarlet and driving a steed of rare swiftness. Six\ncuckoos were sitting on the dashboard, all loudly calling; and beside\nthem were seven bluebirds twittering blithely as birds are wont to\ntwitter in the joyous springtime.\n\n\u201cSee, mother, here comes the other stranger!\u201d said the Maid of Beauty.\n\n\u201cNay, nay, he is no stranger,\u201d answered Dame Louhi, speaking hoarsely.\n\u201cHe is the poor young Smith who forged the Sampo for me, and his name\nis Ilmarinen. He brings no gifts, he has no treasures, for his only\nwealth is his little smithy. What business has he in Pohyola?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps he comes to claim his wages that are due him,\u201d modestly\nanswered the dutiful daughter.\n\nThen with haste the two returned into their dwelling; they closed the\ndoor behind them; the mother sat down in her seat beside the fire, and\nthe daughter resumed her weaving.\n\n\u201cMy child,\u201d said the Mistress, \u201cour visitors are close at hand, they\nwill soon be at our door. When they come in and seat themselves beside\nthe hearth-stones, you must come forward and greet them. Bring in one\nhand a bowl of honey, and in the other a pitcher brimming full of\nreindeer\u2019s milk. Give these to the one whom you choose to follow. Give\nthem to the rich and mighty Minstrel. He will understand you and will\nreward you with gold and jewels and fine garments and other costly\npresents.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he is old and I like him not,\u201d answered the daughter. \u201cI care\nnothing for riches nor for a man of too great wisdom. I will give the\nmilk and the honey to the younger man, to Ilmarinen, if in truth he has\ncome to woo me. He is poor, but he is handsome and strong. Once before\nat your bidding I refused to go with him, but now\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cFoolish girl and disobedient!\u201d cried the mother, the red blood of\nanger rushing to her face. \u201cWhy will you choose to go with that\npenniless fellow\u2014to bake his barley-cakes, to wash his grimy clothes,\nto wipe the sweat from his sooty face, to sweep his kitchen floor, to\nkeep his tumble-down hut in order?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is my fancy,\u201d quietly answered the Maid of Beauty.\n\nMeanwhile all the people of Pohyola, men and women, boys and girls, and\neven the barking dogs, had run down to the waterside to watch the\ncoming of the little ship. Skilfully, with his oar of copper, the\nMinstrel guided it straight towards the place of landing. Gently,\nsmoothly, like a mother swan swimming among her cygnets in some\nsheltered cove, the vessel glided into the quiet inlet. The rope that\ndangled from the prow was seized by helping hands on shore and thrown\nover the mooring post. The ship trembled as it was drawn in, it\nstopped, it rested in deep water close by the shelving bank.\n\nWithout loss of time the Minstrel leaped ashore. He made his way\nquickly to Dame Louhi\u2019s well-remembered dwelling; he opened the door\nand entered; he stood beneath the smoky rafters and received the\ngreetings of the grim and toothless Mistress.\n\n\u201cWelcome, welcome, O sweetest of singers!\u201d she cried. \u201cMuch have we\nmissed you, long have we waited for you. Now you shall sit again at our\nfireside; you shall eat again at our table; you shall rest and rejoice\nby the sunny shores of Pohyola.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you for your welcome, wise queen of the North,\u201d responded the\nMinstrel; \u201cbut I cannot sit at your fireside, I cannot eat at your\ntable, I cannot rest by your shores until I tell you the object of my\nvisit, the reason for my coming.\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak then, most honored friend, and I will listen,\u201d said the cunning\nMistress.\n\nWainamoinen bowed and smiled and thus made known his errand: \u201cIt is for\nyour daughter, the Maid of Beauty, that I have come. Three years ago I\nsaw her sitting on a rainbow and spinning threads of silver. I asked\nher then to go with me to the Land of Heroes, to be the queen of my\nkitchen, to bake my honey-cakes, to fill my cup with barley water, to\nsing at my fireside. Now, I am here to receive her answer.\u201d\n\nThe Maid of Beauty rose from her weaving and came towards the hearth.\nIn one hand she carried a bowl of honey and in the other a yellow\npitcher brimming full of reindeer\u2019s milk; but she offered neither of\nthese to the Minstrel. She smiled and said, \u201cHave you built the boat\nthat I required? Is it made from the splinters of my spindle and the\nfragments of my shuttle?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have built a boat, but not that one,\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cWith\nthe help of magic I have constructed a vessel more wonderful than your\neyes ever saw\u2014more beautiful than your dreams ever pictured. It is\nstrong to resist the waves; it has two broad sails that it may fly\nswiftly before the wind; its prow is of copper overlaid with gold; its\ndeck is floored with silver; in its hold are treasures more precious\nthan I can tell. Will you not come and sit beside me on the deck of\nthis fairy vessel? Will you not help me guide it over the trackless\nsea\u2014guide it safely to the haven of Wainola?\u201d\n\n\u201cI care naught for old men,\u201d replied the Maid of Beauty; \u201criches tempt\nme not; the magic vessel may never reach its haven. But wait a day,\nand\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\nShe looked up. Ilmarinen was at the door.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\n\nTHE FIELD OF SERPENTS\n\n\nYes, the master Smith was standing at the door. A hero, indeed, he\nappeared\u2014tall, handsome, and brave. Over his shoulders was the sky-blue\nshawl which his mother had woven for him. On his head was the cap of\nhis ancestors, and around his waist a golden girdle was buckled. His\nshoes of reindeer leather were highly polished and his stockings of\nsilk were long and black. His embroidered coat was of yellow linen,\nvery fine, and his trousers were of scarlet-colored flannel.\n\nThe Maid of Beauty blushed when she saw him; then her face grew white\nagain, and again suddenly red. Her heart beat hard and fast, her hands\ntrembled. Never in her life had she beheld a hero so finely clad, so\nperfect in form, so noble in feature. She would have swooned had not\npride prevented.\n\n\u201cPoor men are always fond of gaudy garments,\u201d whispered the mother; and\nthen remembering the law of the hostess she hastened to greet the\nunwelcome guest. She led the hero into the low-raftered hall and gave\nhim a seat beside the smouldering fire. She stirred the coals and threw\non wood; the flames leaped up and filled the room with brightness.\n\nThen the Maid of Beauty came forward with the bowl of honey and the\npitcher of milk, a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eye.\n\u201cWelcome, weary traveller!\u201d she said. \u201cEat, drink, and be refreshed.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d answered the hero. \u201cNever under the silver moon will I\ntaste of food till my desire is granted me\u2014till I have leave to take\nand wed the maiden who is the desire of my heart.\u201d\n\nThe grim old Mistress grew grimmer still as she answered him: \u201cWhen\nwilful maidens choose \u2019tis folly for mothers to refuse. But never\nshould suitor win his bride too easily, lest doing so he prize her too\nlightly. The Maid of Beauty is waiting for you, Ilmarinen, but before\nyou take her your courage must be tested, you must perform the task\nthat I require of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cName the task, and I will do it,\u201d said Ilmarinen boastfully as of\nyore. \u201cWas it not I who hammered the sky? Did I not forge the Sampo and\nshape its lid of rainbow colors?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut this task is different,\u201d responded the Mistress, \u201cand if you fail\nyour life is endangered.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me what it is and I will perform it,\u201d answered the hero. \u201cI will\ndrain the sea, I will level the mountains, I will snatch the moon from\nits place in the sky if you so command me. I will do anything to win\nfrom you the great treasure, the priceless Maid of Beauty.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt the feats you name are easy,\u201d said the Mistress; \u201cbut I shall\nrequire a harder one. Before you are permitted to take the Maid of\nBeauty you must plough the field of serpents that lies in the barren\nlands beyond the forest of pine. Twelve furrows you must make\nlengthwise of the field, and twelve furrows you must make crosswise;\nand you must plough it deep, without touching either beam or handles.\u201d\n[F]\n\n\u201cI have heard of that fearful field,\u201d said Ilmarinen. \u201cNo man has ever\nyet gone into it and lived. It is more dreadful even than Tuoni\u2019s\nsilent kingdom.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, one man has lived,\u201d then spoke the Maid of Beauty. \u201cOne man, in\nthe old, old times, furrowed the field with a copper ploughshare drawn\nby horses of fire. The beam was of red-hot iron and the handles were of\nliving flame. The name of that hero was Piru, and after he had\nperformed his task he came from the field of horrors unbitten and\nunharmed. Surely, the task which he performed was hard, but if he\nsucceeded why may not another hero do likewise?\u201d\n\nIlmarinen made no answer. He rose silently, and with eyes downcast went\nout of the hall. His sledge was standing beside the door; the\nfleet-footed racer was pawing the ground; the cuckoos were calling, and\nthe bluebirds were singing. He sat down upon the soft robes and took\nthe reins in his hands. Then he looked up.\n\nThe Maid of Beauty was standing before him, her eyes were full of\ntears, her face betrayed the grief that was in her heart. Softly then\nthe hero spoke to her:\n\n\u201cTell me, princess of the rainbow, do you remember when I forged the\nSampo and hammered out its lid of many colors? Then it was that I vowed\na solemn vow. I swore by anvil and tongs, by hammer and smoke, by forge\nand fire, that I would some day win you to be my bride. Now, by the\ntoken of honey and milk, you have promised yourself to me. But your\nmother has set me a task that is full of peril. So, come now, maiden of\nthe twilight. Come sit beside me in my sledge of magic, and I will\ncarry you swiftly, safely to my own country, to my own dear fireside.\u201d\n\nThe Maid of Beauty drew back; her cheeks blushed crimson and her eyes\nflashed fire as she answered:\n\n\u201cNever will I wed a coward. Never will I wed without my mother\u2019s\nconsent, for just punishment surely waits for disobedient daughters.\nYou must plough the field of serpents, or I will never, never be your\nbride.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe task is a hard one, it is full of peril,\u201d said Ilmarinen, as his\ncourage came slowly back to him. \u201cBut I will perform it; I will plough\nthe field of serpents, and no man nor maiden shall call me a coward.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen let me tell you something,\u201d said the Maid of Beauty. \u201cYou are a\ngreat smith and skilled in working with all sorts of metals. You are a\ncunning wizard and wise in magic. Your smithy still stands deep in the\nsilent forest\u2014the smithy which you built when you forged the Sampo. Go\nthither and make for yourself a golden plough wherewith to furrow the\nfield of serpents. Make its beam of silver and its handles of red\ncopper, and strengthen it throughout with spells of magic. Then go and\ndo the task my mother requires of you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you, maiden of the twilight,\u201d answered Ilmarinen.\n\nThen he hastened to the gloomy forest and to the smithy strong and\nroomy, in which he had forged the magic Sampo. Again the bellows\nroared, again the flames leaped up in the ample forge, again the black\nsmoke poured from the chimney top. And the Smith, with many a magic\nincantation, hammered out a golden ploughshare, he shaped the handles\nof copper and the beam of shining silver. A wonderful thing it was,\nslender and strong and well fitted for the work it was designed to do.\n\n\u201cTruly, with such a plough I shall not fail to stir up a host of\nhissing serpents,\u201d said Ilmarinen; \u201cbut how shall I protect myself from\ntheir fury while I am furrowing the field?\u201d\n\nHe threw both fuel and metal into his forge, and while he recited one\nmagic rune after another he thrust his long tongs into the roaring\nfire. Presently, when the smoke subsided and the coals were white with\nheat, he drew forth a great mass of half-melted iron. This he laid upon\nthe anvil. With short, quick strokes he hammered it; he turned it and\ntwisted it; he shaped it according to his will. He separated it into\nparts, and of each part he formed something that would be of use in the\ngreat task that was before him.\n\nFirst he made a pair of iron shoes to wear upon his feet; then he\nforged ten long chains, slender and delicate, and these he wove\ntogether and shaped into pliant greaves to cover his legs. After this\nhe wrought for himself a coat of mail, and gauntlets of iron, and\nstrong gloves which no tooth nor sting could pierce. Then he made a\nbelt of hardest iron, sky-blue and brilliant, to be buckled round his\nwaist.\n\nLastly, in its place within the furnace, he hung the magic caldron from\nwhich he had once drawn the wonderful Sampo. Into this caldron he threw\nmany strange and potent things: the hoof of a reindeer, the tail of a\nhare, a bag of wind, a flash of lightning, a shooting star. With these\nhe made a mixture such as no other wizard had ever compounded, and as\nhe stirred it he repeated the runes, the songs of mystery that he had\nsung while forging the Sampo.\n\nAll day and all night and far into another day the master Smith toiled\nand sang, blew his great bellows, and threw fuel into the furnace. Then\nwith caution he drew the caldron from the flames, he lifted the lid and\nlooked warily inside. At first nothing but boiling vapor, scalding\nsteam, shapeless white clouds could be distinguished. The next moment a\nhorse sprang out, beautiful, shapely, and strong. Its body was\nglittering bright like fire, its mane and tail were glowing red like\nthe sun when it shines through the mists of the morning. It leaped out\nand stood, docile and obedient, beside the mighty wizard, the master\nSmith.\n\n\u201cWhat will you have me do, my master?\u201d it asked.\n\n\u201cDraw my plough through the field of dreadful serpents,\u201d answered\nIlmarinen.\n\n\u201cI am ready,\u201d said the horse.\n\nForthwith the hero harnessed the fiery steed to his plough of magic. He\ndonned his coat of mail and drew on his greaves and his shoes of iron\nand his wonderful gloves which no weapons could pierce. Then he drove\nwith speed, out through the shadowy pine woods and across the desolate\nplains, till he came to the field of serpents\u2014a barren waste lying cold\nand dreary under the empty sky.\n\nThe field was full of horrid reptiles, crawling, writhing, hissing.\nThey reared their heads high and looked at the hero, they licked out\ntheir tongues and threatened him. But he, no whit afraid, paused in the\nmidst of them and spoke these words of warning:\n\n\u201cO ye snakes, so vile, so wise! Jumala made you, and therefore you are\nnot wholly bad. Put your proud heads down, quit your hideous hissing,\ncease your wriggling and your writhing. Creep away into the bushes,\nhide yourselves in your loathsome dwellings. Dare not touch me, dare\nnot threaten me, lest Jumala smite you with his swift and flashing\narrows!\u201d\n\nThen fearlessly he drove his steed of fire through the dreadful field,\nand skilfully he guided his golden plough, touching neither beam nor\nhandles. On this side and on that the earth was heaped up, nor did\nrocks or roots stand in the way of the cleaving ploughshare. The\nserpents were lifted from their holes, they were torn in pieces, they\nwere buried deep in the ground. Twelve mighty furrows did the hero\nplough lengthwise of the field, then, turning, he made twelve other\nfurrows across the width of it. No barren spot nor stony space was left\nunturned, no blasted shrub nor baneful vine was unuprooted. Thus the\nhaunts of the serpents were broken up, and the field of dread was made\nfertile and safe, a fit place for trees to grow and grass to flourish.\n\nThe last furrow was completed, and Ilmarinen rested from his labor. He\nloosed the long reins with which he had guided his steed and lifted the\nplough from the ground. He spoke lovingly to his faithful helper:\n\n\u201cO wonderful plough-horse of fire! Your task is finished and you are\nfree. Go! Fly away! Henceforth you may wander unrestrained in the\nboundless sky pastures of the North.\u201d\n\nThe horse bounded away. It rose in the air, higher, higher, until it\nlooked like a cloud of fire-dust floating in the sky; then it faded\naway and Ilmarinen saw it no more. But it did not remain invisible; for\noften, even in our own times, it may be seen during the silent winter\nnights leaping and prancing, shaking its fiery mane and shooting beams\nof golden light athwart the northern sky.\n\nIlmarinen tarried not a moment. With long, impatient strides he\nhastened away from the field of victory. For two weary days he\ntravelled through trackless ways and along forgotten paths where bears\nused to amble and wolves pursued their prey. For three long and painful\ndays he toiled among bogs and fens and across the lonely, never-ending\nmeadows. On the sixth day, however, his eyes were gladdened by the\nsight of the shores of Pohyola and the weather-stained dwelling of the\nWise Woman of the North. Pale and wan and weak from hunger and long\nexposure, he approached the house and opened the door.\n\nThe Mistress was reclining upon her couch beside the hearth.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\n\nTHE GREAT PIKE\n\n\n\u201cAh! Who is this?\u201d cried the Wise Woman, rising quickly. Surprise\nleaped from her narrow eyes, disappointment sat in her loveless face.\n\u201cIs this the young man who went out to plough our field?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe field is ploughed,\u201d humbly answered Ilmarinen. \u201cI have performed\nmy task and now I come to claim my own\u2014the Maid of Beauty for whom I\nhave waited and toiled.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho saw you plough the field of serpents? Who saw you perform the\ndreadful task? Am I to believe your word alone?\u201d And wise Dame Louhi\nspoke harshly, gruffly, as one who has never been defeated or denied.\n\nThen, from the dark corner beyond the hearth-stones, suddenly a voice\ncroaked like the voice of a sea-bird breasting the storm. And out of\nthe gloom emerged the dwarfish form of old Sakko, the last and the\nwisest of all earth women.\n\n\u201cI will be the hero\u2019s witness,\u201d she croaked. \u201cUnknown to him, I was\nhidden close beside the field of deadly serpents. I saw the young man\nperform his task, and he performed it well. Twelve broad furrows he\nmade towards the east, towards the west; twelve other furrows he made\ntowards the north, towards the south. The ground was heaped up, deep\ntrenches were made. The serpents reared their heads, they ran out of\ntheir holes, hissing and dismayed; they were overwhelmed and destroyed;\nnot one remains. Give the hero his prize. Give him the duckling for\nwhom he has risked so much.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, no!\u201d answered Dame Louhi, graver, grimmer than ever before. \u201cAny\nman can kill snakes. Shall this poor Smith have my daughter for\nperforming so paltry a task as that? No! no! But there is another task\nwhich perhaps he would like to try\u2014an undertaking worthy of a hero,\nalthough I fear too difficult for this young man!\u201d She spoke\ntauntingly, bitterly, unkindly.\n\nThen Ilmarinen\u2019s boastfulness returned, and he answered proudly,\nfearlessly: \u201cNever yet was there anything too difficult for me. Did I\nnot hammer out the sky and set the stars where they belong? Did I not\nfind Iron in his hiding places and subdue him? Did I not forge the\nSampo and shape its lid of rainbow colors? Harder things than these\nwill I do if only you will surely give me your daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cListen then,\u201d said the cunning Mistress. \u201cIn the dark and sluggish\nriver that surrounds the land of Tuonela there lives a monstrous fish,\na pike so huge, so scaly, so fierce that all the fishes of the sea obey\nhim. Hundreds of brave fishermen have sought to snare him, but not one\nhas lived to tell his story. Go, now, and capture this king of fishes.\nTake him without using net or tackle and bring his head to me. Then I\nwill surely give you my daughter; you shall have the blue-winged\nduckling; you shall wait no longer, toil no longer, but be at once\nrewarded with your prize.\u201d\n\nThe hero heard and deep dejection came upon him. He hung his head, he\nturned away and walked slowly, silently out into the darkening\ntwilight. He sat down on the rocks by the shore and looked out over the\ncold and pitiless sea.\n\n\u201cNow, I may as well die,\u201d he said. \u201cThis last task is impossible. For\nhow can any one, without net or tackle, catch and subdue the Great\nPike? and how can I hope to drag him from the sluggish water and bring\nhis head hither to the Mistress of Pohyola? Vainly have I lived, vain\nhave been all my valiant deeds, vain indeed is life with all its empty\nvictories; there is naught that is worth the doing.\u201d\n\nSuddenly he heard light footsteps behind him, suddenly the darkness was\ndispelled and the smiling Maid of Beauty laid her hand upon his\nshoulder.\n\n\u201cO Ilmarinen, prince of wizards, smith of all smiths!\u201d she said. \u201cWhy\nare you so despondent? The task is not so hard as you imagine.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I cannot perform it,\u201d said the hero. \u201cI dare not attack the Great\nPike in the dismal stream of Tuonela.\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly women say, \u2018I cannot,\u2019 only cowards say, \u2018I dare not,\u2019\u201d laughed\nthe maiden cheerily. \u201cYou see I have learned a lesson from your elder\nbrother, the prince of minstrels. Now I will tell you how to catch the\nGreat Pike of Tuonela. Go at once to your magic smithy and forge a\nfiery eagle with flaming wings and iron talons. Then sally forth upon\nyour errand; have no fear, but be wise and valiant.\u201d\n\nIlmarinen would have replied, but she had vanished. He buckled his\narmor about him and with right good courage hastened to his smithy.\nThere for many days he toiled at his forge; for many days he watched\nthe magic caldron in the midst of his glowing furnace; for many days he\ntried all his wizard arts, singing strange songs and reciting secret\nrunes which only the wisest may ever know. At length one morning he\ndrew the caldron from the fire and lifted the lid.\n\n\u201cArt thou there, my eagle?\u201d he cried.\n\nQuickly from the clouds of scalding vapor a wonderful bird leaped into\nbeing. Her wings were as large as the sails of a ship, her claws and\nbeak were of the hardest iron, her eyes were like flaming fire.\n\n\u201cHere I am, my master, what will you have me do?\u201d\n\n\u201cO, my eagle,\u201d answered the Smith, \u201ccarry me swiftly towards the land\nof Tuonela, fly with speed and pause not till the sluggish, silent\nriver is beneath you. Then find for me the Great Pike, so huge, so\nscaly, the king of all the fishes. Help me take the slippery monster\nfrom its lair beneath the waters.\u201d\n\nThe wonder bird spread her wings and Ilmarinen leaped up between them\nand seated himself upon her back. The bird screamed and began her\nflight. Up, up, up into the high air she soared. Then, swifter than the\nwind, she sailed straight onward, towards the mystic island and the\ndark and dismal river. How far did she fly? No man can tell; for none\ncan know whether Tuonela be in this place or in that, whether it is one\nday\u2019s journey distant or an hundred. From the graybeard it is only a\nstep, a stone\u2019s throw, a short walk at most; from the babe upon the\nfloor it may be a thousand weary leagues removed.\n\nAt length, however, the goal was reached and the flaming eagle stayed\nher flight. She swooped down and perched herself upon a rock which\noverhung the shore. Beneath it flowed the sluggish river, dark and\ndismal and deathlike; beyond lay the shores of the silent land where\nTuoni reigns; above it was the ashy-gray sky where no bird flies and no\nstar has ever twinkled. Upon this rock the eagle sat and watched for\nher prey, and Ilmarinen waited patiently beside her.\n\nBy and by from the black mud at the river\u2019s bottom a water sprite\narose. It rose quickly, it leaped high into the air and with its long\nfingers clutched at Ilmarinen. Then, indeed, would the hero have met\nhis death had not the eagle saved him. She seized the fearful sprite by\nthe head; with her iron talons she twisted the creature\u2019s neck and\nforced it to hide again in the slimy, pitch-like ooze in the bed of the\nmurky stream.\n\nSuddenly from amid the darkness the Great Pike came swimming. No small\nfish was he, for his back was seven times longer than the longest boat,\nhis teeth were like great spears set round the entrance to a cavern,\nand his eyes glowed like two flaming fires on the summit of a mountain.\nFiercely he dashed through the water, high into the air he leaped,\nthinking to seize and swallow Ilmarinen.\n\nBut now the eagle rushed to the rescue. No small eagle was she, for her\nbeak was six times longer than the longest boat oar, her talons were\nlike the sharpened scythes of the mowers in the meadows of Hero Land,\nand her eyes glittered like two great suns glaring down from the top of\nthe sky. Terrible indeed was the fight that followed. Dashing swiftly\nupward the fish sought to seize the eagle with his spear-like teeth; he\ncaught the tip of her right wing, he drew it into the water and with\nmight and main strove to pull the giant bird into the depths. But the\neagle, with one foot gripping the rock, struck fiercely at her foe;\nwith her iron beak she tore the scales from the fish\u2019s back, she forced\nhim to retreat into the murky deep.\n\nNot long, however, was the fight delayed, for soon the furious fish\nrose again and, swift as lightning, leaped upward to the combat. The\nbird of iron, her wings all glowing as with fire, was ready for him.\nShe struck with her scythe-like talons; she seized him midway behind\nhis gills; with a mighty effort she drew him from the water and bore\nhim, struggling, helpless, dying, to the topmost branch of a\nwide-spreading oak. There she sat, screaming with joy and anon tearing\nher prey and feasting upon it. She ripped the scales from the Great\nPike\u2019s glistening sides; she tore the fins away; she devoured the long\nbreast and the jointed tail; she sundered the head from the mighty\nshoulders, cleaving the gills with her iron beak.\n\nAnd under the tree stood Ilmarinen, helpless, imploring, angrily\nremonstrating, \u201cO faithless bird! O wicked eagle! Why do you devour the\nfish that you were created to capture? What shall I say to the pitiless\nmother at Pohyola when I return empty-handed? What proof shall I offer\nthat the Great Pike has indeed been taken?\u201d\n\nThe eagle screamed until the sky seemed rent in twain by the shrill\nechoes of her voice. Then she threw the fish\u2019s head from her\u2014it fell at\nIlmarinen\u2019s feet. She flapped her fiery wings until the sun glowed hot\nabove her; she leaped from her perch; she soared upward, higher and\nhigher, above the treetops, above the desolate mountains. Into the land\nof clouds she soared. The thunder rolled; the lightning flashed; the\nrainbow-bridge, Jumala\u2019s bridge of many colors, was shivered and\nbroken. Not for a moment did the bird of iron pause, nor did she rest\nin her flight until she reached the distant moon. There, folding her\nfiery pinions, she alighted, content to make her home on that\nchangeable orb. And there, on clear summer nights, you may often see\nher pecking at the stars and scarring the sky with her scythe-like\ntalons.\n\nIlmarinen, wondering at the might of his own invention, lifted the head\nof the Great Pike from the ground. With much labor he laid it across\nhis shoulders and adjusted it upon his sturdy back. Then, with hope in\nhis heart and courage in his feet, he turned his face once more towards\ndistant Pohyola and the Frozen Land.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV\n\nTHE BRIDEGROOM\u2019S TRIUMPH\n\n\nThe short summer was ended and the days were growing cold. The song of\nthe cuckoo was hushed, and the wild geese in the inlets were huddling\ntogether and preparing for flight. The cranberries had disappeared from\nthe marshes. The meadows were purple and golden, but fast putting on\ntheir accustomed robes of dreary brown.\n\nIn the long, low dwelling by the sea the fires had been rekindled, for\nthe air was crisp with frost and the wind of the North was blowing\nstrong. Upon her couch the Mistress was reclining, grim and gray,\ntoothless and unlovely, as of yore. Beside the hearth sat Wainamoinen,\nthe prince of minstrels, sad of face, but resigned and wisely\ncontented. And at her loom the Maid of Beauty plied her daily task,\nweaving fine blankets for winter wear, and sighing as she looked from\nher narrow window and out upon the lonely sea and the lonelier land.\n\n\u201cWill he ever come?\u201d she murmured, half aloud though speaking to\nherself; and her mother, Dame Louhi, from her couch echoed her words,\n\u201cWill he ever come?\u201d\n\nThen suddenly up spoke a little child who was sitting on the floor\u2014a\nlittle child too young to walk, too small to know the meaning of his\nwords:\n\n\u201cI see an eagle coming to our house. He is a great eagle, a beautiful\neagle. With one wing he fans the air, with the other he flaps the sea.\nHe is coming nearer and nearer; he is hovering above our dwelling. Now\nhe rests upon the roof. He is whetting his beak. He is looking down at\nour doves. Soon he will fly right into our house. He will seize the\nbest one of all our birdlings\u2014the rosiest, the whitest, the\nsweetest-voiced, the shapeliest. He will fly away with her; he will\ncarry her far, far away into his own country, there to live with him\nforever.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does the child mean?\u201d queried the Mistress, rising half-way from\nher couch beside the fire. \u201cSurely, never have I heard an infant speak\nin this way.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe speaks in riddles,\u201d answered Wainamoinen, \u201cyet he speaks wisdom and\ntruth. No doubt we shall understand him soon.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue! true!\u201d croaked Sakko, the earth woman, from her snug corner\nbeyond the hearth. \u201cSee you not that dark cloud hovering in the sky? It\nis the wing of the mighty eagle. See you not the shadow that has fallen\non our threshold? It is the shadow of the eagle\u2019s noble form. He is\npeering in. He is looking for the birdling that is his own!\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel rose from his seat and went quickly to the door. He threw\nit wide open and looked out. The Mistress also rose, slowly, painfully,\nher stiffened joints creaking. The Maid of Beauty rose from her loom,\njoyful because her task was finished. All three looked out through the\nnarrow door. Before them was the bare ground, sloping gently towards\nthe shore and the smooth gray surface of the little inlet; above them\nwas the cloud-flecked sky, cold and cheerless, without sign of bird or\nother living creature.\n\nThe child on the floor laughed.\n\nThey looked a second time, and from the meadow pathway they saw the\nhero coming, even Ilmarinen the Smith, the mightiest of all wizards.\nGaunt and tall he was, and pale and wan from long toil and endless\nwanderings. His garments were soiled and torn, his feet were bare and\nscarred with wounds, his head was uncovered. But his step was firm as\nthe step of a conqueror, and his eyes glowed brightly with joy as the\neyes of one who has been victorious in battle.\n\nAnd on his shoulders he carried the monstrous head of the Pike.\n\n\u201cWelcome, welcome, friend and brother!\u201d cried Wainamoinen, rushing out\neagerly, boisterously, to meet him. \u201cLong indeed have we waited for\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cWelcome, welcome, hero of the later day!\u201d muttered Sakko, small of\nstature, weak of body, wisest of earth women. \u201cBravely have you proved\nyourself a hero, thrice bravely have you shown your wizard power.\u201d\n\nAnd Louhi, the gray old Mistress, also cheerily cried, \u201cWelcome,\nwelcome! You have won the prize, Ilmarinen; your courage has been\ntested, your wisdom has been tried, and now you shall be rewarded. The\nduckling that I have cherished shall be yours, to sit on your knee, to\nnestle dove-like in your arms, to be the queen of your household, the\nmistress of your kitchen.\u201d\n\nBut where was the Maid of Beauty? She was not with those who stood at\nthe door to welcome the conquering hero. Her seat at the fireside was\nempty; her place at the loom was vacant. She was hiding in her own\nroom, her body all a-tremble, her face bathed in tears.\n\nProudly and joyfully then did the hero enter the low-roofed dwelling.\n\n\u201cO Jumala!\u201d he murmured. \u201cO giver of good gifts, grant thy blessing to\nthis house! Bless all that live beneath this roof!\u201d\n\n\u201cAll hail, all hail!\u201d cried the Mistress earnestly, but with voice\ncracked and broken. \u201cWelcome to the great large man who deigns to enter\nthis lowly cottage, this poor little house of wood, this humble hut so\nunworthy of the presence of one so noble!\u201d\n\nThen she called to her waiting-maiden, and bade her hasten to bring a\nlight, that all might see the hero and be glad.\n\n\u201cKindle the fattest knot of pine and fetch it hither blazing,\u201d she\nsaid. \u201cFetch it quickly that we may see the hero\u2019s eyes whether they\nare blue or grayish, whether they are green or brownish.\u201d\n\nThe waiting-maiden ran quickly to obey. She lighted a pine-knot that\nwas always ready, and brought it blazing to her mistress.\n\n\u201cAh! no, no!\u201d shouted the aged wise one, grim and gray in the\nflickering light. \u201cSee how the ugly torch flares and sputters, and how\nthe black smoke rises in clouds above it. The hero\u2019s face will be\nsmutted, his eyes will be filled with soot. Take the cheap thing away\nand bring us better torches, torches made of white wax, cleanly and\nbeautiful.\u201d\n\nThe maiden obeyed. She brought torches of the purest wax, white and\nclear, and held them before the Mistress, before the waiting hero.\n\n\u201cNow I see his eyes!\u201d cried the wise one. \u201cThey are neither blue nor\nwhitish. They are not green, they are not gray; but they are brownish\nlike the sea-foam in the shadow of a rock, brownish like a bulrush in\nthe early days of winter.\u201d\n\nThen Ilmarinen took the head of the Great Pike from his shoulders and\nset it upon the floor by the side of the hearth. And all that were in\nthe house admired its size and its wonderful shape and the mighty teeth\nthat were set in the mighty jaws. But most of all, they wondered at the\nmanner in which the bones were laid, this way and that, and knit firmly\ninto a framework both neat and strong.\n\n\u201cIt will serve you as a throne, O mother of my Maid of Beauty!\u201d said\nIlmarinen. \u201cI will dress it, and polish the bones, and make of it a\ngreat chair wherein you can sit on winter evenings, feeling yourself\nthe queen of all that is around you.\u201d\n\nThen, while food was brought to him and the people of the household\nboth high and low sat round him listening, he told the story of his\nadventure by the shore of Tuonela\u2019s river.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\n\nTHE WEDDING FEAST\n\n\nWho shall find tongue to tell of the wonderful feast at Ilmarinen\u2019s\nwedding? Who shall invent words to describe its vastness, its grandeur,\nits joy?\n\nDame Louhi, the wise, the cunning Mistress, planned it. She it was who\nprovided the food and the drink; she it was who directed the cooks, the\nbutchers, the brewers, the bakers, the serving maidens; and she it was\nwho invited the guests.\n\nFirst, she built in Pohyola a house so roomy and large that even\nminstrels blushed to tell its dimensions, and story-tellers feared to\nspeak the truth. It was so long that when a dog barked at one end the\nsound of his voice could not be heard at the other. The roof was so\nhigh that when a cock crowed on the ridge-pole the hens on the ground\nbelow could not hear him. In this house the fires were kindled, the\ntables were set up, and the feast was prepared. Here, back and forth\nupon the planking, the aged Mistress walked, pondering, planning,\ninstructing, commanding.\n\n\u201cWe must have roast meat and plenty of it,\u201d she said. \u201cSo, bring hither\nthe great bull of Carelia and let him be slaughtered. No finer beef was\never fattened; no nobler beast was ever butchered.\u201d\n\nThe great bull was quickly brought\u2014a ship\u2019s rope around his horns, a\nhundred strong men tugging at the rope. A stupendous ox he was, larger\nby far than any that grows in our degenerate times. Six fathoms long\nwere his horns; and his back was a highway where squirrels frisked and\nbirds built their nests as in the branches of a tree.\n\nThink you he yielded much meat for the feast, much food for the hungry?\nOf roasts and steaks there were certainly a hundred barrels; of\nsausages in large round links they made a hundred fathoms. Seven boat\nloads of blood flowed from the great beef\u2019s veins. Six strong sledges\ncould scarcely hold the fat that was rendered from him.\n\n\u201cSurely now we have meat in plenty,\u201d then said the Mistress; \u201cbut what\nshall we do for pleasant drinks to give joy to our guests? How shall we\nbrew enough ale for the multitude that will come to the wedding feast?\u201d\n\nForthwith she ordered all the tubs in Pohyola to be half filled with\nwater, fresh water from the springs and rivers. Then into each she\npoured new barley and added flowers of hops in greatest plenty,\nstirring all with a magic paddle. Quickly the ale began its working, it\nfilled the tubs, the white foam rose like mountains and poured itself\nin bubbles over the ground.\n\n\u201cSurely the guests shall not go thirsty,\u201d said the Mistress, well\ncontented with her labor. And she called the serving-men to store the\nale safely away in rock-walled cellars till the time for the wedding\nfeast.\n\nThus did Dame Louhi, the wise one, provide everything needed for eating\nor drinking. All the kettles were singing, all the stewpans were\nhissing on the glowing coals. The pots were full of porridge. In the\novens loaves of bread in great plenty were baking for the banquet. All\nday, all night, the fires were glowing; all day, all night, the bakers,\nthe brewers, the kitchen maids were running hither and thither, each\nbusily working, each busily preparing his part of the wonderful feast.\n\nThen the Mistress, the wise but loveless one, sent out her messengers\nto invite the guests.\n\n\u201cInvite all the folk of Pohyola,\u201d she said; \u201cforget not one. Invite the\npeople of Hero Land to come in boats, in sledges, by sea, by land. Ask\nWainamoinen, the prince of minstrels, to come with his sweet songs.\nCall the blind, the lame, the poor and wretched. Lead the blind ones\nkindly with your hands, bring the lame ones in sledges or on your\nbacks, fetch the children, fetch the old and feeble, let not one be\nslighted or forgotten.\u201d\n\nAnd the messengers departed, carrying the invitations northward,\nsouthward, eastward, westward. In four directions they went, yes in\neight directions they hastened, telling all the world how the hero,\nIlmarinen, was to be wedded on a certain day to the Maid of Beauty,\nwhom all the world adored.\n\n\n\nThe day came, the morning dawned. Bright was the sun above Pohyola\u2019s\nchilly shores. The sea was calm, the air was mild, the meadows were\ngolden. Dame Louhi, wisest of women, rose early to put her house in\norder. First, she busied herself in-doors, then out she hastened. She\nput her hand to her ear and listened. Far out on the sea she heard the\nsound of oars splashing, she heard the rippling of the waves as they\nwere cut by the prows of many vessels, she heard the voices of a\nmultitude approaching. On land she heard the clatter of reindeers\u2019\nhoofs, the galloping of horses, the rattle of sledges and the grating\nof their birchwood runners upon the sand.\n\n\u201cWhat do I hear? What do I see?\u201d cried she. \u201cIs this a hostile army\ncoming to attack me? Or is it only the billows breaking on the beach,\nor the wind whistling and moaning among the pines?\u201d\n\nShe looked again, and again she listened. Her face was less grim, her\nvoice was less harsh; never did she appear so handsome.\n\n\u201cOh, no, no!\u201d she muttered. \u201cI thought I heard the North Wind blowing,\na pine tree falling in the forest, the billows roaring and the breakers\nbeating. But it is not so. The air is mild, the sea is calm, no storm\nis near. That which I hear is not the wind, it is not a hostile army.\nIt is the multitude of guests assembling, the hosts of friends coming\nto rejoice with us because it is Ilmarinen\u2019s wedding day.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow shall we know the bridegroom when we see him? How can we\ndistinguish him in the great crowd of friends and neighbors?\u201d asked a\nlittle waiting-maiden.\n\n\u201cYou shall know him as you know an oak among the willows, as you know\nthe moon among the tiny stars,\u201d answered the Mistress. \u201cThe steed which\nhe drives is as black as a raven. His magic sledge is glowing bright\nand golden as the sun. Six yellow birds sit on his shafts sweetly\nsinging, and of bluebirds there are seven perched gayly on the\ndashboard. You cannot fail to distinguish the noble hero.\u201d\n\nEven while she spoke there was a clatter in the roadway, a humming and\na bustling and a tramping of many feet. The bridegroom had arrived with\nall his friends around him. Swiftly he drove his bright-hued sledge\ninto the courtyard, and quickly he alighted while the bluebirds sang\nand the cuckoos called lustily to the swallows beneath the eaves. The\nyoung men shouted, the old men laughed, and the very air was bubbling\nwith joy.\n\n\u201cHostler, hasten!\u201d called the Mistress. \u201cTake the bridegroom\u2019s horse,\nand loose him gently from the shafts. Remove the copper-plated harness,\nthe silver breast-band, the reins of silver. Lead the noble steed to\nthe spring and let him drink his fill of the gushing water. Then put\nhim in the hindmost stable, in the stall reserved for heroes\u2019 horses.\nTether him to the ring of iron that is set in the polished post of\nbirchwood. Set three trays of food before him, the first filled with\noats, the second with soft hay, the third with finest chaff. And when\nyou have curried him and smoothed his shining hair, cover him with a\nsoft blanket and leave him alone, locking the stable door behind you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do everything as you have bidden me,\u201d answered the serving-man,\nand he led the steed gently from the courtyard.\n\n\u201cNow, my boys,\u201d said the Mistress, \u201cyou little lads of Pohyola! Conduct\nthe bridegroom to the house and show him the doorway. Take off his hat\ngently, gently. Remove his gloves also. Let us see if the door is wide\nenough for him to pass through; let us see if it is high enough to\nadmit so great a hero.\u201d\n\nWithout delay the waiting-lads took their appointed places, four at the\nright hand and four at the left, six in front of him and six behind,\nand thus they marched lightly and orderly into the dwelling.\n\n\u201cNow let all give thanks to Jumala, the gracious,\u201d said the Mistress,\nand her unlovely face grew pleasanter for the moment. \u201cGive thanks to\nJumala, for the hero has passed through the door in safety, he has\nentered the house of the bride.\u201d\n\nAnd the bridegroom responded, \u201cGive thanks to Jumala, and may his\nblessing rest upon this house and all that abide beneath its roof.\u201d\n\nThe table was ready, the feast was spread, the guests were waiting. The\nlads, with much ado, led the bridegroom to his place\u2014the highest seat\nat the end of the room. He sat down by the side of the blushing bride,\nthe Maid of Beauty, while all the guests clapped their hands and\nshouted for joy.\n\nThen, as one accustomed to entertaining a multitude, the wise old\nMistress feasted her guests in the noblest fashion. Busy, very busy,\nwere the little waiting-maidens, serving food to all the people. Of\nroast beef and savory sausages there was great plenty. Broiled salmon,\npork, the meat of lambkins were served to each guest\u2019s liking. The\nwhitest of bread and the yellowest of butter, cream cakes, nuts, and\napples\u2014who could ask for more than these? And there was the ale, the\nfoaming white ale which the Mistress herself had brewed\u2014it was handed\nround in great tankards so that each of the heroes present might drink\nhis fill. When it came to the Minstrel, old Wainamoinen, he rose and\nsang a new song:\n\n\n                   \u201cO ale, sweet ale!\n                    Let no one fail\n                    To sing of thee\n                    And merry be.\n\n                   \u201cO hero, strong!\n                    List to my song,\n                    Be glad, be gay\n                    On your wedding day.\u201d\n\n\nThen, changing his theme and the subject of his song he tuned his voice\nto a higher key.\n\n\n           \u201cWhat would our Creator do\n            If to-day he sang to you?\n            He would sing the sea to honey,\n            Sing the stones to precious money,\n            Sing the sand to foaming ale,\n            Sing the rocks to rain and hail,\n            And the mountains sing to lakes,\n            And the hilltops sing to cakes.\n\n           \u201cAs a minstrel and magician,\n            He would bless this land\u2019s condition;\n            He would fill the fields with cattle,\n            Make our treasure boxes rattle;\n            He would fill the mines with metal,\n            Fill each pot and fill each kettle;\n            He would fill the lanes with flowers,\n            Bless each day, bless all the hours.\n\n           \u201cAs a minstrel and a singer\n            He would with this household linger,\n            Give the bride a ring of gold,\n            A dress of silk, and wealth untold;\n            And to the bridegroom, he would give\n            More skill than to all smiths that live.\n            Let us therefore crave his blessing,\n            All our prayers to him addressing.\u201d\n\n\nThus did the people feast, and thus did the mighty Minstrel sing on\nIlmarinen\u2019s happy wedding day. All day, all the long night, the guests\nsat at the table, eating and making merry and listening to the songs\nand pleasant speeches that were made in honor of the bride, the\nbridegroom, and the noble hostess.\n\nMuch good advice was given to her who had lately been the Maid of\nBeauty but was now the Bride of Beauty: how she should keep her\nhusband\u2019s house in order; how she should obey and serve him; how she\nshould love and cherish her mother-in-law and all the members of her\nfamily. Much sage counsel also did the hero, Ilmarinen, receive: how he\nshould always be very gentle to the dove that he had captured; how he\nshould not forget to praise her industry in the kitchen, at the loom,\nin the hay field; how he should never upbraid her in hissing tones, or\nbeat her with a slave whip; but how he should stand like a wall before\nher to protect and defend when others were unkind.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\n\nTHE HOME COMING\n\n\nLong were the speeches, lengthy were the songs, and many were the\nstories to which the people listened and the patient bride and\nbridegroom hearkened. Then, as the day was breaking, all was ended. The\nguests rose and made ready to depart. The last good-byes were spoken,\nthe last words of counsel were delivered.\n\nThe hero\u2019s steed was led from the stable, it was harnessed to the magic\nsledge while the cuckoos called loudly and the bluebirds sang sweetly\nas before.\n\n\u201cFarewell, farewell, to all my friends and kindred,\u201d then murmured the\nBride of Beauty. \u201cI must now go far, far away from the home I love so\ndearly. I must leave my mother\u2019s dwelling, leave the farmyard, fields,\nand meadows where as a maiden I was happy. Farewell, dear house;\nfarewell, my mountain-ash tree; farewell, roads and pathways; farewell,\nsweet hills and forests. Who now will answer the cuckoos when they\ncall? Who now will welcome the bluebirds in the springtime? Who will\nmilk my pet reindeer? Who will care for my lambs? Farewell, farewell to\nall! Farewell, farewell!\u201d\n\nThen Ilmarinen, noble hero, lifted her into the sledge; he tucked the\nrobes of fur about her; he wrapped her feet in soft, warm blankets. The\nserving-man handed him the reins and the whip. One word to the steed,\nand they were away; the low-roofed dwelling, the village, the friends\nat Pohyola, all were quickly left behind. And the happy, triumphant\nIlmarinen, shouted back his farewells.\n\n\u201cGood-bye, good-bye, to all the people! Good-bye to the seashore and\nthe creeks and inlets! Good-bye to the house with smoke-browned\nrafters! Good-bye to the grasses in the meadows, to the lonely marshes,\nto the willow bushes, and the lone pine woods where my smithy stands!\nGood-bye to all! Good-bye, good-bye!\u201d\n\nOnward, with gliding feet, the swift steed flew. The magic sledge\nscarcely touched the ground, its birchwood runners seemed to skim\nthrough the air, so rapid was its motion. Across the broad meadows,\nover the hills, through dark ravines, along the sandy shore the hero\npursued his course, never pausing, never doubting. The whip-lash\nwhistled in the air, the copper rings on the horse\u2019s harness made merry\nmusic.\n\nAll day, all night, yes, through a second day and then a third, the\njoyful journey continued. With one hand the hero guided the horse, with\none arm he supported his bride. The North Wind gently drove him along,\nthe South Wind beckoned him forward. At length, just as the sun was\nsetting, he saw his own fair dwelling nestling among the trees of\nWainola. The smoke was rising from the roof-hole, Dame Lokka was\npreparing the evening meal, the good sister, Anniki, was watching at\nthe door.\n\n\u201cWelcome, welcome, bridegroom and brother! Long have we watched for\nyou, long have we waited!\u201d shouted the glad maid of the morning.\n\n\u201cO Ilmarinen, my son, my joy!\u201d cried the mother and matron. \u201cWelcome\nhome with thy birdling, thy fair one!\u201d\n\nThen quickly all the village people came running to greet their\nneighbor Ilmarinen and his beautiful young bride. They led the noble\npair into the house, the men and women singing joyously, the children\ndancing before them. A feast was soon provided\u2014meats the tenderest and\nmost delicious, loaves of the whitest flour, yellow cakes both light\nand sweet, lumps of fresh butter just from the churn, broiled salmon\nsmoking hot. All these they brought in great abundance, heaped up on\nDame Lokka\u2019s pretty dishes. And the villagers shouted:\n\n\u201cWelcome, Bride of Beauty, to this Land of Heroes! Welcome to this\nlovely village! Hail to the hero, our friend and neighbor! Hail to all\nwithin this dwelling! Blessed be this home-coming. Blessed be the\nbridal pair, and may their lives be long and their love lasting!\u201d\n\nThus did Ilmarinen win his bride and thus did he bring her in triumph\nto his home in Wainola.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\n\nTHE SLAVE BOY\n\n\nHappy, happy Ilmarinen! With her who had been the Maid of Beauty as\nqueen of his household, naught but good fortune was his. Wherever he\nwent, whatever he did, he was sure to prosper. His smithy was full of\nrare and beautiful things, the work of his own skilful hands. His barns\nwere full of grain, barley, and wheat, hay and soft straw for his\nhorses. His farmyard was full of lowing cattle, broad-horned milk cows,\nfat beeves, and sleek-coated yearlings. And his house was full of joy,\nthe abode of peace, the home of plenty.\n\nNow among the servants of the hero there was a young slave whose name\nwas Kullervo. A worthless fellow he was, ill-favored, ill-natured,\nselfish, and unkind. When any work was given him to do he was sure to\nspoil it; he could not be trusted, he seemed to be unfit for any duty.\nIlmarinen had bought him for a small price: two old cracked kettles,\nthree broken hooks, four dull-edged scythes, and five toothless rakes.\n\n\u201cIt is a good price for him, more than he is worth,\u201d said all his\nneighbors, for they knew that the slave would serve him ill. \u201cNever\nwill he earn the food that is given him, never will his master have any\njoy from his labor.\u201d\n\nIlmarinen smiled and said nothing. He gave the boy an axe and bade him\ncut an armload of kindlings for the fire; but the worthless fellow\nbegan chopping the beams of the house. He sent him into the garden to\npull up weeds; but the worthless fellow destroyed the useful plants and\nflowers and left the weeds untouched. He sent him to pick berries in\nthe marshes; but the worthless fellow picked only the green fruit and\ntrampled upon the ripe.\n\n\u201cThe new slave is good for nothing,\u201d said Dame Lokka, Ilmarinen\u2019s busy\nmother.\n\n\u201cNo, no!\u201d answered his wife, the mistress of his household. \u201cEvery man\nhas his place in the world, and surely there is something for this poor\nfellow to do.\u201d\n\nAnd so, one day when Ilmarinen was far away, she said to the mother, \u201cI\nhave a mind to send Kullervo out with the cattle. Surely he can drive\nthem to the hill pastures and the marshes, he can watch them while they\ngraze, he can keep them from wandering in the woods and thickets.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo as you like,\u201d answered Dame Lokka. \u201cA herdsman\u2019s task requires\nneither skill nor wearying labor, and perhaps the slave will find his\nproper place among the cattle in the quiet pastures.\u201d\n\nForthwith the wife and mistress called to the old cook, the kitchen\nwench, and said, \u201cThe new slave, Kullervo, is to go with the cattle\nto-day. Make haste and put up a luncheon for him\u2014something that will\nstay his hunger in the middle of the day, for he will be far from home\nand the noon sun is hot in the lonely hill pastures.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my mistress,\u201d answered the cook, \u201cI will fill a basket for him\nwith food good enough and wholesome enough for any such slave as he. I\nwill bake a fresh, hot cake for him and have it ready when he starts\nwith the herd.\u201d\n\nSo to her task she went, chuckling and growling, for she hated Kullervo\nand not without reason. First, she rolled out the dough and then she\nbaked the cake. The upper half was of wheaten flour, the lower half was\nof coarse oatmeal, and in the centre was a round black sandstone\ncunningly concealed.\n\n\u201cHe will enjoy that when he comes to it,\u201d laughed the wicked wench,\nholding her sides and grinning with mirth.\n\nWhen the cake was baked very hard and dry she took it from the oven and\nrolled it in butter, laying a slice of raw bacon around it. Then she\nput it in a small basket and covered it with green oak leaves.\n\n\u201cHe must needs have strong teeth to eat it,\u201d she muttered, \u201cbut it is\ngood enough for him.\u201d\n\nSoon Kullervo came to get his luncheon. The cattle were waiting to be\ndriven to the pasture, the milk cows were lowing impatiently, the\nyearlings were browsing beside the hedges.\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s your luncheon, you worthless fellow,\u201d said the old cook. \u201cIt is\nfresh and hot, and far too good for such as you; keep the green leaves\nover it till you\u2019re ready to eat, for the flies are many and very bad\nto-day.\u201d\n\nThe slave took the basket. Although ill-favored, his face was not\nwholly bad, for his father had been a freeman and a hero. His coat was\nof coarsest cloth, much patched; his trousers were of reindeer skin;\nhis stockings were of blue-dyed wool; his shoes were heavy and\nserviceable. No beard was yet on his chin or sun-browned cheeks; his\neyes were blue with shades of savagery lurking in their depths; his\nuncombed hair was yellow, long, and frowzy.\n\nWith the basket on his arm he opened the farmyard gate and shouted to\nthe cattle. The broad-horned oxen crowded themselves out into the road\nand walked briskly but sedately down the well-worn pathway towards\ntheir accustomed pasture, the mild-eyed milk cows followed, and the\ncalves and yearlings hurried impatiently to the front.\n\nThe wife and mistress, she who had been the Maid of Beauty, was sitting\nin her chamber counting the days that must pass before her husband\u2019s\nreturn. She heard the tinkling of the bells and the hoarse discordant\nmooing of the beasts. She heard the shouts of the slave boy and the\ntrampling of the younger cattle. She rose quickly and hurried to the\ndoor, waving her hand to Kullervo and calling to him in shrill,\ncommanding tones:\n\n\u201cHave a care that you do your work well to-day, young man. Drive the\nmilkers to the high meadows where the grass is green and sweet. Drive\nthe oxen and the yearlings to the woodlands; let them browse among the\nbushes and lie down in shady places. See that you guard them all to\nkeep them safe from wily wolves and lurking bears. Watch them well, and\nwhen the day is almost done, bring them home. Woe be to you if you\nleave one of them behind. Bring them home and drive the milkers into\nthe paddock; then call loudly, and I will come down with the milkmaids\nto milk them. Do you hear, Kullervo?\u201d\n\nThe slave boy growled a surly answer, and went slouching behind the\nherd, shouting to the laggers and casting stones at the browsing oxen.\n\nHe drove the milk cows to the meadow pastures where the grass was tall\nand green, but the oxen and the younger cattle he allowed to wander as\nthey would in the open fields or the marshy thickets. Then, at length,\nwhen all were peacefully feeding, he sat down upon a grassy hummock and\nlooked around him, sad, lonely, vindictive. The autumn sun beamed hot\nupon his head, and the fresh sea breeze fanned his face and played in\nhis yellow hair. The grasshoppers chirped at his feet and the crows\nscolded him harshly from the treetops. Kullervo looked and listened,\nbut he saw nothing beautiful, he heard nothing musical. His heart was\nfilled with dismal thoughts, and he loudly bewailed his wretched fate.\n\n\u201cAh, me! ah, me! Wheresoever I go I am still a miserable slave and hard\ntasks are set for me to do. While others are happy and free I am forced\nto trudge unwillingly among briars and thorns, over hills and through\nmarshes, watching the tails of hateful cattle. O Jumala, giver of good!\nLet the sun shine gently upon me, a wretched slave boy; but make it\nscorch and blister my master and my master\u2019s household. Turn their\nboasting into grief and their success into dire misfortune. So hear me,\nO Jumala, friend of the friendless!\u201d\n\nThe noon hour came, the sun began its downward course. In the farmhouse\nthe Smith\u2019s mother, Dame Lokka, was sitting in sweet content. On her\nright sat Anniki, the maid of the morning, and on her left was\nIlmarinen\u2019s wife and mistress whom he had won in the far-off North\nLand. Joy beamed in every face and pulsed in every heart.\n\nThe table was spread and the mid-day meal was served\u2014white bread fresh\nfrom the bake-oven, choice butter and yellow cream from the dairy,\ntid-bits of beef and smoked salmon. How good was everything!\n\n\u201cPraise be to Jumala for all these blessings!\u201d said Dame Lokka,\nfervently.\n\n\u201cPraise be to Jumala!\u201d echoed both the daughters.\n\nMeanwhile the slave, Kullervo, was still sitting on his lonely hummock,\nkeeping watch over the cattle and nursing his evil thoughts. The crows\namong the pines cawed loudly; the grasshoppers at his feet chirped\nmockingly.\n\n\u201cWake up, sad slave boy! The day is past the noon,\u201d croaked an old\ncrow.\n\nAnd a thrush in the thicket of bushes sang, \u201cO orphan boy, the luncheon\nhour has come! Take the fine cake from the basket where the old cook so\nkindly placed it. Eat it. Feast upon it and forget your sorrow.\u201d\n\nKullervo was hungry, for his breakfast had been light. He picked the\noak leaves from the basket and took the round, buttered cake in his\nhands. It was heavy, and he eyed it closely. He turned it over and\nexamined the under side.\n\n\u201cIt looks good, it smells sweet,\u201d he said. \u201cBut the handsomest of\npeople are sometimes rotten at heart, and the handsomest of cakes are\nsometimes unfit to be eaten.\u201d\n\nHe took his hunting knife from the sheath that hung at his belt. It was\nbut half a knife, the edge nicked deeply, the point broken off. But its\ntemper was good, for it had been forged by a master smith in the days\nwhen men did honest work.\n\nKullervo cut through the upper crust of the cake, he cut through the\nwheaten layer at the top; but when the knife struck the stone in the\ncentre it broke short off at the hilt and only the handle remained in\nhis grasp. The slave looked at it, and as the blade fell to the ground\nhe burst out weeping.\n\n\u201cOh, sorrow upon sorrow!\u201d he moaned. \u201cThis knife was my only friend. I\nhad no one to love but this iron, so true, so ready to help. It was\nonce my father\u2019s knife, and well it served him in the chase and in the\nfight. And now it is broken by this cake of stone which Ilmarinen\u2019s\nwomen have given me for food.\u201d\n\nHe picked up the broken blade and tried to fit it in the handle. It was\nvain; both blade and handle were useless. With a cry of despair he\nflung them far from him; with a cry of wrath he threw the stone-filled\ncake still farther, and it fell with a thud among the bushes. Then up\nflew a pair of ravens, one lighting upon a blasted pine and one taking\nshelter in a grove of oaks.\n\n\u201cCaw! caw!\u201d cried the one in the pine. \u201cWhat can ail the wretched slave\nboy?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is angry,\u201d answered the other. \u201cHis mistress has treated him badly.\nShe has given him a stone for bread.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is thus that the rich feed the poor,\u201d said the one in the pine.\n\u201cBut what will the slave do about it?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf he is wise he will pay them well for their cruel jest,\u201d cawed the\none in the oak. \u201cHe will seek revenge, he will have it. Caw! caw! caw!\u201d\n\nKullervo leaped up and stood upon the hummock. He stretched out his\narms and shook his clenched fists in the face of the sky.\n\n\u201cHear me, Jumala!\u201d he cried. \u201cO Jumala, friend of the friendless, help\nme. I will have revenge. I will pay those women well for the sorrow\nthey have made me feel. The slave will whip the master, and the master\nshall serve the slave.\u201d\n\nAll the savagery that had been lurking in his blue eyes burst forth, as\nlightning bursts from the drifting clouds. He ran to the woody thicket\nand broke off a long branch of hemlock to serve him as a whip. Slashing\nit this way and that, he rushed hither and thither collecting his herd.\nWith great ado he drove the lazy milkers far into the savage woods. He\ngathered the yearlings together and, after much shouting and cursing,\nchased them into the tangled thickets where the wild beasts had their\nlairs.\n\nOut of the shady places wolves leaped up, howling, snarling, snapping\ntheir teeth. The bears were roused from their lurking holes and came\nforth growling, their tongues lolling out. The gentle milk cows, the\ntimid yearlings, even the stolid oxen, were overcome with fear. They\nran together in groups, trembling and helpless. Instantly the wild\nbeasts leaped upon them with bared claws and gnashing teeth. If any\nescaped the wolves, they were seized by the bears; if any fled from the\nbears, they were devoured by the wolves. The whole herd perished.\n\nFrom a safe seat in the crotch of a pine the slave boy looked on and\nwatched the slaughter; and he laughed a wild, discordant, triumphant\nlaugh. Then, clapping his hands together and knocking his knees against\nthe trunk of the tree, he began to sing. He sang a wild, strange song\nof enchantment\u2014a song he had learned from a witch woman in the land of\nmists and shadows. And as he sang, behold, a wonderful thing occurred:\nall the wolves so lately feasting were changed into sleek, fat\nyearlings, and all the bears so lately gorging themselves became fine\nmilk cows with mild, soft eyes and pendent udders.\n\nThe slave boy descended from the tree, still singing, still shouting,\nstill working the magic spell. The beasts with one accord looked up to\nhim as their master. One after another, they marched slowly and orderly\nout of the marshes and out of the woods, the false milk cows going\nforemost calmly chewing their cuds, and the false yearlings gambolling\nbehind. The sun was now well down towards the western hills, and the\nevening milking time was nigh at hand.\n\nHomeward, over the hills and along the well-known pathways, the slave\nboy drove his herd. With noiseless steps he ran among the beasts,\nbreathing words of magic, words of cunning in their ears.\n\n\u201cSpare not the mistress when she comes out to milk you,\u201d he whispered\nto one.\n\n\u201cSeize the maidens when they come with pails to milk you,\u201d he said to\nothers.\n\n\u201cSeek the old cook in the kitchen and remind her of her cake,\u201d he\nmuttered to still another.\n\n\u201cBe bold, be fierce, be very hungry,\u201d he counselled them all.\n\nThe sun was still above the hills when he drove the herd into the\nfarmyard. He put the milkers inside the paddock, the yearlings\nfollowing after. Then he closed the gate without locking it and climbed\nup on the fence. From his belt he unloosed his herdsman\u2019s whistle, a\nwhistle carved from an ox\u2019s horn; he put it to his lips and blew it\nloudly, shrilly. It was the signal by which the mistress and her\nmilkmaids would know that the cows had been brought home and were ready\nfor the milking.\n\nFive times\u2014yes, six\u2014Kullervo blew a long, piercing blast which might\nhave been heard half-way across the sea. Then, as the last echoes died,\nhe leaped nimbly to the ground and ran out of the farmyard. Half\ncrouching, he slunk away behind hedges and bushes until his ungainly\nform was lost to sight among the evening shadows. Never more would his\nfeet cross the threshold of Ilmarinen\u2019s dwelling.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\n\nA DREADFUL VENGEANCE\n\n\nBeside the door of Ilmarinen\u2019s dwelling the women of the household were\nassembled. Dame Lokka, best and busiest of matrons, was planning the\nevening meal. Sister Anniki, maid of the morning, was assorting the\nweek\u2019s washing and toying with the ribbons in her hair. And she who had\nbeen the Maid of Beauty\u2014she who was now the wife and helpmate of the\nmaster Smith\u2014was busy at the churn. Suddenly the sound of the slave\nboy\u2019s whistle\u2014the herdsman\u2019s whistle\u2014aroused and startled them. The\nsound filled the air with its shrill but welcome music, and was echoed\nsharply from the hills and the forest beyond. Again it was heard, and\nagain and again, each time more distinct, more persistent, less\nmusical.\n\n\u201cPraise Jumala!\u201d cried the wife and helpmate. \u201cThere is the herdsman\u2019s\nhorn. The cows are at home and it is milking time.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe slave boy has tended the cows well, I hope,\u201d said Dame Lokka. \u201cIf\nhe has not lost any of them he shall have a good supper to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut why does he blow so loudly?\u201d said Anniki, holding her head. \u201cThe\nsound is deafening. My ears are surely split and my head will burst\nfrom the unearthly noise.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind, sister,\u201d said the wife and helpmate, gently, soothingly.\n\u201cThat was the last blast and we shall not hear another. Does your head\nache? You shall have the first cup of milk that is taken from Brown\nBossy to-night. I myself will milk her, and I will give it to you, warm\nand frothing and fit for a queen. Surely that will heal your ear-drums,\nsurely that will ease your throbbing head.\u201d\n\nThen she called cheerily to her milkmaids: \u201cCome, girls, the cows are\nin the paddock and it is milking time! Fetch the new pails and fetch\nalso my milking stool. Let us get at our task before the daylight\nfades.\u201d\n\nThe milkmaids came\u2014three young serving-girls, rosy-faced, red-lipped,\nand ruddy with health. Methinks I see them even now, tripping lightly\nfrom the doorway, each with a sweet-smelling cedar-wood pail, and the\nforemost with a three-legged stool for the mistress.\n\nAlong the garden walk, between rows of blue and yellow flowers, they\npass joyously. In their blue gowns and white aprons, their long braided\nhair falling far down their backs\u2014how handsome they are! The wife and\nhelpmate goes before, queenly as when men called her the Maid of\nBeauty. Anniki, the sister, comes after, thirsty and impatient for the\ncup of fresh and frothing milk. They walk across the farmyard; they\nopen the great gate into the paddock; they enter and look around them.\n\n\u201cHa! how sleek the milkers are to-night!\u201d says the wife and helpmate.\n\u201cTheir hides shine as though they had been rubbed down with lynx-skin\nbrushes and smoothed with lamb\u2019s wool dipped in oil.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how full they are!\u201d says Anniki, the sister. \u201cThey have eaten so\nmuch they can hardly breathe. Surely the slave boy knows where to find\nthe best pastures for the herd.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and see how large their udders are!\u201d says one of the milkmaids.\n\u201cMethinks our pails are too small to contain such quantities of milk.\nThe whole milk-house will be flooded.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut look!\u201d suddenly cries the second milkmaid. \u201cWhat ails the\nyearlings? They stare at us so and their eyes glow like balls of fire.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, I am afraid! I am afraid!\u201d whispers the third milkmaid, shrinking\nback into the shadows.\n\nThe brave mistress laughs at her fears. \u201cIt is only the light of the\nsetting sun shining in their eyes,\u201d she says. \u201cSurely no harm can come\nfrom these gentle creatures.\u201d\n\nBut sister Anniki shivers with cold and draws nearer, her cheeks pale\nand her limbs trembling.\n\n\u201cBring hither my stool,\u201d says the wife and helpmate, \u201cand give me the\nnew pail of polished cedar. Here is Brown Bossy, patiently waiting to\ngive a cup of milk to Anniki. I will milk her first, and do each of you\ngirls choose a cow. The yearlings will not disturb you.\u201d\n\nShe places her stool by the side of the great brown beast; she takes\nthe new milk-pail in her hands; she sits down; she bends forward to\nbegin the milking.\n\nSuddenly a great shout, a whoop, a scream is heard far down the road.\nIt is not the shouting of a lone traveller; it is not the whooping of a\nhome-coming ploughboy; it is not the screaming of a frightened woman.\nThe milkmaids hear it and are overcome with terror. Sister Anniki turns\nto flee through the open gateway.\n\nBut the wife and mistress stamps her foot with anger. \u201cHow silly!\u201d she\ncries. \u201cIt is only the cry of an owl or the call of a lone wolf in the\ndarkening woods. Get to your milking!\u201d\n\nHer own hand trembles as she reaches for the teat. Quickly the dreadful\nsound is repeated, deafening the ears, freezing the blood of both\nmistress and maidens. It is the savage whoop of the slave Kullervo,\nbidding the beasts perform the dreadful business which he alone has\nplanned. Instantly the broad-horned, mild-eyed creature which has\nplayed the part of Brown Bossy becomes a huge bear, grim and terrible;\ninstantly all the milkers are turned to growling beasts; instantly the\nbright-eyed yearlings resume their proper forms and become fierce\nwolves snapping and snarling and eager for blood. Oh, the savage\nuproar! Oh, the terror, brief but indescribable!\n\nThe milkmaids with their white aprons and braided hair vanish like\nsnow-flakes in a turbulent flood of waters. The wife and helpmate, she\nwho erstwhile was the Maid of Beauty, is swept away in the storm, is\nswallowed up, and naught but a blood-stained lock of hair remains to\ntell of her fate. And Anniki, maid of the morning, flees shrieking\nthrough the gateway, is seized by cruel jaws, is devoured\u2014no magic\nskill of hers availing to avert her doom.\n\nAh, me! that it should be my task to tell of this strange tragedy so\nbrief but terrible! No minstrel\u2019s song can depict that scene so fraught\nwith woe, so horrible to contemplate.\n\nThe maddened, hungry wolves ran out of the paddock, out of the\nfarmyard; the hideous bears rushed after them. They ran hither and\nthither devouring every living thing. Like a destroying flood they\ninvaded the farmhouse, breaking down the doors, overturning the tables\nand benches, filling every room with their horrid presence. In the\nkitchen they found the old cook, the wench who had caused this\nunheard-of disaster. She was praying to Jumala, but Jumala did not save\nher. In her own chamber Dame Lokka, the best loved of matrons, fell\nbefore the pitiless tide. Not one of the household escaped the jaws of\nthe furious beasts. Women and men, children, birds and fowls, dogs and\nhorses, all perished. Even the gardens and the fields were overrun and\ntrampled into worthlessness. The once prosperous home of Ilmarinen\nbecame in a single night an uninhabited waste.\n\nAh! if only the master, Ilmarinen, had been there! But what could even\nhe have done in that storm so fierce, so irresistible, so overwhelming?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX\n\nTHE GOLDEN MAIDEN\n\n\nFar away in northern inlets Ilmarinen and his friend the Minstrel were\ncatching salmon for the winter\u2019s store. The days were growing shorter\nand the nights were getting cold. Ice was beginning to form in the\nsheltered creeks and coves and frost lay white on the shaded slopes of\nthe hills.\n\nFishes were scarce and shy and the fishermen were disheartened. For\nfive days\u2014yes, for six toilsome days\u2014they had sailed hither and\nthither, casting first on the landward side and then on the seaward,\nand still the boat\u2019s hold was far from being filled.\n\n\u201cI wish I were at home,\u201d sighed the master Smith.\n\n\u201cThere is no place so sweet as one\u2019s own fireside,\u201d responded the\nMinstrel.\n\n\u201cI long to see the faces of those whom I love,\u201d said the Smith. \u201cI am\nimpatient to hear their voices.\u201d\n\n\u201cSweeter than the chirping of song-birds\u2014yes, sweeter than the warbling\nof meadow larks\u2014is the merry prattling of one\u2019s own home folk,\u201d\nreturned the Minstrel.\n\nThey drew in the net. Not a salmon did it contain. Naught but seaweed\ndid they get.\n\n\u201cOh, I am sick of this business,\u201d complained Ilmarinen. \u201cI am sick of\nfishing, sick of sailing on these barren waters, sick of life itself.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake heart, brother, take heart,\u201d answered the Minstrel cheerily.\n\u201cTo-morrow we shall have better luck; we shall make a great catch, and\nsoon we shall sail back to Wainola with a full cargo and great plenty\nof salmon.\u201d\n\nBut on the morrow their bad luck continued. Their net was broken, they\nlost their best whalebone hook, their boat was grounded in the\nshallows, and half the day was wasted.\n\nSuddenly from the shore they heard some ravens calling among the\nstorm-beaten pines. They listened to the voices of the ill-omened\nbirds.\n\n\u201cSee those fishermen,\u201d said one. \u201cSee how they toil in these empty\nwaters.\u201d\n\n\u201cCaw! caw! caw!\u201d answered its mate. \u201cThey are foolish. They know not\nwhat is going on at home.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf they were wiser they would spread sail and hasten back to Wainola,\u201d\ncroaked a third.\n\n\u201cHasten back to Wainola!\u201d echoed the cold, gray cliffs and the ragged\nrocks on the shore.\n\n\u201cBack to Wainola!\u201d came a voice from the waveless waters.\n\n\u201cTo Wainola!\u201d shouted Ilmarinen, as he seized the ropes and hurriedly\nhoisted the sail.\n\n\u201cWainola! Wainola!\u201d sang the ancient Minstrel as he wielded the long\nrudder and deftly turned the vessel before the wind.\n\nAll night, all day, the willing little ship speeded southward, cutting\nthrough the waves with lightning swiftness, throwing the foam to the\nright and the left, leaving a track of boiling waters behind it. And\nthe word that was oftenest on the lips of Smith and Minstrel was \u201cHome!\nhome! home!\u201d\n\nThree days they sailed, and then\u2014ah, then! Who shall depict that\nhome-coming? Who shall describe the dismay, the grief, the\nheart-breaking of the hero, Ilmarinen?\n\nAs the boat neared the shore he shouted a great sky-shaking shout as\nwas his custom when arriving home from a long voyage. But no answering\ncry of welcome came to his ears. He saw no faces of loved ones waiting\nat the landing-place to greet him. Quickly, he leaped ashore. He paused\nnot a moment, but hastened along the silent pathways towards the grove\nthat sheltered his roomy farmhouse. But ere he reached it his eyes\ndetected many a sign of the fearful scenes that had been enacted there.\nThe hedges had been torn down, the flower-beds had been trampled and\ndestroyed, the bordering fields were laid waste. The farmhouse itself\nhad been ransacked from kitchen to attic chamber, and not one article\nof ornament or use had been left untouched or unbroken.\n\nFrantically the hero ran from one spot to another loudly calling to his\nmother, to his sister, the maid of the morning, to his wife, the best\nbeloved, the beautiful. But no voice answered him save the echoes of\nhis own words. The floor of the farmhouse was reddened with blood; on\nevery side were the marks of cruel teeth, the imprint of sharp and\npitiless claws. In the farmyard, he found the milking stool and the\npails, all battered and scarred and broken; and there, too, he found a\nlong lock of blood-covered hair which he knew too well had once\nbelonged to the Maid of Beauty, the mistress of his household and his\nlife. Then despair took hold of him and hope was dead. He looked no\nfarther, but sat down upon the ground and gave expression to his\noverwhelming grief.\n\nThus, all day and for many days, Ilmarinen mourned and wept. Through\nsleepless nights he bewailed his great misfortune, and through all the\nhated mornings he lamented the loss of his wife, his mother, his\nsister, his loved household. In his smithy the fire no longer burned,\nthe anvil no longer echoed his song. His hammer was idle and his forge\nwas cold. The beauty of life had departed and he longed to die\u2014to meet\nthe shades of his loved ones in the land of Tuonela.\n\nFor two, four\u2014yes, six\u2014long and dreary months he mourned, and his\nstrength waned and he grew weak from sorrow. He ate little, slept\nlittle, talked not at all, mingled never with his friends and\nneighbors. Often, in the still hours of midnight, he fancied that he\nheard the voice of his dear one calling him by name. Often in fitful\ndreams he reached his hand out in the darkness thinking to touch hers,\nbut grasping nothing, seizing only empty air.\n\nAt length, in his madness, he said to himself: \u201cWith gold and magic and\nsmithing skill I will shape a body like hers\u2014beautiful beyond\ncompare\u2014and then perhaps she will return from Tuonela and dwell therein\nas she did in her former body of flesh and blood.\u201d\n\nAnd so, from the rocks by the seaside he gathered flakes of gold,\nscales of gold, nuggets of gold, until he had filled a basket almost as\nlarge as himself. Then from the forest he cut and brought together many\nlogs of willow and white maple and mountain ash, and of these he made\ncharcoal for his smithy. With much care he prepared his furnace, and in\nthe midst of it he set a magic caldron, large and round and deep. He\nheaped the wood around it, he threw on coal, he kindled the fire; and\nall the while he sang runes and songs of wizardry and power which no\nlesser man would have dared to recite.\n\nThen he called loudly to his slaves and working men: \u201cNow, my faithful\nones, start the bellows to blowing. Make it roar like a storm at sea,\nlike a whirlwind in a mountain valley. Blow, blow, and cease not until\nI command you.\u201d\n\nThe men obeyed. With their bare hands they laid hold of the long lever,\nthey put their naked shoulders against it and worked steadily with\nmight and main. And Ilmarinen stood by his magic caldron, throwing into\nit great handfuls of gold, smaller handfuls of silver, cakes of fine\nsugar from the red mountain-maple, honey and honeycomb, daisies,\nbuttercups, wild flowers of every hue, and a hundred strange and potent\narticles the names of which I have not the courage to pronounce.\n\nFor a brief hour the workmen toiled and paused not. Then one said, \u201cI\nam tired,\u201d and slunk away in the darkness; and the second said, \u201cI am\nfaint with the heat,\u201d and let his hands fall from the bellows; and the\nthird said, \u201cThe work is too hard for one man alone to perform,\u201d and\nhe, too, abandoned his post. The bellows ceased blowing, the fire was\nfast dying down.\n\n\u201cBlow, my men, blow!\u201d cried Ilmarinen, and then, lifting his eyes, he\nsaw that he was alone in the smithy.\n\nAngry and half-despairing, he seized the lever of the bellows in his\nown hands, he put his own naked shoulder to the work, and again the\nflames leaped up, the fire glowed, the caldron quaked and trembled in\nthe terrible heat. For hours and hours he toiled, till the sweat poured\nin torrents from his brow, and his hands were blistered and his fingers\ncramped with grasping the long, unyielding lever of iron. At length he\npaused from his labor and looked down into the furnace. He lifted the\nlid from the caldron and sang a wild, weird song, every word of which\nwas a word of enchantment. And what do you think arose from the mixture\nin the vessel, from the gray clouds of vapor which filled it?\n\nIt was not that which the Smith had hoped to see, for the ill-working\nserving-men had broken the spells that he was weaving. It was not a\ngolden war-steed with shoes of silver. It was not a monstrous eagle\nwith beak of hardest iron. It was only a young lamb, small and feeble,\nwith fleece of mingled gold and silver.\n\nIlmarinen looked at the tiny beast and felt no pleasure. A child might\nhave liked it as a plaything, but a hero delights not in useless toys.\n\n\u201cI did not call for you, my lambkin,\u201d he said, disappointed and\nsorrowing. \u201cYou are gentle, you are harmless, but my magic spells\nshould have wrought something far better and more beautiful. I desire a\ngolden maiden and no other form will please me.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he thrust the lamb back into the boiling caldron, forcing it\ndown to the very bottom. Then he threw in more gold, and with each\nhandful of the yellow metal he muttered a new rune of magic words and\nmagic import. The fire burned fitfully beneath and around the caldron.\nTongues of blue flame encircled it, sheets of white flame enveloped it,\na sound like the humming of bees issued from its broad mouth.\n\nIlmarinen threw fresh coal into the furnace and heaped it high above\nthe draught hole. He worked the bellows, steadily, gently,\npersistently. The fire roared, the flames danced, the heat became\nintense. For hours the hero labored without cessation; for hours he\nmuttered spells of enchantment, suffering nothing to break in upon his\nthoughts or distract from the mystic power of his words. When he at\nlast, had reached the end, had recited all the proper runes and\nsayings, he stopped blowing the bellows, and with great caution stooped\ndown and looked into the caldron.\n\nThe flames died suddenly away, and out of the vessel there sprang a\nwonderful image\u2014the image of a beautiful maiden. In face and form she\nwas indeed lovely\u2014lovelier than any other woman, save one, that\nIlmarinen had ever seen. Her head was of silver and her hair was\ngolden. Her eyes sparkled like precious stones and were blue as the\nsummer sky, yet she saw nothing. Her ears were dainty and blushing like\npink rose leaves, yet she heard nothing. Her lips were tender and sweet\nand red like twin cranberries meeting beneath her faultless nose, yet\nshe tasted not, smelled nothing. Her mouth served not for speaking nor\nyet for eating or smiling. Her fingers were long and tapering and her\nhands small and shapely, yet she felt nothing. Her feet were\nwell-formed and comely, yet they would not support her, she could not\nstand.\n\n\u201cO my loved one! O my lost one! O thou who wert once the Maid of\nBeauty, come and dwell in this golden body!\u201d cried the enraptured\nSmith. \u201cCome, and once more be the joy of my poor life!\u201d\n\nHe lifted the Golden Maiden and placed her in the cushioned seat\nwherein his lost wife had often reposed. He put his arm around her\nwaist, but she did not return his caress. He kissed her cherry red\nlips, but they were cold, cold, cold. He spoke many endearing words in\nher ear, but she gave him no answer. He took her hands between his own,\nbut there was no throbbing of life in them.\n\n\u201cShe is cold, so cold!\u201d he muttered. \u201cShe is like ice, like snow in\nmidwinter!\u201d\n\nThen he laid her on a silken couch, put soft pillows beneath her head,\nand covered her with warm blankets and quilted coverlets. And as he did\nso he prayed unceasingly to the dear dead one whom he had loved so\nmuch:\n\n\u201cO thou who wert once the Maid of Beauty, come and dwell in this body\nof gold! Come and give life to this precious maiden; fill her veins\nwith blood, give warmth to her body, sight to her eyes, hearing to her\nears!\u201d\n\nAll night long he sat beside the couch, holding the maiden\u2019s hands and\nbreathing his own warm breath into her face. All night long he moaned\nand wept and called the name of his lost wife whom the beasts had\ndevoured. At length the new day dawned and the sunlight streamed into\nthe room and fell upon the couch. The Golden Maiden was as cold as\nbefore, her face was white with frost, her body was frozen to the\nblankets.\n\n\u201cAh, me! there is no hope!\u201d said the Smith, despairing utterly; and he\nlifted the image from its resting place. \u201cNever will the dead come to\nlife again, never will my loved one return to me. Henceforth I shall\nwalk alone upon the earth.\u201d\n\nHe took the Golden Maiden gently in his arms, he smoothed the drapery\nabout her, and carried her to his old friend, the Minstrel.\n\n\u201cO Wainamoinen, tried and true!\u201d he cried. \u201cHere I bring you a\npresent\u2014a maiden of great worth, golden and beautiful. See her fair\nface, her comely form, her feet so small and shapely.\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel, wise and steadfast, looked at the image closely,\nadmiringly. Then he said, \u201cShe is indeed a pretty maiden, and the\nlikeness is perfect. But wherefore do you bring her to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cDear brother, friend, companion,\u201d answered the Smith, \u201cI bring her to\nyou because I love you, because I would make you happy. Years ago we\nboth wooed the same Maid of Beauty. I won her because I was young; you\nlost her because you were old. I know what must have been your sorrow\nand disappointment. Now, when there can be no more joy for me, I bring\nyou this Golden Maiden to be your solace and delight. She has the form\nand features of the Maid of Beauty, and I doubt not she will please\nyou. She will sit on your knee and nestle dovelike in your arms\u2014and she\nis worth her weight in gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cI want no golden maiden!\u201d cried the Minstrel half angrily, sternly.\n\u201cFor what is gold without sense, without soul? I have heard of young\nfools who wedded silly maidens, brainless women, soulless ladies, just\nfor gold. But think you that one in my position would stoop to such\nfolly?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know that you are wise, my brother,\u201d said the Smith, \u201cand you are\nthe master of all magic. Perhaps you might endow this Golden Maiden\nwith sense, with warm blood, with a noble soul.\u201d\n\n\u201cJumala alone has that power,\u201d answered Wainamoinen, \u201cand to Jumala let\nus give all praise. Carry this image back to your smithy, thrust the\nGolden Maiden into your furnace, and then you may forge from her all\nsorts of objects, beautiful, useful, precious. For never will your Maid\nof Beauty return from Tuonela to dwell in a body so base and\nworthless.\u201d\n\nSorrowfully, regretfully, Ilmarinen obeyed. Back to his smithy he\ncarried the golden image; he thrust it into his furnace; he watched it\nmelt and disappear in the terrible heat. Then he turned himself about\nand walked out silently into the darkness. And for many a sad day the\npeople of Wainola sought him in vain and then mourned him as dead.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI\n\nTHE FAMINE\n\n\nSad were the days and joyless were the months in the Land of Heroes.\nThe sky was cloudless and gray and the ground was parched and dry for\nlong lack of rain. In the fields the crops failed and the cattle died.\nIn the forest there was no game for the huntsmen. In the sea the fishes\nhad fled to other waters, leaving the fishermen to toil in vain. In\nWainola the children were crying for food and the men and women were\nsitting on their doorsteps, silent, with stony faces, hopeless,\nhelpless, despairing.\n\nThen one day a little boat came creeping into the harbor with but one\nman on board. Many of the people saw the lone sailor as he moored his\nvessel to the shore, but none had the courage to go and meet him. He\nwalked slowly up the deserted pathway to the village, looking at the\nbarren fields and the fruitless trees, the empty barns and the gloomy\nhouses, the many signs of poverty and distress. His eyes wandered\nonward to the ruined farmhouse, and past it to the smokeless smithy\nwhich had once been the joy and the pride of the hero, Ilmarinen.\n\n\u201cAh, me! Can this be Wainola, the village once so happy and\nprosperous?\u201d he said to himself. \u201cCan this be the smithy, can this be\nthe home which echoed to the merry sounds of love and peace?\u201d\n\nThen from out of the shadows an old man, feeble and tottering, came to\nmeet him. It was Wainamoinen, pale with fasting, gaunt with hunger, but\nbrave and steadfast as in former days.\n\n\u201cHail, stranger!\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cWelcome to Wainola and to the\nbest that its people can offer!\u201d\n\n\u201cHail, friend and brother!\u201d answered the stranger heartily and with\ngentleness. He lifted the cap which had concealed his forehead, he\nloosed the broad scarf that had been well drawn up about his chin and\ncheeks. His ruddy face was wrinkled with sorrow although for the moment\nit was wreathed in smiles.\n\nThe Minstrel old and feeble uttered a cry of joy. \u201cO Ilmarinen!\nIlmarinen! Have you returned? We had mourned you as dead! We had given\nyou up as lost!\u201d And the next moment each was locked in the other\u2019s\narms.\n\n\u201cNow, tell me, my young brother, where have you been since you departed\nfrom Wainola and the Land of Heroes? Word came to us that you had\nperished, that you had gone to dwell in Tuonela; and when this great\nblight of famine and sorrow came upon the land, we were fain to believe\nthat it was indeed so. Why did you leave us? Where have you been?\u201d\n\n\u201cI went away from Wainola because of my sorrow,\u201d answered Ilmarinen\nsadly. \u201cI went to the far North Land, to Pohyola\u2019s shores, because the\nvoice of my dear lost Maid of Beauty seemed to call me thither. For\ntwelve months\u2014yes, for two long, sorrowing years\u2014I sought her in that\nland. But Tuoni holds her captive in his castle beside the river of\nsilence. She cannot come to me, but I can go to her. I am even now\nseeking the road to Tuonela.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou need not go far to find it,\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cLook around you\nand see your neighbors starving, dying\u2014hear your neighbors\u2019 children\nmoaning, crying. The road to Tuonela is here, and many are the feet\nthat are travelling in it. But tell me, was it thus in Pohyola? Have\nthey a famine there also?\u201d\n\n\u201cA famine! Far from it,\u201d answered Ilmarinen. \u201cNever was there a more\nprosperous people than those of Pohyola. They plough, they sow, they\nreap in great abundance. Of grain and fruit there is no end, and no man\nnor woman, child nor dog, knows the meaning of hunger.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow strange that a land of mists and fogs, a land so dreary and\nforbidding, should be so blessed with plenty!\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cIs\nit by some power of magic that this is so? Why is it that you, the\nprince of wizards, cannot find some way to bless and save our own\nkinsmen, our own people?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you remember the Sampo?\u201d said the Smith. \u201cDo you remember the magic\nmill which I made for Dame Louhi many years ago? That mill is still\ngrinding in Pohyola, its lid of many colors turns and turns and turns\nforever. Safely locked in a stony cavern, still it grinds wealth and\nfood and clothing without end. The soil draws richness from it, the\nfields of grain thrive upon its grindings, the fruit trees send their\nroots downward and suck up the wealth which it pours out.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Sampo, the Sampo!\u201d said the Minstrel, feebly as in a dream. \u201cIf\nonly we might bring it to our own country, how quickly we could save\nour people!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was I that forged the wonderful mill, I, the prince of smiths and\nwizards,\u201d said Ilmarinen with a far-off look in his eyes. \u201cNever can\nanother be made that is like it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if you forged it, why is it not your own?\u201d queried Wainamoinen,\nwise though feeble.\n\n\u201cI forged it for another,\u201d answered Ilmarinen. \u201cI made it for wise old\nLouhi, the Mistress of Pohyola; and the reward which she ought to have\ngiven me, I obtained by other means. Neither gold nor silver nor aught\nelse have I ever received for my labor.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen surely you have a valid claim upon the Sampo,\u201d said Wainamoinen.\n\u201cO my friend and brother, we must hasten to Pohyola and seize that mill\nof plenty, that we may bring it to our own sweet land. We must save our\nstarving people.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay, it cannot be,\u201d returned the Smith. \u201cThe mill is securely\nstored away in a stony cavern beneath a hill of copper. Nine heavy\ndoors shut it in, and nine locks of strongest metal make each door fast\nand safe. No man nor men can seize the mighty Sampo.\u201d\n\nBut the Minstrel persisted. All that night he held the Smith\u2019s strong\nhand and talked of naught but the Sampo and how, by it, they might save\nthe lives of their famishing friends and neighbors. At length Ilmarinen\nceased objecting. \u201cYou are wise, my elder brother,\u201d he said, \u201cmuch\nwiser than I. The task is a mighty one, but for the sake of our people\nand our country I will not shrink from it. None but women say, \u2018I\ncannot,\u2019 none but cowards say, \u2018I dare not.\u2019\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII\n\nTHE WEEPING SHIP\n\n\nHour after hour the two heroes sat together and talked of their great\nproject and the desire of their hearts. Nor could they readily agree by\nwhat road they should journey to Pohyola, whether by sea or whether by\nland.\n\n\u201cTwice have I sailed thither in a ship,\u201d said the Minstrel.\n\n\u201cTwice have I made the journey in a sledge,\u201d returned the Smith.\n\n\u201cIt is nearest by water,\u201d said the Minstrel.\n\n\u201cIt is safest by land,\u201d said the Smith.\n\n\u201cIt is pleasantest to go thither by ship.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is surest to ride thither along the shore.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, let this be as it may,\u201d at length said Wainamoinen. \u201cWe shall\nnot quarrel. If the land way pleases you, I say no more; but it is\nbeset with perils, and we must be well armed. As you know, it is not\nthe habit of minstrels to carry weapons, and I have neither spear nor\nclub. So get you to your smithy, kindle the fire in your furnace so\nlong idle and cold, and forge me a keen-edged sword with which to fight\nwild men and savage beasts.\u201d\n\nThe Smith obeyed. Once more the flames leaped up within his furnace,\nonce more the black smoke poured from the roof-hole, and once more the\nsong of the anvil rang out cheerily in the morning air. Into the fire\nthe mighty wizard threw first a bar of purest iron, then upon this he\nscattered a handful of gold, all that remained of the Golden Maiden. He\nblew the bellows with might and main till the whole smithy trembled and\ngroaned and the flames leaped up to lick the sky. Then he drew out the\nhalf-melted mass and held it upon the anvil while he beat and turned\nit, and beat and turned it, until he had shaped it into a wonderful\nweapon the like of which no man had seen before.\n\n\u201cHa! this is indeed a sword well suited to a hero,\u201d he said when it was\nfinished.\n\nHe held it up and looked admiringly at its well-shaped blade and\njewelled handle. Pictures rare and beautiful adorned its sides. The\nhilt was shaped like a prancing horse, the knob was the image of a\nmewing cat.\n\nHe looked long and lovingly at the blade and then handed it to\nWainamoinen. \u201cTake it, friend and brother,\u201d he said. \u201cIt is worthy of\nyou. Its name is Faultless. With it you can cleave the hardest rocks;\nwith it you can vanquish all your foes; with it you can carve for\nyourself great honor and fame.\u201d\n\nSoon came the time for starting, and the courage of both began to\nwaver. \u201cWe must have horses,\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cThe way is long, the\npaths are rough, the journey cannot be made on foot. Let us seek out\nsteeds for ourselves.\u201d\n\nSo into the fields they went, wondering whether any of Ilmarinen\u2019s\nsteeds had escaped the wolves and the hungry bears and the starving\ndays of the drought. Long they sought, and at last they found among the\nbushes in the great marsh a wild colt, scarcely grown, and a gaunt,\nlong-legged, yellow-maned steed which had once been the pride of\nIlmarinen\u2019s stable. With much labor they caught these beasts and\nbridled them, and upon their backs they threw rough blankets to serve\nin place of saddles.\n\nThey mounted and rode through the woods, the Minstrel going first with\nhis great sword drawn. They rode along the pathway which each had\ntravelled once before, the pathway which followed the windings of the\ncoast; for this they judged was the safest way. They rode slowly, for\ntheir horses were neither swift nor strong, and their eyes and ears\nwere alert for every strange sight or unexpected sound.\n\nSuddenly, as they were skirting the shore of a small secluded inlet,\nthey heard what seemed to be the moaning of some one in great distress.\nThey stopped and listened.\n\n\u201cWhat can it be?\u201d asked the Smith.\n\n\u201cI know not,\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cIt may be some child who has lost\nhis way and is weeping by the shore. It may be some she-bear moaning\nfor her dead cubs. It may be only a dove cooing among the branches of\nher nesting-tree. Let us ride along the beach and learn what we may.\u201d\n\nSo they rode onward, close to the water-side, listening and looking and\ndrawing nearer and nearer to the place from whence the strange sounds\nissued. Presently, in a little cove, they saw not a child nor a mother\nbear nor even a dove, but a fine large boat with red hull and scarlet\nprow, and with oars and rowlocks and everything needed for a lengthy\nvoyage. As the wavelets rippled against the sides of the pretty vessel\nand caused its keel to grate upon the sandy beach, it gave forth groans\nand lamentations like the cries of some living creature suffering from\nsorrow or pain.\n\n\u201cO little red vessel, why do you weep?\u201d cried Wainamoinen. \u201cWhy do you\ncomplain so loudly, so grievously?\u201d\n\n\u201cI weep for the great deep sea,\u201d answered the boat. \u201cI am unhappy\nbecause I am tied to the shore. I long to be free, to speed over the\nwater, to glide upon the waves.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is your master, and why do you lie here idle?\u201d asked Ilmarinen.\n\n\u201cI am waiting for my master,\u201d said the boat. \u201cThe wizard who sang my\nboards together bade me wait here for the hero who is to guide me\nacross the sea. But he does not come, he does not come!\u201d and with that\nit began again to cry and lament in tones of impatience and grief.\n\n\u201cDo not fret yourself, O boat with rowlocks!\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cYour\nmaster will surely come soon to claim you. Then you shall ride proudly\nupon the waves, you shall sail to unknown shores, you shall mix in the\nbattle struggle and return home laden with plunder. Only be patient and\nwait.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have waited long already,\u201d answered the boat. \u201cI have waited till my\nrowlocks are rusty and my deck boards are rotting. Worms are gnawing\nthrough my beams; toads are leaping in my hold; birds are nesting on my\nmast; all my sails and ropes are mildewed. I would rather be a mountain\npine tree, or an oak in the valley with squirrels leaping among my\nbranches.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave patience, O boat!\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cLament no more, for your\nmaster has surely come.\u201d\n\nThen the heroes leaped from their horses, turning them loose to wander\nfree among the sand-hills. They put their shoulders to the little\nvessel and pushed it into deeper water. They climbed quickly on board\nof it, singing as it floated slowly from the shore:\n\n\n           \u201cLittle boat so snug, so strong,\n            Listen to our earnest song.\n            You are fair to gaze upon,\n            Are you as safe to sail upon?\u201d\n\n\nThe boat answered:\n\n\n           \u201cTwo men may on me safely sail,\n            Ten men I surely will not fail;\n            A hundred men with oars might row me;\n            A thousand men could not o\u2019erthrow me.\u201d\n\n\nWhile the Smith sat at the helm and guided the vessel out through the\nnarrow inlet, the Minstrel stood up beneath the flapping sail and sang\nsongs of magic, songs which he had wellnigh forgotten. He sang of the\nearth and the sea, of the sun and the stars, of love and battle, and of\nthe great mysteries of life and death. Then, while with his sword he\nkept time to the rhythm of his song, he began a soft carol, sweet and\nlow and very persuasive. And, behold! as he sang, one side of the boat\nwas filled with strong young men, handsome youths, with long hair and\ndowny cheeks and hands all hardened by labor.\n\nHe changed his theme, and the other side of the boat was filled with\nmaidens\u2014pretty girls, their hair in puffs and curls, with belts of\ncopper round their waists and rings of gold upon their fingers. And as\nthe Minstrel continued to sing, the boat grew broader, longer, roomier,\nand became a gallant ship. On each side were seats for fifty rowers,\nand in each of the fifty rowlocks a long and supple oar lay resting.\n\nNo sooner was the vessel outside of the inlet than it paused and\nrefused to go farther. It stood in its place, rocking on the waves of\nthe open sea. The Minstrel sat himself down in the prow and bade the\nyoung men begin their rowing.\n\n\u201cWield the oars with strength, my heroes,\u201d he cried. \u201cRow hard, row\nhard, and drive our good ship o\u2019er this wide expanse of water, speed it\nthrough this treeless region.\u201d\n\nThe fifty youths obeyed. They leaned forward, they dipped their oars in\nthe waves, they strained every muscle till the rowlocks groaned and\ncracked. But all in vain: the ship stood still.\n\nThen in anger the Minstrel bade them drop their oars and change seats\nwith the maidens, who had been idly looking on.\n\n\u201cWield the oars with love, girls, wield them with all your power. Row\nhard, row hard, and speed our good ship on its way. Make it float\nlightly, joyously, swiftly over the curling waves.\u201d\n\nThe maidens obeyed. They grasped the oars with their slender fingers,\nthey strained with their arms, their faces blushed scarlet red. But all\nin vain: the ship stood still.\n\nThereupon the hero Ilmarinen went toward the prow and seated himself\nupon one of the benches. He took the oar in his labor-hardened hands,\nhe dipped its blade in the singing water and began rowing. Instantly\nthe ship sprang forward like a wild bird beginning its flight.\nInstantly the prow of copper began to sing and the waves parted to make\na path for the speeding vessel. Instantly the fifty maidens and the\nfifty stalwart youths, with joyous hearts, renewed their rowing.\n\nThe hero Ilmarinen shouted to the ship, to the sea, to the hundred\nrowers; and the ship, the sea, and the rowers answered him in tones of\ngladness. The oars bent and groaned, the rowlocks creaked, the seats\nshook and trembled. The dashing spray fell in showers to the right and\nthe left. The slender mast croaked to the wind like a raven croaking to\nits mate. And Wainamoinen stood at the helm and wisely steered the fair\nred vessel on its pathless way.\n\nBy his hut on that bleak headland which juts farthest into the great\nicy sea a poor fisherman was sitting. He was mending his net and\nweeping because the fishes were so few. Suddenly a sound, seemingly\nfar, far away but drawing nearer, touched his ears and caused him to\nstart up. What was it? Was it a sea-gull breasting the morning gale and\ncrying to its mate in the shelter of the ragged cliffs? Or was it some\nbeast of the shore wandering along the desolate beach and howling from\nhunger and loneliness?\n\nVery small was the fisherman\u2019s body, but his head was large and his\narms were long. Very awkward were his fingers and dull of feeling, but\nhis hearing was keen and his sight even keener.\n\nHe leaped quickly to his feet and gazed northward. Nothing there did he\nbehold but the endless sea, the white-capped waves, and the cheerless,\nchilly sky. He turned and looked southward. At first he saw nothing\nthere; then suddenly on the horizon a rainbow appeared with a single\ngray cloud beyond it.\n\nWas it indeed a rainbow? Was it a gray cloud? Ah, no! It was a red ship\nspeeding onward, and the rainbow was the spray that she dashed from her\ncleaving prow.\n\nThe vessel drew nearer, she was in plain sight, she loomed up large\nupon the waters. The fisherman could see the oars rising and falling,\nhe could see the rowers sitting upon the benches. Then he heard clearly\nthe shouting of the young men and the singing of the maidens, and above\nall the clear, commanding tones of the master.\n\nWith wild gestures he ran far out upon the beach, shouting loudly over\nthe water:\n\n\u201cWho are you, O sailormen? What ship is this with crimson prow that\nploughs the sea so swiftly?\u201d\n\nThree times he shouted and made inquiry, and then from the rowers came\nthe answer:\n\n\u201cWho are you, lone fisherman? Why do you dwell on this bleak promontory\nfar from your fellow-men?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is Ahti,\u201d answered the long-armed one. \u201cI dwell here because\nit is my home and I have no other. I am strong, I am wise. Even though\nyou tell me nothing I know your steersman: he is Wainamoinen, the great\nMinstrel. I know your master oarsman: he is Ilmarinen, the prince of\nwizards.\u201d\n\nBy this time the ship was close inshore, but still speeding on its way.\nThen the rowers rested on their oars, and it was easy to understand all\nthat was being said whether on the ship or on the shore.\n\n\u201cWhere are you going, O heroes?\u201d asked the fisherman. \u201cWhy do you sail\nso swiftly through these barren waters?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are sailing to the North Country,\u201d answered the Minstrel. \u201cWe are\ngoing to the Frozen Land, to the shores of Pohyola, where we shall ask\nDame Louhi to share the Sampo with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what if she will not do so?\u201d asked Ahti, running along the shore\nto keep abreast of the ship.\n\n\u201cThen we shall seize the mill of plenty and carry away its lid of many\ncolors,\u201d said Ilmarinen.\n\n\u201cO take me with you! take me with you!\u201d shouted the fisherman, waving\nhis long arms and leaping into the sea.\n\nA sturdy swimmer he was, like the seals, his only neighbors; and the\nwater held no terrors for him, buffet him as it might. Bravely he\nlaunched out toward the speeding vessel, and quickly he came abreast of\nher fast-receding stern. The Minstrel reached over, he seized the man\u2019s\nlong arms and drew him aboard. Then the hundred rowers took to their\noars again and the ship bounded forward into the vast and trackless sea\nof the North.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII\n\nTHE KANTELE\n\n\nWith eyes that never failed and arms that never tired the Minstrel\nstood by the helm and guided the vessel around the jutting headland and\nstraight forward into the great white sea. On the benches the rowers\nsat, wielding their oars with strength and deftness and singing and\nshouting for gladness. On the deck the long-armed Ahti danced nimbly\nand joyously, forgetful of his fishing, forgetful of his hunger.\n\nFor one long day and through the moonlit night the ship sped onward\nacross the open sea. On the next day it skirted the low, marshy shores\nof the Frozen Land. On the third day it sailed through narrow straits\nbetween small islands, approaching by stealth the longed-for haven of\nPohyola. And now the rowers were silent, the maidens had ceased their\nsinging, the young men refrained from shouting, even the nimble Ahti\nleft off his dancing and sat quietly at the feet of Ilmarinen.\n\nSuddenly, in a deep channel, the vessel\u2019s bottom grated upon something,\nand the ship shivered and stood still. It remained fast in its place\nand no effort of the rowers could move it. The nimble Ahti seized a\nlong pole and thrust it into the water, trying with all his great\nstrength to push the ship along. What was it that had thus so suddenly\nstopped the flight of the gallant vessel?\n\n\u201cO thou lively Ahti,\u201d then cried the Minstrel, \u201clean far over the\ngunwales and look below. See what it is that keeps us moveless. Is it\nsome rock, or is it the snaggy trunk of some forest tree lying deep\nbeneath the waves?\u201d\n\nThe long-armed hero obeyed. Holding fast with one hand to the vessel\u2019s\nedge, he let himself down into the water. He looked under the ship\u2019s\nhull, he peered closely at her keel, and then he leaped quickly back\namong the rowers.\n\n\u201cIt is not a rock,\u201d he shouted, \u201cneither is it a tree! It is a fish, a\nmighty pike that has stopped the vessel. Never have I seen so large a\nfish. It lies in the water silent, motionless, asleep, like a senseless\nmountain. The ship is wedged against its back fin\u2014a fin as large as the\nsail upon our mast. If the fish should sink, it will drag our vessel\ndown into the depths; if it should rise, it will tumble us all headlong\ninto the sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cToo much talk will never save us,\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cNever yet was\npike slain by idle words. Draw your sword and wield it valiantly with\nyour long, ungainly arms. Sever in twain the fish on which we are\ngrounded.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely I will do so,\u201d answered Ahti. \u201cI will carve him into a thousand\npieces.\u201d\n\nHe drew his fish-knife from his belt, he reached downward with his long\narms, he slashed furiously this way and that; but nothing did he cut\nsave the yielding water.\n\nUp leaped Ilmarinen from his seat among the rowers. He seized the\nboaster by the hair and thrust him back among the benches. \u201cEasy it is\nto brag,\u201d he said, \u201cbut to do is quite another story.\u201d\n\nThen with his sword of truest metal he reached down\u2014deep down beneath\nthe ship\u2019s round hull. With all his strength he struck at the fish,\nthinking to cleave it in twain. But the scales of the monster were like\niron plates lapping one upon another. The sword was shivered in pieces,\nit fell from the hero\u2019s hand, and the pike still slept unharmed in the\nquiet water.\n\n\u201cThis is no boy\u2019s work!\u201d cried Wainamoinen. \u201cA man is needed\u2014a man\u2019s\nsense, a man\u2019s strength, a man\u2019s skill. Stand aside, and see what a\nreal man can do.\u201d\n\nThen, drawing the sword\u2014the keen-edged sword, Faultless, which the\nSmith had forged for him\u2014he leaped into the sea, he dived deep down to\nthe fish\u2019s resting-place. With one tremendous stroke he severed the\nmighty pike in twain, with another he hewed off its head. The monstrous\nbody sank to the bottom; but the Minstrel dragged the head up to the\nsurface, and with Ahti\u2019s help he hoisted the mighty jaws into the\nvessel.\n\n\u201cNow, row! Row all together!\u201d shouted Ilmarinen.\n\nInstantly the hundred oars were dipped into the waves, all the rowers\npulled together and the ship began again to move steadily, proudly\nthrough the water. Wainamoinen stood at the helm. With masterly skill\nhe piloted the vessel through narrow ways, he guided it along deep,\nwinding channels, and finally steered it to the mainland, where it\nrested in a safe, well-sheltered haven close by the village of Pohyola.\n\nAll leaped out upon the sands, glad that the long voyage was ended. A\nfire was built and the young men and maidens clustered round it. The\nhead of the pike was brought, and all examined its huge scales, its\nstaring eyes, its sharp-pointed teeth.\n\n\u201cIt is long since we tasted food,\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cLet the fairest\nof the maidens cook this fish. Let them broil it for our breakfast.\nNever shall we enter Pohyola while hunger pinches us, while famine robs\nus of strength.\u201d\n\nForthwith the maidens began the cooking. Ten of the most beautiful were\nchosen to perform the work. The young men hastened to gather sticks on\nthe shore to feed the fire, to make hot coals for the broiling.\nWainamoinen drew his knife blade from its sheath and with skilful\nstrokes divided the head into a hundred pieces\u2014yes, into more than a\nhundred he cleaved it, that each of the crew might have abundance. The\nflames roared, the red coals glowed upon the sand, the juicy morsels\nsizzled loudly and gave forth savory odors very pleasant indeed to the\nnostrils.\n\nSoon the breakfast was prepared and all sat down upon the sand to eat\nthe delicious morsels which the maidens had cooked. Sharp were their\nappetites, and when they had finished, nothing was left of the mighty\nhead save its bones and its dagger-like teeth which lay scattered on\nthe beach.\n\n\u201cWhat a pity that these should be wasted!\u201d said the Minstrel, picking\nup a fragment of the jawbone\u2014a fragment with the teeth still fast\nwithin their sockets. \u201cSurely, if Ilmarinen had them in his smithy he\nmight shape them into something useful, beautiful, wonderful.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay!\u201d answered Ilmarinen. \u201cNothing can be made from such useless\nthings. The skilfulest smith can never fashion fish-bones into anything\nof value.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be so,\u201d said Wainamoinen thoughtfully, \u201cand yet, perhaps I, who\nam not a smith, may make something from them that will give joy to men\nand women.\u201d\n\nThereupon, with his sharp-edged knife he set to work to fashion from\nthe fish-bones a thing to give forth music. Of a piece of cedar he made\nthe framework; of the pike\u2019s jawbone he made the bridge; of the pike\u2019s\nsharp teeth he made the pegs to hold the harp strings. Then out into\nthe fields he went, searching in the thickets and among the briars.\nSoon he found five horsehairs which the wild steeds of Pohyola had lost\nwhile pasturing there\u2014five horsehairs, long and strong and resonant.\n\u201cThese will serve right well for harp strings,\u201d he said.\n\nHe hung the horsehairs in their places, he stretched them tight, he\ngave to each its proper length and tension. \u201cHa! ha!\u201d he laughed. \u201cWho\nnow will say that nothing can be made of fish-bones? Here is something\nthat will breathe forth music sweeter than a minstrel\u2019s song. It will\ndelight the young, the old, the rich, the poor\u2014all sorts of people\u2014with\nits rare and matchless melodies. Call it the kantele, call it the harp\nof the North, and let minstrels never fail to play upon it.\u201d\n\nThe news of his invention spread quickly. The youths, the maidens came\ncrowding round him. From the fields and the fishermen\u2019s boats the men\ncame running. From the huts and the washing pools the women came\ndancing. Half-grown boys and little girls pushed shyly forward\u2014all\ncurious to gaze on the wonderful kantele, all anxious to hear its sweet\nmusic. And Wainamoinen passed it from hand to hand, saying, \u201cLook at\nit, let your fingers play upon it, let its melodies rejoice your\nhearts.\u201d\n\nWistfully the little girls, the maidens, the older women, all held the\nharp in their hands and with their tender fingers swept the harp\nstrings. Boldly, confidently, the half-grown boys, the young men, the\nold fishermen, all grasped the wonderful instrument and tried to play\nupon it. But the tones which they drew from it were harsh, unpleasant,\nunmusical.\n\n\u201cIt is not thus the kantele is played,\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cNot one of\nyou can draw cheerful music from it, and yet the melodies are there;\nthey lie hidden in the strings of horsehair, in the jawbone of the\npike.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can play it,\u201d said the nimble Ahti. \u201cWith my long arms I can call\nforth the melodies that now lie slumbering within it. Let me try what I\ncan do.\u201d\n\nWainamoinen put the harp of fish-bone in his gnarly hands; he rested it\nupon his knees; very eagerly the little fellow swept the harp strings\nwith the tips of his long fingers. But the sound which came forth was\nnot music\u2014it was a noise, discordant, grating, painful to the ears.\n\n\u201cIt is always thus,\u201d said the Minstrel, growing impatient at last. \u201cThe\npoorest doers are the biggest boasters. The music of the kantele lies\nstill beneath its bridge, beneath the jawbone of the pike. Not one of\nyou has the skill to coax it forth from its lurking-place. Let us all\ngo now to the village, to the roomy dwelling of Dame Louhi. Perhaps the\nMistress of the land, the old, the grim, the gray, the Wise Woman of\nthe North, will be able to touch the harp strings aright\u2014perhaps she\nwill know how to play the kantele and bring sweet melodies from its\nheart.\u201d\n\nAnd all the young men shouted, \u201cTo Dame Louhi\u2019s dwelling! Let us see\nwhat the Wise Woman can do. Yes, lead us to Dame Louhi\u2019s dwelling.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV\n\nTHE TRIUMPH OF MUSIC\n\n\nOld Dame Louhi, unlovely and unloved, sat in the doorway of her\ndwelling. She looked out and saw that which made her wrinkled, uncanny\nface beam with joy. Her toothless mouth expanded into the mockery of a\nsmile. Her small, greedy eyes twinkled beneath her shaggy eyebrows. Her\nlong, crooked fingers trembled nervously, they seemed to be grasping at\nsomething invisible.\n\nShe was pleased because where once were naught but vast brown meadows\nshe now saw fields of ripening grain. Where once were miry marsh lands\nshe saw green pastures with hundreds of sleek cattle grazing thereon.\nWhere once were sandy barrens and wind-swept hills she saw fruitful\norchards and blooming gardens. And in the village, instead of wretched\nhuts she saw neat cottages and well-filled barns, the homes of\ncontentment and plenty. Who can wonder that her face was wreathed with\nsmiles while her heart was overflowing with joy? [G]\n\n\u201cMy mill of fortune has done all this,\u201d she muttered to herself. \u201cThis\nfair, sweet country shall now no longer be called the Frozen Land. It\nshall everywhere be known as the Land of Plenty, the home of the\nSampo.\u201d\n\nShe turned her head and listened. A faint, musical sound, far away,\ncame to her ears. It was the sound made by the magic mill, grinding,\ngrinding forever in the cave beneath the hill of copper. She could hear\nits pictured cover turning, turning\u2014pouring out wealth for all the\npeople. She could hear the grains of gold dropping, dropping\u2014the\nprecious royal sap feeding the rootlets of the corn, filling the apple\nblossoms with nectar, and pervading the rich warm soil itself.\n\nSuddenly she was startled by hearing another sound\u2014a strange, unusual\nnoise, a clamor as of the voices of many people all trying to speak at\nonce, all trying to make themselves heard. The sound grew louder every\nmoment. It became a confused uproar; it drew rapidly nearer. What could\nit be?\n\nThe Mistress, looking eagerly, soon saw whence the clamor came. A great\ncrowd of excited people appeared coming up from the seashore. The road\nbetween the gardens was filled with half-grown boys, chattering little\ngirls, shouting young men, singing maidens, hard-working women from the\nfarms, and old men from the fishing boats; and all were using their\nvoices vigorously, excitedly, as though some wonderful thing was\nhappening.\n\nThe Mistress was alarmed. \u201cSurely the world has gone mad!\u201d she cried in\ndismay. \u201cWho are these people, and what do they mean by their strange\nactions?\u201d\n\nThe rabble came nearer. Dame Louhi could distinguish some of the faces.\nShe was sure that the children and some of the old men and old women\nwere her own subjects\u2014she had seen them every day of their lives, but\nnever in so jolly a mood as now. But who were those noisy young men and\nmaidens, dressed in foreign garb, who formed the greater portion of the\nnoisy company? And who were the two heroes who led them\u2014one\nwhite-bearded and tall, the other sad-eyed and pale but with the limbs\nof a giant? Ah! Dame Louhi knew them only too well.\n\n\u201cHail to you, heroes!\u201d she said, as they paused beside her dwelling and\nsilence fell upon the company. \u201cYour faces are familiar to me and your\nnames I have not forgotten. If you come in peace, I welcome you to this\nland of plenty.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe come in peace,\u201d answered the Minstrel, wise and truthful. \u201cWe have\nheard strange stories in our country concerning the magic Sampo and the\ngreat changes it has wrought in Pohyola. Now our eyes see that which\nour hearts could not believe and we would fain rejoice with you and be\nglad because of your good fortune.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood fortune comes to those who labor for it and who most deserve it,\u201d\nsaid Dame Louhi coldly. \u201cBut tell me, what fresh news do you bring from\nthe Land of Heroes?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no news but of famine and sorrow,\u201d answered the Minstrel.\n\u201cThe children are crying for food, and men and women perish because of\nthe poverty of the land. Therefore we have come to ask you to share the\nSampo with us. It has made you rich and happy, now give us a small\nportion of it that it may bless our suffering people also.\u201d\n\nThe face of the Mistress grew ashy-white with anger. \u201cThe Sampo is but\na little thing,\u201d she said, \u201cand never will I share it with another. Can\ntwo hungry men share a sparrow? Can three divide a tiny squirrel? You\nmay hear the Sampo whirring, you may hear its pictured cover grinding\nin the cavern where I placed it\u2014but it whirs for me alone, it grinds\nout wealth and plenty for my people and for no other.\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely you are unwise and selfish,\u201d then said the Minstrel, \u201cand\nfoolish it would be to waste words in argument. Since you will not\nshare the Sampo with us I warn you that you shall lose the whole of it.\nWe will take it out of the cavern where it is grinding and we will\ncarry it far away to our own country to give comfort and joy to our\nneighbors and food and clothing to our loved ones.\u201d\n\nWhen Dame Louhi heard this she rose up quickly and stood, furious, in\nher doorway. She clenched her bony fists and shook them high above her\nhead, calling upon all her people, all her armed men, all her servants,\nto come quickly in their might and drive the robbers from the shores of\nPohyola. Loud was her voice, stern were her commands, and there was no\none who did not hear her. Instantly a hundred swordsmen were at her\nside, a thousand spearsmen answered her call. They stood ready to smite\nand to slay, to drive the intruders into the sea.\n\nBut Wainamoinen, old and fearless, stood in his place unflinching and\nfirm as a rock in the midst of a storm. He held the kantele in his\nhands and began to play upon it, softly, gently. Instantly every voice\nwas hushed and every arm was stayed. He raised his fingers nimbly and\nmoved them swiftly over the harp strings. One sweet note followed\nanother, pleasures indescribable issued from the harp of fish-bone,\nwhile the Minstrel sang his rarest, richest songs\u2014songs so melodious\nthat every heart was entranced, bewitched, overcome with joy.\n\nForthwith all the creatures of the woods and fields came near to\nlisten. The squirrels came leaping from branch to branch. Soft-furred\nermines, minks, otters, and seals laid themselves down in the grass\nbefore him. Sharp-eyed lynxes looked out from the foliage of the\nthickets and drank in the wonderful music. Herds of reindeer came\nracing over the meadows. In the marshes the savage wolves awoke and\nstretched themselves, and then with one accord rushed out and ran with\nspeed to the spot where the kantele was playing. There they squatted\ndown in orderly rows, their ears pricked up, listening and rejoicing.\nEven the lazy bears came ambling from their lurking-places; they\nclimbed upon the rocks and into the trees and sat there in solemn\nsilence, drinking in the bewitching sounds.\n\nThe birds of the air also came on silent wings from the four corners of\nthe sky. They flew backwards and forwards, soared in circles, and\npaused with outstretched pinions, looking down to enjoy the wondrous\nmelodies. The eagle left her fledglings in her lofty eyry and came to\nlisten to the hero\u2019s playing. Wild ducks from the deep inlets of the\nnorthern sea and snow-white swans from the marshes of Pohyola came in\nflocks to hearken to his singing. Sparrows and wrens and all the tiny\nbirds of the fields and woods assembled by thousands; they perched on\nthe Minstrel\u2019s head and shoulders, they filled the branches of the\ntrees, they hovered in the air, forgetful of everything save the sweet\nnotes that issued from the kantele.\n\nThe fairies of the rainbow and the mists also came, some riding on the\nyellow sunbeams and some resting on the crimson borders of the clouds.\nThe slender daughters of the air, who weave the golden fabrics of each\nman\u2019s life, paused in their work to listen, and as they paused their\nshuttle fell from their hands and the precious thread of their spinning\nwas broken.\n\nNor did the creatures of the sea fail to hear the all-entrancing\nmelodies. Little fishes and large fishes came in shoals and lifted up\ntheir heads along the beach to rejoice and wonder. The slender pike,\nthe graceful salmon, nimble herrings, all kinds of finny creatures,\ncame crowding to the shore to listen to the songs of Wainamoinen. White\nwhales from the icy seas, savage sharks, and squirming eels swam side\nby side and trembled with emotion. And the Old Man of the Sea, even the\nking of the boundless deep, came, and sitting upon a throne of\nwater-lilies listened with joy to the ravishing melodies that issued\nfrom the kantele. The water nymphs, also, cousins of the reeds that\ngrow in the still waters between the hills, they heard the sweet music\nand were enraptured by it. They left off playing with their silken\ntresses, they dropped their combs and their silver brushes and lifted\ntheir comely heads to enjoy the Minstrel\u2019s wondrous songs. And their\nmother, the Wave Mistress, terror of seafaring men, raised herself from\nthe billows and listened. Then with speed she betook herself shoreward,\nhiding her awful head among the rushes, and there she lay until the\nmusic soothed her to deepest slumber.\n\nFor one whole day\u2014yes, for two long, dreamy days\u2014the Minstrel played\nthus upon the harp strings, upon the inimitable kantele, and as he\nplayed he sang the songs of truth and beauty which he had learned from\nthe Wisdom Keeper, from the earth, the sea, and the sky. And all the\ncreatures, all the people, were spellbound and motionless because of\nthe great joy and comfort and wonder that had come upon them.\n\nAt length he changed his theme and sang of the grandeur and glory of\nlife, of things mighty and things lowly, and of the great hereafter\nbeyond the silent river. And from the kantele he drew forth such\nmarvellous melodies that not one among all his hearers could refrain\nfrom weeping. The heroes wept, old men and matrons, swaggering youths\nand timid maidens, half-grown boys and lovely little girls, all wept,\nfor their hearts were melted. Tears welled up even in the eyes of the\nbeasts and the birds and fell like rain upon the leaves and the grass\nand the gray sand by the shore.\n\nMeanwhile, as he played, the Minstrel himself was moved to weeping.\nDown his cheeks the water-drops went coursing, they ran down his beard\nand down his heaving breast. Round as cranberries and large as the\nheads of swallows his tears fell, chasing each other to the ground.\nThey rolled like hailstones down upon his feet, they flowed in streams\ntill they reached the margin of the sea, and there they fell tinkling\nand splashing into the sparkling water, down to the black ooze at the\nbottom.\n\n\u201cWho will bring my tears back to me?\u201d asked Wainamoinen, his voice\ntrembling while his long fingers still played upon the harp strings. \u201cA\ndress of softest feathers shall be given to that one who gathers my\ntears from beneath the crystal waves.\u201d\n\nThe raven heard him and flew down, snapping with his sharp beak and\ntrying to gather up the tears. But not one could he recover from the\nsparkling water.\n\nThe blue duck also heard him and with swift strokes swam to the spot\nwhere the tears had fallen. She dived deep down into the water and\nthere she found the tear-drops lying on the black ooze at the bottom.\nHastily with her spoon-like beak she gathered them up, she carried them\nto Wainamoinen and laid them on the grass before him. Lo! every\ntear-drop was a pearl of wondrous beauty\u2014a pearl of priceless value,\nfit to adorn a queen or deck the crown of the mightiest king.\n\n\u201cO brave blue duck, friend and helper!\u201d said the Minstrel. \u201cYou have\ndone well and you shall be rewarded quickly.\u201d And so saying, he gave\nher a dress of feathers\u2014a dress of wondrous beauty, well-fitting and\nsoft and suited to one who lives in northern climates by icy seas. And\nall this while the music never ceased, the kantele kept pouring out its\nsweetest, rarest treasures, while Wainamoinen sang new songs to charm\nthe listening multitude.\n\nAt length, however, the people could hold out no longer. Their strength\nforsook them and they sank, one by one, upon the ground, all overcome\nwith weariness. They closed their eyes and gave themselves up to\nslumber. Children and young people and men and women, all lay drowsing.\nThe hundred brave swordsmen and the thousand spearsmen of Pohyola were\nsoundly sleeping. Even old Dame Louhi yawned and closed her eyes and\nsank back upon her couch overcome with slumber, forgetful of the Sampo,\nforgetful of everything. Of all the multitude none remained awake save\nthe heroes and the young men and maidens that had plied the oars on\nboard of the crimson ship.\n\nSoftly, more softly, the strains of music issued from the kantele;\nsweetly, more sweetly, the tones of the wonderful singer vibrated in\nthe air. Then suddenly both stopped and silence reigned.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV\n\nTHE FLIGHT\n\n\nQuietly, very quietly, the Minstrel rose and looked around upon the\nsleepers. With finger-tips upon his lips he beckoned to the hero\nIlmarinen and to the young heroes who stood beside him.\n\n\u201cBe cautious, be brave,\u201d he whispered, \u201cand soon we shall win the\nSampo. Speak no word, make no sound to break the magic spell, but\nfollow me and do my bidding.\u201d\n\nThen with great care he opened the wallet of reindeer leather that he\ncarried always beneath his belt. He looked within and picked out, one\nby one, a handful of sleep-needles, long and slender and exceedingly\nsharp. Silent as the moon among the clouds he moved on tiptoes\ncautiously between the rows of slumbering people. With his magic\nneedles he crossed the eyelashes of the sleepers, pinning their eyelids\nclose together and thus holding them so that they might not waken.\n\n\u201cSleep! sleep!\u201d he murmured softly. \u201cSleep till the daylight fades in\nPohyola. Sleep, and waken not till the golden sun rises bright in the\nLand of Heroes. Sleep, and let no dreams disturb you.\u201d\n\nHe waved his arms above them, silently bidding them farewell, and left\nthem there where they had fallen. The unlovely Mistress, the swordsmen\nand the spearsmen, the old men and the married women, the young men and\nthe half-grown girls, and the little children\u2014he left them all sweetly\nslumbering, forgetful, senseless, harmless.\n\n\u201cNow for the Sampo!\u201d he whispered, and with noiseless footsteps he\nhastened away toward the hill of copper. Behind him followed the heroes\nand the young men and the maidens with curling hair, and not one dared\nutter a word or in any way disturb the wonderful silence that\nprevailed.\n\nAs they drew near to the hill, however, they could hear the magic Sampo\ngrinding, grinding in its darksome prison; they could hear the lid of\nmany colors turning, turning, and pouring out wealth without cessation.\nBut at the entrance to the cavern the great doors were shut\u2014nine huge\nand heavy doors, and each door was made secure by nine locks of hardest\nmetal.\n\nThe Minstrel paused, he could go no farther; the heroes stood waiting\naround him. Gently he began to sing, softly he chanted a song so sweet,\nso strong, that it had power to move the rocks and even persuade the\nmighty hills and the restless sea. And as he sang, the copper mountain\nbegan to tremble and the doors of the cavern were shaken. Thereupon the\nhero Ilmarinen and the young men that were with him hastened to pour\noil upon the rusty metal. With reindeer fat they smeared the locks, and\nthey greased the hinges with butter, lest they should creak and make a\nrattling.\n\nThen Wainamoinen, still singing, touched the locks with his wizard\nfingers and the bolts slid back; he pushed gently against the yielding\nmetal and the nine mighty doors opened silently and without a sound.\n\nThe heroes pressed forward to the entrance, eager to see what the cave\ncontained; and lo! as they looked within, they saw the Sampo with its\nlid of many colors standing in its place in the middle of the strongly\nbuilt prison. Very beautiful was the magic mill, its resplendent sides\nembossed with gold and lined with silver; gorgeously beautiful was its\nrainbow cover, full of pictures of men and beasts and trees and\nflowers. The wheels of the mill were whirring softly, its levers were\nmoving in their places; it was grinding out riches for Pohyola.\n\n\u201cWho now will carry this Sampo out of its prison-house?\u201d asked the\nMinstrel.\n\n\u201cI will carry it out,\u201d answered Ahti, the nimble, long-armed fisherman.\n\u201cI am a man of strength, a son of heroes. Stand back and see how\nquickly I shall remove it to our waiting ship. See, I have only to\ntouch it with the toe of my boot and the deed is done.\u201d\n\nHe pushed against the Sampo; he twined his long arms about it and\nlifted with all his might; he braced himself with his knees and\nstrained till the blood rushed from his mouth and nose. But the Sampo\nstood in its place unmoved, grinding and turning without cessation.\n\n\u201cFoolish boaster!\u201d cried Wainamoinen. \u201cA big mouth has never yet moved\nmountains. Great talkers are always little doers.\u201d\n\nThen he began to play softly upon the kantele; and as he played, the\nSampo began to rock to and fro, it turned itself around as though\nbreaking away from the chains which held it. At a sign from the\nMinstrel the young heroes, with Ilmarinen as their captain, seized hold\nof it and carried it forth from the hill of copper. Silently, without\nrustling a leaf or snapping a twig, they bore it across the fields and\nthe meadows and placed it on board of their waiting vessel. There they\nlashed it with ropes to the strong deck beams. They bound it securely\nso that it could not be moved.\n\n\u201cNow let every one work valiantly at his oar,\u201d said Ilmarinen, \u201cand let\nthe red sail be hoisted on the mast.\u201d\n\nInstantly the benches were filled with rowers; all the young men and\nalso the fifty fair maidens bent to their work; the water boiled with\nthe strokes of a hundred long oars.\n\n\u201cSpeed thee, O crimson vessel,\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cHasten from the\nhostile shores of Pohyola. And O, thou North Wind, come and urge the\nship along. Blow and give assistance to the oarsmen. Give lightness to\nthe rudder, give skill to the helmsman, and swiftly bear us over this\nvast expanse of water.\u201d\n\nMerrily and hopefully, then, the rowers rowed; the Minstrel steered,\nand the strong North Wind pushed against the well-stretched sail. And\naway and away, onward and onward, the vessel flew over the lonely sea.\nFrom morning until mid-day, and from mid-day until evening, it ploughed\nits way through the surging waves; the land faded from sight, and the\nheroes, looking forward, could see naught but one vast field of tossing\nwaters. \u201cWe are lost! We shall never find the Land of Heroes,\u201d they\nmurmured.\n\n\u201cHave courage! be brave!\u201d said Wainamoinen. \u201cBeyond this sea lies our\nown sweet country, the home of heroes.\u201d\n\nThen Ahti, the nimble boaster, spoke up and said, \u201cWhy should we still\nspeak in whispers, fearing to be heard? The shores of Pohyola are far\naway, the Mistress sleeps, there is no one to listen. Let us be jolly\nand glad, and even a little noisy, rejoicing over our victory.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay, we are not yet out of danger,\u201d said the Minstrel.\n\n\u201cBut the time is passing,\u201d answered the long-armed one; \u201cdaylight is\nfading and darkness is approaching. Let us at least have a little song\nto cheer our drooping spirits.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d repeated the steadfast Minstrel. \u201cWe must not sing upon\nthese waters; singing would turn the ship from its right course, songs\nwould hinder the rowers. The night and darkness would find us\nbewildered, and we should indeed be lost on a shoreless sea. Nay, nay,\nkeep silent, and sing no songs till we sight the shores of our own fair\nland.\u201d\n\nSo the rowers rowed in silence, and the steersman steered and spoke\nnot, and the hearts of all were hopeful. All night long they rowed and\nsailed and felt no weariness. The second day passed, and still no land\nwas seen. The third day came, it was mid-day, when a long white shore\nand the lofty headland of Wainola appeared lying far away between the\nsea and the sky.\n\n\u201cO master! Why may we not sing?\u201d cried Ahti, always restless and in the\nway. \u201cBefore us is the Land of Heroes, and we have won the glorious\nSampo. Let us sing and be glad.\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, nay,\u201d again said Wainamoinen. \u201cIt is too early to rejoice. When\nwe hear our own home doors creaking behind us, then will be the time to\nsing and rejoice. When we see the fire burning on our own\nhearth-stones, then we may be glad because of victory.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d answered the long-armed, thoughtless one, \u201cI, at least,\nfeel like rejoicing this very hour. If no one else will sing, I will. I\nwill give you a song of my own composing.\u201d\n\nHe stood in the stern beside the Minstrel. He turned his face toward\nthe prow and pursed up his mouth to sing. His voice was hoarse, his\ntones were discordant, there was no music in his song. He opened his\nmouth till his beard wagged and his long chin trembled. He waved his\narms and shouted\u2014he shouted so loudly that the sound was heard far\nacross the water. In many villages it was heard, alarming all the\npeople and filling their hearts with terror.\n\nBy the long white shore a blue crane was wading, looking down to count\nhis toes in the clear sea-water. Suddenly he heard the noise of Ahti\u2019s\nsinging\u2014a noise most strange, most unlike any other that had ever\nbroken the silence of the sea. The crane, alarmed, spread his wings and\nleaped upward. He screamed in terror and flew rapidly up, up to the\nsheltering sky. He flew rapidly and paused not till he had reached the\ndistant shores of Pohyola. There below him he saw the fields and the\nmeadows and the old familiar places where he and his mate had\noftentimes nested and reared their young. Then, to his great wonder, he\nsaw all the people lying asleep on the ground and the mighty Mistress\nslumbering in their midst, her eyelids pinned together with magic\nneedles.\n\nThis sight gave new alarm to the blue crane. His terror was too great\nto be described. He screamed, not once only, but ten times, loudly,\nharshly, terrifically. The noise awoke Dame Louhi the Mistress; it\nawoke all her slumbering people. They shook the sleep-needles from\ntheir eyes and looked around, dazed, bewildered, wondering what had\nhappened to them. The armed men formed themselves in battle array,\nwaiting for commands; the old men and the married women hastened to\ntheir homes, ashamed of their weakness; the children, too, sought their\nown firesides, for night was approaching.\n\nUp rose Dame Louhi, angry and apprehensive. She saw that the Minstrel\nand his heroes had disappeared, and anxious forebodings filled her\nheart. She ran to her treasure-room; her chests of gold and silver had\nnot been disturbed. She hastened to the barnyard; all her favorite\ncattle were there, not one was missing. She looked into the barns; they\nhad not been plundered, not an ear of corn had been taken.\n\n\u201cBut the Sampo, the Sampo!\u201d she cried. \u201cIt was the Sampo that the\nrobbers demanded. Have they carried it away?\u201d\n\nThen came an old serving-man with trembling limbs and with tears in his\neyes, who knelt in the dust before her and begged her mercy.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cthey have carried away the Sampo and its pictured lid.\nWhile we were all drowned in slumber they broke into the cavern beneath\nthe copper mountain, they drew back the bolts and opened the mighty\ndoors. Then they lifted the Sampo from its place and bore it away, but\nwhither I cannot tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey must have carried it to their red-prowed ship,\u201d said another old\nman, \u201cfor the haven where it was moored is empty and no crimson sail is\nanywhere in sight.\u201d\n\nDame Louhi, grim and old and haggard, fell into the greatest fury. She\nstormed, she screamed, she wept, she prayed. \u201cO Maiden of the Air,\u201d she\ncried, \u201cO queen and ruler of the mists and stormclouds! Send me help I\npray thee. Cover the sea with dense fogs and clouds of vapor. Send down\nthe winds and let the tempest rage round those wicked robbers. O\nMaiden, sink them all beneath the billows, but save the Sampo. Let it\nnot fall into the raging sea, but hold it in thy large hands and bring\nit safe back to Pohyola\u2019s lovely shore.\u201d\n\nThe Maiden of the Air heard her and was pleased with her prayer. She\ncalled to her servants, the mists, the clouds, and the winds, to wreak\nvengeance upon the heroes, to drive their ship far out of its course\nand sink it in the bottomless sea.\n\nForthwith thick clouds obscured the sky and dense fogs covered the\nwaters like a cloak of darkness. The winds rose in fury and a mighty\nstorm swept down from above. All the winds, save the North Wind alone,\nassailed the heroes\u2019 gallant vessel. The mast was splintered just above\nthe sail-yard, the red sail itself was blown away, the rudder was\nunmanageable, all the oars were made useless, so terrible were the\nwinds and the tossing waves.\n\nLike a withered leaf of autumn the ship was driven hither and thither\nthrough the mists and fearful darkness. The young men hid their faces,\nand the golden-haired maidens cowered beneath the benches. The nimble\nAhti, cause of all this trouble, lay prone upon the deck speechless\nwith fright. Even the hero Ilmarinen crouched himself down in the\nnarrow hold and bewailed their great misfortune.\n\n\u201cNever before have I seen such a storm as this,\u201d he moaned. \u201cMy hair is\nsoaked with salt-water and my beard trembles with the shaking of the\nship. My very heart thumps wildly as I hear the noise of the mighty\ntempest. O winds, have pity! O waves, deal gently with us all!\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel, alone of all on board, stood up fearless and calm and\nsteadfast as though no danger threatened.\n\n\u201cThis is no place for weeping,\u201d he said. \u201cYou cannot save yourselves by\nhowling. Groaning will not preserve you from evil, nor will grunting\ndispel misfortune.\u201d\n\nHe raised his hands high above his head and called upon all the powers\nof air and sky and sea to befriend the heroes in their dire distress.\n\n\u201cO sea, so vast, so grand, remember that we are small and weak, and\ndeal gently with us! O waves, do not play too roughly with us, do not\nfill our ship with water, do not break her ribs or hull beams. O winds,\nrise up higher and play with the clouds in heaven. Drive away the mists\nthat blind us, but blow gently upon our crimson vessel, and waft, oh!\nwaft it safely southward to the shores of Hero Land.\u201d\n\nAnd the lively Ahti, still sprawling prone upon the high deck, lifted\nup his voice also and prayed to his god, the great bird of the\nmountains:\n\n\u201cO thou mighty eagle, come down from thy eyry on the heaven-high\ncliffs, and help us. Bring with thee a magic feather\u2014yes, two or\nthree\u2014that they may put a charm upon this ship and protect it from\ndisaster.\u201d\n\nBut still the storm raged; the waves dashed furiously against the\nvessel; the winds howled and fought and gave no heed to Wainamoinen\u2019s\nprayer; the fog still hung darkly upon the waters or drifted in\nmist-like clouds before the wind; the eagle of Ahti screamed in vain.\n\nThus all day the red ship drifted helpless upon the raging sea; for two\nlong days the tempest prevailed and the heroes were in despair. But on\nthe third day the Minstrel\u2019s prayer was answered. The storm ceased, the\nfog was lifted, and the sun shone out, bright and clear in the midst of\nthe sky. The heroes sprang up and shouted for joy; they had forgotten\ntheir fears.\n\n\u201cTo your oars, my brave men, to your oars!\u201d shouted Ilmarinen, and\nevery man bent willingly to his task.\n\nThe maidens also regained their courage. The color returned to their\ncheeks; their eyes, so long tear-wet, now sparkled with joy; with songs\nof gladness they woke the echoes of the sea, and cheered the laboring\noarsmen.\n\n\u201cIt is well to rejoice and be merry,\u201d said the steadfast Minstrel, \u201cbut\nwe are still upon the uncertain sea, we are still far away from our own\nsafe home land.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI\n\nTHE PURSUIT\n\n\nAlready great changes were taking place in Pohyola. The frost spirit,\npeeping over the mountains, saw that the hill of copper had been robbed\nof its treasure, that the prison-house of the Sampo was empty. He\nlistened; he could no longer hear the whirring of the wheels or the\nbusy clacking of the pictured cover. So he stretched his long, cold\nfingers over the land, and everything that he touched was frozen and\nblasted. He breathed in the air, and chilling mists hovered over the\nhills and descended upon the fields and gardens. The reign of plenty in\nPohyola was ended.\n\nDame Louhi, old and grim and undaunted, called loudly to her\nserving-men, her warriors, and her sailors. As a mother hen summons her\nchickens around her at the approach of a danger, so did she marshal her\nswordsmen, her spearsmen, and her stout-hearted oarsmen.\n\n\u201cMake ready now our great warship,\u201d she said. \u201cWe must pursue the hated\nrobbers; we must overcome and destroy them and bring the precious Sampo\nback to our own shores. Lose not a moment, be courageous, be skilful,\nbe strong\u2014and hasten, hasten, hasten.\u201d\n\nThey sprang forward by tens and by hundreds, every one eager and\nimpatient to obey her commands. They pushed the mighty warship out into\nthe deep water. They hoisted her mast and spread her broad sail upon\nthe sail-yards. The rowers sat down in their places and each seized his\nlong oar. The warriors shouted and all the crew joined in singing the\nwar-song of Pohyola. And the Mistress herself stood at the helm and\nwith gaunt hands wielded the great rudder and steered the vessel out to\nsea. The friendly North Wind filled the sail, the rowers bent to their\noars, and the famous voyage was begun.\n\nLike a monstrous sea-bird skimming over the waves, or like a white\ncloud scudding low upon the billows, so did the swift warship speed\nonward over the vast and measureless sea. With lips drawn tightly over\nher toothless mouth, Dame Louhi stood at her post, silent and\ndetermined, and but one thought filled the minds and hearts of her\ncourageous crew\u2014the thought to serve her and obey her.\n\nMeanwhile the heroes on their storm-battered red ship were sailing\nhopefully homeward, thanking Jumala for their escape from the fog and\nthe storm. The Sampo was still safely secured with strong ropes to the\nbow beams of their brave vessel; its wheels were whirring; its levers\nwere at work; it was grinding out great streams of salt to feed the\nhungry sea.\n\n\u201cTo-morrow we shall turn it over,\u201d said Ilmarinen; \u201cand then it will\npour out gold and silver enough for every hero in Wainola.\nTo-morrow\u2014but who knows what may happen to-morrow?\u201d\n\nThe Minstrel, with steady hand and hopeful heart, sat at the stern,\nguiding the vessel straight through the pathless waters. \u201cAh! who knows\nwhat may happen to-morrow?\u201d he echoed, as he gazed with expectant eyes\ntoward the dim, distant horizon.\n\n\u201cAhti,\u201d he cried, \u201cclimb up on the broken mast and look around at the\nsea and the sky. Tell us whether the horizon is clear or whether clouds\nare rising in the air to vex us. Look before us, look behind us, and\nthen tell us what you see.\u201d\n\nQuickly the long-armed one obeyed. He climbed the mast to its\nsplintered top, and there he stood, balanced on one foot, unmoved and\nunafraid, as though on solid ground. Eastward he looked and westward,\nand naught did he see but the trackless waters and the unscarred sky.\nHe looked toward the south, and a smile of pleasure overspread his\nface.\n\n\u201cFar away, I see the lofty headland and the long, white shore of your\nown dear country, O heroes!\u201d he said. \u201cIt is the same shore from which\nthe storm drove us three days ago; but the distance is great.\u201d\n\nThen he looked toward the north and with his sharp eyes eagerly scanned\nthe horizon.\n\n\u201cAway, away in the northwest I see a little cloud,\u201d he said. \u201cIt is a\nwhite cloud, and a small one, and it sits low down upon the water.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d said Wainamoinen, losing patience. \u201cNo sailor ever saw a\nwhite cloud in the northwest sitting low upon the water. Look again!\u201d\n\nAhti obeyed. \u201cI see it more plainly now,\u201d he said. \u201cIt is not a cloud\nbut an island\u2014a small island looming up on the horizon. And I see dark\nspecks hovering over it\u2014they must be falcons or nesting ravens flying\namong the birch trees.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d a second time cried Wainamoinen. \u201cGive your eyes a moment\u2019s\nrest and then look again.\u201d\n\nThe long-armed one shaded his brows with his broad palm and looked long\nand eagerly. Then he leaped nimbly down upon the deck as though content\nto see no more.\n\n\u201cIt is a warship from Pohyola,\u201d he said, trembling and much disturbed.\n\u201cIt is a great ship with a hundred oarsmen and a thousand armed\nwarriors. It is pursuing us, it is gaining upon us. Look now, and all\nof you can see it plainly.\u201d\n\nLoudly then did the Minstrel call to the heroes. \u201cRow, now, with all\nspeed, my brave men! Rush the ship forward! Let us not be overtaken.\u201d\n\n\u201cRow, row, and let no man falter!\u201d shouted Ilmarinen, himself wielding\nthe foremost oar.\n\nLoudly did the rowlocks ring with the quick, even pressure of the oars.\nThe red ship swayed from side to side as its sharp prow cut its way\nthrough the billows. Behind it the water boiled as beneath a mighty\ncataract. On the right and on the left the spray was dashed as the rain\nin a furious hurricane. But, swiftly as the heroes rowed, their vessel\nmoved not half so swiftly as the warship of Pohyola.\n\n\u201cWe are lost!\u201d moaned the young men, desperately bending to their oars.\nAnd the fifty maidens hid their faces in their bosoms and echoed the\nhopeless cry, \u201cWe are lost!\u201d Even the hero Ilmarinen, the mighty\nwizard, could see no way of escape from their pitiless pursuers, and\nhe, too, losing all his courage, began to bewail their luckless fate.\nBut Wainamoinen, steadfast even in misfortune, spoke up cheeringly and\nwith encouraging words.\n\n\u201cThere is yet one way by which we may escape,\u201d he said. \u201cThere is still\none trick of magic that I have reserved for a time like this. I will\ntry it.\u201d\n\nFrom beneath his belt he drew his tinder-box of silver. He opened it\nskilfully with his left thumb and finger. From its right-hand corner he\ntook a bit of soft pitch, black and pliable, and from its left-hand\ncorner a piece of tinder no larger than a pea. Then with care he\nenclosed the tinder within the pitch and cast it over his left shoulder\nfar out into the sea.\n\n\u201cO wonderful tinder and pitch,\u201d he said, \u201cdo marvellous things now, and\nshield us from the wrath of Pohyola\u2019s mighty Mistress. Raise up a\nbarrier between her ship and ours\u2014a barrier past which she cannot sail.\nWork quickly, work powerfully, and help us soon to arrive safe in\nWainola\u2019s sheltered harbor!\u201d\n\nAnd now the great warship was but a little way behind. The heroes\nlooking back could see a host of armed men standing beneath the\nwind-filled sail. They could see the hundred long oars rising and\nfalling as though moved by a single hand. They could see the Mistress\nherself, even Dame Louhi, sitting in the high seat at the stern and\nshouting her commands to the crew. Her face was grim with\ndetermination, her eyes shone green with the joy of expected triumph,\nthe sound of her harsh voice rose high above the din of clashing oars\nand dashing waves and the shouts and cries of pursuers and pursued.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII\n\nTHE FATE OF THE SAMPO\n\n\nLike a cruel eagle in pursuit of a young falcon the mighty warship of\nPohyola sped onward, relentless, pitiless, triumphant. At every sweep\nof the hundred oars she seemed to leap from the waves, to spring\nforward like a wild beast pouncing upon its prey. The swordsmen\nshouted, the spearsmen poised their weapons, they waited only for Dame\nLouhi\u2019s command.\n\n\u201cIn another moment!\u201d she shouted; \u201cbut have a care not to harm the\nSampo.\u201d\n\nThen suddenly a wonderful thing took place. Right in the ship\u2019s pathway\na huge iceberg rose dripping from the sea, a mighty, impassable barrier\nblocking the way like a massive wall of iron. High above the masthead\nof the speeding vessel, the white cliff towered\u2014it towered even to the\nclouds and the blue sky beyond. The magic spell of the Minstrel\u2019s small\nbit of tinder had done its work.\n\nIn an instant there was a dreadful crash, a sound of breaking timbers,\nof grinding ice, of shouts and groans and despairing cries. The warship\nwas wedged firmly in a rift of the great ice cliff. The mast was broken\nshort off and fell splashing into the sea. Every rib of the strong\nvessel was shattered, the rowlocks were broken, the oars were lost in\nthe turbulent waves, the deck boards were loosened and carried away.\n\nThen it was that the Mistress, the mighty Wise Woman of the North,\nshowed her great power. With one foot in the sea and the other firmly\nplaced in the rift of the icy barrier, she quickly changed her form\ninto that of a monstrous gyrfalcon, the fiercest, the most untiring of\nbirds of prey. Of the sides of the ship she formed herself wings,\nwide-spreading and powerful. Of the long rudder she fashioned a tail,\nflat and broad, with quill-like feathers overlapping each other as do\nthe boards on the roof of a house. Of the ship\u2019s dragon-headed prow she\nmade herself a beak of copper, sharp, relentless, cruel. Of the two\nmassive war shields that hung at the ship\u2019s bows she made herself a\npair of round eyes, keen as the eyes of a panther, restless, untiring.\nAnd lastly, of ten sharp scythes in the ship\u2019s hold she formed talons\nfor herself, fierce, curved fingers, ending in needle-like claws, with\nwhich to fight her battles.\n\nWith a voice like that of a tempest she screamed to her warriors who\nwere clinging to the remains of the wreck: \u201cMake yourselves very small!\nMake yourselves very small and do as I bid you!\u201d\n\nThey obeyed her, and beneath her wings she hid her hundred swordsmen,\nwhile upon her tail she placed her thousand spearsmen.\n\nWith a screech that thrilled the sea to its very bottom and made the\ngreat iceberg tremble and totter, the mighty bird extended her wings\nand soared aloft. Up, up, she flew, surmounting the icy barrier that\nhad risen in her path, undismayed, triumphant. Like a dark stormcloud\nin the depth of winter, obscuring the sky and overshadowing the earth,\nshe hovered midway between the blue heavens and the boundless sea,\neagerly looking for the prey which had wellnigh escaped her.\n\nMeanwhile the heroes, rejoicing because of their deliverance, were\nrapidly nearing their wished-for haven of safety. The headland of\nWainola and the long, white shore so dear to them rose plain and clear\nabove the horizon; soon their perilous voyage would be ended. Joy\nbeamed in every countenance and hope cheered every heart.\n\nSuddenly the sun was obscured and an ink-black shadow fell upon the\ndeck of the red ship\u2014it fell upon the Sampo where it was bound with\nropes to the bow beams. The rowers paused in their rowing and looked\nup, amazed, confounded. Even Wainamoinen, so brave, so steadfast,\nturned pale as he gazed aloft and saw the peril that menaced them. The\nnext moment the fierce gyrfalcon, the transformed Louhi, swooped down\nand perched herself upon the splintered mast. With one horrid foot she\ngrasped the sail-yard, while with the other she reached down and sought\nto seize the Sampo.\n\nSurely then did the hero Minstrel feel that his doom was at hand. He\nlet go of the long oar, the rudder with which he had steered the\nvessel, and as it fell splashing into the sea, he lifted his eyes and\nprayed:\n\n\u201cO Jumala, good and kind, help me in this my time of peril. Cast a robe\nof fire round me. Shield my head, my arms, my body, and let no stroke\nof weapon harm me. Help us all with strength and wisdom.\u201d\n\nWith a hasty effort he drew his enchanted sword, the sword, Faultless,\nthe last piece of workmanship wrought in Ilmarinen\u2019s smithy. He raised\nit to strike the mighty bird upon the sail-yard. But first he spoke to\nher, humbly, pleadingly, as an earnest peace-maker:\n\n\u201cHail! hail! O Mistress of Pohyola! Will you not now divide the Sampo\nwith me, each taking half of the precious treasure? Much better it will\nbe for us to share it like friends than to fight for it and then lose\nit.\u201d\n\nFearfully screamed the fierce gyrfalcon, the transformed Wise Woman, as\nshe answered, \u201cNo, I will not divide the Sampo with you. The mill of\nplenty is mine, and no part of it will I share with strangers and\nrobbers.\u201d\n\nHaving said this she gaped horribly with her beak of copper, and again\nreached far out with her sharpened talons, trying to grasp the coveted\nSampo. Failing in this, she screamed a second time, and from her wings\nthe swordsmen leaped down. She screamed again and a host of spearsmen\ndropped upon the red ship\u2019s deck. Dreadful was the confusion that\nfollowed, and sad would have been the fate of the heroes had not\nWainamoinen, with unheard-of swiftness, let fall his sword of magic. He\nstruck with all his might the extended talons, the crooked fingers, the\nhorrid feet of the relentless gyrfalcon. The sharp edge of the weapon\nfell squarely upon the scythe-like, grasping claws; it sheared them off\nclose by the ankle joints; it shattered them every one, save only the\nsmallest, the crookedest, the indescribable little finger of Dame\nLouhi.\n\nLoudly, most horribly did she shriek, not more from pain than from\nintensest anger and despair. And now on the fated red ship of the\nheroes an awful struggle began\u2014a struggle the bloodiest and the\nwoefullest that sea or sky ever looked upon or minstrel\u2019s song ever\npainted in words. Swords flashed, spears crashed, men shouted. The\nscreams of frightened maidens, the moans of the wounded and the dying,\nthe victorious cries of the warriors, and the despairing lamentations\nof the heroes\u2014all these sounds were mingled in one awful chorus. But\nabove every other sound the hoarse cries of the dauntless Mistress were\nheard, making the earth shudder and causing the deep sea to quake.\n\nOne by one the heroes fell; and by fives and tens the low-browed\nwarriors of Pohyola were thrust overboard to perish in the waves.\n\nTowering above both friends and foes, mighty in strength and endurance,\nthe master Smith moved to and fro performing many deeds of courage. But\nthe weavers of his fate had decided against him; it was not for him to\nprevail. Covered with wounds, the blood flowing from his arms, his\nhead, his heart, he felt his end approaching. \u201cO thou who wert once the\nMaid of Beauty!\u201d he cried, looking upward. \u201cO thou matchless one among\nwomen! I see thee in the mist-filled air, I hear thy voice calling from\nthe rainbow arch. I come! I come! I come to meet thee!\u201d\n\nOverwhelmed in the fight, his arms unnerved, his strength departed, he\nfell toppling into the sea. As a giant pine, when rent by the storm,\nfalls crashing from the mountain top and is swallowed in the bottomless\ngorge below, so fell the hero. The pitying waves closed over him; he\nwas with his loved ones in the halls of rest.\n\nBravely, too, did the ever-ready Ahti struggle to defend the Sampo,\nwielding his long arms valorously, until his strength failing he also\nwas hurled into the hungry deep. And Wainamoinen, immovable as the\nlofty headland of his own sweet country, stood steadfast at his post,\ndirecting and cheering his comrades and overwhelming with terror the\nfoes who dared approach him.\n\nSuddenly, in the midst of the m\u00eal\u00e9e, the mighty bird of prey, even the\ntransformed Mistress of Pohyola, leaped down from her lofty perch, and\nsweeping across the vessel\u2019s bows sought to carry away the Sampo. With\nher maimed and useless feet she struck it, and with her one crooked,\nindescribable finger she grasped it. But the ropes with which the\nheroes had bound it confused her\u2014she could not break them. She\ntherefore seized the pictured cover with her monstrous beak, she pulled\nit from its place, and, twisting it until it broke into three jagged\npieces, she cast it into the sea. Angry and despairing, she flapped her\nrude wings against the sides of the mill, smashing the wheels and\nlevers and breaking the wonderful framework into a thousand pieces.\n\nDismayed by the ruin she had caused, the fierce gyrfalcon, the\ndetermined Wise One, ceased her destroying work and looked around her.\nSlowly, as in pain, she spread her wings and rose from the crimson deck\nall strewn with fragments; but, as she leaped high into the air, she\nseized with her one indescribable finger a single small, three-cornered\npiece of the precious Sampo; with the strength of despair she clutched\nit within her crooked claw.\n\n\u201cAlas! this is all that I can recover for my poor country, my ruined\npeople!\u201d she screamed. \u201cO my Pohyola! O my dear land, once so\nprosperous! May Jumala give me strength to carry this small, precious\ngift to you!\u201d\n\nFeebly, she soared upward, she turned her flaming eyes toward Pohyola,\nand with laboring wings made her way slowly across the sea.\n\nBy now the red ship had floated far, and the few remaining heroes\nshouted as, looking upward, they saw the friendly headland looming\nright above them. The next moment the vessel\u2019s keel was grating upon\nthe sand; its long prow was jutting quite over the safe, inviting\nbeach. The fighting had ceased with the breaking of the Sampo. With the\nflight of the baffled Mistress all animosity was ended.\n\nLike one awaking from a swoon, the Minstrel looked around him. Where\nwere the heroes who had survived the great struggle? Where were the\nfrightened maidens? Where were the Pohyolan warriors whom the sea had\nnot claimed? Not one remained; all had leaped ashore and fled. The\nMinstrel stood alone on the red, disordered deck.\n\nThe fragments of the Sampo had been scattered in many places. Some of\nthe wheels had rolled into the sea; they had sunk to the bottom, there\nto be covered with tangled weeds and the slimy ooze of the unseen\ndepths. The levers and the lighter parts of the framework were still\nfloating upon the water, tossed hither and thither by the waves and the\nwind. The fragments of the pictured cover had already been carried far\naway, were sailing like little ships across the vast expanse of the\nsea.\n\n\u201cAlas, alas! that the grandest treasure in the world should thus be\nscattered and lost!\u201d cried the Minstrel.\n\nHe leaped quickly overboard into the shallow water and with anxious\nhaste began to gather up the few remaining pieces that were still\nfloating around the vessel. With much labor and care he picked them up,\nlaying them one by one for safe keeping in the folds of his long cloak.\nBut alas! all these pieces were small, and he searched in vain for any\ntrace of the precious pictured cover.\n\nAt length, when not another vestige could be found, the Minstrel with\ntired limbs went up to the misty summit of the headland, carrying the\nfragments with him. Very old and feeble he was, but steadfast and brave\nas in former days. He stood alone upon the lofty shore, gazing far out\nover the illimitable sea. He stood there alone, his head erect, his\nwhite beard streaming in the wind, and his hands uplifted toward the\nheavens.\n\n\u201cO Jumala!\u201d he prayed, \u201cO Jumala, thou giver of blessings, grant that\nthese small fragments of the mill of fortune may take root and flourish\nand in time bring great joy and many comforts to the dear people of\nthis pleasant land.\u201d\n\nThen taking the pieces reverently in his hands, he planted them one by\none in the ground, covering them deep in the rich soil of Wainola\u2019s\nheadland. And even while he stood there and watched, his prayer was\nanswered. For the small broken fragments of the Sampo took root and\ngrew up quickly, producing great crops of rye and barley, and luscious\nfruits of all kinds, and other foods in great abundance. Thus were the\nfamishing people fed and made glad, prosperity smiled upon all, and the\nLand of Heroes again became the land of plenty and of peace.\n\nAs the Minstrel still stood on the lofty headland and looked into the\nfar distance, his eyes became very bright and his vision wonderfully\nclear. He saw all the other fragments of the Sampo and its pictured\ncover, and he watched each one as it was carried east, west, or south\nand left upon some strange, unheard-of shore. Some of the pieces\nfloated far, far to the summer islands where the sun shines hot every\nday in the year. And on the shores where they were drifted, wonderful\ntrees sprang up, bearing delicious fruits and gorgeous flowers, such as\nthe people of northern climes had never seen nor dreamed about. The\nfragments that were carried to the eastern seas spread their influence\nand took root in many lands. Like the Sampo itself, they poured out\nwealth in many forms and in endless profusion. And from them sprang\nnumberless beautiful and priceless objects\u2014pearls and precious stones,\ngold and silver, fine silks, strong castles, and kingly palaces.\n\nAs for the pictured cover, it was borne far, very far, to the utmost\nbounds of the western sea. Broken though it was, and battered and torn\ninto strips and fragments, it, too, performed most marvellous things.\nFor in the places wherein it rested and took root, noble men and women\nsprang up, scholars and statesmen and skilful workers in all kinds of\nmetals, and these were destined to rule the world.\n\nThe heavier fragments which had sunk beneath the waves and were buried,\ninvisible, in the black ooze and among the tangled seaweed, they also\ntook root and spread out many branches toward every corner of the\nearth. And from them sprang the wealth of the seas, the joy of all\nfishermen, the triumph of sailors, white-sailed merchant-ships and\nmighty vessels of war.\n\nAnd the tiny, rough-cornered piece, which with her last strength the\nbaffled Mistress had carried with her only finger back to her home\nland\u2014what became of that? Small and without beauty it was, and there\nwas little that it could do; but from it sprang such scant comforts and\npleasures as the people of the Frozen Land have enjoyed until this\nday\u2014warm underground huts, fishes for food, soft furs for clothing, and\nthe reindeer for all kinds of uses.\n\nWith great wonder and thankfulness Wainamoinen saw these marvellous\ntransformations\u2014these changes by which the Sampo enriched and blessed\nnot only his own land, but many an undiscovered and far-distant shore.\nHis heart throbbed with joy immeasurable, and his fingers began to play\non the strings of his kantele. Sweet was the music that he called\nforth, sweeter than any that mortal man has ever heard since that day;\nand as he played he sang again the old, old songs of the world\u2019s\nbeginning, the old, old songs with which he had already charmed not\nonly men and women, but all living things. And when he had ceased\nsinging and the sound of the kantele was heard no more, he again raised\nhis hands and called earnestly to the mighty, the invisible Jumala:\n\n\u201cO thou great and good Creator, look down and hear our last petition.\nGrant that we may live in joy and comfort, and when our span of life is\nended, let us die in peace and hope, loved by all who know us, and\nworthy to be honored through the ages.\u201d\n\nSo, also, prays the weaver of tales, whose story is now ended.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\nNote A.\u2014A very long time ago, among the ancestors of the people known\nas Finns, there were professional minstrels called runolainen, whose\nbusiness it was to preserve the memory of the national songs, folk-lore\ntales, and old sagas of the race. They went from place to place, among\nthe lowly as well as the great, singing their songs and playing the\nkantele, a primitive sort of harp from which they drew entrancing\nmusic. Through them a vast store of legends, wonder tales, songs,\nproverbs, tales of magic, etc., survived from generation to generation\nsolely in the memories of the people. It was not until about a century\nago that any systematic effort was made to give this legendary lore a\npermanent form by putting it into writing. The first person to attempt\nthis was the Finnish poet, Zakris Topelius, who put together and\npublished a small volume of traditions and folk tales. An interest in\nthe subject being awakened, Dr. Elias L\u00f6nnrot undertook the task of\ncollecting and putting into permanent form all that was best in the\nlegendary literature of his countrymen. Many years were occupied in\nthis work. He travelled to every part of Finland, lived with people of\nevery condition, and listened to their recitals of stories and songs\nwhich they had learned from the lips of their ancestors. These he\ncommitted to writing, and from them he constructed a single poem which\nhe called \u201cKalevala.\u201d This poem is remarkable for its great length and\nits tiresome, monotonous metre\u2014qualities which discourage English\nreaders from attempting its acquaintance. From the folk-lore tales of\nthe runolainen and from portions of this long poem, the present weaver\nof tales has constructed the story of \u201cThe Sampo,\u201d with such variations\nand connecting links as seemed most necessary to fit it to the tastes\nand requirements of modern readers.\n\nNote B, page 2.\u2014The Frozen Land may have been identical with modern\nLapland. In any case, it was situated in the far-distant North and was\nknown in the original tale as Pohyola, or Sariola. Hero Land, or the\nLand of Heroes (page 6), was the ancient home of the Finns. It was\nknown sometimes as Kalevala, sometimes as Wainola, but of its exact\nlocation there is no certain knowledge.\n\nNote C, page 10.\u2014\u201cSampo\u201d\u2014compare this with Aladdin\u2019s lamp, with the\nphilosopher\u2019s stone of the medi\u00e6val alchemists, with Solomon\u2019s carpet,\netc.\n\nNote D, page 32.\u2014This story of the origin of iron is derived from the\nninth rune of the poem \u201cKalevala.\u201d It is here related with numerous\nvariations.\n\nNote E, page 126.\u2014The Minstrel\u2019s journey to Tuonela is briefly related\nin the sixteenth rune of the \u201cKalevala.\u201d The story-teller has not\nattempted to follow the poetical account closely. Compare the visit of\nOdysseus to the Land of Shades (\u201cOdyssey,\u201d bk. XI); also see Virgil\u2019s\n\u201c\u00c6neid,\u201d bk. VI, and the \u201cElder Edda\u201d for similar narratives.\n\nNote F, page 216.\u2014The story of the tests of courage to which Ilmarinen\nwas required to submit is related in the nineteenth rune of \u201cKalevala.\u201d\nSome points of similarity are found in the story of Jason and Medea.\n\nNote G, page 321.\u2014Old Persian books tell us that at an early period the\nclimate of some distant northern countries was so mild that they\nenjoyed nine months of summer with only three months of winter.\nFinally, sudden changes occurred which completely reversed this order\nof the seasons. Can we believe that in the present story we have a\nfaint reminiscence of that very ancient time?","title":"The Sampo: A Wonder Tale of the Old North","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":69440}