Once upon a time there was a fagot-maker and his wife who had seven
children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, the youngest only
seven.
They were very poor, and their seven children were a great burden to
them, because not one of them was able to earn his own living. What
worried them still more was that the youngest was a delicate little
fellow, who hardly ever spoke a word. They took for stupidity this
silence, which was really a sign of good sense. He was tiny, too; when
he was born he was no bigger than a man’s thumb, so they called him
Hop-o’-my-Thumb.
The poor child was the drudge of the whole household, and always bore
the blame for everything that went wrong. However, he was really the
cleverest and brightest of all the brothers, and if he spoke little, he
heard and thought the more.
There came now a very bad year, and the famine was so great that these
poor people felt obliged to get rid of their children. One evening,
when the children had gone to bed and the fagot-maker was sitting with
his wife at the fire, he said to her, with his heart ready to burst
with grief: “You see plainly that we can no longer give our children
food, and I cannot bear to see them die of hunger before my eyes. I am
resolved to lose them in the forest to-morrow. This may very easily be
done, for while they are amusing themselves in tying up fagots we have
only to slip away and leave them without their taking any notice.”
“Ah!” cried out his wife; “do you think you could really take out your
children and lose them?”
In vain did her husband remind her of their extreme poverty, she would
not consent to it; she was poor, but she was their mother. At last,
when she reflected what a grief it would be to her to see them die of
hunger, she consented, and went weeping to bed.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb heard all they had said; for when he heard, as he lay
in bed, that they were talking of their affairs, he got up softly and
slipped under his father’s stool, to hear without being seen. He went
to bed again, but did not sleep a wink all the rest of the night,
thinking of what he should do. He got up early in the morning, and went
to the bank of a brook, where he filled his pockets full of small white
pebbles, and then went back home.
They all set out, but Hop-o’-my-Thumb did not say a word to any of his
brothers about what he had heard.
They went into a very thick forest, where they could not see one
another ten paces apart. The fagot-maker began to cut wood, and the
children to gather up the sticks to make fagots. When their father and
mother saw them busy at their work, they slipped away from them little
by little, and then made their escape all at once by a winding bypath.
When the children found that they were alone they began to cry
bitterly. Hop-o’-my-Thumb let them cry on, knowing very well how he
could get home again; for, as he came, he had dropped the little white
pebbles he had in his pockets all along the way. Then he said to them,
“Do not be afraid, my brothers; father and mother have left us here,
but I will lead you home again,—only follow me.”
They followed him, and he brought them home through the forest by the
very same way by which they had come. At first they dared not go in,
but stood outside the door to listen to what their father and mother
were saying.
Just as the fagot-maker and his wife reached home, the lord of the
manor sent them ten crowns, which he had owed them for a long time, and
which they had never expected to get. This gave them new life, for the
poor people were almost famished with hunger. As it was a long while
since they had eaten, the woman bought as much meat as would satisfy
six or eight persons. When they had satisfied their hunger she said:
“Alas! where are our poor children now? they would make a good feast of
what we have left here. It was you, William, who wished to lose them; I
told you we should repent of it. What are they doing now in the forest?
Alas! perhaps the wolves have already eaten them up! You are very cruel
to have lost your children in this way.”
The fagot-maker grew very impatient at last, for she repeated more than
twenty times that they should repent of it, and that she had told him
so. He threatened to beat her if she did not hold her tongue. The
fagot-maker was, perhaps, even more sorry than his wife, but she teased
him, and he could not endure her telling him that she was in the right
all the time. She wept bitterly, saying, “Alas! where are my children
now,—my poor children?”
She said this once so very loud that the children, who were at the
door, heard her and cried out all together, “Here we are! here we are!”
She ran quickly to let them in, and said, as she embraced them: “How
happy I am to see you again, my dear children! You must be very tired
and very hungry. And you, little Peter, you are dirt all over! Come in
and let me get you clean again.”
Peter was her eldest boy, whom she loved more than all the rest,
because he had red hair like her own.
They sat down to table, and ate with an appetite which pleased both
father and mother, to whom they told—speaking all at once—how
frightened they had been in the forest. The good people were delighted
to see their children once more, and this joy continued while the ten
crowns lasted; but when the money was all gone they fell back again
into their former anxiety, and resolved to lose their children
again,—and that they might be the surer of doing it, they decided to
take them much farther off than before.
They could not talk of this so secretly but that they were overheard by
Hop-o’-my-Thumb, who counted on getting out of the difficulty as he had
done before; but though he got up very early the next morning to go and
pick up some little pebbles, he could not carry out his plan, for he
found the house-door double-locked. He did not know what to do; but a
little later, when his father had given each of them a piece of bread
for their breakfast, it came into his head that he could make his bread
do instead of pebbles, by dropping crumbs all along the way as they
went, so he put it into his pocket.
Their father and mother led them into the thickest and gloomiest part
of the forest, and then, stealing away into a bypath, left them there.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb did not worry himself very much at this, for he thought
he could easily find the way back by means of his bread that he had
scattered all along as he came; but he was very much surprised when he
could not find a single crumb,—the birds had come and eaten them all.
They were now in great trouble, for the farther they went the more they
went wrong and the deeper they got into the forest. Night came on, and
with it a high wind which frightened them desperately. They fancied
they heard on every side the howling of wolves coming to eat them up.
They hardly dared to speak or turn their heads. Then there came a heavy
rain, which wetted them to the very skin. Their feet slipped at every
step, and they fell into the mud, getting themselves so covered with
dirt that they could not even get it off their hands.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb climbed to the top of a tree to see if he could
discover anything. Searching on every side, he saw at last a glimmering
light, like that of a candle, but a long way off, and beyond the
forest. He came down, but when he was upon the ground he could not see
it. This discouraged him very much; but finally, when he had been
walking for some time with his brothers towards that side on which he
had seen the light, he caught sight of it again as he came out of the
wood.
They came at last to the house where this candle was, although not
without many frights, for they lost sight of it every time they came
into a hollow—which was very often. They knocked at the door and a kind
woman came to open it. She asked them what they wanted, and
Hop-o’-my-Thumb told her they had lost their way in the forest, and
begged to stay and sleep there for charity’s sake. When the woman saw
how pretty they were she began to weep, and said to them: “Alas, poor
children, you do not know what kind of a place you have come to! Do you
know that this house belongs to a cruel ogre who eats up little
children?”
“Alas! dear madam,” answered Hop-o’-my-Thumb, who was trembling in
every limb, as were his brothers, too, “what shall we do? The wolves of
the forest will surely devour us if you refuse us shelter here, and so
we would rather the gentleman should eat us. Perhaps he will have pity
on us if you are so kind as to entreat him for us.”
The ogre’s wife, who believed that she could hide them from her husband
till morning, let them come in, and had them warm themselves at a very
good fire, before which a whole sheep was being roasted for the ogre’s
supper.
As they were beginning to get warm, they heard three or four great raps
at the door: this was the ogre, who was coming home. His wife hurried
the children under the bed to hide them, and then went to open the
door. The ogre at once asked if supper was ready and the wine drawn,
and sat down at the table. The sheep was raw still, but he liked it all
the better for that. But in a minute or two he sniffed about to the
right and to the left, saying, “I smell fresh meat, I smell fresh
meat.”
“What you smell,” said his wife, “must be the calf which I have just
killed and dressed.”
“I smell fresh meat, I tell you once more,” said the ogre, looking
crossly at his wife, “and there is something here which I do not
understand.”
As he spoke these words, he got up from the table, and went straight to
the bed.
“Ah,” said he, “that is how you thought to cheat me! Wretch! I do not
know why I do not eat you up too; it is well for you that you are old
and tough. Here is game which comes just in season to entertain three
ogres, friends of mine, who are to pay me a visit in a day or two.”
With that he dragged them out from under the bed one by one. The poor
children fell upon their knees and begged for pardon; but they had to
deal with the most cruel of ogres, who, far from having any pity for
them, had already devoured them with his eyes, and now told his wife
they would be dainty morsels when she served them up with a good sauce.
He then fetched a great knife and began to sharpen it on a great
whetstone which he held in his left hand; and all the while he came
nearer and nearer to the poor children. He had already taken hold of
one of them when his wife said to him: “Why do you need to do it at
this time of night? Is not to-morrow time enough?”
“Hold your prating!” said the ogre; “they will grow more tender if they
are kept a little while after they are killed.”
“But you have so much meat already,” replied his wife; “here are a
calf, two sheep, and half a pig.”
“You are right,” said the ogre. “Give them all a good supper, that they
may not get thin, and put them to bed.”
The good woman was overjoyed at this, and gave them a good supper; but
they were so afraid that they could not eat a bit. As for the ogre, he
sat down again to drink, well pleased that he had such a feast with
which to treat his friends. He drank a dozen glasses more than usual,
which went to his head and soon obliged him to go to bed.
The ogre had seven daughters, who were still little children. These
young ogresses had all of them very fine complexions, because they ate
raw meat like their father; but they had small gray eyes, quite round,
hooked noses, wide mouths, and very long, sharp teeth, set very far
apart from each other. They were not very wicked yet, but they gave
promise of becoming so, for they had already bitten little children.
They had been put to bed early, all seven in one great bed, each with a
crown of gold upon her head. There was another bed of the same size in
the room, and in this the ogre’s wife put the seven little boys, and
then went to bed herself along with her husband.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb took notice that the ogre’s daughters all had crowns of
gold on their heads, and he was so afraid lest the ogre should repent
his not killing them, that he got up about midnight, and, taking his
brothers’ caps and his own, went very softly and put them on the heads
of the seven little ogresses. But he first took off their crowns of
gold, and put them on his own head and his brothers’, so that the ogre
might take them for his daughters, and his daughters for the little
boys whom he wanted to kill.
Everything turned out just as he had thought; for the ogre, waking
about midnight, began to feel sorry that he had put off killing the
boys till morning, when he might have done it overnight, so he jumped
up quickly out of bed, taking his great knife.
“Let us see,” said he, “how our little rogues are getting on, and do
the job up at once!”
He groped his way up to his daughters’ room, and went to the bed where
the little boys lay, all fast asleep except Hop-o’-my-Thumb, who was
terribly afraid when he found the ogre fumbling about his head, as he
had done about his brothers’. When he felt the golden crowns, he said,
“Truly, I should have done a pretty piece of work last night; it is
perfectly evident that I drank too much wine then.”
Next he went to the bed where the girls lay, and when he felt the boys’
caps, he said, “Ah, my merry lads, here you are! let us get to work.”
And saying these words, without more ado he cut the throats of all his
seven daughters. Well pleased with what he had done, he went back to
bed again.
As soon as Hop-o’-my-Thumb heard the ogre snore, he waked his brothers
and told them to put on their clothes quickly and follow him. They
stole down softly into the garden and got over the wall. They ran
almost all night, trembling all the while, and without knowing where
they were going.
The ogre, when he woke, said to his wife, “Go up and dress those young
rascals who came here last night.”
The ogress was very much surprised at this goodness of her husband, not
dreaming of the manner in which she was to dress them; but, thinking he
had ordered her to go up and put on their clothes, she went up, and was
horrified when she saw her daughters all dead. She fell in a faint.
The ogre, fearing that his wife would be too long in doing what he had
ordered, went up himself to help her. He was no less amazed than his
wife at this frightful spectacle.
“Ah! what have I done?” he cried. “But the wretches shall pay for it,
and that instantly.”
He threw a pitcher of water upon his wife’s face, and as soon as she
came to herself he said, “Bring me quickly my seven-league boots, that
I may go and catch them.”
He went out into the country, and after running in all directions he
turned at last into the very road where the poor children were, not
more than a hundred paces from their father’s house, to which they were
running. They espied the ogre, who went at one step from mountain to
mountain, and over rivers as easily as the narrowest brooks.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb, seeing a hollow rock near the place where they were,
made his brothers hide in it, and crowded into it himself, watching
always to see what would become of the ogre.
The ogre, who found himself very tired with his long and fruitless
journey (for seven-league boots are very tiring to wear), had a great
mind to rest himself, and happened to sit down upon the very rock where
the little boys had hidden themselves. As he was completely worn out,
he fell asleep, and began to snore so frightfully that the poor
children were no less afraid of him than when he held up his great
knife and was going to cut their throats. Hop-o’-my-Thumb was not so
much frightened as his brothers. He told them to run quickly home,
while the ogre was sleeping, and not to worry about him. They took his
advice and soon got home safely.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb then went up to the ogre, pulled off his boots gently,
and put them on his own legs. They were very long and large, but as
they were fairy boots they had the gift of becoming big or little
according to the legs of those who wore them; so they fitted his feet
and legs as well as if they had been made on purpose for him.
As soon as Hop-o’-my-Thumb had made sure of the ogre’s seven-league
boots, he went to the palace and offered his services to carry orders
from the King to his army,—which was a great way off,—and to bring back
the quickest accounts of the battle they were just at that time
fighting with the enemy. He thought he could be of more use to the King
than all his mail coaches, and so might make his fortune in this
manner. He succeeded so well that in a short time he had made money
enough to keep himself, his father and mother, and his six brothers
(without their having to tire themselves out with working), for all the
rest of their lives. He then went home to his father’s house, where he
was welcomed with great joy. As the great fame of his boots had been
talked of at court by this time, the King sent for him, and employed
him on the greatest affairs of state; so that he became one of the
richest men in the kingdom.
And now let us see what became of the ogre. He slept so soundly that he
never knew that his boots were gone; but he fell from the corner of the
rock where Hop-o’-my-Thumb and his brothers had left him, and bruised
himself so badly from head to foot that he could not stir. So he was
forced to stretch himself out at full length and wait for some one to
come and help him.
Now a good many fagot-makers passed near the place where the ogre lay,
and when they heard him groan they went up to ask him what was the
matter. But the ogre had eaten so many children in his lifetime that he
had grown so very big and fat, that these men could not have carried
even one of his legs; so they were forced to leave him there. At last
night came on, and then a large serpent came out of a wood near by and
stung him, so that he died in great pain.
As soon as Hop-o’-my-Thumb heard of the ogre’s death, he told the
King—whose great favorite he had become—all that the good-natured
ogress had done to save the lives of himself and his brothers. The King
was so much pleased at what he heard that he asked Hop-o’-my-Thumb what
favor he could bestow on her. Hop-o’-my-Thumb thanked his Majesty, and
desired that the ogress might have the noble title of Duchess of
Draggletail given to her, which was no sooner asked than granted. The
ogress then came to court, and lived happily for many years, enjoying
the vast fortune she found in the ogre’s chests. As for
Hop-o’-my-Thumb, he grew more witty and brave every day till at last
the King made him the greatest lord in the kingdom, and set him over
all his affairs.
“AINSEL”
Mistress Lindsay, a widow, and her son Alan, who was a little boy then,
lived in a cottage near Rothley. One winter’s night Alan refused to go
to bed with his mother, saying, “I wish to sit up for a little while
longer, for I am not a bit sleepy.”
His mother told him that if he sat up by himself the old fairy wife
would most certainly come and take him away. But the boy laughed at
this, and his mother went to bed, leaving him sitting by the fire.
He had not been there long, watching the fire and enjoying its cheerful
warmth, when a bonny little figure, about the size of a child’s doll,
hopped down the chimney and alighted on the hearth. The little fellow
was somewhat startled at first, but the fairy’s smile as it danced to
and fro before him soon overcame his fears. At last he inquired, “What
do they call thee?”
“Ainsel,” [1] replied the little thing, tossing its wee head.
After a bit it turned to Alan with the same question, “And what do they
call thee?”
“My Ainsel,” answered Alan.
So they began playing together like any two children. Their gambols
went on till the fire began to grow dim. But when Alan took up the
poker to stir it, a hot cinder fell accidentally upon the foot of his
playmate. Her tiny voice was instantly raised to a most terrific yell,
and Alan had scarcely time to crouch into the box bed behind his mother
before the voice of the old fairy wife was heard shouting: “Who’s done
it? Who’s done it?”
“Hoots! it was ‘my Ainsel’!” answered the tiny fairy.
“Why, then,” said her mother, as she kicked her up the chimney, “what’s
all this noise for? There’s no one to blame but thine Ainsel.”