who was very ugly indeed--so ugly that she thought it no use to try her
luck, and went about her work as usual. So she took her pitcher to the
pool to fill it. Now the Magician's daughter was still hiding in the
tree waiting for her lover to return. Thus it came to pass that the
gardener's ugly daughter, bending down to fill her pitcher in the pool,
saw a beautiful shadow in the water, and thought it was her own!
"If I am as pretty as that," she cried, "I'll draw water no longer!"
So she threw down her pitcher, and went straight to the castle to see if
she hadn't a chance of the handsome stranger and the handsome dowry. But
of course she hadn't; though at the sight of Nix Naught Nothing she fell
so much in love with him, that, knowing the hen-wife to be a witch, she
went straight to her, and offered all her savings for a charm by which
she could awaken the sleeper.
Now when the hen-wife witch heard her tale, she thought it would be a
rare revenge to marry the King and Queen's long-lost son to a gardener's
ugly daughter; so she straightway took the girl's savings and gave her a
charm by which she could unspell the Prince or spell him again at her
pleasure.
So away went the gardener's daughter to the castle, and sure enough, no
sooner had she sung her charm, than Nix Naught Nothing awoke.
"I am going to marry you, my charmer," she said coaxingly; but Nix
Naught Nothing said he would prefer sleep. So she thought it wiser to
put him to sleep again till the marriage feast was ready and she had got
her fine clothes. So she spelled him asleep again.
Now the gardener had, of course, to draw the water himself, since his
daughter would not work. And he took the pitcher to the pool; and he
also saw the Magician's daughter's shadow in the water; but he did not
think the face was his own, for, see you, he had a beard!
Then he looked up and saw the lady in the tree.
She, poor thing, was half dead with sorrow, and hunger, and fatigue,
so, being a kind man, he took her to his house and gave her food. And he
told her that that _very day_ his daughter was to marry a handsome young
stranger at the castle, and to get a handsome dowry to boot from the
King and Queen, in memory of their son, Nix Naught Nothing, who had been
carried off by a giant when he was a little boy.
Then the Magician's daughter felt sure that something had happened to
her lover; so she went to the castle, and there she found him fast
asleep in a chair.
But she could not waken him, for, see you, her magic had gone from her
with the magic flask which Nix Naught Nothing had emptied.
So, though she put her fingerless hands on his and wept and sang:
"I cleaned the stable for love o' thee,
I laved the lake and I clomb the tree,
Wilt thou not waken for love o' me?"
he never stirred nor woke.
Now one of the old servants there, seeing how she wept, took pity on her
and said, "She that is to marry the young man will be back ere long, and
unspell him for the wedding. Hide yourself and listen to her charm."
So the Magician's daughter hid herself, and, by and by, in comes the
gardener's daughter in her fine wedding-dress, and begins to sing her
charm. But the Magician's daughter didn't wait for her to finish it; for
the moment Nix Naught Nothing opened his eyes, she rushed out of her
hiding-place, and put her fingerless hands in his.
Then Nix Naught Nothing remembered everything. He remembered the castle,
he remembered his father and mother, he remembered the Magician's
daughter and all that she had done for him.
Then he drew out the magic flask and said, "Surely, surely there must be
enough magic in it to mend your hands." And there was. There were just
fourteen drops left, ten for the fingers and four for the toes; but
there was not one for the little toe, so it could not be brought back.
Of course, after that there was great rejoicing, and Prince Nix Naught
Nothing and the Magician's daughter were married and lived happy ever
after, even though she only had four toes on one foot. As for the
hen-wife witch, she was burnt, and so the gardener's daughter got back
her earnings; but she was not happy, because her shadow in the water was
ugly again.
MR. AND MRS. VINEGAR
Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar, a worthy couple, lived in a glass pickle-jar. The
house, though small, was snug, and so light that each speck of dust on
the furniture showed like a mole-hill; so while Mr. Vinegar tilled his
garden with a pickle-fork and grew vegetables for pickling, Mrs.
Vinegar, who was a sharp, bustling, tidy woman, swept, brushed, and
dusted, brushed and dusted and swept to keep the house clean as a new
pin. Now one day she lost her temper with a cobweb and swept so hard
after it that bang! bang! the broom-handle went right through the glass,
and crash! crash! clitter! clatter! there was the pickle-jar house about
her ears all in splinters and bits.
She picked her way over these as best she might, and rushed into the
garden.
"Oh, Vinegar, Vinegar!" she cried. "We are clean ruined and done for!
Quit these vegetables! they won't be wanted! What is the use of pickles
if you haven't a pickle-jar to put them in, and--I've broken ours--into
little bits!" And with that she fell to crying bitterly.
But Mr. Vinegar was of different mettle; though a small man, he was a
cheerful one, always looking at the best side of things, so he said,
"Accidents will happen, lovey! But there are as good pickle-bottles in
the shop as ever came out of it. All we need is money to buy another. So
let us go out into the world and seek our fortunes."
"But what about the furniture?" sobbed Mrs. Vinegar.
"I will take the door of the house with me, lovey," quoth Mr. Vinegar
stoutly. "Then no one will be able to open it, will they?"
Mrs. Vinegar did not quite see how this fact would mend matters, but,
being a good wife, she held her peace. So off they trudged into the
world to seek fortune, Mr. Vinegar bearing the door on his back like a
snail carries its house.
Well, they walked all day long, but not a brass farthing did they make,
and when night fell they found themselves in a dark, thick forest. Now
Mrs. Vinegar, for all she was a smart, strong woman, was tired to death,
and filled with fear of wild beasts, so she began once more to cry
bitterly; but Mr. Vinegar was cheerful as ever.
"Don't alarm yourself, lovey," he said. "I will climb into a tree, fix
the door firmly in a fork, and you can sleep there as safe and
comfortable as in your own bed."
So he climbed the tree, fixed the door, and Mrs. Vinegar lay down on it,
and being dead tired was soon fast asleep. But her weight tilted the
door sideways, so, after a time, Mr. Vinegar, being afraid she might
slip off, sate down on the other side to balance her and keep watch.
Now in the very middle of the night, just as he was beginning to nod,
what should happen but that a band of robbers should meet beneath that
very tree in order to divide their spoils. Mr. Vinegar could hear every
word said quite distinctly, and began to tremble like an aspen as he
listened to the terrible deeds the thieves had done to gain their ends.
"Don't shake so!" murmured Mrs. Vinegar, half asleep. "You'll have me
off the bed."
"I'm not shaking, lovey," whispered back Mr. Vinegar in a quaking voice.
"It is only the wind in the trees."
But for all his cheerfulness he was not really _very_ brave _inside_, so
he went on trembling and shaking, and shaking and trembling, till, just
as the robbers were beginning to parcel out the money, he actually shook
the door right out of the tree-fork, and down it came--with Mrs. Vinegar
still asleep upon it--right on top of the robbers' heads!
As you may imagine, they thought the sky had fallen, and made off as
fast as their legs would carry them, leaving their booty behind them.
But Mr. Vinegar, who had saved himself from the fall by clinging to a
branch, was far too frightened to go down in the dark to see what had
happened. So up in the tree he sate like a big bird until dawn came.
Then Mrs. Vinegar woke, rubbed her eyes, yawned, and said, "Where am I?"
"On the ground, lovey," answered Mr. Vinegar, scrambling down.
And when they lifted up the door, what do you think they found?
One robber squashed flat as a pancake, and forty golden guineas all
scattered about!
My goodness! How Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar jumped for joy!
"Now, Vinegar!" said his wife when they had gathered up all the gold
pieces, "I will tell you what we must do. You must go to the next
market-town and buy a cow; for, see you, money makes the mare to go,
truly; but it also goes itself. Now a cow won't run away, but will give
us milk and butter, which we can sell. So we shall live in comfort for
the rest of our days."
"What a head you have, lovey!" said Mr. Vinegar admiringly, and started
off on his errand.
"Mind you make a good bargain," bawled his wife after him.
"I always do," bawled back Mr. Vinegar. "I made a good bargain when I
married such a clever wife, and I made a better one when I shook her
down from the tree. I am the happiest man alive!"
So he trudged on, laughing and jingling the forty gold pieces in his
pocket.
Now the first thing he saw in the market was an old red cow.
"I am in luck to-day," he thought; "that is the very beast for me. I
shall be the happiest of men if I get that cow." So he went up to the
owner, jingling the gold in his pocket.
"What will you take for your cow?" he asked.
And the owner of the cow, seeing he was a simpleton, said, "What you've
got in your pocket."
"Done!" said Mr. Vinegar, handed over the forty guineas, and led off the
cow, marching her up and down the market, much against her will, to show
off his bargain.
Now, as he drove it about, proud as Punch, he noticed a man who was
playing the bagpipes. He was followed about by a crowd of children who
danced to the music, and a perfect shower of pennies fell into his cap
every time he held it out.
"Ho, ho!" thought Mr. Vinegar. "That is an easier way of earning a
livelihood than by driving about a beast of a cow! Then the feeding, and
the milking, and the churning! Ah, I should be the happiest man alive if
I had those bagpipes!"
So he went up to the musician and said, "What will you take for your
bagpipes?"
"Well," replied the musician, seeing he was a simpleton, "it is a
beautiful instrument, and I make so much money by it, that I cannot take
anything less than that red cow."
"Done!" cried Mr. Vinegar in a hurry, lest the man should repent of his
offer.
So the musician walked off with the red cow, and Mr. Vinegar tried to
play the bagpipes. But, alas and alack! though he blew till he almost
burst, not a sound could he make at first, and when he did at last, it
was such a terrific squeal and screech that all the children ran away
frightened, and the people stopped their ears.
But he went on and on, trying to play a tune, and never earning
anything, save hootings and peltings, until his fingers were almost
frozen with the cold, when of course the noise he made on the bagpipes
was worse than ever.
Then he noticed a man who had on a pair of warm gloves, and he said to
himself, "Music is impossible when one's fingers are frozen. I believe I
should be the happiest man alive if I had those gloves."
So he went up to the owner and said, "You seem, sir, to have a very good
pair of gloves." And the man replied, "Truly, sir, my hands are as warm
as toast this bitter November day."
That quite decided Mr. Vinegar, and he asked at once what the owner
would take for them; and the owner, seeing he was a simpleton, said, "As
your hands seem frozen, sir, I will, as a favour, let you have them for
your bagpipes."
"Done!" cried Mr. Vinegar, delighted, and made the exchange.
Then he set off to find his wife, quite pleased with himself. "Warm
hands, warm heart!" he thought. "I'm the happiest man alive!"
But as he trudged he grew very, very tired, and at last began to limp.
Then he saw a man coming along the road with a stout stick.
"I should be the happiest man alive if I had that stick," he thought.
"What is the use of warm hands if your feet ache!" So he said to the man
with the stick, "What will you take for your stick?" and the man,
seeing he was a simpleton, replied:
"Well, I don't want to part with my stick, but as you are so pressing
I'll oblige you, as a friend, for those warm gloves you are wearing."
"Done for you!" cried Mr. Vinegar delightedly; and trudged off with the
stick, chuckling to himself over his good bargain.
But as he went along a magpie fluttered out of the hedge and sate on a
branch in front of him, and chuckled and laughed as magpies do. "What
are you laughing at?" asked Mr. Vinegar.
"At you, forsooth!" chuckled the magpie, fluttering just a little
further. "At you, Mr. Vinegar, you foolish man--you simpleton--you
blockhead! You bought a cow for forty guineas when she wasn't worth ten,
you exchanged her for bagpipes you couldn't play--you changed the
bagpipes for a pair of gloves, and the pair of gloves for a miserable
stick. Ho, ho! Ha, ha! So you've nothing to show for your forty guineas
save a stick you might have cut in any hedge. Ah, you fool! you
simpleton! you blockhead!"
And the magpie chuckled, and chuckled, and chuckled in such guffaws,
fluttering from branch to branch as Mr. Vinegar trudged along, that at
last he flew into a violent rage and flung his stick at the bird. And
the stick stuck in a tree out of his reach; so he had to go back to his
wife without anything at all.
[Illustration: At last he flew into a violent rage and flung his stick
at the bird]
But he was glad the stick had stuck in a tree, for Mrs. Vinegar's hands
were quite hard enough.
When it was all over Mr. Vinegar said cheerfully, "You are too violent,
lovey. You broke the pickle-jar, and now you've nearly broken every bone
in my body. I think we had better turn over a new leaf and begin
afresh. I shall take service as a gardener, and you can go as a
housemaid, until we have enough money to buy a new pickle-jar. There are
as good ones in the shop as ever came out of it."
And that is the story of Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar.
[Illustration: And that is the story of Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar]
THE TRUE HISTORY OF SIR THOMAS THUMB
At the court of great King Arthur, who lived, as all know, when knights
were bold, and ladies were fair indeed, one of the most renowned of men
was the wizard Merlin. Never before or since was there such another. All
that was to be known of wizardry he knew, and his advice was ever good
and kindly.
Now once when he was travelling in the guise of a beggar, he chanced
upon an honest ploughman and his wife who, giving him a hearty welcome,
supplied him, cheerfully, with a big wooden bowl of fresh milk and some
coarse brown bread on a wooden platter. Still, though both they and the
little cottage where they dwelt were neat and tidy, Merlin noticed that
neither the husband nor the wife seemed happy; and when he asked the
cause they said it was because they had no children.
"Had I but a son, no matter if he were no bigger than my goodman's
thumb," said the poor woman, "we should be quite content."
Now this idea of a boy no bigger than a man's thumb so tickled Wizard
Merlin's fancy that he promised straight away that such a son should
come in due time to bring the good couple content. This done, he went
off at once to pay a visit to the Queen of the Fairies, since he felt
that the little people would best be able to carry out his promise. And,
sure enough, the droll fancy of a mannikin no bigger than his father's
thumb tickled the Fairy Queen also, and she set about the task at once.
So behold the ploughman and his wife as happy as King and Queen over the
tiniest of tiny babies; and all the happier because the Fairy Queen,
anxious to see the little fellow, flew in at the window, bringing with
her clothes fit for the wee mannikin to wear.
An oak-leaf hat he had for his crown;
His jacket was woven of thistle-down.
His shirt was a web by spiders spun;
His breeches of softest feathers were done.
His stockings of red-apple rind were tyne
With an eyelash plucked from his mother's eyne.
His shoes were made of a mouse's skin,
Tanned with the soft furry hair within.
Dressed in this guise he looked the prettiest little fellow ever seen,
and the Fairy Queen kissed him over and over again, and gave him the
name of Tom Thumb.
Now as he grew older--though, mind you, he never grew bigger--he was so
full of antics and tricks that he was for ever getting into trouble.
Once his mother was making a batter pudding, and Tom, wanting to see how
it was made, climbed up to the edge of the bowl. His mother was so busy
beating the batter that she didn't notice him; and when his foot
slipped, and he plumped head and ears into the bowl, she just went on
beating until the batter was light enough. Then she put it into the
pudding-cloth and set it on the fire to boil.
Now the batter had so filled poor Tom's mouth that he couldn't cry; but
no sooner did he feel the hot water than he began to struggle and kick
so much that the pudding bobbed up and down, and jumped about in such
strange fashion that the ploughman's wife thought it was bewitched, and
in a great fright flung it to the door.
Here a poor tinker passing by picked it up and put it in his wallet. But
by this time Tom had got his mouth clear of the batter, and he began
holloaing, and making such a to-do, that the tinker, even more
frightened than Tom's mother had been, threw the pudding in the road,
and ran away as fast as he could run. Luckily for Tom, this second fall
broke the pudding string and he was able to creep out, all covered with
half-cooked batter, and make his way home, where his mother, distressed
to see her little dear in such a woeful state, put him into a teacup of
water to clean him, and then tucked him up in bed.
Another time Tom's mother went to milk her red cow in the meadow and
took Tom with her, for she was ever afraid lest he should fall into
mischief when left alone. Now the wind was high, and fearful lest he
should be blown away, she tied him to a thistle-head with one of her own
long hairs, and then began to milk. But the red cow, nosing about for
something to do while she was being milked, as all cows will, spied
Tom's oak-leaf hat, and thinking it looked good, curled its tongue round
the thistle-stalk and--
There was Tom dodging the cow's teeth, and roaring as loud as he could:
"Mother! Mother! Help! Help!"
"Lawks-a-mercy-me," cried his mother, "where's the child got to now?
Where are you, you bad boy?"
"Here!" roared Tom, "in the red cow's mouth!"
With that his mother began to weep and wail, not knowing what else to
do; and Tom, hearing her, roared louder than ever. Whereat the red cow,
alarmed--and no wonder!--at the dreadful noise in her throat, opened
her mouth, and Tom dropped out, luckily into his mother's apron;
otherwise he would have been badly hurt falling so far.
Adventures like these were not Tom's fault. He could not help being so
small, but he got into dreadful trouble once for which he was entirely
to blame. This is what happened. He loved playing cherry-stones with the
big boys, and when he had lost all his own he would creep unbeknownst
into the other players' pockets or bags, and make off with cherry-stones
enough and galore to carry on the game!
Now one day it so happened that one of the boys saw Master Tom on the
point of coming out of a bag with a whole fistful of cherry-stones. So
he just drew the string of the bag tight.
"Ha! ha! Mr. Thomas Thumb," says he jeeringly, "so you were going to
pinch my cherry-stones, were you? Well! you shall have more of them than
you like." And with that he gave the cherry-stone bag such a hearty
shake that all Tom's body and legs were sadly bruised black and blue;
nor was he let out till he had promised never to steal cherry-stones
again.
So the years passed, and when Tom was a lad, still no bigger than a
thumb, his father thought he might begin to make himself useful. So he
made him a whip out of a barley straw, and set him to drive the cattle
home. But Tom, in trying to climb a furrow's ridge--which to him, of
course, was a steep hill--slipped down and lay half stunned, so that a
raven, happening to fly over, thought he was a frog, and picked him up
intending to eat him. Not relishing the morsel, however, the bird
dropped him above the battlements of a big castle that stood close to
the sea. Now the castle belonged to one Grumbo, an ill-tempered giant
who happened to be taking the air on the roof of his tower. And when Tom
dropped on his bald pate the giant put up his great hand to catch what
he thought was an impudent fly, and finding something that smelt man's
meat, he just swallowed the little fellow as he would have swallowed a
pill!
He began, however, to repent very soon, for Tom kicked and struggled in
the giant's inside as he had done in the red cow's throat until the
giant felt quite squeamish, and finally got rid of Tom by being sick
over the battlements into the sea.
And here, doubtless, would have been Tom Thumb's end by drowning, had
not a big fish, thinking that he was a shrimp, rushed at him and gulped
him down!
Now by good chance some fishermen were standing by with their nets, and
when they drew them in, the fish that had swallowed Tom was one of the
haul. Being a very fine fish it was sent to the Court kitchen, where,
when the fish was opened, out popped Tom on the dresser, as spry as
spry, to the astonishment of the cook and the scullions! Never had such
a mite of a man been seen, while his quips and pranks kept the whole
buttery in roars of laughter. What is more, he soon became the favourite
of the whole Court, and when the King went out a-riding Tom sat in the
Royal waistcoat pocket ready to amuse Royalty and the Knights of the
Round Table.
After a while, however, Tom wearied to see his parents again; so the
King gave him leave to go home and take with him as much money as he
could carry. Tom therefore chose a threepenny bit, and putting it into a
purse made of a water bubble, lifted it with difficulty on to his back,
and trudged away to his father's house, which was some half a mile
distant.
It took him two days and two nights to cover the ground, and he was fair
outwearied by his heavy burden ere he reached home. However, his mother
put him to rest in a walnut shell by the fire and gave him a whole hazel
nut to eat; which, sad to say, disagreed with him dreadfully. However,
he recovered in some measure, but had grown so thin and light that to
save him the trouble of walking back to the Court, his mother tied him
to a dandelion-clock, and as there was a high wind, away he went as if
on wings. Unfortunately, however, just as he was flying low in order to
alight, the Court cook, an ill-natured fellow, was coming across the
palace yard with a bowl of hot furmenty for the King's supper. Now Tom
was unskilled in the handling of dandelion horses, so what should happen
but that he rode straight into the furmenty, spilt the half of it, and
splashed the other half, scalding hot, into the cook's face.
He was in a fine rage, and going straight to King Arthur said that Tom,
at his old antics, had done it on purpose.
Now the King's favourite dish was hot furmenty; so he also fell into a
fine rage and ordered Tom to be tried for high treason. He was therefore
imprisoned in a mouse-trap, where he remained for several days tormented
by a cat, who, thinking him some new kind of mouse, spent its time in
sparring at him through the bars. At the end of a week, however, King
Arthur, having recovered the loss of the furmenty, sent for Tom and once
more received him into favour. After this Tom's life was happy and
successful. He became so renowned for his dexterity and wonderful
activity, that he was knighted, by the King under the name of Sir Thomas
Thumb, and as his clothes, what with the batter and the furmenty, to say
nothing of the insides of giants and fishes, had become somewhat shabby,
His Majesty ordered him a new suit of clothes fit for a mounted knight
to wear. He also gave him a beautiful prancing grey mouse as a charger.
It was certainly very diverting to see Tom dressed up to the nines, and
as proud as Punch.
Of butterflies' wings his shirt was made,
His boots of chicken hide,
And by a nimble fairy blade,
All learned in the tailoring trade,
His coat was well supplied.
A needle dangled at his side,
And thus attired in stately pride
A dapper mouse he used to ride.
In truth the King and all the Knights of the Round Table were ready to
expire with laughter at Tom on his fine curveting steed.