Chapter IV: Part 4

Donald was not so sure about his safety as the old man was, but he was willing to risk much to effect his brother’s rescue. So he agreed to try the experiment, whatever the result might be. He made the rowan cross and carried it in his pocket, and every evening he passed Merlin’s Crag watching for the lights. But the crag was perfectly dark until just a year after the day when the brothers first saw the fairies. That evening Donald saw the lights glimmering from the crevices of the rocks, and he at once left the road and climbed up till he found the very window that he had looked through a twelve-month previous.

There was the same scene within of merry dancers, and the music was just as stirring and delightful. In the midst of the dancers was John Gilray whirling about with the little old fairy, exactly as his brother had last seen him. Donald crept through the window and advanced with trembling footsteps. His courage returned as he went on, and presently he made a sudden dash in among the dancers and seized his brother by the collar.

“You must come with me,” said he.

“Yes, yes,” said John, “I’ll come, and you need not handle me so roughly. But first let me finish this dance. What is your hurry anyhow? I haven’t been here a half hour yet!”

“A half hour!” exclaimed Donald. “You have been here a whole year.”

John refused to believe this, but Donald dragged him away and got him outside. The little old fairy woman looked forth at them through the window. “Good-by,” she said, waving her hand to John. “We have had you here a whole year, a prisoner in our dance. That is your punishment for taking the roof off our house. But the grass has again grown green on the spot where you removed the turf, and the roof is nearly as good as ever. So you can go if you choose, but I warn you not to be digging your turf there again.”

She waved her hand once more, and suddenly the lights were gone, and the rocks of Merlin’s Crag were as black and solid as ever. It was now midnight, and the two brothers went home rejoicing.

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THE LITTLE BOY AND THE BIG COW

ONCE upon a time there was a little boy who had a big cow, and he fed her and took good care of her and milked her twice a day. Everything went on very well until one morning he went out to milk her, and said:

“Hold still, my cow, my dearie,
And fill my bucket with milk,
And if you’ll not be contrary
I’ll give you a gown of silk.”

But the cow wouldn’t stand still. “Look at that, now!” said the little boy. “What am I to do with such a contrary cow?”

So off he went to his mother at the house. “Mother,” said he, “the cow won’t stand still, and I can’t milk her.”

“Well,” said his mother, “go to the cow, and tell her there’s a weary, weary lady with long yellow hair sits weeping for a sup of milk.”

Back he ran to the cow and repeated to her his mother’s words, but the cow wouldn’t stand still. Then he went to the house again and told his mother.

“Well,” said his mother, “tell the cow there’s a fine, fine laddie from the wars beside the weary, weary lady with golden hair, who is weeping for a sup of milk.”

Off he went and repeated to the cow his mother’s words, but she wouldn’t stand still, and he hurried to the house and told his mother.

“Well,” said his mother, “tell the cow there’s a sharp, sharp sword at the belt of the fine, fine laddie from the wars, who is beside the weary, weary lady with golden hair, who sits weeping for a sup of milk.”

He told the cow, but she wouldn’t stand still, and once more he came to the house to advise with his mother.

“Run quick,” said she, “and tell the cow that her head is going to be cut off by the sharp, sharp sword in the hands of the fine, fine laddie from the wars, if she doesn’t give the sup of milk for which the weary, weary lady weeps.”

The little boy went and told the cow, and she concluded she had better stand still. So the little boy milked the big cow, and the weary, weary lady with the golden hair stopped her weeping and got her sup of milk, and the fine, fine laddie from the wars did not have to cut off the cow’s head with his sharp, sharp sword. After that everything went well that didn’t go ill.

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A BOTTLE OF BRAINS

ONCE there was a simple-minded fellow who wanted to buy a bottle of brains, for he was always getting into scrapes through his foolishness, and being laughed at by every one. Folk told him he could get whatever he wanted from the wise woman, who lived at the top of the hill, and dealt in potions and herbs and magic spells, and could tell a person all that was going to happen to him. So the simple lad asked his mother if he could seek the wise woman and buy a bottle of brains.

“To be sure,” said she, “for you are in sore need of them, my son; and if I should die, who would take care of a poor, simple fellow such as you are. But mind your manners, and speak fair to her, my lad. These wise folk are easily mispleased.”

After he had eaten supper, off he went to the wise woman on the hill, and there he found her sitting in her kitchen by the fire stirring a big pot.

“Good evening, missis,” said he, as he entered the door; “it’s a fine night.”

“Yes,” said she, and went on stirring.

“But it will maybe rain,” said he, fidgeting from one foot to the other.

“Maybe,” said she.

“And perhaps it won’t,” said he, and looked out of the window.

“Perhaps not,” said she.

He scratched his head and twisted his hat.

“Well,” said he, “I can’t think of anything else about the weather, but let me see—the crops are getting on fine.”

“Yes,” said she.

“And—and—the beasts are fattening,” said he.

“They are,” said she.

“And—and—” said he, and came to a stop. But after a few moments he remarked: “I reckon I’ve talked enough for politeness, and now we’ll tackle business. Have you any brains to sell?”

“That depends on what you want,” said she. “If you are after king’s brains, or soldier’s brains, or schoolmaster’s brains, I do not keep them.”

“Mercy, no!” he exclaimed, “I’m not after such as that, but just ordinary brains—fit for any simple fellow—the same as every one has about here—something plain and common-like, and only a bottle full.”

“Very well,” said the wise woman, “I might manage it if so be you’ll help yourself.”

“What would you have me do?” he asked.

She looked into the pot before replying, and then said, “Bring me the heart of the thing you like best, and I’ll tell you where to get your bottle of brains.”

“But how can I do that?” he questioned anxiously.

“That’s not for me to say,” she answered. “Find out for yourself, my lad, if you do not want to live to be a simpleton all your days. Now I must attend to other matters; so good evening to you,” and she bowed him out and shut the door.

Off went the lad to his mother and told her what the wise woman had said; “and I reckon I’ll have to kill our pig,” he added, “for I like fat pork better than anything else.”

“Then kill the pig,” advised his mother, “for certainly it will be a strange and good thing for you if you can buy a bottle of brains and be able to take care of yourself.”

So he killed the pig, and the next day he again visited the wise woman at her cottage on the hill. There she sat by the hearth, reading in a great book.

“Good evening, missis,” said he, “I’ve brought you the heart of the thing I like best of all. It is the heart of our pig.”

“Is that so?” said she, and looked at him through her spectacles. “Then tell me this—what runs without feet?”

He thought and thought and thought, but he could not tell.

“Go your way,” said she. “You have not fetched me the right thing yet, and I have no brains for you today.”

So saying, she clapped her book together, and turned her back, and the lad went to tell his mother.

As he drew near to the house, out ran some of the neighbors to inform him that his mother was dying. When he went in, she smiled at him feebly, and soon, without speaking a word, breathed her last. He left the room and sat down on a bench just outside of the house door, and the more he thought about his mother’s death, the worse he felt. He remembered how she had taken care of him ever since he was a tiny child, helping him with his lessons, cooking his food, mending his clothes, and bearing with his foolishness.

“Oh, mother, mother!” he sighed, “who will take care of me? You have left me all alone, and what shall I do now to get that bottle of brains?”

After the funeral was over he went once more to consult the wise woman, and he told her of his mother’s sudden death, and how he had now more need than ever of the bottle of brains.

“Well,” said she, “I can do nothing for you yet, unless you can answer me one more riddle that I have to ask. What is it that is yellow and shining, but is not gold?”

He pondered on her question for a long time without being able to give any answer, and at last she shut the door in his face, and he walked sadly away. Pretty soon he sat down by the roadside and began to cry, and he fairly howled till the tears ran down into his mouth. While he was in the midst of his grief along came a lass who lived near by, and she stopped and looked at him. “What’s troubling you?” she asked.

“Oh dear!” said he, “I’ve killed my pig and lost my mother, and I’m nothing but a simpleton.”

“That’s bad,” said she; “and haven’t you anybody to look after you?”

“No,” said he, “and what is worst of all I don’t know how to buy a bottle of brains.”

“What are you talking about?” said she; and down she sat by him, and he told her all about the wise woman, and the pig, and his mother, and the riddles, and that he was alone in the world.

The lass stopped and looked at him
]

“Well,” said she, “I wouldn’t mind looking after you myself.”

“Could you do it?” said he, wiping away his tears and gazing at her hopefully.

“Oh, yes,” said she, “folk say that simpletons make good husbands, and I believe I’ll have you, if you are willing.”

“Can you cook?” said he.

“Yes,” said she.

“And scrub?” said he.

“Surely,” said she.

“And mend my clothes?” said he.

“I can,” said she.

“I reckon you’ll suit me as well as anybody,” said he, “but what shall I do about getting a bottle of brains from the wise woman?”

“Wait a bit,” said she, “and perhaps we can show her that it will not matter if you are a simpleton so long as you have me to look after you.”

“All right,” said he.

Then off they trudged and got married. Afterward they went to the house where the youth’s mother had lived, and his wife kept it so clean and neat, and cooked his food so nice that one evening he said to her, “Lass, I’m thinking I like you best of anything.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said she.

“But,” said he, “have I got to kill you, do you think, and take your heart to the wise woman for that bottle of brains?”

“Law, no!” she exclaimed, looking scared, “I will not have that, but you might take me as I am, heart and all, and I’ll wager I can help you read her riddles.”

“Do you think so?” said he. “I’m afraid they are too hard for women folk.”

“Let us see,” said she. “What was the first?”

“What runs without feet?” said he.

“Why, water,” she said.

“So it does,” said he, and clapped his hands gleefully; “and what is yellow and shining but is not gold?”

“Why, the sun,” said she.

“Faith, it is!” said he. “Come, we’ll go to the wise woman at once,” and off they went.

When they climbed the hill they found the wise woman sitting in her cottage doorway. “Good evening, missis,” said the lad, “I reckon I’ve fetched you the right thing this time.”

The wise woman looked at them both and wiped her spectacles. Then she said, “Can you tell me what it is that has first no legs, and afterward two legs, and ends with four legs?”

The lad scratched his head, and thought and thought and thought, but he couldn’t tell.

At last the lass whispered in his ear, “It’s a tadpole.”

Then he turned to the wise woman and said, “Perhaps it might be a tadpole.”

The wise woman nodded her head. “That’s right,” said she, “and you’ve got your bottle of brains already.”

“Where?” asked he, looking about and feeling in his pockets.

“In your wife’s head,” she answered. “The only cure for a simpleton is a good wife to look after him, and that you’ve got. So good evening to you.”

She nodded to them, and got up and went into the house. Then they walked home together, and he never wanted to buy a bottle of brains again, for his wife had enough for both of them.

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THE PEDDLER OF SWAFFHAM

IN the old days, when London Bridge was lined with shops from one end to the other, and salmon swam under the arches, there lived in the town of Swaffham, about a hundred miles northward from London, a poor peddler. He had much ado to make a living, trudging about with his pack on his back and his dog at his heels, and at the close of each day’s labor he was only too glad to lie down and sleep.

It so happened one night that he dreamed a dream; and in the dream he saw the great bridge of London Town, and a voice seemed to tell him that if he went thither he would have joyful news. He made little account of the dream, but on the following night it came back to him, and likewise on the third night. Then he said within himself, “I must needs find out what truth there is in this matter.”

So off he trudged to London Town. Long was the way, and right glad was he when he stood on the great bridge and saw the tall houses to the right and left of the roadway where the teams and the people went and came, and had glimpses of the river and of the boats and ships moving about on it. All day long he paced to and fro, but he heard nothing to yield him comfort. Again, on the morrow, he stood and he gazed, and he paced afresh the length of London Bridge, but naught did he hear in the way of glad news.

The third day came, and there he was again on the bridge. He was looking about when a shopkeeper, standing at the door of his shop close by, spoke to him, saying: “Friend, this is the third day I have seen you loitering about here. I wonder much what object you have in so doing. Have you wares to sell?”

“No,” quoth the peddler.

“I have not observed you beg for alms,” said the shopkeeper.

“I am not so poor that I would need to do that,” responded the peddler, “and I shall never beg so long as I can provide for myself.”

“Then what, I pray you, do you want here?” inquired the shopkeeper, “and what is your business?”

“Well, kind sir,” responded the peddler, “to tell the truth, I dreamed that if I came thither I would have good news.”

Right heartily did the shopkeeper laugh. “Ah!” said he, “you must be a fool to go on a journey with no better excuse than that. I must tell you, my poor, silly country fellow, that I also dream at night, and thrice recently have I dreamed that I was in Swaffham, a place I never have even been near in my life, and I thought I was in a field behind a peddler’s house, and in the field was a great oak tree, and a voice seemed to tell me that if I dug beneath that tree I would find a rich treasure. But do you fancy I am so lacking in sense as to undertake a long and wearisome journey because of a foolish dream? No, my good fellow; and now I would have you take advice from a wiser man than yourself. Get you home and mind your business.”

The peddler answered never a word, but was exceedingly glad in himself and returned home speedily. As soon as possible he dug under the great oak, and there he found a prodigious treasure. It made him very rich, but he did not forget his duty in the pride of his wealth; for he rebuilt the Swaffham church. When he died a statue of him was put in the church, all in stone, with his pack on his back, and his dog at his heels. There it stands to this day a witness to the truth of this story.

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THE ORANGE FAIRY

IN the olden time there was once a sultan whose days were joyless because he had no son. Once he was out walking with his vizier, and they passed out of the city and went on and on until they came to a wild, craggy valley. In this valley they sat down to rest. Suddenly the ground was shaken as if by an earthquake, there was a clap of thunder, and a yellow-robed, yellow-slippered, white-bearded dervish stood before them. The emperor and the vizier were so frightened they could not stir, but when the dervish addressed them with the words, “Peace be unto you,” they took heart and responded courteously, “Unto you be peace.”

“What is your errand here, my lord sultan?” asked the dervish.

“If you know that I am a sultan, you must also know my errand,” the emperor replied.

Then the dervish took from his bosom an apple, presented it to the sultan, and said, “Let the sultana eat half of this, and eat the other half yourself.” So saying, he disappeared.

The sultan went home, and he and the sultana each ate half the apple, and within a year a little prince was born to them. So joyful was the sultan over this event, that he scattered gold coins among the poor, restored to freedom his slaves, and gave a magnificent banquet to his courtiers.

The years passed until the prince had reached the age of fourteen, and still his parents fondled him and treated him like a child. One day he said to his father, “I want you to make me a little marble palace, and let there be two fountains in it, one of which shall run with honey, and the other with butter.”

So dearly did the sultan love his son, that he had the little marble palace made with the two fountains in it just as the lad had desired. When the sultan’s son went into his completed palace and sat looking at the bubbling fountains of butter and honey, an old woman came with a pitcher in her hand and would have filled it at one of the fountains. But the sultan’s son threw a stone at the old woman’s pitcher and broke it in pieces. Then the old woman went away without saying a word.

Next day she was there again with a pitcher, which she was about to fill when the prince threw a stone and shattered it. Then the old woman silently departed. On the third day also she came to fill a pitcher, and the prince threw a stone that broke the pitcher to fragments. “O youth!” said she, “’tis the will of God that you shall fall in love with an orange fairy.” With these words she quitted him.

From that time on the prince gradually became pale and thin. The sultan observed this and sent for the wise men and the doctors, but they could not cure the prince of his illness. At last the youth said to his father: “My dear daddy, these wise men of yours labor in vain to help me. I am in love with an orange fairy, and I shall never be better till I find her.”

“You are the only child I have in the wide world,” groaned the sultan. “If you leave me to search for this fairy, perchance you would never return, and my happiness would be destroyed.”

Time went on and the prince continued to slowly wither away, and he became so listless that most of the time he lay with closed eyes as if in a heavy sleep. So his father saw it would be best for the youth to go and, if possible, find the orange fairy. As soon as he had the sultan’s permission, the prince went away over the mountains and through the valleys. After traveling for many days he came to a vast plain, and in the midst of it met a giantess as tall as a church spire. She was chewing gum, and the sound of her chewing could be heard a half-hour’s journey off.

“Good day, madam,” said the youth.

“Good day, little sonny,” she responded. “If you had not spoken so politely, I would have gobbled you up. Whither are you going?”

The youth heaved a sigh, and said, “I have fallen violently in love with an orange fairy, but I don’t know where to find her.”

“Neither do I know,” said the giantess. “But I have forty sons, and they go up and down the earth more than I do. Perhaps they can tell you something of the matter.”

So the giantess took the prince to her home, and toward evening, when it began to grow dusk, she gave him a tap on the head and turned him into a broom and placed him beside the door. Immediately afterward the forty sons arrived, and as they came in they said, “Mother, we smell man’s flesh.”

“Nonsense!” said the mother. “Sit down to supper.”

They were busy eating and drinking when she said to them, “If a man should come to our dwelling as my guest, how would you treat him?”

“Like a brother, of course,” they replied.

Then their mother tapped the broom, and there stood the sultan’s son. “This is my guest,” said she.

They greeted him cordially, inquired after his health, and asked him to sit down and eat with them. “But he does not care for your sort of food,” said the giantess. “He eats fowls, beef, mutton, and such things.”

So one of the sons jumped up and went out and slew a sheep, and brought it in and laid it before the prince. “That won’t do,” said the giantess. “Men do not eat mutton until it is cooked.”

They therefore skinned the sheep, roasted it, and again placed it before him. He ate enough to satisfy his hunger, and stopped, but the sons exclaimed, “Why, that’s nothing!” and urged him to eat more.

“No, my sons,” said their mother, “he has eaten all he needs.”

“Let me see what this roasted sheep-meat is like,” said one of the sons. So he took it up and devoured the whole of it in a couple of mouthfuls.

The prince stayed with the giants over night, and in the morning the giantess said to her sons: “Our guest is greatly troubled because he has fallen in love with an orange fairy and knows not where to find her. Can you show him the way?”

Then the youngest of the forty sons leaped up with a shout of joy and said, “I know where she is!”

“Very well,” said his mother, “take this youth to his fairy that his heart may be at rest.”

So the youngest of the giant brothers took charge of the prince, and they went merrily away together and traveled until at last the giant said: “We shall come presently to a large garden in which there is a spring. Stand beside the spring and do as I tell you, and then lay hold of what you see in the water.”

Soon they came to the garden, and the prince went and stood at the margin of the spring. “Shut your eyes and open your eyes,” said the giant.

The prince obeyed, and then he saw an orange bobbing up and down on the surface of the water. He at once reached down and grasped it. “Now,” said the giant, “take care not to cut open the orange in any place where there is no water, or things will go badly with you. That orange contains your fairy.”

Then they parted, one to go to the right and the other to the left. The sultan’s son went on and on and on, and in the course of time came to a clear spring beneath the wide-spreading branches of a big tree. He drank of the water and said to himself, “Here is a good place to cut open my orange.”

Scarcely had he cut through the peel when out popped a lovely damsel. Not even the full moon could be more beautiful. She immediately called for water, and he gave her some from the spring. After talking together for a time he told her he would go to a town that was near and hire a carriage to take them to his father’s palace.

He had not been gone long when she observed some one coming, and she climbed into the tree and concealed herself in the leafage on a branch directly over the spring. The person she saw approaching was a negro maidservant, who came to fill a jar with water. As this servant looked into the spring she saw the reflection of the damsel in the watery mirror. “Why!” said she in surprise, “I did not know I looked like that. I am much more beautiful than my mistress. She ought to fetch water for me, and not I for her.”

So saying, she gave the jar a bang that broke it to bits, and then she went home. Her mistress asked where the jar of water was, and the servant replied, “I am much more beautiful than you, and you must do the water-fetching in future.”

Her mistress picked up a mirror and held it before the maid. “Look in this,” she said. “I think you must have taken leave of your senses.”

The negress looked into the mirror and saw that she was as black as ever. Without another word she got a jar and went again to the spring. But there she saw the reflection of the face of the damsel who was in the tree, and again she fancied it was her own. “I was right after all,” said she. “I am ever so much more beautiful than my mistress.”

So she smashed the jar and went home. Her mistress asked her why she had not brought the water. “Because I am ever so much more beautiful than you,” said the maid. “Therefore you must fetch the water for me.”

“You are downright crazy,” declared her mistress, and once more produced the mirror.

When the negress saw her face in it she took another jar and for the third time went to the spring. But there the damsel’s face appeared, and the negress was about to break the jar when the fairy addressed her from the tree, saying: “It is my face you see in the water.”

The negress looked up and saw the wondrously beautiful damsel. “Who are you and why are you there?” she asked.

“I am a fairy,” replied the damsel, “and I am waiting for a prince who has gone to the town near by after a carriage. When he returns we shall ride away to his father’s palace.”

The negress climbed up beside the maiden, and said: “Dear lady, you will get a cramp from crouching here. Rest your head against me.”

So the damsel rested her head on the shoulder of the negress, who took a needle from her dress and slyly pricked the damsel’s neck. Instantly the orange fairy became a bird, and pr-r-r! she was gone, leaving the negress alone in the tree.

By and by the prince came back with a fine coach. He looked up into the tree and saw the black face. “What has happened to you?” he asked.

“That is a nice question,” she retorted. “Why did you leave me here all day till the hot sun turned me black?”

The changed aspect of his fairy was very disconcerting to the prince, but he helped the black damsel descend from the tree and took her in the coach straight to his father’s palace. Every one was eager to see the fairy he had brought home, and when they saw the negress they were amazed that he could have lost his heart to what was apparently an ordinary black servant maid.

“But she is not what she seems,” declared the prince. “I had to leave her in a tree while I went to get a coach, and she was blackened there by the rays of the sun. She will soon grow white again, and then I will marry her.”

A fine garden adjoined the palace, and one day the orange-bird came to it, lit on a tree, and called down to the gardener.

“What do you want with me?” he asked.

“I wish you would tell me what the sultan’s son is doing,” said the bird.

“He is doing no harm that I know of,” replied the gardener.

“And what is the black damsel doing?” the bird asked.

“Oh, I suppose she is sitting with him as usual,” the gardener answered.

Then the bird sang these words:

“Though she sits by his side,
She’ll not long there abide.
She makes a false showing
And trouble is growing.
When I light on a tree
The tree dies, as you’ll see.”

The bird flew away, but the next day it came again and asked about the sultan’s son and the black damsel, and repeated the song it sang before. In like manner it came the third day, and each time the tree it rested on withered and died. The afternoon of the third day the prince walked in the garden, and he observed the withered trees. “You ought to take better care of the trees,” said he to the gardener. “Do you not see that they are withering away?”

“They were all right,” said the gardener, “until a few days ago a little bird began coming here and asking about you and the damsel you brought home in the coach. It said that every tree it lit on should wither.”

“Smear the trees with bird-lime,” ordered the prince, “and if you catch the bird, bring it to me.”

The gardener used the bird-lime, and the next day caught the bird. Then he put it in a cage, and carried it to the prince. The black damsel was with the prince, and as soon as she saw the bird she knew it was the orange fairy. Later in the day she pretended to be very ill, and she declared that she would never get well unless she could have such a bird as was in the gardener’s cage to eat. The prince said she might do as she pleased with the caged bird. So she directed that it should be killed and cooked and brought to her, and that the feathers and whatever she did not eat should be burned.

All was done as she wished, except that one feather slipped unnoticed into a crack in the kitchen hearth. After the black damsel had eaten the flesh of the bird, she arose from her bed completely recovered from her illness.

A certain old woman who had a cottage in the vicinity sometimes came to the palace kitchen to see a daughter who worked there. One day she noticed a bright feather in a crack of the hearth. She poked it out with her knitting-needle, and carried it home and put it on a rafter. The next time she went to the palace, the bird’s feather leaped down from the rafter, shivered a little, and then turned into a lovely damsel. This damsel tidied the room, cooked dinner and set it on the table, and afterward became a feather and leaped back to the rafter. When the old woman came home she was greatly astonished at what she saw, and she searched the house backward and forward to see if she could discover the person who had been helping her, but no one could she find.

It was the same the next time she went to the palace—the feather became a damsel and did all the household work. “I really must find out the secret of this,” thought the old woman when she returned.

So the following morning she went out as if she were going away, but left the door ajar and hid where she could peep through a crack. Soon she perceived there was a damsel in the room putting things in order and cooking the dinner. Then in she dashed and seized hold of her. “Who are you?” she demanded, “and whence do you come?”

The damsel told her sad story, and the old woman said: “Distress yourself no more, my lass. I’ll put your affairs to rights this very day.”

Then off she went to the palace and invited the prince to call on her that evening. He was now so tired of the black damsel that he was glad of any excuse to get away from her, and the evening found him punctually at the old woman’s. They sat down to supper, and presently the damsel brought in the coffee. When the sultan’s son saw her he nearly fainted. As soon as he recovered himself a little, and the maiden had left the room, he turned to the old woman and asked, “Who is that damsel?”

“She is the orange fairy,” replied the old woman.

“I thought she could be no other!” he exclaimed, and he rose from the table and ran to where the damsel was and took her in his arms.

Presently they went to the palace together, and the instant the black slave girl caught sight of them she knew her perfidy had been discovered, and she fled from the palace, never to return. Not long afterward the prince married his beloved, and there was rejoicing throughout the realm. So they at last had the desire of their hearts, and may you have your desire also.

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THE MYSTERIOUS VOICE

ONCE upon a time there was a man who above all other things desired to accumulate wealth. Day and night he thought of nothing else. Fortune favored him, and as time went on he acquired more and more property until he became very rich. Now that he had so much to lose he thought it would be a terrible thing to die and leave all his possessions behind. So he made up his mind to seek a land where there was no death.

He got ready for the journey, took leave of his wife, and started. Whenever he came to a new country the first question he asked was whether people died in that land. If he was told that they did, he continued on his quest. However, he at last reached a country where they said the people did not even know the meaning of the word death. The traveler was delighted to hear this. “But surely,” said he, “there must be great numbers of inhabitants in your land if no one ever dies.”

“No more than in most lands,” they responded; “for we would have you know that from time to time a voice is heard calling to this one or that, and whoever is called always goes away and never comes back.”

The man was amazed that the people should be so stupid as to follow the voice when they knew that if they obeyed its summons they would never return. He journeyed back to his home, got all his possessions together, and went with his wealth and his wife and children to dwell in the country where the people did not die. To be sure they disappeared one after the other in response to the call of that mysterious voice; but he made up his mind that when he or any of his family heard the voice they would pay no heed to it, however loud its appeal.

After they were settled in their new home and had put everything in order, he warned his wife and children that they must on no account listen to or obey a strange voice they might some day hear calling them.

For several years everything went well with them and they lived happily in their new home. But one day when they were all sitting together around the dining-table the man’s wife suddenly started up, exclaiming: “I am coming! I am coming!”

She looked around the room for her fur coat, and she had picked it up and was putting it on, when her husband took firm hold of her hand and restrained her, saying: “Don’t you remember what I told you? If you have heard a voice calling to you, stay where you are unless you wish never to return.”

“But I am merely going to see why I am wanted,” she said. “I shall soon come back.”

She struggled to get away and to go where the voice summoned, but he would not release her, and he ordered the servants to shut and bolt all the doors. Then she sank into a chair and said: “I see you will not let me go.”

So her husband thought she was resigned to staying, and that she had gotten over her mad impulse to obey the voice. But no sooner did he loose his hold on her hand and turn away than she sprang to her feet, made a sudden dash to a door, unbolted and opened it, and darted out. He followed her and contrived to grasp her fur coat. Thus he was able to restrain her while he implored her not to go, and told her she certainly would never return. She made no reply, but let her arms fall backward, and suddenly slipped out of the coat and left it in her husband’s hands. The poor man seemed turned to stone, without power to move, as he gazed after her hurrying away from him, and listened to her calling as she ran: “I am coming! I am coming!”

When she was quite out of sight he went into the house, saying: “If she is so foolish as to wish to leave us forever, I cannot help it. I warned and implored her to pay no heed to that voice, however loudly it might call.”

The rest of the family lived peacefully after this for a number of years. But at last the man was one day at the barber’s being shaved. The shop was full of people, and his chin had been covered with lather. Suddenly he started up from his chair and called out in a loud voice: “I won’t come! Do you hear? I won’t come!”

The barber and the other people in the shop listened to him with astonishment. Again he looked toward the door, and exclaimed, “I tell you once for all that I do not mean to come; so go away!”

A few minutes later he shouted: “Go away or it will be the worse for you. You may call as much as you like, but you will not get me to come.”

He grew as angry as if some one was actually standing at the door tormenting him. Finally he got up and said to the barber: “Give me the razor you are using. I’ll teach that fellow to leave people alone for the future.”

He snatched the razor out of the barber’s hand and rushed forth from the shop as if he were running after some one. The barber did not wish to lose his razor, and he pursued the man to rescue it. They both continued at full speed out of the town until they came to the edge of a precipice. Down this the man plunged head foremost, and he never was seen again. So he, too, like the others, had been forced, against his will, to follow the voice that called him.

The barber went home congratulating himself that he had escaped the fate of the man he had pursued. He told what had happened, and it was noised abroad that the people who had gone away and never returned had all fallen down that precipice. Hitherto it had not been known where they went, when they heard the voice and obeyed its call. Crowds of people came to examine the fateful precipice where such numbers had disappeared. Yet they could discover no clue as to what had finally become of the missing ones, for they could see nothing beyond the declivity but a vast plain that looked as if it had been there from the beginning of the world.

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JOHNNY GLOKE

JOHNNY GLOKE was a tailor by trade; but he was a man of too much spirit to continue to be a tailor all his days. In fact, he was fonder of basking idly in the sun than of plying the needle and scissors. As time went on he grew more and more discontented, and the desire to follow some other path that would lead to honor and fame finally induced him to swear that he would do tailoring no longer. From its resting-place on the wall of his workroom he took down a rusty old sword that had belonged to some of his ancestors, and set out in search of adventures.

After traveling a long way, he came to a country that was much troubled by two giants, whom no one was bold enough to encounter, or strong enough to overcome. He soon learned that the king had offered a great reward and the hand of his daughter in marriage to the man who should rid his kingdom of this scourge. Johnny’s ardor was roused to attempt the deed, and he offered himself for the service.

The common haunt of the giants was a certain wood, and Johnny set out with his old sword to perform the task of vanquishing them. When he reached the wood, he lay down to think and contrive some plan of action by which he could gain an advantage over the giants, for he knew he was far too weak to combat them unless circumstances favored him. While he was still thinking, he saw them coming with a wagon to get wood for fuel, and the sight of them sent the cold shivers down his spine, they were so big and had such huge, shaggy heads and tusk-like teeth.

Johnny sought safety by hiding in a hollow tree. Presently he recovered sufficiently from his alarm to peep out and watch the two at work; and as he watched them a method of getting the better of them occurred to him. He picked up a pebble and threw it so it struck one of the giants a sharp blow on the forehead. The giant, smarting with the pain, turned on his companion, and in strong words blamed him for the blow. The other angrily denied that he had thrown the pebble.

Johnny kept quiet, but as soon as the giants, still grumbling at each other, resumed work, he let fly another pebble. It hit the same giant who had been hit before, and the fellow assailed his companion in fury, and they belabored each other till they were utterly tired out. Then they sat down on a log to breathe and rest themselves.

“Well,” said one of them, “all the king’s army has not been able to get the better of us hitherto, but I fancy that an old woman with a broom would be too much for us now.”

“If that is so,” shouted the former tailor, springing bold as a lion from his hiding-place, “what do you say to being attacked by Johnny Gloke with his old rusty sword?”

Before they could recover from the astonishment occasioned by his words and sudden appearance he had run to where they were, and in a twinkling he cut off their heads. That done, he went out of the wood and sought the king, who, as soon as he was satisfied that Johnny had killed the giants, gave him the princess in marriage.

For a time he lived in peace and happiness, and as he did not tell by what method he had overcome the giants, he was considered a man of great prowess and valor. At length a rebellion broke out among the subjects of his father-in-law, and such was Johnny’s reputation that he was promptly chosen as the proper person to quell the uprising. His heart sank within him, but he could not refuse and so lose his great name. So he told the servants to fetch a horse for him to mount, and they brought the fiercest steed that ever saw the sun, and he set forth on his desperate task. He was not accustomed to ride on horseback, and he soon lost all control of the fiery creature he bestrode. Away it galloped at full speed in the direction of the rebel army.

In its wild career it passed under a gallows that stood by the wayside. The gallows was old and frail, and it had so rotted away at the base that it leaned over the road almost ready to fall. Johnny came into collision with it, and it broke off and lodged squarely on the horse’s neck. On rushed the horse at furious speed, carrying both Johnny and the gallows toward the king’s enemies. When the rebels saw the horse with its strange burden dashing toward them they were seized with terror, and cried one to another: “There comes Johnny Gloke, who unaided killed two giants at the same time. Now he is going to assail us, and is bringing a gallows on his horse’s neck to hang us all.”

Then they scattered and fled in dismay, and never stopped till they reached their homes. Thus was Johnny Gloke a second time victorious. So when the old king died every one rejoiced to have Johnny become the ruler of the kingdom, and he reigned long and well.

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HANS THE HEDGEHOG

ONCE there was a rich farmer who had an only son named Hans, and from his waist upward the boy was like a hedgehog. He was intelligent, and could talk like any other boy, but of course he could not be treated as if he was entirely human. For one thing, he was not allowed to sleep in a bed on account of his prickles. Instead, they shook down some straw for him behind the stove, and there he spent most of his time until he was eight years old. Then the farmer was one day going to a fair that was to be held in a neighboring town. He asked his wife what he should buy for her, and she said, “Some meat, and a couple of loaves of bread for the house.”

Then he asked the servant maid what she wanted, and she replied, “A pair of slippers and some stockings.”

Lastly he said, “Well, Hans my Hedgehog, and what shall I bring you?”

“Daddy,” said Hans, “please bring me some bagpipes.”

When the farmer returned home he gave his wife and the maid the things they had asked for, and then he went behind the stove and gave Hans the Hedgehog the bagpipes.

As soon as Hans received this gift he said: “Daddy, tomorrow morning I wish you would take our largest rooster to the harness-maker and have him fitted with a bridle. I want to use him for my horse.”

So the next day the farmer had a harness made for the biggest rooster on the farm. Then Hans the Hedgehog mounted on the rooster’s back and rode away to the forest. There he made the rooster fly up to the top of a lofty tree with him.

For several years he dwelt, there in the greenwood, and most of the time he stayed high among the branches of that tall tree. Meanwhile his father knew nothing of what had become of him.

As he sat on the rooster’s back in the tree-top he played on his bagpipes and made beautiful music. Once a king who had lost his way in the forest came riding near enough to hear him. He was much surprised, and sent a servant to find out whence the music came. The man peered about, but saw only what seemed to be a rooster perched high in a tree with a hedgehog on his back, and this hedgehog was apparently playing some bagpipes.

The king told the servant to ask the strange creature why he sat there, and also to ask if he could direct him how to find the way back to his kingdom.

When the servant put these questions, Hans the Hedgehog came down from the tree and said he would show the way if the king would give him his written promise to let him have whatever his Royal Highness first met as he approached his castle on his return.

The king thought: “This hedgehog probably does not know one word from another. I can write what I please.”

So he took pen and ink, wrote something, and then Hans the Hedgehog showed him the road, and he got safely home. His daughter saw him coming while he was still at a distance, and she ran to meet him and threw her arms about him. Then he remembered Hans the Hedgehog, and told her what had happened in the forest, and how he had been required to give a written promise to bestow whatever he first met as he approached his palace to an extraordinary creature which had shown him the way. “The upper half of the creature was like a hedgehog,” said the king, “and he rode on a rooster just as if the rooster had been a horse, and he had bagpipes and made lovely music. But he certainly could not read, and I wrote that I would not give him anything at all.”

Hans rode away to the forest
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Thereupon the princess was quite pleased. “You managed very cleverly,” said she, “for of course you could not have allowed me to be carried off by such a hobgoblin.”

Hans continued to dwell in the forest, and he was very merry sitting in his tree and blowing his bagpipes. Presently it happened that another king who was traveling through the forest with his servants and courtiers lost his way, for the forest was very large. He came near enough to the resort of Hans the Hedgehog to hear the music, and he said to one of his men, “Go at once and find out what that is.”

So the servant went under the tall tree, and he looked up and saw Hans the Hedgehog perched on the rooster, and asked what he was doing up there.

“I’m playing my bagpipes,” was the reply.

Then the servant told him that the king, his master, was not able to find the way out of the forest back to his kingdom. So Hans the Hedgehog descended from the tree with his rooster and went to the king and offered to show him the right way if he would solemnly promise to give him whatever he should meet first in front of his palace.