Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

“Well, yer Highness,” says Jack, “it’s quite beyond me to tell ye what he was like. But I know when we wanted to mount it could only be done by means of a step-laddher, with nine hundred and ninety steps to it, every step a mile high, an’ you had to jump seven mile off the topmost step to get on his back. He ate nine ton of turnips, nine ton of oats, an’ nine ton of hay in the day, an’ it took ninety-nine men in the daytime, an’ ninety-nine more in the night-time, carrying his feeds to him; an’ when he wanted a drink, the ninety-nine men had to lead him to a lough that was nine mile long, nine mile broad, an’ nine mile deep, an’ he used to drink it dry every time,” says Jack, an’ then he looked at the king, expectin’ he’d surely have to make a liar of him for that.

But the king only smiled at Jack, an’ says he, “Jack, that was a wonderful horse entirely, an’ no mistake.”

Then he took Jack with him out into the garden for his second trial, an’ showed him a bee-skep, the size of the biggest rick of hay ever Jack had seen; an’ every bee in the skep was the size of a thrush, an’ the queeny bee as big as a jackdaw.

“Jack,” says the king, says he, “isn’t them wondherful bees? I’ll warrant ye, ye never saw anything like them?”

“Oh, they’re middlin’—middlin’ fairish,” says Jack—“_for this counthry_. But they’re nothin’ at all to the bees we have in Donegal. If one of our bees was flying across the fields,” says Jack, “and one of your bees happened to come in its way, an’ fall into our bee’s eye, our bee would fly to the skep, an’ ax another bee to take the mote out of his eye.”

“Do you tell me so, Jack?” says the king. “You must have great monsthers of bees.”

“Monsthers!” says Jack. “Ah, yer Highness, monsthers is no name for some of them. I remimber,” says Jack, says he, “a mighty great breed of bees me father owned. They were that big that when my father’s new castle was a-buildin’ (in the steddin’ of the old one which he consaived to be too small for a man of his mains), and when the workmen closed in the roof, it was found there was a bee inside, an’ the hall door not bein’ wide enough, they had to toss the side wall to let it out. Then the queeny bee—ah! she was a wondherful baste entirely!” says Jack. “Whenever she went out to take the air she used to overturn all the ditches and hedges in the country; the wind of her wings tossed houses and castles; she used to swallow whole flower gardens; an’ one day she flew against a ridge of mountains nineteen thousand feet high and knocked a piece out from top to bottom, an’ it’s called Barnesmore Gap to this day. This queeny bee was a great trouble an’ annoyance to my father, seein’ all the harm she done the naybors round about; and once she took it in her head to fly over to Englan’, an’ she created such mischief an’ desolation there that the King of Englan’ wrote over to my father if he didn’t come immaidiately an’ take home his queeny bee that was wrackin’ an’ ruinin’ all afore her he’d come over himself at the head of all his army and wipe my father off the face of the airth. So my father ordhered me to mount our wondherful big horse that I tould ye about, an’ that could go nineteen mile at every step, an’ go over to Englan’ an’ bring home our queeny bee. An’ I mounted the horse an’ started, an’ when I come as far as the sea I had to cross to get over to Englan’, I put the horse’s two forefeet into my hat, an’ in that way he thrashed the sea dry all the way across an’ landed me safely. When I come to the King of Englan’ he had to supply me with nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand men an’ ninety-nine thousand mile of chains an’ ropes to catch the queeny bee an’ bind her. It took us nine years to catch her, nine more to tie her, an’ nine years and nine millions of men to drag her home, an’ the King of Englan’ was a beggar afther from that day till the day of his death. Now, what do ye think of that bee?” says Jack, thinkin’ he had the king this time, sure enough.

But the king was a cuter one than Jack took him for, an’ he only smiled again, an’ says he—

“Well, Jack, that was a wondherful great queeny bee entirely.”

Next, for poor Jack’s third an’ last chance, the king took him to show him a wondherful field of beans he had, with every beanstalk fifteen feet high, an’ every bean the size of a goose’s egg.

“Well, Jack,” says the king, says he, “I’ll engage ye never saw more wondherful beanstalks than them?”

“Is it them?” says Jack. “Arrah, man, yer Kingship,” says he, “they may be very good—_for this counthry_; but sure we’d throw them out of the ground for useless afther-shoots in Donegal. I mind one beanstalk in partickler, that my father had for a show an’ a cur’osity, that he used to show as a great wondher entirely to sthrangers. It stood on ninety-nine acres of ground, it was nine hundred mile high, an’ every leaf covered nine acres. It fed nine thousand horses, nine thousand mules, an’ nine thousand jackasses for nineteen years. He used to send nine thousand harvestmen up the stalk in spring to cut and gather off the soft branches at the top. They used to cut these off when they’d reach up as far as them (which was always in the harvest time), an’ throw them down, an’ nine hundred and ninety-nine horses an’ carts were kept busy for nine months carting the stuff away. Then the harvestmen always reached down to the foot of the stalk at Christmas again.”

“Faix, Jack,” says the king, “it was a wondherful beanstalk, that, entirely.”

“You might say that,” says Jack, trying to make the most of it, for he was now on his last leg. “You might say that,” says he. “Why, I mind one year I went up the stalk with the harvestmen, an’ when I was nine thousand mile up, doesn’t I miss my foot, and down I come. I fell feet foremost, and sunk up to my chin in a whinstone rock that was at the foot. There I was in a quandhary—but I was not long ruminatin’ till I hauled out my knife, an’ cut off my head, an’ sent it home to look for help. I watched after it, as it went away, an’ lo an’ behould ye, afore it had gone half a mile I saw a fox set on it, and begin to worry it. ‘By this an’ by that,’ says I to meself, ‘but this is too bad!’—an’ I jumped out an’ away as hard as I could run, to the assistance of my head. An’ when I come up, I lifted my foot, an’ give the fox three kicks, an’ knocked three kings out of him—every one of them a nicer an’ a better jintleman than you.”

“Ye’re a liar, an’ a rascally liar,” says the king.

“More power to ye!” says Jack, givin’ three buck leaps clean into the air, “an’ it’s proud I am to get you to confess it; for I have won yer daughter.”

Right enough, the king had to give up to Jack the daughter—an’ be the same token, from the first time she clapped her two eyes on Jack she wasn’t the girl to gainsay him—an’ her weight in goold. An’ they were both of them marrid, an’ had such a weddin’ as surpassed all the weddin’s ever was heerd tell of afore or since in that country or in this. An’ Jack lost no time in sendin’ for his poor ould mother, an’ neither herself nor Jack ever after knew what it was to be in want. An’ may you an’ I never know that same naither.

_Hans in Luck_

Hans had served his master for seven years, when he one day said to him: “Master, my time is up; I want to go home to my mother; please give me my wages.”

His master answered, “You have served me well and faithfully, and as the service has been, so shall the wages be.” And he gave him a lump of gold as big as his head.

Hans took out his pocket-handkerchief and tied up the gold in it, and then slung the bundle over his shoulder, and started on his homeward journey.

As he walked along, just putting one foot before the other, a man on horseback appeared, riding gaily and merrily along on his capering steed.

“Ah!” said Hans quite loud as he passed, “what a fine thing riding must be. You are as comfortable as if you were in an arm-chair; you don’t stumble over any stones; you save your shoes, and you get over the road you hardly know how.”

The horseman, who heard him, stopped and said: “Hallo, Hans, why are you on foot?”

“I can’t help myself,” said Hans, “for I have this bundle to carry home. It is true that it is a lump of gold, but I can hardly hold my head up for it, and it weighs down my shoulder frightfully.”

“I’ll tell you what,” said the horseman, “we will change. I will give you my horse, and you shall give me your bundle.”

“With all my heart,” said Hans; “but you will be rarely weighted with it.”

The horseman dismounted, took the gold, and helped Hans up, put the bridle into his hands, and said: “When you want to go very fast, you must click your tongue and cry ‘Gee-up! Gee-up!’”

Hans was delighted when he found himself so easily riding along on horseback. After a time it occurred to him that he might be going faster, and he began to click with his tongue, and to cry, “Gee-up! Gee-up!” The horse broke into a gallop, and before Hans knew where he was he was thrown off into a ditch which separated the fields from the highroad. The horse would have run away if a peasant coming along the road leading a cow, had not caught it. Hans felt himself all over, and picked himself up; but he was very angry, and said to the peasant: “Riding is poor fun at times, when you have a nag like mine, which stumbles and throws you, and puts you in danger of breaking your neck. I will never mount it again. I think much more of your cow there. You can walk comfortably behind her, and you have her milk into the bargain every day, as well as butter and cheese. What would I not give for a cow like that!”

“Well,” said the peasant, “if you have such a fancy for it as all that, I will exchange the cow for the horse.”

Hans accepted the offer with delight, and the peasant mounted the horse and rode rapidly off.

Hans drove his cow peacefully on, and thought what a lucky bargain he had made. “If only I have a bit of bread, and I don’t expect ever to be without it, I shall always have butter and cheese to eat with it. If I am thirsty, I only have to milk my cow and I have milk to drink. My heart! what more can you desire?”

When he came to an inn he made a halt, and in his great joy he ate up all the food he had with him, all his dinner and his supper, and he gave the last coins he had for half a glass of beer. Then he went on farther in the direction of his mother’s village, driving the cow before him. The heat was very oppressive, and, as midday drew near, Hans found himself on a heath which it took him an hour to cross. He was so hot and thirsty that his tongue was parched and clung to the roof of his mouth.

“This can easily be set to rights,” thought Hans. “I will milk my cow and sup up the milk.” He tied her to a tree, and as he had no pail, he used his leather cap instead; but, try as hard as he liked, not a single drop of milk appeared. As he was very clumsy in his attempts, the impatient animal gave him a severe kick on his forehead with one of her hind legs. He was stunned by the blow, and fell to the ground, where he lay for some time, not knowing where he was.

Happily, just then a butcher came along the road, trundling a young pig in a wheelbarrow.

“What is going on here?” he cried, as he helped poor Hans up.

Hans told him all that had happened.

The butcher handed him his flask, and said: “Here, take a drink, it will do you good. The cow can’t give any milk, I suppose; she must be too old, and good for nothing but to be a beast of burden, or go to the butcher.”

“Oh, dear!” said Hans, smoothing his hair. “Now who would ever have thought it! Killing the animal is all very well, but what kind of meat will it be? For my part, I don’t like cow’s flesh; it’s not juicy enough. Now, if one had a nice young pig like that, it would taste ever so much better; and then, all the sausages!”

“Listen, Hans!” then said the butcher; “for your sake I will exchange, and let you have the pig instead of the cow.”

“God reward your friendship!” said Hans, handing over the cow, as the butcher untied the pig, and put the halter with which it was tied into his hand.

Hans went on his way, thinking how well everything was turning out for him. Even if a mishap befell him, something else immediately happened to make up for it. Soon after this, he met a lad carrying a beautiful white goose under his arm. They passed the time of day, and Hans began to tell him how lucky he was, and what successful bargains he had made. The lad told him that he was taking the goose for a christening feast. “Just feel it,” he went on, holding it up by the wings. “Feel how heavy it is; it’s true they have been stuffing it for eight weeks. Whoever eats that roast goose will have to wipe the fat off both sides of his mouth.”

“Yes, indeed!” answered Hans, weighing it in his hand; “but my pig is no light weight, either.”

Then the lad looked cautiously about from side to side, and shook his head. “Now, look here,” he began; “I don’t think it’s all quite straight about your pig. One has just been stolen out of Schultze’s sty, in the village I have come from. I fear, I fear it is the one you are leading. They have sent people out to look for it, and it would be a bad business for you if you were found with it; the least they would do, would be to put you in the black hole.”

Poor Hans was very much frightened at this. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” he said. “Do help me out of this trouble. You are more at home here; take my pig, and let me have your goose.”

“Well, I shall run some risk if I do, but I won’t be the means of getting you into a scrape.”

So he took the rope in his hand, and quickly drove the pig up a side road; and honest Hans, relieved of his trouble, plodded on with the goose under his arm.

“When I really come to think it over,” he said to himself, “I have still had the best of the bargain. First, there is the delicious roast goose, and then all the fat that will drip out of it in cooking will keep us in goose fat to eat on our bread for three months, at least; and, last of all, there are the beautiful white feathers, which I will stuff my pillow with, and then I shall need no rocking to send me to sleep. How delighted my mother will be!”

As he passed through the last village he came to a knife-grinder with his cart, singing to his wheel as it buzzed merrily round—

“Scissors and knives I grind so fast,
And hang up my cloak against the blast.”

Hans stopped to look at him, and at last he spoke to him and said: “You must be doing a good trade to be so merry over your grinding.”

“Yes,” answered the grinder. “The work of one’s hands has a golden foundation. A good grinder finds money whenever he puts his hand into his pocket. But where did you buy that beautiful goose?”

“I did not buy it; I exchanged my pig for it.”

“And the pig?”

“Oh, I got that instead of my cow.”

“And the cow?”

“I got that for a horse.”

“And the horse?”

“I gave a lump of gold as big as my head for it.”

“And the gold?”

“Oh, that was my wages for seven years’ service.”

“You certainly have known how to manage your affairs,” said the grinder. “Now, if you could manage to hear the money jingling in your pockets when you got up in the morning, you would indeed have made your fortune.”

“How shall I set about that?” asked Hans.

“You must be a grinder like me—nothing is needed for it but a whetstone; everything else will come of itself. I have one here which certainly is a little damaged, but you need not give me anything for it but your goose. Are you willing?”

“How can you ask me such a question?” said Hans. “Why, I shall be the happiest person in the world. If I can have some money every time I put my hand in my pocket, what more should I have to trouble about?”

So he handed him the goose, and took the whetstone in exchange.

“Now,” said the grinder, lifting up an ordinary large stone which lay near on the road, “here is another good stone into the bargain. You can hammer out all your old nails on it to straighten them. Take it, and carry it off.”

Hans shouldered the stone, and went on his way with a light heart, and his eyes shining with joy. “I must have been born in a lucky hour!” he cried; “everything happens just as I want it, and as it would happen to a Sunday’s child.”

In the mean time, as he had been on foot since daybreak, he began to feel very tired, and he was also very hungry, as he had eaten all his provisions at once, in his joy at his bargain over the cow. At last he could hardly walk any farther, and he was obliged to stop every minute to rest. Then the stones were frightfully heavy, and he could not get rid of the thought that it would be very nice if he were not obliged to carry them any farther. He dragged himself like a snail to a well in the fields, meaning to rest and refresh himself with a draught of the cool water. So as not to injure the stones by sitting on them, he laid them carefully on the edge of the well. Then he sat down, and was about to stoop down to drink when he inadvertently gave them a little push, and both the stones fell straight into the water.

When Hans saw them disappear before his very eyes he jumped for joy, and then knelt down and thanked God, with tears in his eyes, for having shown him this further grace, and relieved him of the heavy stones (which were all that remained to trouble him) without giving him anything to reproach himself with. “There is certainly no one under the sun so happy as I,” he said.

And so, with a light heart, free from every care, he bounded on home to his mother.

_The Family Servants_

“Where are you going to?” “To Walpe.”

“I to Walpe, you to Walpe; so, so, together we go.”

“Have you got a husband? How do you call your husband?”

“Cham.” “My husband Cham, your husband Cham; I to Walpe, you to Walpe; so, so, together we go.”

“Have you got a child? How do you call your child?”

“Grild.” “My child Grild, your child Grild; my husband Cham, your husband Cham; I to Walpe, you to Walpe; so, so, together we go.”

“Have you got a cradle? How do you call your cradle?”

“Hippodadle.” “My cradle Hippodadle, your cradle Hippodadle; my child Grild, your child Grild; my husband Cham, your husband Cham; I to Walpe, you to Walpe; so, so, together we go.”

“Have you got a man? How do you call your man?”

“Do-as-well-as-you-can.” “My man Do-as-well-as-you-can, your man Do-as-well-as-you-can; my cradle Hippodadle, your cradle Hippodadle; my child Grild, your child Grild; my husband Cham, your husband Cham; I to Walpe, you to Walpe; so, so, together we go.”

_The Flail which came from the Clouds_

A countryman once drove his plow with a pair of oxen, and when he came about the middle of his fields the horns of his two beasts began to grow, and grow, till they were so high that when he went home he could not get them into the stable-door. By good luck just then a Butcher passed by, to whom he gave up his beasts, and struck a bargain, that he should take to the Butcher a measure-full of turnip-seed, for every grain of which the Butcher should give him a Brabant dollar. That is what you may call a good bargain! The Countryman went home, and came again, carrying on his back a measure of seed, out of which he dropped one grain on the way. The Butcher, however, reckoned out for every seed a Brabant dollar; and had not the Countryman lost one he would have received a dollar more. Meanwhile the seed which he dropped on the road had grown up to a fine tree, reaching into the clouds. So the Countryman thought to himself he might as well see what the people in the clouds were about. Up he climbed, and at the top he found a field with some people thrashing oats; but while he was looking at them he felt the tree shake beneath him, and, peeping downward, he perceived that some one was on the point of chopping down the tree at the roots. “If I am thrown down,” said the Countryman to himself, “I shall have a bad fall;” and, quite bewildered, he could think of nothing else to save himself than to make a rope with the oat straw, which lay about in heaps. He then seized hold of a hatchet and flail which were near him, and let himself down by his straw rope. He fell into a deep, deep hole in the earth, and found it very lucky that he had brought the hatchet with him; for with it he cut steps, and so mounted again into the broad daylight, bringing with him the flail for a sign of the truth of his tale, which nobody, on that account, was able to doubt!

There is a wonderful adventure!!!

_The Sole’s Mouth_

The Fishes once grew very discontented because no order was kept in their dominions. None turned aside for the others, but each swam right or left just as it pleased him, sometimes between those who wished to be together, or else pushed them to one side, and the stronger ones gave the weaker blows with their tails, which made them get out of the way as fast as they could, or else they devoured them without more ceremony. “How nice it would be,” thought the Fishes, “if we had a king who should exercise the power of judging between us!” And so at last they assembled together to choose a lord, who should be he who could swim the quickest and render help best to the weaker fishes.

So they laid themselves all in rank and file by the shore, and the Pike gave a signal with his tail, on which they started off. Like an arrow darted away the Pike, closely followed by the Herring, the Gudgeon, the Perch, the Carp, and the rest. Even the Sole swam among them, hoping to gain the prize.

All at once a cry was heard, “The Herring is first, the Herring is first!” “Who is first?” asked the flat, envious Sole in a vexed tone. “Who is first?”

“The Herring, the Herring!” was the reply. “The nak-ed Herring, the nak-ed Herring!” cried the Sole disdainfully.

And ever since that time the Sole’s mouth has been all awry as a punishment for his wicked envy.

_The Three Brothers_

There was once a man who had three sons, but no fortune except the house he lived in. Now, each of them wanted to have the house after his death; but their father was just as fond of one as of the other, and did not know how to treat them all fairly. He did not want to sell the house, because it had belonged to his forefathers, or he might have divided the money between them.

At last an idea came into his head, and he said to his sons: “Go out into the world, and each learn a trade, and when you come home, the one who makes best use of his handicraft shall have the house.”

The sons were quite content with this plan, and the eldest decided to be a farrier, the second a barber, and the third a fencing master. They fixed a time when they would all meet at home again, and then they set off.

It so happened that they each found a clever master with whom they learned their business thoroughly. The farrier shod the king’s horses, and he thought, “I shall certainly be the one to have the house.”

The barber shaved nobody but grand gentlemen, so he thought it would fall to him.

The fencing master got many blows, but he set his teeth, and would not let himself be put out, because he thought, “If I am afraid of a blow, I shall never get the house.”

Now, when the given time had passed, they all went home together to their father; but they did not know how to get a good opportunity of showing off their powers, and sat down to discuss the matter.

Suddenly a hare came running over the field.

“Ah!” cried the barber, “she comes just in the nick of time.”

He took up his bowl and his soap, and got his lather by the time the hare came quite close, then he soaped her in full career, and shaved her as she raced along, without giving her cut or missing a single hair. His father, astonished, said: “If the others don’t look out, the house will be yours.”

Before long a gentleman came along in his carriage at full gallop.

“Now, father, you shall see what I can do,” said the farrier, and he ran after the carriage and tore the four shoes off the horse as he galloped along, then, without stopping a second, shod him with new ones.

“You are a fine fellow, indeed,” said his father. “You know your business as well as your brother. I don’t know which I shall give the house to at this rate.”

Then the third one said: “Let me have a chance, too, father.”

As it was beginning to rain, he drew his sword and swirled it round and round his head, so that not a drop fell on him. Even when the rain grew heavier, so heavy that it seemed as if it was being poured from the sky out of buckets, he swung the sword faster and faster, and remained as dry as if he had been under a roof.

His father was amazed, and said: “You have done the best; the house is yours.”

Both the other brothers were quite satisfied with this decision, and as they were all so devoted to one another, they lived together in the house, and carried on their trades, by which they made plenty of money, since they were so perfect in them.

They lived happily together to a good old age, and when one fell ill and died, the others grieved so much over him that they pined away and soon after departed this life.

Then, as they had been so fond of one another, they were all buried in one grave.

_The Wren and the Bear_

One summer’s day the bear and the wolf were walking in the forest, and the bear heard a bird singing very sweetly, and said: “Brother Wolf, what kind of bird is that which is singing so delightfully?”

“That is the king of the birds, before whom we must do reverence,” replied the wolf; but it was only the wren.

“If that be so,” said the bear, “I should like to see his royal palace; come, lead me to it.” “That cannot be as you like,” replied the wolf. “You must wait till the queen returns.” Soon afterward the queen arrived with some food in her bill, and the king, too, to feed their young ones, and the bear would have gone off to see them, but the wolf, pulling his ear, said: “No, you must wait till the queen and the king are both off again.”

So, after observing well the situation of the nest, the two tramped off, but the bear had no rest, for he wished still to see the royal palace, and after a short delay he set off to it again. He found the king and queen absent, and, peeping into the nest, he saw five or six young birds lying in it. “Is this the royal palace?” exclaimed the bear; “this miserable place! You are no king’s children, but wretched young brats.” “No, no, that we are not!” burst out the little wrens together in a great passion, for to them this speech was addressed. “No, no, we are born of honorable parents, and you, Mr. Bear, shall make your words good!” At this speech the bear and the wolf were much frightened, and ran back to their holes; but the little wrens kept up an unceasing clamor till their parents’ return. As soon as they came back with food in their mouths the little birds began, “We will none of us touch a fly’s leg, but will starve rather, until you decide whether we are fine and handsome children or not, for the bear has been here and insulted us!”

“Be quiet,” replied the king, “and that shall soon be settled.” And thereupon he flew with his queen to the residence of the bear, and called to him from the entrance, “Old grumbler, why have you insulted my children? That shall cost you dear, for we will decide the matter by a pitched battle.”

War having thus been declared against the bear, all the four-footed beasts were summoned: the ox, the ass, the cow, the goat, the stag, and every animal on the face of the earth. The wren, on the other hand, summoned every flying thing; not only the birds, great and small, but also the gnat, the hornet, the bee, and the flies.

When the time arrived for the commencement of the war, the wren king sent out spies to see who was appointed commander-in-chief of the enemy. The gnat was the most cunning of all the army, and he, therefore, buzzed away into the forest where the enemy was encamped, and alighted on a leaf of the tree beneath which the watchword was given out. There stood the bear and called the fox to him, and said: “You are the most crafty of animals, so you must be general, and lead us on.” “Well,” said the fox, “but what sign shall we appoint?” Nobody answered. Then the fox said: “I have a fine long bushy tail, which looks like a red feather at a distance; if I hold this tail straight up, all is going well and you must march after me; but if I suffer it to hang down, run away as fast as you can.” As soon as the gnat heard all this she flew home and told the wren king everything to a hair.

When the day arrived for the battle to begin, the four-footed beasts all came running along to the field, shaking the earth with their roaring and bellowing. The wren king also came with his army, whirring and buzzing and humming enough to terrify any one out of his senses. Then the wren king sent the hornet forward to settle upon the fox’s tail and sting it with all his power. As soon as the fox felt the first sting he drew up his hind leg with the pain, still carrying, however, his tail as high in the air as before; at the second sting he was obliged to drop it a little bit; but at the third he could no longer bear the pain, but was forced to drop his tail between his legs. As soon as the other beasts saw this, they thought all was lost, and began to run each one to his own hole; so the birds won the battle without difficulty.

When all was over the wren king and his queen flew home to their children, and cried out: “Rejoice! rejoice! we have won the battle; now eat and drink as much as you please.”

The young wrens, however, said: “Still we will not eat till the bear has come to our nest and begged pardon, and admitted that we are fine and handsome children.”

So the wren king flew back to the cave of the bear, and called out, “Old grumbler, you must come to the nest and beg pardon of my children for calling them wretched young brats, else your ribs shall be crushed in your body!”

In great terror the bear crept out and begged pardon; and afterward the young wrens, being now made happy in their minds, settled down to eating and drinking, and I am afraid they were over-excited and kept up their merriment far too late.

_The Musicians of Bremen_

A certain man had a donkey that had served him faithfully for many long years, but whose strength was so far gone that at last he was quite unfit for work. So his master began to consider how much he could make of the donkey’s skin, but the beast, perceiving that no good wind was blowing, ran away along the road to Bremen. “There,” thought he, “I can be town musician.” When he had run some way, he found a hound lying by the roadside, yawning like one who was very tired. “What are you yawning for now, you big fellow?” asked the ass.

“Ah,” replied the hound, “because every day I grow older and weaker; I cannot go any more to the hunt, and my master has well-nigh beaten me to death, so that I took to flight; and now I do not know how to earn my bread.”

“Well, do you know,” said the ass, “I am going to Bremen, to be town musician there; suppose you go with me and take a share in the music. I will play on the lute, and you shall beat the kettledrums.” The dog was satisfied, and off they set.

Presently they came to a cat, sitting in the middle of the path, with a face like three rainy days! “Now, then, old shaver, what has crossed you?” asked the ass.

“How can one be merry when one’s neck has been pinched like mine?” answered the cat. “Because I am growing old, and my teeth are all worn to stumps, and because I would rather sit by the fire and spin, than run after mice, my mistress wanted to drown me; and so I ran away. But now good advice is dear, and I do not know what to do.”

“Go with us to Bremen. You understand nocturnal music, so you can be town musician.” The cat consented, and went with them. The three vagabonds soon came near a farmyard, where, upon the barn door, the cock was sitting crowing with all his might. “You crow through marrow and bone,” said the ass; “what do you do that for?”

“That is the way I prophesy fine weather,” said the cock; “but, because grand guests are coming for the Sunday, the housewife has no pity, and has told the cook-maid to make me into soup for the morrow; and this evening my head will be cut off. Now I am crowing with a full throat as long as I can.”

“Ah, but you, Red-comb,” replied the ass, “rather come away with us. We are going to Bremen, to find there something better than death; you have a good voice, and if we make music together it will have full play.”

The cock consented to this plan, and so all four traveled on together. They could not, however, reach Bremen in one day, and at evening they came into a forest, where they meant to pass the night. The ass and the dog laid themselves down under a large tree, the cat and the cock climbed up into the branches, but the latter flew right to the top, where he was most safe. Before he went to sleep he looked all round the four quarters, and soon thought he saw a little spark in the distance; so, calling his companions, he said they were not far from a house, for he saw a light. The ass said: “If it is so, we had better get up and go farther, for the pasturage here is very bad”; and the dog continued: “Yes, indeed! a couple of bones with some meat on would be very acceptable!” So they made haste toward the spot where the light was, and which shone now brighter and brighter, until they came to a well-lighted robber’s cottage. The ass, as the biggest, went to the window and peeped in. “What do you see, Gray-horse?” asked the cock. “What do I see?” replied the ass; “a table laid out with savory meats and drinks, with robbers sitting around enjoying themselves.”

“That would be the right sort of thing for us,” said the cock.

“Yes, yes, I wish we were there,” replied the ass. Then these animals took counsel together how they should contrive to drive away the robbers, and at last they thought of a way. The ass placed his forefeet upon the window ledge, the hound got on his back, the cat climbed up upon the dog, and, lastly, the cock flew up and perched upon the head of the cat. When this was accomplished, at a given signal they commenced together to perform their music: the ass brayed, the dog barked, the cat mewed, and the cock crew; and they made such a tremendous noise, and so loud, that the panes of the window were shivered! Terrified at these unearthly sounds, the robbers got up with great precipitation, thinking nothing less than that some spirits had come, and fled off into the forest, so the four companions immediately sat down at the table, and quickly ate up all that was left, as if they had been fasting for six weeks.

As soon as they had finished, they extinguished the light, and each sought for himself a sleeping-place, according to his nature and custom. The ass laid himself down upon some straw, the hound behind the door, the cat upon the hearth, near the warm ashes, and the cock flew up on a beam which ran across the room. Weary with their long walk, they soon went to sleep.

At midnight the robbers perceived from their retreat that no light was burning in their house, and all appeared quiet; so the captain said: “We need not have been frightened into fits”; and, calling one of the band, he sent him forward to reconnoiter. The messenger, finding all still, went into the kitchen to strike a light, and, taking the glistening, fiery eyes of the cat for live coals, he held a lucifer match to them, expecting it to take fire. But the cat, not understanding the joke, flew in his face, spitting and scratching, which dreadfully frightened him, so that he made for the back door; but the dog, who laid there, sprang up and bit his leg; and as he limped upon the straw where the ass was stretched out, it gave him a powerful kick with its hind foot. This was not all, for the cock, awaking at the noise, clapped his wings, and cried from the beam: “Cock-a-doodle-doo, cock-a-doodle-do!”

Then the robber ran back as well as he could to his captain, and said: “Ah, my master, there dwells a horrible witch in the house, who spat on me and scratched my face with her long nails; and then before the door stands a man with a knife, who chopped at my leg; and in the yard there lies a black monster, who beat me with a great wooden club; and besides all, upon the roof sits a judge, who called out, ‘Bring the knave up, do!’ so I ran away as fast as I could.”

After this the robbers dared not again go near their house; but everything prospered so well with the four town musicians of Bremen, that they did not forsake their situation! And there they are to this day, for anything I know.

_The Fox and the Cat_

It happened once that the cat met Mr. Fox in the wood, and because she thought he was clever and experienced in all the ways of the world, she addressed him in a friendly manner.

“Good-morning, dear Mr. Fox! how are you, and how do you get along in these hard times?”

The fox, full of pride, looked at the cat from head to foot for some time, hardly knowing whether he would deign to answer or not. At last he said:

“Oh, you poor whisker-wiper, you silly piebald, you starveling mouse-hunter! what has come into your head? How dare you ask me how I am getting on? What sort of education have you had? How many arts are you master of?”

“Only one,” said the cat meekly.

“And what might that one be?” asked the fox.

“When the dogs run after me, I can jump into a tree and save myself.”

“Is that all?” said the fox. “I am master of a hundred arts, and I have a sackful of cunning tricks in addition. But I pity you. Come with me, and I will teach you how to escape from the dogs.”

Just then a huntsman came along with four hounds. The cat sprang trembling into a tree, and crept stealthily up to the topmost branch, where she was entirely hidden by twigs and leaves.

“Open your sack, Mr. Fox! open your sack!” cried the cat, but the dogs had gripped him, and held him fast.

“Oh, Mr. Fox!” cried the cat, “you with your hundred arts, and your sackful of tricks, are held fast, while I, with my one, am safe. Had you been able to creep up here, you would not have lost your life.”

_The Golden Key_

One winter, when a deep snow was lying on the ground, a poor boy had to go out in a sledge to fetch wood. As soon as he had collected together a sufficient quantity, he thought that before he returned home he would make a fire to warm himself, because his limbs were so frozen. So, sweeping the snow away, he made a clear space, and presently found a small gold key. As soon as he picked it up, he began to think that where there was a key there must also be a lock; and, digging in the earth, he found a small iron chest. “I hope the key will fit,” thought he to himself; “there are certainly great treasures in this box!” He looked all over it, but could not find any keyhole; but at last he did discover one, which was, however, so small that it could scarcely be seen. He tried the key, and behold! it fitted exactly. Then he turned it once round, and now, if you will wait until he has quite unlocked it, and lifted up the lid, then we shall learn what wonderful treasures were in the chest!

_Doctor Know-All_

A long time ago there lived a peasant named “Crabb,” who one day drove into a certain city his cart laden with a bundle of faggots, drawn by two oxen. He soon found a purchaser for his wood in the person of a learned doctor, who bought it for two dollars, and, while the money was being counted out, the peasant, peeping in at the door, saw how comfortably his customer was eating and drinking; and the thought thereupon came into his head that he would like to be a professor, too. So he waited a little while, and at last mustered courage to ask whether he could not be a doctor. “Oh, yes,” replied the doctor, “that can soon be managed!”

“What must I do?” asked the peasant.

“First of all, buy an A B C book, one which has a cock-a-doodle-do for a frontispiece; secondly, sell your cart and oxen, and turn them into money to buy good clothes with, and what else belongs to a doctor’s appearance; lastly, let a sign be painted, with the words, ‘I am the Doctor Know-All,’ and nail that over your house door.”

The countryman did all that he was told, and after he had practised a little time, but not to much purpose, a certain very wealthy baron had some money stolen from him. Mention was made to the baron of Doctor Know-All, who dwelt in such a village, and who would be sure to know where the money was gone. As soon as the baron heard of him, he ordered his horses put to his carriage and drove to the place where the doctor lived. The baron inquired if he were the Doctor Know-All, and he replying “Yes,” the baron said he must return with him and discover his money.

“Very well,” replied the doctor; “but my wife Gertrude must accompany me.”

To this the baron agreed, and, all being seated in the carriage, away they drove back again. When they arrived at the house a splendid collation was on the table, of which the doctor was invited to partake. “Certainly,” said he, “but my wife Gertrude, too”; and he sat down with her at the bottom of the table. As soon as the first servant entered with a dish of delicate soup, the doctor poked his wife, saying, “He is the first!” meaning he was the first who had brought in meat. But the servant imagined he meant to say, “He is the first thief!” and because he really was so, he felt very much disturbed, and told his comrades in the kitchen, “The doctor knows all; we shall come off badly, for he has said I am the first!” When the second servant heard this he felt afraid to go; but he was obliged, and as soon as he entered the room with the dish, the man poked his wife again, and said: “Gertrude, that is the second!” This frightened the servant so much that he left the room as soon as possible; and the third servant who entered fared no better, for the doctor said to his wife, “That is the third!” The fourth servant had to bring in a covered dish, and the baron said to the doctor he must show his powers by telling truly what was in the dish. Now, there were crabs in it, and the doctor looked at the dish for some minutes, considering how to get out of the scrape. At last he cried out: “Oh, poor _Crabb_ that I am!” When the baron heard this, he exclaimed: “Good! he knows it! he knows, too, where my money is!”

The servant, however, was terribly frightened; and he winked to the doctor to follow him out. When he had done so, he found all four servants there who had stolen the money, and were now so eager to get off that they offered him a large sum if he would not betray them; for if he did their necks would be in danger. They led him also to the place where the money lay hid, and the doctor was so pleased that he gave them the required promise, and then returned to the house, where he sat down again at table, and, producing his book, said: “I will now look in my book, baron, and discover the place where the money lies.” A fifth servant, who had had a share in the robbery, wished to hear if the doctor knew more, and so he crept up the chimney to listen. Below sat the countryman, turning the leaves of his book backward and forward, forward and backward, looking for the cock-a-doodle-doo. However, he could not find it, and he at length exclaimed, “You must come out, for I know you are in it!” This made the servant up the chimney believe he meant him, and down he slipped, and came out, crying, “The man knows all, the man knows all!”

Then Doctor Know-All showed the baron where the money lay; but he said nothing about who had stolen it, so that from both sides he received a large sum of money as a reward, and, moreover, he became a very celebrated character.

_The Fair Catherine and Pif-Paf Poltrie_

“Good Day, Father Hollenthe. How do you do?” “Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie.” “May I marry your daughter?” “Oh, yes! if the mother Malcho (_Milk-Cow_), the brother Hohenstolz (_High and Mighty_), the sister Kâsetraut (_Cheese-maker_), and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so.”

“Where is, then, the mother Malcho?”

“In the stable, milking the cow.”

“Good day, mother Malcho. How do you do?” “Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie.” “May I marry your daughter?” “Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the brother Hohenstolz, the sister Kâsetraut, and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so.”

“Where is, then, the brother Hohenstolz?”

“In the yard, chopping up the wood.”

“Good day, brother Hohenstolz. How are you?” “Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie.” “May I marry your sister?” “Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the mother Malcho, the sister Kâsetraut, and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so.”

“Where is, then, the sister Kâsetraut?”

“In the garden, cutting the cabbages.”

“Good day, sister Kâsetraut. How do you do?” “Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie.” “May I marry your sister?” “Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the mother Malcho, the brother Hohenstolz, and the fair Catherine are willing, it may be so.”

“Where is, then, the fair Catherine?”

“In her chamber, counting out her pennies.”

“Good day, fair Catherine. How do you do?” “Very well, I thank you, Pif-paf Poltrie.” “Will you be my bride?” “Oh, yes! if the father Hollenthe, the mother Malcho, the brother Hohenstolz, and the sister Kâsetraut are willing, so am I.”

“How much money have you, fair Catherine?”

“Fourteen pennies in bare money, two and a half farthings owing to me, half a pound of dried apples, a handful of prunes, and a handful of roots; and don’t you call that a capital dowry? Pif-paf Poltrie, what trade are you? Are you a tailor?”

“Better than that.”

“A shoemaker?”

“Better still!”

“A plowman?”

“Better still!”

“A joiner?”

“Better still!”

“A smith?”

“Better still!”

“A miller?”

“Better still!”

“Perhaps a broom-binder?” “Yes, so I am; now, is not that a pretty trade?”

_The Wolf and the Fox_

A wolf, once upon a time, caught a fox. It happened one day that they were both going through the forest, and the wolf said to his companion: “Get me some food, or I will eat you up.”

The fox replied: “I know a farmyard where there are a couple of young lambs, which, if you wish, we will fetch.”

This proposal pleased the wolf, so they went, and the fox, stealing first one of the lambs, brought it to the wolf, and then ran away. The wolf devoured it quickly, but was not contented, and went to fetch the other lamb by himself, but he did it so awkwardly that he aroused the attention of the mother, who began to cry and bleat loudly, so that the peasants ran up. There they found the wolf, and beat him so unmercifully that he ran, howling and limping, to the fox, and said: “You have led me to a nice place, for, when I went to fetch the other lamb, the peasants came and beat me terribly!”

“Why are you such a glutton, then?” asked the fox.