that wicked horn from your lips. I would rather give up half my kingdom
than take another flighty trip. You are a wonderful lad and the best of
rabbit keepers. The reward is yours.”
In a short time there was a beautiful wedding at the palace. Olaf had
won the princess.
THE LEAPING MATCH
A flea, a grasshopper, and a frog once wanted to see which one of them
could jump the highest. So they made a festival and invited the whole
world and everybody else besides, who would like to come, to see the
frolic. When the people assembled to see the contest they all admitted
that these three famous jumpers were indeed well worth seeing.
“I will give the princess, my daughter, to the one who can jump the
highest,” said the king. “The champion in such a trial of skill must be
rewarded.”
The flea was the first to come forward. His manners were perfect and he
bowed to the company on every side, for noble blood flowed in his veins;
and, besides, he had been accustomed to associating with human beings,
which was much to his advantage.
[Illustration]
The grasshopper came next. The green uniform, which he always wore, set
off his figure very well. He carried himself with great dignity, for he
belonged to a very old Egyptian family, he said, and was highly thought
of in the house in which he lived.
In fact when he was brought out of the fields he was put into a card
house, three stories high. The colored sides of the cards were turned in
and the doors and windows were cut out of the Queen of Hearts. “It was
built on purpose for me,” he said, “and I sing so well that sixteen
crickets who had chirped all their life, and still had no card house to
live in, were so angry at hearing me that they grew thinner than they
ever had been before.”
In this way the flea and the grasshopper went on with their long
praises, each thinking himself quite an excellent match for the
princess.
The frog said nothing, but his silence only made the people think he
knew a great deal, and the house dog who sniffed at him walked away with
an air of approval.
The old counselor who had issued three orders for keeping quiet, said at
last, that the frog was a prophet, for one could tell from his back
whether the coming winter would be severe or mild. Such wisdom could
never be gained from the back of the man who writes almanacs.
“I shall say nothing,” said the king, “but I have my own opinion; for I
see everything.”
And now the leaping match began. The flea jumped first. He jumped so
high that no one could see what had become of him. So the people said he
did not jump at all. How shameful it was of him after all his boasting!
The grasshopper jumped only half as high; but he jumped right into the
king’s face. This act the king thought extremely rude.
The frog stood still for a long time; some began to think that he did
not mean to jump at all.
“Perhaps he’s ill,” said the house dog; so he went up to sniff at the
frog again; when “pop” he made a side jump which landed him right into
the lap of the princess, who was sitting on a little golden stool.
“There is nothing in the world higher than my daughter,” called out the
king. “The frog has made the highest jump that can be made. Only one who
has a good mind could have done anything so clever as that.” And so the
leaping frog won the princess.
“I jumped the highest,” said the flea, “in spite of what the king said,
but the decision does not matter to me. The princess may have that
heavy, stiff-legged, ugly creature if he’s to her taste. Dullness and
heaviness win in this stupid world. I’m too light and airy.” So the flea
went into foreign lands.
The grasshopper sat down upon a green bank and thought about the world
and its ways. “Yes,” he said to himself, “dullness and heaviness do win
in this stupid world. People care most about fine looks nowadays.” Then
he began to sing in the grasshopper way; and from his song we have taken
this little story.
[Illustration]
THE CLEVER TURTLE
A turtle lay upon a large rock sunning himself. His eyes were turned
toward the palace of the king which overlooked the beautiful river. He
could hear the merry voices of the little princes playing in the royal
courtyard.
“What happy times they have!” thought the turtle. “I have heard that
there is a lovely little lake in the princes’ playground, where they
have fine fun, swimming and sailing tiny boats. How dull it is living
out here on the rocks! I’m sure I should be happier if I lived in a
royal courtyard.”
At that moment the turtle was startled by the voices of two men who were
carrying fishing nets and large buckets to the river. He slipped under
the rock and lay very still and listened.
“You see,” said one of the men, “we are to put the fishes into the
courtyard lake and surprise the young princes. His majesty, the king,
heard them wish that fishes swam in their lake, and he decided to
surprise them.”
“How happy they will be in the morning!” replied the other man. “Come,
let us climb to the edge of these rocks and throw our nets into the
river. Then we will draw them in, empty the fishes into those buckets,
and carry them to the courtyard lake this evening.”
When the turtle heard that some of his neighbors were to live in the
royal courtyard, he was very jealous indeed!
“Fishes are such stupid creatures!” he said to himself. “How much more
delight a turtle would give those young princes. I’ll not live on this
rock any longer. I’ll slip very quietly into one of those buckets, and
the men will carry me into the royal courtyard. They will never notice
me. Fishes for the delight of royalty! It is absurd!”
The next morning the little princes took their sailboats and ran to the
lake in the courtyard.
“See, see!” cried one of them. “Our wish has come true! There are fishes
swimming about in the water. Oh, what fun?”
“Come away! Come, come, brother!” shouted the other little prince in
terror. “See, there is a demon on the bank! Perhaps the fishes belong to
him! Come!”
To the turtle’s great surprise off ran the lads, crying out, “A demon
has come to live on the bank of our lake!”
When the king saw how frightened the princes were, he ordered an
attendant to capture the demon and bring him to the palace. So, before
the poor turtle could make up his mind what to do, he was caught and
brought before the king.
“How shall we kill him?” asked an attendant.
“Throw him into the fire,” said one.
“Drop a large rock on his head and crush him,” said another.
“Oh, that would not do,” said one of the princes. “See! He has pulled
his head inside that shell back of his. Perhaps his back is too strong
to be crushed by a rock.”
“I have it,” said an old servant who was afraid of the water, “let us
fling him over the rocks into the river. Then he will be swept away into
the sea and drowned.”
In a twinkling out came the turtle’s head.
“My friends,” he said, “pray do not throw me into the river that flows
to the great wide sea! Of all your plans to punish me, that is the
worst! Burn me, or crush me if you will, but do not throw me into the
river that flows to the great wide sea! I shudder at the thought of it.”
“Take the demon to the rocks and throw him into the river,” said the
king.
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the turtle when he whirled about in the water and
swam back to the friendly rocks where he had lived so long.
ROBIN GOODFELLOW
[Illustration]
From Oberon, in fairy land,
The king of ghosts and shadows there,
Mad Robin, I, at his command,
Am sent to view the night sports here.
What revel rout
Is kept about
In every corner where I go,
I will o’ersee
And merry be,
And make good sport, with ho, ho, ho!
More swift than lightning can I fly
About this airy welkin soon;
And, in a minute’s space, descry
Each thing that’s done below the moon.
There’s not a hag
Or ghost shall wag
Or cry, ‘ware goblins! where I go;
But, Robin, I,
Their feats will spy
And send them home with ho, ho, ho!
Whene’er such wanderers I meet,
As from their night sports they trudge home,
With counterfeiting voice I greet,
And call them on with me to roam;
Through woods, through lakes,
Through bogs, through brakes,
Or else, unseen, with them I go,
All in the nick
To play some trick,
And frolic it, with ho, ho, ho!
Sometimes I meet them like a man,
Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound;
And to a horse I turn me can,
To trip and trot about them round.
But if to ride,
My back they stride,
More swift than wind away I go,
O’er hedge and lands
Through pools and ponds
I hurry laughing, ho, ho, ho!
By wells and rills in meadows green
We nightly dance our heyday guise;
And to our fairy King and Queen
We chant our moonlight minstrelsies.
When larks ‘gin sing
Away we fling;
And babes new born steal as we go;
And elf in bed,
We leave instead,
And wend us, laughing ho, ho, ho!
From hag-bred Merlin’s time have I
Thus nightly revel’d to and fro;
And for my pranks men call me by
The name of Robin Goodfellow.
Fiends, ghosts, and sprites
Who haunt the nights,
The hags and goblins do me know;
And beldames old
My feats have told,
So _vale, vale_, ho, ho, ho!
MERLIN’S CRAG
One evening the master of a fine estate and a farm laborer were walking
over the fields. The master said, “To-morrow I want the peat cut from
yonder crag, which rises at the end of the moorland.”
“Do you mean Merlin’s Crag, master?” asked the laborer.
“You have been here but a short time. How did you learn that name?” said
the master in surprise.
“One of the old servants told me about it, sir. He said that long, long
ago an enchanter named Merlin lived there. And, master, there is a
haunted cave under the crag where—”
“Nonsense! Pay no attention to the stories servants tell, but see to it
that the peat is cut to-morrow,” said the owner impatiently.
The next afternoon the laborer began to cut the peat which covered the
curiously shaped crag. He was about to lift up a piece of turf when,
suddenly, there appeared before him the daintiest little creature he had
ever seen. She was twelve inches tall and was dressed in a gown of
sparkling green. She wore red stockings and dainty red sandals with
jeweled buckles. On her head was a tiny, dazzling coronet. Her lovely
golden hair rippled down under the crown and over her shoulders.
The laborer stopped his work and in amazement gazed silently at this
exquisite little queen. She raised her tiny wand in warning and said in
a silvery small voice:
“Now tell me, pray, what would you think if I should send one of my
people to unroof your home? I am out of patience with you mortals! I am,
indeed. You are selfish creatures. You do anything that pleases you and
you consider no one but yourselves.” Here she stamped her tiny sandaled
foot and continued, “Now listen to me! Put back that turf this instant,
or I declare you shall rue the day that you disturbed the roof of
Merlin’s Crag.” Then she vanished.
The poor bewildered laborer could hardly believe his senses. He put back
the turf exactly where it belonged, took up his spade, and went back to
his master.
“Why, where is the peat?” began the landlord.
“O master,” said the poor man, “the fairies live in Merlin’s Crag! I
have seen the queen, and she warned me not to take the turf from the
top. May I cut the peat from the other side of the moor?”
“What do you mean? I believe your senses are wandering, or you would not
say such stupid things,” replied the master. “Go back immediately and
cut all the peat from Merlin’s Crag. Even if the old wizard himself
appears, you must do as I command.”
The poor laborer was obliged to obey, so he went back to the crag and
cut the peat. His heart beat very fast, for every minute he expected the
fairy to reappear and upbraid him, but strange to say, nothing of the
kind happened.
Exactly one year from the day when the peat was cut from the top of
Merlin’s Crag, the laborer started on his way home across the fields.
The master had given him a present of a can of milk and some cheese for
his wife and children; so he whistled a merry tune as he hurried along.
In the distance he noticed the queerly-shaped outline of Merlin’s Crag
against a pale amber sky and his thoughts wandered back to the day one
year ago. How strange that he had never again seen the exquisite little
fairy! What a funny threat she had made! As he drew near the crag he
began to feel strangely tired. He seemed to drag his leaden feet, and
his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.
“I must rest a bit,” he thought. “How long the road seems this evening!”
So he sat down in a shadow near the crag and fell into a deep sleep.
When he awoke, the soft silvery moonlight flooded the fields, and he
heard distinctly the village bell striking the midnight hour. Then there
floated to his ears the happiest ripple of laughter. He rubbed his eyes
and aroused himself. He heard a sweet, small voice singing:
“Come, follow, follow me
Ye fairy elves that be,
Which circle on the green,
Come follow Mab, your queen;
Hand in hand, let’s dance around,
For the place is fairy ground.”
And a fairy chorus answered:
“O’er tops of dewy grass
So nimbly do we pass,
The young and tender stalk
Ne’er bends when we do walk;
Yet in the morning may be seen
Where we the night before have been.”
Ringed about him was a host of dainty fairies singing and dancing, and
laughing and pointing wee elfin fingers at him as if he were the
funniest object in the whole world. What could it all mean?
[Illustration]
He determined to break through their circle and make for home, but, when
he rose and tried to walk away, the magic green ring and the dancing
fairies accompanied him and held him prisoner. How the wee folks enjoyed
his dilemma! They fairly shrieked with laughter. In a little while the
queen, whom he had met before, danced forward and said slyly, “Wilt thou
not tread a measure, O mortal? Come, thou mayest have our loveliest
maiden for a partner. Join our sport, do. Then thou wilt not be so eager
to depart.”
She waved her wand to the circle of fairies, and a charming little
creature flitted up to him. Before the poor man realized what was
happening the wee dancer took one of his fingers in each of her tiny
hands and away they went, swinging, whirling, waltzing about in the
gayest manner. The little people shrieked again and again with elfin
laughter at the sight of this strange couple treading a measure. All
night long the merriment continued.
Finally the moon set behind the dark crag, and rosy streaks broke
through the gray curtain in the east. Then the queen held up her tiny
wand and said, “Come, the cock is welcoming the dawn.” She led the way
and the other fairies forced our friend to accompany them. As she drew
near the crag a mysterious door opened and the fairies trooped through
into a beautiful hall carpeted with velvet moss and dimly lighted by
glow-worms. On tiny couches the wee people soon fell asleep. Our friend
the countryman sat on a fragment of rock in the corner of the hall.
When the fairies woke each went, about some special task. Some mixed
wonderful colors for flower petals, birds’ eggs, and delicate shells,
others powdered gold dust for pollen and spun gossamer threads, while
still others mixed the most delicious odors for violets, wild roses, and
hyacinths.
The countryman was so charmed with the sight that he desired nothing
more than the joy of watching these elfin people forever. Toward evening
the queen touched his arm with her wand and said,
“Your punishment is over.”
“What do you mean?” asked our friend.
She replied, “The turf you cut from the roof of Merlin’s Crag has grown
again. Once more the roof of our hall is whole. You may go back to your
friends now. But first you must take a solemn oath that you will never
disclose to mortal ears where you have been, or what you have seen. Do
you promise?”
“I promise,” said the countryman.
Then the fairy led the way to the cave’s door which opened of its own
accord, and he passed out into the fields.
As he made his way to the village, he noticed that the people looked at
him in astonishment. When he reached his cottage his wife, who came to
the door, drew back in fear and wonder.
“Is it indeed you, my husband?” she cried out. “Where have you been so
long?”
“So long?” the dazed countryman echoed. “So long? What do you mean? I
don’t understand. Where are the children?”
“There they are,” said his wife, pointing to a well-grown boy and girl.
“You have been gone from us seven years. No wonder you do not know us.”
“Seven years!” he exclaimed. “Seven years do you say? Let me think.”
Then suddenly he knew what the fairy queen meant by his punishment. He
had been imprisoned seven long years by the wee folk of fairyland.
He was besieged with questions when the village people learned about his
return, but he shook his head and said nothing.
He never explained the mystery of his long absence, but many noticed
that there was one name which always made him hasten to change the
subject, and that name was—Merlin’s Crag.
THE STORY OF LI’L’ HANNIBAL
Once on a time, ‘way down South, there lived a little boy named
Hannibal, Li’l’ Hannibal. He lived along with his gran’mammy and his
gran’daddy in a li’l’ one-story log cabin that was set right down in a
cotton field. Well, from morning until night, Li’l’ Hannibal’s
gran’mammy kept him toting things. As soon as he woke up in the morning
it was:
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, fetch a pine knot and light the kitchen fire.”
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, fetch the teakettle to the well and get some water
for the tea.”
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, mix a li’l’ hoecake for your gran’daddy’s
brea’fus’.”
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, take the bunch of turkeys’ feathers and dust the
ashes off the hearth.”
And from morning until night, Li’l’ Hannibal’s gran’daddy kept him
toting things, too.
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal,” his gran’daddy would say, “fetch the corn and feed
the turkeys.”
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, take your li’l’ ax and chop some lightwood for
gran’mammy’s fire.”
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, run ‘round to the store and buy a bag of flour.”
“Oh, Li’l’ Hannibal, fetch your basket and pick a li’l’ cotton off the
edge of the field.”
So they kept poor little Hannibal toting ‘most all day long, and he had
only four or five hours to play.
Well, one morning when Li’l’ Hannibal woke up, he made up his mind to
something. Before they could ask him to light the kitchen fire, or fill
the teakettle, or mix the hoecake, or dust the hearth, or feed the
turkeys, or chop any wood, or go to the store, or pick any cotton, he
had made up his mind that he was not going to tote for his gran’mammy
and his gran’daddy any longer. He was going to run away!
So Li’l’ Hannibal got out of bed very quietly. He put on his li’l’
trousers, and his li’l’ shirt, and his li’l’ suspenders, and his li’l’
shoes—he never wore stockings. He pulled his li’l’ straw hat down tight
over his ears, and then Li’l’ Hannibal ran away!
He went down the road past all the cabins. He went under the fence and
across the cotton fields. He went through the pine grove past the
schoolhouse, stooping down low—so the schoolmistress couldn’t see
him—and then he went ‘way, ‘way off into the country.
When he was a long way from town, Li’l’ Hannibal met a possum loping
along by the edge of the road, and the possum stopped and looked at
Li’l’ Hannibal.
“How do? Where you goin’, Li’l’ Hannibal?” asked the possum.
Li’l’ Hannibal sat down by the side of the road and took off his straw
hat to fan himself, for he felt quite warm, and he said,
“I done run away, Br’er Possum, my gran’mammy and my gran’daddy kept me
totin’, totin’ for them all the time. I don’t like to work, Br’er
Possum.”
“Po’ Li’l’ Hannibal!” said the possum, sitting up and scratching
himself. “Any special place you bound for?”
“I don’t reckon so,” said Li’l’ Hannibal, for he was getting tired, and
he had come away without any breakfast.
“You come along with me, Li’l’ Hannibal,” said the possum; “I reckon I
kin take you somewhere.”
So the possum and Li’l’ Hannibal went along together, the possum loping
along by the side of the road and Li’l’ Hannibal going very slowly in
the middle of the road, for his shoes were full of sand and it hurt his
toes. They went on and on until they came, all at once, to a sort of
open space in the woods and then they stopped. There was a big company
there—Br’er Rabbit and Br’er Partridge, and Br’er Jay Bird and Br’er
Robin, and Ol’ Miss Guinea Hen.
“Here’s po’ Li’l’ Hannibal come to see you,” said the possum. “Li’l’
Hannibal done run away from his gran’mammy and gran’daddy.”
Li’l’ Hannibal hung his head as if he was ashamed, but nobody noticed
him. They were all as busy as they could be, and so he just sat down on
a pine stump and watched them.
Each one had his own special work and he was keeping at it right smart.
Br’er Robin was gathering all the holly berries from the south side of
the holly tree and singing as he worked:
“Cheer up, cheer-u-up!”
Br’er Partridge was building a new house down low in the bushes. As he
hurried back and forth with twigs, he would stop and drum a little, he
felt so happy to be busy.
Br’er Jay Bird was taking corn down below. You know that is what Br’er
Jay Bird does all the time. He takes one kernel of corn in his bill to
the people down below and then comes back for another. It is a very long
trip to take with one kernel of corn, but Br’er Jay Bird doesn’t seem to
mind how hard he works.
Ol’ Miss Guinea Hen was almost the busiest of the whole company, for she
was laying eggs. As soon as ever she laid one she would get up on a low
branch and screech, “Catch it! Catch it! Catch it!” like to deafen
everybody.
But Li’l’ Hannibal was most interested to see what Br’er Rabbit was
doing. Br’er Rabbit had on a li’l’ apron, and he kept bringing things in
his market basket. Then he cooked the things over a fire back in the
bushes, and when it got to be late in the afternoon, he spread a
tablecloth on a big stump and then he pounded on his stewpan with his
soup ladle. “Supper’s ready,” said Br’er Rabbit.
Then Br’er Robin, and Br’er Partridge, and Br’er Jay Bird, and Br’er
Possum, and Ol’ Miss Guinea Hen all scrambled to their places at the
table and Li’l’ Hannibal tried to find a place to sit at, but there
wasn’t any.
“Po’ Li’l’ Hannibal!” said Br’er Rabbit as he poured the soup. “Doesn’t
like work! Doesn’t like to tote for his gran’mammy. Can’t have no
supper!”
“Catch him! Catch him!” said Ol’ Miss Guinea Hen, but no one did it.
They were all too busy eating.
They had a grand supper. There was breakfast strip, and roast turkey,
and fried chicken, and mutton and rice, and hominy and sweet potatoes,
and peas and beans, and baked apples, and cabbage, and hoe cake, and hot
biscuits, and corn muffins, and butter cakes and waffles and maple
syrup.
When they were through eating, it was dark, and they all went home, and
they left Li’l’ Hannibal all by himself.
Well, after a while it began to get darker. Br’er Mocking Bird came out,
and he looked at Li’l’ Hannibal and then he began to scream, just like
Ol’ Miss Guinea Hen,
“Catch him! Catch him! Catch him!” Br’er Screech Owl looked down from a
tree and he said very hoarsely:
“Who! Who! Who-oo!”
Then all the frogs began to say, loud and shrill, “Li’l’ Hannibal! Li’l’
Hannibal!” like they thought he was deaf.
So Li’l’ Hannibal got up from his pine stump and he said, “I reckon I
better go home to my gran’mammy.”
Well, Li’l’ Hannibal started for home slowly, because his feet hurt and
he was hungry. When he came to the pine grove by the schoolhouse the
shadows came out from behind the trees and followed him, and that was
much worse than seeing the schoolmistress. But Li’l’ Hannibal got away
from them all right. He crawled under the fence and ran across the
cotton field, and there in the door of the cabin was his gran’daddy with
a lantern. His gran’daddy had been out looking for Li’l’ Hannibal.
“Why, Li’l’ Hannibal, where you been all day?” asked his gran’daddy.
“Oh, Li’l’ Han’,” said his gran’mammy, “here’s your corn mush. I kep’ it
warm on the hearth, but afore you eat your supper, Li’l’ Han, jus’ take
your li’l’ basket and run ‘round to the chicken house for a couple of
eggs.”
So Li’l’ Hannibal took his li’l’ basket, and he started for those eggs
singing all the way. You see, he reckoned he was mighty glad to be at
home, and toting again.
[Illustration]
HOW TIMOTHY WON THE PRINCESS
Once upon a time a poor widow and her son Timothy lived in a little
cottage near a village. One day Tim’s mother said: “Tim, my boy, the
landlord’s rent must be paid and I haven’t a bit of money in the house.
I’ve made up my mind to sell one of our three cows.”
Tim replied: “All right! I’ll take the old red cow to the fair in the
morning, and sell her for a good price, mother mine.”