{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_69739/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_69739","id":"gutenberg_69739","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69739","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales -- Switzerland"],"text":"SWISS FAIRY TALES\n\n                                   By\n\n                         WILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS\n\n       Author of \u201cThe Firefly\u2019s Lovers,\u201d \u201cThe Unmannerly Tiger,\u201d\n            \u201cDutch Fairy Tales,\u201d \u201cBelgian Fairy Tales,\u201d etc.\n\n\n                                NEW YORK\n                       THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY\n                               PUBLISHERS\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                               DEDICATED\n                          IN RADIANT MEMORIES\n                     OF MY SWISS MATERNAL ANCESTRY\n                           NEAR VALLEY FORGE\n                FROM WHOSE LIPS I FIRST HEARD STORIES OF\n                     WASHINGTON, LAFAYETTE, STEUBEN\n                           AND OF SWITZERLAND\n                       THE LAND OF THE EDELWEISS\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n    CHAPTER                                           PAGE\n\n    I.      How Swiss Fairy Tales Came to America        1\n    II.     The Swiss Home Near Valley Forge            16\n    III.    The Wonderful Alpine Horn                   28\n    IV.     The Whimsical Avalanche                     39\n    V.      The Mountain Giants                         48\n    VI.     The Dwarf and His Confectionery             56\n    VII.    Two Good Natured Dragons                    66\n    VIII.   The Frost Giants and the Sunbeam Fairies    77\n    IX.     The Fairy in the Cuckoo Clock               91\n    X.      The Castle of the Hawk                     101\n    XI.     The Yodel Carillon of the Cows             110\n    XII.    The Tailor and the Giant                   118\n    XIII.   The Dwarf\u2019s Secret                         132\n    XIV.    The Fairy of the Edelweiss                 144\n    XV.     The Avalanche That Was Peace Maker         157\n    XVI.    The Fairies and Their Playground           168\n    XVII.   The Kangaroo Poa                           181\n    XVIII.  The Swiss Fairies in Town Meeting          191\n    XIX.    The Palace Under the Waves                 201\n    XX.     The Alpine Hunter and His Fairy Guardian   209\n    XXI.    The Fairies\u2019 Palace Car                    221\n    XXII.   The White Chamois                          235\n    XXIII.  The Siren of the Rhine                     241\n    XXIV.   The Ass That Saw the Angel                 250\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSWISS FAIRY TALES\n\n\nI\n\nHOW SWISS FAIRY TALES CAME TO AMERICA\n\n\nLet us pretend that we are sitting on a stool, a hassock, a rug, or the\nfloor, around the chair of grandmother Hess, to which place all young\nfolks are hereby invited. We shall go with her, in fancy, to the home\nof the Swiss family Harby, for that was her maiden name, at Barren\nHill, in what the Swiss folks called \u201cthe Pennsylvanias.\u201d For they\nloved the forests and they knew that the name meant the groves or woods\nof Penn. They kept always, in their minds, the idea of trees. It was\nthere that some of these fairy and other tales were first told.\n\nIt was long ago, during the Revolutionary war, when Washington, and\nLafayette, and Steuben, were comrades at Valley Forge. This place was\nonly a few miles away, and the great men rode often past the house and\nfarm of John Harby, who was grandma\u2019s father.\n\nWhen, in 1778, the Hessians and red coats could not capture Lafayette,\nwith his Continental soldiers, they stole the bread out of the oven and\ndrank up the milk from the spring house.\n\nThe little girls, Sarah, Hannah and Margaret, often heard from their\ngrandfather and grandmother about Switzerland, whence, following\nWilliam Penn, they had come. Their kinsfolk still lived in the old land\nacross the sea. When the Revolutionary war was over, their father, John\nHarby, came to the Quaker City, and kept a hotel. There, when\nPhiladelphia was the national capital, he entertained members of\nCongress and the refugee French noblemen.\n\nWhen the story teller heard the once little maids talk about things\nSwiss, and Hessian, and British, and Pennsylvanian, these three, two of\nwhom the Hessians had once scared into the garret, were dear old\nladies. Sitting up in bed, or in her chair, as straight as her\nrheumatism and her bent fingers would allow, grandmother told us many a\ntale of Swiss ancestral and Revolutionary times.\n\nTo the end of the years of her life, which lasted from 1770 to 1866,\nher sister Hannah, our maiden aunt, sang the songs, played on the piano\nthe ditties, and danced the minuets and waltzes, which the French\nofficers and noblemen had taught her when the Quaker city, from 1790 to\n1800, was the national capital.\n\nWe children, even when big girls and boys, and ready for college,\nenjoyed the fun, the music, and the stories. It was from these dear old\nladies that the story teller learned to love the mountains, and to\nclimb them, in America and Japan, and, for weeks at a time, to tramp\namong them in glorious Switzerland.\n\nThe ancestral Swiss home was in a valley of the Bernese Oberland, under\nthe shadow of a high mountain. In winter, which usually lasted seven\nmonths or more, the people, the boys, and the girls, the cows, goats,\ndonkeys, horses, chickens, and all living things were shut in by heavy\nsnows. Quite often in winter, daddy and the boys had to climb out the\nwindows onto the snows that were piled, or drifted, many feet high\nagainst the door. Even on May day, spoiling fun outdoors, there might\ncome a storm which left six or eight feet of snow.\n\nYet when the sun got up early in the morning, and the south wind blew\nwith a quiet force that did more in a day\u2019s work than a million steam\nshovels, the snow melted, and soon the green meadows were spangled with\nred and blue, yellow and white flowers.\n\nWhen June came, the big boys got ready, with their fathers and hired\nmen, to leave their village home, and go up to spend the whole summer\non the spicy pastures, that is, the Alps, high up on the mountains, to\nstay until near October. There the bees would gather honey from the\nnectar in the blossoms, and cows would feed on the sweet juices of the\ngrass. It was at this season that the milk, cream, butter and cheese,\nwere the very best of the year. Many a growing boy, counting on his\nfingers the days, looked forward for months to life outdoors, on the\nhighlands, among the birds, the butterflies and the wild animals. As\nfor the cattle, they could sniff the sweet aroma of the flowery fields\nand grasses at a distance and long before men could.\n\nThe day of the great cow parade, when the other four-footed animals,\ndogs, goats, pigs, horses and donkeys, joining in, was the greatest of\nthe year. Then the leading cow, named Lady, or Queenie, or Cleopatra,\noften carrying the milking stool on her head, between her horns, led\nthe procession. The girls were all out in their best clothes to deck\nthe hats of the daddies with wreaths and blossoms, and to say and wave\ngood-byes. Pretty nearly every one was decorated with flowers.\n\nThen the music and the yodel songs, and the blowing of the pine wood\nhorns began. These awoke the echoes of the distant mountains. Then the\nsounds, returning, seemed as sweet as the singing by a choir of the\nheavenly host. No Swiss boy or girl, even when grown up, living in the\ncities, or in a foreign land, ever forgot the yodel songs, or the hymns\nhis mother used to sing.\n\nThe Swiss chateau, home of the Harbys, before the year 1710, except the\nfirst story, which was of stone, was entirely of wood. In winter, the\nfireplace of brick roared with logs of fir, birch or oak. The great\nwhite porcelain stove, eight feet high, banded with shining brass, in\nwhich peat, or coal, was the fuel, stood at one end of the main room.\n\nTo get into the house, the door, in the front centre, opened into the\nbasement, but there were two stairways on the outside, which took one\nup into the bedrooms. To let the heavy snow slide off easily, to the\nground, the eaves projected from the roof six feet beyond and over the\nwalls. Within the projecting front gable, between the sloping roof and\nthe second story, there was a balcony.\n\nThe whole front of the house was nearly hidden by vines and flowers\nthat invited the bees and birds, though there were hives and dovecotes\nin the yard space, fronting the house. Cut into the corner columns, or\nthrough the gable boards, was this Scripture sentence: \u201cAs for me and\nmy house, we will serve the Lord.\u201d\n\nNot far away was the barn and yard for the cows and chickens, ducks and\ngeese. Near by, the purling of a running brook, fed from the mountain\nwith water, cold, and clear as crystal, was like the singing of a sweet\nsong. As neat as a new pin was this Spring House. Here upon shelves,\nonly a little higher than the stream, and on the stone surbase that ran\nacross one side of the low room, or floating in the cold water, were\nshallow pans for the milk. In a corner stood the big jar, to hold the\ncream, which was daily skimmed from the milk in the pans. The caldron\nand utensils for cheesemaking were kept in another corner. It was from\ncheese chiefly that the family lived, especially in winter.\n\nOn the walls of the sleeping chambers, parlor, and living room, besides\nthe well-mounted antlers of the wild mountain goat, and the chamois,\nthere were framed pictures of the great men of the Fatherland. Here\nlooked down the face of the holy saint Fridolin, or the reformer\nZwinglius, or the heroes, William Tell and Arnold von Winkelried. In\nsome houses, one could see a picture of Calvin, or a view of Geneva, or\nthe seal of the canton in which they lived. In a glass-covered case\nwere dried Alpine flowers, rock roses, violets and anemones, with their\ncolors kept wonderfully fresh, even in winter. When first plucked, they\nwere put in hot sand\u2014not too hot\u2014and covered for a time.\n\nFor breakfast, the Harbys had honey, bread, milk and eggs. On the wall,\nresting on pegs, was the father\u2019s gun, for hunting. It was a real\nrifle, and few men in the world, except the Swiss and the J\u00e4ger, or\nhunters, then knew of this wonderful weapon.\n\nFor dinner, they often had chamois or ibex, and, occasionally, bear\nmeat, for John Harby was a dead shot with the rifle. Beef, with greens,\nwas common, though the chief staple of food was cheese, or cream cooked\nin many wonderful ways, with cheese-cake, or pie, though buttermilk was\nin daily demand.\n\nWhat the young folks liked, best of all, was the weekly treat of\n\u201cschnitzel.\u201d This was made of boiled ham, dumplings of wheat flour,\ndried apples and spices, and was served on the table with molasses.\nWhen nicely cooked, and, as mother knew how to make it, nothing tasted\nbetter. It was enjoyed until the waist belts of youngsters began to\ntighten.\n\nEvery morning, the doors of the clock, set in a box or house on the\nwall, flew open, and the cuckoo chirped its song and then retired\ninside from view. The wooden bird thus gave notice that it was time to\nget up and make ready for school.\n\nAt night, before the children went to sleep, Mother, and sometimes\nDaddy, told them fairy or wonder tales, or of the heroes that had made\nSwitzerland free, or the Bible stories, till they knew these by heart,\nand, when they grew up, told them to their children.\n\nWith the young men of the village, it was not always work\u2014in winter\nwith the cows and goats, in the dairy at home; or, in summer the\ndriving of the flock up to the mountain pastures, with the cheesemaking\nthere. Tired of the monotony of country life, the sturdy lads welcomed\nthe advent of the soldiers, in bright, gay uniforms, with a band of\nmusic, and the recruiting officer at their head.\n\nWith their flags and banners, these strangers came from the great world\noutside, to enlist young men for military service, in France or\nGermany, or for the Scotch Brigade in the Netherlands, or, to serve the\nKing of England, in America. All the village folk turned out and the\nmothers and maidens were as eager as the fathers, to see how it was\ndone, before their sons, brothers and sweethearts marched away. Not\nleast among these Swiss, who gained fame, was General Henry Bouquet,\nwho, in the British service, and as comrade of Washington, won\nPittsburg for the King.\n\nFor these were the gala days of monarchs and of the soldier of fortune,\nthat is, of the brave young man, who left his home and country to fight\nfor any one who paid him well. He enlisted, more for love of adventure,\nthan for love of the ruler whose splendid uniform he wore. Yet his\nloyalty and honor were steadfast. Faithful and brave, he lived in camps\nand barracks, fought battles, and died in the hospital, or on the\nfield.\n\nWhen the king\u2019s officer raised his banner aloft, in the public square\nof the Swiss village, the fifer and drummer, or trumpeter, sounded the\ncall. On one side of the broad table, well furnished, and with a\nfoaming pitcher and cups to drink the king\u2019s health, sat the notary.\nThen up came the stalwart young fellows, in their working clothes, to\nhave their names enrolled, to take the oath of allegiance, and to\nexchange their pitchforks for muskets, bayonets and cartridge boxes.\nThen they took their places with the others, and soon wore gay soldier\nclothes, with shining buttons, and frontlets of brass on their helmets.\n\nOften it was hard, not only for parents and sisters, but for the pet\ndogs, to leave the dear masters. Many were the tears shed, and lively\nthe gossip among the women at and around the well curb, when the\nvillage had again resumed its quiet life.\n\nGreater yet was the glory, when the lad, who had left in peasant\nhomespun, returned, in the royal uniform, to tell of camps, and\nbattles, and sieges; yes, even of palaces and the splendor of the great\ncities, far away. Buttons were a new fashion, then, and the Swiss\nsoldier came back home, in cocked hat, a coat very much dotted with\nshining brass, and opened to show the vest and facings, and with\nleggings reaching from ankle to knee. A high private, in those days,\nlooked as gay as a tropical bird, and as handsome as a prince.\n\nThe boys left their hoops, and the girls their dolls, to run and\nwelcome the returning hero. Old and young listened to his war stories,\nand even the dogs and pigeons seemed to share in the joy. The\nimagination of the youngsters was fired, and often maidens followed\ntheir lovers to distant countries. Who has not read, in the pages of\nFroissart, or Macaulay, of \u201cAppenzell\u2019s stout infantry,\u201d or of the\nvalor and devotion of the Swiss Guard, in the Tuilleries at Paris, who\n\u201cdied to defend their master.\u201d In their everlasting honor, one sees at\nLuzerne, sculptured out of the solid rock, the dying lion. This\nsplendid work of art symbolizes the loyalty and valor of the seven\nhundred and eighty-six victims, of the French mob, in 1793.\n\nWhile the young men had opportunity to see the great world, beyond the\nmountains, most of the girls stayed at home in the valleys. Yet all the\ntime, they thought of their brothers, lovers and kinsmen. They, too,\nlonged to see a real prince, and to look on a military pageant, and\ngaze on the splendor of courts and palaces. At times, it was hard to\nrestrain the maidens from roaming off, down the Rhine, to the rich and\ngay city of Amsterdam, or to the brilliancy of Paris.\n\nIt was not alone in Europe that the absentees from the Swiss villages\nstarted. Already, late in the eighteenth century, men of the Grisons\nand Oberland were hearing of the \u201cPennsylvanias.\u201d The William Penn\ncountry was luring the stalwarts away, for reports came across seas, as\nsweet in sound as yodel songs, or as Alpine echoes, of fertile soil,\nwhich was dirt cheap. The kind ruler, of the Forests of Penn, hated war\nand treated even the wild men, or Indians, kindly. He bought their land\nand paid them for it, even though his King, Charles, called it his\nown\u2014which his friend Roger Williams denied.\n\nSometimes a Swiss mother, left a widow, because her husband had been\nkilled in some prince\u2019s battle, resolved not to let her boy die for a\nking. So she strapped her baby on her back, and skated down the Rhine\nto Rotterdam, and reached America. One of these, well known, married\nagain, and in Philadelphia reared a fine family of splendid boys and\ngirls. Such a romantic incident happened more than once.\n\nHardly had the Harbys begun even to talk about Penn\u2019s land, when a\nterrible calamity befell them, which drove them out of their nest-like\nhome, even as the mother-eagle pushes out her fledgelings, while the\nwonderful opportunity offered them, in Penn\u2019s Groves, lured them to\neven greater ease and comforts. Across the Atlantic, there would be\nless of toil, than in their mountain home, with its long months of\nwinter and its short weeks of summer.\n\nThe story would take too much time to tell, if we tried to note every\ndetail. For a week previous, the snow had fallen continuously. It\ndarkened the air, and covered the earth with many feet of solid\nwhiteness. One old man was full of forebodings of calamity. On the edge\nof a cliff, far up on the mountain side, mighty masses of snow piled\nup, stood like a lofty tower, in terrible menace, likely soon to fall.\nAll were hoping for the F\u00f6hn, or south wind, to blow and \u201ceat up\u201d the\nsnow.\n\nUnsuspecting a storm, a hunter had, some days before, gone among the\nheights, taking his provisions and blanket, hoping to stalk an ibex, or\nat least a chamois. Caught in the sudden, blinding, whirling snow, and\nunable to find the path homeward, he built a rude shelter at the edge\nof the forest. This was opposite an overhanging rock, under this snow\ntower, which was steadily rising in height. Having enough rations in\nhis wallet to last him four days, he waited till sunshine should come,\nhoping to see a troop of chamois, making their way down over the narrow\nledge of rock, in search of moss for food. Fortunately for him, but\ncalamitously for the village, his rifle shot brought down a fat buck.\n\nYet immediately upon that shock of the air, following the gunfire and\nreport, fell tons upon tons of snow and ice. The mass, rolling down\nwith lightning speed, increased in size at every yard. It fell on the\nvillage, overwhelming houses, barns, stables and gardens. Where\nyesterday were happy homes were now many human victims. Today, the\nmouldering stones in the church yard witness to the awful catastrophe.\nPathetic is a similar record, made ten years later, in another village.\n\u201cDear God! What sorrow! Eighty-eight in a single tomb.\u201d\n\nHappily the Harby home, being on the edge of the avalanche\u2019s track,\nthough flattened out, like a sheet of mussed-up paper, had no human\ndead within its walls; though in the barn every living animal was\nsmothered by the weight of white.\n\nDigging out a few necessary things, including the trusty rifle,\nunharmed, they packed them up, because they would be very necessary in\nthe new home, or because they were linked with affectionate memories.\nThey were happy in finding the stocking full of coin, which had been\nhidden behind a loose stone in the fireplace. Then the family made its\nway to Basle, on the Rhine. There they took boat, down the river to\nRotterdam; where, with hundreds of other Swiss folks, they were\nsheltered, helped and kindly treated by the Dutch ministers and people.\n\nGetting on board the ship \u201cArms of Rotterdam,\u201d under the tricolor flag,\nred, white and blue of the Republic, they crossed the Atlantic and in\nPenn\u2019s \u201cHoly Experiment,\u201d where thousands of Swiss folk had arrived\nbefore them, they reached safely the city of Brotherly Love. It was\nthen little larger than a village. When the people from Wales, England,\nHolland and Germany first came and were building their houses, they had\nlived in caves, on the banks of the Delaware river, where now is Front\nStreet; but when Harbys arrived there were hundreds of completed\nhouses, some in brick, or stone, but mostly in wood. Yet even from the\nbeginning, the land was properly surveyed, and laid out in squares,\nand, with four large parks, and planted with trees, while some of the\nstreets were paved. In truth, for order, and beauty, and liberal ideas,\nthis was the queen city of America.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE SWISS HOME NEAR VALLEY FORGE\n\n\nOnly a few days did the Harbys abide on the banks of the Delaware, in\nthe little city of Brotherly Love, where lived a few hundred people,\nmostly Friends, in drab clothes. Then, from one of William Penn\u2019s land\nagents\u2014the ancestor of American bishops\u2014John Harby bought a farm. It\nlay on a piece of high ground, at Barren Hill, which was part of a\nridge near the Schuylkill river. It was named after the bears that were\nstill numerous in the forests that then clothed the land. It is known\nas Lafayette Hill and we shall soon see why. The neighborhood afforded\ngood hunting, for any young man, that had brought his chamois rifle\nwith him. One of the active fellows, who was reckoned a sure shot, was\nHarby\u2019s nephew, of whom we shall hear later. He shot many deer and the\nfamily had venison often. Not far away was White Marsh. Over in another\ndirection, was Fox Chase, where they had hounds and hunted foxes.\n\nOnly a few miles distant, across the Hidden Stream, or Schuylkill, as\nthe Dutch had named the river, was the valley forge, where the farmers\nin the region around had their tools made and mended.\n\nNot far away, on the hill, was soon built Saint Peter\u2019s Lutheran\nchurch. In Switzerland, the Harbys had been members of the Reformed\nchurch, but all the people of the neighborhood now worshipped together.\n\nThe Harbys made their house first of logs of wood, notched at the\ncorners. Trees were plentiful, and the forest was near at hand. Many\nthings were about them to remind them of their old home, though there\nwere no glaciers, or avalanches, or high mountains, with snow lying on\nthem all the year round, and all was as yet rough, in the new country.\n\nWhen the barn had been built, the cows, pigs and fowls made things look\nfriendly and sociable. They had no cuckoo clock any more, but it was\nreally homelike to hear the cocks crow at sunrise. This sound was\ncertainly much pleasanter, indeed, than to hear the howling of the\nwolves at night. Occasionally, early in the morning, the Harbys would\nsee a bear in the barnyard, and they had to keep the chickens locked up\nin the chicken house, for foxes were plentiful, and always on the watch\nfor a poultry dinner. Wild turkeys\u2014a new sort of bird for them\u2014and wild\npigeons were plentiful. Benjamin Franklin, who was then a little boy in\nBoston, the oldest in a family of seventeen children, when a grown man,\nwanted to make the wild turkey, which gives food to man, the national\nemblem, instead of the eagle, that lives on flesh and kills little\nbirds.\n\nInside the house, there were wide seats at the chimney side, and puss\npurred in front of the great hearth fire. Outside, the dogs kept watch\nand ward, and often had a lively tussle with wolves and young bears.\n\nWhen spring time came, the girls went blossom hunting. One very common\nflower, which they had known in Switzerland, the Pearly Everlasting,\nsomehow reminded them of the Edelweiss. Daddy, who loved trees, almost\nto worship, saluted the same species as those which he had seen growing\nin the Old World\u2014fir, birch, pine, and oak; but the persimmon tree was\nnew to him and he enjoyed the autumn fruit, which the frost seemed to\nripen; while the sugar maple was as good as a fairy tale, for the idea\nof a tree bearing candy was wonderful. In fact, the Harbys hailed the\ntrees as friends, true and tried, with reverence and awe.\n\nA generation came and went, and soon there was a little God\u2019s acre\naround the little church on the hill top. The Hess family, from Zurich,\nalso had made their home near by, at Whitemarsh, and several couples of\nthe young men and maidens of the two households made love and married\ntogether.\n\nThe fathers and mothers, who had known the old home land beyond the\nsea, talked often of chamois and ibex, and edelweiss and the rock\nroses, and the meadow flowers, and the cows and the yodel music. When\nthey spoke of the \u201cAlps,\u201d they meant the summer pastures high up, and\nnot mountains. At times, especially in June, they felt homesick for the\nyodel songs and the Alpine horn echoes. They spoke often of the curious\nthings at Neuchatel, and Berne, and Zurich, and the Lake of the Four\nCantons. They sang the hymns of Heimath, or Home, and of the\nFatherland, and of the Heavenly Land, and recounted the exploits of the\nSwiss heroes. The children were taught not to be afraid of the dark,\nand all knew by heart many hymns, especially that beginning, \u201cAlone,\nyet not alone with God am I.\u201d\n\nOn the other hand, the new generation told of other game, deer, bear,\nwolf, wild turkey and pigeons, and of new fruits like the persimmon.\nTheir model, in civil life, was the good governor, William Penn, and\ntheir hero in valor and rescue of captives was Colonel Bouquet, the\nSwiss soldier in the service of their sovereign, Queen Anne. They loved\nher, also, because she loved the yodel music. Later came the kings\nnamed George. The flag over them was the Union Jack, which they saw\nfloat on the staff, when they went to Philadelphia often, and,\noccasionally, to Lancaster.\n\nYet all this time, one great desire and romantic longing of the maidens\nwas unfulfilled. The yearning of the girls, as they became sweethearts,\nwives, and mothers, was handed down, as if it were a family heirloom,\nto see a real prince or a nobleman, or a man with a title. They hoped\nthat some officer, in resplendent uniform, such as they had seen in\ntheir home village, would come into their neighborhood, for they were\ntired of Quaker drab. Even though their grandparents were democratic by\ntheir Swiss inheritance, and almost by instinct, and though reared in\nthe oldest of republics, and accustomed to town meetings, the little\nmaids, Sarah and Hannah, longed to see a real pageant, a prince; or at\nleast a marquis, and something of the pomp of courts or even of armies.\nThey heard that the Prince of Wales, who became King George II, had\nindeed visited New York, and skated on the ice of the Collect Pond; but\nhe had come and gone, as a private person, and it was not likely that\neither he, again, or even King George III would ever visit the\ncolonies.\n\nBefore the two little girls could know what it all meant, the Harbys\nheard, in their home at Barren Hill, of the Continental Congress, held\nin Carpenters\u2019 Hall, in Philadelphia. In this gathering Canada was\nrepresented. Then, it was hoped that there would be fourteen stripes in\nthe flag, which the Philadelphia City Troop of cavalry were making. But\nwhen their flag was unfurled and the handsome horsemen escorted Colonel\nGeorge Washington, of Virginia, to Cambridge, many felt very sorry,\nthat there were only thirteen, instead of the longed-for fourteen\nstripes, and hoped, even yet, that Canada would join.\n\nWar broke out. From the new State House, in Philadelphia, then one of\nthe most wonderful buildings in any of the colonies, floated the flag\nof thirteen stripes, red and white, and independence was proclaimed.\n\nThen, after two years, this same flag had as many stars in its blue\nfield. Yet the armies of the Congress met with many disasters, and, one\nday the little girls out in the garden heard the boom of the cannon at\nBrandywine. It was not very long afterward, that the Continentals\nmarched past the house, to make camp and winter quarters at Valley\nForge.\n\nAmong the young men riding on horses, as Washington\u2019s body guard of\nyoung troopers, who were mostly Pennsylvania Swiss, or Germans, was\nJohn Harby\u2019s nephew, Gustave. At the camp, besides being an orderly at\nheadquarters, it was his special duty to raise, at sunrise, and lower,\nat sunset, the thirteen-striped flag, which now bore no longer the\nBritish Union Jack, but a blue field, in which, in a circle of glory,\nwere thirteen stars; and he and his comrades rejoiced that the colonies\nhad been made independent, and each stripe and star stood for a state,\nand all in a union. It was his people that, first of all, spoke of\nWashington as the \u201cFather of his country\u201d; or, as the minister said,\n\u201cPater Patri\u00e6.\u201d\n\nThe winter of 1777\u201378 had nearly passed and many a skirmish, between\nthe British foraging parties, of Hessians and red coats, and the\nAmerican Colonel Sheldon\u2019s dragoons, had taken place. One fine morning,\nin the spring, while Gustave was taking breakfast, with his little\ncousins at the Harbys, all were startled by the firing of guns at\nValley Forge. Evidently the Continentals were busy burning powder, but\nwhy?\n\n\u201cA battle?\u201d asked the mother as she glanced at her husband.\n\nAt the first roll of the echoes, the young trooper, Gustave, put on his\nbearskin cap, seized his carbine, and rushed out to hear. Putting his\near to the ground, he made up his mind that the reports were too\nregular for war. Then, entering the house, he declared it must be a\nsalvo\u2014a feu de jeu\u2014or joy volley.\n\n\u201cFor what, I wonder,\u201d asked Mrs. Harby.\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said Daddy. \u201cWe have been waiting for news of the alliance\nwith France. Now, our Continentals and the sparkling Bourbonnieres will\nmarch together. Whole companies, among these, are our Swiss boys.\u201d Then\nhe hummed, joyfully, the old German tune of Yankee Doodle. Perhaps now,\na French fleet would come up the Delaware, blockade Philadelphia, and\ncapture Howe\u2019s army, as Burgoyne had been captured. At the table, they\nkept on talking a long time.\n\nOnly a few days later, a line of wagons, driven up from a southern\nport, brought in supplies from France. Five of the wagons contained\nsaddles, bridles, stirrups and a full equipment, made in France, for\nthe whole regiment of Colonel Sheldon\u2019s cavalry, which had been at\nfirst raised in Connecticut. This was Lafayette\u2019s own gift, and had\nbeen paid from out of his own purse. The Continental Congress had given\nhim a commission in the American army, with the rank of Major-General.\n\n\u201cWhy, that sounds like a prince,\u201d murmured little Sarah to herself.\n\nA few days later, and another surprise broke the monotony of life at\nBarren Hill. Washington wished to know what the British in Philadelphia\nwere going to do. Would they attack him? Or, considering his military\nposition too strong to risk assault, would they retire to New York?\nWould Washington capture, or be captured?\n\nSo May 18, 1778, the commander-in-chief, who trusted the young French\nnobleman, as fully as he would trust his oldest general, placed\ntwenty-two hundred of his best soldiers and five cannon under his\ncharge. He was to reconnoitre, as the French say. So Lafayette led his\nforce out, and took up to a strong position on Barren Hill.\n\nThis movement was quickly known in Philadelphia, and at once three\ncolumns of British and Hessians marched to entrap and capture Lafayette\nand the Continentals.\n\nAll this is national history. Yet it was like a fairy tale to the\nlittle Harby maids, Sarah and Hannah, to see the Continental soldiers,\nnow so proud of their drilling, during the long winter, by Baron\nSteuben. Father Hess, the night before, had sent to the nobleman from\nover the great sea, an invitation to breakfast. You may be sure that\nMrs. Harby got out her best gold-rimmed China cups and saucers, and her\ncaraway-seed cakes, her Zurich cookies, and her best \u201cDutch cake,\u201d and\nsilver teapot, to set before the real, live Marquis. When she told her\ntwo small daughters that she would let them wait on the young nobleman,\nthey clapped their hands for joy. At last, they were to see, not,\nindeed, a prince, but a nobleman who had been at Court, talked with the\nmighty monarch, and who had a bride and a chateau in France.\n\nThe little girls, as they brought Lafayette his food, noticed his deep\nred hair, his fine forehead, his pleasing mouth and firm chin, but,\nmost of all, his clear hazel eyes. More than once, he smiled his\nthanks, and this was what they, long afterward, told most about. In\nfact, the great man\u2019s features seemed to bespeak strength, more than\nbeauty; but this was what all the Harbys liked.\n\nDid the British capture Lafayette? Did he show fear, when Gustave Hess,\nthe scout, rode up and told of three columns of red coats marching by\ndifferent roads? Two were on one side of the Schuylkill river, and one\non the other. Surely, with their five thousand men, they would, as they\nfully expected, trap the Marquis; and, they might even bag his whole\nforce. A ship was actually waiting in the Delaware river to take the\nyoung Frenchman a captive to London. Indeed, Lord Howe had invited some\nhandsome Tory ladies to dinner, expecting to outwit Washington and to\nhave the young Frenchman to sit as guest and captive.\n\nBut the young general spoiled this game. Mounting his horse, he ordered\nout, what military men call \u201cfalse heads of columns.\u201d This made the\nBritish, who knew not what might be behind these front files, halt,\nuntil reinforced. Then they deployed, and, bringing up their cannon,\nsent a round shot that smashed the axle tree of one of Lafayette\u2019s\nfield pieces.\n\nMust, then, the young Frenchman abandon his gun, and face Washington,\nwith one of his cannon lost by capture? Not he! Turning the heads of\ntheir horses, the artillery men of the Continentals drove into the\nHarby farm yard, drew out a wagon, lashed the dismounted cannon to the\nhind axle, hitched on the team, and, whipping up the steeds, the whole\nbattery dashed toward Matson\u2019s ford, and reached safely the camp at\nValley Forge. Seven gallant American lads, in the rear guard of the\nyoung Continentals, died in the fight to save the guns for their\ncountry.\n\nBut the rest of that breakfast, and all there was in the spring house,\npantry, kitchen and even in the ovens, was eaten by the hot and hungry,\nand mad, and disappointed Hessians. The two little girls lived to tell\nwhat they had seen, and another little sister, born before the war was\nover, stood with them on Chestnut street in 1824, to see the Marquis de\nLafayette again. He was riding in the parade and amid the general joy,\nwhen the City Troop, with their old thirteen-striped flag, of 1775,\nescorted the aged friend of America. And the same cannon that was saved\nat Barren Hill thundered welcome from its iron throat.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHE WONDERFUL ALPINE HORN\n\n\nWhen the little boys and girls, who read these Swiss fairy tales, grow\nup to be big and travel in Switzerland, they will enjoy the Alpine\nhorn.\n\nNearly every shepherd lad in the mountains knows how to blow it. It is\nmade of wood, and is about half as long as an ordinary broom. Its butt,\nor heavy end, rests on the ground. When a man blows a long blast, the\nsound, at first, when one is too near, does not seem to be very\npleasing; for distance lends enchantment to the sound. But wait a\nmoment, and listen! Far off across the valley, the strains are caught\nup, and sent back from the tops of the high mountains. Then it sounds\nas if a great choir of angels had come down from Heaven to sing glory\nto God, and to bring greetings to all good souls. Nowhere in all the\nworld is there such sweet music made by echoes.\n\nSometimes there is a double set of echoes, like one rainbow inside of\nanother. Then, it makes one think of a choir of little angels, that\nsing a second time, after the first heavenly chorus has ceased.\n\nHow the Swiss people first received the Alpine horn, as a gift from the\nfairies, is told in the story of a faithful shepherd\u2019s boy, named\nPerrod. He had to work hard all day, in tending the cows that grazed on\nthe high mountain pastures, which the natives call the Alps. But when\nforeign people speak of \u201cthe Alps,\u201d they mean the ranges of mountains\nthemselves.\n\nIn winter, these level stretches of ground are covered with snow and\nice, but by the month of June, it is warm enough for the grass and\nflowers to grow. Then the cowboys and cheese makers go up with their\ncattle. At night, Perrod, having milked the cows, skimmed the cream off\nthe milk, hung the great caldron over the fire, and made the cheese.\n\nBy this time, that is, well into the late hours, Perrod was almost\ntired to death. After calling \u201cgood-night\u201d to Luquette, his sweetheart,\nwho lived across the valley, and hearing her greeting in answer, he\nclimbed up the ladder, into the loft, and lay down on his bed. This was\nonly a pile of straw, but he was asleep almost the very moment he\ntouched it, for he was a healthy lad and the mountain air was better\nthan medicine. It was especially good for sound sleep, and he knew he\nmust get up early, at sunrise, to lead the cows and goats out to\npasture. Then the all-day concert, of tinkling bells, began.\n\nBut this night, instead of slumber, without once waking until day dawn,\nPerrod had closed his eyes, for only about three hours, when he heard a\ncrackling sound, which waked him up. He thought, at first, the wind was\nblowing hard enough to rip off some of the bark strips from the roof of\nthe chalet, and was tumbling down some of the heavy stones laid on to\nkeep them in place. But when he saw the reflection, on the walls and\nceiling, of a bright fire, he crawled quietly out of bed. Then he\npeeped down and through the cracks in the board floor, to see what was\ngoing on.\n\nThree men were around the fire. One, the biggest fellow of the three,\nwas hanging up the caldron on the hooks. The second piled on more wood,\nwhile the others warmed their hands in the bright blaze.\n\nThe three men were all different in appearance, the one from the other,\nand a queer looking lot they were. The tremendously tall man seemed to\nbe a giant, in weight and size. His sleeves were rolled up, showing\nthat his arms were sunburnt, until they were very dark. When he lifted\nup the caldron, to hang it up, or take it down, his muscles stood out\nlike whipcords.\n\nBut the man sitting on a milking stool, at the right hand side of the\nfireplace, was entirely different, being smaller, and with a white skin\nand golden hair. He had a long horn, which rested on the floor beside\nhim.\n\nThe man on the left-hand side of the fireplace, appeared to be a\nwoodman, or hunter. At least, he seemed to be used to the forest.\nThough it was pitch dark night, he knew where the wood lay, piled up\nunder the eaves of the chalet; for, when the fire burned low, he went\nout doors and returned with an arm load of faggots. Then he piled up\nthe wood, and the fire blazed, and crackled, and roared, until the boy\nin the loft thought the hut would be burned up, too. Yet, though he\ntrembled at the strange sight, he was brave. He resolved not to be\nquiet, if the big men tried to steal his cheese, which was to be food\nfor the family during the winter.\n\nJust as he was wondering, whether his sisters and old daddy would have\nenough to eat, during the long cold winter of eight months, that was\nsoon coming, when snow and ice covered the fields, he saw a curious\nthing happen. Sweet music began, such as had never met his ears before,\nsince he was in his cradle and his mother sang to him.\n\nIt was the man with the golden hair, who seemed to be the real\ngentleman of the party. He it was, who made the music. He first handed\nsomething to the giant, who dropped it into the caldron. Then, with his\nhorn, he disappeared through the door. When outside, he lifted the\ninstrument to his lips and blew a blast.\n\nPerrod was so interested in watching the giant, that he paid little\nattention to the man outside, or to the sound he had made, for he saw\nthe hunter take a bottle out of his pocket, and hand it over to the\nbiggest fellow, who stood at the caldron over the fire. This one poured\nthe liquid, which seemed to be blood red, into the big iron pot. Then,\nwith a ladle, as big as a shovel, and long as a gun, he stirred\nvigorously. Then, three beakers, or cups were set upon the table.\n\nBy this time, the golden haired man outside had finished his blast of\nmusic, which seemed to float across the valleys down into the defiles,\nover the pastures, and through the wood. It grew sweeter and sweeter,\nas it swelled on the gentle night breeze, until all the mountains\nseemed to have awakened, turned into living angels and lifted up their\nvoices. The sweet strain ended with a prolonged sad note, as if\nmelancholy had fallen on the musicians, and then it ceased.\n\nA strange thing happened. All the cows and goats woke up from their\nsleep, and one, from all directions, could hear the tinkling of their\nneck bells, all over the pastures, far and near. The poor creatures\nthought it was time to get up and be milked, but they were puzzled to\nfind it was yet dark. In fact, they were all, still, quite sleepy and\nvery slow to move.\n\nSomething even far more wonderful happened next. Perrod, after first\nhearing the horn blow, thought the music had ceased: when, suddenly, it\nall seemed to come back in vastly greater volume. The sounds were\nmultiplied, as if a thousand echoes had blended into one and all heaven\nhad joined in the melody. Perrod was entranced. He even closed his eyes\nlest he might, by looking down at the strange men, lose some of what\nseemed to him a choir of angels singing.\n\nWhen the last strain had ceased, Perrod opened his eyes. The golden\nhaired musician had re-entered the chalet, and resumed his seat,\nsitting down again on the milkstool, at the right of the fire; while\nthe hunter rearranged three glass goblets, on the rough wooden table,\nfrom which Perrod ate his meals.\n\nAll three of the strangers then solemnly watched the caldron, as the\nliquid boiled, just as the cream does, when cheese is to be made; the\nbig man stirring up with his huge ladle. At a particular moment, the\ngiant lifted the caldron and emptied out the contents into the three\nglass vessels. To the amazement of Perrod, there issued, from the same\nvessel, three very different colors.\n\nIn the first glass, filled to the brim, the draught was as red as\nblood, and it foamed at the top. The drops, flying out on the board,\nleft crimson stains.\n\nGiving a tap on the caldron, with the big ladle, the tall man let flow,\ninto the second glass, what seemed to be the same liquid; but this\ntime, it was as green as grass, but hissing hot, and bubbling.\n\nAnother loud ladle tap on the caldron, and out flowed a stream as cold\nas snow water, and as white as the edelweiss flower. The liquid rested\nin the goblet as quiet as milk, but seemed to be frosty on the top.\n\nNow the giant-like fellow, shaking his huge ladle in his right hand,\nand putting his left at the side of his mouth, shouted with a voice of\nthunder:\n\n\u201cCome down, you boy, and make your choice of one of these three. Each\nhas a glorious gift to him who drinks. Come quick, for it will soon be\ndaylight.\u201d\n\nPerrod knew he was discovered, but he was a brave boy. If his legs\ntrembled, his heart was big. Moreover, the golden haired man gave him a\nnod, and winked his eye, to encourage the lad.\n\nSo Perrod at once climbed down and stood before the table, on which\nwere the three chalices.\n\n\u201cDrink, young friend,\u201d said the giant, \u201cfrom any one of these, but know\nthat, in the red liquid, is a gift to the Swiss men. Drain this cup,\nand then you will have strength, like me.\u201d At that, he bent his arm to\nshow his mighty muscles. \u201cYou will be able to conquer the strongest\nman, or fiercest beast. Besides, I shall give you a hundred fat cows,\neach of which will yield much milk, rich in butter. Drain this cup,\nand, according to my promise, you will see the kine tomorrow.\u201d\n\nThen the hunter spoke: \u201cBetter drink from my goblet. After this green\ndraught, you will have all the gold you want, and heaps of coins; and\nthen you can marry, and still easily support your old father and\nmother.\u201d So saying, he tossed handfuls of gold pieces on the floor,\npiling them up, until they reached the lad\u2019s knees. Perrod opened his\neyes wide in astonishment, for here was not a promise in words, but the\nactual thing, that he could see for himself.\n\nHe was just about to stretch both his hands and drink the green liquid,\nwhen the golden haired man, speaking gently to Perrod, said:\n\n\u201cI cannot promise you either cows or coins, but if you drink the liquid\nin the white goblet, you will be able to use this horn, make music in\nthe mountains and call your cows, as I have done. Thus your flocks and\nherds also will share with you my gift.\u201d\n\nNot a minute did Perrod wait to decide. \u201cI care more for music, than\nfor money, or strength,\u201d he said, and, lifting the glass, he put it to\nhis lips and drained the cup dry.\n\n\u201cWhat was it, and how did it taste?\u201d do you ask? It was what the cows\ngave him every day\u2014pure fresh milk, but cold as glacier water.\n\n\u201cGood,\u201d cried the man with the golden hair. \u201cAny other choice would\nhave meant death. Here is the horn. Blow it tomorrow, and see what will\nhappen.\u201d\n\nAs if lifted up on wings, to his straw bed, but holding on to his horn,\nPerrod heard the door shut and bang, as the three men went out, two of\nthem scowling. Then the fire cooled to ashes. He fell asleep and\ndreamed of the time when, in the church, he should lead his bride to\nthe altar, his lovely sweetheart, Luquette, to be married, and the two\nshould have a chateau and home of their own.\n\nAwakening at the first moment, when the rosy light of the rising sun\nmade the face of the mountains blush, even while the valleys below were\nstill in darkness, and long before his sisters, in the village, far\naway, had awakened, he rushed out to the edge of the pasture. Then, he\ndrew in a man\u2019s breath, filled his lungs, and, putting his lips to the\nmouthpiece of the horn, blew a long blast. He listened eagerly, for the\nfar off echoes. A pleasant double surprise awaited him.\n\nAll over the pastures, in the chalets of the high plateau, and along\nthe mountain slopes, even down to the valleys, there was heard, at\nonce, the tinkling of goat bells, cow bells, and the sound even of what\nhung in the metal collars of donkeys and horses, until the chorus of\nbell music was wonderful.\n\n\u201cVery fine, but is that all?\u201d thought Perrod.\n\nBut another surprise! From across the great ravine, or chasm, out\nrushed his beloved Luquette. Hastily throwing a wrap around her\nshoulders, she stood in bare feet, threw a kiss to Perrod, and shouted\nto him her joy.\n\nNow came the crowning wonder. From the high peaks, miles distant, and\nnow rosy red in the dayspring, came back the music, in multiplied\nechoes, as if all the snow ranges of the Alps were singing. Pure,\nsweet, prolonged, the boy thought of what he had heard read in the\nchurch, that, at creation \u201cthe morning stars sang together.\u201d So it\nseemed now to him.\n\nThrough many centuries, and to this day, to call the cows together, to\nmake the goats look up, and turn homeward, to seek shelter of the\nnight, for men\u2019s evening prayer and chant of thanks-giving, for the\nsignals of defence against enemies, for beginning the festal dance, or,\nto sound the wedding joy, the Alpine horn is the delight of the Swiss.\nIt is like the carillons of the Belgic folk, the chimes of Normandy,\nthe tower music of Holland, or the bagpipes of the Highlander. In a\nforeign land, in dreams, in its memories it tells of \u201chome, sweet\nhome.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE WHIMSICAL AVALANCHE\n\n\nIt may happen, in Switzerland, that mighty masses of snow and ice,\nsometimes as big as the capitol at Washington, and as high as Bunker\nHill monument, will roll down the mountain sides without giving any\nnotice. These crush whole forests, bury villages, tear rocks to pieces,\nknock off bits of the mountain sides and kill thousands of people,\ncows, goats and horses.\n\nThough large enough to engulf an army, or a battleship, they are very\nsmall, when first born, up in the very high Alps.\n\nStarting as a snow ball, they grow large, very quickly, every moment,\nand finally become immense. Then, they roll along over many miles,\ncarrying destruction in their path, until they tumble over precipices,\nor reach low land that is level. That is the reason why they are so\nnamed, for avalanche means \u201cto the valley.\u201d\n\nThere are many causes of an avalanche and a little thing may start one\nof these terrors. The irregular melting, by the morning sun, of ice, in\nlight or shade, the fall of an icicle, the tumbling of a stone, or a\nsliver of rock, or even the firing of a gun, which shakes the\noverhanging, or piled up snow, will begin one of these revolving\nglobes.\n\nNow in old times, all Swiss folk used to think that an avalanche was\nalive, and was having a jolly time, enjoying itself, when sliding and\nrolling, leaping and dashing down the mountain slopes, in its mad race,\nfrom the sky to the plain. This was its way of enjoying itself, with a\nshort life and a merry one. It grew faster than anything else known.\nFor, while a glacier might take a thousand years to develop, from\nsnowflakes into miles of solid ice, like a frozen river, it required\nonly a few minutes for an avalanche to spring from babyhood into full\nsize, with a power exceeding that of a thousand giants.\n\nBeing, at its birth, only an inch or two in diameter, this infant son\nof the King of the Frost Giants, the avalanche soon became the child,\nwhich, as it grew up, so terribly fast, took after its daddy. It liked\nto flatten out trees, and houses, and smash things. It generally so\nfrightened men, dogs, cats and the big animals, that dared to come near\nthe everlasting heights of ice and snow, where the Frost Giants lived,\nthat, in old times, no one in winter went up to the high peaks.\n\nAs a rule, nobody knows, either in summer or winter, just when the\navalanches will fall, or whether they will be made of light, powdery,\ndry snow, or of snow that is heavy, wet, and like what the boys call\n\u201csoakers.\u201d Yet there are some old men in Switzerland, who can foretell\navalanches, as our wise men try to do with the weather.\n\nOnce upon a time, the Frost Giant\u2019s baby, of which we are going to\ntell, was born, and great things were expected of it, even when it was\nonly as big as a snowflake. But, when it grew up, to be a real\navalanche, it behaved very differently from all the others. It\ndisappointed its daddy and its uncles awfully. The Frost Giants like to\nmake all the mischief they can, while this one wanted to help men,\ninstead of hurting them, and made a new record in the history of\ncolossal snowballs.\n\nIt was on a summer\u2019s day, when the Frost Giants all gathered together\non a big mountain top, to celebrate the birthday of their king. On his\npart, he was to treat them to a sight of an unusually wonderful baby.\nIt was to be in the form of a ball of snow, that, when it become a\nmighty mass, would wipe out one great forest, two big villages, with\nall the people and cattle in it, and then roll into the valley. There\nit would destroy hundreds of acres of farms and vineyards, block up the\nroads, multiply funerals, and waste so many millions of men\u2019s dollars,\nthat years would pass away before prosperity and good times would come\nagain. The Frost King had a map of the route, which the young avalanche\nwas to travel, and he showed it around freely. This was what the Frost\nGiants loved to do, for they hated flowers and butterflies, and cows\nand men.\n\nWhen the white Frost Giants had come together, and all had arrived, in\ntheir coats of hard snow and with long beards of icicles, the Frost\nKing invited them to gather at the edge of a precipice, under a jagged\npeak, that had many times been riven and splintered by lightning. Then\nhe bade them look down over the landscape, while he pointed out the\ntrack which he expected his hopeful offspring, the newborn avalanche,\nwas to take, from the time it started, until it had done its work in\nlevelling forests, villages and vineyards. Then, using the big palm of\nhis hand as a diagram, and his five fingers as pointers\u2014just as a\nfortune teller finds out and assures a girl what kind of a husband she\nwill have\u2014he told them just what he was sure would happen. On reaching\nthe valley, the big ball would spread itself over a square mile or two,\nwhile covering up and ruining the grain fields.\n\nAfter that, it would take the sunshine and warm south wind at least two\nor three years to melt the mass, while thousands of people would be in\nmourning for their dead children and kinsfolk. Or, reduced to beggary,\nthey would bewail the loss of all they had in this world. To hear the\nold Frost King, as his tongue wagged, and the icicles of his beard\nflopped up and down, as the chief chin-chopper of the party, you would\nhave thought that this baby avalanche, that was to start today was the\ngreatest and most famous ever known.\n\n\u201cNow watch,\u201d said the Frost King.\n\nIt was midday in midsummer, and the heat was great, as he took up a\nmass of wet snow, hardly more than a dipper full, but already made soft\nby the sun\u2019s rays. He squeezed the mass hard, between the palms of his\nhands. To the Frost Giants, it seemed scarcely bigger than a pill.\n\nThen, striking an attitude, like a baseball pitcher, or a man playing\ntenpins, and about to roll the ball along down the alley, the Frost\nKing held up before them the dark gray, sticky ball. As he fondled and\npatted it, as his own child, the Frost King called out, \u201cI name thee,\nmy son, \u2018Soaker Smash-All,\u2019 and I expect thee to break all records.\nMake the widest swathe of ruin, my son, ever known among men. The sun\nis mine enemy, and, through thee, I shall spoil his work and give him\nplenty of labor to restore it. Go!\u201d\n\nSaying this, the toss was made and the ball set rolling.\n\nAt first, for several seconds, with Soaker Smash-All, it was more like\nploughing, than rolling its way through the drifts, for the slope was\nslight. Then, as the incline grew more steep, the tumbling became more\nrapid, until about a half mile from the starting point, the baby\navalanche had, by its leaps and bounds grown so fast, as to be already\nas big as a barn. It was bouncing swiftly along, when, instead of going\nstraight ahead, as its daddy, the Frost King, had planned and expected,\nit rolled against a rounded rock, that curved up and backwards, like\nthe dashboard of a sleigh, or the roof of a pagoda.\n\nAt once, it swerved to the right and bounded high up in the air, as\nthough some Frost Giant was playing foot ball, and was trying to hit\nthe goal.\n\nThen all sorts of funny things began to happen.\n\nThe Frost Giants were terribly disappointed at seeing their pet mount\nup in the air like a pigskin ball from the foot of a first class\nkicker, even before it was half grown. To behave so differently, from\nwhat its daddy had felt sure of, and told the Frost Giants it would do,\nseemed like disobedience. For, was not this avalanche the Frost King\u2019s\nson? Instead of rolling straight down the valley, gathering force for\nits final plunge, at every yard, it was apparently trying to climb up\nto the moon.\n\n\u201cThat youngster is altogether too smart,\u201d whispered one old giant to\nanother.\n\nJust a second or two, before this baby avalanche seemed to have lost\nboth its head and its path, to go aside and play in the deep valley\nbelow, there was a hunter, on one side of the ravine, who had climbed\nup the high rocks, to get a shot at a herd of chamois that were feeding\nquietly on the other side.\n\nBesides the buck or daddy chamois there were four mothers, each with a\npretty little kid, hardly two months old, beside her. Now it was not\nthe season for hunting, and it was against the law, which allowed the\nmother chamois a quiet interval, and the kids, time to grow up; for a\nchamois kid needs to be educated just as a child does.\n\nBut this fellow, named Erni, was both cruel and lawless. He had brought\nhis spy glass with him and, pulling it out, swept the distant faces of\nthe great cliffs to find his game. Just as this promising family\u2014a\nbuck, with a harem of four does, and as many kids\u2014hove in sight, his\nfancy was tickled. Law or no law, he would shoot. He laid down his\nglass, pointed the rifle and took cool aim, hoping to bring down two of\nthe chamois at a shot. Then he pulled the trigger. With that gun, it\nwas a case of \u201ca fire at one end and a fool at the other.\u201d\n\nAlas, for human hopes! There is many a slip between muzzle and game. In\nhis case a miss was as good as a mile, or even a league. In the cruel\nhunter\u2019s brain there had been already a flitting vision of venison\npot-pie and chamois steak. He even saw, in his day dream, two fine\npairs of mounted horns adorning his parlor walls.\n\nBut the daddy of the chamois family had, a second before, thrown up his\nnose and caught a whiff of some human being near. Looking up in alarm,\nhe saw the huge snow ball in the air above him. Giving the usual sort\nof whistle, as chamois sentinels do, the whole family started to run,\nas if racing with the wind, to get under the shelter of an overhanging\nrock.\n\nAlready the bullet had sped, and, despite their speed, one or two\nchamois might have fallen, but the movement of an avalanche had so\nthickened and condensed the air, that it was like firing a pellet of\nlead into molasses, making the ball go slowly. This was what is called\n\u201cthe wind of the avalanche,\u201d which sometimes kills men and beasts.\n\nInstead of the heart of a chamois, the rifle bullet struck the monster\nsnowball in the centre, but it hurt the avalanche no more than a flea\nbite on the end of an elephant\u2019s tail.\n\nWe cannot here tell what Erni, the enraged hunter, said.\n\nHaving lost the whole day in climbing and now, tired, hungry and vexed\nwith disappointment, he trudged back. When he reached home, his wife\nkept quiet, his children had to keep away from him, and he did not say\nhis prayers that night.\n\nOn the contrary, in the forest home of the chamois, there was much\nrejoicing, for they had heard the ring of the rifle and seen its flash.\nIn fact, avalanches were very popular in chamois society, for even when\none was seen coming, soon enough, the bucks and does could easily dodge\nthem.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE MOUNTAIN GIANTS\n\n\nLong ages ago, when the round earth was being shaped, and the ice was\nmelting, to give way to the green fields and flowers, huge monsters,\nbears, wolves and other wild animals were the only living creatures in\nSwitzerland. Then the giants arrived on the world.\n\nWhen, by and bye, human beings came into the land, they told their\nchildren that the mountains were what were left of the earth\u2019s crust,\nafter it had shrunk into peaks and ridges, humps and hollows, like an\napple, when baked in the oven, making crusts, points and wrinkles. The\nvalleys had been sunk, by the giants walking about on the earth, while\nit was yet soft. The rivers were formed by the weeping of the giants\u2019\nwives and daughters, when they were badly treated; for these rough\nfellows, husbands and brothers, did not know how to be kind to their\nfemale kin. The only way the giants were able to make their women obey\nthem, when they were bad tempered, or naughty, or scolded too much, was\nto use shovels, pokers, clubs, and straps on them. This clumsy and\ncruel way, of keeping the family in order, was because the giants had\nnot yet learned to love, but were like brutes and knew only about\nforce.\n\nThese giants, though so big, were very stupid, as compared with men.\nTheir brains were more like those of babies, and they were not half as\nsmart as boys and girls are to-day. They did not know enough even to\nplough the ground, and raise wheat, and rye, and oats, and to make\nporridge, to say nothing of bread and cakes, and pies and doughnuts.\nThey could not melt lead, or work iron, or make tools, but depended on\ntheir muscles, because these were huge and tough, so that they bulged\nout; for the giants had terrific strength, like bulls and elephants.\nThough their brains were so small, their limbs were like pillars, much\nthicker than piano legs, and their arms were like iron. They could only\nmake hammers, or chisels, knives and scrapers of stone, and clubs of\nwood, for they knew no better, and never went to school or college.\n\nWhen men finally arrived on the earth, and began to plough the ground,\nand to raise wheat for bread, and brought cows for milk, the giants,\nand especially the giantesses, were mightily interested. Their\ncuriosity was great, to see how the things were done and how houses\nwere built, and cradles were made for babies to sleep in.\n\nThe giants told their sons and daughters not to meddle with the human\nfolks, but rather to help them; for the giants, dull as their wits\nwere, were afraid of any creature, that, though smaller than they were,\nhad more brains. They wondered how human beings got such big heads, and\nthey often pounded on each other\u2019s skulls, to see if they were hollow\ninside, like a cocoanut.\n\nNow the biggest, of all these big fellows, was their king, named\nGargantua, but men learned to call him \u201cOld Gargy.\u201d He had only one\ndaughter, Bertha, who was his pet. She was a pretty good giantess, but\nshe always wanted to have her own way, and this often made trouble in\nthe family. Daddy and mamma could not always agree about her. Bertha\nknew how to get on Old Gargy\u2019s soft side, and sweeten his temper.\n\nToo often, her indulgent father either let her have her own way, or\ngave what she begged of him, or else he winked at, and overlooked, some\nof her foolish pranks.\n\nOne day, when her daddy and mamma were asleep, she sneaked out from the\ncave, on her tiptoes, and slipped down a glacier. When on solid ground,\nshe ran, like a deer, up into the valley, where she saw a farmer with\ntwo horses making furrows in the field.\n\nAmused at this, she stood and watched, while perched on a boulder,\nlooking on with wonder. Then the young giantess burst out laughing.\n\n\u201cHow funny, to make stripes, and little gutters, all along the ground,\u201d\nshe said to herself. Then, she walked up to where the man was and\nlifting him, his plough, and both his horses, in one of her big hands,\nshe held out her apron, open wide, and dropped the whole lot, man,\nteam, and tools into it. These she took home to play with, on the cave\nfloor. Her mother looked on and enjoyed the fun, as her daughter pulled\nthe horses\u2019 tails, and made them kick. She forced the man to dance on\nher thumb nail, and used the iron end of the plough to clean her finger\nnails. The man talked and whined and wanted to go home to his wife and\nbabies, but the giantess, Bertha, could not understand, a word he said.\nSo she spoke to her mother thus:\n\n\u201cThis must be his way of frowning, like a wolf cub. Or, maybe he is\nchattering, like a monkey. Or is he crying? Do you suppose?\u201d\n\nAt this, the shadow of Old Gargy darkened the cave door. He saw what\nwas being done, and instantly ordered the release of the man and his\nhorses. Then he lifted his club, as a sign of securing obedience.\n\nThe jolly giantess, Bertha, having had her fun, took back the man and\nhis team into the valley. The farmer\u2019s wife was so grateful, that she\nwanted to make her visitor a nice present. So she took from the corner\nof the room something brown. It was four-foot long and stood there, on\nthe end, with others like it. They looked like clubs, but seemed very\nlight. These were loaves of Swiss rye bread, that were kept standing on\ntheir ends, in the spring house, and were called the staff of life. A\nthick round cheese, a pot of honey and a full pail of milk were also\ngiven Bertha for a present. The giantess ate heartily. She drank a\nbucket full of the milk, chewed up a cheese, and a yard of bread, and\nthen asked for more to take home; which was willingly given.\n\nWhen back in the cave, the giant family had a jolly feast; at least,\neach one had a mouth full. They all smacked their lips, and murmured\n\u201cUm, um, um,\u201d in their delight.\n\nDown in the Valley, the farmer\u2019s wife, although the sky was blue, and\nthe sun shining, thought it was thundering, or that an avalanche had\nfallen down the mountain; but it was only the giant family showing how\nhappy they were, at eating the food of human beings.\n\n\u201cSo you see, daughter Bertha,\u201d said Old Gargy, her daddy, \u201cwhat these\nhuman creatures can do for us. So, do you let them alone; and, in the\nfuture, harm them not, even in play. Then they will give us more bread\nand cheese and milk.\u201d\n\nThe good daughter placed one of the big cheeses, still uneaten, upon\nher thumb nail, as a sign of truth. Then she declared she never would\ndisturb anything, man or beast in the valley.\n\nNow there was another giant, named Hotap, who, in disposition, was very\ndifferent from his neighbor, and often played bad tricks on the\nfarmers. He loved to start avalanches, by making a wet snowball called\na soaker, and then flinging it over the snow and down into the valley,\nupon the villages. In this way, he ruined many houses, barns, and\nstables, killing men, goats, sheep, donkeys, chickens and cattle.\n\nBesides this Hotap used to lie in wait for nice little boys, especially\nthose that were rosy, and plump, and to catch them and eat them up. He\nsometimes came back, to his cave home, with his pocket full of small\nboys. He thus ruined so many families, and made so many mothers cry,\nthat they sometimes called him Old Schoppe, which means something like\nBoy-Eater, or, more exactly, our John Barleycorn.\n\nBut Schoppe was a giant that destroyed many more small boys, than any\nother giant, or ogre, and in a different way. By and bye, Hotap and\nSchoppe, who at first were rivals, became partners. Instead of living\nin caves, they went into business and set up shops all over\nSwitzerland. They lured young men into these shops, and set them to\ndrinking poisonous stuff, which the giants made, so that the roads, and\nstreets, and gutters at nights, and early in the morning, were often\nfull of fellows lying asleep on the ground, or like pigs in the mud.\n\nThen, further, the two giants made it the general fashion of putting\nSchoppe\u2019s drink even into things cooked for children.\n\nHotap found that, as partner to Schoppe, he could catch and destroy\nmore boys in this new business, than in the old way. So he laid aside\nhis club and stopped trying to destroy villages by rolling avalanches\non them. He put on fine clothes, and made his shops very attractive, by\nlooking glasses, and pretty pitchers, and tumblers. But, finally, he\nhimself got so fond of the drink which Schoppe made, out of barley, and\nrye, and other grain that he drank himself to death and was buried in a\ncemetery. Over his grave a monument was carved, in the shape of a\nbarrel, with a bung, and spout, and tap, as if he were continuing\nbusiness in the next world.\n\nBut Schoppe kept on in the business. He ground up grain, and wasted so\nmuch, that he made the price of bread very high, so that poor people\noften had to go hungry. Out of the good barley and rye, he made the\nstuff that poisoned the brains of the young men and turned them into\nflapjacks, so that they lay as stupid as stones in the ground. He\nfilled up the men, until they were hardly better than swill barrels. In\nthis way many boys were ground up into poverty or stupidity, and the\ngraveyards were filled so fast, by old Schoppe, that people called his\nsaloon the Mill. At last, the big fat fellow, with a red nose, died\nalso.\n\nSo at Berne, one sees the monument of Schoppe or Boy-Eater. He stands\nin bronze over a fountain. He has boys in his pocket, samples of boys\nin his hands and mouth, some more at his feet, and a good supply at\nhand, to chew up and swallow.\n\nEveryone goes to see the statue of the Boy Eater. Yet many others still\nfollow his business and eat up the boys.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE DWARF AND HIS CONFECTIONERY\n\n\nOf all the families, tribes and clans of the little brown Folks, that\nare only a yardstick high, the Swiss dwarfs are the funniest, and at\nthe same time the most friendly. They excel all others in being kind to\nevery living creature and in doing good things for human folks. They\nlook after the chamois, to keep them from being shot at, or killed, by\nhunters that are cruel. Or, they whisper to the fish, to keep away from\nnaughty boys. They even go after lost cattle and goats, tend the\nflocks, milk the cows, make cheese, and do lots of good favors for the\npeople whom they like. There are the kind shepherds and housemaids, who\ngive them occasionally a bowlful of milk, or leave out a cup of cream\nfor them to drink. They know where treasures lie in the ground, where\nthe best pastures are to be found for the cows, and the secrets of the\ngrasses and flowers are at their fingers\u2019 ends.\n\nIn time of storm and wind, when it is too cold, or when avalanches are\ntumbling down the mountains, they keep away from the land, and are\nnever visible. Going down deep, into the caves, or mines, they shut\nthemselves up, until Jack Frost has departed and the storms and\ngreatest cold are over. They shrink away, especially from the South\nwind, called the F\u00f6hn, which blows for seventeen days at a time, for it\nis like poison to them, and blinds their eyes.\n\nTo the people who treat them badly, or make fun of their feet, or\nheads, or laugh and jeer at them, because they are so small, the Swiss\ndwarfs are very mischievous, and even revengeful, and do such folks\ngreat harm in the kitchens and stables. They smash the milk pans and\ncheese kettles, upset the churns, lead the cattle astray, tie the cows\u2019\ntails together, and put stones and sticks in their food-troughs.\nUsually they do so much mischief, that the rude or cruel people have to\nbe good, and treat the dwarfs with more politeness.\n\nAs for their looks, and the way they dress, the Swiss dwarfs beat all.\nThey are web-footed, like geese, but they cover themselves, from head\nto toes, with long green cloaks. They wear gay red caps on their heads,\nwhich look like the cowls of monks. Most curious of all, are their\nbeards, which are thick and long, and often white as snow.\n\nA hundred years or so ago, many stories were told by old folks about\nthe dwarfs. One of these will show how kind, obliging, and useful, or\nhow surly and troublesome, the dwarfs could be\u2014according as they are\ntreated by merry, or by grumpy folks.\n\nFor example, Mr. Hilty was a dairy farmer, or shepherd, who was always\nready to treat a dwarf with a cocoanut dipper full of cream. Because of\nthis, the dwarfs were willing, whenever he called them, to look after\nhis herds, when he wanted to leave his chalet, in the high pastures,\nand go down into the valley, to sell his cheeses, or to buy groceries.\n\nBut by and bye, Hilty, while he was a good fellow, became too\ninquisitive. He wanted to know the secrets of the dwarfs and even\npestered them with questions. Then, they warned him that they could not\ntell, and that he must not ask. When he got too troublesome, the chief\nof the dwarfs thought it was time to give him a lesson. So one day,\nHilty was invited, by an old white beard, to come and pay a visit to\nhis cave.\n\nWhen the shepherd, who had grown rather fat, was very tired, after much\nclimbing up and over the rocks, with much puffing and blowing, arrived\nat the cave, he had to stop and get his breath. The chief dwarf came\nout, and smilingly invited him into the cave, where he sat down on the\nstool offered him.\n\nHilty was amazed, as he looked at the beautiful stalactites, hanging\nfrom the ceiling, and his eyes opened wide at the ingots of gold and\nsilver, which he saw lying on the floor. Piles of silver ore, not yet\nsmelted, and heaps of rocky crystals, topazes, onyx, and some sapphires\nand opals lay around. His host, the dwarf, paid no attention to these,\nbut led him further in the cave, where was a sofa, made of thick soft\nmoss, on which he was told to lounge at ease.\n\nBefore Hilty, there was spread a table, crowded with every sort of good\nthings to eat, except, that there was no fish or meat in sight. The\ndwarf explained to his guest that all the cookies, goodies, and\neatables were made from things in the vegetable kingdom.\n\nAfter Hilty had enjoyed a good dinner, the dwarf told his guest that he\nwould reveal to him one of the secrets of his skill, but he must not\nask to be told more. He would be shown how to make delicious sweets,\nand valuable confectionery, from a common weed, which the chamois fed\non every day. But this done, he repeated, Hilty must, on no account,\nask for any other secret. Nor must he try to learn any receipt about\nany other delicacy, or even watch, while the cooking was going on. If\nhe did, the dwarf would be angry, and cut off the shepherd from his\nfriendship. He might even punish him, by causing him to lose his way,\nwhen returning home.\n\nHilty gave his promise, making also the sign of the cross on his\nbreast. He swore an oath, that he would not see, hear, touch, taste, or\ntry, even, to feel, any further than was permitted and clearly\ncommanded him.\n\nTrusting his guest fully, the dwarf first took a basketful of what we\ncall \u201cIceland moss,\u201d which grows so plentifully in the high Alpine\npastures. Then he showed how, with water and fire, he could make the\ndelicacy known among us as \u201cIceland Moss Paste.\u201d\n\nAt once, after tasting a morsel of the confection, with gusto, Hilty\nsmacked his lips and began to dream of getting rich. He resolved to\nopen a shop and make the new confection in his own village.\n\nBut this Hilty was a greedy and covetous fellow and often made a\nglutton of himself. Seeing that the dwarf had everything ready, to make\nmore confectionery, of other kinds, he made up his mind to learn all\nthe secrets. \u201cThis time,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cI shall set up, not a\nvillage shop, but a big confectionery store in Lucerne, the great\ncity.\u201d He never thought more, of keeping the solemn promise, which he\nhad just given to the dwarf.\n\nSo, pretending to be very sleepy, he asked the dwarf to let him lie\ndown at length on the moss sofa and take a nap. The kind host at once\nagreed, and made his guest comfortable. In a few minutes, pretending to\nbe asleep, Hilty, who was a gawk and a bumpkin, in manners, let his\nnose and open mouth give vent to snores, long and loud.\n\nThis, in itself, was bad enough, and the dwarf was disgusted at such\nmanners and much irritated by the noise. But, worse than this was to\ncome. This ill mannered dairyman, who kept peeping between his eyelids,\ngot very much excited, as he saw the dwarf doing the most wonderful\nthings, with common weeds and flowers. Out of these he drew juices,\nflavors, coloring matter, aromatic liquids, and sugars, either in\ncrystal, or in the form of gum or candy. Out of his pots, pans and\nkettles, he poured what looked like the most tempting things to eat.\nThey smelled so delightful that Hilty forgot himself and, with his eyes\nwide open, stared at the dwarf and what he was doing.\n\nBy this time, Hilty was building great air castles. He saw himself in a\ngreat candy store in Lucerne employing fifty pretty girls, in\nattractive uniform, to allure the public, wait at the counters on the\ncrowd of customers, who came with plenty of money and all eager to get\nwaited on. They stood in lines, four deep, in front of the show cases,\neyeing what they were to choose; while those nearest the girls were\neagerly buying bonbons, chocolates, caramels, all-day suckers, mint\ndrops and Iceland moss paste, in boxes tied up in dainty, gay colored\nribbons. Each box was wrapped, not in common paper, but in dotted Swiss\nmuslin, or fine cambric. No one seemed to care how much the cost might\nbe.\n\nBack of the counters, were scores of lovely Swiss maidens, in white\nbodices, with silver chains, ornamented girdles, and brilliant\nhead-dresses. These were tied, so as to show they were not yet married.\nThere were dozens of waiter boys and serving maids, scurrying around\nwith trays, attending to the people at the tables, who called for ices\nand sweets, or drinks, to be sipped. His chief customers were among the\nfashionable folks of Lucerne. For, in Hilty\u2019s vision, his was the\nresort of the most stylish people in the city.\n\nOut in the kitchen, another company of cooks, confectioners,\ndishwashers, and porters, kept hard at work; and, during rush hours,\nthey were nearly ready to faint. At the rear, two clerks were kept\nbusy, every moment, checking off the receipts, of boxes and barrels of\nwhite and brown sugar, sorghum, syrup, liquors, and all sorts of\nflavoring extracts, besides delicacies imported from Constantinople,\nCalcutta, Teheran, and Nagasaki.\n\nOn the shop front, the plate glass bore the name of \u201cJean Hilty,\u201d in\nlarge gold letters, and below this, one read \u201cThe Home of Hilty\u2019s\nFamous Genuine Swiss Mountain Confectionery and Iceland Moss Paste.\u201d\n\nThe highest priced confection was a praline, or compound of nuts and\nchocolate, which was packed up in a most dainty box, lined with\nperfumed lace paper, and labeled in gold letters \u201cMade according to the\nsole receipt ever revealed by the King of the Dwarfs.\u201d\n\nThe display, in the big window, of all the delicious things known to\nthe confectioners, and many of them from foreign countries, advertised\nto be of \u201cprivate growth,\u201d and \u201cimported in our own fleet of ships\u201d was\ndazzling.\n\nMost astounding of all, was the tableau over the main entrance. It\nconsisted of a group of carved and gilded figures, in front of a highly\ntinted background, showing the dwarf at the fire, with the well-spread\ntables and the dairyman as his guest.\n\nOut on the street, the crowd that stood on the pavement, gazing up to\nsee this pretty picture, in bas-relief, was so great, that the police\nhad to make a lane and keep open a passage way, through the press of\nold and young folks, so that ordinary people could get through.\n\nSo, for a half hour or more, inside that shepherd\u2019s brain, a moving\npicture show went on, as if a five-reel film was being rolled off, and\nhis imagination had spread the screen. The bright colors, in this\npicture, of the furore for dwarf\u2019s candy exceeded any gallery of\npaintings known in Paris, or any panorama that could be made on canvas.\n\nIn fact the dairyman was so sure of the good time coming, that, with\nhis eyes wide open, he actually rubbed his two hands gleefully, right\nbefore the dwarf. The next thing he did, was that he so far forgot his\npromise, as to be heard in his glee. Instead of holding his tongue in\nsilence, he talked out loud to himself saying, \u201cAm I not a lucky\nfellow? By Saint Matthew, I am in luck, this time, surely.\u201d\n\nHearing the strange noise, the King of the dwarfs turned around to\nlook. In one hand was his skillet, and in the other a ladle and a\ncloth; and with both he was holding a very hot kettle, full of some\nliquid. In fact, he was just about to pour out the boiling chocolate\nover a dish of caramels, made after his own recipe.\n\nBut seeing the lazy lubber, wide awake, when he was believed to be fast\nasleep, the dwarf\u2019s whole appearance changed. Instead of smiles, in his\nusually happy manner, his eyes blazed with wrath, like fire. His face\nwore one long scowl. He danced with rage, and screamed out,\n\n\u201cSo that\u2019s the way you keep your word, is it? You ungrateful bumpkin!\nTake that, and that!\u201d\n\nThen, he flung the pot of hot chocolate at the fellow\u2019s head, and\nfollowed up his attack, with the ladle and cloth, batting him out of\nthe cave.\n\nWhat happened just after that, the dairyman never could, or would tell.\nHe was so stunned, that he lay insensible for several hours, as he\nthought. The scalding, from the hot chocolate, made his face smart\nfearfully. Tearing off part of his shirt, he bandaged up his head and\nfeatures as best he could, and then hobbled back home. It was weeks,\nbefore his broken head was mended enough, and the ugly scars on his\nface had healed. At last, he showed himself on the street, where the\nsmall boys made his life a burden.\n\nHenceforth the neighbors nicknamed him \u201cThe Dwarf\u2019s Guest,\u201d but he\nnever set up a candy store.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nTWO GOOD NATURED DRAGONS\n\n\nThe whole family of dragons, that are scattered all over the world,\nhave a very bad reputation. It is said that they feed on fat girls, and\nwill not taste anything but nice, tender, juicy maidens. If they try to\neat old folks, and grown up people, they get a stomach ache at once.\nThen, it takes many bottles of medicine, besides keeping them a long\ntime on a baby\u2019s diet of milk and bread, while they are getting well,\nbefore they are in full health again.\n\nBut when they regain their appetite, they roam around through the\ncountry, devouring maidens by the dozen. Then all the fathers, that\nhave lovely daughters, must be on their guard. They keep their girls at\nhome, for fear there will be none of them left.\n\nThis habit of the dragons to relish, on their bill of fare, only lovely\nmaidens, makes the brave young men want to fight and kill the monsters,\nbecause, with so few girls left, they fear that they may not be able to\nget wives, and, without these, they cannot have homes or be husbands.\n\nBut the old dragons were foxy fellows, very cunning and crafty. So they\nkept out of the way of the knights and heroes, with their swords and\nspears, and arrows, and bow guns: and even from the fairies, who cast\nspells over them. It was only once in a while, that a lucky fellow,\nlike Saint George, could stick his spear clear down the monster\u2019s\nthroat. It happened, only rarely, that one like Sigurd, the Norseman,\nor Susanoo, the Japanese, was able to slay one of the big, clumsy,\ncrawling creatures, with their trusty swords.\n\nHappily there came, once in a while, a good natured dragon; that is,\nthe right sort of a fellow, jolly in disposition, and kind to boys.\nSuch a dragon would even invite a well-behaved man to take dinner with\nhim, and even point out what food on the dragon\u2019s table tasted best.\n\nOf course, the man would not always like what was served up before him\nto eat; for a mortal cannot always enjoy what comes out of the dragon\u2019s\nkitchen, nor can he be sure of what he may be swallowing. Nobody enjoys\nchewing up his grandmother, or his aunts, or cousins, or sisters, even\nthough he might, once in a great while, feel like doing so.\n\nSo when one goes to see a dragon, and does not, himself, get swallowed\nup, he had better take a sandwich or two with him, and not taste the\ndragon\u2019s delicacies.\n\nNo pretty girl, or plump young lady, ought ever to pay a visit to a\ndragon\u2019s cave, because, however kind and polite the monster would wish\nto be, to his guest, his appetite might be too strong for him.\nMoreover, the very sight of the lovely maiden might make his mouth\nwater, and then, after roaring out, \u201cum, um,\u201d he would be very apt to\ngulp her down, at one mouthful. This might happen so quickly, that she\nwould not know where she was, or even think what her mother would say,\nwhen she missed her, on ironing day. So, even in the case of a\nwell-behaved dragon, or one supposed to have a good character, any\nperson had better be careful about visiting a dragon\u2019s cave.\n\nNow there was a man in Switzerland, a cooper, who made tubs and\nbuckets, and, once in a great while, a hogshead or a bath tub. His shop\nsign was a well-hooped barrel, set over his doorway. He was especially\nexpert at making and mending milk churns. Some of the girls used to\ndeclare that butter came more quickly, and with less hard work, in\nchurns made by him, than in any others.\n\nHis name was not Rip Van Winkle, whose father, by the way, was born in\nGermany, but he had a wife with a bad temper. She had a great\nreputation for scolding. It was said that her \u201ctongue, which was only\nthree inches long, could kill a man six feet high.\u201d In fact, some folks\ndeclared that she did not need a sword, but she could fight a dragon\nwith her fiery tongue alone. Let her but open her mouth, and such a\nvolley of abuse would be shot out, at the monster, that, no matter how\nbig, or how hungry he was, he would curl up his tail and run, or else\nflap his wings, like a frightened chicken, and be off.\n\nNow when this cooper was asked how he felt, about having such a scold\nfor a wife, he used to make apologies, and say, \u201cWell, it was not\nalways so. Once, she was so sweet and lovely, that I wanted to eat her\nup.\u201d\n\nThen, after a minute or two, he would add, \u201cAnd I have always been\nsorry, ever since, that I did not do it.\u201d\n\nWhen his wife heard of this, she called him \u201cthe son of a dragon, and a\nwoman-eater.\u201d\n\nOne day, the cooper received an unusually severe punishment, not at the\nhands, but from the mouth of his wife. This, however, he richly\ndeserved; for, after drinking, with his companions, all night, she had\nfound him lying in the gutter. After she had rolled him over, like a\nflapjack, to see if the drunken lout was her husband, he got up,\nlooking very sheepish. Then he promised to work hard that day. So she\nwent back home, to get his breakfast ready.\n\nBut instead of going to his house or shop, where the wood shavings\nsmelled so sweet, he resolved to take a walk, to get rid of a splitting\nheadache. So he scrambled up the mountain side, expecting, on his\nreturn, to tell his wife, that he had been out in the woods, looking\nfor timber, to make hoops and barrel staves.\n\nHe hardly knew where he was going, for he was stupid and half dizzy,\nfrom so much drink, from the night before, and pretty soon he slipped\nand fell. Over and over, he rolled, until, coming to the edge of a\nprecipice, he stumbled and slid far down into a bog. This cooled him\noff and brought him to his senses.\n\nHe tried long to find the way out, but could see no hole or cleft in\nthe rocks. After a while, he saw what looked like a tunnel, or, it\nmight be, a grotto.\n\nEntering in and peering about him, he discerned four great round\nlights, like moons. At this, his heart began to beat, his blood to\nswell in his veins, and his hair to rise, nearly knocking his hat off.\nHe saw two streams of fire issue from beneath and between these shining\norbs. After a few seconds, he saw clearly two dragons, that were\nbreathing out streams of fire, that nearly scorched off his eyebrows,\nwhile the sulphurous smell nearly knocked him over.\n\nAt this, the cooper made the sign of the cross, and prayed for\nprotection. Thereupon, both the dragons, that had got their jaws ready\nto swallow him, shut their mouths. They crawled up gently, with their\ntails down, and they gave him to understand that they were friendly, by\nlicking his hands and feet. This they kept on doing, until all the mud,\ninto which he had tumbled, and which had stuck to his clothes, was\nentirely gone. It was almost like taking a steam bath.\n\nAs the winter came on, the appetite of the dragons became less ravenous\nand they ate little. Like bears and marmots, they went into their cave,\nand kept very quiet, as if asleep. Moreover, even in summer, when these\ndragons could not get a supply of maidens, they devoured a sweetish\nsubstance, that exuded from a cleft in the rocks, which must have been\nfilled by a colony of bees, for honey trickled plentifully down into\nthe gully. At any rate, the cooper got to like the dragon\u2019s winter food\nso well, that he wondered how he could ever have enjoyed black bread\nand cheese. In a month, his stomach got quite used to the new diet.\n\nHe was not afraid of the dragons, and they seemed to enjoy his company.\nPerhaps they thought that, when the spring should come, he might tell\nthem, when his wife went abroad out of the house; and then, if\nstarving, they might make a dinner of her.\n\nMeanwhile, the cooper was missed in the village; and, as people wanted\ntheir tubs mended, several parties of strong young men climbed the\nmountains to find him. They sought in every grove and wood, over hill\nand down dale, in valley, and on the slopes, but his body could not be\nfound. So, he was mourned as dead; for, in spite of his faults, he was\nconsidered a good fellow.\n\nBut in spring time, when the sun began to climb high in the sky, and\nthe sap rose in the trees, the flowers bloomed, and, the cows went,\nwith the cheesemakers, to the higher pastures, the two dragons grew\nrestless, and their appetites came back in full force. Hoping to catch\na nice fat maiden or two, they began to stretch, and roll, and to\nwrithe, and tumble. They flapped, and furled, and unfolded their wings,\nuntil they felt ready to soar and swoop, with all their former skill.\n\nBy this time, also, the cooper began to get homesick. Even though\nafraid to meet his wife, he was longing to see his children, after his\nlong absence. He had got very tired of looking only on rocks and the\nwalls of the ravine. Moreover, the dragons did not seem to be as\nsociable, as at first, and they amused him no longer. Besides, he\nwanted to see his neighbors again, to tell them of his adventures and\neven to pose as a hero. He feared, however, that before he tried to get\naway, the dragons might still eat him up; for they snorted, and\nbellowed, and rubbed their stomachs, with their forepaws, as if hungry\nenough, indeed, to swallow a horse with its harness on.\n\nOne warm day, the cooper heard, afar off, the echoes of the Alpine\nhorn. He listened with delight to the yodel music, as the shepherds\ncalled their cows and goats. As he was wondering how he could get out\nof the valley, and whether the dragons would let him go, he saw the\nlarger one of the two monsters unfurl his wings, which were as big as a\nwindmill\u2019s sails. He flew straight up in the air, and, when near the\nblue sky, circled about a few times, like the carrier pigeons, which\nthe cooper had seen at home. Then, careering far away, he disappeared\nin the dim distance beyond. No doubt, that day, some poor daddy, on\ncoming home at night, missed one of his daughters. The cooper had\nnoticed, that both the dragons had been roaring with hunger, for\nseveral days previously, and now he had his fears.\n\nSo the cooper watched his chance, determined not to let the other\ndragon get away, without his stealing a ride on the monster\u2019s back. He\nknew that a man\u2019s weight, for a dragon to carry in the air, would\nhardly be felt, so much as that of a feather.\n\nFor a dragon had the power of a catapult, the strength of a rhinoceros,\na roar like a lion, teeth like a tiger, fins like a fish, claws like a\nfalcon, wings like an eagle, and scales like an alligator. In short, a\ndragon was a whole menagerie in itself.\n\nSo watching his chance, the cooper, at the very moment that he saw the\nsecond dragon unfold his wings, grabbed hold of his tail; and, though\nit was slippery, he hung on to this, for dear life. Far up in the air,\nthe monster flew, at first very high, and then low, as if he knew where\nthe cooper lived. Then, coming near his village, the monster swooped\ndown near the earth, and dropped his burden gently on the top of a\nwagon loaded with hay. He was off before any one could let fly an arrow\nfrom the string, or shoot a bolt out of a bow gun, or say \u201cBy Saint\nMatthew.\u201d\n\nAs the cooper climbed down from the hay wagon, all the ducks, geese and\nchickens set up a concert of welcome. Donkeys brayed, the cows lowed,\nand dogs barked, and cats meowed. His wife, instead of scolding him,\nthrew her arms around him, and wept for joy. His children gathered\nabout, and so held his arms and legs, that puss could not get near to\nrub her sides against his limbs. All his neighbors and friends welcomed\nhim back with delight.\n\nThe next day, his shop was filled with leaky tubs, and churns that had\nlost their hoops, and barrels that needed new staves. In addition, to\nthis old work awaiting him, the orders for new utensils came in so\nfast, that he expected soon to be a rich man. He was so grateful, for\nhis deliverance and safe return, and for his continuing prosperity,\nthat, instead of hoarding up his money, he presented, to the church, in\nhis village, a beautiful silver communion service, on which two dragons\nwere engraved.\n\nBut his happiness was but for a short time, for his stomach had\nchanged, and could no longer digest the ordinary food of mortals, not\neven buttermilk; and, as for cheese, it nearly killed him. Feeding so\nlong, on honey and dragon\u2019s food, had ruined him for liking any other\narticles of diet.\n\nIn vain his wife cooked everything very nicely and offered it in the\nmost tempting form. The maidens of the village, thankful at not being\ndigested by dragons, tried their best to tempt his appetite, with the\nvery finest their dainty hands could make, in the form of broths,\nsalads, meats, cakes, apple dumplings, puddings and tarts. The\ndelicatessen shops sent the choicest tidbits they could roast before\ntheir spits, bake in their ovens, or show on their tables, or in their\nshop windows. Nothing would avail, and the poor man died of slow\nstarvation; and this, before even autumn had come.\n\nAfter so sad an event, the popularity of even good dragons waned, so\nthat it is hard, nowadays, to make anyone believe there were such\ncreatures, that are named in encyclop\u00e6dias. It is now, the firm opinion\nof most Swiss folks, old and young, that the only good dragon is a dead\none, while those neither dead or alive, but only painted, or in fairy\ntales, are good enough to know about.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE FROST GIANTS AND THE SUNBEAM FAIRIES\n\n\nMany people think Switzerland the most beautiful country on earth. It\nis certainly the world\u2019s playground. Every year, many hundreds of\nthousands of persons from various countries, go there to spend either\nthe winter or the summer. They come to enjoy the good sleep that comes\nfrom the bracing air, to climb the high peaks, to see the flowers, to\nhear the echoes of the Alpine horn, to ride over the mountain roads, or\nto be whisked up, on electric railways, to summits among the clouds.\nWith most of the tourists, the effect of the sharp atmosphere is to\nwhet their appetites, even more than their wits; but perhaps this is\nwhat they seek.\n\nThe sick and the well alike get vast benefit. They think it great fun\nto find so much ice and snow, and also so much sunshine, as if winter\nand summer liked to play together. In February, hardy and strong people\nenjoy sledding and sliding, besides skis and skittles, and many other\nmerry sports. Children go out on sleds, with almost nothing on them, to\nenjoy the air baths.\n\nYet Switzerland was not always a flowery playground, rich in splendid\nhotels, where the boarders\u2019 bills catch the spirit of the place and\nbecome mountain climbers. For ages, it was a sort of North Pole, set in\nthe middle of Europe, frozen in, tight and fast, and with mountains of\nsnow and rivers of ice, where no animals could live. In this age,\neverything was white. Then there were no animals, men, women, children\nor babies; no flowers, no birds, no fish; no farms, no vineyards, but\nonly dreadful cold, all the year round, and for millions of years.\n\nThen the frost giants ruled a land forever white with snow, that never\nmelted, and their king sat on the top of a solid mountain of ice. These\nfrost giants would not allow anything alive to come near them. They\nmade it the law that, whatever had eyes or nose, feet or hands, or paws\nor wings, should be instantly frozen to death, and their solid\ncarcasses packed away in a refrigerator, a million years old.\n\nThe queen of the fairies, that lived down in the warm meadows, felt\nsorry that so fine a place should have nothing in it that was alive, or\nhad any color, red, pink, blue, or yellow, violet or green. She\nbelieved that the land could be conquered from the frost giants and\nmade a country in which boys and girls could play and pick flowers.\n\nIt might, indeed, take several millions of years to melt the ice and\ncover the ground with flowery meadows. But what was that? Because\nfairies never care anything about days, months or years. They never\ngrow old and do not use almanacs, because not dwelling in bodies like\nours, and never having lived like us mortals, they do not get sick or\nhave any funerals or cemeteries. They are saved all expenses of being\nburied, for they do not have any graves. There are no doctors, or\nundertakers, in fairy land, even though the immortelle flowers bloom\neverywhere. It seems to be that because some are wiser than others that\nthey may be called old, or mothers, aunts or grandmothers.\n\nTo carry out her purpose, the fairy queen made a friend of the sun and\nasked his help. This, Old Sol, as the fairies called him, was very glad\nto give; because he had rescued other parts of the world from the\nice-kings and made many lands bright and beautiful. He thought that the\nmonarch of the frost world and his white giants had reigned long\nenough, in Switzerland. Besides, Old Sol wanted to show that he had not\nyet done his best work. It is true that he had made other lands look\nlovely, changing them from barren rocks and sand, to fruitful fields,\ngroves and gardens, rich in wheat and corn, fruit trees and berry\nbushes, besides peaches and apples and pears, roses and lilies.\n\nOld Sol declared that, with the aid of the fairies, he would make\nSwitzerland the most beautiful of all countries, so that many people\nfrom foreign lands would come to see it. He would scoop out lakes,\nchannel out rivers, smooth the face of the country, and make it lovely\nwith pastures, rich in cows and goats, and spangled with flowers of\nmany hues. Yes, if the fairies would promise to put enough clothes on\ntheir favorites, and wrap them up in downy undergarments, with lots of\nfur and wool for overcoats, he would help the prettiest flowers to\nclimb up to the high mountains. Then he would promise to furnish heat\nenough, so that they could keep warm and live there. He would make it\nso pleasant for them, that they would never get homesick, or want to go\nback to their mothers in the valley below. In spite of the frost\ngiants, the storms and winds, the tempests, and the icy breath of the\ngiants, these flowers would bloom, and nod, and laugh at and defy all\nenemies.\n\nWhat was even more wonderful, Old Sol promised that every flower, as it\nclimbed higher, should have a richer color on its cheeks, so that all\nthe world would wonder. Then, the plants, in the warmer regions lower\ndown, should envy the brilliant faces of their sisters so high up. In\nfact, it was to be a beauty contest. \u201cNothing venture nothing have,\u201d\nshould be the rule. They might not grow to be so tall. Their feet might\nbe larger, for they would need strong toes, to hold on tight to the\nground, when old Boreas, the wind giant, tried his best to blow them\naway; but to win out, they were sure to do, in the end, and beat Jack\nFrost and all his army.\n\nWhen the fairies were called together, and told by their queen that the\nSun would be their friend and help them every day, and never tire of\nhis good work, you ought to have seen how happy they were. They all\nclapped their hands, and every one, big and little, wanted to be brave\nand go out to fight the frost giants. Each volunteer said, \u201cI am not\nafraid. The frost giants can\u2019t freeze me.\u201d\n\nIt was wonderful how the pretty fairies were perfectly willing to be\nchanged into humble looking plants, that never could grow very tall,\nbut lie quite flat on the ground, and have deep roots in the crannies.\nThey would have to live without much society, or excitement, and spend\ntheir lives in clefts and hollows. What was hardest to bear, was, that\nmost of them would have to live like nuns; for in the case of many of\nthem, their beauty would never be appreciated or even seen.\n\nSome were glad even to become plain meadow grasses. When one plump\nfairy was told she would become an Alpine Poa, and must carry her\nbabies on her back, she gladly consented saying, \u201cI am willing.\u201d\n\nThe enthusiasm for the war became an epidemic. Some of the big fairies\nasked to be changed into trees\u2014oak, maple, spruce, pine, or birch. This\nwas hard, for those who had been regular chatterboxes would now be able\nonly to sough in the breeze, or whisper in the winds, and they could\nroar only in a gale or tempest. Some even begged to be allowed to take\non the form of the old-fashioned arolla, the most ancient of all the\nSwiss trees.\n\nIt was astonishing to note how ready, these pretty fairies were, to put\noff their lovely gossamer-like robes, lay aside their wings, and wear\nsuch plain clothes, as some of them must, who volunteered to be meadow\nand rock plants. But then, the idea of fighting the frost giants, and\nrescuing the land from ice and snow, had filled them all with\nenthusiasm. It was like patriotism among mortals. But then, they loved\nthe children and wanted them to have a pretty playground made ready for\nthem, so that, when babies and cradles came into the land, the flowers\nwould be in bloom, for the little folks to pick and string around their\nnecks.\n\nSo the queen of the fairies and her wise counsellors enrolled and\nequipped an army of her fairies, who had agreed to be turned into\nplants, for the long war against the frost giants. Of all these, Old\nSol was to be the general. Heaps of fur and flannel, wool and velvet,\nand hair and down, were stored up, to make thick underclothes, and\nstout overcoats to keep warm, and all sorts of wiry stuff, for toes to\ngrip tight and keep hold of the rocks. Then, with plenty of rich paints\nand dyes, to color their cheeks, the Fairy Queen summoned the\nvolunteers to come forth.\n\nAs each name was called, and a fairy stepped out, the queen waved her\nwand. First, she pointed it upward, to where the stars were playing\nhide and seek among the snowy peaks. Then, touching each kneeling\nfairy, she tapped with her star-tipped wand, upon the neck of each.\n\nPresto! What change! Eyes, nose, ears, lovely yellow, or raven black,\nor shining auburn hair, limbs, hands and feet and wings disappeared, in\na golden mist.\n\nWhen one looked again, there was, where each fairy had kneeled down, a\nflower. Never was the like seen before, in all the wonderful floral\nworld, either as to the kind, or blossom, or the shape of the stalk,\nleaves or petals of the plants. Some hardly looked like flowers at all,\nwhile others were recognized at once, as cousins or sisters of old\nfriends; but so dressed up, as if for an arctic journey, as scarcely to\nbe recognized. One had a family of little folks on its back\u2014\u201cAs hairy\nand furry as an Esquimaux baby,\u201d whispered one fairy to the other.\n\nHere was one creature, dazzlingly splendid in colors, while, alongside\nof her, was a little lady robed entirely in white, as if she were to be\nthe bride of Jack Frost, and marry him in a country where the tint of\nermine and ptarmigan bird was the only one in fashion.\n\nThe lowliness, of some of these new born flowers, was perhaps the most\nastonishing thing about them. Even when in bloom they were not over an\ninch in height, while their neighbors, down in the valley, were all\nnearly as tall as yard sticks. One group became only plain meadow\ngrass, while their relatives seemed dressed for Fifth Avenue, or the\nmain street of Zurich or Berne.\n\nAlthough, when the fairies were turned into trees, and were, at first,\nhardly higher than a needle, and not one of them had a body as thick as\na thimble, they at once began whispering, for it was hard to give up\nthe old habit of talking every minute.\n\nOf one pretty creature, shaped like a blue bell, with scalloped edges,\nit was noticed that she shut up her mouth, and did not say a word. At\nthis, one wise old fairy looked up at the sky, and said, \u201cIt is\ncertainly going to rain.\u201d Thereupon, since flowers were so cheap, this\none, they called \u201cthe poor man\u2019s weather glass.\u201d Another, that had a\ncuriously shaped blossom, they named Lady\u2019s Slipper. To still another,\nvery reddish, tufty, and strong, they gave the title of Prince\u2019s\nFeather; while an unusually pert and active one, that had a very\nexpressive face, they christened Johnny-jump-up. This fairy had\nwhimpered a little, at the idea of being named after a boy; but, when\ntold she would have clothes of many colors, she was instantly happy,\nand welcomed her change into a flower with a face that would never need\nrouge, or lily white powder.\n\nWhile these, thus far mentioned, were mostly valley or pasture flowers,\nand not expected to live very far up the mountain slopes, several\nothers volunteered to lead what some called \u201cthe forlorn hope,\u201d but\nthey were too full of \u201cpep\u201d for that and took the name of the advance\nguard. These were especially equipped for fighting the cold. These were\nthe edelweiss, the Alpine rose, and the octopetalla. They were made so\nfrost-proof, by fur and thick clothes, that they could laugh in the\nvery faces of the frost giants, and dare them to do their worst in\ntrying their best to freeze them out.\n\nOf the one, that seemed done up entirely in white flannel, and that\nkept its blooms in a bunch, like a rosette, everybody knows, for it was\nthe edelweiss\u2014proud of her name, the noble white.\n\nMillions of fairies gathered together on the hill slopes, to see the\nprocession start, and did not mind waiting a thousand years or so. They\nhung on bushes, sat on top of rocks and boulders and on the\ntree-branches, or stood or hovered, wherever they could get either a\npeep, or a good view of the fairy flower army, that was to march up to\nthe heights and wrestle with the giants.\n\nSome wondered how the battle would go, and if the war would ever end.\nCould they possibly march up the mountain sides, and hold their own,\namid the blasts of winter and amid the eternal snow and ice, and win\nthe land now covered up? Not a sign of field, or pasture, or road, or\nany space clear of snow, was then visible. There was nothing but ice,\nmany miles thick and looming so far up in the air, as to seem, at\nnight, to touch the stars. The jagged rocks, splintered by the\nlightning, and the mountain sides, clothed with glaciers, like armor,\nand which were billions of tons in weight, seemed very forbidding.\n\n\u201cJust give us a few millions of years, and we\u2019ll surely win,\u201d cried the\nfairy queen, who was proud of her beautiful army, and who, with them\nall, knew or cared nothing for what we call time.\n\nFairies never cry, but some felt as if they might weep, to see so many\npretty flowers killed, as they feared they would be. Even the idea of\nthe chills and shivers, they would have to suffer, made some of the\ntimid ones feel creepy.\n\nEven suppose they could survive ice and frost, and the cold breath of\nthe strong winds, that might uproot them, how could they resist the\navalanches, that might overwhelm and crush them? If whole forests of\ngiant trees were often leveled, like egg shells, and flattened like\nflounders, by these rolling terrors, or torn up by landslides, or\nground to gravel, by falling rocks, or carried away by landslides, how\ncould tiny and tender flowers hope to escape?\n\nBut the fairy queen knew the power of her friend, the Sun, and the\ntenacity and perseverance of her flower children. So, laughing at such\nforebodings, she bade the lovely flowers and little trees begin their\nmarch. Their orders to advance were steadily \u201cforward and upward.\u201d They\nwere to hold the ground gained, inch by inch. They must even try, again\nand again, to split the rocks, and be willing to suffer cold, wet,\nwind, and not be out of sorts, or show bad temper, when it rained too\nmuch, or the clouds hid the sun. They must take advantage of every\nnook, crevice, crack and cranny.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be alarmed,\u201d said one wise fairy to her neighbor. \u201cI\u2019ll warrant\nyou they will pretty soon complain that it is too hot, and sometimes\neven ask the sun to veil his face with clouds. When the evil imps, that\nride on the F\u00f6hn, or south wind, visit them, one or more will be eager\nto marry a frost giant, to keep cool.\u201d\n\nBut the other fairy said, \u201cthat is only gossip,\u201d and she did not\nbelieve they would \u201cever be sorry and want to change back.\u201d\n\nWhen, after their first victories, the cows and goats should come, and\nthe birds make their nests, and men and women arrive, and the boys and\ngirls play, these fairies, thus changed into flowers, were not to\nobject to have their stalks eaten up by the cattle, or their seeds to\nbe swallowed by the birds, or their blossoms to be plucked by the\nchildren. Even when they should come to their best bloom, and seem too\npretty to be touched, they were to welcome the cows and goats.\n\nTo all these directions, the new plants, trees, and flowers, nodded\ntheir heads, and the war began. The older fairies went back to the\nvineyards, groves, forests, dales and meadows, in the lower lands of\nsunshine, of mild climate, and of fair weather, and the battle was on.\n\nSeveral millions of years slipped away, and some of the fairies in the\nwarm countries had almost forgot their cousins in the high Alps. Then\nit happened that some thousands of them made up a party to go and visit\nwhat they had once left long ago, as a polar region, of thick ice where\nno land was visible.\n\nWhat a change, and how lovely! When they reached Switzerland, and\nlooked over the landscape, they could not, at first, believe their own\neyes. True, it was mid-summer when they arrived; but, as far as the eye\ncould reach, they beheld valleys and meadows spangled with flowers,\nfrom which floated the sound, or echoes, of tinkling bells, where\ncontented cows and goats were browsing. On the sweet perfumed air, were\nwafted the aromatic odors of the delicious herbage, freshly cropped by\nthe cattle. Pretty houses, on the flat spaces, or perched on the hill\nslopes, told of happy homes. Children were playing games, or picking\nflowers. Church spires pointed toward Heaven. In one village, a great\nlong parade of sleek cows, their well groomed coats shining in the sun,\nand one with a milking stool between her horns, was moving up, where\nthe grass was most luscious. Donkeys and horses, laden with cheese and\ngarden produce, were moving in lengthened lines to the markets. Here\nand there, castles, chalets, bridges, church spires, and thickly\nclustered houses, told of villages, towns and cities; for man was now\nin possession, and all the world rejoiced. It was like an heiress\nreceiving her fortune, for human beings thus to enter into the\nenjoyment of the lovely landscape and beautiful country, which the\nfairies had helped so grandly to create.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE FAIRY IN THE CUCKOO CLOCK\n\n\nAs a rule, and certainly with most fairies, mortals are considered to\nbe very stupid. In fairyland, the reputation of human beings, as dull\nwitted and slow, is a fixed tradition.\n\nBefore doing a new thing, men and women have to think it out. They talk\na good deal about \u201ccause and effect\u201d; whereas, with fairies, there are\nno causes, but things, and events just happen. If they do not, the\nfairies make them.\n\nSome situations, like the sun and moon, the earth and sky, the summer\nand winter, cannot be changed. Yet fairies can bring to pass lots of\nwonders that surprise men. They can play tricks that puzzle them beyond\nmeasure.\n\nA hundred years ago, before the days of tourists, alpenstocks, hotels,\nelectric railroads, and other foolish novelties, the guides, and all\nvillage folk, believed in the fairies. They felt as sure of giants and\ndwarfs, elves, and dragons, as folk of today, that never saw a dodo, or\na pterodactyl, or an auroch, or a five-toed horse, believe these were\nonce plentiful on the earth.\n\nIn fact, there was once a time, when men had no clocks or\nwrist-watches, and girls did not carry at their waist the pretty gold\nor nickel time-keepers of today. Nor did the big bells in the towers\nboom out the hours, nor were the huge clock-faces or dials seen, by day\nor by night. In the castles of Switzerland, where rich men or nobles\nlived, they knew nothing about marking the hours and minutes by\nanything, with a round face, having figures on it. One way to announce\nthe hours was to have a candle, with two little brass balls, on\nopposite sides of the wax, and tied together with a string. When the\nflame burned, say, an inch, or other measured space, the balls dropped\ndown into a brass basin. This made a loud, ringing noise, which sounded\nout the hours. Or, a little hammer struck a bell, and that is the\nreason why a clock, as its name was at first, was called a klok, or\nbell. On ships, the bells sounded every hour, and half hour, and this\nis still the method, to which sailors are accustomed; \u201ceight bells\u201d\nmarking the end of one of the three periods of four hours each, into\nwhich the day is divided.\n\nThe fairies could always tell the time, as well as men, by the sun, but\nthey were more interested in the moon and stars, for night was their\njoy time. The common people had no word for a minute, or a second, or\nanything less than an hour. They knew when the sun rose and set, and\nthey guessed the time of day from the place of the sun in the sky\u2014at\nthe east, as it rose in the morning, and during the afternoon, as it\nsank in the west.\n\nAfter the Alpen glow, or rosy light, that flushed the mountains like a\nmaiden\u2019s blush, the fairies came out to dance in the meadows. They\nalways went away and disappeared at sunrise, for the dancing fairies\nwould be turned into stone, if the sun\u2019s rays struck them. It was even\nworse for them, than for mortals, who, even amid the ice and snow, when\nclimbing high mountains, might be sunstruck and die. One family of the\nflowers they named Four o\u2019Clocks.\n\nBut by and bye, men learned that they could set two sticks in a line\nnorth and south, and the shadow line from one stick would touch the\nother. They called this time twelve o\u2019clock, or noon. The old men also\ntook notice that, in the long days of summer, the sun lengthened and,\nin cold winter, shortened its shadows. They were thus able to count the\ndays before the flowers would bloom in the springtime. Then the yodel\nmusic would sound and the cows be driven to pasture up in the high\nmountains.\n\nFrom this noon shadow of the sun, men got the idea of the sundial.\nPlacing a round disc, or plate, made of brass, or copper, on a stone or\npost, and setting on one side of it a metal pin, they noticed the sun\u2019s\nshadow going round it in a circle. On the spaces, they marked the\nhours. Soon, it became the general fashion to have sundials in the\ngardens.\n\nYet all the time the fairies laughed at mortals and declared that if\nthey could live on the earth, during the sunshiny hours, they would be\nable to tell the time of day from the flowers and the sun\u2019s place in\nthe sky. So, just for the fun of it, whenever they noticed a new\nsundial, of brass, or stone, set up in a garden, they invariably held a\nball, and danced around it all night.\n\nOnce in a while, they went into a church when no one was there, and\nwalked and sported around the hour glass in the pulpit.\n\nOf the arrant stupidity of some mortals, the fairies became finally and\nperfectly sure, when one night, they gathered together for a merry\ndance around a new sundial. This had been placed, only that day, in a\ngarden owned by an old fellow, who was reputed, by his neighbors, to be\na very wise man. The fairies were interrupted in their plan of playing\nring-around-a-rosy, when their sentinel, set to watch, had seen a\nstrange sight and called out a loud alarm.\n\nNow this funny old fellow had a name which, if translated, into\nEnglish, would be Soft Pudding. He was a kind-hearted chap, that loved\nthe birds, and his pets, and children, but he was a most absent-minded\ncodger. He never knew where his hat was, when he went outdoors, so his\nwife tied it, by a string, on to his button hole, as she did the little\nchildren\u2019s mittens with a bit of tape, over their shoulders. Yet he was\na delightful daddy, and all the little folks loved him.\n\nMr. Soft Pudding gladly paid the bill for his new toy, the sundial. He\nwas so overjoyed at the idea of telling time by a shadow, that he\ntalked about it for hours. Indeed, he was so absorbed in it, that he\nforgot all about the sun, and the necessity of its shining, or that\ndaylight was at all requisite for his enjoyment, in looking at the\nsundial.\n\nSo, on one cool autumn night, old Soft Pudding put on his cloak,\nlighted his lantern, and walked out into the garden to see what time it\nmight be! Fool that he was, he found that as he changed the position of\nthe lantern, its rays every time cast a new shadow. Instead of its\nshowing one time, it looked as if there were several times, marked by\nthe pin; and, as if everything had gone wrong. Then, for the first\ntime, the idea entered his head that sundials were for use, during the\ndaytime only.\n\n\u201cWho would have thought it?\u201d he cried, as he tramped back into his\nhouse, hoping his wife would not know the object of his errand and\nlaugh at him. But he did not tell her, and she thought he had gone out\nto look after the cows.\n\nBut the fairies were irritated and in bad temper, because they had been\ndriven away, by this intruder on their pleasures. They laughed at his\nstupidity, but their vexation was plain to be seen.\n\n\u201cHe might as well have had a wooden head, or one made of a squash. This\nonly shows what fools these mortals be,\u201d said one fairy to another.\n\n\u201cOh, don\u2019t be angry, or sneer at him,\u201d said an old fairy, who was a\nfamous inventor. \u201cStupid though he is, he and his wife have always been\nkind to us fairies. Leave him to me. I\u2019ll put another idea in his head.\nFor the sake of his people, I\u2019ll teach him to turn the dial upside\ndown, turn its face outward, and put hands and fingers on its face,\nwith wheels inside and weights below. Then, he can always have what he\nexpected, this evening, to do; and tell the time, at night, as well as\nby day.\n\n\u201cAnd I\u2019ll make the new contrivance sing. No longer shall a timekeeper\nbe called a bell, to strike or sound the hours. I\u2019ll put a bird inside,\nto fly out and call out the hours.\u201d\n\nSo the next night, the Queen of the Fairies took counsel of the owl,\nthe wisest of all the birds, and also as fair-minded as a judge, who is\njust to all and the favorite of none. The owl decided that the cuckoo\nwould serve best, and could be most depended upon always to come out,\nflap its wings, and chirp out the proper numbers of the hours.\n\nThe Fairy Queen was surprised. \u201cHow can you, sir Judge, nominate a bird\nof bad character? The cuckoo is a pirate. Does it not lay its eggs in\nthe nests of other birds? How often, besides stealing their homes, it\nthrows out the eggs of the rightful owners, and, because of this\nrobbery, the birdies die.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, I have considered this,\u201d said the owl, \u201cbut the cuckoo is a\nsummer bird, that eats up the hairy caterpillars, which other birds\nwill not touch. In this manner, it helps the trees to grow and the\nfruit to ripen, so that men have a clean country for the fairies to\nplay in. Besides, in the courting season, you know it is the male\nbird\u2019s love note, that sounds so sweetly, in April, May and June, and\nthis song, \u2018cuckoo, cuckoo,\u2019 we all love to hear.\u201d\n\nThe Queen of the Fairies pondered this answer. She was impressed with\nthe owl\u2019s wisdom, and, besides, she wanted all the fairies to love each\nother. So she concluded to invite the male cuckoo bird to be her model,\nfor the new clock, that was to make Switzerland wealthy and famous.\nSurely, such clocks would be wanted, all over the world.\n\nThe land being rich in walnut trees, there was no trouble in getting\nplenty of wood, dark and handsome, to be carved. So, appearing to old\nSoft Pudding, in a dream, the fairy queen said to him.\n\n\u201cAlthough we fairies all had a good laugh at you, when we saw you\ncoming out of your house at night, with a lantern, to tell the time at\nthe sundial, thus breaking up our party, yet because you have always\nbeen so kind to the birds, and loved our fairy folks, and the children,\nI will show you how to make a new kind of clock. It will not only mark\nthe hours on its face, without the aid of the sun, but will send out a\ncuckoo, every hour, to flap its wings in delight. Then this wooden bird\nwill call out \u2018cuckoo, cuckoo,\u2019 as if a real one in feathers were\nmaking love to its mate. Do you not, yourself, think that the affection\nof the lover bird, thus shown, will increase mutual affection in your\nown house and brighten every Swiss home, and many more homes, beyond\nthe sea?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure it will. Thank you heartily,\u201d said Soft Pudding.\n\nThen the Fairy Queen held out before his gaze a lovely cuckoo clock,\nmade of black walnut, with hands and face-figures cut out of the wood\nof the white birch tree.\n\nWhen he woke up in the morning, out of his sleep, old Soft Pudding\nstretched out his hands to receive the gift, but it was daylight, and,\nof course, the fairy was gone. It was the common light of the sun, but\nhe was very happy, even though he had only dreamed. He proceeded at\nonce to turn his dream into reality, by constructing the clock.\n\nWithin a week, he had made the works. Then, he set them inside a black\nwalnut case, with ivory figures on the dial. After several attempts, he\nsucceeded with the wooden cuckoo, that would come out, flap its wings,\nand chirp the number of the hours, and go inside the shut doors, while\nthe clock face also marked the proper point.\n\nThen, he brought his whole family, one morning, near the moment when\nthe minute hand was approaching the proper dot on the disc.\n\nWhat was their surprise, when, without any one touching the little\nblack house, which was set on the wall, the doors flew open, and out\nstrutted a cuckoo, flapping its wings. It chirped out, ten times, and\nthen bowed, went into its box again, and the little doors shut.\n\nThe children all clapped their hands and the mother embraced her\nhusband in joy. By and bye, for ivory, which was very costly, Mr. Soft\nPudding used white birch for the clock hands.\n\nThen he set up a factory, and this gave work to many villagers, men and\nwomen, boys and girls. He soon made a fortune, and now, no one called\nhim Soft Pudding, but every one saluted him with a title of respect.\n\nWhen he died, he left his wealth to his family. To this day, his\ncuckoos flap their wings, and salute the hours, in every land. Because\nthe wooden clock and bird were black, the time-telling cuckoo, which\nwas sometimes hitched to a barometer, or set in a toy, to foretell the\nweather, was called the \u201crain-crow.\u201d But, with this beginning, made by\nthe cuckoo clock, Switzerland became a land of clocks, watches, and\nmusical boxes.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nTHE CASTLE OF THE HAWK\n\n\nThe hawk is one of the children of Asia, the Mother Continent, in which\nalmost all the fairy tales were first told. From the beginning, this\nsharp-eyed bird of prey has had the reputation of being very cruel, and\nof eating up the little birds. It has a curved beak, terribly sharp\ntalons, and very large and strong wings. The young fowls in the\nbarnyard are afraid, even of the hawk\u2019s shadow, and they quickly run to\ncover. For the hawk, sometimes called a falcon, can fly up very high\nand then swoop down on the small, or tame birds, kill them at once and\ncarry them off. Little chickens, to be safe, had better run at once\nunder the wings of their mother. Sometimes, the old hen faces the\nfalcon so bravely, that she can save her brood and fight hard, until a\nman comes with a gun and drives off this pirate of the air. In\nSwitzerland, they call the big hawk the Mountain Condor, or the Robber\nBird. It seizes many a lamb, kid, or puppy, and its nest is, most of\nthe time, built in the midst of bones.\n\nIn the Far East, before rifles were invented, falcons were kept, fed,\ntrained, and taught to hunt such birds as the crane, pigeons, ducks,\ngeese and barnyard fowls, and the many little feathered fellows, that\nlive in the woods and swamps. Men would go in among the rushes and the\nbushes, and drive out, from the covert, both the smaller and larger\nbirds. Out in the fields, or on the hills, the falconer would be in\nwaiting to let his trained birds fly at them, with beak and talons.\n\nOne man carried around his waist a wide hoop, kept a foot or so out\nfrom his body, and held by a strap from his shoulders. On this hoop,\nwere a half dozen or so trained falcons, with their eyes covered by\nlittle caps or hoods held down over their heads. As soon as a bird was\nseen, the hunter would take off the hood and let one of the trained\nfalcons free.\n\nFlying straight up, high in the air, and swiftly descending, swooping\ndown and striking the bird in the neck, with its sharp beak, the\nfalcons brought down the game to their masters, until the hunting bags\nwere full. Women, as well as men, loved this sport, and it was a gay\nsight, when a cavalcade of ladies and gentlemen, as they issued from\nthe castle, and all on horseback, went out for a hunt, while the\ngamekeepers with the falcons and bush-beaters, with the dogs, followed.\nThe men on foot carried a spear, in case they should meet a bear, or\nwild boar. On their return, the hunting party would have a feast in the\ncastle.\n\nNow it was the belief, in Asia, that a good person, after his death,\nwas born again in another world, and became a still holier being or\neven an angel. But a bad person, after his death, if he had been a\ntale-bearer or deceitful, or told lies, would be changed into a snake.\nIf he had been stupid, he might become a sheep or donkey, or a mule.\nOr, if he or she had been too proud, each was reborn as a peacock; if\ncruel, into a tiger or a hawk.\n\nThere were many girls in Japan, named Taka, which means a hawk, because\nof their bad temper, or their cruelty to puppies or kittens. Sometimes,\nhowever, the name was a compliment, because they were quick and smart,\nlike falcons.\n\nNow, according to these ideas, there was a very hard-hearted man, named\nChicksha, who beat his children. When angry, he threw dishes at his\nwife and cursed his servants. One day, when in a fit of bad temper, he\nfell dead. No one was sorry, and some were even glad.\n\nAfter this event, whenever people saw a falcon, with terrible shining\neyes, and beak as sharp as two razors, and with claws and talons, like\na steel meat hook, they said, \u201cIt must be Chicksha, come to life\nagain.\u201d Then they all ran out of their houses to see a thing so\nwonderful.\n\nAfter they had become used to the sight, they noticed, one day, that\nthe terrible creature had unfolded its wings, spread them out wide, and\nflown westward. After awhile, this falcon had soared so high and so\nfar, that, in the distance, it became nothing more than a speck on the\nblue horizon. Then it disappeared behind the mountains. At this,\neverybody clapped their hands with delight. In fact, some of the more\npious went to the village shrine and gave thanks to Great Buddha, for\nridding the neighborhood of such a pest.\n\nOn wings, which seemed to be tireless, this bird of evil flew on and\non, farther and farther away, until in a strange land, it perched,\ntired and hungry, on a very high rock, beneath which was a lordly\ncastle.\n\nIn this stronghold lived a count and countess, in whose castle-yard was\na skillful gamekeeper, whose ring of falcons was the most noted in all\nthe land. Flying down among the falcons, the soul of Chicksha, now a\nhunting bird, at once felt at home among these winged creatures, that\nfed on the blood of their fellows.\n\nWhen taken out on hawking expeditions, few, even of the strongest\nfalcons, equaled, and none excelled, Chicksha, in striking down, what\nthe good Saint Francis called, \u201cour little brothers of the air.\u201d So\nChicksha became the favorite of his owner, the Count.\n\nBut one day, tired of being hooded and kept inactive in the cages, in\nthe castle yard, or, when taken out on the hoop and often, when hooded,\nkept from having the chance to kill and cause suffering, Chicksha, the\nfalcon, leaped up from its keeper, when its cap dropped off, and flew\naway. Proud of its freedom, the bird never stopped, until it perched\nupon a mountain named the W\u00fclpelsberg, in Switzerland.\n\nOn this lofty pinnacle, far above the river torrent, in the Aare\nvalley, there stands today a lonely ruin, which is all that is left of\nwhat was once a spacious and magnificent castle.\n\nMeanwhile, the Count, who was loath to lose his best bird, went off to\nhunt for his lost favorite. Hoping, at every climb, to find his prize,\nhe went up higher and higher into the forest. Emerging from the woods,\nhe caught sight of the hawk resting on the jagged rock. Approaching\nstealthily, he put out his hand, captured the bird and quickly slipped\nthe hood on its head.\n\nOn turning his eyes, to survey the scene, the count had before him a\nsplendid view of the grandest scenery upon which he had ever looked. It\nwas the valley of the Aare, with its wonderful glacier and ice-cold\nriver, and its romantic wild and rocky gorge, where now are villages\nand hotels, while its healing sulphur baths are among the most famous\nin Switzerland.\n\nThe nobleman at once felt that here was the spot on which to build his\ncastle. Returning home, he summoned an architect, made his plans, and\nset about the enterprise. When he had finished it, he named the lordly\nstructure, Hapsburg; which means the Castle of the Hawk. Here, one of\nthe most renowned princely families of rulers, including kings and\nemperors, that wore crowns on their heads, was founded. They took for\ntheir emblem a double-headed bird of prey, as if they would seize\ndouble the amount of land, and oppress twice the number of people,\ncommonly ruled over by monarchs. It is astonishing how rulers, in the\npast, have chosen birds and beasts of prey as symbols of their\ngovernment\u2014all so different from the Good Shepherd.\n\nIn course of the centuries, this house of Hawk Castle gained a greater\namount of power and spread their sceptre over more countries than any\nother. Yet this was done, more by marrying their daughters, princesses,\nto kings and princes, than by victories in war. So this dynasty of\nrulers became famous for its matchmaking, in which the mothers and\naunts had much to say.\n\nNow, when the time came, that the young prince of the Hawk Castle House\nmust seek a bride, he went into the country now called Belgium, and\nsought in marriage the hand of a lovely princess, named Eleanor. Then,\nthe usual medieval custom was followed, in regard to royal ladies who\nleft their own land to marry the prince of another country, and to live\namong strangers.\n\nIn this case, also, the Prince having been summoned to Rome, on\nbusiness that could not be put off, had first to be married by proxy;\nthat is, one of his officers must make the journey to Belgium and take\nhis place at the ceremony.\n\nFor, while she, the promised bride, was perhaps the most beautiful of\nthe princely daughters in all Europe, as she certainly was the richest\nheiress, he, the betrothed groom, was one of the poorest of titled\nrulers. There were beggar princes, then, as well as wealthy ones, and\nthe needy bridegroom wanted to use some of the money of her dowry at\nonce, for he was hard pressed to pay his debts. So he sent one of his\nhigh officers into Belgium.\n\nThe ceremony was one of great magnificence, like a pageant. It was held\nin the largest hall of the palace, which was brightly lighted by\nhundreds of candles and the walls were hung with tapestry in brilliant\ncolors. A train of bridesmaids brought in the princess, arrayed in her\nfairest robes, and decked with jewels.\n\nThen the prince\u2019s officer, who, in his splendid garments, was in\nuniform, with decorations for the occasion, like his master, and looked\nlike him, came in the hall. He had on his head a crown, and at his side\na sword, spurs on his boots, and jewels on his breast. He took his\nplace on the right, for the bride must always be near the husband\u2019s\nheart. In each corner of the room, was a sentinel in armor, and with\nhis sword drawn. Then a notary appeared. He was in his scarlet robes of\noffice, with the legal documents in his hand to secure the signatures.\nThe witnesses were ranged around the hall and the nuptial service was\nread. The wedding was made legal by the loyal officer making answer for\nhis august master, and the notary writing a record, attested by\nwitnesses.\n\nThe next day, attended by her ladies in waiting, her maids, cooks and\nserving women, the princess travelled in state to the frontier at the\nRhine. In a great house, standing on the boundary line, half in Belgium\nand half in France, the preparations were made, by which the princely\ndaughter ceased forever to be a Belgian maiden. After this ceremony of\ndisrobing, she was ever afterwards to be an Austrian wife, for this was\nthe time, when the Hapsburgs ruled over Switzerland in which epoch also\nthe story is told of Gessler and William Tell.\n\nIn one room, she left behind her all the wardrobe and whatever was\nBelgian. She then stepped into the next room, which was all Austrian in\nits furniture and treasures. It was full of dainty clothes, fluffy and\ngauzy for summer wear, the time of flowers; but there was also more, in\nplenty, of garments that were fur-lined, for winter warmth. With\ngarments for wear next to the skin, that were white as an edelweiss,\nand thicker wraps for her body, that were crimson and purple, like the\nAlpine rose, she was met by the Swiss chaperone and the maidens\nawaiting her, who completed her costume. Then she stood forth as a\nbride, ready for the other ceremony of wedding, which took place in the\ncathedral, where, with bell and book, in the holy bonds of matrimony,\nthey were to be joined by the bishop. There, the prince met his lovely\nprincess and the two were married, and they and their children lived\nhappily ever afterwards.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nTHE YODEL CARILLON OF THE COWS\n\n\nThey say that the soul of Belgium is the carillon. In many a tower, far\nup in the air hang a hundred bells or more, of all sizes. These are\nstruck by hammers, which are worked by the carillonier, who presses the\nkeyboard, as if playing the piano. Very famous are these chime-masters,\nand sweet is the music, which sounds in the air. When away from home,\nin a foreign land, the Belgian gets homesick, amid strangers, and is\noften down-hearted, because of the silences of the strange country.\nShould he hear the sweet chimes of a city church, a vision of the home\nland, with its quaint houses and high towers, its carrier pigeons, and\nriver-dykes, and flower markets, and happy children, playing in the\nstreets, rises before him. Then he thinks of the years of his\nchildhood, in his old home.\n\nIn Switzerland, it is not the tower bells, or even the church-spires,\nsounding out the tollings for a funeral, or the merry peals of wedding\nbells, or the strokes calling to worship, that so deeply stir the\nmountain man\u2019s heart, as do the yodel music and the carillon of the\ncows.\n\nOn summer days, let one stand in the high pastures above the valleys,\nor on a mountain slope, and he will hear the tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, of\nbells, bells, bells. They sound and echo from near and far. They float\non the air, from unseen nooks in the distance.\n\nEven the cattle enjoy the music of the bells. Just as soon as the\nshepherds sound the Alpine horn, or start the call, for the herds to\ncome home, every goat moves forward and cows leave their grazing on the\ngrass, or they rise from chewing the cud. Then one may see the long\nlines of the milk-givers marching towards the chalets. There the men,\nat night, and in the morning, milk the cows. When the animals are\nhoused for the night, they start the fires. They put in the rennet,\nthat curdles the cream and turns the white and golden liquid into\ncheeses, so solid that one can roll them down the hills.\n\nEveryone in America knows about the delicious white Schweitzer cheese.\nWhen cut open, it is seen to be full of holes, as if well ventilated,\nor, in many places, bored with an augur.\n\nSo well do the cows like to wear the leather collar, or neck strap, and\nhear the tinkle of the bells, that sometimes they die of homesickness,\nwhen these are taken away, or they lose their sounding collar; or, when\namong their sisters, thus decorated, they have none.\n\nIn old days, when it was the fashion for young men to be soldiers of\nfortune and enlist in the armies of France, or Germany, or Italy, or\nHolland, a Swiss man could forget, even his country, unless he had a\nsweetheart at home.\n\nBut when any one would start the yodel song, it made him and his\ncomrades so homesick, that they wanted to leave at once, for their\nnative land. So many soldiers were found to desert, on this account,\nthat the generals forbade any one ever to sing the yodel songs, or play\nthe yodel music, such as Queen Anne introduced into England. The \u201cRanz\ndes Vaches,\u201d or Song of the Cows, is more truly Switzerland\u2019s national\nmusic, than is even the carillon of Belgium for the Belgians, or even\nthat of the Swiss song, \u201cStand Fast, O Fatherland.\u201d\n\nIn this country, where the music box was invented, the yodel is\ncenturies old. It is almost like telling a fairy tale, to narrate the\nstory of the cow parade in June, as it assembles and moves up to the\nhigh pastures, called \u201cthe Alps,\u201d which are spangled with flowers of\ngorgeous colors. From June to October, these highland meadows are rich\nin the sweet aromatic herbs, which the cows so enjoy, especially the\nplant called the Alpine Poa. Almost as wonderful, is the cow parade, on\nits return downwards, in October.\n\nDuring the long winter, every boy in the villages looks forward to the\ntime, counting the last few days on his fingers, when he can go, with\nhis father and hired men, and along with the dogs and donkeys, to spend\nthe summer in outdoor life in the highlands. Then, he can be like a\nvirtuous Indian, or a moral pirate, or an antique shepherd; and,\nindeed, the frisky goats, though all named and numbered, will give him\nplenty to do. He waits patiently, during the long house life of the\ncold time, when, walled in by the winter snow, he thinks of the long,\nbright summer days that are coming. Then, he can live nearer the sky,\nand until the sun begins again to set earlier and the snows drive men\nand cattle home.\n\nThe wonderful fact, in the cow parade, that reminds one of a fairy\ntale, is the way these horned creatures organize, of their own accord,\nand drill. They fall into line and march, as if they were playing\nsoldiers, or were a company of real warriors, or cavalry horses, going\nto war. Each milker knows her place, and, if any young heifers try to\nbe fresh, and show off too much, they get a hint from the horns of the\nold ladies of the herd, that they had better know and keep their place.\nSuch snubs and punishments are not forgotten. After such discipline, a\nyoung snip of a cow behaves better, until grown up. Then, with more\nsense, she takes and holds her place, in good bovine society.\n\nThe herds, when bound for the Alps, number from twenty to two hundred.\nThree magnificent cows, brindle, dun, or white, lead the procession and\nthey feel their honors, as fully as a lieutenant, just fresh from West\nPoint, feels his. On the neck of each, is a wide leather strap, often\ndecorated with metal bosses, or knobs, to which is hung a bell, often\nas big as a bucket. Most proudly, with heads up in the air, the leaders\nstep forward. The other cows, all having names, follow, each with a\nsmaller strap and bell on her neck. Here are a few of the names,\nexpressed in English: Star, Crow, White Stocking, Youngster, Mirror,\nWhite Horn, and Lady.\n\nThe boy who is on his first venture up with the herd, dressed in his\nbest clothes, leads the flock of goats, which are put under his special\ncharge. Each one has a name and he knows them all. They will give him\nplenty to do, for they are great tramps and vagrants. Nobody knows how\na goat will behave. We get our word \u201ccaprice,\u201d and \u201ccapricious,\u201d from\nhis Latin name.\n\nBack of the columns, is the big sow, with her litter of little pigs,\nall of them. They are glad enough to go, and they look on the whole\nthing as a picnic. For now, instead of living on dry winter feed, they\nwill get the juicy grass and herbage of the summer pasture. Mrs. Hog is\ncertainly proud of her young porkers, but her music is hardly up to the\ncarillon standard, for it consists chiefly of grunts, and this is the\nonly language, in which the education of the piggies is carried on.\n\nFeeling quite as important as any, and always wanting to hurry along,\nand go ahead faster, is the dog Tiger. This pet of the family and the\nterror of the goats, that give him a butt, when he gets too lively,\nlooks more like a mastiff, than a collie, or one of his cousins, the\nstately St. Bernard dogs.\n\nFinally, as the rear guard, is the daddy of the family. He leads the\nhorse, on which are packed and strapped the cheese caldron, for boiling\nthe milk and cream. From his position, Daddy can round up the unruly\nmembers of the herd, cows, goats, or pigs, that have too much genius,\nor temperament, or are too original, or independent, to obey rules.\nJust as often, in a marching army, the rear guard is the place of\nhonor, so the last cow, usually a superb animal, carries the milking\nstool between her horns.\n\nThe cows\u2019 parade marks a heyday for the whole village. The girls are\nall out, and in their best dresses. Most of them will not see their\nbrothers, their beaux, or their lovers, until autumn. So they make the\nmost of the fun for a day.\n\nDuring the summer, and until October, there are few of the male sex,\nexcept old men and small boys, left in the mountain or dairy villages.\nMany are the farewells and handwavings, until the procession disappears\naround the curve of the mountains. Then the yodel music, the Ranz des\nVaches, the Song of the Swiss, for centuries, is raised and echoed\namong the hills. The words are, in most cases, very old, and in a sort\nof French, that is never heard in Paris, or at the universities. The\nnotes are very much as their Swiss ancestors sung them, before America\nwas discovered. The words are, in many of the songs, quite witty. In\none form or another, they are in praise of the work and craft of the\ncattle, or dairy men.\n\nThe yodel music will never die. The herds may change in breed, form, or\nnumbers, but never the song. When heard near at hand, there is too much\njingle, with many discords; but distance lends enchantment to the\nsound. When far away, all notes melt into sweetness and accord.\n\nOnce up in the regions near the sky, while the echoes, coming back from\nthe peaks, make angelic sweetness, and heavenly harmony, the Swiss boy\nhas a fine time in both work and play. At no other season are the\nmeadows more beautiful. He soon finds out, however, the difference\nbetween cows and goats. The larger animals stay on the levels, obey the\nrules, and are faithful, punctual, and well drilled. They always move\nhomewards when the horn calls, or the yodel music sounds. On the\ncontrary, the goats are often obstinate, and act as if imps and elves\nwere in them. Then, too, they love to climb and wander. It is, with\nthem, a game of Johnnie Jump Up, pretty much all the time. They leap\nand scramble out of the meadows, and up over the rocks, climbing\nthousands of feet towards the mountain tops, and into the most\ndifficult places, as if they loved to play hide and seek and plague the\nshepherds. This gives the boy plenty to do in hunting them, for it is\nhard to hear their bells tinkling, when the wind blows roughly, or in\nthe wrong direction.\n\nIn autumn, when Jack Frost returns, and storms are many and frequent,\nand the snows heavy, the march back and down is made in good order.\nThen, all the village folk turn out again, to welcome the shepherds. As\nthe men, cows, goats, pigs and horses return, the latter are well\nloaded with cheeses. These will be sold and sent to the cities in\nforeign countries, and especially across the sea to America.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nTHE TAILOR AND THE GIANT\n\n\nAll giants behave in about the same way, in every country; so each one\nof the big-boned fellows in Switzerland was like his relations in other\nlands. He had two legs, each as thick as a telegraph pole, arms like\ncrowbars, and a body that made one think of a hogshead. His bone box,\ncalled a skull, had only a spoonful or two of brains inside of it, for\nhis head was no bigger than a cocoanut. Usually he went about roaring\nlike a bull, and carried a club in his right hand, as long and thick as\na young fir tree. Although he was as strong as an ox, he could hardly\nrun as fast as an elephant, and any smart dog could move around more\nquickly than he. That is the reason why a nimble princess, with a\nneedle, could outwit him, or any clever young fellow could trap him in\na pit, and then crack his skull with a pickaxe.\n\nThe monstrous fellow had a stomach equal to that of a rhinoceros. At\none meal, he could chew up a sirloin of beef, eat a half bushel of\nrice, and gulp down a firkin of milk. With his club, he could smash a\nhay wagon; but, besides eating and bullying, he was not good for much.\nIn fact, when it came to a game of hard thinking, and using his two\nspoonfuls of brains, any clever boy or girl twelve years\u2019 old could\nbeat him. Some giants, of course, were more intelligent than others,\nbut as a rule, a giant got very soon and very much tired out, when he\nhad to use his mind.\n\nThey do say that the reason why giants are so stupid is because that,\nwhen they were quite little babies, their skull bones closed tight, too\nsoon; so that their brains never grew any larger, while the bone became\nthicker and thicker. That is the reason why some people usually called\nthe big lout, \u201cMr. Bone Head, with the big club.\u201d\n\nThere were other people, however, who believed that the heads of the\ngiants were made of wood, and some always thought of the big clumsy\nfellows as belonging to the tribe of Wooden Heads.\n\nOne exception, to the general run of Swiss giants, was a bulky fellow\nnamed Kisher, who served the great Charlemagne, when this mighty\ngeneral was fighting the savages, called Huns and Avars. This giant\ncould wade all rivers, no matter how deep. If his horse, which was\nbigger than a hippopotamus, was afraid to step in, and cross over,\nKisher would grab hold of his tail and pull him backwards, through the\ndeep water and over to the other shore. When fighting with his long\nsword, in front of Charlemagne\u2019s army, one would think, from the way he\ncut down the enemy, and left their corpses in swathes, that he was a\nsort of mowing machine.\n\nAfter the battle, Kisher poked his spear into eight or ten of the\ncarcasses of the defunct savages. Then, stringing them on his spear\nshaft, like a pile of pretzels, he threw the load over his shoulders.\nTrudging to his general\u2019s tent, he shook off the dead savages on the\nground, as though he was dropping sausages from a fork.\n\nThereupon, his general rewarded him by naming him Einheer, which means\nthat the giant was a whole army in himself. He also ordered that the\nbig fellow should have all the sausages, and barley cakes, and dried\napples, that he wanted.\n\nIn fact, it was necessary to have plenty of eatables ready for the\ngiant, for fear lest, when very hungry, he might swallow the dishes,\nchew up the napkins, eat up the table cloth, and gulp down the table,\nlegs and all. So terrible was his appetite, that the mothers, when they\nsaw Einheer coming down the hill, or up the street, called all their\nchildren inside the house, for fear lest a pretty plump girl, or a nice\nfat boy, should be seized, to fill up the mammoth cave that he kept\nunder his belt.\n\nWhen no food was at hand, and the giant had to do without his dinner,\nhe set up a roar, like a lion, until people thought it was distant\nthunder echoing among the far off mountains. Then old Kisher\u2014for the\npeople often forgot his new title\u2014used to pull his belt tighter. He\nwould even let the buckle tongue go into two or three holes further\nback, in the strap. This took off the edge of his appetite for a while,\nbut only for a few hours. Then he began to roar once more. Again the\nmothers clasped their babies in their arms and locked the doors, for\nfear he might get in and eat them out of house and home. The farmers\ntook the harness off the horses, so that even if he broke into the\nstables, he would help himself only to the animals, and not devour also\nthe traces and horse collars. But after all this, the giant never knew\nenough to pick a lock, or get into barns, when the doors were properly\nbarred. Even a trained monkey could beat him at this sort of smartness.\n\nNow there was a young tailor, who was tired of this giant\u2019s boasting.\nAlthough the people often laughed at this man of shears and measuring\ntape, and called him \u201cone-ninth,\u201d and the boys at times shouted\n\u201cCabbage\u201d at him, he was really a brave fellow. Besides being an expert\nwith needle and thread, he was really as clever as any one in town.\nIndeed, he thought himself, in this respect, equal, even to the judges,\nin the court, who put big wigs on their heads, to look as if theirs\ncontained more brains than common people have. He read stories of\nfamous heroes and dragon slayers and wanted to be like them and even\nexcel. He boasted that, with a bag and a pair of scissors, he could get\nthe better of any giant living. But when he declared he would some day\nshow them the giant\u2019s carcass, they laughed and said, \u201cThat\u2019s only a\ntailor\u2019s promise.\u201d Yet he always retorted, \u201cYou\u2019ll see.\u201d\n\nAt any rate, the tailor made up his mind that cunning could accomplish\nas much as force. So he studied the habits and tastes of giants, to see\nwhat they liked best to eat. He soon found that this monster in human\nshape was very fond of rice pudding, with plenty of sauce and sugar on\nit. But the tailor never said a word to the giant about knowing this\nspecial weakness of his.\n\nOne day, while walking on the road to the next town, to take home a\nsuit of clothes to a customer, he suddenly came upon the giant, who at\nthis time was, as usual, very hungry. They both glared at each other,\nbut the giant, speaking first, roared out:\n\n\u201cHere, you fraction of a fellow, come now let us have a trial of\nstrength. I\u2019ll hang you on a tree, if I beat you, and you can skin me\nalive, if you win.\u201d\n\nAt first, the little tailor was so frightened that his knees knocked\ntogether, and his hat fell off; but, quickly feeling brave again, he\nanswered:\n\n\u201cAll right, I\u2019m not afraid of you. Come on, we\u2019ll try.\u201d\n\nThe tailor knew that a brainy fellow, with a clear head and a sharp\ntongue, was more than a match for the big bonehead, any day. So, when\nthe giant picked up a boulder, weighing a ton or so, and threw it into\nthe lake, and then dared the man to do likewise, the tailor answered:\n\n\u201cBah! that\u2019s nothing. Why don\u2019t you give me something that\u2019s hard to\ndo? I can pick up the hardest pebble and squeeze water out of it with\nmy hands. I\u2019ll wager a gold coin you can\u2019t do it.\u201d\n\nThus dared, the giant picked up a bit of hard rock and nearly broke his\nfinger bones trying to crush it, or make it yield water. Mad as fire,\nhe called the tailor a rascal, and said he told fibs. Then he dared him\nto try his hand at it. He got his club ready to smash the man into a\njelly, if he failed.\n\nNow the tailor, not expecting to get home until night, had brought a\nfresh cheese ball and some crackers, to eat on the way. He turned his\nback to the giant and bent over, pretending to pick up a hard round\nstone from the ground. Then he pressed this cheese between his two\nhands so hard, that a drop or two, of what looked like water, came out.\nAs the moisture glistened in the sun, the astonished giant dropped his\nclub. Then, rushing up to the tailor, he grasped his hand and cried\nout:\n\n\u201cComrade and brother you are. Don\u2019t skin me. Come along with me; we\u2019ll\nskin other people, and I\u2019ll make you rich and famous.\u201d\n\nThe tailor, pretending to be as merciful, as he thought himself brave,\nand being very ambitious, walked along with the giant, until they came\nto a castle. The tailor wanted to get rich quick and marry a princess,\nor at least an heiress.\n\nStrange to say, they found everybody inside the castle shedding tears,\nso that there were barely handkerchiefs enough to go round. Even the\nsentinel at the castle gate was weeping and had already used up four.\nSecretly, the tailor wished he had brought along his whole stock of\nlinen, for here he might have driven a good bargain, and made large\nsales at a high profit. But he told no one his thoughts.\n\nIn one breath, both the tailor and the giant asked, \u201cWhat\u2019s the\nmatter?\u201d\n\nThen the man-at-arms told them the trouble. A dragon, living up in the\nmountains, in a cave had been roaring all night for food. The citizens\nwanted to feed the criminals, then in prison, to the monster, but he\nrefused such common nourishment. In fact, he was the most particular\ndragon, as to his diet, that ever came to Switzerland. He required one\nmaiden a day to appease his hunger. He never would be satisfied with\nboys, or men, or even with ladies, that were either slender or bony.\n\nNow the supply of plump and beautiful girls had actually run so low,\nthat the new victims had to draw lots. This very day, the lot had\nfallen on the King\u2019s only daughter, and at sunrise the next day, she\nwas to be swallowed up.\n\nAs soon as the news had spread abroad in the city, after sunrise, the\nstock on hand, in all the shops that kept mourning goods, or black\nsilk, or muslin, or grief-bordered handkerchiefs, was sold out before\nnoon, and there was not time enough to import a fresh supply of cr\u00eape\nfrom Paris. So everybody was sighing and groaning, and the sounds were\nappalling. Some were shedding tears copiously, for real grief; but\nothers, because their old mourning garments were out of fashion. With\nothers, it was a case of economy, rather than grief, for black goods\nsaved their best clothes.\n\nBut the tailor, though feeling sad at first, saw a chance of coining\nwealth and getting into society, for he had quickly learned that the\nking had offered his daughter, in marriage, to any one who would fight\nand kill the dragon, besides making a gift outright, of a thousand\npounds of gold.\n\nSo when the pair of heroes, the tailor and giant, proffered their\nservices, the monarch gave the monstrous fellow an iron bar, as big as\nthe rail for a locomotive to run on.\n\nBut when the king saw that the little tailor had only a pair of\nscissors, he laughed, until he forgot his grief. Then he offered the\nlittle man a battle axe. It was as sharp as a razor, and heavy enough\nto chop open a knight clothed in steel. Thus armed, the two were all\nready to set out together to the dragon\u2019s cave.\n\nPretending that one of his shoe laces had broken and he needed to tie\nit up, the tailor told the giant to go on, and carry both axe and iron\nclub, and he would catch up with him. When the two were together, the\ngiant was about to hand his companion the battle axe, when the tailor\nbegan at once to talk about rice pudding. He smilingly asked the giant\nwhether he liked raisins in it, and would take it with grated nutmeg,\nsprinkled over the top; or, would he have it plain?\n\nThe subject was so interesting to the giant, that his eyes sparkled at\nonce. He forgot that he was carrying both of the two heavy things, axe\nand bar. He never dropped them, until they reached the dragon\u2019s lair.\n\nBut, while they were arguing which should go in first, the dragon\nrushed out and swallowed the little tailor at a gulp, without chewing\nhim up.\n\nThe giant noticed that not a bit of butter, nor drop of gravy, was\nnecessary, for the tailor had slid down, and disappeared, in a jiffy.\nThereupon, the giant gave the monster a mighty wallop upon the head,\nwith the iron bar. It was so terrific, that he fell dead and stiffened\nout, ten yards long. The giant waited to be sure he was defunct. Then,\nopening the monster\u2019s wide mouth, he thrust his big fist down the\ndragon\u2019s throat, pulled up the little tailor, and stood him on his\nfeet.\n\nThe tailor was out of breath, for a moment; but, quickly regaining both\nhis wind and his wits, he took off his cap and began to rub his head.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d asked the giant. \u201cDon\u2019t you feel all right?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, no! You nearly dented my skull, when you struck the dragon with\nyour club. Why are you not more skillful? I can handle such monsters\nbetter than you. Can\u2019t you see that I just leaped into the dragon\u2019s\nmouth, in order to cut his throat, with my scissors?\u201d With this, he\nflourished his shears, which were all bloody.\n\nThe stupid giant was dumbfounded, but he did not know enough to\ncontradict the tailor, who told the big fellow to shoulder the dragon,\nand they would both go back to the king\u2019s court, and demand the\npromised reward. So, with much pulling and hauling, lifting and\ndragging, the giant did all the work. The clumsy carcass was laid\nbefore the royal throne. The princess, looking on, wondered which one\nof the two heroes was to be her husband.\n\nShe did not feel, just then, like marrying either of them, big or\nlittle. When, however, she thought it over, she believed she could live\non her income better with the tailor, than with the giant, who was\nalready beginning to ask when dinner would be ready.\n\nAs for the king, he could not decide which was the hero, for both laid\nclaims to the princess and to the gold. So, for the time being, the\ngiant was fed all the beans, and pork, and barley, and turnips, he\ncould eat; but, even then, the tailor saw that the big fellow was not\nsatisfied, and would rather have rice pudding.\n\nThe king and his wise men kept on debating for several days, for\nneither would give in. Then they became alarmed, when the steward\nwhispered, in the royal ear, that provisions were running low. In fact,\nboth the larder and the cellar were nearly empty. This was on account\nof the giant\u2019s enormous appetite. By the following Sunday, nothing\nwould be left except an extra hogshead of rice.\n\nThe tailor overheard the steward\u2019s talk, and at once he proposed a\nplan, by which the contest between the two claimants could be settled.\nLet that hogshead of rice be made into one enormous pudding. It must be\nwell sweetened, and with plenty of raisins and powdered nutmeg on top,\nand then divided into two parts, or piles. Whichever ate up his\nportion, most quickly, should be hailed as the hero, marry the\nprincess, get the money, and be publicly announced, by the trumpeters,\nas the royal son-in-law and successor to the throne.\n\n\u201cNow I\u2019ll keep my promise,\u201d said the tailor to himself, \u201cas to what I\ncould do, with only a pair of scissors and a bag.\u201d\n\nSo, when the boiled rice, smoking hot, was piled on trenchers, and\nserved on a long table, with a small shovel beside each large wooden\nplate, the trial began. The giant went at his mess, as if he were\nhimself a dragon. To his astonishment, however, the tailor made the\nrice pudding disappear as fast as he himself could. Even after\nunbuckling his belt, and letting out, first, two, and then four holes,\nin the leather, the tailor kept on.\n\nFinally the giant had to stop. He rolled over on the floor and cried\nout:\n\n\u201cI\u2019m beaten. Give the tailor the princess and the money; but don\u2019t let\nhim skin me alive.\u201d\n\nAll the while, the tailor, who had a pal, under the table, to hand him\nbag after bag, as he dropped into them the shovelfuls of rice pudding.\nHe filled, first, one big bag, strapped to his bosom, and when that was\nfull, he put on another. The giant was so occupied with gorging\nhimself, that he did not notice anything, but the rice before him.\n\nMeanwhile the man, whom the tailor had paid to do it, kept on handing\nfresh bags to the tailor. When all of these, except several, towards\nthe last, were used up, he took the tailor\u2019s scissors and cut open the\nbags at the bottom of the pile, for fear the supply of bags might run\nout. Meanwhile, he filled a tub near by. So the castle people were\nsaved from starvation, but they all, from king to scullion, had only\ncold rice to eat the next day.\n\nWhen the tailor explained, to the giant, that he had an extra stomach,\nand cut open the first one, after enjoying the taste of the rice\npudding, and then filled the second one, the giant, foolishly hoping\nstill to eat more, and thinking it was the proper thing to do, cut open\nhis big stomach with a sword. But that was too much even for a giant.\n\nSo on Monday, the next day, the giant\u2019s funeral took place, and on\nTuesday, the day after, the tailor married the princess, and they lived\nhappily ever after. He had several sons and daughters, and people said\nhis boys and girls looked like their father, on whose coat of arms was\na leather wallet and a pair of scissors.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE DWARF\u2019S SECRET\n\n\nThere is one curious thing about the little brown fellows of the\nmountains, called dwarfs, that seems very funny to us. Instead of\nthinking of themselves as less than men, they consider themselves fully\nas clever as human beings. Indeed, some of them strut about, slapping\ntheir stomachs and saying \u201cwho wants to be a man?\u201d\n\nInstead of rating men as greater than themselves, they are more apt to\ntalk about human beings as slow, and dull witted. The dwarfs declare\nthat they have secrets which no boys or girls, or even wise men, can\never find out.\n\nMost of the dwarfs live in caves, or down in the mines. They are very\nexpert in using fires, forges, bellows, anvils, hammers, tongs, pincers\nand the tools of blacksmiths and machinists. They often make very\nhandsome weapons, ornaments and things of use, such as guns, ploughs,\nswords, armor, milkpans, and cheese caldrons.\n\nNow there was a hunter named Walter, who lived in the Alps. This man\nwent out every day to get food for his wife and his large family of\nboys and girls, who all had good appetites. He never shot at any\ncreature, or ever killed anything that had life, out of mere sport. He\nwas always pleasant to the dwarfs also.\n\nSo all these folks, in the caves and mines, got to like this hunter.\nEven the chamois, that he chased, knew that he was not cruel. Besides,\nthey heard good things about him from the birds, that could talk the\nlanguages of goats, ibexes and chamois.\n\nOccasionally Walter the hunter shot a bear, and then he had a big fur\nrobe, out of which to make a bed, besides bones for all his dogs to\ngnaw upon. Moreover, he was looked upon by the village people as a\nhero, and his sons felt very proud of their father.\n\nYet it was not so easy, as some might think, to feed his large family,\nfor each of these youngsters seemed to have a cave, growing in their\nstomachs, which, three times a day, apparently enlarged, as meal time\ndrew near. Only a few potatoes and cabbages could be grown in their\ngarden, and every wisp of hay, and all the dry leaves, had to be saved,\nto keep warm in the Swiss winter, which lasted eight or nine months.\n\nButtermilk and potatoes, and corn meal, boiled in goat\u2019s milk, was what\nwas on the bill of fare for Walter\u2019s family, most of the time. They\nwere too poor to live down in the valleys, or villages, where the land\nwas all owned by well-to-do people. So the entire family, old and\nyoung, were kept busy at work, every moment of daylight in summer, when\nthe snow was off the ground. There were many things to do, to get fuel,\nto keep the roof from leaking, and to prepare for the awful cold, from\nSeptember to May.\n\nWalter\u2019s chief trouble was with his poor gun, the barrel of which was a\nsmooth bore, which could not shoot a bullet straight forward, very far,\nso that the hunter could not be sure of hitting anything that was over\nfifty yards away.\n\nSometimes, Walter would spend many hours, or even a whole day, while\nout hunting, in climbing over rocks and up the steep mountain sides, to\nget even a distant shot at a chamois, only to miss his aim. Or, what\nwas even worse, to this kind-hearted hunter, the leaden ball, going out\nof its course, only wounded the poor animal, so that it ran away, to\nsuffer a long time and then die in pain. In this manner, Walter very\noften lost a dinner for himself and his hungry children, while he\ngrieved over inflicting pain upon innocent creatures. More than once,\nhe threw down the gun, in his anger, calling it names, as if it were an\nanimal, or, at the worst, a \u201cblunder buss.\u201d\n\nNow, so many of the chamois had complained to their friends and\nprotectors, the dwarfs, about the cruelty of hunters, and the\nsufferings of their fellows, especially the doe and fawn, that all\nthese little people held a congress, in a cave, and to see what could\nbe done. Nearly a hundred dwarfs attended the meeting, and both\ngraybeards and youngsters were invited to give their opinions. All\nagreed that men were stupid fellows, and had to be helped out, in all\ntheir needs and plans, as well as to have their wits sharpened, by the\ndwarfs.\n\n\u201cHere is a really good and kind hunter, Walter. He is using a\nblunderbuss, because he has nothing better. He ought to help him\nimprove his weapon. But what can be done?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe must first find out the reason why this fellow Walter, and others\nlike him, inflict so many wounds upon the chamois; for we know he is\nour friend, and is full of pity for the animals,\u201d said a venerable old\nchap, who seemed to be chairman of the meeting.\n\nThe talk went on for hours. At last a good looking dwarf, with a big\nhead and very long white beard, slowly arose to speak. Usually, he\nnever said a word, but listened carefully, until every one else had had\nhis say. Then, if asked, he would give his own opinion, which always\nproved to be the sense of the whole meeting. Every one wondered how his\nhead could carry all he knew, and how he could remember what each one\nhad said. So he was generally known, by one or the other of two names,\nwhich, in the dwarf language, mean \u201cThought Includer,\u201d or \u201cClarifier of\nIdeas.\u201d\n\nThe chairman at once recognized him, called him by name, and bade him\ncome up in front and speak where all could hear him. He was very modest\nat first, and held back a moment, but fearing that some of the other\ndwarfs might twist their necks off, in turning them too far around to\nget a good look at him, and knowing that some of the old fellows were\nnearly deaf, he strode forward. Stepping upon a platform of rock, where\nall could hear him easily, he began thus:\n\n\u201cThe trouble with our friend Walter, and with all other hunters, good\nand bad, especially with those who are poor shots, is that with all\ntheir good intentions, they are too stupid. They need the help of us\ndwarfs.\u201d\n\nHere he was interrupted by applause, and cries of \u201cwell said,\u201d and \u201cgo\non.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d he resumed, \u201cfrom what has been already remarked, by the\nhonorable speakers in this company, I propose:\n\n\u201c1. That we prevail upon the prettiest fairy in the Alps to lure this\nman Walter up into one of our caves, so far up toward the peaks that,\ngetting very tired, he will fall asleep quickly.\n\n\u201c2. Then, while in slumber, one of our best soothsayers will make him\ndream of a gun that never misses fire, or fails to deliver its bullet\nto the mark.\n\n\u201c3. Finally, that our best craftsman shall invent a new kind of weapon,\nwith improved barrel and lock. Then, when Walter wakes up, I propose he\nbe shown how to use it.\u201d\n\nOn hearing this, all the dwarfs clapped their hands and the meeting\nbroke up, every one feeling sure that men needed only the brains of\ndwarfs to help them. Now, they declared, there would be few wounded\nchamois to suffer pain.\n\nThe chairman then selected, from the dwarfs that were passing out, one\nhandsome fellow to take the message, in the most polite manner and\ncorrect language, to the fairy maids. These were to choose one of their\nnumber, as the Queen of Beauty, to lead the hunter to the cave, in\nwhich the dwarf\u2019s secret was to be revealed.\n\nTo another was given the task of conjuring up the dream for the\nsleeping hunter.\n\nThen a committee of four, of the cleverest dwarfs, was appointed to\ninvent the new gun, and show the hunter how to use it.\n\nNow the cave selected, to which the prettiest of the fairies was to\nlead the hunter, was one just opened, a few days before, by an\navalanche. In tumbling down the slopes, this colossal ball of snow and\nice, well loaded with rocks, had struck off a part of the mountain\nwhich had bulged out. In a moment the rocky crust was broken open.\n\nThen as if a curtain had been lifted, a great cave, like a hall lighted\nwith crystal chandeliers, was suddenly opened to view. As the sunbeams\nstruck the walls, the vast space was seen to be full of topaz,\nglittering at a thousand facets, like cut and polished diamonds.\n\nThe lovely fairy elected to allure the hunter was told about this new\ncave of jewels. She was perfectly delighted, with both the task given\nher to do and with the jewel parlor. She met the hunter, who was\nstruggling upwards, on his way to the high peaks, after a chamois. She\nfirst appeared in his path, and greeted him with a smile. She then led\nhim towards the topaz cavern. Her beauty so dazzled him, that, while\nshe went ahead, talking to him, he quickly forgot the miles he had\ntraveled. Occasionally, she would sing a sweet song.\n\nSoon she had led him into the topaz hall of the great cave, but no\nsooner had he crossed the threshold than he fell down, exhausted, upon\nthe shining floor. In a moment he was in a deep sleep, from which he\nwas not to awake for many days.\n\nMeanwhile, the master dwarfs were busy at the forges, making a new kind\nof fire arm. Instead of leaving the barrel smooth inside, they made\ngrooves, along its whole length, which curved and twisted round. Or, as\nthey said, they made it reiffelin, which kept the leaden ball perfectly\nstraight on its course. When finished, a master dwarf asked the fairy\nto fly across the ravine and set up on the face of the cliff, a hundred\nyards off, a flat round bit of smoky rock crystal, only as big as a\nthaler, or a watch face.\n\nFirst the dwarf loaded the gun and then, with a mallet, pounded on the\nramrod, to drive the lead of the bullet well into the grooves. Then,\ntaking aim, he pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the disc, knocking\nthe pretty crystal to pieces.\n\nBy this time the hunter, asleep in the cave, began to dream, and the\nfairy whispered the secret in his ear. With both sight and hearing, he\nsaw and understood all.\n\nAwaking, the hunter found his old blunderbuss gone. In its place lay\nthe rifle, and a beauty it was, lighter to carry, more graceful in\nshape, and requiring less powder and lead. For one who had to climb\nmountains, this was a great benefit. So he at once loaded his new\npiece, so as to be ready for the first chamois he should see. He\nthought it would be fine fun to carry home a prize, in addition to his\nnew weapon.\n\nHe had hardly stepped out of the topaz cave, which seemed to close like\na door behind him, than there appeared in view four chamois, each full\ngrown and with splendid horns. Putting his rifle to his shoulder and\ntaking careful aim, though the distance was great, he fired. Instantly,\nthere fell the finest of the animals, while the others scampered away.\n\nRetrieving his prize, Walter started down the mountain with the buck on\nhis back. Reaching home, his wife embraced him, and all his children\ngathered round him, while his dog frisked about him in delight. Then he\ntold the whole story.\n\nThe next day, he walked to the village and showed the gunsmith the\nrifle barrel, which he had cleaned and scoured inside, until, when\nunscrewed from the stock, it shone like a mirror. At first, the\ncraftsman laughed at him, but on looking down into the muzzle, as a\nsunbeam struck the touch hole and lighted it up along the whole length,\nthe gunsmith opened his eyes wide in surprise. Besides a sight of it,\nhe put his little finger in and at once discovered the secret. His eyes\ngleamed and his face lighted to a smile of joy. He begged the hunter to\nlet him try the weapon. Walter gladly allowed him, for the gunmaker was\nan expert. At a hundred yards, he knocked a hole in a plough handle. On\na second shot, he cut the stem of a lone leaf remaining on a maple\ntree. At his success, the gunsmith fairly yelled with delight.\nThenceforth the hunter was called Mr. Walter Reiffler.\n\nThe gunsmith, with the happy hunter\u2019s permission, set up, as a sign\nover his shop, the picture of a disc or circle, with eight dots showing\nthe grooves in the gun. From this time forth, he could not make rifles\nenough to supply the chamois hunters. Each man wanted the new weapon.\nThere was rejoicing, even among the dumb animals, for the dwarfs told\nthem what had happened and why it was that none of their number\nsuffered pain any more, or died in agony from the hunters\u2019 missing\nfire.\n\nSo a new joy came into the life of Walter the hunter. After this, he\ncould always get enough meat to supply his family\u2019s need. From the\nskins and fur, the horns, and the heads, stuffed and mounted, with\nbright eyes made of glass, and sold in the village shops and hotels,\nand to visitors, he had plenty of pocket money. For his wife, he bought\na tortoise shell comb, besides a linen and lace cap, and silver chains\nfor her bodice. To each of his daughters, he gave enough spending money\nfor them to save up sufficient to buy all the pretty things they\nneeded, and also to lay in a store of linen, for their dowry. His sons,\ntrained early to the use of the rifle, won prizes at the shooting\nmatches, which now grew to be so popular as to become in time a\nnational institution. This enabled the Swiss people to fear none of the\ndespotic rulers of Europe, who hated republics. When one proud visiting\nemperor asked one of Walter\u2019s sons, who was a dead shot, what the\nSwiss, in little Switzerland, would do, if an army corps from Germany\nwere to invade their land, he answered:\n\n\u201cWe should, each one of us, shoot twice, your Majesty,\u201d answered the\nbrave boy.\n\nAll the other hunters were happy, too, for chamois meat was plentiful\nin every chalet. Nevertheless, so many of the herds were, in time, so\ndepleted and the total number in the mountains so lessened, that laws\nwere passed forbidding any hunter, young or old, and no matter how\nfamous, from shooting more than one hundred, during his life time. Yet,\neven then, there was plenty of meat for all, and very much more than in\nthe old days.\n\nAll the world rejoiced, also, for now, armed with the rifle, the wild\nbeasts, even lions, tigers and grizzly bears that had so long destroyed\nmillions of human beings, were no longer able to drive men away. Even\nwomen hunters dared to go into the jungle and face the terrible\ncreatures.\n\nIn time, the rifle was made lighter to carry, prettier to look at, and\neasier to charge. Men discovered that the old way of loading was at the\nwrong end, and used the breech, instead of the muzzle, to put in the\ncartridges. So the heavy mallet and ramrod were left behind and\nforgotten, and wars became shorter and less dreadful.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE FAIRY OF THE EDELWEISS\n\n\nEvery child in Switzerland has heard of the Golden Age, long, long ago,\nwhen no ice or snow covered the mountains. Then grass grew, and flowers\nbloomed, clear up on the highest summits. Those barren and rocky\nheights, such as we see now, where nothing can live, but the big horned\nwoolly ibex, were unknown; for they were then clothed with forests and\nverdure. One could walk all the way up to the peak\u2019s top, amid\nbeautiful trees, lovely shrubs and blossoming plants and sweet-smelling\nherbage.\n\nSummer then reigned for at least ten months in the year. The cows\ngrazed on the delicious aromatic grass, that makes the breath of kine\nso sweet. Where now are only masses of snow and ice, and rivers called\nglaciers, were flowery meadows, full of birds and bright dragon flies,\nand musical with bees, crickets and singing insects. Then the cows were\nso big and fat, that they gave their milk, that was rich in cream,\nthree times a day. Pastures were everywhere, and nobody went hungry,\nfor food was as cheap as leaves or pebbles.\n\nThe old people still tell us that, during this period, all that one had\nto do was to ladle out the milk from tanks, as large as ponds, or pick\nbig red cherries, by putting out your hands. Then the fairies were\nhappy. On every moonlight night, they held dancing parties in the\nmeadows.\n\nBut by and bye, the terrible Frost Giants, that live up around the\nNorth Pole, heard of this Land of a Thousand Mountains, where the chief\nrivers of Europe were born and still have their cradles. Then these\ngreedy fellows that in winter tie up all things fast, or freeze them\nsolid, except for a few hours on warm days, when the sun is shining,\nsaid one to the other:\n\n\u201cCome on, fellows, let us go down and conquer this mountain country,\nthat is so rich in honey, and cream, and flowers. We shall pile up the\nsnow flakes, leagues high, and freeze solid the falling snow and cold\nwater. We shall turn these into sheets of ice, that will cover the land\nthousands of yards thick, and kill all living things. We shall drive\noff all the flowers, blow the grass away, and chill the noses of the\ncows, so that they cannot graze. That will prevent men from having\nhouses, and milk churns, and stores of cheeses. We must drive off the\nhens, too, so the people can have no eggs. If the sun tries to stop our\nwork, we\u2019ll laugh at him, so we will.\u201d\n\nThus spoke the Frost King, while the mists rolled out in clouds from\nhis mouth, as he boasted of what he could do.\n\n\u201cYes, yes, indeed we shall,\u201d cried all the Frost Giants, and a shower\nof snow flakes and ice particles filled the air, for even their icy\nbreath turned solid and was deadly to all plants.\n\nWhen the North Wind blew down the news to the Swiss fairies, there was\nmuch sadness and even terror. Where could the fairies dance, when the\nmeadows were gone and the flowers dead?\n\nHow could they float in the air, clad only in gauzy garments? How could\nthey see each other, if mist and storm and darkness filled the air, and\nice covered the ground? And how could they live without the blossoms?\nOne fairy actually wept tears, in sympathy for the poor cows, that were\ncertain to starve. And as for the children, whom the fairies loved,\nwhere could they play, if there were no fields to play in, or roses or\nviolets to pick?\n\nOne bold fairy looked defiance and spoke out loud in the meeting:\n\n\u201cI\u2019m not afraid of these Frost Giants, from the North Pole. They are\nnothing but big, boasting bullies. Let our Fairy Queen change me into a\nflower, and clothe me warm enough, and I\u2019ll defy even the Frost King to\nhurt me.\u201d\n\n\u201cBravo, bravo!\u201d cried all the fairies in chorus.\n\n\u201cBut how could you stay all the time up there, with no living thing\nnear you, and all alone? You will have no neighbors, except the rocks\nand crags, and even they will be all bare, and swept by the fierce\nwinds. Can you stand that?\u201d asked an old fairy, doubtingly.\n\n\u201cYes, if for nothing else, than to show that we fairies are not afraid\nof the Frost Giants, I should be willing to live alone. Besides, our\nfairy queen will see that, by and bye, there will be others like me,\nand then I shall have company. The more of us, the merrier, I am sure.\nIn a few thousand years, we\u2019ll make an army and a victorious one, too.\u201d\n\nSeeing this brave one, of her company, so ready and willing, the Queen\nof the Fairies put on her thinking cap. She spent a whole night in\nplanning how to turn this volunteer fairy into a flower. Then she would\nbundle her up in furs, and dress her so warmly, that even the biggest\nand coldest of the Frost Giants could not kill her with his icy breath.\n\nAnd this was the way this volunteer, from the fairy ranks, was clothed\nand made ready to fight, in the long war with cold and storm, so that\nfor ages, this little thing has been able to live far up on the\nmountain heights and, all the time, to smile and be joyful, and laugh,\nin the face of the Frost Giants. In fact, so happy is she, among the\nrock crags and sunshiny crannies, and so amused at herself, in looking\ndown over the terrible precipices, to the rocks, thousands of feet\nbelow, that she would not exchange places or climates, with even the\ncloves and nutmegs; no, not even with the tea roses and coffee blossoms\nin the Spice Islands of the southern seas.\n\nNow it is customary in all happy families, when father and mother are\nexpecting the cradle soon to be filled, to choose a name for the baby,\nand to have its clothes ready. This is done, so that the poor little\nthing, on coming into the world, will not get a chill, or sneeze, or\nhave a cough, and die. Moreover, if it have a name, no one will mistake\none baby for another, unless they arrive as twins, when some mark, such\nas a blue ribbon for a boy, and a pink one for a girl, is necessary.\n\nSo the old fairies put their heads together, to find a proper name for\nthe new fairy flower-baby, that was to live among the cold mountain\ntops and refuse to be frightened, or frozen, or be driven down lower,\nor to be cuddled up in meadows, near men\u2019s houses, where it was warm.\n\n\u201cWhat say you?\u201d asked the Queen, of the wisest of the fairies, who was\nconsidered a sort of sage or prophet, and who had a wonderfully long\nhead. \u201cWhat name do you give?\u201d\n\nWith a loud voice, almost like a roar, this fairy, that wore clothes\nthe color of an old man\u2019s beard, called out \u201cAnawphilis Margarita.\u201d\n\nAt this, every fairy looked at each other, as if to say, \u201cWhat a\nmouthful,\u201d \u201cHow strange a name,\u201d or \u201cSo big for a little fairy!\u201d or\n\u201cWhy does she talk Latin?\u201d\n\nThere were questions in their eyes also, but none asked \u201cWhat does the\nname mean?\u201d for all fairies are very shy about confessing ignorance.\n\nBut the Fairy Queen, who knew almost everything, put on a look of great\ndignity, and discreetly inquired, of the sage, if her everyday talk was\nin Latin. She did not mean to be sarcastic, however.\n\n\u201cWhy would you call me by the \u2018Pearly Lion\u2019s Foot,\u2019 if I were to\nvolunteer?\u201d asked a bright young fairy.\n\n\u201cFor two reasons, your Majesty,\u201d answered the old oracle, addressing,\nnot the young volunteer, but the Queen, as was proper.\n\n\u201cFirst, to reward valor and virtue, by giving an august name; and\nsecond, to let the Frost Giants, the insolent fellows from the North\nPole, know, that when even one of us fairies puts her foot down, it is\nlike a lion\u2019s. No one can move, or lift, or push, or drive it away. We\nthrust forward this fairy flower, as our banner, to say to the enemy,\n\u2018We shall not surrender, and we defy you!\u2019\u201d\n\nThe Fairy Queen, full of admiration, replied:\n\n\u201cWe bow to your wisdom, and so it shall be written in our books.\nNevertheless, both mortals and fairies must have also a short name for\neveryday use. How about the second, or personal part, Margarita?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you will, your Highness, but may I suggest even a better term, in\nthe speech of the mortals of this mountain land? They will love\nanything that you may clothe and adorn, I am sure.\u201d\n\nAfter this ending of her speech, the wise old fairy curtsied most\npolitely.\n\nThe Fairy Queen looked very lovely, as thus flattered, by the fine\ntact, and the charming speech, of this oldest member of the family;\nand, besides, as she loved the brave Swiss nation, she said.\n\n\u201cYou are always wise. So please let me have a name that will be popular\nwith the Swiss people.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, your highness, if it be your pleasure, we shall clothe your pet\nin purest white, like ermine, rivalling even the snow, without spot, or\nstain, or any dark tint. So, we may justly call it, the Edelweiss, that\nis, the Noble White.\u201d\n\nAt this, all the fairies shouted with delight. Even the Queen herself\nsmiled, and then made answer.\n\n\u201cYou have well spoken; \u2018Edelweiss\u2019 it shall be.\u201d\n\nNow that the name was ready, the Queen called for the attendant maids\nof the brave fairy volunteer and, then and there, the custom was begun,\nwhich mortals always afterwards followed, of robing a princess, who was\nto marry a husband in a foreign country. She must drop off all her\nformer clothing, even to her glistening skin. Then, entering another\nroom, in the new land, she must apparel herself in the garments that\nare fashionable in her new home\u2014as in the case, for example, of the\nBelgian lady, who, long afterwards, came as a bride to the Castle of\nthe Hawk, in the Land of the Swiss.\n\nStripped of all her pretty gauzy skirts, bodice, and chemise, and\nstanding forth as nude as a baby in the bath tub, the Queen bade her\nbrave fairy look at her new wardrobe, which lay piled up and as white\nas any snowdrift. Then, before all the other fairies, the Queen put\nthis question:\n\n\u201cAre you willing, to leave the company of your fellows in fairy land,\nand be a flower, to remain rooted in the rocks, and amid the cold\nforever?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, truly, with all my heart,\u201d answered the brave one.\n\n\u201cAnd will you cast seed every year and multiply your family, that will\nbear your noble name?\u201d\n\n\u201cSurely, for the more of us there are, and the more we can resist the\ncruel enemy, the Frost Giants, and make mortals glad, the happier we\nshall be.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have spoken wisely,\u201d said the Queen. \u201cWe shall clothe you very\nthickly, in white robes, that look like flannel, but that are even\nwarmer. So, no giant can hurt you, when he bites with frost, no snow\nstorm chill you, or ice choke you, or North Wind make you shiver. We\nshall give you roots, that dig their way down deep in the crannies, and\nthat will nourish your life. Besides, we have searched the world over,\nand, whatever of hair, or fur of arctic animals, or wool of sheep, or\ndown of birds can show or suggest to us, we have used to weave a\ngarment so warm, that the biggest of the giants, with the iciest breath\nand a beard of icicles, cannot even give you a chill. With your long\nhair, and woolly coat, and roots that resist frost bites, you can\ntickle his nose when he comes too near and even laugh in his face.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed I will,\u201d answered the fairy defiantly.\n\n\u201cAnd will you do even more? Will you keep your eye on the cracks and\ncrevices, that hold the sun\u2019s warmth, so that your children can creep\nup higher every year?\u201d asked the Queen.\n\n\u201cThe sun in the heaven helping me, I will,\u201d replied this \u201cFairy of the\nVanguard,\u201d as some of her sisters already spoke of her.\n\nThen the Queen lifted her wand tipped with a star. She touched the\nforehead of the Fairy of the Lion\u2019s Foot, which was her war name; while\nin the talk of mortals, she was called Noble White, though still the\nfairies, quite often, use the name Margarita.\n\nThen they stood fairy Edelweiss on a pile of rocks, filled in with sand\nand earth, to show the others where, and how, in the new world,\nEdelweiss was to live and grow and enlarge her kingdom.\n\nIt was a strange and wonderful transformation, as the fairy\u2019s pretty\nfeet turned into rootlets, that quickly thrust themselves deeply\ndownwards, gripping the rough rock and drinking in the moisture and\njuices in the soil. Grandly the Edelweiss showed her pride, in\nbelonging to the great family which a famous man first named after the\nLittle Frogs, because they love moist, damp and soft places.\n\nYet all this was beneath.\n\nAbove, there first rose a stalk, a few inches high, until it reached\nhalf a foot. Then the arms multiplied and stretched out. They were\ndensely covered, like sleeves of overcoats, with thick coverings, each\nresembling white flannel, or velvet, and as warm as the fur of an\nermine.\n\n\u201cLooks as if she had on an ulster,\u201d said one of the many fairies, some\nof whom thought she looked too sweet for any use.\n\nAnd yet, so far, there was no real flower, but only a defence, like\narmor, against those worst enemies of a plant, cold and frost.\n\n\u201cNow for beauty and for glory,\u201d said the Queen.\n\nOut of, and on top, the dense star-like mass of warmth and coziness, as\nif robed for a skiing or skating party, there blossomed forth many\nround-headed tufts, or rosettes, that were pearly white.\n\nNow, not only thickly clothed, but beautiful and strong, the Noble\nWhite was given a home at once in a rock cranny. Like a new-born baby,\nthat, as soon as it arrives, sticks its thumb in its mouth, as much as\nto say, \u201cThis world is all right; I am going to like it,\u201d the Edelweiss\nrooted itself at once and began to grow.\n\nYears passed by, and the lovely white flower, flourishing where only\nthe chamois and the ibex among animals lived, or the red Alpine rose\ncould bloom, multiplied. Like a brave army, it moved steadily forward,\noccupying every crevice, cranny and hollow. These the hardy plants\nheld, like forts, against all cold comers; yes, even resisting the\navalanches, that tried to crush these little strangers.\n\nIn a few hundred years, thousands of the Noble White plants dotted, or\nmade beautiful, the bare rocks, or hung over the precipices. In vain\ndid the icy breath of polar winds, or the blasts of the rude Frost\nGiants, or even the hurtling avalanches, drive the Edelweiss away. Nor\nwas the hot south wind, the F\u00f6hn able to wither it.\n\nSwiss maidens made this flower the emblem of their own purity, and also\nof the tenacity of faithful lovers. At the wrestling and shooting\nmatches, the young men wore its flowers in their hats, or twisted them\namong the ropes, which marked off the boundaries of their games and\nwrestling bouts. To heroes, it was the symbol of perseverance,\nendurance and that quiet force which compels victory. Patriots so loved\nit, because of its resisting power\u2014the spirit of advance instead of\nretreat\u2014that they would gladly make it the national flower.\nSwitzerland\u2014the Edelweiss among nations\u2014has held its own for ages,\nmaintaining her life and independence despite the alien power of\ninvaders and tyrants, and the Swiss still sing their national hymn,\n\u201cStand fast, O Fatherland!\u201d\n\nSo also Edelweiss, the Noble White, remains forever as the Swiss emblem\nof their republic, and of its beauty and permanence. To destroy this\nflower, the Frost Giants make their continual assaults in vain. Just as\nmighty monarchs have tried again and again to overwhelm, as with\navalanche of invasion, the freedom of the Swiss, and have always\nfailed, so the Edelweiss never yields. Its white banner hangs forever\non the heights. To every boy and girl, it is, as a living motto,\nbearing, amid snow and ice, the message of Excelsior\u2014Higher yet and\never onward!\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE AVALANCHE THAT WAS PEACEMAKER\n\n\nSometimes judges and lawyers advise people, that have a quarrel, to\nsettle their case outside of court. When a person thus decides between\ntwo, who are not agreed, we say that they are judicially minded. Now\nthere was once, in Switzerland, an avalanche, that did what peacemakers\nand honest judges could not accomplish. So it was called the Judicial\nAvalanche.\n\nNow, in the path of this avalanche, as it began to roll, was a rounded\nrock, called the Pagoda Curve. This was because it had a turn up and\nbackward, like a sleigh runner. At a distance, it looked like one of\nthe roofs, which they build in Peking, Soochow, and other Chinese\ncities. Once in a while, the ladies of the village on the slope below\nheld tea parties on it, drinking out of egg shell china cups. Then the\nmaidens pretended they had little feet, and ate candied ginger, and\nstuck pear blossoms in their hair. On their part, the boys wore\npigtails of horsehair, behind their caps and shot off fire crackers, to\nmake believe they were Chinese mandarins of the old style.\n\nOne summer\u2019s day, this tremendous avalanche came rolling and thundering\ndown the mountain side, and Pagoda Curve was directly in its path. When\nit struck this rounded rock, there was not enough of the bulge or\nre-curve, to stop the avalanche, but only to give an upward joust, or\nbounce, toward the sky. Then the big ball which, for a moment, was\npoised high in air, hung directly over the houses, five hundred feet\nbelow.\n\nThis dorf, or village, had a name, which, in English, means Tell\u2019s\nApple. Most of the houses stood on a flat place, among the mountains\nwhich rose round about it, like sentinels in ice-armor. The people who\nbuilt it, long ago, were great admirers of the famous archer, who shot\nthe apple off his little son\u2019s head. The place where they kept the pig\npens was named Gessler, after the cruel governor.\n\nNow in this place, and just at this time, there was a very ugly and\ndilapidated old house of worship, which had been erected several\nhundred years before, and was now almost ready to tumble to pieces.\n\nFor a long time, the question, of tearing down the old church and\nerecting in its place a new one, in modern style, had so vexed the\ncommunity, that a disgraceful squabble had broken out. The people of\none party would not speak to, or have anything to do with, those of the\nother way of thinking; and all on account of this old building. The\nyoung people were hot for a new edifice. They hoped to get an architect\nfrom Zurich, who had gone from their village, and had his plans all\nready, which the young ladies all said were \u201cjust lovely.\u201d\n\nAgainst these, the old folks held to the idea of keeping the holy house\nyet a while longer. The aged people were especially anxious that the\nvenerable tower should not be touched, but be kept; and they even\nwanted to give it a new coat of paint, for which, of course, the\nyounger party would not vote.\n\nOn this very afternoon, the choir had gathered to practice to sing the\nhymns for Sunday. The organist had put his foot on the pedals and\nstruck the keys, and the soprano had just opened her mouth, when down\nthundered the avalanche!\n\nThis was far worse, than when a June bug had once flown into her\nmouth\u2014as had happened on a Sunday night, a few weeks before. She\nstopped and the tenor\u2019s face turned white, as if the crack of doom had\nbeen heard.\n\nThe sexton was outside, sitting on the steps smoking his pipe, when a\nlump of ice knocked the pipe out of his mouth, scattering fire and\ntobacco, down into his vest bosom and over his best trousers. Then\nfollowed a crash, as stone and brick, and the lightning rod, fell on\nthe paving stones of the street.\n\nAll thought the world had come to an end, but when they lifted up their\neyes to note the damage, they all declared that this was the most\nobliging and considerate avalanche, that had ever visited that region.\nIt simply knocked over the old tower, and enough of the church walls to\ncompel rebuilding.\n\nThe mighty mass rolled past one corner of the village, upsetting a\nfarmer\u2019s barn, but doing no further hurt or damage, except to a\nbob-tailed cat of vicious character.\n\nThis animal had fought with many dogs, and one, that it had scratched\npretty badly, had bitten off its tail, so short, that even a rabbit\nwould be ashamed of the measly tuft, left on the end, for, only what\nlooked like a furry plug was visible.\n\nNow this old puss, known as \u201cStumpy,\u201d was just that minute about to\nsneak up to a bird box, in which were four very hungry little birdies.\nThe mother bird was out, seeking worms for her little folks\u2019 dinner.\n\nStumpy was just about to thrust in one of its front paws, through the\nlittle round hole, in the bird box, hoping to claw and drag out the\nfour squabs, one by one, and eat them all up; when down came the edge\nof the avalanche, like ten billion of bricks. It just grazed the bird\nbox, without doing any harm, or hurting the young ones inside, but it\nflattened out that puss, so that it crawled away alive, but limping,\nand meowing most piteously, and with one ear ground off by a bit of\nsharp ice. The mother bird, returning at this moment, seeing the cat,\ndanced around and chirped out what sounded like the Japanese \u201caru beki\u201d\n(served you right).\n\nThe avalanche was last seen, when rolling down the valley in the\ndirection of the vineyards, apparently with the fell purpose of\noverwhelming them all in one common ruin. But, on its way, it struck\nagain, right in the face, of an outjutting rock, on the side of a\nmountain, which made it roll around in another direction.\n\nAs for the church question, that was settled. There must be a new\nbuilding and there was one soon, which, when finished, toned up the\nwhole dorf. At a later meeting, one frivolous youth proposed a\nresolution of thanks to the avalanche, but this was voted down. Then\nthe pertinacious fellow brought in a proposition to give thanks for the\nspecial Providence, that had opened the way to peace in the church.\nThis was carried by a majority vote, all the young people being on the\naffirmative side.\n\nThe way that judicial avalanche behaved, was a scandal among the Frost\nGiants. The old style had been to toss donkeys, and their drivers, down\nwithin glacier crevices, into cold storage, a thousand feet deep; to\ncrush houses, kill cattle, and bury more people in one day than the\nundertakers could put into coffins in a month. Besides this, old\nfashioned avalanches used to lay waste orchards, and fruitful fields,\nand spoil vineyards.\n\nThe conduct of this avalanche, which seemed bent on settling quarrels,\nwas more like that of a nun, a monk, a parson, or an old grandmother.\nIt happened to be about the time that the great Napoleon was upsetting\nthe world like a political avalanche, and the Empress Josephine was\ncovering up the red arms of peasant girls, now wives of generals, with\nlong white kid gloves reaching up to the arm pits.\n\nNow, in a certain house in the dorf, an old fashioned mother was\nscolding her frivolous young daughter, named Angelette, for aping Paris\nand Napoleonic fashions. She remarked that things had come to a pretty\npass, when a young snip of a girl needed the leather of a whole goat to\nclothe her arms. Daddy had also joined in the conversation, but only to\nlose his temper. In his gestures, the cover of his pipe dropped off,\nspilling the hot ashes all over his daughter\u2019s low-necked frock. The\nsparks made her jump, besides reddening the skin of her neck, even more\nthan her arms.\n\nThe girl Angelette was dressing for the evening dance, on the green,\nand was quite put out by the accident. In fact, the old man had seized\nthe tip of Angelette\u2019s middle finger of her glove and had pulled off\nthe half yard or more of white kid, when the avalanche flew past. It\nflung a bit of rock, like the bolt of a catapult, right through the\nwindow, sending the glove, all muddy and torn, out of the other.\n\nThinking his last day had come, the old daddy fell on his knees to\npray, but he was quickly awakened to his senses, by hearing a regular\nconcert in the barn yard. Outside, the donkeys were braying, the horses\nneighing, the roosters crowing, the geese cackling, the hens clucking,\nand the dogs barking\u2014and all in joy. As for the old billy goat, he\nstood up on his hind legs and cut up such capers, that the whole family\nof kids began to imitate him by frisking in a circle.\n\nWhere, a minute or two before, had been ominous stillness, there had\ncome, in the twinkling of an eye, a salvo of rejoicing in the animal\nworld. It was as if the boarders in Noah\u2019s ark had been let loose and\nwere having a concert. It\u2019s a way the animals have, of showing their\njoy, with a kind of music, all their own, which they can make, when the\ndanger they feared is over and deliverance has come.\n\nThere was also a bride, the daughter of the richest man in the dorf,\nwho was dressing for her wedding. All the other girls of her set were\ncollecting their old shoes and handfuls of rice, ready to fling after\nthe young couple\u2019s carriage for good luck.\n\nThe bride\u2019s kid boots, ordered from Paris, had cost fourteen dollars.\nThe mail wagon having arrived, with the letters and the salt, at the\nPost Office, had just stopped in front of the bride\u2019s house and handed\nout the long waited package. The servant maid was bringing the lovely\nwhite buttoned shoes upstairs, when, along and downward, thundered the\navalanche. According to a way that avalanches have, this one flung off,\nat the sides, stones, rocks, gravel, ice and mud. Now, like cannon\nballs in a bombardment, one mass of wet snow, not quite so big as a fat\nelephant, struck the maid. It knocked her heels over head, sent her\nslippers flying, and her feet in the air, until one could see the color\nof her stockings, from toe to knees. As for the box from Paris, it was\nshot, as out of a gun, into the pig pen. The bride screamed, but nobody\nwas hurt, and the maid quickly smoothed out her hair and dress, put on\nher slippers, and she was soon presentable.\n\nIt was weeks after the honeymoon, and return of the couple, that, after\nsearching up hill and down dale, the remains of what were once a pair\nof white kid boots from Paris, were found in the black mire, among the\npigs. Not knowing what it was, the porkers had crushed it under their\nhoofs. After trial with their teeth, unable to eat it, or its not\ntasting nice, the pigs thought it was not worth a turnip. One piggy,\nwithout chewing, had actually attempted to swallow it. Not finding it\nsuited to a hog\u2019s diet, the animal had dropped it with a grunt, and\ntrampled on it. When fished out with the long handled pitchfork, it was\nrecognized as a Paris shoe, by the two white buttons, which had escaped\nthe blackening of the mire.\n\nBy this time the proceedings of this avalanche, which had started out\nto settle quarrels, had become positively frivolous. Wabbling about,\nhere and there, reeling like a man with a quart of brandy in his\nstomach, the mighty ball rolled down the long road, leading into a\nlarger village.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d fancied the Frost Giants, that were watching from aloft, \u201cit\nsurely will uphold the reputation of the family and act like other\navalanches, in turning villages into cemeteries, and farms and\nvineyards into deserts.\u201d Vain thought!\n\nThis lively chit of an avalanche followed the road, far enough to\ntumble, flat into the ditch, some drunken fellows, who had just come\nout of the gin house, and were staggering homewards. It was like\nironing out clothes, to see the way that avalanche flattened out those\ntopers. It left them for hours on the roadside, faces downwards, and\nsleeping off their debauch. When they woke up, as out of a cold bath,\nthey shook off the snow and trudged homeward, only to get, from their\nsharp-tongued wives, the scoldings they richly deserved.\n\nMany another adventure did that judicial avalanche have, before it had\nscudded past other villages, but hurting next to nothing, avoiding\nforests, farmhouses and vineyards, until it reached a glacier, over\nwhich it rolled.\n\nScratching, cracking, dropping out dirty stuff, rock and gravel, it\nacted like a dredge box. It sprinkled out its contents, to fill up the\ngreat deep green crevasses in the ice, until it finally reached a big\nopen space of waste land, that had nothing on it, but rocks and bushes.\nThen, with a roar, as if laughing at itself, it broke up, spread open,\nand left the place strewn with more rocks and stones and lumps of ice.\n\nThen a troop of fairies came riding on the hot, dry, south wind. They\nblew, with their breath, on the snow mass, and quickly melted it into\nthe river, so fast, indeed, that men wondered at the high water in the\ndistant lakes and the rivers in France. In lovely Switzerland, new soil\nwas made, where today are farms and vineyards. In time, billions of\npurple clusters are plucked, and willing tourists are happy, in taking\nthe grape cure; while they walk over the place where once, a judicially\nminded avalanche had laughed so hard, that it burst.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\nTHE FAIRIES AND THEIR PLAYGROUND\n\n\nOnce upon a time in Switzerland, there was a Golden Age for cows and\npeople. This was before the country had become the playground of Europe\nand the Land of a Thousand Hotels. It was before men climbed mountains\nfor pleasure; or, imitating the New Hampshire Yankees on Mount\nWashington, had built railways to their summits, and filled the land\nwith wires and rails. Not then, could the Edelweiss be bought in a\ndrygoods store, or in the markets. Not then did lazy and soft-muscled\ntourists pay money to have burnt upon alpenstocks the names of a\nhundred mountains, which they never even saw, except from a hotel\nporch, or distant window, or from the train.\n\nThen, as the old ladies tell us, summer lasted during ten months of the\nyear and the very mild winter only eight weeks. Flowers were everywhere\nand the bees were so busy that immense caverns were stored with the\nhoney combs, which hives could not hold. Colossal stalactites, and\nmosses, big as cabbages, were common. Then the land was so rich in\nclover and grass, that grew up to the very tops of the highest\nmountains, that the cows had to be milked three times a day. They were\nso large and fat, that the milk was poured by the bucket full into\ntanks, so big that the milk men went round in boats to skim off the\ncream for the making of cheese. These balls and disks were so thick and\nso big around, that the dairy men had to be very careful in piling them\nup in the store houses.\n\nFor, if, when rolling one inside the door, it broke loose and went\ntrundling down the valley, it might destroy a village and people might\nthink it an avalanche.\n\nIn those days, there were no mists, or storms, or barren rocks, or\ndanger of landslides. On the day for churning out the butter from the\ncream, they used to employ the giants and give them big dinners for\ntheir wages, for the churns were like towers, for height.\n\nThis was the story of the Golden Age, as told by the old folks, who sat\non their stone seats in front of the quaint wooden houses. As told,\nyear after year, everything grew in size, just as an avalanche starts\nas a snowball and is finally able to wipe out a whole village,\nincluding modern hotels, as is done occasionally in our day.\n\nBut what happens always, when people get too rich or prosperous,\nfollowed in this case also. It went to their heads. Then they become\nproud, lazy and often cruel. Gold got to be as common, as iron or lead\nhad been, yet many old frumps and codgers wanted more. Then misers\nbecame numerous. Such fruit grew out of the root of all evil. It seemed\nas if there was nothing more deceitful, than those very riches which\ntheir ancestors knew nothing about. In such prosperity, the farmers and\nshepherds had foolishly thought, lay the secret of all joy. They had\nimagined that, if they could only get and increase what they could sell\nfor money, it would make them, as they used to say, \u201cperfectly happy.\u201d\n\nThe climate changed and gradually the whole land grew colder. Snow\ncovered the mountain tops. Rocks, storms, fog, mist, and clouds lay\nlong over the land. Land slides occurred often, and avalanches ruined\nthe meadows and villages. Huge rivers of ice, called glaciers, leagues\nlong, and hundreds of yards deep, were formed. These covered up the\nflowers. Summers grew shorter and winters grew longer. Grapes and fruit\nshriveled up to their present size and cows and goats were no longer\nsuch givers of food as of old. Milkmaids, who had to work with a cow\nthrice a day to get two small pails of milk between daybreak and dark,\nwondered at the story of the Golden Age, which the old folks constantly\ntold. They wished they had lived then, when a boat, instead of a\nbucket, was the sign of a dairy man\u2019s shop.\n\nMany looked wistfully up at the ruins of an old tower, now ivy grown,\nwhere the owls hooted at night. They wondered, when told that, in the\nGolden Age, this was the Giant\u2019s Churn, in which boat loads of cream\nwere turned into butter by the good natured monster, who ladled out the\nyellow delicacy, with a shovel, as big as a pine tree.\n\nIn the Golden Age, the fairies were very numerous, of many kinds and\nalways busy.\n\nSome were rough, and loved to play tricks on stingy farmers, bad\ntempered milk maids, rude boys and naughty girls; but most of them were\nalways glad to do something nice and pleasant, and, especially, to help\nkind people in their work.\n\nBut when the age of steam and smoke and puffing locomotives, and boats,\nwith iron chimneys, that breathed out choking gas from their furnaces,\nand left clouds of blackness on the beautiful blue lakes and landscape,\nhad come, the happy days changed to gloom. Men made railroads up to the\nvery tops of the mountains and stuck their big hotels in the prettiest\nplaces, even on the high Alps. They spoiled the village dances, drove\naway the poor people from their old amusements in summer, and even\nturned thousands of the once honest Swiss folks into money-grubbers.\nThen the fairies lost all patience, and determined to call an out door\ncongress, such as the mortals do at the Landsgemeinde, or town\nmeetings, when they talked politics and voted by thousands, raising\ntheir hands, to mean \u201cyes\u201d or \u201cno.\u201d\n\nOne fairy, that was the lawyer and politician of the Swiss fairy world,\nwas especially angry, when it was learned that even the children were\ntaught by their parents to tell lies about their mother being dead\u2014when\nshe was waiting in the chalet, for the money the little girls got by\ntelling doleful tales and thus moving the pity of travelers.\n\nOne day, after hearing some of these dreadful stories, the fairy took\nthe form of a Yankee pedestrian tourist, and walked along a well beaten\npath in the mountains. Coming to a closed gate, which shut off the\npassage, it was opened for him by a little girl, not ten years old, who\nsaid plaintively with tears in her voice:\n\n\u201cMeine Mutter ist gestorben,\u201d (My mother is dead).\n\nAt this, the kind hearted fairy, in Yankee clothes, nearly dropped his\nAlpenstock, out of sheer sympathy. Taking out his purse, he was about\nto hand the child a silver coin; when, looking up at the doorway of the\nchalet near by, he saw a woman standing and peering out with keen\ninterest. He hesitated a moment, and then inquired, of the little\ngate-opener, whether that were her mother. She, having learned to speak\nher piece, but not prompted as to any further question, replied at once\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\nAt this the fairy in disguise lost his temper and said to her \u201cyou\nlittle cheat!\u201d Then he shut up his purse, and passed on.\n\nQuickly changing into his former fairy form, messengers by the score\nwere sent out by him over the mountain tops, down in the mines, under\nthe lakes, over the pastures, and wherever fairies of any kind or sort\nlived. These were all summoned to the meeting.\n\nThe hour and place of gathering was named, and it was promised that\nall, whether pretty or ugly, slow or rapid of speech, and whether of\nland, water, air, or snow, should have a chance to talk, all being\nlimited to a quarter of an hour each.\n\nWhat was of the most importance, was the guarantee given, that all\ndelegates should be excused, and the whole meeting break up before\nsunrise, so that no fairies would be turned into stone, when the\nsunbeams should strike them.\n\nNo ogres or man-eating giants, of either sex, were invited to this\nmeeting, for the Swiss fairies are a very respectable lot of folks. In\nsome countries, they do not have anything to do with \u201cgods,\u201d or\n\u201cdevils.\u201d They are very particular as to who or how or what they regard\nas fit for society, or look upon as equals. Such beings of uncertain\nreputation as \u201cthe gods,\u201d or \u201cthe fates,\u201d or \u201cthe devils\u201d or any of\ntheir tribe, were not known in their fairy society. It is said that\nsuch beings used to live in the mountains, when the Romans were in the\nland.\n\nMany people said that some of these used to live still further back and\nlong ago, in certain mountains and caves which could be pointed out,\nbut they went away forever, after the good saint Fridolin, and others\ncame to St. Gall and Appenzell, from Ireland, a thousand years ago.\nWhen the idolators, in China or Japan, would build a temple for their\nidols, they inscribed it on their bells that \u201cgods, as well as devils,\u201d\nhave paid or subscribed money to help rear the structure.\n\nBut Swiss fairies are better educated, and they have nothing to do with\neither \u201cgods\u201d or \u201cdevils.\u201d These creatures have no reputation in\nSwitzerland, and are not received into fairy society; for the Swiss\nfairies approve of churches and never hurt them, or the good people who\ngo to them.\n\nIn fact, what all the fairies resented most, and about which they were\nas mad as fire with mortals, was that they had brought in such\ncreatures of their fancy into the country. Men described the worst one\nof the lot as having hoofs, horns, a sooty skin, hooked nose, forked\ntail and sulphurous breath.\n\nIn other words, this fellow was something altogether different from any\nsort of fairy in earth, air, sky, water, cave, or mine. Besides, though\nthe demons had the reputation of being always very busy and very smart,\nthey never did anything good, nor helped honest mortals, as the fairies\noften did.\n\nIn truth, the fairies of every sort held their noses, and otherwise\nshowed their dislike, or contempt, whenever any one made mention of the\nname or the deeds of demons, or devils.\n\nWhat made the lovely fairies and the frost giants awfully mad, was,\nthat human beings should name the pretty scenery, the wild crags, and\nthe rocky valleys and mountains after one, they called His Infernal\nMajesty. A certain fairy told the story of a funny mortal, who had got\nmixed in his ideas. She had overheard one bumpkin find fault with the\npresident of a college for inviting a popular preacher to address the\nstudents. \u201cHe\u2019s an atheist,\u201d said the fellow, \u201cfor he does not believe\nin a personal devil;\u201d at which, both fairies laughed heartily.\n\nIt was the general opinion, however, that mortal men could do wonderful\nthings. They might build railroads up to the mountain tops, harness\nevery waterfall, fill the valleys with electric machinery, and erect\nobservatories to study the weather and the stars. For all this, the\nfairies paid them due honor.\n\nIt was acknowledged that, in one thing, some of the native mortals\ncould beat the world, that is, in holding out their hands for a gift.\nFairies thought this was because they had a disease, called itch of the\npalm; but they noticed that a coin always healed the trouble and caused\nthe fingers to shut up finely on the silver.\n\nBut when human beings gave credit, for the smart things which the\nfairies used to do, to the monster they called the Devil, they were\nvexed indeed. Both the frost giants and the flower fairies declared\nthat they would go on with their work, for who or what could stop\neither of them? Besides, no human beings could produce anything so\npretty as a flower, or a snow crystal. At the idea of their making\nEdelweiss out of canton flannel, and selling these bogus things in the\nshops, they laughed again and again.\n\nIn spite of railways built up the mountains, or tunnels dug into them,\nthe gnomes and the kobolds declared, fiercely, that they should have\ntheir own way down below the ground, so long as there was any fire left\nin the earth.\n\nThe Undines and the Herwischers made their boast that, while glaciers\nmelted and became rivers, and lakes were lakes, and marshes grew reeds,\nthey, and all the water sprites, were determined to have a good time in\ntheir own way. They would enjoy their tricks and play their pranks on\nstupid mortals, as long as they pleased. There was too much fun in it\nfor them to give up their old customs.\n\n\u201cBesides these foolish fashions, that will pass away,\u201d said the\npresident, \u201cthere was one place where machinery, or the jim-cracks of\ninventors, and all this chatter about science, or any thing else, can\nnever destroy. None of these things can reach the hearts of the\nchildren.\u201d Then he went on to say: \u201cThere will always be a new\ngeneration who love us. Even after all the learned men and scholars and\nprudes and fault-finders shall have had their way, and tried to drive\nout of the libraries such splendid fellows as Santa Claus or William\nTell or Humpty Dumpty, they would climb through the window, go down the\nlightning rods, and from the chimneys into the nursery.\n\n\u201cEven if the prudes tried to abolish the fairies by law, and shut out\nall the fireplaces, and did away with sleighs, for automobiles, and had\naeroplanes, in place of wagons, even then a new lot of fairies and\nheroes would come in and take the place of the banished old friends of\nthe children. They would sit in the chairs, peep in at the windows,\nlive in the nursery, and refuse to be driven out. In Switzerland, they\nwould hide in the milk churns, or behind rocks, or in the ice caverns.\nIn a word, never having been born they could not die.\u201d\n\nA wise old gnome spoke for his companions, as follows:\n\n\u201cIt is only those creatures that have bodies and have to be born and\nmust eat and drink food every day, that get old, and have to be buried.\nBesides, every fairy knows that, while thousands of tourists come, year\nafter year, in their bodies, as in sleeping cars and day coaches, very\nfew ever really get into that Switzerland, which, after two thousand\nyears, has grown up in the Swiss heart. These foreigners come and go,\nand eat and sleep, and drink, but what did they know of the Swiss\nsoul?\u201d\n\nOne ancient fairy that looked as if he might be several millions of\nyears old, who had a name too long to be pronounced, but which means,\nwhen translated, \u201cI told you so,\u201d summed up in his speech what he had\nseen come to pass, since mortals arrived on the earth. He had looked\nupon the lake dwellers, the Romans, the barbarians, the visitors of all\nsorts and times, and finally the hotels and tourists.\n\n\u201cThere have been many changes of fashions since I paid any attention to\nmortals,\u201d said he. Then he made them all laugh, by continuing: \u201cOnce,\nnobody cared for the mountains. Now, all human folks are writing poetry\nabout them, or climbing them, or punching their faces with alpenstocks.\nOnce no one loved the flowers of the Alps. Now, foolish mortals, in\nboth trousers and petticoats, come with their long purses, but they are\ntoo lazy to climb up to the real \u2018Alps,\u2019 and pick the blossoms where\nthey grow. So they buy them, already and artificially made, in the\nmarket. They go shopping for canton flannel Edelweiss, as they would\nfor soap, or tooth brushes. They stick these woolen things in their\nhatbands, and they have their alpenstocks branded with the names of\nplaces, whether they have been there or not. Or, they make belt\nbouquets of the Alpine roses, or glacier violets, and then strut about\nas if they were explorers. What fools these mortals be.\u201d\n\nAt this, all the fairies of every sort and kind, laughed and guffawed\nso uproariously, that the meeting adjourned in disorder.\n\nYet they all went away happy, for they felt sure that whatever foolish\nmortals should do, Switzerland would still be the fairies\u2019 playground.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\nTHE KANGAROO POA\n\n\nDuring millions of centuries a battle on, between the frost giants and\nthe flower fairies. Occasionally, for a few tens of thousands of years\nat a time, the ice rivers and the snow avalanches would roll down the\nmountain sides and smother, or crush all the pretty blossoms. Rocks and\nstones in the glaciers would squeeze the leaves, and tear out the\nroots, so that nothing could grow. Then the whole land would become a\ncemetery of ice, or a graveyard covered with snow, for all the plants\nof every kind were frozen stone hard and were dead beyond hope.\n\nNothing could be seen but jagged rocks and sharp peaks rising up out of\nthe desolation. No bird, beast, insect, or fish could live in such a\nworld, for there was nothing for them to eat, or to grow with. Though\nthere was plenty of water, there were no fish. Cows could not graze, or\ngoats, or deer find any grass or moss, and dogs would die at once, for\nlack of meat.\n\nBut the sun in the sky was always the friend of the flower fairies, and\nhe kept on, fighting Jack Frost, and the glacier giants, melting the\nice and snow and making rivers that carried off the cold water to the\nsea.\n\nSo by and bye, after a few millions of years had passed by, the\nfairies, who never die of old age, got together in a meeting. After\ntalking the matter over, they resolved to have a flower that could\nfight the frost giants, by laughing in their faces, and keep on\ngrowing, no matter how hard the winds blew, or how deep the snow was,\nor how often the avalanches fell, or glaciers formed. Besides being\nable to live, and find its own food, by rooting itself deep in the\ncrevices of the rocks, such a flower ought to be sweet, and taste good\nto the cows.\n\nIn this way pastures would be coaxed to cover the meadows of the high\nAlps with their green glory, well spangled with blooms. Then men could\nget milk and make butter and cheese. The fairies liked good boys and\ngirls, and were always glad to help their fathers and mothers, and they\nalso loved meadows, with plenty of flowers and grass, for their\nmoonlight dances. They never enjoyed this, their favorite amusement, so\nmuch as when, in the spring, the fields or the heights were both\nfragrant and beautiful.\n\nBut how could a pretty plant, such as they wanted, get clothes enough\nto keep from shivering all winter? How could a flower be made hardy to\nlaugh at Jack Frost, when he came to bite her?\n\nThe fairies young and old, all thought it over, but no one could tell\nhow to begin or proceed. The young ones thought much of gloves and\nmuffs, tippets and leggings, hoods and ear muffs, thick stockings and\nfleecy lined gloves. Yet how could these be made to fit a plant?\n\nIt was natural for them to think in this way, for all their things to\nwear were on the outside, both for grown ups and those fairies that\nwere more like big boys and girls. On the other hand, the fairy mothers\nwere all the time thinking about the baby\u2019s life, and not only how to\ncover the young thing, but also to have it warmly wrapped up, when it\nwas still very little. They brought to mind examples of papooses well\nbundled in furs for cradles and hung on the branches. Some told of\nEsquimaux babies, all swaddled in furs, that are given a lump of whale\nblubber, instead of candy, and skewered on a stick, so that it will not\nswallow the tidbit, all at once, and choke. Others told of Italian\nbambinos, wrapped up tight, and Japanese akambos, held pick-a-pack\nstyle, on their big sisters, but none of these seemed to give the right\nidea of what was wanted.\n\nAt last, one old grandmother fairy made a sign that she wished to\nspeak, and all listened while she talked.\n\n\u201cYou fairies had better stop thinking about human beings, for not one\nof them could live where we want this flower to grow. It is too cold,\nand the frost giants already own the country. Better look to the\nanimals to show us how. Now I have heard of a two-legged creature, that\nyet is not a man nor a woman; and another one, with four legs that\ncarries its babies, even a whole family, of four or five, in a pouch in\nfront of its body, until the little ones can take care of themselves.\nIn this way, they are kept free from danger, until they grow up and can\nprovide for themselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh do tell us about these wonderful creatures,\u201d cried all the young\nfairies at once; and, though the old folks were silent, they were just\nas eager to hear.\n\n\u201cWell, the four-legged creature is the opossum, and lives in America.\nThe mother carries a whole family of her cubs in a chatelaine pocket,\nwhich she wears in the front of her dress. She can even climb up a tree\nwith her family.\n\n\u201cWho can believe that?\u201d whispered one fairy to another. \u201cAnd the\nother?\u201d she asked, hardly believing such a thing was possible.\n\n\u201cLet me tell you, then, about the kangaroo, that lives in Australia.\nShe has a wallet, or travelling bag where, or in which, she stows away\nher little folks, and there they are as cozy as if they were riding in\na wagon. Yet, all the time, they can look out and see what is going on\nin the world. In this way, both the young opossums and the kangaroos\nare kept warm, and are fed until they are grown. No wolves, or bears,\nor foxes can catch and run away with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan a kangaroo climb a tree?\u201d asked a fairy, whose fancy had been\ngreatly taken with the idea of a whole family being up a tree at once,\nand free from the wolves.\n\nThe old fairy felt insulted, or thought the questioner was trifling,\nand made no answer. So there was quiet for the space of three minutes.\n\n\u201cWell then,\u201d asked still another fairy, \u201ccan you furnish us with a\nvegetable kangaroo?\u201d This was asked in a tone of contempt, as if she\nbelieved it were not possible to protect anything from Jack Frost and\nthe giants, even though the sun helped with all his might.\n\n\u201cWell, not exactly the Australian jumper, or the American tree-climber;\nbut, if we can persuade the sun to help us, we may get a plant to\nbecome more mother-like, and keep her babies at home, until they are\nweaned and warmly clothed. Then, when they grow up, they will be able\nto find food, and set up housekeeping for themselves.\u201d\n\nSo it came to pass that the sun and earth, and the fairies, all\nagreeing together, they invited a plant, named the Poa, to come in\ntheir country to live and raise children, that could stand the cold.\n\nAs fast as the glaciers or ice rivers melted, the fairies coaxed the\nPoa family to multiply and come up higher. This the plants always did,\nincreasing in numbers like a great army. They climbed higher and\nhigher, until they formed acres upon acres of meadow land, for the cows\nand goats, that enjoyed the delicious taste of the ripened grass. When\nthe glaciers had retreated and melted away, the Poa covered the land.\nThen the cows multiplied. They were fat and sleek, because of rich\nfood, and men won wealth by making butter and cheese. The young fairies\nwatched how the Poa grew and cast its seeds, and they called it the\nkangaroo plant.\n\nAnd this was the reason why it was named, by the fairies, the Kangaroo\nPlant. Watching its opportunity, the Poa Alpina started every\nspringtime, from the lower meadows, to go up on the mountain tops\nnearer the stars, in time becoming victorious, like an army. Instead of\ndropping its ripe seeds to the ground, or having them blown far by the\nwinds, or letting them leap out, like popcorn, or lending them the\nwings, which dandelions have, or trusting to birds, or sailors, or men\nwho sell seeds to farmers, the Poa had a new way of its own. The mother\nstalk held her babies, that is the seeds, as long and as close to her,\nas an opossum keeps her cubs or a kangaroo her kittens.\n\nInstead of first weaning them and then letting them go away to play or\nramble abroad, out of her sight, she kept them all with her until they\nwere full grown, that is, until they had both leaves and roots; for\nthese are the legs and arms of a plant, whether it be a Johnnie Jump\nUp, or Sweet William, or Ragged Robin, or Dusty Miller, or Lady\u2019s\nSlipper, or Four o\u2019Clocks, or what not. So, before Jack Frost could\nbite them hard, or the giants crush them, or a snow storm bury them, or\nan avalanche roll over and flatten them out, or a cow eat them up, they\nhid themselves in all the crannies, cracks, and crevices of the rocks\nand down deep too. Wherever any sand, or dust, or moss, or moisture\nwas, there you would find a whole family of the young folks of the Poa\nfamily settled down, all growing up and able to take care of\nthemselves.\n\nNow like a great army they are, indeed. They laugh at winter\u2019s cold, or\nicy wind, or driving sleet, and even at that scorching south wind, the\nF\u00f6hn, that blows for over two weeks in the spring time, and again, for\na fortnight in the autumn. By and bye, in a little while, according to\nthe fairy clock, that is, in a million years or so, the Kangaroo Poa\nhad spread all over Switzerland. Twenty thousand cows were made happy,\nfor they loved to browse on the Poa pastures, and liked nothing better.\nNow, nearly two million of Swiss cows enjoy the summer feast, while\ntheir bells tinkle on the hillsides.\n\nWhen the calves were too big for their mother\u2019s milk, and the lady cow\ngot tired of being a restaurant for her booby calf, she pushed it away,\nand said, in cow language, \u201cgo and eat Poa.\u201d Sometimes the calf did not\nlike to give up its baby habits, learned in the nursery. Then, it\nbehaved like the naughty boy, who said \u201cI\u2019m hungry and bread I won\u2019t\nhave. I want cake.\u201d\n\nThen the mother cow tried another plan. She would give notice to the\ncowherd, in her own language, that she had done her part, and wanted\nhim to attend to her naughty, and bad tempered, or sulky calf. Then the\nman would put a leather strap with sharp nails on it, over the calf\u2019s\nmuzzle, so that, when calfy wanted refreshment, it would be like\nsticking pins into its mother. Then the cow would push the calf away\nand make it learn to eat Poa.\n\nBut once having taken a bite, the calf never again wanted to eat\nanything else. It tasted as good as candy to a little girl. So\nSwitzerland became one of the greatest countries in the world for\nbutter and cheese. The fairies rejoiced, too, for the Poa, with its\npretty blossom, made the meadows, which were their dancing hall, more\nbeautiful, and for them, it was like waltzing on a cloth of gold.\n\nAnd to this day, the Alpine Poa is as wonderful, among plants and\ngrasses, as the opossum and kangaroo are among quadrupeds.\n\nThe fairies, that had succeeded in so clothing the edelweiss, that\nlives among the rocks, that it was able to resist the frost and cold,\nwere now very happy over their second venture. Like a brave and\nvigilant sentinel, the new flower kept guard. The Poa was clothed, so\nas to delight the cattle, while the edelweiss was dressed for beauty,\nand to please mortals. Thus, both man and beast were blessed.\n\nAnd it is, even yet, the flowers that, with vigilance and valor, guard\nSwitzerland against the assaults of the ice giants and the frost army.\nThese would make the Land of the Edelweiss like the regions of the\nNorth Pole, if it were not for the flowers and the grass. That is the\nreason why the Swiss people are not like Esquimaux. Their beautiful\ncountry holds the chamois, and the ibex, and the birds, instead of\nwalruses and polar bears; and the people have bread, and honey, and\ncream, instead of seal meat and blubber.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\nTHE SWISS FAIRIES IN TOWN MEETING\n\n\nIn Appenzell, and some other cantons in the heroic Swiss republic, many\nold democratic customs still prevail. One of these is seen in the\nLandsgemeinde, or meeting of all the men not only in a village, but in\nthe whole canton, or district.\n\nThis long word means a mass meeting of voters. The people gather\ntogether in a great crowd, when they wish to settle matters of public\ninterest. They vote, not by casting bits of paper in a box, or with a\nvoting machine, but by raising their hands.\n\nWhen the president of the meeting puts the question, tens of thousands\nof fingers at once go up in the air. This is the ancient form of the\ntown meeting, which is still kept up.\n\nThe Swiss fairies follow Swiss customs, and, not long ago, one\nmoonlight night, they met together on a glacier in a deep valley.\n\nThey had much to talk about. It was not all gossip, but after much\nfriendly chat, that they began. Not one said \u201cHow do you do?\u201d For, none\nof them ever gets sick, or has influenza, or whooping cough, or the\nmumps, or the measles, or tooth ache. They never have doctors, or take\ndoses of medicine, or wrap flannel round their necks, or swallow castor\noil, or have the doctor visit them and feel their pulses or make them\nstick out their tongues.\n\nInstead of all this, the fairies usually inquire, one of another, in\nthis fashion, \u201cHow about those curious creatures called men?\u201d Or, \u201cHow\nare mortals behaving?\u201d Such questions, as \u201cWhat are they up to now?\u201d or\n\u201cWhat are they doing to spoil our fun?\u201d are very common also.\n\nSome of them at this meeting wanted very much to tell about some of the\ntricks, which they had played on foolish men, or how they had done a\ngood thing or two to people they liked. There was, however, no time for\na long chat, for it was said that much business was on hand. Moreover,\nthe meeting must break up before daybreak.\n\nWe shall not describe all that were present, for most of them looked\nlike the fairies of other countries. Yet there were some entirely\nSwiss, and these are known, or heard of, only along the Rhine or the\nRhone river, or on the mountains inside the country.\n\nThe water fairies, quite the most numerous, were present in full force.\nThere were the sprites, or \u201cnecks,\u201d that live in, and had come all the\nway from the river Neckar. They looked and behaved very much like the\nnixies of England.\n\nUndine was the general name of one family of the female water fairies.\nAll of these were in the form of pretty young women. They love to sit\nby the side of the brooks or water courses. Sometimes they lurk in the\nmarshes among the reeds. They have very white hands and golden hair,\nwhich is full of waves or ripples, that can beat Marcel, or any other\nhair waver. On their heads they wear a fillet, or wreath, made of pond\nlilies, and often have on a long white veil-like mist. They are very\nsentimental and have tender emotions and whisper often and sigh a great\ndeal. They delight in dancing along the shore, and go flitting from one\nwater lily to another, opening the golden hearts and lovely white\npetals of these flowers that grow in the water.\n\nThese mist maidens were very attentive to all that was talked about,\nbut they did not themselves say much. Like other pretty fairies, they\nwere lovely to look at, but they had no soul, and if they had any\nbrains, no one would ever know it. One would not expect to meet them at\nmatinee parties, or at any daylight picnics, for they made it a rule\nnever to be seen, except on moonlight nights. It was therefore useless\nto look for them at any other time.\n\nVery much like Undine and her sisters were those in a delegation of\nfairies from the Grotto de Balme. This cave may be seen on the way to\nChamounix, but high up above the level of the road, and has stalactites\nhanging from the ceiling. The story teller remembers it well, but when\nhe was there, the fairies were all out, for it was broad daylight, when\nfairies do not allow themselves to become visible. How we two college\nboys wished we had spectacles, that could pierce the light and make the\nfairies to be seen.\n\nThese grotto folks, that were at this mass meeting of the fairies,\nlooked much like human girls, with olive complexions; but if one looked\ncarefully, he would see that they had no heels. Their hair was the most\nwonderful part of them, for they never wore any clothes. When any human\nperson came near, they could cover themselves up entirely with their\ntresses, so that nothing but their roguish, laughing faces were\nvisible.\n\nThey were great coquettes, and often appeared on mountain paths, to\nlure away young hunters; but old men only laughed at them, and hummed a\ntune and ditty about \u201cThe Spider and the Fly,\u201d for they knew all the\ntricks of these grotto girls. Sometimes these pretty creatures carried\nlights at night and danced in circles, so it was very hard to tell one\nfrom another. Yet they looked very lovely, with their fresh faces,\nsparkling eyes and pretty manners. Besides these charms, they had, each\none, a soft low voice. Of all these grotto girls, Funetta was the best\nknown.\n\nIn fact, some of these fairies belonged to the same families as fairies\nin other lands, though they spelled their names differently and talked\nGerman, French or Italian, and, what sounded like the speech, which\ncountry people in Switzerland use.\n\nFor instance, there were several of the Herwisch folk, or first cousins\nto the Will-o\u2019-the-wisp. Several dozen of little creatures of this\nfamily, not much bigger than dolls, were on hand. They live on marshy\nground and delight in lighting their little lanterns at night. Then\nthey entice bumpkins and other dull fellows, out of the regular path in\nthe fields, into the mud and swamp. When the clumsy chaps are\nfloundering deep in the water, and down among the frogs and tadpoles,\nthe Herwisch put out their lights and leave the louts in the wet, all\nthe while laughing at them. Stupid fellows from the grog and beer\nshops, with their brains befuddled, are the chief victims of these\nmerry mischiefs. It is good to see how many a drunkard gets a ducking\nand cooling off from these tiny tots.\n\nSome of the Herwisch folk have wings like bats, and to the bold girl or\nboy that is too smart, and makes fun of them, they come and flap their\nwings in his or her face and this frightens them. Men, especially, who\nhave drunk too much wine, get easily scared. After it is dark, most\npeople are careful not to anger, or irritate the Herwisches in any way.\n\nQuite different in their bearing and looks, as well as in their ideas\nand manners, was another set of delegates to this fairy convention.\nThese were the gnomes, the kobolds, and the elves. They were near\nrelations, and looked very much alike, especially in stature, in the\ncolor of their skin, and in all having beards. Most of them live\nunderground and in the mines. These very industrious and lively little\nfellows are always busy. Many among them look like old men. When they\ntalk to each other, their long beards and chins wag up and down, so the\nboys and girls call them \u201cchin choppers.\u201d They wear funny, peaked caps,\neach with a tassel on the end of it. They have to do with gold mines,\nfor they understand all about fires, forges, coal, crucibles, and what\none sees in a foundry.\n\nA long time ago, one of these gnomes amused himself and enriched the\ngood people in a place called Plurs, by pouring liquid gold in a\ncrevice of the rocks. But having thus gained plenty of the precious\nmetal, the people got to be very proud, like most mortals who get rich\nsuddenly. They lost their good manners, and got drunk and fell into\nvery bad habits. When the gnomes saw that the heads of these mortals\nwere turned, and that their hearts were like those of bad potatoes,\nthey threw down tons of dirt upon the villages and destroyed them, just\nas men burn up caterpillars and potato bugs.\n\nIt is true that at this meeting, the elves, gnomes and kobolds were,\nsome of them, so black and sooty, and smelled so strongly of smoke and\nfire, that the more dainty fairies in gauzy dresses did not like to sit\nnear them. Besides this, some of the kobolds came with their leather\naprons on, and altogether they were such real blacksmiths, that the\ndoorkeeper did not want to admit them. At least, the water fairies\nthought, they might have taken off their aprons and washed up a little.\n\nBiggest of all, at the assembly, were the frost giants, and one of\nthese, who towered above all, was chosen, by a show of hands, to be\npresident of the meeting. A half acre was allowed him to sit down upon.\nWhen ready to tap for order, he picked up a boulder, for a gavel, which\nweighed a ton or more. With this, he pounded on a flat rock. At the\nsound, all stopped talking, looked up and listened. One minute before,\nit was like the buzzing of bees. Now all was silence.\n\nThese frost giants, of whom a dozen or so were present, had ridden to\nthe meeting each on his own avalanche, which he used for a bicycle.\nThey all had long beards of icicles, that appeared like stalactites in\na cave. Their big eyes looked, for all the world, like locomotive\nheadlights, and some of the little fairies were afraid to look at them.\n\nTheir sabots, or wooden shoes, were hollowed out of whole trunks of fir\ntrees, and when they walked they made an awful stamping noise. Their\nbreath, like mist, rolled out in great clouds over the assembly, so\nthat at times some of the fairies could not see the speaker and several\nfelt very chilly. Their voices, in speaking, sounded like rolling\nthunder. When the president pounded with his gavel, some of the\nfairies, sitting at the edge of the crowd, thought an earthquake had\ntaken place.\n\nDuring the debate, when some of the frost giants lost their tempers, it\nseemed at times, as if they would hurl rocks at each other, or gobble\nup some of the smaller fairies, such as the elves, or Undines. In fact,\nthe gentle flower fairies, that were very thinly clothed in gauzy\ndresses and loved warmth, shivered, when a frost giant came near them,\nand some almost cried, lest they should get frozen. In fact, one brave\nlittle fairy borrowed a white fur coat, made of edelweiss velvet, and\nboldly sat near the frost king\u2014to the mingled fear, anxiety and\nadmiration of her sisters. One of them even said she was \u201ca pert\nhussy.\u201d\n\nOn the other hand, one cunning summer fairy, with a fan of flowers in\nher hand, enticed a young frost giant to come and sit down beside her.\nThen she threw a spell over him, and he was so wrapped up in her\ncharms, that she actually melted him with her beauty, so that when the\nmeeting broke up, there was no frost giant there, but only a puddle of\ncold water; for that is what frost giants turn into, when the weather\nis too warm.\n\nEach speaker mounted the platform, which was a big boulder, with a flat\ntop. When any of the frost giants, who sat up in front, made a speech,\nit was noticed that, while there were gnomes and kobolds out on the\nedge of the audience, who shouted \u201cLouder, Louder;\u201d some of the gentler\nfairies, who were nearer, put up their hands to their ears, for fear of\nbeing deafened. It was hard to please all, and at one time, when there\nwere too many on their feet and all wanted to talk at once, the\npresident roared out that he would adjourn the meeting, if there was\nnot better order.\n\nAs for the grotto girls, they were pointedly requested, several times,\nto stop whispering.\n\nIt was a pretty long session, for all were allowed to have their say,\njust as at a town meeting of mortals.\n\nYet when one of the big giants talked too long, or when a lovely and\npretty fairy wandered in her thoughts, and prattled too much, without\nsaying anything, the whole company coughed him, or her, down. After\nall, nothing much came of the meeting, for they could not agree.\n\nHere the president of the meeting pounded hard, to call the long-winded\nfairy to order, lest he might keep on for a week. It would soon be\nsunrise, when they must all scamper.\n\nSo, at the first streak of light, in the east, down came the gavel of\nthe president, with a force that split the rock, and, before half of\nthose who wanted to speak, had opened their mouths, the congress was\nadjourned.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\nTHE PALACE UNDER THE WAVES\n\n\nFashions change in the fairy world, as well as among mortals who live\non the earth. The Swiss water fairies, called Undines, at times grew\ntired of living down below the surface of the lakes and rivers. When\nrestless, they longed to mingle in the village gatherings. They wanted\nto hear the lively music of the young men and maidens, as they sang and\ndanced. Their favorite time for waltzes and cotillions was on moonlight\nnights.\n\nSo it became quite common, at these times, for the fairy maids and\nswains to swim up to the shore. Then these Undines changed themselves\ninto girls and young men. They put on clothes, that were deep green,\nthe color of the waves. Slipping in among the dancers, they joined in\nthe fun and merry making. In this manner, many a lad romped with a\nwater fairy and even kissed her, thinking she was or might be his\nsweetheart; for, in the dim light of the moon, it was not always easy\nto see clearly the face of one\u2019s partner. Many a lassie received an\nembrace, or a salute on the lips, from a lively dancer, whom she\nsupposed was a new comer. He might not be well known in the village,\nshe thought, though he appeared graceful and dressed very nicely, in\nsea green, gauzy clothes.\n\nYet no matter how hard these Undines might try to get their clothes\nentirely dry, they could never wring the water out wholly of their\ngarments, so that they were always more or less damp. If they had\nchanged their form too quickly, their clothes would drip, and make\nspots on the floor, or ground. Often the village folk felt dampness, on\ntheir limbs below the knees. Yet few ever gave the matter a second\nthought, for their minds were wholly set on having a good time, and\nthey had it.\n\nSometimes the lady fairies started rather late in the evening to take\ntheir swim to the lake shore. Fearing to lose some of the fun, and\nthinking they might even find the dancing all over, and the people gone\nhome to bed, they were in a great hurry, while on the strand, to change\ninto the form of mortals and put on their human clothes. So it happened\nthat, when they joined in the dance, one sharp-eyed fellow, who was\nplaying the violin for the measures, noticed that something was wrong.\nIn fact, he was so surprised, that he suddenly stopped fiddling. Then,\ninstantly, everybody dropped arms and stood looking around at the\nmusician\u2019s stand, to see what was the matter. In a moment, it was as\nquiet as a church aisle, when the parson was praying.\n\nWhat he saw made his eyes big and round. Then, most impolitely\u2014as some\nof the girls thought\u2014he pointed to a maiden\u2019s green petticoat, that was\nbeneath her outer dress and that had come a little below her frock. It\nwas dripping with water. Again, after looking with searching eyes at\nanother, and a third, he screamed out:\n\n\u201cFolks and fellow villagers! Don\u2019t you know you\u2019ve got the Undines\namong you? Look there, and there, and there!\u201d Then he pointed, with his\nfiddle bow, to some of the prettiest of the female dancers. \u201cJust feel\nthe hem of their skirts, and you\u2019ll know what sort of guests have been\ndancing with you tonight.\u201d\n\nWhereupon, every young man turned his female partner round, and some of\nthem, most ungallantly, flapped their hands on their lower skirts.\nFeeling and finding that these were very damp, four or five of them at\nonce lifted up their hands, which were wringing wet, and shook off the\ndrops.\n\nOne bold fellow even went behind, and seized the tail of his partner\u2019s\npetticoat. She seemed to be the sloppiest-looking girl in the whole\nparty, and he actually wrung out a half pint of water.\n\nThereupon, a tall handsome fellow, leader of the Undine party of a half\ndozen or so, put his two fingers in his mouth and gave a sort of\nwhistle. At once, all the Undines shouted and ran down to the water\u2019s\nedge. There, they stopped a minute or two, on the lake beach, and then\nleaped below the waves and disappeared. It sounded as if six big seals\nhad made a dive.\n\nOne villager, who pretended to be an Undine, ran quickly after these\nwater sprites and saw them for a moment on the shore, when they changed\ntheir form before resuming their old shapes.\n\nHe came back to tell a wonderful tale of what he had seen. When he\nexamined the clothes they had left behind, he found that though they\nlooked shiny, in the moonlight, the stuff was only that of some water\nplants like sea weed.\n\nWhen arrived in their crystal palace under the waves, the king of the\nUndines gave the girl fairies a good scolding, for not, in the first\nplace, being more punctual in both starting and coming home, and next,\nfor being in too much of a hurry in changing themselves into mortals.\nAs for the others, he punished these by forbidding them ever to dance\nagain on that side of the lake.\n\nEver after that, when, on moonlight nights, the village lads and lasses\ncame out to waltz, they scrutinized each partner in the dance, before\nallowing him or her to join in when the music began. Some, among the\nyounger set of girls, felt offended at such a severe examination; but\nit was necessary, and the other girls agreed to it.\n\nYet even then, the water sprites would sometimes join in; for, when\neverybody was lively, and the fun was fast and furious, each one of the\nlads and lasses was too much excited to notice the dress, or to be\ncertain as to who was who, or which was which, or what was what, or\neven to see the face of a partner.\n\nOne night, the daughter of the lord of the grand chateau, the Princess\nBabi, slipped out the castle gate, along with several of her maids, and\njoined the village youth in their fun. At the very height of the dance,\na young man became her partner in the waltz, chiefly because of his\nelegant clothes and polished manners. Though he did not talk, but\nexpressed his offers and wishes by signs and motions, she enjoyed\nmightily his dancing, which was both deft and graceful.\n\nThere was present, however, a sharp-eyed mother, a nurse, who had three\nnieces in the dance. She kept looking, like a lynx, at every lad in the\nparty. At last, she noticed this unusually handsome and stylish fellow,\nwho seemed to wear finer clothes than most of the village boys.\n\nThe old woman\u2019s suspicions were fully aroused, when she saw the young\ncouple linked, arm in arm, and, especially, as he turned his body round\nin the dance. For, when the moonbeams fell upon the skirt of his coat,\nit shone as only wet clothes could, in the silvery light. The color\nreflected was that of wave green.\n\nUpon this, she made up her mind that this fine fellow was no other than\nthe King of the Crystal Cavern, which was far down in the world under\nthe waters.\n\nShe was about to give the signal, that would expose him, when her mouth\nwas shut, and her limbs felt as if paralyzed by some unseen and unknown\npower, when she saw him offer to take, as his partner, the Princess\nBabi, the daughter of the castle lord.\n\nSmilingly the lovely maiden put out her arms, in return for his\nembrace. All she thought of was the fun and merriment. Yet, within a\nfew minutes after they had linked arms together, he started in a\nwhirling dance. It was so rapid, that the mother and the older\nspectators, who sat watching the young people, were too fascinated to\nspeak or cry out. They noticed him whirling his partner around, but\ngetting ever nearer the lakeside. Wider and wider were the circles they\nmade, but all the time he was bringing her nearer the beach; while she\nseemed delirious with delight, apparently oblivious to everything but\nthe rapturous motion.\n\nReaching the shore, pausing hardly a moment, he leaped with her into\nthe water, which was then silvered with the moonbeams and rippling with\nthe breeze.\n\nDown, down, below the sparkling waves, the King of the World under the\nWaters\u2014for it was he\u2014made her his wife and queen, but never would he\nlet her go back home.\n\nThere, among the great coral trees and groves of gold and silver and\namid heaps of shining gems, with a score of maidens to wait on her,\nvalets and footmen and servants of a strange sort, and with food rich\nand abundant, pleasing and tempting to both eye and palate, and with\nthe most entrancing music ever at her command, she was enraptured. So\ndelighted was she, that the years passed away as days.\n\nYet even when touched with homesickness, and longing for those she had\nleft behind on earth, in her castle home, she found herself watched and\nguarded. The gates, though made of emerald and sapphire, shut of\nthemselves, because moved, by some secret spring, against her return.\nHaving once eaten of fairy food, and accepted her husband\u2019s gifts, she\ncould never again leave either the palace or the World under the Waves.\nThe crystal cavern was her prison. When she looked in the mirror, she\nfound her teeth were wave green. She was now an Undine.\n\nYet in the village, where the story of the castle princess was told, it\nwas declared that, on calm still nights, when the moon shone brightest,\nthe most delightful music could be heard coming up from the lake. Some\nof the fishermen were sure that, far below on quiet summer days, also\nwhen no wind blew, and the sunbeams struck deep into the waters, they\ncould peer down into the depths and see the walls and towers of this\ncrystal palace.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\nTHE ALPINE HUNTER AND HIS FAIRY GUARDIAN\n\n\nThere is one variety of the Swiss fairies who manage to get along with\nvery few clothes, and those very thin. The prettiest ones among them\nseem to live up among the highest mountain peaks. There, it is colder\nthan anywhere else, but these fairies do not mind it. Furs are not in\nfashion, but only very filmy garments. On their backs are gauzy wings,\nby which they can fly around from one peak to another. They hover over\nthe meadows also, which in summer glisten with blossoms of every tint\nand hue. They love to plague Jack Frost, and the old mountain giants,\nthat have beards of icicles, and hair of snow streamers, and who try so\nhard to freeze out the flowers.\n\nThese fairies know all the secrets of the mountains. They find out\nwhere the largest and prettiest rock crystals are, and where the\npriceless minerals are to be found. They can tell just where the caves\nof sparkling topaz are situated, but they do not let any mortal know,\nunless he is their favorite. They can lead a hunter to the spot where\nthe chamois are feeding on the moss. When they want to reward a brave\nman, they bring him bullets that are sure to hit the buck, and win for\nthe marksman a fine pair of horns; or, at the village shooting matches,\nplug the bull\u2019s eye of the target, and so secure the prize. To please\nhis fairy guardian, the hunter must always promise to do what she bids\nhim, or else her bad temper is roused. Then she scolds, and leaves him\nto his luck, which, after that time, is never good. It is not safe to\nquarrel with a fairy.\n\nNow there was one of these lovely creatures, named Silver Wreath,\nbecause she looked as charming as the morning mists at sunrise, when\nshot through and through by the upspringing light. Then they float off\nin the air, like glistening wreaths made of golden braid, or like\nscarves of silver. Sometimes, when illuminated by the sun\u2019s rays, they\nremind one of necklaces of pearls; or, when many are together, like\nwhite garments of burnished silver set with costly gems.\n\nSilver Wreath, the fairy, was noted for living among the lofty peaks,\nwhere only the hardiest flowers, such as the Alpine rose, and the noble\nwhite flower, called the edelweiss, could grow. No animal or bird,\nermine or ptarmigan, could be whiter than her body, which glistened\nlike snow crystals or hoar frost, when struck by the sunbeams. When she\nblushed, her whole body was like the wonderful Alpine glow that, after\nsunset, robes the mountain tops, and both for the same reason. The sky\nbecomes rosy red, because the sun\u2019s rays are reflected from the snow,\neven after going down. So this fairy\u2019s beautiful body not only shone by\nits own light, but at times reflected the great luminary\u2019s loveliest\ntints. It was a way the sun had, of saying \u201cgood night\u201d to the mighty\nmountains. So, also, fairy Silver Wreath blushed when, in the dawn of\nday, she made her farewell curtsey to her companions, for, after\nsunrise, the fairies disappear.\n\nNow there was a brave hunter named Jeannod, who lived in a village of\nUri. In his pursuit of the chamois, this stalwart youth was not afraid\nto follow this agile animal over the most dizzy precipices, and far up\nbeyond the snow line. He did not hesitate to climb the most\nperpendicular mountain walls, to get a good shot. Hence, he was often\ncompelled to spend a night, amid the cliffs and glaciers.\n\nOne evening, while on a hunting expedition, Jeannod caught sight of\nSilver Wreath, as she was flitting on her gauzy wings around a peak. At\nonce, he fell in love with her. Happily for him, she was, after several\nmeetings, enamored of Jeannod, and he became her favorite. As they\nbecame better acquainted with each other, she guided him over unknown\npaths and often warned him of danger. She directed him to the chamois\nherds, and fed him with the finest oat cake and cheese. When too\nwearied to retrace his way back, or to return home, for the night, she\nwatched over him while he slept. There, far above, where the eagles\nflew, she guarded her lover from falling rock or ice, shielding him\nfrom every peril, seen and unseen.\n\nIn that way, it happened that for many months, the hunter was in luck\nand became the envy of his village companions. He never slipped or lost\nhis balance, or fell over a precipice, or into an ice crevasse, or was\nhit by an avalanche, or lost his path. On every occasion he came back\nhome with a fat buck on his shoulders, or a brace of ptarmagan birds,\nor a big rock crystal, and always looked rosy and healthy; all the\nyoung girls admired him, and the youth wanted to be like him. They\nhoped to learn the reason of his luck, which he kept a secret.\n\nSilver Wreath soon found out what Jeannod liked most to eat, for while\nshe was a fairy, he was a mortal, and had a stomach, and, always, a\nlively appetite. He was very particular, and rather fussy about the\nkind of cheese he ate, and he always bought the best that could be\nfound in the market. In fact, he would often walk many miles, and spend\nhis last coin, to get a cheese of an especially good brand or flavor,\nno matter at what price.\n\nThe fairy soon found this out, about her lover\u2019s taste, and when\nJeannod was hungry, after climbing the steep rocks, she fed him on a\nmost delicious kind of cheese. He declared no mortal man or woman could\nmake any equal to it, whether in taste, or in nourishment, or in\nflavor. On the other hand, he amused her by singing, rattling off\nrhymes, or telling her stories about men and women. One of these, about\n\u201cPeter, Peter, Pumpkin-eater,\u201d seemed to her to be the funniest of all.\nAfter that, when he asked her what he might bring her for a present, he\nwas surprised to hear her say a \u201cpumpkin shell.\u201d Then he laughed\nheartily. When he brought it to her, she kept the pumpkin shell in a\nrock crevice as a great curiosity and called it her doll house.\n\nJeannod was so happy in his love for fairy Silver Wreath, that he\nwanted to make her his wife. So one day, he kneeled before her and\nasked her to be his bride. He thought it would be easy for her to\naccept his love and care, after she had so helped and favored him.\n\nBut Silver Wreath, much as she loved Jeannod, did not welcome the idea\nof either changing her nature, or leaving her mountain home. Either or\nboth meant much to her, though little to him. She would have to put on\nwomen\u2019s clothes, and be bothered with changes in fashion, with which\nfairies are not troubled. She would be shut up in a house, among\nmortals, who get old and die. She would have to depart from heaven-high\npeaks, and things white, and vast, and glorious, and dwell among\ngossips and tale-bearers. Besides, she could not tell whether Jeannod\nwould always be fond of her. One day, she remembered the story he had\ntold her, in fun, of \u201cPeter, Peter, Pumpkin-eater,\u201d and it frightened\nher, when she thought of Peter\u2019s wife. So she brooded, long and hard,\nover the matter as to whether she should say \u201cyes\u201d to Jeannod, and be\nhis wife. Would he be a Peter, and keep her in a pumpkin shell?\n\nYet the hunter was so handsome and so brave! Besides, he did so love\nthe mountains and the Alpine flowers! Every time he came to her, he had\nan Alpine rose in his coat as a symbol of his joy, which might,\nhowever, be for his lifetime only; but, in his hand, he held an\nedelweiss, as symbol of faith in the things eternal. This showed that\nhe thought of both the affairs of the body and the life of the soul, in\nthe true Swiss way. Besides, he so vehemently assured her that,\nwhenever she should get homesick, he would take her with him up to her\nold haunts. Every time he went to hunt the chamois, she should be his\ncompanion. Last, but not least, he pressed his suit so ardently that,\nfinally, she consented to marry him, and live in his home.\n\nBut she gave her promise, only on one condition. She would be a\nfaithful and loving wife, and live truly as a mortal, provided he\nshould agree to the rules, which she made about eating; and, if he\nwould observe the table manners, which she approved. Knowing his\nweakness for cheese, she vowed to keep the larder furnished, always,\nwith the same kind of this delicacy, upon which she had fed him in his\nhunting trips, when he made love to her.\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll wed with you,\u201d she said, \u201cprovided that, every time, when you eat\nand enjoy the cheese, you will leave one small portion, uneaten, on\nyour plate.\u201d\n\nThis one condition of wifehood seemed so simple, that he laughed out\nloud, and poked fun at his betrothed, at her being so childish. But she\nlooked very grave, though she did not speak a word. Fairies are not\nfools, and it may be that even mortal women know more than men, in some\nthings. Besides, the pumpkin shell had become to her such a spectre,\nthat, one day, she smashed it with a rock, even after he had promised\nvehemently to obey her law as to table manners. Then he gave her a\nkiss, and everything serious was forgotten in the mutual joy of lovers.\n\nSo the fairy put on a human form, keeping her beauty and loveliness,\nbut leaving off her wings, and wearing bridal clothes. Then they were\nmarried in the village church. At the wedding, the maidens all\nmarvelled at her wonderful dress and veil of silvery gauze. When the\nhoneymoon was past, all declared that no more modest, sensible and\npretty woman had ever come among them, while they wondered where\nJeannod could have met and won so lovely and so good a wife.\n\nIn her new home, the fairy lady seemed to be happy every hour. Days\nsped into weeks, and months into years, in the routine of household and\nvillage life. What with her flowers and her cuckoo clock, and her\ncarved wooden spoons, and her well set table, and a flower garden, and\nvines on the house wall, that surpassed all her neighbors, her bee\nhives and dove cote, the home of Jeannod and Silver Wreath was a place\nof beauty and joy. She was at once the delight and envy of all the\nvillage brides and wives. The blossoming plants seemed to thrive and\ngrow more beautiful, because she loved them so. On her dainty, well\nspread table, were set the richest cream, the most transparent and\ndelicious honey, and the whitest rolls. Her cheese surpassed in taste\neverything made by the men in the summer high pastures, who came back\nin the late September autumn, bringing their cheeses, which, since\nJune, they had made in the chalets. In the chateau of Jeannod and\nSilver Wreath, it seemed to be always summer, and the food had the\ncoveted June flavor all the year round.\n\nWhile her butter, eggs, honey, milk and cream were the best, no one\nknew where she got such wonderful cheese, which excelled all. This was\non the table, at every meal, and all the year round, from New Year\u2019s\nDay to Christmas Eve, and during the holidays. Her husband was not very\ncurious and did not ask questions. So long as he had plenty to eat, he\nwas satisfied, for he had a good appetite and he loved his fairy wife\nvery dearly, and liked to look at her often with sincere affection.\n\nWhile food was plenty, Jeannod always remembered the promise he had\nmade and kept his good table manners. He never caused his sweet and\nloving mate to scold, or even to frown. Because of his active life,\nhunger was the best sauce to sharpen appetite. Yet he always left a\nlarge part of the cheese uncut, for good manners. Even when returning\nfrom a chamois hunt hungry enough\u2014so he laughingly declared\u2014to swallow\na cow, with its horns and tail, he kept at once his promise and his\npoliteness to his sweet wife.\n\nBut in one year, when midwinter came, the cold was so severe, the\nstorms so much more frequent and the avalanches so much bigger and more\ndestructive than usual, that the roads were covered, so as to hide even\nthe great landmarks out of sight. Then hunting was impossible. The wind\nwas so tempestuous, that the strongest men kept indoors. Apart from\nwhat his wife provided, Jeannod could bring little to the table. In\nsuch terrible weather, Jeannod, unable to use his rifle, could not\nprovide meat, and even Silver Wreath could furnish only cheese. In such\na case, the husband was often ravenously hungry, and an empty stomach\nwho can bear very long? Even when wolves and lions become tame and\nhelpless, through hunger, what strong man does not become weak?\n\nOne day, after trying many hours, to track a chamois, and get within\nrange of it, with his rifle, Jeannod came back empty, and very low in\nhis mind. He was so fiercely hungry, that he threw down his hat and\nforgot, not only what the edelweiss and Alpine rose had taught him, but\neven what he had promised.\n\nWhen he opened the door, into the larder, he saw that there was nothing\nthere, but a strip of cheese, left over, from the last meal. Indeed it\nwas hardly more than a rind. Thinking of nothing, but to satisfy his\ngnawing hunger, he seized and bit into it.\n\nAt that moment, Silver Wreath, his wife, entered the house. She saw him\nwith the cheese in his hand, and cried out:\n\n\u201cOh, my beloved, remember your promise that you would always keep a\nslice of cheese. Please do wait until midnight; and, at breakfast time,\nI promise you, you shall have all you want of the best; but now,\nplease, please, leave even a small piece over.\u201d\n\nBut the hungry and tired man was too obstinate to listen. From a\nthinking being, he had become a ravening beast. He gobbled up the last\nfragment.\n\nNo sooner had he swallowed the morsel, than his fairy wife cried out,\n\u201cYou\u2019ve broken your promise and the rule of good manners in the fairy\nworld. I cannot live with a glutton and promise-breaker. I must return\nto my mountains and fellow-fairies.\u201d\n\nThereupon, all her clothing fell off. Her cap and comb, and her shoes,\nstockings and her pretty garments, one by one, dropped on the floor. In\na moment more, her former filmy blue and pink robes covered her, while,\nfrom her back, grew out a pair of wings, like a butterfly\u2019s, but\nlarger, and mist-like. Waving a good-bye, she flew out of the door,\nwhich opened of its own accord. Soon, on the lofty mountain heights,\nshe rejoined her fairy family, while the hunter-husband was left alone\nin misery and hunger, and, worse than all, with an accusing conscience.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\nTHE FAIRIES\u2019 PALACE CAR\n\n\nOnce upon a time, the fairies that live up near the mountain tops got\ntogether, and one said to another:\n\n\u201cLet us go travelling.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe\u2019ll go as far as Geneva,\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cAgreed,\u201d they all shouted in chorus. \u201cIt will be like going from the\nNorth Pole to the Spice Islands. We can see all sorts of landscapes and\ngo through many climates, before we get to Geneva. So let us all begin\nour journey today!\u201d\n\nIt was not at all strange, that they should all start off at once. The\nfairies had no laundry to get home in time, nor new clothes to have\nmade and fitted, nor trunks to pack, nor expressmen to bother with.\nThere were no tickets to be bought, or reserved seats in the cars to\nlook after, or handbags to carry, or telegrams to send, or letters to\nwrite. Neither did they fume or fret, because the taxicab man did not\narrive on the split second. They had no watches to wind up, or to look\nat, lest they might miss the train, nor hunting cases to snap, nor\nsandwiches to carry, in case there were no buffet or dining cars. No!\nHappily for them, all they had to do was to jump on their ice-chairs at\nonce, and be off.\n\nNow let us ask what was their palace car, in which they were to\njourney, from the top of Mont Blanc to the Rhone river, and over Lake\nLeman and thence by ship to Geneva the Beautiful?\n\nIt was nothing less than a glacier, twenty miles long and two miles\nwide. This car, made of white snow and ice crystal, moves, as everybody\nknows, steadily along, and down, from mountain top to the valley. It\ndoes not fly as fast indeed as the Empire State lightning express. Yet\nit starts on time, and is sure to arrive at its terminal. It takes only\nabout a thousand years, from the mountain\u2019s tip top to the down below,\nor from snow flake to Rhone river.\n\nWhen motion was begun, by the fairies in the air, several hundred of\nthem caught, each, a snow flake at the summit, and rode on it from the\nclouds to the ground, until enough had fallen from the sky to make up\nthe party, which sat, all together, on a snow bank, for awhile, till\nthe train was all ready. Then the slide downhill began.\n\nEvery day the sun would tickle the ice mass and melt it, so it had to\nmove on. Then, for the fairies, it was like coasting on a bob sled, and\nthey were as merry as if they were on a toboggan. So they mightily\nenjoyed the fun. The fairies did not have to sit on a narrow line, or\nhold on tight, lest they might fall off, bump against a post, or hit a\ntree, or a rock.\n\nOn the contrary, it was more like going on board a big ship, or\npromenading on the deck of an ocean liner. They played ball, and\nhockey, and shuffle board, and danced and waltzed, and had guessing and\nfinger games, and leap frog for exercise. They sat in the cabins, which\nwere crystal ice caverns. They played hide and seek in the crevices,\nand blindman\u2019s buff among the ice ridges. They leaped merrily over the\nhammocks, and they bathed and swam in the ponds of water, which the sun\nmelted every day toward noon. In the baths, which lasted several hours,\nthey sported around like a lot of mermaids.\n\nIn this way, they so amused themselves, that they forgot or did not\ncare to remember the passing months, or years, or centuries. They were\ntravelling for fun, and had no business or social engagements to attend\nto, or guide books, to tell where they were going. So they were in no\nhurry, for the glacier only moved at the rate of half an inch an hour,\nor a few miles in a century. What cared they for rapid transit? There\nwere no strikes or delay, no subway or tunnel rules, no hustler to make\nyou \u201cstep lively,\u201d and shut the car door on you, or tell you to \u201clet\n\u2019em out,\u201d or \u201cwatch your steps.\u201d No policeman on foot, or motorcycle,\nto overtake and arrest you for speeding! It was all pure fun.\n\nThe fairies had a watcher, who sat on an ice pinnacle, like a man in\nthe foretop of an ocean steamer. He it was, who announced anything new\nin the weather, or the country, or landscape through which they passed.\nThen, also, a lecturer came aboard, every ten or twenty years, to\nexplain the history and point out the wonderful things along the route,\nor what had happened, at this or that place.\n\nThese wise prompters were also expected to tell what famous trees or\nflowers lived, along the route, and in the various climates. Without a\ntelescope, they could see little moving specks, looking like flies, or\nfleas, high up on the eternal snows. These were human beings, who had\neither, like wild flowers, escaped cultivation; or, perhaps, had fled\nfrom prison, or lunatic asylums, and were bound to get up to the\nmountain tops, as if their keepers were after them with guns.\nOccasionally an electric railroad, with snorting locomotive, on a track\nand pinion system of cog-wheels, with central rail, carried the\npassengers, fat or thin, who could not climb, or who were sane, or, it\nmight be, lazy.\n\nOccasionally, in rambling through the ice halls, the fairies could\ndiscern, embedded in the crystal walls, black spots. Asking whether\nthese were flies in amber, such as they had heard of, they were told\nthat these specks were mortals, men and women, mountain climbers, who\nhad fallen down precipices, or upon the ice, or slipped into crevices.\nHaving ended their lives thus, they were kept in the crystal for years,\nuntil their bodies were shot out on the moraines, or washed down the\nrivers. Sometimes the fairies found bits of rope and alpenstocks. They\neven learned to tell the difference between blondes and brunettes.\n\nOften some of the fairies wondered how it would feel to be born as a\nbaby, and drink milk, and eat candy, and first crawl over the floor,\nand then walk and grow up to be a man or a woman. They could only guess\nvaguely what it was to die. For that is the curious thing about\nfairies, they cannot die, because they were never born. They do not\nhave to grow like human babies, or big elephants, or little kangaroos,\nor be hatched out of eggs, like chickens, or wriggle in the ponds, or\nswim in the water like frogs, or fishes, or whales, or porpoises. Once\nin a while, some fairy thought she would like to try it, just once, to\nlive and die, just to see how it felt, but the other fairies, who did\nnot admire her taste, only laughed at her.\n\nAs a rule, these passengers on the glacier did not pay close attention\nto such matters. They were not much interested in mortals, but more in\nthemselves, for they considered boys and girls, and men and women, to\nbe very inferior creatures. They gave more attention to what they saw,\nas they traveled through the country, changing climate every few\nthousand feet and every century or so.\n\nAt first, all was snow, ice and rocks, with no birds, shrubs, or trees,\nor flowers, and not even moss. Indeed, some of them grumbled and\ndeclared they would not have left home, if they thought they were to\nsee nothing more than mere human beings. But very soon, that is, after\na few years, ten or twenty, perhaps, their ice chariot or train had\ncarried them past this old scenery.\n\nNow they began to see mosses and lichens, and occasionally a condor, or\nAlpine eagle, on a crag, eating his dinner\u2014perhaps a young lamb, or a\nrabbit, or a marmot, or a chamois kid, or something from a cow\u2019s\ncarcass, which the big bird of prey had stolen from some butcher\u2019s\nslaughter house. This was the first sign of that uncanny thing they\ncalled life; which, inside of mortals and other animals, makes them\nmove about.\n\nIt was a stunning novelty, when the conductor called out the name of a\nnew station:\n\n\u201cFlowers!\u201d\n\nThen they saw, overhanging the rocks, or near the edges of the\nprecipices, or in the crevices and crannies of the cliffs, what they\ncalled flowers. Yet to us folks, who live in the house and nursery,\nthese plants, so bundled up in white, hardly seemed to be flowers. They\nrather looked like babies, ready to be taken out to ride, for they were\nwell swaddled in what appeared to be fur or flannel. In fact, their\nflowers, so called, were so woolly, and cushiony, and flat, and low,\nand they kept holding on so hard, as if for dear life, in the biting\ncold wind, that they looked bleak and ghostly. Some of these Alpine\nflowers were as downy as a duckling, and as hairy as a poodle. But this\nwas to keep the plants warm. For life is warm. Death is cold.\n\nEven more wonderful, to most of these fairies, that had lived so long\nup among the highest mountain tops, and had never been lower down than\neight thousand feet or so, was another lovely sight\u2014that of green\nmeadows, spangled with blooms. It was that of the summer pastures.\n\nNow they began to hear the tinkling of bells and saw many cows. They\nlaughed uproariously, as they saw that the billy goats waved their chin\nbeards, up and down, and stood on their hind legs. On the roofs of the\nshepherds\u2019 chalets, they noticed the big stones. These were laid in\nrows, to keep down the strips of bark or shingles, when the tempests\nroared. While they were wondering how funny it must feel, to be a boy\nor a girl, and live in a skin, with clothes on, they heard the Alpine\nhorn. While listening to its sweet echoes, some of the fairies actually\nbegan to think that perhaps, after all, mortals might have a good time,\nand, possibly, as much enjoyment as fairies do, and always have had.\nMost of them, however, scouted the very idea.\n\nA real epidemic of rapture broke out and went through the fairies, like\nmeasles among children, when they looked upon still greener meadows\nrich in grass, which were spangled with flowers and these of the\nloveliest hues, deep red, scarlet, crimson, pink, violet, blue and\nyellow. They saw the Alpine Poa, which the cows love so dearly.\n\nWhen the lecturer described its kangaroo-like mothers and babies of\nthis family of plants, the fairies laughed, so loud and merrily, that\nsome of the shepherds thought that a swift horse, with a strap of\nsilver sleigh bells, around its neck, was galloping over the ice.\n\nPerhaps the greatest surprise of all was the sight of trees, which\nthose fairies who had never traveled, had not seen before. In one\ncountry, that is, on one level, they found only pines and firs, which\nrocked in the wind.\n\nSeveral of the fairies jumped off the train, to pick up a handful of\npine needles from the ground, and to play cradle-swinging in the tree\nbranches. They were not afraid of being left behind, by the train\nrushing past them; for, after playing two or three years under the\ntrees, these passengers jumped on again, and showed handfuls of the\ncurious things that had fallen off the trees, and covered the ground\nlike a brown carpet. Then there were many exclamations of wonder among\nthose that had kept on the train.\n\nLower down, in another climate, or country, or level, they found\nforests of oak, birch, and maple. Yet they could not get any sweets out\nof this Swiss tree, for these fairies did not live in America, where\nthe sugar maple grows.\n\nEvery once in a while, the fairy that was the conductor would get out\nand consult the thermometer. Then, with an air of great wisdom, like an\nowl, or grand daddy, it was announced that tomorrow\u2014that is, a year, or\ntwo, from that date\u2014they would come into a new climate, and to such and\nsuch a level, or place, so many feet above sea. Then they would see\nthis and that sort of thing, such as houses, church spires, cheese\nfactories, etc.\n\nAt last, having used up their old calendar, through centuries, and into\nand out of many climates, they found that their palace car train had\nitself greatly changed within. In one place, where the mountain sides\ncame close together, the road narrowed. Then the rate of movement\nslackened, so that the ice forming the train was all squeezed up high,\nand curled, and twisted up, like tooth-paste pressed out of a tube. The\nglacier was cracked and fissured in every direction.\n\nSome of the fairies had feared, lest their train should run off the\ntrack, and bump into a hill, and a wreck follow; but the conductor\nassured them all was perfectly safe, and that no accidents ever\nhappened on that line. One fairy tried to quote Latin, having once\nheard a parson say it, in his sermon. In attempting to say Deo Volente,\nshe got it Dic Volente. So the knowing ones nicknamed this member of\ntheir family \u201cDick,\u201d and one, who was very irreverent, called her\n\u201cSlippery Dick.\u201d She did not like a boy\u2019s name, but she could not help\nherself.\n\nDick warned them that they were near the end of the first part of their\njourney and that the train would stop, when at the level of five\nthousand feet. Then the temperature would be so high, that they must\nall be prepared to jump overboard and swim.\n\nAt this bit of news, all the family laughed. They said they were glad,\nfor already the palace cars had got so wet with the thaw, inside, that\nthe ceiling dripped on them continually, the seats were slippery, and\nfast melting away, while as for the floor, it was only a puddle, most\nof the time. It was a case of watering stock. After all, however, the\nfairies did not mind it much, and they were only in fun, when they\npretended to grumble.\n\nAt last, the train, after having made a quick passage of a thousand\nyears, or thereabouts, arrived at its terminal. Then it gradually\nmelted away, becoming a noisy and very muddy river. One after another,\nthe fairies turned themselves into water, and slid out into the stream,\nrolling about until they reached the beautiful Lake Leman, at the end\nof which was Geneva. Here they expected to pay a brief visit, of four\nor five hundred years, before returning home to the mountain tops.\n\nWhen they arrived at the entrance of the lake, and were well into the\ndeep water, the fairies found waiting for them one of the prettiest\ncraft that ever floated. It was a galley, of strange shape, with a high\ndeck at the bow and the stern. There was plenty of room in the middle\nfor the fairies to play and dance. With their pretty butterfly wings,\nand lovely gauzy robes, of every tint and hue, they looked so sweet!\n\nOn the prow of the ship stood their Queen, who ruled over the lowlands\nand lake waters, and was captain of this fairy vessel. The smallest of\nthe fairies were continually flitting round the queen, dropping flowers\nand fruits, and filling the air with perfumes. The vessel had sails of\nthe shape called lateen, or leg-of-mutton. These were made of\nembroidered silk and cloth of gold. For even more rapid movement,\nseveral snow white swans, swift of feet and bright of eye, were\nharnessed, with silver chains, to the front part, called the cut-water.\nThese drew the ship along gracefully, all the time singing in chorus\nthe sweetest songs imaginable. Accompanying this music was a large\ngolden harp, set in front of the mast, and this, whispered to by the\nwinds, made, with the swans\u2019 songs, the most delicious melody all day\nlong.\n\nSome of the fairies remembered the echo music of the Alpine horn, sent\nback by the lofty mountain peaks; which, however, lasted but a few\nseconds. Yet this lake melody continued from sunrise to sunset.\n\nWhenever the Fairy Ship touched the shore, the ground, no matter how\nhard and stony it had been, at once became soft with soil. Then,\ngrasses, and flowers, grain farms and orchards, and trees rich in\nluscious fruits, sprang up. Every boy and girl, always on the lookout,\nand adults, who were so fortunate as to catch a glimpse of the Fairy\nShip, would make a wish in their hearts, which was sure to be\ngratified. They got what they wanted, though often in fairy time, that\nis, years afterwards.\n\nFor years and years, the Fairy Ship plied up and down the lovely blue\nlake, stopping here and there. A moonlight night was the best time for\ncatching a glimpse of it. Many old folks, still living, like to tell\nabout the craft of good fortune, and also what they then wished for,\nwhen they were so happy as to see it coming, or sailing past them.\n\nBut bye and bye, when the black smoke of steamboats poisoned the air,\nand set the fairies sneezing and coughing, and roughened the throats of\nthe swans, so that they could not sing any more, the Fairy Queen gave\nup her pleasure trips on the lake and ordered the snow fairies back to\ntheir mountains.\n\nBut, first, the mountain fairies had their visit to Geneva, where they\nsaw the pretty shops and streets, and there these fairies still live,\nin the hearts of the children. Although nobody ever sees them nowadays,\nthe old folks love to talk about them, and tell of the lovely times\nthey had when children.\n\nIt is certain that the fairies left their blessing behind them, for to\nthis day, on the great Genevan holiday, in the confectionery shops, on\nbirthday greetings, and on Christmas and New Year\u2019s cards, you may see\na picture of the Fairy Ship, with its brightly colored lateen sails,\ninscribed with \u201cGood Luck,\u201d or \u201cHappy New Year,\u201d or \u201cMany Joyful\nReturns of the Day.\u201d Sometimes, they who receive these cards feel as\nhappy as if they had seen the Fairy Ship.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\nTHE WHITE CHAMOIS\n\n\nThe dwarfs and chamois have always been good friends. This is chiefly\nbecause they are so much like each other, in being small. The short\ndwarfs look like little men. They have beards, and wear caps and\nclothes, but they are hardly as high as a yard stick, and measure up,\nonly to the heads of quite small boys. In weight, some of them scarcely\nreach up to a calf. Occasionally, you find a little fellow that could\nbe packed in a band box, or carried in a suit case. As for the baby\ndwarfs, one of them could be wrapped up in a napkin, and be dropped\ninto a man\u2019s overcoat pocket.\n\nNow the chamois is like the dwarf in this, that he is too small to be a\ngoat, and not big enough to be a deer. He is a funny fellow to look at.\nHis horns are only as long as from your elbow to your hand, and are\nturned around and backwards at the ends, so that they look like a pair\nof big, black fish hooks. He has a yellow head, with a dark band on it,\nand on each cheek is a strip of black, as if he were held in, with\nbridles and bit. His coat of hair is brown, but his funny little tail\nis also black, and, oh, how bright his eyes are!\n\nBut when it comes to leaping, from rock to rock, the chamois is the\nJohnny Jump Up, among all animals, for he will skip over a chasm\nfifteen feet wide. Then, he will land on a tiny ledge of rock, so\nnarrow that one could hardly imagine a cat could hold itself on.\nPutting his hind legs first, it gets a good footing, and then bounds\nforward.\n\nThese creatures are so agile, that one almost expects to see the\nstrongest of them climb up trees, by hooking their horns on the\nbranches, but they do not. They cut many capers, but not this one. The\nwonderful thing is that the females, as well as the males, have horns\nalso.\n\nThese chamois ladies, and the little folks of the family, that is, the\ndoe and fawn, generally live down among the lower forests, while the\ndaddies and strong young bucks stay, most of the time, up among the\nhigh rocks and peaks. They all eat the lovely flowers, grasses, mosses\nand aromatic herbs, that have a hot taste, and which keep them warm\ninside.\n\nThe very old chamois, with beards, often live alone and off by\nthemselves. So the dwarfs and chamois are much alike, in this respect,\nthat they are both chin choppers, in having hair growing, like a tuft,\nunder their chins, and both are able to whistle. For, when a hunter\ncomes near and the wind blows from him to them, the sentinel, or\nwatchman of the herd gives the alarm, by means of a short shrill sound.\nThen the whole party scampers far away.\n\nMany thousands of stuffed heads of chamois, mounted, with their hooked\nhorns and bright, artificial eyes, are seen on the walls of Swiss\nhotels and houses. After the invention of the rifle, so many chamois\nwere killed, that laws were passed which forbade any one hunter to\nshoot more than one hundred during his lifetime. Then, when the herds\nof chamois went further and further away, men put telescopes on their\nlong-range rifles, and were thus able to kill at a great distance\u2014even\na mile off.\n\nNow among these four footed inhabitants of the high places near the\nsky, the white chamois is the king of the herds and the pet of the\ndwarfs. No hunter can kill this leader, for he is the property of the\nfairies. After a man has shot his hundredth animal, the white chamois\nappears, to give him warning to stop killing his fellow creatures. This\nking of the hook-horns can leap, as if it were flying, over chasms. It\nmoves through the deep snows far faster than the strongest man in the\nland.\n\nTo the good people, the white chamois is a messenger of joy, telling of\nthe safety of the herds, announcing also that there will be much sport\nfor the brave hunter, and plenty of meat for the people, next summer,\nand for years to come; but, for the bad hunter who breaks the law and\nshoots over a hundred, whether bucks or does, or both, the white\nchamois is the messenger of death.\n\nNow there was a very bad man, a hunter named Erni, who only said, \u201cpooh\npooh,\u201d and \u201cfudge,\u201d when an old man informed him that a white chamois\nhad been seen near the village, as if he had braved danger, in coming\nso near houses, in order to give warning.\n\nBut the man, instead of hanging up his trusty rifle on its pegs,\nsallied out very early one fine morning to shoot, if possible, this\nvery creature, the white chamois, of which he had heard, but had never\nyet seen. It was still dark in the valley, when he started, but the man\nknew it would be bright light, by the time he should reach the peaks.\n\nAnd so it was. Up over the rocks, and across the flowery meadows, that\nwere more brilliant, with many colors, than any garden ever planted, or\nparlor carpet ever woven, the hunter made his way. When he came to the\nedge of a deep ravine, he slung his rifle over his back, and slid down.\nThen he climbed up to the top of a high ridge. Balancing himself on the\nedge of the rocks, he looked across the terrible, yawning chasm. With\nhis telescope, he swept the field of view, but instead of discerning\nanything brown, with a black tail, he saw, very clearly, a white\nchamois.\n\n\u201cNow for a good shot,\u201d he thought. \u201cI\u2019ll show these old grannies and\nsilly dotards, down in the village, what fools they are.\u201d\n\nHe unslung the rifle and then, for a moment only, looked down a\nthousand feet below, to the jagged rocks, wondering how he could get\nthe body of the white chamois, if the bullet sped to its heart, and its\ncarcass fell down.\n\nBut this was only for a second; for the bold fellow, familiar from his\nyouth, with the mountains, laughed at any and all difficulties in his\npath. He was just about to level his weapon and take aim, when he heard\na loud voice behind him, shouting:\n\n\u201cErni, pull your cap down over your eyes.\u201d\n\nAstonished to hear his name called out at such a place, and struck with\ncuriosity, he turned to see who and what it was.\n\nThere stood a dwarf, cap, beard, and all, with a stern look on his\nface. Pointing to the white chamois, he screamed:\n\n\u201cYou had warning enough; down you go!\u201d\n\nJust then the hunter\u2019s foot, with its hob-nailed shoe, slipped upon a\nfragment of rock, and he fell. Over the cliff, down, down, down, the\ncruel man tumbled. A few minutes later, the Alpine condors were\nquarreling over his corpse. Later, the wolves picked his bones, that\nlay long upon the bare rocks. An awful warning!\n\nAfter this, the chamois mothers, during the summer season, reared their\nkids in peace and quiet and all was happy in the high places, where the\ndwarfs and the chamois dwell as friends together.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\nTHE SIREN OF THE RHINE\n\n\nThe Father of the Fairies, who used to live along and under the river\nRhine, was not able always to control his daughters, after they had\ngrown up. One of them, named Lorelei, a long time ago, used to appear\nabove the current of the great stream, at the place where the water\ndashes over the rocks and foams high. It was very hard, in that place,\nor near it, for the sailors to steer their boats, so as not to have\nthem dashed to pieces. Only with cool heads and strong arms could the\nboatmen get their vessels through in safety.\n\nBut if they should stop, to look at the pretty maidens, or to turn\ntheir heads to listen to the lovely music which they made, then, they\nwere sure to lose their heads and have the boat go wrong and run upon\nthe rocks. Then, of course, every one on board was thrown into the\nboiling waves, and drowned. The rocks are so sharp and jagged that,\nwhen the boat was upset, the poor people were thrown violently against\nthese, and, even if spared by the waves, were sure to perish.\n\nThe fairy, named Lorelei, paid no attention to their cries, but only\nlaughed at them, as they struggled in the water.\n\nThis Lorelei, the chief of the river fairies, was never seen during the\nday, for during the sunlight she loved to sit among her jeweled caves,\nand remain far down below in the cool depths of the waters. During\ndaylight hours, if any mortal tried to catch even a glimpse of her, he\nsought in vain. It thus happened that some people, and even boatmen on\ntheir way down to Rotterdam, laughed at the idea of there being a\nLorelei, or any other fairy among the rocks.\n\nBut when the moon was at its full and shone brightest, and its silvery\nbeams seemed to turn into a fairy-like gauze, woven of mist and\nmoonbeams, the Lorelei was in her happiest mood.\n\nAs soon as the sun was down and twilight fell on the earth above, she\ncalled for her maidens to dress and adorn her lovely form with jewels.\nThey plaited part of her golden hair, braiding it up over the top of\nher head and around at the back. This made a pretty, cap-like\narrangement, while behind, and down her back, the other tresses fell in\nripples, so that, in the faint evening wind, it would float out, and\ngleam, and rise and fall fitfully, on the breezes, seemingly now\nsilvery, and again golden, in the moon\u2019s rays. A comb of gold, studded\nwith rare gems, added to the glory of her headdress, which, in the dim\nlight from the night skies, would glisten like a cluster of stars.\n\nNo ordinary man could resist such a lure, for even apart from the\nentrancing music he would assuredly have the curiosity to see what this\nresplendent figure on the high rock could be.\n\nSo, when Lorelei was arrayed in her gorgeous apparel, that so\nheightened her beauty, this fairy would rise out of the current. Then,\nswimming over to the base of the loftiest rock that rose from near the\nriver\u2019s shore, she always had her harp with her. Perching aloft, on the\ntop of the pinnacle, she would sweep the strings and make the most\nentrancing music.\n\nWhenever she saw a boatful of mariners, coming up, or going down, the\nRhine, she trilled her voice to particular sweetness. Then they could\nsee her, among the moonbeams, with her long golden hair streaming out\non the evening breeze, or lightly lifted and rippled, when the zephyrs\nwere soft as a breath. It seemed as if her song music was loveliest,\nwhen the night wind was most faintly sighing.\n\nNo matter how vehemently even the most stout-hearted sailors might have\npromised, or even vowed, to pay no attention to anything they heard,\nwhile shooting the rapids, they were sure to drop oars and pole, to\nlisten, when the melody floated through the air. Then, the man who\nsteered and had been the loudest, in saying that he would clap his hand\nover his ears, and be deaf to any strains, however sweet, was always\nthe first to weaken. He would stand still, as if shot through, with an\narrow, and forget all about his duties at the rudder. Then, very\nquickly, the boat would strike against the rocks. In a moment more, the\nwhole crew would be struggling, soon to sink under the waves, while the\nboat drifted along, bottom upwards. In their last moments, the drowning\nmen heard the fairies laughing, as if they were enjoying good sport.\n\nNow it is said that the only one who ever basked in the favor of the\nLorelei, was a young and very good looking fisherman\u2019s son, named\nUlric. He was his mother\u2019s darling and his father\u2019s pride, yet none of\nhis brothers were jealous of him.\n\nWhenever he appeared at night, the Lorelei would get down from her rock\nthrone, and walk along the river\u2019s strand to welcome the handsome lad.\nHe never, however he might seek diligently, or call loudly, could find\nher, or catch a single glimpse of her, by day; but the moment he met\nher at night he would be in raptures over her beauty.\n\nSometimes she would sing for him, so that he never knew how fast the\nhours sped away. It was often midnight, before Ulric reached home, and,\nonce in a while, it was near daybreak in the east.\n\nBut, always before parting from him, Lorelei would point out to her\nlover the place in the river, where, on the next morning, the fish\nwould be found most plentifully.\n\nUlric would then tell his father, and brothers, where to cast their\nnets, and then they always drew up a good boat load of fish. These they\nsold in the market at a high price, and so had nice clothes and plenty\nto eat. So they never asked Ulric where he had been, so long, the night\nbefore, and why he reached home after the household were all in bed,\nand only their faithful dog Fritz kept watch at the door.\n\nHis mother warned her youngest son not to go and see the Lorelei too\noften, but he only laughed, kissed her, and said he could stop going\nwhen he wanted to; which is the way many boys and girls talk, not\nknowing the power of habit, which binds like a chain.\n\nBut one night, the old fisherman\u2019s son did not return, and in the\nmorning, when his mother looked into his room, expecting to call and\nwake him, she found it empty. The bed was in perfect order, as if no\none had slept in it. Putting her hand under the covers, she found no\nwarmth.\n\nAt once, she gave the alarm to her husband and sons, who were then at\ntheir breakfast. Taking their faithful dog with them, they at once set\nout to find the lad. All day long, they searched among the reeds, along\nthe river bank, along the rocks, and even in the woods and on the\nhills; but no sign of son and brother was found. It was believed that\nthe siren Lorelei, madly in love with the handsome boy, and, though in\nthe form of a pretty woman, having no human heart to feel for his\nmother, had dragged him down into her caves under the river and deep in\nthe earth, to enjoy him as her companion forever.\n\nBye and bye, so many sailors having been drowned, and so large a number\nof merchants having lost their precious treasures, in the wrecked\nboats, it was determined to send a band of brave men to seize the\nLorelei, and bind her as a prisoner. If she resisted, she was to be put\nto death. Thus a danger, to be dreaded more than jagged rocks, or\ntreacherous currents, would be taken away. Then the merchants, in\nCologne and Rotterdam, would be made happy, by piling up fortunes to\nenjoy and leave to their children.\n\nBefore starting on the expedition to capture the siren, every man was\ntaken into the cathedral, and, before the altar, made to cross himself\non the breast, and swear not to listen to the Lorelei\u2019s song. All of\nthem wore helmets, with thick padded ear muffs, coming down over their\nears, and tied tight. All the orders of the captain were to be given by\nsigns without his speaking a word.\n\nBut what availed arrows, swords, and spears, helmets and armor, and\nwhat were the strong muscles of brave men, against a beautiful fairy?\nWhen the company had landed, silently, on the shore, without\nendangering their boats, by going near the rocks, they suddenly found\nthat they could not move; for the Lorelei had cast a spell over them,\nso that not one could lift hand or foot. All night long, the captain\nand his soldiers stood upright and motionless, as if made of wax and in\na museum, while the moonbeams were reflected from their helmets,\nweapons and armor.\n\nYet during all these night hours, they had the power of eyesight. They\nsaw all that was going on, and this was what they witnessed.\n\nJust as the first gleams of the upcoming sun were beginning to streak\nthe midnight blue of the skies, with light, and make rosy the east, but\nwhile, at the same time, the moon cast a pale light on the strange\nscene, they discerned plainly the Lorelei. She was standing on the\nhighest pointed rock that rose out of the Rhine. There, the beautiful\ncreature was, as if in a waiting attitude, before a mirror, and about\nto retire to her bed for sleep. She took off all her ornaments and\njewels. She unbound the bands of her shining hair, and unplaited the\nbraids, until her tresses fell, in one glorious mass, like a cataract\nof gold. She threw away, one by one, her comb, her girdle, her splendid\nrobes, and each of her pearls and gems, into the foaming waters. Then\nshe chanted a spell, to draw the waters up to the very top of the rock,\nuntil the wavelets rolled over her shining feet.\n\nAt this moment, two white horses, with long flowing manes, rose up,\npawing and snorting, out of the flood. In golden harness, they drew a\nchariot, made of a single emerald, with sapphire wheels. She mounted\nwithin the vehicle and at a word from the siren, the steeds drove away,\nwith the swiftness of a lightning flash, and disappeared.\n\nGradually the river subsided to its usual low level. Minute by minute\npassed, and the spell over the soldiers was gradually broken. First,\nthey could move their toes; then, their fingers; and, after a while,\ntheir arms and legs. When at last, by a sign, the captain gave the\norder to march, they faced about, towards the river. Embarking on their\nboats, they rowed down the Rhine to Basel and Cologne, and told their\nweird story.\n\nNever again was the Lorelei seen by man. The people, who live around\nthe old place of moonlight music, say that the siren felt insulted at\nthis invasion of her domain. In her view, what were the lives of a few\nsailors, and the loss of one fisherman\u2019s son, for a lover, compared\nwith such music as she gave so freely?\n\nSo, to punish foolish men, she has never again left her shining caves,\nunder the Rhine, to appear on earth. Yet, inspired by her example, the\nmusicians have continued her sweet music, while the poets never weary\nof telling her story in their rhymes and stanzas.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\nTHE ASS THAT SAW THE ANGEL\n\n\nIn that part of the Swiss Republic, called the Grisons, there is a\nsharp mountain, thin and round, like a horn. Because it is red, its\nname has always been Rothhorn, or Red Peak.\n\nIn one of the towns near by, lived a proud man, named Gruntli, who\nscouted the idea of there being any fairies, or Santa Claus. To his\nview, there was no intelligence, or virtue, in dumb brutes. He did not\nbelieve in anything but what he could see, taste, smell, hear, or\nhandle with his ten fingers. This was what he called \u201cscience.\u201d\n\nThis old fellow, Gruntli, boasted of being \u201ca man of science.\u201d He\nconsidered that everything belonging to religion was superstition. Mule\ndrivers, cow milkers, cheese makers, and such folk, whom he called \u201cthe\nignorant common people,\u201d might have faith in such things, but not he.\n\nGruntli was rich. He had a large house, with one room full of books,\nbut not one of these contained any poetry, or stories, or novels, or\nromances. He sneered at anybody who said they believed in Santa Claus,\nand he openly insulted people who loved to think that William Tell,\ntheir national hero, ever lived. As for the exploits of Joan of Arc, or\nof Arnold of Winkelried, he used to say that what was told of them was\nonly the same as nursery stories.\n\nNobody loved Gruntli, for he was a hard master with his servants.\nThough he called himself \u201ca man of science,\u201d and sneered at the village\nfolks, when they went to church on Sunday, he did nothing to help the\npoor people of the valley.\n\nPart of the wealth, of this hard-hearted man, consisted in mules, of\nwhich he had twenty or more. These were sumpters, or pack animals, that\ncarried the milk, butter, cheese, and produce of the valley, to be sold\nin the nearest large city, and to bring back what was needed.\n\nGruntli\u2019s favorite animal for the saddle was a pure-blooded white ass,\nwhich his father had given him, when a boy, so that he and the dumb\nbrute were well acquainted with each other. Large in size and imposing\nin appearance, this animal was named Julius C\u00e6sar; or, for short,\n\u201cGulick,\u201d for that was the way the great Roman conqueror\u2019s name was\npronounced in the local dialect.\n\nPeople used to say that this donkey was the only living creature for\nwhich Gruntli cared, or had any affection; or, that he even treated\ndecently. Occasionally, his master would allow this, his favorite\nbeast, to be ridden by his overseer, or chief clerk\u2014a privilege on\nwhich this head man set great store. The sure-footed creature carried\nits rider over the most dangerous passes. It seemed almost a miracle,\nthe way in which, along narrow ledges of rock, the ass moved as if on a\nwell-paved road.\n\nGulick seemed to measure with its eye, and gauge the width necessary,\neven making allowance for its load, for the pack saddle, or for the\nknees of the rider; so that, though a dumb beast, its reputation for\nsafety was great in all the region. Muleteers often used to scold their\nstubborn animals, by calling them \u201crabbit-eared fools,\u201d and \u201cnot worth\none hoof of Gulick,\u201d the paragon among long eared animals.\n\nNevertheless, there were times, when the donkey, Gulick, showed that it\nhad a mind of its own. Then it could be stubborn, too. But this was\nwhat men thought, and not the animal\u2019s own opinion of itself. This\nusually took place, when it saw that the path ahead, or the ledge of\nrock, over which it was expected to pass, with a pack load, or a stout\nlady in the saddle, or a big fat fellow, with both legs far out and\ntaking up the room, between the ass and the rock.\n\nThen, no amount of scolding, yelling, bad temper, hard names, or even\nbeating, could move the creature. The only thing to do was to get off\nand unload. In fact, the ass had a very poor opinion of some human\nbeings. He even pitied them, because they had only two legs, while\ndonkeys had four.\n\nNot once, in all its long life, did Gulick lose its way, slip, fall\ndown, or have an accident. In fact, its master could go to sleep, while\nriding home. When, as was often the case, the man was too full of\nstrong wine, to sit up straight, this was a good thing; for a sober\ndonkey has more brains than a drunken man.\n\nSome people, who believed in fairies, even thought that Gulick was\nreally a human being who, for doing something wicked, in another world,\nhad been changed, by a fairy, into this creature with the shaggy hide,\nropy tail and ears like a jack rabbit\u2019s.\n\nAn event, that seemed to furnish a fresh foundation for the common\nbelief, took place near the village of Plurs. Then, the general idea,\nthat a man had, somehow, got into an ass\u2019s skin, was confirmed.\n\nOne night, Gruntli\u2019s overseer was returning from Zurich. He reached the\nvillage of Plurs, late at night. There, the wine being good and the\nstabling cheap, he expected to make his stay, until next morning. So,\nstepping into the wine room, and calling for the hostler, he sat down\nbefore the table, thinking that all was right, according to the usual\nway of beasts and man, until morning.\n\nBut when the stable boy went outdoors, he found the line of mules was\nsome distance up the road, and that Gulick was leading them.\n\nRunning after the train, he brought the animals back, to the inn; but\nwhen, for a moment, being at the end of the line, he left the beasts,\nto open the stable door, off trotted Gulick and all the donkeys after\ntheir leader.\n\nSo the boy had another run and was in very bad temper. He seized the\nbridle of Gulick, and gave such a jerk, in his anger, that he nearly\nbroke the strap, and pained the animal\u2019s jaw.\n\nNevertheless, for a third time, the sagacious beast ran away. When the\nstable boy, out of patience, rushed into the wine room, and told the\noverseer of the strange behavior of his donkey, Gulick, the man had\nsense enough to follow the mule train.\n\nWell for him and his master, that he did so, for, when hearing a\nfrightful noise, he looked behind him, from the top of the hill, he saw\na landslide, from the mountain flank, wipe out the whole town, leaving\nthe houses, people and cattle buried under one white pall of earth,\nrock and snow.\n\nAfter this, one would suppose that the owner of Gulick would fully\ntrust the animal\u2019s wonderful instinct and unerring vision, as well as\nhis sure footedness.\n\nBut this man, Gruntli was, as he called himself, \u201ctoo much of a man of\nscience\u201d to consider such an affair, as that of Gulick and the\nlandslide, as anything but an accident, a coincidence, or, as an\nexample of \u201cthe doctrine of averages.\u201d\n\nWishing, however, to see the ruin wrought by the landslide, he mounted\nGulick, clapped his ankles against the animal\u2019s sides, and was off.\nGruntli wore spurs, more for show than for use, for Gulick instantly\nobeyed the pull of his master\u2019s bridle, or the clap of his foot, and\nnever was known to need urging. So there never had been any blood on\nthe points of Gruntli\u2019s spurs.\n\nBut this day, the master was in very bad humor, because seven of his\nhouses, which he owned in the village, were now destroyed. Much of his\nincome was thus lost, for he could no longer collect rents from the\npeople who had been his tenants.\n\nNow, as they were jogging along, and approached near the scene of\nyesterday\u2019s horror, the ass suddenly stopped with a jerk, that threw\nits master forward, and nearly off the saddle.\n\nThere, in front of the animal in the middle of the road, stood an angel\nholding a naked sword. Of course, Gruntli could not see anything, for\nhis soul had nearly shriveled up, and Gulick had never before met such\na being. Yet the ass, even though it was a dumb brute, had enough sense\nto know that it dare not, and ought not, to rush up against the\napparition, whatever it might be. Had it been rock, stone, ice, a\nmountain path, a chamois, or anything usual, the Swiss donkey would\nhave known what to do. But before such an unusual sight, Gulick stood\nstill.\n\nAs for Gruntli, he, being a self-styled \u201cman of science,\u201d without any\nfaith, and very little imagination, could see nothing. So, when Gulick,\nto get out of the way, turned aside and out of the road, to make its\nway through the field, Gruntli, getting very angry, beat the animal and\nin his bad temper, even laid on several blows with his whip handle.\n\nAt this unusual action of his master, the ass was so surprised, that he\nactually stopped. He turned round, gave a rebuking glance at Gruntli,\nand then tried to go on, but in vain.\n\nThen the man, in a worse temper than ever, not only beat the dumb brute\nagain, but he drove his spurs into the sides of the faithful beast,\nuntil little drops of blood dropped on the ground.\n\nAt this, even patient Gulick lost his donkey temper, and lifting one of\nhis hind legs tried to kick the man\u2019s heels.\n\nThis enraged Gruntli still further, and he cried out:\n\n\u201cYou stupid beast! If you want to climb up into the saddle and ride\nyourself, I\u2019ll jump off.\u201d\n\nThen he clutched his whip more tightly, expecting to get down and\nthrash the animal with all his strength.\n\nBut Gulick moved on, the road narrowing down, between rocks, as many\nbridle paths in Switzerland do. Yet no sooner had the intelligent beast\nentered into the shadow, than again a shining angel appeared in the\npath in front of them, but this time in a threatening manner, and\nwaving his glittering sword.\n\nStartled at the sight, the ass again stopped, hoping its master would\ntreat his own beast more kindly and see what was the matter.\n\nBut angry men are nearly always blind, and sometimes half insane, or\neven wholly so. Gruntli once more drove his already bloody spurs into\nGulick\u2019s side.\n\nAt this, stung with pain, and fearing to rush against the angel, the\nbeast dashed sideways against the rocky wall.\n\nMaddened, almost to insanity, at this action, and smarting with a\ncrushed ankle, Gruntli beat the ass with repeated and cruel blows.\n\nIn spite of such inhuman treatment, and even more awed by the\napparition, than by the agony it was suffering, the ass lay down flat\nunder its rider, though without hurting him. It turned its head around\nand looked at him, as if in stern rebuke, at this treating an old\nfriend, that had ever served faithfully.\n\nUnmoved by the beseeching look in the eyes of what had been his pet,\nsince childhood, Gruntli, in a fresh fury of rage, bellowed out:\n\n\u201cI just wish I had a sword to kill you,\u201d and he rained blow upon blow\non his faithful brute.\n\nThen he jumped off the saddle, and, leaving Gulick in the rocky path,\nwalked forward a few rods. All the time he was wondering what had so\ndisturbed and checked the brute.\n\nOne look, as he turned away to the brow of the mountain, revealed to\nhim a scene of frightful desolation. Rocks, gravel, ice, snow, and\ngeneral d\u00e9bris, covered what had been his seven houses, and tenants and\ntheir cattle. Looking up, he noticed that the face of the mountain,\nwhence the mass of earth had slipped down, was greatly changed in form.\n\nNevertheless, the landslide, for so it was, had opened a view,\nimpossible before, of a rich pasture, where many kine were grazing.\nLooking intently at a cow that, having filled its stomach with grass,\nwas about to lie down, Gruntli noticed that, before doing so, the dumb\nanimal fell, first, on its front knees.\n\n\u201cNow I see that I am a fool,\u201d he cried, as he beat upon his breast.\n\u201cThat cow has more religion than I, for it kneels before it lies down;\nwhile, before tumbling into bed, my knee has been unbent, this many a\nyear.\u201d\n\nThen going back, he patted the neck of his faithful Gulick, washed off\nthe blood stains, threw his spurs away, and spoke so kindly to the ass,\nthat it rose up, and actually began frisking around. Then it sidled up\nclose to Gruntli, and seemed to invite him to get on its back again.\n\nThis the man did, and, riding to where the village had been, organized\na corps of relief to help the wounded and hungry, who were left alive,\nand he paid for medicines out of his own purse. Then he built new and\nbetter houses for his tenants, the survivors, and for those who came\nfrom other parts of the Swiss country.\n\nAnd when later, a devout worshipper in church and helper of his fellow\nmen, Gruntli cared for and fed his ass Gulick, in a comfortable stable,\nuntil at last the beast died at a good old age.\n\nThe pastor of the rebuilt village came one day, and asked Gruntli to\ntell the story of his great change and the reason of it. Then the man\nmade answer as follows:\n\n\u201cWhen it came to pass that an ass could see an angel before I, a man of\nscience, could discern, or hear him, I thought it time to believe. So I\nat once exchanged science, so called, for faith, as a little child,\nand, my pride of knowledge for help to my fellow men.\u201d\n\n\n\n                                THE END.","title":"Swiss Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":56898}