{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_67256/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_67256","id":"gutenberg_67256","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67256","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales -- Belgium"],"text":"BELGIAN FAIRY TALES\n\n                                  By\n                         WILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS\n\n               Author of \u201cBelgium: The Land of Art,\u201d \u201cThe\n                   Firefly\u2019s Lovers,\u201d \u201cThe Unmannerly\n                   Tiger,\u201d \u201cDutch Fairy Tales,\u201d etc.\n\n\n\n                                NEW YORK\n                       THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY\n                               PUBLISHERS\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                   TO\n                          KATHARINE AND ELLIOT\n                            TEDDY AND MICKEY\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n    CHAPTER                                             PAGE\n    I.      A Story for a Preface                          1\n    II.     The War Storm and Baldy the Horse             10\n    III.    The Swan Maidens and the Silver Knight        17\n    IV.     A Congress of Belgian Fairies                 31\n    V.      The Ogre in the Forest of Hazel Nuts          44\n    VI.     The Fairy of the Poppies                      56\n    VII.    The Story of the Fleur-de-Lys                 65\n    VIII.   The Irish Princess and Her Ship of Sod        72\n    IX.     Wine-Crust, the Blue-Beard of Flanders        82\n    X.      Lyderic, the Orphan                           92\n    XI.     The Long Wappers, and Their Tricks           101\n    XII.    The Pilgrim Pigeons                          110\n    XIII.   The Fairy Queen and the Carrier Doves        121\n    XIV.    The Far Famed Oriental                       130\n    XV.     Puss Geiko and Her Travels                   140\n    XVI.    The Marriage of the Fairies                  150\n    XVII.   The Enchanted Windmill                       159\n    XVIII.  Turk, Turban, Tulip and Dragon               166\n    XIX.    Up and Down and Up Again                     178\n    XX.     The Golden Dragon of the Boringue            188\n    XXI.    The Red Caps and the Hunters                 199\n    XXII.   The Split Tailed Lion                        208\n    XXIII.  Rinaldo and His Wonderful Horse Bayard       215\n    XXIV.   The Belgian Bunny                            225\n    XXV.    The Fairies of the Kitchen                   235\n    XXVI.   A Society to Make Fairy Tales Come True      245\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBELGIAN FAIRY TALES\n\n\nI\n\nA STORY FOR A PREFACE\n\n(Which Tells of the People, Scenery and Animals in Belgium)\n\n\nThe name which the Belgians give to their country is Belgique. The\nEnglish form Belgium is that from the Latin of ancient days.\n\nThe country is inhabited by two races. Draw a line across the map of\nBelgium and you divide the kingdom into two regions, inhabited by\nFlemings and Walloons.\n\nLet the line pass from east and west through Brussels. North of this,\nas a rule, there are farms, gardens and sea coast. Here the people\nspeak old Dutch, or Flemish, and most of them are fishermen, farmers,\nseaport men and traders. South of this line are mines, factories,\nfurnaces, or flax fields and their talk is French. They are called\nWalloons, which is only another way of pronouncing Gaul-loons. When\nC\u00e6sar met and fought with their ancestors, whom he called the Belgii,\nhe declared them \u201cthe bravest of all.\u201d\n\nWe Americans ought to know who the Walloons are; for, in 1624, some of\nthese people\u2014even before the Dutch mothers and fathers, boys and girls\ncame\u2014settled New York and New Jersey. It was they who introduced on our\nsoil the marguerite, or white-and-yellow daisy, and they were the first\nfarmers in the Middle States. Moreover, when New Netherland received a\ncivil government, it was named Nova Belgica, or New Belgium.\n\nThe finest part of Walloon Belgium is the hill country of the Ardennes.\nHere lived, in 1912, a boy named Emile, seventeen years old. His home\nwas in one of those stone houses, which are common in the highlands of\nsouthern Belgium. All around him grew pine and birch trees, which made\nhis part of the country look so different from the lowlands around\nAntwerp, where the tall, stiff poplars and the low branched willows\nabound. The one tree points its boughs up to the sky and the other down\nto the ground.\n\nEmile\u2019s father was a farmer, but the land of the hill country was not\nrich, because it was too full of rocks and stones. The soil was quite\ndifferent from that down on the flax meadows, towards France, and the\nflower gardens and truck farms of Flanders. Emile\u2019s father could make\nmore money by raising horses, for the pasture was rich and splendid\nhorses they were, so big and strong.\n\nThe buyers, from the horse markets over in Germany, came every year\ninto the Ardennes forest country, for they liked nothing better than to\nget these horses for the Kaiser\u2019s artillery regiments. For, although\nthe animals of this breed were not as big and heavy as the Flemish cart\nhorses, they were not so slow and clumsy. In fact, there were few\nplaces in Europe, where the horses excelled, in their power to gallop\nwhile harnessed to heavy loads. They had what jockies call good \u201cwind\u201d\nand \u201cbottom,\u201d that is, staying power, stamina, grit, or what we call,\nin boys and men, \u201cpep.\u201d Emile, with his father, learned to take good\ncare of the mares and kept them in fine condition with brush and curry\ncomb, until their coats were glossy. One day, an unusually fine colt\nwas born, just before Christmas of 1909.\n\n\u201cWhat shall we name it?\u201d asked the father of his wife; for it was her\nfavorite mare. She drove it to church every Sunday, and when born\nEmile\u2019s mother had named it \u201cJacqueline,\u201d after the famous medieval\nprincess.\n\nNow, it was a day or two after King Leopold had died, ending a long\nreign of forty-four years, and the present King Albert had become ruler\nof the Belgic country. Yet he did not call himself \u201csovereign,\u201d or\n\u201cautocrat,\u201d like a Czar, or \u201cemperor,\u201d as the German Wilhelm did, but\n\u201cking of the Belgians.\u201d That is, he wished to treat his fellow\ncountrymen not as subjects, but as gentlemen like himself. So, when he\nissued a proclamation, he addressed them, not as inferiors, but as\n\u201cMessieurs,\u201d that is, gentlemen.\n\nEmile\u2019s mother who had, years before, lost one of her baby boys,\nanswered:\n\n\u201cOur dead ruler will have a great monument, but for Baldwin, his son,\nwho was to have been king, instead of Albert, but died early, there\nwill be few to remember him: So let us call our new colt \u2018Baldwin\u2019 and\nlet it be Emile\u2019s own\u2014his pet always.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood,\u201d said the father, and Baldwin it was, or \u201cBaldy,\u201d for short; and\nthe pretty young horse was given to Emile for his very own.\n\n\u201cIt\u2019s yours to play with, and to work for you, all your life,\u201d said\npapa Henri, \u201cbut you must care for it, as your mother and I have cared\nfor you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat I will, father. You may trust me,\u201d answered the boy.\n\nAs soon as the new long-legged stranger was able to cease taking\nrefreshments from its mother, Emile fed the colt out of his hand. After\nSunday dinner, he would go out into the garden, pluck some tops or\nleaves of tender plants, such as radishes, peas, or the like, hiding a\nlump of beet sugar under the greens. Then he would follow the path to\nthe stable to give a treat to both mother and son. Both the old mare\nand young Baldy seemed to have an almost human look of gratitude, when\nthey cast their eyes on their owners and good friends. Nevertheless, no\nhorse ever yet learned to talk with its tail and say \u201cthank you,\u201d like\na dog.\n\nWhen the time came to break Baldy to harness and for farm work, the\nwell fed and kindly animal proved to be one of the strongest and best.\nIt seemed equal to most horses of at least six years of age.\n\nBut it was not always sugar and young carrot tops, for Baldy! Emile\nusually gave it salt out of his own hand. Sometimes he loved to play a\njoke and even to tantalize his pet, though for a minute or two, only.\nWhen out at pasture, and its master wanted to throw the halter over its\nneck, Baldy would give Emile tit for tat and had his horse-fun by\ncantering off. Then Emile would gather up the heads of white clover and\nholding these, down deep in the palm of his hand, would entice Baldy\nnear, as if it were salt. Then he would throw the halter over his neck,\nand Baldy was a prisoner. Emile took care not to play this trick too\noften, and sometimes gave his pet real salt, even when out in the\nfield. If horses could smile, Baldy would have laughed out loud.\n\nThere were other pets in Emile\u2019s home, besides the colt; and, first of\nall, his dog Goldspur, named after the trophies found on the field of\nCourtrai, when the Flemish weavers, with their pikes, beat the French\nknights, in 1302. Though he worked hard all day, outdoors on the farm\nin summer, and tended the cows and horses in winter, he had plenty of\ntime to give to his hares, which were so big and fat, that they took\nthe prize at the local fair. In his loft over the barn, he had a dozen\nor two carrier pigeons. Some of these had been hatched on his father\u2019s\nfarm, but most of them had been brought from Ghent, a city down on the\nplain, where the two rivers, the Lys and the Scheldt join. Here, where\nthere were plenty of canals, he had a cousin Rogier, a boy of his own\nage. The two lads often sent messages to each other by their winged\nletter carriers.\n\nThe Walloon folk pronounced the name of this city of Ghent, or Gand, in\nthe French way, which sounds a good deal like \u201cgong\u201d; while the\nFlemings, who talk Dutch, say it with a hard g, and as if \u201cgent.\u201d We\nAmericans put an h in the name; for fear, I suppose, lest we should\npronounce it like \u201cgent\u201d in gentleman.\n\nIn fact, when you get into Belgium, you find that even the laws and\nsome of the newspapers, as well as names of places, have two forms,\nFrench or Walloon, and Dutch or Flemish. The British soldiers usually\ntake no further trouble to pronounce foreign names, except as they are\nspelled at home, on their island. That is the reason why, for the name\nof Ypres, around which the war raged during four years, one may hear\nthe sounds\u2014French, eepe, or epray; Flemish, i-per; and, what the\nEnglish Tommies say, \u201cwipers.\u201d\n\nNot long after his nineteenth birthday, Emile sent to his cousin\nRogier, at Ghent, a message. It was written on a note sheet, as light\nas tissue paper. Rolled inside a bit of tin foil, in case of rain, and\nwith black sewing silk from his mother\u2019s work basket, it was tied on\nthe pigeon\u2019s right leg, between its pink toes and the first joint of\nthe knee. Safely making the journey, the bird fluttered down on\nRogier\u2019s dove cote, which was set on a post in his garden. Untying the\nmissive very gently, and letting the bird into the cote to rest, Rogier\nread:\n\n\n    Dear Cousin:\n\n    \u201cCrops were poor this year, and father had to sell my pet horse,\n    Baldwin. I took it hard, and almost cried, to see a German horse\n    dealer pay down the money and lead it off. When out in the road,\n    Baldy actually turned round and looked back at us. The very next\n    day, word came from the army headquarters that I must report to\n    camp at Ypres. From next week, Tuesday, I shall be a soldier under\n    the black, yellow and red flag. Hurrah! Sister Yvette has been\n    singing the \u2018Braban\u00e7onne,\u2019 when she isn\u2019t crying. I have only one\n    sister, you know. I hope they\u2019ll put me in the cavalry; or, if not,\n    assign me to the machine-gun battalion. Goodbye! We\u2019ll meet, when I\n    get down into Flanders.\u201d\n\n\nAll too soon, the looming shadow, cast from the east, shortened and the\nwar-storm broke. On Sunday night, August 2, 1914, Germany sent an\nultimatum, demanding passage of her armies through Belgium to France.\nTo the Kaiser, Belgium was no more than a turnpike road to Paris. The\nhero, King Albert, knowing he had his people behind him, refused to\ncringe and become a German slave. It was like the boy David defying the\ngiant Philistine. The national flag\u2014black, yellow and red\u2014the ancient\ncolors of Brabant, the central province in the kingdom of the nine that\nmade Belgium a nation\u2014was unfurled everywhere by \u201cmen determined to be\nfree.\u201d That is what our Anthony Wayne said at Stony Point, in 1779.\n\nBy this time, in 1914, Emile was a seasoned soldier, not in the saddle,\nas he had hoped at first, but with the dog-drawn mitrailleuse, or\nmachine-gun battalion, No. 40. A happy soldier he was, ready to fight\n\u201cfor King, for Law, for Liberty\u201d\u2014as the chorus in the Braban\u00e7onne\u2014the\nnational anthem\u2014declared. Still happier was he to have with him in\nharness, drawing the revolving, quick-firing cannon, of which he was\nsergeant pointer, his pet dog, Goldspur. Like man, like dog was the\nBelgian War Department\u2019s acceptance of both\u2014\u201cin the first class of\nefficiency.\u201d\n\nThis was Belgium at peace, under her beloved King Albert and Queen\nMargaret. Rich in wonders of art and architecture, in fairy, folk\nwonder and hero lore, in traditions of valor and industry. When, again\nand again, the story teller visited the country, he brought back, each\ntime, the seed, for flowers, in the bed-time story-garden.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE WAR STORM AND BALDY THE HORSE\n\n\nWar, in modern times, comes like a lightning flash. Seven thousand\nGerman automobiles, loaded with soldiers, rushed over the Belgian\nborder. The Uhlans galloped in by other wagon roads, and twenty army\ncorps, in swift trains, followed. Belgium was desolated by fire and\nsword. The Li\u00e8ge forts, once thought impregnable, were reduced to\nrubbish. Louvain was given to the flames.\n\nWhat awful odds! Only 68,000 men of all arms, in the Belgian Service,\nto stand against the onrush of hordes! Yet they did. Day by day, the\nBelgians wondered! Where were the Allies, that had promised to help\nthem? Where were the red coats, or the khaki of the English, or the\nkilts of the Scotch, or the \u201cinvisible blue\u201d of the French poilus? Had\nany one heard a sound of the bagpipes?\n\nDuring those six weeks, before the British guns fired a shot, or the\nFrench sent reinforcements, the Belgian soldiers fought on, contesting\nthe possession of their native soil, inch by inch. Many a time the\nmachine-gun batteries drove off the German Uhlans and destroyed both\nthe gunners and horses of their batteries; each time retreating in\norder and safety, though many a comrade of Emile\u2019s was missing. City\nafter city fell, until Brussels was occupied. It was thought that\nAntwerp could be saved, though the garrison was very small. Some\nEnglish marines had come to help; and more, yes, a big army, was\ncoming. So every one said.\n\nSo Emile and the other gunners braced up. They were again full of\ncourage, when ordered to defend a narrow road, which was really a dyke,\nor causeway, with mud fields on either side, but commanding the main\nroad, over which the German artillery must come. Here, with what\nmilitary men call an enfilading fire, they could open on the Germans.\nThey were given this post the night before, with only haversack\nrations.\n\nThe next morning, when breakfast, and a cold one, was hardly over, and\nthe dogs had been drawn out of the shafts and sent to the rear, the\nGerman train of guns was heard in the distance thundering towards them.\nThe Huns must go straight ahead; for, on either side of the brick paved\nroad, were the ditches and destruction.\n\n\u201c\u2019Twill be a hot fight, but keep cool, gentlemen,\u201d cried the officer\nin command, \u201cthen, at the right moment, let every shot tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cCrack, crack, crack!\u201d The machine-guns opened and sheets of lead and\nfire swept a wide area. Bullets, not by hundreds but thousands, were\nshowered upon horses, men, caissons and guns. Within five minutes, half\nof that German battery was a wreck. The dead horses and men, of the\nthree forward cannon of the six, were piled on top of each other, or\nwere rolling and plunging over the dyke. The others behind had to halt.\n\nEmile noticed that one of the horses, from the German battery, drawing\nthe front gun had been stung by a ball that scraped his flank. Part of\nthe wooden tongue and whiffle tree had been shot away. They were\ndangling behind him, as he dashed madly forward.\n\nThis horse was no other than Baldy. Instantly recognizing his old pet,\nEmile waved his hand to the gunners of his company to spare the animal.\nHe ran forward, shouting \u201cBaldy, Baldy.\u201d\n\nThe horse stopped and sniffed the air; but at the strange uniform,\nhalted, even while he cocked his ear, awaiting further developments.\nEmile took in the situation at once, for he too had \u201chorse sense.\u201d\nJumping down along the grassy sides of the dyke, he picked off enough\nwhite flowers to stick between his fingers and in his palm, so as to\nlook like salt. Then in Walloon talk, he tried his old trick of\nenticing Baldy. As if in front of a phonograph, this four legged\ncreature that had, for years, heard only German words, for \u201chalt\u201d or\n\u201cback\u201d or \u201cget up,\u201d moved his head sideways, first to the right, then\nup to the left, then down, as if pondering. At last, throwing back his\nhead he neighed joyfully and trotted forward, as if he surely\nrecognized his old master, who now patted him as if he welcomed a human\nfriend.\n\nIt was a family reunion, for Emile, leading his prize back, amid his\nadmiring companions, quickly told his story in brief to his captain,\nwho bade him to lead Baldy over to Goldspur. There was no time to\nunharness the dog, nor any need of doing it; for as soon as Baldy was\nnear enough, the dog\u2019s tongue was as active as his tail. While one end\nof the animal was busy in licking the horse\u2019s muzzle, as in old\nfriendship, the other terminal was wig-wagging, as if a sailor boy were\nsignalling \u201cI\u2019m glad to see you.\u201d\n\nIt was many minutes before the Germans, further back, could unlimber a\ngun on the narrow road, point it at the Belgians and send shrapnel\namong them. By this time, however, the machine-gunners had made good\ntheir retreat, according to orders. The dogs pulled off the light\nBelgian artillery and the whole army moved to the defence of Antwerp.\nEmile\u2019s battalion was soon out of range of the enemy, who wasted his\nshells in vain.\n\nIt would be a sad story to tell in detail of the fall of Antwerp.\nAgainst the overwhelming numbers, with few or no allies to help, and\nthe heavy siege guns of the Huns in activity, day and night, the\nBelgians were no match for their foes, and the Germans entered the\ncity.\n\nTwo mighty heroes rose out of the Belgian commonwealth during this\nawful, desolating war. One was that of Cardinal Mercier\u2014bravest of the\nbrave. The other was King Albert. He lived up to his colors, for in the\nBelgian flag, the king\u2019s color is black, standing for constancy, wisdom\nand prudence. Later, when the Americans had reached Belgium, Albert\nrode with his queen, Margaret, into Ghent and Brussels.\n\nWhat happened later, to Emile, and Baldy, and Goldspur, is told in his\nletter, from Queen Wilhelmina\u2019s dominions, to his boy friend in Ghent.\n\n\u201cWe are interned in a large camp in Gelderland, with British marines\nand sailors in one part and the Belgian army men in another. Baldy is\nrented out to a Dutch farmer near Nijkerk, till the war is over. The\nDutch commandant lets me have Goldspur, and being our mascot, is a\ngreat favorite with all the men. A prisoner\u2019s life is dull and\ntiresome, and we can only wait for victory, which must surely come.\nQueen Wilhelmina\u2019s government has cared for a quarter of a million of\nour Belgian civilians and Holland spends one fifth of all her revenue\nin feeding them. Our people are building a splendid memorial of\ngratitude, at Amersfoort, and I am glad of it. One of our boys got hold\nof the words and music of an American song, and now the whole camp has\nlearned to sing \u2018The Yanks are coming,\u2019 and I believe they\u2019ll come,\neven beyond the Rhine.\u201d\n\nAnd they came, and of the three sons of the story-teller (who was\nhimself one of Lincoln\u2019s and Grant\u2019s soldiers, a veteran of \u201963), one\nwas there; and to his grand children, these Belgian tales\u2014mostly of the\nkind that have fairies in them\u2014were first told. In these \u201cBelgian\nFairy\u201d and wonder tales, we shall learn about the colors of the flag,\nand the national motto, and other things that, it is hoped, will make\nus Americans love Belgium the more, and all of us, at some time, see\nthe country itself.\n\nThe little folks in wooden shoes have not forgotten how the American\nchildren sent to them a ship load of Christmas presents. Nor should we\nfail to remember that Belgium is one of our fatherlands, whence came\nthe people who made the first homes in the four Middle States. The\nfirst white children, born in New York State, were of Belgian parents.\n\nNot all the stories in this book are fairy tales, but all tell of\nwonderful flowers, animals, inventions, people, things, and happenings,\nif not of dragons, ogres and lovely little fairy folks, who do\nastonishing things. In Belgium, neither fairies nor men are anything\nbut industrious, so the fairies work hard always.\n\nThis is our preface.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE SWAN MAIDENS AND THE SILVER KNIGHT\n\n\nThe two countries, Gelderland and Brabant adjoin each other, but their\nrivers flow far apart.\n\nOnce there was a castle, that stood on the banks of the Scheldt, on\nwhich the city of Brabo, named Antwerp, stands. Instead of being full\nof light and joy for all within its walls, there was a princess named\nElsje, who was kept a prisoner there.\n\nHer father and mother, dying when she was a little child, left her in\nthe care of a count, who was to be her guardian. This nobleman was a\nselfish villain, and hoped to get her lands and estate. So he shut her\nup as a prisoner in the castle. If any knight should fight and overcome\nhim, the princess would be delivered; but, as the wicked count was a\nman of gigantic strength and skilled in war, no one had ever attempted\nto meet him in battle.\n\nThe Princess Elsje was very lovely in character. In her captivity she\nwas kind to the birds and all the winged creatures, being especially\nfond of seven swans, which she fed every day. Each one was very tame\nand took its food out of her hand. She knew them all by the names she\nhad given them, Fuzzy, Buzzy, Trumpet, Jet, Diamond, Whitey and Black\nEye. They were her best friends, for she was very lonely and had no\nhuman companions. Nor had she any idea that they were anything but dumb\ncreatures that never could repay her kindness. But, strange to say,\nthese seven swans were birds only in form. They had been changed by a\nwicked fairy from pretty maidens into swans. It was on this wise.\n\nOnce, while the good king of Gelderland had gone out hunting in the\nforest, with his lords and retainers, he rode in advance, for he was\npursuing a deer. He got so far from his companions that he lost his\nway. Coming near a hut in the woods, to inquire how he might get back\nto his palace, he met an old woman. She promised to show him the way\nout and back home. Immediately the king pulled out his purse to hand\nher a gold coin; but the old woman proudly waved her hand to scorn the\nmoney and said to him, \u201cYou must marry my daughter and make her your\nqueen. If you do not, you can never get home again.\u201d\n\nThe king hesitated about giving his promise at once, even before he had\nseen the lady, for he had seven motherless children, all daughters at\nhome. Their mother, on her dying bed, had made her husband give her a\npromise that the children should always be first in his thoughts.\n\nNow, if he should marry again, would his new wife be good to them? He\nwould much rather that they should first see their future mother and\ngive their love to her, before he took his second wife.\n\nBut now, as he was very weary and almost ready to drop with hunger, he\ncould not hesitate. He might die of weakness, while vainly wandering in\nthe forest. Moreover, the old woman said to him, quite sharply:\n\n\u201cIf you refuse, you will never get out of these woods and will starve\nto death. Come into my hut and I will feed you well.\u201d\n\nThe king entered and found sitting by the fire a most beautiful maiden.\nHe thought he had never seen a woman so fair, yet he did not like her.\n\nShe rose from her seat and came forward to greet him, as if she had\nbeen waiting for him. There was a table spread with plenty of good\nthings to eat. The king sat down and the damsel herself waited upon him\nwhile he enjoyed the meal.\n\nBut all the time, the king did not like her looks, any more than at the\nfirst. At times he shuddered, for fear she might be some evil creature\nin lovely human form. However, he had promised the old woman to marry\nher daughter and it was now death to refuse. So he took the beautiful\ngirl on his steed and rode straight to his castle, for the horse seemed\nto know the right way.\n\nThat very evening, the wedding took place with great pomp. The\nwonderful thing was, that all the lords and ladies and servants had\nsupposed that their master the king had purposely left them, the day\nbefore, to make a journey to get him a wife. So they were now all ready\nfor him in their best dresses and jewels, and glad to welcome his\nbride. All remarked upon her beauty, but the king still feared that his\nnew wife was wicked and cruel, and his heart sank within him.\n\nSo, to make sure, he took his seven children off into a castle that was\ndeep in the forests and not easily found. Even he himself had trouble\nin getting to it, until a wise old woman gave him a ball of yarn. This\nball had the wonderful property of finding paths in the wood. If one\nthrew it on the ground it would unroll of itself. So the king had a\nclue to the forest palace and daily went to visit his little folks and\nplayed with them.\n\nThe new wife noticed his going away so often, and becoming jealous of\nher lord\u2019s absences, she scolded him, saying to him that he did not\nlove her, to be thus away from her so many times. At last she found\nout, from the palace servants, where he kept the ball.\n\nThen she made seven little coats and in each one she sewed an evil\ncharm, which her wicked old mother had taught her. Walking in the woods\nuntil she came to the castle, she pretended to be glad to see the\nchildren, telling them that she had brought each one a present. The\nlittle folks were delighted and thought their step-mother was both\nlovely and kind. They put on their new coats and then gleefully danced\ntogether, joining hands as in a chorus. But in a few minutes a strange\nfeeling came over them. Wings grew where their arms had been, their\nnecks lengthened, while their legs shortened and became weblike. They\nwere all changed into swans and flew out of the window. So the king\nnever saw his children again.\n\nThe seven swans enjoyed their life in the air and soon joined the great\nflock that belonged to the king of the country of Brabant, where the\nprincess Elsje was kept in the castle, on the Scheldt River. The royal\nswanherd, though he had a thousand or more birds under his care, when\ncounting the cygnets, or swan babies, noticed the addition of the seven\npretty birds and wondered whence they had come.\n\nThe seven swan maidens soon got acquainted with all the other swans,\nfor these birds are very sociable and talk to each other in their own\nlanguage. In this way they learned the story of the captive Brabant\nprincess. When they found they were her favorites, and she had given\neach one of them a name, and every day called them to be fed, their\nhearts were melted by the kindness of the pretty lady. Sometimes they\nfound her in tears and heard her pray for wings to fly away. This made\nthem wish that they could leave their swan forms and be like her again,\nas they once were. Or, if not thus able, they longed to help her in\nsome way.\n\nThey all agreed that they would rather remain swan maidens and be free\nto fly and do as they liked, rising about and up into the air, or\nsailing on the water, than to be shut up for life in a prison. Even\nthough it were in a castle with gardens and a swan lake, they would\nrather be birds than captives. They were filled with pity for the\nlonely princess thus pining away.\n\nThe oldest and the youngest of the seven swans, Fuzzy and Black Eye,\nboth of which had snow white plumage, were especially eager to help the\nmaiden. Of all the seven, they two were the strongest. Every day they\ndeclared to their sisters and to the real swans that they would\nsometime find a way to set the princess free. The oldest of the swans\nonly jeered at the idea or hissed scornfully.\n\n\u201cHow can human beings fly? They have no wings like us and you boasters\ncannot give her yours.\u201d And they laughed a swan\u2019s laugh.\n\nNow in one thing, at least, these seven swan sisters were different\nfrom the other birds. They were accustomed, every week or so, to make a\nlong flight back to Gelderland, to their old forest home and\nplayground, to take a look at their fond father, who, however, never\ndreamed that these winged creatures were his children.\n\nIn the times of these visits to the forest palace, but only while they\nwere there, the enchantment failed; yet only for a quarter of an hour.\nDuring these few minutes, while in the woods, they played together as\ngirls, as in the happy days of yore, when their father used to come and\nsee them. But this they could not do now within the royal palace\ngardens, where their father walked, and when in the dense forest\nitself, they could not find the way out as girls, for they were swans\nagain, almost as soon as they started to find the path.\n\nSo they did the next best thing. They flew to the royal palace gardens\nand circled around his head and dropped feathers to show their\nfeelings. The king noticed this, and gave strict orders that no one\nshould shoot an arrow, throw a net, or lay a trap for these birds, that\nhe loved to welcome as visitors which gave him happiness. The wicked\nqueen, however, knew all about these swans, but she never told her\nhusband. She let him mourn for his children, month after month and year\nafter year.\n\nNow while the swan sisters were thinking of rescuing the Princess\nElsje, she also was planning to save them, in order to bring them back\nto human form. There was a good fairy who lived on the Lek River, who\nhated the wicked step-mother of the swan maidens and knew how to\ndestroy her enchantments. But this good fairy possessed her power only\non the water, but she fastened on the neck of Fuzzy, the oldest of the\nswans, a message telling the princess how to break the charm.\n\nThe way to do it was this: The princess was to make seven little coats\nof swan feathers, and then she was not to speak a word to any soul, for\nseven months. At the end of that time, she was to put a coat on each of\nthe swan sisters. Then, they would at once become maidens again.\n\nNow in Gelderland there lived a handsome young knight, who wore a suit\nof armor of silver steel and had a plume of snow white feathers in his\nhelmet. He was as brave as a lion and loved to rescue poor people from\nrobbers and to help all who were in trouble.\n\nOne day, while out hunting, he by chance reached the castle in the\nwoods, where the king had kept his children and to which the seven\nswans flew every week. He drew his bow and was just about to shoot,\nwhen the birds dropped their feather suits and seven pretty maidens\nstood before him.\n\n\u201cOh, good sir, hurt us not,\u201d they cried, \u201cwe are human, only for a\nquarter of an hour; but, oh, do come and follow us. We\u2019ll guide you to\na princess in distress and you can save her.\u201d\n\nThe knight was delighted to hear these words, for the task the swan\nmaidens proposed was just what he longed to attempt. They had hardly\ntold their story, before they had to resume their swan forms. It was\nagreed that Fuzzy and Black Eye, the whitest and the strongest of the\nseven swans, should be the pilots of the knight to the well-guarded\ncastle, where the princess was a captive. The five swans flew back to\nthe flock, but the absence of the other two was not noticed by the\nking\u2019s swanherd.\n\nSo, guided by his brace of snowy white and feathered pilots, who kept\nin the air above him, the knight made his way through the forests and\nacross the country, until he came to the Scheldt River. There were no\nboats, the current was rapid and the river wide. How should he get\nacross?\n\n\u201cOh, how shall we help our knight down such a flood as this?\u201d said\nFuzzy to Black Eye.\n\nWhile the Silver Knight was wondering, the good fairy who had sent the\nmessage to the princess, stepped out from among the river weeds. She\nhad a star crown on her head and a wand of gold in her hand. She spoke\nthus to the knight:\n\n\u201cTake that dead tree trunk, which lies on the ground, all wreathed with\nvines, and launch it into the river, for my power extends only over the\nwater. Because of your knightly record as a brave hero, I shall have\nthese swans guide you to the castle. Once on shore, you must fight your\nown battle. Promise to rescue the princess.\u201d\n\nThe knight took oath, on the hilt of his sword, that he would. Then the\nfairy touched the dead tree and it became a pretty boat, shaped like a\nshell. She bade the two swans take their places in front. Then touching\nthe wild vines, growing on the log, and throwing them over their long\ncurved snow-white necks, lo! they became silver harness, to draw the\nboat, and silver bridles, which the rider standing in the boat, held,\nas the birds darted swiftly forward.\n\nHe waved his thanks and farewell in gratitude to the fairy.\n\n\u201cGood speed and sure success to you,\u201d cried the fairy. \u201cYou will find\nthe princess doing my work.\u201d\n\nIt was to be a battle of enchantments, for the good fairy was trying to\nundo the spell, which the wicked stepmother, the king\u2019s wife, had cast\nover the swan maidens. Yet she could do nothing on land without the aid\nof a brave knight. She had been a long time waiting for such a hero.\nNow he had come.\n\nTo make effective the charm of restoring swan maidens to human forms,\nwhile she was making the feather coats, it was absolutely necessary for\nthe Princess Elsje to do two hard things; one was, not to speak a word\ntill the coats were finished, and the swans transformed; the second was\nnot to ask the knight who he was or where he came from. Even when he\nwas her husband, she must be silent on this matter. She had to promise\nthis, or the good fairy would do nothing.\n\nInto the swan boat, the young knight in his shining silver-steel armor,\nbravely stepped. Then with their four web feet beating tirelessly under\nthe river waves, that curled against their breasts, the two strong\nbirds drew the shell boat until they were near the castle in Brabant.\n\nIt was a day of tournament, and hundreds of lords and ladies were\ngathered together to see the knights on horseback rush at each other in\nthe game of friendly rivalry, as rough as war, in which sometimes men\nwere killed. The herald sounded the trumpet to call forth a champion\nfor the imprisoned maiden. Whosoever should vanquish the cruel count\nshould have the lady\u2019s strong castle and her rich estate. Glorious in\nher beauty, Princess Elsje sat in the place of honor, crowned with\nflowers, as she had sat again and again before, but never a word had\nshe spoken to a soul.\n\nThe echoes of the first trumpet blast died away. No one came.\n\nThe second summons sounded. None answered.\n\nThe third blast had not ended, before the knight in the silver steel\narmor stepped forward. He asked the maiden if she would accept him as\nher husband, if he overcame the count. She spoke not a word, but nodded\nher head, beaming with a joy that inspired him to valor.\n\nThe Silver Knight threw down his glove as a challenge.\n\nAgain the trumpet pealed and the two champions rushed at each other.\nAll expected that the count, being so heavy and strong would win, but\nthe battle was soon decided, for the Silver Knight was victorious. The\ncount, senseless, and with a broken head, was borne off the field.\n\nNow the knight had been told not to expect his bride to speak to him\nuntil after the marriage, but to be content with a nod of her head and\nthe language of her eyes. Yet those eyes spoke to him their message,\nand he was full of joy.\n\nEven when he asked her whether she would marry him, without ever now,\nor hereafter, asking who he was, or whence he came, her answer was with\na nod of the head, and a low bow, with one of her hands on her heart\nand the other raised to heaven. This was enough. He was satisfied.\n\nThe wedding was celebrated with great pomp and joy. For many weeks\nafterwards, the silent princess kept busy with her needle, making\nlittle coats of swan feathers, but of this her husband seemed to\napprove and gladly he praised his bride\u2019s industry.\n\nNow on the day when the seven swans from Gelderland were accustomed to\nfly back to their old home, the forest castle, and before they had\nrisen from the water to stretch their wings, the princess called them,\nand each by name before her. Then, in the presence of her knight, she\nthrew the coats over them. Instantly feathers, wings, arched necks and\nwebbed feet disappeared, and seven lovely maidens stood before them.\nNow, since their father had died, they all asked to stay in Brabant and\nserve the princess at her court. This offer she gladly accepted.\n\nBut the princess had no sooner regained the use of her voice than she\nseemed consumed with a curiosity she had not felt before. In the new\njoy of having fulfilled one promise, made to the river fairy in behalf\nof the swan sisters, she forgot that made to the knight, her husband.\nHer eagerness to know who and whence he was increased, until one day\nshe burst out, with the questions. The knight reminded her of her vow\nwhich, with solemn gesture, she had made to him, before he risked his\nlife for her. When she urged that his love for her could not be deep or\nreal, if he kept a secret from her, he made answer:\n\n\u201cIt is not I that love less, or have broken faith. It is you.\u201d Then,\nrushing out of the palace, he leaped upon his horse and disappeared in\nthe forest, riding back to Gelderland, and the princess though no\nlonger a captive, but free and rich, was sorrowful and lonely.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nA CONGRESS OF BELGIAN FAIRIES\n\n\nThere was great excitement in the Belgic fairyland at the wonderful\nthings that men were doing in the world. The new inventions for flying,\ndiving, racing, and what not, were upsetting all the old ideas as to\nwhat fairies alone could do.\n\nIt used to be that only fairies could fly in the air, like birds, or go\nfar down beneath the waves and stay there, or travel under water, or\nmove about near the bottom, like fishes.\n\nIn old times, it was only the elves, or gnomes, or kabouters, or it\nmight be, dragons, that could find out and possess all the treasures\nthat were inside the earth.\n\nOnly the fairies of long ago could rush along like the wind, anywhere,\nor carry messages as fast as lightning, but now men were doing these\nvery things, for they could cross continents and oceans.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll hear of their landing in the moon, next,\u201d said one vixen of a\nfairy, who did not like men.\n\n\u201cBy and bye, we fairies won\u2019t have anything to do,\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cIf men keep on in this way,\u201d remarked a third, \u201cthe children will not\nbelieve in us any more. Then we shall be banished entirely from the\nnursery and the picture books, and our friends, the artists and\nstory-tellers, will lose their jobs.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is just too horrible to think of,\u201d said one of the oldest of the\nfairies, \u201cbut what are we going to do about it? Why, think of it, only\nlast week they crossed the Atlantic, by speeding through the air.\nBefore this, they made a voyage over the same mighty water by going\ndown below the surface.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, but I know the reason of all this,\u201d said a wise, motherly\nlooking fairy.\n\n\u201cDo tell us the reason and all about it,\u201d cried out several young\nfairies in one breath.\n\n\u201cWell, I do not wonder at what they have been able to do; for long ago,\nthey caught some of our smartest fairies, harnessed them and made\nbeasts of burden of them, to do their work.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey lengthen their own life to shorten ours, that\u2019s what they do,\u201d\nsaid the fairy, who was very wise, but did not always have a sweet\ntemper.\n\n\u201cHow, what do you mean?\u201d asked a couple of young fairies, that looked\nforward to an old age of about two million years.\n\n\u201cI mean what I have just said. These men are like kidnappers, who first\nsteal children and then give them other names, or alter their\nappearance. They change their dress, or clip their hair, and even mar\ntheir faces. They make them look so different, that even their own\nmothers, if they ever saw them again would not know them.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor instance? Give us an example,\u201d challenged one incredulous,\nmatter-of-fact fairy, who was inclined to take the men\u2019s part.\n\n\u201cI will,\u201d said the old fairy. \u201cWe used to have among our number a very\nstrong fairy, called Stoom. Now, in his freedom, he used to do as he\npleased. He blew things up whenever he felt like having a little fun,\nand he made a great fuss when affairs did not suit him. But, by and\nbye, the men caught him and put him inside of their boilers and pipes.\nThey made stopcocks and gauges, pistons and valves, and all the things\nthat are like the bits, and bridles, and traces, in which they harness\nhorses. Now that they have got him well hitched, they make him work all\nday and often all night. He has to drive ships and engines, motors and\nplows, cars and wagons, and inventions and machinery of all sorts. They\nuse him for pumping, hoisting, pounding, lighting, heating, and no one\nknows what. A windmill or a waterfall nowadays has no chance of\ncompetition with him.\n\n\u201cThey call him Steam now. At any rate, he is no longer one of us, for\nmen have caught and tamed him. They have all sorts of gauges, meters,\ndials, regulators, and whatever will keep the poor fellow from blowing\nthings up; for, they can tell at once the state of his temper. He\ncannot do as he pleases any more.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, they won\u2019t catch me, I can tell you,\u201d said one big fellow of a\nfairy, whose name, in Flemish, is frightful, but in English is\n\u2018Perpetual Motion.\u2019 \u201cThese men have been after me, for a thousand years\nand I call them fools; but, just when one thinks he has me, I give him\nthe slip, and this every time. As soon as I see that they are ready to\ncry \u2018Eureka,\u2019 I\u2019m off.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be too sure,\u201d said another big fairy. \u201cLook at our old pal, we\nused to call Vonk. In playful moods, he liked to rub the cat\u2019s back on\nwinter mornings, and make sparks from poor pussy fly out. Or, with bits\nof amber, in friction, he could draw up a hair, or a scrap of paper;\nbut when mad, would leap out of the sky in a lightning flash, or come\ndown in a fire-bolt, that would set a house in flames.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho ever thought that a fairy, with such power, could be caught? But\nhe was. First they put him in a jar. Then they drew him from the\nclouds, with a kite and key. Then they made him dance the tight rope on\nwires, and carry messages a thousand miles on land. Now, they stretch\nan iron clothes-line under the sea, and keep him all the time waltzing\nbackwards and forwards between Europe and America. Now, again, they\nhave made a harness of batteries and wires, and, with his help, they\nwrite and talk to each other at the ends of the earth. They gabble\nabout \u2018receivers\u2019 and \u2018volts\u2019 and a thousand things we cannot\nunderstand; but, with their submarine cables and overland wires, and\nwireless stations, they have beaten our English neighbor Puck; for they\nhave \u2018put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.\u2019 Besides this,\nthey make this fairy, who was a former member of our family, do all\nsorts of work, even to toasting, cooking and scrubbing and washing and\nironing clothes. Worse than all, where we used to have control of the\nair, and keep men out of it, now they have put Vonk in a machine with\nwings, and a motor to drive it through the sky and across the ocean.\u201d\n\nSo it went on, in the fairy world. First one, and then the other, told\nhow human beings were doing what, long ago, only the fairies and none\nelse could do. Things were different now, because men had kidnapped\nsome of the fairies, and harnessed them to work, as if they were horses\nor dogs, or donkeys; that\u2019s the reason they are so smart.\n\n\u201cWe shall all be caught, by and bye,\u201d grumbled a young and very lazy\nfairy. \u201cMen will catch and drag us out, just as fish are caught in\nnets, or pulled out by hook and line. Who can, who will escape these\nmortals?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere won\u2019t be any fairies left in Belgic land,\u201d wailed another who\nseemed ready to cry.\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll all be no better than donkeys,\u201d sobbed another. \u201cI know we\nshall.\u201d\n\nSo after a long chat, it was proposed that a delegation should wait on\nthe king of the fairies, to ask him to call a convention of all his\nsubjects, of every sort and kind, to see what could be done in the\nmatter. It would not do to let things go on at this rate, or there\nwould not be one fairy left; but all would become servants, slaves, or\nbeasts of burden for human beings. They might even make the fairies\nwear iron clothes, so they should have no freedom, except as their\nmasters willed: and, even women would be their bosses.\n\nThey agreed unanimously to hold the Congress, or Convention, at\nKabouterberg, or the Hill of the Kabouters, near Gelrode. All promised\nto lay aside their grudges, and forget all social slights and quarrels.\nEven the sooty elves, from the deep mines, were to be given the same\nwelcome and to be treated with the same politeness, as the silvery\nfairies of the meadows, that were as fresh as flowers and sparkling as\nsapphires. It was agreed that none should laugh, even if one of the\nKluddes should try to talk in meeting.\n\nThe invitations were sent out to every sort of fairy known in Belgium,\nfrom Flanders to Luxemburg, and from the sandy campine of Limburg, to\nthe flax fields of Hainault. Over land and sea, and from the bowels of\nthe earth, from down in the coal and zinc mines, to the highest hill of\nthe Ardennes, the invitations were sent out. Not one was forgotten.\n\nOf course, not every individual fairy could come, but only committees\nor delegations of each sort.\n\nIt would be too long a story to tell of all who did come and what they\nsaid and how they behaved; but from the secretary of the meeting, the\nstory-teller obtained the list of delegates. The principal personages\nwere as follows:\n\nHonors were paid first to the smallest. These were the Manneken, or\nlittle fellows. They stood not much higher than a thimble, but were\nvery merry. The Manneken had triangular heads, and their eyes always\ntwinkled. They were very much like children, that do not show off\nbefore company, but are often very bright and cunning, when you do not\nexpect them to be.\n\nTheir usual occupation was to play tricks on servant girls and lads,\nmilkmaids, ostlers, farmers and the people that lived in the woods or\namong the dunes. The general tint of their clothes and skin was brown.\nSometimes people called them Mannetje, or Darling Little Fellows. They\nand the rabbits were great friends.\n\nNext came our old friends, the Kabouters, whom we have met before.\nLiving down in the earth, and in the mines, and always busy at forge\nfires, or in coal or ore, they were not expected to come daintily\ndressed. They seemed, however, to have brushed off the soot, washed\naway the grime, and scrubbed themselves up generally. Too much light\nseemed to disturb them and all the time they kept shading their eyes\nwith their hands. The majority were dressed in suits, caps, and shoes\nof a butternut color. Each one was about a yard high. They were cousins\nto the Kobolds of Germany.\n\nThe Klabbers were easily picked out of the crowd, by their scarlet\ncaps, and because they were dressed in red, from head to foot. Most of\nthem had green faces and green hands. They were very polite and jolly,\nbut sometimes they appeared to be surly and snarlish, according to the\nmoods they were in, but more especially because of the way they were\ntreated by others. It is said that there was more of human nature in\nthese fellows, than in any other kind of Belgian fairies. These\nKlabbers, or Red Caps, were somewhat taller than the Kabouters.\n\nThere were not many of the Kluddes, for these clownish fellows, who\nlived in the Campine, among the sand dunes, or by the sea shore, or\nloafed along country roads, or by the side of ditches, with no good\npurpose, hardly knew how to behave in the company of well bred, or even\ndecent fairies. Even the Kabouters, not one of whom owned a dress coat,\nor a fashionable gown, had better manners than the Kludde rascals,\nwhose one idea seemed to be to tumble farmers\u2019 boys into the ditches.\nThey had no originality, or variety in their tricks, beyond the single\none of changing themselves into old \u201cplugs,\u201d or broken down horses; and\nthey possessed no more powers of speech, than cows or cats, that say\n\u201cmoo\u201d and \u201cmiouw.\u201d They could understand the talk of the other fairies,\nbut could not themselves speak, having no tongues.\n\nWhen a fairy stood up that was fluent, and entertaining, and made a\ngood speech, these sand snipes applauded so loudly, and kept on crying\n\u201cKludde\u201d so noisily\u2014the only word they knew\u2014that the president of the\nmeeting had to call them to order. He sternly told them to be silent,\nor he would have them put out. Notwithstanding this, they kept on\nmumbling, \u201cKludde, Kludde\u201d to themselves.\n\nThe Wappers were out in full force, or at least a dozen of them. At\nfirst they sat folded up, like jackknives; and all occupying one place\ntogether, like a lot of beetles; but when the place of meeting got\ncrowded, by others wanting their room, the Wappers stretched themselves\nout and up, until they looked like a crowd of daddy longlegs, with\ntheir long, wiry limbs and their heads and bodies up in the air. They\nwere told not to talk gibberish, except among themselves; but to\naddress the chair, and speak in meeting only in correct and polite\nfairy language, which even then had to be interpreted.\n\nNo jokes or tricks, such as the different kinds of fairies play on\nhuman beings, were allowed during the meeting of the Congress.\n\nTwo big, fairy policemen, called Gog and Magog, dressed in the colors\nof the Belgian flag, black, yellow and red, were posted near the door,\nto make all Kabouters, Kludde, Wappers and Mannekens, behave. If any\nmember of the Congress got too \u201cfresh,\u201d or obstreperous, he was\nimmediately seized and thrown out of doors.\n\nBoth the policemen\u2019s clubs, which were longer than barbers\u2019 poles, were\nmade of Flemish oak, wrapped round with black, yellow and red ribbons.\nBesides these bludgeons, each carried at his belt a coil of rope, to\nbind any of the big fairies that might give trouble.\n\nNo wash or bath tubs, aquariums, hogsheads, or barrels, having been\nprovided, nor any salt water being at hand, there were no mermaids or\nmermen present.\n\nNo ogres or giants came, for it could not be found that any of these\nbig fairy folk lived in the Belgium of our time. Formerly, they were\nvery numerous and troublesome, not only to men and women, but even to\nthe pretty and respectable fairies.\n\nAs for old Toover Hek, and his wife, Mrs. Hek, they had never been\nheard of, or from, for hundreds of years. Much the same report\nconcerning dragons was given by the registrar, or secretary, who knew\nall about the different kind of Belgian fairies.\n\nAt the name of a certain mortal, Balthazar Bekker, the Dutch enemy of\nall fairies, every one hissed, the Kabouters howled, the Wappers banged\ntin pans, and the Kludde yelled. One fairy proposed the health of\nToover Hek, as an insult to Bekker\u2019s memory, but this was voted down as\nan extreme measure. Then it was suggested that the memory of Verarmen\nof Hasselt be praised, but those present in the Congress, being modern\nfairies, cared nothing about anything so far back.\n\nAs for the regular attendants at the Congress, they were many and\ninteresting, and some were very lovely; yet, altogether, they were\nmuch, in their looks and manners, like the fairies in other countries;\nso that there is little advantage to be gained in describing them, or\ntheir dresses and ornaments. Some had wings, some had not. They looked\nvery gauzy, and most of them were as tiny as babies, but there were\nsome larger ones also.\n\nOne of the first laws passed at the Congress was a Foreign Fairy\nExclusion Law! This was done at the suggestion of a member of the\nKabouters\u2019 Guild, who was afraid the Belgian fairies would be ruined by\nthe cheap labor imported from other countries, like Ireland or\nBulgaria.\n\nIt was also unanimously decided that no foreign fairies, even if they\napplied for membership, or wanted to attend as visitors, should be\nadmitted to the Congress. So all the German kobolds, English brownies\nand nixies, Japanese oni, the French fee, Austrian gnomes, and the\nScotch and Irish fays and fairies, of any and all kinds, were kept out.\nThough these might envy the fairies of Belgium, and their happy lot,\nthey could not even sit as delegates, or be allowed the usual\ncourtesies due to visitors.\n\nThis the story teller heard afterwards, when a fairy maiden let out the\nsecret of this, one of the proceedings of the Congress, after they had\ngone into executive session! She just couldn\u2019t keep a secret, that\u2019s\nall!\n\n\u201cAnd why do we not report especially more of what was said and done\nbehind the closed doors, or tell about the social side of the\nCongress,\u201d does any one ask. Or why does he not tell more about the\namusements, the receptions, and the fine clothes of the prettiest\nfairies?\n\nWell, the American man was vexed enough, when the president of the\nCongress ordered all human beings and strangers of every sort to leave\nthe house, and then locked the door, so that everything was done in\nsecret.\n\nThis was the only time in Belgium, that the story-teller was not\ncourteously treated. Yet the reason is plain. The President and\nsecretary were both afraid that this tourist, who had really, many\ntimes visited Belgium, just to get better acquainted with the fairies,\nwas a prude, who didn\u2019t believe in letting children know anything about\nfairies. In other words, he was suspected of wanting to abolish all\nbooks of fairy tales from the libraries.\n\nBut you know better.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE OGRE IN THE FOREST OF HAZEL NUTS\n\n\nAges ago, in the gloomy forests of Limburg, there lived a roaring giant\nnamed Toover Hek. Although the forest was so dense, yet there were many\npaths through it, for there was no other way of getting across from\nGermany, into Belgic Land and France and Holland. Toover Hek, the\nman-eating giant, or ogre, used to wait, where the paths crossed each\nother, or diverged, and here he would waylay travelers, seize them and\nrun away with them, and, with his ogre wife, devour them in his cave.\n\nThis ogre, Toover Hek, roamed the woods and ate up all the people he\ncould catch, who traveled that way. Terrible tales were told about his\nvrouw, also, who was reported to be even more cruel than her big\nhusband. It was said that she was a cousin of another ogre, Hecate, who\nhad once lived further east, in Greece. Both had been driven out by the\nholy saints, and had come into Belgic land, where one of them married\nthe man-eating giant, Toover Hek.\n\nSometimes the children called this big fellow the Long Man, because he\nwas so tall, and had such very long legs. In the local dialect, this\nbecame \u201cLounge Man,\u201d which means the same thing.\n\nOne day, his ogre wife found some honey in the forest and brought it to\nhim. He smacked his lips and always after that called his wife his\nTroetel, or Honey Bunch.\n\nThe first inhabitant of the country was a farmer, named Heinrich. He\nwas a doughty fellow, who was not afraid of ogres or giants. He had\nlong lived among people who celebrated the kermiss, but with such\ndrunken brutality and coarse indecency, that he was disgusted, and went\ninto the forest to live. Heinrich\u2019s one weakness was pea soup, and his\nwife thought with him and rode the same hobby. All her neighbors said\nthat she made the best and thickest pea soup in Limburg. Heinrich\nbelieved pea soup to be both food and luxury. He thought also that\nwater and milk, and good soup, were all the liquids nature intended\never to pass the human throat.\n\nFinding that the soil was fertile, and that plenty of hazel nuts would\nfatten his pigs, Heinrich trudged with his wife Grietje (Maggie), far\ninto the hazel forest. He swung his axe diligently, chopped down the\ntrees, and built a rough house of wood. This he made his home, and\nnamed it Hasselt.\n\nSoon his goats, pigs, and chickens so multiplied that it was hard to\nkeep them out of the house. So Grietje persuaded her husband, Heinrich,\nto saw the door in halves and put them on two sets of hinges. This was\ncalled a hek, or heck-door, after the name usually given to the\nfeed-rack in the barn or stable.\n\nIn this way, the upper part of the door, when open, let in light and\nair, and the house was kept looking sweet and cheerful. The lower part\nof the door, or the heck, when shut, kept out the goats, pigs, and\nchickens.\n\nLeaning over the top of the lower half, the good vrouw could throw out\ngrain to feed the ducks, geese, pullets, hens, and roosters, and toss\nmany a tidbit to the piggies. Farmer Heinrich was so pleased with this\nidea of a double door, that kept his wife in good humor, that he would\nalways call on it to witness some act of his. He would even swear by\nthis demi-door, as if it were something sacred or important.\n\nSo his wife often heard him say \u201cBy heck, that\u2019s a fine hazel-nut,\u201d or\n\u201cBy heck, what a fat pig!\u201d or, \u201cBy heck, that pea soup is good!\u201d and\nmany such like expressions.\n\nBeing so extravagantly fond of the thick pea soup, which Belgians like\nso much, Heinrich planted a large pea patch. Every day, he went out to\nsee how his vines were growing. When his crop was ready to be gathered,\nhe had, besides having enjoyed a daily dish of green peas, or a good\nbasin of thick pea soup, enough of the legumes dried, to furnish his\ntable with thick pea soup, all winter long. He cultivated all the\nvarieties of peas then known. The early, medium, late, and the\nwrinkled, smooth or split peas were, at one time or another, on his\ntable.\n\nOne evening, after a day\u2019s work with the axe, in the forest, Farmer\nHeinrich came home to tell his wife about a terrible ogre, of which he\nhad caught a glimpse, that day, on one of the hills across the valley.\nThis monster carried an enormous fir tree club.\n\nHeinrich seemed very much disturbed and talked volubly to Grietje. He\nwound up his description of the Long Man, as he called him, by adding\nat the end of every sentence, \u201cBy heck, he is tall; a real Toover Hek;\nand, by heck his club was a big one.\u201d\n\nNow Heinrich and his vrouw feared that they could not defend themselves\nfrom the giant, if he should seek them out. Yet they did not propose to\nbecome mincemeat for an ogre. Far from it. The man knew that Toover Hek\nhad a big stomach, that could hold a half a hogshead full of food; and\nthat, after all, he was very much like a man; and that the best way to\ndivert or fool him, was by aiming at his stomach. Their surest defense\nwould be in having a barrel of thick pea soup, kept ready and hot, for\nhim. Fill his stomach, and he would forget everything else; for, like a\npig, he thought first and last of something to eat. Whenever they saw\nToover Hek coming, they could warm up the soup quickly, and set it out\non the doorstep. Then they would bolt the heck door and put a notice\noutside inviting the ogre to help himself to the free lunch.\n\nThey also planned to drive all the cattle, pigs, goats, and poultry\ninto the barn and lock the animals up. Of course, they would make no\nnoise, for the roosters and hens would think it was night, and go to\nroost, and the four footed creatures to sleep.\n\nIn fact, these two Limburgers went on the idea that the bigger the\nogre, the less brains he would have, inside his brain pan. It was the\nway of Dame Nature, the woman argued; that, what she put into a\ncreature\u2019s body, she took out of his skull, whether it were a dragon, a\nbull, a monkey, or a giant. She didn\u2019t add \u201ca man,\u201d but she probably\nmeant it. Everybody knows that a smart girl, or a nimble princess, was\noften more than a match for a giant, and could usually outwit even a\nman.\n\nIt turned out, just as Heinrich and Grietje expected, and had planned.\nOne day, when the farmer was far out in the fields, pulling up the\nvines of an old pea-patch, and grubbing up the soil to plant new ones,\nGrietje, the vrouw, saw Toover Hek, at a distance, coming down the\nhill, straight for their cabin.\n\nAt once, she set the boiler on the fire, to heat up the pea soup. Then\nshe ran out and shooed the chickens, drove the cows into the barn,\npulled the goats inside, and locked the door.\n\nThen she poured out the hot, thick, pea soup, into the barrel outside,\nhung a dipper near by, for invitation, and shut and bolted both leaves\nof the heck door. Peeping through the keyhole, she could see the big\nfellow strutting forward. He was puffing, and blowing, after his long\ntramp.\n\nToover Hek seemed to sniff the good stuff from a distance. He laid down\nhis big club, which was made of a whole fir tree, and coming up to the\npea soup barrel, poked out his tongue and tasted the thick soup. He\nsmacked his lips in glee, making such a noise, that Heinrich, in the\ndistant pea patch, thought it had thundered.\n\nThe ogre paid no attention to the ladle; and, it may be, he did not see\nit; but, with both hands, lifting up the whole barrel of soup at once,\nhe gulped it down, as if it were only a cupful. Then rubbing gleefully\nthe region of his swelled out stomach he licked his chops, and soon\nwalked off, without hurting anything, not even a toad.\n\nHeinrich and Grietje were in high spirits over all this, and\ncongratulated each other, on not being inside Toover Hek\u2019s stomach and\non their apparent escape from further danger.\n\nBut next day Toover Hek came again. Happily, the barrel of thick pea\nsoup was again ready for him, and once more he swallowed it all down;\nfinishing his lunch by thrusting out his tongue, which Grietje declared\nwas a yard long, and giving a thunderous lick to his chops. Then he\nstrode off, to tell his ogre wife, about his good luck.\n\nBut she only scolded him, for not bringing home a nice juicy boy, a\nplump girl, a fat woman, or even a skinny man, tough as he might be;\nfor such a tid-bit would taste better than her every day meal of roots\nand berries and wild animals. As for her part, she was real hungry. She\nwas so tired of Limburger cheese, as a steady diet. And, besides, she\nliked the strong smell of it, even less than she used to. She thought\nhe was an auroch or a bear; and at last she called him a wild boar, for\nnot thinking of her, and bringing home to her at least a bucketful of\npea soup. How could he forget her!\n\nIn the home of Heinrich, there was trouble also. How could they keep up\nthe supply of a whole barrel of thick pea soup every day for months?\n\nFor, although one might outwit an ogre, and play the sort of a trick,\nwhich must bamboozle his stupid brain, there was no telling what he\nmight do, when matters referred to his stomach, and when there was no\nmore thick pea soup, to divert him from the pigs and chickens; or, what\nhe liked best, human beings. Heinrich feared that Toover Hek would soon\neat him out of house and home and then proceed to make a meal of him\nand his vrouw; and finish up with his fowls and live stock.\n\n\u201cBut there\u2019s no use trying to thin out the soup, and save peas. He\u2019ll\nfind it out, and then he\u2019ll smash everything with his big club,\u201d said\nHeinrich to Grietje, after she had suggested economy, with more water\nand fewer peas, and then, when all the peas were gone, mock turtle or\ncabbage soup.\n\nHeinrich, being a man, knew that it was not safe to play tricks with a\nhungry giant, when his stomach was empty. \u201cA man and an ogre are about\nthe same, when it comes to his appetite,\u201d he argued. He went on to say:\n\u201cYou could not do it with a farmer, and how was it to be done with an\nogre? No, Toover Hek must be given either thick pea soup, or else he\nwould eat them all up.\u201d And at this, Heinrich pounded on the table,\nwith his fist. He loved his wife, but he wanted her to understand that\nhe was boss; but she only laughed inside, and knew she could \u201cwrap him\nround her little finger,\u201d when she wanted to\u2014the dear old donkey.\n\nNow it happened just when his bin was empty, and the last bushel of\npeas had been scraped out, to make thick soup, and Toover Hek had again\nswallowed a barrel full, that these first inhabitants of Hasselt,\nHeinrich and Grietje, his wife, were saved from the ogre, in an\nunexpected way.\n\nHow did it come to pass?\n\nWell a brave knight, who had heard of Heinrich\u2019s troubles, and had got\ntired of rescuing princes from dragons, and dungeons, and cruel uncles\nand old witches, hied him to the Forest of Hazel Nuts. He was just\nspoiling for a fight with an ogre. So he made a vow to the Holy Virgin\nthat if she would help him, he would make the paths safe for travelers.\nComing into the woods, near Hasselt, early one afternoon, he waited\nuntil old Toover Hek had already had his daily gulp of thick pea soup,\nand felt sleepy, and much like taking an afternoon nap. The ogre was so\nfull, that he could not walk fast, or move about easily. Then the\nknight knew that he would be \u201ccarrying his head under his armpit,\u201d that\nis, his wits were out.\n\nThe truth was, that old Toover Hek was half afraid to go home, and tell\nhis wife that he had forgotten her again and had drunk up all the soup,\nbefore he thought of her, and what she had told him. He wished now that\nhe had taken home a pail full; but he soon got over this spasm of\nconscience, and felt dull and stupid. Indeed he looked as if he were\nhunting round, for a good, soft place to take a nap in.\n\nAs soon as the knight noticed this, he flew at him with his trusty\nsword. He avoided his big club, which came down with a crack, hurting\nnothing, but only knocking off some hazel nuts, and making a big dent\nin the ground.\n\nThen the knight rushed up close to his enemy\u2019s long legs and chopped\naway at his knees. Toover Hek fell over, for his big club was of no\nuse. Seeing this, the knight ran up, and cut off the ogre\u2019s head.\n\nThen pulling out his hunting horn, the victor blew a blast, which\ncalled up his two squires. They quickly rigged up a rude sled, made of\npoles, put the head of Toover Hek on it, and drew it off to the\nknight\u2019s castle. There it was exposed, on a sharpened stake of wood, in\nfront of the gate. For a whole week it was the sport of the community,\nand the lads and maidens danced and sang and all the people rejoiced.\nAfter the ogre\u2019s head was taken down, it was set in the ground at the\nside of a brook, and used for women to stand or kneel on, while washing\nclothes. In time it was polished as ivory and shone in the sun.\n\nAs for Heinrich, he hitched up four yoke of oxen, and tying an iron\nchain around the fir tree trunk, which formed the giant\u2019s club, he\ndragged it to his barnyard and there had it chopped up. It made a load\nof firewood which lasted him all winter.\n\nNow that the roads were safe for all travelers, Heinrich and Grietje,\nand the knight, in thankfulness to the Holy Virgin fixed a pretty\nlittle shrine to one of the forest trees. Soon the knight\u2019s exploit was\nnoised abroad and pilgrims came in large companies, to pray here, and\ntake courage. They called the place by name, which, in the local\ndialect, or patois, is \u201cVirga Jesse.\u201d In this form of words, one easily\nrecognized the name of the Holy Virgin and her Blessed Son.\n\nIn time, instead of Heinrich\u2019s farm, a great clearing in the woods was\nmade, and Hasselt, or Hazel Bush, was well named. It was also called\nthe Forest City and became renowned throughout Europe.\n\nThe fame of the shrine was bruited abroad and rich people came to it\nand made offerings also to the village church. Even the Pope sent as a\ngift, for the Holy Mother, a jeweled crown.\n\nEvery seventh year, on the 15th of August, besides the religious\nprocession, celebrating the Feast of the Assumption, which attracts the\npious, the Hasselters, young or old, have a jolly and happy time. They\nenjoy uproariously the legend of Heinrich and his vrouw, and they tell\nhow a woman\u2019s wit brought to naught the villainous designs of the\ncannibal ogre, Toover Hek; and how a brave knight slew him and relieved\nthe country of the monstrous Long Man. So, to this day, the barrel of\nthick pea soup, like the widow\u2019s cruse of oil, has never failed. What\nbecame of the ogre\u2019s wife no one knows, or cares.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE FAIRY OF THE POPPIES\n\n\nThere are many wild flowers in Belgium and the cultivated ones are very\nnumerous and showy, especially in Flanders, where, at Ghent, there is\nthe flower market of the world. In the fields, one sees the blue flax\nflower by the acre, the fleur-de-lys, the corn flower, and many others,\nbesides the marguerite daisy, which the Walloons, who made the first\nhomes in New York, brought to our continent of America.\n\nNot a few of these Belgian flowers can be recognized on the coats of\narms of the old crusaders, and on the crests and shields of the nobles\nand the honorable families. They are also carved on the public\nbuildings, or made or set, with jewels and in gold, and worn as rings,\nbracelets, necklaces and brooches.\n\nMost striking and showy of all is the poppy, with its flaming red\npetals. In the grain fields it grows among the wheat, making brilliant\ncontrast of crimson and yellow. This harvest of gold, dotted with red\nis noted by every traveler, and reminds one of the Belgian flag. For a\nthousand years, the dying soldiers on the battle fields of Flanders, as\nthey closed their eyes in death, to sleep in God, have cast their final\nlook at the crimson poppy.\n\nIn Fairy Land, this flower has a noble reputation and our story will\ntell why.\n\nOnce upon a day, in a time and an age too far back for any almanacs to\nmark, or astronomer to reckon, there was strife among the fairies as to\nwhich was the more honorable. They all wanted to be kings or queens,\nprinces or princesses, but the earth\u2019s surface was not big enough for\nso many thrones. Besides, if all were sovereigns, where would be the\nsubjects to obey and serve?\n\nFairy Land became so excited over the matter, that one would think the\nfairies were going to war; just as foolish mortals do, when they\nquarrel and kill each other. Since all were so haughty, and so prone to\nsulk, and be surly, it was necessary that one of the fairies should\ngive up all pride and ambition and set an example of modesty,\nunselfishness and sacrifice.\n\nIt seemed all the more strange and unseemly, that the fairies living on\nthe surface of the earth, or in the moonshine and starlight, should\nquarrel. One might rather expect that the kabouters and elves, who live\ndown under the earth, and work at the forges and fires, and get sooty\nfrom long dwelling among coal and smoke, would be the ones to be proud\nand bad tempered.\n\nBut no, these fairies underground were the most modest, humble, and\npeaceable of all. In fact, they rarely ever came up on the earth,\nunless some special duty or summons called them. The fairies of the\nupper world, where men lived, looked down on the kabouters and elves as\nfar beneath them, and not at all in their society.\n\nThis fairy, of modest disposition, who was willing to set a good\nexample, offered to the other fairies that, if they would stop their\nquarrelings and think only how they might help and serve good boys and\ngirls, and not play tricks on milkmaids and farmers, she would become a\nkabouter. She would lay aside all her pretty clothes, wreaths, jewels\nand ornaments, and go down into the dark caves and deep into the earth\nto live there forever. She would learn the secrets of the elves, that\nwork in the mines and at the fires, and she would make something\nbeautiful for her old friends and companions, or else bring forth a new\nflower. Around this, they could dance and hold their revels, and so\nforget their jealousies and strife. For fairies, like men, get tired of\nold ways and scenes, which they have had a long time. They like to have\nnew things that are fresh and bright.\n\nWhen they all heard the most beautiful of the fairies talk in this way,\nthey at once put aside their quarrels, and every one resolved to behave\nproperly\u2014at least till she came back.\n\nBut she never returned, and this was the reason.\n\nFirst, she put off all her beautiful garments and donned clothes that\nwere of a dark and sad color. Then she went far down underground and\ninto the caverns of the world beneath, and deeper even than the coal\nmines of the Boringue, and the zinc mines of Moresnet.\n\nComing suddenly upon a company of kabouters, these rude fellows at once\nseized her, crying out:\n\n\u201cNow we\u2019ve got you. We\u2019ve long wanted to catch one of the upper world\nfairies, for despising us sooty folk and making us work so hard for\nthem. We have served your kind long enough. Now you shall do our will.\u201d\n\nSo they tied around her waist one of their blacksmith\u2019s leather aprons\nand stuck her pretty feet in old wooden shoes. Next, putting a pair of\ntongs into her hands, they bade her beat an iron bar, drawn red hot\nfrom the forge fire. Then, standing in front of the anvil, she had to\nbeat the bar out flat. The kabouter, who was set to watch her and keep\nher busy, was one of the ugliest of their number. He had a cruel leer\nin his eye, and gloated over her, while she toiled wearily. He scolded\nand even beat her, when she almost fainted under the hard tasks, to\nwhich she was so suddenly put and to which she was wholly unused.\n\nYet this earth fairy was very wise, while she was among the kabouters,\nand gradually she learned many of their secrets. One of these was the\nway these elves procured their iron; which was from the particles in\nthe blood of the millions of men slain, on the soil of Belgium, ever\nsince human beings came on the earth, and which makes blood so red.\nHere, the rival and hostile races had met on the thousand battle\nfields, known and unknown to human history. These were more numerous\nthan spots on a leopard or stripes on a zebra. Torrents of blood had\nbeen poured out, and again and again the soil had been reddened, and\nthe turf made to look dark with the stains. Sometimes, even rills and\nrivers ran red.\n\nBut the kindly rain from Heaven had made the human life-stream soak\ninto the soil, and nature soon came with her sweet mantle of flowers to\nheal, and to reconcile, and make men forget. So to the new generation\nof boys and girls, each war, as it came and went, made only one more\nstory to tell around the fireside on winter nights; for in summer with\nplay and work, and dance and song they thought only of what was just\nbefore them. Not for the young to look back over the past, except to\nhear about the fairies!\n\nSo, one generation after another, of human beings, forgot what had\nhappened in former years and ages. Moreover, all the red rills, that\nhad flowed from the veins of the wounded and dying, fed the earth and\nmade it more fertile. Even their flesh and bones soon mingled with the\nsoil and their elements reappeared in grain and trees, plants and\nflowers. Only the iron atoms of the blood of the soldiers remained in\nthe ground. From the time when men fought with stone axes and arrows,\nto the days we can remember, when they used poison gas and dropped\nbombs from the sky, men fed the earth with their bodies and blood and\nleft widows and orphans at home.\n\nBy the aid of their secret powers, the kabouters had collected these\niron particles, that were once floating in human veins and arteries,\nand they made them into their tools, such as hammers, tongs, anvils,\nchains, locks, keys, and what not. They also possessed the secrets of\nthe colors, that enter into the clays, flowers, stones, dyes for\ngarments and whatever has tint or hue. The kabouters knew that,\nunderneath all colors, of any sort or kind, there must be a metal,\nwhich, with other elements, becomes the basis of all dyes, paints, and\ntints in or on anything solid or liquid.\n\nAlmost all the wonders of chemistry were known to these elves, and\noften, in talking to each other, they declared that everything, which\nthe human artist laid on canvas, or with which he tinted his wall, or\nhouse, was caused by some chemical change in metals.\n\nOne of the most wonderful of their secrets was the transformation of\niron into rouge, which the girls and women put on their cheeks, in\norder to imitate the lovely rose tints, with which nature paints the\nfaces of her children. Yet whereas, in health and vigor, the color\ncomes to the human face from within, foolish folks put it on from\nwithout. Indeed, in some countries, the forefinger and finger nail of\nthe maidens which, at the tips, is usually red, is named \u201cthe rouge\nfinger,\u201d because most used for this purpose by the girls who wear out\nthe carpet in front of their looking glasses.\n\nNow it was an old kabouter, that was kind to the fairy from the upper\nearth, who told her the secret of the splendid hue of the red petals of\nthe poppy.\n\n\u201cIt is the same color, and the same metal, in the crimson flowers, as\nthat laid on the faces of the pretty girls, in their boudoirs; or that\ncomes naturally to the cheeks of the healthy young men and maidens. Now\nI can tell you how you can make a new flower, as red as blood, that\nwill spring up all over the fields of Flanders.\u201d\n\nThe fairy clapped her hands with delight.\n\n\u201cO tell me how. I should gladly die, if I might end the quarrels of the\nfairies and leave behind me a crimson flower. I want something, on\nBelgian soil, that shall make its people love their land all the more,\nand, by its color, remind them of the blood of the slain of many\ngenerations of men. Let the red flower spring up everywhere, without\nthought or labor. So will they value the more their beloved country,\nwhen they plant and cultivate the white lilies of peace.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo shall it be, if you say it,\u201d said the old kabouter, \u201cbut life for\nlife. You must give up your own life, and the flower will be your\ntransformation. Die, and the red flowers shall live. And we kabouters\nalso love Belgium. We shall let the iron atoms, gathered during ages,\nfrom the dead, enter with your life into the new blooms which shall\nspring up. There is already enough iron in the soil to tint the petals\nfor a thousand years to come.\u201d\n\nAt this word of promise, the fairy cried out \u201cGood! it shall be a\nmemorial of the thousand generations of the brave men, who have died on\nBelgic soil, and on Flanders fields, and it will also heal the quarrels\nof my people.\u201d Then, sinking down, she breathed out her life, and was\nno more.\n\nThat night, there was a funeral among the fairies. In the softest spot,\nin the centre of a fairy ring, among the grass and yellow and blue\nflowers, they laid her to rest in a sad burial. Nevertheless the burden\nof their song was of promise and joy, and in praise of beauty; for the\nearth\u2019s surface was now to wear a new floral jewel.\n\nAnd behold, in the next spring time, the earth seemed dotted with jets\nof flame, as if a thousand fairies were each one kindling a tiny\nmemorial fire, in remembrance of human lives given for others.\n\nFrom that day of the grave in the fairy\u2019s ring, there was peace among\nthe fairies. And in our time, the poppies of Belgium keep a perpetual\nDecoration Day, because of the generations of the slain on the soil of\nBelgium the Beautiful.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTHE STORY OF THE FLEUR-DE-LYS\n\n\nLong before cows in Belgium wore earrings, to denote their pedigree and\ngood breeding, or sugar was made out of beets, there were wonderful\nthings done by the fairies.\n\nThese were so many, that some industrious farmers and their wives got\ntogether to see if they could equal or exceed the fairies in doing good\nthings for their country. They wished to outrival the fairies, excel\nthem if possible, and make Belgium great among the nations.\n\nThese honest folk used to meet together in the evenings and tell fairy\ntales, so that they and their little ones, as they grew up in their\nwooden shoes, might know just what fairies were good for. This was\ndone, because they supposed that everything unusual, or wonderful in\nnature, was the work of the fairies, and they felt that human beings\nought, in other ways, to beat them in a contest of wits.\n\nSome of the inhabitants arranged a meeting to talk with the fairies,\nwho should tell what they had accomplished in the three kingdoms of\nnature\u2014mineral, vegetable and animal. The meeting was at night, of\ncourse, for fairies are never seen in the day time.\n\nHaving already shown what they had done for the animals of Belgium, the\nfairy-folk proposed to talk about what they had done, with the plants\nand minerals, to enrich Belgium and make the country great.\n\nThe first story the fairies told was, \u201cHow the lowly flower got into\nroyal society,\u201d and thus the fairy began:\n\n\u201c\u2018All the world,\u2019 as the French say, knows that the fleur-de-lys, the\nlily of France has, for centuries, been their national emblem. In the\nblazonry of kings and queens, it was sewn on royal robes and\nembroidered in gold and silver on flags and banners. It was stamped on\nthe coins, and made the symbol of everything glorious in France. All\nthe world has heard of the Bourbon lilies, for that family of kings and\nrulers made it especially their own emblem.\n\n\u201cBut originally the fleur-de-lys was our Belgian flower, that grew in\nthe meadows along our river Lys (or Leye).\n\n\u201cTo tell the full story of the Frankish tribes, who made France a\nkingdom, and especially of the Salic Franks, we must go back, in time,\nto the early ages. We must travel up into Dutch Gelderland, where the\nwaters of the North Sea or German Ocean, wash the shores, and the waves\nfling their spray over the land.\n\n\u201cThe Salic Franks, that is, the Free men of the Salt, which was born of\nHeaven\u2019s fire and ocean\u2019s water, once dwelt by the sea. To get the\ncrystals out of the brine, they cut down the trees of the forest, in\nwhich the fairies lived. Then they piled up the logs, and made a great\nblaze. The tongues of fire leaped higher and higher, for they were\ntrying to get back to Heaven, their old home. Then the forefathers of\nour nation went down to the sea and drew up the salt water. This they\nflung on the red hot logs, praying all the time for the salt to come.\n\n\u201cThe fire was put out by this means, and when they looked on the\ncharred wood, they found thousands of shining white spots, which were\ncrystals of pure salt. These, they scraped up, and, after refining, by\nmeans of water and evaporation, in the sun\u2019s rays, they used the salt\non their food and, as offerings to the gods.\n\n\u201cThe forefathers therefore considered salt as the child born of fire\nand water, of Heaven and Ocean. So they took the name Salis, which\nmeans \u2018of the salt.\u2019 Through the changes in the language, the name\n\u2018Salians\u2019 was used to denote a host. They were very proud of being\nFranks, or freemen, and were known as the Salic Franks. They became\nvery powerful and even defied the Romans.\n\n\u201cWhen they found that their enemies were weakening, and food was scarce\nin the north, they resolved to march south and west, and possess the\nrich land stretching between the Maas and the Seine rivers, which is\nnow Belgium and France.\n\n\u201cAssembling the entire host, with their chariots, wives and little\nones, in the great moot-place, or sand-walled enclosure, a few miles\nfrom Nijkerk, they marched in one mighty army into Belgic Land.\nReaching the river Lys, when the iris and the lily were in full bloom,\neach one of the tribesmen plucked a stem and blossom of the plant and\nstuck it in his cap.\n\n\u201cThen they rushed on, conquering and to conquer, until all the wide\narea of the country now called \u2018France,\u2019 and named after the Franks,\nwas theirs. The flower of the Lys, or fleur-de-lys, under which they\nhad won victory, was chosen as their emblem. Thus the once lovely\nBelgic flower was elevated into royal society.\n\n\u201cEven better, the Franks gave up their cruel pagan rites, and,\nbelieving in the Heavenly Father of all mankind, and in his beloved\nSon, and in the Holy Spirit, the fleur-de-lys was made the emblem of\ntheir faith. The missionaries often used it to teach the blessed\ndoctrine of the trinity\u2014three forms of life, proceeding from one common\nstem and nature.\n\n\u201cNow all Belgians know, that our city, Tournai, was for centuries the\ncentre and capital of this great Frankish empire. When Childeric, their\nemperor, died, he was buried at Tournai, and his tomb was here, in the\nchurch of St. Brice. On the robes, which cover his honored dust, when\nhis coffin was opened, centuries ago, were found three hundred golden\nbees, models of those that gathered honey from the flowers that grew\nalong the Lys and other rivers of Belgic Land.\n\n\u201cAll the world knows, also, how Napoleon, who made himself emperor of\nthe French, had these golden bees embroidered on his coronation robes.\nJust as the Bourbons had claimed the lily as the particular blazon of\ntheir family, so Napoleon made the golden bee his symbol.\n\n\u201cIn truth, it has been the fashion, with these royal mortals, to take\nlowly flowers and humble insects for their heraldry. Did not a common\nshrub, named by Europeans, the \u2018broom,\u2019 the planta genista, become the\nproud emblem of the Plantagenets, kings of England?\u201d\n\nAt this point, the fairy story-teller stopped and made apology for\nbeing so long. She hoped she had not been tedious. She then gave her\nfinal word:\n\n\u201cGood men and women, Belgians all, would you make your country one of\nthe best, to be always loved and honored of your children\u2019s children,\nwhile ever attracting admiring and delighted visitors, to come to see\nthe wonders of Belgic land? Would you?\n\n\u201cThen, please remember that the universe is full of fairies, though men\nnowadays call them \u2018forces,\u2019 and they are ever ready to help you. Do\nyour best to allure, coax, win, tame and harness them, for your use and\nbenefit.\n\n\u201cDo not count any flower too lowly, or soil too poor; for in each is a\nsecret worth learning and, even more, worth possessing. Believe what a\nwise man has said, concerning even the plants that you call\n\u2018weeds\u2019\u2014these which you uproot, plow under, throw out and burn. Yet\neach one may possess some secret charm, some virtue, or a message or\nscience to you. For what says the seer?\n\n\u201cHe defines a weed as a \u2018plant, the virtues of which have not yet been\ndiscovered.\u2019\u201d\n\nNow the story-teller, stepping out of fairy regions into Yankee land,\nwould remind all who read the fairy\u2019s message, and especially his\nAmerican young friends, that the wise man, whom the fairy quoted, was\nour own Emerson. We forget not, either, that the white silken flags,\nunder which Lafayette and the \u201csparkling Bourbonnaires\u201d marched, were\nembroidered with the fleur-de-lys. These French soldiers of 1780, who\nkept step with the Continentals, on the way to Yorktown, were under the\nBourbon lilies. Let us remember also, that the old moot-place of the\nSalic Franks is still to be seen near Nijkerk, in Gelderland, the\npretty town, whence came \u201cCorlaer,\u201d and Van Rensselaer, and the\nsettlers of New Netherland, out of which grew the four noble states of\nNew York, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE IRISH PRINCESS AND HER SHIP OF SOD\n\n\nThe story-teller has travelled many times in the land of the Belgians.\nThere he saw hotels named \u201cThe Seven Churches,\u201d in one of which he\nslept. He asked how it was, that a hotel should be named after\nchurches, and why there should be seven of them?\n\nThis was the answer, and here is the story.\n\nAfter the holy Saint Patrick had left Ireland free from snakes, it was\na pleasanter country to dwell in, and people were kinder to each other\nthan ever before. There were still, however, many rough fellows still\nin the island, and fights between the clans were common.\n\nYet such was the beauty of the colleens, or young maidens, that\noftentimes these warlike chiefs fell in love with the daughters of men\nwho were their enemies. Then there was trouble in the families, for the\nIrish are very proud of their blood and ancestors. In those days, every\ntribe was jealous of the other. It was the rule, that all maidens must\nmarry only the men, of whom their fathers approved. This was for fear\nthey might get a spalpeen in the family.\n\nNow there was a lovely daughter of a famous chief, who lived in a\ncastle, with plenty of green vines growing on the walls. Her name was\nEileen, and her favorite plant was the shamrock. For Saint Patrick had\ntaught that its three parts, growing on one stem, made a true symbol of\nthe triune Deity, whom all good people ought to worship. The life was\none, the leaves were three. Eileen was a Christian maid, and the\nshamrock was like the voice of a friend, that spoke to her every day,\nsaying \u201cbe faithful and pure.\u201d\n\nHearing of the fame and beauty of this loveliest maid in Erin, a\nhandsome and noble chief, in a neighboring county, sought her hand in\nmarriage. How proud and happy he would feel, if she, as his wife,\nshould grace his castle! Besides, an alliance, with her powerful\nfather, would greatly add to the glory of his own name and prowess.\n\nSo, according to the ancient custom of the country, he told the wish of\nhis heart to her father, before asking the maiden herself.\n\nHer parents were pleased to have the chief thus propose the match, for\nthey had already thought to marry their daughter to him, for he was\nalso a brave warrior.\n\nBut there was one drawback. The ardent lover and would-be husband was a\npagan, still under the spell of bad fairies, and the wrong kind of\npeople, who told him not to believe in the true God. The men in whom he\ntrusted, and whose advice he followed, would not go to church, or keep\nthe Sabbath day. The good rulers of the church had passed a law, which\nthey named \u201cthe truce of God\u201d; that, at certain seasons of the year,\nduring three days, there should be no fighting. But this pagan chief\ncared nothing for this law, and was very cruel in many ways. Nearly all\nthe good people in Ireland called him a spalpeen.\n\nNevertheless, this chief was so rich and powerful, that Eileen\u2019s\nparents insisted upon her marrying him. They hoped, too, that she, with\nher gentle ways, would change the brutish fellow\u2019s disposition.\n\nBut Eileen thought that this would be like trying to tame a tiger, or a\nlion; for bad passions raged in him as in the wild beasts. Tigers and\nlions look very grand, but they are not pleasant to live with.\n\nSeeing that her father was determined to marry her off to this cruel\nman, and had even named the day of the marriage, and that her mother\nwas sewing upon her wedding dress, Eileen resolved to leave home and\nescape to Belgic Land, across the sea.\n\nBut how could she get away, and out of the country? She knew no ship\ncaptains or sailors. Then, as everybody knows, the coast of Ireland was\nstudded with high, round towers, from which the sentinels could see all\nwho came and went.\n\nOne night, weary of thinking over her troubles, she fell asleep and\ndreamed. And this was her dream.\n\nA great company of fairies flew over the sea, from Belgic Land, and\ngreeted her with welcoming hands, smiles and curtsies. They all seemed\nto be standing on a sod, cut from the ground, like a large garden. She\nrecognized some of the flowers,\u2014the marguerite daisy, with its round\ngolden heart and white petals, like rays, or strips, around the centre;\nthe lily, that grew along the river Lys, called the fleur-de-lys; the\nblue wax flower, and some Oriental plants, such as the tulip and orange\nblossom. Besides these, there were the hazel tree buds, the blossoms of\nthe apple tree, and several other pretty things that grow in the\nlowlands of Flanders, or high up among the highlands of the Ardennes.\nSome had come from the East, and some from the South, but together they\ngave Eileen the idea that Belgic Land would make for her a charming\nhome, because she loved flowers so dearly. They were to her, as the\nvery thoughts of God.\n\nIn her dream also, she seemed to be out of doors, and on a high hill,\noverlooking the beautiful lakes of Killarney, when the fairy band, on\nthe cloud-like garden, settled on the ground near her. The queen, or\nleader of the fairies, with a radiant star on her forehead, and a\nsilvery wand in her right hand, stepped off the green sward and,\ndropping a curtsey, said:\n\n\u201cWe have heard of your troubles, pretty maid, and have come to invite\nyou to our country. You can travel on this magic sod, which will float\non the water; and, in the fair weather of this coming day, you can\nreach our soil. Now, you must come with us.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, thank you,\u201d said Eileen, \u201cbut I cannot leave my shamrocks, and my\nchickens.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, nor need you. Take them along with you. We\u2019ll promise that you can\nkeep them with you; or, we\u2019ll change them into whatever form of life\nyou may desire.\u201d\n\nEileen quickly ran to the hen house, in her father\u2019s croft, and\ngathered up her seven tiny chicks in her apron. This she held with one\nhand, while with the other, she grasped two shamrock plants, for she\ncould not leave either of her favorites behind. She had to hurry,\nbecause the fairies can work only at night, and they all disappear at\nsunrise.\n\nReturning from her father\u2019s croft and barn, she stepped on the magic\nsod, and in a moment, was floating off and down towards the sea. By the\ntime they had got well out upon the salt water, the eastern sky began\nto get, first gray, and then faintly red. Thereupon, the chief fairy\nspoke to her and said:\n\n\u201cWe must disappear now, but we shall meet you in our Belgic land, and\nshall always help you. Don\u2019t for one moment, be afraid. The sod will\nfloat you, and tomorrow night, we shall be there, on the strand, to\ngreet you. Command us, for we love you, and will do your will. We are\nsure you will be happy in our country, where you are needed. Good-bye.\u201d\nThe chief fairy waved her wand, and at once the whole company\ndisappeared.\n\nEileen looked around, over the floating garden, but every one of the\nfairies had vanished. There was nothing to be seen, but the flowers,\nthe grass, and the little chicks, that were running about, as if they\nthought it great fun. Indeed, they were having the time of their lives;\nfor, being so small, they thought the whole world was bounded by that\nsod.\n\nMeanwhile, soft breezes were blowing, and the sun shone out, keeping\nher warm. She needed this, for she had come away with only the thin\nclothes, which she wore in the house.\n\nTowards evening, she began to feel lonely, and cried for her mother.\nFor the first time in her life, she was afraid. The little chicks had\nfound some low branches of a bush; and, roosting there, comfortably had\nclosed their eyes. They stuck their little heads under their tiny\nwings, and were soon fast asleep. Eileen envied them, for she was in\nterror, as the awful sense of loneliness, and of being so far away from\nhome, and father and mother, came upon her. She kept wondering what\nthey might be thinking about her. Would the fairies keep their promise?\nOr, would they forget? Might not the wind arise, and in the storm,\nwould she not be drowned?\n\nOne by one, the bright planets came out, and the stars followed. Yet\nthe larger lights seemed only to blink, and say, \u201cwhat a foolish girl,\nto leave her home and go afar!\u201d\n\nThen Eileen looked at her shamrock and thought of what good Saint\nPatrick had taught her ancestors. After that, a sense of peace folded\nher like a garment. Surely, God was near.\n\nLooking up, in the dark night, toward the south and the west, where the\nlast faint glow of light seemed to linger, she felt happier. Next, she\nsaw lights moving on the distant shore. She rubbed her eyes. The\nsparkles and gleams seemed to be gaining in brightness. Yes, it was\nreally so. The fairies were all there and waltzing about, until, as she\ncame nearer, they looked like a shower of tiny stars, or a swarm of\nfireflies.\n\nPretty soon, the big sod slipped up against the shore, with a little\nbump. In a moment more, it seemed to be a part of the country itself,\nand the little chicks hopped ashore. Then the fairies led Eileen into a\nvery pretty building, which looked something like a palace, but more\nlike a church. There, a feast was spread, and she sat down to eat\nheartily, and drink plentifully, while the fairies waited upon her.\n\nThen they led her into a nicely furnished sleeping chamber. Upon a\nsilken couch, with fine dresses near at hand, she was soon fast asleep.\nThe fairies brought up the shamrock plants and placed them on a table\nof Flemish oak, very dark and fine. The little chicks were kept in a\ncoop, with plenty of food and water, and sticks to perch on.\n\nIn the morning, she cast her eyes, upon the home-plant, that told her\nof her Heavenly Father\u2019s love. Then, after praying for her father and\nmother, she looked out upon a lovely landscape, rich in flowers; for\nshe was now in Flanders, where the poppies and daisies grow.\n\nYet when she looked inquiringly for church spires, or round towers, or\ngrand castles, they were not there. The people, going to work, or\nploughing in the soft fields, seemed poor folks. Indeed, no men or\nwomen that she saw, had any gold on their persons. This, indeed, was\nthe Belgic Land of long, long ago.\n\nEileen soon found that the inhabitants needed to be told of the good\nnews of God, which the blessed Saint Patrick had taught the Irish.\nWhile she had enough to eat and drink, and plenty of pretty clothes to\nwear, she thought of the many people, who were not only poor, but who\ndid not know of the Father in heaven. Why should she dwell in a rich\ncastle, and dress in costly garments, when others were not only without\nthese, but were also very ignorant.\n\nSo Eileen travelled through the country, and told the Belgian people\nthe same good news from Heaven, which Saint Patrick had brought to her\nIrish ancestors. Wherever she went, she took one of her shamrocks with\nher, and taught the same lesson.\n\nOne of her plants, which she put into the ground, became the parent of\nothers, in many varieties, so that the fields of Flanders were green,\nwhere once was only sterile sand. Cows and sheep found food, where, of\nold, was nothing but waste land. In time, the city of Ghent became a\nfloral capital, with as wonderful a market for bulbs and blossoms, as\nHaarlem was for tulips and hyacinths, in Holland. These were rich in\nall the colors, with which the Father in Heaven had tinted the blooms\nof the field, and the opening buds of the fruit trees.\n\nThe most astonishing change took place, wherever Eileen stayed long\nenough to gather a congregation of people. She patiently taught them\nthe lesson, of which the shamrock was the symbol; and, in each of seven\nplaces, she left one of her chickens. Somehow, from the love that was\nleft behind, by this good woman, and around each living creature, there\ngrew up a church, and every one of these churches was given a name\nafter the Irish princess, Saint Eileen, though often pronounced\ndifferently in Flemish. To this day, the people in seven cities of\nBelgium, cherish the memory of the sweet lady, who spent her life in\nblessing their fathers.\n\n\n\nYet the dream story and the fairy tale are scarce more wonderful than\nthe historic reality of ancient Christian Ireland\u2019s gifts to Belgium.\nThe story-teller adds, for the benefit of older folk, that the dream\nstory and the fairy tale are scarcely more wonderful than the historic\nreality of ancient Erin\u2019s missionary gifts to Belgic Land.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nWINE-CRUST, THE BLUE-BEARD OF FLANDERS\n\n\nEver so many centuries ago, when all Belgium was part of the great\nforests, that covered nearly all of northern Europe, there was a chief\nof a powerful tribe, who was named Halwyn; or, as we shall call him,\nWine-Crust, or Crusty Wine. He was famous for loving three things,\nwine, women and song. Being a magician, he had great power over young\nmaidens, many of whom thought they would like to marry him.\n\nThis Halwyn got his name from a curious custom which he had. He was\nvery fond of anything sweet, whether it were honey or the sugary crust,\nleft, by old or sweet wine, on the sides of barrels and the wooden\nvessels, in which the wine had stood for a long time. He chipped or\nbroke it off, and ate it as if it were candy. So people called him Sir\nHalwyn, or Wine-Crust.\n\nNow the curious thing about Sir Halwyn and his castle, was, that it was\nsupposed that he had been married more than once. Yet no one ever saw\nhis wife with him, or met any one of the wives he had had; for no other\nchief or nobleman was ever admitted into his castle. It was because he\nhad such a fine voice, and could sing so well, that he was invited into\nother castles. Yet he never made any return of the courtesies which he\nhad received. It was rumored about, in Flanders, that he had married in\ndistant places and brought his brides, one after another, to his own\ncastle; yet, no one in Flanders or the Ardennes ever saw or heard of\nthem afterwards.\n\nSo, in time, in spite of his good singing, Halwyn\u2019s reputation was so\nbad, that no king or noble would allow his daughter, when out hunting,\nto go anywhere near the stronghold of Sir Halwyn. Moreover, it was\nsuspected that he was a magician, and used his magic craft very\ncruelly.\n\nIn those forest days, girls were trained to riding, wrestling, and the\nuse of the sword, spear and shield. The women often went to war with\ntheir husbands and brothers, and fought the enemy, both in the tribal\nfights and those against the Romans.\n\nNow there was a beautiful maiden, named Quirina, one of several\ndaughters of the king of Arlon, and she was his favorite and best\nbeloved child. Her father, mother, brother, and her only sister, who\nwas never jealous of her, vied with each other in making her presents\nof ornaments, and clothes, and pretty things, that would please her;\nand all this, she repaid with sweet and tender affection.\n\nQuirina was unusually well skilled in horsemanship, and the use of the\nsword and spear. She had brown eyes and hair of the same color, but\nmuch darker, and was tall and slender but very strong.\n\nThough bold in hunting, she was very fond also of pretty clothes, and\nwhen she dressed herself in her best, there was no woman, young or old,\nin the castle hall, even on great occasions, that looked finer than\nshe. In fact, it was well known, through all Belgic Land, that no\nmaiden possessed a richer wardrobe than Quirina. Many times Sir Halwyn\nhad tried to win her; and, by openly making love to her, and by\noffering her father a title and home for his daughter, he hoped to\nsucceed. Or, he strove to lure her away, by telling of his great castle\nand domain; but had never succeeded. Yet, as much as ever, he seemed\ndetermined to persevere and win her.\n\nQuirina, on the other hand, openly declined; for she was secretly\ndetermined not to be his wife. By this time, also, her father, mother,\nbrother and sister, had heard the evil reports about Sir Halwyn, and\nthat none of his wives had ever been heard from, after once entering\nhis castle. They steadfastly warned their dear sister to beware of the\nfellow, as a dangerous person, and not even, in the ardor of her chase\nafter deer, to get too near his domain.\n\nOne day, every one was surprised, when Quirina asked her father to give\nhis consent for her to go to visit Sir Halwyn\u2019s castle. In the words of\nthe old Flemish ballad, he answered.\n\n\n           \u201cO neen! myn dochter\u2014neen gy niet;\n            Die derwaert gaen en keeren niet.\u201d\n\n\nIn English, this is:\n\n\n           \u201cO no, my daughter; no, not so,\n            They ne\u2019er return who thereward go.\u201d\n\n\nThen Quirina asked her mother, but she replied to her daughter, exactly\nas her father had done.\n\nThen she sought the advice of her older sister, whether she should go\nto Sir Halwyn\u2019s castle.\n\nThe answer made was the same.\n\nFinally of her brother, she made the same request. His reply was\ndifferent from that of the others; for he trusted that his sister\u2019s wit\nwould extricate her from any difficulty.\n\n\n           \u201cGo where thou wilt, all\u2019s one to me,\n            But see thou keep\u2019st thine honor free,\n            Thy crown bear firm and uprightly.\u201d\n\n\nAfter receiving these answers, though secretly encouraged, more by what\nher brother had purposely refrained from saying, than from what he had\nsaid, this is what the maiden Quirina did:\n\nShe went up into that part of her father\u2019s castle called the Virgin\u2019s\nBower, which, in ancient days, was a room upstairs and off from the\nmain hall, or \u201chouse.\u201d It was reached by a stairway built on the\noutside. There, in her room, she dressed herself in her finest robes.\n\nFirst she put on a chemise, which was soft as silk. Over this, was a\nskirt and bodice, richly trimmed with lace, made of threads of gold.\nHer crimson petticoat, showing behind that part of her dress which was\nopen in front, was studded with golden stars. Around her neck, she\nclasped strings of pearls. Finally, on her head, she placed a coronet,\nrich in precious stones. In her resplendent attire, she stood forth as\nfair in face, and form, and as gorgeously arrayed, as any queen on\nearth.\n\nThen hieing to her father\u2019s stable, she chose from the stalls a horse\nthat was the finest and fleetest of them all. Leaping upon its back,\nshe sat astride the steed, riding like a man. Clapping her ankles\nagainst its sides, she rode off in the direction of Halwyn\u2019s castle,\nsinging aloud, until the woods re-echoed her gladness. She had scarcely\nreached the middle of the forest, when Sir Halwyn, having heard her\nsong, came riding along.\n\nHe cantered up to her, swung off his big hat, which had a long feather\nin it and bowing low, twice cried out \u201cgegroet,\u201d which is the Flemish\nfor \u201cGreeting\u201d and \u201cWelcome.\u201d He called her \u201cFair maid, with the clear\nbrown eyes.\u201d\n\nQuirina smilingly returned his salutation and seemed pleased to ride\nwith him. Then their horses cantered on, while they chatted by the way.\nSir Halwyn never seemed more charming in his manners, or more brilliant\nin his conversation. She let him choose where they should ride and the\nhours passed very pleasantly.\n\nSuddenly they came to an opening in the forest. Quirina looked over to\nthe left, and beheld a frightful picture, which, revealed the true\ncharacter of Sir Halwyn; for there, from the cross-beam of a long\ngallows frame, hung the bodies of no fewer than sixteen maidens, whom\nthis brutish murderer had cruelly put to death.\n\nThe monster and magician Halwyn, for such he was, now appeared in his\ntrue character. With a scowl, he cried out:\n\n\u201cMost beautiful of all women, though you are, you are now to die; but,\nsince you are so lovely, I shall allow you to choose the manner of your\ndeath. Yet decide quickly, for you have but a moment to live.\u201d\n\nQuirina, perfectly cool, instead of piteously entreating the magician\nHalwyn to spare her life, thanked him for allowing her a choice between\nthe gallows and beheading, and made reply:\n\n\u201cWell, if I must decide, let me die under your bright sword. But first,\nremove your velvet cloak and fine silk doublet; for a young girl\u2019s\nblood spurts out high in the air, and I should be sorry to have your\nfine clothes ruined by blood stains.\u201d\n\nMaking haste to throw aside his velvet cloak, and then to unlace his\nsilk coat, rich in gold decoration, Halwyn, while busy at this task,\nsuddenly found his head off.\n\nThe maiden had deftly drawn his sword from its sheath, and with one\nskilful sweep of the blade, cut his neck through.\n\nThe magician\u2019s head tumbled at her feet, but his tongue uttered these\nwords, beseeching her:\n\n\u201cTake my hunting horn, and go into yonder grain field, and blow it; so\nthat my servants and friends may know my fate.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot I,\u201d shouted the angry maiden. \u201cI\u2019ll follow no murderer\u2019s counsel.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, please go under the gallows frame yonder. There you will\nfind a pot of salve. Bring it, and anoint my red neck with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever,\u201d cried the maiden. \u201cI shall follow no murderer\u2019s counsel.\u201d\n\nShe propped up the headless corpse, as if Halwyn were still looking at\nthe gallows, and enjoying the sight of the sixteen maidens\u2019 bodies hung\nthere.\n\nShe took up the head, and repairing to the fountain, she washed it in\nthe spring water, which was clear and cold, until all the blood was off\nit. Then, rolling it up under his cloak to conceal it, and again\nsitting astride her horse, she galloped away, singing a song of\nvictory.\n\nWhen half through the wood, she met Halwyn\u2019s father.\n\n\u201cBeautiful maiden,\u201d said he, \u201chave you seen my son?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have left him well placed. He sits in the green field, playing with\nsixteen of his girls.\u201d\n\nFurther on, Halwyn\u2019s brother came riding along.\n\n\u201cFair one, have you chanced to meet my brother, today?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, yes, sir. Your brother is a renowned lord. He told me the secrets\nof his art today, with sixteen maidens, well guarded, around him.\u201d\n\nA few furlongs further, she met Halwyn\u2019s sister, who asked her the\nnews, and whether she had seen anything of her brother.\n\n\u201cOh, yes!\u201d answered Quirina, \u201cyou must ride further on. Then you will\nsee him with sixteen lovely girls around him. He is a hero, isn\u2019t he?\u201d\n\nAgain, as she rode homeward, she met Halwyn\u2019s mother, who inquired\nabout her son.\n\n\u201cMadam,\u201d answered Quirina, \u201cyour son is dead. I have his head in my lap\nand my apron, covering it, is stained red with his blood;\u201d and she\nrushed past her.\n\nThe mother, in grief and rage, called after Quirina, angrily:\n\n\u201cOh, if you had told me that first, you could never have ridden past\nme.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! you ugly woman, you are lucky that I let you off with your life,\nand did not lay you out stiff like your son.\u201d\n\nThen she rode away furiously. Reaching her father\u2019s castle, she blew a\nblast on the horn, which no man could exceed. Her father, brother,\nmother, sister, and all the men of the garrison rushed together and\nwarm was their greeting.\n\nNot one of them knew, or suspected, what had happened; for everything\nelse was forgotten in the joy of seeing and welcoming her back alive.\nIn fact, she kept the surprise, which she had in store for them, to the\nhour of the banquet.\n\nThen at night, when all were arrayed in their finest clothes, and each\none stood in his proper place, at the long table, and the gleemen had\nsung a ballad or two, and it was time to sit down to partake of the\nviands:\n\nQuirina walked into the hall, carrying a huge dish, on top of which,\nwas a big napkin. All the company wondered what was under the cover.\nShe set it down on the table, and lifted the napkin.\n\nAnd lo! It was the head of the magician Halwyn.\n\nThen the blasts of the hornmen, and the deafening shouts from the\nwarriors, told only too well how they enjoyed the gruesome sight of the\nwicked magician\u2019s head.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nLYDERIC, THE ORPHAN\n\n\nIn the middle ages, the holy saint Willebrod spent his life in doing\ngood among the Dutch and Belgian tribes. His relics rest in the church\nat Echternach, in Luxemburg.\n\nWhen trouble of any sort came upon the country people, they looked to\nhim for help and advice.\n\nIn a certain year, a plague came upon their cattle. The poor dumb\ncreatures acted as if they had brain fever. They were giddy, and\nstaggered about, going round and round, but seemed to be unable to go\nforward. So the fields could not be ploughed and the cows would not\ngive milk. The babies cried, the land was threatened with barrenness,\nand the people feared starvation.\n\nIn their distress, they came before the tomb of the good bishop, and\nmade a vow that, if the pestilence ceased, they would, every year, make\na pilgrimage to the church in which he was buried.\n\nNow the curious thing, about this pilgrimage, was the manner in which\nit was carried out. To some extent, the people imitated, in their\ndancing and gestures, the odd behavior of the cattle, during their\nbrain disorder. It became the fashion to leap and stagger, as the\nsmitten beasts had done. In times, however, the celebration took the\nform of a processional, with bands of music.\n\nSo, every year, the long line of thousands of people, old and young,\nrich and poor, strong and weak, sick and well, led by the musicians,\nand all singing as they went, started from the river bridge. They\nwalked hand in hand, and four abreast, and this was the method of their\nmarch; they would take three steps forward, and two steps backward. In\nthis way, they would advance, very gradually, to the hill where the\nchurch stands. Having reached this, they laid their gifts upon the\naltar and then danced down the church aisle, to the porch, door and\noutside.\n\nOne can see, that, to make an advance of one step, the dancers and\nsingers had to take five distinct steps. In this way, although the\nroute from the river to the church was only one mile, in length, five\nhours were required to go the whole route. Many joined in the\nprocession who were so old and weak, that they were likely to fall\ndown. Nevertheless many weak folk, tried it, for they hoped to get rid\nof their pains and aches.\n\nEspecially hard was the ascent of the sixty stone steps, on the\nhillside. To mount to the top, five hundred human steps were necessary.\n\nThus it happened that not a few fell down along the march. Fainting and\nweary, they were left by the wayside. On the church steps, strong men\nstood by, on either side, to watch for any, who, from weakness, should\nlose their balance and fall down. Those who were likely to do so, or\ncould not keep up, had to be dragged away quickly, lest they should be\ncrushed by the waves of the oncoming dancers. In the frenzy of fervor\nand excitement, those who were waltzing, with giddy brains, might be so\nabsorbed in their own motions, as not to notice what they were doing.\n\nNow there was a young widow, who, out of grief, and hoping for comfort,\nhad come to join in the procession. Being the bride of a few months,\nshe was hoping for a son, and had vowed to St. Willebrod that, if she\nbecame the mother of a boy, she would dance from the river\u2019s edge to\nthe saint\u2019s tomb. She prayed fervently that her hopes might be\nfulfilled.\n\nShe joined in the procession, and followed faithfully the rules laid\ndown, but, when scarcely half way to the church, she felt her strength\ngiving out. Fearing lest, if she continued, she might be trampled to\ndeath, she left the procession. Then, after a brief rest, she walked\nout from the open road, some distance into the forest.\n\nThere, in her loneliness, her child was born, and it was a boy. Though\nshe rejoiced to have her own, and its father\u2019s hopes fulfilled, yet she\nfelt that she had so overtaxed her strength, in the dancing procession,\nthat she was likely to die.\n\nSo, wrapping her babe in one of her own garments, she laid it down on a\nlittle bed of fallen leaves. Then scraping clean a part of the ground,\nshe wrote, with a stick, upon the dirt, the name \u201cLyderic.\u201d Then, her\nlast measure of strength having ebbed away, she died.\n\nA pious hermit, whose dwelling was a hut in the forest, while strolling\nabout, heard the infant\u2019s wail. Coming near the place, whence the sound\nproceeded, he found the dead mother and the living child. Something\nelse also met his sight and a very wonderful picture it was. There on\nthe bed of leaves, which the mother had scraped up, lay the baby boy.\nBeside him, lying along the floor of the forest was a doe, and this\nfemale deer was suckling the infant. This dumb mother of fawns seemed\nas careful and as anxious, as if the baby had been her own offspring;\nand indeed, it was not far away in the deep woods, that the doe kept\nher little family.\n\nThe baby boy, not knowing anything about different kinds of mothers, or\nqualities of food, was as active, as if living in the nursery of a\nhouse, and fondled on a human mother\u2019s lap.\n\nThe fawn\u2019s large, deep, lustrous eyes, were appealing to the old\nhermit\u2019s heart. The wild creature did not tremble, or show any fear,\nfor every beast of the forest seemed to know, and love the old man; as\nif realizing that he was their friend, and not an enemy, as the hunters\nwere. They could see that he had no weapons, and even a bird could\nunderstand that.\n\nThe body of the human mother was given Christian burial, though the\nonly conscious mourner was the old man, who hastily made a rustic\ncross, and set it over the grave; on which, also, he planted some wild\nflowers.\n\nNow the hermit was not accustomed to take care of babies, but he made a\nrude cradle; and, every day, the doe mother came, as regularly as to\nher own little deer, to furnish nourishment to the child. So the infant\ngrew to double his first weight and gave every promise of health and\nvigor. In a few months, he was crawling on the floor, in the hermit\u2019s\nhut; and, according to his mother\u2019s writing on the ground, Lyderic was\nhis name.\n\nTo the old man, the days and months seemed to fly very fast, as\nbabyhood was left behind, and a robust boy was growing up.\n\nThe old hermit recalled his own boyhood\u2019s skill at such things, and\nmade toys for the little fellow, who played happily with them. Anything\nbright, or shining, was especially attractive to the child.\n\nOne day, while the hermit was out among the willow trees, which skirted\nthe stream, to make a whistle, for the baby boy, the fairies came into\nthe hut and visited him at his cradle. They were traveling fairies, for\nthey had come all the way from Wales. One of them, was named Morgana,\nor, as she was well known, Morgana la Fay. She fell in love with the\nlittle fellow, and promised that when he grew up, he was to be her\nlove, while all the fairies agreed to bestow on him the gifts of mind\nand body, through which he might become a great man and conquer all his\nenemies.\n\nIt would make our story too long, to tell how Lyderic, even while a\nbaby boy, was looked upon as the leader of men, in one of those civil\nwars, which so long troubled Belgic Land. Once, during battle, his\ncradle was hung upon a tree branch, and he was called the baby leader,\nand centuries afterwards, a statue and a fountain were reared at\nBrussels in his honor.\n\nLyderic, when fully grown, was known as a man of fine character and\ntremendous strength. He was unselfish, and always ready to help the\nweak. In time, he became a crusader, and, going off to fight the\nSaracens, in Syria, won renown for his bravery. There was no Turk, that\ncould stand against his lance, or sword, or battle axe; and their\nweapons had no power over him. So he came back, unhurt, to Belgium.\n\nAfter his return home, he built a castle, but soon tiring of a quiet\nlife, he crossed the sea and traveled in Britain. There he met Gratina,\nthe beautiful daughter of Angart, or Edgar, the King of England. By\nthis alliance, he became very powerful. Then the great monarch,\nCharlemagne, recognized him as an ally and vassal, and gave him, in\nfief, the Belgic provinces of Hainault and Brabant.\n\nThe flag of Lyderic, as Duke of Brabant, was a tricolor, of black,\nyellow, and red, in vertical bands. To his mind black stood for the\ndark forest and the difficulties which are always overcome by the\nbrave. Yellow represented property and gold, the precious metal, which\nadded to human prosperity, and must be guarded; while red was for blood\nand life, which all brave men willingly gave for their country, when\nthey are called to go to war. Centuries afterward, when all the\nprovinces of Belgic Land were united in one kingdom, and the people in\none nation, and the country (in the English form of the name) was known\nas Belgium, this tricolor became the national flag.\n\nLyderic spent most of his time in Wales, on the lovely aisle of Avalon.\nHere he was in fairy land, for Morgana, jealous of his marriage to\nGratina, had cast a spell upon him. So, while others died and were\nburied, he lived on. The time passed without his notice, or his asking\nabout age, until two hundred years had slipped away.\n\nMorgana, the fairy, had given Lyderic a fire brand, which, as long as\nit kept burning, his life would be prolonged; but when it went out, he\nwould die. Lyderic lived with the knights of King Arthur, enjoying,\nwith them, jousts and tournaments, and many wonderful sports and\nadventures. Yet at last, he tired of the company even of the knights of\nthe Round Table, and longed to cross the sea, and live again in Belgic\nLand.\n\nOne day, when this desire became too strong to resist, he had an iron\nbox made, and carefully keeping the fire alight, he left Avalon, and\ncrossed the sea to his old home. Meeting the handsome widow of King\nPhilip, this royal lady wished to marry him. Lyderic, while yielding to\nher wishes, and his mind occupied with his love affairs, forgot to\nattend to the fire, to keep it kindled, and so let the brand go out.\n\nThen Morgana, the fairy, who had been jealous of the Princess Gratina\nand was now even more jealous of Lyderic\u2019s new wife, carried him off to\nAvalon, and shut him up in the cave, where sit King Arthur and his\nknights, awaiting the day when they shall come forth, in time of\ngreatest need. There Lyderic sleeps yet.\n\nThe fame of Lyderic lives in the myths of the fairy world, in many\nlands, from Denmark to Wales, and from Belgium to Italy. All the boys\nand girls of Europe have heard his story, in one form or another. As\nfor Morgana, she is known all over the world, and in all time, as the\nconjurer. There are those who can discern her dwelling place on the\nclouds and vapors, especially off the coast of Calabria in Italy. At\ncertain seasons of tide and weather, one may see, in the sky, and far\nabove earth, or sea, a colossal picture of the trees and hills, of the\nhouses and palaces of the wonderful city of Reggio, magnified many\ntimes, as it is reflected on the sky. One thus gets an idea of how the\nland looks where fairies live.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE LONG WAPPERS, AND THEIR TRICKS\n\n\nIn his rambles in Belgium, the story-teller found no parts of any city\nin the land equal in interest to those of old Antwerp. If he sauntered\ndown toward evening, into the narrow streets and through the stone\ngateway, blackened with age, under which the great Charles V. rode, the\nfairies and funny folks seemed almost as near to him as the figures in\nreal history. Here, many a prince or princess made their \u201cjoyous\nentry,\u201d into the wonderful city of Brabo, the boy hero, who slew the\ncruel giant Antigonus and cut off his cruel hands.\n\nHere, the story-teller noticed a great many images of the Virgin Mary;\nwhereas, in the newer parts of the city, there were few or none. They\nwere usually set in the house corners, where two streets came together.\nInquiring into the reason of this, he discovered a new kind of Belgian\nfairy, the Wapper, famous for his long legs and funny tricks. Here were\nfairies on stilts.\n\nThis mischievous fellow was very active in old times. He could be as\nlong, or as short, as it pleased him. He could stretch his body out,\nand up to the house roofs, or shrink it down, as if it were made of\nIndia rubber, according to his whim. For example, he would sit on a\nbridge, and lengthen his legs out until they were as thin as those of a\nmosquito. Again, he could drink until his body bulged out like a plum\npudding, or a bag of oats. He was very fond of milk, and would suck or\nswallow it, until he looked the way a mosquito does, that has bored a\nhole through a fat boy\u2019s skin, and filled himself so red and round,\nthat you would think he might burst.\n\nIn days, centuries ago, the Long Wappers, as they were sometimes\ncalled, used to go around the streets of old Antwerp at dusk. Or, in\nthe dark night, they would wait in lonely places and run off with the\npeople. No one ever heard of any good boys or girls being snatched\naway, but drunken louts, coming home very late, that is toward\nmidnight, from the dram shops, were often caught. The Wappers would\nseize them by the hair, swing them round, and then toss them into the\ngutters, till they were black with mud; or, they would throw them into\nthe Scheldt River. Occasionally a toper would be found in a hog pen,\nsleeping with the sow and her piggies. When the man woke up, about\nnoon, he could not tell how he ever got there; but the Wappers knew,\nand they kept their secret.\n\nHow numerous the Wappers were, the story-teller never could find out.\nIt was in their power, to be as wee as a baby, or as big as a giant.\nThat was the peculiar thing about them. It was very funny, that this\nkind of fairies never weighed more or less. No matter how much they\ndrank of milk, they were never any heavier, or lighter, for it. And to\ntheir length, or shortness, they were more like earthworms that, in\ncrawling, can be long, or short, as they please.\n\nSometimes the Wappers rose up out of the water, or sat on the bridges\nwith their feet cooling in the stream. In that position, from their\ntoes, up to their bodies, their legs looked more like black threads, or\nwires; or, as if a strand from a spider\u2019s web had broken loose. If the\nwater was not very deep, then they seemed to be on stilts.\n\nOne particular stream of water was named the Wapper\u2019s Rui, or Wapper\u2019s\nCreek, and the bridge crossing it was called the Wapper\u2019s Bruck. While\nthe Wapper was wading in the water, he seemed to be as long as a\nlightning rod, but as soon as the creature reached the bank, to step\nout, on land, his legs shortened to the size of a boy\u2019s.\n\nWhen on the bridge, he pulled up his wiry limbs, and looked like any\nhuman youngster. When he made use, to the utmost, of this elastic power\nof lengthening or shortening himself, the mischievous rascal elongated\nhimself until his legs were like stilts, so that he could look down\ninto the church windows. Then he would howl at the priests and the\npeople, or make faces at them, and follow them home from the mass.\n\nWith his spidery legs, drawn out as thin as threads, he stretched\nhimself upward toward the house roofs. Then he poked his long, curly\nnose, even into the top windows, usually just as the maids were going\nto bed, and nearly scared them out of their wits. They cried out \u201cHoly\nMother,\u201d and crossed themselves, whereat he lowered himself and fled.\n\nHis favorite trick, however, was to make himself look like a foundling\nbaby, or a very small child, crying and pretending to be hungry. He was\nalways well wrapped up, and attracted attention. One day, a young\nnursing mother, that had left her baby at home for a few minutes, to\nrun out to buy something, saw, as she thought, the poor little one.\n\nIn the goodness of her motherly heart, the woman took it up and gave it\nrefreshment, meanwhile patting its back most affectionately. She\ncrooned to herself, \u201carme pop,\u201d \u201ckinde,\u201d \u201clieveling,\u201d \u201ctrotekind\u201d (poor\nbaby, darling, lovey-dovey, trotty-kin), and other affectionate words,\nsuch as Flemish mothers use in the nursery. Meanwhile, the baby kept on\nwith its breakfast.\n\nBut after five or ten minutes, when the supposed infant had drained\nboth breasts, the woman thought of her own little one, in the cradle at\nhome, and wondered whether her darling would have to go hungry.\n\nThen she noticed that the strange baby\u2019s stomach was swollen, almost as\nround as a big ball, for it had, from the first moment shown symptoms\nof ravenous hunger, and its body got bigger and bigger.\n\nHorrified at this, she wrapped up the foundling and was about to lay it\ndown, where she found it, and leave it there; when, out of the bundle,\njumped a Wapper. He shook off the swaddling clothes, left them in the\nstreet, and ran off howling, laughing and gibbering.\n\nWhen boys were coming home from school, they often stopped and played\nthe game of \u201cstuif hoed,\u201d or \u201cshove the hat.\u201d Each boy took turns in\nslinging his hat down in the ring; or, another seized it from his head\nand pushed it, or kicked it about, with their wooden shoes, until the\nowner recovered it. Some boys grew very expert at this game, and all\nwere eager to get first kick with their klomps.\n\nThe Wapper usually found out, beforehand, which one of the urchins had\nnot been at school that day, then he changed himself into a boy, to\nlook like the one who was absent. At the right moment, he threw down\nhis hat. When one of the lads rushed up and gave it a tremendous kick,\nhis klomp, or wooden shoe, flew in pieces, and he howled with pain, for\nhis toes were nearly broken. The Wapper had, just for the fun of it,\nput an iron pot under the hat. When everybody was laughing at the poor\nboy, who was limping home, the Wapper could not be seen anywhere.\n\nIn fact, this fiendish fairy was always playing April fool jokes on\npeople. He would lay a hat on the pavement, but, hidden under it, was a\nbrick or stone, for some fellow to stub his toe upon.\n\nThe Wapper often went into a tavern, and, joining in a game of cards,\nwould make the players cheat each other. Then a fight followed and some\none would get hurt. If they had been drinking heavily, one might get\nkilled.\n\nOr, the Wapper would go about the town selling mussels to housekeepers.\nThese shell fish are called mussels, because each one looks like a\nlittle mouse. But when a woman would let one of these pass her lips,\nout would crawl, not a mouse, but a spider; or, she would find her\nmouth full of sand. When the housewives discovered who and what this\npeddler of shell fish was, they would go after him with tongs, or\nrolling pins, or even chairs and stools, but at the first alarm, he\nlengthened his legs and rushed off so fast, that no one could ever\ncatch him. Then again, he was called the Long Wapper.\n\nBut by and bye, it was noticed that whenever the Wapper came to an\nimage or shrine of the Virgin Mary, he was afraid to pass it, and\nturned back. It was a woman, with sharp eyes, who first made this\ndiscovery, and all her neighbors honored her highly for her smartness.\nSome thought she ought to be made a saint.\n\nSo at once it became the fashion to make or buy images of the Holy\nMother, and set them out in front of houses, over the doors or windows.\nIt came to pass that the shops, where religious goods were sold, soon\ndid a roaring business. Not only that, but whenever a new house was\nbuilt, the architect set a niche in the angle, and there they built a\nshrine. Corner houses were especially well provided in this way, for by\nthus guarding two streets at once, the Long Wapper was double fooled,\nand so prevented from playing his tricks, whether high or low. By such\nmeans, they got rid of the Wappers in Antwerp.\n\nNobody ever sees this Belgian species of daddy longlegs nowadays, and\nit is supposed that specimens are seen only among the sandhills of the\nCampine. It is said that the Wappers are very mad about it, because\nthey can do so little mischief, as compared with the good old times,\nwhen they broke the toes of boys, scared housemaids, deceived kind\nmothers, and made themselves a nuisance generally. No one nowadays ever\nhears even the word \u201cwapper,\u201d unless it be applied to a swing bridge,\nor the flap of a sail, or to some foolish person, who is more or less\nsilly. They may use the Wapper\u2019s picture as a comic valentine.\n\nIn fact, so low has the reputation of the Wappers fallen, that many\nFlemish folk think that their tribe is represented today by the Kludde.\n\nThe Kludde have no tongues, and they usually change themselves into\nold, worn out horses that are seen browsing in the sandy fields along\nthe canals, in the heath country or in the Campine. A rustic fellow,\nthinking to get a ride, mounts the supposed horse. Then, at a gallop,\nthe beast rushes forward and tumbles the man into the ditch, while the\nnag bounds away crying, or grunting out \u201cKludde, Kludde.\u201d But some\npeople say the Kludde are more numerous, where dram shops abound.\n\nWhen the swing bridge, over the street of water, in the towns has been\nlifted into the air, to let a boat with masts, go through the canal,\nschool boys rush over it, to get the bounce, when it thumps down level;\nand they may call the bump a \u201cWapper.\u201d\n\nBut who wants to be a Wapper?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE PILGRIM PIGEONS\n\n\nEvery child, old enough to eat with a spoon, knows that monkeys and\npigeons cannot get along together. The birds are gentle and of sweet\ndisposition, but the beasts behave like ruffians. All the pigeons of\nany family, that want to have a quiet time, move away into other\ncountries. It would be like imps and angels living together.\n\nThe naughty monkeys are too fond of fresh eggs, to care where they get\nthem, and they have no regard for the feelings of other creatures. They\nclimb up into the trees and pull down the pigeons\u2019 nests, and even eat\nup the young squabs.\n\nSo it happened that, long, long ago, the pigeon fathers and mothers\nflew far, far away, from Monkey Land. Then the young fuzzy fellows,\nwith such long fingers and toes, had to do without the little blue eggs\nfor their breakfast, of which they had been so fond.\n\nThe first country, in which the flock of emigrant pigeons rested their\nweary wings, was where the Saracens lived. Here were orange and lemon\ntrees, and figs and nut trees, besides plenty of barley and other\ngrain. So that the little birds, that had been made thin and very tired\nby flying so far, soon got fat again. The young lady pigeons preened\ntheir feathers, and made themselves very lovely to look at. This\npleased the young male birds greatly. From ducking their heads so\nvigorously while eating, the pigeons were sometimes called doves; that\nis divers.\n\nNow that traveling was over, the season of courting began. Soon it was\nwhispered among the pigeon mothers that this, or that son, and\ndaughter, had mated, and both were busy at nest building.\n\nThe Saracen boys and girls were very kind to these new comers. They\nmade playmates of them, and taught the mother bird to carry messages,\nfrom one city to another. For once away from her nest and young ones,\nshe wanted to get back in a hurry. By and bye, when well trained, a\nhoming pigeon would fly long distances without regard to family cares,\nor little ones in the nest. So the pigeons were very happy in the\nSaracen world.\n\nIn this warm region, they not only multiplied, but found new and\nstrange places to live in, some in minarets, and some in the mountains;\nothers in the woods, some in the crowded cities, and some by the\nseashore. Wonderful to relate, instead of being all alike, in size and\ncolor, they changed in form, weight and habits, the carrier birds,\nespecially, being strong of wing. Yet they were all called doves, or\npigeons, though so varied in appearance.\n\nBut after a long time, just when everything in the bird world was going\non finely, all the pigeons were made dreadfully unhappy by very sad\nnews. Some of the old feathered daddies at once declared the whole\nflock would have to become emigrants and pilgrims, again, and seek\nanother country.\n\nWhat was the matter? All the young fathers and mothers, with their\nlittle families, could not, at first, see the reason why. They had\nbuilt nests, and their birdlings were just putting on their first coat\nof feathers, and their proud parents wanted to show them off in their\nvaried colors and bright neck-sheen. In fact, every mother bird was\nsure that her fledglings were very accomplished young ones, and would\ncertainly surprise the world when they made their d\u00e9but. It was too bad\nthat, just when their babies were growing up to be big birds, and\ncoming out into pigeon society, they must leave the olive groves and\npleasant vineyards, to go to a strange country where nobody knew them.\nAlready they had learned to coo a ditty, that sounded very much like\n\u201cHome, sweet home.\u201d\n\nWell, this was the trouble. There was war going on in the world of\nhuman beings, and men were killing each other, because, on one side,\none set of fellows did not believe the stories the other lot told. The\nCrusaders fought with a red cross on their coats, but the Saracens had\na silver crescent on their banners. One of the most famous of the\nSaracens was Saladin, but the victor and king of Jerusalem was Godfrey\nde Bouillon, a Belgian. The Crusaders and the Saracens had dressed\nthemselves in iron clothes, and their armies had gone to battle. They\nwere not contented to hack and chop each other to pieces, but these\nfierce fighters had to carry their quarrels even into the air and there\nthey made the birds fight and kill each other.\n\nThe Crusaders brought into the Saracen country hundreds of falcons.\nThese terrible birds of prey had sharp beaks, like knives, and horrible\ntalons like steel hooks, that choked and killed at once. The men from\nthe West set these savage creatures to catch the carrier pigeons, which\nthe Saracens had used for letter carriers. In this way, they could find\nout their enemy\u2019s war secrets.\n\nHundreds of innocent doves were thus cruelly torn to pieces. In many a\nnest, there was grief. Mournful cooings were heard all over the land,\nbecause the little pigeons were lonely, without their mothers that did\nnot come back. The poor daddies had hard work to get food enough for\nthe birdies to eat. Everybody knows that father-birds do not know much\nabout taking care of motherless little things, when they have not\nenough feathers to fly with. Some of the tiny squabs, that missed the\nwarm bosoms of their mothers, actually died in the nest.\n\nSo a great meeting of the daddies was held to take counsel as to what\nshould be done. A few of the older mothers were present, who sat on the\ntop branches of the trees and listened. The whole subject was talked\nover. To stay there meant to be all torn to pieces by the falcons of\nthe Crusaders. So it was decided to leave Saracen land, and migrate to\nanother country; and, in fact, nearly all the young and stronger birds\nwent.\n\n\u201cBut this time,\u201d said one of the older of the father-birds, who seemed\nto be chief of the company, \u201cwe shall leave the warm countries and go\ninto the cold north. There, it may be that men do not fight, and there\nare no falcons.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt any rate,\u201d cooed the very oldest of the mother-birds, \u201cthere will\nbe no monkeys there.\u201d\n\nAt this, all the other mother pigeons winked and blinked at each other,\nas if to say, \u201cWhat a long memory she has!\u201d And, indeed, this\nbald-pated old pigeon was the oldest in the entire party. She was not a\ncarrier, but she remembered what her great, great grand-mother had told\nher, about the mischievous monkeys, that ate up the pigeons\u2019 eggs, to\nthe grief of the parents, that could only fly at the rascals, and peck\nthe ears of the ugly brutes.\n\n\u201cNor any falcons, either,\u201d snapped out another rather old Mrs. Pigeon,\nthat had six times laid eggs, and borne six broods of squabs, each time\neducating them properly, and teaching them to fly. Now, in her old age,\njust when she hoped for a little quiet, without family cares or\ntrouble, she had to take sole charge of two sets of young pigeons,\nwhose mothers had been killed by falcons. The poor daddies, that were\nnow widowers, did not know much about the business of housekeeping, or\nof washing, dressing, and preening the feathers of his young brood, or\nabout keeping the nest in order; yet they could spank the lazy squabs\nwhen necessary, and box the heads of the naughty ones, and do it well.\n\nAs for the old lady pigeon, who had to attend to the matter of properly\nraising two motherless families, she grumbled a good deal about it,\ndeclaring to her neighbors that she had already, for six successive\nspring seasons, raised six lots of youngsters. For her part, she was\ntired of squabs, that had no clothes on, and did not know how to coo,\nor behave properly. She would do the best she could, to look after\nother folks\u2019 babies, yet she did hope that, as soon as their wings\ngrew, the flight of the whole community would at once take place, and\nnot be put off a day; for she had heard that more falcons were coming.\n\nIt must be at night, when the terrible hunters of the air were asleep,\nor could not see, that the pigeons were to migrate in a body. The\ncountry decided on was Norway.\n\nSo, after a long flight, with many stops on the way, to give rest to\nthe wings of the youngsters, that were not strong, the entire\nflock\u2014enough of them almost to darken the air\u2014arrived in the land of\nmountains, lakes, and waterfalls, of stormy winds, and of ice and snow,\nthat fell heavy and often; sometimes even in summer. They received a\nright royal welcome from the people living in the country where\nreindeer were numerous and nearly all the houses were built of wood.\n\nTied to the chimneys of the barns and wooden houses, the stranger birds\nnoticed sheaves of grain and hay. From these, the pigeons found food\nwhen they were hungry, and carried away warm stuff for the building and\nlining of their nests. Soon they were very happy in their new quarters,\nwith no wars, or monkeys, or falcons, to disturb their housekeeping.\n\nThere was much billing and cooing, and a great many nests were built at\nonce. These were soon filled, first, with pretty blue eggs, and then by\nchirping birdies, and everybody in the pigeon world was happy as happy\ncould be.\n\nNow when the fairies in Norway heard of the arrival of this new kind of\nbird, in their realm, and of the good behaviour of the young, and the\nfine character of the old ones, they wanted to see them and could\nhardly wait till they paid a formal visit.\n\nThere was a fairy maid, that traveled much over the whole country, and\nheard all the news. She listened at keyholes, and over chimneys, and in\nthe market places, where she could overhear the chat and the gossip.\nShe always had her ears open, and when told of the pigeons and their\nwonderful ways, and fine manners, she hied at once to see how they\nlooked.\n\nWhen this news carrier found that the birds were short legged, but very\nstrong, had big wings, and could fly long distances, she went right off\nand told Freya, the Fairy Queen, whose husband, Odin, was a mighty king\nand knew everything. Freya at once sent for a pair of doves, to pay a\nvisit at her court.\n\nBecause of this, the fairy maid gained great glory, and was very proud.\nEverybody had hitherto supposed that only the two ravens, which fly out\nall through the world during the day, and come back at night, could\nfind out the news. This pair of wise birds, perched every evening on\nthe shoulder of the fairy King, after he had had his supper, and was in\ngood humor. They whispered in his ear, telling him about all manner of\nthings, and especially the latest news. In this way, he got to know\nfirst everything that went on.\n\nYet in this case, the ravens had failed to learn about the pigeons,\nwhile the fairy maid had found them. That is the reason why she was\nvery proud. She boasted over the ravens so much, that she made herself\nvery disagreeable, and hardly any one loved her. But as for the king,\nhe lost his temper and called the ravens slow pokes, blockheads, and\nother names, until Freya, his queen and wife, soothed his temper. Then\nthe ravens promised to be more alert, and not let a single fairy ever\nget ahead of them in carrying news.\n\nNow the fairy queen, that invited the pigeons to her snow palace was\nnamed Freya, and her day to be at home was Friday. Every time we speak\nof that day in the week, we pronounce her name. When we say Wednesday,\nor Woden\u2019s day, we utter the name of her husband, the fairy king.\n\nFreya, the beautiful, was always dressed in white, her robes being\ntrimmed with ermine. Her cap, cloak, skirts, leggings and buskins were\nsnowy-hued. Her skis were of white birch, and her skates were of\nsilver.\n\nIt was her business to attend to the love affairs of young people. She\ntied their marriage knots, made homes, and welcomed little babies to\ntheir cradles, and helped in giving them names. On Valentine\u2019s day, she\nwas always very busy, for she taught the young men and women how to\nwrite love letters. Then she attended to getting valentines carried and\ndelivered to the lads and lassies, who were waiting and expecting them.\n\nIn great glee, at having such charming visitors in her realm, Freya\nsent an invitation to the king of the doves, asking that a pair of his\ngreat family should visit her court, on a certain day. She promised\nthem a good dinner\u2014not of whale blubber, or seal meat, or fish, or\nmushrooms, or moss, such as reindeers eat, but of wheat, barley, grain,\nand seeds, such as pigeons enjoy.\n\nThe King of the doves, on receiving the invitation from Freya, at once\ncalled a council of father and mother birds. All were delighted to be\nthus honored. After much talk, it was decided that a pair of white\ndoves should be sent, the hue of their plumage being best suited to the\nsituation, and most pleasing to the fairies in Norway, where ice and\nsnow lie longest on the land. So the happy pair, chosen to represent\nthe kingdom of the doves, set out on their journey.\n\nIn the next story we shall tell what happened to them.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE FAIRY QUEEN AND THE CARRIER DOVES\n\n\nThere was trouble in the ice-palace of Freya, the Fairy Queen. In spite\nof her thousand fairy servant-maids, and all her untold riches, she was\nunhappy.\n\nWhy was this?\n\nIt was just when the pigeons came into this fairy land of the North,\nthat Queen Freya\u2019s troubles came. She was trying to please every one.\nShe wanted each big girl, and every boy, who thought he was a man, to\nget the right valentine, which he or she expected. But this could not\nbe, because Queen Freya was not able to get them sent out fast enough.\n\nThe chief reason was because the reindeer, that had drawn the sleigh of\nSanta Claas all through the country, and over the chimneys, refused to\nbe harnessed. They announced that they were too tired to serve, because\nSanta Claas had driven them so hard, and overworked them, and now they\nwanted a long holiday. Some of the stags excused themselves politely,\nbut the real reason was that they were lazy. Others declared they had\ncaught colds, from waiting too long during the freezing night, on the\nhouse roofs. Several of them had got nearly choked from the smoke, that\ncame up from the fireplaces. Not a few of the big horned fellows,\nannounced that they had had enough to do, in attending to carrying\naround the toys and goodies to fill the children\u2019s stockings. Besides,\nthey didn\u2019t believe in sending valentines, anyhow! In fact, they were a\ncross lot of lazy beasts.\n\nSo the Fairy Queen, Freya, was at her wit\u2019s end, to know what to do.\nShe had a warehouse full of valentines, all ready and properly\ndirected, to waiting youth and maids. Yet how should she get them\ndelivered? Who should be her postmen?\n\nIt was about the first of February, when she was in such trouble, and\nValentine Day would soon be coming around. However, when she heard that\na pair of doves were on their way to visit her, she put aside her\ncares, to meet them, and make their visit a very merry and happy one.\n\nWhen the two snow-white birds arrived at Freya\u2019s court, they were\nwelcomed by a company of fairies, that entertained them pleasantly.\nThey sang songs and, in their dances, imitated the northern lights.\nThese are just like what children, who go to school, call the \u201caurora\nborealis,\u201d and the doves were delighted.\n\nQueen Freya asked her white-winged friends, the doves, if they would\nstay at her court, and live with her always. And would they be willing\nto be harnessed to her shining chariot, and draw it, for her, while she\nrode around the country, to deliver the valentines to fair maidens and\nfine young men?\n\nFor Freya had heard that these doves were carrier pigeons, also, and\ncould fly with messages, hundreds of miles. Besides this, she was\njealous of Santa Claas, and wanted to have a much handsomer vehicle to\nride on, than even a sleigh, drawn by reindeers. They could gallop, but\nbirds could fly and go faster. Moreover the doves were more beautiful\nto look at, and more gentle in behavior, as they ought to be, for a\nlady driver. They never got into bad temper like the reindeer, that\nwere sometimes very surly.\n\nNow the doves had been warned, by their wise, old, great-great\ngrandmother, that the Fairy Queen Freya would ask them these very\nquestions; and she advised them to say \u201cyes,\u201d and stay in Fairyland.\nMoreover, the two white birds were themselves lovers, and they thought\nthey should like the task of helping young people who were in love.\n\nSo, putting their bills together, to show that they were one in mind,\nthe two doves began to coo, which meant the answer \u201cyes\u201d to Queen\nFreya\u2019s question.\n\nThen, on their pink toes, they strutted up and down, and around, as if\nin compliment to Her Majesty, and to show their happiness.\n\nThe Fairy Queen, Freya, had a dainty little chariot of silver, made by\nthe elves, who lived down in the earth, where they always have plenty\nof precious ore, with their furnace fires, and tongs and hammers, ready\nat hand.\n\nAlways after that, with her two doves harnessed to the silver car, well\nloaded with valentines, and with pink straps for harness, and blue\nribbons for bridles, the Fairy Queen, Freya, was drawn wherever she\nwanted to go. Many a valentine was dropped under the door-sill, for\nhappy maidens, and for brave boys, that were worthy of a good girl, and\nfor every fine fellow that deserved a sweet bride. But when she came to\nthe houses where bad boys lived, or who had rude manners, or who were\nknown to be too rough, or there were girls who had bad tempers, or told\nfibs, there Freya had her fun. She handed them ugly pictures, that made\nthem howl with rage.\n\nHundreds of years passed by, for in fairy land, there are no clocks.\nStill the pair of pigeons did their work faithfully, for they loved it.\nBy her spell, Queen Freya kept these carrier pigeons ever young and\nstrong, for she had a secret power, by which they became like herself,\nand never grew old.\n\nBut by and bye, it came to pass that Queen Freya took off the spell,\nand let the two white doves become carrier pigeons, and unharnessed\nagain. Then, like other birds, they cooed and billed, and laid eggs,\nand reared their young, and yet were good carriers, stronger and better\nthan ever.\n\nIt came to pass, in the kindness of her heart, that Freya sent these\nbirds as a gift into Belgium.\n\nWhy and how did it happen?\n\nWell, it was long ago, and nothing alive now, unless he were an old\nwhale, or an elephant, or a Florida alligator, or an oak tree, that has\nno voice, but can only, with its leaves, breathe softly, when the wind\nblows, could tell the whole story. Yet as the fairies whispered it to\nthe story-teller, this is the way it came about.\n\nThe Fairy Queen heard that the vikings, or Norsemen, who lived on the\nsea coast of Norway, had been very cruel to the Belgians. These big\nfellows rowed out, in their dragon boats, over the stormy waves of the\nAtlantic Ocean, to the South. Then, landing on the Belgian shores,\nwhere now stand the cities of Ostend, Zeebrugge, Ghent, Bruges, and\neven in the inland places, where Brussels and Mons are, they behaved\nvery roughly; even killing the people and burning their houses. They\nmade slaves of the men, and carried away the beautiful maidens, to the\ncold north country. Many little babies and children starved to death,\nbecause they had no fathers or mothers any more.\n\nA Belgian girl, named Yvonne, told her story to one of the ravens,\nthat, during the day, fly all over the world, and come back at night,\nto sit on the shoulders of Woden. But the king was then off on a\nhunting party, and the raven could not wait till he came back, and so\ntold his wife, the Fairy Queen Freya. She at once called the Belgian\nmaid to court, to have her tell all about what the cruel Norsemen had\ndone in her beautiful country.\n\nWhen the captive maid from the south land came and saw the silver\nchariot, drawn by snow white doves, she made up her mind what to ask\nfor, in behalf of her country and people. If the Queen showed herself\nsorry for what the vikings had done in her native land, Yvonne would\nsolicit a favor from her.\n\nQueen Freya was very patient, in listening to the story of the\nNorsemen\u2019s cruelty. After Yvonne had told it all, Freya said:\n\n\u201cI have long heard what your people have suffered, at the hands of the\ncruel Norsemen, and now, I intend to give you something that will\nrepay, in part, your country\u2019s losses. I am sure that fairies would not\nbehave so badly; but then, we fairy folk can never tell what human\nbeings, and especially rough men, will do. Speak now the word, and you\nshall have, not only your own freedom, but anything I possess.\u201d\n\nYvonne clapped her hands in delight, and cried out:\n\n\u201cThe carrier doves and the silver chariot, with a precious cargo of\nvalentines.\u201d\n\nAt this, all the fairies, that stood around looked at each other, in\nsurprise. Some were as mad as fire.\n\n\u201cThe greedy girl,\u201d said one. \u201cShe asks too much.\u201d\n\n\u201cHer eyes are bigger than her waist! I expect she will cook and eat\nthem,\u201d said another, snappishly.\n\n\u201cOh, if she had only asked for something else! What shall we do, to get\nour valentines around to the right people?\u201d asked a slim fairy, that\nlooked old.\n\nOne of the fairies seemed much frightened, as she said, \u201cSurely the men\nwill be very mad, and hurl ice chunks at us.\u201d\n\nAnd another almost scowled, as she answered, \u201cAnd the girls will make\nfaces and throw snow-balls at us.\u201d\n\nThese two spoke almost together, for both were very timid.\n\nOther fairies, big and little, were getting ready to speak out their\nanger; for fairies never like the idea of human creatures ever being\nsmarter than they are, or, in a way outwitting them.\n\nThe Fairy Queen waved her hand, and cried out: \u201cSilence all! I shall\nget another pair of doves for my chariot; but these two, and the\nBelgian maid, shall be sent at once to her home. Obey me all!\u201d\n\nNow let us look at Belgic Land. For the first time, in all the history\nof the country, the sentinel upon the castle\u2019s walls, at Ostend, saw\ncoming a ship, on whose flag was the figure, not of a black raven, but\nof a white dove. And lo! when the ship drew near, they saw no shields\nof fighters hung on the side, nor the glint of any swords, or spears,\nand no armor, or anything that told of war. Instead of these, a lovely\ngirl stood on the prow of the ship. She held up a cage, in which were\ntwo snow white doves.\n\nJust then, the wife of the watcher on the castle walls cried out:\n\n\u201cWhy! it is either our Yvonne, or an angel. No! It is our daughter!\u201d\n\nAt this moment, the maiden Yvonne drew aside the little door of the\ncage, and out flew the two birds. Joyfully rising up in the air, and\nwhirring about for a few minutes, the pair finally settled on the ridge\npole of Yvonne\u2019s house. Her father had rebuilt his home, while she was\naway in the north land.\n\nThe maid and the doves were now happy indeed. Yvonne soon had a lover,\nwho married her, and they had a new house and a garden, with a dove\ncote in the middle.\n\nWhen the cradle rocked, with a sweet little baby daughter in it, that\nlooked most like its father, the dove cote had also a nest, with four\nblue eggs. And this happened, nearly every spring time.\n\nIn a few years the pigeons multiplied, and found homes all over the\ncountry, from the birch and pine trees of the Ardennes hills, to the\nwillow and lime trees along the canals of the lowlands, in Flanders.\n\nWithin a few years, the Belgian folks discovered the merits and powers\nof these sociable birds, that were so ready to be good servants of men.\nMany boys and girls had their fathers put up dove cotes in the gardens,\nand there the families of the carrier pigeons were reared.\n\nIt became the custom for Belgian folks, in different cities, to send\nmessages of love and friendship to each other, or to tie tiny\nvalentines to the pigeon\u2019s legs. So in peace and war, the carrier\npigeon became one of the most famous features in Belgian life, and the\nbest beloved of all living things in the land.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE FAR FAMED ORIENTAL\n\n\nThere was a certain fairy, that was fond of changing herself into\nanimal forms. She did this, to learn their language and ways, and\nideas.\n\nHer name was Flax-Flower, because she liked to wear gauzy, blue\ngarments. Having been transformed into a heifer, or young cow, she\nheard very wonderful accounts of a new animal, that was soon coming to\nlive among men and the other tame creatures. Her curiosity was so\ngreat, that she could hardly wait to regain her former state, so as to\ntell the other fairies about the coming stranger. In fact, this fairy\nresolved to learn the secret spell, by which she could transform\nherself into the new creature\u2019s shape, whenever he appeared.\n\nWe shall now tell you what information Flax-Flower picked up, from\nhearing what the animals and men and women said in their conversation.\nShe found that the various birds and beasts of the barnyard were, by\nturns, jealous, or incredulous, or inquisitive, about this wonderful\nfour-legged being, that was to join their society, in Belgium. Then, by\nlistening to the talk of the men and women, she learned its history.\n\nThis wonderful traveler, on four legs, was to come all the way from\nEgypt. Its ancestors had lived for ages in the deserts of Africa; and,\nfor thousands of years in the Nile valley, it was known as a useful\nfriend of man.\n\nIn fact, as far as fancy pictured it, the unknown animal was so\nmagnificent, that words quite failed to describe it properly.\n\nIn the first place, it belonged to one of the most ancient families in\nthe whole world. As for the high society in which it moved, there was\nno question about it, nor was anything equal to it. Moreover, it was so\ngentle and surefooted, that kings and queens, and lords and ladies\nalways selected it to ride on, especially on great occasions. When the\ncreature was milk white, as was often the case, it was held in such\nhonor, and it cost so much money to buy one, that its price was above\nrubies. In fact, it took a mighty pile of gold coins to purchase the\nfinest of the breed.\n\nThis superb creature was so desired by those who did not own one of his\ntribe, that, being reckoned in value along with houses, and wives, and\nother valuable property, it was a sin to long too much for the\npossession of one. To tell the truth, it was particularly forbidden, in\none of the ten commandments, which, after specifying this treasure on\nfour legs said, \u201cThou shalt not covet.\u201d\n\nOf course, the Belgians and other European folks, of that distant\nperiod, who never saw one of these splendid milk-white specimens, might\nwonder at this, and even laugh at the idea, for all they had heard was\nthat the creature had a voice and his hearing was very sharp. It was\nonly when they saw one drawing the chariot of the viceroy, or preceding\nthe carriage of the Khedive of Egypt, that they could properly\nunderstand the commandment, \u201cThou shalt not covet.\u201d Seeing a body guard\nof splendid cavalry, with their flags and banners, and gay, bright\nuniforms and glittering drawn swords, they wondered no longer that this\nremarkable animal was particularly named, though the horse was not. No\nsooner did their eyes fall on the magnificent creature, than they\nwanted him, or one like him right off. Travellers in Egypt said he\nstood for what was Oriental splendor. Neither camels, nor elephants,\nnor antelopes, nor giraffes, nor zebras, nor tiger cubs led by silver\nchains, could compare with him.\n\nYet even that was not all. When the mothers and fathers of Belgic Land\nheard how tame, and gentle, and patient, this lovely creature was, and\nhow he would not kick or bite, and that he would let little boys and\ngirls ride on his back, and trot along gaily, as if he liked young\nfolks, they were too happy for anything. They longed for the day of his\narrival.\n\nYet even this did not end the catalogue of the historic creature\u2019s\nvirtues. To the farmers, he seemed either a miracle or a paragon. It\ncost so little to keep him! Instead of \u201ceating his head off,\u201d as cows\nand horses were said to do, or requiring fresh meat, which the dogs\nhowled and cats meoued for, this wonderful quadruped, with such\nrenowned ancestors, mentioned and pictured in the ancient monuments,\nwould live at a quarter of the expense necessary for oxen. It was\nreported that this high bred and well behaved creature would make a\ndinner of straw, chaff, weeds, and other cheap stuff, and then bob its\nhead for thanks to the giver. Nor did he ever eat much at a time.\n\nIn fact, this Oriental wonder set a very good example to greedy boys\nand girls, that always wanted more. Whereupon, some fathers and mothers\nactually proposed getting up a festival in his honor, for the proper\neducation of their children and as a good example.\n\nIt would take too long to tell the full story of the great\nexpectations, excited in both the fairy world and in human society. If\nwe should even attempt to do so, we are sure the children would fall\nasleep, before we were more than half through.\n\nAs for the younger fairies, they declared they were just dying to\nwelcome this four-legged racer in chariots and crazy to meet him. In\nfact, they talked just like young ladies, over their ice cream sodas,\nin a confectionery shop; or college girls, that say \u201clovely\u201d every few\nminutes.\n\nFinally the fairy Flax-Flower resolved to secure, from the Queen of the\nFairies, sole permission to hold the spell, which should transform\nherself into this wonderful being from the Orient. Even to think of\nEgypt was to set Flax-Flower wild with delight. She conjured up visions\nof all grand and glorious things, such as pyramids, sphinxes, palm\ntrees, obelisks, Moses and the bulrushes, the Nile River, Cleopatra,\nscarabs, camels, moonlight and every delightful thing, about which the\nfairies had heard.\n\nWould the Fairy Queen allow Flax-Flower her wish\u2014that is, to be like\nthe wonderful creature that was to come in Belgium?\n\nThe Queen\u2019s answer, as read in a great court of the fairies, after due\ncounsel taken with the wisest counsellors, was this:\n\n\u201cThat Flax-Flower be permitted to transform herself into the likeness\nand form of the coming Egyptian creature, but\u201d\u2014and here the Queen\nlooked very stern, first at the Flax-Flower, and then at all the\ncompany of fairies, who were to bear witness to her words\u2014\u201cif she\nshould not like her new nature, she should not be allowed ever to\nbecome a fairy again. She must remain, for one year, a four-footed\ncreature. Then, if she wished to be something else\u201d\u2014and here she\nfrowned terribly, as if to frighten Flax-Flower, and dissuade her, if\npossible, from her purpose, but certainly to show that she meant all\nshe said\u2014\u201cFlax-Flower must be something that bore the name of the\ncreature, and carried his burden, but not to have his body; and, that\nshe should remain forever in that form which she chose.\u201d\n\n\u201cI agree,\u201d said Flax-Flower, but with a sort of gasp, as if terrified,\nas she thought of what might be her fate.\n\nMonths still passed away, but the Oriental Wonder had not come. At\nlast, after the fairies had nearly fallen into nervous prostration, in\nwaiting to see the creature from Africa, that was to astonish all, it\narrived as large as life.\n\nAnd behold it was a donkey!\n\nWhen Flax-Flower had her first peep at the stranger, she fainted away;\nbut a few drops of dew, thrown in her face, revived her. When shown the\nquadruped again, and seeing it face to face, with the long ears, shaggy\nhair, short mane, and bare tail, with only a tuft, like a long-handled\npaint brush, she drew back in terror. Then, throwing herself at the\nfeet of the Fairy Queen, she cried out most piteously:\n\n\u201cIs this the creature of our dreams, about which we heard so much in\ndescription? With all its glorious record and ancestry, it is the\ndisgrace of creation. Must I take its form? Spare me, oh queen, and I\nshall be your slave.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the Fairy Queen. \u201cYou must obey the law of fairy land, as\nlaid down in council. I shall make of you an example, to other\nfrivolous fairies. It is so silly of you, or them, to envy other\ncreatures. When you weary of being such a quadruped, if it be the right\nmoment of your release, utter the Flemish name for donkey. Then, you\nwill become a thing of wood, but not the living creature itself; and\nalways after that, you must be burden-bearer for men. You will live\nforever, on four legs, in an artist\u2019s studio, but you can never be a\nfairy again.\u201d\n\nAlthough Flax-Flower wept copiously, and the tears rolled down out of\nher beautiful eyes, like rain drops, the spell proceeded. Like magic,\nher pretty, pink ears sprouted into long and hairy things, as big as\npowder horns. Her mouth widened to the width of a cow\u2019s muzzle, her\nlovely white skin was changed into a shaggy hide; and, last of all,\nsomething like a rope, with a hairy tuft like a ball of yarn-fringe, at\nthe end, appeared from behind. At first, she fell down on her hands and\nknees, with grief; but, when she got up, she was on four legs! To show\nhow completely she had been transformed, out of her mouth sounded what\nthe real donkey in the barnyard recognized at once, as a vocal effort.\nHe pricked up six or eight inches of his ears with delight and\nimmediately felt at home. But as soon as the rough farmer\u2019s boy heard\nthe noise, he called it braying. He declared to his father, that there\nwas a donkey in the woods, calling, either for a thistle or a mate.\n\nThereupon Bavon, as the boy\u2019s name was, grabbed a big bunch of stems of\nthe prickly weed. He threw his armful of the green stuff in, where he\nhad heard the new sort of a nightingale.\n\nAnd what happened?\n\nWell, the being that, but an hour before, was a lovely fairy, showed\nthat it had an appetite and was very hungry. It now opened its mouth\nand chewed up the spiny stuff, as if it had been used to such\nbreakfasts all its life. Then it put out its tongue and smacked its\nlips, as if it enjoyed the new diet, but now wanted some beans.\n\nWorse than all, the next day the farmer\u2019s boy caught the new donkey,\nled it by a halter, and harnessed the beast to a cart. He had now a\npair of Orientals. Every day he took his team, which some fellow named\n\u201cRabbit Ears,\u201d to the field, to plough with; or, into town, to carry\nhis carrots or cabbages to market. Happily, he found that the donkey\u2019s\nreputation for patient hard work, economical diet, and general good\nbehavior, was all he had heard it to be. The cost of feeding both\nanimals was surprisingly little. Some people declared that, in winter,\nthe Rabbit-eared beast was fed chiefly on barnyard fences and the East\nWind.\n\nNow the farmer\u2019s boy had taste and liked to draw and paint. He drew\npictures with chalk on the barn door, and he cultivated his talents,\nespecially in winter. Having no money to spare, to buy a paint brush or\ncolors, he pulled some hairs out of poor pussy\u2019s tail, and made one,\nand he squeezed colors out of the juice of berries. By and bye he\nattracted the attention of a famous artist in Antwerp, who offered to\nemploy the boy in his house.\n\nOverjoyed at the idea, the farmer\u2019s boy asked if he could take his\nfavorite donkey with him. Permission was given, and lo! the lad chose\nthe one that was a transformed fairy. The boy rode to the great city on\nhis long-eared beast, and, having arrived at the artist\u2019s dwelling, he\nlocked up the creature in the stable and reported to his master.\n\nNow this happened just about the time for the spell to be broken, when\nFlax-Flower was to resume, not her former shape, which she could not,\nbut something with a donkey\u2019s name.\n\nNow there were, already, a half dozen things called after the\nlong-eared and useful beast, such as a pump, a drying frame, and\nseveral tools, but Flax-Flower longed to keep in good company. She\ntherefore had made up her mind, which one she could choose. During the\nnight, the spell was broken, and she took her final shape in wood, and\nin a frame with four legs, with pegs in it to hold a picture.\n\nSo when the farmer\u2019s boy came into the stable, next morning, there was\nno donkey visible in the stall, but, instead, there stood a beautiful\nnew easel. Carrying it into his master\u2019s studio, he placed his\nmasterpiece upon it, and the great painter was well pleased. When, in\ntime, by hard work, the farmer\u2019s boy had himself become great, she had\nheld the pictures which he painted; and many rich patrons, ladies and\ngentlemen, came into his studio, to admire his triumphs.\n\nSo, for centuries, the artists, who painted lovely scenes and\nportraits, have employed, for their work, Flax-Flower, now become an\neasel, the name, which, in Flemish is Ezel, meaning Little Donkey; but\nshe never spoke a word, thus excelling in silence even the original.\nBut what had, in \u00c6sop\u2019s day, been reckoned, \u201cthe disgrace of creation,\u201d\nbecame the bearer of beauty unto unnumbered generations of men.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nPUSS GEIKO AND HER TRAVELS\n\n\nHow the cat first got into Belgium is not known, but of the puss that\nwas first seen in Japan, the record is full and clear. There are,\nhowever, two stories, for there are two kinds, wild and tame.\n\nJapanese house cats have no tails. These they never had, or lost them\nlong ago; and now, most of them have hardly enough to set up a rabbit\nin business. Even if, in a litter of bob-tailed pussies, a long-tailed\nkitten is born, out comes the carving knife and off goes the caudal\nextension. Cats in Japan must all be in fashion, to be allowed to live\nin a house with human beings.\n\nSo long as the Japanese puss stays at home, licks its feet, and cleans\nits face with its forepaws, using these for both wash-rag and towel,\nthe creature is considered respectable, and there is no trouble in\neither the cat or the human family.\n\nThere was a certain puss named Geiko (gay-ko), which is the Kyoto\npronunciation of Geisha (gay-shah); because she was so accomplished and\nso pretty, and made so much music at night. Except those Japanese cats\nthat, long ago, traveled to the Isle of Man, she was the first modern\nmember of the family that wished to reside abroad. Then\u2014according to\nwhat her mother said, who told the story of her adventures in\nBelgium\u2014her troubles began.\n\nNow this is the way it came to pass.\n\nIt happened that a grandmother puss, named Guitar, because she also was\nso musical, that lived in Persimmon Street, in Kyoto, was inquired of,\nby an inquisitive kitten, as to when, and how, and why, cats first came\nto Japan. Her mistress, a little girl, named Taka (tah-kah), or Falcon,\nwho went every day to school, had come home and told her that, once\nupon a time, Japan, being an island and the country made up of islands,\nthere were no tame cats, but only wild ones. Now, would Grandma Guitar\ntell all about her ancestors, and about her Aunt Geiko, who had gone to\nEurope?\n\nSo that evening, after the six kittens had had their supper, Grandma\ngathered them all around her, and told how pet cats were first brought\nfrom China, into Japan, and to the Emperor\u2019s court, about A.D. 1000.\nThey were at first very great curiosities. Yet when they multiplied,\nthey were even then kept in the house, and tied up at night. Some\npeople thought cats were dangerous brutes.\n\n\u201cWhy, grandma, dear?\u201d asked one of the kittens. \u201cDid they eat up all\nthe birds?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I am inclined to think,\u201d said Grandma, \u201cthat they were kept in at\nnights, for fear that they might be stolen, for they were still\nconsidered very valuable animals.\u201d\n\nHere Grandma Guitar paused, that is, she stopped in her story, long\nenough to wipe her mouth and face, with what serves pussies instead of\na towel, napkin or handkerchief\u2014her two fore feet.\n\nThen continuing, she called on Kichibei (kee-chee-bay), a Tom, that\nlived next door. He was the lawyer among the cats of Persimmon Street,\nin which they lived. She requested him to read from the Government Book\non Cat Law (Neko no Soshi). He made his bow, cocked his eye properly,\nand read the following regulation, of the year 1602.\n\n\u201cFirst, the cords on the cats in Kyoto shall be untied, and the cats\nshall be let loose.\n\n\u201cSecondly, it is no longer allowed to buy or sell cats. Whoever\ntransgresses this ordinance, shall be punished with a heavy fine.\u201d\n\nThe kittens were almost sorry, that their grandma had called in this\nlawyer; for he instantly began a long dissertation on the cats of\nChina, Korea and Japan, quoting from the historians and law books. He\ntold how, gradually, the cats, when they multiplied to millions, in the\nislands of Japan, got a bad reputation. In fact, all sorts of evil\nstories were told, and proverbs coined, and uncomplimentary expressions\nused concerning them. To tell the full truth, however, out of so many,\nsome cats were really bad. It had even, of late years, become common to\nuse cat skins to make banjos and guitars. That is the reason why the\nsinging and dancing girls, or geishas (gay-shas in Tokyo, and gei-ko in\nKyoto) were usually called \u201ccats\u201d in fun.\n\nThen he went on to explain why there was a cat on every Japanese boat,\nor ship, as one could usually see\u2014for in port, puss poked her head out\nof the windows to note what was going on. Of course, the seamen\npreferred a cat of three colors. For, although, as we say, a cat has\nnine lives, the Japanese sailors think Puss has at least three. He even\nwent on to explain why ancient poetry referred so often to the flowers\nof the valerian plant, but so rarely mentioned them, in modern days. It\nwas all because there were no cats in Japan in those early times,\nthough so numerous now.\n\nKichibei, the lawyer, was going to tell more, but Grandma said \u201cippai\u201d\n(ip-pi) and \u201cmo yoroshi\u201d (mo yo-ro-shee)\u2014intimating that he had said\nenough, and thanked him. For the long talk of Kichibei had got to be so\ntiresome, that several of the kittens had fallen asleep, before he was\nmore than half through.\n\nFinally, when he ended and went off, Grandma thought it was time to go\nto bed. For these kitties were too young to go outdoors at night, like\ngrown-up cats.\n\n\u201cOh, but you promised to tell us about our Aunt Geiko.\u201d\n\nNow the way all those kittens woke up at once, to listen, showed that\nthey would soon make the liveliest kind of roof scramblers, night\nprowlers, and street warblers; or be otherwise fitted for nocturnal\naccomplishments, just like their ancestors; and, all this, without\nbeing taught.\n\nThe lights having been put out, and all sitting in a ring, Grandma\nGuitar began. At once, it seemed as if fourteen little round balls of\nfire were glowing in the room; for each one of the cat\u2019s eyes had\nwidened from a slit, or long crack, to a circular window. In fact, they\ncould all plainly see each other, even in the dark.\n\n\u201cWell, my grandchildren,\u201d began the old lady cat, \u201cyou know that my\ndaughter, your aunt Geiko, though born in the Blossom Capital, was the\npet of a Belgian lady; and that both of them lived in Kob\u00e9, when they\nwere in our country. They sailed away, a year ago, and, after a six\nweeks\u2019 voyage, arrived safely at her home at the little village of\nGingelhom in Limburg.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, alas,\u201d and here Grandma Guitar pulled out a Japanese paper\nhandkerchief, from under her collar, and wept real cat tears. On seeing\nthis, all the kittens cried in sympathy, and some meouwed pitifully.\n\nGrandma Guitar was so overcome by her feelings, that she could proceed\nno further. So, from this point on, we shall tell, in our way, the\nstory of what happened to Miss Puss Geiko, in Belgium, from what\nGrandma Guitar related to the kittens the next evening.\n\nFor, in order to make Japanese kittens understand and enjoy the whole\nstory, it was necessary to go into so much detail, that it would be\ntiresome, especially to us human beings, who have traveled in Belgium.\n\nFor in old Japan, men with whiskers, or women with bonnets; or leather\nshoes, or chairs, or cheese, were unknown. Even cow\u2019s milk, except for\ncalves, or very old persons, was unheard of, as an article of drink or\nfood. Grown up human beings thought it was wicked to take milk from the\ncow! And no wonder! for two strong men, working for an hour, could only\nget a quart or so, from the miserable little cows of the sort they then\nhad.\n\nSo here is the story, as cut short, after being translated from\nJapanese cat talk.\n\nWhen your Aunt Geiko arrived at Gingelhom, in Limburg, it took her some\ntime to get accustomed to the strange human folks, and their ways; and,\nalmost as much, to the cats of the neighborhood. Everything looked,\nsmelled, and tasted so strangely.\n\nThe language bothered her a good deal, for she could not understand\nFlemish, even when dear little children, in wooden shoes, put out their\nhands and tried with gentle voices to coax Puss Geiko to come to them.\nEven when they wanted to smooth her back, or rub her head, she was\nfrightened at their talk and ran away. Yet they were only saying, \u201cCome\npussy, come here\u201d! When they brought Geiko a saucer full of something\nwhite, she would not go near it. It was cow\u2019s milk, but she had known\nonly mother milk, and had never seen what cows give us every day. If\nthe Limburgers had only known it, dried fish would have tempted Geiko\nany time.\n\nOne day the lady, her mistress, set a saucer of cow\u2019s milk before\nGeiko, and, when her own mistress called to her, in Japanese, she ran\nup gladly and purred as if very happy. But she did not go near the\nlunch prepared for her. Then the Belgian lady dipped her finger in the\nmilk and rubbed it on pussy\u2019s lips, and at once out came a little red\ntongue to lick it off. The eyes of your Aunt Geiko sparkled. This\nshowed that she had discovered something good and liked it. She lapped\nup the cow\u2019s milk, emptied the saucer, and always, after that, was glad\nto get more of what the lady said was \u201cchichi\u201d (chee-chee), which is\nJapanese for what we call \u201cmilk\u201d and the Flemish \u201cmelk.\u201d\n\nBut the story-teller is sorry to say, that, on the subject of tails,\nPussy Geiko did not show either good manners, or a sweet disposition.\nIf cats have a commandment, \u201cThou shalt not covet,\u201d Pussy Geiko was an\nawful sinner.\n\nEvery time a cat of the country came near, Geiko would look enviously\non its lovely, long tail. Then her eyes would turn green with jealousy.\nShe would leap forward at the Belgian cat, and bite at, claw with both\npaws, tread upon, or scratch at its tail.\n\nGeiko behaved just like a covetous human being, or a person who is\njealous of another\u2019s good looks, or fine clothes, or general\nprosperity. So she was never popular with the cats of Limburg, and some\nalways growled, when they saw her.\n\nNow it was not Geiko\u2019s fault, that nature had not provided her with a\nhandsome, long tail. For, while a Japanese cat has all the bones in\nthat part, which a well-born kitten ought to possess, yet, for some\nreason, that which we call its \u201ccaudal extension\u201d is not developed, and\ndoes not grow out.\n\nOn the other hand, it is sad to relate, that the Belgian cats were not\nso polite, as they might have been. They looked with suspicion on any\nanimal from a strange country. The worst and most ill mannered among\nthem, every time they saw Geiko, called out \u201cHello, Stumpy, where did\nyou leave your tail?\u201d This made the Japanese Puss, already in a state\nof nervous prostration, so lonely, that she nearly died; for she had no\nsociety. Sometimes, at night, she would go up on the roof and look up\nat the moon, and think of her mother and feel too sad to live.\n\nA short life had Geiko, in Belgic Land, and one morning she was found\ndead. It was rumored in Japan, that the poor creature had died of\nhomesickness. Malignant cats, that envied Geiko her trip abroad,\ndeclared, in their gossip, that it was pride and conceit, that killed\nher; but, anybody who knew cats was sure that these chatterers were\nonly jealous of Geiko. The truth was, that Geiko went into a decline,\nwhen she found how the other cats treated her. Indeed, she was so\nmiserable, and became finally so weak and frail, that a cat doctor was\nheard to declare that the least excitement would kill her.\n\nThe real truth finally leaked out. Her kind mistress, the lady, hoping\nto cheer Geiko up, strengthen her nerves, and, possibly restore her to\nhealth, tried to tempt her appetite with the local delicacy. Sad to\ntell, it was all mistaken kindness, for it went first to poor Pussy\u2019s\nnose, and then to her brain. The lady had served up for the cat\u2019s\nlunch, some Limburger cheese!\n\nBut alas, the odor, before she tasted it, even if she could have put it\nin her mouth, gave the final shock. So overpowered was the poor\nhomesick puss, that she fell over and never recovered from the\nparalysis of her nostrils.\n\nSo, in the corner of a Belgian garden, one sees a little mound, and a\nmemorial stone above it, with only the words:\n\n\n                                 GEIKO\n                             HIC JACET....\n                                R. I. P.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE MARRIAGE OF THE FAIRIES\n\n\nFairies are sociable creatures, and like to be where there are many\nchildren and some grown folks. Long ago, before human beings came on\nthe earth, it was proposed, in a meeting of the fairies, that some of\nthem should go to Moon Land and invite the Moonlanders to come and\nsettle on the earth. This was because the fairies wanted more company.\n\nIn fact, life among the fairies had got to be very dull. Nothing\nhappened, and some wanted to change their people and their scenery.\n\nBut one old fairy said \u201cNo! the earth is as yet too bare and rough. Who\nwants to live here, unless they are fairies, that do not eat, or like\ncandy, or that require no clothes, or food, or houses, or carriages or\npets?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said another. \u201cI agree with you. We must furnish this earth of\nours with pretty things, like flowers, and fruit trees, and birds, and\nhorses, and useful animals, and cats and dogs, and squirrels and\nrabbits. How can we go about it?\u201d\n\nDuring this debate among the wisest ones, there were two fairies that\nsat apart. It was noticed that they had put their heads together,\ntalking every moment and sometimes both at once. They winked\noccasionally at each other, and often nodded knowingly, as if they\nunderstood things even better than those who talked most. Meanwhile,\nthey seemed very happy. At last, with beaming smiles, they both spoke\ntogether to the assembled company.\n\nWe must not forget that while the fairies thus talked together, the\ngiants of the frost kept on, busily cutting away the mountain sides,\nmaking the glacier a river of ice, that carried the rocks and gravel\naway and far down into the valleys and on the plains. In this way, the\nhard stone was ground into gravel, sand, clay, and dust, and scattered\nover the face of the earth. The glacier scratched, and chiseled, and\ngrooved out the bed rocks, and then rolled the big stones over and\nover, and all together, until they were as round as oranges or marbles.\n\nUsually this grinding was like that of a mill, which crushes the grain\nand makes meal, from which the miller blows away the bran, to get the\nwhite flour. So, at first, the rocks, thus broken and powdered, were\nmixed all together and tumbled about.\n\nYet many times the frost giants, the spirits of the storm, the wind,\nthe sun, and the glacier worked together, and all with one purpose.\nOften they laid the different materials very neatly in separate beds,\nsome in this place and some in that. By this process, the clay, the\nsand, the stones, and the gravel were separated one from the other. It\nseemed as if they expected human beings to come and live on the earth.\nThese mighty forces, of heat and cold, were working for the fairies, so\nas to have everything in order and ready when men should come, so that\nthey could plow and coax flowers out of the ground.\n\nSo when the fairies were all waiting, to hear what could be done, one\nof the two that had whispered together spoke out in meeting. She was a\nsilvery looking creature, reminding one of moonlight. Her dress, which\nwas gauzy and shining, seemed to be made of aluminum threads woven\ntogether. Her helmet, of this metal, was very light and polished until\nit reflected the light, like a mirror.\n\n\u201cI have a daughter,\u201d said she, \u201cnamed Klei. She is ready to be a bride,\nand, if she is married to the right one, I am sure her children will\nmake the earth beautiful.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said the other, who seemed to be dressed entirely in crystal,\nand had on a helmet carved out of quartz, \u201chave a son named Zand. He is\ntough and strong, and sometimes, when the wind vexes him, he fusses\nabout and stings and bites. Yet neither the sea shore, nor the dunes,\nnor the desert, nor the wilderness could get along without him. When\nthe tempest blows him about, it irritates him and he behaves roughly\nand raises a terrible storm. But, if my son, Mr. Zand, is married to\nyour daughter, Miss Klei, I predict that wherever the two live\ntogether, or their children dwell, there the sandpipers will trip along\nthe shore and sing their notes, the cows and sheep will graze, the\nflowers bloom, and the human beings will build houses and barns. In any\nevent, if they two marry, they will make the earth beautiful.\u201d\n\nAt this, which seemed like boasting to some of the old fairies, there\nwas some shaking of the heads among them. \u201cRough and boisterous!\u201d\n\u201cWon\u2019t settle down!\u201d \u201cToo full of grit to be pleasant!\u201d \u201cToo likely to\ntake on different forms, and to be changeable, to make a good husband!\u201d\nThese were some of the remarks dropped by old fairies that were\ncritical or jealous, or knew too well the pranks of the young fellow\nZand.\n\n\u201cAnd she? Why she\u2019s more changeable yet. Takes on different colors at\ndifferent times, is hard or soft, according as she is hot or cold. Why,\nyou can mould her to any pattern you please. Just like wax! Let water\ncome near her and the fickle fairy will melt away, spilling and\nspreading herself over everything.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but she\u2019s tough, and can hold water as still in its place, as in\na bowl,\u201d said another. \u201cThat shows a steady character, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know. On the other hand, put fire near her and she\nhardens into stone. How frivolous! She\u2019ll never make a good wife! If\nshe does, she\u2019ll so settle down, that you can\u2019t move her!\u201d\n\n\u201cToo much family pride on both sides,\u201d snapped out a wizened old fairy.\n\u201cBetter not boast too much of one\u2019s children! A little more modesty\nmight be more becoming. As for my part, I don\u2019t think either Mr. Zand\nor Miss Klei worth much. Neither has any good looks.\u201d\n\nThe wise old fairies paid no attention to this gossip and these\nill-natured remarks. They said that all these critics were jealous. The\nmatch was approved, and preparations were made, on an immense scale, to\ncelebrate the wedding.\n\nIt would take too long to tell who were present at the marriage feast,\nhow they were dressed, the way they behaved, and how the fairies of the\nfire and the ice were over-careful. The six daughters of the snow did\nnot like to get near the sooty and smoky elves and kabouters, that came\nup, out of the mines and caves and lower earth, to see the company and\nthe fun. In fact, fairies can be just as snobbish, and selfish, and\nimpolite, as human beings. Some are very proud and selfish, and others\nkind and gracious.\n\nThe story-teller can only stop to say that the bride looked very sweet.\nShe wore her mother\u2019s dress of silvery braid, while, instead of orange\nblossoms, which do not grow in the mountains, or a bouquet of roses, or\nsweet pinks, which had not yet come on the earth, she had on her head a\ncrown made of the edelweiss, which is found only on the highest\nmountains and usually growing near the edge of precipices and is very\nrare and precious. It was born on the earth, long before fruit trees,\nor forget-me-nots, or pansies, and it grew, because it had a white\nwoolly coat like fur, that kept it warm in the intense cold that killed\nother plants; in fact the mischievous Jack Frost could never bite, or\npinch it. So it lived on.\n\nIt is far more important, in this story, to tell of the children that\nwere soon born of the two wonderful fairies, Zand and Klei. Wherever\nthey touched each other, or lived for any length of time, there was\nborn a new thing called soil. Whenever a seed was dropped in that soil,\nup sprang a flower, a stalk of grain, a fruit tree, or grass. Gardens,\norchards, corn fields, and pastures were always found where this couple\nhad had a home.\n\nBy and bye great forests covered the land, and in the forests, the deer\nroamed, and squirrels played, for many nut trees grew here. The birds\nbuilt their nests in the trees and the woods echoed with their sweet\nsongs. In fact, in the month of May, when the birds were courting and\nlove making, and nest building, there was a continual concert. Then,\nwhen the young birds left the nests to fly, and carol, and chirrup, and\nfind their own food, the world was indeed a lovely place to live in.\nSo, at least, a thousand kinds of happy animals thought.\n\nBy and bye, came men and women, with babies and cradles, and boys and\ngirls. They built houses and had happy homes. The fields were covered\nwith grain, which the millers ground into flour, and then the mothers\nmade bread and cakes, and crullers and doughnuts, and many other\ngoodies. From the fruit trees, they picked pears and apples, and, from\nthe bushes, blackberries and raspberries, to make jam and pies. From\nthe cows, they obtained milk and cheese. Then, with pet dogs and cats,\nand horses and singing birds, and with every house full of children,\nall the people were very happy.\n\nThe men learned, from the glacier, not only how to crush grain and\ncrack nuts, and to get food, but also how to cut and shape, and carve\nstone, so as to make beautiful houses, and castles, and temples, and\nchurches. Then, when they saw how fire turns clay into a hard substance\nlike stone, they mixed the clay with water and moulded the soft paste\ninto cups and dishes, and pretty forms, and these they often painted\nand decorated. In time, they adorned their houses and halls with\nstatues and sculpture. Then, the artists and teachers of beauty were\nrivals in building beautiful cities.\n\nNow, in our language, for Zaan and Klei, we say Sand and Clay. For\nmillions of years, after the fairies of the Zaan and Klei had married\neach other and made the fertile soil, from which such wonderful things\ncame out, many other fairies were calling on men to make use of them,\nalso, as they had already done with Sand and Clay.\n\nThey wanted human beings to know that the fairies of snow and frost, of\nsunshine and thaw, of light and air, and the many inhabitants of the\nair were willing to be continually busy, like those of the Zaan and\nKlei.\n\nThis couple, the two married fairies, were not selfish or lazy. They,\ntoo, kept on calling to men who had no pretty gardens, or fertile\nfields, to help in bringing them together and give them a home. When\nthis was done, the ground was no longer loose, blown about, piled into\nbillows by the wind, as in the desert, or left hard and dead, on the\nsea shore, or heaped up in dunes, in which no seed could sprout. But,\nwhen they mixed the clay and sand, there appeared the soil, that was\nsoft, warm, rich and held the rain. So, wherever the seeds of wheat, or\ncorn, or flowers, were dropped into the bosom of this new child of the\nclay and sand, called soil, the sun and showers made the seeds come\nforth as flowers, or fruit. One witty gentleman was so sure of what\nwould happen, even on the prairies, that he said, \u201ctickle the earth\nwith a spade, and it will laugh a flower.\u201d So the fairies called\nflowers \u201cthe smiles of the earth.\u201d\n\nIt was out of the wedding of the fairies of the sand and clay, that\nbeautiful Belgium was born\u2014the country which the men and women living\nin it love so dearly, that they gladly die for it. In time of war,\nbefore the battle began, the knights and foot soldiers used to kneel\ndown on the ground and kiss it. Then they prayed to be strong and\nbrave, and vowed to defend their soil, from all enemies. How grandly\nthey did it, we all know.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nTHE ENCHANTED WINDMILL\n\n\nEver so many ages ago, there were a couple of fairies, who had a very\ninteresting family of fairy children, that lived entirely in the air.\nThe father was named Heet and the mother named Koud.\n\nIf we were to translate these names out of Flemish, I suppose we might\ncall them Heat and Cold. Curious names, were they not?\n\nBut then, if we knew all the names of the fairies, we should laugh at\nmany of them, as being very funny.\n\nThis fairy father and mother had many children, which, altogether, they\ncalled Wenda; that is, if we use the oldest form of the speech which\nthe Flemings used. On our tongues, this becomes Winds. In different\nparts of the world, these wind-fairies were spoken of, according as\ntheir dispositions were rough or gentle, in their behavior; or, noisy\nor sweet in sound; or, as they were scorching or freezing; but all\nwinds are born of Heat and Cold, but only four were very well known by\ntheir names.\n\nBut now it is time to tell about the enchanted windmill, that first\nbegan its career along with winds, among which Zephyrus was the best\nliked and most attractive. The other wind fairies, children of Heet and\nKoud, were not exactly envious of their handsome and popular brother,\nZephyrus, or of Flora his wife; but they wanted to show that they also\ncould do something for human beings, even if not able to give them such\nlovely things as flowers or fruit. So the three met together to see\nwhat could be done.\n\nNow one of the wise men, among mortals, had said that three good things\na man could do, and at least one of these he ought to do\u2014to have and\nname a child, or a flower, or a book.\n\nWhen this was told to the other three wind fairies, Eurus, Boreas, and\nAuster, they were at first downcast. They had no children, and as for\nflowers, they were out of the question; for Zephyrus and Flora had all\nto do with these. As for writing books, that was not the business of\nfairies, but of men and women.\n\nHowever, after long thought, they hit upon a plan, by which, working\naltogether, they might help human beings. If they could not have\nhandsome children, they could at least save toil and trouble to others\nwhen grown up. With the help of the fairies, they could more quickly\nredeem swamps and morasses, changing them into lovely gardens and good\ngrain fields, where flowers could grow and food be raised. They saw how\nhard men had to labor, in order to lift, pump, saw, hoist, grind, and\npolish. In draining the land, in cutting down trees, to make houses,\nand in grinding the grain, to make bread, men certainly needed help.\nThey made up their minds that, while flowers were good, there were\ntimes, when bread and cake, cookies and crullers, puddings, and\nwaffles, pot pie and potatoes might be better.\n\nThey summoned the elves of the mine and the forest to help them, and\nall together, they built a mill. It had long arms and sails outside,\nwhile within, were axles, wheels, windlass, ropes, pulleys, and\ngrinding stones.\n\nSet to other machinery, the mill could turn grain into flour for bread,\nand pump water out of a ditch, to make rich farm land, besides doing\nmany other things.\n\nThe wind fairies were delighted with their success, and first, they\nmade a present of the windmill to the Saracens, who employed it for\nhundreds of years.\n\nBut this is the way the first windmill was used. It was put on a raft,\nand floated on the water; so that men could pull it round to face the\nwinds, as they blew. No one had then ever thought of putting it on\nland, or making a house of it.\n\nBy and bye, the crusaders from the Netherlands visited the Orient, and\nbecame acquainted with new seeds, flowers, fruits, and things they had\nnever seen before, or at home. They watched with wonder the windmills,\nwhirling their huge arms around and doing the work of thousands of men\nand horses.\n\nNow there was a smart Fleming, Mynheer Molenaar, and crusader under\nGodfrey de Bouillon. When at home, he had been a miller on his lord\u2019s\nmanor. After studying the workings of the windmill, he put its parts on\na ship and brought it home.\n\nThen he built a raft, and, putting his windmill together, followed the\ncustom, of hauling it around, according as the wind might blow. He\nanchored it by the Scheldt river side. As everyone wanted to get his\ngrain ground more cheaply, by wind, than by horse power, the Belgian\nmiller soon had plenty of customers and quickly made money.\n\nBut one day, the river rose to a flood and swept the windmill down and\nout to the sea. Distracted by his loss, and with poverty staring him in\nthe face, he tore his hair with rage, and mourned all day and late into\nthe night. Toward morning, he fell into a heavy slumber.\n\nIn his dreams, a Belgian wind fairy, accompanied by a Kabouter,\nappeared to him. Surprised at seeing a radiant and silvery creature, as\nbright as a star, alongside of a short, stumpy fellow, who was holding\na box full of hammers and chisels, he forgot his troubles, and laughed\nheartily, smiling a welcome to both.\n\n\u201cWe are glad you seem happier,\u201d said the shining one, \u201cfor we have long\nwanted to help you and are ready to serve; for we fairies of the\nNetherlands, aided by our good friends, the Kabouters, have an idea for\nan improved windmill, that can beat either the Saracens, or the Greeks;\nfor we can do what they could not.\u201d Then they told how to make a mill\nthat could turn its face to any wind that blew.\n\nThe Kabouter nodded, as if to say \u201cyes,\u201d and made what was rather a\nfunny sort of a grin.\n\nBut Molenaar smiled again at this project, which seemed so nearly the\nimpossible, as to be absurd, or an enchantment.\n\nAltogether, with the contrast of a starry maiden and a blacksmith\ndwarf, the miller laughed again and this time, so loud, that he awoke.\n\nBut, pondering what the bright fairy had said to him, he resolved to\nact. That very day, with his head swelling with a new idea, he called\ntogether blacksmiths, masons, bricklayers, carpenters, and machinists.\nHe paid them high wages, and urged on the building of a windmill on the\nland; yes, like a house, and a windmill that was to serve many\npurposes.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s a fool, that fellow Molenaar, he is! The idea of making a\ndwelling and mill in one, and building it on land!\u201d said one man who\nthought he knew all about windmills.\n\n\u201cHave the fairies cast a spell, on him?\u201d asked another.\n\n\u201cThe Wappers have certainly turned his brain,\u201d said a third.\n\n\u201cHe\u2019s riding a Kludde horse, that\u2019s what he\u2019s doing,\u201d jeered a fourth.\n\nThen, all together, they tapped their foreheads with their forefingers,\nand uttered what became a proverb:\n\n\u201cHe has a mill in his head.\u201d\n\nBut Molenaar persevered. In less than a month, he had a comfortable\nbrick house, three stories high, with a space like a cylinder, running\ndown through the centre, and with stairways up to the floors above. On\nthe first, or ground floor, was his flour mill, with grinding stones\nand bins. On the second, were four rooms for his family. On the third,\nwere his parlor and linen closet; besides a playroom for the children.\nOn the top were the wheels, axles, and sails; with a wide veranda, all\nthe way around, by which the sails could be trimmed, reefed, or furled.\n\nIt was as good as a ship, and the children could take a walk all the\nway around the millhouse.\n\nFor three days, the breezes blew steadily from the west. For eight\nhours a day, the stones revolved merrily, and the bins were filled with\nmeal.\n\nThen the wind changed and swung around to the north.\n\n\u201cNow we\u2019ll see what the old fellow will do with his mill-house,\u201d said\nenvious scoffers, as they passed by.\n\nThey had not noticed the contrivance, about which the fairies had told\nMolenaar. Around on the other side of the house, there was a windlass,\nwith three long timbers reaching to the top. This, they had not seen\nbefore. It was a cap, or movable top.\n\nA few turns of the windlass and the whole machinery, sails and all,\nfaced the north wind. Soon the long arms, set with canvas, were\nwhirling around at full speed, and most merrily the grit stones were\nturning, and the meal filling the bin.\n\nIt would be too long a story to tell, how this new sort of a\nNetherlands windmill could saw wood, pump the water out of ponds, and\nswamps, hoist barrels, and load wagons, besides grinding grain. In a\nfew generations, both sandy Flanders, and swampy Holland were changed\nfrom heaths and mudholes, to a vast area of lovely flowers, beautiful\ngardens, and fruitful farms. The wind fairies had been only waiting,\nfor ages, to become the servants of man.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nTURK, TURBAN, TULIP AND DRAGON\n\n\nThere used to be a great many kinds of dragons in the world. Anybody\nwho looks at the old pictures, images, and decorations, or reads the\nstories of long ago, can see this.\n\nThere were bad dragons and good dragons. Some, like those that lived in\nChina and Japan, had no wings; but very long tails. The Wyvern, or\nScotch dragon, had two tails, like the Belgian lion, but the dragons in\nTurkey made up in wings what they lack in tail.\n\nA long time ago, there was a Belgian crusader, a Fleming, who got\nacquainted with a dragon of most respectable character, that lived near\nAleppo, which was one of the famous cities of the Saracens. This was a\nwater-dragon, named Buccoleon (buc-c\u00f3-le-on), that lived in the river\nnear by, though sometimes, when it wanted to go on a picnic, or enjoy\nthe company of the hill dragons, it flew into the mountains.\n\nThe Turkish water dragons were great friends of those fairies that\nlived in the clouds, and had much to do with the showers and heavy\nrains, that make the flowers grow.\n\nA great many caravans passed through Aleppo. These brought the tea,\nivory, silk, and spices from the countries in the Far East, where the\nsun rises. These, they sent from Aleppo, by sea, to Antwerp, one of the\ngreatest seaports in the world. The camels did not, of course, require\nmuch rain water, for they only took a drink about once a week. When\nthey did, however, they made up for it, with their long necks, by\ntasting the water all the way down; that is, for about two yards. On\nthe other hand, when they had a cough, it was awfully troublesome, to\nhave six feet of sore throat. So the good dragons pitied the camels,\nand were always kind to them.\n\nIt was necessary for the river dragons to keep on good terms with the\nhill dragons and cloud fairies; for, without rain, the river would dry\nup. Then the dragon, that lived in the water, would have no place to\nboard, or to lodge, or even to wash in, for the river was its bath tub.\n\nThis river dragon was a peaceful creature and did not like war. In\nfact, among its fellow creatures, it was known as the Weeping Dragon,\nbecause it cried so much. Whenever there was a battle between the\nBelgian crusaders and the Saracens, this dragon wept great tears. Each\ntear, in volume and amount, was equal to a bucket of water. Why should\nmen, the dragon thought, chop and hack each other to death, because one\ncarried a crescent on his banner, and the other sewed a red cross on\nhis coat, over his armor? After every bloody fight, this river dragon\nused to go over the fields where the men from Belgium were buried, and\ndrop a tear over each grave. Then it mopped its eyes, with a great\nbandana handkerchief, because the Flemings had died so far from home.\n\nNow a bucket full of tear-water, falling on each burial spot, changed\nthe sandy soil into fertile ground, and thereupon up sprang a new\nflower.\n\nThis novelty in the plant world looked like a cup, held by its stem. It\nrose up, in the air and sunlight, and was very rich and varied in\ncolor. All the hues and tints, of the other buds and blossoms, seen in\nthe gardens that lined the river banks, seemed to unite in this one\nflower, as if everything good in the dead man had come to life again in\nbright colors. On some days, when, in the early morning, the sunlight\nstruck the dew drops that lay on these flowers, each one looked like a\ncrown set with costly jewels.\n\nNow a certain Belgian soldier, a Fleming, whose home town was Ghent,\nand who was a florist, by profession, noticed this splendid new flower.\nHis name was Theophilus; but they called him Taff, for short. From the\nfirst, his hope and ambition, in going to the East, had been\u2014if he were\nnot killed while fighting the battles of the cross, or if he did not\ndie of fever, or from the terrible ulcer, they called the \u201cAleppo\nbutton\u201d\u2014to take home a floral souvenir from the Turk\u2019s country. He knew\nthat all the little boys would be expecting to see him come home loaded\nwith trophies, captured from the Saracens; but the strange flower would\nalso show where he had been, and through what adventures he had passed.\n\nThe Pilgrims to Jerusalem always carried home a scallop shell; but he\nintended to surprise the Ghenters with something prettier.\n\nWhat better than the spirit-flower, or memorial blossom, which sprang\nup, where the weeping dragon had shown its grief? In fact, Taff thought\nof naming it \u201cthe Dragon\u2019s Tear.\u201d\n\nBut when he thought of the bad reputation of dragons in his country, he\nfeared that all the Ghent folk would laugh at him and say that a\ndragon\u2019s tears were no better than a crocodile\u2019s. Besides, the idea of\nweeping was not a cheerful one, nor did it tell of the victories of the\ncross and the crusaders. What then should be a proper name for the\nflower?\n\nWhile pondering this question, Taff looked out and saw two big Turks\nquarreling. They called each other all sorts of bad names. Finally one\ncursed his enemy, saying:\n\n\u201cMay you wear a hat in the next world!\u201d\n\nAnd the other retorted: \u201cMay your turban fall into a pig-sty!\u201d\n\nNow these, with the Turks, were the same as horrible oaths. It was\nagainst the law for Saracens, as it is for Turks, to wear a hat. All\nfaithful followers of the prophet cover their heads with a turban, and\nany one, who does not thus protect his head, is looked on as a vile\nsinner. To let one\u2019s turban fall among the pigs, is the greatest\nmisfortune.\n\nWhether it be a fez, that is, a round, red cap, with tassel on the top;\nor seventeen yards, of white muslin, or red damask, or green silk wound\nround one\u2019s head, every disciple of the prophet must wear a turban. If\nit be not neatly wrapped, a man is apt to be called a Bashi Bazouk, or\n\u201crotten head.\u201d All sorts of honors, and offices are denoted by the\nfolds, colors, or methods of folding or wrapping the turban. Or, in the\ncase of cleanliness and smartness on the one hand or dust or\nslovenliness, on the other, words of praise or nicknames, and low and\nvulgar terms, may be applied.\n\nThe tassel on the top is the handle, by which the good believer is\nlifted, by the angels, into Paradise!\n\nWhen Taff noticed the variety of rich colors, and the beauty of the\nfashion of the Saracen headdress, he decided to name the new flower the\nTurk\u2019s turban.\n\nNow the word for this is tulipan, or tulip, for short. Thereupon Taff\ncollected the seeds of this turban flower and when the war was over, he\nbrought them to Flanders and planted them in his garden. Soon he had a\ntulip farm, and then orders came in, from all parts of Europe, for this\nwonderful flower.\n\nThe women did not care very much for the tulip, because it is not as\nwell fitted, as are violets, or roses, or sweet peas, or honey suckles,\nfor corsage bouquets, or to put in their hair. Moreover, in the\nlanguage of flowers, it had neither poetry, nor message, nor meaning,\nlike the pansy, for instance.\n\nOn the contrary, as the young ladies say, the men \u201cadored\u201d the tulip\nbecause of its bright colors. Every man, who had been a crusader,\nplanted it in his garden, to remind him of the Saracens, whose heads he\nhad cut off in battle; or, to tell, his sons and neighbors about the\nterrible warriors he had met and fought with.\n\nThis was necessary, for all the small boys were disappointed, whose\nfathers did not bring back a scimeter, a spear, a shield, a javelin, a\nreal turban, a pair of turkish slippers, a harem shawl, or some other\ntrophy, to show that they had really been to the wars. In fact, some of\nthem expected their daddies to return with a string of Turks\u2019 heads at\nthe saddle.\n\nSo the tulip was called a man\u2019s flower, and Taff got rich, by selling\nthe bulbs. Then he cultivated many varieties, with new shapes and\ncolors. It got to be the fashion to buy these, for every one wanted to\nshow off the new hues and tints, the streaks and spots, and the flaming\ncolors, and hoped to beat his neighbor with the most astonishingly big\nblooms.\n\nAt one time, it seemed as if the whole world had gone crazy over\ntulips. Thousands of dollars were paid for a single bulb, or even for a\ntulip in flower, which would lose its petals in a few hours. Every day\nthe Bourse, or money market, was crowded with merchants and brokers;\nwho were buying bulbs and plants, without ever seeing one of them.\nPrices were announced from distant markets, by means of signals given\non the windmills. Some men had tulips on the brain. They sold all they\nhad, chairs, tables, beds, dishes and even clothes, to buy tulips, red,\nyellow, blue, or black.\n\nBut wise men called all this madness, and even talked of \u201cwind trade.\u201d\nSoon the excitement died down, and the market fell as flat as a ship\u2019s\nsails on the mast, when there is not enough breeze to flap them.\n\nThere was another Fleming, a returned crusader, whose first name was\nIsaac; but they called him Nyken for short. This man was a potter by\ntrade. He was so pestered by the small boys who wondered why he hadn\u2019t\nbrought back two or three Turks\u2019 heads, that he was at his wit\u2019s end to\nexplain and answer their questions. So Nyken hid himself away,\nresolving to get rich from what he had learned about turbans. Not\nhaving any garden, he could not raise flowers, so he made up his mind\nhe would make tulips out of clay, and get rich, even faster than his\nneighbor Taff, who was an old bachelor; while Nyken had a wife, and\nthree daughters, all highly accomplished.\n\nSo Nyken mixed his clay, got his potter\u2019s wheel ready, loaded his\npalette with paints, and then set to work, with his \u201cvrouw en\nkinderen\u201d; that is, his wife Bab (or Barbara) and his daughters three,\nBeck, Beff, and Jin (that is Rebecca, Elizabeth, and Joanna). These\nfine girls had all been well educated in the public schools, which\nwere, even then, the glory of the Netherlands. They kept everything\nsecret until the market day.\n\nThen, to the surprise of the whole town of Ghent, Nyken\u2019s stall and\nshelves blossomed out like a bed of tulips. There was his fat wife,\nwhom he called Bulb, for a pet name, and his three blooming daughters,\nwhom he called his Tulip blossoms.\n\nFirst in demand, was the turban-dish, or \u201cTurk\u2019s Head,\u201d for baking\napples, and pot pies, and cakes, and macaroni. This was made of\nearthenware.\n\nThen there was hard, shining glazed ware, in many forms and for many\nuses, cups, saucers, vases and flower-holders. These were made into the\nform of the flowers themselves, or were decorated with tulips of many\ntints; besides those which were black, yellow, and red, the colors of\nthe Duke of Brabant and of the Belgian flag.\n\nWhat pleased the young folks, more than all else, was the bust of a\nSaracen. This was a copy of a real Turk, with a turban on his head. His\nhair was black, and his face swarthy. His mouth was wide open, as if\nready for some one to throw a pill down his throat, which he should\nswallow, without chewing it.\n\nThis was called \u201cThe Gaper,\u201d and was instantly popular with the\napothecaries, who made the pills and sold them in boxes at a high\nprice.\n\nOn the very first day, Nyken and Bulb had sold out their whole stock,\nand the three girls, Beck, Beff and Jin had already, in their minds,\nselected the new dresses and lace collars, which they intended to buy.\nSoon, all through the Netherlands, there was a \u201cgaper\u201d over every\ndruggist\u2019s shop. New medicines, and strange-looking bottles and boxes\nwere seen on the counters.\n\nThere were \u201cSaracen Sure Cure for Corns,\u201d \u201cBuccoleon Liniment,\u201d\n\u201cDragons\u2019 Elixir of Life,\u201d \u201cPalestinian Pills,\u201d \u201cTulip Cure-Alls,\u201d\n\u201cThousand-Years-of-Life Syrup,\u201d \u201cCrusaders\u2019 Balm,\u201d \u201cDragon-Scale\nPlasters,\u201d \u201cOriental Ointment,\u201d and a hundred other remedies.\n\nMeanwhile, what had become of the Aleppo dragon?\n\nIt turned out, just as the fairies and hill dragons had predicted;\nthat, as soon as the war was over, and peace came, this dragon\u2019s eyes\nwould dry up. Then, the energy, that was so long wasted, as they\nthought, on tears, would excite this dragon to travel, and then, also,\nthe dry ground would turn no more into flowers. Instead, the stream of\ntears would strike inward, and all of a sudden, the dragon\u2019s scales\nwould become gold.\n\nIt happened just so, and soon Buccoleon\u2019s skin was a mass of golden\nscales.\n\nHearing that the Flemings had done such wonders, with the turban\nflower, and the turban pottery, the dragon was filled with admiration\nand envy. He wanted to fly at once to Flanders, and see things. He had\nlearned, rather to like Crusaders, but when further, a traveler told\nthe dragon about the Turk\u2019s Head, made of earthenware, for cooking, and\nthe Gaper, for the medicine shops, Buccoleon laughed so loudly, that\npeople in Aleppo thought it thundered.\n\nBut alas for men\u2019s treachery!\n\nThere was always so much envy and jealousy among the guilds in Ghent,\nthat riots sometimes broke out. Then the bells called out the people to\nput down the rioters, and do justice to all.\n\nJust at this time, as Buccoleon, the Aleppo dragon, was flying toward\nFlanders, the goldsmiths of Ghent were almost savagely envious of both\nTaff, the florist, and Nyken, the potter. When they heard of the coming\nflight of Buccoleon, they posted archers on the high towers, and these\nshot to death the good water dragon of Aleppo.\n\nThe greedy goldsmiths expected, with hammers and chisels, to pry off\nits scales and sell them! They wanted to get rich quickly, like Taff\nand Nyken.\n\nThese bad men were awfully disappointed. For when the people heard of\nwhat they had done, they rushed into the belfry of the tower. Some of\nthem climbed up the three hundred and seventy-six steps, and rang the\ngreat bell, making a terrific clangor.\n\nForthwith, all the citizens assembled, in the great square, to hear\nTaff and Nyken tell what this good dragon had done, and how its tears,\nover the dead Crusaders, had been turned into tulips.\n\nIt was voted unanimously that the highest honors should be paid to\nBuccoleon, the dragon. So, with ropes and pullies, and a strong\nscaffold, they raised a mighty tackle on the tower, while the\nblacksmiths made the iron weather vane. On its pivot, they set the\nAleppo dragon, which was ten feet long. Now, when it came to dragons,\nGhent could glory over Brussels, and the Boringue.\n\nFlashing golden in the sun, high in air, near the clouds, while far\nbelow, in the rich fields and gardens, the tulip spreads beauty on\nearth and wealth to the Netherlands, Buccoleon, the dragon, on top of\nthe great belfry, turns to all the winds that blow.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nUP AND DOWN AND UP AGAIN\n\n\nLook on the cover of this book and see the bridge at Tournai, with its\ntwin towers. In the bright moonlight, the waters of the Scheldt River\nare flowing through the arches. Here we have, from the low down to the\nhigh up, a true picture of the Land of Towers, Spires, and of those\ncollections of bells, which make music in the air, and are called\ncarillons.\n\nYet in very early times, in Belgium, there were no bridges, nor any\ntowers, and no churches, except some buildings rudely put together, out\nof wood, or reeds and rushes, plastered with mud. Nor in the flat and\nsandy parts, as in Flanders, was there any stone. Few of the craftsmen\nunderstood masonry, or chisel work. Moreover, who could carry out stone\nfrom the mountains, and bring it hundreds of miles, to be cut and built\ninto lofty campaniles, or bell towers, and splendid churches as in\nglorious Italy, from which teachers and missionaries came?\n\nNow, one of these good Italian missionaries was named, in the Flemish\nlanguage, Vrolyke Kwant. He was of a sunny disposition, known to all\nthe children, and much loved by them. He had come from Italy when\nBelgium was a very wild country, and he greatly missed the bells, the\ntowers and air-music of his dear, beautiful, distant land. So he was\noften homesick.\n\nBut when he heard how kind and well behaved the Belgian fairies were,\nand that they liked to help good people, he took heart, cheered up, and\ndetermined to make their acquaintance.\n\nSo he gave out that he would be glad to see them all, of every kind,\nand welcome them to his house. Knowing that the fairies, who keep out\nof sight during the day, were very busy between curfew and cock crow,\nthat is, after sunset and before dawn, he spread abroad the notice that\nhe would leave all the doors of his house open at night. If they would\nonly come to see him, and talk over what could be done to make the\npeople and their children happy, he would treat them well.\n\nNow it is surprising how quickly the news spread in fairy land,\nespecially when we think that fairies have no telephones, no telegraph\nwires, no railroads, no newspapers nor any messenger boys with blue\ncaps.\n\nBut Vrolyke\u2014to call him by his first name\u2014had not long to wait. After\nsaying his evening prayers, he went to the front of his house and\nopened both leaves of his double door. There could not be, at this time\nof night, any danger of pigs or chickens coming in, for the piggies had\ngone to sleep and the birds to roost long before. So he unlatched even\nthe heck, or lower half of the door, and slammed it loudly against the\nwall, as a signal to the fairies outside. He had already seen tiny\nlights flitting about, like fireflies.\n\nSoon there were two or three gentle taps on the lintels of the doorway,\nand then trooped in the funniest looking company he had ever seen.\nKabouters, Wappers, Manneken, and Red Caps. These were followed by a\nthrong of silvery little ladies, with gauzy wings on their shoulders\nand with stars on their foreheads. They were dressed in the loveliest,\nsheeniest, garments, and they seemed prettier, even, than any of the\nrosiest maidens, which Father Vrolyke, the missionary, had yet seen in\nthe Tournai region. They were, each and all, of them, dressed in the\ngarb, which all the fairies of their several kinds have worn for ages;\nbecause fairies are not slaves to fashion. Unlike our girls, who say\nthey have \u201cnothing to wear\u201d and are obliged to change fashions every\nyear, the fairies keep the same style of clothes always. It is no\nwonder that they are free from care, have no wrinkles on their faces\nand live long lives.\n\nThen Vrolyke, smiling his best smile, bowed and offered to set out beer\nand cakes\u2014all he had\u2014on his rough table. But the fairies, one and all,\nlaughed and waved their hands, even those of the Red Caps, which were\ngreen. They replied in chorus:\n\n\u201cOh, thank you, we do not eat or drink. We came to see what we can do\nfor you. We must keep busy, you know, or we\u2019ll play tricks on your\npeople. We like to do funny things with stupid people, but we always\nhelp the good ones. Command us, and we shall obey.\u201d\n\nWhile they were in such good humor, Father Vrolyke thought it best to\nassign them tasks.\n\nSo he said, \u201cThis flat country needs towers. Such as they have in\nItaly. These will add to the beauty of the country. Then we can have\nbells, which will call the people to worship; for, over these plains,\nthe sound will roll far away, and everybody will hear easily.\u201d\n\nThen he sighed and asked, \u201cBut where can we get the stone to build and\nwhere are the copper and tin for the bells? Good fairies, tell me and\nhelp.\u201d\n\n\u201cLeave that to us,\u201d shouted the fairies.\n\nThen all those who had no wings, Kabouters, Wappers, Red Caps, and\nMannekins, stumbled out of the house, in the most merry and uproarious\nmanner. They laughed and screamed with delight. They played leap frog\nover each other. Some of the Red Caps jumped on the shoulders of the\nWappers and played riding piggy-back. The winged fairies, in gold, and\nsilk, and gauze, flew out the door as quietly as if on a cloud, or in a\ndream.\n\nNow for ages the solid rivers of ice, in Switzerland, had been grinding\nup the rocks to make clay and sand, gravel and soil for Belgium. From\nthe heart of France, also, there rolled down the earth, which the rain\nwashed out of the mountains. That is the reason why the river-beds in\nBelgium were full of just the sort of material the Kabouters liked to\nplay in, and of which bricks could be made. They were just like two\nchildren that love to play in the soft mud and make pies and patty\ncakes.\n\nNow all the fairies, especially those that had traveled in the southern\ncountries, wondered why the northern people were so stupid, as not to\nmake their houses and churches out of stone that would last a long\ntime; instead of out of wood, which catches on fire so easily, or soon\ndecays, and falls down.\n\nFor, already, there lay under their feet, and had lain there for ages,\nthe stuff out of which bricks, as hard as stone, could be made, for the\nriver had brought it to their doors. The fairies, who understand what\nwinds mean, when they whisper, or storms say, when they howl, declared\nthat the river clay, in the streams, was calling, calling, calling, and\nthis is what the voices said:\n\n\u201cFairies and mortals, listen to us. We were once high and mighty in the\nworld, and lived on the tops of mountains near the sky; and we expected\nto be there always. But Nature drove us out of our comfortable bed of\nrock, like as the parent eagles push their birdies out of the nest,\njust to make them fly in the air, which is their true home. So, the\nstorms, and frost, and ice and rain, split us off from the mother rock,\nand tumbled us down towards the valley. The snow, and ice, and rushing\nwaters have ground and rolled and tossed us about, until we have\nutterly lost our first form, as part of the mountain peaks. Now, we are\nnothing but soft mud, or \u2018slyk,\u2019 as the Flemings say. We live low in\nthe river beds, not able even to nourish flowers, for we are not soil.\n\n\u201cBut we want to be again in the bright air.\n\n\u201cOh, that fairies, or men, would lift us up again high in the sunlight,\nand in the lofty heights again, nearer to the sky.\n\n\u201cOr else, mix us with the sand, and then, out of our bosoms, draw\nflowers. Either to be blossoms, or bricks, is what we long to be.\n\n\u201cOh, take us up out of this darkness, in which we dwell under water.\u201d\n\nTo their ears, the gurgling of the water and the sounds from the rivers\nand streams were, to the fairies, as groans of pain. Now, they would\nchange these to a song. All they had been waiting for, was an\nopportunity, or an invitation. Now they had received it, and that was\nthe reason why they ran out of Father Vrolyke\u2019s house so merrily, for\nhere was their chance to do something big. An idea had struck inside\ntheir heads, and had hit so hard that they wanted to go to work\ninstantly to relieve pressure on the brain.\n\nSo right away, they summoned every fairy in Belgic Land to come and\nhelp, and merrily they came. Thousands of the little fellows, mostly\nKabouters, hauled up tons after tons of river clay. They piled it up,\nuntil it made an enormous brick yard. Then they made moulds of wood and\niron, of the shape of bricks.\n\nOne set of Kabouters were appointed to mix the clay. Others stood at\nthe dry dust tubs. From the wet clay, heaped up on a big bench, or\ntable, a big Kabouter threw down a lump into the square wood or iron\nframe or mould, shaped like a brick. Then he shoved the soft brick over\nto the Stryker, who struck off, to a level, the extra amount of clay,\njust as a good cook cuts off the excess of dough, in the pie crust,\nthat hangs over the edge of the dish, before she puts it in the oven to\nbake. From these benches the thousands of Manneken carried the wood or\niron moulds filled with clay, over to the drying ground. They tumbled\nflat the clay out of the frames and laid the bricks, still soft, out to\ndry, for several days, in the sun. Every time, as they returned, they\nthrew the empty iron moulds into a tub full of fine dry clay-dust, so\nthe wet clay or bricks would not stick, but fall easily, when tumbled\nover, flat on the ground to dry.\n\nAnother set of Kabouters built a kiln, setting the bricks into piles,\nwith spaces, like aisles and corridors, for the air to circulate in,\nand the flames to reach everywhere, and to every brick, from bottom to\ntop. Another gang cut down wood and plugging it into these holes set\nthe fires going, to bake the soft sun-dried bricks into \u201cklinkers,\u201d or\nburnt bricks, as hard as stone.\n\nEvery night, for a month, they worked, until millions of bricks baked\nin the fire, until they were hard enough to \u201cklink,\u201d or resound, when\nstruck together, and were ready for the bricklayers. That\u2019s the reason\nthey call a well-turned brick a \u201cklinker,\u201d because it sounds.\n\nFather Vrolyke now took the honorable name of Van Slyk (from the river\nmud, now turned into brick), and his reverend colleague took the name\nStryker, and, together, they summoned masons and bricklayers from\nItaly. These men piled brick on brick, until walls and towers rose up\ntoward the sky, and made some of the people think of mountains.\n\nAnd, would you believe it? Some stupid folks were afraid to walk in the\nstreets, for fear the walls, which seemed so terribly high, would fall\ndown on them!\n\nBut the builders were not afraid of these piles of brick falling down,\nfor they held the courses together by the \u201cFlemish bond\u201d; that is,\nwherever two bricks met, end to end, another brick was laid on top\nbetween. The middle part of the upper brick lay directly over the\njoining place of the under ones. Thus the whole structure was held\ntogether as tightly, as if the bricks had gone back again, to be part\nof the mother rock, in the high mountain, whence they came ages before.\n\nSo, inch by inch, and foot by foot, the bricks rose up toward the blue\nsky and nearer the sun, until, high aloft, the church tower stood, and\nthe clouds came and kissed it. The sunrise made it rosy, and the sunset\nrays gilded it.\n\nAgain, in high places of the earth, where winds blow, the clay of the\nriver bed, now turned into brick, held honored place in the tower which\ndominated the Belgian landscape. At night, the top seemed not far from\nthe stars, and on the apex, or summit of some of the loftiest, men\nplaced the golden dragon, as the symbol of power. Or, they set the\nweather vane to tell whence the wind was blowing and what they might\nexpect from the wind fairies on the morrow.\n\nOr, in honor of God, they built churches that had towers and\nspires\u2014which all the world comes to Belgium to see, because they are so\nbeautiful. On the top of many, they set the shining cross, symbol of\nthe Heavenly Father\u2019s love, and of the Unselfish One, who pleased not\nhimself, but died to make men holy.\n\nThe towers became the home of the bells, the throne room of sweet\nmusic, and the abode of the carillons. And so it has come to pass, that\nthe men of Belgium have listened to the call of the clay, that fell\ndown from the mountain heights and lay for ages neglected in the river\nbeds. And, hearing the call, they lifted it up again to the honor of\nGod and the delight of men. \u201cUp and down and up again,\u201d is the story of\nwhat makes the belfry of Bruges, the \u201clady spire\u201d of Antwerp Cathedral,\nand the glorious towers of Mechlin, of Ghent, of Mons, of Oudenarde, of\nTournai, and hosts of Belgian towers the delight and joy of all the\nworld.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nTHE GOLDEN DRAGON OF THE BORINGUE\n\n\nIn one part of Belgium, they had bored into the earth so often, and so\ndeep, to get the coal, that this region is called the Boringue. The\ncity of Mons is the center of the coal mining region, and here they\nstill celebrate the victory of a brave knight over a mighty dragon.\n\nThis dragon was quite an unusual monster, for his skin was all of\nshining gold, with scales, like plate armor. He was as big as a\nbattering ram, and his strength was like that of a catapult, which\ncould hurl big stones into a city of the enemy\u2019s camp. More wonderful\nyet, this dragon of the Boringue had a flashing jewel in his forehead,\nthat was worth all the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, in the whole\nworld. It shone like a lamp, in the darkest nights, and guided his path\nfor him, as he moved down from the hills to devour maidens.\n\nThis monster was a conglomeration of all things terrible. He had every\none of the powers, which any and all beasts, birds, fishes, or reptiles\npossessed; whether on the earth, in the air, or under the waters. He\nhad a roar like a lion, the wings of an eagle, the claws of a condor,\nand the power to glide like a snake or crawl like an alligator. He\ncould fly like a falcon, burrow like a rat, swim like a shark, crush\nwith his coils like an anaconda, and had a keen scent, like a hound. He\nhad eyes like a tiger, teeth like a wolf, and tusks sharper than a\nboar\u2019s, the nose horns of a rhinoceros, the antlers of a stag, the\ntossing horns of a bull, the double moustaches of a catfish, and the\nshell of a tortoise. He could breathe fire out of his nostrils and burn\nup the grass. With a nail in his tail, he could scratch a furrow like a\nplow. When he thrashed around, in anger, he could deliver a blow like a\nbattering ram. At the tips of his wings were hooks, as hard as steel.\nIn short, he was like an encyclop\u00e6dia of everything that was strong,\nvicious and dreadful. It seemed as if all the might and force of the\nold creatures, that had lived and died in the ancient forests, before\nthe ocean rolled in, and before the ages of coal, had risen to\nresurrection in him to make a monster combining all the powers of every\nliving creature.\n\nThe worst of the matter was that the Romans, coming into the land, soon\nfound that none of their daughters would be left alive, if that monster\nkept roaring and rambling about. In addition to this terror, no one\ncould sleep at night for the noises that he made. His howling,\nbellowing, hissing, barking, and rumbling were kept up till sunrise.\nYet when he was quiet, it was still more dangerous, for then he was\nlurking for his prey. No parents could trust their lovely daughters\noutdoors, by night or day. For any girl, who was plump or pretty, was\nsure to be gulped down alive, or carried off to the dragon\u2019s lair in\nthe hills. The fact that no other bill of fare, except one that had a\nlive girl as part of his feast, would satisfy the monster, caused\nconstant anxiety to parents.\n\nFor this dragon, while always hungry, was very particular in his diet.\nHe would never make a dinner on a man, or a boy, a horse, or a pig,\nunless he had fasted a long while and was nearly starving. He thought\nthey tasted \u201ctoo salty.\u201d He was always on the lookout for young and\ntender maidens, or those well-favored or fat, who might be out picking\nflowers, or strolling along the road. These, he would seize and then\nrun away swiftly, to his lair. He could easily outstrip any man on\nfoot, even the fleetest runner. If men mounted on horseback to pursue\nhim, he would spread his wide wings, give a flap or two and then rise\nup into the air, almost darkening the sun, and casting an awful shadow\non the earth. It always smelled like burning brimstone, where the\ndragon had been. Disappearing among the hills, he would enjoy a feast\nat his leisure. Soon, the cavern, in which he slept, was covered with\nmaidens\u2019 bones; and, not far away, was a pit, into which he threw what\nwas left of the few men and boys, or pigs and ponies, he had eaten up.\n\nWhile the dragon was coming down from the hills, to make his evening\nmeal of a pretty girl, or to swish her off to his cave, he was careful\nto sniff the air on every side, lest some brave men in hiding should\nrush out at him, and put his eye out with an arrow, or push a spear\ndown his throat, or throw fire or poison into his mouth. The dragon\ncould easily swallow up a man, but he feared missiles shot or slung at\nhim, whether arrows, sling stones or catapult balls. There were certain\nparts of his body, such as his eyes, or throat, or the soft places\nunder his front and hind legs, and in the joints between the scales,\nwhere a barbed arrow or a sword blow, or spear thrust might penetrate.\n\nThe Roman general promised that any man, who would capture or slay this\nfrightful monster, that combined a whole menagerie in himself, should\nmarry his daughter. In addition, he should be owner of all the gold of\nthe scales, which any one could, with hammer and chisel, wrench off\nfrom this dragon. But the forehead-jewel, after adorning the bride\u2019s\ncoronet, at her wedding, must be handed over to the Roman Emperor, for\na crown possession.\n\nNow there was a brave soldier named Rufinus, who was in love with one\nof the Roman general\u2019s daughters, and had expected to marry her, when\nMay and the flowers should come. He had gone to the great city of Rome,\nin Italy, to buy a gold ring for his sweetheart, besides jewels and\npretty woven stuff for new clothes.\n\nBut alas, in the week before he returned, the dragon had seized and\ncarried her off to his lair, to eat her up, on the very day she was to\nbe a bride.\n\nThere was mourning in the father\u2019s home. The mother wept all day and\nthe old general was constantly asking, \u201cWho will fight the dragon and\nrescue my daughter?\u201d\n\nWhen Rufinus was on his way back home, he was met by a man, a native\nBelgian, famous for his skill as an archer. He, too, was in grief,\nbecause his only daughter had been grabbed by the dragon, when out\nwalking with the general\u2019s daughter, and he knew not whether she were\nyet alive. This man offered to go with Rufinus and help to slay the\ndragon, hoping that neither of the maidens had yet entered the\nmonster\u2019s maw. Every night, this poor father\u2019s dreams were of skulls\nand bones.\n\nWithout waiting to see any one, not even the general, Rufinus sharpened\nhis sword and spear. He prepared to go out at once, on his swiftest\nhorse to fight the monster. He took with him the Belgian archer, who\nknew all the paths and hiding places. Then they waited, until the wind\nwas favorable, so that the dragon would not get their scent, and go off\nin another direction. Then they got to windward of the monster, and hid\nbehind rocks, in a thicket, not far from the roadside.\n\nToward evening, as the twilight deepened into dusk, Rufinus looked up\ntoward the hilltops. He saw two round spots, like globes of fire, with\nsomething also, which was glistening and sending out rays from the\ncentre of his forehead. These were the eyes of the dragon, with the\nflashing jewel in between. Soon he saw the beams of the rising moon,\nreflected from the golden scales; as the terrible creature moved slowly\ndown the mountain side. His monstrous nose was bigger than a buffalo\u2019s.\nHe was sniffing the air, to the right and to the left, to catch sight,\neither of a man in hiding, or a maid walking. His long, thick\nmoustaches, like whip cords, thrashed about at everything within reach.\n\nNow, when the dragon moves along over the ground, with folded wings, he\nnever keeps his head quiet, or straight, for one moment; but sways it\nfrom side to side, and up and down, as if to see everything and to\ncatch the scent of any creature near, whether man or beast.\n\nSo when Rufinus looked up, he saw this monstrous head, high in the air\nwith open jaws, working and breathing out fire, which crackled like\nmimic lightning flashes. His long body, half hidden, trailed along, in\nand out, among the rocks and trees. The wind, blowing toward them, bore\nthe odor of burning sulphur, which, at times, nearly suffocated them.\nYet they dared not cough, lest the monster should hear them. For fear\nthe horse might snort, or stamp, or make any noise, the Belgian took\nout his flask of strong wine and blew some of the liquid into the\nanimal\u2019s nostrils; so that, while his nose was tingling, the animal\ncould think of nothing else, so the creature was as quiet, as if made\nof stone.\n\nBoth men, Rufinus on horseback, and the Belgian on foot, felt their\nhearts beating fast, as the latter waited for the monster to get within\narrow range, while Rufinus poised his spear and got ready to spur his\nhorse forward. The Belgian trusted to speed his shaft into the\nmonster\u2019s eye, and blind him, while Rufinus hoped for a thrust of his\nweapon down into the red cavern, into which so many maidens had slipped\nas food.\n\nBoth brave fellows thought not only of the glory that they should win,\nfor killing the dragon, and delivering the land from a curse, but of\nthe joy and gratitude which the rescued maidens would feel toward them\nas their deliverers. They would fight, even if they should be eaten up.\n\nWhen within a hundred yards of the two men, the monster paused to look\naround, as if he suspected danger. Then he reared up on his hind legs\nand tail. At this moment the temptation, to the Belgian archer, to\nshoot, was great; for he was then sure of hitting the dragon in the\nheart or stomach; but, he kept his arrow on the string, and waited.\nThey could hear the rattling of the golden scales, one upon the other,\nwhile the roar, that issued from the monster\u2019s throat, by which he\nexpected to scare away any living enemies, reminded them of thunder\nechoing among the high mountains.\n\nIt was the dragon\u2019s habit, after finding there was no danger, to halt,\nthen he would rest a while, so as to dispel suspicion, making every one\nthink he had gone; and then, he would silently pounce upon his prey.\n\n\u201cShall I shoot?\u201d whispered the Belgian excitedly, to Rufinus.\n\n\u201cYes, but be cool. Take your time and aim for the left eye, the one\nnearest to us,\u201d answered the Roman.\n\nThe Belgian drew the arrow clear up to his ear, and let fly. The\ndragon\u2019s cry of pain was so horrible, as almost to freeze the blood in\nthe men\u2019s veins. His howls showed that the shaft had hit its mark. Then\nRufinus, clapping spurs to his horse, dashed out into the path. The\nmonster, half blinded, flapped his wings, arched his back, rose up on\nhis hind feet and claws, and opened his terrible jaws, to dart at and\nswallow up the daring Roman. To the horse and rider, there seemed to\nyawn a deep, red cavern, down which, both might, in a moment, slide.\nThe two men trembled for a moment, but they did not flinch.\n\nBut before a claw could touch Rufinus, he had run his long,\nsteel-headed spear, deep down into the monster\u2019s throat. Then he drove\nhis rearing horse still forward, and pushed the weapon further down and\nclear into the monster\u2019s heart. With a bellow, that seemed to shake and\nrend the hills, making echoes even in the distant mountains, the\nwrithing mass of force and flesh fell over. The vicious brute, that,\none moment before, seemed to be a combination of all brutes and able to\nface an army, was now a lifeless mass, dead as a door nail.\n\nRufinus, drawing his dirk, began digging out of the dragon\u2019s forehead,\nthe flaming jewel. Washing it off in the brook, he reveled in its\nsplendor, and wished it could be for his bride. The Belgian hacked off\nfour or five of the golden scales, to show to the Roman general, as\nspecimens, and to prove his prowess, put them in his pocket.\n\nThe two men now gave their attention to rescuing their loved ones.\n\nNeither the father, nor the lover, was, by any means, sure of finding\nthe objects of their quest, the daughter and the betrothed, alive; but,\nafter climbing up the path, a shout of recognition in the distance was\nheard. It was from both the maidens, who lifted up their voices\ntogether. For an hour or more, they were both laughing and crying. In\nthe cavern lair, they found four other girls, that were to make meals\nfor the dragon. He usually kept a supply on hand.\n\nThe wedding, of Rufinus and his promised bride, took place the\nfollowing week; and the Belgian\u2019s daughter, her former companion in\nfear and misery, was one of the bridesmaids.\n\nAll this time, the mechanics and goldsmiths, under command of an\ninspector, were busy in wrenching off the golden scales, to make a\ndowry for the bride of Rufinus. One of the most skilful craftsmen set\nthe dragon jewel in a coronet. This shone like a radiant star, on the\nforehead of the lovely bride. She looked very sweet, as she walked to\nchurch, while all the maidens in the town scattered flowers before her\npath. The four girls, that had been rescued from the monster\u2019s lair,\nled the van.\n\nAnd ever after that, the people of Mons have celebrated the festival of\nthe victory of Rufinus over the golden dragon of the Boringue. But in\ntheir Walloon speech, the name of the dragon means a snail, and the\nname of the hero is Gilles de Chin. Every year the people have their\nfun, and no wars or troubles can change their customs.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nTHE RED CAPS AND THE HUNTERS\n\n\nOnce upon a time there was an enormous creature that lived in the Land\nof Sentiment, called The Lion of the Netherlands. It was as big as the\ntwo countries, Holland and Belgium put together. Its lower limbs and\nhaunches extended down, into the southern part of the Seventeen\nProvinces, and rested upon the high grounds of the Ardennes, upon the\ncrags on which, a burg, or castle, was usually built. So this portion\nof the earth, which the lion straddled, with his lower limbs, was\ncalled Limburg.\n\nWhen the mighty beast stood up, to make a rampant position, it poked\nits nose so far north and towards the pole, that it was nearly frozen.\nSo they called that part of the country Friesland; or, as the boys used\nto spell it\u2014Freezeland! Now the Dutch and Flemish for lion, is Leeuw;\nand there, the chief city was Leeuwarden, or the Lion City of the\nNorth.\n\nThe middle part of this creature, that is, the Lion of the Map, lay\nbetween France and Germany. To find room for its long tail, Leeuw had\nto whisk his tip-tuft almost up to Scotland, while the root end, and\nbulging curve of the long tail, nearly touched England. It made faces\nat Germany, but its back was toward the British Isles. Its eyes were\nvery near, what the Dutch call their eilanden, and its grinning mouth\nopened near a place called Leer.\n\nWhen this Lion was angry, and got its back up, like a monstrous cat,\nits roaring could be heard in Denmark.\n\nIn this Country of Seventeen Provinces, comprising Dutch folks, the\nFlemings, and the Walloons, there were also fifty places named, in one\nway or another, after the king of beasts. There were lion castles, lion\nhills, lion mountains, lion dykes, caves, corners, lanes, stones,\nnooks, valleys and capes. It seemed as if every pretty place, in\nBelgic, Dutch and Walloon geography had a lion for a namesake.\n\nThe Netherlanders, however, were not satisfied with only a geographical\nlion. Nor were they happy in having a lion that lies down only in an\natlas, or that lives in fairy land, or of which kings and noblemen are\nso fond, when they make use of him in heraldry; that is, they put the\nbeast on their banners, seals, crests, and coats of arms. Oldest in\nEurope is this Belgian lion.\n\nOf these heraldic lions, that were never seen either in cages, or at\nthe circus, nor even in Africa, or Asia, there were too many, already.\nThey were crowned, or double-headed, as if a crown could put more\nbrains in one\u2019s noddle! or, as if two heads on the same beast were\nbetter than one! Some of them even had two tails, though what a lion,\nany more than a cow, wanted with more than one tail, was not clear.\n\nMoreover, some of these heraldic beasts had tufted, or floriated tails,\nlike gilliflowers. Or, they were curled in the middle, or frizzed all\nthe way down. These lions were made to wear chains, jewelry, or\nflowers, or to stand on their hind legs, holding a shield, or coat of\narms, or a flaming advertisement, of beer, or turnips, or waffles, or\ncookies. Besides these, some others had to stand up and wiggle their\nfore paws, like puppies asking for a dog biscuit. Worse than this, a\nfew had to snicker and smirk, and grin, or leer, as if hearing good\nnews, from their dams or cubs in Africa; or, as if they were reading a\ncomic supplement to a Sunday newspaper. In fact, such lions, except in\nstone, or wood, or paint, or calico, were never heard of, in the\njungles of Asia, or the veldts of Africa.\n\nNow the Belgians wanted a lion, that was not on the map, nor in\nheraldry, or on a duke\u2019s crest, or cut in stone or wood, or in a\npicture, but a live one, that could snarl, and bite, and roar, and go\non a rampage. Yet, how should they capture a genuine male lion, a real\nbeast, with a big beard and mane? Only one that could growl, and roar,\nand stand, and leap, or jump ten feet, and be able to eat up a calf,\nand pick its bones, or swallow ten pounds of mutton, or beef, at a\nmeal, would fill the bill. Besides making faces, and swishing its tail\naround, and rearing up on its hind legs, and scratching with its four\npaws, it must have a tufted tail, at least a yard long. Nothing else\nwould suit the Belgians, who are very proud of their country. They\nwanted a lion that would beat all creation.\n\nNow there were two hunters, who were reckoned the bravest in all the\nBelgic realm. One was a Fleming and spoke Dutch. The other was a\nWalloon, and his speech was French; but the talk of both was about wild\ngame, and how to get it. Happily, both understood each other\u2019s\nlanguage, when, in conversation about lions, or any other subject that\nrelated to the chase.\n\nIn these old days, before guns or powder, or bullets or cannon, they\nhunted wild animals with spears; and, with their arrows, they could\nbring down any bears, boars, or aurochs in the land. They had trapped\nall sorts of smaller animals, such as deer, foxes, rabbits, hares, and\nweasels, beside every variety of wild ducks, geese, and other birds,\nthat were good to eat.\n\nBut a lion! Even if they went to Africa, how could they lure one out of\nthe bush into the veldt, or get at him, when near a water hole? Their\nidea was to bring one alive to Belgium, in order to exhibit him. Then,\nthe people would know what the real king of beasts was. Then, the\nartists and sculptors, also, could make pictures or statues. They might\nthus be able to learn, and to show, the difference between an imaginary\nor a paper lion, and the genuine monarch of the jungle.\n\nThese two hunters met at a place called Kabouterberg, or the Hill of\nthe Elves, or fairies, called Kabouters; though the Belgian fairies\nthat live in caves, are called Klabbers, or Red Caps. In this hill,\nwhich is near Gelrode village, one may see a number of little caves,\nwhere they used to live long ago. The two hunters and the elves were\ngreat friends. It is even commonly reported among the peasants, that\nthese brave fellows could often see the Klabbers, when no one else\ncould lay eyes on them; for they had unusually sharp eyesight. Though\nthese hunters killed birds and animals for food, or fur, or to sell\nthem, for a living, they were never once cruel. So the little Klabbers,\nliked the hunters, and never played any quellen, or bad tricks, on\nthem, or their traps; though the imps often vexed mean and naughty\npeople. Then these angry folks would call these Red Caps\n\u201cquel-duivels,\u201d or plaguey rascals, but for this, the Klabbers did not\ncare a copper.\n\nThese two hunters having finished their long tramp, the one from the\nArdennes and the other from the Campine, met late in the afternoon, at\nGelrode. Being hungry, each pulled out of his bag, some sausages and\nbread; and there they sat eating until twilight.\n\n\u201cI hope we shall see the Klabbers, tonight,\u201d said one fellow to the\nother. \u201cI wonder if they are likely to come out.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think it probable,\u201d said the other. \u201cThe little Red Caps play around\nhere very often. I\u2019ve seen them before. They are always up to some\ntricks, or play, and I like to see them at it.\u201d\n\nThe hunters had not long to wait, for no sooner had the shades of\nevening fallen, than out of the small caves in the hill, issued the\nfunniest sort of a procession of little people, of all colors. Some had\ngreen faces and hands and others had blue. Each bore a tiny lantern,\nhardly as big as a glow worm; so that they looked like a line of\nfireflies. They made a sort of parade, several hundreds of feet long.\nEach one had, stuck in his belt, a little roll of something.\n\nA Klabber is about half as high as a yard stick. As to their bodies,\nsome were all red, from top to bottom, some yellow, some pink, and some\nblue.\n\nThere were a few white and black ones, but all had either green or blue\nhands and faces, with red caps on their heads.\n\nHaving come out for a frolic, they soon ranged themselves, in two long\nopposite rows, one against the other.\n\nThen they began to dance, and caper, and tumble head over heels, and\npull each other\u2019s noses, which made the two hunters laugh heartily.\n\nBut pretty soon, with the many colors of their bodies and bright caps,\nand green hands and red faces, they made such a medley of tints and\nhues, that the hunters laughed still more uproariously at the jolly\nsight. They could not tell which was which. From being puzzled, the two\nmen got so confused, that they suffered from a real brain storm. It was\nas though a hundred rainbows had been all smashed together, or were\nwobbling about. By and bye, there seemed no color at all, and the men\nactually became dizzy.\n\nThe next bit of fun, on the Red Caps\u2019 program, was to tear up the bits\nof paper, which they carried in their belts, and roll them round. Or\nthey made their little torches, out of dead twigs and leaves. Then,\nwhen all was ready, they ranged themselves into two lines again, as if\ntwo parties were trying to see which could beat the other in a game of\nsmoke.\n\nEach Red Cap pulled out his lantern and lighted the little roll of\npaper and leaves. Then he tried to blow the smoke into the face of a\nrival, on the opposite side. All the time, they kept up their laughing\nand chattering, like a lot of monkeys.\n\nThese Klabbers, were playing the game called camouflet, or smoke-blow.\nBy the time the game was half over, the eyes of most of them were full\nof smoke, so that hardly any could see where they were going. In their\nglee, they tumbled over each other, making such a mess of colors, that\nthe hunters were themselves so stupefied, that they began to wonder\nwhether they had any brains left; for they could neither distinguish\none color, or one Klabber, from another. When the men thought of\nrainbows, they wondered if rainbows ever got drunk.\n\nAt last, when all were tired out, and the fun lagged, the general of\nthe Klabbers called off the game, and announced which side had gained\nthe victory. The Green Faces had won over the Blues.\n\nThen all the Klabbers picked up their lanterns, and, marching back up\nthe hill, disappeared, in the little holes, or caves.\n\n\u201cSaint Christopher, help me! I have it,\u201d said the Flemish hunter.\n\u201cWe\u2019ll go to Africa and play the camouflet game on the lions. We\u2019ll\ngive them a brain storm of color, and then we\u2019ll catch them, when their\nheads are upset.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy Saint Hubert, yes,\u201d said the Walloon. \u201cCome on! Let us make a big\nthing of it and call it camouflage. We\u2019ll capture our lion with\npaintpots and brushes. The bigger the lion, the easier he will be\nfooled.\u201d\n\nWhen the hunters lay down to sleep, they dreamed of camouflaged houses,\nships, lions and men and of their voyage to Africa.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nTHE SPLIT TAILED LION\n\n\nThe two hunters went to Antwerp and embarked on one of the large ships,\nsuch as the crusaders made use of, to get to Jerusalem.\n\nReaching the mouth of the Nile, they tarried awhile in Cairo and in\nKhartoum, and then pushed into the interior. They engaged a company of\nnative blacks, to carry their baggage, beat the bush, drive out the\nlions, and carry the beast, when caught, in a cage; to the return\nships. The whole party, strung out in a line, marched into a famous\nwide valley, where were also veldts, or open spaces. They camped to the\nwindward of a big water hole, to which the lions resorted, for drink\nand their prey. There, they made a strong \u201chide-up,\u201d or enclosure, of\ntall reeds, bushes, and boughs of trees, all interlaced together. This\nwas for them to hide behind. Here they opened the lids of their\npaintpots, and got ready their brushes to daub themselves all over,\nwith seventeen different tints and hues, in streaks, spots, dabs, lines\nand figures.\n\nThe next day, the negroes brought in a report that, besides several\nsmall lions, that were in the bush, there was one big fellow, the king\nof them all. He was a famous man-eater, and had tasted many a black\ndaddy and mammy, besides not a few pickaninnies. So it is no wonder\nthat the African people, in telling the hunters about this beast, made\nhim out to be so enormous, that it was thought a whole ox could hardly\nfurnish him with one dinner; but this was just the sort about which\nthey wanted to hear, for they were not afraid. They had been practicing\ncamouflage, while on the ship and were now experts. The way they could\nsling paint on a man\u2019s body, and dress him up in damaged rainbows, made\nthem feel sure they could upset all the lion\u2019s calculations. In fact,\nthey believed they could raise a brain storm, in any beast that tried\nto look at them, no matter how large, or cunning he might be.\n\nFirst they had the negroes dig a deep pit, and cover it over with\npoles, branches, leaves and earth. They caught a fat pig, and in spite\nof its squeals, they tied it to a stake, in front of the pit, out on\nthe flat ground.\n\nThen, stripping off their clothes, the two men went to the paintpots.\nThey striped each other in wide bands, of several colors, painted round\nblotches, and curves, back and front, and so daubed, and streaked, and\nspotted their faces, arms, legs, back and front, that one look might\nmake a man or beast, first cross-eyed, and then blind, and finally\nstupefied. Even the scabbards of their long knives, their only arms\u2014for\nthey would take no risks\u2014when painted in streaks, looked like a lot of\ncrooked rainbows.\n\nWhen the signal was given to the black men, to go around and shout, and\nbeat the bush, Piggy began to squeal and ramp around, as if he knew he\nwould soon be inside the lion. At once the big brute seeing the pig,\nand hoping to get a good meal, advanced toward what he supposed was to\nbe his dinner.\n\nNow this king of the lions had often seen human beings, but these were\nalways of a dark color, with tints, ranging from chocolate brown to\nebony black. He had eaten men and children for breakfast, dinner and\nsupper, with an occasional extra lunch in the form of a baby. The\nlion\u2019s idea was, that all human beings were black, for he had never\ntraveled to Europe, with a circus company, or to Rome to fight and claw\ngladiators. So, when driven out by the shouting of the bush-beaters,\nthe big beast plunged out into the veldt, and charged toward the pork.\nHe was the father of lions, in size, with a face as big as a wash tub,\nand on which there was enough long hair to stuff a mattress with.\n\nYet in the way things turned out, there was no need, either of pig, or\npit; for the paintpots did the business. The two brave hunters were not\nafraid of the monstrous beast. They rushed out of their hide-up, and\nstood in his path, moving about zig-zag and crosswise, from right to\nleft. This bothered the lion most awfully. He could not tell who was\nwho, or which was which, or what was what. Relatively speaking, he\nforgot whether he was himself, or his wife, or his cubs, or something\nelse.\n\nNow the lion is an intellectual beast, at least he has that reputation;\nbut what creature lives, that can take in, and hold, two ideas at one\ntime? But, to have seventeen colors, hues, tints, and shades, moving\nbefore him, fairly scrambled the contents of the lion\u2019s brain pan.\n\nAs the two hunters leaped, danced, capered, gyrated and turned\nsomersaults before him, the beast lost all power to think or move. His\nbrain became as an omelet. He fell down helpless, whining piteously.\n\nThe two camouflaged hunters then went up to his very nose and tweaked\nit. They pulled his ears, they jerked his tail, and they dragged his\ncarcass around; yet he cared nothing about all this, for he was\nwondering whether he was a lion; or if not, what?\n\nBefore he could unscramble his senses and recover his eyesight, the\nhunters, with help of a score or more of the sturdy negroes, had boxed\nhim up. The cage was slung on the shoulders of a dozen bearers, and\nborne in triumph to the ship.\n\nOn the voyage back to Belgium if, at any time, the king of beasts was\nsurly, or misbehaved himself, or wanted fresh meat in the form of a\nsailor, instead of salt pork, all that was necessary to make him a good\nlion again, was for one of the hunters to camouflage himself, in all\ncolors, and then make believe to enter his den to chastise him. But no\nspear, or red hot iron, or bottle of hartshorne was necessary.\n\nThe lion, on seeing the frightful figure, stopped his roaring at once,\ngot down off his hind legs, ceased his rampage, and settled down as\nquiet as a guinea pig. Sometimes he would even lie down and roll over\non his back and flop his paws up and down, as if to say, \u201cPlease don\u2019t!\nI\u2019ll be a good lion, if you won\u2019t tire my poor brain, and give me a\nheadache, with your old camouflage.\u201d But occasionally, he gave a low\ngrowl as if swearing at such an impish invention; for, the story-teller\nis grieved to say that the lion learned some bad language while aboard\nthe ship.\n\nNevertheless, it was not the beast but the men, that broke the peace;\nfor one was a Fleming and the other a Walloon, and they quarrelled as\nto which part of Belgium was the oldest and most honorable from the\ntime of C\u00e6sar. Each stood up stoutly for his language, and his\ndistrict, claiming that it was his ancestors that had made Belgium\ngreat.\n\nFor this time of their quarrel was long before the Belgian people were\na true nation, with one flag, one king and a glorious national unity.\n\nOne day, the two men got into a dispute as to which of the two, the\nWalloon, or the Fleming, deserved the greater credit, for confusing and\ncapturing the lion. The contention waxed so hot, that they almost came\nto blows. Then each one camouflaged himself and tried to get possession\nof the lion, both entering the cage, but from opposite sides.\n\nBut at such a sight, the king of beasts again lost his wits, and had\ntwo brain storms at one time, from opposite lobes of the brain. He\nretreated into a corner, stuck his nose through the bars, and curled up\nhis legs and toes, so that neither of the hunters could get hold of\nanything but his tail, and hardly more than the tuft of that. Each man\ngrabbed hold of his caudal hair and pulled so hard, that, in spite of\nthe roars of pain, from the poor beast, they split the creature\u2019s tail,\nhalf way up, and it never healed, or came together again.\n\nSo with a split tail, double for half its length, but, fortunately with\na bit of tuft on each tip, the Belgian lion flourishes today. One half\nof its divided tail is Walloon and the other half Flemish; yet now,\nwith pure patriotism, and loyal to a hero king and a noble queen, and\nwith all the people united in devotion to their homeland, only the\nBelgian lion\u2019s tail recalls the history of the past; while its body and\nlimbs represent the majesty, the courage, and the devotion of the brave\nBelgian people.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\nRINALDO AND HIS WONDERFUL HORSE BAYARD\n\n\nThere was a Belgian lord, named Aymon, who built a castle in the\nmountainous part of Belgium. It was on so high a peak that it seemed\nalso as if no one but eagles, or fairies, could live in it.\n\nBesides his brave soldiers with him in the castle, Aymon\u2019s four\nstalwart sons were there to help him. Their names were Rinaldo, Allard,\nGuichard, and Richard. They were the biggest men known in the country.\nRinaldo, the oldest, was as tall as the largest giant, for he stood\nsixteen feet high. When he rode a horse, he had to twist his legs up\naround the pommel of his saddle, so that his heels or toes would not\ndig into the ground, or drag on behind. In fact, no horse wanted to be\nunder him, and there was always misery in stables, whenever it was\nknown that Rinaldo wanted to go out riding, or hunting. But the horse\nBayard always enjoyed careering over the country with his master in the\nsaddle.\n\nHappily, this long-legged fellow had a cousin, named Mangis, who pitied\nhim for having such long legs, and being thus obliged to pay a large\ntailor\u2019s bill, every time he wanted a pair of leggings. Moreover,\nMarquis was sorry for the horses which Rinaldo had to ride, and wanted\nto find out some way to make it easier, for the dumb creatures in the\nstables.\n\nNow the castle of Duke Aymon was at Egremont, a few leagues from the\nfamous city of Li\u00e8ge. Its master thought it to be so strong, that no\narmy, however brave, or supplied with good engineers and plenty of\ncatapults, could ever conquer it.\n\nWhen Charlemagne sent a host of mighty men to Egremont, and the\ncommander ordered his trumpeter to go to the gate of Aymon, and there\ndemand his surrender, the proud Duke behaved both haughtily and\nnaughtily. He put his thumb to his nose and then wiggled his four\nfingers at the trumpeter, in the most impolite manner. He then bade his\nmaster to go and eat turnips, and not bother him any more, with his\nfoolish chatter about surrendering. He had beef, and bread, and\nsausages, and oats and hay, enough to last five years. Moreover, he did\nnot care a clam shell for Charlemagne and all his host. Let them go and\nfight the Saracens, if they wanted to. Who cared?\n\nThe trumpeter came once more, and repeated his demand that Duke Aymon\nshould come out of his castle, and kneel down before Charlemagne and\nbeg his pardon, kiss his hand, and promise to be loyal and obedient.\n\nBut the Duke, instead of listening politely, was even more impudent,\nthan before. This time he not only wiggled the fingers of his right\nhand at the trumpeter, but he actually wiggled-waggled. That is, as\nsoon as the trumpeter ceased blowing, he put his right thumb to his\nnose, and then, joining the little finger of the right hand, to the\nthumb of his left hand, he made a most contemptuous double motion, with\nall of his ten fingers wiggling at once.\n\nAt this the trumpeter, having lost his temper at the Duke, who was high\nup on the walls, shook his fist at him, and went off in high dudgeon.\nHe reported to Charlemagne that his overproud vassal had actually\nwiggled-waggled to his face.\n\nThereupon, Charlemagne ordered his army to bring up the catapults, and\nthey sent a storm of stones into the castle. They hurled blazing\nbundles of oil soaked in tow, while the archers and crossbowmen swept\nthe turrets and walls with showers of arrows, and iron-headed bolts.\nThis was to keep off the besiegers from the ramparts, so that they\ncould not interfere with the sappers and miners. These men were far\ndown on the lowest side of the castle, digging below the foundations,\nso as to undermine the walls and tumble them down. They dug the earth\naway, with their picks and hammers, and then knocked away several rods\nof masonry. At first, they supported the walls at intervals with heavy\npillars of wood, made of tree trunks, until all was ready. Then, they\nwould set the wooden columns on fire, and the whole side of the castle\nwould fall down.\n\nThen again, Aymon was summoned to surrender, but nothing came of it;\nfor, hardly had the echoes of the trumpet died away, before the duke\nwas seen again at his old game of \u201csniggle-fritz\u201d; that is, of playing\nwiggle-waggle, with both hands and his ten fingers. Meanwhile, he said\nall sorts of saucy things, boasting of how many barrels of salt beef he\nhad in his larder, and bushels of oats in his bins.\n\nPoor old fellow, he did not know that the fires, under the foundations\nof the walls, were to be kindled that night, which would spill most of\nhis castle and all of his storehouses and stables into the valley, far\nbeneath.\n\nBut his oldest son Rinaldo, the long-legged fellow, had also a long\nneck, like a rope. Stretching it out, with his body leaning far over\nthe wall, he could see what was coming. But his father, the duke, would\nnot yet believe there was any danger.\n\nSo Rinaldo got the horse Bayard, with the family saddle cleaned up, and\nall ready to escape. He vowed to keep up the war, even if his father\nwas taken prisoner.\n\nThis was just what happened. Even when the enemy lighted the fires, at\nsundown, and the smoke rolled up over the ramparts, the old Duke\nstubbornly pooh-poohed the idea of any real danger.\n\nBut about midnight, a terrific noise, like a peal of thunder, was\nheard. Then one would have thought that the tail board of a cart, as\nlarge as a town hall, had been pulled out, and a million bricks were\nbeing dumped out. The walls slid down, the towers crashed over, and\nbarns, storehouses, soldiers, horses, and engines of war were tumbled\nin one heap of rubbish into the valley.\n\nThen Charlemagne\u2019s host rushed in with sword and spear. The Duke Aymon\nwas taken prisoner and sent to Aix-la-Chapelle.\n\nBut Rinaldo was ready. Hearing the enemy\u2019s trumpet sound for the\ncharge, he went to the stable, situated on the safe side of the castle,\nand led out the horse Bayard. Then he called his three brothers to his\nside, and coolly fed the animal a peck of magic oats, which the\nenchanter, Maugis, had given him. He was in no hurry, for he knew what\nwas coming, while the three brothers watched in wonder. Rinaldo had in\nmind a secret path through the woods.\n\nAt the first mouthful of oats, Bayard began to lengthen out and\nenlarge, steadily increasing in size; until, having finished its feed,\nthe faithful brute looked up and nodded. Some say he winked his eye, as\nif he enjoyed fooling the enemy.\n\nThe four brothers then leaped upon Bayard\u2019s back, and away he flew like\nthe wind, never stopping until the heart of the forest of Ardennes was\nreached.\n\nThere, at Montfort, overlooking the Ourthe River, one of the highest\nrocky places, they reared a still stronger castle, with a triple line\nof walls and moats. The keep, or donjon, was perched on a pinnacle.\nThere they lived unmolested several years, keeping up a wild life as\noutlaws; concerning which all Belgian children have heard. They defied\nCharlemagne to come and take their stronghold.\n\nThey built a special stable, long enough to hold the horse Bayard, when\nhe should lengthen himself out; either for his own amusement, or for\nthe family of brothers, to take a ride. They gave him every day a good\nfeed of oats and hay, and the mountain springs furnished the best of\nwater. They made for him a new saddle, which was eight feet long, so\nthat the four brothers could ride more comfortably, if they had to\nmount him again in a hurry, to escape, or to go for a long joy ride.\n\nBut Charlemagne, resolving to get rid of these troublesome fellows,\ncame into the Ardennes, with a bigger army and many war engines. After\na long siege, he captured the castle.\n\nAgain the wonderful horse, Bayard, was brought out and its lengthened\nback having been duly strapped with the saddle, which was as big as a\nsofa, the four brothers jumped nimbly on its back. Bayard was so swift,\nthat they escaped every one of the war bolts and arrows, which whizzed\npast them, from the sharpshooters, who were posted up in the trees and\namong the rocks. In fact, in its fleetness, this wonderful horse beat\nthe wind. The four brothers never ceased their gallop, until they had\nreached Gascony, in France, in the dominions of King Yon. Here they\nentered his service, to drive out the Saracens.\n\nBut although they served loyally in the army of this monarch, who used\na good deal of Gasconade, or boasting about his benevolence, he proved\na traitor. He basely delivered up the four brothers to Charlemagne; but\nin due time they all escaped.\n\nNow this story is not so much about the four men, as about Bayard, the\nmost famous of all horses.\n\nIt is enough to say, that, after this time, the four brothers\nseparated, three to seek more adventures in war, and the fourth to\nfollow the pursuits of peace. What became of the three, who were the\nyounger, we are not informed.\n\nAbout the tall brother, Rinaldo, however, many stories are told, and a\nthousand streets, hotels, or parks, in France and Italy and Belgium,\nare named after him. Tired of war, he became a monk and entered the\ncloister in the city that makes sweet smelling eau de Cologne, or\ncologne water. He had shown much skill in building forts and castles,\nbut now he resolved to rear a grand cathedral, more splendid than any\nin the Rhine country. He thus became one of the first architects of\nthat noble house of worship, whose two magnificent spires have been\ncompleted, only within the memory of men still living.\n\nRinaldo evidently had a bad temper, and, this time, instead of a\nquarrel over a chess board, he got into a row with the masons, and\nthese rough fellows threw him into the river Rhine and let him drown.\nYet later the pope made him a saint and a fine monument to his memory,\nand over his relics, was reared in the city of Dortmund, where the\nGermans brew much beer and whence, from the mines near by, they dig up\nmuch coal.\n\nOf the younger brothers, the last one before he died, gave Bayard a\ngood feed of oats, and then slapping him on the flank let him go free.\nBayard trotted off and back to Belgic Land and into the forest of\nArdennes. There, happy and free with no work to do, or burdens to\ncarry, Bayard enjoyed the freedom of the wild horse.\n\nBut at last, Charlemagne\u2019s men captured the splendid animal, and\nbrought him before the mighty ruler, who thus addressed Bayard:\n\n\u201cYou have often in the past brought my plans to naught, but now you do\nso no more.\u201d\n\nThereupon Charlemagne gave orders that a great heavy stone, as big as a\nload of hay, should be tied around his neck. Then Bayard was to be\ndriven off the high rock at Dinant, into the Maas, or Meuse, River;\nand, as every one might expect, to be drowned.\n\nNow the lofty pinnacle rock at Dinant, called the Roche \u00e0 Bayard,\nstands up by the river side. In shape, it is like an old fashioned\nsugar loaf, or a colossal Lombardy poplar, or a pointed fir tree,\nturned into stone. Close to it, is the solid bed rock of the hill.\nBetween both, a famous high road runs, so that the two masses form a\nnatural stone portal, or gateway, into the suburbs of the famous and\nbeautiful city of Dinant.\n\nThousands of people assembled to see the wonderful sight, expecting the\nfuneral and a watery grave of a noble animal that must surely be\ndrowned. Some wept copiously, at the loss of so splendid a creature.\nBayard had certainly been loyal to its masters and deserved a better\nfate.\n\nBut, instead of grief and sadness, there was merriment. In place of\ndrowning, a resurrection and a triumph surprised the multitude of\ngazers. For one moment, the gallant animal was seen, leaping into the\nair. Then, with a tremendous splash, the horse fell into the Maas\nRiver.\n\nIn the next moment, however, he had shaken off the load, and leaving\nthe big stone behind him, swam across the river. Emerging from the\nstream, Bayard shook off the water from his flank. Then, rearing up on\nhis hind legs, he neighed three times, as much as to say \u201ccatch me, if\nyou can\u201d; and trotted off into the woods.\n\nNo wonder the Belgian children believe that such a horse is immortal,\nand still lives. He courses, even yet, through the Ardennes forest. He\nneighs occasionally, but never allows himself to be seen of men, for he\ndoes not trust them.\n\nWhat King Arthur is to the Welsh little folks, the horse Bayard, is to\nthe children in Belgium, for the fairy horse Bayard, never dies.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\nTHE BELGIAN BUNNY\n\n\nLong before there was a church spire in Belgic Land, or a cross had\ngleamed in the sunset air, there was a lovely fairy, named Eastre. She\nwas so bright and beautiful, that men thought of her as the lady of the\nupspringing light, at dawn, where her palace was built in the air. So\nthey called her Eastre, or the East, or the Orient, after that part of\nthe sky and the world, from which the sunshine first comes daily, and\nalso, whence, for thousands of years, so many things have come from the\ndear old mother continent of Asia!\n\nNow, on one of her first daily journeys, in traveling from the Orient,\nQueen Eastre, who was very fond of the Belgian people, brought with her\na special gift for them. It was not gold, or pearls, or flowers, but\nfour members of the rodent, or gnawing family; that is, a pair of\nrabbits, and a couple of hares. These long eared creatures look very\nmuch like each other, but belong to different species. She set them\nloose in the country and let them run free. They soon multiplied, so\nthat, in a century or so, there were millions of them, in both\nfamilies.\n\nWherever one went, he would see Mr. and Mrs. Bunny and their children.\nWhether it was up in the hills, or the high part of the Walloon\ncountry, where the birch and the pine trees grow, and the houses are of\nstone, or, down in the Flemish low lands, where are the lime and willow\ntrees, and many houses of wood or birch, there were the Bunny families\nand plenty of them.\n\nMost of these fuzzy creatures were well behaved, and quite mild in\ntheir manners. The children liked them and had rabbit warrens, or\nburrows in the ground, where the tuft-tails lived; or, they kept them\nin coops, or open boxes, as pets. The little folks were delighted to\nfind them so soft and fluffy. Their long ears served for handles, by\nwhich they could be lifted up easily, and carried about. The bunnies\ndid not squeal, or bite, or kick, though they sometimes squirmed and\nwriggled tremendously. The boys and girls gave their pets queer names,\nsuch as Molly Cotton-tail, Mr. Buzz-Fuzz, Monsieur Snowball, or Mynheer\nPowder Puff, in winter; and, in summer, Bark Nibbler, or Hop Skipper,\nor Three Lips. This was on the idea, that the upper covering of the\nmouth consisted of two parts, instead of one.\n\nNobody ever knew, or could tell, why Mr. Bunny or Mrs. Bunny had a\nsplit upper lip; but all noticed that both the little and big bunnies\nhad the same sort of a mouth-covering. This was very plain to be seen;\nfor, except when they were asleep, the pretty creatures were either\neating, or chewing something; and so they appeared to be nibbling or\ngnawing most of the time. Yet this was long before the days of chewing\ngum, when even human beings and some polite people let their mouths act\nlike those of four-footed folk. In fact, these Belgian bunnies seemed\nto be just like some of our girls, that buy gum in the shops and then\nwork their jaws, until they are tired and gradually grow very large,\nlike a camel\u2019s or a donkey\u2019s.\n\nBut after the Belgians had built churches, and took the fairy queen\u2019s\nname for a great festival, which occurred, when the flowers were out,\nand eggs were plenty, it was told why it was; and this was the story:\n\nAges ago, when the moon was young, there lived a pretty fairy in the\nSky Country of Silver Light, with whom Bunny\u2014they called him Prince\nBunny then, for he was very handsome\u2014fell in love. He often looked up\nat the moon, which hung in the sky, like a round mirror. There he\nimagined he saw his own face. So he came to believe himself as handsome\nas she was. He wanted so much to get married, that he became crazy over\nher. Especially, in the month of March, did he get wildly excited, for\nin those far off early days, the old year ended, and the new one began,\nin that month. At nearly the same time, the earth began to think of\nputting on her beautiful new dress of flowers. It was not until long\nafterward, in western countries, that the almanac was changed, so that\nNew Year\u2019s day came as it does now, in January, and thus the flower\ntime was pushed forward, almost into summer.\n\nPrince Bunny kept on making love to the fairy in the moon, and at last\nshe had to get rid of his importunity, that is, his teasing her, for an\nanswer, by letting him come up into her shining palace.\n\nBut no sooner was he there, than she cast a spell upon him, and made\nhim work hard as a servant. She gave him some rushes, that had much\ngrit in them, and acted like a scouring cloth. Then she set him to\npolishing the moon\u2019s bright face; so, that when she turned it full and\nround upon the earth, she could flood the whole sky with her radiance.\nBy her light on the earth, men could see to read, even at midnight, and\nold ladies in Scotland could thread needles at nine o\u2019clock.\n\nAfter thus brightening up her face, and helping to increase her beauty,\nBunny, the prince, thought his mistress would change him back into a\nhuman being, and let him marry her.\n\nBut lo! Whatever her intention might have been, she fell sick and\ncalled one of the famous genii, who was the doctor of the sky world. He\nfelt her pulse, put his hand upon her forehead and made her open her\npretty mouth, to show her tongue. Then he decided that nothing could\ncure her dreadful disorder and make her well again, but the elixir of\nlife. This is compounded chiefly from the bruised leaf of the cassia\ntree, and the medicine must be given often. In fact, nothing else would\ndo, but that Prince Bunny must go to the planet Venus, and get a young\ncassia tree, that grew there and transplant it to Moon Land. Then, for\na thousand years, as men on earth measure time, the cassia leaves must\nbe pounded in a mortar, with a pestle, and out of the juice the elixir\nof life must be made.\n\nAnd, of course, nobody could go and get this wonderful tree, but Prince\nBunny. He also must plant it, pick the leaves, and pound away, until\nthe magic liquid flowed. Of course, the Moon Lady said to Bunny,\ncalling him Prince, and putting on her sweetest smile, \u201cYou will be\nglad to do this service, because of your great affection for me. So run\nalong, and be quick.\u201d\n\nPrince Bunny made the journey, and pulled up the tree by the roots.\nWhen he returned to the Moon Land, he planted it, plucked the leaves,\nand began to pound away to make the medicine. From time to time, the\nelixir was made and the Moon Queen drank it and got well, but Bunny had\nto keep on. Many millions of mortals on the earth, when they saw how\nbusy and faithful he was at his task, admired his devotion. They\nnoticed, also, that he had changed from being a courting lad to a\ndruggist. Then they said:\n\n\u201cHow he must love her!\u201d and many a faithful maiden sighed, hoping she\nmight have so fervent a lover and so faithful a spouse.\n\nBut during all this while, to the Fairy Queen, there was no such thing\nas time; for the moon is never in shadow like the earth, and there is\nno night in Moon Land. So she hardly noticed his absences, either when\non his journey, or at his work, which made him so terribly tired. The\nfairy\u2019s spell was on him, and he had to keep at his toil, according to\nthe calendar, which men used on the earth.\n\nAfter a thousand years of pounding in the mortar, and handing over the\ncassia leaves, to be made into the elixir of life, Prince Bunny felt\nquite sure that the Moon Queen would now take him for her husband. But\nshe, being now well and hearty, called him to her and said:\n\n\u201cNow that the Belgians have churches, I want you to go down into their\ncountry and bear from me a message. You are to present it through the\nQueen of the East, the fairy, Eastre.\u201d\n\nAnd this was the word, which the Moon Queen gave to be delivered:\n\n\u201cFor days together, you mortals see me die in the sky; but I come again\ninto fullness of life. So shall you die, but live again. This is my\nmessage to you. May you be happy as you think of it.\u201d\n\nBut Prince Bunny flew into a rage. He was smarting under three\ngrievances. The Moon Queen had kept him so long, working for her; she\nwould not now release him into his former human form; and, she would\nnot marry him, and be his wife. So, in bad temper, this is the way he\ngave his message to the Belgic folk.\n\n\u201cAs I die and live no more, so shall it be with you poor mortals.\u201d\n\nAlas that the people all believed what Bunny said, and they grieved for\na long time, but Prince Bunny only laughed and chuckled over the\nmischief he had made.\n\nWhen he returned to Moon Land, the Queen asked him what he had said, or\ndone, for she heard the people crying. Then he answered, with\nimpudence, and boasted that he had outwitted human beings, who often\ntreated bunnies badly. He rather thought the Queen might be impressed\nwith his smartness and that now, she would marry him.\n\nBut the Lady of the Moon was very angry at him, and lost her\nself-control. Seeing a hatchet lying near, which Prince Bunny had used\nto chop off twigs of the cassia tree, she lifted it up and threw it at\nhim. The blade struck Bunny on the upper lip, and divided it forever.\nPrince Bunny went first to all the doctors, that live in Moon Land, and\namong the stars, and, finally, to all that then dwelt on the earth. Not\none could help him, or close the cleft in his upper lip. And all\nbunnies became like him.\n\nAs for the people in Belgic Land, they soon learned how the bad prince\nhad deceived them. They recovered their faith, and named the day of the\nglorious Feast of the Resurrection, after the fairy of the radiant dawn\nand upspringing light, whom their ancestors loved so dearly. Thus they\ncalled the festival, that comes at the opening of the flowers. To our\ntime, this, the happiest day of the year, is, in English, \u201cEaster.\u201d\n\nBut because Prince Bunny had been so wicked, that was no reason why all\nhares and rabbits should be punished for his naughtiness.\n\nSo the real Bunny, that frisks on four legs, was adopted as the symbol\nof Easter, along with the eggs, and the hot cakes, which, baked the day\nbefore and stamped with the mark of the cross, were served at the\nEaster breakfast. Of these every child had one, but it was called not\nbunny, but for short, bun; or \u201chot cross bun.\u201d\n\nEven this was not all. Not every family could afford hot cross buns, or\neven Easter eggs. There was one poor peasant, who had been sick many\nmonths. Not being able to earn any money, he was very sad, as Easter\nday came near, for he could buy neither buns nor eggs, for the three\nlittle girls, who were his children.\n\nHowever, being a man of faith, and loving his little folks very dearly,\nhe told them to make a nest, and to pray to the good Father in Heaven,\nwho made both the sun, and the moon, and the earth, and the flowers. So\nthe little maids went to bed early, that night. They were so eager to\nget up betimes, in the morning, that they did not undress, but got\nunder the covers, with their clothes on. In this way, their mother\nfound them at early dawn and first light, fast asleep, and drenched\nwith perspiration, because the night was unusually warm.\n\nShe woke them up, washed their faces, and let them go out to the barn,\nto see if anything was in the nest, which they had made. Hand in hand,\nthey first skipped, and then they ran, all reaching the door of the\nbarn together. This they pulled open, in a jiffy.\n\nWhat a sight! There sat a big rabbit on his haunches, wiggling his\nfront paws up and down, as if he was trying to laugh, in order to\nwelcome them and share their joy. Apparently, this bunny was as happy\nas a rabbit, or hare, could be. There, in the nest, lay three lovely\neggs.\n\nNow, many people in Belgium delight to think this fuzzy fellow, in the\nbarn, was no other than Prince Bunny, who had repented of his\nnaughtiness, and asked permission to come down on the earth, for one\nnight; at the time for the first full moon after the spring equinox, on\nthe 21st of March.\n\nBut just how he was able to furnish an Easter breakfast is a question\nno mere man has been able to answer, even to this day.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXV\n\nTHE FAIRIES OF THE KITCHEN\n\n\nIn early ages, there came into Belgic Land, a new set of people, called\nthe Romans. For awhile, there was war, but the Belgians were brave and\nloved their country so dearly, that the Romans admired their courage,\nand they afterwards helped the very men, with whom they once fought\nbattles. Indeed, C\u00e6sar, their great general, wrote in his book, \u201cThe\nBelgians are, of all peoples, the bravest.\u201d Yet this was largely\nbecause they did not live, crowded together in the cities, but in the\ncountry they were hardy and strong, because they had plenty of\nsunshine, pure water, and fresh air.\n\nThe Romans brought into Belgic Land many good things to eat and new\nkinds of clothes. They built wonderful bridges and roads. They showed\nthe people how to rear more comfortable houses and to have farms and\ngardens, with cows, and sheep, and chickens, ducks and geese.\n\nBut most wonderful of all, these Romans brought in, from Oriental\ncountries, spices and things that smell and taste good, and\ngold-colored fruit, called oranges and lemons. With peaches from\nPersia, grapes and apples and figs from the southern lands, and a\nvariety of delicious eatables from the Orient, there was now plenty of\nfruit, which had been unknown before. It really seemed to the children\nof the Belgians that they had a new country, such as their fathers and\ngrandfathers never even dreamed of.\n\nEven better than all these wonderful gifts, to see and taste and smell,\nand the strange pets, such as peacocks, and rabbits, and song birds,\nwith occasionally a tiger, or lion\u2019s cub, in a cage, and the circus\nshows and chariot races, which delighted young and old, there came a\nnew kind of people in the land. These told the story of the Father in\nHeaven, and about the best Friend human beings ever had, and how he\nlived on earth, in the Holy Land, and loved children, and helped the\npoor and healed the sick. Moreover, these men and women were like him\ntheir Master, for they too took care of the weak, and old, and ill and\nfeeble. They taught the Belgic people to be kind and good to each\nother, and not fight and quarrel.\n\nIf they told the people not to believe in the Druids and the mistletoe,\nit was because they wanted them to know more about the good God, who\nmade the trees and flowers, and the sun and stars, and bade winter and\nsummer and spring and autumn come and go, and who wanted to make us all\nmore happy, by our being his dear and obedient children. So by and bye,\nthe Belgians ceased to worship trees, and the mistletoe, but had plenty\nof fun in the woods and under the mistletoe boughs, when young men and\nmaidens met.\n\nWhen at first, the Roman soldiers made war with the Belgians, the\nfairies were very sorry, and hid away from the noise of battle. But\nnow, they gladly welcomed these new people, who built churches and\ntaught such good news from Heaven. So they called a congress, and,\nmeeting together, talked one with the other, as to how they might help\nthese strangers that loved the Belgians.\n\nAt first, the fairies could not decide what to do, for they were\ndumbfounded to find that human beings seemed actually smarter, and able\nto do greater things, than they. These outsiders had brought into the\nland many good things, such as no Belgian fairy folk had ever thought\nof. The Romans had, indeed, cut down many of the grand forests, in\nwhich the fairies had lived, and about this they were sorry and even\nangry. Yet these same people made such fine roads, and laid out such\nbeautiful farms, and had brought in so many bright and wonderful\nthings, that the fairies could find no fault with them. In fact, they\npraised them highly.\n\nAlthough fairies do not eat anything, unless, it may be, to sip dew, or\ntaste a drop or two of the honey, which bees make, yet they saw that\nhuman creatures loved dearly to eat and drink. In truth, some of them\nseemed to think more of tickling their palates and filling their\nstomachs than of anything else.\n\nSo the fairies decided that the best way, to please their human\nfriends, was to get up some sort of delicacy. They called up one of the\noldest and wisest of their number, who had been in the Belgian\nkitchens. These fairies had gone to play tricks upon the cooks, in the\npalaces of the rich, and upon the girls and mothers of the poor people,\nthat lived in cabins. They were only mischievous, however, and did not\ndestroy anything, but only amused themselves, in order to sharpen\npeople\u2019s wits.\n\nThere was another very wise fairy, that had learned the language and\ncould understand what men and women meant, when they talked. As often\nas they opened their mouths and lips, and let sounds come out of their\nthroats, the fairy would listen and could distinguish between what they\nsaid, and what the dogs meant, when they barked, or the horses, when\nthey whinnied. This fairy, also, told what would please the humans;\nhaving heard much talk in the kitchen, the market, the barn and the\nhouse yards.\n\nAfter these two wise fairies had reported, it was agreed that the best\nway to reach the hearts of both children and grown folks was down\nthrough their mouths and throats. One solemn old fairy proposed that\nthe best time, to please the Belgians, would be when they celebrated\nthe birthday of their greatest Friend, who was once a babe in a manger.\nBesides what the kitchen fairy had described, the other one, that often\nflew into churches, told what had been heard there.\n\nAll the fairies listened very attentively, while this one was giving\nthe whole story, of how wise men from the East, where lay the lands of\ngold and spices, and perfumes, came to worship the young child. Much to\nthe surprise of these three travelers, they found the royal baby in the\nhay, and its mother among the cows and sheep, and the hecks, or fodder\nracks of the animals.\n\nYet right there, without waiting for the wonderful child to be seen in\na palace, they opened their treasures and made presents to the baby\u2019s\nparents. Their gifts consisted of bright, yellow gold and sweet\nsmelling, costly frankincense. Besides the two royal or rich wise men,\nthere was one of the three who was poor, and could afford only myrrh.\nYet this spice, which, when mixed with fragrant oil and resin, made the\nordinary incense, was as gladly received as was the golden censer, or\nthe more costly compound.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d said the two wise fairies, almost in the same breath, \u201cwhy\ncannot we make a dainty dish, worthy of being set before a king? Let us\ncombine, in one delicious pie, all the elements of the Bethlehem stable\nscene, and bake it in a dish shaped like a manger, or feed-trough.\nThus, in what these good people shall eat, they shall have a picture of\nthe Oriental gifts, gold and the spices, frankincense and myrrh. In\nthis way, people can think of the beautiful lands afar off, without\nhaving to travel in ships over oceans, or on horses over mountains, or\non camels with caravans over the deserts.\n\n\u201cBesides these treasures of the Orient, we shall blend meat from the\noxen, with fruits, herbs and delicious foods, which are products of our\nown Belgic Land. So shall we unite, in one dish, what is East and West,\nand present, at every single mouthful, what has been grown under the\nhands of the Belgic, the Roman, and the Oriental peoples.\u201d\n\nTo represent the gold the fairies got together, from the ships, golden\noranges, lemons, yellow wine, honey, turmeric powder, and whatever was\npleasant to the taste, that would also remind the eater of gold, the\nmost precious of metals, brought from afar, from the wise men.\n\nThen, for spices, the fairies collected mace, cinnamon, all-spice,\nraisins, nutmegs, currants, sugar, dates, and whatever came from\nOriental lands that was delightful to taste or smell.\n\nFor myrrh, which was the poor man\u2019s offering, they chopped up many\nhome-made things, good to eat, that had also a good smell and which\ngrew out of the ground, or are raised on Belgic soil; such as apples,\npears, garden herbs, and what they knew would please the Belgians.\nThese they chopped up, all together, making a mince, or mixture.\n\nTo represent the cattle, they took beef and suet, well cooked, cut\nfine, and mixed the meat with the other things, so as to make the whole\nworthy of being called mince meat; but, of course, if we were talking\nFlemish, we should say \u201cHaksel Vinken.\u201d\n\nThe next thing they did was to take flour, butter, salt and some lard,\nwhich they called \u201cshortening\u201d and make pastry. This they flattened out\non a smooth board, with what they called a rolling pin.\n\nThe fairies had to work very hard, but very quietly, in these people\u2019s\nkitchens, lest they should wake up the fathers and mothers. More than\nthis, they might be caught at their work, by the youngsters, boys and\ngirls, that were very apt to wake up early, on Christmas morning. For,\nalong with the good people that had come into the land, and told about\nthe royal baby in the hay, at Bethlehem, had begun the custom of making\npresents, and of showing love and kindness to each other, and to all\npeople. With them, once a year, came a most delightful old gentleman, a\nkind saint, who went around making presents and filling the stockings\nof the well behaved and obedient children, with presents of toys and\ngoodies of all sorts.\n\nHis name was Saint Nicholas, which, in Flemish, is Santa Claas. The\nfairies and the kind old saint were on good terms, very friendly, and\nvery helpful to each other.\n\nAt that time Santa Claas did not drive reindeer, nor use a sleigh, for\nhe had not yet paid any visits to the cold countries, in the far north,\nwhere he had to put on a fur-trimmed cap and red coat. Indeed, it was\nseveral hundred years later, before the people who lived nearer the\nnorth pole, knew about either Santa Claas or the Bethlehem baby in the\nhay. Saint Nicholas always arrived in Belgium on a ship. He had a mitre\non his head, held a shepherd\u2019s crook or crozier, in his hand, and was\ndressed in a long scarlet robe. He was so well known to the Belgian\nchildren, that almost every village, even the smallest one, had its\nspecial nursery song, or verses, chanted by the little folks.\n\nIn Belgium and Holland, Saint Nicholas\u2019 Day fell on December 6, and was\nfor children only, and not for grown folks. But on Christmas Day, every\none, old, young, and in baby clothes, looked forward with happy\nexpectation. The good priests, who told about the Bethlehem baby, and\nits mother, and the angels\u2019 songs, had introduced the beautiful custom\nof singing carols, and also of everybody making presents one to the\nother. At Christmas, love and kindness ruled in every heart. Yet no one\never imagined what a wonder the fairies had provided for them.\n\nThere was a surprise when the good people came down to breakfast, on\nthis joyful festival day of the year, A.D. 600.\n\nEach family found on the tables a pie, big enough for all in the house.\nIt was made in the shape of a manger, or feed-trough, for cattle; that\nis, a square, or oblong, with four corners. Its rich crust was slightly\nbrown, from the baking, and it looked very tempting. When father cut it\nopen, and gave each one a slice, and all the family had tasted it, it\nwas declared that nothing more delicious had ever passed their lips!\n\nSo, ever after, on that day, the mince pie became the symbol of\nBethlehem\u2019s manger, and of the baby in the hay, and of all the rich\nthings that come from faith in the dear Father above, who is the giver\nof all things. Fathers and mothers, over the pie, told again the story\nof how the baby, to whom the wise men presented their gifts, grew up to\nbe the friend, and helper, and saviour of all. And the more men heard\nof this wonderful story, and learned about this king, who had no\narmies, and of this governor, who ruled by love only, whose kingdom is\never growing and never ends, the more they believed in him and tried to\nbe like him.\n\nSo Belgium was soon covered with churches for the devout, and hospitals\nfor the sick, and homes for the orphans and the poor and aged. It\nseemed as if every sweet thing in human character, such as love, joy,\npeace, long suffering, temperance, kindness, gentleness, and brotherly\nfriendship, came from the babe, whose birth was celebrated at\nChristmas. Though born among dumb creatures, and laid in a manger, for\na cradle, and in the hay for a bed, he was greater, and ruled more\npeople, than any king or emperor that ever lived. Since his lowly home\non earth was brightened, by the visit and gifts of the wise men from\nthe East, it seemed as if every one must try to make his neighbor\nhappier, through love and kindness. Of all this, the mince pie,\npleasant to see, and delicious to taste, was the welcome symbol. So,\nlike a traveler, or a good story, the mince pie has gone round the\nworld and is eaten in every land.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXVI\n\nA SOCIETY TO MAKE FAIRY TALES COME TRUE\n\n\nOne evening of the fairy congress was devoted to story-telling, in\nwhich the fairies competed with each other to see which tale was the\nmost interesting.\n\nAfter one fairy had told the story of the fleur-de-lys, which was only\n\u201ce pluribus unum\u201d\u2014as Horace said of a salad\u2014that is, one out of many,\nanother fairy rose up to tell the story of the opal. This precious\nstone carries in its bosom the colors of the Belgian flag, black,\nyellow, and red.\n\nThus the fairy began:\n\n\u201cIt was long before C\u00e6sar\u2019s day, when the first princess of the united\nBelgian tribes was to be married. Then the fairies came to her and\nasked her what she wished them to do, to adorn her head-dress for the\nwedding.\n\n\u201cThis was her answer:\n\n\u201c\u2018My desire is for a jewel to wear on my forehead. I hope to get one\nthat shall show the three colors; the first, to stand for loyalty to my\nking-father; the second, to represent my willing obedience to the law\nof the commonwealth; and the third, to express the freedom of my\ncountrymen from the slavery of enemies.\n\n\u201c\u2018These colors must be first, black; to signify that the king must\nface, without fear, every storm, and whatever is dark or difficult. The\nsecond must be yellow, to show how law protects gold, which is the\nsymbol of property, as the result of human labor; the third must be\nred, representing blood, the life of the nation, and which, from their\nown veins, our brave men must, when necessary, shed for us all.\n\n\u201c\u2018Be sure to get me a perfect black, for everybody knows, that, in the\nheraldry of kings and nobles, sable, or black, denotes constancy,\nwisdom and prudence. If you can, bring me a precious stone that\ncontains these three hues. They are my colors and my people love them.\nYet, if a gem, and not something else, it must have them all, for I can\nwear but one stone.\u2019\n\n\u201cThree fairies, with strong wings, were immediately sent to fly out\nover the forests and into the mountains, where the pretty gems are\nfound. They hunted among the rocks, and in the beds of streams. They\ncalled on the kabouters to help them to make search in the dark caves.\nHappily, each one was successful beyond the highest hopes.\n\n\u201cAfter choice from many fine specimens, the three fairies returned,\neach one bearing a glistening jewel in her hand.\n\n\u201cThe first proffered the princess a pure, hard, black stone. It was\nwell named the diamond, meaning \u2018the invincible.\u2019 Rare indeed is a\nblack, or colored diamond, but there it was.\n\n\u201cThe second stone was the topaz, of a deep yellow. It reminded one of\nthe gains of commerce, and the toil of millions, bringing comfort and\nwealth.\n\n\u201cThe third stone was the ruby, deeply, darkly, beautifully red. Besides\nbeing hard, brilliant and permanent in tint, it was not easily\nscratched or broken.\n\n\u201cJoyfully the princess bound these three upon her forehead and looked\ninto the mirror. She was delighted with all the gems, for each was\nbeautiful and spoke its own language.\n\n\u201cYet, as each fairy thought the one, which she had found in the\nmountains, and selected out of many, was that which the princess ought\nto prefer and to wear, the king\u2019s daughter could not decide, by herself\nat least, lest she be deemed selfish or partial.\n\n\u201cSo she went to her father, and asked his advice.\n\n\u201cHe looked at each jewel, admiring them all, yet thinking in his heart\nall the while that his own daughter excelled each and every one. He\nthen made answer:\n\n\u201c\u2018In the Walloon language, my daughter \u201cl\u2019union fait la force\u201d (unity\nmakes strength). Suppose you ask the fairies to join the three gems in\none, making a single stone. Then, see what will come of it.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe princess at once called to her aid the king of kabouters, and bade\nhim make of the three jewels one.\n\n\u201cDown into the earth among his forges and fires, the master-fairy\ndisappeared. He spent days and nights over the task. In a crucible,\nover a roaring fire, he fused the three gems into one. Then with a\nlapidist\u2019s skill, and a jeweler\u2019s craft, he set the jewel in an\nexceedingly beautiful coronet.\n\n\u201cWithin one week, the kabouter king came back, holding in his hand a\nvelvet-lined box which the three fairies had made with their delicate\nfingers. On the outside, were the three colors, black, yellow and red,\nin vertical bands.\n\n\u201cThe chief kabouter proffered the casket to the Princess. On her\nopening it, there flashed and sparkled a gem, such as she had never\nseen before. Within its fiery heart, were, not one color, but, three of\nthem, black, yellow, and red.\n\n\u201cThis shining stone was not cut in facets, or little faces, as were\nmost crown jewels, for it did not need to be so treated to show its\nglories; nor did it require a foil or glittering metal leaf beneath it,\nas do some stones, to make sure of its maintaining its permanent hue;\nbut it was set with a smooth round surface, like a hemisphere, or half\na globe. This shape helped to reveal the precious stone\u2019s full\nsplendor.\n\n\u201cRight well was it worthy of its general name \u2018gem,\u2019 which means a\n\u2018bud\u2019; for it had colors, as varied as are the three in a moss\nrose,\u2014sepal, petal and fringe, while yet in a unity of splendor.\n\n\u201cNo words could do justice to the beauty of the gem. Some thought of a\nrainbow; some of the harlequin, who joins many colors in his costume;\nsome of volcano fires. The Princess named it \u2018opal,\u2019 after the precious\nstone in the Sanskrit fairy tale. At the wedding, she wore it in the\ncentre of her golden coronet.\n\n\u201cWith even more enthusiasm, the people gathered from all parts of their\nland, every province sending its delegates to Brussels, the central\ncity of the central province, in which Brabo was the hero, and whose\nstory was known to all boys and girls. From him was named Brabant,\nwhose inhabitants had already adopted as their motto \u2018La Union fait\nForce,\u2019 that is, \u2018In union there is strength,\u2019 which is struck on all\ncoins.\n\n\u201cAlthough there were many provinces, and, notwithstanding, that all the\ntribes and people were not interested each in the same things, yet they\nsaw the wisdom of union for defense and growth. So, feeling that they\nmust have a flag, to express their loyalty to the king, their regard\nfor law, and their fixed resolution to be free, they voted to have one\nstandard, containing the colors of Brabant. So, when the tricolor,\nblack, yellow and red, was raised high in the air, before all the\nfreemen, they clanged their swords on their shields and shouted \u2018Long\nlive the King, forever be law, eternal our independence.\u2019 So these\nbecame the national colors of Belgium.\n\n\u201cCenturies afterwards, when William the Silent, whose statue stands\ntoday in Brussels, led the Netherlanders against the tyrant, there was\nembroidered, on his banners, the figure of a pelican feeding her young\nwith blood from her own bosom, with the Latin motto, \u2018Pro rege, pro\nlege, pro grege\u2019 (for the king, for the law, for the commonwealth). And\nwhen in 1830 the national hymn, The Braban\u00e7onne (The Brabanter) was\ncomposed, which every Belgian sings, the three-fold theme and burden of\nthe throbbing lines was what the tricolor and the precious stone\nsuggest. Black was for steadfastness, wisdom and prudence in the king;\nyellow for law, which protects industry; and red, for Belgium\u2019s\nunconquerable liberty, secured by the blood of her sons. Oh! how they\nsang it, and never with more meaning and spirit than, during the four\nyears of the \u2018nation\u2019s Calvary,\u2019\u20141914\u20131918.\u201d\n\nForthwith, the people of Belgic Land, having heard the stories of the\nFleur-de-lys, and of the opal, there was formed by them a Society to\nMake Fairy Tales Come True, and for generations they, and their\nchildren have lived up to their name.\n\n\n\nThe story-teller has often said that nothing that fairies can do, or\never have done, can excel what he has seen in the wonders wrought in\nthe soil, and on the Belgian and Dutch landscapes.\n\nAs a youth, he saw many square miles of worthless heath land, as sandy\nas a desert, on which even rabbits could not find food to live upon.\nOr, two of them might fight for one blade of grass.\n\nIn later life, the story-teller went into the same places. What magic!\nThere were villages, farms, schools, churches, happy homes, barns\nstored with grain, and many signs of joyous abundance, cows, sheep,\norchards and fields.\n\nWhat did it mean?\n\nThe story of \u201cThe Marriage of the Fairies,\u201d explains in part how it\ncame to pass. Water, brought in canals; that is, irrigation, wrought\nwonders; but, most of all, human continuance of toil, in unity of heart\nand will! Today the industry and perseverance of men and women have\nmade Belgium as one of the wonders of the world.\n\n\u201cBy concord little things become great.\u201d So, they sing in the national\nhymn, and under their flag, of black, yellow and red, which stand for\nking, law and liberty:\n\n\n           \u201cLet us work; our labor increases\n            The fruitfulness of our fields\n            And the splendor of our industry crowns\n            King, Law and Liberty.\u201d\n\n\n\n                                THE END","title":"Belgian Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":55545}