in behind a grated door. He might scream as he liked,--it was of no use.
Then she went to Grethel, shook her till she awoke and cried: “Get up,
lazy thing; fetch some water, and cook something good for your brother;
he is in the stable outside, and is to be made fat. When he is fat, I
will eat him.”
Grethel began to weep, but it was all in vain; she was forced to do what
the wicked witch told her.
And now the best food was cooked for poor Hansel, but Grethel got
nothing but crab-shells.
Every morning the woman crept to the little stable, and cried, “Hansel,
stretch out your finger that I may feel if you will soon be fat.”
Hansel, however, stretched out a little bone to her, and the old woman,
who had dim eyes, could not see it; she thought it was Hansel's finger,
and wondered why he grew no fatter. When four weeks had gone by, and
Hansel still was thin, she could wait no longer.
“Come, Grethel,” she cried to the girl, “fly round and bring some water.
Let Hansel be fat or lean, to-morrow I will kill him, and cook him.”
Ah, how sad was the poor little sister when she had to fetch the water,
and how her tears did flow down over her cheeks!
“Dear God, do help us,” she cried. “If the wild beasts in the forest had
but eaten us, we should at any rate have died together.”
“Just keep your noise to yourself,” said the old woman; “all that won't
help you at all.”
Early in the morning, Grethel had to go out and hang up the kettle with
the water, and light the fire.
“We will bake first,” said the old woman. “I have already heated the
oven, and got the dough ready.”
She pushed poor Grethel out to the oven, from which the flames of fire
were already darting.
“Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it is heated, so that we can
shut the bread in.” And when once Grethel was inside, she meant to shut
the oven and let her bake in it, and then she would eat her, too.
But Grethel saw what she had in her mind, and said, “I do not know how I
am to do it; how do you get in?”
“Silly goose,” said the old woman. “The door is big enough; just look, I
can get in myself!” and she crept up and thrust her head into the oven.
Then Grethel gave her a push that drove her far into it, and shut the
iron door, tight.
Grethel ran as quick as lightning to Hansel, opened his little stable,
and cried, “Hansel, we are saved! The old witch is dead!”
Then Hansel sprang out like a bird from its cage when the door is opened
for it. How they did dance about and kiss each other. And as they had
no longer any need to fear her, they went into the witch's house, and in
every corner there stood chests full of pearls and jewels.
“These are far better than pebbles!” said Hansel, and filled his
pockets, and Grethel said, “I, too, will take something home with me,”
and filled her pinafore.
“But now we will go away,” said Hansel, “that we may get out of the
witch's forest.” When they had walked for two hours, they came to a
great piece of water. “We cannot get over,” said Hansel; “I see no
foot-plank and no bridge.”
“And no boat crosses, either,” answered Grethel, “but a white duck is
swimming there; if I ask her, she will help us over.” Then she cried,--
“Little duck, little duck, dost thou see,
Hansel and Grethel are waiting for thee?
There's never a plank or bridge in sight,
Take us across on thy back so white.”
The duck came to them, and Hansel sat on its back, and told his sister
to sit by him.
“No,” replied Grethel, “that will be too heavy for the little duck; she
shall take us across, one after the other.”
The good little duck did so, and when they were once safely across and
had walked for a short time, they knew where they were, and at last they
saw from afar their father's house.
Then they began to run, rushed in, and threw themselves into their
father's arms. The man had not known one happy hour since he had left
the children in the forest; the woman, however, was dead. Grethel
emptied her pinafore until pearls and precious stones rolled about the
floor, and Hansel threw one handful after another out of his pocket
to add to them. Then all care was at an end, and they lived happily
together ever after.
My tale is done; there runs a mouse; whosoever catches it may make
himself a big fur cap out of it.
BURG HILL'S ON FIRE
A CELTIC FAIRY TALE
BY ELIZABETH W. GRIERSON (ADAPTED)
Once upon a time there was a rich farmer who had a thrifty wife. She
used to go out and gather all the little bits of wool which she could
find on the hillsides, and bring them home. Then, after her family had
gone to bed, she would sit up and card the wool and spin it into yarn,
then she would weave the yarn into cloth to make garments for her
children.
But all this work made her feel very tired, so that one night, sitting
at her loom, she laid down her shuttle and cried:--
“Oh, that some one would come from far or near, from land or sea, to
help me!”
No sooner had the words left her lips than she heard some one knocking
at the door.
“Who is there?” cried she.
“Tell Quary, good housewife,” answered a wee, wee voice. “Open the door
to me. As long as I have you'll get.”
She opened the door and there on the threshold stood a queer, little
woman, dressed in a green gown and wearing a white cap on her head.
The good housewife was so astonished that she stood and stared at her
strange visitor; but without a word the little woman ran past her, and
seated herself at the spinning-wheel.
The good housewife shut the door, but just then she heard another knock.
“Who is there?” said she.
“Tell Quary, good housewife. Open the door to me,” said another wee, wee
voice. “As long as I have you'll get.”
And when she opened the door there was another queer, little woman, in a
lilac frock and a green cap, standing on the threshold.
She, too, ran into the house without waiting to say, “By your leave,”
and picking up the distaff, began to put some wool on it.
Then before the housewife could get the door shut, a funny little
manikin, with green trousers and a red cap, came running in, and
followed the tiny women into the kitchen, seized hold of a handful of
wool, and began to card it. Another wee, wee woman followed him, and
then another tiny manikin, and another, and another, until it seemed
to the good housewife that all the fairies and pixies in Scotland were
coming into her house.
The kitchen was alive with them. Some of them hung the great pot over
the fire to boil water to wash the wool that was dirty. Some teased the
clean wool, and some carded it. Some spun it into yarn, and some wove
the yarn into great webs of cloth.
And the noise they made was like to make her head run round. “Splash!
splash! Whirr! whirr! Clack! clack!” The water in the pot bubbled over.
The spinning-wheel whirred. The shuttle in the loom flew backwards and
forwards.
And the worst of it was that all the Fairies cried out for something
to eat, and although the good housewife put on her griddle and baked
bannocks as fast as she could, the bannocks were eaten up the moment
they were taken off the fire, and yet the Fairies shouted for more.
At last the poor woman was so troubled that she went into the next room
to wake her husband. But although she shook him with all her might, she
could not wake him. It was very plain to see that he was bewitched.
Frightened almost out of her senses, and leaving the Fairies eating her
last batch of bannocks, she stole out of the house and ran as fast as
she could to the cottage of the Wise Man who lived a mile away.
She knocked at his door till he got up and put his head out of the
window, to see who was there; then she told him the whole story.
“Thou foolish woman,” said he, “let this be a lesson to thee never to
pray for things thou dost not need! Before thy husband can be loosed
from the spell the Fairies must be got out of the house and the
fulling-water, which they have boiled, must be thrown over him. Hurry
to the little hill that lies behind thy cottage, climb to the top of
it, and set the bushes on fire; then thou must shout three times: 'BURG
HILL'S ON FIRE!' Then will all the little Fairies run out to see if
this be true, for they live under the hill. When they are all out of the
cottage, do thou slip in as quickly as thou canst, and turn the kitchen
upside down. Upset everything the Fairies have worked with, else the
things their fingers have touched will open the door to them, and let
them in, in spite of thee.”
So the good housewife hurried away. She climbed to the top of the little
hill back of her cottage, set the bushes on fire, and cried out three
times as loud as she was able: “BURG HILL'S ON FIRE!”
And sure enough, the door of the cottage was flung wide open, and all
the little Fairies came running out, knocking each other over in their
eagerness to be first at the hill.
In the confusion the good housewife slipped away, and ran as fast as she
could to her cottage; and when she was once inside, it did not take her
long to bar the door, and turn everything upside down.
She took the band off the spinning-wheel, and twisted the head of the
distaff the wrong way. She lifted the pot of fulling-water off the fire,
and turned the room topsy-turvy, and threw down the carding-combs.
Scarcely had she done so, when the Fairies returned, and knocked at the
door.
“Good housewife! let us in,” they cried.
“The door is shut and bolted, and I will not open it,” answered she.
“Good spinning-wheel, get up and open the door,” they cried.
“How can I,” answered the spinning-wheel, “seeing that my band is
undone?”
“Kind distaff, open the door for us,” said they.
“That would I gladly do,” said the distaff, “but I cannot walk, for my
head is turned the wrong way.”
“Weaving-loom, have pity, and open the door.”
“I am all topsy-turvy, and cannot move,” sighed the loom.
“Fulling-water, open the door,” they implored.
“I am off the fire,” growled the fulling-water, “and all my strength is
gone.”
“Oh! Is there nothing that will come to our aid, and open the door?”
they cried.
“I will,” said a little barley-bannock, that had lain hidden, toasting
on the hearth; and it rose and trundled like a wheel quickly across the
floor.
But luckily the housewife saw it, and she nipped it between her finger
and thumb, and, because it was only half-baked, it fell with a “splatch”
on the cold floor.
Then the Fairies gave up trying to get into the kitchen, and instead
they climbed up by the windows into the room where the good housewife's
husband was sleeping, and they swarmed upon his bed and tickled him
until he tossed about and muttered as if he had a fever.
Then all of a sudden the good housewife remembered what the Wise Man had
said about the fulling-water. She ran to the kitchen and lifted a cupful
out of the pot, and carried it in, and threw it over the bed where her
husband was.
In an instant he woke up in his right senses. Then he jumped out of bed,
ran across the room and opened the door, and the Fairies vanished. And
they have never been seen from that day to this.
THE KING OF THE CATS
AN ENGLISH FOLK-TALE
BY ERNEST RHYS
Once upon a time there were two brothers who lived in a lonely house in
a very lonely part of Scotland. An old woman used to do the cooking,
and there was no one else, unless we count her cat and their own dogs,
within miles of them.
One autumn afternoon the elder of the two, whom we will call Elshender,
said he would not go out; so the younger one, Fergus, went alone to
follow the path where they had been shooting the day before, far across
the mountains.
He meant to return home before the early sunset; however, he did not do
so, and Elshender became very uneasy as he watched and waited in vain
till long after their usual supper-time. At last Fergus returned, wet
and exhausted, nor did he explain why he was so late.
But after supper when the two brothers were seated before the fire, on
which the peat crackled cheerfully, the dogs lying at their feet, and
the old woman's black cat sitting gravely with half-shut eyes on the
hearth between them, Fergus recovered himself and began to tell his
adventures.
“You must be wondering,” said he, “what made me so late. I have had a
very, very strange adventure to-day. I hardly know what to say about it.
I went, as I told you I should, along our yesterday's track. A mountain
fog came on just as I was about to turn homewards, and I completely lost
my way. I wandered about for a long time not knowing where I was, till
at last I saw a light, and made for it, hoping to get help.
“As I came near it, it disappeared, and I found myself close to an old
oak tree. I climbed into the branches the better to look for the light,
and, behold! there it was right beneath me, inside the hollow trunk of
the tree. I seemed to be looking down into a church, where a funeral was
taking place. I heard singing, and saw a coffin surrounded by torches,
all carried by--But I know you won't believe me, Elshender, if I tell
you!”
His brother eagerly begged him to go on, and threw a dry peat on the
fire to encourage him. The dogs were sleeping quietly, but the cat was
sitting up, and seemed to be listening just as carefully and cannily as
Elshender himself. Both brothers, indeed, turned their eyes on the cat
as Fergus took up his story.
“Yes,” he continued, “it is as true as I sit here. The coffin and the
torches were both carried by CATS, and upon the coffin were marked a
crown and a scepter!”
He got no farther, for the black cat started up, shrieking:--
“My stars! old Peter's dead, and I'm the King o' the Cats!”--Then rushed
up the chimney, and was seen no more.
THE STRANGE VISITOR
AN ENGLISH FOLK-TALE
BY JOSEPH JACOBS
A woman was sitting at her reel one night; and still she sat, and still
she reeled, and still she wished for company.
In came a pair of broad, broad soles, and sat down
at the fireside!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a pair of small, small legs, and sat down
on the broad, broad soles!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a pair of thick, thick knees, and sat down
on the small, small legs!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a pair of thin, thin thighs, and sat down
on the thick, thick knees!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a pair of huge, huge hips, and sat down
on the thin, thin thighs!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a wee, wee waist, and sat down on the
huge, huge hips!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a pair of broad, broad shoulders, and sat
down on the wee, wee waist!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a pair of small, small arms, and sat down
on the broad, broad shoulders!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a pair of huge, huge hands, and sat down
on the small, small arms!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a small, small neck, and sat down on the
broad, broad shoulders!
And still she sat, and still she reeled, and still she
wished for company.
In came a huge, huge head, and sat down on the
small, small neck!
. . . . . . . . .
“How did you get such broad, broad feet?” quoth the Woman.
“Much tramping, much tramping!” (GRUFFLY.)
“How did you get such small, small legs?” “AIH-H-H!--late--and
WEE-E-E-moul!” (WHININGLY.)
“How did you get such thick, thick knees?” “Much praying, much praying!”
(PIOUSLY.)
“How did you get such thin, thin thighs?” “Aih-h-h!--late--and
wee-e-e-moul!” (WHININGLY.)
“How did you get such big, big hips?” “Much sitting, much sitting!”
(GRUFFLY.)
“How did you get such a wee, wee waist?” “Aih-h-h!--late--and
wee-e-e-moul!” (WHININGLY.)
“How did you get such broad, broad shoulders?” “With carrying broom,
with carrying broom!” (GRUFFLY.)
“How did you get such small arms?” “Aih-h-h!--late--and wee-e-e-moul!”
(WHININGLY.)
“How did you get such huge, huge hands?” “Threshing with an iron flail!
Threshing with an iron flail!” (GRUFFLY.)
“How did you get such a small, small neck?” “Aih-h-h!--late--and
wee-e-e-moul!” (PITIFULLY.)
“How did you get such a huge, huge head?” “Much knowledge, much
knowledge!” (KEENLY.)
“What do you come for?” “FOR YOU!!!” (AT THE TOP OF THE VOICE, WITH A
WAVE OF THE ARMS AND A STAMP OF THE FEET.)
THE BENEVOLENT GOBLIN
FROM GESTA ROMANORUM (ADAPTED)
In the kingdom of England there is a hillock in the midst of a dense
wood. Thither in old days knights and their followers were wont to
repair when tired and thirsty after the chase. When one of their number
called out, “I thirst!” there immediately started up a Goblin with
a cheerful countenance, clad in a crimson robe, and bearing in his
outstretched hand a large drinking-horn richly ornamented with gold and
precious jewels, and full of the most delicious, unknown beverage.
The Goblin presented the horn to the thirsty knight, who drank and
instantly felt refreshed and cool. After the drinker had emptied the
horn, the Goblin offered a silken napkin to wipe the mouth. Then,
without waiting to be thanked, the strange creature vanished as suddenly
as he had come.
Now once there was a knight of churlish nature, who was hunting alone
in those parts. Feeling thirsty and fatigued, he visited the hillock and
cried out:--
“I thirst!”
Instantly the Goblin appeared and presented the horn.
When the knight had drained it of its delicious beverage, instead of
returning the horn, he thrust it into his bosom, and rode hastily away.
He boasted far and wide of his deed, and his feudal lord hearing thereof
caused him to be bound and cast into prison; then fearing lest he, too,
might become partaker in the theft and ingratitude of the knight, the
lord presented the jeweled horn to the King of England, who carefully
preserved it among the royal treasures. But never again did the
benevolent Goblin return to the hillock in the wood.
THE PHANTOM KNIGHT OF THE VANDAL CAMP
FROM GESTA ROMANORUM (ADAPTED)
There was once in Great Britain, a knight named Albert, strong in arms
and adorned with every virtue. One day as he was seeking for adventure,
he chanced to wander into a castle where he was hospitably entertained.
At night, after supper, as was usual in great families during the
winter, the household gathered about the hearth and occupied the time in
relating divers tales.
At last they told how in the near-by plain of Wandlesbury there was a
haunted mound. There in old days the Vandals, who laid waste the land
and slaughtered Christians, had pitched their camp and built about it a
great rampart. And it was further related that in the hush of the night,
if any one crossed the plain, ascended the mound, and called out in a
loud voice, “Let my adversary appear!” there immediately started up
from the ruined ramparts a huge, ghostly figure, armed and mounted for
battle. This phantom then attacked the knight who had cried out and
speedily overcame him.
Now, when Albert heard this marvelous tale, he greatly doubted its
truth, and was determined to put the matter to a test. As the moon
was shining brightly, and the night was quiet, he armed, mounted, and
immediately hastened to the plain of Wandlesbury, accompanied by a
squire of noble blood.
He ascended the mound, dismissed his attendant, and shouted:--
“Let my adversary appear!”
Instantly there sprang from the ruins a huge, ghostly knight completely
armed and mounted on an enormous steed.
This phantom rushed upon Albert, who spurred his horse, extended his
shield, and drove at his antagonist with his lance. Both knights were
shaken by the encounter. Albert, however, so resolutely and with so
strong an arm pressed his adversary that the latter was thrown violently
to the ground. Seeing this Albert hastily seized the steed of the fallen
knight, and started to leave the mound.
But the phantom, rising to his feet, and seeing his horse led away,
flung his lance and cruelly wounded Albert in the thigh. This done he
vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.
Our knight, overjoyed at his victory, returned in triumph to the castle,
where the household crowded around him and praised his bravery. But when
he put off his armor he found the cuish from his right thigh filled with
clots of blood from an angry wound in his side. The family, alarmed,
hastened to apply healing herbs and bandages.
The captured horse was then brought forward. He was prodigiously large,
and black as jet. His eyes were fierce and flashing, his neck proudly
arched, and he wore a glittering war-saddle upon his back.
As the first streaks of dawn began to appear, the animal reared wildly,
snorted as if with pain and anger, and struck the ground so furiously
with his hoofs that the sparks flew. The black cock of the castle crew
and the horse, uttering a terrible cry, instantly disappeared.
And every year, on the selfsame night, at the selfsame hour, the wounds
of the knight Albert broke out afresh, and tormented him with agony.
Thus till his dying day he bore in his body a yearly reminder of his
encounter with the Phantom Knight of the Vandal Camp.
THANKSGIVING DAY
(LAST THURSDAY IN NOVEMBER)
THE FIRST HARVEST-HOME IN PLYMOUTH
BY W. DE LOSS LOVE, JR (ADAPTED)
After prayer and fasting and a farewell feast, the Pilgrim Fathers left
the City of Leyden, and sought the new and unknown land. “So they lefte
ye goodly & pleasante citie,” writes their historian Bradford, “which
had been ther resting place near 12 years, but they knew they were
pilgrimes & looked not much on those things, but lift up their eyes to
ye Heavens their dearest cuntrie, and quieted their spirits.”
When, after many vexing days upon the deep, the pilgrims first sighted
the New World, they were filled with praise and thanksgiving. Going
ashore they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of Heaven. And
after that, whenever they were delivered from accidents or despair, they
gave God “solemne thanks and praise.” Such were the Pilgrims and such
their habit day by day.
The first winter in the New World was marked by great suffering and
want. Hunger and illness thinned the little colony, and caused many
graves to be made on the near-by hillside.
The spring of 1621 opened. The seed was sown in the fields. The
colonists cared for it without ceasing, and watched its growth with
anxiety; for well they knew that their lives depended upon a full
harvest.
The days of spring and summer flew by, and the autumn came. Never in
Holland or England had the Pilgrims seen the like of the treasures
bounteous Nature now spread before them. The woodlands were arrayed in
gorgeous colors, brown, crimson, and gold, and swarmed with game of all
kinds, that had been concealed during the summer. The little farm-plots
had been blessed by the sunshine and showers, and now plentiful crops
stood ready for the gathering. The Pilgrims, rejoicing, reaped the fruit
of their labors, and housed it carefully for the winter. Then, filled
with the spirit of thanksgiving, they held the first harvest-home in New
England.
For one whole week they rested from work, feasted, exercised their
arms, and enjoyed various recreations. Many Indians visited the colony,
amongst these their greatest king, Massasoit, with ninety of his braves.
The Pilgrims entertained them for three days. And the Indians went out
into the woods and killed fine deer, which they brought to the colony
and presented to the governor and the captain and others. So all made
merry together.
And bountiful was the feast. Oysters, fish and wild turkey, Indian
maize and barley bread, geese and ducks, venison and other savory meats,
decked the board. Kettles, skillets, and spits were overworked, while
knives and spoons, kindly assisted by fingers, made merry music on
pewter plates. Wild grapes, “very sweete and strong,” added zest to
the feast. As to the vegetables, why, the good governor describes them
thus:--
“All sorts of grain which our own land doth yield,
Was hither brought, and sown in every field;
As wheat and rye, barley, oats, beans, and pease
Here all thrive and they profit from them raise;
All sorts of roots and herbs in gardens grow,--
Parsnips, carrots, turnips, or what you'll sow,
Onions, melons, cucumbers, radishes,
Skirets, beets, coleworts and fair cabbages.”
Thus a royal feast it was the Pilgrims spread that first golden autumn
at Plymouth, a feast worthy of their Indian guests.
All slumbering discontents they smothered with common rejoicings. When
the holiday was over, they were surely better, braver men because they
had turned aside to rest awhile and be thankful together. So the exiles
of Leyden claimed the harvests of New England.