Chapter VIII: Part 8

At midnight the Boar came and threw himself against the door to break it in. The needles wounded him sorely, so that when he had gained an entrance he was heated and thirsty, and went to the water jar to drink.

When he thrust in his snout the crabs attacked him, clung to his bristles, and pinched his ears, till he rolled over and over to free himself.

Then in a rage he approached the front of the bed; but the snapping turtle nipped his tail and made him retreat under the feet of the horse, who kicked him over to the ox, and the ox tossed him back to the horse. Thus beset, he was glad to escape to the back yard to take a rest and to consider the situation.

Seeing a clean paper spread on the ground, he went to lie upon it, and fell into the well. The Old Woman, hearing the fall, rushed out and rolled the millstone down on him and crushed him.

THE FIVE QUEER BROTHERS

By Adele M. Fielde

An old woman had five grown-up sons that looked just alike. The eldest could gulp up the ocean at a mouthful; the second was hard enough to nick steel; the third had extensible legs; the fourth was unaffected by fire; the fifth lived without breathing. They all concealed their peculiar traits, and their neighbors did not know they were queer.

The eldest supported the family by fishing, going alone to the sea, and bringing back loads of spoil. The neighbors often besought him to teach their sons how to fish, and he at last let all their boys go with him, one day, to learn his art. On reaching the shore he sucked the sea into his mouth, and sent the boys to the dry bottom to collect the fish. When he was tired of holding the water, he beckoned to the boys to return, but they were playing among strange objects and paid no heed to him. When he could contain the sea no longer, he had to let it flow back into its former basin, and all the boys were drowned.

As he went homeward, he passed the doom of the parents, who inquired how many fish their sons had caught and how long they would be in coming back. He told them the facts, but they would not excuse him. They dragged him before the magistrate to account for the loss of their children. He defended himself by saying he had not invited the boys to go with him, and had consented to their going only when the parents had repeatedly urged him; that after the boys were on the ocean bed, he had done his utmost to induce them to come ashore; that he had held the water as long as he could, and had then put it in the sea basin solely because nothing else would contain it.

Notwithstanding this defense the judges decided that since he took the boys away and did not bring them back, he was guilty of murder and sentenced him to be beheaded.

He entreated leave to pay, before his execution, one visit to his aged mother, and this was granted.

He went alone and told his brothers of his doom, and the second brother returned in his stead to the judge, thanked him for having given him permission to perform a duty required by filial piety, and said he was then ready to die.

He knelt with bowed head and the headsman brought the knife down across the back of his neck, but the knife was nicked and the neck was left unharmed.

A second knife and a third of finer steel were brought and tried by headsmen who were accustomed to sever heads clean off at one stroke. Having spoiled their best blades without so much as scratching his neck, they took him back to prison and informed the judge that the sentence could not be executed.

The judge accordingly decreed that he should be dropped into the sea which covered his victims.

When the old woman’s son heard this decision he said that he took leave of his mother supposing that his head was to be cut off, and that if he was to be drowned he must go to her and make known his fate and get her blessing anew.

Permission being given, he went and told his brothers what had happened. The third brother took the place of the second and presented himself before the judge as the criminal that was to be sunk in the sea. He was carried far from shore and thrown overboard, but he stretched his legs till his feet touched bottom, and he stood with his head in the air. They hauled him aboard and took him farther from land, but still his extensible legs supported him above the waters. Then they sailed to mid-ocean and cast him into its greatest depths, but his legs still lengthened so that he was not drowned. They brought him back to the judge, reported what had been done, and said that some other method of destroying him must be followed.

On hearing this the judge condemned him to death by being boiled in oil. While the caldron was being heated he begged and obtained permission to go and tell his mother of the way he had survived from the attempt to drown him, and of the manner in which he was soon to be taken off.

His brothers having heard the latest judgment, the fourth one went to bear the penalty of the law and was lowered into the kettle of boiling oil. In this he disported himself as if in a tepid bath, and he even asked his executioners to stir up the fire a little to increase the warmth. Finding that he could not be fried, he was remanded to prison.

At this the populace, the bereaved parents, and the magistrate joined in an effort to invent a sure method of putting him to death. Water, fire, and sword all having failed, they finally fixed upon smothering him in a vast cream cake.

The whole country round made contributions of flour for the pastry, of sugar for the filling, and of bricks for a huge oven; and it was made and baked on a plain outside the city walls.

Meanwhile the prisoner was allowed to go and bid his mother farewell, and the fifth brother secretly became his substitute.

When the cake was done, a multitude of people with oxen, horses, and ropes dragged it to the execution ground, and within it the culprit was interred.

As he was able to exist without air he rested peacefully till the next midnight, and then safely crawled forth, returned to his home, and dwelt there happily for many years with his remarkable brothers.

THE ACCOMPLISHED AND LUCKY TEAKETTLE

By A. B. Mitford

A long time ago, at a temple called Morinji, there was an old teakettle. One day, when the priest of the temple was about to hang it over the hearth to boil the water for his tea, to his amazement the kettle all of a sudden put forth the head and tail of a badger. What a wonderful kettle, to come out all over fur!

The priest, thunderstruck, called in the novices or assistants of the temple to see the sight; and while they were stupidly staring, one suggesting one thing and another another, the kettle, jumping up into the air, began flying about the room. More astonished than ever, the priest and his pupils tried to pursue it; but no thief or cat was ever half so sharp as the wonderful badger kettle. At last, however, they managed to knock it down and secure it; and, holding it in with their united efforts, they forced it into a box, intending to carry it off and throw it away in some distant place, so that they might no more be plagued with the goblin.

For this day their troubles were over, but as luck would have it, the tinker who was in the habit of working for the temple called in, and the priest suddenly bethought him that it was a pity to throw the kettle away for nothing, and that he might as well get a trifle for it, no matter how small. So he brought out the kettle, which had resumed its former shape and had got rid of its head and tail, and showed it to the tinker. When the tinker saw the kettle, he offered twenty copper coins for it, and the priest was only too glad to close the bargain and be rid of his troublesome piece of furniture. And the tinker trudged off home with his pack and his new purchase.

That night, as he lay asleep, he heard a strange noise near his pillow; so he peeped out from under the bedclothes and there he saw the kettle that he had bought in the temple covered with fur and walking about on four legs. The tinker started up in a fright to see what it could all mean, when all of a sudden the kettle resumed its former shape. This happened over and over again, until at last the tinker showed the teakettle to a friend of his, who said, “This is certainly an accomplished and lucky teakettle—you should take it about as a show, with songs and accompaniments of musical instruments, and make it dance and walk on the tight rope.”

The tinker, thinking this good advice, made arrangements with a showman, and set up an exhibition. The noise of the kettle’s performances soon spread abroad, until even the princes of the land sent to order the tinker to come to them; and he grew rich beyond all expectations. Even the princesses, too, and the great ladies of the court, took great delight in the dancing kettle, so that no sooner had it shown its tricks in one place than it was time for them to keep some other engagement.

At last the tinker grew so rich that he took the kettle back to the temple, where it was laid up as a precious treasure and worshiped as a saint.

THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE PEACHLING

By A. B. Mitford

Many hundred years ago there lived an honest old woodcutter and his wife. One fine morning the old man went off to the hills with his bill hook to gather a faggot of sticks, while his wife went down to the river to wash the dirty clothes. When she came to the river, she saw a peach floating down the stream; so she picked it up and carried it homeward with her, thinking to give it to her husband to eat when he should come in. The old man soon came down from the hills, and the good wife set the peach before him, when, just as she was inviting him to eat it, the fruit split in two and a little baby was born into the world. So the old couple took the babe and brought it up as their own; and because it had been born in a peach, they called it Momotaro, or Little Peachhing!

By degrees Little Peachling grew up to be strong and brave, and at last one day he said to his old foster parents—

“I am going to the ogres’ island, to carry off the riches they have stored up there. Pray, then, make me some millet dumplings for my journey.”

So the old folks ground the millet and made the dumplings for him; and Little Peachling, after taking an affectionate leave of them, cheerfully set out on his travels.

As he was journeying on, he fell in with an Ape, who gibbered at him, and said,

“Kia! kia! kia! where are you off to, Little Peachling?”

“I’m going to the ogres’ island, to carry off their treasure,” answered Little Peachling.

“What are you carrying at your girdle?”

“I’m carrying the very best millet dumplings in all Japan.

“If you’ll give me one, I will go with you,” said the Ape.

So Little Peachhing gave one of his dumplings to the Ape, who received it and followed him. When he had gone a little farther, he heard a Pheasant calling—

“Ken! ken! ken! where are you off to, Master Peachling?”

Little Peachling answered as before; and the Pheasant, having begged and obtained a millet dumpling, entered his service and followed him. A little while after this they met a Dog, who cried—

Bow! wow! wow! whither away, Master Peachling?”

“I’m going off to the ogres’ island, to carry off their treasure.

“If you will give me one of those nice millet dumplings of yours, I will go with you,” said the Dog.

“With all my heart,” said Little Peachling. So he went on his way, with the Ape, the Pheasant, and the Dog following after him.

When they got to the ogres’ island, the Pheasant flew over the castle gate and the Ape clambered over the castle wall, while Little Peachling, leading the Dog, forced in the gate and got into the castle. Then they did battle with the ogres and put them to flight, and took their King prisoner. So all the ogres did homage to Little Peachling, and brought out the treasures which they had laid up. There were caps and coats that made their wearers invisible, jewels which governed the ebb and the flow of the tide, coral, musk, emeralds, amber, and tortoise shells, besides gold and silver. All these were laid before Little Peachling by the conquered ogres.

So Little Peachling went home laden with riches, and maintained his foster parents in peace and plenty for the remainder of their lives.

THE TWO LIZARDS

By Annie Ker

In the old days there lived two lizards, Webubu and Nagari. Webubu was plain of speech, and moreover was unable to cry aloud, but Nagari, by stretching his long neck, could produce a sweet low sound, somewhat after the manner of a whistle.

Nagari longed for companions, so he stretched his neck and cried “U-u-u-u-u.” Then many women, hearing the sweet sound, flocked to where Nagari sat, and listened to his music. This pleased Nagari, and he continued to sound his long note. “U-u-u-u-u,” he sang, and the women sat so still, one might have thought them dead or weeping.

Webubu, on the contrary, had no one to cheer him in his loneliness. “What can I do,” he said, “to draw women to me as Nagari has done? I have not a sweet voice as he has. What can I do?”

As he was speaking a thought grew up in his heart, and he began to act. He cut a slim piece of hollow bamboo, and pierced small holes in it. Thus was the first flute (duraio) born. Webubu then built himself a platform high in a corkwood tree, which we call “troba” on the beach, and seating himself there he began to play his flute.

The women sat patiently around Nagari, while he sounded his one note, “U-u-u!” But on a sudden, upon the still air, broke the sweet voice of Webubu’s flute. High and sweet were the notes which Webubu sent forth from his flute.

“M! m!” said the listening women.

“U-u-u-u,” sang Nagari.

“Ah, ss-ss-ss!” cried the women. “Deafen us not with thy ‘U,’ when we would hear this strange music!”

Nagari was much troubled at this saying, and marveled greatly. Then one woman made bold to rise up, and saying, “I shall return,” she went to seek the sweet music. Now this woman lied, for she never returned. After a time, another woman arose and said, “Stay here, my friends; I shall return.”

Then she went in like manner to look for the music. And she also lied, for she returned not. And so with each woman, until Nagari was left sitting alone as he had been at the beginning.

Now Webubu was still playing his flute on the platform he had built in the corkwood tree, when the women came in sight. He was alarmed for the safety of his frail platform, when he saw these many people advancing, and he cried, “Come not up into the tree. Remain below, I beseech you, O women!”

But the women were consumed with eagerness to be close to the music which had taken their hearts, and they climbed, all of them, until they were upon the platform of Webubu.

Then straightway what he had feared came to pass, and Webubu, and his flute, and the multitude of women fell crashing through the branches of the corkwood tree to the ground beneath.

And from that hour until now, all corkwood trees lean toward the earth, as I will show thee, if thou wilt go with me to the beach where they grow.

DE KING AND DE PEAFOWL

By Mary Pamela Milne-Horne

One day once ’pon a time de King hab a party of ladies an’ genelmen. An’ arter de party, de band was ter come an’ play. But de fiddler was took sick, so dey could not dance. So de King said, “I am gwine ter sen’ ober ter my frien’s an’ ask dem ter come an’ sing.” So he sen’, an’ de genelman say he was very glad an’ his family was Dog, Peafowl, and Tiger. So he sen’ Missis Duck fus, an’ dey said, “Can you sing? let me har you voice.”

Dey put her in a rocking-chair ’pon de platform, an’ de Duck say, “Hahh! hahh!” an’ den he say, “Dat will not do. Sen’ for Dog.” An’ dey took her an’ put her in a coop, an’ all de ducks come round an’ ask to have her let out, an’ say, “Hahh! hahh! hahh!”

Den dey sen’ for Dog an’ tole him dat if he fin’ a salt beef bone in de road, he mus’ not pick it up, ’cos it mek him rough in his troat. So Dog did not pick it up, but pass it; but arter, when he go, his voice did not suit either. Dey tole Dog to sing, an’ he said, “How! how! how!” An’ de King say, “Don’t wan’ a man ter ask me how—he will not do.” Dey saw a Fowl coming. “Can you sing?” An’ de Fowl say “Ka! ka! ka!” an’ dey said, “Dat will not do,” an’ dribe de Fowl ’way. De Cock came in arter, an’ de Cock said, “Coquericou,” an’ dey said, “De King don’ wan’ ter know when de daylight, sah!” De King came in an’ said, “All dese people cannot sing; dey will not do.”

Dey sen’ Tiger, an’ dey said, “You must not pick up a big salt beef bone in de road.” An’ de Tiger did pick it up, an’ Tiger could not sing, an’ said, “Grum! grum! grum!”

“Dat voice is wuss dan all, dat voice will not do.”

Den dey sen’ off for Peafowl, but Peafowl would not go. Dey went back ter dinner, all de people went back ter dinner, an’ when dey were at dinner in a large house, de Peafowl came in an’ sing—

Mi - kale an’ iv’ry, Mi - kale an’ iv’rv. Mi -

kale an’ iv’ry, Mi - kale an’ iv’ry, Why - ou, Why - ou

Why - ou Why - ou Why-ou Wife gwine ter die.

Den de genelmen jump up an’ say, “Hullo! What dat?” De King say, “Sing again, my pritty lil’ bird,” an’ den de Peafowl sang, “Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Whyou, Whyou, Whyou, Whyou, Whyou wife gwine ter die.” “What dat? What dat? What dat?” dey say, an’ de bird den settin’ on de tree sing, “Mikale an’ iv’ry,” etc.

De King say, “Sing again, you pritty lil’ bird. You dress shall be tipped with blue, an’ you shall hab a beautiful field of corn as a present.” An’ de bird sang again better, when he har dat, “Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, Mikale an’ iv’ry, whyou, whyou, whyou, whyou, whyou wife gwine ter die.” De King jump up an’ call de buggy, an’ jump in an’ tek de Peafowl in, an’ all de horses was richly decked, an’ all de company very fine, dey dribe de Peafowl home, an’ dat why de Peafowl hav such a beautiful dress.

HANSEL AND GRETHEL

By William and Jacob Grimm

Once upon a time there dwelt near a large wood a poor woodcutter with his wife and two children by his former marriage, a little boy called Hansel and a girl named Grethel. He had little enough to break or bite, and once, when there was a great famine in the land, he could not procure even his daily bread; and as he lay thinking in his bed one evening, rolling about for trouble, he sighed, and said to his wife, “What will become of us? How can we feed our children when we have no more than we can eat ourselves?”

“Know, then, my husband,” answered she, “we will lead them away quite early in the morning into the thickest part of the wood, and there make them a fire, and give them each a little piece of bread; then we will go to our work and leave them alone, so they will not find the way home again and we shall be freed from them.” “No, wife,” replied he, “that I can never do; how can you bring your heart to leave my children all alone in the wood, for the wild beasts will soon come and tear them to pieces?”

“Oh, you simpleton!” said she, “then we must all four die of hunger; you had better plane the coffins for us.” But she left him no peace till he consented saying, “Ah, but I shall regret the poor children.”

The two children, however, had not gone to sleep for very hunger, and so they overheard what the stepmother said to their father. Grethel wept bitterly, and said to Hansel, “What will become of us?” “Be quiet, Grethel,” said he; “do not cry, I will soon help you.” And as soon as their parents had fallen asleep, he got up, put on his coat, and, unbarring the back door, slipped out. The moon shone brightly, and the white pebbles which lay before the door seemed like silver pieces, they glittered so brightly. Hansel stooped down, and put as many into his pocket as it would hold, and then going back he said to Grethel, “Be comforted, dear sister, and sleep in peace; God will not forsake us;” and so saying he went to bed again.

The next morning, before the sun arose, the wife went and awoke the two children. “Get up, you lazy things; we are going into the forest to chop wood.” Then she gave them each a piece of bread, saying, “There is something for your dinner; do not eat it before the time, for you will get nothing else.” Grethel took the bread in her apron, for Hansel’s pocket was full of pebbles; and so they all set out upon their way. When they had gone a little distance Hansel stood still, and peeped back at the house; and this he repeated several times, till his father said, “Hansel, what are you peeping at, and why do you lag behind? Take care, and remember your legs.”

“Ah! father,” said Hansel, “I am looking at my white cat sitting upon the roof of the house, and trying to say good-by.” “You simpleton!” said the wife, “that is not a cat; it is only the sun shining on the white chimney.” But in reality Hansel was not looking at a cat; but every time he stopped he dropped a pebble out of his pocket upon the path.

When they came to the middle of the wood the father told the children to collect wood, and he would make them a fire, so that they should not be cold; so Hansel and Grethel gathered together quite a little mountain of twigs. Then they set fire to them, and as the flame burned up high the wife said, “Now, you children, lie down near the fire and rest yourself, while we go into the forest and chop Wood; when we are ready, I will come and call you.”

Hansel and Grethel sat down by the fire, and when it was noon each ate the piece of bread, and, because they could hear the blows of an ax, they thought their father was near; but it was not an ax, but a branch which he had bound to a withered tree, so as to be blown to and fro by the wind. They waited so long that at last their eyes closed from weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke it was quite dark, and Grethel began to cry; “How shall we get out of the wood?” But Hansel tried to comfort her by saying, “Wait a little while till the moon rises, and then we will quickly find the way.” The moon soon shone forth, and Hansel, taking his sister’s hand, followed the pebbles, which glittered like new-coined silver pieces, and showed them the path. All night long they walked on, and as day broke they came to their father’s house. They knocked at the door, and when the wife opened it, and saw Hansel and Grethel, she exclaimed, “You wicked children! why did you sleep so long in the wood? We thought you were never coming home again.” But their father was very glad, for it had grieved his heart to leave them all alone.

Not long afterward there was again great scarcity in every corner of the land; and one night the children overheard their mother saying to their father, “Everything is again consumed; we have only half a loaf left, and then the song is ended: the children must be sent away. We will take them deeper into the wood, so that they may not find the way out again; it is the only means of escape for us.”

But her husband felt heavy at heart, and thought, “It were better to share the last crust with the children.” His wife, however, would listen to nothing that he said and scolded and, reproached him without end. He who says A must say B too; and he who consents the first time must also the second.

The children, however, had heard the conversation as they lay awake, and as soon as the old people went to sleep Hansel got up intending’ to pick up some pebbles as before; but the wife had locked the door, so that he could not get out. Nevertheless he comforted Grethel, saying, “Do not cry; sleep in quiet; the good God will not forsake us.”

Early in the morning the stepmother came and pulled them out of bed, and gave them each a slice of bread, which was still smaller than the former piece. On the way Hansel broke his in his pocket, and, stopping every now and then, dropped a crumb upon the path. “Hansel, why do you stop and look about?” said the father. “Keep in the path.”—“I am looking at my little dove,” answered Hansel, “nodding a good-by to me.”

“Simpleton!” said the wife, “that is no dove, but only the sun shining on the chimney.”

So Hansel kept still dropping crumbs as he went along.

The mother led the children deep into the wood, where they had never been before, and there making an immense fire, she said to them, “Sit down here and rest, and when you feel tired you can sleep for a little while. We are going into the forest to hew wood, and in the evening, when we are ready, we will come and fetch you.”

When noon came Grethel shared her bread with Hansel, who had strewn his on the path. Then they went to sleep; but the evening arrived, and no one came to visit the poor children, and in the dark night they awoke, and Hansel comforted his sister by saying, “Only wait, Grethel, till the moon comes out, then we shall see the crumbs of bread which I have dropped, and they will show us the way home.” The moon shone and they got up, but they could not see any crumbs, for the thousands of birds which had been flying about in the woods and fields had picked them all up. Hansel kept saying to Grethel, “We will soon find the way”; but they did not, and they walked the whole night long and the next day, but still they did not come out of the wood; and they got so hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the berries which they found upon the bushes.

Soon they got so tired that they could not drag themselves along, so they laid down under a tree and went to sleep.

It was now the third morning since they had left their father’s house, and they still walked on; but they only got deeper and deeper into the wood, and Hansel saw that if help did not come very soon they would die of hunger.

As soon as it was noon they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting upon a bough which sang so sweetly that they stood still and listened to it. It soon left off, and spreading its wings, flew off; and they followed it until it arrived at a cottage, upon the roof of which it perched; and when they went close up to it they saw that the cottage was made of bread and cakes, and the windowpanes were of clear sugar.

“We will go in there,” said Hansel, “and have a glorious feast. I will eat a piece of the roof, and you can eat the window. Will they not be sweet?” So Hansel reached up and broke a piece off the roof, in order to see how it tasted; while Grethel stepped up to the window and began to bite it. Then a sweet voice called out in the room, “Tip-tap, tip-tap, who raps at my door?” and the children answered, “The wind, the wind, the child of heaven”; and they went on eating without interruption. Hansel thought the roof tasted very nice, and so he tore off a great piece; while Grethel broke a large round pane out of the window, and sat down quite contentedly. Just then the door opened, and a very old woman, walking upon crutches, came out. Hansel and Grethel were so frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands; but the old woman, nodding her head, said, “Ah, you dear children, what has brought you here? Come in and stop with me, and no harm shall befall you;” and so saying she took them both by the hand, and led them into her cottage. A good meal of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts, was spread on the table, and in the back room were two nice little beds, covered with white, where Hansel and Grethel laid themselves down, and thought themselves in heaven. The old woman had behaved very kindly to them, but in reality she was a wicked witch who waylaid children, and built the bread house in order to entice them in; but as soon as they were in her power she killed them, cooked and ate them, and made a great festival of the day. Witches have red eyes, and cannot see very far; but they have a fine sense of smelling, like wild beasts, so that they know when children approach them. When Hansel and Grethel came near the witch’s house she laughed wickedly, saying, “Here come two who shall not escape me.” And early in the morning, before they awoke, she went up to them, and saw how lovingly they lay sleeping, with their chubby red cheeks; and she mumbled to herself, “That will be a good bite.” Then she took up Hansel with her rough hand, and shut him up in a little cage with a lattice door; and although he screamed loudly, it was of no use. Grethel came next, and, shaking her till she awoke, she said, “Get up, you lazy thing, and fetch some water to cook something good for your brother, who must remain in that stall and get fat; when he is fat enough I shall, eat him.” Grethel began to cry, but it was all useless, for the old witch made her do as she wished. So a nice meal was cooked for Hansel, but Grethel got nothing else but a crab’s claw.

Every morning the old witch came to the cage and said, “Hansel, stretch your finger that I may feel whether you are getting fat.” But Hansel used to stretch out a bone, and the old woman, having very bad sight, thought it was his finger, and wondered very much that it did not get fat. When four weeks had passed, and Hansel still kept quite lean, she lost all her patience and would not wait any longer. “Grethel.” she called out in a passion, “get some water quickly; be Hansel fat or lean, this morning I will kill and cook him.” Oh, how the poor little sister grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and how fast the tears ran down her cheeks! “Dear good God, help us now!” she exclaimed. “Had we only been eaten by the wild beasts in the wood then we should have died together.” But the old witch called out, “Leave off that noise; it will not help you a bit.”

So early in the morning Grethel was forced to go out and fill the kettle, and make a fire. “First we will bake, however,” said the old woman; “I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough”; and so saying she pushed poor Grethel up to the oven, out of which the flames were burning fiercely. “Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it is hot enough, and then we will put in the bread”; but she intended when Grethel got in to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she might eat her as well as Hansel. Grethel perceived what her thoughts were, and said, “I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?” “You stupid goose,” said she, “the opening is big enough. See, I could even get in myself!” and she got up and put her head into the oven. Then Grethel gave her a push, so that she fell right in, and then shutting the iron door, she bolted it. Oh! how horribly she howled; but Grethel ran away, and left the ungodly witch to burn to ashes.

Now she ran to Hansel, and, opening his door, called out, “Hansel, we are saved; the old witch is dead!” So he sprang out, like a bird out of his cage when the door is opened; and they were so glad that they fell upon each other’s neck, and kissed each other over and over again. And now, as there was nothing to fear, they went into the witch’s house, where in every corner were caskets full of pearls and precious stones. “These are better than pebbles,” said Hansel, putting as many into his pocket as it would hold; while Grethel thought, “I will take some home, too,” and filled her apron full. “We must be off now,” said Hansel, “and get out of this bewitched forest”; but when they had walked for two hours they came to a large piece of water. “We cannot get over,” said Hansel. “I can see no bridge at all.” “And there is no boat either,” said Grethel; “but there swims a white duck, I will ask her to help us over;” and she sang,

“Little duck, good little duck,
Grethel and Hansel, here we stand,
There is neither stile nor bridge,
Take us on your back to land.”

So the duck came to them, and Hansel sat himself on, and bade his sister sit behind him. “No,” answered Grethel, “that will be too much for the duck, she shall take us over one at a time.” This the good little bird did, and when both were happily arrived on the other side, and had gone a little way, they came to a well-known wood, which they knew the better every step they went, and at last they perceived their father’s house. Then they began to run, and, bursting into the house, they fell on their father’s neck. He had not had one happy hour since he had left the children in the forest; and his wife was dead. Grethel shook her apron, and the pearls and precious stones rolled out upon the floor, and Hansel threw down one handful after the other out of his pocket. Then all their sorrows were ended, and they lived together in great happiness.

My tale is done. There runs a mouse; whoever catches her may make a great, great cap out of her fur.

THUMBLING

By William and Jacob Grimm

Once upon a time there lived a poor peasant, who used to sit every evening by the hearth, poking the fire, while his wife spun. One night he said, “How sad it is that we have no children; everything is so quiet here, while in other houses it is so noisy and merry.”

“Ah!” sighed his wife, “if we had but only one, and were he no bigger than my thumb, I should still be content, and love him with all my heart.” A little while after the wife fell ill; and after seven months a child was born, who, although he was perfectly formed in all his limbs, was not actually bigger than one’s thumb. So they said to one another that it had happened just as they wished; and they called the child “Thumbling.” Every day they gave him all the food he could eat; still he did not grow a bit, but remained exactly the height he was when first born; he looked about him, however, very knowingly, and showed himself to be a bold and clever fellow, who prospered in everything he undertook.

One morning the peasant was making ready to go into the forest to fell wood, and said, “Now I wish I had some one who could follow me with the cart.”

“Oh! father,” exclaimed Thumbling, “I will bring the cart; don’t you trouble yourself; it shall be there at the right time.”

The father laughed at this speech, and said, “How shall that be? You are much too small to lead the horse by the bridle.”

“That matters not, father. If mother will harness the horse, I can sit in his car, and tell him which way to take.”

“Well, we will try for once,” said the father; and so, when the hour came, the mother harnessed the horse, and placed Thumbling in its ear, and told him how to guide it. Then he set out quite like a man, and the cart went on the right road to the forest; and just as it turned a corner, and Thumbling called out “Steady, steady,” two strange men met it; and one said to the other, “My goodness, what is this? Here comes a cart, and the driver keeps calling to the horse; but I can see no one.” “That cannot be all right,” said the other: “let us follow and see where the cart stops.”

The cart went on safely deep into the forest, and straight to the place where the wood was cut. As soon as Thumbling saw his father, he called to him, “Here, father; here I am, you see, with the cart; just take me down.” The peasant caught the bridle of the horse with his left hand, and with his right took his little son out of its ear; and he sat himself down merrily on a straw. When the two strangers saw the little fellow, they knew not what to say for astonishment; and one of them took his companion aside, and said, “This little fellow might make our fortune if we could exhibit him in the towns. Let us buy him.” They went up to the peasant, and asked, “Will you sell your son? We will treat him well.” “No,” replied the man; “he is my heart’s delight, and not to be bought for all the money in the world!” But Thumbling, when he heard what was said, climbed up by his father’s skirt, and set himself on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “Let me go now, and I will soon come back again.” So his father gave him to the two men for a fine piece of gold; and they asked him where he would sit. “Oh,” replied he, “put me on the rim of your hat; and then I can walk round and survey the country. I will not fall off.” They did as he wished; and when he had taken leave of his father, they set out. Just as it was getting dark he asked to be lifted down; and, after some demur, the man on whose hat he was, took him off and placed him on the ground. In an instant Thumbling ran off, and crept into a mousehole, where they could not see him. “Good evening, masters,” said he, “you can go home without me”; and with a quiet laugh he crept into his hole still further. The two men poked their sticks into the hole, but all in vain; for Thumbling only went down further; and when it had grown quite dark they were obliged to return home full of vexation and with empty pockets.

As soon as Thumbling perceived that they were off, he crawled out of his hiding place, and said, “How dangerous it is to walk in this field in the dark: one might soon break one’s head or legs;” and so saying he looked around, and by great good luck saw an empty snail shell. “God be praised,” he exclaimed, “here I can sleep securely; and in he went. Just as he was about to fall asleep he heard two men coming by, one of whom said to the other, “How shall we manage to get at the parson’s gold and silver?”

“That I can tell you,” interrupted Thumbling.

“What was that?” exclaimed the thief, frightened. “I heard some one speak.” They stood still and listened; and then Thumbling said, “Take me with you, and I will help you.”

“Where are you?” asked the thieves.

“Search on the ground, and mark where my voice comes from,” replied he. The thief looked about, and at last found him; and lifted him up in the air.

“What, will you help us, you little wight?” said they.

“Do you not see I can creep between the iron bars into the chamber of the parson, and reach out to you whatever you require?”

“Very well; we will see what you can do,” said the thief.

When they came to the house, Thumbling crept into the chamber, and cried out with all his might, “Will you have all that is here?” The thieves were terrified, and said, “Speak gently, or some one will awake.”

But Thumbling feigned not to understand, and exclaimed, louder still, “Will you have all that is here?”

This awoke the cook, who slept in the room, and sitting up in her bed she listened. The thieves, however, had run back a little way, quite frightened; but taking courage again, and thinking the little fellow wished to tease them, they came and whispered to him to make haste and hand them out something. At this, Thumbling cried out still more loudly, “I will give you it all, only put your hands in.” The listening maid heard this clearly, and springing out of bed, hurried out at the door. The thieves ran off as if they were pursued by the wild huntsman, but the maid, as she could see nothing, went to strike a light. When she returned, Thumbling escaped without being seen into the barn, and the maid, after she had looked round and searched in every corner, without finding anything, went to bed again, believing she had been dreaming with her eyes open. Meanwhile Thumbling had crept in amongst the hay, and found a beautiful place to sleep, where he intended to rest till daybreak, and then to go home to his parents.

Other things however, was he to experience, for there is much tribulation and trouble going on in this world.

The maid got up at dawn of day to feed the cow. Her first walk was to the barn, where she took an armful of hay, and just the bundle where poor Thumbling lay asleep. He slept so soundly, however, that he was not conscious, and only awoke when he was in the cow’s mouth. “Ah, goodness!” exclaimed he, “however came I into this mill?” but soon he saw where he really was. Then he took care not to come between the teeth, but presently slipped quite down the cow’s throat. “There are no windows in this room,” said he to himself, “and no sunshine, and I brought no light with me.” Overhead his quarters seemed still worse, and more than all, he felt his room growing narrower, as the cow swallowed more hay. So he began to call out in terror as loudly as he could, “Bring me no more food. I do not want any more food!” Just then the maid was milking the cow, and when she heard the voice without seeing anything, and knew it was the same she had listened to in the night, she was so frightened that she slipped off her stool and overturned the milk. In great haste she ran to her master, saying, “Oh, Mr. Parson, the cow has been speaking.”

“You are crazy,” he replied; but still he went himself into The stable to see what was the matter, and scarcely had he stepped in when Thumbling began to shout out again, “Bring me no more food, bring me no more food.” This terrified the parson himself, and he thought an evil spirit had entered into his cow, and so ordered her to be killed. As soon as that was done, and they were dividing the carcass, a fresh accident befell Thumbling, for a wolf, who was passing at the time, made a snatch at the cow, and tore away the part where he was stuck fast. However, he did not lose courage, but as soon as the wolf had swallowed him, he called out from inside, “Oh, Mr. Wolf, I know of a capital meal for you.” “Where is it to be found?” asked the wolf

“In the house by the meadow; you must creep through the gutter, and there you will find cakes, and bacon, and sausages, as many as you can eat,” replied Thumbling, describing exactly his father’s house.

The wolf did not wait to be told twice, but in the night crept in, and ate away in the larder, to his heart’s content. When he had finished, he tried to escape by the way he entered, but the hole was not large enough. Thereupon Thumbling, who had reckoned on this, began to make a tremendous noise inside the poor wolf, screaming and shouting as loud as he could. “Will you be quiet?” said the wolf; “you will awake the people.” “Eh, what!” cried the little man, “since you have satisfied yourself, it is my turn now to make merry;” and he set up a louder howling than before. At last his father and mother awoke, and came to the room and looked through the chinks of the door; and as soon as they perceived the ravages the wolf had committed, they ran and brought the man his ax and the woman the scythe. “Stop you behind,” said the man, as they entered the room; “if my blow does not kill him, you must give him a cut with your weapon, and chop off his head if you can.”

When Thumbling heard his father’s voice, he called out, “Father dear, I am here, in the wolf’s body!” “Heaven be praised,” said the man, full of joy, “our dear child is found again;” and he bade his wife take away the scythe, lest it should do any harm to his son. Then he raised his ax, and gave the wolf such a blow on its head that it fell dead, and, taking a knife, he cut it open and released the little fellow, his son. “Ah,” said his father, “what trouble we have had about you.” “Yes, father,” replied Thumbling, “I have been traveling a great deal about the world. Heaven be praised! I breathe fresh air again.”

“Where have you been, my son?” he inquired.

“Once I was in a mouse’s hole, once inside a cow, and lastly inside that wolf; and now I will stop here with you,” said Thumbling.

“Yes,” said the old people, “we will not sell you again for all the riches of the world;” and they embraced and kissed him with great affection. Then they gave him plenty to eat and drink, and had new clothes made for him, for his old ones were worn out with traveling.

THE SIX SWANS

By William and Jacob Grimm

A king was once hunting in a large wood, and pursued his game so hotly, that none of his courtiers could follow him. But when evening approached he stopped, and looking around him perceived that he had lost himself. He sought a path out of the forest, but could not find one, and presently he saw an old woman with a nodding head, who came up to him. “My good woman,” said he to her, “can you not show me the way out of the forest?” “Oh, yes, my lord King,” she replied, “I can do that very well, but upon one condition, which if you do not fulfill you will never again get out of the wood, but will die of hunger.”

“What, then, is this condition?” asked the King.

“I have a daughter,” said the old woman, “who is as beautiful as anyone you can find in the whole world, and well deserves to be your bride. Now, if you will make her your Queen, I will show you your way out of the wood.” In the anxiety of his heart the King consented, and the old woman led him to her cottage, where the daughter was sitting by a fire. She received the King as if she had expected him, and he saw at once that she was very beautiful, but yet she did not quite please him, for he could not look at her without a secret shuddering. However, after all, he took the maiden up on his horse, and the old woman showed him the way, and the King arrived safely at his palace, where the wedding was to be celebrated.

The King had been married once before, and had seven children by his first wife, six boys and a girl, whom he loved above everything else in the world. He became afraid, soon, that the stepmother might not treat them very well, and might even do them some great injury, so he took them away to a lonely castle which stood in the midst of a forest. This castle was so hidden, and the way to it so difficult to discover, that he himself could not have found it if a wise woman had not given him a ball of cotton which had the wonderful property, when he threw it before him, of unrolling itself and showing him the right path. The King went, however, so often to see his dear children, that the Queen noticed his absence, became inquisitive, and wished to know what he went to fetch out of the forest. So she gave his servants a great quantity of money, and they disclosed to her the secret, and also told her of the ball of cotton which alone could show the way. She had now no peace until she discovered where this ball was concealed, and then she made some fine silken shirts, and, as she had learned of her mother, she sewed within each one a charm. One day soon after, when the King was gone out hunting, she took the little shirts and went into the forest, and the cotton showed her the path. The children, seeing some one coming in the distance, thought it was their dear father, and ran out toward her full of joy. Then she threw over each of them a shirt, which as it touched their bodies changed them into Swans, which flew away over the forest. The Queen then went home quite contented, and thought she was free of her stepchildren; but the little girl had not met her with the brothers, and the Queen did not know of her.