Chapter I: HAD been down to spend a summer’s day at Eton. Dear old Eton! There is (7)

The mannikins calmly looked down meanwhile, and watched their enemies destroying each other until there was scarcely a live rat or frog left in the place, and the toads had fled frantically into the wood for fear the snakes should mistake them for frogs and they should be subjected to a fate from which all their dabblings in magic art might not have been able to preserve them. When the cries of the devouring and devoured creatures below had pretty well ceased, and few save cats and snakes were any longer to be seen in the courtyard, the owl gave a signal at which the mannikins turned on the water which, unknown to any person save themselves and their master, had been laid on to supply the castle in case of fire, and which by a judicious arrangement of pipes could be made to flood the courtyard at pleasure. The gorged cats and snakes were unable to make any effort to escape, although the latter might probably have swum safely off, many of them being water-snakes, and entertaining no great objection to the element. But, alas for them! there was one little circumstance which entirely prevented it. The _water was boiling_; {205}having been conducted through the kitchen of the castle, the large boilers of which had, by the owl’s orders, been carefully heated for the occasion. The shrieks of the wretched animals were dreadful to hear, when they became aware of the trap in which they had been Caught and the cruel fate which awaited them, from which escape was hopeless. They strove in vain to clamber up the walls or to creep through the holes; wherever they succeeded in raising themselves up from the water on to the walls, the mannikins with drawn swords and fierce looks relentlessly pushed them back into the hot bath below, so that, after a space of some twenty minutes or so, any person who desired a meal of boiled cat and snake-sauce might have been easily accommodated, and every one of the wretched creatures had perished.

Thus the castle was rid of the last of its invaders, and the mannikins had only to let the water off, which they did by means of a large sewer underneath the courtyard, the stone covering of which having been lifted by means of a spring worked from above, the bodies of the slain were washed below, and all traces of the battle and its victims were swept away from that part of the castle in an incredibly short space of time. Victory, entire and complete, now rested with the defenders of the castle, and their joy may he easily imagined. Not a mannikin had been slain or hurt, so effectually had they been protected by the power of the great owl, and the defeat and loss which had been inflicted upon their enemies had been of a character to prevent, or at all events greatly to lessen, the probability of any future attacks.

The {206}little people passed the rest of the night in the most sensible and proper way possible; that is to say, they put out the lights and went to bed, which is a thing which every reasonable creature should do at a proper hour, unless he happens to be desirous of weakening mind and body by depriving both of their natural rest, and thereby shortening the term of his existence.

The mannikins were astir early the next morning, putting everything to rights after the confusion of the night’s adventures. The glass was carefully picked out of the holes in the wall, the courtyards were cleaned, the bodies of those of the enemy who had fallen outside were decently buried, and the whole place resumed its former peaceful appearance within a very few hours. Then the mannikins returned to their usual lives; their swords were put away, their angry feelings forgotten, and their time spent in singing, dancing, and merriment as heretofore.

Meanwhile the three witches were in a frame of mind by no means enviable. Dame Stokes and Mother Wandle still smarted considerably from the effects of the severe whipping which they had each received; and although Goody Tickleback had, by her superior cunning, escaped that disagreeable punishment, she suffered bitterly from mortified vanity and disappointment at having been so entirely defeated in the attack which she had planned against the castle of the mannikins. The three old women took counsel together as to whether there was anything more to be done against those whom they chose to consider their deadly enemies, or whether they had better give it up as a bad job. Evil, however, never sleeps or remains quiet if it can possibly help it, and {207}so strong was the spirit of evil’s power over these wretched creatures that they felt themselves constrained to go on with their wicked work, and to plot and scheme something more against the innocent objects of their hatred. Their proceedings, however, had been rendered somewhat more difficult by the total failure which they had just experienced. They found the cats resolute in their refusal to embark in any further enterprises of a similar character to the last. The toads glared and spat dreadfully from fright when the subject was merely alluded to; and as to the rats, snakes, and frogs, they had suffered so heavily in the recent disaster that it was impossible to expect that anything short of absolute compulsion would induce a single one of them to take the field.

Under these circumstances the witches had recourse to the stoats and polecats, who were a fierce and bloodthirsty race, and might be of essential service if they could be persuaded to undertake the matter. Indeed, Goody Tickleback bit her lips with vexation at having forgotten to secure these powerful allies before, as she felt that they would have materially contributed to the strength of her former expedition, and consequently to its chance of success. Accordingly, having bribed them with large promises of tender young rabbits, and having paid a portion of the bribe in advance, which the cunning creatures insisted upon as a condition of their doing anything at all, the wicked old women succeeded in bringing a considerable army of stoats into the field, together with a small but compact band of polecats. The wily dames had sorely tempted the foxes and badgers of Windsor forest, but the former animals made various {208}excuses, and the latter, having consulted a famous old badger who lived at that time in the Brocas clump, declined altogether to have anything to do with the matter. So the three witches led forth their army, composed only of the animals I have mentioned, and arranged to cross the river upon a certain evening. The particular place upon which they had fixed to cross was at a considerable distance from any bridge, and some of these animals therefore had to swim, whilst those who could not or would not do so were provided with boats and rafts constructed by the magic powers of the old women. They themselves flew over in the usual manner, one as a bat, another on her famous broomstick, and the third on her awful steed. Then they stood on the opposite bank, awaiting their army, who, when they had finished all their preparations, sharpened their teeth and claws, and made other necessary arrangements, plunged into the river, and began to follow their leaders.

And now occurred one of the most singular scenes which it has ever been my good fortune to witness since I first presided over the destinies of this noble river. I have seen a great many strange things and people, Brother Rhine, and been a spectator of a great many curious sights. Moreover, during a long period of years, I have carefully inquired into and studied the natural habits and ways of living which distinguish the numerous animals, birds, and beasts which inhabit the banks and waters of my stream, in all of whom, indeed, I have ever taken that lively interest which becomes a person in my position. But I may as well frankly tell you at once that nothing ever astonished me more than the scene which followed the attempt of the stoats and polecats to cross {209}the river in order to attack the owl’s castle. They got nearly half-way across without anybody offering to dispute their passage. Then, all of a sudden, a strange, wild sound was heard, and a song was borne down upon the breeze which I knew full well as the war-song of the noble swans who honour my river by making it their home, and who are well known as the finest and handsomest swans in all Christendom.

“The swan swam up the stream;
Swim, swan, swim!
The swan swam down again;
Well swam, swan!”

This was the whole of the song; the words are simple, and apparently convey no particular meaning, being little more than the statement of a fact which may without difficulty be accepted as true, coupled with an expression of approval of the manner in which the bird in question had performed a natural and not uncongenial task. But if you were to hear this song sung by a number of swans together, all keeping tune exactly, and sailing down upon you as they sung, with flashing eyes and arched necks, evidently actuated by no friendly feeling, it is very doubtful whether you would care much about either the words or their meaning, and not improbable that you would prefer to be somewhat farther off from the sounds of the entrancing melody. So at least it certainly was with the allies of the witches, when a body of at least fifty or sixty swans (being a larger number than I had ever previously seen together in any part of my river) suddenly appeared sailing down upon them at full speed. It was altogether a most extraordinary proceeding on the part of the noble birds, who, although {210}ready and most able to defend themselves if attacked, are generally of a quiet and peaceful nature, and had hitherto, as far as my knowledge went, interfered with none of the other dwellers in or near the river, but lived in friendship and harmony with all.

Their intentions, however, upon the present occasion were never for a moment doubtful after their first appearance. They charged down upon the army of stoats and polecats with a force and velocity which rendered resistance impossible. The boats and rafts were at once overset by the impetuous fury of their attack, and the occupants thereof were in another instant struggling in the waters. Nor did the swimmers fare any better, for the powerful blows inflicted by a swan’s beak in every instance either stunned the animal struck, or so disabled him that he could swim no farther, but sank beneath the water to rise no more. The wretched creatures could do nothing to defend themselves, for the swans were too wary to approach their breasts near enough to any of the savage little animals to allow of their getting hold of their soft feathers. They kept far enough off for their own safety, after once upsetting the boats, and yet sufficiently near to deal out the pecks of death upon the struggling carcases with little or no risk to themselves. They utterly broke through and dispersed at once the line of the swimming and floating army, and then, turning round and coming up stream, slew multitudes of the wretched animals as they swam for their lives one way or another. A very few moments sufficed for the total rout of the witches’ army, not one of which ever reached the shore to which they were bound, though a few managed to swim back in safety, and those who had been {211}only just about to enter the river naturally gave up any further idea of doing so, and fled in great confusion back to the shelter of the forest from which they had come. The swans, meanwhile, who had ceased singing their war-song as soon as they reached the enemy, and had commenced a violent and angry hissing, which they only suspended when they bowed their heads in order to peck an enemy to his death, now recommenced their musical strains so soon as they had completely routed and destroyed the invading army, and swam back up the river with heads elevated high in the air, shaking themselves now and then with an air of conscious strength and exultation.

During the progress of these events, Brother Rhine, the state of mind and general feelings of the three witches may be better imagined than described. They wept, they howled, they tore what hair they had, they used language with which I will not sully my lips, and manifested every token of frantic rage and consternation. Charms and incantations they would have tried, but they knew well enough that they had no power whatever over things or beings in my sacred waters. The swans only laughed at their wild fury and strange gesticulations, and the old women remained upon the bank, perfectly helpless. Once more their plans against the owl and his mannikins had utterly failed; and they saw the destruction of the army which they had taken so much pains to raise, without the smallest power to avert the catastrophe which again dashed their fondest hopes to the ground.

At the conclusion of the scene which had terminated so disagreeably to themselves, the witches, having nearly {212}exhausted themselves with their rage, calmed down a little, and began to look at each other and wonder what they should do next. This, however, was not a matter long left within their own choice; even as they stood, the heavens grew dark with a mysterious and unnatural darkness, low mutterings of distant thunder were heard, and the wind wailed mournfully as it swept across the river and through the trees of the adjoining wood in which stood the castle of the mannikins.

A deep and distant terror seized upon the three witches as these things occurred; they felt, somehow or other, that those were near against whom their magic arts were powerless, and that some wonderful and awful Presence was at hand which they could neither withstand nor avoid. Trembling in every limb, they cowered upon the bank, shivering as if with cold, their teeth chattering, their eyes ready to start out of their heads with fright, and their hearts beating with that fear of coming judgment which wickedness always brings sooner or later to hearts that conceive and practise it. Some internal and inscrutable feeling seemed to warn them that their hour of punishment was near, and that retribution was at hand--retribution for all the pain and misery which they had caused to others ever since they first sold themselves to work evil instead of endeavouring to lead good and pious lives, and to be a comfort instead of a plague and torment to their fellow-creatures.

The suspense which they endured during this time was probably something more terribly painful than one can imagine, and the uncertainty of their coming doom made it all the more dreadful in anticipation. This state of things lasted for some little while, and a stillness, solemn {213}and awful in its intensity, reigned around. The wind fell again, and the sound of thunder ceased; only the old river went rolling on in its calm, ceaseless stream, the soothing ripple of which smote upon the ear of the unhappy witches as the solemn tones of a judge must fall upon the guilty criminal before him. Each moment seemed an hour to the terror-stricken old hags, and I imagine that no child who has waited in a dentist’s room until that popular operator was ready for him has ever endured half the agony of expectation which was experienced at this time by the three witches.

At last the silence was broken, and that in a manner which it would have been impossible for them to have anticipated. The low roll of a drum was heard in the wood, which sound swelled gradually upon the ear, and was then mingled with other martial music, evidently betokening the approach of an army. In a few moments more there issued from the direction of the owl’s castle a strange and unwonted procession. First of all came a splendid array of cock pheasants, gay with their bright and gaudy colours, and carrying their well-known banner of dark blue, in the centre of which is depicted a magnificent bird of their species looking round with a defiant air, whilst underneath him is inscribed the celebrated motto of his race--“Game to the last.” The pheasants were followed by a strong detachment of partridges, each with his brown horseshoe strongly developed upon his breast, whilst a golden wheat-sheaf upon a banner of russet brown, and the motto, “Hurrah for the harvest-fields!” showed the character of the regiment. They were followed by a body of woodcocks and snipes, marching {214}in alternate ranks, and displaying their respective banners, being a bird of each race worked in blue upon a white ground, and represented as tossing his long beak high in the air and saying, in the inscription below, “Settle my bill if you can!” To these succeeded a gallant regiment of bantams, whose arrogant motto, “Cock of the walk,” was displayed upon their crimson flags; whilst the “Come back! come back!” of the Guinea-fowl was seen upon the banners of the next comers. Other bands of birds followed, each with its own peculiar standard and device, and all marched in slow and solemn order from the wood to the music already mentioned, which was played by an invisible band within the leafy shade of the same.

As each regiment emerged from the wood, it advanced within a stone’s throw of the three witches, and took up ground at that distance, so that the old women found a semicircle gradually forming around them, which extended on all sides save that on which the river flowed. When numerous companies of birds had arrived and taken their places, there next appeared a strong detachment of squirrels--animals to which it is well known that witches entertain a peculiar dislike, on account of the restless activity of their nature, and their constant habit of dropping nutshells suddenly on the heads of persons engaged in unholy incantations and rites in the forests wherein they happen to dwell. The old women shuddered afresh then, when these creatures appeared upon the scene, especially as they came on, each armed with a bag of nuts, and with eyes full of mischief. They were followed by a quantity of rabbits, whose grave and martial appearance would have led you to suppose that there {215}were no such things as weasels or ferrets in the world; and after the rabbits came the principal part of the performance.

More than one hundred mannikins, fully armed and equipped, rode out of the wood, each mounted upon a prancing hare. Their saddles were made of mouse-skin, their bridles were of the best red tape, and their tortoiseshell bits rattled in the mouths of their fiery steeds. Each mannikin had upon his head a burnished helmet of mother-of-pearl, in which was a plume from the wing of a kingfisher, and the armour of each was of the best wrought tin, and sparkled gaily in the sunlight, which now again spread over the heavens as the troops emerged from the trees. The mannikins rode forward in loose order, whilst immediately after them came a close carriage, drawn by twelve cream-coloured hares, and surrounded by twenty mannikins on either side, and a number of owls of every species and description following behind. The mannikins who had ridden in front gave way when they approached the witches, falling back on either side so as to allow the carriage to pass between their ranks. It drew up immediately before the three trembling hags, and the attendant mannikins, bowing low and uncovering their heads, opened the doors for its occupant to descend.

You can have little doubt, Brother Rhine, as to who that occupant was, nor, indeed, was doubt long permitted to the personages most immediately interested in the drama about to be performed. From forth the carriage stepped a figure which all at the same moment recognised as that of the black owl of the castle. Not long, however, did he remain in the shape in which his audience {216}were most accustomed to behold him. Throwing back the head-dress and feathery cloak which begirt him, the figure of a noble youth stood before the astonished witches. His head was thrown back in contemptuous scorn, his eyes flashed with the indignation which virtue always experiences in the presence of vice; he stretched forth his hand, in which was grasped an ash stick, carefully peeled, so that it shone fresh and white, and this he waved gently in the air as he spoke in clear and sounding accents--“Vile hags!” he exclaimed; and as he uttered the words, Dame Stokes, Mother Wandle, and Groody Tickleback fell on their knees, whining and moaning in piteous tones--“Vile hags! once more have ye presumed to tempt your fate by plotting and scheming the destruction of my mannikins. The warning which ye had previously received seems to have produced no effect whatever upon ye, and ye will now have to endure the punishment ye have so well earned!”

As he spoke the old women grovelled on the earth at his feet, and mumbled forth in low and beseeching accents, “Oh, sir! _please_ let us off this time; just this once; it is the first time--we’ll never, never, do it again. _Please_ ‘give us first fault’!”

This expression, always well known among witches, and intended to express the forgiveness of an offence because of its being on that occasion committed for the first time, appeared greatly to increase the anger of the person addressed.

“First fault!” he exclaimed, indignantly, “why, how dare you utter such a falsehood? You have been complained of a dozen times at least by my mannikins, and I {217}have only spared you hitherto from a hope that you might reform, and give up your evil practices. You have not only made yourselves the pest of the whole place for a long time past, but you have now for the second time projected an attack upon the castle which I specially protect. First fault indeed! Two of you were well flogged the other day, and there is now nothing for it but to send you away altogether.”

At these words the wretched creatures burst into a howl of anguish, upon which the young man waved his hand, and a burst of sound arose from the invisible band, in which the tones of the bagpipe were distinctly audible, and which completely drowned the cries of the miserable witches. As soon as the latter and the music had ceased together, the young man continued to speak in a voice as stern as clear--

“I have hesitated,” he said, “as to the precise punishment which I should inflict upon each of you, for indeed I hardly know of any which is sufficiently severe for the crimes which you have committed. I had thought, indeed, of transforming you into shapes different from your own, but still possessing human form, and causing you to experience in them the greatest trouble and misery to which human life is subject. I have still a great mind to do so. I am very much disposed to make one of you a leader in the world of fashion, the second a Member of Parliament, and the third the Head Master of a Public School, which is under the control of a Governing Body.”

At this point such a dreadful shriek broke simultaneously from the three witches, that the squirrels were obliged to be called in and ordered to pelt them with nuts, {218}until they again crouched trembling but silent on the ground before their judge.

“But,” continued he, without noticing the interruption, “it shall never be said of me that I was guilty of unnecessary cruelty. There _are_, I must own, punishments too severe even for crimes such as yours, and among such these might possibly be included. As I am a great and powerful, so am I a merciful fairy, and I shall not award you one iota of suffering more than is your due. Dame Stokes of Datchet, though bad enough, you are in some respects the best of the three. You have at least, as a rule, preserved your natural form; and could you but have persuaded yourself to give up that abominable, not to say ridiculous, habit of riding on a broomstick, you might have passed through life with all the ordinary comforts of an English peasant, and ended your days in respectability and the parish workhouse. Since, however, you have persisted in using as a horse that which was intended as a harmless and useful domestic implement, you must pay the penalty of your indiscretion. You will be changed into a donkey, and as such may remain in your native place.”

Dame Stokes was just commencing a loud howl at the news of her impending fate, when a gaily attired young mannikin stepped before the fairy, and, making a low obeisance, craved leave to speak, which was at once graciously accorded.

“Noble master,” said he, “if a poor mannikin may put in a word, is this sentence one which requires any transformation at all? A person who, being able to ride on anything else, chooses a broomstick, must already be such {219}a donkey as to render a further change in the same direction quite unnecessary.”

The great fairy smiled.

“Your words are true, my child,” he replied, “in one sense, but they only tend to confirm the wisdom of my sentence. A donkey in thought and action is not always a donkey in shape. Were it otherwise, the world would be much more largely populated by those worthy and industrious animals. It is no terrible fate to which I condemn the aged Stokes. She will forthwith enter upon an existence in which she may render no inconsiderable service to mortals, who, whilst they despise, will not scruple to use her; and should she, as is highly probable, at any period of time, become the property of an itinerant vendor of brooms, she will have every chance of acquiring a further knowledge of the purposes to which a broomstick may be properly applied.”

He spoke, and as he concluded, a change at once came over the figure and appearance of Dame Stokes. Great ears sprung up on each side of her head, which became at once altered and elongated into that of a donkey; her body followed the example; a huge tail appeared in the usual place allotted to such appendages, and in another moment she stood, a veritable ass, before the assembled throng.

Then the young man turned to the terrified Mother Wandle, and sternly addressed her in her turn.

“You,” he said, “though not so bad as the third, are worse than the first of your party. Not content with your own shape (which I will, however, own was not prepossessing), you have gone about the country in disguise, and have, moreover, disgraced the family of bats (many of {220}whom are honest and owl-fearing creatures) by-assuming the shape of one of them, and in this form perpetrating your wicked deeds. Now one of two things must be true. Either you were _not_ by rights a bat, and had therefore no right to the shape of one, or, being a bat, you had no business to disgrace the family. In either case you are equally guilty, and your punishment must be proportionately severe. Since you have evinced, by the most practical means within your power, the undoubted preference which you cherish for the form of a bat, a bat you shall remain for ever, and, once for all, quit that human shape which you have so foolishly despised. Henceforth be your life that of the animal whom you have loved to imitate in your midnight flittings. Behind shutters, under eaves, beneath old boards and barn-sides be hidden, wretch, from the face of the sun, and only come forth when the shades of evening steal over the face of the earth. Shun the gaze of mankind, whom you have only lived to annoy, and rank for the rest of your existence amongst the most lowly and feeble of animals.”

He spoke, and, as in the case of Dame Stokes, the form and figure of Mother Wandle changed even as he ceased speaking, and a huge and unsightly bat occupied the place of the old woman, whilst a murmur of applause and approval was uttered by all who witnessed the transformation.

Then the owl-fairy turned upon the wretched Goody Tickleback, who stood in gloomy silence awaiting the doom which she full well knew her crimes had deserved, but which was not likely to be one whit more palatable on that account.

“Vile {221}and degraded creature,” exclaimed the fairy, regarding the object of his address with a stern and angry countenance, “you have at last been brought to account for your numerous crimes, which exceed those of your companions in guilt, and have rightly made you detested by every one to whom you are known. You have gone on for a long time in your nefarious course, unchecked by any consideration for those innocent beings against whom your evil practices have been directed, and undeterred either by the pangs of that remorse, which must at times have overshadowed even such a hardened soul as yours, or by the fear of that punishment which, though long deferred, was certain to arrive at last. In your life you have exhibited the ferocity of a tiger, the cruelty of an hyæna, and the craft of a serpent. A serpent therefore you shall be for the future, and as you have, like the rest of your fraternity, always entertained a great horror of water, you shall be consigned for ever to that element, and become a sea-serpent for the rest of your existence.”

A wild yell broke from Goody Tickleback as these words left the lips of the royal fairy, and she burst forth into a desperate cry for a mitigation of so terrible a sentence..

“Oh no! oh no!” she shrieked aloud in the madness of her despair; “not that, not that, for mercy’s sake! anything but that! Make me a stone, or a stick, or a good birch-rod if you will, great fairy. I promise I will act up to my name, and tickle with good-will every back that comes under me, if you will only make me this instead of a horrible snake. Oh do! oh do! oh don’t----”

And {222}she ended her speech with a yell more awful than before as she felt the dreadful transformation which had been awarded begin slowly but surely to steal over her decrepit frame.

The fairy smiled coldly.

“Cruel to the last,” he observed. “The vile hag would be made an instrument of torture in an inanimate shape, since she may no longer torment people in her original form. But it may not be. The doom has been pronounced, and already begins to take effect.”

Even as he spoke, the form of the old woman gradually changed into that of an enormous sea-serpent, and her yells culminated in a fearful hissing, from which the legions of valiant birds instinctively recoiled. A scaly monster of the deep occupied the place--and rather more than the place--lately filled by old Goody Tickle-back, and the last of the three witches had now received her allotted punishment. The owl-fairy then struck the ground sharply three times with his ashen stick, and each of the three culprits departed different ways. The donkey stretched out its tail, erected its ears, elevated its head, and gave vent to sundry of those loud and discordant noises by which creatures of that particular species are distinguished from other four-footed beasts. Then, looking around once more, it slowly set off at a trot, which presently became a galop; and, passing through the ranks of the bird and mannikin army, which divided for its passage, took the direction of Datchet, and hastened thither as fast as it could lay legs to the ground.

I will not follow the adventures of the poor beast any longer, though I may as well tell you, Brother. Rhine, that {223}I know for a fact she lingered in the same neighbourhood for a very long time. Indeed, not many weeks since, whilst walking upon Dorney Common, I heard cries as of an animal in distress, and, looking round, beheld a seller of brooms vehemently belabouring a half-starved ass with a broomstick. The poor beast was in sad condition. It was laden with a heavy load of brooms, and its speaking eyes seemed to tell of much privation and suffering. I seemed somehow or other to remember the expression of the face, and in a few moments recalled the circumstances of which I have just been telling you. There indeed was old Dame Stokes, serving out her time in long apprenticeship to misery and punishment, and experiencing that practical application of the broomstick which the owl-fairy had foretold. I passed on my way to the river, and sighed as I thought over her fate, pondering meanwhile upon the melancholy fact that sin should be so attractive as it had proved to this old woman, when its punishment, sooner or later, is so certain and is of so much more enduring a character than the questionable pleasure which has earned it.

As to Mother Wandle, there is but little to tell of her. As soon as she was permitted to do so, she flitted away across my river in the direction of Windsor Forest, and, for anything I know, may be there still. Bats are not creatures that one ever hears much of, nor have I been accustomed to interest myself particularly in their proceedings; but if you happen to see an especially ugly and repulsive bat, it is quite as likely to be old Mother Wandle as anybody else, and you may be sure that she is still enduring the punishment so justly inflicted upon her by a righteous judge.

Goody {224}Tickleback’s exit from the scene was of a more marked and singular character. It would have been difficult to have disposed of so gigantic a monster by any ordinary process. It could not have travelled by land to the ocean, except on wheels; and although it might have been possible to have paid expenses by sending it thither in the caravan of a travelling showman--supposing a vehicle of that description, and of sufficiently large size, to have been in being--such a course would have been scarcely consistent with the usage of fairyland, or with the nature and circumstances of the case. It might, of course, have been possible to have floated the creature down the waters of my river, but against such a proceeding my nymphs, elves, and swans would have protested indignantly, even had I been disposed for a moment to sanction it. Besides this, the inconvenience to traffic, and the bad odour which so foul a reptile would leave in the water, not to mention its possible indulgence in some mischievous and destructive habits which would have brought the river into bad repute, were all difficulties in the way. I could not allow a “Thames nuisance” to be thus originated which would have been probably fraught with most unpleasant consequences, and could have done no possible good to anybody. This, therefore, being out of the question, it only remained for the owl-fairy to exercise his magic power somewhat further, and get rid of the vast and cumbrous body which he had seen fit to create. The wonderful being made not the slightest difficulty. Waving his rod three times above his head, and describing with it a circle in the air, he struck upon the ground, which immediately opened wide beneath the hideous {225}serpent, and exhibited an enormous chasm, down which it slowly disappeared, and was seen no more in those regions of the earth.

Marvellous legends, however, have been told of the great Sea-serpent since that day, and those who know the circumstances which I have related are able to judge of their truth better than the ignorant and unlearned.

At times, when, far out at sea, the waves are running mountains high, the ship can scarce weather the storm, and some of the affrighted sailors have betaken themselves to their boats in hopes to preserve their lives, a hideous monster is said to rise from the deep, encircling and crushing the boat with its gigantic coil, and striking with its cruel fangs the drowning mariners. At other times, when all is calm, and the surface of the ocean ripples softly, like a lake stirred by the zephyrs’ softest breath, {226}a huge and awful form may be seen floating on the waves, slowly making its way through the waters, and ever and anon raising its hideous serpent-head aloft, as if in search of something to injure or destroy. Wonderful tales do the sailor men bring home of this extraordinary creature, and wise folk oftentimes shake their heads and affect to disbelieve in its existence. But we, Brother Rhine, who know this chronicle of early days which I have just been telling, shake no heads over the matter, and entertain no doubt of the reality of the sight which the sons of Neptune aver that they have seen. Old Goody Tickleback is the great Sea-serpent, and my only wonder is that, when the great owl-fairy was about it, he did not put her out of the way altogether, instead of leaving her in a position in which she could still work so much mischief to mortal men. I suppose, however, that fairies, like other people, know their own business best; and there was probably some reason against this self-evidently wise course which does not occur to those who do not happen themselves to be fairies.

In this manner, anyhow, the three witches were comfortably disposed of, and, to my mind, there never was a clearer case of “a good riddance of bad rubbish.” Having accomplished his task, the owl-fairy now reentered his carriage, and directed the troops to pass before him, which they accordingly did, each company saluting as it passed. The review being finished, the whole procession returned to the wood in the same order as that in which they had emerged from it, and in a very short time the banks of the river were as quiet as if nothing unusual had happened. The mannikins were never {227}afterwards molested by witches or any such nefarious customers, and, as long as they chose to inhabit the castle, they were perfectly free from disturbance or attack. Time at last did its work upon the old walls, and when the hum of the steam-engine began to be heard in the land this was no longer a place for mannikins. They flitted I know not where, and the owl-fairy doubtless went with them. I could perhaps tell you more, but melancholy thoughts come over me as I speak of the departure of old friends and neighbours, and I think, with your good leave, I will here bring my legend to a conclusion.

“Thanks, good brother,” said the Monarch of the Rhine, as Father Thames ceased speaking. “Yet would I fain inquire who or what was this great owl-fairy?”

His companion smiled grimly. “Hast thou so soon forgotten thine own objection to questions concerning our legends when finished?” he asked. “Nevertheless I would tell thee if I could, but I fear to speak with certainty upon a subject which has ever been shrouded in doubt. Most authorities agree that this mighty being could be none other than he of whom mention was made in my first legend--that of the Wild Boar of Windsor Forest. But the great fairy, Toddlekins, did not announce himself on the occasion of the transformation of the three witches; and the only proof that it was he who reigned over the mannikins and delivered them from their enemies consists in the similarity of his appearance with that of the rescuer of Smith in the Druid days. I incline to think it may have been him; and we know that wherever Toddlekins has power good prevails {228}and evil flies from his presence; but more I cannot tell you.”

“Be it so, brother,” returned he of the Rhine; “the matter, anyhow, ended well, and I would that my Rhineland had a fairy Toddlekins as well as thy favoured country.”

Father Thames smiled grimly. “There never could be two such as Toddlekins in this world,” replied he; “and it is a blessing for me and mine that there has been one. But come, Brother Rhine, there is yet time for another legend. Hast thou none of the old war times, and of the brave German barons who fought so oft and so fiercely?”

“Ay, that have I, many an one,” responded the other. “I bethink me, moreover, of one which is not strictly or wholly of mine own land, nor in truth do I know precisely to what land it can be said entirely to belong. It is one, however, which has been handed down to us in verse, if you object not to a tale told in such fashion.”

“Object, indeed!” cried jolly old Father Thames in a pleasant voice. “How or why should I object? Are not some of our very best English legends told in verse? Witness that excellent old story of--

‘Old King Cole was a merry old soul,
And so was old King Tudor;
But merrier still was Miss Mary Cole,
When the Earl of Pembroke woo’d her.’

That _is_ a fine legend, if you please! I heard it all told by a descendant of the Cole family, who stumbled on the story in an old manuscript, and instantly went out to Cannes, in the South of France, where he studied it carefully {229}with a view to producing it for the benefit of the English public, and was only prevented from doing so by his sisters, who insisted upon it that the wooing done in their family, even at a remote period, was a matter of private history which should never be allowed to become public property. Perhaps they had some affair of the same kind in hand themselves, and did not want to establish an inconvenient precedent.”

“Very likely,” remarked the Rhine King somewhat sulkily; “but if you go on like this I shall never get away. Pray give a fellow a chance, and don’t keep all the talk to yourself--you and your Coles.”

“Hold hard!” cried Father Thames at this. “I am not going to be ‘called over the coals’ by any foreigner.”

“A truce to your puns!” said he of the Rhine; and as Father Thames said no more, he at once began the song of:--

SIR RODERICK FOWLE--A LEGEND OF THE OLDEN TIME.

I.

Sir Roderick Fowle has returned from the East,
Where believers are fighting the Paynim;
Though they slaughtered his squire, and they wounded his beast,
No Saracen foeman has slain him.

II.

He has crossed the salt seas, and has come to the land
Where no man of battle afraid is,
But all have, in war, a keen blade and strong hand,
And, in peace, a true heart for the ladies.

III.

To {230}the land of the Gaul is Sir Roderick come
(Concluded his Saracen fighting),
And with joy and delight is struck perfectly dumb,
On the shores of his country alighting--

IV.

The land where he’d lived as an innocent child
(And now he’s a vigorous man, see!),
Where Ida, the lovely, had first on him smiled
And captured his heart and his fancy.

V.

Sweet Ida, the daughter of Montmolon’s lord
(How blest to possess such a daughter!),
Was fairest of fair demoiselles--in a word,
All the marrying bachelors sought her.

VI.

But “attentions” she cared for but little, said she,
And, really, seemed scarcely to heed’em;
And for marrying! oh! ’twas like “felo de se,”
If you _could_ keep your spinsterly freedom.