Chapter V: Front Matter (5)

“I will do something more for you, still,” said the dwarf: “take some of those pears and apples with you; whoever eats one of the apples will have his nose grow like yours just now; but if you give him a pear, all will come right again. Go to the princess, and get her to eat some of your apples; her nose will grow twenty times as long as yours did: then look sharp, and you will get what you want from her.”

The friends thanked the dwarf very heartily for all his kindness; and it was agreed that the poor soldier, who had already tried the power of the apple, should follow out the suggestion. So he dressed himself up as a gardener’s boy, and went to the king’s palace, and said he had apples to sell, so fine and so beautiful as were never seen there before. Every one that saw them was delighted, and wanted to taste; but he said they were for the princess only; and she soon sent her maid to buy his stock. They were so ripe and rosy that she soon began eating; and had not eaten above a dozen before she too began to wonder what ailed her nose, for it grew and grew down to the ground, out at the window, and over the garden, and away, nobody knows where.

Then the king made known to all his kingdom that whoever would heal her of this dreadful disease should be richly rewarded. Many tried, but the princess got no relief. And now the old soldier dressed himself up very sprucely as a doctor, and said he would cure her. So he chopped up some of the apple, and, to punish her a little more, gave her a dose, saying he would call to-morrow and see her again. The morrow came, and, of course, instead of being better, the nose had been growing on all night as before; and the poor princess was in a dreadful fright. So the doctor then chopped up a very little of the pear and gave her, and said he was sure that would do good, and he would call again the next day. Next day came, and the nose was, to be sure, a little smaller, but yet it was bigger than when the doctor first began to meddle with it.

Then he thought to himself, “I must frighten this cunning princess a little more before I shall get what I want from her”; so he gave her another dose of the apple, and said he would call on the morrow. The morrow came, and the nose was ten times as bad as before. “My good lady,” said the doctor, “something works against my medicine, and is too strong for it; but I know by the force of my art what it is; you have stolen goods about you, I am sure; and if you do not give them back, I can do nothing for you.” But the princess denied very stoutly that she had anything of the kind. “Very well,” said the doctor, “you may do as you please, but I am sure I am right, and you will die if you do not own it.” Then he went to the king, and told him how the matter stood. “Daughter,” said he, “send back the cloak, the purse, and the horn, that you stole from the right owners.”

Then she ordered her maid to fetch all three, and gave them to the doctor, and begged him to give them back to the soldiers; and the moment he had them safe he gave her a whole pear to eat, and the nose came right. And as for the doctor, he put on the cloak, wished the king and all his court a good day, and was soon with his two friends, who lived from that time happily at home in their palace, except when they took an airing to see the world, in their coach with the three dapple-gray horses.

_The Adventures of Chanticleer and Partlet_

I. HOW THEY WENT TO THE HILLS TO EAT NUTS

Chanticleer said to Partlet one day: “The nuts must be ripe; now we will go up the hill together and have a good feast before the squirrel carries them all off.”

“All right,” said Partlet, “come along; we’ll have a fine time.” So they went away up the hill, and, as it was a bright day, they stayed till evening.

Now whether they really had grown fat, or whether it was merely pride, I do not know, but, whatever the reason, they would not walk home, and Chanticleer had to make a little carriage of nut-shells. When it was ready, Partlet took her seat in it, and said to Chanticleer, “Now you get between the shafts.”

“That’s all very fine,” said Chanticleer, “but I would sooner go home on foot than put myself in harness. I will sit on the box and drive, but draw it myself, I never will.”

As they were squabbling over this, a duck quacked out: “You thievish folk! Who told you to come to my nut-hill? Just you wait, you will suffer for it.”

Then she rushed at Chanticleer with open bill, but he was not to be taken by surprise, and fell upon her with his spurs till she cried out for grace. At last she allowed herself to be harnessed to the carriage. Chanticleer seated himself on the box as coachman, and cried out unceasingly: “Now, duck, run as fast as you can.”

When they had driven a little way they met two foot passengers, a pin and a needle, who called out: “Stop! stop!” They said it would soon be pitch dark, and they couldn’t walk a step farther, the road was so dirty; might they not have a lift? They had been to the Tailor’s Inn by the gate, and had lingered over their beer.

As they were both very thin, and did not take up much room, Chanticleer allowed them to get in, but he made them promise not to tread either on his toes or on Partlet’s. Late in the evening they came to an inn, and as they did not want to drive any farther in the dark, and the duck was getting rather uncertain on her feet, tumbling from side to side, they drove in.

The landlord at first made many objections to having them, and said the house was already full; perhaps he thought they were not very grand folk. But at last, by dint of persuasive words, and promising him the egg which Mrs. Partlet had laid on the way, and also that he should keep the duck, who laid an egg every day, he consented to let them stay the night.

Then they had a meal served to them, and feasted and passed the time in rioting.

In the early dawn, before it grew light and every one was asleep, Partlet woke up Chanticleer, fetched the egg, pecked a hole in it, and between them they ate it all up, and threw the shells on to the hearth. Then they went to the needle, which was still asleep, seized it by the head and stuck it in the cushion of the landlord’s arm-chair; the pin they stuck in his towel, and then, without more ado, away they flew over the heath. The duck, who preferred to sleep in the open air and had stayed in the yard, heard them whizzing by, and bestirred herself. She found a stream, and swam away down it; it was a much quicker way to get on than being harnessed to a carriage.

A couple of hours later the landlord, who was the first to leave his pillow, got up and washed. When he took up the towel to dry himself, he scratched his face and made a long red line from ear to ear. Then he went to the kitchen to light his pipe, but when he stooped over the hearth the egg-shells flew into his eye.

“Everything goes to my head this morning,” he said angrily, as he dropped on to the cushion of his grandfather’s arm-chair. But he quickly bounded up again, and shouted, “Gracious me!” for the needle had run into him, and this time not in the head. He grew furious, and his suspicions immediately fell on the guests who had come in so late the night before. When he went to look for them, they were nowhere to be seen. Then he swore never to take such ragamuffins into his house again; for they ate a great deal, paid nothing, and played tricks, by way of thanks, into the bargain.

II. THE VISIT TO MR. KORBES

Another day, when Partlet and Chanticleer were about to take a journey, Chanticleer built a fine carriage with four red wheels, and harnessed four little mice to it. Mrs. Partlet seated herself in it with Chanticleer, and they drove off together.

Before long they met a cat, who said, “Whither away?”

Chanticleer answered:

“All on our way
A visit to pay
To Mr. Korbes at home to-day.”

“Take me with you,” said the cat.

Chanticleer answered: “With pleasure; sit down behind, so that you don’t fall out forward.”

“When we’re off, away we roam,
To visit Mr. Korbes at home.
My wheels so red, pray have a care
From any splash of mud to spare.
Ye wheels sweep on with speed inclined,
Ye mice outstrip the whistling wind,
When we’re off, away to roam,
To visit Mr. Korbes at home.”

Then came a millstone, an egg, a duck, a pin, and, last of all, a needle. They all took their places in the carriage and went with the rest.

But when they arrived at Mr. Korbes’s house, he wasn’t in. The mice drew the carriage into the coach-house, Partlet and Chanticleer flew on to a perch, the cat sat down by the fire, the duck lay down by the well-pole. The egg rolled itself up in the towel, the pin stuck itself into the cushion, the needle sprang into the pillow on the bed, and the millstone laid itself over the door.

When Mr. Korbes came home, and went to the hearth to make a fire, the cat threw ashes into his eyes. He ran into the kitchen to wash, and the duck squirted water into his face; seizing the towel to dry himself, the egg rolled out, broke, and stuck up one of his eyes. He wanted to rest, and sat down in his arm-chair, when the pin pricked him. He grew very angry, threw himself on the bed and laid his head on the pillow, when the needle ran into him and made him cry out. In a fury he wanted to rush into the open air, but when he got to the door, the millstone fell on his head and killed him. What a bad man Mr. Korbes must have been!

III. THE DEATH OF PARTLET

Partlet and Chanticleer went to the nut-hill on another occasion, and they arranged that whichever of them found a nut should share it with the other.

Partlet found a huge nut, but said nothing about it, and meant to eat it all herself; but the kernel was so big that she could not swallow it. It stuck in her throat, and she was afraid she would be choked. She shrieked: “Chanticleer, Chanticleer, run and fetch some water as fast as you can, or I shall choke!”

So Chanticleer ran as fast as he could to the well, and said: “Well, well, you must give me some water! Partlet is out on the nut-hill; she has swallowed a big nut, and is choking.”

The well answered: “First you must run to my bride, and tell her to give you some red silk.”

Chanticleer ran to the bride, and said: “Bride, bride, give me some red silk; I will give the silk to the well, and the well will give me some water to take to Partlet, for she has swallowed a big nut and is choking.”

The bride answered: “Run first and fetch me a wreath which I left hanging on a willow.”

So Chanticleer ran to the willow, pulled the wreath off the branch, and brought it to the bride. The bride gave him the red silk, which he took to the well, and the well gave him the water for it. Then Chanticleer took the water to Partlet; but as it happened, she had choked in the meantime, and lay there dead and stiff. Chanticleer’s grief was so great that he cried aloud, and all the animals came and condoled with him.

Six mice built a little car to draw Partlet to the grave; and when the car was ready they harnessed themselves to it and drew Partlet away.

On the way, Reynard the fox joined them. “Where are you going, Chanticleer?” said he.

“I’m going to bury my wife, Partlet.”

“May I go with you?”

“Well, yes, if ride you will, you must jump up behind,
To carry weight in front, my horses aren’t inclined.”

So the fox took a seat at the back, and he was followed by the wolf, the bear, the stag, the lion, and all the other animals of the forest. The procession went on till they came to a stream.

“How shall we ever get over?” said Chanticleer.

A straw was lying by the stream, and it said: “I will stretch myself across, and then you can pass over upon me.”

But when the six mice got on to the straw it collapsed, and the mice fell into the water with it, and they were all drowned. So the travelers’ difficulty was as great as ever. Then a coal came along and said: “I am big enough; I will lie down and you can pass over me.”

So the coal laid itself across the stream, but unfortunately it just touched the water, hissed, went out, and was dead. A stone, seeing this, had pity on them, and, wanting to help Chanticleer, laid itself over the water. Now Chanticleer drew the car himself, and he just managed to get across with Partlet. Next he wanted to pull the others over who were hanging on behind, but it was too much for him, and the car fell back and they all fell into the water and were drowned.

So Chanticleer was left alone with the dead hen, and he dug a grave himself and laid her in it. Then he made a mound over it, and seated himself upon it and grieved till he died; and then they were all dead.

_The Golden Goose_

There was once a man who had three sons. The youngest of them was called Simpleton; he was scorned and despised by the others, and kept in the background.

The eldest son was going into the forest to cut wood, and, before he started, his mother gave him a nice sweet cake and a bottle of wine to take with him, so that he might not suffer from hunger or thirst. In the wood he met a little, old, gray man, who bade him good day, and said: “Give me a bit of the cake in your pocket, and let me have a drop of your wine. I am so hungry and thirsty.”

But the clever son said: “If I give you my cake and wine, I shan’t have enough for myself. Be off with you!”

He left the little man standing there, and went on his way. But he had not been long at work, cutting down a tree, before he made a false stroke, and dug the ax into his own arm, and he was obliged to go home to have it bound up.

Now, this was no accident; it was brought about by the little gray man.

The second son now had to go into the forest to cut wood, and, like the eldest, his mother gave him a sweet cake and a bottle of wine. In the same way the little gray man met him, and asked for a piece of his cake and a drop of his wine. But the second son made the same sensible answer: “If I give you any, I shall have the less for myself. Be off out of my way!” and he went on.

His punishment, however, was not long delayed. After a few blows at the tree, he hit his own leg, and had to be carried home.

Then Simpleton said: “Let me go to cut the wood, father.”

But his father said: “Your brothers have only come to harm by it; you had better leave it alone. You know nothing about it.” But Simpleton begged so hard to be allowed to go that at last his father said: “Well, off you go then. You will be wiser when you have hurt yourself.”

His mother gave him a cake which was mixed with water only and baked in the ashes, and a bottle of sour beer. When he reached the forest, like the others, he met the little gray man, who greeted him, and said: “Give me a bit of your cake and a drop of your wine. I am so hungry and thirsty.”

Simpleton answered: “I have only a cake baked in the ashes, and some sour beer; but, if you like such fare, we will sit down and eat it together.”

So they sat down; but when Simpleton pulled out his cake, it was a sweet, nice cake, and his sour beer was turned into good wine. So they ate and drank, and the little man said: “As you have such a kind heart, and are willing to share your possessions, I will give you good luck. There stands an old tree; cut it down, and you will find something at the roots.”

So saying, he disappeared.

Simpleton cut down the tree, and when it fell, lo, and behold! a goose was sitting among the roots, and its feathers were of pure gold. He picked it up, and taking it with him, went to an inn, where he meant to stay the night. The landlord had three daughters, who saw the goose, and were very curious as to what kind of bird it could be, and wanted to get one of its golden feathers.

The eldest thought: “There will soon be some opportunity for me to pull out one of the feathers,” and when Simpleton went outside, she took hold of its wing to pluck out a feather; but her hand stuck fast, and she could not get away.

Soon after, the second sister came up, meaning also to pluck out one of the golden feathers; but she had hardly touched her sister when she found herself held fast.

Lastly, the third one came, with the same intention, but the others screamed out: “Keep away! For goodness sake, keep away!”

But she, not knowing why she was to keep away, thought, “Why should I not be there, if they are there?”

So she ran up, but as soon as she touched her sisters she had to stay hanging on to them, and they all had to pass the night like this.

In the morning, Simpleton took up the goose under his arm, without noticing the three girls hanging on behind, so they had to keep running after, dodging his legs right and left.

In the middle of the fields they met the parson, who, when he saw the procession, cried out: “For shame, you bold girls! Why do you run after the lad like that? Do you call that proper behavior?”

Then he took hold of the hand of the youngest girl to pull her away; but no sooner had he touched her than he felt himself held fast, and he, too, had to run behind.

Soon after the sexton came up, and, seeing his master the parson treading on the heels of the three girls, cried out in amazement: “Hallo, your Reverence! Whither away so fast? Don’t forget that we have a christening!”

So saying, he plucked the parson by the sleeve, and soon found that he could not get away either.

As this party of five, one behind the other, tramped on, two peasants came along the road, carrying their hoes. The parson called them, and asked them to set the sexton and himself free. But as soon as ever they touched the sexton they were held fast, so now there were seven people running behind Simpleton and his goose.

By and by they reached a town where a king ruled whose only daughter was so solemn that nothing and nobody could make her laugh. So the king had proclaimed that whoever could bring her laughter should marry her.

When Simpleton heard this he took his goose, with all his following, before her, and when she saw these seven people running, one behind another, she burst into fits of laughter, and seemed as if she could never stop.

Thereupon Simpleton asked her in marriage. But the king did not like him for a son-in-law, and he made all sorts of conditions. First, he said Simpleton must bring him a man who could drink up a cellar full of wine.

Then Simpleton at once thought of the little gray man, who might be able to help him, and he went out to the forest to look for him. On the very spot where the tree that he had cut down had stood, he saw a man sitting with a very sad face. Simpleton asked him what was the matter, and he answered:

“I am so thirsty, and I can’t quench my thirst. I hate cold water, and I have already emptied a cask of wine; but what is a drop like that on a burning stone?”

“Well, there I can help you,” said Simpleton. “Come with me, and you shall soon have enough to drink and to spare.”

He led him to the king’s cellar, and the man set to upon the great casks, and he drank and drank till his sides ached, and by the end of the day the cellar was empty.

Then again Simpleton demanded his bride. But the king was annoyed that a wretched fellow called “Simpleton” should have his daughter, and he made new conditions. He was now to find a man who could eat up a mountain of bread.

Simpleton did not reflect long, but went straight to the forest, and there in the self-same place sat a man tightening a strap round his body, and making a very miserable face. He said: “I have eaten up a whole oven-full of rolls, but what is the good of that when any one is as hungry as I am. I am never satisfied. I have to tighten my belt every day if I am not to die of hunger.”

Simpleton was delighted, and said: “Get up and come with me. You shall have enough to eat.”

Then he took him to the court, where the king had caused all the flour in the kingdom to be brought together, and a huge mountain of bread to be baked. The man from the forest sat down before it and began to eat, and at the end of the day the whole mountain had disappeared.

Now, for the third time, Simpleton asked for his bride. But again the king tried to find an excuse, and demanded a ship which could sail on land as well as at sea.

“As soon as you can furnish it, you shall have my daughter,” he said.

Simpleton went straight to the forest, and there sat the little gray man to whom he had given his cake. The little man said: “I have eaten and drunk for you, and now I will give you the ship, too. I do it all because you were merciful to me.”

Then he gave him the ship which could sail on land as well as at sea, and when the king saw it he could no longer withhold his daughter. The marriage was celebrated, and, at the king’s death, Simpleton inherited the kingdom, and lived long and happily with his wife.

_The Young Giant_

Once upon a time there lived a husbandman who had a son who, when he was born, was no bigger than the length of a thumb, and who for many years did not grow a hair’s breadth taller.

One morning, just as the countryman was about to set out to plow his field, little Thumbling said:

“Father, I want to go, too.”

“I dare say you do,” said the man; “but you are much better at home. If I took you out I should be sure to lose you.”

Thereupon Thumbling fell a-crying, and cried so much that at length his father picked him up and put him in his pocket and set forth to his work.

When they reached the fields the man took his son out and set him down on the ridge of a newly turned furrow, so that he might see the world around him. Then suddenly from over the mountains a great giant came striding toward them.

“See, son,” said the husbandman, “here is an ogre coming to fetch you away because you were naughty and cried this morning.”

And the words had scarcely passed his lips when, in two great strides, the giant had reached little Thumbling’s side and had picked him up in his great hands and carried him away without uttering a sound.

The poor father stood dumb with fear, for he thought he should never see his little son again.

The giant, however, treated little Thumbling very kindly in his house in the woods. He kept him warm in his pocket, and fed him so heartily and well that Thumbling became a young giant himself, tall, and broad.

At the end of two years the old giant took him out into the woods to try his strength.

“Pull up that birch-tree for a staff to lean upon,” he said, and the youth obeyed and pulled it up by the roots as if it had been a mere weed.

The old giant still thought he should like him to be stronger, so, after taking great care of him for another two years, they again went out into the wood. This time Thumbling playfully uprooted a stout old oak, and the old giant, well pleased, cried:

“Now you are a credit to me,” and took him back to the field where he first found him.

Here the young giant’s father happened to be just then plowing; so Thumbling went up to him and said:

“See, father, to what a great big man your son has grown!”

But the peasant was afraid.

“Be off with you! I don’t know you,” he cried.

“But really and truly, father, I am your son,” he said. “Let me take the plow, for I can guide it quite as well as you.”

The father very unwillingly let go of the plow, for he was afraid of the giant, and sat down to watch. Then Thumbling laid one hand on the plowshare and straightway drove it so deep into the ground that the peasant cried:

“Now you will do more harm than good, if you drive so deep into the earth.”

Thereupon the young giant unharnessed the horses and began to draw the plow himself, first saying:

“Now, father, get you home and tell mother to cook a hearty meal, while I just run round the field.”

And in a very short time he had done what the peasant would have taken two whole days to do.

When all was finished, he laid plow, horse, and harrow over his shoulders and carried them home as easily as though they were a truss of hay.

When he reached the house, he saw his mother sitting on a bench in the courtyard.

“Oh, who is this frightful monster of a man?” she cried.

“That is our son,” said her husband.

“I cannot believe that,” replied the woman, “for our child was a tiny little thing,” and she begged the young giant to go away.

However, he did not take any notice of what she said, for, after feeding the horse in the stable, he came into the kitchen and sat himself down upon the edge of the dresser.

“Mother, mother,” he said, “I am so hungry. Give me my dinner.”

“Here it is,” said his mother, and set two enormous dishes of smoking stew upon the table.

It would have been enough to last the husbandman and his wife for eight whole days, but the giant ate it all up in five minutes, and then asked if they could give him more. But the woman shook her head, and said they had no more in the house.

“Mother,” he said, “I am fainting with hunger. That was a mere bite.”

The woman was so frightened at this that she ran and made some more stew in the largest fish kettle.

“Ah,” sighed the young giant, “this is something like a meal!”

But when he had finished he still felt hungry, and said:

“Well, father, I can see I shall starve if I come here to live. I will go and seek my fortune in the wide world, if you can procure me a bar of iron so strong that I cannot break it across my knee.”

The peasant quickly harnessed his two horses to the wagon, and from the smithy in the village he fetched an iron bar so heavy that the horses could hardly drag it. This the giant tried across his knee. Snap! it cracked in half, like a twig.

Then the peasant took his wagon and four horses to the smithy and brought back as heavy a bar as they could carry. But in a second the giant had broken it into two pieces and tossed them each aside.

“Father,” he said, “I need a stronger one yet. Take the wagon and eight horses to the smithy, and fetch me back as heavy a one as they can draw.”

This the countryman did, and again the youth broke it in two as easily as if he had cracked a nut.

“Well, father, I see you cannot get me anything strong enough. I must go and try my fortune without it.”

So he turned blacksmith and journeyed for many miles, until he came to a village, where dwelt a very grasping smith, who earned a great deal of money, but who gave not a penny of it away.

The giant stepped into his forge and asked if by any chance he were in want of help.

“What wages do you ask?” said the smith, looking the young man up and down; for, thought he: “Here is a fine, powerful fellow, who surely will be worth his salt.”

“I don’t want money,” replied the giant. “But here’s a bargain: every fortnight, when you give your workmen their wages, I will give you two strokes across your shoulders. It will be just a little amusement for me.”

The cunning smith agreed very willingly, for, he thought, in this way he would save a great deal of money.

However, next morning when the new journeyman started work, with the very first stroke he gave the red-hot iron, it shivered into a thousand pieces, and the anvil buried itself so deep in the earth that he could not pull it out again.

“Here, fellow,” cried his master, “you won’t suit me; you are far too clumsy. I must put an end to our bargain.”

“Just as you please,” said the other, “but you must pay me for the work I have done, so I will just give you one little tap on the shoulder.”

With that he gave the greedy smith such a blow that it knocked him flying over four hay-ricks. Then, picking up the stoutest iron bar he could find for a walking-stick, he set forth once more on his travels.

Presently he came to a farmhouse, where he inquired if they were in need of a bailiff. Now, the farmer just happened to need a head man, so he was engaged at once upon the same terms as he had arranged with the old blacksmith.

Next morning the farm servants were to go and fell trees in the wood, but just as they were ready to start they found the new bailiff was still in bed and fast asleep.

They shook him and shouted at him, but he would not open his eyes; he only grumbled at them and told them to be gone.

“I shall have done my work and reached home long before you,” he said.

So he stayed in bed for another two hours, then arose, and after eating a hearty breakfast he started with his cart and horses for the wood.

There was a narrow pathway through which he had to pass just before entering the wood, and after he had led his horses through this he went back and built up a barrier of brambles and furze and branches so thick that no horse could possibly force its way through.

Then he drove on and met his fellow-servants just leaving the wood on their way home.

“Drive on, my friends,” he said, “and I will be home before you even now.”

Then he pulled up a giant elm by its roots just on the border of the woods, and laying it on his cart, he turned and quickly overtook the others.

There they were, staring helplessly at the great barricade which barred their path, just as he had expected to find them.

“Ha, ha!” he chuckled, “you might just as well have slept an hour or two longer, for I told you you would not get home before me.”

Then, shouldering the tree, the horse and the cart, he pushed a way through the barrier as easily as if he had been carrying a bag of feathers.

When he got back to the farm he showed his new walking-stick, as he called the tree, to his master.

“Wife,” said the farmer, “we have indeed found a capital bailiff, and if he does need more sleep than the others, he works much better.”

So the months rolled by, until a whole year had come and gone, and the time had arrived to pay the servants their wages. But the farmer was overcome with fright when he remembered the blows the giant had to give him. So he begged him to change his mind and accept his whole farm and lands instead.

“No,” said the giant, “I am a bailiff, and a bailiff I intend to remain, so you must pay me the wages we agreed upon.”

The farmer now obtained a promise that he would give him a fortnight to think the matter over, and he secretly assembled all his friends and neighbors to discuss what he should do.

The only thing they could suggest was to slay the bailiff, and it was arranged that he should be told to bring a cartload of millstones to the edge of the well, and then the farmer was to send him down to the bottom to clean it out. When the giant was safely at the bottom, all the friends and neighbors would come and roll the millstones down upon him.

Everything happened as had been planned, and when the bailiff was at the bottom of the well the millstones were rolled in. As each one fell, the water splashed over the top in a great wave.

It seemed impossible that the bailiff should not be crushed to death, but suddenly the neighbors heard him call out:

“I say, you up there, shoo away the chickens; they are scattering the gravel in my eyes!”

Then he quickly finished his task, and presently jumped out of the well with one of the millstones hanging round his neck.

“Have not I got a handsome collar?” he said.

Again the farmer was overcome with fear, and again he called together all his friends and relations. The only thing they could think of was to advise the farmer to send the bailiff to the haunted mill by night, and order him to grind eight bushels of corn. “For,” said they, “no man who has spent a night there has ever come out alive.”

So the bailiff went and fetched the corn from the loft. He put two bushels in his right-hand pocket, and two in his left, and the rest he carried in a sack across his shoulders.

When he reached the mill the miller told him it was haunted, and he had best come to grind his corn in the daytime if he did not wish to lose his life.

“Tush, tush!” said the giant. “Make haste and leave me alone. Come back in the morning, and I promise you will find me all safe and sound.”

Then he entered the mill and emptied his sacks into the hopper, and by twelve o’clock he had finished his work. Feeling a little weary, he sat down to rest, but noticed with great interest the door opening very slowly, all by itself.

Then a table laden with rich food and wines came and set itself before him. Still there was no living creature to be seen. Next the chairs came and placed themselves round the festive board, and then he noticed fingers handling the knives and forks and placing food upon the plates.

The giant soon got tired of watching this, and as he felt quite ready for a meal himself, he drew up his chair to the table and partook of a hearty repast.

Just as he finished he felt a breath of air blow out all the lights, and then a thundering blow fell upon his head.

“Well, I’m not going to put up with this,” he said. “If I feel any more taps like that one I will just tap back.”

Then a great battle raged, and blows fell thickly all around, but he never let himself feel any fear, but only gave back as many as he could.

When morning came the miller hastened to the mill expecting to find the giant dead, but he was greeted with a hearty laugh.

“Well, miller,” said the giant, “somebody has been slapping me in the night, but I guess they have had as good blows as they have given, and I have managed to eat a hearty supper into the bargain.”

The miller was overjoyed to find the evil spell had been broken, and begged the giant to accept some money as reward, but this he refused. Slinging the meal on his shoulders, he went back to ask his wages from the farmer.

The farmer was furious to see his bailiff safe and sound again, and paced his floor to and fro, shivering and shaking like a leaf. He felt he could not breathe, so he threw the window open, and before he knew what had happened the giant had sent him flying out of the window straight over the hills into Nowhere Land. And as the farmer had not waited to receive the second stroke, the giant gave it to his wife, and she flew out to join her husband, and for aught I know they are flying through the air still.

_The Sweet Soup_

Once on a time there was a poor but very good little girl, who lived alone with her mother, and when my story begins, they had nothing in the house to eat. So the child went out into the forest, and there she met an old woman, who already knew her distress, and who presented her with a pot which had the following power. If one said to it, “Boil, little pot!” it would cook sweet soup; and when one said: “Stop, little pot!” it would immediately cease to boil. The little girl took the pot home to her mother, and now their poverty and distresses were at an end, for they could have sweet broth as often as they pleased.

One day, however, the little girl went out, and in her absence the mother said: “Boil, little pot!” So it began to cook, and she soon ate all she wished; but when the poor woman wanted to have the pot stop, she found she did not know the word. Away, therefore, the pot boiled, and very quickly was over the edge; and as it boiled and boiled the kitchen presently became full, then the house, and the next house, and soon the whole street. It seemed likely to satisfy all the world, for, though there was the greatest necessity to do so, nobody knew how to stop it. At last, when only a very small cottage of all the village was left unfilled with soup, the child returned and said at once: “Stop, little pot!”

Immediately it ceased to boil; but whoever wishes to enter the village now must eat his way through the soup!!!

_Seven at one Blow_

A tailor sat in his workroom one morning, stitching away busily at a coat for the Lord Mayor. He whistled and sang so gaily that all the little boys who passed the shop on their way to school thought what a fine thing it was to be a tailor, and told one another that when they grew to be men they’d be tailors, too.

“How hungry I feel, to be sure!” cried the little man, at last; “but I’m far too busy to trouble about eating. I must finish his lordship’s coat before I touch a morsel of food,” and he broke once more into a merry song.

“Fine new jam for sale,” sang out an old woman, as she walked along the street.

“Jam! I can’t resist such a treat,” said the tailor; and, running to the door, he shouted: “This way for jam, dame; show me a pot of your very finest.”

The woman handed him jar after jar, but he found fault with all. At last he hit upon some to his liking.

“And how many pounds will you take, sir?”

“I’ll take four ounces,” he replied, in a solemn tone, “and mind you give me good weight.”

The old woman was very angry, for she had expected to sell several pounds, at least; and she went off grumbling, after she had weighed out the four ounces.

“Now for a feed!” cried the little man, taking a loaf from the cupboard as he spoke. He cut off a huge slice, and spread the jam on quite half an inch thick; then he suddenly remembered his work.

“It will never do to get jam on the Lord Mayor’s coat, so I’ll finish it off before I take even one bite,” said he. So he picked up his work once more, and his needle flew in and out like lightning.

I am afraid the Lord Mayor had some stitches in his garment that were quite a quarter of an inch long.

The tailor glanced longingly at his slice of bread and jam once or twice, but when he looked the third time it was quite covered with flies, and a fine feast they were having off it.

This was too much for the little fellow. Up he jumped, crying:

“So you think I provide bread and jam for you, indeed! Well, we’ll very soon see! Take that!” and he struck the flies such a heavy blow with a duster that no fewer than seven lay dead upon the table, while the others flew up to the ceiling in great haste.

“Seven at one blow!” said the little man with great pride. “Such a brave deed ought to be known all over the town, and it won’t be my fault if folks fail to hear of it.”

So he cut out a wide belt, and stitched on it in big golden letters the words “Seven at one blow.” When this was done he fastened it round him, crying:

“I’m cut out for something better than a tailor, it’s quite clear. I’m one of the world’s great heroes, and I’ll be off at once to seek my fortune.”

He glanced round the cottage, but there was nothing of value to take with him. The only thing he possessed in the world was a small cheese.

“You may as well come, too,” said he, stowing away the cheese in his pocket, “and now I’m off.”

When he got into the street the neighbors all crowded round him to read the words on his belt.

“Seven at one blow!” said they to one another. “What a blessing he’s going; for it wouldn’t be safe to have a man about us who could kill seven of us at one stroke.”

You see, they didn’t know that the tailor had only killed flies; they took it to mean men.

He jogged along for some miles until he came to a hedge, where a little bird was caught in the branches.

“Come along,” said the tailor; “I’ll have you to keep my cheese company”; so he caught the bird and put it carefully into his pocket with the cheese.

Soon he reached a lofty mountain, and he made up his mind to climb it and see what was going on at the other side. When he reached the top, there stood a huge giant, gazing down into the valley below.

“Good day,” said the tailor.

The giant turned round, and seeing nobody but the little tailor there, he cried with scorn:

“And what might you be doing here, might I ask? You’d best be off at once.”

“Not so fast, my friend,” said the little man; “read this.”

“Seven at one blow,” read the giant, and he began to wish he’d been more civil.

“Well, I’m sure nobody would think it to look at you,” he replied; “but since you are so clever, do this,” and he picked up a stone and squeezed it until water ran out.

“Do that! Why, it’s mere child’s play to me,” and the man took out his cheese and squeezed it until the whey ran from it. “Now who is cleverer?” asked the tailor. “You see, I can squeeze milk out, while you only get water.”

The giant was too surprised to utter a word for a few minutes; then, taking up another stone, he threw it so high into the air that for a moment they couldn’t see where it went; then down it fell to the ground again.

“Good!” said the tailor; “but I’ll throw a stone that won’t come back again at all.”

Taking the little bird from his pocket, he threw it into the air, and the bird, glad to get away, flew right off and never returned.

This sort of thing didn’t suit the giant at all, for he wasn’t used to being beaten by any one.

“Here’s something that you’ll never manage,” said he to the little man. “Just come and help me to carry this fallen oak-tree for a few miles.”

“Delighted!” said the tailor, “and I’ll take the end with the branches, for it’s sure to be heavier.”

“Agreed,” replied the giant, and he lifted the heavy trunk on to his shoulder, while the tailor climbed up among the branches at the other end, and sang with all his might, as though carrying a tree was nothing to him.

The poor giant, who was holding the tree-trunk and the little tailor as well, soon grew tired.

“I’m going to let it fall!” he shouted, and the tailor jumped down from the branches, and pretended he had been helping all the time.

“The idea of a man your size finding a tree too heavy to carry!” laughed the little tailor.

“You are a clever little fellow, and no mistake,” replied the giant, “and if you’ll only come and spend the night in our cave, we shall be delighted to have you.”

“I shall have great pleasure in coming, my friend,” answered the little tailor, and together they set off for the giant’s home.

There were seven more giants in the cave, and each one of them was eating a roasted pig for his supper. They gave the little man some food, and then showed him a bed in which he might pass the night. It was so big that, after tossing about for half an hour in it, the tailor thought he would be more comfortable if he slept in the corner, so he crept out without being noticed.

In the middle of the night the giant stole out of bed and went up to the one where he thought the little man was fast asleep. Taking a big bar of iron, he struck such a heavy blow at it that he woke up all the other giants.

“Keep quiet, friends,” said he. “I’ve just killed the little scamp.”

The tailor made his escape as soon as possible, and he journeyed on for many miles, until he began to feel very tired, so he lay down under a tree, and was soon fast asleep. When he awoke, he found a big crowd of people standing round him. Up walked one very wise-looking old man, who was really the king’s prime minister.

“Is it true that you have killed seven at one blow?” he asked.

“It is a fact,” answered the little tailor.

“Then come with me to the king, my friend, for he’s been searching for a brave man like you for some time past. You are to be made captain of his army, and the king will give you a fine house to live in.”

“That I will,” replied the little man. “It is just the sort of thing that will suit me, and I’ll come at once.”

He hadn’t been in the king’s service long before every one grew jealous of him. The soldiers were afraid that, if they offended him, he would make short work of them all, while the members of the king’s household didn’t fancy the idea of making such a fuss over a stranger.

So the soldiers went in a body to the king and asked that another captain should be put over them, for they were afraid of this one.

The king didn’t like to refuse, for fear they should all desert, and yet he didn’t dare get rid of the captain, in case such a strong and brave man should try to have his revenge.

At last the king hit upon a plan. In some woods close by there lived two giants, who were the terror of the country side; they robbed all the travelers, and if any resistance was offered they killed the men on the spot.

Sending for the little tailor, he said:

“Knowing you to be the bravest man in my kingdom, I want to ask a favor of you. If you will kill these two giants, and bring me back proof that they are dead, you shall marry the princess, my daughter, and have half my kingdom. You shall also take one hundred men to help you, and you are to set off at once.”

“A hundred men, your majesty! Pray, what do I want with a hundred men? If I can kill seven at one blow, I needn’t be afraid of two. I’ll kill them fast enough, never fear.”

The tailor chose ten strong men, and told them to await him on the border of the wood, while he went on quite alone. He could hear the giants snoring for quite half an hour before he reached them, so he knew in which direction to go.

He found the pair fast asleep under a tree, so he filled his pockets with stones and climbed up into the branches over their heads. Then he began to pelt one of the giants with the missiles, until after a few minutes one of the men awoke. Giving the other a rough push, he cried:

“If you strike me like that again, I’ll know the reason why.”

“I didn’t touch you,” said the other giant crossly, and they were soon fast asleep once more.

Then the tailor threw stones at the other man, and soon he awoke as the first had done.

“What did you throw that at me for?” said he.

“You are dreaming,” answered the other, “I didn’t throw anything.”

No sooner were they fast asleep again, than the little man began to pelt them afresh.

Up they both sprang, and seizing each other, they began to fight in real earnest. Not content with using their fists, they tore up huge trees by the roots, and beat each other until very soon the pair lay dead on the ground.

Down climbed the little tailor, and taking his sword in his hand he plunged it into each giant, and then went back to the edge of the forest where the ten men were waiting for him.

“They are as dead as two door nails,” shouted the little man. “I don’t say that I had an easy task, for they tore up trees by their roots to try to protect themselves with, but, of course, it was no good. What were two giants to a man who has slain seven at one blow?”

But the men wouldn’t believe it until they went into the forest and saw the two dead bodies, lying each in a pool of blood, while the ground was covered with uprooted trees.