Chapter VII: Part 7

'Sit in the carriage,
Princess!
Why did the dear one love?
Why draw water from the ford,
Princess?'

They drove off with her to the snake's abode. There they lived, and had a daughter born to them. They also took a godmother to live with them, but she was a wicked woman. The child soon died, and the mother died soon after it. The godmother went in the night to the place where she was buried, and cut off her hands. Then she came home, and heated water-gruel, scalded the hands, and took off the gold rings. Then the princess--such was the ordinance of God--came to her for the hands, and said:

'The fowls are asleep, the geese are asleep,
Only my godmother does not sleep.
She scalds white hands in water-gruel,
She takes off golden rings.'

The godmother concealed herself under the stove. She said again:

'The fowls are asleep, the geese are asleep,
Only my godmother does not sleep.
She scalds white hands in water-gruel,
She takes off golden rings.'

The next day they came and found the godmother dead under the stove. They didn't give her proper burial, but threw her into a hole.

XXX.--TRANSFORMATION INTO A NIGHTINGALE AND A CUCKOO.

A damsel fell in love with a snake, and was also beloved by him. He took her to wife. His dwelling was of pure glass, all crystal. This dwelling was situated underground, in a kind of mound, or something of the sort. Well, it is said that her old mother at first grieved over her. How could she help doing so? Well, when the time came, the snake's wife became the mother of twins, a boy and a girl; they looked, as they lay by their mother, as if they were made of wax. And she was herself as beautiful as a flower. Well, God having given her children, she said: 'Now, then, since they have been born as human beings, let us christen them among human beings.' She took her seat in a golden carriage, laid the children on her knees, and drove off to the village to the pope.[11] The carriage had not got into the open country, when sadness was brought to the mother. The old woman had made an outcry in the whole village, seized a sickle, and rushed into the country. She saw she had manifest death before her, when she called to her children, and went on to say: 'Fly, my children, as birds about the world: you, my little son, as a nightingale, and you, my daughter, as a cuckoo.' Out flew a nightingale from the carriage by the right-hand, and a cuckoo by the left-hand window. What became of the carriage and horses and all nobody knows. Nor did their mistress remain, only a dead nettle sprang up by the roadside.

[11] The orthodox Greek priests are always designated 'popes.'

XXXI.--TRANSMIGRATION OF THE SOUL.

A certain woman had a kind of adventure. When she went out into the field to cut grass, or to fetch hemp, and placed food in the stove, then somebody took the victuals out of the stove, and ate them all clean up. She thought, what might such a thing as this signify? Nohow could she guess it. She came, the door was shut, and there was only remaining in the house a baby--maybe half a year old--in the cradle. Well, she betook herself to a wise woman. She entreated her and paid her to come, and she came. She looked about, she snuffed about--I mean the wise woman. All at once she heard something indefinite. 'Go you,' she said, 'into the field, and I'll hide myself and we'll see what this is.' The woman went into the field, and the wise woman hid herself in a corner, and kept a look-out. Then, pop! the baby jumped out of the cradle! She looked, and it was no more a baby, but an old man. He was quite dwarfish, and his beard was long. In a moment he was after the eatables, pulled the victuals out of the stove, then gave a screech, and began to gobble up the food. When he had devoured all, then he became a baby again; but now he didn't crawl into the cradle, but lay down, and screeched till the whole house rang. Then the wise woman was after him: she placed him on a block of wood, and began to chop the block under his feet. He screeched and she chopped: he screeched and she chopped. Then she saw how, taking an opportunity, he became an old man again, and said: 'Old woman, I have transformed myself not once nor twice only: I was first a fish, then I became a bird, an ant, and a quadruped, and now I have once more made trial of being a human being. It isn't better thus than being among the ants; but among human beings--it isn't worse!'

XXXII.--THE WIZARD.

There was here once in our village a certain Avstriyat, who was such a wizard that he could cause rain or hail to pass away when he chose. It happened that we were cutting corn in the country; a cloud came up. We began to hurry off the sheaves, but he took no notice, cut and cut away by himself, smoked his pipe, and said: 'Don't be frightened--there'll be no rain.' Lo and behold, there was no rain. Once--all this I saw with my own eyes--we were cutting rye, when the sky became black, the wind rose: it began to whistle at first afar off, then over our very heads. There was thunder, lightning, whirlwind--such a tempest, that--O God! Thy will be done! We went after our sheaves, but he--'Don't be frightened, there'll be no rain.' 'Where won't it be?' We didn't hearken to him. But he smoked his pipe out, and cut away quietly by himself. Up came a man on a black horse, and all black himself: he darted straight up to Avstriyat: 'Hey! give permission!' said he. Avstriyat replied: 'No, I won't!' 'Give permission; be merciful!' 'I won't. It would be impossible to get such a quantity in.' The black horseman bowed to the man, and hastened off over the country.

Then the black cloud became gray and whitened. Our elders feared that there would be hail. But Avstriyat took no notice. He cut the corn by himself and smoked his pipe. But again a horseman came up; he hastened over the country still quicker than the first. But this one was all in white, and on a white horse. 'Give permission!' he shouted to Avstriyat. 'I won't!' 'Give permission, for God's sake!' 'I won't. It wouldn't be possible to get such a quantity in.' 'Hey! give permission; I can't hold out!' Then, and not till then, did Avstriyat relent. 'Well, then, go now, but only into the glen, which is beyond the plain.' Scarcely had he spoken, when the horseman disappeared, and hail poured down as out of a basket. In the course of a short hour it filled the glen brimful, level with the banks.

_GREAT RUSSIAN STORIES._

Here I have but little to remark that has not already been noticed by Mr. Ralston. In No. 33 I have given a pretty variant of Grimm's 'Fisherman's Wife.' In this story, which is from the Government of Moscow, there is a curious confusion between 'king' (_korol_), and 'emperor' (_tzar_). The peasant asks to be made _korol_ 'king,' but is answered that an 'emperor' (_tzar_) is chosen by God. The King of Poland was formerly the mighty potentate west of Moscow, which emerged from Tartar bondage under a grand-duke, or grand-prince. This confusion may possibly imply that the story was crystallized in its present form not long after the assumption of the imperial dignity by the ruler of Muscovy.

As to No. 34, Mr. Ralston, in his 'Songs of the Russian People,' gives an account of the manner in which Ilya of Murom obtained a vast accession of strength from the still mightier hero Svyatozor (pp. 58-63). By his exploits, however, in the story which I have given, Ilya appears to have already possessed strength enough for most purposes.

XXXIII.--THE LIME-TREE.

One evening Vanyusha (Johnny) was sitting with his grandfather, and asked his grandfather: 'Whence comes it that bears' paws are like our hands and feet?' His grandfather replied: 'Listen, Johnny. I will tell you what I have myself heard from ancient people. Ancient people said bears were like human beings, like us orthodox Christians. In a certain village there lived a poor cottager. His cottage was wretched; he had no pony; a cow he never even thought of; he had no fire-wood. Winter came, and it was cold in his unwarmed room. The cottager took his axe, and went with it into the wood. An enchanted tree--a lime-tree--presented itself to his sight. He struck it with his axe, and now to cut it down; but the lime-tree addressed him in human speech: "I will give you all that you want. If you have no riches, if you have no wife, I will give you all." The peasant said: "Very good, mother, if you make me richer than any of the peasants. But I have no pony, no cow, and my cottage is wretched." The lime-tree said: "Go home; all shall be yours." The peasant went. A new house was his: fences of stout boards, horses that were ready to fly, and store-rooms full of corn. The cottager was not satisfied, because his wife was not handsomer. What was to be done? "I'll go off quick to Mother Lime-tree." He took his axe, and went off into the wood.

'He went into the wood to the lime-tree, and struck it with his axe. "What do you want?" "Mother Lime-tree, among mankind there are wives and wives, but mine is such a disagreeable one. Do me a service: give me a handsome wife." The lime-tree said: "Go home." The peasant went. His wife came to meet him--such a beauty--blood and milk, and store-rooms full of everything good. Well, the cottager began to live comfortably with his young wife, and thought: "It is a fine thing for us to live possessed of riches, but we're under a superior authority. Is it impossible for me to be the superior authority myself?" He thought it over with his wife. He went again to the enchanted lime-tree.

'He went into the wood, he struck it with his axe. "What do you want, peasant?" "What, indeed, Mother Lime-tree! It's a fine thing for us to live in possession of riches; but we're under a superior authority. Is it impossible for me to be head-borough myself?" "Very well: go home; all shall be yours." No sooner had the cottager got home, when a letter came for him--"The cottager was to be head-borough." The cottager got used to living as head-borough, and thought to himself: "It's a fine thing to be head-borough; but all is under the control of the lord of the manor. Is it impossible for me to be the lord myself?" He considered the matter with his wife, they consulted together, and he went off again to the lime-tree.

'He went up to it, and struck it with his axe. The tree asked him: "What do you want?" "Thanks to you, mother, for all; but how not to doff my cap before the lord, to become the lord myself?" "What is to be done with you? Go home; it shall all be yours." Scarcely had he got home, when up drove the lord-lieutenant, and brought him a letter from the king, that "he was to be a gentleman." It was advantageous to be a gentleman. He began to give entertainments and banquets. "It's a fine thing to be a gentleman, but without an official position! Was it impossible for him to become an official?" They thought and talked it over. He went off to the lime-tree and struck it with his axe. "What do you want, peasant?" "I thank you, mother, for all; but is it impossible for me to be an official?" "Well, then, go home!" No sooner had he got home, when a royal letter arrived--he was invested with orders. "It's a fine thing to be decorated, but all is under the control of the lord-lieutenant. Is it impossible for me to be lord-lieutenant myself?" He thought it over with his wife, went off into the wood to the enchanted tree, the lime-tree.

'He came to the lime-tree and struck it with his axe. It said: "What do you want, peasant? With what are you discontented?" "I thank you, mother, for everything; but is it impossible for me to be lord-lieutenant myself, and to have a rich patrimony?" "It is difficult to effect this. But what is to be done with you? Go home!" The cottager had scarcely got home, when a letter arrived--the cottager was to be lord-lieutenant, and was presented with an estate of inheritance. The cottager became used to living as lord-lieutenant--indeed, by descent, he was not a peasant. "It's a fine thing for me to live as lord-lieutenant, but all is under the control of the king." He considered; he went off into the wood to the enchanted tree, the lime-tree.

'He came to it, and struck it with his axe. The tree inquired: "What do you want?" "All is excellent; I thank you for all; but is it impossible for me to be king myself?" The lime-tree began to try to persuade him. "Foolish man, for what are you asking? Consider what you were, and what you have become. From a cottager you have become a man of high rank and everything; but an emperor[12] is chosen by God." The lime-tree endeavoured to persuade him with all manner of arguments that he had better not make the request, but all in vain. The cottager would not budge, but insisted that it should make him emperor. The lime-tree said to him: "It is impossible to effect this, and it will not be done; you will lose, too, what you have already obtained!" But the cottager still insisted. The lime-tree said: "Become a bear, and your wife a she-bear!" And he became a bear, and she a she-bear. They went off bears.'

[12] Note the transition from king (_korol_) to emperor
(_tzar_).

The grandson inquired: 'Grandfather, can this be a true story?' 'In reality 'tis a fable. Do not desire what is impossible; be content with a little. If you desire much, you will lose what you have obtained.'

XXXIV.--ILYA OF MUROM AND NIGHTINGALE THE ROBBER.

In the famous city of Murom, in the village of Karatcharof, lived a peasant, Ivan Timofeewitch. He had an only child, Ilya Murometz. He sat as children do for thirty years, and when thirty years had passed, he began to walk firmly on his feet, became conscious of vast strength, made himself a warrior's equipment and a steel spear, and saddled a good horse, worthy of a hero. He went to his father and mother, and begged their blessing. 'My honoured father and mother, let me go to the famous city of Kief to perform my devotions to God, and to kneel to the Prince of Kief.' His father and mother gave him their blessing, laid upon him serious injunctions, and spoke to this effect: 'Ride straight to the city of Kief, straight to the city of Chernigof, and on your road do no injury, shed no Christian blood causelessly.' Ivan Murometz received the blessing of his father and mother, prayed to God, took leave of his father and mother, and started on his journey.

He travelled far on into the gloomy forest, until he came to a robbers' camp. The robbers espied Ilya Murometz, and their robber hearts burned for his heroic horse, and they began to talk together about taking his horse from him, for they were not wont to see such horses anywhere, and now an unknown man was riding on so good a horse. And they arose to assail Ilya Murometz by tens and twenties. Ilya Murometz halted his heroic horse, and took out of his quiver an arrow of guelder-rosewood, and placed it on his tough bow. He shot the arrow of guelder-rosewood along the ground, and it penetrated to the distance of a fathom slanting. Seeing this, the robbers were terrified, collected into an orb, fell on their knees, and said: 'You are our lord and father, valiant and good youth! We are guilty before you; take for such a fault as ours as much as you please of coloured raiment and herds of horses.' Ilya smiled and said: 'I've nowhere to put it; but if you wish to live, don't venture any further!' and rode on his way to the famous city of Kief.

He rode on to the city of Chernigof, and under that city of Chernigof were standing armies of heathen innumerable, and they were besieging the city of Chernigof, and wanted to destroy it and ravage the churches of God therein, and to take into captivity the Prince and Duke of Chernigof himself. Ilya Murometz was terrified at this great force; nevertheless, he committed himself to the Lord God, his Creator, and determined to risk his head for the Christian faith. Ilya Murometz began to slaughter the heathen forces with his steel spear, and defeated all the pagan power, and took captive the heathen prince, and led him into the city of Chernigof. The citizens came out of the city of Chernigof to meet him with honour; the Prince and Duke of Chernigof came himself. They received the good youth with honour, and gave thanks to the Lord God, because the Lord unexpectedly sent deliverance to the city, and caused them not all to perish in vain at the hands of such a heathen host. They received him into their houses, made him a great entertainment, and let him proceed on his journey.

Ilya Murometz rode off towards the city of Kief by the direct road from Chernigof, which had been beset for full thirty years by Nightingale the robber, who allowed neither horseman nor foot-traveller to pass, and slew them not by any weapon, but by his robber whistling. Out rode Ilya Murometz into the open country, and espied the tracks of horses, and rode on upon them, and arrived at the Branskian forest, at the muddy swamps, at the bridges of guelder-rosewood, and at the river Smorodinka. Nightingale the robber forboded his end and a great misfortune, and before Ilya Murometz approached within twenty versts, began to whistle vigorously with his robber whistling; but the hero's heart was not terrified. Then, before he approached within ten versts, he began to whistle still more violently, and from this whistling Ilya Murometz's horse tottered under him. Ilya Murometz rode up to the nest itself, which was constructed upon twelve oaks. Nightingale the robber espied the hero of Holy Russia, whistled with all his might, and wanted to smite Ilya Murometz to death.

Ilya Murometz took down his tough bow, placed on it an arrow of guelder-rosewood, shot it at Nightingale's nest, struck his right eye and knocked it out. Nightingale the robber tumbled down like a sack of oats. Ilya Murometz took Nightingale the robber, bound him fast to his steel stirrup, and rode on towards the famous city of Kief. On the way stood a mansion belonging to Nightingale the robber, and when Ilya Murometz came opposite the robber's mansion, the windows thereof were open, and at these windows the robber's three daughters were looking out. The youngest daughter saw him, and cried to her sisters: 'There's our father outside coming with booty, and leading to us a man bound to his steel stirrup.' But the eldest daughter looked, and began to weep bitterly. 'That isn't our father coming: it's an unknown man coming, and leading our father.' They began to scream to their husbands: 'Our dear husbands! ride and meet the man, and take our father from him; do not let our family be put to such contempt.' Their husbands, strong heroes, rode against the hero of Holy Russia; their horses were good, their spears were sharp, and they were about to receive Ilya on their spears. Nightingale the robber espied this, and said to them: 'My dear sons-in-law, do not cause yourselves to be put to shame, and do not provoke so mighty a hero; rather with humility entreat him to drink a cup of green wine in my house.' At the request of the sons-in-law, Ilya turned into the house, not knowing their villainy. The eldest daughter raised on chains an iron slab, which was placed over the door, in order to crush him. But Ilya observed her at the door, struck her with his spear, and smote her to death.

When Ilya Murometz arrived at Kief city, he rode straight to the prince's palace, and entered the house, which was of white stone, prayed to God, and knelt to the prince. The Prince of Kief asked him: 'Tell me, good youth, how men name you, and of what city you are a native?' Ilya Murometz made reply: 'My lord, men call me Little Ilya, but by my father's family I am an Ivanof; a native of the city of Murom, of the village of Karatcharof.' The prince inquired: 'By what road did you ride from Murom?' 'By that of Chernigof, and under the walls of Chernigof I defeated an innumerable heathen host, and delivered the city of Chernigof. Thence I proceeded by the direct road, and took captive the mighty hero, Nightingale the robber, and led him hither with me bound to my steel stirrup.' The prince, becoming angry, said: 'What a lie you are telling!' When the heroes, Alesha Popovitch and Dobrynya Nikititch, heard this, they flew to look, and assured the prince that it really was so. The prince ordered a cup of green wine to be brought to the good youth. The prince had a wish to listen to the robber's whistling. Ilya enveloped the prince and princess in a sable mantle, placed them beneath his arms, summoned Nightingale, and commanded him to give the Nightingale whistle with half strength. But Nightingale the robber whistled with his full robber whistle, and deafened the heroes, so that they fell on the floor. For this Ilya Murometz slew him.

Ilya Murometz made a brotherhood with Dobrynya Nikititch. They saddled their good steeds, and rode into the open country to seek adventures; and they rode full three months without finding any adversary. But they rode on in the open country; there came a wandering beggar: the ragged dress upon his back weighed fifty poods, his hat nine poods, his staff was ten fathoms long. Ilya Murometz began to urge his horse toward him, and was about to match his heroic strength with him. The wandering beggar recognised Ilya Murometz, and said: 'Oh! you are Ilya Murometz. If you remember, we learnt to read and write together at one school, and now you are urging your horse against a poor cripple like me, as against an enemy. But this you don't know, that in the famous city of Kief a great misfortune has happened. An infidel, a mighty hero, the unclean Idolishtcha, has arrived. His head is as big as a beer caldron, his shoulders are a fathom broad, the distance between his eyebrows is a span, that between his ears is an arrow of guelder-rosewood; he eats an ox at a time, and drinks a caldron at a draught; and the Prince of Kief is very grieved about you, because you have left him in such perplexity.' Clothing himself in the beggar's dress, Ilya Murometz went straight to the prince's court, and cried with heroic voice: 'Oh, is it you, Prince of Kief? Send me an alms, wandering beggar that I am.' The prince saw him, and spake as follows: 'Come into the palace to me, beggar; I will give you your fill of food and drink, and gold for your journey.' And the beggar entered the palace and stood by the stove; he looked on at what was occurring. Idolishtcha asked for something to eat. They brought him a whole ox roasted, and he ate it up, bones and all. Idolishtcha asked for something to drink. They brought him a caldron of beer, carried by twenty men; he took it up by the handles, and drank it all up. Ilya Murometz said: 'My father had a greedy mare; she over-ate herself and died.' Idolishtcha didn't stand that, and said: 'Oh, it's you, wandering beggar! Why do you insult me? It's nothing to me to take you up in my hands. Nay, what are you? If such an one as Ilya Murometz was among you, I'd make a fight of it even with him.' 'Then here's such an one as he,' said Ilya Murometz, and, taking off his hat, struck him gently on the head with it.--But he broke through the wall of the house, took the corpse of Idolishtcha, and threw it out by the rent. For this the prince honoured Ilya Murometz with great commendations, and placed him on the list of mighty heroes.

SOUTHERN SLAVONIANS.

_BULGARIAN STORIES._

The Bulgarians do not derive their name from a Slavonic origin, but from a small and warlike nation of horsemen, which in A.D. 679 crossed the Danube under a chief named Isperich, conquered the disunited Slavonic tribes that had settled in Mœsia, and consolidated them into a powerful realm. The conquerors melted into the conquered, and lost their language, but gave their name to the state and country. The Slavonic language of the people does not appear to have been affected by that of their Ugrian conquerors, but rather by the old Thracian language, which, conjointly with Latin, has produced the present Roumanian. The peculiarities of the present Bulgarian language are: (1) the loss of case-inflexions in nouns and adjectives, while the verbal system is most complete and complex; (2) the expression of the genitive and dative cases by prefixing the preposition _na_; (3) the post-positive article, which is also borrowed from the old Thracian language, which was akin to the Illyrian now spoken by the present Albanians and Epirots; (4) the loss of the infinitive mood, which is replaced by _da_ with the finite verb. Baron Wenceslas Wratislaw, in describing his journey through Bulgaria in 1591, says of the people: 'They use a Slavonic language, so that we Bohemians can converse with them.'

The Bulgarian tales themselves are curious, and some of them very beautiful, as are also the songs, to which considerable space is devoted by Mr. Morfill in his 'Slavonic Literature' (pp. 125-144). There are old traditions as to the world and its inhabitants, apparently of heathen origin (No. 35); a singular fusion of the history of Abraham and Isaac with some other, probably heathen, tradition (No. 36); a version of 'Cinderella' (No. 37), which, involving as it does the transmigration of souls, clearly exhibits an Indian origin; a beautiful story (No. 38), the latter part of which is a variant of the latter part of the Russian tale of 'Marya Morevna' (Ralston, p. 85), and No. 39, in the latter part of which many people will recognise a variant of an old acquaintance.

XXXV.--THE LORD GOD AS AN OLD MAN.

In the beginning, when man began to plough, when he had cut a furrow from one end to the other, he lifted his plough on to his shoulder, and when he had carried it back to the same end that he had begun from, he began again to plough thence. The Lord, in the form of an old man, passed by and said to him, 'Not thus, my son, but when you make a furrow, turn your plough round at the same place to which you have cut the furrow, and plough back to the end from which you began.' And thus the ploughman learnt to plough aright, as people plough at this day.

Thence the Lord went away in the form of an old man, and saw a woman who was weaving at a loom, and putting the thread, three threads at a time, into her mouth; she bit the thread off at one end, and began again at the same side. The Lord said to her, 'Not thus, daughter; but put the thread hither and thither with two hands without biting the thread off.' And she learnt to weave as people weave at this day.

The next day the Lord again passed alongside of the ploughman in a different guise, and asked him: 'Who taught you, my son, to plough thus?' He replied to him: 'The Lord God, in the form of an old man.' The Lord blessed him, and said: 'A day to plough and a year to eat!' Afterwards he passed by the woman and asked her: 'Who taught you, daughter, to weave thus?' She replied: 'Myself, my very own self, quickly, quite quickly.' Then the Lord said to her: 'A year to weave, that you may carry it under the arm!'

They say, moreover, that at that time men had command not only over all animals, but also over inanimate things; but later, they say, it was altered when men became wicked. For instance, when a man had cut logs of wood and piled them in a heap, he struck them with a stick, and they went of themselves whither they were required to go. But a certain woman having cut logs and struck them to make them go, they started; but she, being tired of walking beside them on foot, seated herself at top, and the logs resisted. She struck them on one side, she struck them on the other, but they didn't move any whither. Then she unfastened her girdle, and put them on her back. On the way God showed himself to her, and said to her: 'Since you are wicked, instead of your riding on them, let them ride on you.'

When the Lord walked about the earth and blessed it, he went first to a herdsman. He was lying on his back under a tree, a pear-tree; his pitcher, in which he fetched water for himself, stood by empty. The Lord, in the form of an old man, asked him: 'My son, is there any water in the pitcher?' He said to him: 'No.' The Lord said to him: 'Go, my son, to fetch me a little water, that the old man may drink.' The herdsman made a sign to him with his foot: 'There is where the spring is; if you're thirsty, go, drink.' The Lord then gave the word that all the herd should run off as if assailed by the gadfly; then, when they began all to run in one direction, the herdsman took his hat in his hand and started off, and as he ran after them thought: 'How I have sinned against God!'

Then the Lord went to a shepherd. The shepherd also had a pitcher. The Lord asked him: 'My son, have you any water?' He replied to him: 'There is water, old man, but I cannot go to fetch it myself, or the sheep will disperse.' Then said the Lord: 'Go, my son; I will watch them.' When the shepherd went off for the water, the Lord took the shepherd's staff, and when he had stuck it into the ground, placed the shepherd's cloak upon it, and blessed the sheep. They became quiet and tranquil in the shade. During the shepherd's absence up came a wolf to obtain the appointed tribute which he received every day from the shepherd. The Lord gave him a lamb of little value. The wolf, discontented, did not choose to take it, but darted forward and seized another, which he liked. Then the Lord took the shepherd's trumpet, and struck him on the loins--on the spine. From this it has remained a property of the wolf that his loins are just as weak as his neck is strong. But he carried off the lamb which he had seized. The Lord took two little stones, threw them after the wolf and blessed them; they became two dogs, ran after the wolf, and took away the lamb which the wolf had seized. The shepherd came up bringing the Lord cold water, and saw the sheep quiet, for they were standing in the shade and the two dogs were frolicking round them. The shepherd then asked the old man: 'Well, old man, now when the sheep are standing quiet, and are like blocks of wood, how shall I drive them to pasture?' The Lord said to him: 'My son, take a copper trumpet, and blow it to them; they will start off in the direction from which the wind blows gently.' From that time forth down to the present day people drive their sheep to pasture blowing trumpets.

XXXVI.--BULGARIAN HOSPITALITY.

Once upon a time, when the Lord had formed the world, he wished to see how his people lived; he came down from heaven first of all on the Balkan Mountains, took the form of a man with a long white beard and white clothes; took a staff in his hand, and went about the world in the Bulgarian land; he travelled much, a whole day long, over desolate mountains. In the evening he came to a village to pass the night. He went into the first house at the end of the village and sat down on the threshold, said nothing, but meditated by himself. The mistress was in her house doing some work, and did not see him. But now her husband came from the field, from his plough, espied the old man, was delighted, and said to him: 'Old man, you are very tired; you are a weary traveller. Come into the house; rest yourself, if it is but a poor one. I will entertain you with all that the Lord has given me--only say the word.' The old man regarded him with cheerful eyes, went into the house and sat down. The man and his wife quickly rose up and prepared a hospitable meal according to what they possessed, and as nicely and as handsomely as they could, and placed it on the table. The couple ate of their homely meal, but the old man would not; he only smelt the homely banquet, said nothing, but watched how the two persons enjoyed themselves, and rejoiced. They urged him, they begged him. 'Old man, why don't you eat? You will remain hungry. Take, and taste, and try what you please. What we have is all here before you.' The old man only said this: 'Eat you--eat; I am thinking of something.' When they had eaten their fill, they rose. The mistress went out to feed the child because it was crying. Then said the old man to her husband: 'Do you know what, master, if you wish to entertain me? I cannot eat everything, but I wish for baked human flesh. Kill your little son, wash him nicely, and place him whole on the frying-pan in the oven; only look out that your wife does not see you, for she will weep.' He replied: 'Is this all that you want, old man? Why did you not tell me long before, that you might not have sat a hungry guest in the house? Did I not tell you that all was yours that the Lord had given me? Indeed, I love you exceedingly, old man; my heart tells me that you are good and worthy, and now you shall see; only have a little patience, till I get ready that which you desire.' The man went out of doors, and his wife had begun to do some work, and had left her child to play by itself in the moonlight till it fell asleep, without knowing what was about to take place. Her husband stole the child, killed it with all haste, put it entire in the frying-pan, and shut it up in the oven, that its mother might not see it till it was cooked; he then went to the old man, sat down by him and conversed cheerfully with him. They had not talked long, when the old man became silent, sniffed with his nose, and said to the servant lad: 'Go, look at the baked meat; it smells nicely; perhaps it is cooked.'

The lad rose, went out, opened the oven to look at and take out the baked meat. But what did he see? He was amazed and frightened at the wonder; all the oven and all the house was glittering with the brightness of the child. The frying-pan and the child had become gold, and shone like the sun. The child was sitting in the frying-pan like a big boy--handsome, cheerful, bright, and well. On his head was a crown of pearls and precious stones; on the girdle at his waist was a sword. In his right hand he held a book of blessing; in his left hand he had a wheatsheaf full of ears; and all this was shining more than fire, because it had all become gold. He returned to tell the old man what a wonder had taken place, and to ask what was to be done; but the old man was no longer there; he had gone out in front of the house, and said to them: 'Fare ye well, and live as ye have done till now, honourably and contentedly. Your good hearts will have good from field and cattle, and blessing and peace upon your children and children's children from the Lord. He will receive you and entertain you in his heavenly house.' He then went away alone under cover of the night, no one knows whither.

XXXVII.--CINDERELLA.

Once upon a time, a number of girls were assembled spinning round a deep rift or chasm in the ground. As they spun they chattered together and told stories to each other. Up came a white-bearded old man, who said to them: 'Girls! as you spin and chatter, be circumspect round this rift; or, if any of you drops her spindle into it, her mother will be turned into a cow.' Thus saying he departed. The girls were astonished at his words, and crowded round the rift to look into it. Unfortunately, one of them, the most beautiful of all, dropped her spindle into it. Towards evening, when she went home, she espied a cow--her mother--in front of the gate, and drove her out with the other cattle to pasture. After some time the father of the girl married a widow, who brought a daughter with her into the house. The second wife had a spite at the man's first daughter, especially because she was more beautiful and more industrious than her own, and she allowed her neither to wash herself, nor to comb her hair, nor to change her clothes. One day she sent her out with the cattle, gave her a bag full of tow, and told her: 'If you don't spin this tow into yarn to-day, or if you don't wind it into a ball, you had better not come home at eventide--I shall kill you.' It was sad for the poor girl, as she went after the cattle, endeavouring as well as she could to keep them together. In the afternoon, when the cattle lay down to chew the cud, she began to look at the bag to see how to perform her task upon it; but when she saw that she could not make out what to do with it, she began to cry. When the cow which was her mother saw her crying, she asked her why she was crying. She told her how it was, and what it was. Then said the cow to her: 'Don't be afraid; I will help you. I will take all the tow into my mouth, and will chew it, and yarn will come up into my ear. You must take it and reel it into a ball, and you will finish it in good time.' As she said, so it was. She began to chew the tow, piece after piece; yarn came up into her ear, and the girl wound and reeled it, and finished the task. In the evening she departed and went to her stepmother, who was amazed at seeing so much work completed. The next time she gave her as much tow again. The girl spun till noon, and then in the afternoon, when the cattle lay down to chew the cud, the cow came up to her and began to chew the tow; yarn came up into her ear, and the girl wound and reeled it, and finished in good time. In the evening she went home and delivered to her stepmother all the tow spun and wound. She was astonished at seeing so much work completed. The third time she gave her still more tow, and sent her own daughter to see who helped her. The daughter went and concealed herself apart, and saw how it was and what it was, that the girl completed so much work in the day; she saw how the cow took the tow into her mouth, how yarn came up into her ear, and how the girl wound and reeled it. She went home to tell her mother. When she heard this from her daughter, she urged her husband to kill the cow. He endeavoured in every way to persuade her not to kill the cow, but could not over-persuade her. At last, when he saw that there was no escape, he promised to kill it on a certain day. When the girl heard that they were going to kill the cow she began to cry, and told the cow secretly that they were going to kill her. She said to the girl: 'Be quiet--don't cry! If they kill me, you must not eat any of my flesh, but must collect the bones and bury them behind the cottage. Then if need come to you, you must go to the grave, and help will come to you thence.' On hearing this she went away.

One day they killed the cow and boiled her flesh, brought it into the parlour, and began to eat. The girl alone did not eat of it, according to the instructions she had received; but collected the bones, and then, without anybody seeing her, took them and buried them behind the cottage, where the cow (her mother) had ordered her so to do. The girl was named Mary; but at length, when they had put all the work in the cottage upon her--that is to say, to sweep, to fetch water, to cook, to wash up the plates--she had become dirty and begrimed with ashes and cinders from excessive work at the fireplace; and therefore her stepmother nicknamed her Cinderella (Pepelezka), and this remained her name afterwards.

One Sunday her stepmother got ready to go to church with her daughter, but, before starting, took a wooden dish of millet, scattered it on the ground in the cottage, and said to Cinderella: 'Here you, Cinderella! if you don't pick up this millet, and if you don't get dinner ready by the time that I return from church, don't come before my eyes, or I shall put you to death.' Then they went away. Poor Cinderella, when she looked at all the millet, cried out weeping and wailing: 'I will cook, I will sweep, I will attend to everything, but what poor girl can pick up all this millet?' When she had wept and spoken, immediately there came into her mind what the cow had told her, to go to the grave, and there help would be given her in trouble. Cinderella went off to the grave. When there, what did she see? On the grave stood an open box, filled with all manner of rich clothes, and on the lid were two pigeons, white as snow. They said to her: 'Mary! take the clothes out, put them on, and go to church, and we will pick up the millet and get the dinner ready.' She put out her hands and took the upper ones, which were of pure silk and satin, put them on, and went to church. In the church people great and small marvelled at her beauty and her dress, especially because no one recognised her or knew who or what she was. Most of all did the emperor's son marvel at her, and never took his eyes off her. When service was ended, she stole away and ran quickly home, undressed immediately, and put the clothes in the box, and the box immediately vanished from sight. She went to the fireplace, and what did she see there? The millet picked up, dinner ready--in one word, everything attended to! Soon afterwards, lo! her stepmother came with her daughter from church, saw everything in proper order, and was astounded.

Next Sunday, when she was about to go to church, taking a larger dish of millet and scattering it on the ground, she threatened Cinderella that she would kill her if she didn't pick it up and get dinner ready. The stepmother went off with her daughter to church, and Cinderella betook herself to the grave of the cow. On the grave she found the two pigeons and the box with the dresses in it open. They told her to dress herself and go to church, and they would pick up the millet and get dinner ready. Taking a dress of pure silver, she dressed herself and went off to church. Now everybody, small and great, marvelled at her more than before, and the emperor's son did not take his eyes off her for a moment. Service ended, she stole off amidst the multitude and got away home. There she undressed, and put the clothes in the box, and the box disappeared from sight. Soon afterwards, lo! her stepmother came and looked about; the millet was picked up, dinner was ready, and Cinderella was at the fireplace. She was astonished at seeing so much work completed.

The third time her stepmother got ready to go to church, and before she started, taking a dish of millet thrice as large, and scattering it on the ground, she said to Cinderella: 'Cinderella, if you don't pick up all this millet before we return from church, and if you don't get dinner ready, go and hide yourself; don't come before my eyes--I shall kill you.' Then she went off to church. After this Cinderella went to the grave of the cow, and found there the box open and the two pigeons upon it. They told her to dress herself and go to church; they would pick up the millet and get the dinner ready. Taking a dress of pure gold, she dressed herself and went to church. There, when the people saw her, they marvelled, but no one knew who or what she was. The emperor's son never took his eyes off her, and planned, when service was over, to follow her closely, to see whither she betook herself. Service ended, she stole off amidst the crowd, hastening to get away before her stepmother; but as she was pushing through the crowd, she lost one of her shoes, and the emperor's son took it up. She escaped from among them with one shoe, undressed very quickly, put the clothes in the box, and the box vanished. She went home and looked in the cottage; the millet was picked up, dinner was ready, and everything attended to. She sat down at the fireplace, and, lo! her stepmother came and looked about the cottage; everything was in order, the millet picked up, dinner ready; she had nothing to find fault with her or scold her about.

The emperor's son left the people, disguised himself, took the shoe, and went from cottage to cottage to try it on, to find out whose it was; and wherever he went he made inquiries, and tried it on the foot of every girl, but it did not fit one. For some it was too large, and for others too small; for some too narrow, for others too broad. At last he came to Cinderella's cottage. As soon as her stepmother saw him, she concealed Cinderella under a trough. He asked whether there was any girl in the house. She replied that there was, and brought her daughter to him. He tried the shoe on her, but it wouldn't even allow her toes to go in. He then asked whether there wasn't another girl there, and she told him that there wasn't. The cock had flown on to the trough, and when she told the emperor's son that there was no other girl there, he crowed: 'Cock-a-doodle-doo! pretty girl under trough!' The stepmother shrieked out: 'Shoo! eagles have brought you!'[13] But the emperor's son, on hearing the cock say this, went up and took the trough off; and there was, indeed, the girl that he had seen in the church with those beautiful dresses, only on one foot she had no shoe. He tried the shoe on her; it went on, and was exactly the same as that on the other foot. Then the emperor's son took her by the hand, conducted her to his court, married her, and punished her stepmother for her evil heart.

[13] Eagles are frequently supernatural messengers in Bulgarian
tales. One might have expected, 'Eagles take you!' but it is as
I have given it.

XXXVIII.--THE GOLDEN APPLES AND THE NINE PEAHENS.