Chapter VII: Part ONE: Fairy-Lore and Elfin Legends (4)

One night he decided to watch and see who worked in his barn. He hid behind a door. By and by he saw, not _one_ Tomt, but a _multitude_ of Tomts come into the barn. Each carried a stalk of rye; but the littlest Tomt of all, not bigger than a thumb, puffed and breathed very hard, although he carried but a straw on his shoulder.

“Why do you puff so hard?” cried the farmer from his hiding-place. “Your burden is not so great!”

“His burden is according to his strength, for he is but one night old,” answered one of the Tomts. “Hereafter you shall have less!”

And with that all the little men vanished, and the grain lay unthreshed on the barn floor.

And from that day all luck disappeared from the farmer’s house, and he was soon reduced to beggary.

SONG OF THE ELFIN MILLER

Full merrily rings the millstone round,
Full merrily rings the wheel,
Full merrily gushes out the grist--
Come, taste my fragrant meal!
As sends the lift its snowy drift,
So the meal comes in a shower;
Work, Fairies, fast, for time flies past--
I borrowed the mill an hour.

The miller he’s a worldly man,
And maun hae double fee;
So draw the sluice of the churl’s dam,
And let the stream come free.
Shout, Fairies, shout! see, gushing out,
The meal comes like a river:
The top of the grain on hill and plain
Is ours, and shall be ever.

One Elf goes chasing the wild bat’s wing
And one the white owl’s horn;
One hunts the fox for the white o’ his tail,
And we winna hae him till morn.
One idle Fay, with the glow-worm’s ray,
Runs glimmering ’mong the mosses:
Another goes tramp wi’ the Will-o-wisps’ lamp,
To light a lad to the lasses.

Oh, haste, my brown Elf, bring me corn
From Bonnie Blackwood plains;
Go, gentle Fairy, bring me grain
From green Dalgona mains;
But, pride of a’ at Closeburn ha’,
Fair is the corn and fatter;
Taste Fairies, taste, a gallanter grist
Has never been wet with water.

Hilloah! my hopper is heaped high;
Hark to the well-hung wheels!
They sing for joy; the dusty roof
It clatters and it reels.
Haste, Elves, and turn yon mountain burn--
Bring streams that shine like siller;
The dam is down, the moon sinks soon,
And I maun grind my miller.

Ha! bravely done, my wanton Elves,
That is a foaming stream:
See how the dust from the mill flies,
And chokes the cold moon-beam.
Haste, Fairies, fleet come baptized feet,
Come sack and sweep up clean,
And meet me soon, ere sinks the moon,
In thy green vale, Dalreen.

_Allan Cunningham_

FAYS OF WATER, WOOD, AND MEADOW

_Over hill, over dale,
Through bush, through briar,
Over park, over pale,
Through flood, through fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon’s sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The Cowslips tall her pensioners be;
In their gold coats spots you see;
Those be rubies, Fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours.
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every Cowslip’s ear._

SHAKESPEARE

KINTARO THE GOLDEN BOY

_From Japan_

Once upon a time a poor widow and her little boy lived in a cave in the midst of a great forest. The little one’s name was Kintaro the Golden Boy. He was a sturdy fellow with red cheeks and laughing eyes. He was different from other boys. When he fell down, he sang cheerily; if he wandered away from the cave, he could always find his way home again; and while he was yet very small, he could swing a heavy axe in circles round his head.

Kintaro grew to be ten years old, and a handsome, manly lad he was. Then his mother looked at him often and sighed deeply. “Must my child grow up in this lonely forest!” thought she sadly. “Will he never take his place in the world of men! Alas! Alas!”

But Kintaro was perfectly happy. The forest was full of his playmates. Every living thing loved him. When he lay on his bed of ferns, the birds flew nestling to his shoulder, and peeped into his eyes. The butterflies and moths settled on his face, and trod softly over his brown body. But his truest friends were the bears that dwelt in the forest. When he was tired of walking, a mother-bear carried him on her back. Her cubs ran to greet him, and romped and wrestled with him. Sometimes Kintaro would climb up the smooth-barked monkey-tree, and sit on the topmost bough, and laugh at the vain efforts of his shaggy cub-friends to follow him. Then came the bears’ supper-time, and the feast of golden liquid honey!

Now, it happened, one Summer, that there was to be a great day of sports for the forest creatures. Soon after dawn, a gentle-eyed stag came to waken Kintaro. The boy, with a farewell kiss to his mother, and a caress to the stag, leaped on his friend’s back, and wound his arms around his soft neck. And away they went with long, noiseless bounds through the forest.

Up hill, across valleys, through thickets they bounded, until they reached a leafy spot in a wide, green glade near a foaming cataract. There the stag set Kintaro down; and the boy seated himself on a mossy stone, and began to whistle sweetly.

Immediately the forest rustled with living things. The song-birds came swiftly to his call. The eagle and the hawk flew from distant heights. The crane and the heron stepped proudly from their hyacinth-pools and hastened to the glade. All Kintaro’s feathered friends flocked thither and rested in the cedar branches. Then through the undergrowth came running the wolf, the bear, the badger, the fox, and the martin, and seated themselves around Kintaro.

They all began to speak to him. He listened as they told their joys and sorrows, and he spoke graciously to each. For Kintaro had learned the languages of beasts, birds, and flowers.

And who had taught Kintaro all this? The Tengus, the Wood-Elves. And even while he was listening to the forest creatures, the Tengus themselves came tumbling out of the trees, or popping up from behind stones. Very strange little Elves they were! Each had the body of a man, the head of a hawk, powerful claws, and a long, long nose that usually trailed on the ground. And every little Tengu wore on his feet tiny stilt-like clogs.

All these queer Wood-Elves came toward Kintaro, walking very proudly with their arms crossed, heads well thrown back, and long noses held erect in the air. At their head was the Chief Tengu, very old, with a gray beard and a sharp beak.

The Chief Tengu seated himself beside Kintaro on the mossy stone, and waved a seven-feathered fan in the air. Immediately the sports began.

The young Tengus were fond of games. They found their long noses most useful. They now fenced with them, and balanced bowls full of goldfish on them. Then two of the Tengus straightened their noses, and joined them together, and so made a tight rope. On this a young Tengu, with a paper umbrella in one hand, and leading a little dog with the other, danced and jumped through a hoop. And all the time an old Tengu sang a dance-song, and another Tengu beat time with a fan.

Kintaro cheered loudly, and clapped his hands; and the beasts and birds barked, hissed, growled, or sang for pleasure. So the morning passed swiftly and delightfully, and the time came for the forest animals to take part in the sports. They did so running, leaping, tumbling, and flying.

Last of all stood up a great father-bear to wrestle with Kintaro. Now, the boy had been taught to fight by his friends the Tengus; and he had learned from them many skilful tricks. So he and the bear gripped each other, and began to wrestle very hard. The bear was powerful and strong, and his claws like iron, but Kintaro was not afraid. Backward and forward they swayed, and struggled, while the Tengus and the forest creatures sat watching.

Now, it happened that the great Hero Raiko was just returning from slaying many horrible ogres and hags. His way lay through the forest, and at that moment he heard the noise of the wrestling. He stopped his horse and peered through the trees into the glade. There he saw the circle of animals and little Tengus, and Kintaro struggling with the powerful bear. Just at that moment the boy, with a skilful movement, threw the clumsy creature to the ground.

“I must have that boy for my son,” thought Raiko. “He will make a great hero! He must be mine!”

So he waited until Kintaro had mounted the stag and bounded away through the forest. Then Raiko followed him on his swift steed to the cave.

When Kintaro’s mother learned that Raiko was the mighty warrior who had slain the ogres and hags, she let him take her son to his castle. But before Kintaro went, he called together all his friends, the Tengus, the birds, and the beasts, and bade them farewell, in words that they remember to this day.

His mother did not follow her son to the land of men, for she loved the forest best; but Kintaro, when he became a great hero, often came to see her in her home. And all the people of Japan called him “Kintaro the Golden Boy.”

THE FLOWER FAIRIES

_From China_

Once upon a time, high on a mountain-side, there was a place where many beautiful flowers grew, mostly Peonies and Camellias. A young man named Hwang, who wished to study all alone, built himself a little house near by.

One day he noticed from his window a lovely young girl dressed in white, wandering about among the flowers. He hastened out of the house to see who she was, but she ran behind a tall white Peony, and vanished.

Hwang was very much astonished, and sat down to watch. Soon the girl slipped from behind the white Peony, bringing another girl with her who was dressed in red. They wandered about hand in hand until they came near Hwang, when the girl in red gave a scream, and together the two ran back among the flowers, their robes and long sleeves fluttering in the wind and scenting all the air. Hwang dashed after them, but they had vanished completely.

That evening, as Hwang was sitting over his books, he was astonished to see the white girl walk into his little room. With tears in her eyes she seemed to be pleading with him to help her. Hwang tried to comfort her, but she did not speak. Then, sobbing bitterly, she suddenly vanished.

This appeared to Hwang as very strange. However, the next day a visitor came to the mountain, who, after wandering among the flowers, dug up the tall white Peony, and carried it off. Hwang then knew that the white girl was a Flower Fairy; and he became very sad because he had permitted the Peony to be carried away. Later he heard that the flower had lived only a few days. At this he wept, and, going to the place where the Peony had stood, watered the spot with his tears.

While he was weeping, the girl in red suddenly stood before him, wringing her hands, and wiping her eyes.

“Alas!” cried she, “that my dear sister should have been torn from my side! But the tears, Hwang, that you have shed, may be the means of restoring her to us!”

Having said this, the red girl disappeared. But that very night Hwang dreamed that she came to him, and seemed to implore him to help her, just as the white girl had done. In the morning he found that a new house was to be erected close by, and that the builder had given orders to cut down a beautiful tall red Camellia.

Hwang prevented the destruction of the flower; and that same evening, as he sat watching the Camellia, from behind its tall stem came the white girl herself, hand in hand with her red sister.

“Hwang,” said the red girl, “the King of the Flower Fairies, touched by your tears, has restored my white sister to us. But as she is now only the ghost of a flower, she must dwell forever in a white Peony, and you will never see her again.”

At these words Hwang caught hold of the white girl’s hand, but it melted away in his; and both the sisters vanished forever from his sight. In despair he looked wildly around him, and all that he saw was a tall white Peony and a beautiful red Camellia.

After that Hwang pined, and fell ill, and died. He was buried at his own request, by the side of the white Peony; and before very long another white Peony grew up very straight and tall on Hwang’s grave; so that the two flowers stood lovingly side by side.

THE FAIRY ISLAND

_From Cornwall_

In ancient days, in the land of Wales, there was a blue lake on a high mountain. No one had ever seen a bird fly near it. And over its waves came faint strains of delicious music, that seemed to float from a dimly seen island in its centre. No one had ever ventured to sail on its water, for every one knew that it was the abode of the Tylwyth Teg, the Water Fairies.

It happened, one lovely Summer day, that a hunter was wandering along the margin of the lake, and found himself before an open door in a rock. He entered, and walked along a dark passage that led downward. He followed this for some time, and suddenly found himself passing through another door, that opened on the mysterious, lovely island, the home of the Tylwyth Teg.

All around him was a most enchanting garden, where grew every sort of delicious fruit and fragrant flower. The next moment a number of Fairies advanced toward him, and graciously welcomed him to their abode. They bade him eat as much fruit as he wished, and pick the flowers, but told him not to take anything away with him.

All day he remained on the island, listening to the most ravishing music, and feasting and dancing with the Fairies.

When it came time for him to leave, he hid a flower in his bosom, for he wished to show it to his friends at home. He then said farewell to the Fairies, and returned through the dark passage to the margin of the lake. But when he put his hand in his bosom to pull out the flower, he found to his amazement that it had vanished. At the same moment he fell insensible to the ground.

When he came to himself, the door in the rock had disappeared. And though he searched day after day, he never again found the passage to the Fairy Island.

THE FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER

_From Cornwall_

Some years ago, in Cornwall, there was a farmer who owned a fine red cow, named Rosy. She gave twice as much milk as any ordinary cow. Even in Winter, when other cows were reduced to skin and bone, Rosy kept in good condition, and yielded richer milk than ever.

One Spring, Rosy continued to give plenty of milk every morning, but at night, when Molly the maid tried to milk her, she kicked the bucket over and galloped away across the field. This happened night after night, and such behaviour was so strange, that Dame Pendar, the farmer’s wife, decided to see what she could do. But no sooner did she try to milk Rosy than the cow put up her foot, kicked the bucket to bits, and raced away, bellowing, tail-on-end.

During this Spring the farmer’s cattle and fields thrived wonderfully. And so things continued until May Day. Now, on May Day night, when Molly attempted, as usual, to milk Rosy, she was surprised to see the cow stand quietly and to hear her begin to moo gently; and, more wonderful still, the pail was soon full of foaming new milk. Molly rose from her stool, and, pulling a handful of grass, rolled it into a pad, and tucked it in her hat, so that she might the more easily carry the bucket on her head.

She put the hat on again, when what was her amazement to see whole swarms of little Fairies running around Rosy, while others were on her back, neck, and head, and still others were under her, holding up clover blossoms and buttercups in which to catch the streams of milk that flowed from her udder. The little Fairies moved around so swiftly that Molly’s head grew dizzy as she watched them. Rosy seemed pleased. She tried to lick the Little People. They tickled her behind the horns, ran up and down her back, smoothing each hair or chasing away the flies. And after all the Fairies had drunk their fill, they brought armfuls of clover and grass to Rosy; and she ate it all, and lowed for more.

Molly stood with her bucket on her head, like one spell-bound, watching the Little People; and she would have continued to stand there, but Dame Pendar, the farmer’s wife, called her loudly to know why she had not brought the milk, if there was any.

At the first sound of Dame Pendar’s voice, all the Fairies pointed their fingers at Molly, and made such wry faces that she was frightened almost to death. Then--_whisk!_ and they were gone!

Molly hurried to the house, and told her mistress, and her master, too, all that she had seen.

“Surely,” said Dame Pendar, “you must have a Four-leaved Clover somewhere about you. Give me the wad of grass in your hat.”

Molly took it out, and gave it to her; and sure enough there was the Four-leaved Clover which had opened Molly’s eyes on that May Day.

As for Rosy, she kicked up her heels, and, bellowing like mad, galloped away. Over meadows and moors she went racing and roaring, and was never seen again.

THE GILLIE DHU

_From Scotland_

Once upon a time a little girl, named Jessie, was wandering in the wood, and lost her way. It was Summer time, and the air was warm. She wandered on and on, trying to find her way home, but she could not find the path out of the wood. Twilight came, and weary and footsore she sat down under a fir tree, and began to cry.

“Why are you crying, little girl?” said a voice behind her.

Jessie looked around, and saw a pretty little man dressed in moss and green leaves. His eyes were dark as dark, and his hair was black as black, and his mouth was large and showed a hundred white teeth as small as seed pearls. He was smiling merrily, and his cream-yellow cheeks were dimpled, and his eyes soft and kindly. Indeed, he seemed so friendly that Jessie quite forgot to be afraid.

“Why are you crying, little girl?” he asked again. “Your tear-drops are falling like dew on the blue flowers at your feet!”

“I’ve lost my way,” sobbed Jessie, “and the night is coming on.”

“Do not cry, little girl,” said he gently. “I will lead you through the wood. I know every path--the rabbit’s path, the hare’s path, the fox’s path, the goat’s path, the path of the deer, and the path of men.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” exclaimed Jessie, as she looked the tiny man up and down, and wondered to see his strange clothes.

“Where do you dwell, little girl?” asked he.

So Jessie told him, and he said: “You have been walking every way but the right way. Follow me, and you’ll reach home before the stars come out to peep at us through the trees.”

Then he turned around, and began to trip lightly in front of her, and she followed on. He went so fast that she feared she might lose sight of him, but he turned around again and again and smiled and beckoned. And when he saw that she was still far behind, he danced and twirled about until she came up. Then he scampered on as before.

At length Jessie reached the edge of the wood, and, oh, joy! there was her father’s house beside the blue lake. Then the little man, smiling, bade her good-bye.

“Have I not led you well?” said he. “Do not forget me. I am the Gillie Dhu from Fairyland. I love little girls and boys. If you are ever lost in the wood again, I will come and help you! Good-bye, little girl! Good-bye!”

And laughing merrily, he trotted away, and was soon lost to sight among the trees.

HOW KAHUKURA LEARNED TO MAKE NETS

_From New Zealand_

Once upon a time there lived a man named Kahukura. One evening, when he was on his way to a distant village, he came to a lonely spot on the seashore. As he was walking slowly along, he saw a large pile of the heads and tails of fishes lying on the beach. Now, in those days men had no nets and were obliged to catch fish with spears and hooks; and when Kahukura saw the pile he was very much astonished.

“Who has had such luck!” he exclaimed. “It is hard to catch one fish! Here must be the heads and tails of a thousand!”

Then he looked closely at the footprints in the sand. “No mortals have been fishing here!” he cried. “Fairies must have done this! I will watch to-night and see what they do.”

So when darkness came, he returned to the spot, and hid behind a rock. He waited a long time, and at last he saw a fleet of tiny canoes come spinning over the waves. They ranged themselves in a line at a distance from the shore, and Kahukura could see many little figures in them bending and pulling. He could even hear small voices shouting: “The net here! The net there!” Then the little figures dropped something overboard, and began to haul it toward the shore, singing very sweetly the while.

When the canoes drew near land, Kahukura saw that each was crowded with Fairies. They all sprang out upon the beach, and began to drag ashore a great net filled with fishes.

While the Fairies were struggling with the net Kahukura joined them, and hauled away at a rope. He was a very fair man, so that his skin seemed almost as white as the Fairies’, and they did not notice him. So he pulled away, and pulled away, and soon the net was landed.

The Fairies ran forward to divide the catch. It was just at the peep of dawn, and they hurried to take all the fish they could carry, each Fairy stringing his share by running a twig through the gills. And as they strung the fish they kept calling out to one another:--

“Hurry! hurry! We must finish before the sun rises.”

Kahukura had a short string with a knot in the end, and he strung his share on it, until it was filled. But when he lifted the string the knot gave way, and all the fish slid to the ground. Then some of the Fairies ran forward to help him, and tied the knot. Again he filled the string and all the fish slid off, and again the Fairies tied the knot.

Meanwhile day began to break over the sea, and the sun to rise. Then the Fairies saw Kahukura’s face, and knew that he was a man. They gave little cries of terror. They ran this way and that in confusion. They left their fish and canoes, they abandoned their net. And shrieking they all vanished over the sea.

Kahukura, seeing that he was alone, made haste to examine the canoes. They were only the stems of flax! He lifted the net. It was woven of rushes curiously tied. He carried it home, and made some like it for his neighbours. After that he taught his children how to weave nets. And so, say the Maori folk, they all learned to make nets. And from that day to this they have caught many fish.

ECHO, THE CAVE FAIRY

_From the Island of Mangaia_

In the very long ago, Rangi the Brave came from the Land-of-the-Bright-Parrot-Feathers to the Island of Mangaia. Swiftly over the blue waves sped his canoe. He stepped out upon the land, and lay down to rest in the shade of a broad-leaved tree covered with gorgeous blooms. And after he had slept and was refreshed, he arose and wandered about the island.

Beautiful was the place with cocoa palms waving their tall fronds in the air, and with banana trees heavy with golden fruit. But though Rangi walked all that day and the next, he saw no human being. He heard no sounds except the beat of the sea against the shore, and the whirring of hundreds of bright-winged birds that passed like flashes of blue, green, and crimson, from tree to tree, and from grove to grove. Softly the perfumed breezes fanned his cheek, and played in his hair.

“Like a lovely dream is this island!” thought he, “but as lonely as the sea on a moonlit night!”

Then to comfort himself he threw back his head and called: “Halloo! Halloo!”

And from a pile of rocks overhanging a deep gorge, a voice answered: “Halloo!”

“Who art thou?” cried Rangi in wonder. “What is thy name?”

And the voice answered more softly: “What is thy name?”

“Where art thou? Where art thou hidden?” he shouted.

And the voice answered mockingly: “Where art thou hidden?”

Then Rangi in anger shouted fiercely: “Accursed be thou, hide-and-seek spirit!”

And the voice screamed back as if in derision: “Accursed be thou!”

Thereupon Rangi grasped his spear tighter, and strode toward the rocks, determined to punish the insolent one. Leaping from boulder to boulder, he entered the gorge. And ever as he proceeded, he shouted threats; and ever the mocking voice answered from some distant spot.

The gorge grew darker and narrower, until Rangi suddenly found himself in a wide-mouthed cavern. Its walls and roof glittered with pendant crystals from which fell, drop by drop, clear water like dew. A white mist rose from the rocky floor, and through it Rangi saw dimly a lovely Fairy face gazing roguishly at him. It was wreathed in rippling hair, and crowned with flowers. Archly it smiled, then melted away in the mist.

“Who art thou?” whispered Rangi in awe. “Art thou Echo indeed?”

And from the glittering walls and roof came a thousand sweet answers:--

“Echo indeed!”

THE ISLES OF THE SEA FAIRIES

Among the Isles of the Golden Mist,
I lived for many a year;
And all that chanced unto me there
’Tis well that ye should hear.

* * * * *

I dwelt in a hall of silvery pearl,
With rainbow-light inlaid;
I sate on a throne, old as the sea,
Of the ruby coral made.

They made me King of the Fairy Isles,
That lie in the Golden Mist,
Where the coral rocks and the silvery sand
By singing waves are kissed.

Far off, in the ocean solitudes,
They lie, a glorious seven;
Like a beautiful group of sister stars,
In the untraced heights of heaven.

Oh, beautiful Isles! where the coral rocks
Like an ancient temple stand,
Like a temple of wondrous workmanship
For a lofty worship planned!

Oh, beautiful Isles! And a Fairy race,
As the dream of a poet, fair,
Now hold the place by a charmèd spell,
With power o’er sea and air.

Their boats are made of the large pearl-shell
That the waters cast to land;
With carvèd prows more richly wrought
Than works of mortal hand.

They skim along the silver waves
Without or sail or oar;
Whenever the Fairy voyager would,
The pearl-ship comes to shore.

I loved that idle life for a time;
But when that time was by,
I pined again for another change,
For the love in a human eye.

They brought me then a glorious form,
And gave her for my bride;
I looked on her, and straight forgot
That I was to earth allied.

* * * * *

For many a year and more, I dwelt
In those Isles of soft delight;
Where all was kind and beautiful,
With neither death nor night.

We danced on the sands when the silver moon
Through the coral arches gleamed,
And pathways broad of glittering light
O’er the azure waters streamed.

Then shot forth many a pearly boat,
Like stars, across the sea;
And songs were sung, and shells were blown
That set wild music free.

For many a year and more, I dwelt
With neither thought nor care,
Till I forgot almost my speech,
Forgot both creed and prayer.

At length it chanced that as my boat
Went on its charmèd way,
I came unto the veil of mist
Which round the Seven Isles lay.

Even then it was a Sabbath morn;
A ship was passing by,
And I heard a hundred voices raise
A sound of psalmody.

A mighty love came o’er my heart,
A yearning toward my kind,
And unwittingly I spoke aloud
The impulse of my mind.

“Oh, take me hence, ye Christian men!”
I cried in spiritual want;
Anon the Golden Mist gave way,
That had been like adamant.

The little boat wherein I sate
Seemed all to melt away;
And I was left upon the sea,
Like Peter, in dismay.

Those Christian mariners, amazed,
Looked on me in affright;
Some cried I was an evil Ghost,
And some a Water-Sprite.

But the chaplain seized the vessel’s boat,
With mercy prompt and boon,
And took me up into the ship
As I fell into a swoon.

In vain I told of what had happed;
No man to me would list;
They jested at the Fairy Isles,
And at the Golden Mist.

They swore I was a shipwrecked man,
Tossed on the dreary main;
And pitied me, because they thought
My woes had crazed my brain.

And soon a wondrous thing I saw;
I now was old and gray,
A man of threescore years and ten,--
A weak man in decay!

And yesterday, and I was young!
Time did not leave a trace
Upon my form, whilst I abode
Within the charmèd place!

_Mary Howitt_ (_Condensed_)

AWAY! AWAY! TO FAIRYLAND

_But we that live in Fairyland
No sickness know, nor pain;
I quit my body when I will,
And take to it again._

_Our shapes and size we can convert
To either large or small,
An old nut-shell’s the same to us
As is the lofty hall._

_We sleep in rose-buds soft and sweet,
We revel in the stream,
We wanton lightly on the wind,
Or glide on a sunbeam._

_Old Ballad_

THE MAGIC FERNS

_From Cornwall_

Not many years since there lived in Cornwall a pretty young girl named Cherry. As she and her mother were poor, Cherry determined to go out to service. So one morning early, she took her little bundle of clothes, and started out to find a place with some respectable family. She walked until she came to four cross-roads, and, not knowing which to follow, she sat down on a boulder to think.

The spot where she sat was covered with beautiful ferns that curled their delicate fronds over the boulder. And while she was lost in thought, she unconsciously picked a few fronds and crushed them in her hand.

Immediately she heard a strange voice at her elbow say:--

“My pretty young woman, what are you looking for?”

She glanced up, and saw standing near her a handsome young man, who was holding a bunch of the ferns.

“I am looking for a place, sir,” said she.

“And what kind of a place do you wish?” asked he, with a sweet and winning smile.

“I am not particular,” answered she. “I can make myself generally useful.”

“Indeed!” said the stranger. “And do you think you could look after one little boy?”

“That I’d love to do!” said she, smiling.

“Then,” replied he, “I wish to hire you for a year and a day. My home is not far from here. Will you go with me, Cherry, and see it?”

Cherry stared in astonishment to hear him speak her name; and he added:--

“Oh! I see you thought that I did not know you! I watched you one day while you were dressing your hair beside one of my ponds; and I saw you pluck some of my sweetest-scented violets to put in those lovely tresses! But will you go with me, Cherry?”

“For a year and a day?” asked she.

“You need not be alarmed,” said he very kindly. “Just kiss the fern leaf that is in your hand, and say:--

‘_For a year and a day
I promise to stay!_’”

“Is that all!” said Cherry. So she kissed the fern leaf, and said the words as he told her to.

Instantly the young man passed the bunch of ferns that he held over both her eyes. The ground in front of her seemed to open; and, though she did not feel herself move from the boulder where she sat, yet she knew that she was going down rapidly into the earth.

“Here we are, Cherry,” said the young man. “Is there a tear of sorrow under your eyelid? If so, let me wipe it away, for no human tear can enter our dwelling.”

And as he spoke he brushed Cherry’s eyes with the fern leaves. And, lo! before her was such a country as she had never dreamed of!

Hills and valleys were covered with flowers strangely brilliant, so that the whole country appeared to be sown with gems that glittered in a light as clear as that of the Summer sun, yet as mild as moonshine. There were glimmering rivers, and singing waterfalls, and sparkling fountains; while everywhere beautiful little ladies and gentlemen, dressed in green and gold, were walking, or sitting on banks of flowers. Oh! it was a wonderful world!

“Here we are at home!” said the young man--and strangely enough he was changed! He had become the handsomest little man Cherry had ever seen, and he wore a green silk coat covered with spangles of gold.

He led her into a noble mansion, the furniture of which was of ivory and pearl, inlaid with gold and silver and studded with emeralds. After passing through many rooms they came to one whose walls were hung with lace as fine as the finest cobwebs, and most beautifully twined with flowers. In the middle of the room was a cradle of wrought sea-shell, reflecting so many colours that Cherry could scarcely bear to look at it. The little man led her to this, and in it was lying asleep a little boy so beautiful that he ravished the sight.

“This is your charge,” said the little man. “I am King of this country, and I wish my son to know something of human nature. You have nothing to do but to wash and dress the boy when he wakes, to take him walking in the garden, to tell him stories, and to put him to sleep when he is weary.”

Cherry was delighted beyond words, for at first sight she loved the darling little boy. And when he woke, he seemed to love her just as dearly. She was very happy, and cared tenderly for him; and the time passed away with astonishing rapidity. In fact it seemed scarcely a week later, when she opened her eyes and found everything about her changed. Indeed, there she was lying in her own bed in her mother’s cottage!

She heard her mother calling her name with joy; and the neighbours came crowding around her bed. It was just one year and a day from the time when she had sat on the boulder, and had met the fine young man. She told her adventures to all, but they would not believe her. They shook their heads and went away, saying: “Poor Cherry is certainly mad!”

From that day on, she was never happy, but sat pining, and dreaming of the hour when she had picked the magic ferns. And though she often went back to the boulder, she never again saw the young man, nor found the way to Fairyland.

THE SMITH AND THE FAIRIES

_From Scotland_

Years ago there lived in Scotland an honest, hard-working smith. He had only one child, a boy, fourteen years of age, cheerful, strong, and healthy.

Suddenly the boy fell ill. He took to his bed, and moped away whole days. No one could tell what was the matter with him. Although he had a tremendous appetite, he wasted away, getting thin, yellow, and old.

At last one morning, while the smith was standing idly at his forge, with no heart for work, he was surprised to see a Wise-man, who lived at some distance, enter his shop. The smith hastened to tell him about his son, and to ask his advice.

The Wise-man listened gravely, then said: “The boy has been carried away by the Little People, and they have left a Changeling in his place.”

“Alas! And what am I to do?” asked the smith. “How am I ever to see my own son again?”

“I will tell you how,” answered the Wise-man. “But first, to make sure that it is not your own son you have, gather together all the egg-shells you can get. Go into the room where the boy is, and spread them out carefully before him. Then pour water in them, and carry them carefully in your hands, two by two. Carry them as though they were very heavy, and arrange them around the fireplace.”

The smith, accordingly, collected as many egg-shells as he could find. He went into the room, and did as the Wise-man had said.

He had not been long at work, before there came from the bed where the boy lay, a great shout of laughter, and the boy cried out:--

“I am now eight hundred years old, and I have never seen the like of that before!”

The smith hurried back, and told this to the Wise-man.

“Did I not assure you,” said the Wise-man, “that it is not your son whom you have? Your son is in a Fairy Mound not far from here. Get rid as soon as possible of this Changeling, and I think I may promise you your son again.

“You must light a very great and bright fire before the bed on which this stranger is lying. He will ask you why you are doing so. Answer him at once: ‘You shall see presently when I lay you upon it.’ If you do this, the Changeling will become frightened and fly through the roof.”

The smith again followed the Wise-man’s advice; kindled a blazing fire, and answered as he had been told to do. And, just as he was going to seize the Changeling and fling him on the fire, the thing gave an awful yell, and sprang through the roof.

The smith, overjoyed, returned to the Wise-man, and told this to him.

“On Midsummer Night,” said the Wise-man, “the Fairy Mound, where your boy is kept, will open. You must provide yourself with a dirk and a crowing cock. Go to the Mound. You will hear singing and dancing and much merriment going on. At twelve o’clock a door in the Mound will open. Advance boldly. Enter this door, but first stick the dirk in the ground before it, to prevent the Mound from closing. You will find yourself in a spacious apartment, beautifully clean; and there working at a forge, you will see your son. The Fairies will then question you, and you must answer that you have come for your son, and will not go without him. Do this, and see what happens!”

Midsummer Night came, and the smith provided himself with a dirk and a crowing cock. He went to the Fairy Mound, and all happened as the Wise-man had said.

The Fairies came crowding around him, buzzing and pinching his legs; and when he said that he had come for his son, and would not go away without him, they all gave a loud laugh. At the same minute the cock, that was dozing in the smith’s arms, woke up. It leaped to his shoulder, and, clapping its wings, crowed loud and long.

At that the Fairies were furious. They seized the smith and his son and threw them out of the Mound, and pulled up the dirk and flung it after them. And in an instant all was dark.

For a year and a day the boy never spoke, nor would he do a turn of work. At last one morning as he was watching his father finish a sword, he exclaimed:--

“That’s not the way to do it!”

And taking the tools from his father’s hands, he set to work, and soon fashioned a glittering sharp sword, the like of which had never been seen before.

From that day on, the boy helped his father, and showed him how to make Fairy swords, and in a few years they both became rich and famous. And they always lived together contentedly and happily.

THE COAL-BLACK STEED

_From England_

Late one night--a bright, quiet, moonlit night--old Dame Moll lay snugly sleeping in her bed, when suddenly she was wakened by a noise like a rushing storm. The next minute there came a loud _rap! rap! rap!_ at her cottage door.

Startled and frightened she sprang out of bed, and opened the door on a crack.

“Don’t be afraid, good woman,” said a squeaky voice. “Open wide! Open wide!”

So she opened a bit wider, and saw a strange, squint-eyed, ugly little fellow standing on the door-stone. Somehow the look in his eyes seemed to cast a spell over her, and made her, willy-nilly, open the door very wide.

“My wife has sent for you, good woman,” said he. “You must come with me and bathe and dress our new-born child.”

“Your wife!” thought the poor Dame. “Heaven defend me! Sure as I live I am going to care for a little Imp!”

But she could not refuse to go, for the spell in the little man’s eyes drew her, and she was forced to walk toward a coal-black steed that stood snorting before the door. Its eyes were red-hot balls, and its breath was like smoke.

And how Dame Moll got to the place she never could tell. But suddenly she found herself set down by a neat but poor cottage, and saw two tidy children playing before the door. In a minute she was seated in front of a roaring hearth-fire, washing and dressing a small baby. But a very active and naughty baby it was, though only an hour old; for it lifted its fist and gave the good Dame such a rousing box on her ear, that it made her head ring.

“Anoint its eyes with this salve, my good woman,” said the mother, who was lying in a neat white bed.

So Dame Moll took the box of salve, and rubbed a bit on the child’s eyes.

“Why not a drop on mine,” thought she, “since it must be Elfin ointment.” So she rubbed her finger over her right eye.

O ye powers of Fairyland! What did she see!

The neat but homely cottage had become a great and beautiful room. The mother, dressed in white silk, lay in an ivory bed. The babe was robed in silvery gauze. The two older children, who had just come into the cottage, were seated one on either side of the mother’s pillow. But they, too, were changed! For now they were little flat-nosed Imps who, with mops and mows, and with many a grin and grimace, were pulling the mother’s ears with their long, hairy paws.

When Dame Moll saw this, she knew that she was in a place of enchantment, and without saying a word about having anointed her own eye, she made haste to finish dressing the Elfin babe.

Then the squint-eyed little old fellow once more placed her behind him on the coal-black steed, and away they went sailing through the air. And he set her down safely before her door.

On the next market-day, when Dame Moll was selling eggs, what did she see but the little old fellow himself busied, like a rogue, stealing some things from the market-stalls.

“Oh! Ho!” cried she; “I’ve caught you, you thief!”

“What!” exclaimed he. “Do you see me to-day?”

“See you! To be sure I do!--as plain as the sun in the sky! And I see you very busy stealing, into the bargain!”

“With which eye do you see me?” said he.

“With my right eye, to be sure,” answered Dame Moll.

“The ointment! The ointment!” exclaimed the little man. “Take that for meddling with what did not belong to you!”

And he struck her in the eye as he spoke. And from that day to this old Dame Moll has been blind in the right eye. And surely it served her right for stealing the Fairy ointment.

THE GIRL WHO WAS STOLEN BY THE FAIRIES

_From Ireland_

Never go near an Elfin Mound on May Day. For in the month of May the Fairies are very powerful, and they wander about the meadows looking for pretty maidens to carry off to Fairyland.

One beautiful May Day in old Ireland, a young girl fell asleep at noonday on an Elfin Mound. The Fairies saw how pretty she was, so they carried her off to Fairyland, and left in her stead an image that looked exactly like her.

Evening fell, and as the girl did not return home, her mother sent the neighbours to look for her in all directions. They found the image, and, thinking that it was the girl herself, they carried it home, and laid it in her bed. But the image neither moved nor spoke, and lay there silently for two days.

On the morning of the third day an old Witch-woman entered the house, and looking at the image, said:--

“Your daughter is Fairy-struck. Rub this ointment on her forehead, and see what you shall see!”

Then the old woman placed a vial of green ointment in the mother’s hand, and disappeared.

The mother immediately rubbed the forehead of the image, and the girl herself sat up in bed, weeping and wringing her hands.

“Oh, mother!” she cried. “Oh, why did you bring me back! I was so happy! I was in a beautiful palace where handsome Princesses and Princes were dancing to the sweetest music. They made me dance with them, and threw a mantle of rich gold over my shoulders. Now it is all gone, and I shall never see the beautiful palace any more!”

Then the mother wept, and said: “Oh, my child, stay with me! I have no other daughter but you! And if the Fairies take you, I shall die!”

The girl wept loudly at this, and throwing her arms around her mother’s neck, kissed her, and promised that she would not go near the Elfin Mound. And she kept her word, so she never saw the Fairies again.

THE GIRL WHO DANCED WITH THE FAIRIES

_From Ireland_

One must never wander about alone on Hallowe’en, for then the Fairies are abroad looking for mortals to trick and lead astray.

Now, there was once a girl, the prettiest girl in all Ireland, who late one Hallowe’en was going to a spring to fetch some water. Her foot slipped, and she fell. When she got up, she looked about her, and saw that she was in a very strange place. A great fire was burning near, around which a number of people, beautifully dressed, were dancing.

A handsome young man, like a Prince, with a red sash, and a golden band in his hair, left the fire, and came toward her. He greeted her kindly, and asked her to dance.

“It is a foolish thing, sir, to ask me to dance,” replied she, “since there is no music.”

At that the young man lifted his hand, and instantly the most delicious music sounded. Then he took her by the fingers and drew her into the dance. Around and around they whirled, and they danced and danced until the moon and stars went down. And all the time, the girl seemed to float in the air, and she forgot everything except the sweet music and the young man.

At last the dancing ceased, and a door opened in the earth. The young man, who seemed to be the King of all, led the girl down a pair of stairs, followed by all the gay company. At the end of a long passage they came to a hall bright and beautiful with gold and silver and lights. A table was covered with every good thing to eat, and wine was poured out in golden cups.

The young man lifted a cup, and offered it to the girl; at the same moment some one whispered in her ear:--

“Do not drink! Do not eat! If you do either, you will never see your home again!”

Well, the girl, when she heard that, set the cup down and refused to drink. Immediately all the company grew angry. A great buzzing arose. The lights went out. And the girl felt something grasp her, and rush her forth from the hall and up the stairs; and in a minute she found herself beside the spring holding her pitcher in her hand.

She did not wait for anything, but ran home as fast as she could, and locked herself in tight, and crept into bed. Then she heard a great clamour of little voices outside her door, and she could hear them cry:--

“The power we had over you to-night is gone, because you refused to drink! But wait until next Hallowe’en Night, when you dance with us on the hill! Then we shall keep you forever!--forever!”

ELIDORE AND THE GOLDEN BALL

_From Wales_

Once upon a time, in the land of Wales, near the fall of the Tawe into the sea, there lived a boy called Elidore. He was a bright lad, but so fond of play that he would not study at all. His teacher flogged him so often and so hard that one morning Elidore ran away from home, and hid under a hollow bank by the side of the river.

There he stayed two nights and two days, getting hungrier and thirstier every moment. At last, when it seemed as if he could stand his sufferings no longer, he saw a little door open in the side of the bank and two Elfin Men step out. They stood before him, and, bowing low, said:--

“Come with us, dear boy, and we will lead you to a land full of delights and sports, where you may play all the time.”

Elidore was overjoyed. He rose and followed the Elfin Men through the door. They conducted him down a long, dark passage through the hill. At length they came out into a beautiful country adorned with singing crystal streams and flowery meadows. But it was always twilight there, for the light of the sun, moon, and stars could not reach that land.

The Elfin Men led Elidore to a golden palace, and presented him to the King of the Elves, who was seated upon his throne and was surrounded by a train of little people richly clad. The King questioned Elidore kindly, then, calling his eldest son, the Elfin Prince, bade him take the earth-boy and make him happy.

So Elidore dwelt in Elfinland, and day after day was fed with milk and saffron; and he played with the Elfin Prince, tossing gold and silver balls. When he walked in the meadows to pick flowers, he saw everywhere about him the Elfin people, with long, flowing yellow hair, riding on little horses and chasing tiny deer with Fairy hounds. For all the people in Elfinland played and rode about night and day, and they never worked. Sometimes on moonlit nights they rode through the dark passage to the upper world, and danced in Fairy Rings on the grass. And when they went to their dances, they took Elidore with them.

After Elidore had lived in Elfinland for some time, the King permitted him one moonlit night to go alone through the dark passage to visit his mother. He did so, and she was delighted to see him, for she had thought him dead. He told her about the wonders of Elfinland, and how he was fed on milk and saffron, and played with gold and silver toys. She begged him, the next time he came, to bring her a bit of Fairy Gold. He promised to do so, and returned to Elfinland.