F was a farmer, and followed the plough.
G was a gamester, who had but ill luck;
H was a hunter, and hunted a buck.
I was an innkeeper, who loved to carouse;
J was a joiner, and built up a house.
K was a king, so mighty and grand;
L was a lady, who had a white hand.
M was a miser, and hoarded up gold;
N was a nobleman, gallant and bold.
O was an oyster girl, and went about town;
P was a parson, and wore a black gown.
Q was a queen, who sailed in a ship;
R was a robber, and wanted a whip.
S was a sailor, and spent all he got;
T was a tinker, and mended a pot.
U was an usurer, a miserable elf;
V was a vintner, who drank all himself.
W was a watchman, and guarded the door;
X was expensive, and so became poor.
Y was a youth, that did not love school;
Z was a zany, a poor harmless fool.
121
WHERE ARE YOU GOING
Where are you going, my pretty maid?
"I'm going a-milking, sir," she said.
May I go with you, my pretty maid?
"You're kindly welcome, sir," she said.
What is your father, my pretty maid?
"My father's a farmer, sir," she said.
What is your fortune, my pretty maid?
"My face is my fortune, sir," she said.
Then I can't marry you, my pretty maid.
"Nobody asked you, sir," she said.
122
MOLLY AND I
Molly, my sister, and I fell out,
And what do you think it was about?
She loved coffee, and I loved tea,
And that was the reason we couldn't agree.
But Molly, my sister, and I made up,
And now together we can sup,
For Molly drinks coffee, and I drink tea,
And we both are happy as happy can be.
123
LONDON BRIDGE
London bridge is broken down,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
London bridge is broken down,
With a gay lady.
How shall we build it up again?
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
How shall we build it up again?
With a gay lady.
Build it up with silver and gold,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Build it up with silver and gold,
With a gay lady.
Silver and gold will be stole away,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Silver and gold will be stole away,
With a gay lady.
Build it again with iron and steel,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Build it up with iron and steel,
With a gay lady.
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Iron and steel will bend and bow,
With a gay lady.
Build it up with wood and clay,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Build it up with wood and clay,
With a gay lady.
Wood and clay will wash away,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Wood and clay will wash away,
With a gay lady.
Build it up with stone so strong,
Dance o'er my lady Lee;
Huzza! 'twill last for ages long,
With a gay lady.
124
I SAW A SHIP
I saw a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing on the sea;
And oh, it was all laden
With pretty things for thee!
There were comfits in the cabin,
And apples in the hold;
The sails were made of silk,
And the masts were made of gold!
The four and twenty sailors,
That stood between the decks,
Were four and twenty white mice,
With chains about their necks.
The captain was a duck,
With a packet on his back;
And when the ship began to move,
The captain said, "Quack! Quack!"
125
THERE WAS AN OLD WOMAN
There was an old woman, as I've heard tell,
She went to market her eggs for to sell;
She went to market all on a market-day,
And she fell asleep on the king's highway.
By came a pedlar whose name was Stout,
He cut her petticoats all round about;
He cut her petticoats up to her knees,
Which made the old woman to shiver and freeze.
When this little woman first did wake,
She began to shiver and she began to shake,
She began to wonder, and she began to cry,
"Lauk a mercy on me, this is none of I!
"But if it be I, as I do hope it be,
I've a little dog at home, and he'll know me;
If it be I, he'll wag his little tail,
And if it be not I, he'll loudly bark and wail."
Home went the little woman all in the dark,
Up got the little dog, and he began to bark;
He began to bark, so she began to cry,
"Lauk a mercy on me, this is none of I!"
126
LITTLE BO-PEEP
Little Bo-peep has lost her sheep,
And can't tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they'll come home,
And bring their tails behind them.
Little Bo-peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they were still all fleeting.
Then up she took her little crook,
Determined for to find them;
She found them indeed, but it made her heart bleed,
For they'd left their tails behind them.
It happened one day, as Bo-peep did stray,
Unto a meadow hard by:
There she espied their tails side by side,
All hung on a tree to dry.
127
COCK A DOODLE DOO
Cock a doodle doo!
My dame has lost her shoe;
My master's lost his fiddling stick,
And don't know what to do.
Cock a doodle doo!
What is my dame to do?
Till master finds his fiddling stick,
She'll dance without her shoe.
Cock a doodle doo!
My dame has found her shoe,
And master's found his fiddling stick,
Sing doodle doodle doo!
Cock a doodle doo!
My dame will dance with you,
While master fiddles his fiddling stick,
For dame and doodle doo.
128
THREE JOVIAL HUNTSMEN
There were three jovial huntsmen,
As I have heard them say,
And they would go a-hunting
All on a summer's day.
All the day they hunted,
And nothing could they find
But a ship a-sailing,
A-sailing with the wind.
One said it was a ship,
The other he said nay;
The third said it was a house
With the chimney blown away.
And all the night they hunted,
And nothing could they find,
But the moon a-gliding,
A-gliding with the wind.
One said it was the moon,
The other he said nay;
The third said it was a cheese,
And half o't cut away.
129
THERE WAS A LITTLE MAN
There was a little man,
And he had a little gun,
And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead;
He went to a brook,
And fired at a duck,
And shot it through the head, head, head.
He carried it home
To his old wife Joan,
And bade her a fire to make, make, make,
To roast the little duck,
He had shot in the brook,
And he'd go and fetch her the drake, drake, drake.
The drake was a-swimming,
With his curly tail;
The little man made it his mark, mark, mark!
He let off his gun,
But he fired too soon,
And the drake flew away with a quack, quack, quack.
130
TAFFY
Taffy was a Welshman;
Taffy was a thief;
Taffy came to my house,
And stole a piece of beef.
I went to Taffy's house;
Taffy wasn't home;
Taffy came to my house,
And stole a marrow-bone.
I went to Taffy's house;
Taffy was in bed;
I took up the marrow-bone
And flung it at his head!
131
SIMPLE SIMON
Simple Simon met a pieman
Going to the fair:
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Let me taste your ware."
Says the pieman to Simple Simon,
"Show me first your penny."
Says Simple Simon to the pieman,
"Indeed I haven't any."
Simple Simon went a fishing
Just to catch a whale:
All the water he had got
Was in his mother's pail.
Simple Simon went to look
If plums grew on a thistle;
He pricked his fingers very much,
Which made poor Simon whistle.
132
A FARMER WENT TROTTING
A farmer went trotting upon his gray mare,
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
With his daughter behind him so rosy and fair,
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
A raven cried "Croak!" and they all tumbled down,
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
The mare broke her knees, and the farmer his crown,
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
The mischievous raven flew laughing away,
Bumpety, bumpety, bump!
And vowed he would serve them the same the next day,
Lumpety, lumpety, lump!
133
TOM THE PIPER'S SON
Tom he was a piper's son,
He learned to play when he was young,
But all the tunes that he could play,
Was "Over the hills and far away";
_Over the hills, and a great way off,_
_And the wind will blow my top-knot off._
Now Tom with his pipe made such a noise,
That he pleased both the girls and boys,
And they stopped to hear him play,
"Over the hills and far away."
Tom with his pipe did play with such skill,
That those who heard him could never keep still;
Whenever they heard him they began to dance,
Even pigs on their hind legs would after him prance.
As Dolly was milking her cow one day,
Tom took out his pipe and began to play;
So Doll and the cow danced "the Cheshire round,"
Till the pail was broke and the milk ran on the ground.
He met old dame Trot with a basket of eggs,
He used his pipes and she used her legs;
She danced about till the eggs were all broke,
She began for to fret, but he laughed at the joke.
He saw a cross fellow was beating an ass,
Heavy laden with pots, pans, dishes, and glass;
He took out his pipe and played them a tune,
And the jackass's load was lightened full soon.
134
WHEN I WAS A LITTLE BOY
When I was a little boy,
I lived by myself,
And all the bread and cheese I got,
I put upon my shelf.
The rats and the mice,
They made such a strife,
I had to go to London
To buy me a wife.
The streets were so broad,
And the lanes were so narrow,
I had to bring my wife home
On a wheelbarrow.
The wheelbarrow broke,
And my wife had a fall;
Down tumbled wheelbarrow,
Little wife and all.
135
THE BABES IN THE WOOD
My dear, you must know that a long time ago,
Two poor little children whose names I don't know,
Were stolen away on a fine summer's day,
And left in a wood, as I've heard people say.
_Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood!_
_So hard was the fate of the babes in the wood._
And when it was night, so sad was their plight,
The sun it went down, and the stars gave no light.
They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried,
And the poor little things they lay down and died.
And when they were dead, the robins so red,
Brought strawberry leaves, and over them spread.
And all the day long, the branches among,
They sang to them softly, and this was their song:
_Poor babes in the wood, poor babes in the wood!_
_So hard was the fate of the babes in the wood._
136
THE FOX AND HIS WIFE
The fox and his wife they had a great strife,
They never ate mustard in all their whole life;
They ate their meat without fork or knife,
And loved to be picking a bone, e-oh!
The fox jumped up on a moonlight night;
The stars they were shining, and all things bright;
Oh, ho! said the fox, it's a very fine night
For me to go through the town, e-oh!
The fox when he came to yonder stile,
He lifted his ears and he listened awhile!
Oh, ho! said the fox, it's but a short mile
From this unto yonder wee town, e-oh!
The fox when he came to the farmer's gate,
Who should he see but the farmer's drake;
I love you well for your master's sake,
And long to be picking your bone, e-oh!
The gray goose she ran round the haystack,
Oh, ho! said the fox, you are very fat;
You'll grease my beard and ride on my back
From this into yonder wee town, e-oh!
The farmer's wife she jumped out of bed,
And out of the window she popped her head:
Oh, husband! oh, husband! the geese are all dead,
For the fox has been through the town, e-oh!
The farmer he loaded his pistol with lead,
And shot the old rogue of a fox through the head;
Ah, ha! said the farmer, I think you're quite dead;
And no more you'll trouble the town, e-oh!
137
FOR WANT OF A NAIL
For want of a nail, the shoe was lost;
For want of the shoe, the horse was lost;
For want of the horse, the rider was lost;
For want of the rider, the battle was lost;
For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost;
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail!
138
A MAN OF WORDS
A man of words and not of deeds
Is like a garden full of weeds;
And when the weeds begin to grow,
It's like a garden full of snow;
And when the snow begins to fall,
It's like a bird upon the wall;
And when the bird away does fly,
It's like an eagle in the sky;
And when the sky begins to roar,
It's like a lion at the door;
And when the door begins to crack,
It's like a stick across your back;
And when your back begins to smart,
It's like a penknife in your heart;
And when your heart begins to bleed,
You're dead, and dead, and dead, indeed.
139
The first stanza of this jingle was long
attributed to Longfellow as an impromptu made
on one of his children. He took occasion to
deny this, as well as the authorship of the
almost equally famous "Mr. Finney had a
turnip." The last two stanzas bear evidence of
a more sophisticated origin than that of real
nursery rhymes. Mr. Lucas, in his _Book of
Verses for Children_, gives two different
versions of these stanzas.
JEMIMA
There was a little girl, and she had a little curl,
Right down the middle of her forehead,
When she was good, she was very, very good,
But when she was bad, she was horrid.
One day she went upstairs, while her parents, unawares,
In the kitchen down below were occupied with meals,
And she stood upon her head, on her little truckle-bed,
And she then began hurraying with her heels.
Her mother heard the noise, and thought it was the boys,
A playing at a combat in the attic,
But when she climbed the stair and saw Jemima there,
She took and she did whip her most emphatic!
140
The following was one of the favorite
"toy-book" texts of the eighteenth century.
These little books generally had a crude
woodcut and one stanza of text on a page. It
can be seen how easily this story lends itself
to illustration. Each stanza is a chapter, and
the story-teller could continue as long as his
inventiveness held out. In one edition there
are these additional lines:
"Old Mother Hubbard sat down in a chair,
And danced her dog to a delicate air;
She went to the garden to buy him a pippin,
When she came back the dog was a-skipping."
MOTHER HUBBARD AND HER DOG
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard,
To get her poor dog a bone;
But when she came there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.
She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread;
But when she came back,
The poor dog was dead.
She went to the joiner's
To buy him a coffin;
But when she came back,
The poor dog was laughing.
She took a clean dish,
To get him some tripe;
But when she came back
He was smoking his pipe.
She went to the fishmonger's
To buy him some fish;
And when she came back
He was licking the dish.
She went to the ale-house
To get him some beer;
But when she came back
The dog sat in a chair.
She went to the tavern
For white wine and red;
But when she came back
The dog stood on his head.
She went to the hatter's
To buy him a hat;
But when she came back
He was feeding the cat.
She went to the barber's
To buy him a wig;
But when she came back
He was dancing a jig.
She went to the fruiterer's
To buy him some fruit;
But when she came back,
He was playing the flute.
She went to the tailor's
To buy him a coat;
But when she came back,
He was riding a goat.
She went to the cobbler's
To buy him some shoes;
But when she came back,
He was reading the news.
She went to the seamstress
To buy him some linen;
But when she came back,
The dog was spinning.
She went to the hosier's
To buy him some hose;
But when she came back,
He was dressed in his clothes.
The dame made a curtsy,
The dog made a bow;
The dame said, "Your servant,"
The dog said, "Bow, wow."
141
This story of a bird courtship and marriage
with its attendant feast and tragedy, all
followed by the long dirge of No. 142,
constitutes one of the longest nursery novels.
Its opportunities for the illustrator are very
marked, and a copy illustrated by the children
themselves would be an addition to the joy of
any schoolroom.
THE COURTSHIP, MERRY MARRIAGE, AND PICNIC DINNER OF COCK ROBIN AND JENNY
WREN;
TO WHICH IS ADDED
THE DOLEFUL DEATH OF COCK ROBIN
It was a merry time
When Jenny Wren was young,
So neatly as she danced,
And so sweetly as she sung,
Robin Redbreast lost his heart:
He was a gallant bird;
He doft his hat to Jenny,
And thus to her he said:--
"My dearest Jenny Wren,
If you will but be mine,
You shall dine on cherry pie,
And drink nice currant wine.
I'll dress you like a Goldfinch,
Or like a Peacock gay;
So if you'll have me, Jenny,
Let us appoint the day."
Jenny blushed behind her fan,
And thus declared her mind:
"Then let it be to-morrow, Bob,
I take your offer kind--
Cherry pie is very good!
So is currant wine!
But I will wear my brown gown,
And never dress too fine."
Robin rose up early
At the break of day;
He flew to Jenny Wren's house,
To sing a roundelay.
He met the Cock and Hen,
And bid the Cock declare,
This was his wedding-day
With Jenny Wren, the fair.
The Cock then blew his horn,
To let the neighbors know,
This was Robin's wedding-day,
And they might see the show.
And first came parson Rook,
With his spectacles and band,
And one of _Mother Hubbard's_ books
He held within his hand.
Then followed him the Lark,
For he could sweetly sing,
And he was to be clerk
At Cock Robin's wedding.
He sang of Robin's love
For little Jenny Wren;
And when he came unto the end,
Then he began again.
Then came the bride and bridegroom;
Quite plainly was she dressed,
And blushed so much, her cheeks were
As red as Robin's breast.
But Robin cheered her up:
"My pretty Jen," said he,
"We're going to be married
And happy we shall be."
The Goldfinch came on next,
To give away the bride;
The Linnet, being bride's maid,
Walked by Jenny's side;
And, as she was a-walking,
She said, "Upon my word,
I think that your Cock Robin
Is a very pretty bird."
The Bullfinch walked by Robin,
And thus to him did say,
"Pray, mark, friend Robin Redbreast,
That Goldfinch, dressed so gay;
What though her gay apparel
Becomes her very well,
Yet Jenny's modest dress and look
Must bear away the bell."
The Blackbird and the Thrush,
And charming Nightingale,
Whose sweet jug sweetly echoes
Through every grove and dale;
The Sparrow and Tom Tit,
And many more, were there:
All came to see the wedding
Of Jenny Wren, the fair.
"O then," says parson Rook,
"Who gives this maid away?"
"I do," says the Goldfinch,
"And her fortune I will pay:
Here's a bag of grain of many sorts,
And other things beside;
Now happy be the bridegroom,
And happy be the bride!"
"And will you have her, Robin,
To be your wedded wife?"
"Yes, I will," says Robin,
"And love her all my life."
"And will you have him, Jenny,
Your husband now to be?"
"Yes, I will," says Jenny,
"And love him heartily."
Then on her finger fair
Cock Robin put the ring;
"You're married now," says parson Rook,
While the Lark aloud did sing:
"Happy be the bridegroom,
And happy be the bride!
And may not man, nor bird, nor beast,
This happy pair divide."
The birds were asked to dine;
Not Jenny's friends alone,
But every pretty songster
That had Cock Robin known.
They had a cherry pie,
Besides some currant wine,
And every guest brought something,
That sumptuous they might dine.
Now they all sat or stood
To eat and to drink;
And every one said what
He happened to think;
They each took a bumper,
And drank to the pair:
Cock Robin, the bridegroom,
And Jenny Wren, the fair.
The dinner-things removed,
They all began to sing;
And soon they made the place
Near a mile round to ring.
The concert it was fine;
And every bird tried
Who best could sing for Robin
And Jenny Wren, the bride.
Then in came the Cuckoo,
And he made a great rout:
He caught hold of Jenny,
And pulled her about.
Cock Robin was angry,
And so was the Sparrow,
Who fetched in a hurry
His bow and his arrow.
His aim then he took,
But he took it not right;
His skill was not good,
Or he shot in a fright;
For the Cuckoo he missed,
But Cock Robin killed!--
And all the birds mourned
That his blood was so spilled.
142
THE BURIAL OF POOR COCK ROBIN
Who killed Cock Robin?
"I," said the Sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow;
And I killed Cock Robin."
Who saw him die?
"I," said the Fly,
"With my little eye;
And I saw him die."
Who caught his blood?
"I," said the Fish,
"With my little dish;
And I caught his blood."
Who made his shroud?
"I," said the Beetle,
"With my little needle;
And I made his shroud."
Who will be the parson?
"I," said the Rook;
"With my little book;
And I will be the parson."
Who will dig his grave?
"I," said the Owl,
"With my spade and shovel;
And I'll dig his grave."
Who will be the clerk?
"I," said the Lark,
"If 'tis not in the dark;
And I will be the clerk."
Who'll carry him to the grave?
"I," said the Kite,
"If 'tis not in the night;
And I'll carry him to the grave."
Who will be the chief mourner?
"I," said the Dove,
"Because of my love;
And I will be chief mourner."
Who will sing a psalm?
"I," said the Thrush,
As she sat in a bush;
"And I will sing a psalm."
Who will bear the pall?
"We," said the Wren,
Both the Cock and the Hen;
"And we will bear the pall."
Who will toll the bell?
"I," said the Bull,
"Because I can pull."
And so, Cock Robin, farewell.
All the birds of the air
Fell to sighing and sobbing
When they heard the bell toll
For poor Cock Robin.
143
The following tale was edited (1885) for
children by John Ruskin from a version "written
principally by a lady of ninety (Mrs. Sharp.)"
Ruskin himself added the third, fourth, eighth,
and ninth stanzas, because "in the old books no
account is given of what the cats learned when
they went to school, and I thought my younger
readers might be glad of some notice of such
particulars." But he thought his rhymes did not
ring like the real ones, of which he said: "I
aver these rhymes to possess the primary value
of rhyme--that is, to be rhythmical in a
pleasant and exemplary degree." The book was
illustrated with quaint woodcuts for each
stanza after the edition of 1823, with
additional drawings for the four new stanzas by
Kate Greenaway, one of the most famous
illustrators of children's books. Ruskin
commends the result "to the indulgence of the
Christmas fireside, because it relates nothing
that is sad, and portrays nothing that is
ugly."
DAME WIGGINS OF LEE, AND HER SEVEN WONDERFUL CATS
Dame Wiggins of Lee
Was a worthy old soul,
As e'er threaded a nee-
dle, or wash'd in a bowl;
She held mice and rats
In such antipa-thy,
That seven fine cats
Kept Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The rats and mice scared
By this fierce whisker'd crew,
The poor seven cats
Soon had nothing to do;
So, as any one idle
She ne'er loved to see,
She sent them to school,
Did Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The Master soon wrote
That they all of them knew
How to read the word "milk"
And to spell the word "mew."
And they all washed their faces
Before they took tea:
"Were there ever such dears!"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
He had also thought well
To comply with their wish
To spend all their play-time
In learning to fish
For stitlings; they sent her
A present of three,
Which, fried, were a feast
For Dame Wiggins of Lee.
But soon she grew tired
Of living alone;
So she sent for her cats
From school to come home.
Each rowing a wherry,
Returning you see:
The frolic made merry
Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The Dame was quite pleas'd
And ran out to market;
When she came back
They were mending the carpet.
The needle each handled
As brisk as a bee;
"Well done, my good cats,"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
To give them a treat,
She ran out for some rice;
When she came back,
They were skating on ice.
"I shall soon see one down,
Aye, perhaps, two or three,
I'll bet half-a-crown,"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
When spring-time came back
They had breakfast of curds;
And were greatly afraid
Of disturbing the birds.
"If you sit, like good cats,
All the seven in a tree,
They will teach you to sing!"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
So they sat in a tree,
And said "Beautiful! Hark!"
And they listened and looked
In the clouds for the lark.
Then sang, by the fireside,
Symphonious-ly
A song without words
To Dame Wiggins of Lee.
They called the next day
On the tomtit and sparrow,
And wheeled a poor sick lamb
Home in a barrow.
"You shall all have some sprats
For your humani-ty,
My seven good cats,"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
While she ran to the field,
To look for its dam,
They were warming the bed
For the poor sick lamb:
They turn'd up the clothes
All as neat as could be;
"I shall ne'er want a nurse,"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
She wished them good night,
And went up to bed:
When, lo! in the morning,
The cats were all fled.
But soon--what a fuss!
"Where can they all be?
Here, pussy, puss, puss!"
Cried Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The Dame's heart was nigh broke,
So she sat down to weep,
When she saw them come back
Each riding a sheep:
She fondled and patted
Each purring tom-my:
"Ah! welcome, my dears,"
Said Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The Dame was unable
Her pleasure to smother,
To see the sick lamb
Jump up to its mother.
In spite of the gout,
And a pain in her knee,
She went dancing about:
Did Dame Wiggins of Lee.
The Farmer soon heard
Where his sheep went astray,
And arrived at Dame's door
With his faithful dog Tray.
He knocked with his crook,
And the stranger to see,
Out the window did look
Dame Wiggins of Lee.
For their kindness he had them
All drawn by his team;
And gave them some field-mice,
And raspberry-cream.
Said he, "All my stock
You shall presently see;
For I honor the cats
Of Dame Wiggins of Lee."
He sent his maid out
For some muffins and crumpets;
And when he turn'd round
They were blowing of trumpets.
Said he, "I suppose
She's as deaf as can be,
Or this ne'er could be borne
By Dame Wiggins of Lee."
To show them his poultry,
He turn'd them all loose,
When each nimbly leap'd
On the back of a goose,
Which frighten'd them so
That they ran to the sea,
And half-drown'd the poor cats
Of Dame Wiggins of Lee.
For the care of his lamb,
And their comical pranks,
He gave them a ham
And abundance of thanks.
"I wish you good-day,
My fine fellows," said he;
"My compliments, pray,
To Dame Wiggins of Lee."
You see them arrived
At their Dame's welcome door;
They show her their presents,
And all their good store.
"Now come in to supper,
And sit down with me;
All welcome once more,"
Cried Dame Wiggins of Lee.
144
This is the perfect pattern of all the
accumulative stories, perhaps the best known
and most loved of children among all nursery
jingles. Halliwell thought it descended from
the mystical Hebrew hymn, "A kid, a kid," found
in the Talmud. Most commentators since have
followed his example in calling attention to
the parallel, though scholars have insisted
that the hymn referred to is a late
interpolation. The hymn opens:
"A kid, a kid, my father bought,
For two pieces of money:
A kid, a kid.
"Then came the cat, and ate the kid,
That my father bought," etc.
Then came the dog and bit the cat, then the
staff and beat the dog, then the fire and
burned the staff, then water and quenched the
fire, then the ox and drank the water, then the
butcher and slew the ox, then the angel of
death and killed the butcher, and the hymn
concludes:
"Then came the Holy One, blessed be He!
And killed the angel of death,
That killed the butcher,
That slew the ox,
That drank the water,
That quenched the fire,
That burned the staff,
That beat the dog,
That bit the cat,
That ate the kid,
That my father bought
For two pieces of money:
A kid, a kid."
There is an elaborate interpretation of the
symbolism of this hymn, going back at least as
far as 1731, in which the kid denotes the
Hebrews, the father is Jehovah, the cat is the
Assyrians, the dog is the Babylonians, the
staff is the Persians, the fire is Greece under
Alexander, the water is the Roman Empire, the
ox is the Saracens, the butcher is the
crusaders, the angel of death is the Turkish
power, while the concluding accumulation shows
that God will take vengeance on the enemies of
the chosen people. This is the interpretation
in barest outline only. Without the key no one
would ever guess its hidden meaning.
Fortunately, "The House That Jack Built" has no
such hidden meaning. But the important point
is that such accumulative stories are almost as
old as human records, and, like so many other
possessions of the race, seem to have come to
us from the Far East.
THIS IS THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT
This is the house that Jack built.
This is the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the farmer sowing his corn,
That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tattered and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
145
THE EGG IN THE NEST
There was a tree stood in the ground,
The prettiest tree you ever did see;
The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground,
And the green grass growing all around.
And on this tree there was a limb,
The prettiest limb you ever did see;
The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood,
The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground,
And the green grass growing all around.
And on this limb there was a bough,
The prettiest bough you ever did see;
The bough on the limb, and the limb on the tree,
The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood,
The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground,
And the green grass growing all around.
Now on this bough there was a nest,
The prettiest nest you ever did see;
The nest on the bough, and the bough on the limb,
The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood,
The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground,
And the green grass growing all around.
And in the nest there were some eggs,
The prettiest eggs you ever did see;
Eggs in the nest, and the nest on the bough,
The bough on the limb, and the limb on the tree,
The limb on the tree, and the tree in the wood,
The tree in the wood, and the wood in the ground,
And the green grass growing all around,
_And the green grass growing all around_.
146
The following story is the same as that of the
Norwegian tale "The Husband Who Was to Mind the
House" (No. 170). In the Halliwell version the
final lines read,
"If his wife didn't do a day's work in her life,
She should ne'er be ruled by he."
A later reading, now generally accepted, avoids
the bad grammar by changing to direct
discourse.
CHANGE ABOUT
There was an old man, who lived in a wood,
As you may plainly see;
He said he could do as much work in a day,
As his wife could do in three.
With all my heart, the old woman said,
If that you will allow,
To-morrow you'll stay at home in my stead,
And I'll go drive the plough:
But you must milk the Tidy cow,
For fear that she go dry;
And you must feed the little pigs
That are within the sty;
And you must mind the speckled hen,
For fear she lay away;
And you must reel the spool of yarn,
That I spun yesterday.
The old woman took a staff in her hand,
And went to drive the plough:
The old man took a pail in his hand,
And went to milk the cow;
But Tidy hinched, and Tidy flinched,
And Tidy broke his nose,
And Tidy gave him such a blow,
That the blood ran down to his toes.
High! Tidy! ho! Tidy! high!
Tidy! do stand still;
If ever I milk you, Tidy, again,
'Twill be sore against my will!
He went to feed the little pigs
That were within the sty;
He hit his head against the beam,
And he made the blood to fly.
He went to mind the speckled hen,
For fear she'd lay astray,
And he forgot the spool of yarn
His wife spun yesterday.
So he swore by the sun, the moon, and the stars,
And the green leaves on the tree,
"If my wife doesn't do a day's work in her life,
She shall ne'er be ruled by me."
SECTION III
FAIRY STORIES--TRADITIONAL TALES
BIBLIOGRAPHY
I. STANDARD GENERAL COLLECTIONS
Jacobs, Joseph, _English Fairy Tales_, _More English Fairy Tales_,
_Celtic Fairy Tales_, _More Celtic Fairy Tales_, _Indian Fairy
Tales_, _Europa's Fairy Tales_.
Lang, Andrew, _The Blue Fairy Book_, _The Red Fairy Book_, _The
Green Fairy Book_, _The Yellow Fairy Book_.
The Perrault stories are included in the first.
Many other volumes named by colors (_Violet_,
_Orange_, etc.) were made under Mr. Lang's
direction, but these four include the cream.
II. NATIONAL COLLECTIONS
ENGLISH: Campbell, J. F., _Popular Tales of the West Highlands_.
4 vols.
Halliwell, J. O., _Popular Rhymes and Nursery Tales_.
Hartland, E. S., _English Fairy and Folk Tales_.
GERMAN: Grimm, J. and W., _Kinder und Hausmaerchen_ (_Household
Tales_).
Translated by Edgar Taylor as _Grimm's Popular
Stories_ (55 stories, 1823-1827), and
illustrated by George Cruikshank. Best reprint
is in one volume with introduction by John
Ruskin.
Translated complete by Margaret Hunt (2 vols.,
1884), Introduction by Andrew Lang.
Other excellent translations of selected
stories by Mrs. Lucas and by Lucy Crane.
INDIAN: Frere, Mary, _Old Deccan Days_.
Knowles, J. H., _Folk Tales of Kashmir_.
Steel, Flora Annie, _Tales of the Punjab_. (Notes by
Captain R. C. Temple.)
Stokes, Maive, _Indian Fairy Tales_.
IRISH: Curtin, J., _Hero Tales of Ireland_.
Graves, A. P., _The Irish Fairy Book_.
Hyde, Douglas, _Beside the Fire_.
Joyce, P. W., _Old Celtic Romances_.
Wilde, Lady Constance, _Ancient Irish Legends_.
Yeats, W. B., _Irish Fairy Tales_.
ITALIAN: Crane, T. F., _Italian Popular Tales_.
NORSE: Asbjoernsen, P. C., and Moe, J., _Norske Folke-eventyr_
(_Norwegian Folk Tales_, 1842-1844, with subsequent
additions).
Translated by Sir George Webbe Dasent in
_Popular Tales from the Norse_ and _Tales of
the Fjeld_; by H. L. Braekstad in _Round the
Yule Log_ and _Fairy Tales from the North_.
SLAVIC: Bain, R. Nesbit, _Cossack Fairy Tales_, _Russian Folk
Tales_.
III. THE SCIENCE OF FOLKLORE
Cox, Roalfe, _Cinderella_. (Introduction by Lang.)
Clouston, W. A., _Popular Tales and Fictions_. 2 vols.
Gomme, G. L., _Folklore as an Historical Science_.
Hartland, E. S., _The Science of Fairy Tales_.
Keightly, Thomas, _Fairy Mythology_.
Lang, Andrew, _Perrault's Popular Tales_. (Introduction.)
MacCulloch, J. A., _The Childhood of Fiction_.
IV. PEDAGOGY
Adler, Felix, _The Moral Instruction of Children_, pp. 63-79.
Kready, Laura F., _The Study of Fairy Tales_. (Indispensable.)
MacClintock, P. L., _Literature in the Elementary School_, pp.
92-112.
McMurry, Charles, _Special Method in Reading_, pp. 47-69.
SECTION III: FAIRY STORIES--TRADITIONAL TALES
INTRODUCTORY
The forty-three tales in this section have been chosen (1) in the light
of what experience shows children most enjoy, (2) to represent as fully
as possible the great variety of our traditional inheritance, (3) to
afford an opportunity of calling attention to additional riches in
various collections, and (4) to suggest a fair minimum of the amount of
such material to be used with children. As in all such questions of
judgment, there must inevitably be differences of opinion. Many will
doubtless find stories missing that seem necessary even to so small a
list, while others will find tales included that may seem questionable.
Such a selection can be, and is intended to be, only tentative, a
starting point from which there are many lines of departure.
_Folklore._ These tales are all from the traditional field. They are
mainly of anonymous and popular origin, handed down orally by peasants.
The investigation of their origin, distribution, and interrelations
belongs to the science of folklore. A good-sized library could be filled
entirely with the books concerned with the studies and disputations in
this interesting field. While the folklorists have very much of value to
tell the teacher, their questions may be largely ignored until the
latter is quite fully acquainted with a large body of the acknowledged
masterpieces among folk stories, especially those which the schools have
taken to themselves as useful in elementary work. Teachers interested in
pursuing the matter further--and it is to be hoped there are many
such--will find suggestions in the notes at the head of each tale and in
the preceding bibliography that may prove serviceable in directing them
some little way. Each book will point the student to many others; when
he is once started on the road of investigation, there will open up many
unexpected and fascinating vistas.
_Objections to fairy tales._ These objections seem to fall as a rule
under two main heads. First, there are those who object to any
stimulation of the fanciful in children, and who would have us confine
ourselves to what they call realities. They would eliminate as far as
possible all the imaginings of children. The make-believe world so dear
to infancy has no place in their creed. Second, there are those who
doubt the moral tendency of all fairy tales. They observe that many of
these tales come to us from a cruder and coarser social state than our
own, that they contain elements of a superstitious and animistic past,
that they often deal with cruelties and horrors, trickeries and
disloyalties, that they are full of romantic improbabilities and
impossibilities. It may as well be admitted at once that the folklore of
the world contains many stories to which these and other objections are
valid.
_Is there a proper line of defense for fairy tales?_ Dr. Felix Adler,
who certainly cannot be accused of being insensible to realities, puts
the case thus, as between defenders and objectors: "I venture to think
that, as in many other cases, the cause of the quarrel is what logicians
call an _undistributed middle_--in other words, that the parties to the
dispute have each a different kind of fairy tale in mind. This species
of literature can be divided broadly into two classes--one consisting of
tales which ought to be rejected because they are really harmful, and
children ought to be protected from their bad influence, the other of
tales which have a most beautiful and elevating effect, and which we
cannot possibly afford to leave unutilized." Dr. Adler proceeds to point
out that the chief pedagogic values of the latter class are (1) that
they exercise and cultivate the imagination, and (2) that they stimulate
the idealizing tendency.
John Ruskin, another teacher who constantly in his writings throws the
emphasis upon the necessity of a true ethical understanding, has this to
say about the mischievous habit of trying to remake the fairy story in
the service of morals: "And the effect of the endeavor to make stories
moral upon the literary merit of the work itself, is as harmful as the
motive of the effort is false. For every fairy tale worth recording at
all is the remnant of a tradition possessing true historical
value;--historical, at least in so far as it has naturally arisen out of
the mind of a people under special circumstances, and arisen not without
meaning, nor removed altogether from their sphere of religious faith. It
sustains afterwards natural changes from the sincere action of the fear
or fancy of successive generations; it takes new color from their manner
of life, and new form from their changing moral tempers. As long as
these changes are natural and effortless, accidental and inevitable, the
story remains essentially true, altering its form, indeed, like a flying
cloud, but remaining a sign of the sky; a shadowy image, as truly a part
of the great firmament of the human mind as the light of reason which it
seems to interrupt. But the fair deceit and innocent error of it cannot
be interpreted nor restrained by a wilful purpose, and all additions to
it by art do but defile, as the shepherd disturbs the flakes of morning
mist with smoke from his fire of dead leaves." Instead of retouching
stories "to suit particular tastes, or inculcate favorite doctrines,"
Ruskin would have the child "know his fairy tale accurately, and have
perfect joy or awe in the conception of it as if it were real; thus he
will always be exercising his power of grasping realities: but a
confused, careless, and discrediting tenure of the fiction will lead to
as confused and careless reading of fact." Still further, Ruskin defends
the vulgarity, or commonness of language, found in many of the tales as
"of a wholesome and harmless kind. It is not, for instance, graceful
English, to say that a thought 'popped into Catherine's head'; but it
nevertheless is far better, as an initiation into literary style, that a
child should be told this than that 'a subject attracted Catherine's
attention.'"
Finally, we cannot forbear adding one more quotation, from the most
delightful of attacks upon the attackers of fairy tales, by Miss
Repplier: "That which is vital in literature or tradition, which has
survived the obscurity and wreckage of the past, whether as legend, or
ballad, or mere nursery rhyme, has survived in right of some intrinsic
merit of its own, and will not be snuffed out of existence by any of our
precautionary or hygienic measures. . . . Puss in Boots is one long record
of triumphant effrontery and deception. An honest and self-respecting
lad would have explained to the king that he was not the Marquis of
Carabas at all; that he had no desire to profit by his cat's ingenious
falsehoods, and no weak ambition to connect himself with the
aristocracy. Such a hero would be a credit to our modern schoolrooms,
and lift a load of care from the shoulders of our modern critics. Only
the children would have none of him, but would turn wistfully back to
those brave old tales which are their inheritance from a splendid past,
and of which no hand shall rob them." And upon this ultimate fact that
in literature the final decision rests with the audience appealed to,
the discussion may end.
_How to use fairy stories._ Briefly, the whole matter may be summed up
thus: _Know your story perfectly. Don't read it (unless you can't do
better). Tell it--with all the graces of voice and action you can
command. Tell it naturally and simply, as the folk-tellers did, not with
studied and elaborate "elocutionary" effects. Tell it again and again.
If you do it well, the children will not soon tire of it--and they will
indicate what you should do next!_
SUGGESTIONS
(Books referred to by authors' name are listed
in bibliography.)
The one important full-length discussion for
teachers on the whole subject of the fairy tale
is Kready's _A Study of Fairy Tales_. It is
enthusiastic rather than severely critical, and
that adds to its helpfulness. It has exhaustive
bibliographies. The Ruskin quotations above are
from his introduction to Taylor's _Grimm_; it
may be found also in his collected works, in
_On the Old Road_. Miss Repplier's "Battle of
the Babies" in her _Essays in Miniature_ should
be read entire. A thoroughly stimulating
article is Brian Hooker's "Narrative and the
Fairy Tale," _Bookman_, Vol. XXXIII, pp. 389,
501; see also his "Types of Fairy Tales,"
_Forum_, Vol. XL, p. 375. For the scientific
phase start with Hartland's _Science of Fairy
Tales_. For pedagogy see Adler, MacClintock,
McMurry.
147
Many English folk tales have doubtless been
lost because no one made a serious attempt to
collect them until railroads, newspapers, and
popular education had greatly changed the life
of the English folk and destroyed many of the
traditions. For the preservation of many folk
tales that we have, English-speaking peoples
are indebted to the scholarly antiquarian James
Orchard Halliwell (afterwards
Halliwell-Phillips, 1820-1889), who in the year
1842 edited a collection of _The Nursery Rhymes
of England_ for the Percy Society. He followed
it a few years later with _Popular Rhymes and
Nursery Tales_. They have long been regarded as
the basic books in their field. These two
collections were reprinted as _Nursery Rhymes
and Tales_. This one-volume edition is the one
referred to in the following pages. Halliwell
should be remembered as the first person to
collect in a scientific way the folk literature
of England. He gathered these rhymes and tales
from the mouths of the folk, from chapbooks,
and from many other sources and endeavored to
tell them as they had been told by the folk.
"The Old Woman and Her Pig" is perhaps the most
familiar of all nursery stories. It belongs to
the type of story known as the "accumulative,"
of which "The House That Jack Built" is the
purest model. In such a story there is a
constant repetition of the plot, with an
addition or slight change at each repetition,
until at the end there is a quick unwinding
which carries us back to the initial situation
and solves the difficulty with which the story
started. Halliwell gives two versions of this
particular story. It is so widespread that many
slight variations would be expected in
successful retellings of it. The traditional
version which follows seems to be the favorite
with primary teachers. It introduces at the
sixth stage the attractive rhyme "I see by the
moonlight, etc.," which originally formed part
of another nursery tale.
THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG
Once upon a time, an old woman was sweeping her little house, when, to
her great joy, she found a silver sixpence.
"What," said she, "shall I do with this little sixpence? I think I will
go to market and buy a pig." So the next day, she went to market, and
bought a nice little white pig. She tied a string to one of the pig's
legs, and began to drive him home.
On the way, the old woman and her pig came to a stile, and she said,--
"Please, pig, get over the stile."
But the pig would not.
Just then a little dog came trotting up, and the old woman said to
him,--
"Dog, dog, bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."
But the dog would not.
So the old woman held up her stick, and said,--
"Stick, stick, beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."
But the stick would not.
So the old woman gathered some bits of wood together to make a fire, and
set them on fire, and then threw her stick into the fire, and said,--
"Fire, fire, burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."
But the fire would not.
So the old woman fetched a pail of water that was standing near, and
said,--
"Water, water, quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't get over the stile,
And I sha'n't get home to-night."
But the water would not.
Then the old woman saw an ox coming; so she said,--
"Ox, ox, drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go.
I see by the moonlight,
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."
But the ox would not.
So the old woman turned round, and saw a butcher, and she said,--
"Butcher, butcher, kill ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go.
I see by the moonlight,
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."
But the butcher would not.
So the old woman took a rope out of her pocket, and said,--
"Rope, rope, hang butcher;
Butcher won't kill ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go.
I see by the moonlight,
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."
But the rope would not.
Just then a large brown mouse ran across the meadow, and she said,--
"Mouse, mouse, gnaw rope;
Rope won't hang butcher;
Butcher won't kill ox;
Ox won't drink water;
Water won't quench fire;
Fire won't burn stick;
Stick won't beat dog;
Dog won't bite pig;
Pig won't go.
I see by the moonlight,
It's long past midnight;
Time pig and I were home an hour and a half ago."
"Yes," said the mouse, "I will if you
will give me some cheese."
So the old woman put her hand in her pocket, and found a nice piece of
cheese; and when the mouse had eaten it,
The mouse began to gnaw the rope,
The rope began to hang the butcher,
The butcher began to kill the ox,
The ox began to drink the water,
The water began to quench the fire,
The fire began to burn the stick,
The stick began to beat the dog,
The dog began to bite the pig,
And the pig began to go.
But what time the old woman and her pig got home, you, nor I, nor nobody
knows.
148
Teachers and parents owe a greater debt of
gratitude to Joseph Jacobs than to any other
modern student of folklore. He was born in
Australia in 1854, spent most of his life in
scholarly pursuits in England, and died in
America in 1916. In his six volumes of English,
Celtic, Indian, and European fairy tales he
gave the world versions of its best known and
most representative folk stories in a form
suited to children while remaining true in all
essentials to the original oral versions of the
folk. This combination of scientific accuracy
and literary workmanship is very rare. In the
introductions and notes to these various
volumes may be found a wealth of information
which the general reader can understand without
the necessity of special training in the
science of folklore. And best of all, these
volumes can be had at prices that are
comparatively cheap.
The following story of "Henny-Penny" is given
in the fine version by Joseph Jacobs in his
_English Fairy Tales_. He heard it as a child
in Australia and he thinks "the fun consists in
the avoidance of all pronouns, which results in
jawbreaking sentences." This story is also very
familiar in the Halliwell version called
"Chicken-Licken," and there are numerous
European parallels.
HENNY-PENNY
One day Henny-penny was picking up corn in the cornyard
when--whack!--something hit her upon the head. "Goodness gracious me!"
said Henny-penny; "the sky's a-going to fall; I must go and tell the
king."
So she went along, and she went along, and she went along till she met
Cocky-locky. "Where are you going, Henny-penny?" says Cocky-locky. "Oh!
I'm going to tell the king the sky's a-falling," says Henny-penny. "May
I come with you?" says Cocky-locky. "Certainly," says Henny-penny. So
Henny-penny and Cocky-locky went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.
They went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they met
Ducky-daddles. "Where are you going to, Henny-penny and Cocky-locky?"
says Ducky-daddles. "Oh! we're going to tell the king the sky's
a-falling," said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. "May I come with you?"
says Ducky-daddles. "Certainly," said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky. So
Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles went to tell the king the
sky was a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they
met Goosey-poosey. "Where are you going to, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
and Ducky-daddles?" said Goosey-poosey. "Oh! we're going to tell the
king the sky's a-falling," said Henny-penny and Cocky-locky and
Ducky-daddles. "May I come with you?" said Goosey-poosey. "Certainly,"
said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, and Ducky-daddles. So Henny-penny,
Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey went to tell the king the
sky was a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they
met Turkey-lurkey. "Where are you going, Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?" says Turkey-lurkey. "Oh! we're going
to tell the king the sky's a-falling," said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey. "May I come with you, Henny-penny,
Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, and Goosey-poosey?" said Turkey-lurkey. "Oh,
certainly, Turkey-lurkey," said Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
and Goosey-poosey. So Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey all went to tell the king the sky was
a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they
met Foxy-woxy, and Foxy-woxy said to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey: "Where are you going,
Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey?" And Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey said to Foxy-woxy: "We're going to tell
the king the sky's a-falling." "Oh! but this is not the way to the king,
Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey," says Foxy-woxy; "I know the proper way; shall I show it
you?" "Oh, certainly, Foxy-woxy," said Henny-Penny, Cocky-locky,
Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So Henny-penny,
Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, Turkey-lurkey, and Foxy-woxy
all went to tell the king the sky was a-falling.
So they went along, and they went along, and they went along, till they
came to a narrow and dark hole. Now this was the door of Foxy-woxy's
cave. But Foxy-woxy said to Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey: "This is the short way to the king's
palace; you'll soon get there if you follow me. I will go first and you
come after, Henny-Penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey." "Why of course, certainly, without doubt, why not?" said
Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles, Goosey-poosey, and
Turkey-lurkey.
So Foxy-woxy went into his cave, and he didn't go very far, but turned
round to wait for Henny-penny, Cocky-locky, Ducky-daddles,
Goosey-poosey, and Turkey-lurkey. So at last at first Turkey-lurkey went
through the dark hole into the cave. He hadn't got far when "Hrumph,"
Foxy-woxy snapped off Turkey-lurkey's head and threw his body over his
left shoulder. Then Goosey-poosey went in, and "Hrumph," off went her
head and Goosey-poosey was thrown beside Turkey-lurkey. Then
Ducky-daddles waddled down, and "Hrumph," snapped Foxy-woxy, and
Ducky-daddles' head was off and Ducky-daddles was thrown alongside
Turkey-lurkey and Goosey-poosey. Then Cocky-locky strutted down into the
cave, and he hadn't gone far when "Snap, Hrumph!" went Foxy-woxy and
Cocky-locky was thrown alongside of Turkey-lurkey, Goosey-poosey, and
Ducky-daddles.
But Foxy-woxy had made two bites at Cocky-locky, and when the first snap
only hurt Cocky-locky, but didn't kill him, he called out to
Henny-penny. But she turned tail and off she ran home, so she never told
the king the sky was a-falling.
149
The favorite story of "Teeny-Tiny" is taken
from Halliwell, who obtained it from oral
tradition, and by whom it was, apparently,
first put into print. "This simple tale," he
says, "seldom fails to rivet the attention of
children, especially if well told. The last two
words should be said loudly with a start." Many
modern story-tellers seem to prefer modified
forms of this story, presumably owing to a
feeling on their part that the bone and the
churchyard have gruesome suggestions. Carolyn
S. Bailey gives one of the best of these
modified forms in her _Firelight Stories_,
where the woman goes into a field instead of
the churchyard, finds a hen at the foot of a
tree, thinks this is a chance to have an egg
for her breakfast, puts the hen in her
reticule, goes home, puts the hen in her
cupboard, and goes upstairs to take a nap. Of
course the "teeny-tiny" goes in at every point.
Substituting "hen" for "bone," the story
continues substantially as given below.
TEENY-TINY
Once upon a time there was a teeny-tiny woman lived in a teeny-tiny
house in a teeny-tiny village. Now, one day this teeny-tiny woman put on
her teeny-tiny bonnet, and went out of her teeny-tiny house to take a
teeny-tiny walk. And when this teeny-tiny woman had gone a teeny-tiny
way, she came to a teeny-tiny gate; so the teeny-tiny woman opened the
teeny-tiny gate, and went into a teeny-tiny churchyard. And when this
teeny-tiny woman had got into the teeny-tiny churchyard, she saw a
teeny-tiny bone on a teeny-tiny grave, and the teeny-tiny woman said to
her teeny-tiny self, "This teeny-tiny bone will make me some teeny-tiny
soup for my teeny-tiny supper." So the teeny-tiny woman put the
teeny-tiny bone into her teeny-tiny pocket, and went home to her
teeny-tiny house.
Now when the teeny-tiny woman got home to her teeny-tiny house, she was
a teeny-tiny tired; so she went up her teeny-tiny stairs to her
teeny-tiny bed, and put the teeny-tiny bone into a teeny-tiny cupboard.
And when this teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep a teeny-tiny time, she
was awakened by a teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard, which
said:
"GIVE ME MY BONE!"
And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny frightened, so she hid her
teeny-tiny head under the teeny-tiny clothes and went to sleep again.
And when she had been to sleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny
voice again cried out from the teeny-tiny cupboard a teeny-tiny louder,
"GIVE ME MY BONE!"
This made the teeny-tiny woman a teeny-tiny more frightened, so she hid
her teeny-tiny head a teeny-tiny farther under the teeny-tiny clothes.
And when the teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep again a teeny-tiny time,
the teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard said again a
teeny-tiny louder,
"GIVE ME MY BONE!"
And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit more frightened, but she
put her teeny-tiny head out of the teeny-tiny clothes, and said in her
loudest teeny-tiny voice,
"TAKE IT!"
150
The very old story that follows is taken from
Halliwell, and is, according to Jacobs,
scarcely more than a variant of "The Old Woman
and Her Pig." Like that story, "The Cat and the
Mouse" appeals to small people by its
pronounced rhythmical structure, accentuated by
the rhyme which marks the transition to each
new section, and by the "run" at the close.
THE CAT AND THE MOUSE
The cat and the mouse
Played in the malt-house:
The cat bit the mouse's tail off. "Pray, puss, give me my tail."
"No," said the cat, "I'll not give you your tail till you go to the cow
and fetch me some milk."
First she leapt, and then she ran,
Till she came to the cow, and thus began:
"Pray, cow, give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me
my own tail again."
"No," said the cow, "I will give you no milk till you go to the farmer
and fetch me some hay."
First she leapt, and then she ran,
Till she came to the farmer, and thus began:
"Pray, farmer, give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give
me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail
again."
"No," said the farmer, "I'll give you no hay till you go to the butcher
and fetch me some meat."
First she leapt, and then she ran,
Till she came to the butcher, and thus began:
"Pray, butcher, give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer
may give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk,
that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again."
"No," said the butcher, "I'll give you no meat till you go to the baker
and fetch me some bread."
First she leapt, and then she ran,
Till she came to the baker, and thus began:
"Pray, baker, give me bread, that I may give butcher bread, that butcher
may give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give me
hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give
cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again."
"Yes," said the baker, "I'll give you some bread,
But if you eat my meal, I'll cut off your head."
Then the baker gave mouse bread, and mouse gave butcher bread, and
butcher gave mouse meat, and mouse gave farmer meat, and farmer gave
mouse hay, and mouse gave cow hay, and cow gave mouse milk, and mouse
gave cat milk, and cat gave mouse her own tail again.
151
The following story is in the most familiar
version of Halliwell's collection. Another
much-used form of the story may be found in
Lang's _Green Fairy Book_, in which the pigs
are distinctly characterized and given the
names of Browny, Whitey, and Blacky. Jacobs
uses the Halliwell version in his _English
Fairy Tales_, but prefixes to it an opening
formula which seems to have been much in use by
old story-tellers as a way of beginning almost
any oral story for children:
"Once upon a time when pigs spoke rhyme
And monkeys chewed tobacco,
And hens took snuff to make them tough,
And ducks went quack, quack, quack, O!"
THE STORY OF THE THREE LITTLE PIGS
Once upon a time there was an old sow with three little pigs, and as she
had not enough to keep them, she sent them out to seek their fortune.
The first that went off met a man with a bundle of straw, and said to
him:
"Please, man, give me that straw to build me a house."
Which the man did, and the little pig built a house with it. Presently
came along a wolf, and knocked at the door, and said:
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
To which the pig answered:
"No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin."
The wolf then answered to that:
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
So he huffed, and he puffed, and he blew his house in, and ate up the
little pig.
The second little pig met a man with a bundle of furze and said:
"Please, man, give me that furze to build a house."
Which the man did, and the pig built his house. Then along came the
wolf, and said:
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, no, by the hair of my chinny chin chin."
"Then I'll puff, and I'll huff, and I'll blow your house in."
So he huffed, and he puffed, and he puffed, and he huffed, and at last
he blew the house down, and he ate up the little pig.
The third little pig met a man with a load of bricks, and said:
"Please, man, give me those bricks to build a house with."
So the man gave him the bricks, and he built his house with them. So the
wolf came, as he did to the other little pigs, and said:
"Little pig, little pig, let me come in."
"No, no, by the hair on my chinny chin chin."
"Then I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."
Well, he huffed, and he puffed, and he huffed and he puffed, and he
puffed and huffed; but he could _not_ get the house down. When he found
that he could not, with all his huffing and puffing, blow the house
down, he said:
"Little pig, I know where there is a nice field of turnips."
"Where?" said the little pig.
"Oh, in Mr. Smith's Home-field, and if you will be ready to-morrow
morning I will call for you, and we will go together and get some for
dinner."
"Very well," said the little pig, "I will be ready. What time do you
mean to go?"
"Oh, at six o'clock."
Well, the little pig got up at five and got the turnips before the wolf
came (which he did about six), who said:
"Little pig, are you ready?"
The little pig said: "Ready! I have been and come back again, and got a
nice potful for dinner."
The wolf felt very angry at this, but thought that he would be _up to_
the little pig somehow or other, so he said:
"Little pig, I know where there is a nice apple-tree."
"Where?" said the pig.
"Down at Merry-garden," replied the wolf, "and if you will not deceive
me I will come for you at five o'clock tomorrow and we will go together
and get some apples."
Well, the little pig bustled up the next morning at four o'clock, and
went off for the apples, hoping to get back before the wolf came; but he
had farther to go and had to climb the tree, so that just as he was
coming down from it, he saw the wolf coming, which, as you may suppose,
frightened him very much. When the wolf came up he said:
"Little pig, what! are you here before me? Are they nice apples?"
"Yes, very," said the little pig. "I will throw you down one."
And he threw it so far that, while the wolf was gone to pick it up, the
little pig jumped down and ran home. The next day the wolf came again
and said to the little pig:
"Little pig, there is a fair at Shanklin this afternoon. Will you go?"
"Oh, yes," said the pig, "I will go. What time shall you be ready?"
"At three," said the wolf. So the little pig went off before the time as
usual, and got to the fair and bought a butter-churn, which he was going
home with, when he saw the wolf coming. Then he could not tell what to
do. So he got into the churn to hide, and by so doing turned it round,
and it rolled down the hill with the pig in it, which frightened the
wolf so much that he ran home without going to the fair. He went to the
little pig's house and told him how frightened he had been by a great
round thing which came down the hill past him. Then the little pig said:
"Hah, I frightened you, then. I had been to the fair and bought a
butter-churn, and when I saw you, I got into it and rolled down the
hill."
Then the wolf was very angry indeed, and declared he _would_ eat up the
little pig and that he would get down the chimney after him. When the
little pig saw what he was about, he hung on the pot full of water and
made up a blazing fire, and, just as the wolf was coming down, took off
the cover, and in fell the wolf; so the little pig put on the cover
again in an instant, boiled him up, and ate him for supper, and lived
happy ever afterwards.
152
How great calamities sometimes grow out of
small causes is illustrated in an old
proverbial saying of Poor Richard (see No.
137). The favorite English folk-tale version of
this theme, taken from Halliwell, is given
below. It takes the form of an accumulative
droll, or comic story. The overwhelming
catastrophe at the end is so complete and so
unexpected that it has a decidedly humorous
effect.
TITTY MOUSE AND TATTY MOUSE
Titty Mouse and Tatty Mouse both lived in a house,
Titty Mouse went a leasing and Tatty Mouse went a leasing,
So they both went a leasing.
Titty Mouse leased an ear of corn, and
Tatty Mouse leased an ear of corn,
So they both leased an ear of corn.
Titty Mouse made a pudding, and
Tatty Mouse made a pudding,
So they both made a pudding.
And Tatty Mouse put her pudding into the pot to boil,
But when Titty went to put hers in, the pot tumbled over, and
scalded her to death.
Then Tatty sat down and wept; then a three-legged stool said: "Tatty,
why do you weep?" "Titty's dead," said Tatty, "and so I weep." "Then,"
said the stool, "I'll hop," so the stool hopped.
Then a broom in the corner of the room said: "Stool, why do you hop?"
"Oh!" said the stool, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and so I hop."
"Then," said the broom, "I'll sweep," so the broom began to sweep.
"Then," said the door, "Broom, why do you sweep?" "Oh!" said the broom,
"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and so I sweep."
"Then," said the door, "I'll jar," so the door jarred.
"Then," said the window, "Door, why do you jar?" "Oh," said the door,
"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps,
and so I jar."
"Then," said the window, "I'll creak," so the window creaked. Now there
was an old form outside the house, and when the window creaked, the form
said: "Window, why do you creak?" "Oh!" said the window, "Titty's dead,
and Tatty weeps, and the stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door
jars, and so I creak."
"Then," said the old form, "I'll run round the house"; then the old form
ran round the house. Now there was a fine large walnut-tree growing by
the cottage, and the tree said to the form: "Form, why do you run round
the house?" "Oh!" said the form, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, and the
stool hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks,
and so I run round the house."
"Then," said the walnut-tree, "I'll shed my leaves," so the walnut-tree
shed all its beautiful green leaves. Now there was a little bird perched
on one of the boughs of the tree, and when all the leaves fell, it said:
"Walnut-tree, why do you shed your leaves?" "Oh!" said the tree,
"Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom sweeps,
the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round the house,
and so I shed my leaves."
"Then," said the little bird, "I'll moult all my feathers," so he
moulted all his pretty feathers. Now there was a little girl walking
below, carrying a jug of milk for her brothers' and sisters' supper, and
when she saw the poor little bird moult all its feathers, she said:
"Little bird, why do you moult all your feathers?" "Oh!" said the little
bird, "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool hops, and the broom
sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the old form runs round
the house, the walnut-tree sheds its leaves, and so I moult all my
feathers."
"Then," said the little girl, "I'll spill the milk," so she dropt the
pitcher and spilt the milk. Now there was an old man just by on the top
of a ladder thatching a rick, and when he saw the little girl spill the
milk, he said: "Little girl, what do you mean by spilling the
milk?--your little brothers and sisters must go without their supper."
Then said the little girl: "Titty's dead, and Tatty weeps, the stool
hops, and the broom sweeps, the door jars, and the window creaks, the
old form runs round the house, the walnut-tree sheds all its leaves, the
little bird moults all its feathers, and so I spill the milk."
"Oh!" said the old man, "then I'll tumble off the ladder and break my
neck," so he tumbled off the ladder and broke his neck; and when the old
man broke his neck, the great walnut-tree fell down with a crash and
upset the old form and house, and the house falling knocked the window
out, and the window knocked the door down, and the door upset the broom,
and the broom upset the stool, and poor little Tatty Mouse was buried
beneath the ruins.
153
"The Story of the Three Bears" is perhaps the
only instance in which a piece of literature by
a known English author is found among accepted
folk tales. It appeared in Robert Southey's
rambling miscellany, _The Doctor_ (1837). He
may have taken it from an old tale, but no
amount of investigation has located any certain
source. In the most familiar versions the
naughty old woman gives place to a little girl
whose name is Goldenhair, Goldilocks,
Silverhair, or Silverlocks. The point to the
story is lessened by the change, but the
popularity of these modifications seems to
suggest that children prefer to have the
ill-mannered old woman turned into an
attractive little girl. Southey apparently was
delighted with efforts to bring his story into
any form more pleasing to the folk, and we find
his son-in-law saying that he was especially
pleased with a versification "by G. N. and
published especially for the amusement of
'little people' lest in the volumes of _The
Doctor_ it should 'escape their sight.'"
However, it would appear that teachers at least
should know this masterpiece in the only form
in which its author put it. To that end this
version of "The Three Bears" follows Southey
with the change of a single word. At the head
of the story he placed these lines from
Gascoyne:
"A tale which may content the minds
Of learned men and grave philosophers."
THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS
ROBERT SOUTHEY
[Transcriber's Note: For this story, different
sized text was used to indicate the size of the
different bears' voices. The largest text has
been denote by use of the ~ symbol and the
smallest text has been denoted by use of the +
symbol.]
Once upon a time there were Three Bears who lived together in a house of
their own in a wood. One of them was a Little, Small, Wee Bear; and one
was a Middle-sized Bear, and the other was a Great, Huge Bear. They had
each a pot for their porridge; a little pot for the Little, Small, Wee
Bear; and a middle-sized pot for the Middle Bear; and a great pot for
the Great, Huge Bear. And they had each a chair to sit in; a little
chair for the Little, Small, Wee Bear; and a middle-sized chair for the
Middle Bear; and a great chair for the Great, Huge Bear. And they had
each a bed to sleep in; a little bed for the Little, Small, Wee Bear;
and a middle-sized bed for the Middle Bear; and a great bed for the
Great, Huge Bear.
One day after they had made the porridge for their breakfast and poured
it into their porridge-pots, they walked out into the wood while the
porridge was cooling, that they might not burn their mouths by beginning
too soon to eat it. And while they were walking, a little old Woman came
to the house. She could not have been a good, honest old Woman; for
first she looked in at the window and then she peeped in at the keyhole;
and seeing nobody in the house, she lifted the latch. The door was not
fastened, because the Bears were good Bears, who did nobody any harm and
never suspected that anybody would harm them. So the little old Woman
opened the door and went in, and well pleased she was when she saw the
porridge on the table. If she had been a good little old Woman, she
would have waited till the Bears came home, and then perhaps they would
have asked her to breakfast, for they were good Bears--a little rough or
so, as the manner of Bears is, but for all that very good-natured and
hospitable. But she was an impudent, bad old Woman, and set about
helping herself.
So first she tasted the porridge of the Great, Huge Bear, and that was
too hot for her; and she said a bad word about that. And then she tasted
the porridge of the Middle Bear, and that was too cold for her; and she
said a bad word about that too. And then she went to the porridge of the
Little, Small, Wee Bear, and tasted that; and that was neither too hot
nor too cold, but just right; and she liked it so well that she ate it
all up. But the naughty old Woman said a bad word about the little
porridge-pot because it did not hold enough for her.
Then the little old Woman sat down in the chair of the Great, Huge Bear,
and that was too hard for her. And then she sat down in the chair of the
Middle Bear, and that was too soft for her. And then she sat down in the
chair of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, and that was neither too hard nor
too soft, but just right. So she seated herself in it, and there she sat
till the bottom of the chair came out, and down she came, plump upon the
ground. And the naughty old Woman said a wicked word about that too.
Then the little old Woman went upstairs into the bed-chamber in which
the three Bears slept. And first she lay down upon the bed of the Great,
Huge Bear; but that was too high at the head for her. And next she lay
down upon the bed of the Middle Bear, and that was too high at the foot
for her. And then she lay down upon the bed of the Little, Small, Wee
Bear, and that was neither too high at the head nor at the foot, but
just right. So she covered herself up comfortably and lay there till she
fell fast asleep.
By this time the Three Bears thought their porridge would be cool
enough, so they came home to breakfast. Now the little old Woman had
left the spoon of the Great, Huge Bear standing in his porridge.
"~SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!~" said the Great, Huge Bear, in his
great, rough, gruff voice. And when the Middle Bear looked at his, he
saw that the spoon was standing in it too. They were wooden spoons; if
they had been silver ones, the naughty old Woman would have put them in
her pocket.
"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE!" said the Middle Bear, in his middle
voice.
Then the Little, Small, Wee Bear looked at his, and there was the spoon
in the porridge-pot, but the porridge was all gone.
"+SOMEBODY HAS BEEN AT MY PORRIDGE, AND HAS EATEN IT ALL UP!+" said the
Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.
Upon this the Three Bears, seeing that some one had entered their house
and eaten up the Little, Small, Wee Bear's breakfast, began to look
about them. Now the little old Woman had not put the hard cushion
straight when she rose from the chair of the Great, Huge Bear.
"~SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!~" said the Great, Huge Bear, in
his great, rough, gruff voice.
And the little old Woman had squatted down the soft cushion of the
Middle Bear.
"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR!" said the Middle Bear, in his
middle voice.
And you know what the little old Woman had done to the third chair.
"+SOMEBODY HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY CHAIR AND HAS SAT THE BOTTOM OUT OF
IT!+" said the Little, Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.
Then the three Bears thought it necessary that they should make further
search; so they went upstairs into their bed-chamber. Now the little old
Woman had pulled the pillow of the Great, Huge Bear out of its place.
"~SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!~" said the Great, Huge Bear, in his
great, rough, gruff voice.
And the little old Woman had pulled the bolster of the Middle Bear out
of its place.
"SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED!" said the Middle Bear, in his middle
voice.
And when the Little, Small, Wee Bear came to look at his bed, there was
the bolster in its right place, and the pillow in its place upon the
bolster; and upon the pillow was the little old Woman's ugly, dirty
head,--which was not in its place, for she had no business there.
"+SOMEBODY HAS BEEN LYING IN MY BED,--AND HERE SHE IS!+" said the Little,
Small, Wee Bear, in his little, small, wee voice.
The little old Woman had heard in her sleep the great, rough, gruff
voice of the Great, Huge Bear; but she was so fast asleep that it was no
more to her than the roaring of wind or the rumbling of thunder. And she
had heard the middle voice of the Middle Bear, but it was only as if she
had heard some one speaking in a dream. But when she heard the little,
small, wee voice of the Little, Small, Wee Bear, it was so sharp and so
shrill that it awakened her at once. Up she started; and when she saw
the Three Bears on one side of the bed, she tumbled herself out at the
other and ran to the window. Now the window was open, because the Bears,
like good, tidy Bears as they were, always opened their bed-chamber
window when they got up in the morning. Out the little old Woman jumped;
and whether she broke her neck in the fall, or ran into the wood and was
lost there, or found her way out of the wood and was taken up by the
constable and sent to the House of Correction for a vagrant, as she was,
I cannot tell. But the Three Bears never saw anything more of her.
154
A noodle story is a droll, or comic story, that
follows the fortunes of very simple or stupid
characters. There are many noodle stories among
the favorites of the folk, and the three
immediately following are among the best known.
This version of "The Three Sillies" was
collected from oral tradition in Suffolk,
England. In the original the dangerous tool was
an ax, but the collector informed Mr. Hartland,
in whose _English Fairy and Folk Tales_ it is
reprinted, that she had found it was really "a
great big wooden mallet, as some one had left
sticking there when they'd been _making-up_ the
beer." This change, following the example of
Jacobs, is made in the text of the story. This
particular droll is widespread. Grimms' "Clever
Elsie" is the same story, and a French version,
"The Six Sillies," is in Lang's _Red Fairy
Book_. A very fine Italian version, called
"Bastienelo," is given in Crane's _Italian
Popular Tales_. The tendency of people to
"borrow trouble" is so universal that stories
illustrating its ludicrous consequences have
always had wide appeal. Some details of these
variants are due to local environments. For
instance, in the Italian story wine takes the
place of beer, and it has been pointed out that
there are "borrowing trouble" stories found in
New York and Ohio in which the thing feared is
the heavy iron door closing the mouth of the
oven which in pioneer days was built in by the
side of the fireplace.
=THE THREE SILLIES=
Once upon a time there was a farmer and his wife who had one daughter,
and she was courted by a gentleman. Every evening he used to come and
see her, and stop to supper at the farmhouse, and the daughter used to
be sent down into the cellar to draw the beer for supper. So one evening
she had gone down to draw the beer, and she happened to look up at the
ceiling while she was drawing, and she saw a mallet stuck in one of the
beams. It must have been there a long, long time, but somehow or other
she had never noticed it before, and she began a-thinking. And she
thought it was very dangerous to have that mallet there, for she said to
herself: "Suppose him and me was to be married, and we was to have a
son, and he was to grow up to be a man, and come down into the cellar to
draw the beer, like as I'm doing now, and the mallet was to fall on his
head and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!" And she put down
the candle and the jug, and sat herself down and began a-crying.
Well, they began to wonder upstairs how it was that she was so long
drawing the beer, and her mother went down to see after her, and she
found her sitting on the settle crying, and the beer running over the
floor. "Why, whatever is the matter?" said her mother.
"Oh, mother!" says she, "look at that horrid mallet! Suppose we was to
be married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow up, and was to
come down to the cellar to draw the beer, and the mallet was to fall on
his head and kill him, what a dreadful thing it would be!"
"Dear, dear! what a dreadful thing it would be!" said the mother, and
she sat her down aside of the daughter and started a-crying too.
Then after a bit the father began to wonder that they didn't come back,
and he went down into the cellar to look after them himself, and there
they two sat a-crying, and the beer running all over the floor.
"Whatever is the matter?" says he.
"Why," says the mother, "look at that horrid mallet. Just suppose, if
our daughter and her sweetheart was to be married, and was to have a
son, and he was to grow up, and was to come down into the cellar to draw
the beer, and the mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, what a
dreadful thing it would be!"
"Dear, dear, dear! so it would!" said the father, and he sat himself
down aside of the other two, and started a-crying.
Now the gentleman got tired of stopping up in the kitchen by himself,
and at last he went down into the cellar too, to see what they were
after; and there they three sat a-crying side by side, and the beer
running all over the floor. And he ran straight and turned the tap. Then
he said: "Whatever are you three doing, sitting there crying, and
letting the beer run all over the floor?"
"Oh!" says the father, "look at that horrid mallet! Suppose you and our
daughter was to be married, and was to have a son, and he was to grow
up, and was to come down into the cellar to draw the beer, and the
mallet was to fall on his head and kill him!" And then they all started
a-crying worse than before.
But the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and reached up and pulled out
the mallet, and then he said: "I've traveled many miles, and I never met
three such big sillies as you three before; and now I shall start out on
my travels again, and when I can find three bigger sillies than you
three, then I'll come back and marry your daughter." So he wished them
good-bye, and started off on his travels, and left them all crying
because the girl had lost her sweetheart.
Well, he set out, and he traveled a long way, and at last he came to a
woman's cottage that had some grass growing on the roof. And the woman
was trying to get her cow to go up a ladder to the grass, and the poor
thing durst not go. So the gentleman asked the woman what she was doing.
"Why, lookye," she said, "look at all that beautiful grass. I'm going to
get the cow on to the roof to eat it. She'll be quite safe, for I shall
tie a string round her neck, and pass it down the chimney, and tie it to
my wrist as I go about the house, so she can't fall off without my
knowing it."
"Oh, you poor silly!" said the gentleman, "you should cut the grass and
throw it down to the cow!" But the woman thought it was easier to get
the cow up the ladder than to get the grass down, so she pushed her and
coaxed her and got her up, and tied a string round her neck, and passed
it down the chimney, and fastened it to her own wrist. And the gentleman
went on his way, but he hadn't gone far when the cow tumbled off the
roof, and hung by the string tied round her neck, and it strangled her.
And the weight of the cow tied to her wrist pulled the woman up the
chimney, and she stuck fast half-way and was smothered in the soot.
Well, that was one big silly.
And the gentleman went on and on, and he went to an inn to stop the
night, and they were so full at the inn that they had to put him in a
double-bedded room, and another traveller was to sleep in the other bed.
The other man was a very pleasant fellow, and they got very friendly
together; but in the morning, when they were both getting up, the
gentleman was surprised to see the other hang his trousers on the knobs
of the chest of drawers and run across the room and try to jump into
them, and he tried over and over again, and couldn't manage it; and the
gentleman wondered whatever he was doing it for. At last he stopped and
wiped his face with his handkerchief. "Oh, dear," he says, "I do think
trousers are the most awkwardest kind of clothes that ever were. I can't
think who could have invented such things. It takes me the best part of
an hour to get into mine every morning, and I get so hot! How do you
manage yours?" So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and showed him how
to put them on; and he was very much obliged to him, and said he never
should have thought of doing it that way.
So that was another big silly.
Then the gentleman went on his travels again; and he came to a village,
and outside the village there was a pond, and round the pond was a crowd
of people. And they had got rakes, and brooms, and pitchforks, reaching
into the pond; and the gentleman asked what was the matter.
"Why," they said, "matter enough! Moon's tumbled into the pond, and we
can't rake her out anyhow!"
So the gentleman burst out a-laughing, and told them to look up into the
sky, and that it was only the shadow in the water. But they wouldn't
listen to him, and abused him shamefully, and he got away as quick as he
could.
So there was a whole lot of sillies bigger than the three sillies at
home. So the gentleman turned back home again and married the farmer's
daughter, and if they didn't live happy for ever after, that's nothing
to do with you or me.
155
There seemed to be a feeling common among the
folk that simple-minded persons were in the
special care of Providence. Hence, sometimes
the achievement of success beyond the power of
wiser and cleverer individuals. "Lazy Jack"
comes from the Halliwell collection. "The
humor lies in the contrast between what Jack
did and what anybody 'with sense' knows he
ought to have done." A parallel story is the
Grimms' "Hans in Luck." A most striking and
popular Americanization of it is Sara Cone
Bryant's "The Story of Epaminondas and His
Auntie" in her _Stories to Tell to Children_.
LAZY JACK
Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, and he lived with
his mother on a dreary common. They were very poor, and the old woman
got her living by spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would do
nothing but bask in the sun in the hot weather and sit by the corner of
the hearth in the winter time. His mother could not persuade him to do
anything for her and was obliged at last to tell him that if he did not
begin to work for his porridge she would turn him out to get his living
as he could.
This threat at length roused Jack, and he went out and hired himself for
the day to a neighboring farmer for a penny; but as he was coming home,
never having had any money in his possession before, he lost it in
passing over a brook. "You stupid boy," said his mother, "you should
have put it in your pocket."
"I'll do so another time," replied Jack.
The next day Jack went out again and hired himself to a cowkeeper, who
gave him a jar of milk for his day's work. Jack took the jar and put it
into the large pocket of his jacket, spilling it all long before he got
home. "Dear me!" said the old woman; "you should have carried it on your
head."
"I'll do so another time," said Jack.
The following day Jack hired himself again to a farmer, who agreed to
give him a cream cheese for his services. In the evening Jack took the
cheese and went home with it on his head. By the time he got home the
cheese was completely spoilt, part of it being lost and part matted with
his hair. "You stupid lout," said his mother, "you should have carried
it very carefully in your hands."
"I'll do so another time," replied Jack.
The day after this Jack again went out and hired himself to a baker, who
would give him nothing for his work but a large tomcat. Jack took the
cat and began carrying it very carefully in his hands, but in a short
time pussy scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it go.
When he got home, his mother said to him: "You silly fellow, you should
have tied it with a string and dragged it along after you."
"I'll do so another time," said Jack.
The next day Jack hired himself to a butcher, who rewarded his labors by
the handsome present of a shoulder of mutton. Jack took the mutton, tied
it to a string, and trailed it along after him in the dirt, so that by
the time he had got home the meat was completely spoilt. His mother was
this time quite out of patience with him, for the next day was Sunday,
and she was obliged to content herself with cabbage for her dinner. "You
ninney-hammer," said she to her son, "you should have carried it on your
shoulder."
"I'll do so another time," replied Jack.
On the Monday Jack went once more and hired himself to a cattle-keeper,
who gave him a donkey for his trouble. Although Jack was very strong, he
found some difficulty in hoisting the donkey on his shoulders, but at
last he accomplished it and began walking slowly home with his prize.
Now it happened that in the course of his journey there lived a rich man
with his only daughter, a beautiful girl, but unfortunately deaf and
dumb. She had never laughed in her life, and the doctors said she would
never recover till somebody made her laugh. This young lady happened to
be looking out of the window when Jack was passing with the donkey on
his shoulders, the legs sticking up in the air, and the sight was so
comical and strange that she burst out into a great fit of laughter, and
immediately recovered her speech and hearing. Her father was overjoyed,
and fulfilled his promise by marrying her to Jack, who was thus made a
rich gentleman. They lived in a large house, and Jack's mother lived
with them in great happiness until she died.
156
The following noodle story is from Halliwell as
obtained from oral tradition in the west of
England. It is a variant of the "Lazy Jack"
type.
THE STORY OF MR. VINEGAR
Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar lived in a vinegar bottle. Now, one day when Mr.
Vinegar was from home and Mrs. Vinegar, who was a very good housewife,
was busily sweeping her house, an unlucky thump of the broom brought the
whole house clitter-clatter about her ears. In a paroxysm of grief she
rushed forth to meet her husband. On seeing him she exclaimed, "Oh, Mr.
Vinegar, Mr. Vinegar, we are ruined, we are ruined: I have knocked the
house down, and it is all to pieces!"
Mr. Vinegar then said: "My dear, let us see what can be done. Here is
the door; I will take it on my back, and we will go forth to seek our
fortune."
They walked all that day and at nightfall entered a thick forest. They
were both excessively tired, and Mr. Vinegar said: "My love, I will
climb up into a tree, drag up the door, and you shall follow." He
accordingly did so, and they both stretched their weary limbs on the
door, and fell fast asleep.
In the middle of the night Mr. Vinegar was disturbed by the sound of
voices beneath, and to his inexpressible dismay perceived that a party
of thieves were met to divide their booty. "Here, Jack," said one,
"here's five pounds for you; here, Bill, here's ten pounds for you;
here, Bob, here's three pounds for you."
Mr. Vinegar could listen no longer; his terror was so intense that he
trembled most violently and shook down the door on their heads. Away
scampered the thieves, but Mr. Vinegar dared not quit his retreat till
broad daylight. He then scrambled out of the tree and went to lift up
the door. What did he behold but a number of golden guineas! "Come down,
Mrs. Vinegar," he cried; "come down, I say; our fortune's made! Come
down, I say."
Mrs. Vinegar got down as fast as she could and saw the money with equal
delight. "Now, my dear," said she, "I'll tell you what you shall do.
There is a fair at the neighboring town; you shall take these forty
guineas and buy a cow. I can make butter and cheese, which you shall
sell at market, and we shall then be able to live very comfortably."
Mr. Vinegar joyfully assents, takes the money, and goes off to the fair.
When he arrived, he walked up and down, and at length saw a beautiful
red cow. It was an excellent milker and perfect in every respect. "Oh,"
thought Mr. Vinegar, "if I had but that cow, I should be the happiest
man alive." So he offers the forty guineas for the cow, and the owner
declaring that, as he was a friend, he'd oblige him, the bargain was
made. Proud of his purchase, he drove the cow backwards and forwards to
show it. By-and-by he saw a man playing the bagpipes--_tweedle-dum,
tweedle-dee_. The children followed him about, and he appeared to be
pocketing money on all sides. "Well," thought Mr. Vinegar, "if I had but
that beautiful instrument, I should be the happiest man alive--my
fortune would be made." So he went up to the man. "Friend," says he,
"what a beautiful instrument that is, and what a deal of money you must
make."
"Why, yes," said the man, "I make a great deal of money, to be sure, and
it is a wonderful instrument."
"Oh!" cried Mr. Vinegar, "how I should like to possess it!"
"Well," said the man, "as you are a friend, I don't much mind parting
with it; you shall have it for that red cow."
"Done!" said the delighted Mr. Vinegar. So the beautiful red cow was
given for the bagpipes. He walked up and down with his purchase; but in
vain he attempted to play a tune, and instead of pocketing pence, the
boys followed him hooting, laughing, and pelting.
Poor Mr. Vinegar, his fingers grew very cold, and heartily ashamed and
mortified, he was leaving the town, when he met a man with a fine thick
pair of gloves. "Oh, my fingers are so very cold," said Mr. Vinegar to
himself. "If I had but those beautiful gloves I should be the happiest
man alive." He went up to the man, and said to him: "Friend, you seem to
have a capital pair of gloves there."
"Yes, truly," cried the man; "and my hands are as warm as possible this
cold November day."
"Well," said Mr. Vinegar, "I should like to have them."
"What will you give?" said the man; "as you are a friend, I don't much
mind letting you have them for those bagpipes."
"Done!" cried Mr. Vinegar. He put on the gloves, and felt perfectly
happy as he trudged homewards.
At last he grew very tired, when he saw a man coming towards him with a
good stout stick in his hand. "Oh," said Mr. Vinegar, "that I but had
that stick! I should then be the happiest man alive." He accosted the
man: "Friend! what a rare good stick you have got."
"Yes," said the man; "I have used it for many a long mile, and a good
friend it has been; but if you have a fancy for it, as you are a friend,
I don't mind giving it to you for that pair of gloves." Mr. Vinegar's
hands were so warm, and his legs so tired, that he gladly exchanged.