Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Ronnie Sahlberg and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
[Illustration: He took out his pipe and blew a tune.]
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TALES OF
FOLK AND FAIRIES
WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED
BY
KATHARINE PYLE
BOSTON
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1929
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_Copyright, 1919_,
BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
THE MEESTER STOORWORM _A Story from Scotland_ 1
JEAN MALIN AND THE BULL-MAN _A Louisiana Tale_ 22
THE WIDOW'S SON _A Scandinavian Tale_ 35
THE WISE GIRL _A Serbian Story_ 61
THE HISTORY OF ALI COGIA _From the Arabian Nights_ 72
OH! _A Cossack Story_ 101
THE TALKING EGGS _A Story from Louisiana_ 123
THE FROG PRINCESS _A Russian Story_ 137
THE MAGIC TURBAN, THE MAGIC SWORD AND THE MAGIC CARPET
_A Persian Story_ 159
THE THREE SILVER CITRONS _A Persian Story_ 180
THE MAGIC PIPE _A Norse Tale_ 201
THE TRIUMPH OF TRUTH _A Hindu Story_ 221
LIFE'S SECRET _A Story of Bengal_ 251
DAME PRIDGETT AND THE FAIRIES 278
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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
He took out his pipe and blew a tune. Frontispiece
Seeing no one, the creature dropped on its knees and
bellowed, "Beau Madjam!" 29
She sat down beside the hearth and took off her head. 127
Then the demon flew out through the window and away
through the night. 169
The Princess took the cup and drank. 191
The Rajah brought the girl down, while the crows
circled about his head. 241
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TALES OF FOLK AND
FAIRIES
THE MEESTER STOORWORM
A STORY FROM SCOTLAND
There was once a lad, and what his real name was nobody remembered,
unless it was the mother who bore him; but what every one called him
was Ashipattle. They called him that because he sat among the ashes to
warm his toes.
He had six older brothers, and they did not think much of him. All the
tasks they scorned to do themselves they put upon Ashipattle. He
gathered the sticks for the fire, he swept the floor, he cleaned the
byre, he ran the errands, and all he got for his pains were kicks and
cuffs and mocking words. Still he was a merry fellow, and as far as
words went he gave his brothers as good as they sent.
Ashipattle had one sister, and she was very good and kind to him. In
return for her kindness he told her long stories of trolls and giants
and heroes and brave deeds, and as long as he would tell she would sit
and listen. But his brothers could not stand his stories, and used to
throw clods at him to make him be quiet. They were angry because
Ashipattle was always the hero of his own stories, and in his tales
there was nothing he dared not do.
Now while Ashipattle was still a lad, but a tall, stout one, a great
misfortune fell upon the kingdom, for a Stoorworm rose up out of the
sea; and of all Stoorworms it was the greatest and the worst. For this
reason it was called the Meester Stoorworm. Its length stretched half
around the world, its one eye was as red as fire, and its breath was
so poisonous that whatever it breathed upon was withered.
There was great fear and lamentation throughout the land because of
the worm, for every day it drew nearer to the shore, and every day the
danger from it grew greater. When it was first discovered it was so
far away that its back was no more than a low, long, black line upon
the horizon, but soon it was near enough for them to see the horns
upon its back, and its scales, and its one fierce eye, and its
nostrils that breathed out and in.
In their fear the people cried upon the King to save them from the
monster, but the King had no power to save them more than any other
man. His sword, Snickersnapper, was the brightest and sharpest and
most wonderful sword in all the world, but it would need a longer
sword than Snickersnapper to pierce through that great body to the
monster's heart. The King summoned his councillors,--all the wisest
men in the kingdom,--and they consulted and talked together, but none
of them could think of any plan to beat or drive the Stoorworm off, so
powerful it was.
Now there was in that country a sorcerer, and the King had no love for
him. Still, when all the wisemen and councillors could think of no
plan for destroying the Stoorworm, the King said, "Let us send for
this sorcerer, and have him brought before us, and hear what he has to
say; for 'twould seem there is no help in any of us for this evil that
has come upon us."
So the sorcerer was brought, and he stood up in the council and looked
from one to another. Last of all he looked at the King, and there his
eyes rested.
"There is one way, and only one," said he, "by which the land can be
saved from destruction. Let the King's only daughter, the Princess
Gemlovely, be given to the Stoorworm as a sacrifice, and he will be
satisfied and quit us."
No sooner had the sorcerer said this than a great tumult arose in the
council. The councillors were filled with horror, and cried aloud that
the sorcerer should be torn to pieces for speaking such words.
But the King arose and bade them be silent,--and he was as white as
death.
"Is this the only way to save my people?" he asked.
"It is the only way I know of," answered the sorcerer.
The King stood still and white for a time. "Then," said he, "if it is
the only way, so let it be. But first let it be proclaimed, far and
wide throughout my kingdom, that there is an heroic deed to be done.
Whosoever will do battle with the Stoorworm and slay it, or drive it
off, shall have the Princess Gemlovely for a bride, and the half of my
kingdom, and my sword Snickersnapper for his own; and after my death
he shall rule as king over all the realm."
Then the King dismissed the Council, and they went away in silence,
with dark and heavy looks.
A proclamation was sent out as the King commanded, saying that whoever
could kill the Stoorworm or drive it away should have the Princess,
and the half of the kingdom as a reward, and the King's sword, and
after the King's death should reign over the whole realm.
When this news went out many a man wished he might win these three
prizes for himself, for what better was there to be desired than a
beauteous wife, a kingdom to reign over, and the most famous sword in
all the world. But fine as were the prizes, only six-and-thirty bold
hearts came to offer themselves for the task, so great was the fear of
the Stoorworm. Of this number the first twelve who looked at the
Stoorworm fell ill at sight of him and had to be carried home. The
next twelve did not stay to be carried, but ran home on their own legs
and shut themselves up in strong fortresses; and the last twelve
stayed at the King's palace with their hearts in their stomachs, and
their wrists too weak with fear to strike a blow, even to win a
kingdom.
So there was nothing left but for the Princess to be offered up to the
Stoorworm, for it was better that one should be lost, even though that
one were the Princess, than that the whole country should be
destroyed.
Then there was great grief and lamenting throughout the land, for the
Princess Gemlovely was so kind and gentle that she was beloved by all,
both high and low. Only Ashipattle heard it all unmoved. He said
nothing, but sat by the fire and thought and thought, and what his
thoughts were he told to nobody.
The day was set when the Princess was to be offered up to the
Stoorworm, and the night before there was a great feast at the palace,
but a sad feast it was. Little was eaten and less was said. The King
sat with his back to the light and bit his fingers, and no one dared
to speak to him.
In the poorer houses there was a great stir and bustle and laying out
of coats and dresses, for many were planning to go to the seashore to
see the Princess offered up to the Stoorworm,--though a gruesome sight
'twould be to see. Ashipattle's father and brothers were planning to
go with the rest, but his mother and sister wept, and said they would
not see it for anything in the world.
Now Ashipattle's father had a horse named Feetgong, and he was not
much to look at. Nevertheless the farmer treasured him, and it was not
often he would let any one use him but himself. When the farmer rode
Feetgong he could make him go like the wind,--none faster,--and that
without beating him, either. Then when the farmer wished him to stop
Feetgong would stand as still as though he were frozen to the ground;
no one could make him budge. But if any one other than the farmer rode
him, then it was quite different. Feetgong would jog along, and not
even a beating would drive him faster, and then if one wanted him to
stop that was as hard to do as it was to start him. Ashipattle was
sure there was some secret about this; that his father had a way to
make him go that no one knew about; but what that way was he could not
find out.
The day before the beauteous Gemlovely was to be sacrificed Ashipattle
said to his mother, "Tell me something; how is it that Feetgong will
not go for you or my brothers or any one, but when my father mounts
him he goes like the wind,--none faster?"
Then his mother answered, "Indeed, I do not know."
"It seems a strange thing that my father would not tell you that,"
said Ashipattle, "and you his own true wife."
To this his mother answered nothing.
"A strange thing," said Ashipattle; "and in all the years you've lived
together not a thing have you kept back from him, whether he wished it
or no. But even a good husband always holds back some secret from his
wife."
Still his mother spoke never a word, but Ashipattle could see that she
was thinking.
That night Ashipattle lay awake long after the others were asleep. He
heard his father snoring and his brothers, too, but it seemed his
mother could not sleep. She turned and twisted and sighed aloud, until
at last she awakened her husband.
"What ails you," he asked, "that you turn and twist in bed and sigh so
loud that a body scarce can sleep."
"It's no wonder I sigh and cannot sleep," answered his wife. "I have
been thinking and turning things over in my mind, and I can see very
plainly that you do not love me as a good husband should love his
wife."
"How can you say that?" asked her husband. "Have I not treated you
well in all these years? Have I not shown my love in every way?"
"Yes, but you do not trust me," said his wife. "You do not tell me
what is in your heart."
"What have I not told you?"
"You have never told me about Feetgong; you have never told me why it
is that he goes like the wind whenever you mount him, and when any one
else rides him he is so slow there is no getting anywhere with him."
Then she began to sob as if her heart would break. "You do not trust
me," said she.
"Wait, wait!" cried the Goodman. "That is a secret I had never thought
to tell any one, but since you have set your heart on knowing--listen!
Only you must promise not to tell a living soul what I tell you now."
His wife promised.
"Then this is it," said her husband. "When I want Feetgong to go
moderately fast I slap him on the right shoulder; when I want him to
stop I slap him on the left shoulder, and when I want him to go like
the wind I blow upon the dried windpipe of a goose that I always carry
in the right-hand pocket of my coat."
"Now indeed I know that you love me when you tell me this," said his
wife. And then she went to sleep, for she was satisfied.
Ashipattle waited until near morning, and then he arose and dressed
himself. He put on the coat of one brother, and the breeches of
another, and the shoes of a third, and so on, for his own clothes were
nothing but rags. He felt in the right-hand pocket of his father's
coat, and there, sure enough, he found the dried windpipe of a goose.
He took that and he took a pot of burning peat, and covered it over so
it would keep hot; and he took also a big kitchen knife. Then he went
out and led Feetgong from the stable. He sprang upon his back and
slapped him on the right shoulder, and away they went.
The noise awoke the goodman and he jumped from bed and ran to the
window. There was some one riding away on his dear Feetgong. Then he
called out at the top of his voice:
"Hie! Hie! Ho!
Feetgong, whoa!"
When Feetgong heard his master calling he stopped and stood stockstill.
But Ashipattle whipped out the dried windpipe of the goose and blew
upon it, and away went Feetgong like the wind; none could go faster. No
one could overtake them.
After a while, and not so long either, they came to the seashore, and
there, a little way out from the shore, lay the King's own boat with
the boatman in it. He was keeping the boat there until day dawned.
Then the King and his court would come, bringing the beauteous
Gemlovely to offer up to the Stoorworm. They would put her in the boat
and set the sails to carry her toward him.
Ashipattle looked out across the water, and he could see the black
back of the beast rising out of the sea like a long low mountain.
He lighted down from Feetgong and called across the water to the
boatman, "Hello, friend! How fares it with you out there?"
"Bitterly, bitterly!" answered the boatman. "Here I sit and freeze all
night, for it is cold on the water, and not a soul except myself but
what is safe asleep in a good warm bed."
"I have a fire here in the pot," called Ashipattle. "Draw your boat in
to shore and come and warm yourself, for I can see even from here that
you are almost perished."
"That I may not do," answered the man. "The King and his court may
come at any time now, and they must find me ready and waiting for them
as the commands were."
Then Ashipattle put his pot down on the shore and stood and thought a
bit. Suddenly he dropped on his knees and began to dig in the sand as
though he had gone mad. "Gold! Gold!" he shouted.
"What is the matter?" called the boatman. "What have you found?"
"Gold! Gold!" shouted Ashipattle, digging faster than ever.
The boatman thought Ashipattle must certainly have found a treasure in
the sand. He made haste to bring the boat to land. He sprang out upon
the shore, and pushing Ashipattle aside, he dropped on his knees and
began to scoop out the sand. But Ashipattle did not wait to see
whether he found anything. He caught up the pot and leaped into the
boat, and before the boatman could stop him he pushed off from the
shore.
Too late the boatman saw what he was doing. He ran down to the edge of
the water and shouted and stormed and cried to Ashipattle to come
back, but Ashipattle paid no heed to him. He never even turned his
head. He set the sail and steered over toward where the great monster
lay, with the waves washing up and breaking into foam against him.
And now the dawn was breaking. It was time for the monster to awake,
and down the road from the castle came riding the King and all his
court, and the Princess Gemlovely rode among them on a milk-white
horse. All the color was gone from her face, and she looked as white
as snow.
When the King and all the others reached the shore there stood the
boatman, wringing his hands and lamenting, and the boat was gone.
"What is this?" asked the King. "What have you done with my boat, and
why are you standing here?"
"Look! Look!" cried the boatman and he pointed out to sea.
The King looked, and then first he saw Ashipattle in the boat, sailing
away toward the monster,--for before his eyes had been dim with
sorrow, and he had seen naught but what was close before him.
The King looked, and all the court looked with him, and a great cry
arose, for they guessed that Ashipattle was sailing out to do battle
with the Stoorworm.
As they stood staring the sun shone red and the monster awoke. Slowly,
slowly his great jaws opened in a yawn, and as he yawned the water
rushed into his mouth like a great flood and on down his throat.
Ashipattle's boat was caught in the swirl and swept forward faster
than any sail could carry it. Then slowly the monster closed his mouth
and all was still save for the foaming and surging of the waters.
Ashipattle steered his boat close in against the monster's jaws, and
it lay there, rocking in the tide, while he waited for the Stoorworm
to yawn again.
Presently slowly, slowly, the great jaws gaped, and the flood rushed
in, foaming. Ashipattle's boat was swept in with the water, and it
almost crushed against one of the monster's teeth, but Ashipattle
fended it off, and it was carried on the flood down into the
Stoorworm's throat.
Down and down went the boat with Ashipattle in it and the sound of
surging waters filled his ears. It was light there in the monster's
throat, for the roof and the sides of it shone with phosphorescence so
that he could see everything.
As he swept on, the roof above him grew lower and lower, and the water
grew shallower and shallower; for it drained off into passages that
opened off from the throat into the rest of the body.
At last the roof grew so low that the mast of the boat wedged against
it. Then Ashipattle stepped over the side of the boat into the water,
and it had grown so shallow it was scarce as high as his knees. He
took the pot of peat, that was still hot, and the knife, and went a
little further until he came to where the beast's heart was. He could
see it beat, beat, beating.
Ashipattle took his knife and dug a hole in the heart, and emptied the
hot peat into it. Then he blew and blew on the peat. He blew until his
cheeks almost cracked with blowing, and it seemed as though the peat
would never burn. But at last it flared up; the oil of the heart
trickled down upon it, and the flame burst into a blaze. Higher and
higher waxed the fire. All the heart shone red with the light of it.
Then the lad ran back and jumped into the boat and pushed it clear of
the roof. And none too soon, for as the fire burned deeper into the
heart, the monster felt the burn of it and began to writhe and twist.
Then he gave a great cough that sent the waters surging back out of
his body and into the sea again in a mighty flood.
Ashipattle's boat was caught in the rush and swept like a straw up out
of the Stoorworm's throat and into the light of day. The monster
spewed him and his boat all the way across the sea and up on the
shore, almost at the King's feet.
The King himself sprang from his steed and ran and helped Ashipattle
to his feet. Then every one fled back to a high hill, for the sea was
rising in a mighty flood with the beating and tossing of the
Stoorworm.
Then began such a sight as never was seen before and perchance will
never be seen again. For first the monster flung his tail so high that
it seemed as though it would strike the sun from the sky. And next it
fell into the sea with such a slap as sent the waves high up the
rocks; and now it was his head that flung aloft, and the tongue caught
on the point of the crescent moon and hung there, and for a while it
looked as though the moon would be pulled from the sky, but it stood
firm, and the monster's tongue tore, so that the head dropped back
into the sea with such force that the teeth flew out of its mouth, and
these teeth became the Orkney Islands.
Again its head reared high and fell back, and more teeth flew out, and
these became the Shetland Islands. The third time his head rose and
fell, and teeth flew out; they became the Faroe Islands.
So the monster beat and threshed and struggled, while the King and the
Princess and Ashipattle and all the people looked on with fear and
wonder at the dreadful sight.
But at last the struggle became weaker, for the heart was almost
burned out. Then the Stoorworm curled up and lay still, for it was
dead, and its great coils became the place called Iceland.
So was the monster killed, and that was the manner of his death!
But the King turned to Ashipattle and called him son, and took the
hand of the Princess Gemlovely and laid it in the lad's hand, for now
she was to be his bride as the King had promised.
Then they all rode back to the palace together, and the King took the
sword Snickersnapper and gave it to Ashipattle for him to keep as his
own.
A great feast was spread in honor of the slaying of the Stoorworm. All
who chose to come were welcome, and all was mirth and rejoicing.
The honest farmer, Ashipattle's father, and his mother and his sister
and his brothers heard of the feast and put on their best clothes and
came, but the farmer had no Feetgong to ride. When they entered the
great hall and saw Ashipattle sitting there at the King's right hand
in the place of honor, with the Princess Gemlovely beside him, they
could hardly believe their eyes, for they had not known he was the
hero every one was talking about. But Ashipattle looked at them and
nodded, and all was well.
Not long after that Ashipattle and the Princess were married, and a
grand wedding it was, I can tell you; and after the old King died
Ashipattle became ruler of the whole realm, and he and the Princess
lived in mutual love and happiness together the rest of their long
lives.
JEAN MALIN AND THE BULL-MAN
A LOUISIANA TALE
There was once a little boy who was all alone in the world; he had no
father or mother, and no home; and no one to care for him. That made
him very sad.
One day he sat by the roadside, and he was so sad that he began to
weep. Presently a fine coach came rolling along, and in it sat a
beautiful, grand lady. She leaned back against the cushions and looked
about, first on this side and then on that, and enjoyed herself.
When she saw the little boy she made the coachman stop.
"Come here, little boy," she called in a gentle voice.
The child lifted his head, and then he rose and came over to her.
"What is your name?" asked the lady.
"Jean Malin," the child answered.
"Why are you weeping, Jean? Has some one been unkind to you?"
"No; I am weeping because I have no one to be either unkind or kind to
me. I am all alone in the world, and I have no home."
When the lady heard that she felt very sorry for him. "Come; sit here
in the coach beside me," she said, "and I will take you home with me.
My home shall be your home, and I will keep you with me always if you
are a good boy and do as I tell you."
Jean Malin climbed into the coach, and the lady took him home with
her. She talked to him and questioned him on the way, and she soon
found that he was a clever boy and very polite in his manners.
When they arrived at the lady's house she gave him a pretty little
suit of clothes and bade him wash and dress himself, and then he came
in and waited on her at supper.
After that he lived there, and the lady became very fond of him. As
for Jean Malin, he soon loved his mistress so dearly that if she had
been his own mother he could not have loved her better. Everything she
said and did seemed to him exactly right.
The lady had a lover who was a great, handsome man with a fine deep
voice. This gentleman often came to the house to take meals with the
lady, and he always spoke to Jean Malin very pleasantly; but Jean
could not abide him. He used to run and hide whenever this man came to
the house. The lady scolded him for it, but he could not help it.
The gentleman's name was Mr. Bulbul.
"I do not know what is the matter with you," said the lady to Jean
Malin. "Why is it you do not like Mr. Bulbul? He is very kind to you."
"I do not know, but I wish I might never see him again," answered
Jean.
"That is very wrong of you. Perhaps sometime I may marry Mr. Bulbul.
Then he will be your master. What will you do then?"
"Perhaps I will run away."
That angered the lady. "And perhaps I will send you away if you do not
behave better and learn to like him."
Now not far from the lady's house there was a pasture, and in this
pasture there was a bull,--a fine, handsome animal. Jean Malin often
saw it there.
After a while Jean began to notice a curious thing. Whenever Mr.
Bulbul came to the house, which was almost every day, the bull
disappeared from the pasture, and whenever the bull was in the pasture
there was nothing to be seen of the gentleman.
"That is a curious thing," said Jean to himself. "I will watch and
find out what this means. I am sure something is wrong."
So one day Jean went out and hid himself behind some rocks at the edge
of the pasture. The bull was grazing with his head down and did not
see him. After a while the bull raised his head and looked all about
him to see if there were any one around. He did not see Jean, because
the little boy was behind the rocks, so the animal thought itself
alone. Then it dropped on its knees and cried, "Beau Madjam, fat
Madjam, djam, djam, djara, djara!"
At once the bull became a man, and the man was the very Mr. Bulbul who
came to visit Jean's mistress.
The boy was so frightened he shivered all over as though he were cold.
Mr. Bulbul walked away in the direction of the lady's house, and after
he had gone Jean Malin ran home by another way. He crept into the
house and heard the lady calling to him, but he would not go to her or
show himself. She did not know what had become of him.
The next day Mr. Bulbul came again to the lady's house. He came very
early for he was to have breakfast with her. The lady called Jean
Malin to come and wait on them. He did not want to come, but he was
obliged to. He was so frightened that he darted about the room, first
on one side and then on the other, and did not understand what was
said to him. When the lady asked for water he gave her the toast rack,
and when she asked for toast he brought her a towel. It really was
very provoking.
After Mr. Bulbul had gone the lady called Jean Malin to her. "I am
very angry," said she. "You have acted very stupidly this morning. If
you cannot do better and behave in a sensible manner, I will have to
send you away."
When she said this Jean Malin felt very much hurt. He could hardly
refrain from weeping.
"Mistress, I will tell you why I acted so. I was afraid, and if you
knew what I know, you would be afraid, too, and you would never let
that big man come into your house again."
"What is it that you know and I do not know?" asked the lady.
But Jean Malin would not tell her.
"Very well," said his mistress; "if you will not tell me willingly I
will have you beaten. I will have you beaten until you do tell, so you
had better speak now before they begin."
Jean Malin began to cry. "I did not want to tell you," said he, "but
if I must I must. Dear Mistress, Mr. Bulbul is not a man at all, but
that bull that you sometimes see over in the pasture. He uses magic to
make himself look like a man so as to come to see you, and then he
goes right out and becomes a bull again and eats grass."
The lady began to laugh. "You are either crazy or dreaming," said she.
"Or, more likely still, you are telling me an untruth so as to excuse
yourself and make trouble between him and me."
But Jean Malin insisted that what he told her was true. "I have seen
it, and I know it," said he. "Moreover I will prove it to you. I do
not know how, but I am sure I can prove it."
"Very well," said the lady, "if you prove it I will forgive you and
treat you as my own son, but if you do not I will have you beaten and
sent out of the house as a mischief maker."
After that Jean went away by himself and thought and thought. He tried
to remember the exact words the bull had said when he turned himself
into a man, but he could not be sure about them. So the next day he
went out and hid himself behind the rocks again, taking care, as
before, that the bull should not see him. The bull's head was down,
and it was eating grass.
[Illustration: Seeing no one, the creature dropped on its knees and
bellowed, "Beau Madjam!"]
Soon, however, it raised its head and looked all about it. Seeing no
one, the creature dropped on its knees and bellowed, "Beau Madjam, fat
Madjam, djam, djam, djara, djara!" At once the bull became a man and
walked away in the direction of the lady's house.
Jean Malin followed, being careful to keep out of sight, and as he
went he kept saying over and over to himself, "Beau Madjam, fat
Madjam, djam, djam, djara, djara, Beau Madjam, fat Madjam, djam, djam,
djara, djara!" He said it over and over, so that he should not forget
any least word of it.
When Jean Malin reached home Mr. Bulbul was in the salon with his
mistress; Jean could hear them talking together there; his mistress's
voice very fine and clear and then Mr. Bulbul's big, deep voice.
Jean Malin took a tray of cakes and wine and carried it into the salon
just as though his mistress had ordered him to do so. The lady was
surprised to see him coming with the tray, but she said, "That is
right, Jean. Offer the cake and wine to Mr. Bulbul."
Jean Malin went over to Mr. Bulbul, close in front of him, and then he
said in a low voice, as though to himself, "Beau Madjam, fat Madjam,
djam, djam, djara, djara!"
Such a noise you never heard. The fine Mr. Bulbul bellowed aloud and
jumped up, smashing his chair and knocking the tray with all the
plates and glasses and everything out of Jean Malin's hands. The lady
shrieked and almost fainted. Then, right there before her, Mr.
Bulbul's head grew long and hairy, horns sprouted from his forehead,
his arms turned into legs, and his hands and feet into hoofs, and he
became a bull and all his clothes fell off him,--his trousers and coat
and vest and eyeglasses and collar and everything. He galloped across
the salon in a fright, his hoofs clattering on the floor, and burst
out through the glass door so fast that he carried it away on his
horns and back into the pasture with him.
Then the lady knew that everything Jean Malin had told her was true,
and she could not thank him enough.
"Now you shall indeed be to me as a son," said she, "and you shall
live here always and never leave me."
Jean Malin was very happy when the lady said that to him. Nevertheless,
when he thought of Mr. Bulbul, he could not feel easy in his mind. He
was sure the bull would try to revenge itself on him in some way or
other. He kept away from the pasture, and wherever he went he was
always looking around to see whether the bull were anywhere in sight.
At last he grew so afraid that he determined to go and talk to a black
man he knew who dealt in magic. He found the man sitting at the door
of his hut, making magic with a horsehair and a snakeskin, and some
ground-up glass. Jean Malin, told him everything that had happened,
about the bull, and how it had changed itself into a man and had come
to visit the lady, and about the magic words, and how he had forced
the man to turn back into a bull again. "And now," said he, "I am
afraid, for I think he means harm to me."
"You do well to be afraid," said the black man. "Bulbul will certainly
try to do you harm. He knows much magic, but my magic is stronger than
his magic, and I will help you. Get me three owl's eggs and a cup of
black goat's milk and bring them here."
Jean Malin went away and got the three owl's eggs and the cup of black
goat's milk, though they were things not easy to find, and then he
brought them to the black man.
The black man took them from him and rolled the owl's eggs in the milk
and made magic over them. Then he gave them back to the boy. "Keep
these by you all the time," said he. "Then if the bull comes after you
do thus and so, and this and the other, and you will have no more
trouble with him."
Jean Malin thanked the black man and gave him a piece of silver, and
went away with the eggs tied up in his handkerchief.
It was a good thing he had them. He had not gone more than halfway
home, and was just coming out from a wood, when he heard a big noise,
and the bull burst out of a thicket and came charging down on him.
But quick as a flash Jean Malin put the eggs in his mouth and climbed
up a tree, and the eggs were not broken.
The bull galloped up and struck the tree with its horns. "You think
you are safe, but I will soon have you down," it cried.
It dropped down on its knees and muttered magic, but Jean could not
hear what it said. Then the bull changed into a man with an ax in his
hands and began to chop down the tree. Gip, gop! Gip, gop! The chips
flew and the branches trembled.
Jean tried to remember the words that would turn the man back into a
bull again, but he was so frightened he could not think of them. What
he did remember, though, were the eggs the black man had given him. He
took one out of his mouth and dropped it down on the bull-man's right
shoulder, and at once his right arm fell off, and the ax dropped to
the ground. This did not trouble the bull-man, however. He caught up
the ax in his left hand and chopped away, Gip, gop! Gip, gop! The
chips flew faster than ever.
Then Jean Malin dropped the second egg down on the man's left
shoulder, and his left arm fell off. Now he had no arms, but he caught
up the ax in his mouth and went on chopping, Gip, gop! Gip, gop! The
whole tree shook and trembled.
Then Jean Malin dropped the third and last egg down on the man's head,
and at once his head fell off.
That ended the man's magic; he could do nothing more, and had to turn
into a bull again. He bellowed like anything, but he could not help
it, for the black man's magic was stronger than his magic. Away he
galloped, with his tail in the air, and that was the last Jean Malin
ever saw of him. What became of him nobody ever knew, but he must have
gone far, far away.
But Jean Malin climbed down from the tree and went on home, and after
that he lived very happily in the lady's house and was like a son to
her, just as she had promised him.
THE WIDOW'S SON
A SCANDINAVIAN TALE
Once upon a time there was a poor widow who had only one son, and he
was so dear to her that no one could have been dearer. All the same
she was obliged to send him out into the world to seek his fortune,
for they were so very poor that as long as he stayed at home they were
like to starve.
The lad kissed her good-by, and she gave him her blessing, and then
off he set, always putting one foot before the other.
He journeyed on a short way and a long way, and then he came to a dark
and gloomy wood. He had not gone far into it when he met a tall man as
dark and gloomy as the wood itself. The man stopped the lad and said
to him, "Are you seeking work or shunning work?"
"I am seeking work," answered the widow's son.
"Then come with me, and I will give you enough to do but not too
much," said the man, "and the wages will be according."
That suited the lad. He was quite willing to work for the tall
stranger. They set out and traveled along, and after a while they came
to a great dark house set all alone in the midst of the wood. The man
showed him in and told him what to do. The lad set to work, and
everything the man told him to do he did so well and willingly that
his master was much pleased with him. After he had done all the tasks
set, his master gave him a good bite of supper and a comfortable bed
to sleep in.
The next day it was the same thing over. The master told the lad what
to do, and the lad did it willingly and well. So it went on for three
days. At the end of that time the man said, "Now I am obliged to go
away on a journey. Until I return you may do as you please and be your
own master. But there is one part of the house you have never seen,
and those are the four cellars down below. Into these you must not go
under any consideration. If you so much as open one of the doors, you
will suffer for it."
"Why should I want to go into the cellars?" asked the lad. "The house
and the yard are good enough for me."
"That is well," answered the master, and then he mounted a great black
steed and rode away.
The lad stayed at home and cleaned and polished and ate and drank. "I
wonder what can be in those cellars that my master does not want me to
see!" thought the lad. "Not that I mean to look, but it does no harm
to wonder about it."
Every hour the lad stayed there in the house alone he grew more
curious about the cellars. At last he could bear it no longer. "I'll
just take a wee peep into one of them," he said. "That can surely do
no harm to any one."
So he opened the cellar door and went down a flight of stone steps
into the first cellar. He looked all about him, and there was nothing
at all there but a switch made of brier lying on a shelf behind the
door. "That is not much for the Master to have made such a fuss
about," said the lad. "I could see as much as that any day without
coming into a cellar for it;" and he went upstairs again and shut the
door behind him.
The next day the master came home, and the first thing he asked was,
"Have you looked into any of the cellars?"
"Why should I do that?" asked the lad. "I have plenty to do upstairs
without poking my nose in where it is not wanted."
"I will just see for myself whether or not you have looked," said the
master.
He opened one of the doors and went down into the first cellar. When
he came back his face was as black as thunder.
"You have disobeyed me and have gone into one of the cellars," said
he. "Now you shall suffer for it!" He took up a cudgel and beat the
lad until he was black and blue. "It's lucky for you you went only
into the first cellar," said he. "Otherwise you would not have come
off so lightly."
Then he sat down to supper.
As for the lad he sat and nursed his bruises and wished he had never
heard tell of such a thing as a cellar.
Not long after the master said he was going on another journey. "I
will be gone two weeks," said he, "and whatever you do, do not dare to
look into any of the other cellars, or you will suffer for it."
"I have learned my lesson," said the lad. "You'll not find me doing
such a thing again."
After that the master mounted his horse and rode away.
After he had gone the lad cleaned and polished and ate and drank, and
then he began to wonder what was in the second cellar. "There must be
something more than a stick to see," said he, "or my master would not
be so particular about it." In the end he determined to look at what
was in the second cellar, whatever it cost him. He opened the door and
went down the stone steps that led to it and looked about, but all he
saw was a shelf behind the door, and on it a stone and a water bottle.
"They are not much to see, and I wish I had not come," said the lad to
himself. "I hope my master will not know about it;" and then he went
upstairs and shut the door behind him.
Not long afterward his master came home. The first thing he asked was,
"Have you been down in any of the cellars again?"
"How can you think such a thing!" cried the lad. "I have no wish for
another beating."
"All the same, I will see for myself," said the master, and he went
down into the second cellar. Then the lad was frightened, you may well
believe.
When the Master came back his face was as red as fire. "You have
disobeyed me again," cried he. Then he seized a cudgel and beat the
lad till he could hardly stand.
"This should teach you to obey," said he, "but I fear as long as you
live you will not learn."
Not long after the Master was going away on a third journey, and this
time he was to be away for three weeks. "And if you look in the third
cellar," said he, "your life shall pay the forfeit." After that he
rode away into the forest and out of sight.
Well, for two weeks the lad would not look into the third cellar, but
at last his curiosity got the better of him. He opened the third door
and went down into the third cellar. There in the middle of it was a
brazen caldron set deep in the floor and full of something that
seethed and bubbled. "I wonder what that is in the caldron," said the
lad to himself, and he stuck his finger in. When he drew it out it was
covered all over with gold. The lad scrubbed and scrubbed, but he
could not get the gold off. Then he was terribly frightened. He took a
rag and wound it about his finger and hoped his master would not
notice it. He shut the door into the cellar and tried to forget about
it.
The first thing the Master asked when he came home was, "Have you been
down in the third cellar?"
"How can you think it?" asked the lad. "Two drubbings are enough for
any one."
"What is the matter with your finger?" asked the Master.
"Oh, I cut it with the bread-knife."
The Master snatched the rag off, and there the lad's finger shone as
though it were all of solid gold.
"You have been down in the third cellar," cried the Master, "and now
you must die,"--and his face was as pale as death. He took down a
sword from the wall, but the lad fell on his knees and begged and
pleaded so piteously for his life that at last the man had to spare
him. All the same he gave him such a beating that the lad could not
rise from the floor. There he lay and groaned. Then the Master took a
flask of ointment from the wall and bathed him all over, and after
that the lad was just as well as ever.
Now the Master stayed at home for a long while, but at last he had to
go away on still another journey, and now he was to be gone a whole
month. "And if you dare to look in the fourth cellar while I am away,
then you shall surely die," said he. "Do not hope that I will spare
you again, for I will not."
After he had gone the lad resisted his curiosity for three whole
weeks. He was dying to look in the fourth cellar and see what was
there, but he dared not, for dear life's sake. But at the end of the
third week he was so curious that he could resist no longer. He opened
the fourth door and went down the steps into the cellar, and there was
a magnificent coal-black horse chained to a manger, and the manger was
filled with red-hot coals. At the horse's tail was a basket of hay.
"That is a cruel thing to do to an animal," cried the lad, and he
loosed the horse from the manger and turned him so he could eat.
Then the black steed spoke to him in a human tone. "You have done a
Christian act," said the horse, "and you shall not suffer for it. If
the Troll Master finds you here when he returns he will surely take
your life, and that must not be. Look over in yonder corner, and you
will find a suit of armor and a sword. Put on the armor and take up
the sword in your hand."
The lad went over to the corner, and there lay the armor and the
sword, but when he would have taken them up they were too heavy for
him. He could scarce stir them. "Well, there is no help for it," said
the horse. "You will have to bathe in the caldron that is in the third
cellar. Only so can you take up the armor and wear it."
This the lad did not want to do, for he was afraid. "If you do not,"
said the horse, "we will both of us lose our lives."
Then the lad went back to the third cellar and shut his eyes and
stepped down into the caldron, and though the waters in it bubbled and
seethed they were as cold as ice and as bitter as death. He thought he
would have died of cold, but presently he grew quite warm again. He
stepped out from the caldron, and he had become the handsomest lad in
the world; his skin was red and white, and his eyes shone like stars.
He went back to where the horse was, and now he lifted the armor with
ease, he had become so strong. He put it on and buckled the sword
about him.
"Now we must be off," cried the horse. "Take the briar whip and the
stone and the jug of water and the flask of ointment. Then mount my
back and ride. If the Troll Master finds us here when he returns, it
will be short shrift for both of us."
The lad did as the horse bade him; he took the briar whip and the
stone, the jug of water and the flask of ointment, and mounted the
black steed's back; and the steed carried him up the steps and out of
the house and fast, fast away through the forest and over the plains
beyond.
After a while the black horse said, "I hear a noise behind us. Look
and see whether any one is coming."
The lad turned and looked. "Yes, yes; it is the Master," said he, "and
with him is a whole crowd of people."
"They are his friends he has brought out against us," said the steed.
"If they catch us it will go ill with us. Throw the thorn whip behind
us, but be sure you throw it clear and do not let it touch even the
tip of my tail."
The lad threw the whip behind him, and at once a great forest of
thorns grew up where it fell. No one could have forced a way through
it. The Master and his friends were obliged to go home and get
hatchets and axes and cut a path through.
Meanwhile the black horse had gone a long way. Then he said, "Look
behind you, for I hear a noise; is any one coming?"
The youth looked over his shoulder. "Yes, it is the Master," said he,
"and with him are a multitude of people--like a church congregation."
"Still more of his friends have come to help him catch us," said the
horse. "Throw the stone behind us, but be very sure it does not touch
me."
The lad threw the stone behind him, and at once a great stone mountain
rose up where it fell. The Master and his friends could by no means
cross over it. They were obliged to go home and get something to bore
a way through, and this they did.
But by this time the horse had gone a long, long way. Then he said to
the lad, "Look back and see whether you see any one, for I hear a
noise behind us."
The lad looked back. "I see the Master coming," said he, "and a great
multitude with him, so that they are like an army for numbers."
"Yes, yes," said the horse. "He has all of his friends with him now.
Woe betide us if they catch us. Pour the water from the jug behind us,
but be careful that none of it touches me."
The lad stretched back his arm and poured the water out from the jug,
but his haste was such that three drops fell upon the horse's flanks.
Immediately a great lake rose about them, and because of the three
drops that had fallen on the horse, the lake was not only behind them
but about them, too; the steed had to swim for it.
The Trolls came to the edge of the lake, and as there was no way to
cross over they threw themselves down on their stomachs and began to
drink it up. They drank and they drank and they drank, until at last
they all burst.
But the steed came out from the water and up on dry land. Then he went
on until he came to a wood, and here he stopped. "Light down now,"
said he to the lad, "and take off your armor and my saddle and bridle
and hide them in yon hollow oak tree. Over there, a little beyond, is
a castle, and you must go and take service there. But first make
yourself a wig of hanging gray mosses and put it on."
The lad did as the horse told him. He took off the saddle and bridle
and the armor and hid them in the tree, and made for himself a moss
wig; when he put it upon his head all the beauty went out of his face,
and he looked so pale and miserable that no one would have wanted him
around.
"If you ever need me," said the horse, "come here to the wood and take
out the bridle and shake it, and at once I will be with you." Then he
galloped away into the wood.
The lad in his moss wig went on until he came to the castle. He went
to the kitchen door and knocked, and asked if he might take service
there.
The kitchen wench looked at him and made a face as though she had a
sour taste in her mouth. "Take off that wig and let me see how you
look," said she. "With that on your head you are so ugly that no one
would want you around."
"I cannot take off my wig," said the lad, "for that I have been told
not to do."
"Then you may seek service elsewhere, for I cannot bear the look of
you," said the kitchen wench, and she shut the door in his face.
Next the lad went to the gardener and asked if he could help him in
the gardens, digging and planting.
The gardener looked and stared. "You are not a beauty," said he, "but
out here in the garden no one will be apt to see you, and I need a
helper, so you may stay."
So the lad became the gardener's helper and dug and hoed in the garden
all day.
Now the King and Queen of that country had one fair daughter, and she
was as pretty and as fresh as a rose.
One day the gardener set the lad to spading under the Princess's
window. She looked out, and there she saw him. "Br-r-r! But he is an
ugly one," said she. Nevertheless she couldn't keep her eyes off him.
After a while the lad grew hot with his work. He looked about him, and
he saw nobody, so he whipped off his wig to wipe his forehead, and
then he was as handsome a lad as ever was seen, so that the Princess's
heart turned right over at the sight of him. Then he put on his wig
and became ugly again, and went on spading, but now the Princess knew
what he was really like.
The next day there was the lad at work under her window again, but as
he had his wig on he was just as ugly as before. Then the Princess
said to her maid, "Go down there where the gardener's lad is working
and creep up behind him and twitch his wig off."
The maid went down to the garden and crept up back of the lad and gave
the wig a twitch, but he was too clever for her. He heard her coming,
and he held the wig tight down over his ears. All the same the
Princess had once seen what he was like without it, and she made up
her mind that if she could not have the gardener's lad for a husband
she would never marry any one.
Now after this there was a great war and disturbance in the land. The
King's enemies had risen up against him and had come to take away his
land from him. But the King with his courtiers and his armed men rode
out to meet them and turn them back. The lad would have liked to ride
with them and strike a blow for the King, but the gardener would not
hear of it. Nevertheless the day the King and his army were ready to
set out the lad stole away to the stables and begged the stablemen to
give him a mount.