{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_9368/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_9368","id":"gutenberg_9368","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9368","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children's Myths, Fairy Tales, etc.","Fairy tales -- Wales","Folklore"],"text":"Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Cam Venezuela and PG\nDistributed Proofreaders. HTML version by Al Haines.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nWelsh Fairy Tales\n\nBy\n\nWILLIAM ELLIOT GRIFFIS\n\n1921\n\n\n\nA PREFACE-LETTER TO MY GRANDFATHER\n\nDEAR CAPTAIN JOHN GRIFFIS:\n\nAlthough I never saw you, since you died in 1804, I am glad you were\none of those Welshmen who opposed the policy of King George III and\nthat you, after coming to America in 1783, were among the first sea\ncaptains to carry the American flag around the world. That you knew\nmany of the Free Quakers and other patriots of the Revolution and that\nthey buried you among them, near Benjamin Franklin, is a matter of\npride to your descendants. That you were born in Wales and spoke\nWelsh, as did also those three great prophets of spiritual liberty,\nRoger Williams, William Penn, and Thomas Jefferson, is still further\nground for pride in one's ancestry. Now, in the perspective of history\nwe see that our Washington and his compeers and Wilkes, Barre, Burke\nand the friends of America in Parliament were fighting the same battle\nof Freedom. Though our debt to Wales for many things is great, we\ncount not least those inheritances from the world of imagination, for\nwhich the Cymric Land was famous, even before the days of either\nAnglo-Saxon or Norman.\n\nW. E. G.\n\nSaint David's and the day of the Daffodil, March 1, 1921.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nI. WELSH RABBIT AND HUNTED HARES\n\nII. THE MIGHTY MONSTER AFANG\n\nIII. THE TWO CAT WITCHES\n\nIV. HOW THE CYMRY LAND BECAME INHABITED\n\nV. THE BOY THAT WAS NAMED TROUBLE\n\nVI. THE GOLDEN HARP\n\nVII. THE GREAT RED DRAGON OF WALES\n\nVIII. THE TOUCH OF CLAY\n\nIX. THE TOUCH OF IRON\n\nX. THE MAIDEN OF THE GREEN FOREST\n\nXI. THE TREASURE STONE OF THE FAIRIES\n\nXII. GIANT TOM AND GIANT BLUBB\n\nXIII. A BOY THAT VISITED FAIRYLAND\n\nXIV. THE WELSHERY AND THE NORMANS\n\nXV. THE WELSH FAIRIES HOLD A MEETING\n\nXVI. KING ARTHUR'S CAVE\n\nXVII. THE LADY OF THE LAKE\n\nXVIII. THE KING'S FOOT HOLDER\n\nXIX. POWELL, PRINCE OF DYFED\n\nXX. POWELL AND HIS BRIDE\n\nXXI. WHY THE BACK DOOR WAS FRONT\n\nXXII. THE RED BANDITS OF MONTGOMERY\n\nXXIII. THE FAIRY CONGRESS\n\nXXIV. THE SWORD OF AVALON\n\n\n\n\nI\n\n\nWELSH RABBIT AND HUNTED HARES\n\n\nLong, long ago, there was a good saint named David, who taught the\nearly Cymric or Welsh people better manners and many good things to\neat and ways of enjoying themselves.\n\nNow the Welsh folks in speaking of their good teacher pronounced his\nname Tafid and affectionately Taffy, and this came to be the usual\nname for a person born in Wales. In our nurseries we all learned that\n\"Taffy was a Welshman,\" but it was their enemies who made a bad rhyme\nabout Taffy.\n\nWherever there were cows or goats, people could get milk. So they\nalways had what was necessary for a good meal, whether it were\nbreakfast, dinner or supper. Milk, cream, curds, whey and cheese\nenriched the family table. Were not these enough?\n\nBut Saint David taught the people how to make a still more delicious\nfood out of cheese, and that this could be done without taking the\nlife of any creature.\n\nSaint David showed the girls how to take cheese, slice and toast it\nover the coals, or melt it in a skillet and pour it hot over toast or\nbiscuit. This gave the cheese a new and sweeter flavor. When spread on\nbread, either plain, or browned over the fire, the result, in\ncombination, was a delicacy fit for a king, and equal to anything\nknown.\n\nThe fame of this new addition to the British bill of fare spread near\nand far. The English people, who had always been fond of rabbit pie,\nand still eat thousands of Molly Cotton Tails every day, named it\n\"Welsh Rabbit,\" and thought it one of the best things to eat. In fact,\nthere are many people, who do not easily see a joke, who misunderstand\nthe fun, or who suppose the name to be either slang, or vulgar, or a\nmistake, and who call it \"rarebit.\" It is like \"Cape Cod turkey\"\n(codfish), or \"Bombay ducks\" (dried fish), or \"Irish plums\" (potatoes)\nand such funny cookery with fancy names.\n\nNow up to this time, the rabbits and hares had been so hunted with the\naid of dogs, that there was hardly a chance of any of them surviving\nthe cruel slaughter.\n\nIn the year 604, the Prince of Powys was out hunting. The dogs started\na hare, and pursued it into a dense thicket. When the hunter with the\nhorn came up, a strange sight met his eyes. There he saw a lovely\nmaiden. She was kneeling on the ground and devoutly praying. Though\nsurprised at this, the prince was anxious to secure his game. He\nhissed on the hounds and ordered the horn to be blown, for the dogs to\ncharge on their prey, expecting them to bring him the game at once.\nInstead of this, though they were trained dogs and would fight even a\nwolf, they slunk away howling, and frightened, as if in pain, while\nthe horn stuck fast to the lips of the blower and he was silent.\nMeanwhile, the hare nestled under the maiden's dress and seemed not in\nthe least disturbed.\n\nAmazed at this, the prince turned to the fair lady and asked:\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\nShe answered, \"My mother named me Monacella. I have fled from Ireland,\nwhere my father wished to marry me to one of his chief men, whom I did\nnot love. Under God's guidance, I came to this secret desert place,\nwhere I have lived for fifteen years, without seeing the face of man.\"\n\nTo this, the prince in admiration replied: \"O most worthy Melangell\n[which is the way the Welsh pronounce Monacella], because, on account\nof thy merits, it has pleased God to shelter and save this little,\nwild hare, I, on my part, herewith present thee with this land, to be\nfor the service of God and an asylum for all men and women, who seek\nthy protection. So long as they do not pollute this sanctuary, let\nnone, not even prince or chieftain, drag them forth.\"\n\nThe beautiful saint passed the rest of her life in this place. At\nnight, she slept on the bare rock. Many were the wonders wrought for\nthose who with pure hearts sought her refuge. The little wild hares\nwere under her special protection, and they are still called\n\"Melangell's Lambs.\"\n\n\n\n\nII\n\n\nTHE MIGHTY MONSTER AFANG\n\n\nAfter the Cymric folk, that is, the people we call Welsh, had come up\nfrom Cornwall into their new land, they began to cut down the trees,\nto build towns, and to have fields and gardens. Soon they made the\nlandscape smile with pleasant homes, rich farms and playing children.\n\nThey trained vines and made flowers grow. The young folks made pets of\nthe wild animals' cubs, which their fathers and big brothers brought\nhome from hunting. Old men took rushes and reeds and wove them into\ncages for song birds to live in.\n\nWhile they were draining the swamps and bogs, they drove out the\nmonsters, that had made their lair in these wet places. These terrible\ncreatures liked to poison people with their bad breath, and even ate\nup very little boys and girls, when they strayed away from home.\n\nSo all the face of the open country between the forests became very\npretty to look at. The whole of Cymric land, which then extended from\nthe northern Grampian Hills to Cornwall, and from the Irish Sea, past\ntheir big fort, afterward called London, even to the edge of the\nGerman Ocean, became a delightful place to live in.\n\nThe lowlands and the rivers, in which the tide rose and fell daily,\nwere especially attractive. This was chiefly because of the many\nbright flowers growing there; while the yellow gorse and the pink\nheather made the hills look as lovely as a young girl's face. Besides\nthis, the Cymric maidens were the prettiest ever, and the lads were\nall brave and healthy; while both of these knew how to sing often and\nwell.\n\nNow there was a great monster named the Afang, that lived in a big\nbog, hidden among the high hills and inside of a dark, rough forest.\n\nThis ugly creature had an iron-clad back and a long tail that could\nwrap itself around a mountain. It had four front legs, with big knees\nthat were bent up like a grasshopper's, but were covered with scales\nlike armor. These were as hard as steel, and bulged out at the thighs.\nAlong its back, was a ridge of horns, like spines, and higher than an\nalligator's. Against such a tough hide, when the hunters shot their\ndarts and hurled their javelins, these weapons fell down to the\nground, like harmless pins.\n\nOn this monster's head, were big ears, half way between those of a\njackass and an elephant. Its eyes were as green as leeks, and were\nround, but scalloped on the edges, like squashes, while they were as\nbig as pumpkins.\n\nThe Afang's face was much like a monkey's, or a gorilla's, with long\nstraggling gray hairs around its cheeks like those of a walrus. It\nalways looked as if a napkin, as big as a bath towel, would be\nnecessary to keep its mouth clean. Yet even then, it slobbered a good\ndeal, so that no nice fairy liked to be near the monster.\n\nWhen the Afang growled, the bushes shook and the oak leaves trembled\non the branches, as if a strong wind was blowing.\n\nBut after its dinner, when it had swallowed down a man, or two calves,\nor four sheep, or a fat heifer, or three goats, its body swelled up\nlike a balloon. Then it usually rolled over, lay along the ground, or\nin the soft mud, and felt very stupid and sleepy, for a long while.\n\nAll around its lair, lay wagon loads of bones of the creatures, girls,\nwomen, men, boys, cows, and occasionally a donkey, which it had\ndevoured.\n\nBut when the Afang was ravenously hungry and could not get these\nanimals and when fat girls and careless boys were scarce, it would\nlive on birds, beasts and fishes. Although it was very fond of cows\nand sheep, yet the wool and hair of these animals stuck in its big\nteeth, it often felt very miserable and its usually bad temper grew\nworse.\n\nThen, like a beaver, it would cut down a tree, sharpen it to a point\nand pick its teeth until its mouth was clean. Yet it seemed all the\nmore hungry and eager for fresh human victims to eat, especially juicy\nmaidens; just as children like cake more than bread.\n\nThe Cymric men were not surprised at this, for they knew that girls\nwere very sweet and they almost worshiped women. So they learned to\nguard their daughters and wives. They saw that to do such things as\neating up people was in the nature of the beast, which could never be\ntaught good manners.\n\nBut what made them mad beyond measure was the trick which the monster\noften played upon them by breaking the river banks, and the dykes\nwhich with great toil they had built to protect their crops. Then the\nwaters overflowed all their farms, ruined their gardens and spoiled\ntheir cow houses and stables.\n\nThis sort of mischief the Afang liked to play, especially about the\ntime when the oat and barley crops were ripe and ready to be gathered\nto make cakes and flummery; that is sour oat-jelly, or pap. So it\noften happened that the children had to do without their cookies and\nporridge during the winter. Sometimes the floods rose so high as to\nwash away the houses and float the cradles. Even those with little\nbabies in them were often seen on the raging waters, and sent dancing\non the waves down the river, to the sea.\n\nOnce in a while, a mother cat and all her kittens were seen mewing for\nhelp, or a lady dog howling piteously. Often it happened that both\npuppies and kittens were drowned.\n\nSo, whether for men or mothers, pussies or puppies, the Cymric men\nthought the time had come to stop this monster's mischief. It was bad\nenough that people should be eaten up, but to have all their crops\nruined and animals drowned, so that they had to go hungry all winter,\nwith only a little fried fish, and no turnips, was too much for human\npatience. There were too many weeping mothers and sorrowful fathers,\nand squalling brats and animals whining for something to eat.\n\nBesides, if all the oats were washed away, how could their wives make\nflummery, without which, no Cymric man is ever happy? And where would\nthey get seed for another year's sowing? And if there were no cows,\nhow could the babies or kitties live, or any grown-up persons get\nbuttermilk?\n\nSomeone may ask, why did not some brave man shoot the Afang, with a\npoisoned arrow, or drive a spear into him under the arms, where the\nflesh was tender, or cut off his head with a sharp sword?\n\nThe trouble was just here. There were plenty of brave fellows, ready\nto fight the monster, but nothing made of iron could pierce that hide\nof his. This was like armor, or one of the steel battleships of our\nday, and the Afang always spit out fire or poison breath down the\nroad, up which a man was coming, long before the brave fellow could\nget near him. Nothing would do, but to go up into his lair, and drag\nhim out.\n\nBut what man or company of men was strong enough to do this, when a\ndozen giants in a gang, with ropes as thick as a ship's hawser, could\nhardly tackle the job?\n\nNevertheless, in what neither man nor giant could do, a pretty maiden\nmight succeed. True, she must be brave also, for how could she know,\nbut if hungry, the Afang might eat her up?\n\nHowever, one valiant damsel, of great beauty, who had lots of\nperfumery and plenty of pretty clothes, volunteered to bind the\nmonster in his lair. She said, \"I'm not afraid.\" Her sweetheart was\nnamed Gadern, and he was a young and strong hunter. He talked over the\nmatter with her and they two resolved to act together.\n\nGadern went all over the country, summoning the farmers to bring their\nox teams and log chains. Then he set the blacksmiths to work, forging\nnew and especially heavy ones, made of the best native iron, from the\nmines, for which Wales is still famous.\n\nMeanwhile, the lovely maiden arrayed herself in her prettiest clothes,\ndressed her hair in the most enticing way, hanging a white blossom on\neach side, over her ears, with one flower also at her neck.\n\nWhen she had perfumed her garments, she sallied forth and up the lake\nwhere the big bog and the waters were and where the monster hid\nhimself.\n\nWhile the maiden was still quite a distance away, the terrible Afang,\nscenting his visitor from afar, came rushing out of his lair. When\nvery near, he reared his head high in the air, expecting to pounce on\nher, with his iron clad claws and at one swallow make a breakfast of\nthe girl.\n\nBut the odors of her perfumes were so sweet, that he forgot what he\nhad thought to do. Moreover, when he looked at her, he was so taken\nwith unusual beauty, that he flopped at once on his forefeet. Then he\nbehaved just like a lovelorn beau, when his best girl comes near. He\nties his necktie and pulls down his coat and brushes off the collar.\n\nSo the Afang began to spruce up. It was real fun to see how a monster\nbehaves when smitten with love for a pretty girl. He had no idea how\nfunny he was.\n\nThe girl was not at all afraid, but smoothed the monster's back,\nstroked and played with its big moustaches and tickled its neck until\nthe Afang's throat actually gurgled with a laugh. Pretty soon he\nguffawed, for he was so delighted.\n\nWhen he did this, the people down in the valley thought it was\nthunder, though the sky was clear and blue.\n\nThe maiden tickled his chin, and even put up his whiskers in curl\npapers. Then she stroked his neck, so that his eyes closed. Soon she\nhad gently lulled him to slumber, by singing a cradle song, which her\nmother had taught her. This she did so softly, and sweetly, that in a\nfew minutes, with its head in her lap, the monster was sound asleep\nand even began to snore.\n\nThen, quietly, from their hiding places in the bushes, Gadern and his\nmen crawled out. When near the dreaded Afang, they stood up and\nsneaked forward, very softly on tip toe. They had wrapped the links of\nthe chain in grass and leaves, so that no clanking was heard. They\nalso held the oxen's yokes, so that nobody or anything could rattle,\nor make any noise. Slowly but surely they passed the chain over its\nbody, in the middle, besides binding the brute securely between its\nfore and hind legs.\n\nAll this time, the monster slept on, for the girl kept on crooning her\nmelody.\n\nWhen the forty yoke of oxen were all harnessed together, the drovers\ncracked all their whips at once, so that it sounded like a clap of\nthunder and the whole team began to pull together.\n\nThen the Afang woke up with a start.\n\nThe sudden jerk roused the monster to wrath, and its bellowing was\nterrible. It rolled round and round, and dug its four sets of toes,\neach with three claws, every one as big as a plowshare, into the\nground. It tried hard to crawl into its lair, or slip into the lake.\n\nFinding that neither was possible, the Afang looked about, for some\nbig tree to wrap its tail around. But all his writhings or plungings\nwere of no use. The drovers plied their whips and the oxen kept on\nwith one long pull together and forward. They strained so hard, that\none of them dropped its eye out. This formed a pool, and to this day\nthey call it The Pool of the Ox's Eye. It never dries up or overflows,\nthough the water in it rises and falls, as regularly as the tides.\n\nFor miles over the mountains the sturdy oxen hauled the monster. The\npass over which they toiled and strained so hard is still named the\nPass of the Oxen's Slope. When going down hill, the work of dragging\nthe Afang was easier.\n\nIn a great hole in the ground, big enough to be a pond, they dumped\nthe carcass of the Afang, and soon a little lake was formed. This\nuncanny bit of water is called \"The Lake of the Green Well.\" It is\nconsidered dangerous for man or beast to go too near it. Birds do not\nlike to fly over the surface, and when sheep tumble in, they sink to\nthe bottom at once.\n\nIf the bones of the Afang still lie at the bottom, they must have sunk\ndown very deep, for the monster had no more power to get out, or to\nbreak the river banks. The farmers no longer cared anything about the\ncreature, and they hardly every think of the old story, except when a\nsheep is lost.\n\nAs for Gadern and his brave and lovely sweetheart, they were married\nand lived long and happily. Their descendants, in the thirty-seventh\ngeneration, are proud of the grand exploit of their ancestors, while\nall the farmers honor his memory and bless the name of the lovely girl\nthat put the monster asleep.\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\n\nTHE TWO CAT WITCHES\n\n\nIn old days, it was believed that the seventh son, in a family of\nsons, was a conjurer by nature. That is, he could work wonders like\nthe fairies and excel the doctors in curing diseases.\n\nIf he were the seventh son of a seventh son, he was himself a wonder\nof wonders. The story ran that he could even cure the \"shingles,\"\nwhich is a very troublesome disease. It is called also by a Latin\nname, which means a snake, because, as it gets worse, it coils itself\naround the body.\n\nNow the eagle can attack the serpent and conquer and kill this\npoisonous creature. To secure such power, Hugh, the conjurer, ate the\nflesh of eagles. When he wished to cure the serpent-disease, he\nuttered words in the form of a charm which acted as a talisman and\ncure. After wetting the red rash, which had broken out over the sick\nperson's body, he muttered:\n\n\"He-eagle, she-eagle, I send you over nine seas, and over nine\nmountains, and over nine acres of moor and fen, where no dog shall\nbark, no cow low, and no eagle shall higher rise.\"\n\nAfter that, the patient was sure that he felt better.\n\nThere was always great rivalry between these conjurers and those who\nmade money from the Pilgrims at Holy Wells and visitors to the relic\nshrines, but this fellow, named Hugh, and the monks, kept on mutually\ngood terms. They often ate dinner together, for Hugh was a great\ntraveler over the whole country and always had news to tell to the\nholy brothers who lived in cells.\n\nOne night, as he was eating supper at an inn, four men came in and sat\ndown at the table with him. By his magical power, Hugh knew that they\nwere robbers and meant to kill him that night, in order to get his\nmoney.\n\nSo, to divert their attention, Hugh made something like a horn to grow\nup out of the table, and then laid a spell on the robbers, so that\nthey were kept gazing at the curious thing all night long, while he\nwent to bed and slept soundly.\n\nWhen he rose in the morning, he paid his bill and went away, while the\nrobbers were still gazing at the horn. Only when the officers arrived\nto take them to prison did they come to themselves.\n\nNow at Bettws-y-Coed-that pretty place which has a name that sounds so\nfunny to us Americans and suggests a girl named Betty the Co-ed at\ncollege--there was a hotel, named the \"Inn of Three Kegs.\" The shop\nsign hung out in front. It was a bunch of grapes gilded and set below\nthree small barrels.\n\nThis inn was kept by two respectable ladies, who were sisters.\n\nYet in that very hotel, several travelers, while they were asleep, had\nbeen robbed of their money. They could not blame anyone nor tell how\nthe mischief was done. With the key in the keyhole, they had kept\ntheir doors locked during the night. They were sure that no one had\nentered the room. There were no signs of men's boots, or of anyone's\nfootsteps in the garden, while nothing was visible on the lock or\ndoor, to show that either had been tampered with. Everything was in\norder as when they went to bed.\n\nSome people doubted their stories, but when they applied to Hugh the\nconjurer, he believed them and volunteered to solve the mystery. His\nmotto was \"Go anywhere and everywhere, but catch the thief.\"\n\nWhen Hugh applied one night for lodging at the inn, nothing could be\nmore agreeable than the welcome, and fine manners of his two\nhostesses.\n\nAt supper time, and during the evening, they all chatted together\nmerrily. Hugh, who was never at a loss for news or stories, told about\nthe various kinds of people and the many countries he had visited, in\nimagination, just as if he had seen them all, though he had never set\nfoot outside of Wales.\n\nWhen he was ready to go to bed, he said to the ladies:\n\n\"It is my custom to keep a light burning in my room, all night, but I\nwill not ask for candles, for I have enough to last me until sunrise.\"\nSo saying, he bade them good night.\n\nEntering his room and locking the door, he undressed, but laid his\nclothes near at hand. He drew his trusty sword out of its sheath and\nlaid it upon the bed beside him, where he could quickly grasp it. Then\nhe pretended to be asleep and even snored.\n\nIt was not long before, peeping between his eyelids, only half closed,\nhe saw two cats come stealthily down the chimney.\n\nWhen in the room, the animals frisked about, and then gamboled and\nromped in the most lively way. Then they chased each other around the\nbed, as if they were trying to find out whether Hugh was asleep.\n\nMeanwhile, the supposed sleeper kept perfectly motionless. Soon the\ntwo cats came over to his clothes and one of them put her paw into the\npocket that contained his purse.\n\nAt this, with one sweep of his sword, Hugh struck at the cat's paw.\nThe beast howled frightfully, and both animals ran for the chimney and\ndisappeared. After that, everything was quiet until breakfast time.\n\nAt the table, only one of the sisters was present. Hugh politely\ninquired after the other one. He was told that she was not well, for\nwhich Hugh said he was very sorry.\n\nAfter the meal, Hugh declared he must say good-by to both the sisters,\nwhose company he had so enjoyed the night before. In spite of the\nother lady's many excuses, he was admitted to the sick lady's room.\n\nAfter polite greetings and mutual compliments, Hugh offered his hand\nto say \"good-by.\" The sick lady smiled at once and put out her hand,\nbut it was her left one.\n\n\"Oh, no,\" said Hugh, with a laugh. \"I never in all my life have taken\nany one's left hand, and, beautiful as yours is, I won't break my\nhabit by beginning now and here.\"\n\nReluctantly, and as if in pain, the sick lady put out her hand. It was\nbandaged.\n\nThe mystery was now cleared up. The two sisters were cats.\n\nBy the help of bad fairies they had changed their forms and were the\nreal robbers.\n\nHugh seized the hand of the other sister and made a little cut in it,\nfrom which a few drops of blood flowed, but the spell was over.\n\n\"Henceforth,\" said Hugh, \"you are both harmless, and I trust you will\nboth be honest women.\"\n\nAnd they were. From that day they were like other women, and kept one\nof the best of those inns--clean, tidy, comfortable and at modest\nprices--for which Wales is, or was, noted.\n\nNeither as cats with paws, nor landladies, with soaring bills, did\nthey ever rob travelers again.\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\n\nHOW THE CYMRY LAND BECAME INHABITED\n\n\nIn all Britain to-day, no wolf roams wild and the deer are all tame.\n\nYet in the early ages, when human beings had not yet come into the\nland, the swamps and forests were full of very savage animals. There\nwere bears and wolves by the thousand besides lions and the woolly\nrhinoceros, tigers, with terrible teeth like sabres.\n\nBeavers built their dams over the little rivers, and the great horned\noxen were very common. Then the mountains were higher, and the woods\ndenser. Many of the animals lived in caves, and there were billions of\nbees and a great many butterflies. In the bogs were ferns of giant\nsize, amid which terrible monsters hid that were always ready for a\nfight or a frolic.\n\nIn so beautiful a land, it seemed a pity that there were no men and\nwomen, no boys or girls, and no babies.\n\nYet the noble race of the Cymry, whom we call the Welsh, were already\nin Europe and lived in the summer land in the South. A great\nbenefactor was born among them, who grew up to be a wonderfully wise\nman and taught his people the use of bows and arrows. He made laws, by\nwhich the different tribes stopped their continual fighting and\nquarrels, and united for the common good of all. He persuaded them to\ntake family names. He invented the plow, and showed them how to use\nit, making furrows, in which to plant grain.\n\nWhen the people found that they could get things to eat right out of\nthe ground, from the seed they had planted, their children were wild\nwith joy.\n\nNo people ever loved babies more than these Cymry folk and it was they\nwho invented the cradle. This saved the hard-working mothers many a\nburden, for each woman had, besides rearing the children, to work for\nand wait on her husband.\n\nHe was the warrior and hunter, and she did most of the labor, in both\nthe house and the field. When there were many little brats to look\nafter, a cradle was a real help to her. In those days, \"brat\" was the\ngeneral name for little folks. There were good laws, about women\nespecially for their protection. Any rough or brutish fellow was fined\nheavily, or publicly punished, for striking one of them.\n\nBy and by, this great benefactor encouraged his people to the brave\nadventure, and led them, in crossing the sea to Britain. Men had not\nyet learned to build boats, with prow or stern, with keels and masts,\nor with sails, rudders, or oars, or much less to put engines in their\nbowels, or iron chimneys for smoke stacks, by which we see the mighty\nships driven across the ocean without regard to wind or tide.\n\nThis great benefactor taught his people to make coracles, and on these\nthe whole tribe of thousands of Cymric folk crossed over into Britain,\nlanding in Cornwall. The old name of this shire meant the Horn of\nGallia, or Wallia, as the new land was later named. We think of\nCornwall as the big toe of the Mother Land. These first comers called\nit a horn.\n\nIt was a funny sight to see these coracles, which they named after\ntheir own round bodies. The men went down to the riverside or the sea\nshore, and with their stone hatchets, they chopped down trees. They\ncut the reeds and osiers, peeled the willow branches, and wove great\nbaskets shaped like bowls. In this work, the women helped the men.\n\nThe coracle was made strong by a wooden frame fixed inside round the\nedge, and by two cross boards, which also served as seats. Then they\nturned the wicker frame upside down and stretched the hides of animals\nover the whole frame and bottom. With pitch, gum, or grease, they\ncovered up the cracks or seams. Then they shaped paddles out of wood.\nWhen the coracle floated on the water, the whole family, daddy, mammy,\nkiddies, and any old aunts or uncles, or granddaddies, got into it.\nThey waited for the wind to blow from the south over to the northern\nland.\n\nAt first the coracle spun round and round, but by and by each daddy\ncould, by rowing or paddling, make the thing go straight ahead. So\nfinally all arrived in the land now called Great Britain.\n\nThough sugar was not then known, or for a thousand years later, the\nfirst thing they noticed was the enormous number of bees. When they\nsearched, they found the rock caves and hollow trees full of honey,\nwhich had accumulated for generations. Every once in a while the\nbears, that so like sweet things, found out the hiding place of the\nbees, and ate up the honey. The children were very happy in sucking\nthe honey comb and the mothers made candles out of the beeswax. The\nnew comers named the country Honey Island.\n\nThe brave Cymry men had battles with the darker skinned people who\nwere already there. When any one, young or old, died, their friends\nand relatives sat up all night guarding the body against wild beasts\nor savage men. This grew to be a settled custom and such a meeting was\ncalled a \"wake.\" Everyone present did keep awake, and often in a very\nlively way.\n\nAs the Cymry multiplied, they built many _don_, or towns. All\nover the land to-day are names ending in _don_ like London, or\nCroydon, showing where these villages were.\n\nBut while occupied in things for the body, their great ruler did not\nneglect matters of the mind. He found that some of his people had good\nvoices and loved to sing. Others delighted in making poetry. So he\ninvented or improved the harp, and fixed the rules of verse and song.\n\nThus ages before writing was known, the Cymry preserved their history\nand handed down what the wise ones taught.\n\nMen might be born, live and die, come and go, like leaves on the\ntrees, which expand in the springtime and fall in the autumn; but\ntheir songs, and poetry, and noble language never die. Even to-day,\nthe Cymry love the speech of their fathers almost as well as they love\ntheir native land.\n\nYet things were not always lovely in Honey Land, or as sweet as sugar.\nAs the tribes scattered far apart to settle in this or that valley,\nsome had fish, but no salt, and others had plenty of salt, but no\nfish. Some had all the venison and bear meat they wanted, but no\nbarley or oats. The hill men needed what the men on the seashore could\nsupply. From their sheep and oxen they got wool and leather, and from\nthe wild beasts fur to keep warm in winter. So many of them grew\nexpert in trade. Soon there were among them some very rich men who\nwere the chiefs of the tribes.\n\nIn time, hundreds of others learned how to traffic among the tribes\nand swap, or barter their goods, for as yet there were no coins for\nmoney, or bank bills. So they established markets or fairs, to which\nthe girls and boys liked to go and sell their eggs and chickens, for\nwhen the wolves and foxes were killed off, sheep and geese multiplied.\n\nBut what hindered the peace of the land, were the feuds, or quarrels,\nbecause the men of one tribe thought they were braver, or better\nlooking, than those in the other tribe. The women were very apt to\nboast that they wore their clothes--which were made of fox and weasel\nskins--more gracefully than those in the tribe next to them.\n\nSo there was much snarling and quarreling in Cymric Land. The people\nwere too much like naughty children, or when kiddies are not taught\ngood manners, to speak gently and to be kind one to the other.\n\nOne of the worst quarrels broke out, because in one tribe there were\ntoo many maidens and not enough young men for husbands. This was bad\nfor the men, for it spoiled them. They had too many women to wait on\nthem and they grew to be very selfish.\n\nIn what might be the next tribe, the trouble was the other way. There\nwere too many boys, a surplus of men, and not nearly enough girls to\ngo round. When any young fellow, moping out his life alone and anxious\nfor a wife, went a-courting in the next tribe, or in their vale, or on\ntheir hill top, he was usually driven off with stones. Then there was\na quarrel between the two tribes.\n\nAny young girl, who sneaked out at night to meet her young man of\nanother clan, was, when caught, instantly and severely spanked. Then,\nwith her best clothes taken off, she had to stand tied to a post in\nthe market place a whole day. Her hair was pulled down in disorder,\nand all the dogs were allowed to bark at her. The girls made fun of\nthe poor thing, while they all rubbed one forefinger over the other,\npointed at her and cried, \"Fie, for shame!\" while the boys called her\nhard names.\n\nIf it were known that the young man who wanted a wife had visited a\ngirl in the other tribe, his spear and bow and arrows were taken away\nfrom him till the moon was full. The other boys and the girls treated\nhim roughly and called him hard names, but he dare not defend himself\nand had to suffer patiently. This was all because of the feud between\nthe two tribes.\n\nThis went on until the maidens in the valley, who were very many,\nwhile yet lovely and attractive, became very lonely and miserable;\nwhile the young men, all splendid hunters and warriors, multiplied in\nthe hill country. They were wretched in mind, because not one could\nget a wife, for all the maidens in their own tribe were already\nengaged, or had been mated.\n\nOne day news came to the young men on the hill top, that the valley\nmen were all off on a hunting expedition. At once, without waiting a\nmoment, the poor lonely bachelors plucked up courage. Then, armed with\nropes and straps, they marched in a body to the village in the valley\nbelow. There, they seized each man a girl, not waiting for any maid to\ncomb her hair, or put on a new frock, or pack up her clothes, or carry\nany thing out of her home, and made off with her, as fast as one pair\nof legs could move with another pair on top.\n\nAt first, this looked like rough treatment--for a lovely girl, thus to\nbe strapped to a brawny big fellow; but after a while, the girls\nthought it was great fun to be married and each one to have a man to\ncaress, and fondle, and scold, and look for, and boss around; for each\nwife, inside of her own hut was quite able to rule her husband. Every\none of these new wives was delighted to find a man who cared so much\nfor her as to come after her, and risk his life to get her, and each\none admired her new, brave husband.\n\nYet the brides knew too well that their men folks, fathers and\nbrothers, uncles and cousins, would soon come back to attempt their\nrecapture.\n\nAnd this was just what happened. When a runner brought, to the valley\nmen now far away, the news of the rape of their daughters, the hunters\nat once ceased chasing the deer and marched quickly back to get the\ngirls and make them come home.\n\nThe hill men saw the band of hunters coming after their daughters.\nThey at once took their new wives into a natural rocky fortress, on\nthe top of a precipice, which overlooked the lake.\n\nThis stronghold had only one entrance, a sort of gateway of rocks, in\nfront of which was a long steep, narrow path. Here the hill men stood,\nto resist the attack and hold their prizes.\n\nIt was a case of a very few defenders, assaulted by a multitude, and\nthe battle was long and bloody. The hill men scorned to surrender and\nshot their arrows and hurled their javelins with desperate valor. They\nbattled all day from sunrise until the late afternoon, when shadows\nbegan to lengthen. The stars, one by one came out and both parties,\nafter setting sentinels, lay down to rest.\n\nIn the morning, again, charge after charge was made. Sword beat\nagainst shield and helmet, and clouds of arrows were shot by the\narchers, who were well posted in favorable situations, on the rocks.\nLong before noon, the field below was dotted and the narrow pass was\nchoked with dead bodies. In the afternoon, after a short rest and\nrefreshed with food, the valley men, though finding that only four of\nthe hill fighters were alive, stood off at a distance and with their\nlong bows and a shower of arrows left not one to breathe.\n\nNow, thought the victors, we shall get our maidens back again. So,\ntaking their time to wash off the blood and dust, to bind up their\nwounds, and to eat their supper, they thought it would be an easy job\nto load up all the girls on their ox-carts and carry them home.\n\nBut the valley brides, thus suddenly made widows, were too true to\ntheir brave husbands. So, when they had seen the last of their lovers\nquiet in death, they stripped off all their ornaments and fur robes,\nuntil all stood together, each clad in her own innocence, as pure in\ntheir purpose as if they were a company of Druid priestesses.\n\nThen, chanting their death song, they marched in procession to the\ntall cliff, that rose sheer out of the water. One by one, each\nuttering the name of her beloved, leaped into the waves.\n\nMen at a distance, knowing nothing of the fight, and sailors and\nfishermen far off on the water, thought that a flock of white birds\nwere swooping down from their eyrie, into the sea to get their food\nfrom the fishes. But when none rose up above the waters, they\nunderstood, and later heard the whole story of the valor of the men\nand the devotion of the women.\n\nThe solemn silence of night soon brooded over the scene.\n\nThe men of the valley stayed only long enough to bury their own dead.\nThen they marched home and their houses were filled with mourning. Yet\nthey admired the noble sacrifice of their daughters and were proud of\nthem. Afterwards they raised stone monuments on the field of\nslaughter.\n\nTo-day, this water is called the Lake of the Maidens, and the great\nstones seen near the beach are the memorials marking the place of the\nslain in battle.\n\nDuring many centuries, the ancient custom of capturing the bride, with\nresistance from her male relatives, was vigorously kept up. In the\ncourse of time, however, this was turned into a mimic play, with much\nfun and merriment. Yet, the girls appear to like it, and some even\ncomplain if it is not rough enough to seem almost real.\n\n\n\n\nV\n\n\nTHE BOY THAT WAS NAMED TROUBLE\n\n\nIn one of the many \"Co-eds,\" or places with this name, in ancient and\nforest-covered Wales, there was a man who had one of the most\nbeautiful mares in all the world. Yet great misfortunes befell both\nthis Co-ed mare and her owner.\n\nEvery night, on the first of May, the mare gave birth to a pretty\nlittle colt. Yet no one ever saw, or could ever tell what became of\nany one, or all of the colts. Each and all, and one by one, they\ndisappeared. Nobody knew where they were, or went, or what had become\nof them.\n\nAt last, the owner, who had no children, and loved little horses,\ndetermined not to lose another. He girded on his sword, and with his\ntrusty spear, stood guard all night in the stable to catch the mortal\nrobber, as he supposed he must be.\n\nWhen on this same night of May first, the mare foaled again, and the\ncolt stood up on its long legs, the man greatly admired the young\ncreature. It looked already, as if it could, with its own legs, run\naway and escape from any wolf that should chase it, hoping to eat it\nup.\n\nBut at this moment, a great noise was heard outside the stable. The\nnext moment a long arm, with a claw at the end of it, was poked\nthrough the window-hole, to seize the colt.\n\nInstantly the man drew his sword and with one blow, the claw part of\nthe arm was cut off, and it dropped inside, with the colt.\n\nHearing a great cry and tumult outside, the owner of the mare rushed\nforth into the darkness. But though he heard howls of pain, he could\nsee nothing, so he returned.\n\nThere, at the door, he found a baby, with hair as yellow as gold,\nsmiling at him. Besides its swaddling clothes, it was wrapped up in\nflame-colored satin.\n\nAs it was still night, the man took the infant to his bed and laid it\nalongside of his wife, who was asleep.\n\nNow this good woman loved children, though she had none of her own,\nand so when she woke up in the morning, and saw what was beside her,\nshe was very happy. Then she resolved to pretend that it was her own.\n\nSo she told her women, that she had borne the child, and they called\nhim Gwri of the Golden Hair.\n\nThe boy baby grew up fast, and when only two years old, was as strong\nas most children are at six.\n\nSoon he was able to ride the colt that had been born on the May night,\nand the two were as playmates together.\n\nNow it chanced, the man had heard the tale of Queen Rhiannon, wife of\nPowell, Prince of Dyfed. She had become the mother of a baby boy, but\nit was stolen from her at night.\n\nThe six serving women, whose duty it was to attend to the Queen, and\nguard her child, were lazy and had neglected their duty. They were\nasleep when the baby was stolen away. To excuse themselves and be\nsaved from punishment, they invented a lying story. They declared that\nRhiannon had devoured the child, her own baby.\n\nThe wise men of the Court believed the story which the six wicked\nwomen had told, and Rhiannon, the Queen, though innocent, was\ncondemned to do penance. She was to serve as a porter to carry\nvisitors and their baggage from out doors into the castle.\n\nEvery day, for many months, through the hours of daylight, she stood\nin public disgrace in front of the castle of Narberth, at the stone\nblock, on which riders on horses dismounted from the saddle. When\nanyone got off at the gate, she had to carry him or her on her back\ninto the hall.\n\nAs the boy grew up, his foster father scanned his features closely,\nand it was not long before he made up his mind that Powell was his\nfather and Rhiannon was his mother.\n\nOne day, with the boy riding on his colt, and with two knights keeping\nhim company, the owner of the Co-ed mare came near the castle of\nNarberth.\n\nThere they saw the beautiful Rhiannon sitting on the horse block at\nthe gate.\n\nWhen they were about to dismount from their horses, the lovely woman\nspoke to them thus:\n\n\"Chieftains, go no further thus. I will carry everyone of you on my\nback, into the palace.\"\n\nSeeing their looks of astonishment, she explained:\n\n\"This is my penance for the charge brought against me of slaying my\nson and devouring him.\"\n\nOne and all the four refused to be carried and went into the castle on\ntheir own feet. There Powell, the prince, welcomed them and made a\nfeast in their honor. It being night, Rhiannon sat beside him.\n\nAfter dinner when the time for story telling had come, the chief guest\ntold the tale of his mare and the colt, and how he cut the clawed\nhand, and then found the boy on the doorstep.\n\nThen to the joy and surprise of all, the owner of the Co-ed mare,\nputting the golden-haired boy before Rhiannon, cried out:\n\n\"Behold lady, here is thy son, and whoever they were who told the\nstory and lied about your devouring your own child, have done you a\ngrievous wrong.\"\n\nEveryone at the table looked at the boy, and all recognized the lad at\nonce as the child of Powell and Rhiannon.\n\n\"Here ends my trouble (pryderi),\" cried out Rhiannon.\n\nThereupon one of the chiefs said:\n\n\"Well hast thou named thy child 'Trouble,'\" and henceforth Pryderi was\nhis name.\n\nSoon it was made known, by the vision and word of the bards and seers,\nthat all the mischief had been wrought by wicked fairies, and that the\nsix serving women had been under their spell, when they lied about the\nQueen. Powell, the castle-lord, was so happy that he offered the man\nof Co-ed rich gifts of horses, jewels and dogs.\n\nBut this good man felt repaid in delivering a pure woman and loving\nmother from undeserved shame and disgrace, by wisdom and honesty\naccording to common duty.\n\nAs for Pryderi, he was educated as a king's son ought to be, in all\ngentle arts and was trained in all manly exercises.\n\nAfter his father died, Pryderi became ruler of the realm. He married\nKieva the daughter of a powerful chieftain, who had a pedigree as long\nas the bridle used to drive a ten-horse chariot. It reached back to\nPrince Casnar of Britain.\n\nPryderi had many adventures, which are told in the Mabinogian, which\nis the great storehouse of Welsh hero, wonder, and fairy tales.\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\n\nTHE GOLDEN HARP\n\n\nMorgan is one of the oldest names in Cymric land. It means one who\nlives near the sea.\n\nEvery day, for centuries past, tens of thousands of Welsh folks have\nlooked out on the great blue plain of salt water.\n\nIt is just as true, also, that there are all sorts of Morgans. One of\nthese named Taffy, was like nearly all Welshmen, in that he was very\nfond of singing.\n\nThe trouble in his case, however, was that no one but himself loved to\nhear his voice, which was very disagreeable. Yet of the sounds which\nhe himself made with voice or instrument, he was an intense admirer.\nNobody could persuade him that his music was poor and his voice rough.\nHe always refused to improve.\n\nNow in Wales, the bard, or poet, who makes up his poetry or song as he\ngoes along, is a very important person, and it is not well to offend\none of these gentlemen. In French, they call such a person by a very\nlong name--the improvisator.\n\nThese poets have sharp tongues and often say hard things about people\nwhom they do not like. If they used whetstones, or stropped their\ntongues on leather, as men do their razors, to give them a keener\nedge, their words could not cut more terribly.\n\nNow, on one occasion, Morgan had offended one of these bards. It was\nwhile the poetic gentleman was passing by Taffy's house. He heard the\njolly fellow inside singing, first at the top and then at the bottom\nof the scale. He would drop his voice down on the low notes and then\nagain rise to the highest until it ended in a screech.\n\nSomeone on the street asked the poet how he liked the music which he\nhad heard inside.\n\n\"Music?\" replied the bard with a sneer. \"Is that what Morgan is\ntrying? Why! I thought it was first the lowing of an aged cow, and\nthen the yelping of a blind dog, unable to find its way. Do you call\nthat music?\"\n\nThe truth was that when the soloist had so filled himself with strong\nale that his brain was fuddled, then it was hard to tell just what\nkind of a noise he was making. It took a wise man to discover the\ntune, if there was any.\n\nOne evening, when Morgan thought his singing unusually fine, and felt\nsorry that no one heard him, he heard a knock.\n\n[Illustration: THE MORE MORGAN PLAYED, THE MADDER THE DANCE]\n\nInstead of going to the door to inquire, or welcome the visitor, he\nyelled out \"Come in!\"\n\nThe door opened and there stood three tired looking strangers. They\nappeared to be travelers. One of them said:\n\n\"Kind sir, we are weary and worn, and would be glad of a morsel of\nbread. If you can give us a little food, we shall not trouble you\nfurther.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\" said Morgan. \"See there the loaf and the cheese, with a\nknife beside them. Take what you want, and fill your bags. No man\nshall ever say that Taffy Morgan denied anyone food, when he had any\nhimself.\"\n\nWhereupon the three travelers sat down and began to eat.\n\nMeanwhile, without being invited to do so, their host began to sing\nfor them.\n\nNow the three travelers were fairies in disguise. They were journeying\nover the country, from cottage to cottage, visiting the people. They\ncame to reward all who gave them a welcome and were kind to them, but\nto vex and play tricks upon those who were stingy, bad tempered, or of\nsour disposition. Turning to Taffy before taking leave, one of them\nsaid:\n\n\"You have been good to us and we are grateful. Now what can we do for\nyou? We have power to grant anything you may desire. Please tell us\nwhat you would like most.\"\n\nAt this, Taffy looked hard in the faces of the three strangers, to see\nif one of them was the bard who had likened his voice in its ups and\ndowns to a cow and a blind dog. Not seeing any familiar face, he\nplucked up his courage, and said:\n\n\"If you are not making fun of me, I'll take from you a harp. And, if I\ncan have my wish in full, I want one that will play only lively tunes.\nNo sad music for me!\"\n\nHere Morgan stopped. Again he searched their faces, to see if they\nwere laughing at him and then proceeded.\n\n\"And something else, if I can have it; but it's really the same thing\nI am asking for.\"\n\n\"Speak on, we are ready to do what you wish,\" answered the leader.\n\n\"I want a harp, which, no matter how badly I may play, will sound out\nsweet and jolly music.\"\n\n\"Say no more,\" said the leader, who waved his hand. There was a flood\nof light, and, to Morgan's amazement, there stood on the floor a\ngolden harp.\n\nBut where were the three travelers? They had disappeared in a flash.\n\nHardly able to believe his own eyes, it now dawned upon him that his\nvisitors were fairies.\n\nHe sat down, back of the harp, and made ready to sweep the strings. He\nhardly knew whether or not he touched the instrument, but there rolled\nout volumes of lively music, as if the harp itself were mad. The tune\nwas wild and such as would set the feet of young folks agoing, even in\nchurch.\n\nAs Taffy's fingers seemed every moment to become more skillful, the\nlivelier the music increased, until the very dishes rattled on the\ncupboard, as if they wanted to join in. Even the chair looked as if\nabout to dance.\n\nJust then, Morgan's wife and some neighbors entered the house.\nImmediately, the whole party, one and all, began dancing in the\njolliest way. For hours, they kept up the mad whirl. Yet all the\nwhile, Taffy seemed happier and the women the merrier.\n\nNo telegraph ever carried the news faster, all over the region, that\nMorgan had a wonderful harp.\n\nAll the grass in front of the house, was soon worn away by the crowds,\nthat came to hear and dance. As soon as Taffy touched the harp\nstrings, the feet of everyone, young and old, began shuffling, nor\ncould anyone stop, so long as Morgan played. Even very old, lame and\none-legged people joined in. Several old women, whom nobody had ever\nprevailed upon to get out of their chairs, were cured of their\nrheumatism. Such unusual exercise was severe for them, but it seemed\nto be healthful.\n\nA shrewd monk, the business manager of the monastery near by, wanted\nto buy Morgan's house, set up a sanatarium and advertise it as a holy\nplace. He hoped thus to draw pilgrims to it and get for it a great\nreputation as a healing place for the lame and the halt, the palsied\nand the rheumatic. Thus the monastery would be enriched and all the\nmonks get fat.\n\nBut Taffy was a happy-go-lucky fellow, who cared little about money\nand would not sell; for, with his harp, he enjoyed both fun and fame.\n\nOne day, in the crowd that stood around his door waiting to begin to\nhop and whirl, Morgan espied the bard who had compared his voice to a\ncow and a cur. The bard had come to see whether the stories about the\nharp were true or not.\n\nHe found to his own discomfort what was the fact and the reality,\nwhich were not very convenient for him. As soon as the harp music\nbegan, his feet began to go up, and his legs to kick and whirl. The\nmore Morgan played, the madder the dance and the wilder the antics of\nthe crowd, and in these the bard had to join, for he could not help\nhimself. Soon they all began to spin round and round on the flagstones\nfronting the door, as if crazy. They broke the paling of the garden\nfence. They came into the house and knocked over the chairs and sofa,\neven when they cracked their shins against the wood. They bumped their\nheads against the walls and ceiling, and some even scrambled over the\nroof and down again. The bard could no more stop his weary legs than\ncould the other lunatics.\n\nTo Morgan his revenge was so sweet, that he kept on until the bard's\nlegs snapped, and he fell down on top of people that had tumbled from\nshear weariness, because no more strength was left in them.\n\nMeanwhile, Morgan laughed until his jaws were tired and his stomach\nmuscles ached.\n\nBut no sooner did he take his fingers off the strings, to rest them,\nthan he opened his eyes in wonder; for in a flash the harp had\ndisappeared.\n\nHe had made a bad use of the fairies' gift, and they were displeased.\nSo both the monk and Morgan felt sorry.\n\nYet the grass grew again when the quondam harper and singer ceased\ndesolating the air with his quavers. The air seemed sweeter to\nbreathe, because of the silence.\n\nHowever, the fairies kept on doing good to the people of good will,\nand to-day some of the sweetest singers in Wales come from the poorest\nhomes.\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\n\nTHE GREAT RED DRAGON OF WALES\n\n\nEvery old country that has won fame in history and built up a\ncivilization of its own, has a national flower. Besides this, some\nliving creature, bird, or beast, or, it may be, a fish is on its flag.\nIn places of honor, it stands as the emblem of the nation; that is, of\nthe people, apart from the land they live on. Besides flag and symbol,\nit has a motto. That of Wales is: \"Awake: It is light.\"\n\nNow because the glorious stories of Wales, Scotland and Ireland have\nbeen nearly lost in that of mighty England, men have at times, almost\nforgotten about the leek, the thistle, and the shamrock, which stand\nfor the other three divisions of the British Isles.\n\nYet each of these peoples has a history as noble as that of which the\nrose and the lion are the emblems. Each has also its patron saint and\ncivilizer. So we have Saint George, Saint David, Saint Andrew, and\nSaint Patrick, all of them white-souled heroes. On the union flag, or\nstandard of the United Kingdom, we see their three crosses.\n\nThe lion of England, the harp of Ireland, the thistle of Scotland, and\nthe Red Dragon of Wales represent the four peoples in the British\nIsles, each with its own speech, traditions, and emblems; yet all in\nunity and in loyalty, none excelling the Welsh, whose symbol is the\nRed Dragon. In classic phrase, we talk of Albion, Scotia, Cymry, and\nHibernia.\n\nBut why red? Almost all the other dragons in the world are white, or\nyellow, green or purple, blue, or pink. Why a fiery red color like\nthat of Mars?\n\nBorne on the banners of the Welsh archers, who in old days won the\nbattles of Crecy and Agincourt, and now seen on the crests on the town\nhalls and city flags, in heraldry, and in art, the red dragon is as\nrampant, as when King Arthur sat with His Knights at the Round Table.\n\nThe Red Dragon has four three-toed claws, a long, barbed tongue, and\ntail ending like an arrow head. With its wide wings unfolded, it\nguards those ancient liberties, which neither Saxon, nor Norman, nor\nGerman, nor kings on the throne, whether foolish or wise, have ever\nbeen able to take away. No people on earth combine so handsomely loyal\nfreedom and the larger patriotism, or hold in purer loyalty to the\nunion of hearts and hands in the British Empire, which the sovereign\nrepresents, as do the Welsh.\n\nThe Welsh are the oldest of the British peoples. They preserve the\nlanguage of the Druids, bards, and chiefs, of primeval ages which go\nback and far beyond any royal line in Europe, while most of their\nfairy tales are pre-ancient and beyond the dating.\n\nWhy the Cymric dragon is red, is thus told, from times beyond human\nrecord.\n\nIt was in those early days, after the Romans in the south had left the\nisland, and the Cymric king, Vortigern, was hard pressed by the Picts\nand Scots of the north. To his aid, he invited over from beyond the\nNorth Sea, or German Ocean, the tribes called the Long Knives, or\nSaxons, to help him.\n\nBut once on the big island, these friends became enemies and would not\ngo back. They wanted to possess all Britain.\n\nVortigern thought this was treachery. Knowing that the Long Knives\nwould soon attack him, he called his twelve wise men together for\ntheir advice. With one voice, they advised him to retreat westward\nbehind the mountains into Cymry. There he must build a strong fortress\nand there defy his enemies.\n\nSo the Saxons, who were Germans, thought they had driven the Cymry\nbeyond the western borders of the country which was later called\nEngland, and into what they named the foreign or Welsh parts.\nCenturies afterwards, this land received the name of Wales.\n\nPeople in Europe spoke of Galatians, Wallachians, Belgians, Walloons,\nAlsatians, and others as \"Welsh.\" They called the new fruit imported\nfrom Asia walnuts, but the names \"Wales\" and \"Welsh\" were unheard of\nuntil after the fifth century.\n\nThe place chosen for the fortified city of the Cymry was among the\nmountains. From all over his realm, the King sent for masons and\ncarpenters and collected the materials for building. Then, a solemn\ninvocation was made to the gods by the Druid priests. These grand\nlooking old men were robed in white, with long, snowy beards falling\nover their breasts, and they had milk-white oxen drawing their\nchariot. With a silver knife they cut the mistletoe from the\ntree-branch, hailing it as a sign of favor from God. Then with harp,\nmusic and song they dedicated the spot as a stronghold of the Cymric\nnation.\n\nThen the King set the diggers to work. He promised a rich reward to\nthose men of the pick and shovel who should dig the fastest and throw\nup the most dirt, so that the masons could, at the earliest moment,\nbegin their part of the work.\n\nBut it all turned out differently from what the king expected. Some\ndragon, or powerful being underground, must have been offended by this\ninvasion of his domain; for, the next morning, they saw that\neverything in the form of stone, timber, iron or tools, had\ndisappeared during the night. It looked as if an earthquake had\nswallowed them all up.\n\nBoth king and seers, priests and bards, were greatly puzzled at this.\nHowever, not being able to account for it, and the Saxons likely to\nmarch on them at any time, the sovereign set the diggers at work and\nagain collected more wood and stone.\n\nThis time, even the women helped, not only to cook the food, but to\ndrag the logs and stones. They were even ready to cut off their\nbeautiful long hair to make ropes, if necessary.\n\nBut in the morning, all had again disappeared, as if swept by a\ntempest. The ground was bare.\n\nNevertheless, all hands began again, for all hearts were united.\n\nFor the third time, the work proceeded. Yet when the sun rose next\nmorning, there was not even a trace of either material or labor.\n\nWhat was the matter? Had some dragon swallowed everything up?\n\nVortigern again summoned his twelve wise men, to meet in council, and\nto inquire concerning the cause of the marvel and to decide what was\nto be done.\n\nAfter long deliberation, while all the workmen and people outside\nwaited for their verdict, the wise men agreed upon a remedy.\n\nNow in ancient times, it was a custom, all over the world, notably in\nChina and Japan and among our ancestors, that when a new castle or\nbridge was to be built, they sacrificed a human being. This was done\neither by walling up the victim while alive, or by mixing his or her\nblood with the cement used in the walls. Often it was a virgin or a\nlittle child thus chosen by lot and made to die, the one for the many.\n\nThe idea was not only to ward off the anger of the spirits of the air,\nor to appease the dragons under ground, but also to make the workmen\ndo their best work faithfully, so that the foundation should be sure\nand the edifice withstand the storm, the wind, and the earthquake\nshocks.\n\nSo, nobody was surprised, or raised his eyebrows, or shook his head,\nor pursed up his lips, when the king announced that what the wise men\ndeclared, must be done and that quickly. Nevertheless, many a mother\nhugged her darling more closely to her bosom, and fathers feared for\ntheir sons or daughters, lest one of these, their own, should be\nchosen as the victim to be slain.\n\nKing Vortigern had the long horn blown for perfect silence, and then\nhe spoke:\n\n\"A child must be found who was born without a father. He must be\nbrought here and be solemnly put to death. Then his blood will be\nsprinkled on the ground and the citadel will be built securely.\"\n\nWithin an hour, swift runners were seen bounding over the Cymric\nhills. They were dispatched in search of a boy without a father, and a\nlarge reward was promised to the young man who found what was wanted.\nSo into every part of the Cymric land, the searchers went.\n\nOne messenger noticed some boys playing ball. Two of them were\nquarreling. Coming near, he heard one say to the other:\n\n\"Oh, you boy without a father, nothing good will ever happen to you.\"\n\n\"This must be the one looked for,\" said the royal messenger to\nhimself. So he went up to the boy, who had been thus twitted and spoke\nto him thus:\n\n\"Don't mind what he says.\" Then he prophesied great things, if he\nwould go along with him. The boy was only too glad to go, and the next\nday the lad was brought before King Vortigern.\n\nThe workmen and their wives and children, numbering thousands, had\nassembled for the solemn ceremony of dedicating the ground by shedding\nthe boy's blood. In strained attention the people held their breath.\n\nThe boy asked the king:\n\n\"Why have your servants brought me to this place?\"\n\nThen the sovereign told him the reason, and the boy asked:\n\n\"Who instructed you to do this?\"\n\n\"My wise men told me so to do, and even the sovereign of the land\nobeys his wise councilors.\"\n\n\"Order them to come to me, Your Majesty,\" pleaded the boy.\n\nWhen the wise men appeared, the boy, in respectful manner, inquired of\nthem thus:\n\n\"How was the secret of my life revealed to you? Please speak freely\nand declare who it was that discovered me to you.\"\n\nTurning to the king, the boy added:\n\n\"Pardon my boldness, Your Majesty. I shall soon reveal the whole\nmatter to you, but I wish first to question your advisers. I want them\nto tell you what is the real cause, and reveal, if they can, what is\nhidden here underneath the ground.\"\n\nBut the wise men were confounded. They could not tell and they fully\nconfessed their ignorance.\n\nThe boy then said:\n\n\"There is a pool of water down below. Please order your men to dig for\nit.\"\n\nAt once the spades were plied by strong hands, and in a few minutes\nthe workmen saw their faces reflected, as in a looking glass. There\nwas a pool of clear water there.\n\nTurning to the wise men, the boy asked before all:\n\n\"Now tell me, what is in the pool?\"\n\nAs ignorant as before, and now thoroughly ashamed, the wise men were\nsilent.\n\n\"Your Majesty, I can tell you, even if these men cannot. There are two\nvases in the pool.\"\n\nTwo brave men leaped down into the pool. They felt around and brought\nup two vases, as the boy had said.\n\nAgain, the lad put a question to the wise men:\n\n\"What is in these vases?\"\n\nOnce more, those who professed to know the secrets of the world, even\nto the demanding of the life of a human being, held their tongues.\n\n\"There is a tent in them,\" said the boy. \"Separate them, and you will\nfind it so.\"\n\nBy the king's command, a soldier thrust in his hand and found a folded\ntent.\n\nAgain, while all wondered, the boy was in command of the situation.\nEverything seemed so reasonable, that all were prompt and alert to\nserve him.\n\n\"What a splendid chief and general, he would make, to lead us against\nour enemies, the 'Long Knives!'\" whispered one soldier to another.\n\n\"What is in the tent?\" asked the boy of the wise men.\n\nNot one of the twelve knew what to say, and there was an almost\npainful silence.\n\n\"I will tell you, Your Majesty, and all here, what is in this tent.\nThere are two serpents, one white and one red. Unfold the tent.\"\n\nWith such a leader, no soldier was afraid, nor did a single person in\nthe crowd draw back? Two stalwart fellows stepped forward to open the\ntent.\n\nBut now, a few of the men and many of the women shrank back while\nthose that had babies, or little folks, snatched up their children,\nfearing lest the poisonous snakes might wriggle towards them.\n\nThe two serpents were coiled up and asleep, but they soon showed signs\nof waking, and their fiery, lidless eyes glared at the people.\n\n\"Now, Your Majesty, and all here, be you the witnesses of what will\nhappen. Let the King and wise men look in the tent.\"\n\nAt this moment, the serpents stretched themselves out at full length,\nwhile all fell back, giving them a wide circle to struggle in.\n\nThen they reared their heads. With their glittering eyes flashing\nfire, they began to struggle with each other. The white one rose up\nfirst, threw the red one into the middle of the arena, and then\npursued him to the edge of the round space.\n\nThree times did the white serpent gain the victory over the red one.\n\nBut while the white serpent seemed to be gloating over the other for a\nfinal onset, the red one, gathering strength, erected its head and\nstruck at the other.\n\nThe struggle went on for several minutes, but in the end the red\nserpent overcame the white, driving it first out of the circle, then\nfrom the tent, and into the pool, where it disappeared, while the\nvictorious red one moved into the tent again.\n\nWhen the tent flap was opened for all to see, nothing was visible\nexcept a red dragon; for the victorious serpent had turned into this\ngreat creature which combined in one new form the body and the powers\nof bird, beast, reptile and fish. It had wings to fly, the strongest\nanimal strength, and could crawl, swim, and live in either water or\nair, or on the earth. In its body was the sum total of all life.\n\nThen, in the presence of all the assembly, the youth turned to the\nwise men to explain the meaning of what had happened. But not a word\ndid they speak. In fact, their faces were full of shame before the\ngreat crowd.\n\n\"Now, Your Majesty, let me reveal to you the meaning of this mystery.\"\n\n\"Speak on,\" said the King, gratefully.\n\n\"This pool is the emblem of the world, and the tent is that of your\nkingdom. The two serpents are two dragons. The white serpent is the\ndragon of the Saxons, who now occupy several of the provinces and\ndistricts of Britain and from sea to sea. But when they invade our\nsoil our people will finally drive them back and hold fast forever\ntheir beloved Cymric land. But you must choose another site, on which\nto erect your castle.\"\n\nAfter this, whenever a castle was to be built no more human victims\nwere doomed to death. All the twelve men, who had wanted to keep up\nthe old cruel custom, were treated as deceivers of the people. By the\nKing's orders, they were all put to death and buried before all the\ncrowd.\n\nTo-day, like so many who keep alive old and worn-out notions by means\nof deception and falsehood, these men are remembered only by the\nTwelve Mounds, which rise on the surface of the field hard by.\n\nAs for the boy, he became a great magician, or, as we in our age would\ncall him, a man of science and wisdom, named Merlin. He lived long on\nthe mountain, but when he went away with a friend, he placed all his\ntreasures in a golden cauldron and hid them in a cave. He rolled a\ngreat stone over its mouth. Then with sod and earth he covered it all\nover so as to hide it from view. His purpose was to leave this his\nwealth for a leader, who, in some future generation, would use it for\nthe benefit of his country, when most needed.\n\nThis special person will be a youth with yellow hair and blue eyes.\nWhen he comes to Denas, a bell will ring to invite him into the cave.\nThe moment his foot is over the place, the stone of entrance will open\nof its own accord. Anyone else will be considered an intruder and it\nwill not be possible for him to carry away the treasure.\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\n\nTHE TOUCH OF CLAY\n\n\nLong, long ago before the Cymry came into the beautiful land of Wales,\nthere were dark-skinned people living in caves.\n\nIn these early times there were a great many fairies of all sorts, but\nof very different kinds of behavior, good and bad.\n\nIt was in this age of the world that fairies got an idea riveted into\ntheir heads which nothing, not even hammers, chisels or crowbars can\npry up. Neither horse power, nor hydraulic force nor sixteen-inch\nbombs, nor cannon balls, nor torpedoes can drive it out.\n\nIt is a settled matter of opinion in fairy land that, compared with\nfairies, human beings are very stupid. The fairies think that mortals\nare dull witted and awfully slow, when compared to the smarter and\nmore nimble fairies, that are always up to date in doing things.\n\nPerhaps the following story will help explain why this is.\n\nThese ancient folks who lived in caves, could not possibly know some\nthings that are like A B C to the fairies of to-day. For the Welsh\nfairies, King Puck and Queen Mab, know all about what is in the\ntelegraphs, submarine cables and wireless telegraphy of to-day. Puck\nwould laugh if you should say that a telephone was any new thing to\nhim. Long ago, in Shakespeare's time, he boasted that he could \"put a\ngirdle round the earth in forty minutes.\" Men have been trying ever\nsince to catch up with him, but they have not gone ahead of him yet.\n\nIf, only three hundred years ago, this were the case, what must have\nbeen Puck's fun, when he saw men in the early days, working so hard to\nmake even a clay cup or saucer. These people who slept and ate in cave\nboarding-houses, knew nothing of metals, or how to make iron or brass\ntools, wire, or machines, or how to touch a button and light up a\nwhole room, which even a baby can now do.\n\nThere is one thing that we, who have traveled in many fairy lands,\nhave often noticed and told our friends, the little folks, and that is\nthis:\n\nAll the fairies we ever knew are very slow to change either their\nopinions, or their ways, or their fashions. Like many mortals, they\nthink a great deal of their own notions. They imagine that the only\nway to do a thing is in that which they say is the right one.\n\nSo it came to pass that even when the Cymric folk gave up wearing the\nskins of animals, and put on pretty clothes woven on a loom, and ate\nout of dishes, instead of clam shells, there were still some fairies\nthat kept to the notions and fashions of the cave days. To one of\nthese, came trouble because of this failing.\n\nNow there was once a pretty nymph, who lived in the Red Lake, to which\na young and handsome farmer used to come to catch fish. One misty day,\nwhen the lad could see only a few feet before him, a wind cleared the\nair and blew away the fog. Then he saw near him a little old man,\nstanding on a ladder. He was hard at work in putting a thatched roof\non a hut which he had built.\n\nA few minutes later, as the mist rose and the breezes blew, the farmer\ncould see no house, but only the ripplings of water on the lake's\nsurface.\n\nAlthough he went fishing often, he never again saw anything unusual,\nduring the whole summer.\n\nOn one hot day in the early autumn, while he stopped to let his horse\ndrink, he looked and saw a very lovely face on the water. Wondering to\nwhom it might belong, there rose up before him the head and shoulders\nof a most beautiful woman. She was so pretty that he had two tumbles.\nHe fell off his horse and he fell in love with her at one and the same\ntime.\n\nRushing toward the lovely vision, he put out his arms at that spot\nwhere he had seen her, but only to embrace empty air. Then he\nremembered that love is blind. So he rubbed his eyes, to see if he\ncould discern anything. Yet though he peered down into the water, and\nup over the hills, he could not see her anywhere.\n\nBut he soon found out to his joy that his eyes were all right, for in\nanother place, the face, flower-crowned hair, and her reflection in\nthe water came again. Then his desire to possess the damsel was\ndoubled. But again, she disappeared, to rise again somewhere else.\n\nFive times he was thus tantalized and disappointed. She rose up, and\nquickly disappeared.\n\nIt seemed as though she meant only to tease him. So he rode home\nsorrowing, and scarcely slept that night.\n\nEarly morning, found the lovelorn youth again at the lake side, but\nfor hours he watched in vain. He had left his home too excited to have\neaten his usual breakfast, which greatly surprised his housekeeper.\nNow he pulled out some sweet apples, which a neighbor had given him,\nand began to munch them, while still keeping watch on the waters.\n\nNo sooner had the aroma of the apples fallen on the air, than the\npretty lady of the lake bobbed up from beneath the surface, and this\ntime quite near him. She seemed to have lost all fear, for she asked\nhim to throw her one of the apples.\n\n\"Please come, pretty maid, and get it yourself,\" cried the farmer.\nThen he held up the red apple, turning it round and round before her,\nto tempt her by showing its glossy surface and rich color.\n\nApparently not afraid, she came up close to him and took the apple\nfrom his left hand. At once, he slipped his strong right arm around\nher waist, and hugged her tight. At this, she screamed loudly.\n\nThen there appeared in the middle of the lake the old man, he had seen\nthatching the roof by the lake shore. This time, besides his long\nsnowy beard, he had on his head a crown of water lilies.\n\n\"Mortal,\" said the venerable person. \"That is my daughter you are\nclasping. What do you wish to do with her?\"\n\nAt once, the farmer broke out in passionate appeal to the old man that\nshe might become his wife. He promised to love her always, treat her\nwell, and never be rough or cruel to her.\n\nThe old father listened attentively. He was finally convinced that the\nfarmer would make a good husband for his lovely daughter. Yet he was\nvery sorry to lose her, and he solemnly laid one condition upon his\nfuture son-in-law.\n\nHe was never under any pretense, or in any way, to strike her with\nclay, or with anything made or baked from clay. Any blow with that\nfrom which men made pots and pans, and jars and dishes, or in fact,\nwith earth of any sort, would mean the instant loss of his wife. Even\nif children were born in their home, the mother would leave them, and\nreturn to fairy land under the lake, and be forever subject to the law\nof the fairies, as before her marriage.\n\nThe farmer was very much in love with his pretty prize, and as\npromises are easily made, he took oath that no clay should ever touch\nher.\n\nThey were married and lived very happily together. Years passed and\nthe man was still a good husband and lover. He kept up the habit which\nhe had learned from a sailor friend. Every night, when far from home\nand out on the sea, he and his mates used to drink this toast;\n\"Sweethearts and wives: may every sweetheart become a wife and every\nwife remain a sweetheart, and every husband continue a lover.\"\n\nSo he proved that though a husband he was still a lover, by always\ndoing what she asked him and more. When the children were born and\ngrew up, their father told them about their mother's likes and\ndislikes, her tastes and her wishes, and warned them always to be\ncareful. So it was altogether a very happy family.\n\nOne day, the wife and mother said to her husband, that she had a great\nlonging for apples. She would like to taste some like those which he\nlong ago gave her. At once, the good man dropped what he was doing and\nhurried off to his neighbor, who had first presented him with a\ntrayful of these apples.\n\nThe farmer not only got the fruit, but he also determined that he\nwould plant a tree and thus have apples for his wife, whenever she\nwanted them. So he bought a fine young sapling, to set in his orchard,\nfor the children to play under and to keep his pantry full of the fine\nred-cheeked fruit. At this his wife was delighted.\n\nSo happy enough--in fact, too merry to think of anything else, they,\nboth husband and wife, proceeded to set the sapling in the ground. She\nheld the tree, while he dug down to make the hole deep enough to make\nsure of its growing.\n\nBut farmers are sometimes very superstitious. They even believe in\nluck, though not in Puck. Some of them have faith in what the almanac,\nand the patent medicine may say, and in planting potatoes according to\nthe moon, but they scout the idea of there being any fairies.\n\nWith the farmer, this had become a fixed state of mind and now it\nbrought him to grief, as we shall see. For though he remembered what\nhis wife liked and disliked, and recalled what her father had told\nhim, he had forgotten that she was a fairy.\n\nWith this farmer and other Welsh mortals, it had become a habit, when\nplanting a young tree, to throw the last shovelful of earth over the\nleft shoulder. This was for good luck. The farmer was afraid to break\nsuch a good custom, as he thought it to be.\n\nSo merrily he went to work, forgetting everything in his adherence to\nhabit. He became so absorbed in his job, that he did not look where\nhis spadeful went, and it struck his dear wife full in the breast.\n\nAt that moment, she cried out bitterly, not in pain, but in sorrow.\nThen she started to run towards the lake. At the shore, she called\nout, \"Good-by, dear, dear husband.\" Then, leaping into the water, she\nwas never seen again and all his tears and those of the children never\nbrought her back.\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\n\nTHE TOUCH OF IRON\n\n\nAges ago, before the Cymry rowed in their coracles across the sea,\nthere was a race of men already in the Land of Honey, as Great Britain\nwas then called.\n\nThese ancient people, who lived in caves, did not know how to build\nhouses or to plow the ground. They had no idea that they could get\ntheir food out of the earth. As for making bread and pies, cookies and\ngoodies, from what grew from the soil, they never heard of such a\nthing. They were not acquainted with the use of fire for melting\ncopper, nor did they know how to get iron out of the ore, to make\nknives and spears, arrow heads and swords, and armor and helmets.\n\nAll they could do was to mold clay, so as to make things to cook with\nand hold milk, or water. When they baked this soft stuff in the fire,\nthey found they had pots, pans and dishes as hard as stone, though\nthese were easily broken.\n\nTo hunt the deer, or fight the wolves and bears, they fashioned clubs\nof wood. For javelins and arrows, they took hard stone like flint and\nchipped it to points and sharpened it with edges. This was the time\nwhich men now call the Stone Age. When the men went to war, their\nweapons were wholly of wood or stone.\n\nThey had not yet learned to weave the wool of the sheep into warm\nclothing, but they wore the skins of animals. Each one of the caves,\nin which they lived, was a general boarding house, for dogs and pigs,\nas well as people.\n\nWhen a young man of one tribe wanted a wife, he sallied out secretly\ninto another neighborhood. There he lay in wait for a girl to come\nalong. He then ran away with her, and back to his own daddy's cave.\n\nBy and by, when the Cymry came into the land, they had iron tools and\nbetter weapons of war. Then there were many and long battles and the\naborigines were beaten many times.\n\nSo the cave people hated everything made of iron. Anyone of the cave\npeople, girls or boys, who had picked up iron ornaments, and were\nfound wearing or using iron tools, or buying anything of iron from the\ncave people's enemies, was looked upon as a rascal, or a villain, or\neven as a traitor and was driven out of the tribe.\n\nHowever, some of the daughters of the cave men were so pretty and had\nsuch rosy cheeks, and lovely bodies, and beautiful, long hair, that\nquite often the Cymric youth fell in love with them.\n\nMany of the cave men's daughters were captured and became wives of the\nCymry and mothers of children. In course of ages, their descendants\nhelped to make the bright, witty, song-loving Welsh people.\n\nNow the fairies usually like things that are old, and they are very\nslow to alter the ancient customs, to which they have been used; for,\nin the fairy world, there is no measure of time, nor any clocks,\nwatches, or bells to strike the hours, and no almanacs or calendars.\n\nThe fairies cannot understand why ladies change the fashions so often,\nand the men their ways of doing things. They wonder why beards are\nfashionable at one time; then, moustaches long or short, at another;\nor smooth faces when razors are cheap. Most fairies like to keep on\ndoing the same thing in the old way. They enjoy being like the\nmountains, which stand; or the sea, that rolls; or the sun, that rises\nand sets every day and forever. They never get tired of repeating\nto-morrow what they did yesterday. They are very different from the\npeople that are always wanting something else, and even cry if they\ncannot have it.\n\nThat is the reason why the fairies did not like iron, or to see men\nwearing iron hats and clothes, called helmets and armor, when they\nwent to war. They no more wanted to be touched by iron than by filth,\nor foul disease. They hated knives, stirrups, scythes, swords, pots,\npans, kettles, or this metal in any form, whether sheet, barbed wire,\nlump or pig iron.\n\nNow there was a long, pretty stretch of water, near which lived a\nhandsome lad, who loved nothing better than to go out on moonlight\nnights and see the fairies dance, or listen to their music. This youth\nfell in love with one of these fairies, whose beauty was great beyond\ndescription. At last, unable to control his passion, he rushed into\nthe midst of the fairy company, seized the beautiful one, and rushed\nback to his home, with his prize in his arms. This was in true\ncave-man fashion. When the other fairies hurried to rescue her, they\nfound the man's house shut. They dared not touch the door, for it was\ncovered over with iron studs and bands, and bolted with the metal\nwhich they most abhorred.\n\nThe young man immediately began to make love to the fairy maid, hoping\nto win her to be his wife. For a long time she refused, and moped all\nday and night. While weeping many salt water tears, she declared that\nshe was too homesick to live.\n\nNevertheless the lover persevered. Finding herself locked in with iron\nbars, while gratings, bolts and creaking hinges were all about her,\nand unable to return to her people, the fairy first thought out a plan\nof possible escape. Then she agreed to become the man's wife. She\nresolved, at least, that, without touching it, she should oil all the\niron work, and stop the noise.\n\nShe was a smart fairy, and was sure she could outwit the man, even if\nhe were so strong, and had every sort of iron everywhere in order to\nkeep her as it were in a prison. So, pretending she loved him dearly,\nshe said: \"I will not be your wife, but, if you can find out my name,\nI shall gladly become your servant.\"\n\n\"Easily won,\" thought the lover to himself. Yet the game was a harder\none to play than he supposed. It was like playing Blind Man's Buff, or\nHunt the Slipper. Although he made guesses of every name he could\nthink of, he was never \"hot\" and got no nearer to the thing sought\nthan if his eyes were bandaged. All the time, he was deeper and deeper\nin love with the lovely fairy maid.\n\nBut one night, on returning home, he saw in a turf bog, a group of\nfairies sitting on a log. At once, he thought, they might be talking\nabout their lost sister. So he crept up quite near them, and soon\nfound that he had guessed right. After a long discussion, finding\nthemselves still at a loss, as to how to recover her, he heard one of\nthem sigh and say, \"Oh, Siwsi, my sister, how can you live with a\nmortal?\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said the young man to himself. \"I've got it.\" Then, crawling\naway noiselessly, he ran back all the way to his house, and unlocked\nthe door. Once inside the room, he called out his servant's\nname--\"Siwsi! Siwsi!\"\n\nAstonished at hearing her name, she cried out, \"What mortal has\nbetrayed me? For, surely no fairy would tell on me? Alas, my fate, my\nfate!\"\n\nBut in her own mind, the struggle and the fear were over. She had\nbravely striven to keep her fairyhood, and in the battle of wits, had\nlost.\n\nShe would not be wife, but what a wise, superb and faithful servant\nshe made!\n\nEverything prospered under her hand. The house and the farm became\nmodels. Not twice, but three times a day, the cows, milked by her,\nyielded milk unusually rich in cream. In the market, her butter\nexcelled, in quality and price, all others.\n\nMeanwhile, the passion of the lover abated not one jot, or for an\ninstant. His perseverance finally won. She agreed to become his wife;\nbut only on one condition.\n\n\"You must never strike me with iron,\" she said. \"If you do, I'll feel\nfree to leave you, and go back to my relatives in the fairy family.\"\n\nA hearty laugh from the happy lover greeted this remark, made by the\nlovely creature, once his servant, but now his betrothed. He thought\nthat the condition was very easy to obey.\n\nSo they were married, and no couple in all the land seemed to be\nhappier. Once, twice, the cradle was filled. It rocked with new\ntreasures that had life, and were more dear than farm, or home, or\nwealth in barns or cattle, cheese and butter. A boy and a girl were\ntheirs. Then the mother's care was unremitting, day and night.\n\nEven though the happy father grew richer every year, and bought farm\nafter farm, until he owned five thousand acres, he valued, more than\nthese possessions, his lovely wife and his beautiful children.\n\nYet this very delight and affection made him less vigilant; yes, even\nless careful concerning the promise he had once given to his fairy\nwife, who still held to the ancient ideas of the Fairy Family in\nregard to iron.\n\nOne of his finest mares had given birth to a filly, which, when the\nday of the great fair came, he determined to sell at a high price.\n\nSo with a halter on his arm, he went out to catch her.\n\nBut she was a lively creature, so frisky that it was much like his\nfirst attempt to win his fairy bride. It almost looked as if she were\na cave girl running away from a lover, who had a lasso in his hand.\nThe lively and frolicsome beast scampered here and there, grazing as\nshe stopped, as if she were determined to put off her capture as long\nas possible.\n\nSo, calling to his wife, the two of them together, tried their skill\nto catch the filly. This time, leaving the halter in the house, the\nman took bit and bridle, and the two managed to get the pretty\ncreature into a corner; but, when they had almost captured her, away\nshe dashed again.\n\nBy this time, the man was so vexed that he lost his temper; and he who\ndoes that, usually loses the game, while he who controls the wrath\nwithin, wins. Mad as a flaming fire, he lost his brains also and threw\nbit and bridle and the whole harness after the fleet animal.\n\nAlas! alas! the wife had started to run after the filly and the iron\nbit struck her on the cheek. It did not hurt, but he had broken his\nvow.\n\nNow came the surprise of his life. It was as if, at one moment, a\nflash of lightning had made all things bright; and then in another\nsecond was inky darkness. He saw this lovely wife, one moment active\nand fleet as a deer. In another, in the twinkling of an eye, nothing\nwas there. She had vanished. After this, there was a lonely home,\nempty of its light and cheer.\n\nBut by living with human beings, a new idea and form of life had\ntransformed this fairy, and a new spell was laid on her. Mother-love\nhad been awakened in her heart. Henceforth, though the law of the\nfairy world would not allow her to touch again the realm of earth,\nshe, having once been wife and parent, could not forget the babies\nborn of her body. So, making a sod raft, a floating island, she came\nup at night, and often, while these three mortals lived, this fairy\nmother would spend hours tenderly talking to her husband and her two\nchildren, who were now big boy and girl, as they stood on the lake\nshore.\n\nOn his part, the father did not think it \"an ideal arrangement,\" as\nsome modern married folks do, to be thus separated, wife and husband,\none from the other; but by her coming as near as could be allowed, she\nshowed her undying love. Even to-day, good people sometimes see a\nlittle island floating on the lake, and this, they point out as the\nplace where the fairy mother was wont to come and hold converse with\nher dear ones. When they merrily eat the pink delicacy, called\n\"floating island,\" moving it about with a spoon on its yellow lake of\neggs and cream, they call this \"the Fairy Mother's rocking chair.\"\n\n\n\n\nX\n\n\nTHE MAIDEN OF THE GREEN FOREST\n\n\nMany a palace lies under the waves that wash Cymric land, for the sea\nhas swallowed up more than one village, and even cities.\n\nWhen Welsh fairies yield to their mortal lovers and consent to become\ntheir wives, it is always on some condition or promise. Sometimes\nthere are several of these, which the fairy ladies compel their mortal\nlovers to pledge them, before they agree to become wives. In fact, the\nfairies in Cymric land are among the most exacting of any known.\n\nA prince named Benlli, of the Powys region, found this out to his\ngrief, for he had always supposed that wives could be had simply for\nthe asking. All that a man need say, to the girl to whom he took a\nfancy, was this: \"Come along with me, and be my bride,\" and then she\nwould say, \"Thank you, I'll come,\" and the two would trot off\ntogether. This was the man's notion.\n\nNow Benlli was a wicked old fellow. He was already married, but\nwrinkles had gathered on his wife's face. She had a faded, washed-out\nlook, and her hair was thinning out. She would never be young again,\nand he was tired of her, and wanted a mate with fresh rosy cheeks, and\nlong, thick hair. He was quite ready to fall in love with such a\nmaiden, whenever his eyes should light upon her.\n\nOne day, he went out hunting in the Green Forest. While waiting for a\nwild boar to rush out, there rode past him a young woman whose beauty\nwas dazzling. He instantly fell in love with her.\n\nThe next day, while on horseback, at the same opening in the forest,\nthe same maiden reappeared; but it was only for a moment, and then she\nvanished.\n\nAgain, on the third day, the prince rode out to the appointed place,\nand again the vision of beauty was there. He rode up to her and begged\nher to come and live with him at his palace.\n\n\"I will come and be your wedded wife on three conditions: You must put\naway the wife you now have; you must permit me to leave you, one night\nin every seven, without following after or spying upon me; and you\nmust not ask me where I go or what I do. Swear to me that you will do\nthese three things. Then, if you keep your promises unbroken, my\nbeauty shall never change, no, not until the tall vegetable flag-reeds\nwave and the long green rushes grow in your hall.\"\n\nThe Prince of Powys was quite ready to swear this oath and he solemnly\npromised to observe the three conditions. So the Maid of the Green\nForest went to live with him.\n\n\"But what of his old wife?\" one asks.\n\nAh! he had no trouble from that quarter, for when the newly-wedded\ncouple arrived at the castle, she had already disappeared.\n\nHappy, indeed, were the long bright days, which the prince and his new\nbride spent together, whether in the castle, or out doors, riding on\nhorseback, or in hunting the deer. Every day, her beauty seemed\ndiviner, and she more lovely. He lavished various gifts upon her,\namong others that of a diadem of beryl and sapphire. Then he put on\nher finger a diamond ring worth what was a very great sum--a king's\nransom. In the Middle Ages, monarchs as well as nobles were taken\nprisoners in battle and large amounts of money had to be paid to get\nthem back again. So a king's ransom is what Benlli paid for his wife's\ndiamond ring. He loved her so dearly that he never suspected for a\nmoment that he would ever have any trouble in keeping his three\npromises.\n\nBut without variety, life has no spice, and monotony wearies the soul.\nAfter nine years had passed, and his wife absented herself every\nFriday night, he began to wonder why it could be. His curiosity, to\nknow the reason for her going away, so increased that it so wore on\nhim that he became both miserable in himself and irritable toward\nothers. Everybody in the castle noticed the change in their master,\nand grieved over it.\n\nOne night, he invited a learned monk from the white monastery, not far\naway, to come and take dinner with him. The table in the great\nbanqueting hall was spread with the most delicious viands, the lights\nwere magnificent, and the music gay.\n\nBut Wyland, the monk, was a man of magic and could see through things.\nHe noticed that some secret grief was preying upon the Prince's mind.\nHe discerned that, amidst all this splendor, he, Benlli, the lord of\nthe castle, was the most miserable person within its walls. So Wyland\nwent home, resolved to call again and find out what was the trouble.\n\nWhen they met, some days later, Wyland's greeting was this:\n\n\"Christ save thee, Benlli! What secret sorrow clouds thy brow? Why so\ngloomy?\"\n\nBenlli at once burst out with the story of how he met the Maid of the\nGreen Forest, and how she became his wife on three conditions.\n\n\"Think of it,\" said Benlli, groaning aloud. \"When the owls cry and the\ncrickets chirp, my wife leaves my bed, and until the daystar appears,\nI lie alone, torn with curiosity, to know where she is, and what she\nis doing. I fall again into heavy sleep, and do not awake until\nsunrise, when I find her by my side again. It is all such a mystery,\nthat the secret lies heavy on my soul. Despite all my wealth, and my\nstrong castle, with feasting and music by night and hunting by day, I\nam the most miserable man in Cymric land. No beggar is more wretched\nthan I.\"\n\nWyland, the monk, listened and his eyes glittered. There came into his\nhead the idea of enriching the monastery. He saw his chance, and\nimproved it at once. He could make money by solving the secret for a\ntroubled soul.\n\n\"Prince Benlli,\" said he, \"if you will bestow upon the monks of the\nWhite Minster, one tenth of all the flocks that feed within your\ndomain, and one tenth of all that flows into the vaults of your\npalace, and hand over the Maiden of the Green Forest to me, I shall\nwarrant that your soul will be at peace and your troubles end.\"\n\nTo all this, Prince Benlli agreed, making solemn promise. Then the\nmonk Wyland took his book, leather bound, and kept shut by means of\nmetal clasps, and hid himself in the cranny of a rock near the Giant's\nCave, from which there was entrance down into Fairyland.\n\nHe had not long to wait, for soon, with a crown on her head, a lady,\nroyally arrayed, passed by out of the silvery moonlight into the dark\ncave. It was none other than the Maiden of the Green Forest.\n\nNow came a battle of magic and spells, as between the monk's own and\nthose of the Green Forest Maiden. He moved forward to the mouth of the\ncave. Then summoning into his presence the spirits of the air and the\ncave, he informed them as to Benlli's vow to enrich the monastery, and\nto deliver the Green Forest Maiden to himself. Then, calling aloud, he\nsaid:\n\n\"Let her forever be, as she now appears, and never leave my side.\"\n\n\"Bring her, before the break of day, to the cross near the town of the\nWhite Minster, and there will I wed her, and swear to make her my\nown.\"\n\nThen, by the power of his magic, he made it impossible for any person\nor power to recall or hinder the operation of these words. Leaving the\ncave's mouth, in order to be at the cross, before day should dawn, the\nfirst thing he met was a hideous ogress, grinning and rolling her\nbleared red eyes at him. On her head seemed what was more like moss,\nthan hair. She stretched out a long bony finger at him. On it, flashed\nthe splendid diamond, which Benlli had given his bride, the beautiful\nMaid of the Green Forest.\n\n\"Take me to thy bosom, monk Wyland,\" she shrieked, laughing hideously\nand showing what looked like green snags in her mouth. \"For I am the\nwife you are sworn to wed. Thirty years ago, I was Benlli's blooming\nbride. When my beauty left me, his love flew out of the window. Now I\nam a foul ogress, but magic makes me young again every seventh night.\nI promised that my beauty should last until the tall flag reeds and\nthe long green rushes grow in his hall.\"\n\nAmazed at her story, Wyland drew in his breath.\n\n\"And this promise, I have kept. It is already fulfilled. Your spell\nand mine are both completed. Yours brought to him the peace of the\ndead. Mine made the river floods rush in. Now, waters lap to and fro\namong the reeds and rushes that grow in the banqueting hall, which is\nnow sunk deep below the earth. With the clash of our spells, no charm\ncan redress our fate.\n\n\"Come then and take me as thy bride, for oath and spell have both\ndecreed it as thy reward. As Benlli's promise to you is fulfilled, for\nthe waters flow in the palace vaults, the pike and the dare (fish)\nfeed there.\"\n\nSo, caught in his own dark, sordid plot, the monk, who played\nconjurer, had become the victim of his own craft.\n\nThey say that Wyland's Cross still recalls the monk, while fishermen\non the Welsh border, can, on nights with smooth water, see towers and\nchimneys far below, sunk deep beneath the waves.\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\n\nTHE TREASURE STONE OF THE FAIRIES\n\n\nThe Gruffyds were one of the largest of the Welsh tribes. To-day, it\nis said that in Britain one man in every forty has this, as either his\nfirst, middle, or last name. It means \"hero\" or \"brave man,\" and as\nfar back as the ninth century, the word is found in the Book of Saint\nChad.\n\nThe monks, who derived nearly every name from the Latin, insisted the\nword meant Great Faith.\n\nAnother of the most common of Welsh personal names was William; which,\nwhen that of a father's son, was written Williams and was only the\nLatin for Gild Helm, or Golden Helmet.\n\nLong ago, when London was a village and Cardiff only a hamlet, there\nwas a boy of this name, who tended sheep on the hill sides. His father\nwas a hard working farmer, who every year tried to coax to grow out of\nthe stony ground some oats, barley, leeks and cabbage. In summer, he\nworked hard, from the first croak of the raven to the last hoot of the\nowl, to provide food for his wife and baby daughter. When his boy was\nborn, he took him to the church to be christened Gruffyd, but every\nbody called him \"Gruff.\" In time several little sisters came to keep\nthe boy company.\n\nHis mother always kept her cottage, which was painted pink, very neat\nand pretty, with vines covering the outside, while flowers bloomed\nindoors. These were set in pots and on shelves near the latticed\nwindows. They seemed to grow finely, because so good a woman loved\nthem. The copper door-sill was kept bright, and the broad borders on\nthe clay floor, along the walls, were always fresh with whitewash. The\npewter dishes on the sideboard shone as if they were moons, and the\nchina cats on the mantle piece, in silvery luster, reflected both sun\nand candle light. Daddy often declared he could use these polished\nmetal plates for a mirror, when he shaved his face. Puss, the pet, was\nalways happy purring away on the hearth, as the kettle boiled to make\nthe flummery, of sour oat jelly, which, daddy loved so well.\n\nMother Gruffyd was always so neat, with her black and white striped\napron, her high peaked hat, with its scalloped lace and quilled\nfastening around her chin, her little short shawl, with its pointed,\nlong tips, tied in a bow, and her bright red plaid petticoat folded\nback from her frock. Her snowy-white, rolling collar and neck cloth\nknotted at the top, and fringed at the ends, added fine touches to her\npicturesque costume.\n\nIn fact, young Gruffyd was proud of his mother and he loved her\ndearly. He thought no woman could be quite as sweet as she was.\n\nOnce, at the end of the day, on coming back home, from the hills, the\nboy met some lovely children. They were dressed in very fine clothes,\nand had elegant manners. They came up, smiled, and invited him to play\nwith them. He joined in their sports, and was too much interested to\ntake note of time. He kept on playing with them until it was pitch\ndark.\n\nAmong other games, which he enjoyed, had been that of \"The King in his\ncounting house, counting out his money,\" and \"The Queen in her\nkitchen, eating bread and honey,\" and \"The Girl hanging out the\nclothes,\" and \"The Saucy Blackbird that snipped off her nose.\" In\nplaying these, the children had aprons full of what seemed to be real\ncoins, the size of crowns, or five-shilling pieces, each worth a\ndollar. These had \"head and tail,\" beside letters on them and the boy\nsupposed they were real.\n\nBut when he showed these to his mother, she saw at once from their\nlightness, and because they were so easily bent, that they were only\npaper, and not silver.\n\nShe asked her boy where he had got them. He told her what a nice time\nhe had enjoyed. Then she knew that these, his playmates, were fairy\nchildren. Fearing that some evil might come of this, she charged him,\nher only son, never to go out again alone, on the mountain. She\nmistrusted that no good would come of making such strange children his\ncompanions.\n\nBut the lad was so fond of play, that one day, tired of seeing nothing\nbut byre and garden, while his sisters liked to play girls' games more\nthan those which boys cared most for, and the hills seeming to beckon\nhim to come to them, he disobeyed, and slipped out and off to the\nmountains. He was soon missed and search was made for him.\n\nYet nobody had seen or heard of him. Though inquiries were made on\nevery road, in every village, and at all the fairs and markets in the\nneighborhood, two whole years passed by, without a trace of the boy.\n\nBut early one morning of the twenty-fifth month, before breakfast, his\nmother, on opening the door, found him sitting on the steps, with a\nbundle under his arm, but dressed in the same clothes, and not looking\na day older or in any way different, from the very hour he\ndisappeared.\n\n\"Why my dear boy, where have you been, all these months, which have\nnow run into the third year--so long a time that they have seemed to\nme like ages?\"\n\n\"Why, mother dear, how strange you talk. I left here yesterday, to go\nout and to play with the children, on the hills, and we have had a\nlovely time. See what pretty clothes they have given me for a\npresent.\" Then he opened his bundle.\n\nBut when she tore open the package, the mother was all the more sure\nthat she was right, and that her fears had been justified. In it she\nfound only a dress of white paper. Examining it carefully, she could\nsee neither seam nor stitches. She threw it in the fire, and again\nwarned her son against fairy children.\n\nBut pretty soon, after a great calamity had come upon them, both\nfather and mother changed their minds about fairies.\n\nThey had put all their savings into the venture of a ship, which had\nfor a long time made trading voyages from Cardiff. Every year, it came\nback bringing great profit to the owners and shareholders. In this\nway, daddy was able to eke out his income, and keep himself, his wife\nand daughters comfortably clothed, while all the time the table was\nwell supplied with good food. Nor did they ever turn from their door\nanyone who asked for bread and cheese.\n\nBut in the same month of the boy's return, bad news came that the good\nship had gone down in a storm. All on board had perished, and the\ncargo was totally lost, in the deep sea, far from land. In fact, no\nword except that of dire disaster had come to hand.\n\nNow it was a tradition, as old as the days of King Arthur, that on a\ncertain hill a great boulder could be seen, which was quite different\nfrom any other kind of rock to be found within miles. It was partly\nimbedded in the earth, and beneath it, lay a great, yes, an untold\ntreasure. The grass grew luxuriantly around this stone, and the sheep\nloved to rest at noon in its shadow. Many men had tried to lift, or\npry it up, but in vain. The tradition, unaltered and unbroken for\ncenturies, was to the effect, that none but a very good man could ever\nbudge this stone. Any and all unworthy men might dig, or pull, or pry,\nuntil doomsday, but in vain. Till the right one came, the treasure was\nas safe as if in heaven.\n\nBut the boy's father and mother were now very poor and his sisters now\ngrown up wanted pretty clothes so badly, that the lad hoped that he or\nhis father might be the deserving one. He would help him to win the\ntreasure for he felt sure that his parent would share his gains with\nall his friends.\n\nThough his neighbors were not told of the generous intentions credited\nto the boy's father, by his loving son, they all came with horses,\nropes, crowbars, and tackle, to help in the enterprise. Yet after many\na long days' toil, between the sun's rising and setting, their end was\nfailure. Every day, when darkness came on, the stone lay there still,\nas hard and fast as ever. So they gave up the task.\n\nOn the final night, the lad saw that father and mother, who were great\nlovers, were holding each other's hands, while their tears flowed\ntogether, and they were praying for patience.\n\nSeeing this, before he fell asleep, the boy resolved that on the\nmorrow, he would go up to the mountains, and talk to his fairy friends\nabout the matter.\n\nSo early in the morning, he hurried to the hill tops, and going into\none of the caves, met the fairies and told them his troubles. Then he\nasked them to give him again some of their money.\n\n\"Not this time, but something better. Under the great rock there are\ntreasures waiting for you.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't send me there! For all the men and horses of our parish,\nafter working a week, have been unable to budge the stone.\"\n\n\"We know that,\" answered the principal fairy, \"but do you yourself try\nto move it. Then you will see what is certain to happen.\"\n\nGoing home, to tell what he had heard, his parents had a hearty laugh\nat the idea of a boy succeeding where men, with the united strength of\nmany horses and oxen, had failed.\n\nYet, after brooding awhile, they were so dejected, that anything\nseemed reasonable. So they said, \"Go ahead and try it.\"\n\nReturning to the mountain, the fairies, in a band, went with him to\nthe great rock.\n\nOne touch of his hand, and the mighty boulder trembled, like an aspen\nleaf in the breeze.\n\nA shove, and the rock rolled down from the hill and crashed in the\nvalley below.\n\nThere, underneath, were little heaps of gold and silver, which the boy\ncarried home to his parents, who became the richest people in the\ncountry round about.\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\n\nGIANT TOM AND GIANT BLUBB\n\n\nEveryone who has read anything of Welsh history--though not of the\nsort that is written by English folks--knows also that Cornwall is, in\nsoul, a part of Wales. Before the Romans, first, and the Saxons, next,\ninvaded Britain, the Cymric people lived all over the island, south of\nScotland.\n\nThey were the British people, and nobody ever heard the German name,\n\"Wales,\" which means a foreign land; or the word \"Welsh,\" which refers\nto foreigners, until men who were themselves outsiders came into\nBritain.\n\nSince that time, it has been much the same, as when a British Jack\nTar, when rambling in Portugal, or China, calls the natives\n\"foreigners,\" and tells them to \"get out of the way.\"\n\nAges ago, when the Cymric men, with their wives and little ones rowed\nover in their coracles, from Gallia, or the Summer Land, to Britain,\nthe Honey Land, they came first to the promontory which we know as\nCornwall; that is, the Cornu Galliae, or Walliae, which means Horn or\nCape of the new country now called England. Here was a new region,\nrich in every kind of minerals. Ages before, the Phoenicians had named\nit Britain or the Land of Tin. Within the memory of men now living,\nCornishmen, that is, the miners of Cornwall, on going to California,\ndiscovered gold.\n\nIn Cornwall, as part of the Cymric realm, King Arthur found and\nmarried Guinevere, his queen. It was in Cornwall, also, that Merlin\nwas hidden. Hear the rhyme:\n\n  Marvelous Merlin is wasted away\n  By a wicked woman, who may she be?\n  For she hath pent him in a crag\n    On Cornwall coast.\n\nSo it happens that thousands of \"English\" people in Cornwall are\nWelsh, by both name or descent, or have translated their names into\nEnglish form, even while keeping the Welsh meaning. They are also\nWelsh in traits of character. Just as tens of thousands of Welsh\nfolks, among the first settlers of New England and the American\ncolonies are described in our histories as \"English\" people.\n\nNow in early Cornwall there were many giants. Some were good but\nothers were bad. One of these, a right fine fellow, was named Tom, and\nthe other, a bad one, Blubb. This giant had had twenty wives, and was\nawfully cruel. Nobody ever knew what became of the twenty maidens he\nhad married.\n\nSometimes people called the big fellow, that lived in a castle, Giant\nBlunderbuss, but Blubb was his name for short. He was much taller than\nthe highest hop pole in Kent. He was made up mostly of head and\nstomach, for his chief idea in living was to eat. His skull was as big\nas a hogshead, or a push-ball, or a market wagon loaded with carrots.\nIndeed, it was strongly suspected by most people that the big bone box\nset on his shoulders was as hollow inside as a pumpkin, but that a\ncocoanut would hold all the brains he had. At any rate, during one of\nhis fights with another giant, he had been given an awful thwack from\nthe other giant's club. Then the sound made, which was heard a long\ndistance away, was exactly like that when one pounds on an empty\nbarrel.\n\nNow this Giant Blubb had built a mighty castle between a big hill and\na river. Under it were vaults of vast size, filled with treasures of\nall sorts, gold, silver, jewels and gems. There were cells, in which\nhe kept his wives, after he had married them. It was the opinion of\nhis neighbors, that in every case, soon after the honeymoon was over,\nhe ate them up.\n\nYet, if even the devil ought to have his due; one should be fair to\nthis human monster, and we are bound to say that Giant Blubb denied\nthese stories as pure gossip. It is certain that such crimes as murder\nand cannibalism never could be proved against him.\n\nTo guard his underground treasures, he had two huge and fierce dogs,\nsupposed to be named Catchem and Tearem. What they were really called\nby their master was a secret. Yet anyone who had a piece of meat ready\nto throw to them, and knew their names, which were pass words, could\nfirst quiet them. Then he could walk by them and get the treasure.\n\nBesides these dogs, the only living thing left in the castle when the\ngiant went out, was the latest Mrs. Blubb. Yet she was in constant\nfear of her life, lest her big husband should sometime make a meal of\nher. For even she had heard the story that Blubb was a cannibal and\nlooked at all plump women simply as delicacies, exactly as a boy peers\ninto the window of a candy shop.\n\nWhat made all the country round hate this cruel giant was not wholly\non account of his awful appetite. It was because he had ruined the\nKing's High Road. Ever since the time of King Lud, whose name we read\nin Ludgate Hill, in London, where His Cymric Majesty had lived, this\nhighway had been free to all. It ran all the way through Cornwall,\nfrom Penzance, and thence eastward to London and beyond.\n\nWhen Giant Blubb wished to enlarge his castle, he had the walls and\ntowers built down to the river's edge. This closed up the big road, so\nthat people had to go far around and up over the hill, or by boat\nalong the river. Such a roundabout way took much time and toil, and\nwas too much trouble for all.\n\nEverybody had to submit to this extortion, until there came along\nGiant Tom, of whom we shall now tell. His real name was Rolling Stone,\nfor he never stuck long in one place at a job, and cared not a\ncucumber for money, or fine clothes.\n\nThis jolly fellow was very good-natured and popular, but often very\nlazy. His mother talked with him many times, urging him to learn a\ntrade, or in some way make an honest living. She found it very hard to\nkeep anything in her larder, barn, pantry, or cellar, when he was at\nhome. He measured four feet across his shoulders and at every meal he\nate what would feed three big men. But as he could do six men's work,\nwhen he had a mind to--as often he did--he was always welcome. In\nfact, he was too popular for his own good.\n\nOne day, when ten common fellows were trying their utmost to lift a\nbig long log on a cart, and were unable to do it, Tom came along and\ntold them to stand back. Then he hoisted the tree on to the wain,\nroped it into place, and told the cartman to drive on. Then they all\ncheered him, and one of them lifted his Monmouth cap and cried out,\n\"Hurrah for Giant Tom. He's the fellow to whip Giant Blubb.\"\n\n\"He is! He is!\" they all cried in chorus.\n\n\"Who is this Giant Blubb? Where does he live?\" asked Tom, rolling up\nhis sleeves, for he was just spoiling for a row with a fellow of his\nsize.\n\nThen they told the story of how the big bully had ruined the King's\nHighway, by building a great wall and tower across the road, to shut\nit up, to the grief of many honest men.\n\n\"Never mind, boys. I'll attend to his bacon,\" said Tom. \"Leave the\nmatter with me, and don't bother to tell the King about it.\"\n\nTom went the next day into town and hired himself out to a beer brewer\nto drive the wagon. Perhaps he hoped, also, while in this occupation,\nto keep down his thirst.\n\nHe asked the boss to give him the route that led past Giant Blubb's\ncastle, over the old King's Highway.\n\nThe master of the brewery saw through Tom's purpose. He winked, and\nonly said:\n\n\"Go ahead, my boy. I'll pay you double wages, if you will open that\nroad again; but see that Giant Blubb does not get my load of kegs, or\nthat your carcass doesn't count with those of the twenty wives in his\nvaults and make twenty-one.\"\n\nAgain he winked his eye knowingly to his workmen. Tom drove off. He\noccupied all the room on the seat of the cart, which two men usually\nfilled and left plenty of room on either side.\n\nCracking his whip, the new driver kept the four horses on a galloping\npace, until very soon he called out \"whoa,\" before the frowning high\ngateway of Giant Blubb.\n\nTom shouted from the depth of his lungs:\n\n\"Open the gate and let me drive through. This is the King's Highway.\"\n\nThe only reply, for a minute, was the barking of the curs. Then a\nrattling of bolts was heard, and the great gates swung wide open.\n\n\"Who are you, you impudent fellow? Go round over the hill, or I'll\nthrash you,\" blustered Giant Blubb, in a rage.\n\n\"Better save your breath to cool your porridge, you big boaster, and\ncome out and fight,\" said Tom.\n\n\"Fight? You pigmy. I'll just get a switch and whip you, as I would a\nbad boy.\"\n\nThereupon Giant Blubb stepped aside into the grove nearby, keeping all\nthe while an eye on his gate, guarded by his two monstrous dogs. He\nselected an elm tree twenty feet high, tore it up by the roots, pulled\noff the branches, and peeled it for a whip. This he jerked up and down\nto make ready for his task of thrashing \"the pigmy.\"\n\nMeanwhile Giant Tom upset the wain, drew out the tongue and took off\none of the wheels. Then, as if armed with spear and shield, he\nadvanced to meet Giant Blubb. He whistled like a boy, as he went\nforward.\n\nIn a passion of rage, Giant Blubb lifted his elm switch to strike, but\nTom warded off the blow with his wheel shield. Then he punched him in\nthe stomach, with the wagon tongue, so hard that the big fellow\nslipped and rolled over in the mud:\n\nPicking himself up, Giant Blubb, now half blind with rage, rushed\nagainst Tom, who, this time, made a lunge which planted the cart\ntongue inside Blubb's bowels, and knocked him over.\n\nBut Tom was not a cruel fellow, and had no desire to kill anyone. So\nhe threw down his war tools, and tearing up a yard or two of grassy\nsod rolled it together, and made a plug of it, as big around as a milk\nchurn. With this, he stopped up the big hole in Giant Blubb's huge\nbody.\n\nBut instead of thanking Tom, Giant Blubb rushed at him again. He was\nin too much of a rage to see anything clearly, while Tom, perfectly\ncool, gave the angry monster such a kick, in the place where he kept\nhis dinner, that he rolled over, and Tom gave him another kick. Then\nthe plug of sod fell out of his wound.\n\nAs he was bleeding to death, Giant Blubb beckoned to Tom to come up\nclose, for he could only whisper.\n\n\"You've beaten me on the square, and I like you. Don't think I killed\nmy twenty wives. They all died naturally. But call the dogs by name,\nand they will let you pass. Then, in my vaults, you'll find gold,\nsilver, and copper. Make these your own and bury me decently. This is\nall I ask.\"\n\nTom made himself owner of the castle and all its treasures. He opened\nthe King's Highway again. He took care of his aged mother, married the\ntwenty-first wife of Giant Blubb, now a widow, and was always kind to\nthe sick and poor.\n\nTo-day in Cornwall, they still tell stories of the big fellow who\nabolished Giant Blubb's toll gate.\n\nCenturies afterward, when Christ's gospel came into the land, they\nrestored Giant Tom's tomb and on it were chiseled these words:\n\nTHE RESTORER OF PATHS TO DWELL IN.\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\n\nA BOY THAT VISITED FAIRYLAND\n\n\nMany are the places in Wales where the ground is lumpy and humpy with\ntumuli, or little artificial mounds. Among these the sheep graze, the\ndonkeys bray, and the cows chew the cud.\n\nHere the ground is strewn with the ruins of cromlechs, or Cymric\nstrongholds, of old Roman camps, of chapels and monasteries, showing\nthat many different races of men have come and gone, while the birds\nstill fly and the flowers bloom.\n\nCenturies ago, the good monks of St. David had a school where lads\nwere taught Latin and good manners. One of their pupils was a boy\nnamed Elidyr. He was such a poor scholar and he so hated books and\nloved play, that in his case spankings and whippings were almost of\ndaily occurrence. Still he made no improvement. He was in the habit\nalso of playing truant, or what one of the monks called \"traveling to\nBagdad.\" One of the consequences was that certain soft parts of his\nbody--apparently provided by nature for this express purpose--often\nreceived a warming from his daddy.\n\nHis mother loved her boy dearly, and she often gently chided him, but\nhe would not listen to her, and when she urged him to be more\ndiligent, he ran out of the room. The monks did not spare the birch\nrod, and soon it was a case of a whipping for every lesson not\nlearned.\n\nOne day, though he was only twelve years old, the boy started on a\nlong run into the country. The further he got, the happier he felt--at\nleast for one day.\n\nAt night, tired out, he crept into a cave. When he woke up, in the\nmorning, he thought it was glorious to be as free as the wild asses.\nSo like them, he quenched his thirst at the brook. But when, towards\nnoon, he could find nothing to eat, and his inside cavity seemed to\nenlarge with very emptiness, his hunger grew every minute. Then he\nthought that a bit of oat cake, a leek, or a bowl of oat meal, whether\nporridge or flummery, might suit a king.\n\nHe dared not go out far and pick berries, for, by this time, he saw\nthat people were out searching for him. He did not feel yet, like\ngoing back to books, rods and scoldings, but the day seemed as long as\na week. Meanwhile, he discovered that he had a stomach, which seemed\nto grow more and more into an aching void. He was glad when the sunset\nand darkness came. His bed was no softer in the cave, as he lay down\nwith a stone for his pillow. Yet he had no dreams like those of Jacob\nand the angels.\n\nWhen daylight came, the question in his mind was still, whether to\nstay and starve, or to go home and get two thrashings--one from his\ndaddy, and another from the monks. But how about that thing inside of\nhim, which seemed to be a live creature gnawing away, and which only\nsomething to eat would quiet? Finally, he came to a stern resolve. He\nstarted out, ready to face two whippings, rather than one death by\nstarvation.\n\nBut he did not have to go home yet, for at the cave's mouth, he met\ntwo elves, who delivered a most welcome message.\n\n\"Come with us to a land full of fun, play, and good things to eat.\"\n\nAll at once, his hunger left him and he forgot that he ever wanted to\nswallow anything. All fear, or desire to go home, or to risk either\nschooling or a thrashing, passed away also.\n\nInto a dark passage all three went, but they soon came out into a\nbeautiful country. How the birds sang and the flowers bloomed! All\naround could be heard the joyful shouts of little folks at play. Never\ndid things look so lovely.\n\n[Illustration: THE KING SPOKE KINDLY TO ELIDYR, ASKING HIM WHO HE WAS]\n\nSoon, in front of the broad path along which they were traveling,\nthere rose up before him a glorious palace. It had a splendid gateway,\nand the silver-topped towers seemed to touch the blue sky.\n\n\"What building is this?\" asked the lad of his two guides.\n\nThey made answer that it was the palace of the King of Fairyland. Then\nthey led him into the throne room, where, sat in golden splendor, a\nking, of august figure and of majestic presence, who was clad in\nresplendent robes. He was surrounded by courtiers in rich apparel, and\nall about him was magnificence, such as this boy, Elidyr, had never\neven read about or dreamed.\n\nYet everything was so small that it looked like Toy Land, and he felt\nlike a giant among them, even though many of the little men around him\nwere old enough to have whiskers on their cheeks and beards on their\nchins.\n\nThe King spoke kindly to Elidyr, asking him who he was, and whence he\nhad come.\n\nWhile talking thus, the Prince, the King's only son appeared. He was\ndressed in white velvet and gold, and had a long feather in his cap.\nIn the pleasantest way, he took Elidyr's hand and said:\n\n\"Glad to see you. Come and let us play together.\"\n\nThat was just what Elidyr liked to hear. The King smiled and said to\nhis visitor, \"You will attend my son?\" Then, with a wave of his hand,\nhe signified to the boys to run out and play games.\n\nA right merry time they did have, for there were many other little\nfellows for playmates.\n\nThese wee folks, with whom Elidyr played, were hardly as big as our\nbabies, and certainly would not reach up to his mother's knee. To\nthem, he looked like a giant, and he richly enjoyed the fun of having\nsuch little men, but with beards growing on their faces, look up to\nhim.\n\nThey played with golden balls, and rode little horses, with silver\nsaddles and bridles, but these pretty animals were no larger than\nsmall dogs, or grayhounds.\n\nNo meat was ever seen on the table, but always plenty of milk. They\nnever told a lie, nor used bad language, or swear-words. They often\ntalked about mortal men, but usually to despise them; because what\nthey liked to do, seemed so absurd and they always wanted foolish and\nuseless things. To the elves, human beings were never satisfied, or\nlong happy, even when they got what they wanted.\n\nEverything in this part of fairyland was lovely, but it was always\ncloudy. No sun, star or moon was ever seen, yet the little men did not\nseem to mind it and enjoyed themselves every day. There was no end of\nplay, and that suited Elidyr.\n\nYet by and by, he got tired even of games and play, and grew very\nhomesick. He wanted to see his mother. So he asked the King to let him\nvisit his old home. He promised solemnly to come back, after a few\nhours. His Majesty gave his permission, but charged him not to take\nwith him anything whatever from fairyland, and to go with only the\nclothes on his back.\n\nThe same two elves or dwarfs, who had brought him into fairyland, were\nchosen to conduct him back. When they had led him again through the\nunderground passage into the sunlight, they made him invisible until\nhe arrived at his mother's cottage. She was overjoyed to find that no\nwolf had torn him to pieces, or wild bull had pushed him over a\nprecipice.\n\nShe asked him many questions, and he told her all he had seen, felt,\nor known.\n\nWhen he rose up to go, she begged him to stay longer, but he said he\nmust keep his word. Besides, he feared the rod of the monks, or his\ndaddy, if he remained. So he made his mother agree not to tell\nanything--not even to his father, as to where he was, or what he was\ndoing. Then he made off and reported again to his playmates in\nfairyland.\n\nThe King was so pleased at the lad's promptness in returning, and\nkeeping his word, and telling the truth, that he allowed him to go see\nhis mother as often as he wanted to do so. He even gave orders\nreleasing the two little men from constantly guarding him and told\nthem to let the lad go alone, and when he would, for he always kept\nhis word.\n\nMany times did Elidyr visit his mother. By one road, or another, he\nmade his way, keeping himself invisible all the time, until he got\ninside her cottage. He ran off, when anyone called in to pay a visit,\nor when he thought his daddy, or one of the monks was coming. He never\nsaw any of these men.\n\nOne day, in telling his mother of the fun and good times he had in\nfairyland, he spoke of the heavy yellow balls, with which he and the\nKing's sons played, and how these rolled around.\n\nBefore leaving home, this boy had never seen any gold, and did not\nknow what it was, but his mother guessed that it was the precious\nmetal, of which the coins called sovereigns, and worth five dollars\napiece, were made. So she begged him to bring one of them back to her.\n\nThis, Elidyr thought, would not be right; but after much argument, his\nparents being poor, and she telling him that, out of hundreds in the\nKing's palace, one single ball would not be missed, he decided to\nplease her.\n\nSo one day, when he supposed no one was looking, he picked up one of\nthe yellow balls and started off through the narrow dark passageway\nhomeward.\n\nBut no sooner was he back on the earth, and in the sunlight again,\nthan he heard footsteps behind him. Then he knew that he had been\ndiscovered.\n\nHe glanced over his shoulder and there were the two little men, who\nhad led him first and had formerly been his guards. They scowled at\nhim as if they were mad enough to bite off the heads of tenpenny\nnails. Then they rushed after him, and there began a race to the\ncottage.\n\nBut the boy had legs twice as long as the little men, and got to the\ncottage door first. He now thought himself safe, but pushing open the\ndoor, he stumbled over the copper threshold, and the ball rolled out\nof his hand, across the floor of hardened clay, even to the nearly\nwhite-washed border, which ran about the edges of the room. It stopped\nat the feet of his mother, whose eyes opened wide at the sight of the\nball of shining gold.\n\nAs he lay sprawling on the floor, and before he could pick himself up,\none of the little men leaped over him, rushed into the room, and, from\nunder his mother's petticoats, picked up the ball.\n\nThey spat at the boy and shouted, \"traitor,\" \"rascal,\" \"thief,\" \"false\nmortal,\" \"fox,\" \"rat,\" \"wolf,\" and other bad names. Then they turned\nand sped away.\n\nNow Elidyr, though he had been a mischievous boy, often willful, lazy,\nand never liking his books, had always loved the truth. He was very\nsad and miserable, beyond the telling, because he had broken his word\nof honor. So, almost mad with grief and shame, and from an accusing\nconscience, he went back to find the cave, in which he had slept. He\nwould return to the King of the fairies, and ask his pardon, even if\nHis Majesty never allowed him to visit Fairyland again.\n\nBut though he often searched, and spent whole days in trying to find\nthe opening in the hills, he could never discover it.\n\nSo, fully penitent, and resolving to live right, and become what his\nfather wanted him to be, he went back to the monastery.\n\nThere he plied his tasks so diligently that he excelled all in\nbook-learning. In time, he became one of the most famous scholars in\nWelsh history. When he died, he asked to be buried, not in the monk's\ncemetery, but with his father and mother, in the churchyard. He made\nrequest that no name, record, or epitaph, be chiseled on his tomb, but\nonly these words:\n\nWE CAN DO NOTHING AGAINST THE TRUTH, BUT ONLY FOR THE TRUTH.\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\n\nTHE WELSHERY AND THE NORMANS\n\n\nThough their land has been many times invaded, the Welsh have never\nbeen conquered. Powerful tribes, like the Romans, Saxons and Normans,\nhave tried to overwhelm them. Even when English and German kings\nattempted to crush their spirit and blot out their language and\nliterature, the Welsh resisted and won victory.\n\nAmong the bullies that tried force, instead of justice, and played the\nslave-driver, rather than the Good Samaritan's way, were the Normans.\nThese brutal fellows, when they thought that they had overrun Wales\nwith their armies, began to build strong castles all over the country.\nThey kept armed men by the thousands ready, night and day, to rush out\nand put to death anybody and everybody who had a weapon in his hand.\nOften they burned whole villages. They killed so many Welsh people\nthat it seemed at times as if they expected to empty the land of its\ninhabitants. Thus, they hoped to possess all the acres for themselves.\nThey talked as if there were no people so refined and so cultured as\nthey were, while the natives, good and bad, were lumped together as\n\"the Welshery.\"\n\nYet all this time, with these hundreds of strong castles, bristling\nwith turrets and towers, no Englishman's life was safe. If he dared to\ngo out alone, even twenty rods from the castle, he was instantly\nkilled by some angry Welshman lying in ambush. So the Normans had to\nlock themselves up in armor, until they looked like lobsters in their\nshells. When on their iron-clad horses they resembled turtles, so that\nif a knight fell off, he had to be chopped open to be rid of his metal\nclothes.\n\nYet all this was in vain, for when the Norman marched out in bodies,\nor rode in squadrons, the Welshery kept away and were hidden.\n\nEven the birds and beasts noticed this, and saw what fools the Normans\nwere, to behave so brutally.\n\nAs for the fairies, they met together to see what could be done. Even\nthe reptiles shamed men by living together more peaceably. Only the\nbeasts of prey approved of the Norman way of treating the Welsh\npeople.\n\nAt last, it came to pass that, after the long War of the Roses, when\nthe Reds and the Whites had fought together, a Welsh king sat upon the\nthrone of England. Henry VIII was of Cymric ancestry. His full name\nwas Henry Tudor; or, in English, Henry Theodore.\n\nAmong the Welsh, every son, to his own name as a child, such as Henry,\nWilliam, Thomas, etc., added that of his father. Thus it happens that\nwe can usually tell a man by his name; for example, Richards, Roberts,\nEvans, Jones, etc., etc., that he is a Welshman.\n\nWhen a Welshman went into England to live, if he were a sister's son,\nhe usually added a syllable showing this, as in the case of Jefferson,\nwhich means sister's son. Our great Thomas Jefferson used to boast\nthat he could talk Welsh.\n\nSo the living creatures of all sorts in Wales, human beings, fairies,\nand animals took heart and plucked up courage, when a Tudor king,\nHenry VIII, sat on the throne.\n\nNow it was Puck who led the fairies as the great peacemaker. He went\nfirst to visit all the most ancient creatures, in order to find out\nwho should be offered the post of honor, as ambassador, who should be\nsent to the great king in London, Henry Tudor, to see what could be\ndone for Wales.\n\nFirst he called on the male eagle, oldest of all birds. Though not\nbald-headed, like his American cousin, the Welsh eagle was very old,\nand at that time a widower. Although he had been father to nine\ngenerations of eaglets, he sent Puck to the stag.\n\nThis splendid creature, with magnificent antlers, lived at the edge of\nthe forest, near the trunk of an oak tree. It was still standing, but\nwas now a mere shell. Old men said that the children of the aborigines\nplayed under it, and here was the home of the god of lightning, which\nthey worshiped.\n\nSo to the withered oak, Puck went, and offered him the honor of\nleadership to an embassy to the King.\n\nBut the stag answered and said:\n\n\"Well do I remember when an acorn fell from the top of the parent oak.\nThen, for three hundred years it was growing. Children played under\nit. They gathered acorns in their aprons, and the archers made bows\nfrom its boughs.\n\n\"Then the oak tree began to die, and, during nearly thirty tens of\nyears it has been fading, and I have seen it all.\n\n\"Yet there is one older than I. It is the salmon that swims in the\nLlyn stream. Inquire there.\"\n\nSo of the old mother salmon, Puck went to ask, and this was the answer\nwhich he received.\n\n\"Count all the spots on my body, and all the eggs in my roe--one for\neach year. Yet the blackbird is older even than I. Go listen to her\nstory. She excels me, in both talk and fact.\"\n\nAnd the blackbird opened its orange-colored bill, and answered\nproudly:\n\n\"Do you see this flinty rock, on which I am sitting? Once it was so\nhuge that three hundred yoke of oxen could hardly move it. Yet, today,\nit hardly more than affords me room to roost on.\n\n\"What made it so small, do you ask?\n\n\"Well, all I have clone to wear it away, has been to wipe my beak on\nit, every night, before I go to sleep, and in the morning to brush it\nwith the tips of my wing.\"\n\nEven Puck, fairy though he was, was astonished at this. But the\nblackbird added:\n\n\"Go to the toad, that blinks its eye under the big rock yonder. His\nage is greater than mine.\"\n\nThe toad was half asleep when Puck came, but it opened with alertness,\nits beautiful round bright eyes, set in a rim of gold. Then Puck asked\nthe question: \"Oh, thou that carriest a jewel in thy head, are there\nany things alive that are older than thou art?\"\n\n\"That, I could not be sure of, especially if as many false things are\ntold about them, as are told about me; but when I was a tadpole in the\npond, that old hag of an owl was still hooting away, in the treetops,\nscaring children, as in ages gone. She is older than I. Go and see\nher. If age makes wise, she is the wisest of all.\"\n\nPuck went into the forest, but at first saw no bird answering to the\ndescription given him.\n\nHe said to himself, \"She is, I wonder, who?\"\n\nHe was surprised to hear his question repeated, not as an echo, but by\nanother. Still, he thought it might possibly be his own voice come\nback.\n\nSo, in making a catalogue, in his note book, of what he had seen and\nheard that day, he put down, \"To wit--one echo.\"\n\nAgain came the sound:\n\n\"To whit--to who, to whit--to who?\" Sounded the voice.\n\nThinking that this was intended to be a polite question, Puck looked\nup. Sure enough, there was the wise bird sitting on a bough, above\nhim, as sober as a judge.\n\n\"Who! did you ask?\" answered Puck and then went on to explain:\n\n\"I am Lord of the Fairies in Welshery, and I seek to know which is the\nmost venerable, of all the creatures in the Land of the Red Dragon.\n\n\"I am ready to salute you, as the most ancient and honorable of all\nliving things in the Cymric realm. You are desired to bear a message\nto the Great King, in London.\"\n\nTickled by such delicate flattery, and the honors proffered her, this\nlady owl, after much blinking and winking, flirting, and fluttering,\nat last agreed to go to King Henry VIII in London. The business, with\nwhich she was charged, was to protest against Norman brutality and to\nplead for justice.\n\nNow this old lady-owl, gray with centuries, though she had such short\nears, kept them open by day and during the night, also, for all the\ngossip that floated in the air. She knew all about everybody and\neverything. From what she had heard, she expected to find the new\nKing, Henry VIII, a royal fellow in velvet, with a crown on his head,\nand his body as big and round as a hogshead, sitting in a room full of\nchopping blocks and battle axes. Further, she fancied she would find a\ndozen pretty women locked up in his palace, some in the cellar, others\nin the pantry, and more in the garret; but all waiting to have their\nheads chopped off.\n\nFor the popular story ran that his chief amusement was to marry a wife\none day and slice off her head the next.\n\nIt was said also that the King kept a private graveyard, and took a\nwalk in it every afternoon to study the epitaphs, which he kept a\nscholar busy in writing; and also a man, from the marble yard near by,\nto chisel them on the tombs, after his various wives had been properly\nbeheaded.\n\nBut the owl never could find out whether these fables were wicked\nfibs, or fairy tales, or only street talk.\n\nPuck and the owl together arrived in London, at the palace, when the\nKing was at his dinner. The butlers and lackeys wanted to keep them\nout, but the merry monarch gave orders to let them in at once. He made\nthe owl perch over the mantel piece, but told Puck to stand upon the\ndinner table and walk over the tablecloth. The pepper box was put\naway, so that he should not sneeze and the King carefully removed the\nmustard pot, for fear the little fairy fellow might fall in it and be\ndrowned in the hot stuff.\n\nHis Majesty said that, for the time being, Puck should be the Prince\nof Wales. Puck strutted about to the amusement of the King and all the\nCourt ladies, but he kept away from the pepper, which made his nose\ntingle, and from the hot soup, for fear he might tumble into it and be\nscalded. When the dessert came on, Puck hid himself under a walnut\nshell, just for fun.\n\nIt would take too long to tell about all that was said, or the\nquestions, which the King asked about his Welsh subjects, and which\neither the owl or the fairy man answered. According to Puck's story,\nWales was then a most distressful country, though the Welshery, to a\nman, wanted to be good and loyal subjects of the Tudors.\n\nSeveral times did Puck appeal to the owl, to have his story confirmed,\nbecause this wise bird had lived among the Cymry, centuries before the\nNormans came. The owl every time blinked, bowed, and answered\nsolemnly:\n\n\"To whit, to who. To whit, to who,\" which in this case showed that she\nhad learned to speak the Court language.\n\n\"Why, bless my soul, the owl speaks good Cockney Hinglish,\" whispered\none of the butlers, who had been born in Wales.\n\n\"Yes, but that is the proper way to address His Majesty, King Ennery\nthe Heighth,\" answered the other butler, who was a native-born\nLondoner.\n\nPuck and the owl returned to Wales. What happened after that, is the A\nB C of history, that everybody knows, and for which all the Welsh\npeople to this day bless the Tudors, who made the Welsh equal before\nthe law with any and all Englishmen. Even Puck himself had never seen\nanything like the change that quickly took place for the better, nor\ndid Queen Mab, with her wand, ever work such wonders.\n\nIt was better than a fairy tale, and the effects, very soon seen, were\neven more wonderful. Down went the castles into ruins, for rats to run\naround in, and wild dogs to yelp and foxes to hide in, or look out of\nthe casements. To-day, what were once banqueting halls are covered\nwith moss, and on the ground grass grows, over which sheep graze and\nchildren play; while rooks and crows nest or roost in the tall towers.\n\nAny Englishman's life was safe anywhere, and Wales became one of the\nmost easily governed countries in all the wonderful British Empire.\n\n\n\nAnd in the great world-war, that even children, who read these\nstories, can remember, Wales, the Land of the Free, the Home of\nDeathless Democracy, led all the British Isles, colonies, islands, or\ncoaling stations around the wide world, in loyalty, valor and\nsacrifice. And the handsome son of the King, George, the Prince of\nWales, led the descendants of Welsh archers, now called the Fusileers.\nThey went into battle, singing, \"Old Land our Fathers before us held\nso dear\"; or they marched, following the band that played \"The Men of\nHarlech.\"\n\nIt is because Welsh cherish their traditions, harps, music, language\nand noble inheritances, with which they feed their souls, that they\nlead the four nations of the British Isles in the nobler virtues, that\nkeep a nation alive, as well as in the sweet humanities of the Red\nCross and in generous hospitality to the refugee Belgian. True to his\nmotto, \"I serve,\" the Prince of Wales who came to see us in 1919--as\ndid his grandfather, whom the story-teller saw when he visited our\nIndependence Hall in 1860--loved to be the servant of his people.\n\nWhat was it that wrought this peaceful wonder of the sixteenth\ncentury? Was it a fairy spell magic ointment, star-tipped wand,\ntreasures of caves, or ocean depths? Was it anything that dragons,\ngiants, ogres, or even swords, spears, catapults, or whips and clubs,\nor elves or gnomes could do?\n\nNot a bit of it! Only justice and kindness, instead of brutality and\nforce.\n\n\n\n\nXV\n\n\nTHE WELSH FAIRIES HOLD A MEETING\n\n\nIn the ancient Cymric gatherings, the Druids, poets, prophets, seers,\nand singers all had part. The one most honored as the president of the\nmeeting was crowned and garlanded. Then he was led in honor and sat in\nthe chair of state. They called this great occasion an Eistedfodd, or\nsitting, after the Cymric word, meaning a chair.\n\nAll over the world, the Welsh folks, who do so passionately love\nmusic, poetry and their own grand language, hold the Eistedfodd at\nregular intervals. Thus they renew their love for the Fatherland and\nwhat they received long ago from their ancestors.\n\nNow it happens that the fairies in every land usually follow the\ncustoms of the mortals among whom they live. The Swiss, the Dutch, the\nBelgian, the Japanese and Korean fairies, as we all know, although\nthey are much alike in many things are as different from each other as\nthe countries in which they live and play. So, when the Welsh fairies\nall met together, they resolved to have songs and harp music and make\nthe piper play his tunes just as in the Eistedfodd.\n\nThe Cymric fairies of our days have had many troubles to complain of.\nThey were disgusted with so much coal smoke, the poisoning of the air\nby chemical fumes, and the blackening of the landscape from so many\nfactory chimneys. They had other grievances also.\n\nSo the Queen Mab, who had a Welsh name, and another fairy, called\nPwca, or in English King Puck, sent out invitations into every part of\nWales, for a gathering on the hills, near the great rock called Dina's\nseat. This is a rocky chair formed by nature. They also included in\ntheir call those parts of western and south England, such as are still\nWelsh and spiritually almost a part of Wales. In fact, Cornwall was\nthe old land, in which the Cymry had first landed when coming from\nover the sea.\n\nThe meeting was to be held on a moonlight night, and far away from any\nhouses, lest the merry making, dancing and singing of the fairies\nshould keep the farmers awake. This was something of which the yokels,\nor men of the plow, often complained. They could not sleep while the\nfairies were having their parties.\n\nNow among the Welsh fairies of every sort, size, dress, and behavior,\nsome were good, others were bad, but most of them were only full of\nfun and mischief. Chief of these was the lively little fellow, Puck,\nwho lived in Cwm Pwcca, that is, Puck Valley, in Breconshire.\n\nNow it had been an old custom, which had come down, from the days of\nthe cave men, that when anyone died, the people, friends and relatives\nsat up all night with the corpse. The custom arose, at first, with the\nidea of protection against wild beasts and later from insult by\nenemies. This was called a wake. The watchers wept and wailed at\nfirst, and then fell to eating and drinking. Sometimes, they got to be\nvery lively. The young folks even looked on a wake, after the first\nhour or two, as fine fun. Strong liquor was too plentiful and it often\nhappened that quarrels broke out. When heads were thus fuddled, men\nsaw or thought they saw, many uncanny things, like leather birds, cave\neagles, and the like.\n\nBut all these fantastic things and creatures, such as foolish people\ntalk about, and with which they frighten children, such as corpse\ncandles, demons and imps, were ruled out and not invited to the fairy\nmeeting. Some other objects, which ignorant folks believed in, were\nnot to be allowed in the company. The door-keeper was notified not to\nadmit the eagles of darkness, that live in a cave which is never\nlighted up; or the weird, featherless bird of leather, from the Land\nof Illusion and Phantasy, that brushes its wing against windows, when\na funeral is soon to take place; or the greedy dog with silver eyes.\nNone of these would be permitted to show themselves, even if they came\nand tried to get in. Some other creatures, not recognized in the good\nsociety of Fairyland, were also barred out.\n\nTo this gathering, only the bright and lively fairies were welcome.\nSome of the best natured among the big creatures, and especially\ngiants and dragons, might pay a visit, if they wanted to do so; but\nall the bad ones, such as lake hags, wraiths, sellers of liquids for\nwakes, who made men drunk, and all who, under the guise of fairies,\nwere only agents for undertakers, were ruled out. The Night Dogs of\nthe Wicked Hunter Annum, the monster Afang, Cadwallader's Goats, and\nvarious, cruel goblins and ogres, living in the ponds, and that pulled\ncattle down to eat them up, and the immodest mermaids, whose bad\nbehavior was so well known, were crossed off the list of invitations.\n\nNo ugly brats, such as wicked fairies were in the habit of putting in\nthe cradles of mortal mothers, when they stole away their babies, were\nallowed to be present, even if they should come with their mothers.\nThis was to be a perfectly respectable company, and no bawling,\nsquealing, crying, or blubbering was to be permitted.\n\nWhen they had all gathered together, at the evening hour, there was\nseen, in the moonlight, the funniest lot of creatures, that one could\nimagine, but all were neatly dressed and well behaved.\n\nQuite a large number of the famous Fair Family, that moved only in the\nbest society of fairyland, fathers, mothers, cousins, uncles and\naunts, were on hand. In fact, some of them had thought it was to be a\nwake, and were ready for whatever might turn up, whether solemn or\nfrivolous. These were dressed in varied costume.\n\nQueen Mab, who above all else, was a Welsh fairy, and whose name, as\neverybody knows who talks Cymric, suggested her extreme youth and\nlively disposition, was present in all her glory.\n\nWhen they saw her, several learned fairies, who had come from a\ndistance, fell at once into conversation on this subject. One\nremarked: \"How would the Queen like to add another syllable to her\nname? Then we should call her Mab-gath (which means Kitten, or Little\nPuss).\"\n\n\"Well not so bad, however; because many mortal daddies, who have a\ndaughter, call her Puss. It is a term of affection with them and the\nlittle girls never seem to be offended.\"\n\n\"Oh! Suppose that in talking to each other we call our Queen Mab-gar,\nwhat then?\" asked another, with a roguish twinkle in the eye.\n\n\"It depends on how you use it,\" said a wise one dryly. This fairy was\na stickler for the correct use of every word. \"If you meant 'babyish,'\nor 'childish,' she, or her friends might demur; but, if you use the\nterm 'love of children,' what better name for a fairy queen?\"\n\n\"None. There could not be any,\" they shouted, all at once, \"but let us\nask our old friend the harper.\"\n\nNow such a thing as inquiring into each other's ages was not common in\nFairy Land. Very few ever asked such a question, for it was not\nthought to be polite. For, though we hear of ugly fairy brats being\nput into the cradles, in place of pretty children, no one ever heard,\neither of fairies being born or of dying, or having clocks, or\nwatches, or looking to see what time it was. Nor did doctors, or the\ncensus clerks, or directory people ever trouble the fairy ladies, to\nask their age.\n\nOccasionally, however, there was one fairy, so wise, so learned, and\nso able to tell what was going to happen to-morrow, or next year, that\nthe other fairies looked up to such an one with respect and awe.\n\nYet these honorables would hardly know what you were talking about, if\nyou asked any of them how old they might be, or spoke of \"old\" or\n\"young.\" If, by any chance, a fairy did use the world \"old\" in talking\nof their number, it would be for honor or dignity, and they would mean\nit for a compliment.\n\nThe fact was, that many of the most lively fairies showed their\nfrivolous disposition at once. These were of the kind, that, like\nkittens, cubs, or babies, wanted to play all the time, yes, every\nmoment. Already, hundreds of them were tripping from flower to flower,\nriding on the backs of fireflies, or harnessing night moths, or any\nwinged creatures they could saddle, for flight through the air. Or,\nthey were waltzing with glow worms, or playing \"ring around a rosy,\"\nor dancing in circles. They could not keep still, one moment.\n\nIn fact, when a great crowd of the frolicsome creatures got singing\ntogether, they made such a noise, that a squad of fairy policemen,\ndressed in club moss and armed with pistils, was sent to warn them not\nto raise their voices too high; lest the farmers, especially those\nthat were kind to the fairies, should be awakened, and feel in bad\nhumor.\n\nSo the knot of learned fairies had a quiet time to talk, and, when\nable to hear their own words, the harper, who was very learned,\nanswered their questions about Queen Mab as follows:\n\n\"Well, you know the famous children's story book, in which mortals\nread about us, and which they say they enjoy so much, is named\nMabinogion, that is, The Young Folks' Treasury of Cymric Stories.\"\n\n\"It is well named,\" said another fairy savant, \"since Queen Mab is the\nonly fairy that waits on men. She inspires their dreams, when these\nare born in their brains.\"\n\nThe talk now turned on Puck, who was to be the president of the\nmeeting. They were expected to show much dignity in his presence, but\nsome feared he would, as usual, play his pranks. Before he arrived in\nhis chariot, which was drawn by dragon flies, some of his neighbors\nthat lived in the valley near by chatted about him, until the gossip\nbecame quite personal. Just for the fun of it, and the amusement of\nthe crowd, they wanted Puck to give an exhibition, off-hand, of all\nhis very varied accomplishments for he could beat all rivals in his\nspecial variety, or as musicians say, his repertoire.\n\n\"No. 'Twould be too much like a Merry Andrew's or a Buffoon's\nsideshow, where the freaks of all sorts are gathered, such as they\nhave at those county fairs, which the mortals get up, to which are\ngathered great crowds. The charge of admission is a sixpence. I vote\n'no.'\"\n\n\"Well, for the very reason that Puck can beat the rest of us at spells\nand transformations, I should like to see him do for us as many stunts\nas he can. I've heard from a mortal, named Shakespeare, that, in one\nperformance, Puck could be a horse, a hound, a hog, a bear without any\nhead, and even kindle himself into a fire; while his vocal powers, as\nwe know, are endless. He can neigh, bark, grunt, roar, and even burn\nup things. Now, I should like to see the fairy that could beat him at\ntricks. It was Puck himself, who told the world that he was in the\nhabit of doing all these things, and I want to see whether he was\nboasting.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut, don't talk that way, about our king,\" said a fourth fairy.\n\nAll this was only chaff and fun, for all the fairies were in good\nhumor. They were only talking, to fill up the interval until the music\nbegan.\n\nNow the canny Welsh fairies had learned the trick of catching\nfarthings, pennies and sixpences from the folks who have more\ncuriosity in them than even fairies do. These human beings, cunning\nfellows that they are, let the curtain fall on a show, just at the\nmost interesting part. Then they tell you to come next day and find\nout what is to happen. Or, as they say in a story paper, \"to be\ncontinued in our next.\"\n\nOr, worse than all, the story teller stops, at some very exciting\nepisode, and then passes the hat or collection-box around, to get the\ncopper or silver of his listeners, before he will go on.\n\nThis time, however, it was Puck himself who came forward and declared\nthat, unless everyone of the fairies would promise to attend the next\nmeeting, there should be no music. Now a meeting of the Welshery,\nwhether fairies or human, without music was a thing not to be thought\nof. So, although at first some fairies grumbled and held back, and\nwere quite sulky about it, even muttering other grumpy words, they at\nlast all agreed, and Puck sent for the fiddler to make music for the\ndance.\n\n\n\n\nXVI\n\n\nKING ARTHUR'S CAVE\n\n\nIn our time, every boy and girl knows about the nuts and blossoms, the\ntwigs and the hedges, the roots and the leaf of the common hazel bush,\nand everybody has heard of the witch hazel. In old days they made use\nof the forked branches of the hazel as a divining rod. With this, they\nbelieved that they could divine, or find out the presence of treasures\nof gold and silver, deep down in the earth, and hidden from human\neyes.\n\nAnd, what boy or girl has never played the game, and sung the ditty,\n\"London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down,\" even\nthough nobody now living ever saw it fall?\n\nNow, our story is about a hazel rod, a Welshman on London Bridge,\ntreasures in a cave, and what happened because of these.\n\nIt was in the days when London Bridge was not, as we see it to-day, a\nmassive structure of stone and iron, able to bear up hundreds of cars,\nwagons, horses and people, and lighted at night with electric bulbs.\nNo, when this Welshman visited London, the bridge had a line of shops\non both sides of the passage way, and reaching from end to end.\n\nTaffy was the name of this fellow from Denbigh, in Wales, and he was a\ndrover. He had brought, all the way from one of the richest of the\nWelsh provinces, a great drove of Black Welsh cattle, such as were in\nsteady demand by Englishmen, who have always been lovers of roast\nbeef. Escaping all the risks of cattle thieves, rustlers, and\nhighwaymen, he had sold his beeves at a good price; so that his\npockets were now fairly bulging out with gold coins, and yet this\nfellow wanted more. But first, before going home, he would see the\nsights of the great city, which then contained about a hundred\nthousand people.\n\nWhile he was handling some things in a shop, to decide what he should\ntake home to his wife, his three daughters and his two little boys, he\nnoticed a man looking intently, not at him, but at his stick. After a\nwhile, the stranger came up to him and asked him where he came from.\n\nNow Taffy was not very refined in his manners, and he thought it none\nof the fellow's business. He was very surly and made reply in a gruff\nvoice.\n\n\"I come from my own country.\"\n\nThe stranger did not get angry, but in a polite tone made answer:\n\n\"Don't be offended at my question. Tell me where you cut that hazel\nstick, and I'll make it to your advantage, if you will take my\nadvice.\"\n\nEven yet Taffy was gruff and suspicious.\n\n\"What business is it of yours, where I cut my hazel stick?\" he\nanswered.\n\n\"Well it may matter a good deal to you, if you will tell me. For, if\nyou remember the place, and can lead me to it, I'll make you a rich\nman, for near that spot lies a great treasure.\"\n\nTaffy was not much of a thinker, apart from matters concerning cattle,\nand his brain worked slowly! He was sorely puzzled. Here was a wizard,\nwho could make him rich, and he did so love to jingle gold in his\npockets. But then he was superstitious. He feared that this sorcerer\nderived all his uncanny knowledge from demons, and Taffy, being rather\nmuch of a sinner, feared these very much. Meanwhile, his new\nacquaintance kept on persuading him.\n\nFinally Taffy yielded and the two went on together to Wales.\n\nNow in this country, there are many stones placed in position, showing\nthey were not there by accident, but were reared by men, to mark some\nold battle, or famous event. And for this, rough stone work, no\ncountry, unless it be Korea or China, is more famous than Wales.\n\nOn reaching one called the Fortress Rock, Taffy pointed to an old\nhazel root, and said to his companion:\n\n\"There! From that stock, I cut my hazel stick. I am sure of it.\"\n\nThe sorcerer looked at Taffy to read his face, and to be certain that\nhe was telling the truth. Then he said:\n\n\"Bring shovels and we'll both dig.\"\n\nThese having been brought, the two began to work until the\nperspiration stood out in drops on their foreheads. First the sod and\nrooty stuff, and then down around the gravelly mass below, they plied\ntheir digging tools. Taffy was not used to such toil, and his muscles\nwere soon weary. But, urged on by visions of gold, he kept bravely at\nhis task.\n\nAt last, when ready to drop from fatigue, he heard his companion say:\n\n\"We've struck it!\"\n\nA few shovelfuls more laid bare a broad flat stone. This they pried\nup, but it required all their strength to lift and stand it on edge.\nJust below, they saw a flight of steps. They were slippery with wet\nand they looked very old, as if worn, ages ago, by many feet passing\nup and down them.\n\nTaffy shrunk back, as a draught of the close, dead air struck his\nnostrils.\n\n\"Come on, and don't be afraid. I'm going to make you rich,\" said the\nsorcerer.\n\nAt this, Taffy's eyes glistened, and he followed on down the steps,\nwithout saying a word. At the bottom of the descent, they entered a\nnarrow passage, and finally came to a door.\n\n\"Now, I'll ask you. Are you brave, and will you come in with me, if I\nopen this door?\"\n\nBy this time, Taffy was so eager for treasure, that he spoke up at\nonce.\n\n\"I'm not afraid. Open the door.\"\n\nThe sorcerer gave a jerk and the door flew open. What a sight!\n\nThere, in the faint, red light, Taffy discerned a great cave. Lying on\nthe floor were hundreds of armed men, but motionless and apparently\nsound asleep. Little spangles of light were reflected from swords,\nspears, round shields, and burnished helmets. All these seemed of very\nancient pattern. But immediately in front of them was a bell. Taffy\nfelt some curiosity to tap it. Would the sleeping host of men then\nrise up?\n\nJust then, the sorcerer, speaking with a menacing gesture, and in a\nharsh tone, said:\n\n\"Do not touch that bell, or it's all up with us both.\"\n\nMoving carefully, so as not to trip, or to stumble over the sleeping\nsoldiers, they went on, and Taffy, stopping and looking up beheld\nbefore him a great round table. Many warriors were sitting at it.\nTheir splendid gold inlaid armor, glittering helmets and noble faces\nshowed that they were no common men. Yet Taffy could see only a few of\nthe faces, for all had their heads more or less bent down, as if sound\nasleep, though sword and spear were near at hand, ready to be grasped\nin a moment.\n\nOutshining all, was a golden throne at the farther end of the table\nand on it sat a king. He was of imposing stature, and august presence.\nUpon his head was a crown, on which were inlaid or set precious\nstones. These shone by their own light, sending out rays so brilliant\nthat they dazzled Taffy, who had never seen anything like them. The\nking held in his right hand a mighty sword. It had a history and the\nname of it was Excalibur. In Arthur's hand, it was almost part of his\nown soul. Its hilt and handle were of finely chased gold, richly\nstudded with gems. Yet his head, too, was bent in deep sleep, as if\nonly thunder could wake him.\n\n\"Are they all, everyone, asleep?\" asked Taffy.\n\n\"Each and all,\" was the answer.\n\n\"When did they fall asleep?\" asked the drover.\n\n\"Over a thousand years ago,\" answered the sorcerer.\n\n\"Tell me who they are, and why here,\" asked Taffy.\n\n\"They are King Arthur's trusty warriors. They are waiting for the hour\nto come, when they shall rise up and destroy the enemies of the Cymry,\nand once again possess the whole island of Britain, as in the early\nages, before the Saxons came.\"\n\n\"And who are those sitting around the table?\" asked Taffy.\n\nThe sorcerer seemed tired of answering questions, but he replied,\ngiving the name of each knight, and also that of his father, as if he\nwere a Welshman himself; but at this, Taffy grew impatient, feeling as\nif a book of genealogy had been hurled at him.\n\nMost impolitely, he interrupted his companion and cried out:\n\n\"And who is that on the throne?\"\n\nThe sorcerer looked as if he was vexed, and felt insulted, but he\nanswered:\n\n\"It's King Arthur himself, with Excalibur, his famous sword, in his\nhand.\"\n\nThis was snapped out, as if the sorcerer was disgusted at the\ninterruption of his genealogy, and he shut his mouth tight as if he\nwould answer no more questions, for such an impolite fellow.\n\nSeizing Taffy by the hand, he led him into what was the storehouse of\nthe cave. There lay heaps upon heaps of yellow gold. Both men stuffed\ntheir pockets, belt bags, and the inside of their clothes, with all\nthey could load in.\n\n\"Now we had better get out, for it is time to go,\" said the sorcerer\nand he led the way towards the cave door.\n\nBut as Taffy passed back, and along the hall, where the host of\nwarriors were sleeping, his curiosity got the better of him.\n\nHe said to himself, \"I must see this host awake. I'll touch that bell,\nand find out whether the sorcerer spoke the truth.\"\n\nSo, when he came to it, he struck the bell. In the twinkling of an\neye, thousands of warriors sprang up, seized their armor, girded their\nswords, or seized their spears. All seemed eagerly awaiting the\ncommand to rush against the foe.\n\nThe ground quaked with their tramping, and shook with their tread,\nuntil Taffy thought the cave roof would fall in and bury them all. The\nair resounded with the rattle of arms, as the men, when in ranks,\nmarked time, ready for motion forward and out of the cave.\n\nBut from the midst of the host, a deep sounding voice, as earnest as\nif in hot temper, but as deliberate as if in caution against a false\nalarm, spoke. He inquired:\n\n\"Who rang that bell? Has the day come?\"\n\nThe sorcerer, thoroughly frightened and trembling, answered:\n\n\"No, the day has not come. Sleep on.\"\n\nTaffy, though dazzled by the increasing brilliancy of the light, had\nheard another deep voice, more commanding in its tones than even a\nking's, call out, \"Arthur, awake, the bell has rung. The day is\nbreaking. Awake, great King Arthur!\"\n\nBut even against such a voice, that of the sorcerer, now scared beyond\nmeasure, lest the king and his host should discover the cheat, and\nwith his sword, Excalibur, chop the heads off both Taffy and himself,\nanswered:\n\n\"No, it is still night. Sleep on, Arthur the Great.\"\n\nErect over all, his head aloft and crowned with jewels, as with stars,\nthe King himself now spoke:\n\n\"No, my warriors, the day has not yet come, when the Black Eagle and\nthe Golden Eagle will meet in war. Sleep on, loyal souls. The morning\nof Wales has not yet dawned.\"\n\nThen, like the gentle soughing of the evening breeze among forest\ntrees, all sound died away, and in the snap of a finger, all were\nasleep again. Seizing the hand of Taffy, the sorcerer hurried him out\nof the cave, moved the stone back in its place and motioning to Taffy\nto do the same, he quickly shoveled and kicked the loose dirt in the\nhole and stamped it down: When Taffy turned to look for him, he was\ngone, without even taking the trouble to call his dupe a fool.\n\nWearied with his unwonted labors and excitements, Taffy walked home,\ngot his supper, pondered on what he had seen, slept, and awoke in the\nmorning refreshed. After breakfast, he sallied out again with pick and\nshovel.\n\nFor months, Taffy dug over every square foot of the hill. Neglecting\nhis business as cattle man, he spent all the money he had made in\nLondon, but he never found that entrance to the cave. He died a poor\nman and all his children had to work hard to get their bread.\n\n\n\n\nXVII\n\n\nTHE LADY OF THE LAKE\n\n\nOne easily gets acquainted with the Welsh fairies, for nearly all the\ngood ones are very fond of music.\n\nOr, they live down in the lakes, or up in the mountains. They are\nalways ready to help kind or polite people, who treat them well or\nwill give them a glass of milk, or a saucer of flummery.\n\nBut, oh, what tricks and mischief they do play on mean or stingy or\ngrumpy folks with bad tempers! They tangle up the harness of the\nhorses; milk the cows, letting the milk go to waste, on the stable\nfloor; tie knots in their tails, or keep the dog's mouth shut, when\nthe robbers come sneaking around. Better not offend a fairy, even\nthough no higher than a thimble!\n\nA favorite place for the elfin ladies of the lake is high up in one of\nthe fresh water mountain ponds. They are cousins to the mermaids, that\nswim in the salt water.\n\nThey say that these lake maidens love to come up close to the shore,\nto smell the sweet grass and flowers, which the cows like so much.\n\nNear one of these lakes dwelt a widow, with only one son, named Gwyn.\nOne day he took his lunch of barley bread and cheese, and went out, as\nusual, to tend the cows. Soon he saw rising out of the water, to dress\nher long and luxuriant hair, the most beautiful lady he had ever seen.\nIn her hand she held a golden comb, and was using the bright\nlake-surface as a mirror.\n\nAt once Gwyn fell in love with her, and, like an unselfish lad, held\nout his refreshments--barley bread and cheese--all he had--bidding her\nto come and take.\n\nBut though the lady glided toward him, while he still held out his\nhand, she shook her head, saying:\n\n  O thou of the hard baked bread,\n  It is not easy to catch me\n\nSorry enough to miss such a prize, he hurried home to tell his mother.\nShe, wondering also, whether fairies have teeth to chew, told him to\ntake soft dough next time. Then, perhaps, the strange lady would come\nagain.\n\nNot much sleep did the boy get that night, and, before the sun was up,\nhe was down by the lake side holding out his dough.\n\nThere, hour after hour, neglecting the cows, he looked eagerly over\nthe water, but nothing appeared, except ripples started by the breeze.\nAgain and again, he gazed in hope, only to be disappointed.\n\n[Illustration: IN A MOMENT HE FORGOT EVERY WORD HE MEANT TO SAY]\n\nMeanwhile he thought out a pretty speech to make to her, but he kept\nhis dough and went hungry.\n\nIt was late in the afternoon, when the trees on the hills were casting\nlong shadows westward, that he gave up watching, for he supposed she\nwould come no more.\n\nBut just as he started to go back to his mother's cabin, he turned his\nhead and there was the same lady, looking more beautiful than ever. In\na moment, he forgot every word he meant to say to her. His tongue\nseemed to leave him, and he only held out his hand, with the dough in\nit.\n\nBut the lake lady, shaking her head, only laughed and said:\n\n  Thou of the soft bread\n  I will not have thee\n\nThough she dived under the water and left him sad and lonely, she\nsmiled so sweetly, as she vanished, that, though again disappointed,\nhe thought she would come again and she might yet accept his gift.\n\nHis mother told him to try her with bread half baked, that is, midway\nbetween hard crust and soft dough.\n\nSo, having packed his lunch, and much excited, though this time with\nbright hopes, Gwyn went to bed, though not to sleep. At dawn, he was\nup again and out by the lake side, with his half baked bread in his\nhand.\n\nIt was a day of rain and shine, of sun burst and cloud, but no lady\nappeared.\n\nThe long hours, of watching and waiting, sped on, until it was nearly\ndark.\n\nWhen just about to turn homewards, to ease his mother's anxiety, what\nshould he see, but some cows walking on the surface of the water! In a\nfew minutes, the lady herself, lovelier than ever, rose up and moved\ntowards the shore.\n\nGwyn rushed out to meet her, with beseeching looks and holding the\nhalf baked bread in his hand. This time, she graciously took the gift,\nplaced her other hand in his, and he led her to the shore.\n\nStanding with her on land, he could not speak for many seconds. He\nnoticed that she had sandals on her feet, and the one on the right\nfoot was tied in a way rather unusual. Under her winsome smile, at\nlast, he regained the use of his tongue. Then he burst out:\n\n\"Lady I love you, more than all the world besides. Will you be my\nwife?\"\n\nShe did not seem at all willing at first, but love begets love.\nFinally yielding to his pleadings, she said, rather solemnly:\n\n\"I will be your bride but only on this condition, that if you strike\nme three times, without cause, I will leave your house and you only\nwill be to blame, and it will be forever.\"\n\nThese words stuck in his mind, and he inwardly made a vow never to\ngive his lovely wife cause to leave him.\n\nBut not yet did happiness come, for, even while he took oath that he\nwould rather cut off his right hand, than offend her, she darted away\nlike an arrow, and, diving in the lake, disappeared.\n\nAt this sudden blow to his hopes and joy, Gwyn was so sorely\ndepressed, as to wish to take his own life. Rushing up to the top of a\nrock, overhanging the deepest part of the lake, he was just about to\nleap into the water and drown himself, when he heard a voice behind\nhim, saying:\n\n\"Hold rash lad, come here!\"\n\nHe looked and there down on the shore of the lake, stood a grand\nlooking old man, with a long white beard. On either side of him was a\nlovely maiden. These were his daughters.\n\nTrembling with fear, the lad slipped down from the rock and drew near.\nThen the old man spoke comfortably to him, though in a very cracked\nvoice.\n\n\"Mortal, do you wish to marry one of my daughters? Show me the one you\nlove more than the other, and I will consent.\"\n\nNow the two maidens were so beautiful, yet so exactly alike, that Gwyn\ncould not note any difference. As he looked, he began to wonder\nwhether it had been a different lady, in each case, that rose out of\nthe water. He looked beyond the old man, to see if there were a third\nlady. When he saw none more, he became more distracted. He feared lest\nhe might choose the wrong one, who had not promised to love him.\n\nAlmost in despair, he was about to run home, when he noticed that one\nof the maidens put forward her right foot. Then he saw that her sandal\nwas tied in the way he had already wondered at. So he boldly went\nforward and took her by the hand.\n\n\"This one is mine,\" said he to the father.\n\n\"You are right,\" answered the old man. \"This is my daughter Nelferch.\nTake her and you shall have as many cattle, sheep, horses, hogs, and\ngoats, as she can count, of each, without drawing in her breath. But I\nwarn you that three blows, without cause, will send her back to me.\"\n\nWhile the old man smiled, and Gwyn renewed his vow, the new wife began\nto count by fives--one, two, three, four, five.\n\nAt the end of each count drawing in a fresh breath, there rose up, out\nof the lake, as many sheep, cattle, goats, pigs, and horses, as she\nhad counted.\n\nSo it happened that the lad, who went out of his mother's cottage, in\nthe morning, a poor boy, came back to her, a rich man, and leading by\nthe hand the loveliest creature on whom man or woman had ever looked\nupon.\n\nAs for the old man and the other daughter, no one ever saw them again.\n\nGwyn and his wife went out to a farm which he bought, and oh, how\nhappy they were! She was very kind to the poor. She had the gift of\nhealing, knew all the herbs, which were good for medicine, and cured\nsick folk of their diseases.\n\nThree times the cradle was filled, and each time with a baby boy.\nEight long and happy years followed. They loved each other so dearly\nand were so happy together, that Gwyn's vow passed entirely out of his\nmind, and he thought no more of it.\n\nOn the seventh birthday of the oldest boy, there was a wedding at some\ndistance away, and the father and mother walked through a field where\ntheir horses were grazing. As it was too far for Lady Nelferch to walk\nall the way, her husband went back to the house, for saddle and\nbridle, while she should catch the horse.\n\n\"Please do, and bring me my gloves from off the table,\" she called, as\nhe turned towards the house.\n\nBut when he returned to the field, he saw that she had not stirred.\nSo, before handing his wife her gloves and pointing playfully to the\nhorses, he gave her a little flick with the gloves.\n\nInstead of moving, instantly, she heaved a deep sigh. Then looking up\nat him with sorrowful and reproachful eyes, she said:\n\n\"Remember our vow, Gwyn. This is the first causeless blow. May there\nnever be another.\"\n\nDays and years passed away so happily, that the husband and father\nnever again had to recall the promise given to his wife and her\nfather.\n\nBut when they were invited to the christening of a baby, every one was\nfull of smiles and gayety, except Nelferch. Women, especially the\nolder ones, often cry at a wedding, but why his wife should burst into\ntears puzzled Gwyn.\n\nTapping her on the shoulder, he asked the reason:\n\n\"Because,\" said she, \"this weak babe will be in pain and misery all\nits days and die in agony. And, husband dear, you have once again\nstruck me a causeless blow. Oh, do be on your guard, and not again\nbreak your promise.\"\n\nFrom this time forth, Gwyn was on watch over himself, day and night,\nlike a sentinel over whom hangs the sentence of death, should he fall\nasleep on duty. He was ever vigilant lest, he, in a moment of\nforgetfulness, might, by some slip of conduct, or in a moment of\nforgetfulness, strike his dear wife.\n\nThe baby, whose life of pain and death of agony Nelferch had foretold,\nsoon passed away; for, happily, its life was short. Then she and her\nhusband attended the last rites of sorrow, for Celtic folk always have\na funeral and hold a wake, even when a baby, only a span long, lies in\nthe coffin.\n\nYet in the most solemn moment of the services of burial, Nelferch the\nwife, laughed out, so long and with such merriment, that everyone was\nstartled.\n\nHer husband, mortified at such improper behavior, touched her gently,\nsaying:\n\n\"Hush, wife! Why do you laugh?\"\n\n\"Because the babe is free from all pain. And, you have thrice struck\nme! Farewell!\"\n\nFleeing like a deer home to their farm, she called together, by its\nname, each and every one of their animals, from stable and field; yes,\neven those harnessed to the plow. Then, over the mountain all moved in\nprocession to the lake.\n\nThere, they plunged in and vanished. No trace of them was left, except\nthat made by the oxen drawing the plow, and which mark on the ground\nmen still point out.\n\nBroken hearted and mad with grief, Gwyn rushed into the lake and was\nseen no more. The three sons, grieving over their drowned father,\nspent their many days wandering along the lakeside, hoping once more\nto see one, or both, of their dear parents.\n\nTheir love was rewarded. They never saw their father again, but one\nday their mother, Nelferch, suddenly appeared out of the water.\nTelling her children that her mission on earth was to relieve pain and\nmisery, she took them to a point in the lake, where many plants grew\nthat were useful in medicine. There, she often came and taught them\nthe virtues of the roots, leaves, juices and the various virtues of\nthe herbs, and how to nurse the sick and heal those who had diseases.\n\nAll three of Nelferch's sons became physicians of fame and power.\nTheir descendants, during many centuries, were renowned for their\nskill in easing pain and saving life. To this day, Physicians' Point\nis shown to visitors as a famous spot, and in tradition is almost\nholy.\n\n\n\n\nXVIII\n\n\nTHE KING'S FOOT HOLDER\n\n\nThere was a curious custom in the far olden times of Wales. At the\nbanqueting hall, the king of the country would sit with his feet in\nthe lap of a high officer.\n\nWhenever His Majesty sat down to dinner, this official person would be\nunder the table holding the royal feet. This was also the case while\nall sat around the evening fire in the middle of the hall. This\nfootholding person was one of the king's staff and every castle must\nhave a human footstool as part of its furniture.\n\nBy and by, it became the fashion for pretty maidens to seek this task,\nor to be chosen for the office. Their names in English sounded like\nFoot-Ease, Orthopede, or Foot Lights. When she was a plump and petite\nmaid, they nicknamed her Twelve Inches, or when unusually soothing in\nher caresses of the soft royal toes. It was considered a high honor to\nbe the King's Foot Holder. In after centuries, it was often boasted of\nthat such and such an ancestor had held this honorable service.\n\nOne picture of castle life, as given in one of the old books tells how\nKaim, the king's officer, went to the mead cellar with a golden cup,\nto get a drink that would keep them all wide awake. He also brought a\nhandful of skewers on which they were to broil the collops, or bits of\nmeat at the fire.\n\nWhile they were doing this, the King sat on a seat of green rushes,\nover which was spread a flame-colored satin cover, with a cushion like\nit, for his elbow to rest upon.\n\nIn the evening, the harpers and singers made music, the bards recited\npoetry, or the good story tellers told tales of heroes and wonders.\nDuring all this time, one or more maidens held the king's feet, or\ntook turns at it, when tired; for often the revels or songs and tales\nlasted far into the night. At intervals, if the story was dull, or he\nhad either too much dinner, or had been out hunting and got tired, His\nMajesty took a nap, with his feet resting upon the lap of a pretty\nmaiden. This happened often in the late hours, while they were getting\nthe liquid refreshments ready.\n\nThen the king's chamberlain gently nudged him, to be wideawake, and he\nagain enjoyed the music, and the stories, while his feet were held.\n\nFor, altogether, it was great fun.\n\nNow there was once a Prince of Gwynedd, in Wales, named Math, who was\nso fond of having his feet held, that he neglected to govern his\npeople properly. He spent all his time lounging in an easy chair,\nwhile a pretty maiden held his heels and toes. He committed all public\ncares to two of his nephews. These were named for short, Gily and\nGwyd.\n\nThe one whom the king loved best to have her hold his feet was the\nfairest maiden in all the land, and she was named Goewen.\n\nBy and by, the prince grew so fond of having his feet held, and\nstroked and patted and played with, by Goewen, that he declared that\nhe could not live, unless Goewen held his feet. And, she said, that if\nshe did not hold the king's feet, she would die.\n\nNow this Gily, one of the king's nephews, son of Don, whom he had\nappointed to look day by day after public affairs, would often be in\nthe hall at night. He listened to the music and stories, and seeing\nGoewen, the king's foot holder, he fell in love with her. His eye\nusually wandered from the story teller to the lovely girl holding the\nking's feet, and he thought her as beautiful as an angel.\n\nSoon he became so lovesick, that he felt he would risk or give his\nlife to get and have her for his own. But what would the king say?\n\nBesides, he soon found out that the maiden Goewen cared nothing for\nhim.\n\nNevertheless the passion of the love-lorn youth burned hotly and kept\nincreasing. He confided his secret to his brother Gwyd, and asked his\naid, which was promised. So, one day, the brother went to King Math,\nand begged for leave to go to Pryderi. In the king's name, he would\nask from him the gift of a herd of swine of famous breed; which, in\nthe quality of the pork they furnished, excelled all other pigs known.\nThey were finer than any seen in the land, or ever heard of before.\nTheir flesh was said to be sweeter, juicier, and more tender than the\nbest beef. Even their manners were better than those of some men.\n\nIn fact, these famous pigs were a present from the King of Fairyland.\nSo highly were they prized, that King Math doubted much whether his\nnephew could get them at any price.\n\nIn ancient Wales the bards and poet singers were welcomed, and trusted\nabove all men; and this, whether in the palace or the cottage.\n\nSo Gwyd, the brother of the love-sick one, in order to get the herd of\nsurpassing swine, took ten companions, all young men and strong,\ndressed as bards, and pretending by their actions to be such. Then\nthey all started out together to seek the palace of Pryderi.\n\nHaving arrived, they were entertained at a great feast, in the castle\nhall. There Pryderi sat on his throne-chair, with his feet in a\nmaiden's lap.\n\nThe dinner over, Gwyd was asked to tell a story.\n\nThis he did, delighting everyone so much, that he was voted a jolly\ngood fellow by all. In fact, Pryderi felt ready to give him anything\nhe might demand, excepting always his foot holder.\n\nAt once, Gwyd made request to give him the herd of swine.\n\nAt this, the countenance of Pryderi fell, for he had made a promise to\nhis people, that he would not sell or give away the swine, until they\nhad produced double their number in the land; for there were no pigs\nand no pork like theirs, to be bought anywhere.\n\nNow this Gwyd was not very cunning, but he had the power of using\nmagic arts. By these, he could draw the veil of illusion over both the\nmind and the eyes of the people.\n\nSo he made answer to Pryderi's objections thus:\n\n\"Keep your promise to your people, oh, most honored Pryderi, and only\nexchange them for the gift I make thee,\" said Gwyd.\n\nThereupon, exerting his powers of magic, he created the illusion of\ntwelve superb horses. These were all saddled, bridled, and\nmagnificently caparisoned. But, after twenty-four hours, they would\nvanish from sight. The illusion would be over.\n\nWith these steeds, so well fitted for hunting, were twelve sleek,\nfleet hounds. Taken altogether, here was a sight to make a hunter's\neyes dance with delight.\n\nSo Pryderi gave Gwyd the swine, and he quickly drove them off.\n\n\"For,\" he whispered to his companion fellows in knavery, \"the illusion\nwill only last until the same hour to-morrow.\"\n\nAnd so it happened. For when Pryderi's men went to the stables, to\ngroom the horses and feed the hounds, there was nothing in either the\nstables or the kennels.\n\nWhen they told this to Pryderi, he at once blew his horn and assembled\nhis knights, to invade the country of Gwynedd, to recover his swine.\nHearing of his coming, King Math went out to meet Pryderi in battle.\n\nBut while he was away with his army, Gily, the lover, seized the\nbeautiful maiden Goewen, who held the king's feet in her lap.\n\nShe was not willing to marry Gily, but he eloped with her, and carried\nher off to his cottage.\n\nThe war which now raged was finally decided by single combat, as was\nthe custom in old days. By this, the burning of the peasants' houses,\nand the ruin which threatened the whole country, ended, and peace\ncame.\n\nIt was not alone by the strength and fierceness of King Math, but also\nby the magic spells of Gwyd, that Pryderi was slain.\n\nAfter burying the hero, King Math came back to his palace and found\nout what Gily had done. Then he took Goewen away from Gily, and to\nmake amends for her trouble, in being thus torn from his palace, King\nMath made her his queen. Then the lovely Goewen shared his throne\ncovered with the flame colored satin. One of the most beautiful\nmaidens of the court was chosen to hold his feet, until such time as a\npermanent choice was made.\n\nAs for the two nephews, who had fled from the wrath of their princely\nuncle, they were put under bans, as outlaws, and had to live on the\nborders of the kingdoms. No one of the king's people was allowed to\ngive them food or drink. Yet they would not obey the summons of the\nking, to come and receive their punishment.\n\nBut at last, tired of being deserted by all good men and women, they\nrepented in sorrow. Hungry, ragged and forlorn, they came to their\nuncle, the king to submit themselves to be punished.\n\nWhen they appeared, Math spoke roughly to them, and said:\n\n\"You cannot make amends for the shame you have brought upon me. Yet,\nsince you obey and are sorry, I shall punish you for a time and then\npardon you. You are to do penance for three years at least.\"\n\nThen they were changed into wild deer, and he told them to come back\nafter twelve months.\n\nAt the end of the year they returned, bringing with them a young fawn.\n\nAs this creature was entirely innocent, it was given a human form and\nbaptized in the church.\n\nBut the two brothers were changed into wild swine, and driven off to\nfind their food in the forest.\n\nAt the end of the year, they came back with a young pig.\n\nThe king had the little animal changed into a human being, which, like\nevery mother's child in that time, received baptism.\n\nAgain the brothers were transformed into animal shape. This time, as\nwolves, and were driven out to the hills.\n\nAt the end of a twelve months' period, they came back, three in\nnumber, for one was a cub.\n\nBy this time, the penance of the naughty nephews was over, and they\nwere now to be delivered from all magic spells.\n\nSo their human nature was restored to them, but they must be washed\nthoroughly. In the first place, it took much hot water and lye, made\nfrom the wood ashes, and then a great deal of scrubbing, to make them\npresentable.\n\nThen they were anointed with sweet smelling oil, and the king ordered\nthem to be arrayed in elegant apparel. They were appointed to hold\nhonorable office at court, and from time to time to go out through the\ncountry, to call the officers to attend to public business.\n\nWhen the time came that the king sought for one of the most beautiful\nmaidens, who should hold his feet, Gwyd nominated to the prince's\nnotice his sister Arianrod. The king was gracious, and thereafter she\nheld his feet at all the banquets. She was looked up to with reverence\nby all, and held the office for many years. Thus King Math's\nreputation for grace and mercy was confirmed.\n\n\n\n\nXIX\n\n\nPOWELL, PRINCE OF DYFED\n\n\nOne of the oldest of the Welsh fairy tales tells us about Pwyle, King\nof Fairyland and father of the numerous clan of the Powells. He was a\nmighty hunter. He could ride a horse, draw a bow, and speak the truth.\nHe was always honored by men, and he kept his faith and his promises\nto women. The children loved him, for he loved them. In the castle\nhall, he could tell the best stories. No man, bard, or warrior, foot\nholder or commoner, could excel him in gaining and keeping the\nattention of his hearers, even when they were sleepy and wanted to go\nto bed.\n\nOne day, when out a hunting in the woods, he noticed a pack of hounds\nrunning down a stag. He saw at once that they were not his own, for\nthey were snow white in color and had red ears.\n\nBeing a young man, Powell did not know at this time of his life, that\nred is the fairy color, and that these were all dogs from Fairyland.\nSo he drove off the red-eared hounds, and was about to let loose his\nown pack on the stag, when a horseman appeared on the scene.\n\nThe stranger at once began to upbraid Powell for being impolite. He\nasked why his hounds should not be allowed to hunt the deer.\n\nPowell spoke pleasantly in reply, making his proper excuses to the\nhorseman. The two began to like each other, and soon got acquainted\nand mutually enjoyed being companions.\n\nIt turned out that the stranger was Arawn, a king in Fairyland. He had\na rival named Hargan, who was beating him and his army in war.\n\nSo Arawn asked Powell to help him against his enemy. He even made\nrequest that one year from that time, Powell should meet Hargan in\nbattle. He told him that one stroke of his sword would finish the\nenemy. He must then sheathe his weapon, and not, on any account,\nstrike a second time.\n\nTo make victory sure, the Fairy King would exchange shapes with the\nmortal ruler and each take not only the place, but each the shape and\nform of the other. Powell must go into Fairy Land and govern the\nkingdom there, while Arawn should take charge of affairs at Dyfed.\n\nBut Powell was warned, again, to smite down his enemy with a single\nstroke of his sword. If, in the heat of the conflict, and the joy of\nvictory, Powell should forget, and give a second blow to Hargan, he\nwould immediately come to life and be as strong as ever.\n\nPowell heeded well these words. Then, putting on the shape of Arawn,\nhe went into Fairy Land, and no one noticed, or thought of anything\ndifferent from the days and years gone by.\n\nBut now, at night, a new and unexpected difficulty arose. Arawn's\nbeautiful wife was evidently not in the secret, for she greeted Powell\nas her own husband.\n\nAfter dinner, when the telling of stories in the banqueting hall was\nover, the time had come for them to retire.\n\nBut the new bed fellow did not even kiss her, or say \"good night,\" but\nturned his back to her and his face to the wall, and never moved until\ndaylight. Then the new King in Fairy Land rose up, ate his breakfast,\nand went out to hunt.\n\nEvery day, he ruled the castle and kingdom, as if he had always been\nthe monarch. To everybody, he seemed as if he had been long used to\npublic business, and no questions were asked, nor was there any talk\nmade on the subject. Everyone took things as matter of course.\n\nYet, however polite or gracious he might be to the queen during the\nday, in the evening, he spoke not a word, and passed every night as at\nthe first.\n\nThe twelve months soon sped along, and now the time for the battle in\nsingle combat between Powell and Hargan had fully come. The two\nwarriors met in the middle of a river ford, and backed their horses\nfor a charge. Then they rushed furiously at the other. Powell's spear\nstruck Hargan so hard, that he was knocked out of the saddle and\nhurled, the length of a lance, over and beyond the crupper, or tail\nstrap of his horse. He fell mortally wounded upon the ground.\n\nNow came the moment of danger and temptation to Powell, for Hargan\ncried out:\n\n\"For the love of Heaven, finish your work on me. Slay me with your\nsword.\"\n\nBut Powell was wise and his head was cool. He had kept in mind the\nwarning to strike only one blow. He called out loudly, so that all\ncould hear him:\n\n\"I will not repeat that. Slay thee who may, I shall not.\"\n\nSo Hargan, knowing his end had come, bade his nobles bear him away\nfrom the river shore.\n\nThen Powell, with his armies, overran the two kingdoms of Fairy Land\nand made himself master of all. He took oath of all the princes and\nnobles, who swore to be loyal to their new master.\n\nThis done, Powell rode away to the trysting place in a glen, and there\nhe met Arawn, as had been appointed. They changed shapes, and each\nbecame himself, as he had been before.\n\nArawn thanked Powell heartily, and bade him see what he had done for\nhim.\n\nThen each one rode back, in his former likeness, to his kingdom.\n\nNow at Anwyn, no one but Arawn himself knew that anything unusual had\ntaken place. After dinner, and the evening story telling were over,\nand it was time to go to bed, Arawn's wife was surprised in double\nmeasure.\n\nTwo things puzzled her. Her husband was now very tender to her and\nalso very talkative; whereas, for a whole year, every night, he had\nbeen as silent and immovable as a log. How could it be, in either\ncase?\n\nBut this time, the wife was silent as a statue. Even though Arawn\nspoke to her three times, he received no reply.\n\nThen he asked directly of her, why she was so silent. She made an\nanswer that, for a whole year, no word had been spoken in their\nbedroom.\n\n\"What?\" said he, \"did we not talk together, as always before?\"\n\n\"No,\" said she, \"not for a year has there been talk or caress between\nus.\"\n\nAt this answer, Arawn was overcome with surprise, and as struck with\nadmiration at having so good a friend. He burst out first in praise of\nPowell, and then told his wife all that had happened during the past\ntwelve months. She, too, was full of admiration, and told her husband\nthat in Powell he had certainly found a true friend.\n\nIn Dyfed, when Powell had returned to his own land and castle, he\ncalled his lords together. Then he asked them to be perfectly frank\nand free to speak. They must tell him whether they thought him a good\nking during the year past.\n\nAll shouted in chorus of approval. Then their spokesman addressed\nPowell thus:\n\n\"My lord, never was thy wisdom so great, thy generosity more free, nor\nthy justice more manifest, than during the past year.\"\n\nWhen he ceased, all the vassals showed their approval of this speech.\n\nThen Powell, smiling, told the story of his adventures in exchanging\nhis form and tasks; at the end of which, the spokesman taking his cue\nfrom the happy faces of all his fellow vassals, made reply:\n\n\"Of a truth, lord, we pray thee, do thou give thanks to Heaven that\nthou hast formed such a fellowship. Please continue to us the form of\nthe kingdom and rule, that we have enjoyed for a year past.\"\n\nThereupon King Powell took oath, kissing the hilt of his sword, and\ncalled on Heaven to witness his promise that he would do as they had\ndesired.\n\nSo the two kings confirmed the friendship they had made. Each sent the\nother rich gifts of jewels, horses and hounds.\n\nIn memory of so wonderful and happy union, of a mortal and a fairy,\nPowell was thereafter, in addition to all his titles, saluted as Lord\nof Anwyn, which is only another name for the Land of the Fairies.\n\n\n\n\nXX\n\n\nPOWELL AND HIS BRIDE\n\n\nNot far from the castle where King Powell had his court, there was a\nhillock called the Mount of Macbeth. It was the common belief that\nsome strange adventure would befall anyone who should sit upon that\nmound.\n\nHe would receive blows, or wounds, or else he would see something\nwonderful.\n\nThus it came to pass, that none but peaceful bards had ever sat upon\nthe mound. Never a warrior or a common man had risked sitting there.\nThe general fear felt, and the awe inspired by the place, was too\ngreat.\n\nBut after his adventure of being King of Fairy Land for a whole year,\neverything else to Powell seemed dull and commonplace. So, to test his\nown courage, and worthiness of kingship, Powell assembled all his\nlords at Narberth.\n\nAfter the night's feasting, revelry and story telling, Powell declared\nthat, next day, he would sit upon the enchanted mound.\n\nSo when the sun was fully risen, Powell took his seat upon the mound,\nexpecting that, all of a sudden, something unusual would happen.\n\nFor some minutes nothing, whether event or vision, took place. Then he\nlifted up his eyes and saw approaching him a white horse on which rode\na lady. She was dressed in shining garments, as if made of gold.\nEvidently she was a princess. Yet she came not very near.\n\n\"Does anyone among you know who this lady is?\" asked Powell of his\nchieftains.\n\n\"Not one of us,\" was the answer.\n\nThereupon Powell ordered his vassals to ride forward. They were to\ngreet her courteously, and inquire who she was.\n\nBut now the predicted wonder took place. She moved away from them, yet\nat a quiet pace that suited her. Though the knights spurred their\nhorses, and rode fast and furiously, they could not come any nearer to\nher.\n\nThey galloped back, and reported their failure to reach the lady.\n\nThen Powell picked out others and sent them riding after the lady, but\neach time, one and all returned, chagrined with failure. A woman had\nbeaten them.\n\nSo the day closed with silence in the castle hall. There was no merry\nmaking or story telling that night.\n\nThe next day, Powell sat again on the mound and once more the golden\nlady came near.\n\nThis time, Powell himself left his seat on the mound, leaped on his\nfleetest horse, and pursued the maiden, robed in gold, on the white\nhorse.\n\nBut she flitted away, as she had done before from the knights. Again\nand again, though he could get nearer and nearer to her, he failed.\n\nThen the baffled king cried out, in despair, \"O maiden fair, for the\nsake of him whom thou lovest, stay for me.\"\n\nEvidently the lady, who lived in the time of castles and courts, did\nnot care to be wooed in the style of the cave men. Such manners did\nnot suit her, but with a change of method of making love, her heart\nmelted. Besides, she was a kind woman. She took pity on horses, as\nwell as on men.\n\nSweet was her voice, as she answered most graciously:\n\n\"I will stay gladly, and it were better for thy horses, hadst thou\nasked me properly, long ago.\"\n\nTo his questions, as to how and why she came to him, she told her\nstory, as follows:\n\n\"I am Rhiannon, descended from the August and Venerable One of old. My\naunts and uncles tried to make me marry against my will a chieftain\nnamed Gwawl, an auburn-haired youth, son of Clud, but, because of my\nlove to thee, would I have no husband, and if you reject me, I will\nnever marry any man.\"\n\n\"As Heaven is my witness, were I to choose among all the damsels and\nladies of the world, thee would I choose,\" cried Powell.\n\nAfter that, it was agreed that, when a year had sped, Powell should go\nto the Palace of the August and Venerable One of old, and claim her\nfor his bride.\n\nSo, when twelve months had passed, Powell with his retinue of a\nhundred knights, all splendidly horsed and finely appareled, presented\nhimself before the castle. There he found his fair lady and a feast\nalready prepared at which he sat with her. On the other side of the\ntable, were her father and mother.\n\nIn the midst of this joyous occasion, when all was gayety, and they\ntalked together, in strode a youth clad in sheeny satin. He was of\nnoble bearing and had auburn hair. He saluted Powell and his knights\ncourteously.\n\nAt once Powell, the lord of Narberth, invited the stranger to come and\nsit down as guest beside him.\n\n\"Not so,\" replied the youth. \"I am a suitor, and have come to crave a\nboon of thee.\"\n\nWithout guile or suspicion, Powell replied innocently.\n\n\"Ask what you will. If in my power, it shall be yours.\"\n\nBut Rhiannon chided Powell. She asked, \"Oh, why did you give him such\nan answer?\"\n\n\"But he did give it,\" cried the auburn haired youth. Then turning to\nthe whole company of nobles, he appealed to them:\n\n\"Did he not pledge his word, before you all, to give me what I asked?\"\n\nThen, turning to Powell, he said:\n\n\"The boon I ask is this, to have thy bride, Rhiannon. Further, I want\nthis feast and banquet to celebrate, in this place, our wedding.\"\n\nAt this demand, Powell seemed to have been struck dumb. He did not\nspeak, but Rhiannon did.\n\n\"Be silent, as long as thou wilt,\" she cried, \"but surely no man ever\nmade worse use of his wits than thou hast done; for this man, to whom\nthou gavest thy oath of promise, is none other than Gwawl, the son of\nClud. He is the suitor, from whom I fled to come to you, while you sat\non the Narberth mound.\"\n\nNow, out of such trouble, how should the maiden, promised to two men,\nbe delivered?\n\nHer wit saved her for the nonce. Powell was bound to keep his word;\nbut Rhiannon explained to Gwawl, that it was not his castle or hall.\nSo, he could not give the banquet; but, in a year from that date, if\nGwawl would come for her, she would be his bride. Then, a new bridal\nfeast would be set for the wedding.\n\nIn the meantime, Rhiannon planned with Powell to get out of the\ntrouble. For this purpose, she gave him a magical bag, which he was to\nuse when the right time should come.\n\nQuickly the twelve months passed and then Gwawl appeared again, to\nclaim his bride, and a great feast was spread in his honor.\n\nAll were having a good time, when in the midst of their merriment, a\nbeggar appeared in the hall. He was in rags, and carried the usual\nbeggar's wallet for food or alms. He asked only that, out of the\nabundance on the table, his bag might be filled.\n\nGwawl agreed, and ordered his servants to attend to the matter.\n\nBut the bag never got full. What they put into it, or how much made no\ndifference. Dish after dish was emptied. By degrees, most of the food\non the table was in the beggar's bag.\n\n\"My soul alive! Will that bag never get full?\" asked Gwawl.\n\n\"No, by Heaven! Not unless some rich man shall get into it, stamp it\ndown with his feet, and call out 'enough.'\"\n\nThen Rhiannon, who sat beside Gwawl, urged him to attempt the task, by\nputting his two feet in the bag to stamp it down.\n\nNo sooner had Gwawl done this, than the supposed beggar pushed him\ndown inside the bag. Then drawing the mouth shut, he tied it tight\nover Gwawl's head.\n\nThen the beggar's rags dropped, and there stood forth the handsome\nleader, Powell. He blew his horn, and in rushed his knights who\novercame and bound the followers of Gwawl.\n\nThen they proceeded to play a merry game of football, using the bag,\nin which Gwawl was tied, as men in our day kick pigskin. One called to\nhis mate, or rival, \"What's in the bag?\" and others answered, \"a\nbadger.\" So they played the game of \"Badger in the Bag,\" kicking it\naround the hall.\n\nThey did not let the prisoner out of the bag, until he had promised to\npay the pipers, the harpers, and the singers, who should come to the\nwedding of Powell and Rhiannon. He must give up all his claims, and\nregister a vow never to take revenge. This oath given, and promises\nmade, the bag was opened and the agreements solemnly confirmed in\npresence of all.\n\nThen Gwawl, and every one of his men, knights and servants, were let\ngo, and they went back to their own country.\n\nA few evenings later, in the large banqueting hall, Powell and\nRhiannon were married. Besides the great feast, presents were given to\nall present, high and low. Then the happy pair made their wedding\njourney to Gwawl's palace at Narberth. There the lovely bride gave a\nring, or a gem, to every lord and lady in her new realm, and everybody\nwas happy.\n\n\n\n\nXXI\n\n\nWHY THE BACK DOOR WAS FRONT\n\n\nIn the days when were no books, or writing, and folk tales were the\nonly ones told, there was an old woman, who had a bad reputation. She\npretended to be very poor, so as not to attract or tempt robbers. Yet\nthose who knew her best, knew also, as a subject of common talk, that\nshe was always counting out her coins.\n\nBesides this, she lived in a nice house, and it was believed that she\nmade a living by stealing babies out of their cradles to sell to the\nbad fairies.\n\nIt was matter of rumor that she would, for an extra large sum, take a\nwicked fairy's ugly brat, and put it in place of a mother's darling.\n\nIn addition to these horrid charges against her, it was rumored that\nshe laid a spell, or charm, on the cattle of people whom she did not\nlike, in order to take revenge on them.\n\nThe old woman denied all this, and declared it was only silly gossip\nof envious people who wanted her money. She lived so comfortably, she\naverred, because her son, who was a stone mason, who made much money\nby building chimneys, which had then first come into fashion. When he\nbrought to her the profits of his jobs, she counted the coins, and\nbecause of this, some people were jealous, and told bad stories about\nher. She declared she was thrifty, but neither a miser, nor a\nkidnaper, nor a witch.\n\nOne day, this old woman wanted more feathers to stuff into her bed, to\nmake it softer and feel pleasanter for her old bones to rest upon, for\nwhat she slept on was nearly worn through. So she went to a farm,\nwhere they were plucking geese, and asked for a few handfuls of\nfeathers.\n\nBut the rich farmer's people refused and ordered her out of the farm\nyard.\n\nShortly after this event, the cows of this farmer, who was opposed to\nchimneys, and did not like her or her son, suffered dreadfully from\nthe disease called the black quarter. As they had no horse doctors or\nprofessors of animal economy, or veterinaries in those days, many of\nthe cows died. The rich farmer lost much money, for he had now no milk\nor beef to sell. At once, he suspected that his cattle were bewitched,\nand that the old woman had cast a spell on them. In those days, it was\nvery easy to think so.\n\nSo the angry man went one day to the old crone, when she was alone,\nand her stout son was away on a distant job. He told her to remove the\ncharm, which she had laid on his beasts, or he would tie her arms and\nlegs together, and pitch her into the river.\n\nThe old woman denied vehemently that she possessed any such powers, or\nhad ever practiced such black arts.\n\nTo make sure of it, the farmer made her say out loud, \"The Blessing of\nGod be upon your cattle!\" To clinch the matter, he compelled her to\nrepeat the Lord's Prayer, which she was able to do, without missing\none syllable. She used the form of words which are not found in the\nprayer book, but are in the Bible, and was very earnest, when she\nprayed \"Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.\"\n\nBut after all that trouble, and the rough way which the rich farmer\ntook to save his cattle, his efforts were in vain. In spite of that\nkind of religion which he professed--which was shown by bullying a\npoor old woman--his cattle were still sick, with no sign of\nimprovement. He was at his wits' end to know what to do next.\n\nNow, as we have said, this was about the time that chimneys came into\nfashion. In very old days, the Cymric house was a round hut, with a\nthatched roof, without glass windows, and the smoke got out through\nthe door and holes in the walls, in the best way it could. The only\ntapestry in the hut was in the shape of long festoons of soot, that\nhung from the roof or rafters. These, when the wind blew, or the fire\nwas lively, would swing or dance or whirl, and often fall on the\nheads, or into the food, while the folks were eating. When the\nchildren cried, or made wry faces at the black stuff, their daddy only\nlaughed, and said it was healthy, or was for good luck.\n\nBut by and by, the carpenters and masons made much improvement,\nespecially when, instead of flint hatchets, they had iron axes and\ntools. Then they hewed down trees, that had thick cross branches and\nset up columns in the center, and made timber walls and rafters. Then\nthe house was square or oblong. In other words, the Cymric folks\nsquared the circle.\n\nNow they began to have lattices, and, much later, even glass windows.\nThey removed the fireplace from the middle of the floor and set it at\nthe end of the house, opposite the door, and built chimneys.\n\nThen they set the beds at the side, and made sleeping rooms. This was\ndone by stretching curtains between partitions. They had also a loft,\nin which to keep odds and ends. They hung up the bacon and hams, and\nstrings of onions, and made a mantle piece over the fireplace. They\neven began to decorate the walls with pictures and to set pewter\ndishes, china cats, and Dresden shepherds in rows on the shelves for\nornaments.\n\nNow people wore shoes and the floor, instead of being muddy, or dusty,\nwith pools and puddles of water in the time of rainy weather and with\nthe pigs and chickens running in and out, was of clay, beaten down\nflat and hard, and neatly whitewashed at the edges. Outside, in front,\nwere laid nice flat flagstones, that made a pleasant path to the front\ndoor. Flowers, inside and out, added to the beauty of the home and\nmade perfume for those who loved them.\n\nThe rich farmer had just left his old round hut and now lived in one\nof the new and better kind of houses. He was very proud of his\nchimney, which he had built higher than any of his neighbors, but he\ncould not be happy, while so many of his cows were sick or dying.\nBesides, he was envious of other people's prosperity and cared\nnothing, when they, too, suffered.\n\nOne night, while he was standing in front of his fine house and\nwondering why he must be vexed with so many troubles, he talked to\nhimself and, speaking out loud, said:\n\n\"Why don't my cows get well?\"\n\n\"I'll tell you,\" said a voice behind him. It seemed half way between a\nsqueak and a growl.\n\nHe turned round and there he saw a little, angry man. He was dressed\nin red, and stood hardly as high as the farmer's knee. The little old\nman glared at the big fellow and cried out in a high tone of voice:\n\n\"You must change your habits of disposing of your garbage, for other\npeople have chimneys besides you.\"\n\n\"What has that to do with sickness among my cows?\"\n\n\"Much indeed. Your family is the cause of your troubles, for they\nthrow all their slops down my chimney and put out my fire.\"\n\nThe farmer was puzzled beyond the telling, for he owned all the land\nwithin a mile, and knew of no house in sight.\n\n\"Put your foot on mine, and then you will have the power of vision, to\nsee clearly.\"\n\nThe farmer's big boot was at once placed on the little man's slipper,\nand when he looked down he almost laughed at the contrast in size.\nWhat was his real surprise, when he saw that the slops thrown out of\nhis house, did actually fall down; and, besides, the contents of the\nfull bucket, when emptied, kept on dripping into the chimney of a\nhouse which stood far below, but which he had never seen before.\n\nBut as soon as he took his foot off that of the tiny little man, he\nsaw nothing. Everything like a building vanished as in a dream.\n\n\"I see that my family have done wrong and injured yours. Pray forgive\nme. I'll do what I can to make amends for it.\"\n\n\"It's no matter now, if you only do as I ask you. Shut up your front\ndoor, build a wall in its place, and then my family will not suffer\nfrom yours.\"\n\nThe rich farmer thought all this was very funny, and he had a hearty\nlaugh over it all.\n\nYet he did exactly as the little man in the red cloak had so politely\nasked him. He walled up the old door at the front, and built another\nat the back of the house, which opened out into the garden. Then he\nmade the path, on which to go in from the roadway to the threshold,\naround the corners and over a longer line of flagstones. Then he\nremoved the fireplace and chimney to what had been the front side of\nthe house, but was now the back. For the next thing, he had a copper\ndoorsill nailed down, which his housemaid polished, until it shone as\nbright as gold.\n\nYet long before this, his cows had got well, and they now gave more\nand richer milk than ever. He became the wealthiest man in the\ndistrict. His children all grew up to be fine looking men and women.\nHis grandsons were famous engineers and introduced paving and drainage\nin the towns so that to-day, for both man and beast, Wales is one of\nthe healthiest of countries.\n\n\n\n\nXXII\n\n\nTHE RED BANDITS OF MONTGOMERY\n\n\nWhen chimneys were first added to houses in Wales, and the style of\nhouse-building changed, from round to square, many old people found\nfault with the new fashion of letting the smoke out.\n\nThey declared they caught colds and sneezed oftener, than in the times\ngone by. The chimneys, they said, cost too much money, and were\nuseless extravagances. They got along well enough, in the good old\ndays, when the smoke had its own way of getting out. Then, it took\nplenty of time to pass through the doors and windholes, for no one\nperson or thing was in a hurry, when they were young. Moreover, when\nthe fireplace was in the middle of the floor, the whole family sat\naround it and had a sociable time.\n\nIt was true, as they confessed, when argued with, that the smell of\nthe cooking used to linger too long. The soot also, hung in long\nstreamers from the rafters, and stuck to the house, like old friends.\n\nBut the greatest and most practical objection of the old folks to the\nchimneys was that robbers used them to climb down at night and steal\npeople's money, when they were asleep. So, many householders used to\nset old scythe blades across the new smoke holes, to keep out the\nthieves, or to slice them up, if they persisted.\n\nIn Montgomery, which is one of the Welsh shires, there was an epidemic\nof robbery, and the doings of the Red Bandits are famous in history.\n\nNow there was a young widow, whose husband had been killed by the\nfootpads, or road robbers. She was left alone in the world, with a\nlittle boy baby in the cradle and only one cow in the byre. She had\nhard work to pay her rent, but as there were three or four scythes set\nin the chimney, and the cow stable had a good lock on it, she thought\nshe was safe from burglars or common thieves.\n\nBut the Reds picked out the most expert chimney-climber in their gang,\nand he one night slipped down into the widow's cottage, without making\nany noise or cutting off his nose, toes, or fingers. Then, robbing the\nwidow of her rent money, he picked the lock of the byre and drove off\nthe cow. In the morning, the poor woman found both doors open, but\nthere was no money and no cow.\n\nWhile she was crying over her loss, and wringing her hands, because of\nher poverty, she heard a knock at the door.\n\n\"Come in,\" said the widow.\n\nThere entered an old lady with a kindly face. She was very tall and\nwell dressed. Her cloak, her gloves, and shoes, and the ruffles under\nher high peaked Welsh head dress, were all green. The widow thought\nshe looked like an animated leek. In her right hand was a long staff,\nand in her left, under her cloak, she held a little bag, that was\ngreen, also.\n\n\"Why do you weep?\" asked the visitor.\n\nThen the widow told her tale of woe--the story of the loss of her\nhusband, and how a red robber, in spite of the scythe blades set in\nthe chimney, had come down and taken away both her money and her cow.\n\nNow, although she had sold all her butter and cream, she could neither\npay her rent, nor have any buttermilk with her rye bread and flummery.\n\n\"Dry your tears and take comfort,\" said the tall lady in the green\npeaked hat. \"Here is money enough to pay your rent and buy another\ncow.\" With that, she sat down at the round table near the peat fire.\nOpening her bag, the shining gold coins slid out and formed a little\nheap on the table.\n\n\"There, you can have all this, if you will give me all I want.\"\n\nAt first, the widow's eyes opened wide, and then she glanced at the\ncradle, where her baby was sleeping. Then she wondered, though she\nsaid nothing.\n\nBut the next moment, she was laughing at herself, and looking around\nat her poor cottage. She tried to guess what there was in it, that the\nold lady could possibly want.\n\n\"You can have anything I have. Name it,\" she said cheerfully to her\nvisitor.\n\nBut only a moment more, and all her fears returned at the thought that\nthe visitor might ask for her boy.\n\nThe old lady spoke again and said:\n\n\"I want to help you all I can, but what I came here for is to get the\nlittle boy in the cradle.\"\n\nThe widow now saw that the old woman was a fairy, and that if her\nvisitor got hold of her son, she would never see her child again.\n\nSo she begged piteously of the old lady, to take anything and\neverything, except her one child.\n\n\"No, I want that boy, and, if you want the gold, you must let me take\nhim.\"\n\n\"Is there anything else that I can do for you, so that I may get the\nmoney?\" asked the widow.\n\n\"Well, I'll make it easier for you. There are two things I must tell\nyou to cheer you.\"\n\n\"What are they?\" asked the widow, eagerly.\n\n\"One is, that by our fairy law, I cannot take your boy, until three\ndays have passed. Then, I shall come again, and you shall have the\ngold; but only on the one condition I have stated.\"\n\n\"And the next?\" almost gasped the widow.\n\n\"If you can guess my name, you will doubly win; for then, I shall give\nyou the gold and you can keep your boy.\"\n\nWithout waiting for another word, the lady in green scooped up her\nmoney, put it back in the bag, and moved off and out the door.\n\nThe poor woman, at once a widow and mother, and now stripped of her\nproperty, fearing to lose her boy, brooded all night over her troubles\nand never slept a wink.\n\nIn the morning, she rose up, left her baby with a neighbor, and went\nto visit some relatives in the next village, which was several miles\ndistant. She told her story, but her kinsfolk were too poor to help\nher. So, all disconsolate, she turned her face homewards.\n\nOn her way back she had to pass through the woods, where, on one side,\nwas a clearing. In the middle of this open space, was a ring of grass.\nIn the ring a little fairy lady was tripping around and singing to\nherself.\n\nCreeping up silently, the anxious mother heard to her joy, a rhymed\ncouplet and caught the sound of a name, several times repeated. It\nsounded like \"Silly Doot.\"\n\nHurrying home and perfectly sure that she knew the secret that would\nsave her boy, she set cheerily about her regular work and daily tasks.\nIn fact, she slept soundly that night.\n\nNext day, in came the lady in green as before, with her bag of money.\nTaking her seat at the round table, near the fire, she poured out the\ngold. Then jingling the coins in the pile, she said:\n\n\"Now give up your boy, or guess my name, if you want me to help you.\"\n\nThe young widow, feeling sure that she had the old fairy in a trap,\nthought she would have some fun first.\n\n\"How many guesses am I allowed?\" she asked.\n\n\"All you want, and as many as you please,\" answered the green lady,\nsmiling.\n\nThe widow rattled off a string of names, English, Welsh and Biblical;\nbut every time the fairy shook her head. Her eyes began to gleam, as if\nshe felt certain of getting the boy. She even moved her chair around\nto the side nearest the cradle.\n\n\"One more guess,\" cried the widow. \"Can it be Silly Doot?\"\n\nAt this sound, the fairy turned red with rage. At the same moment, the\ndoor opened wide and a blast of wind made the hearth fire flare up.\nLeaving her gold behind her, the old woman flew up the chimney, and\ndisappeared over the housetops.\n\nThe widow scooped up the gold, bought two cows, furnished her cottage\nwith new chairs and fresh flowers, and put the rest of the coins away\nunder one of the flag stones at the hearth. When her boy grew up, she\ngave him a good education, and he became one of the fearless judges,\nwho, with the aid of Baron Owen, rooted out of their lair the Red\nBandits, that had robbed his mother. Since that day, there has been\nlittle crime in Wales--the best governed part of the kingdom.\n\n\n\n\nXXIII\n\n\nTHE FAIRY CONGRESS\n\n\nOne can hardly think of Wales without a harp. The music of this most\nancient and honorable instrument, which emits sweet sounds, when heard\nin a foreign land makes Welsh folks homesick for the old country and\nthe music of the harp. Its strings can wail with woe, ripple with\nmerriment, sound out the notes of war and peace, and lift the soul in\nheavenly melody.\n\nUsually a player on the harp opened the Eistedfodd, as the Welsh\nliterary congress is called, but this time they had engaged for the\nfairies a funny little fellow to start the programme with a solo on\nhis violin.\n\nThe figure of this musician, at the congress of Welsh fairies, was the\nmost comical of any in the company. The saying that he was popular\nwith all the mountain spirits was shown to be true, the moment he\nbegan to scrape his fiddle, for then they all crowded around him.\n\n\"Did you ever see such a tiny specimen?\" asked Queen Mab of Puck.\n\nThe little fiddler came forward and drawing his instrument from under\nhis arm, proceeded to scrape the strings. He had on a pair of moss\ntrousers, and his coat was a yellow gorse flower. His feet were clad\nin shoes made of beetles' wings, which always kept bright, as if\npolished with a brush.\n\nWhen one looked at the fiddle, he could see that it was only a wooden\nspoon, with strings across the bowl. But the moment he drew the bow\nfrom one side to the other, all the elves, from every part of the\nhills, came tripping along to hear the music, and at once began\ndancing.\n\nSome of these elves were dressed in pink, some in blue, others in\nyellow, and many had glow worms in their hands. Their tread was so\nlight that the flower stems never bent, nor was a petal crushed, when\nthey walked over the turf. All, as they came near, bowed or dropped a\ncurtsey. Then the little musician took off his cap to each, and bowed\nin return.\n\nThere was too much business before the meeting for dancing to be kept\nup very long, but when the violin solo was over, at a sign given by\nthe fiddler, the dancers took seats wherever they could find them, on\nthe grass, or gorse, or heather, or on the stones. After order had\nbeen secured, the chairman of the meeting read regrets from those who\nhad been invited but could not be present.\n\nThe first note was from the mermaids, who lived near the Green Isles\nof the Ocean. They asked to be excused from traveling inland and\nclimbing rocks. In the present delicate state of their health this\nwould be too fatiguing. Poor things!\n\nIt was unanimously voted that they be excused.\n\nQueen Mab was dressed, as befitted the occasion, like a Welsh lady,\nnot wearing a crown, but a high peaked hat, pointed at the top and\nabout half a yard high. It was black and was held on by fastenings of\nscalloped lace, that came down around her neck.\n\nThe lake fairies, or Elfin Maids, were out in full force. These lived\nat the bottom of the many ponds and pools in Wales. Many stories are\ntold of the wonderful things they did with boats and cattle.\n\nNowadays, when they milk cows by electric machinery and use steam\nlaunches on the water, most of the water sprites of all kinds have\nbeen driven away, for they do not like the smell of kerosene or\ngasoline. It is for these reasons that, in our day, they are not often\nseen. In fact, cows from the creameries can wade out into the water\nand even stand in it, while lashing their tails to keep off the flies,\nwithout any danger, as in old times, of being pulled down by the Elfin\nMaids.\n\nThe little Red Men, that could hide under a thimble, and have plenty\nof room to spare, were all out. The elves, and nixies and sprites, of\nall colors and many forms were on hand.\n\nThe pigmies, who guard the palace of the king of the world\nunderground, came in their gay dresses. There were three of them, and\nthey brought in their hands balls of gold, with which to play tenpins,\nbut they were not allowed to have any games while the meeting was\ngoing on.\n\nIn fact, just when these little fellows from down under the earth were\nshowing off their gay clothes and their treasures from the caves, one\nmischievous fairy maid sidled up to their chief and whispered in his\near:\n\n\"Better put away your gold, for this is in modern Wales, where they\nhave pawn shops. Three golden balls, two above the one below, which\nyou often see nowadays, mean that two to one you will never get it\nagain. These hang out as the sign of a pawnbroker's shop, and what you\nput in does not, as a rule, come out. I am afraid that some of the\nCymric fairies from Cornwall, or Montgomery, or Cheshire, might think\nyou were after business, and you understand that no advertising is\nallowed here.\"\n\nIn a moment, each of the three leaders thrust his ball into his bosom.\nIt made his coat bulge out, and at this, some of the fairies wondered,\nbut all they thought of was that this spoiled a handsome fellow's\nfigure. Or was it some new idea? To tell the truth, they were vexed at\nnot keeping up with the new fashions, for they knew nothing of this\nlatest fad among such fine young gallants.\n\nMuch of the chat and gossip, before and after the meeting, was between\nthe fairies who live in the air, or on mountains, and those down in\nthe earth, or deep in the sea. They swapped news, gossip and scandal\nat a great rate.\n\nThere were a dozen or two fine-looking creatures who had high brows,\nwho said they were Co-eds. This did not mean that these fairies had\never been through college. \"Certainly the college never went through\nthem,\" said one very homely fairy, who was spiteful and jealous. The\nsimple fact was that the one they called Betty, the Co-ed, and others\nfrom that Welsh village, called Bryn Mawr, and another from Flint, and\nanother from Yale, and still others from Brimbo and from Co-ed Poeth,\nhad come from places so named and down on the map of Wales, though\nthey were no real Co-ed girls there, that could talk French, or\nEnglish, or read Latin. In fact, Co-ed simply meant that they were\nfrom the woods and lived among the trees; for Co-ed in Welsh means a\nforest.\n\nThe fairy police were further instructed not to admit, and, if such\nwere found, to put out the following bad characters, for this was a\nperfectly respectable meeting. These naughty folks were:\n\nThe Old Hag of the Mist.\n\nThe Invisible Hag that moans dolefully in the night.\n\nThe Tolaeth, a creature never seen, but that groans, sings, saws, or\nstamps noisily.\n\nThe Dogs of the Sky.\n\nAll witches, of every sort and kind.\n\nAll peddlers of horseshoes, crosses, charms, or amulets.\n\nAll mortals with brains fuddled by liquor.\n\nAll who had on shoes which water would not run under.\n\nAll fairies that were accustomed to turn mortals into cheese.\n\nEvery one of these, who might want to get in, were to be refused\nadmittance.\n\nAnother circle of rather exclusive fairies, who always kept away from\nthe blacksmiths, hardware stores, smelting furnaces and mines, had\nformed an anti-iron society. These were a kind of a Welsh \"Four\nHundred,\" or \u00e9lite, who would have nothing to do with anyone who had\nan iron tool, or weapon, or ornament in his hand, or on his dress, or\nwho used iron in any form, or for any use. They frowned upon the idea\nof Cymric Land becoming rich by mining, and smelting, and selling\niron. They did not even approve of the idea that any imps and dwarfs\nof the iron mines should be admitted to the meeting.\n\nOne clique of fairies, that looked like elves were in bad humor,\nalmost to moping. When one of these got up to speak, it seemed as if\nhe would never sit down. He tired all the lively fairies by\nlong-winded reminiscences, of druids, and mistletoes, and by telling\nevery one how much better the old times were than the present.\n\nPresident Puck, who always liked things short, and was himself as\nlively as quicksilver, many times called these long-winded fellows to\norder; but they kept meandering on, until daybreak, when it was time\nto adjourn, lest the sunshine should spoil them all, and change them\ninto slate or stone.\n\nIt was hard to tell just how much business was disposed of, at this\nsession, or whether one ever came to the point, although there was a\ngreat deal of oratory and music. Much of what was said was in poetry,\nor in verses, or rhymes, of three lines each. What they talked about\nwas mainly in protest against the smoke of factories and collieries,\nand because there was so much soot, and so little soap, in the land.\n\nBut what did they do at the fairy congress?\n\nThe truth is, that nobody to-day knows what was done in this session\nof the fairies, for the proceedings were kept secret. The only one who\nknows was an old Welshman whom the story-teller used to meet once in a\nwhile. He is the one mortal who knows anything about this meeting, and\nhe won't tell; or at least he won't talk in anything but Welsh. So we\nhave to find out the gist of the matter, by noticing, in the stories\nwhich we have just read what the fairies did.\n\n\n\n\nXXIV\n\n\nTHE SWORD OF AVALON\n\n\nMany of the Welsh tales are about fighting and wars and no country as\nsmall as Wales has so many castles. Yet these are nearly all in ruins\nand children play in them. This is because men got tired of battles\nand sieges.\n\nEverybody knows that after King Arthur's knights had punched and\nspeared, whacked and chopped at each other with axe and sword long\nenough, had slain dragons and tamed monsters, and rescued princesses\nfrom cruel uncles, and good men from dark dungeons, even the plain\npeople, such as farmers and mechanics, had enough and wanted no more.\nBesides this, they wished to be treated more like human beings, and\nnot have to work so hard and also to keep their money when they earned\nit.\n\nEven King Arthur himself, towards the end of this era, saw that\nfashions were changing and that he must change with them. Hardware was\ntoo high in price, and was no longer needed for clothing. He was wise\nenough to see that battle axes, maces, swords, lances and armor had\nbetter be put to some better use, when iron was getting scarce and\nwool and linen were cheaper. Even the stupid Normans learned that\ndecency and kindness cost less, and accomplished more in making the\nWelshery loyal subjects of the king.\n\nSo when, after many battles, King Arthur went out to have a little war\nof his own, and to enjoy the fight, in which he was mortally wounded,\nhe showed his greatness, even in the hour of death. In truth, it is\ngiven to some men, like Samson, to be even mightier when they die,\nthan when following the strenuous life. So it was with this great and\ngood man of Cymry. His love for his people never ceased for one\nmoment, and in his dying hour he left a bequest that all his people\nhave understood and acted upon.\n\nThus it has come to pass that the Welsh have been really\nunconquerable, by Saxon or Norman, or even in these twentieth century\ndays by Teutons. Though living in a small country, they are among the\ngreatest in the world, not in force, or in material things, but in\nsoul. When Belgium was invaded, they not only stood up in battle\nagainst the invader, but they welcomed to their homes tens of\nthousands of fugitives and fed and sheltered them.\n\nBrave as lions, their path of progress has been in faithfulness to\nduty, industry, and patience, and along the paths of poetry, music and\nbrotherhood. Their motto for ages has been, \"Truth against the World.\"\n\nNow the manner of King Arthur's taking off and his immortal legacy was\non this fashion:\n\nAfter doing a great many wonderful things, in many countries, King\nArthur came back to punish the wicked man, Modred. In the battle that\nensued, he received wounds that made him feel that he was very soon to\ndie. So he ordered his loyal vassal to take his sword to the island of\nAvalon. There he must cast the weapon into the deep water.\n\nBut the sword was part of the soul of Arthur. It would not sink out of\nsight, until it had given a message, from their king to the Welsh, for\nall time.\n\nAfter it had been thrown in the water, it disappeared, but rose again.\nFirst the shining blade, and then the hilt, and then a hand was seen\nto rise out of the flood.\n\nThrice that hand waved the sword round and round.\n\nThis was the prophecy of \"the deathless from the dead.\" King Arthur's\nbody might be hid in a cave, or molder in the ground, but his soul was\nto live and cheer his people. His beloved Cymric nation, with their\nundying language, were to rise in power again.\n\nAnd the resurrection has been glorious. Not by the might of the\nsoldier, or by arms or war--though the Welsh never flinch from duty,\nor before the foe--but by the power of poet, singer and the narrator\nof stories, that touch the imagination, and fire the soul to noble\ndeeds, have these results come.\n\nArthur's good blade, thus waved above the waters, became a veritable\nsword of the Spirit.\n\nMen of genius arose to flush with color the old legends. Prophets,\npreachers, monks, missionaries carried these all over Europe, and made\nthem the vehicles of Christian doctrine. In their new forms, they\nfired the imagination and illuminated, as with ten thousand lamps,\nmany lands and nations, until they held every people in spell. In\nmiracle and morality play, they reappeared in beauty. They attuned the\nharp and instrument of the musician and the troubadour, and these sang\nthe gospel in all lands, north and south, while telling the stories of\nAdam, and of Abraham, of Bethlehem, and of the cross, of the Holy\nGrail, and of Arthur and his Knights. All the precious lore of the\nCeltic race became transfigured, to illustrate and enforce Christian\ntruth. The symbolical bowl, the Celtic caldron of abundance, became\nthe cup of the Eucharist and the Grail the symbol of blessings\neternal.\n\nBy the artists, in the stained glass, and in windows of the great\nchurches, which were built no longer of wood but of stone, that\nblossomed under the chisel, the old legends were, by the new currents\nof truth, given a mystic glow. As wonderful as the rise of Gothic\narchitecture and the upbuilding of cathedrals, as glorious as the\nlight and art, that beautify the great temples of worship, was this\nre-birth of the Arthurian legends.\n\nFor now, again, the old virtues of the knightly days--loyalty,\nobedience, redress of wrongs, reverence of womanhood, and the\napplication of Christian ethics to the old rude rules of decency,\nlifted the life of the common people to a nobler plane and ushered in\nthe modern days.\n\nThen, after seven hundred years, a host of singers, Tennyson leading\nthem all, attuned the old Celtic harp. They reset for us the Cymric\nmelody and colorful incidents in \"the light that never was on sea or\nland.\" The old days live again in a greater glory.\n\nLady Guest put the Mabinogion into English, and Renan, and Arnold, and\nRolleston, and Rhys, in prose, competed in praise of the heritages\nfrom the old time. Popular education was diffused. The Welsh language\nrose again from the dead. Cardiff holds in pure white marble the most\nthrilling interpretation of Welsh history, in the twelve white marble\nstatues of the great men of Wales. The Welsh people, by bloodless\nvictory, have won the respect of all mankind.\n\nThey set a beacon for the oppressed nations. In the World War of\n1914-1918, they helped to save freedom and civilization. They were in\nthe van.\n\nLong may the sword of Arthur wave!","title":"Welsh Fairy Tales","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":43306}