Chapter III: Part 3

So she flew along ahead of the man and guided him to the place where she had hidden her hoard of cotton. The man took the cotton home and carded it and made it into rolls. Half of it he took for doing the work, and the rest he gave back to the thrush.

Not far from the carder lived a spinner, and the thrush went to him and said: “Mr. Spinner, I have some rolls of cotton all ready to spin into thread. If I give you half of them, will you spin the other half into thread for me?”

“That I will,” said the spinner, and the thrush showed him the way to where she had put the rolls.

In a few days the spinner had spun all the rolls into the finest thread. Then he took a pair of scales and weighed the thread to make two equal parts. Half he kept for himself, and the other half he gave to the thrush.

The next thing the thrush did was to fly to the house of a weaver, to whom she said: “Sir, I have some cotton thread all ready to weave into cloth. If I give you half of the thread, will you weave the other half into cloth for me?”

“Certainly,” said the weaver, and the thrush guided him to where she had secreted the thread.

He carried it home and spun it into cloth, and half the cloth he kept, and half he gave to the thrush. She was an ambitious bird, eager to convey an impression of distinction, and she decided to have some garments made for herself out of the cloth. So she went to a tailor, and said, “I have a nice piece of cotton cloth, and I will give you half of it if you will make the rest into clothes for me.”

The tailor was glad to do this, and the bird guided him to where she had hidden the cloth. He took it home, and at once set to work. Half of it sufficed to make a beautiful dress for the thrush. There was a skirt, and there was a jacket with sleeves in the latest pattern. A little of the cloth was left over, and the tailor used it to make a pretty hat for the thrush to put on her head.

Then she was indeed delighted, and felt there was little more to desire in the world. She put on her skirt, and her jacket with fashionable sleeves, and the little hat, and looked at her image in a woodland pool. What she saw pleased her greatly. In fact, she became so vain that nothing would do but she must show herself to the king.

So she flew and flew and flew until she came to the king’s palace. Right into the great hall she winged her way and perched on a peg that was high on the wall and began to sing. The king and the queen and all the courtiers were sitting down below. “Oh, look!” exclaimed the queen. “There is a thrush in a jacket and skirt and a pretty hat!”

Everybody looked at the thrush singing on her peg, and clapped their hands.

“Come here, little bird,” said the king, “and show the queen your pretty clothes.”

The thrush felt highly flattered, and flew down on the table, and took off her jacket to show the queen. After the queen had looked at it she folded it up and put it in her pocket.

“Give me my jacket,” twittered the thrush. “I shall catch cold, and besides, it is not proper for a lady to go about without a jacket.”

All the company laughed, and the king said, “You shall have your jacket, Mistress Thrush, if you will come nearer.”

She approached the king close enough so he was able to make a sudden grab and catch her.

“Let me go,” squeaked the thrush, struggling to get free. But the king would not release her.

“Greedy king!” cried the thrush, “you ought to be ashamed to covet my little jacket!”

That made the king angry, and he took a carving knife and chopped her to little bits. While he was doing so the thrush kept exclaiming, “The king snips and cuts like a tailor, but he is not so honest!”

When the king had finished chopping her up, he began to wash the pieces, and each piece as he washed it called out, “The king scours and scrubs like a washerwoman, but he is not so honest!”

As soon as the washing was done he put the pieces into a frying-pan and began to fry them, and all the time they cried out, “The king is doing the work of a cook, but he is not so honest!”

After the pieces were fried, the king ate them, but even that did not silence the wronged thrush. She continually shouted: “I am inside of the king. It is just like the inside of any other man, only not so honest!”

The king was like a walking musical box, and he did not like it, but it was his own fault. No matter where he went, everyone heard the cries of the thrush proclaiming that she was inside of the king, and that his inside was just like that of other men, only not so honest. This caused a good deal of gossip among the king’s subjects and resulted in his being universally despised. At last he could stand it no longer. He sent for his doctor and said the talking bird must be removed.

“That cannot be done without causing your death,” said the doctor.

“It will cause my death if it is not done,” declared the king, “for I cannot endure being made a fool of.”

So the doctor had to remove the thrush, and, strange to say, the pieces had united, and as soon as the bird was released she flew away. Her beautiful clothes were all gone, but she did not regret that. She was quite content in future to use cotton only to make a soft lining for her nest, and never again had a desire to ape the ways of mankind.

As for the king, he died; and it was a good riddance. His son reigned in his stead, and he remembered his father’s miserable death and kept all his promises to men and beasts and birds.

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THE BEWITCHED BOTTLES

IN the good old days, when the fairies were more frequently seen than in these unbelieving times, a farmer named Mick Purcell rented a few acres of barren ground in southern Ireland, about three miles from Mallow, and twelve from the city of Cork. Mick had a wife and children, and they helped him all they could. That, however, was very little; for none of the children were big enough to do much work, and his wife was kept busy taking care of them, and milking the cow, boiling the potatoes, and carrying the eggs to market. So, though Mick was never idle from morn till night, it was by no means easy for them to make a living. Yet by hook or by crook they contrived to get along until there came a bad year. The oats were all spoiled that season, the chickens died of the pip, and the pig got the measles so that when it was sold it brought almost nothing.

Mick was in despair. The rent had long been due, and he addressed his wife, saying, “Molly, what shall we do?”

“My dear,” said she, “what can you do but take the cow to the fair at Cork and sell her? Saturday is fair day, and this is Thursday. You must start tomorrow, that the poor beast may have a night’s rest there and be at her best when you show her at the fair.”

“And what will we do when she’s gone?” asked Mick sorrowfully.

“Never a know I know, Mick,” she replied; “but sure I am that we will be taken care of. You remember how it was when little Billy was sick, and we had no medicine for him to take—that good doctor gentleman at Ballyshin came riding and asking for a drink of milk; and he gave us two shillings and sent things for Billy, and he gave me my breakfast when I went to his house to ask a question—so he did. He came to see Billy again and again, and never left off his goodness till the boy was quite well.”

“Oh! you are always that way, Molly,” said Mick; “and I believe you are right, after all. So I won’t be sorry for selling the cow, and I’ll take her to Cork tomorrow. But before I go you must put a needle and thread through my coat, for you know ’tis ripped under the arm.”

Molly told him he should have everything right; and about twelve o’clock next day he started, while Molly stood in the doorway of their cabin and called after him not to sell the cow except at the highest price. Mick promised to do as she bid, and went his way along the road. As he drove his cow through the little stream that crosses the highway and runs on beside the old walls of Mourne Abbey he glanced toward the ruinous towers.

“I’ve often heard there is great treasure buried under you,” said he. “Oh! if I only had that money, it isn’t driving this cow I’d be now. What a pity such a treasure should be there covered over with earth, and many a one wanting it besides me! Well, if it be God’s will I’ll have some money myself when I am coming back.”

So saying, he moved on after his beast. It was a fine day, and the sun shone brightly on the walls of the old abbey, and all the country around looked green and pleasant. Six miles farther on he came to the top of a high hill, and just there a man overtook him and greeted him with a “Good morrow.”

“Good morrow kindly,” said Mick, looking at the stranger, who was such a little man that he might almost be called a dwarf. He had a wrinkled, yellow face, and a sharp nose, red eyes, and white hair; and he was muffled up in a big overcoat that came down to his heels. His eyes were never quiet, but looked at everything, and they made Mick feel quite cold when he met their glance. In truth, he did not much like the little man’s company, and he drove his cow on faster, but the stranger kept up with him. It seemed to Mick that his fellow-traveler did not walk like other men, and that instead of putting one foot before the other he glided over the rough road like a shadow, without noise and without effort. Mick’s heart trembled within him, and he said a prayer to himself, wishing he had not come that day, or that he did not have the cow to take care of, so he might run away from the mysterious stranger. In the midst of his fears he was again addressed by his companion, who asked him where he was going with his cow.

“To the fair at Cork,” replied Mick, trembling at the shrill and piercing tones of the stranger’s voice.

“Are you going to sell her?” inquired the little man.

“Why, for what else could I be taking her to the fair?” was Mick’s response.

“Will you sell her to me?” said the stranger.

Mick started—he was afraid to have anything to do with the little man; and yet he was more afraid to say, “No.” He hesitated, and then asked, “What will you give for her?”

“I’ll give you this bottle,” answered the little man, pulling a bottle from under his coat.

Mick looked at him and the bottle, and, in spite of his terror, could not help laughing.

“Laugh if you will,” said the little man, “but I tell you this bottle is worth more to you than all the money you can get for your cow in Cork—aye, a thousand times over.”

Mick laughed again. “Why,” said he, “do you think I am such a fool as to give my good cow for a bottle—and an empty one, too? Indeed, I won’t.”

“You had better give me the cow and take the bottle,” said the little man. “You’ll be sorry if you don’t.”

“But what would Molly say?” muttered Mick. “I’d never hear the end of it; and how would I pay the rent, and what would we all do without a penny of money?”

“This bottle of mine is better to you than money,” the little man affirmed. “Take it, and give me the cow. I ask you for the last time, Mick Purcell.”

“How does he know my name?” thought Mick, with increased alarm.

“I have a regard for you, Mick Purcell,” the stranger continued. “Therefore do I warn you that unless you make the exchange I have proposed you will be sorry for it. How do you know but your cow may die before you get to Cork?”

“God forbid!” exclaimed Mick.

“And how do you know,” the little man went on, “but there will be so many cattle at the fair you will get a poor price? Or you might be robbed when you are coming home. But why need I talk more to you when you are determined to throw away your luck?”

“Oh, no! I would not throw away my luck, sir,” Mick affirmed hastily; “and if I was sure the bottle was as good as you say, though I never liked an empty bottle, I’d give you the cow for it.”

“I would not tell you a lie,” declared the stranger. “Here, take the bottle, and when you get home do what I direct, exactly.”

Mick hesitated.

“Well, then,” said the little man sharply, “good-by, I can stay no longer. Take the bottle and be rich; or refuse it, and beg for your living, and see your children in poverty and your wife dying of want. That is what will happen to you, Mick Purcell!” and the little man grinned maliciously.

“Maybe ’tis true,” said Mick, still hesitating. He did not know what to do; and yet he could hardly help believing the old man. The latter was turning to go when Mick in a fit of desperation seized the bottle. “Take the cow,” said he, “and if you are telling a lie, the curse of the poor will be on you.”

“I care neither for your curses, nor for your blessings,” retorted the little man. “I have spoken the truth, Mick Purcell, as you will surely know tonight after you reach home, if you do what I tell you.”

“And what’s that?” inquired Mick.

“When you go into the house,” said the little man, “never mind if your wife is angry over the bargain you have made. Be quiet yourself, and get her to sweep the room, and to clear off the table and spread a clean cloth over it. Then put the bottle on the floor, saying these words, ‘Bottle, do your duty,’ and you will see what will happen.”

“Is that all?” asked Mick.

“No more,” was the stranger’s answer. “Farewell, Mick Purcell. You are a rich man.”

“God grant it!” said Mick, as the stranger went off driving the cow.

Mick now started toward home, but he had gone only a few paces when he turned to have one more look at the purchaser of his cow. To his surprise neither the little man nor the cow were to be seen. “The Lord be between us and him!” exclaimed Mick. “That little man can’t belong to this earth;” and Mick continued on his way muttering prayers and holding fast the bottle.

“What would I do if it broke?” thought he; “but I’ll look out for that.”

So he put the bottle into his bosom and hurried on, anxious to prove the virtues of his treasure, and at the same time a good deal troubled over the reception he was likely to meet from his wife. He reached home in the evening, still much perturbed between his doubts and hopes, and surprised his wife sitting beside a turf fire burning in the big fireplace.

“Oh, Mick! are you come back?” she cried. “Sure, you haven’t been all the way to Cork! What has happened to you? Where is the cow? Did you sell her? How much money did you get for her? What is the news?”

“Molly,” said he, “if you’ll give me time, I’ll tell you all that’s happened. But I can’t tell you where the cow is.”

“You sold her on the way, did you?” said Molly; “and where’s the money? How is—”

“Arrah! stop a while, Molly,” he interrupted, “and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“What bottle is that under your waistcoat?” she asked, spying the neck of it sticking out.

“Be easy, can’t you!” begged Mick, and he put the bottle on the table and said, “That’s what I got for the cow.”

His wife was thunderstruck. “A bottle!” she ejaculated, “an empty bottle, and nothing more?”

“Just an empty bottle,” Mick replied. “But—”

“And what good is it?” said Molly. “Oh, Mick! I never thought you were such a fool; and how will we pay the rent? and how—”

“Now, Molly,” said Mick, “can’t you stop a bit and hearken to reason? An old man overtook me on the big hill, half-way to Cork, and he made me sell him the cow, and said this bottle which he gave me in exchange would make me rich.”

“Make you rich!” cried Molly. “We’ll see what it will do for you,” and she snatched it up from the table, intending to break it over his head.

But Mick caught it before it had time to descend, and, recalling the old man’s advice to keep peaceable, he gently loosened his wife’s grasp, and placed the bottle again in his bosom. Molly sat down and wept while Mick told her his story with many a crossing and blessing between him and harm. The marvel of it caused his wife’s doubts to vanish, for she had as much faith in fairies as she had in the priest, who indeed never discouraged her belief in them—maybe he believed in them himself. She got up and began to sweep the earthen floor with a bunch of heath. That done, she tidied up everything, set out the long table, and spread a clean cloth on it. Mick then placed the bottle on the floor and said, “Bottle, do your duty.”

“Look there! look there, mammy!” exclaimed the chubby eldest son, a boy about six years old; and he sprang to his mother’s side and clung to her skirts in terror with his eyes on the bottle.

Two tiny men were climbing out of it, and in a few moments they had brought plates and other dishes, all of solid gold or silver, and put them on the table, and the dishes contained a bountiful feast of the choicest food that ever was seen. As soon as this task was finished, the tiny men went into the bottle, which Mick then picked up and carefully set on the mantel. Where the little men had gone he could not tell, for the bottle seemed to be as empty as when he first received it.

Two tiny men climbed out of the bottle
]

For some time Mick and his wife stood and gazed at the table in silent bewilderment. They had never seen such dishes before and did not think they could ever admire them enough. In fact, the sight of all this splendor almost took away their appetites. But at length Molly said: “Come and sit down, Mick, and try to eat a bit. Sure, you ought to be hungry after such a good day’s work.”

“It’s plain the little old man told no lie about the bottle,” said Mick; and he helped the children into seats around the table. They all made a hearty meal, though they could not eat half the food that was before them.

“Now,” said Molly, “I wonder if these fine things are ours to do as we please with them, or if those two good little gentlemen in the bottle will carry them away.”

They waited to see what would happen, but the little men remained in the bottle, and at length Molly cleared the table and put away the dishes. “Ah, Mick,” said she, “you’ll be a rich man yet, as the stranger who took your cow foretold.”

Before they went to sleep that night they decided that they would sell some of their fine tableware, and with the money it brought pay what they owed, and rent more land. So the next day Mick went to Cork laden with a number of the gold and silver dishes, which he sold for more money than he had ever had in his hands before. He did not return on foot, for he bought a horse and cart so that he was able to ride. In the weeks that followed he increased his wealth from time to time by calling forth the imps out of the bottle, and it was soon plain to everyone that Mick was prospering. He and his wife did all they could to keep the source of their good fortune a secret, but their landlord presently came to Mick and asked him where he got all his money, for he knew very well it was not from the farm.

Mick tried to put him off with excuses. This, however, would not do, and the landlord was so persistent that finally Mick told him about the bottle. The landlord offered Mick a great deal of money for it, but Mick continued to refuse until the landlord said that in addition to the money he would give him the farm he rented. Mick surrendered the bottle, feeling that he was now so rich he never would be in want again. But he was mistaken, for he and his family lived as if there was no end to their fortune. They earned little and spent much. Their wealth melted away, and at length they became so poor they had nothing left which they could sell but one cow.

So Mick prepared to drive the cow to Cork fair and dispose of her. It was hardly daybreak when he left home, and he walked on at a good pace till he reached the big hill midway in his journey. The mists were sleeping in the valleys and curling like smoke-wreaths on the brown heath around him. Just beside the road, as he was going along, a lark sprang from its grassy couch and ascended into the clear blue sky pouring forth its joyous matin-song. While Mick was watching it he was startled and rejoiced to hear the well-remembered voice of that same old man who had accosted him here once before. “Well, Mick Purcell,” said the stranger, “I told you that you would be a rich man; and you found that I was right, did you not?”

“Indeed, sir, it was the truth you spoke, and no mistake,” replied Mick. “But it’s not rich I am now. Have you another bottle? I need it as much at present as when I first saw you. So, if you have one, sir, here is my cow for it.”

“And here is a bottle,” responded the little man, taking it from an inside pocket of his coat. “You know what to do with it.”

“Sure I do,” said Mick.

“Farewell,” said the strange old man as he turned to go.

“And good-by to you, sir,” said Mick. “May your shadow never grow less. Good-by, sir, good-by.”

Mick wasted no time looking back to see what became of the little man and the cow, but hastened homeward. As soon as he arrived he called out, “Molly, Molly! I have another bottle!”

“Have you?” said she, laughing joyfully. “Why, then, you’re a lucky man, Mick Purcell, that’s what you are.”

She quickly put everything in order and set forth the table with a clean spread on it. Then Mick placed the bottle on the floor, and said, with a tone of exultation in his voice, “Bottle, do your duty.”

In a twinkling, two big, stout men with heavy cudgels issued from the bottle (I do not know how there was room for them in it) and belabored Mick and Molly and the rest of the family, including the dog and the cat, till they sank bruised and faint to the floor. This result seemed to satisfy the two men, and they returned to the bottle. When Mick recovered sufficiently to get on his feet he stood and thought and thought. At length he helped up his wife and children. But he left them to get over their fright as best they could while he took the bottle under his coat and went off to call on his landlord.

The landlord’s mansion was full of company when he got there, and they were just sitting down to a magnificent feast provided by the imps of the bottle which Mick formerly owned. He sent in word by a servant that he wanted to speak with the master of the house on urgent business.

Pretty soon the landlord came out. “Well, what do you want now?” he asked roughly.

“Nothing, sir, only to tell you that I have another bottle,” Mick answered.

“Oho!” said the landlord, softening his manner and rubbing his hands together gleefully, “and is it as good as the first?”

“Yes, sir, and better,” declared Mick. “If you like, I will show it to you before all the ladies and gentlemen in your dining-hall.”

“Come along then,” was the landlord’s response, “and if I’m satisfied with what you show, I will pay a good round price for the bottle.”

He conducted his former tenant into the great hall, where Mick was interested to behold the other bottle standing high up on a shelf. “Now,” said the landlord, “let us see what your bottle can do.”

Mick set it on the floor and said, “Bottle, do your duty.”

Immediately out came the two stout men with their big clubs, and knocked the landlord off his feet. Then they assailed the ladies and gentlemen, his guests, and the servants, also, and there was running and sprawling and kicking and shrieking. Cups and plates and salvers were scattered about in all directions, and the landlord began to call out, “Mick Purcell, stop those two demons, or I’ll have you hanged!”

“No, no!” said Mick, “they never will be stopped by me till I get that bottle I used to own, which I see high up on the shelf there.”

“Give it to him, give it to him before we are all killed!” beseeched the battered ladies and gentlemen.

“Take it, and make haste,” cried the landlord.

So Mick climbed up and got the bottle that had been the source of his former good fortune. By this time the men with the cudgels had pounded the company to their satisfaction. They retired to their bottle, and off went Mick with both bottles in his bosom.

As the years passed he became richer and richer, and when, in his old age, his servants broke the bottles while fighting at a wake he was careful not to squander his riches as he had previously. So he and his wife lived happily to the end of their days.

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A PEACE MEETING

ONCE upon a time there was a big pasture in which were kept many horses and cattle and pigs. The pigs were very greedy, and the horses and cattle were not on good terms with them. At last one of the horses said: “Let us have a peace meeting and invite to it all the animals that feed in this pasture. Perhaps it will enable us to settle our quarrels with the pigs, and establish more friendly relations with them.”

“Yes,” said a cow, “I wish we might have peace with those pigs. They are always taking our food, drinking our water, and rooting up our nice, green grass. But it is also true that our own calves and colts have hurt many of the young pigs. This trouble and fighting are not right, and we know that our master wishes us to dwell peaceably together.”

So it was agreed that there should be a peace meeting, and a small and gentle cow was sent to invite the pigs to attend. As she approached the pigs’ yard, the young pigs jumped up and grunted: “What are you coming here for? Do you want to fight?”

“No, I don’t want to fight,” responded the cow. “I was sent here to invite you to a peace meeting. Will you come?”

The pigs talked the matter over, and one of the old pigs said: “Maybe they will have some good things for us to eat at this meeting. I think we should go.”

That decided them, and they told the cow they would be present at the meeting.

The day for the gathering came, and the pigs were among the first at the appointed place. Presently, when all was ready, the leader of the cows addressed the pigs, saying: “We think there should be no more quarrels in this pasture. Will you agree not to spoil our grass or eat our food? If so, we will promise that none of the horses and cows, old or young, shall hurt your children, and all the former enmity shall henceforth be forgotten.”

Then a young pig stood up to reply. “This big pasture,” said he, “belongs to our master, and not to you. We pigs cannot go outside of the fence to other places for food. Every day our master sends servants to feed us and to clean our pen. In the summer they fill a pond with fresh water for us to bathe in. We take your food only after you have finished. It would spoil on the ground if we did not. Do our people ever hurt your people? No, and yet each year some of our children are killed by bad horses and cows.

“Is it your belief that our master regards you more highly than us? Consider a moment how he treats our people, and how he treats you. He never makes us work as he does the horses and oxen. No, he gives us plenty of food and lets us play and take our ease day in and day out the whole year through. Surely that is because he likes us best. The horses and oxen are at work constantly. Some pull wagons, others plough the land, and they rarely are given any time to rest except at night.

“But our life is one of comfort and leisure. Observe how fat we are. You never see our bones. Look at the old horses and the old oxen, and notice how lean they are, and how their ribs show! And is it any wonder after twenty years of work and no rest? I tell you our master does not honor the horses and oxen as he does the pigs. That is all I have to say. Have I not spoken the truth?”

The leader of the cows shook her head sadly, and said, “Moo, moo!”

The tired old horses groaned, “Huh, huh!” but could think of no reply to the pig’s argument.

Then the cow leader said: “Why should we discuss things about which we know nothing? We do not seem to understand our master. The meeting is ended.”

On their way home the little pigs made a big noise, and each said gleefully, “Wee, wee! We won, we won!”

The old horses and oxen discussed the subject among themselves, but they arrived at no conclusion. “Certainly we are stronger, wiser, and more useful than the pigs,” they said. “Why does our master treat us so?”

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THE SOLDIER AND THE DRAGON

THERE was once a young soldier who went far away from his home to fight in a war. When the war was over and he returned, his father and mother had died, and no one was left in the family but himself. His entire inheritance was a cow and two sheep, and these he decided to sell. “Then,” said he, “I will seek my fortune somewhere else, instead of remaining here in poverty.”

The cow and the sheep were sold, and the soldier set out on his travels. After walking for about a week, he one day found himself in a great forest, and toward night he came to an old castle with the woods all around it. The castle door was open, and he entered. Not a person was to be seen, but on a long table was food enough ready for eating to serve a score. The soldier stood a long time silently waiting in the hope that the dwellers in the castle would appear and invite him to eat with them. But he waited in vain. The castle seemed to be abandoned, and at last the soldier said: “Upon my word, it is a shame to neglect this food any longer. I may as well eat. Surely no one will greatly blame me for doing so.”

He seated himself at the table, and though at first somewhat anxious, ate and drank with a good appetite. By the time he finished, his confidence was fully restored, and he went to look through the adjoining rooms. In one he found heaps of rich merchandise, in another were many bags and boxes of gold, silver, and jewels, while in a third the walls were half hidden by a great array of guns.

“This castle is a robbers’ den,” said the soldier when he saw all this, “and the robbers have gone off on some expedition. They will doubtless soon return; but since I am here I will take possession of this treasure and these guns, and drive the robbers away.”

He began to prepare the castle as well as he could to stand a siege. After barricading the doors and windows, he loaded all the guns and sat down to wait. Presently he heard the robbers coming, and he took his place at a window that commanded the approach to the castle. Close at hand he had set a large number of guns ready loaded, and he immediately began to fire. The robbers were vastly astonished, and, though there were fully twenty of them, they dropped the booty with which they were laden and retired to shelter. But they reappeared shortly, and threw themselves against the heavy door, raging and swearing. The door, however, withstood their battering, and as the soldier killed or wounded one of them at every shot, they in a short time ran off, carrying the wounded with them, and were lost to sight in the forest.

“They will be back tomorrow, most likely, with reinforcements,” said the soldier, and he strengthened his barricades and reloaded the guns he had discharged.

It happened as he expected. At dawn the next day the robbers again returned with a dozen others whom they had summoned to their aid. They yelled, and fired their guns, and threw stones, and pounded the door with heavy clubs. All the time the soldier was shooting from his window, and in the end every robber was killed. The soldier was now in complete possession of the castle and all the treasures it contained. He explored it from top to bottom, and concluded to make it his home. In the days that followed he often went forth into the forest to hunt, and the castle and the life he led suited him very well. Thus things went on until one day, when he was out with his gun, he took aim to shoot a fine rabbit. Greatly to his surprise the rabbit spoke, saying: “Do not kill me. I may perhaps be useful to you.”

“Very well,” said the soldier, “I will not harm you, and you can come with me and be my servant.”

He went on followed by the rabbit, and in a little while he saw a bear. He took careful aim and was about to shoot, when the bear said, “Do not kill me, and I will make myself useful to you.”

“All right,” was the soldier’s response. “Follow me, and we will see in what way you can serve me.”

The soldier at length returned to the castle, and the rabbit and bear went with him. That evening, as they were in the great hall enjoying the heat of the fire in the fireplace, the bear said: “I heard this morning that the daughter of the king is about to be taken to a dragon which will devour her. Would it not be well for us to go and deliver her?”

“That would be a very perilous undertaking,” said the soldier.

“Pshaw!” exclaimed the bear, “it is not as dangerous as you think. I am ready to do my part.”

“Yes,” said the rabbit, “and I will do my part. All three of us ought to be more than a match for one dragon.”

“Let us go then,” said the soldier.

The next morning he armed himself with a stout sword, and they started. It was a long distance, and when the soldier tired of walking the bear carried him on its back. At last they met a procession carrying the princess to the dragon. Thousands of people were in the procession, and they were all weeping. The soldier and his comrades went along with the rest to the edge of a big, desolate plain. Then the people turned back and left the princess to go on alone. The cavern of the dragon was in the midst of the plain, and every month a maiden had to come to him to be devoured. Otherwise, he would have devastated the whole kingdom. The maidens were chosen by lot, and this time the lot had fallen on the daughter of the king. Abandoned by all the world, she went slowly on, wailing and shedding great tears.

Meanwhile the soldier was engaged in buying a handsome horse from one of the returning citizens. As soon as he had secured it, he galloped after the princess with the bear and the rabbit following him. When he overtook her he said, “I pray you, dear lady, to mount behind me, and I will carry you whither you are going.”

“Alas!” she responded, “I shall get there only too soon. I do not wish to hasten to my death.”

“Confide in me,” said the soldier. “With the aid of my two companions, whom you see here, I will save you from the monster.”

“I will do whatever you say,” the princess agreed, “though I have little hope that you can save me.”

Then the soldier leaped to the ground, helped the princess on to the horse’s back, remounted himself, and rode on toward the abode of the dragon. The dragon heard them coming, and crawled out of its cave. “So you are here at last, princess!” it snorted. “But I see you have companions with you. The more the better, for I shall eat you and them, too.”

Next the dragon addressed the soldier, and said: “Young man, I am all ready. Throw me the princess.”

“If you want her, come and take her,” the soldier responded.

“Throw her to me,” ordered the dragon savagely, “or with my sharp teeth I will make sausage meat of you in no time.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” retorted the soldier.

THE BEAR AND RABBIT BEGIN THE ATTACK ON THE DRAGON
]

“Now we must all do our duty,” said the bear, in a low voice. “First, let the lady slip off the horse and stand out of harm’s way. Then I will clinch the monster from the front, and the rabbit shall run and nip its tail, and while we are thus taking its attention, our master must gallop forward and slash off its head.”

The princess alighted from the horse, and the bear dashed at the dreadful creature and grappled with it. At the same time the rabbit ran and worried it in the rear. Lastly, the soldier put spurs to his steed, and joined in the attack. The dragon was too much engaged with the bear and rabbit to defend itself from him, and with a tremendous blow of his sword he cut off the beast’s head.

“Victory, victory!” cried the soldier and the princess.

But the assailants did not escape without injuries. The bear and rabbit had their skins torn, and were much fatigued, and the soldier and the princess were nearly overcome with the dragon’s sulphurous breath. In order to have something to show to the king as a proof that the beast had been vanquished, the soldier cut out the dragon’s tongue and put it in a bag to carry along.

Evening was near, and they could journey no farther that day. Therefore, they looked around, seeking some place that would afford shelter for the night. The dragon’s cave was too foul, and it seemed necessary they should sleep on the open plain. But the bear rolled together several boulders in a half circle to keep off the wind, and in the protection of these they all gathered to await the morning, except the horse, which was tethered at a little remove. The rabbit served as a pillow for the princess, and the bear curled down at her feet to keep her warm. Before going to sleep they talked about the events of the day and their plans for the future. One thing they settled then and there to the satisfaction of all concerned, and this was that the soldier should marry the princess.

It happened that a charcoal-burner, whose curiosity was keener than his fear, ventured on to the plain in the late evening, hoping to learn the fate of the princess. As he was prowling about he discovered the dragon with its severed head, and presently he heard a sound of voices and approached the group where the soldier and his friends had established themselves. He hid behind a boulder and listened to the conversation and determined to profit by it. When they were all fast asleep he stole softly into the midst of the group, and cut off the soldier’s head. Then he carried away the princess to his hut on the borders of the plain. Afterward he returned and secured the head of the dragon.

In the morning he washed his hands and face, brushed his hair, put on his best clothes, and took the princess to her father the king and said he was the conqueror of the dragon. The king had promised his daughter should marry the man, whoever he might be, that should deliver her from the dreadful beast. So, after some consultation, the day following was appointed for the wedding. But the princess protested that the charcoal-burner was not her deliverer. However, as he had the head of the dragon to show, no one paid much attention to what she said.

When the bear and the rabbit awoke after a long night’s sleep they were much astonished to see that the princess was gone, and that their master’s head was cut off. “How is it, bear,” said the rabbit, “that with such things happening you did not awake?”

“I was very weary,” replied the bear, “and it seems you slept just as soundly.”

“The first thing to be done,” said the rabbit, “is to put our master’s head on his shoulders and bring him to life. Then we will search for the princess. Luckily I know where to get some magic earth that will restore our master, and I will go after it at once.”

The rabbit scurried off while the bear stood on guard. In time, the rabbit returned with the magic earth. The bear fitted the soldier’s head to his body, and the rabbit rubbed the magic earth on the wound. Immediately the soldier was made whole, and he opened his eyes and sat up. “Ah,” said he, “How well I have slept! I think from the look of the sun it must now be afternoon. But where is the princess?”

They told him all that had occurred, and he was very much troubled. “You need not worry,” said the rabbit; “we will find the princess soon, I promise you.”

Without delay they set off to go to the royal city, and by night they drew near the king’s palace and stopped in a small wood. “You two remain here,” said the rabbit, “and I will find out what is happening in the palace.”

The rabbit went on and crept into the palace, where he discovered that a great feast was in progress celebrating the return of the princess. One thing only marred the pleasure of those who participated, and that was her persistence in saying that she did not want the charcoal-burner for a husband, and that he was not her deliverer. The rabbit entered the dining-hall. “Look, look! a rabbit!” cried the guests.

The servants hastened to pursue it, but it ran and dodged until it came near where the princess sat. Then it suddenly sprang into her lap and said in a low voice: “My master, who rescued you from the dragon, is not far away. He loves you always.”

The princess was overjoyed. She caressed the rabbit, and was giving it sweetmeats when the charcoal-burner began to shout, “Drive away the ugly beast!”

“What harm has it done?” said the princess, protecting it with her arms.

“Drive it away quickly, I tell you,” the charcoal-burner continued. “It is a sorcerer. Kill it!”

The servants approached armed with brooms and sticks, and the rabbit took to flight and leaped lightly through the window.

Next day the wedding guests assembled, but just when everything was ready for the ceremony the soldier, followed by the bear and the rabbit, entered the palace. The guests at this sight were about to stampede to safety, but the soldier raised his hand, and said, “Let no one attempt to leave the hall, or he will have to deal with my friend here.”

So saying, he pulled the bear’s ear, and the bear growled threateningly. Then the soldier turned to the king and asked: “Do you believe that it was this ugly charcoal-burner who rescued your daughter from the dragon? And are you willing to give him your daughter to be his wife?”

“I am a man of my word,” responded the king.

“Very well,” said the soldier, “but the charcoal-burner did not deliver the princess from the monster. It was I, though I must add that I had the help of these two friends, the bear and the rabbit.”

“But the charcoal-burner has given us proof we cannot doubt,” said the king. “He brought with him the dragon’s head.”

“Let the head be produced, and I will prove to you that he is a fraud,” said the soldier.

The king dispatched a servant to fetch the head, and when it had been brought the soldier said: “Now open the dragon’s mouth. See if it has a tongue.”

The servant opened the monster’s mouth. Sure enough, there was no tongue.

“Why, how does that happen?” asked the king.

“I cut out the tongue immediately after I killed the beast,” explained the soldier, “and here it is.”

From a bag he carried he shook the tongue out on a table.

“Yes,” cried the princess, “it is he who was my deliverer, and it is he who shall be my husband.”

The charcoal-burner saw that everything was going against him, and he slipped out of sight in the crowd and got away unobserved out of the palace. When search was made for him he was not to be found. “Well,” said the king, “I’m glad he is gone. It is a good riddance, and now let us have the wedding.”

So the soldier married the princess, and the event was celebrated with holidays and banquets throughout the kingdom.

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THE FAIRIES OF MERLIN’S CRAG

IN Scotland, long, long ago, there were two brothers named Donald and John Gilray. They lived together in a little cottage and worked for a farmer whose house was about a mile distant. One day the farmer sent them to dig peat turf in a pasture near a wild, rocky bluff known as Merlin’s Crag. After working for a considerable time, they saw coming toward them from the crag a little woman about eighteen inches in height, clad in a green gown, and wearing on her feet a pair of red shoes.

She waved a cane she carried at the astonished laborers, and said: “How would you like it if my husband was to come and take the roof off from your house as you are taking it off from ours? I command you to put back every turf exactly where you found it.”

Then she left them, and the two men, with fear and trembling, replaced the turfs. That done, they went to their master, and told him what had happened. The farmer only laughed at them. “You must have fallen asleep up there on the moor when you ought to have been working,” said he; “and you have had a bad dream to pay you for your neglect. Take a cart and fetch home the turfs you have dug immediately.”

The men went back with much reluctance; but nothing unusual happened while they were in the pasture, and they loaded a cart and drove with it to the farm. After they finished their day’s work and were passing Merlin’s Crag on their way home in the dusk of evening, they saw streams of brilliant light shining forth from innumerable crevices in the black rocks. They stopped and gazed. “Come,” said John, “let’s go and find out what this is all about. Many’s the time we’ve passed here, and we’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“No,” said Donald, “we’re safer to keep to the highway.”

But John would not be satisfied with that, and he moved toward the lighted crag, and Donald followed. As they drew near they were charmed by the most exquisite fiddling they had ever heard. By searching they found an opening in the rocks something like a rude window, and they looked in and saw a company of fairies engaged in a merry dance. Among the rest was the little old woman who had spoken to them on the peat bog. John was so overpowered by the enchanting jigs the fiddler was playing that he proposed they should go inside the crag and join in the fun.

“We should never be able to get away,” declared Donald. “I am as fond of dancing as anyone, but nothing would tempt me to dance in that company.”

However, John was more adventurous than his brother, and every new jig that was played, and every new reel that was danced inspired him with additional ardor. At last he could restrain himself no longer, and he leaped through the window into the midst of the dancers.

“Welcome!” cried the old fairy woman, and she held out her hands to him, and off they went in a mad whirl.

“He is there for no good,” said Donald, who still stood at the window. “What can I do?”

After thinking the situation over he began to shout remonstrances to his brother and to beg him to come out. But neither the fairies nor John would pause in their reel, and they only waved their hands, beckoning him to join them. There Donald stayed shouting to his brother until he heard a cock crow at his master’s farm. Immediately the lights flashed out, the music ceased and he was alone on the side of the wild crag.

He went back to the farm and told the melancholy tale of poor John’s fate. This was soon the talk of all the countryside, and it was generally agreed that John was lost forever. But one old man who was very wise in fairy lore came to Donald and unfolded a plan for accomplishing his brother’s rescue. “Make a little cross out of the wood of the rowan tree,” said he, “and carry it in your pocket, and the fairies will have no power over you. Then be sure to pass Merlin’s Crag every evening, and when you see it lighted, enter it boldly and claim your brother. If he refuses to go with you, seize him and carry him off by force. You need not be afraid, for as long as you have the rowan cross in your pocket the fairies will not dare to interfere with you.”