our round among the prisoners. Foolish creatures! Why hadn't they, too,
the sense to restrain themselves as this child did, and they might all
have been working in the gardens, to this day. But no! Each one must
needs twitch off a leaf here, or a rose there, and stare, and chatter
over what they saw, or else go into convulsions over the work given them
to do for my pretty toads, and bats, and serpents. That silly father of
hers, for example! He seemed an honest fellow, but what should he do,
when he thought no one was looking, but pluck one of my choicest ruby
roses to carry back to Hilda. Hum! much likelihood there is that Hilda
ever finds out where he is hidden, after a crime like that!"
The Grandmother of the Gnomes seemed to have worked herself up into such
an angry state, that Hilda dared not give any sign of waking. So she
lay, still as a mouse, till the old couple had laid across her couch the
new robe for next day, and trotted off. Then, gliding swiftly from her
bed, the girl followed them, down a long green alley of the garden, to a
grassy bank she had often noticed. There, putting her hand upon a
trap-door, half hidden from sight by a mass of vines, the old crone
knocked thrice, saying, "Open to the Grandmother of the Gnomes!"
The door opened, and behind it was a narrow passage-way guarded by two
dwarfs in red. No one spoke, and the dwarfs, prostrating themselves upon
their faces, remained motionless while their sovereign lady passed in.
Hilda seized this opportunity to follow, and crept unnoticed to the
mouth of a circular vault of gray granite, hung with curtains of black
velvet and lighted by swinging lamps of lurid red. In the centre was a
long row of white marble tombs, and on each one of these tombs lay a
human being apparently asleep, enclosed in a crystal casket. With a
thrill of emotion, Hilda recognized in one of these placid sleepers her
beloved father. The Grandmother of the Gnomes walked past each bier,
sprinkling it with the liquid from a vial in her hand. At once the
sleepers aroused and sat up, rolling their eyes and extending their arms
to her with a beseeching gesture. The G. G. sternly shook her head, and
proceeded to open a little door in each casket, through which the old
lodge-keeper gave food and drink to all the prisoners in turn. The poor
wretches ate and drank in silence, then turning over on their sides, the
crone waved her wand above them, and instantly they fell again into a
trance-like sleep.
"Sleep now, till this day week!" said the Grandmother of the Gnomes,
solemnly, retiring as she came. Hilda hid in a nook of the wall of rock,
and followed her guides out, noiselessly and unnoticed by the prostrate
dwarfs in red.
And now her sole thought was how she might get possession of the
reviving liquid. Alone and unprotected as she was, at the mercy of her
gnome mistress, Hilda knew not where to turn for help. In the extremity
of her distress, she thought of what the friendly gnome at the outer
gate had said to her. "When you can capture the bird that bathes in the
water of life, save the drops from off his plumage." But although Hilda
racked her brain for a solution of the mystery, none could she find. All
day long her birds came and went among the branches of the beautiful
garden, and at night returned to their silver cages in the honeysuckle
bowers. The only bath she had ever seen them take, was in the wide
marble basin on the grass-plot beneath the fountain. At last, lying down
to rest one day upon a bank of lilies, she fell asleep, and in her
dreams, heard two of the birds talking on the bough above.
"To-morrow, our friend, the little brown wren returns from his travels
to the Spring of Life," said one of them.
"Yes, he has been gone longer than usual, this time," said the other.
"What a lucky creature he is to have gained our mistress's favor, and to
be allowed to take those baths, which have the power to make him know
everything, live forever, and sing more sweetly than the nightingale."
"There is something mysterious about that wren, undoubtedly," sighed the
first bird. "Nobody knows whether it is fear or favor that gains so many
more privileges for him than for the rest of us. Do you know that if he
should ever drop the single golden feather in his tail, he will become
like the rest of us again, a slave and captive? And the lucky person who
finds it, will be able to see all the hidden treasures of the caves
beneath the mountain, pierce his way through solid rock and iron, and
even defy the authority of our Sovereign Lady herself!"
Hilda listened, her heart beating high with hope. Next day, indeed,
there came a new bird among her charges, a little brown wren, who sat
upon the topmost twig of the highest tree in the garden, and dried and
smoothed his feathers, singing so exquisitely that all the others
gathered around him in delight, while the disconsolate lark and
nightingale, canary, mocking-bird and wood-robin, retired to a thicket
of green leaves, and wept for jealousy.
Spite of all Hilda's blandishments and wiles, the little brown wren
would never come near enough for her to handle him. She could see him,
flying amid the upper branches, the single golden feather in his tail
shining splendidly, but nothing secured his presence within reach or
touch. Even the Grandmother of the Gnomes was powerless to control the
wilful creature.
Weeks passed and Hilda was always on guard to follow the Gnome
Grandmother and her attendant upon their expeditions to the crypt where
the prisoners were kept. By means of the stratagem she had first
employed, she never failed to be present when her father was so
mysteriously recalled to life, and then dismissed again into the shadowy
border-land of death. Although she could not speak to him, or tell him
she was near, it was some comfort to see him arise up strong and well.
Oh! if the day should come, when she might capture that tantalizing
little brown bird! He had become less shy with her of late, and more
inclined to perch upon the branch above her head, and, while keeping a
safe distance, observe her motions closely. At last, one evening, quite
disheartened, Hilda went within her own little bowery house, and sat her
down and wept. For the first time since her arrival in the gnome garden,
she spoke aloud.
"Oh! I can bear it no longer. My heart will break! My heart will
break."
To Hilda's utter astonishment, a voice came from the foliage around her
window, in reply.
"Cheer up, dear maiden; the sound of a human voice has broken the spell
cast over me, and I now see you as you are. I am he whom you have known
as the little brown bird, in reality a mortal prince, bewitched by that
wicked old woman, the Grandmother of the Gnomes, who makes everything
within her kingdom subservient to her power. She is my deadly enemy,
because I once discovered the secret of her fountain of life; and, when
on a journey thither with my followers, I was captured and changed into
my present shape, while they, poor creatures, were carried prisoners to
her crypt. Should I regain my shape, it can only be done by the help of
a being brave and true like yourself."
"But why, why did you not make friends with me at first?" said the
joyful Hilda.
"The spell cast upon me forbade my recognizing one of my own kind,
unless she or he spoke, and you know how human speech is punished in
this place. For three long years I have lived in solitude, compelled by
the crone to fly back and forth to fetch her the water of life for her
magical incantations; what I receive upon my own plumage, while drawing
the water for her, has, however, secured my immortality. As for my
golden plume it is the magic blade presented to me at birth, by a
wonderful old wiseman, who said that it would point me to the treasures
beneath the earth, defy the powers of evil, and pierce its way through
solid rock. This sword, the Grandmother of the Gnomes was unable, much
as she wished to do so, to deprive me of. The utmost she could
accomplish was to transform it into a golden plume. Should I ever be so
unfortunate as to drop it, the finder will be my conqueror. See what
confidence I have in your goodness of heart, when I thus give my life
into your hands."
"Never could I be so base as to betray you, dear prince," said Hilda
joyfully.
"Oh! speak on, loveliest of maidens," cried the disguised prince. "Every
syllable you utter brings back life and hope to my sad heart. Strange
that I should have watched you come and go without knowing what you are.
It was the first utterance of your silvery voice in lamentation that
awakened my benumbed senses. Now, shall we not work together for our
deliverance?"
Gladly did Hilda pour forth all the story of her woes to her newly found
confidant. The prince bade her to be of good cheer, for it was his
intention to set forth on the morrow upon his monthly journey in search
of the water of life.
"A week hence I shall return, and although it would be impossible for me
to secrete any of the precious fluid so that our mistress would fail to
find it out, yet I will take care to saturate my plumage with the water,
so that you can obtain enough to free your father and the other
sufferers. That done, we can proceed to stronger measures. Only be
guided by me, and obey all I tell you to do, and I promise you release
and happiness."
Hilda promised and the brown bird took his leave. Next day he was no
longer to be seen in the higher tree-tops, and after a week's absence,
he arrived at nightfall dripping wet, and perched upon Hilda's window.
Carefully did Hilda collect every drop that fell from his plumage, and
when next she followed the Grandmother of the Gnomes into the fatal
crypt, it was with joyful footsteps, for in her hand she concealed a
leaf-cup full of the elixir of life. Not even Hilda noticed that the
little brown bird also entered the crypt when she did. On this occasion,
she waited as usual to see the prisoners aroused and fed, then cast
again into sleep; but instead of following the two crones on their
return, she remained concealed in her crevice of the rock, and saw close
upon her the doors of this living tomb. Now a sudden terror overtook
her, and her knees trembled.
"Oh, dearest little bird, were you but by my side!" she whispered
imploringly.
"I am here, Hilda," came in a well-known voice. "Remember that all
depends upon your courage and obedience. Go up to the crystal caskets
and sprinkle a drop upon each in turn."
Hilda did so, and in a few moments had the inexpressible joy of seeing
about twenty brave knights and other captives arise from their couches
of marble. Last of all came her beloved father, who clasped her to his
breast with rapture unspeakable.
"Now there is not a moment to be lost," said the brown bird, flying to
Hilda. "Here, brave maiden, pluck the golden feather from my tail."
Hilda obeyed, and found that she held a shining sword within her hand.
"Quick, stab me to the heart!" said the bird.
Hilda burst into tears and pleaded with him to spare her; but the brown
bird reminded her that, because of the water of life, he could never
really die; so the young girl, trembling in every limb, plunged the
blade into his breast.
As the warm blood rushed forth, a cloud of vapor arose, filling the
cave; and blowing presently away, it revealed to all present the face
and figure of a gallant youth, who, proud and smiling, knelt at Hilda's
feet.
"Now is the enchantment banished!" he cried, as his friends,
recognizing their master, came flocking around him in delight. "But we
must not again venture into the precincts of the gnome's garden, for who
knows what might befall our lovely lady here? Come, my brave sword,
point us a way of exit."
Swinging it in the air above his head, he brought the blade into a
horizontal line in front of him. At once the sword pointed to a fissure
in the walls of the crypt, and as the rescued band approached, it slowly
widened to an opening through which a man might pass.
This was not a moment too soon, for the dwarfs on guard had discovered
their attempt to escape, and a shrill whistle sounded in their ears.
Swift as the lightning flash arrived the Grandmother of the Gnomes, this
time in her worst aspect, fire darting from her eyes. Behind her came an
army of angry little men in red, with hammers in their uplifted hands,
prepared to do battle to the death. What was their fury to find the
biers empty, and a long line of stalwart men, led by Hilda, escaping
through a doorway in the solid rock! The last to depart was the prince,
and advancing upon him with a horrible yell and glare of defiance came
the Grandmother of the Gnomes. The prince met her with extended sword,
and the enchanted blade pierced her to the heart. The frightened gnomes,
surrounding their dead chief, laid her upon the marble slab from which
Hilda's father had arisen, and then flew in pursuit of the avenger. But
it was too late. The rocky wall had closed upon the retreating party,
and the Grandmother of the Gnomes arose no more from her final
resting-place.
The divining-sword led Hilda and her companions straightway to the
surface of the earth, taking care, as they passed it by, to point out
sufficient hidden treasure to enrich every man of the party. As for the
prince, as he was already the owner of one of the richest kingdoms of
the world, all he desired was to regain it, in company with his beloved
Hilda, who by this time had pledged herself to be his bride. Hilda's
father accompanied them to the palace of the prince, and was by him
ennobled and enriched. The marriage took place, and just as the guests
were enjoying the festivities, the new queen saw her servants turning
away from the door a miserable-looking pair of beggar women. Bidding
these pitiful creatures draw near to receive her alms, the queen
recognized in them Dame Martha and her daughter. Such was the generosity
of her nature, that Hilda could not resist disclosing her self to them,
and assuring them that the _accident_ of her fall had been the means of
securing her wonderful good fortune.
She ordered fine clothes and fine rooms to be prepared for the couple,
and would have forgiven them entirely, but that her father and the
prince, interfering, ordered the wicked schemers to be driven from the
house and kingdom.
Some time after, Dame Martha and Margaret reappeared in the neighborhood
of their old home. They were very sullen and close-mouthed, and were
last seen hovering around the mountain-side in the direction of the old
stone quarry, after which they were lost to human view.
The facts in the case are that Dame Martha's envy of her step-daughter
led her to the desperate resolve to herself descend into the pit in
company with her amiable child. Upon reaching the dwelling of the late
Grandmother of the Gnomes, they were immediately seized and made to do
duty in the cellar with the toads, mice, serpents, owls, and bats, where
in all probability they are still enjoying life in congenial
companionship.
Hilda and her prince lived a long and happy life. The bright sword hung
unused upon the wall, as no enemies appeared against whom to unsheath
it, and the prince never again felt tempted to risk a visit to the
kingdom of the gnomes.
THE ADVENTURES OF HA'PENNY OR, THE DWARF, THE WITCH, AND THE MAGIC
SLIPPERS.
[Illustration: Ha'penny Watching the Witch in the Underground Garden.]
Once upon a time lived a poor, little, crooked dwarf named "Ha'penny."
When he was born he was so small that his nurse exclaimed, "Why, he is
no bigger than a ha'penny!" and thus the nickname settled upon him, as
ugly nicknames often do upon very worthy people. His father was not very
kind to the unfortunate child, who, finding himself pitied and avoided
by children of his own age, soon learned to go off to the woods alone,
and to spend the days with birds and animals, over whom he had
extraordinary power. The most beautiful birds of many-colored plumage
would flutter away from their boughs in the forest to perch upon
Ha'penny's finger, and take sugar from his lips; shy little brown
squirrels would scamper down the trunks of the great trees to nestle
against his cheek; bees buzzed around his head without offering to sting
him; pretty striped snakes glided from under their stones and stumps at
his call; while all horses, and cows, and dogs, and cats loved to rub
against him, and let themselves be stroked and petted at his will. This
friendship with the world of animals and insects was Ha'penny's greatest
joy, and during the summer time, when he could live abroad, the little
creature was happy enough, after his fashion. In winter he had to
content himself with feeding the birds, and visiting the stables to hide
in the hay of the horses' manger, where the grooms would find him,
mouthing and chattering in an unknown tongue. They would often scold
him, and put him out of the stable, for Ha'penny was no favorite with
his father's people. His mother had died when Ha'penny was a little
fellow of five, and when he reached the age of fifteen (although looking
much younger) his father married a second wife, who proved a cruel
step-mother.
"If that ugly, little, twisted fright were out of the way, I could
really enjoy life," the unkind woman would say to herself; and she lost
no opportunity to make Ha'penny's life a burden to him, by all sorts of
petty tricks and persecutions.
He bore all in silence, creeping away to his attic bedroom, and lying
for hours on the floor sobbing bitterly. His only comfort was in his
pets, and a queer lot they were. Among them were a dog, who had had both
fore-paws cut off by the mowing-machine, a chicken with a cork leg, a
blind cat, a land-terrapin, a dozen white mice, a number of birds which
he had rescued from freezing and starvation, some trained fleas, a
squirrel that had lost its tail--everything that was maimed, or
homeless, or unfortunate. These he treasured in a little empty chamber
opening out of his, and no one but himself ever approached it. All the
poor dumb creatures loved him, and would swarm around him when he opened
the door; and, in return, he spent upon them all the passion of love he
had never bestowed on any one of his own kind.
One day when Ha'penny had gone off to the woods to search for some ripe
partridge-berries for his birds, the step-mother found her way to his
hidden menagerie. One instant she looked about her, with disgust and
fury in her face, and then calling her maids she gave them cruel
orders. Ha'penny came in from his walk, opened the door of his
treasure-house--and alas! what a sight met his eyes! In two corners of
the room hung his pet dog and cat, his terrapin was crushed under a
heavy piece of iron, his birds were dead, his chicken's head was cut
off, his mice were drowned in a pail; not one living thing remained to
greet him but the trained fleas, who had taken refuge in the rafters
overhead after biting the wicked mistress and her maids until they
capered about in their misery!
Ha'penny gave one glance at his beloved pets thus wantonly sacrificed,
and fell upon the floor sobbing with helpless rage and despair. He lay
there all day without being inquired for, and when night came he stole
out to the orchard and buried his poor dead favorites under the light of
the stars. He would not go back to the house, and, forgetful of cold,
hunger, everything but his burning sense of wrong, he wandered away,
away, into the forest. A few berries and a crust he had carried for the
birds were his only food until the evening of the next day, when he came
in sight of a queer little hut, half hidden from observation by the
trees that grew over it. Starving and desperate, Ha'penny was gaining
courage to knock at the door. All at once a little lattice window
opened, and an old woman poked her head out saying:
"Come and eat, the table's spread
With sweetest milk and whitest bread.
Good cheer, enough for all I've got,
And more is cooking in the pot."
At this Ha'penny pricked up his ears and licked his chaps like a hungry
cur; and just then a number of handsome cats and dogs came running out
of the woods and toward the cottage door, which the dame had by this
time opened. As no animal ever avoided Ha'penny, these creatures all
fawned upon him, refusing to go in; and the dame, perceiving the
new-comer, asked him, with an angry air, what was his business.
"A little food and shelter, madam," said poor Ha'penny, the tears
running down his cheeks.
"Begone, you rascal!" cried the angry woman; "I don't believe a word you
say. I believe you are a spy sent here to tempt away my pets. See how
they hang around you. You must be a magician, for in general they will
have nothing to do with strangers. Get you gone, sorcerer!"
Ha'penny turned meekly away, but the dogs and cats followed him with
every show of affection. Faint with hunger as he was, his legs tottered
under him, and he soon fell to the ground. Then the cats and dogs
surrounded him, licking his face and hands in spite of all their
mistress's endeavors to coax them away.
The old woman's anger ceased when she found the grotesque-looking little
stranger had really fainted from exhaustion. She lifted him in her arms
and carried him in to the fire, and rubbed his cold limbs, putting
spoonfuls of hot broth between his lips. By and by, when Ha'penny came
to himself, he told her all his sad story, and when he reached the part
about the killing of his pets, his heavy eyes flashed fire.
"She is a horrible wicked woman!" he exclaimed.
The dame answered by striking her staff on the floor. "See here, boy, if
you are honest, you may stay here and mind my animals."
She took him into the next room, and there--what a funny spectacle!
Twelve cats and twelve dogs lay upon cushions before the fire. The
cushions were made of satin, and the covers were of velvet worked in
gold. Twenty-four silver bowls stood in a row, and every cat or dog had
its separate comb and brush, and bath-tub and towels, and sponge and
soap, and perfume bottle, on a shelf. In the middle of the room played a
fountain of rose-water, and at the windows hung pink silk curtains,
which were drawn when the creatures went to sleep. All in this room was
rich and costly, while the dame's own quarters were as plain as those of
any other cottager. _She_ was content to sleep in a big feather bed, to
be covered by a clean patchwork quilt, to eat on a deal table off blue
crockery, with a well-scoured pewter spoon. Ha'penny's eyes sparkled at
the idea of waiting on the cats and dogs. He made friends with them at
once. The dame gave him a clean bedroom under the roof, and every day
after feeding and combing his charges he took them for a walk in the
woods.
"So long as you wait on my darlings faithfully, and mind your own
business," the dame said, "no trouble will come to you. But on no
account ever go near the little closet in the peak of the roof. Should
you do so, evil will happen, and your life may pay the forfeit."
Ha'penny suspected from this that his mistress was a witch; but it
troubled him very little, as he was an honest lad and intended never to
disobey her.
One day the dame brought home a new cat, a large, white Angora, a beauty
to look at, with pink eyes and flowing hair, fine and silken as spun
glass. From the moment of that cat's arrival the happy family was
completely upset. Felisette, for so she was named, proved to be vain,
selfish, and greedy; she fought for the best of everything, ate up her
neighbor's bowl of milk as well as her own, and actually bit and spit at
Ha'penny. Felisette soon became jealous of Ha'penny's affection for the
others, and determined to do him an evil turn. One day the dame was
going to the Witches' Sabbath, and said to Ha'penny, "Now mind and take
especial care of my lovely darling, Felisette. If she gets into any
trouble I shall hold you to answer for it, as I see the dear creature is
not your favorite."
The dame went off riding on a broom-stick, and Felisette invented a
thousand spiteful tricks to make the time pass unpleasantly to the
others. At last she disappeared, and presently Ha'penny heard her crying
pitifully upstairs. He rushed to see what was the matter, and discovered
her with her tail caught in the door of the forbidden closet, up in the
peak of the roof. She seemed about to die of the pain she was suffering,
and, eager to set her free, the kind lad, without a moment's
hesitation, lifted the latch while stroking Felisette's fur, when lo! as
the door flew open, out came a skeleton hand, seizing poor Ha'penny in
its grip! Up jumped Felisette, laughing heartily at the success of her
trick, and ran away.
[Illustration: Ha'penny opens the magic closet.]