he said; "for I am hastening to see my mother."
Then the king took Hans into a room as large as a meadow where some of
all the seeds in the world was stored. There were lettuce-seeds, and
radish-seeds, flax-seeds and grains of rice, fine seeds of flowers and
small seeds of grass, all mixed and mingled till no two alike lay
together.
Hans had never seen so many seeds in all his life before; and when he
had looked at them the king bade him sort them, each kind to itself.
"The lettuce-seed must be here, and the radish-seed there; the
flax-seed in this corner and the grains of rice in another; the fine
seeds of flowers must be in their place, and the small seeds of grass
all ready for planting before you can pass through my kingdom and go
on your way," he said; and when he had spoken he went out of the room
and locked the door behind him.
Poor Hans! He sat down on the floor and cried--the tears rolled down
his cheeks I do assure you--for he said to himself:
"If I live to be a hundred years old I can never do this thing that
the king requires. I shall never see my mother or the good king, my
master, again."
How long he sat there, neither I nor anybody else can tell you, but by
and by he saw a little black ant creeping in through a crack in the
floor. Behind it came another and another, like soldiers marching; one
by one they came, till the whole floor was black with hundreds and
hundreds of the ant people.
"You helped us, and we have come to help you," they said; and they set
to work at once to sort the seed as the king required.
By the next day when the king came in to inquire how Hans was getting
on, the work was done. The lettuce-seed was here and the radish-seed
was there, the flax-seed in one corner, and the grains of rice in
another; the fine seeds of flowers were in their place and the small
seeds of grass were all ready for planting.
The king was astonished. He could scarcely believe his eyes; but he
would not let Hans go.
"Such a fine workman must do one other piece of work before he passes
through my kingdom," he said; and he took Hans out in the open country
and pointed to an orchard far away.
"Bring me one golden apple that grows in that orchard and you shall go
free," he said.
"Ah, what an easy task is this," said Hans, and he set off at once to
the orchard.
But, alack, when he had come to the orchard gate it was guarded by a
fiery dragon, the like of which he had never seen in all his life!
"Come and be devoured!" it cried, as Hans came into sight.
Poor Hans! He sat down by the roadside and held his head between his
hands and cried--the tears rolled down his cheeks I do assure you--for
he said to himself:
"If I go into the orchard I shall be eaten alive by the dragon, and if
I do not go I shall never see my mother or the good king, my master,
again."
How long he sat there, neither I nor anybody else can tell you, but by
and by he saw two birds flying through the air. Nearer and nearer they
came till at last they reached the spot where Hans sat and lighted at
his feet. And they were the very birds that Hans had helped. Their
wings had grown strong enough by this time to carry them wherever they
wanted to go and they flapped them joyfully as they cried:
"One good turn deserves another. You helped us, and we have come to
help you."
It was no trouble for them to fly into the orchard high above the
dragon's head; and almost before Hans knew they were gone they were
back again bringing with them the golden apple that the king desired.
He was astonished when Hans took it to him. He could scarcely believe
his eyes; but he would not let Hans go.
Instead he took a ring from his finger and threw it to the very bottom
of the sea.
"Go and fetch me that ring," he said, "and you shall be free as the
birds and the bees; but until it is upon my finger again you shall not
pass through my kingdom."
Poor Hans! He sat down on the seashore and cried--the tears rolled
down his cheeks I do assure you--for he said to himself:
"Who can do a task like this? I must either drown or stay here all the
days of my life. I shall never see my mother or the good king, my
master, again."
How long he sat there, neither I nor anybody else can tell you, but by
and by three little fishes came swimming to the shore.
"One good turn deserves another," they called, for they were the very
fish that Hans had thrown into the stream. "You helped us, and we have
come to help you."
Then down they went to the very bottom of the sea where the king's
ring lay. One of them took it in his mouth and so brought it safely to
Hans who ran with it to the king.
[Illustration: ONE OF THEM TOOK IT IN HIS MOUTH, AND SO BROUGHT IT
SAFELY TO HANS.]
And when the king saw the ring he knew that he must let Hans go; he
did not dare to keep him any longer.
So Hans mounted his horse and rode joyfully to his mother's home where
he stayed till the time came when he must return to the good king, his
master, which he did by another road.
He worked well and was happy serving his master faithfully, and making
friends with birds and beasts, all the days of his life; but never
again did he go to the wicked king's country. And I for one think he
showed his good sense by that.
THE GREAT WHITE BEAR
Once upon a time the tailor of Wraye and the tinker of Wraye went to
the king's fair together; and when they had seen all the sights that
were there they started home together well pleased with their day's
outing.
The sun was going down when they left the fair and when they came to
the Enchanted Wood through which they had to pass the moon was rising
over the hill. And a fine full moon it was, so bright that the night
was almost as light as day.
"There are some people who would not venture in this wood at night
even when the moon is shining," said the tinker; "but as for me I do
not know what fear is."
"Nor I," said the tailor. "I would that every one had as stout a heart
as mine."
And it was just then that Grandmother Grey's old white sheep that had
wandered into the wood that eve came plodding through the bushes.
"Goodness me! What is that?" said the tinker clutching his companion's
arm.
"A bear!" cried the tailor casting one frightened glance toward the
bushes. "A great white bear! Run, run for your life."
And run they did! The tailor was small and the tinker was tall, but it
was a close race between them, up hill and down hill, and into the
town.
"A bear, a great white bear!" they called as they ran; and everybody
they met took up the cry: "A bear, a bear!" till the whole town was
roused.
The mayor and his wife, the shoemaker and his daughter, the butcher,
the baker, the candlestick-maker, the blacksmith and the miller's
son--indeed, to make a long story short, everybody who was awake in
the town of Wraye--came hurrying out of their houses to hear what the
matter was. There was soon as large a crowd as went to church on
Sunday gathered about the two friends; and the tailor and the tinker
talked as fast as they had run, to tell their thrilling tale.
"We were just coming through the wood," said the tailor, "when there,
as close to us as the shoemaker is to the blacksmith, we saw----"
"A terrible creature," interrupted the tinker. "'Tis as large as a
calf, I assure you----"
"And white as the mayor's shirt," cried the tailor. "It is a marvel
that we escaped and if it had not been that I----"
"I saw it first," said the tinker; "but I stood my ground. I did not
run till the tailor did."
The two would have been willing to talk till morning had not all the
others determined to go to the wood at once and kill the bear.
[Illustration: "A BEAR!" CRIED THE TAILOR.]
"I cannot answer for the safety of the town till it is done," said the
mayor; so every one ran for a weapon as fast as his feet could carry
him.
The mayor brought his long sword that the king had given him, and the
carpenter a hatchet, the blacksmith took his hammer, and the miller's
son a gun; and the rest of the men whatever they could put their hands
on.
The women went, too, with mops and brooms to drive the bear away
should he run toward the town; and one little boy who had waked up in
the stir followed after them with stones in his hands.
They very soon came to the wood, and then the question was who should
go first.
"Let the tinker and the tailor lead the way," said the mayor, "and we
will come close after."
"Oh, no, if you please, your honor," said the tinker and the tailor
speaking at the very same time. "That will never do. We cannot think
of going before you."
"I will go first if the mayor will lend me his sword," said the
shoemaker.
"Aye, aye, let the shoemaker go," cried some.
"No, no, 'tis the mayor's place. The king gave the sword to him," said
others.
"I could kill the bear while you are talking about it," said the
miller's son.
Every one had something to say, but at last it was all settled and the
miller's son with the mayor's sword by his side and his own gun in his
hand was just slipping into the wood when out walked the old white
sheep!
"Baa, baa," she cried, as if to ask, "Pray tell me what the stir's
about. Baa, baa!"
"A sheep, a sheep, a great white sheep!" cried the miller's son; and
then how the people of Wraye did laugh!
They laughed and they laughed and they laughed, so loud and so long
that their laughter was heard all the way to the king's fair and set
the people to laughing there.
But whether the tailor and the tinker laughed or not, I do not know.
THE SONG THAT TRAVELED
One day when all the world was gay with spring a king stood at a
window of his palace and looked far out over his kingdom. And because
his land was fair to see, and he was a young king, and his heart was
happy, he made a song for himself and sang it loud and merrily:
"The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright,
And blue the cloudless sky;
And not a bird that sings in spring
Is happier than I, than I,
Is happier than I."
Now it chanced that a ploughboy at work in a field hard by the palace
heard the king's song and caught the words and the air of it.
He was young and happy and as he followed his plough across the dewy
field, and thought of the corn that would grow, by and by, in the
furrows it made, and of his little black and white pig that would
feed and grow fat on the corn, he sang:
"The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright,
And blue the cloudless sky;
And not a bird that sings in spring
Is happier than I, than I,
Is happier than I."
"A right merry song, Robin Ploughboy," called the goose-girl who
tended the farmer's geese in the next field; and she leaned on the
fence that divided the two, and sang with him, for she was as happy a
lass as ever lived in the king's country.
The farmer's wife had given her a goose for her very own that day, and
the goose had made a nest in the alder bushes. There was already one
egg in it and soon there would be more. Then she would send them to
market; and when they were sold she would buy a ribbon for her hair.
It was no wonder that she felt like singing:
"The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright,
And blue the cloudless sky;
And not a bird that sings in spring
Is happier than I, than I,
Is happier than I."
The chapman,[5] from whom she bought her ribbon in all good time,
learned the king's song from her; and as he trudged along the king's
highway with his pack upon his back he, too, sang it; for there is no
better weather for peddling or singing, either, than that which comes
in the spring.
[Footnote 5: A peddler.]
A soldier just home from the wars, and glad enough to be there, had
the song from the chapman; and in turn he taught it to a sailor who
took it to sea with him.
The sailor was going to the far countries, but if all went well with
his ship, and with him, he would be at home in time to see the
hawthorn bloom in his mother's yard another year and another spring.
[Illustration: SHE LEANED ON THE FENCE THAT DIVIDED THE TWO.]
He kept the song in his heart for a year and a day, and then, because
nothing had gone amiss and he was homeward bound, he sang it, too:
"The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright,
And blue the cloudless sky;
And not a bird that sings in spring
Is happier than I, than I,
Is happier than I."
On the sailor's ship there was a minstrel bound for the king's court
to sing on May Day; and the minstrel learned the song from the sailor.
He was a young minstrel and very proud to sing at the king's festival,
so when it was his turn and he stood before the throne he could think
of no better song to sing than:
"The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright,
And blue the cloudless sky;
And not a bird that sings in spring
Is happier than I, than I,
Is happier than I."
Now the king had been so busy about the affairs of his kingdom
deciding this question and that, sending messengers here and there,
and listening to one and another, as all kings must do, that he had
forgotten the song which he had made. But when he heard the minstrel
it all came back to him; and then he was puzzled.
"Good minstrel," said he, "ten golden guineas I will give you for your
song, and to the ten will add ten more if you will tell me where you
learned it."
"An easy matter that," said the minstrel. "The sailor who rides in yon
white ship in your harbor taught it to me."
"The soldier who even now stands guard at your majesty's gate gave me
the song," said the sailor when he was asked.
"I had it from the chapman who travels on the king's highway," said
the soldier.
"I heard the little goose-girl sing it," said the chapman when they
found him.
"'Tis Robin Ploughboy's song," laughed the goose-girl. "Go ask him
about it."
"The king sang it first and I next," said the ploughboy.
Then the king knew that he had made a good song that everybody with a
happy heart might sing; and because he was glad of this, he stood at
his window and sang again:
[Illustration: Music]
THE SONG THAT TRAVELED
Words, MAUD LINDSAY
Music, ELSIE A. MERRIMAN
_Allegretto_
The hawthorn's white, the sun is bright, And blue the cloud-less
sky; . And not a bird that sings in spring Is
hap-pi-er than I, than I, Is hap-pi-er than I. . .
THE QUEST FOR THE NIGHTINGALE[6]
Oh, who would go to fairyland?
The moon is shining bright, oh,
And who would go to fairyland
Upon a summer's night, oh!
Across a field of fragrant fern
All sparkling with the dew, oh!
Come trip it light to fairyland
And I will go with you, oh!
To fairyland, to fairyland,
Who seeks may find the way, oh,
And we shall see the fairies dance
Before the break of day, oh!
[Footnote 6: I am indebted to one William Shakespeare, whose intimate
acquaintance with fairyland none can dispute, for the name
"Pease-Blossom"; to Joseph Rodman Drake for the idea of my story; and
to some of the folk tales which suggested to me one or two of
Pease-Blossom's adventures.]
In the deepest dell of the Enchanted Wood, where the moss grew the
greenest and the violets bloomed the sweetest, the fairies lived.
It was they who kept the brooks and the springs free from dirt or
clog, and tended the wild flowers and watched over the young trees.
And they were friends with all the harmless birds and beasts from
wood's end to wood's end.
But for those creatures that work harm to others, and for the goblins
who delight in mischief they had no love, and every day and every
night a watch was set to drive them from the fairy dell.
Each fay in turn kept guard and all went well till one evening when
Pease-Blossom, the best-loved fairy in the dell, fell asleep at his
post and the goblins stole away the nightingale that sang each night
at the queen's court.
Great was the sorrow in fairyland when this was known.
"I will fly to catch them before they have had time to hide her away,"
cried a fay whose name was Quick-As-Lightning.
"I will go, too," said little Twinkle-Toes.
"And I, three," said Spice-of-Life; "and my good thorn sword with me,
which will make four against them."
But the fairy queen would not consent to this.
"Pease-Blossom in his trust did fail;
And he must seek the nightingale,"
she said; and no sooner had she spoken than the little fay bade his
companions good-bye and hastened out upon his quest alone.
The goblins had left no trace behind them and Pease-Blossom wandered
hither and thither over dewy fells and fields asking of every piping
cricket and brown winged bat he met: "Passed the goblins this way?"
No one could aid him, and he was ready to drop from weariness and
sorrow when the moon came over the hill and called:
"Whither away, Pease-Blossom? Whither away?"
"In quest of the nightingale that the goblins have stolen; but where
they have taken her I cannot find," answered the little fay sadly.
Then said the moon: "Many a nightingale there is in the wide world,
both free and caged, and how may I know yours from any other? But this
I can tell you: through a window in the castle of the Great Giant,
which stands upon a high hill beside the Silver Sea, I spy a
nightingale in a golden cage which was not there when I shone through
that same window yester eve; and moreover, at the World's End, which
is beyond the Giant's castle, I see a band of goblins counting money."
"A thousand thanks to you, oh moon," cried Pease-Blossom joyfully when
he heard this; for he could put two and two together as well as any
fay in fairyland, and he did not doubt that the goblins had sold the
nightingale to the Great Giant.
"I shall be at the castle before you shine in the dell," he called to
the moon as he flew swift as a humming bird through the air.
But when he reached the hedge of thorns that guarded the palace of a
lovely princess who was next neighbor to the Giant, he tripped against
a candle-fly that was hurrying to an illumination in the palace, and
tumbled headlong into the thorns.
"Help! help!" he cried as he struggled to get free, and a night-hawk
that was out in a search of a supper flew down to see what the matter
was.
"Oh, ho!" said he when he saw who it was. "Fairy folk like to have all
things their way, but 'tis my turn now to have a little fun."
And he plucked Pease-Blossom from out the thorns and flew away with
him in his bill.
Up and down, so high that the trees below looked no taller than corn
stalks, and so low that their branches brushed his wings, he flew,
till Pease-Blossom was faint from dizziness.
"See what a great moth the hawk has in his bill," cried an owl that
they passed.
"'Tis no moth but a bug," said a whip-poor-will.
"Such an enormous gnat should make a meal for two," whispered a
brother hawk, flying close.
"Simpleton! Do you not know a fairy when you see one?" said the
night-hawk who could keep quiet no longer.
But no sooner had he opened his bill to speak his very first word than
out tumbled Pease-Blossom.
The other hawk made haste to catch the fay but before he could reach
him a fine breeze came blowing by.
"Is this not my little playmate, Pease-Blossom, who likes so well to
ride on the grasses and rock in the flowers?" asked the breeze; and it
whisked the little fairy away and bore him along so fast that no bird
could keep up with him.
They were at the Silver Sea in the twinkling of a star, and
Pease-Blossom was just beginning to think that his troubles were
ended, when the breeze died away as quickly as it had come, and the
little fay found himself in the sea before he knew what was happening.
Fortunately for him a great tarpon fish came swimming by just then.
"Catch fast hold of my tail, and I will take you safely to shore,"
said he; and Pease-Blossom lost no time in doing as he was bid.
Ugh! How salty the water was and how the billows roared as the fish
plunged through them, sending the white spray far above his head!
Poor Pease-Blossom was more dead than alive when they reached the
shore, but as soon as he had gotten his breath again he said to his
new friend:
"If you will come with me to fairyland you may swim in a stream as
clear as glass. There is no salt in it, and no rough waves and every
fairy in the dell will guard you from harm."
"Water without salt! I cannot imagine it," said the great tarpon. "And
no waves! Why, I should die of homesickness there."
So when Pease-Blossom saw that there was nothing he could do for him,
he thanked him kindly, and turned his steps to the Giant's castle
which stood on a high hill close beside the sea just as the moon had
said.
But Pease-Blossom's wings were so wet and so weary that though he
tried once, twice, and thrice he could not fly to the lowest window
ledge of the castle; and what he would have done nobody knows had not
a chimney-swift who was out late from home flown by just then.
She lived in the castle chimney and when she heard what the little fay
wanted she offered to carry him to her nest.
"Once there all will be easy," she said; "for there is no better way
to get into the castle than through the chimney."
So Pease-Blossom seated himself between the swift's wings, and up they
went to the top of the chimney and then down through the opening to
the swift's home, which looked as if it were only half of a nest
fastened against the wall.
"If you will come with me to fairyland," said Pease-Blossom when he
saw this, "you shall have the greenest tree in the wood for your home.
And the fairies will help you to build a whole nest there."
But the swift only laughed at him. "There is no better place than a
chimney to raise young birds. I should be uneasy about them every
minute in a tree. And as for a whole nest, I don't know what you
mean," said she.
And when Pease-Blossom saw that she was well content with her home, he
thanked her and bade her good-bye, and began his climb down the
chimney.
There was no light to show him the way except the little that the moon
sent through the opening high above the swift's nest; and on all
sides of the little fay were the straight narrow walls of the chimney,
covered with black soot. He clung to them as closely as a lichen to a
rock, putting his little toes into every crack and holding fast to the
bits of cement that jutted out here and there from the bricks. If he
rustled a wing he brought down a shower of soot upon himself, and when
at last he stood in the Giant's room, he was as black as any goblin.
He had no time to think of himself though, for there asleep in the
golden cage which the moon had seen was the queen's nightingale. There
was no mistaking her, for there was a tiny feather missing from the
tip of her right wing, and that missing feather was in Pease-Blossom's
Sunday cap hanging in an alder bush in the fairy dell that very
minute.
The Giant was asleep, too, but the golden cage was on a table close
beside him, so close that poor Pease-Blossom, whose wings were not
improved by the soot from the chimney, could not reach it without
climbing upon the Giant's bed.
He was as careful as he could be, but no sooner had he stepped upon
the bed than he touched one of the Giant's toes; and the Giant gave a
great start.
"What is the matter?" called his wife.
"Oh, nothing," said he; "I only dreamed that a little mouse was
tickling my toes;" and he fell asleep again.
Pease-Blossom did not dare to move till he heard him breathing
heavily. Then, tiptoe across the counterpane he went, taking care at
every step; but in spite of his care his wings brushed against one of
the Giant's hands; and the Giant gave a great start.
"What is the matter?" called his wife.
"Oh, nothing," said he; "I only dreamed that a little leaf fell on my
hand;" and he closed his eyes, and turned over on his side and was
soon asleep.
Pease-Blossom was close under the cage by this time, but so tall was
the table on which it was, and so small was he that, to reach the
door, he was forced to stand on the Giant's head.
Light as thistle-down were his feet, but no sooner had the Giant felt
their tread than he gave a great start, and lifting his hand struck
himself a tremendous blow upon his forehead. Pease-Blossom would have
been crushed to death had he not managed to spring, just at that
instant, to the edge of the cage, where he stood trembling.
"What is the matter?" called the Giant's wife.
"Oh, nothing," said he; "I only dreamed that a fly lighted on my
forehead," and he was soon breathing heavily again.
The nightingale, who was not used to sleeping at night, anyway, was
wide awake by this time, but when she saw Pease-Blossom she did not
know him, so black was he.
"Do you not remember the fairy dell and the little fay to whom you
gave a feather for his cap?" said Pease-Blossom then; and when the
nightingale heard that, she was so overjoyed that she could scarcely
keep from bursting into song.
To open the cage door was only a minute's work and the nightingale was
soon as free as air. Pease-Blossom seated himself upon her back and
she was just ready to fly through an open window near by when the
giant waked up in real earnest and saw the open cage.