rounder and rounder; but he had no time to weep, on account of
Heigh-Heavy the giant who had fallen into a rage terrible to see.
“Now there is one thing quite certain,” said Heigh-Heavy, “and that is
that you shall never marry my daughter So-Small, for, my Wry-Face, I
will turn you into a brown potato, and a brown potato you shall remain
your whole life through.”
When Wry-Face heard this terrible threat he took to his heels, and ran
from the Most Enormous House of Heigh-Heavy, the giant. He ran, and ran,
till his coat was torn and his ears were red; and he never rested till
he reached his cottage door, and got inside.
Heigh-Heavy laughed till he cried to see the little gnome run. “He will
play no tricks on _me_!” said he. And he went in and shut the door.
But Wry-Face said to himself, as he carried the potatoes, weeping, to
the potato-wife:
“I will never play a trick on _anyone_ again, not as long as I live!”
CHANTICLEER
Once upon a time a widow and her two daughters lived in a little cottage
near a grove. They were so poor that it took the most careful managing
to earn a humble living. Their meals were very simple; indeed, they
often had nothing but milk and brown bread, and once in a while a bit of
bacon and an egg or two.
Around the cottage was a henyard, fenced in with sticks and a dry ditch,
and here the old widow kept a handsome rooster called Chanticleer. His
match for crowing could not be found; his voice was merrier than the
merry organ heard in the church on Mass days, and the wonder of it was
one could tell the hour of the day by his crowing! His comb was redder
than fine coral, and all notched like a castle wall. His bill was black
and shone like jet, his legs and his toes were like azure, his nails
whiter than the lily flower, and his feathers the color of burnished
gold.
Chanticleer lived a happy life. He had with him seven plump wives, all
very much like him in color, but by far the cheeriest companion among
them was Demoiselle Partlet, who was not only beautiful but also wise
and courteous. Chanticleer loved her dearly. What joy it was to hear
them sing together at sunrise,
“My love is far away.”
Early one morning when Chanticleer and his seven hens sat on the perch,
Partlet, who was beside her lord, heard a loud groan. “My dear,” she
said, astonished and alarmed, “what can be the matter with you? For
shame, to wake us all up in this way!”
“Madam,” replied the rooster, “do not be anxious about me. It was only a
dream, but it has frightened me almost beyond words. I thought I was
roaming up and down the yard, when suddenly I saw a beast somewhat like
a hound ready to spring at me. He was between yellow and red in color,
his tail and ears were tipped with black, his nose was small and his
eyes glowed like fire. I almost died of fright! That is what made me
groan.”
“Fie for shame!” retorted Partlet. “Do you admit to your love that
anything could fill your heart with fear? Alas! Alas! You know that
dreams mean nothing. Let me explain what causes them. Overeating creates
too much black humor, and in consequence one is likely to dream that
black bears, or black bulls, or even _devils_ will catch him. Then
again, if one has too much red humor he may dream of arrows, of fire
with red blazes, or of great and small whelps that will bite. I could go
on, but further talk is unnecessary. Dearest, when we fly down from
these rafters I will point out to you herbs and berries that will cure
you; also for a day or two you shall have a light diet of worms. Cheer
up, I say, and in a little while all will be well. Should this occur
again, remember the words of the wise Cato: ‘Take no heed of dreams!’”
“Thank you for your excellent advice, my dear,” replied Chanticleer. “I
know that Cato had much wisdom, but I can give you examples of other
very wise men who did not agree with him. Do you not remember the story
of Daniel in the Old Testament? Did he think dreams mean nothing? Also
read the story of Joseph and you will see that a dream held warnings of
future things. Recall for a moment Pharaoh, King of Egypt, his baker and
his butler! See what they thought about the meaning of dreams. Wonderful
stories on this subject I could point out to you, so do not be surprised
that this dream of mine makes me anxious. But now, my dearest Partlet,
let us talk about merrier things, for, when I see the beauty of your
face and the lovely scarlet hue about your eyes, all my fears leave me.
I am so full of joy and comfort in your company that I forget dreams.”
Daybreak had come and the rooster and his seven wives flew down from the
perch. “Cluck! Cluck!” he called gayly when he found a tidbit in the
yard. Behold Chanticleer in all his glory! Brave as a lion, he roamed
proudly on his tiptoes up and down the henyard, never dreaming that an
enemy was watching him with cunning interest.
Now it happened that a wicked fox had lived for three years in the grove
near the cottage. All this time he had been watching his chance to fall
upon the handsome rooster. During the night of Chanticleer’s dream, the
fox had pushed slyly through the hedge into the garden and had carefully
hidden himself among the vegetables.
The sun was shining gloriously! Partlet and her sisters were bathing
merrily in the warm sand! Gallant Chanticleer, singing merrier than a
mermaid, was watching a butterfly flitting about in the sunshine among
the herbs when suddenly his eye caught sight of the fox lying low among
the leaves! Terror seized him. The song died in his throat. “Cok! Cok!”
he gasped. In a moment he would have fled, but the fox began right away
to speak to him in a very persuasive tone.
“Gentle sir, I hope you are not afraid of me, your own good friend.
Certainly I should be worse than a fiend if I harmed you. Indeed I did
not come here to spy upon you, but, pardon me, to hear your glorious
voice. No angel in heaven could sing sweeter than you do. How well I
remember my lord, your father, and my lady, your honorable mother. They
have been guests at my house many times. Shall I ever again hear a voice
as beautiful as your father’s when he greeted the sunrise! I remember
exactly how he looked. He stood on his tiptoes, shut his eyes tightly,
stretched out his long slender neck and then poured forth his glorious
song. He was indeed a wonder. Also, he was very wise and careful. I have
heard it said that no one could surpass him in song or wisdom. I wonder,
kind sir, if your voice is as beautiful as your father’s. For sweet
charity’s sake, will you not sing one song for me and let me compare the
two voices?”
How could Chanticleer refuse one so kind and courteous? He began to flap
his wings. He stood on tiptoe. He closed his eyes. He stretched his
long, slender neck and began to crow. Snap! In a twinkling the fox
seized Chanticleer by the throat, swung him across his back, and was off
to the woods with him.
Never was there such a commotion! The hens screamed and cried pitifully.
Partlet shrieked at the top of her voice. This brought the widow and her
daughters to the door, and then they saw the wicked fox with Chanticleer
across his back making for the wood. “Help! Help! A fox! A fox!” they
cried, and started after him as fast as they could go. Men snatched up
sticks and joined them. The dog Coll ran yelping and barking. Malkin
started with the distaff in her hand. The cow and the calf ran. The
hogs, frightened at the loud barking of the dogs and the screaming of
the people, set up a squealing like fiends and followed in the chase.
The ducks quacked as if they were being murdered, the geese in terror
took flight over the tree tops. The hideous deafening noise started a
swarm of bees forth from their hive. Soon other people followed with
horns of brass, wood, and bone. They blew, they bellowed, they cried,
they screamed, they whooped, they shrieked, and made such a bedlam that
it seemed the very heavens would fall. And on ran the fox with the
rooster on his back.
[Illustration]
Now Chanticleer in all his breathless terror was rapidly turning over in
his mind how he could help his friends to rescue him. Controlling his
fright as best he could, he said,
“Sir, if I were you, I’d scoff at these followers. Say to them, ‘Turn
back you proud churls! A plague upon you! The rooster is mine and I’ll
soon be where I can eat him.’”
“In faith,” replied the fox, “I’ll do what you say.” As soon as the fox
opened his mouth, Chanticleer flew high up into a tree which stood near.
Now the fox saw his mistake, but was not ready to give up.
“Alas, alas, Chanticleer,” he began, “I’ve done you a great wrong. I
seized you and carried you entirely too roughly. Forgive me for
frightening you. Come now, fly down a moment and let me explain.”
“No thank you,” crowed Chanticleer. “Your flattery will not catch me a
second time, and make me sing again with my eyes closed. For no good can
come to anyone who closes his eyes when they should be open.”
“Bad luck to the one who talks when he should hold his peace,” grumbled
the fox.
THE JACKAL AND THE ALLIGATOR
A little Jackal, who was very fond of crabs and bits of fish and
whatever else he could find, went down to the riverside one morning in
search of something for his dinner. He ran up and down the bank, here
and there, but he could find nothing to eat. At last, near some tall
bulrushes and under clear, shallow water he saw a little crab who was
sidling along as fast as his legs could carry him. The little jackal was
so very hungry that, without looking, he put his paw into the water
after the crab. “Snap!” A great big alligator who lived in the river,
had the paw in his jaws.
“Oh, dear,” thought the little jackal, “a big alligator has my paw in
his mouth. In another minute he will drag me down under the water and
swallow me. What can I do?” Then a thought came to the little jackal,
“I’ll fool that old alligator and get away from him.” So he called out
in a very cheerful voice, “Clever Alligator! Clever Alligator! To catch
hold of that bulrush root for my paw! I hope you will find it very
tender.”
The old alligator was so hidden among the bulrushes that he could
scarcely see anything. On hearing the little jackal call out he said to
himself, “Dear me, I thought I had caught hold of the jackal’s paw; but
there he is calling out in a cheerful voice. I suppose I have made a
mistake.” So saying he opened his mouth and let the little jackal go.
The jackal ran away as fast as he could. When he was at a safe distance
he called out, “O wise Alligator! O wise Alligator! So you let me go
again.” The alligator was very angry, but the little jackal had run too
far away to be caught.
The next day the jackal returned to the riverside to get his dinner as
before. The old alligator was nowhere to be seen, but the little jackal
thought it best not to take any chances, so he called out, “Wherever I
go to look for my dinner, I search for the nice little fat crabs that
come peeping up through the mud. Then I put my paw down and catch them.
I wish I could see one now.”
The old alligator was down in the mud at the bottom of the river, and he
heard every word the jackal said. He thought to himself, “Aha! I’ll just
show the tip of my nose up through the mud. He’ll take it for a little
fat crab and put his paw in to catch me. As soon as he does so, I’ll
gobble him up!” So he popped the little point of his nose out of the mud
and waited. No sooner did the jackal see the tip of the alligator’s nose
than he called out, “O Friend Alligator, so there you are. No dinner for
me here, thank you.” And off he ran and fished for his dinner a long,
long way from that place. The old alligator snapped his jaws again and
again. He was very angry at missing his dinner a second time, and he
made up his mind not to let the jackal escape again.
The following day, the little jackal went down to the waterside as usual
to look for crabs. He was rather afraid to go too near the river’s edge,
for he felt sure the old enemy was hiding somewhere. So he stayed back
at a safe distance and called out,
“Where are all the little crabs gone? There is not one here and I am
very hungry. When I don’t see them on the shore or peeping up through
the mud I see them blowing bubble, bubble, bubble, and all the little
bubbles go pop! pop! pop!” The old alligator lying low in the mud heard
this and he said to himself, “I can fool that little jackal easy enough
_this_ time. I’ll pretend to be a little crab.” Then he began to blow,
puff, puff! Bubble, bubble, bubble! And all the great bubbles rushed to
the top of the river, and burst there, and the water whirled and whirled
round and round just above the place where the old alligator lay hidden.
It didn’t take the jackal long to know who was underneath those bubbles,
and off he ran, as fast as he could go, calling out,
“Thank you, kind Alligator, thank you, thank you! Indeed it is very kind
of you to show me just where you are.”
The old alligator was furious at being deceived by the little jackal
once more. “Next time I will be very cunning,” he said. So, for a long
time he waited and waited for the jackal, to come to the riverside, but
the jackal never returned.
“I shall be caught and eaten by that wicked old alligator some day if I
am not careful. I must content myself to do without crabs.” He went no
more to the river, but stayed in the jungle and ate wild figs and roots
which he dug up with his paws.
When the alligator found this out he was angry again, and he determined
to try to catch the jackal on land. So he crawled over the ground to a
place where the largest of the wild fig trees grew. He made a great heap
of the fallen figs and hid himself under it, and there he waited for the
jackal. No sooner did the cunning little animal spy the great pile of
figs than he thought, “Oh, ho, that looks much like my friend the
alligator. I’ll see.” So he called out,
“The little wild figs I like best always tumble down from the tree, and
roll here and there as the wind drives them. That great heap of figs is
quite still. They can not be good figs. I will not eat one of them.”
The old alligator thought, “Oh, ho! How suspicious this jackal is. I
will make the figs roll about a little, then he will come and eat them.”
So the great beast shook himself and all the little figs went roll,
roll, roll, this way and that, farther than the most blustering wind
could have driven them. The jackal knew who was under the heap. Away he
scampered, calling back, “Thank you, Mr. Alligator, for letting me know
you are there! I should scarcely have guessed it.” The alligator hearing
this was so angry that he ran after the jackal, but the jackal ran away
too quickly to be caught.
The old alligator was now in a rage. “I will not let him make fun of me
another time and then run away out of my reach. I will show him I can be
more cunning than he thinks,” he declared.
Early the next morning he crawled as fast as he could till he came to
the little jackal’s den. The jackal was away, and so he crept in and hid
himself to wait until the little animal should return. By and by the
jackal came home. He looked all about the place, for the ground around
his house was torn up as though some very heavy animal had been crawling
there.
“Dear me,” he said. Then he saw that the earth on each side of the door
of his den had been knocked down as if something very big had tried to
squeeze through it.
“I certainly will not go inside until I know who has gone in there.” So
he called out, “Little house, why do you not give me an answer when I
call? You always call out to me if all is safe and right. Is anything
wrong that you do not speak?”
Then the alligator who was inside thought, “I must pretend to be the
little house and call out. He will not come in unless he thinks all is
right in here.” So he called out in as pleasant a voice as he could,
“Sweet little Jackal.” When the little jackal heard that he was
frightened indeed.
“So that dreadful old alligator is in my house. I must try to kill him
if I can, or he will certainly make an end of me some day.”
Then he answered, “Thank you, my dear little house. I like to hear your
pretty voice. I am coming in a minute, but first I must collect some
firewood to cook my dinner.” As fast as he could, he gathered all the
dry branches and bits of sticks and piled them up close to the mouth of
the den. The old alligator inside kept as quiet as a mouse, but he could
not help laughing a little to himself, “So I have deceived that little
jackal at last. In a few minutes he will run in here, and then, won’t I
snap him up!”
When the jackal had gathered as many sticks as he could find, he ran
back and placed the sticks all round the outside of his den. Then he set
fire to them. The great fire blazed up, and the smoke filled the den and
smothered that wicked old alligator.
FINN AND THE FAIRY SHOEMAKER
Finn O’Shea’s grandmother knew more about fairies than anyone else in
the village. One afternoon when the sun was shining on the tops of the
Nine Hills, which rose up a few fields beyond the edge of the village,
Finn and his grandmother were coming home from a walk. Suddenly the old
woman darted forward and picked up the tiniest bit of a gray feather.
Her sharp eyes had spied it under the shadow of a foxglove.
“What is it, Granny?” asked Finn.
“An owl’s feather, lad. It fell out of one of their wee red caps,” said
she, laughing quietly. “They had a fine revel in the fields last night,
my boy, for it was Midsummer Eve. That is the time when the wee folks
are gayest, you know.”
“I wish I could see them dancing,” said Finn.
“Ah, my lad, no mortal can see them so long as they keep their wee red
caps on,” said grandmother. “Sometimes in their revels they toss their
caps aside, but you see the frogs are always on the lookout to warn the
fairies if mortal steps are near. These tiny elves are very clever. Do
you see those three circles of green which are a little lighter in color
than the rest of the grass? That is where they danced until the village
cocks began to crow. Then they made off to the Nine Hills. Ah! It would
be a wonderful sight to see the wee folks whirling and gliding about in
the white moonlight to the sweetest fairy music. But as I said, few
mortals have ever seen them.”
“Do they dance every night, grandmother?”
“Every night, Finn. If the weather is fine they frolic on the green,
especially if the moon is bright. When the nights are wet and stormy
they keep inside the hills, where there is an elfin village.”
Finn look very serious. “Grandmother,” he said, “these wee folks must
wear out a good many pairs of shoes.”
“That they do, my lad. I’m sure I don’t know what they would do without
little Leprechaun, the Fairy Shoemaker. He is the only industrious one
among them.”
“Tell me about him, Granny,” said Finn.
Grandmother sat down on a large stone and looked toward the Nine Hills.
“The Fairy Shoemaker is very rich, Finn, richer than my lord O’Toole who
lives in the castle by the sea. Indeed, there is no one in all Ireland
who has as much gold as this elfin shoemaker who spends his days working
for the fairies. All kinds of shoes he makes,—stout little brogans and
buskins, high hunting boots, bits of satin slippers that you could stand
on a penny, tiny sandals with silver laces and diamond buckles,—all
kinds of shoes. O Finn, my lad, he is a wonderful wee old man.”
“Where does he keep his money, Granny?”
“Why, what a question, my lad! Do you think this sly little Elf would
let any mortal know that secret? Not he!”
“I wonder if anyone has ever seen him,” said Finn.
“My lad, your great-grandmother O’Shea knew a poor farmer who found a
pot of gold buried in one of his fields. The villagers always believed
that the man had in some way caught little Leprechaun, and made him
point out the spot where his gold was hidden.”
“Granny,” said Finn, “I’d like to catch the Fairy Shoemaker. One pot of
his gold would make us very rich, wouldn’t it?”
“Catch little Leprechaun, Finn! My lad, you couldn’t do it.”
“He is very tiny, grandmother. I’m sure I could hold him easily.”
“You would have to catch him, first, Finn. He is the trickiest Elf of
all. No one can see him as long as he wears his wee red cap! And if you
should chance to find him without it, you wouldn’t dare take your eyes
off him for one second or away he would go. Some people say bad luck is
sure to come to mortals who meddle with the fairies,” said grandmother,
looking about cautiously. “It is better to earn your pot of gold, my
lad. But come, the sun has gone behind the hills.”
Finn was very quiet all the way home. He was wondering how he could
catch the Fairy Shoemaker and make the little Elf tell where his
treasure crocks were hidden. He would begin the search in good earnest
the very next day.
In the morning when Finn drove the cow to the pasture, he peeped
carefully among the low willows that bordered the brook. He looked all
around the big stones in the meadow. Several times he stopped and
listened! Once he felt sure he caught the clicking sound of an elfin
hammer. It seemed to come from the direction of a tall ragweed, but when
Finn drew near, the sound stopped suddenly and he could see nothing.
Patiently each day he searched for the little Leprechaun. One afternoon
when he was sauntering through a shady glen near the Nine Hills he
stooped down to quench his thirst at a tiny spring of clear water. He
fancied he heard a faint clicking sound! “Tip-tap, tip-tap.” Finn raised
his head quickly and listened!
[Illustration]
“Rip-rap-tip-tap
Tick-a-tack-too;
Tip-tap-tip,
Rip-rap-rip,
Tick-tack-too.”
The sound came from behind a large stone near the spring. Soon the
tapping stopped and the shrill voice sang out:
“Tip-a tap-tip
And tick-a-tack-too,
Every stitch helps
To finish a shoe.”
Finn could hear his heart beat. He crept cautiously along and peeped
around the stone. There, on a tiny stool, sat the Fairy Shoemaker
hammering away at a wee hunting boot of scarlet leather, which he held
between his knees. _And his bit of a red cap was hanging on a spear of
tall grass!_ Finn leaped to his feet, faced little Leprechaun, seized
the red cap, and said, “Good day, sir.”
Instantly the little Elf jumped up and looked sharply through his
spectacles at Finn. He was about twelve inches tall and his queer little
face was full of wrinkles. A long gray beard reached to the top of a
leathern apron which almost covered his brown suit.
“Good day, sir,” repeated Finn.
“Humph!” grunted Leprechaun.
Finn went closer, grasped the little Elf’s shoulder, held him tightly,
and stared sharply at him.
“You’d better be off,” said the Fairy Shoemaker; “I have work to do.”
Finn kept his eyes fixed on the wee man, and said, “Come, now, where do
you keep your treasure crocks? I shall not let you go until you tell
me.”
“Oh! Is that all you want?” laughed the Elf. “Well, come along with me.”
Finn was delighted. The old man seemed very easy to manage. Leprechaun
looked up pleasantly and said, “Your pardon, sir.” He pulled out a tiny
gold snuffbox, took a pinch and offered some to Finn. “Snuff, sir?” he
said with a smile.
“Why, how friendly he seems,” thought Finn, taking a pinch.
“Pouf-f!!” The Fairy Shoemaker blew all the snuff right into Finn’s
face.
“Tshoo-oo!—Tshoo-oo! A-a-a-tshoo-oo-oo!” sneezed Finn, _shutting his
eyes_! In a twinkling the wee man had snatched his red cap and was gone!
Finn went home a little discouraged. “Why didn’t I remember what Granny
told me about his tricks?” he said to himself. “I’ll try again, and he
shall not catch me a second time.”
One afternoon a few weeks later, Finn walked as far as the Nine Hills.
He was very tired, so he lay down on one of the grassy slopes to rest.
How quiet it was on the shady hillside!
“Tip-a-tap-tip
And tick-a-tack-too,
Rip-rap-rip
Tick-tack-too.”
The sound came from the crest of the hill. After a little pause a shrill
voice sang:
“A wedding feast to-night
And dancing on the green!
In moonbeams’ silver light
Gay fairies will be seen!
Tiny satin sandals
To grace the dainty bride;
Stitch away Leprechaun
They must be your pride.”
It was the voice of little Leprechaun! The Fairy Shoemaker was working
away near the crest of the hill. Finn crept up the grassy slope, and
there in the shadow of some low bushes sat the tiny Elf. He was putting
a high heel on the daintiest white satin sandal. And beside him lay his
wee red cap!
“Tip-tap-rip-rap
Tick-a-tack-too.”
The elfin hammer was working busily—busily!
Finn slipped up quietly, and grasping the red cap in one hand laid hold
of the wee man’s shoulder with the other. Up jumped the Elf. He looked
round quickly for his cap.
“Good day, sir,” said Finn.
Leprechaun made a deep bow.
“You are busy, I see.”
“Always busy, sir,” answered the wee man. “Always busy.”