animal--well, because it is you, and to give you pleasure, I will
exchange it for your cow.”
“Hurrah!” cried John, “mother will be pleased.” He was more overjoyed
than ever. Then he went on his way, driving the pig.
He soon reached the outskirts of the village, and was at once startled
by a hoarse voice, which cried unceasingly:
“Any knives or scissors to grind.”
[Illustration: THE EXCHANGES OF SIMPLE JOHN]
Whrr, whrrr. John drew near and was struck dumb with amazement when he
saw a wonderful machine, whirring round, at which a man was seated,
shouting as he worked.
“Well,” said the man, “you are looking so attentively at my grindstone;
would you like to learn the trade?”
“Isn’t it too difficult?” said John.
“Not really difficult; a clever boy like you would learn in no time.
Yes, yes, my lad, it is a merry trade, and pays well. If you know your
job, your grindstone works unceasingly and turns merrily all day long.
Ah, my lad, if grindstones were not so expensive, every one would be
able to earn a living.”
“Oh,” said John, “are these stones so dear? What did the one you are
using cost?”
“Half a dozen pigs would pay for it. If you would like one, I have
another which I would give you for your pig, in which case your fortune
is made.” He showed him a fine large grindstone which lay at the bottom
of his cart.
“My fortune is made,” said John; “I will willingly give my pig in
exchange for this stone.”
He shouldered the stone and walked on. Unfortunately it was very heavy,
and being very hot, John stooped down to drink at a stream without
putting down his load. He managed very well, when suddenly the stone
slipped and fell into deep water.
“Everything considered,” said John, “it is just as well it has happened;
the weight was breaking my back, and I shall be home all the sooner.”
He shouted joyously and ran towards the house.
“Little mother,” he cried, “I have had great luck; I exchanged a horse
for a cow, a cow for a pig, and a pig for a grindstone. The stone was
very heavy, and I lost it. Now I have nothing to carry, nothing to look
after. Mother, I am the happiest John in the whole world.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE TWO CHICKENS]
THE TWO CHICKENS OR THE TWO EARS
One day a parish priest had invited a relative to luncheon and wished to
give him something nice to eat. He ordered two tender young chickens to
be killed and plucked.
In the morning, before celebrating Mass, he said to his servant:
“Cook the two chickens for lunch and prepare them as nicely as possible,
as my cousin is very fond of his food.”
“All right, your Reverence,” replied the servant.
When the chickens were roasted, wanting to know if they were done to a
turn, she cut off a piece of the wing.
“It wants another five minutes,” she thought; she then took another
little piece. That so whetted her appetite that she continued to take
pickings until nearly all the chicken had disappeared.
“One is worse than useless,” she thought, so the second chicken
disappeared after the other.
Crying bitterly she went to find the cousin.
“Oh, sir! oh, sir!” she cried.
“What is the matter, Catherine, a misfortune? Has his Reverence caught
measles?” he asked.
[Illustration: THE FIRST THING HE DID WAS TO TAKE UP HIS KNIFE]
“Worse than that, sir,” sighed Catherine. “I must tell you everything.
The vicar has been so strange lately. Sometimes when he returns from the
church and finds a visitor awaiting him, without saying a word he begins
to sharpen his knife and then cuts off both his ears. You must be on
your guard if he seizes his knife when he comes in.”
“He will not catch me napping,” replied the cousin.
The words were hardly out of his mouth when the priest appeared. The
first thing he did was to take up his knife. He was very hungry and
wanted his luncheon at once.
“I will be off,” thought the cousin, and he ran like a hare.
“Can you tell me why the wretched man has run away?” the priest asked
the servant.
“He has stolen the two fat chickens and thought it wiser to disappear.”
“What! stolen my chickens!” cried the priest.
“Hallo! Hallo!” he shouted as loud as ever he could, “at least leave me
one.”
Of course the priest meant one chicken, but his cousin, thinking that it
was a question of his ears, shouted back:
“No, no, I prefer to keep them both.”
[Illustration]
THE WONDERFUL FISH
[Illustration: BEMOANING HER FATE AND REPROACHING THE ALMIGHTY]
[Illustration: THE FISHERMAN, THE FISH, THE SEA-KING, AND SUSIE GRILL]
THE WONDERFUL FISH
Amid the sand-hills in Flanders not far from La Panne there lived a
fisherman named Tintelentyn. He was very poor; he worked from morning
till night and very often spent half the night wading in the water with
his shrimping-net.
He had not been able to save enough money to build a little house.
Meanwhile he and his idle wife, Susie Grill, lived in an old
bathing-machine which they had received in exchange for some shrimps.
Fisherman Tintelentyn was a good man and never complained of his hard
lot. His wife, on the contrary, who considered she had married beneath
her, lay in the grass in front of the machine day after day bemoaning
her fate and reproaching the Almighty for not giving her the riches
enjoyed by her friends and acquaintances.
Poor Tintelentyn received the full brunt of her bad temper. In spite of
his hard work she reproached him with being stupid and lazy.
Susie Grill being in a temper, the good man, despite an unfavourable
tide, took up his nets and went to the sea. He cast his nets in despair.
He was doomed to disappointment, for on drawing in his nets he only
found some shells, seaweed, and starfish; not a single shrimp nor even a
little crab.
He was very downhearted and perplexed, when suddenly he saw something
red shining in one of his nets. On closer examination he saw that the
red thing was alive; it was a fish, which seemed to be looking at him
with its silvery eyes.
“Poor little fish,” the good man said in pitying tones, “I am sorry to
have caught you. You are too pretty and too rare to fry. However, I dare
not throw you back into the sea, for Susie Grill will be so angry if I
return empty-handed.”
[Illustration: STOOD UP ON ITS TAIL]
Imagine Tintelentyn’s amazement when the pretty fish, which he held in
the hollow of his hand, stood up on its tail and began to speak in a
piping voice:
“Little fisherman Tintelentyn,
Do not fry my bright red skin.
I beg you throw me back into the sea,
And all you may wish you shall have from me.”
Without hesitation and with never a thought of reward, the fisherman
threw the strange fish into the waves. He was about to cast his nets for
the second time when he saw his wife coming towards him with her arms
akimbo. She immediately began to rail against him:
“Tintelentyn, you stupid man,
What shall we put in the frying-pan
If you throw back into the sea
The only fish you caught for me;
If you prefer poverty all your life,
You can go and find another wife.”
At first the poor man was too much astonished to answer. When he
recovered, he tried to excuse himself, telling her that the fish he had
caught was no ordinary fish, that he had looked at him so sadly and had
implored him so gently and with promises of reward to give him his
freedom. His wife became still more furious. “What!” she cried, “that
fish would have made our fortune. You had only to make a wish and we
should have been saved from this misery. You have thrown this wonderful
fish back into the sea without even asking for a good catch of shrimps.
You are an ass! Cast back your nets and wish for a large and beautiful
house with turrets, such as the wealthy live in. It must have marble
steps and be well furnished. If you do not catch the fish again, I shall
run away and you will never see me again.”
[Illustration: A LOVELY HOUSE WITH LOFTY TOWERS]
When the good man drew in his nets again, he found the red fish. When he
let it wriggle in the palm of his hand, it again looked at him with
pleading eyes and spoke in a very piping voice:
“Little fisherman Tintelentyn,
Do not fry my bright red skin.
I beg you throw me back into the sea,
And all you may wish you shall have from me.”
The fisherman cast a frightened glance towards his wife, who was seated
on the dry sand. Then with much hesitation he said:
“O little fish so red and fine,
You shall live, O little fish mine;
But Susie Grill my wife desires
A lovely house with lofty towers,
Everything of the best must be,
O little fish, will you help me?”
The fish stood up on its tail and said:
“Susie Grill, she is neither mad nor shy,
What she has wished for is now close by.”
The fisherman threw the fish back into the sea and turned homewards. Oh!
how wonderful! There on the highest sand-hill, where the bathing-machine
had stood, was a beautiful house. He could hardly wait to collect his
nets, he was so anxious to know whether this time his wife would receive
him more amiably.
Proud as a peacock she awaited him on the marble steps:
“Well, Grilly,” he asked, “are you pleased with me?”
“Listen,” she replied, “it is true I now live in a beautiful house with
turrets, a marble staircase and rooms exquisitely furnished, but I have
no money. Go back to the sea ... catch the fish again and ask him to
give us as much money as the richest man on the coast between Ostend and
Dunkirk. Woe betide you if you return without it!”
The good man again returned to the sea, and when he had caught the fish
and the latter again asked for his freedom, the fisherman answered, much
embarrassed at asking yet another favour:
“O little fish so red and fine,
You shall live, O little fish mine;
But Susie Grill my wife
Wants to lead an easy life,
Heaps of silver and gold.
You will think her very bold.
But little fish, never mind,
O little fish to her be kind.”
Again the fish arose and replied:
“Susie Grill is neither shy nor bold,
She shall have riches and wealth untold.”
When Tintelentyn returned, he found his wife in her bedroom seated
before a large chest overflowing with gold. She counted it without
ceasing, arranging it in piles of a hundred on the table. Before the
chest was another brimful of silver. She told her husband that she was
going to Bruges the next morning to buy a coach and four and to engage a
staff of servants. Her _chef_ was to be a master of his art, he must
out-rival the Count of Flanders’ _chef_.
[Illustration: SHE COUNTED IT WITHOUT CEASING]
“Well, are you happy now, little wife?” Tintelentyn murmured.
“Well, to be truthful, no,” his wife replied. “I have mentioned the
Count of Flanders’ _chef_. How foolish I am, as we can have anything we
desire--why should I not wish to be the Countess of Flanders? Now I know
for what purpose I was born. I shall sit on the throne. I shall be a
queen. Go back as quickly as you can to the sea. Tell the fish what I
wish, and do not forget to add that you will accept some high position
at my court.”
When the fisherman cast his net, he noticed that the sky was overcast on
the horizon. The waves became more angry than before and a strong breeze
was blowing. However, he soon caught the fish and said to him:
“O little fish, so red and fine,
I’ll not harm you, little fish mine;
But Susie Grill, O little fish,
Has yet once more another wish.
Fish, dear little fish, I beg you help me,
Now Countess of Flanders she would be.”
Standing up on his tail the fish replied:
“If Susie Grill thinks it her destiny
Countess of Flanders she shall be.”
[Illustration: “I AM NOT DISSATISFIED WITH WHAT YOU HAVE DONE”]
Tintelentyn could hardly believe his eyes, when instead of arriving at
the house he lived in up to an hour ago he found himself in front of a
palace, with pointed towers so high that they seemed to disappear into
the clouds. He saw knights and ladies going in and coming out, and
grooms in rich liveries. He dared not go in dressed in his ragged
fisherman’s clothes. Suddenly his wife appeared at an open window with a
crown on her head and a sceptre in her hand. She signed to him to
approach:
“My man,” she said with great importance, “I am not dissatisfied with
what you have done. I even feel disposed to reward you handsomely. I
require a cup-bearer. Well, I will appoint you to this post on condition
that you return
[Illustration: HE SOON CAUGHT THE FISH]
once again to the sea and obtain me yet another great honour.”
“Good gracious, wife,” exclaimed the good man, “are you not overwhelmed
with honours? You are richer than the richest man between Ostend and
Dunkirk, you hold the title of Countess of Flanders, you wear a crown
and sceptre, what more can you possibly desire?”
“You are an innocent,” laughed Susie Grill. “Is there not a sky above my
head, and is there not a God who reigns in the sky? Go quickly to the
sea, catch the red fish. Ask him to make me as powerful as God. If you
dare to return without obtaining my wish, you will be hanged.”
[Illustration: A MIGHTY SEA-KING]
This time Tintelentyn did not hurry. He felt as though his legs were
weighted with lead. He stumbled along as though he had been drinking.
The sea was rougher than he had ever seen it. A storm was coming up from
the west. The wind whistled among the sand-hills, driving the sand
before it. Distant thunder rolled and lightning flashed. For the last
time the red fish let himself be caught.
“Little Fisherman Tintelentyn,
Do not fry my bright red skin.”
He spoke roughly, as though in warning.
“O Tintelentyn, O Tintelentyn,
Do not commit this awful sin.”
But the poor fisherman, thinking of the rope which awaited him, said in
a trembling voice:
“O little fish so red and fine,
Help once again, little fish mine.
My foolish wife, Susie Grill,
Bids me ask her latest will.
Little fish, I beg you pardon me,
Now powerful as God she wants to be.”
He had hardly uttered the words when the fish leaped out of his hand and
in his place appeared a mighty sea-king accompanied by mermaids and
strange sea-monsters. These words came from the sea-king’s mouth like a
curse:
“Susie Grill, Susie Grill,
Nevermore shall have her will,
She loses all in committing such sin,
This night you will sleep in your old cabin.”
When Tintelentyn reached the sand-hill, Susie Grill, dressed in her old
skirt and ragged blouse, was seated in front of the bathing-machine. She
was grumbling about the hard times and the small profits to be drawn
from shrimps.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE COBBLER AND HIS WIFE]
THE FRYING-PAN
Once upon a time there lived a cobbler who was very fond of pancakes.
His wife did not care for them at all. Every time he dared to mention
his favourite dish, she replied:
“But, man, how can I make pancakes? You know quite well we have no
frying-pan.”
“Well, borrow one from the neighbour,” he replied one day.
His wife dared not carry her objections any further. She fetched the
frying-pan and she fried and fried as though she were frying for the
whole village. She fried for so long that the pan became too hot and
broke!
Neither of them wanted to return the frying-pan to their neighbour. This
led to a dispute, and the little house, which was generally so peaceful,
was in an uproar.
The man said that the person who had borrowed the frying-pan should
return it.
His wife said that as it was borrowed for his benefit, he should
undertake this unpleasant task.
“Listen,” said the cobbler, who was anxious to put an end to the
quarrel; “I have an idea. We cannot keep our neighbour’s frying-pan for
ever. Whichever of us speaks first, on no matter what subject, must take
back the frying-pan.”
“Agreed,” said his wife. She pursed up her lips and clenched her teeth,
as much as to say: “Wild horses will not drag a word out of me.”
The next day the neighbours knocked at the door and asked if they could
have the frying-pan. Neither vouchsafed an answer. Then they asked the
wife, and her only reply was to turn her spinning-wheel more vigorously.
Not a word escaped her lips, except a sound which resembled the noise
made by young chicks:
“Sjip, sjip, sjip, sjip, sjip.”
Then they asked the cobbler, who replied by hammering so loudly on a
pair of soles that, unable to stand the noise, they shrugged their
shoulders and went out.
The same thing happened to the customers.
The rumour soon spread in the village that the cobbler and his wife had
been bewitched.
There was no time to be lost; their friends went to the exorcist to free
them from the spell.
The charlatan, with incantations, prepared for the ceremony by crossing
himself and sprinkling holy water.
In spite of all his efforts he was no more successful than the other
villagers. He only heard the woman say, “Sjip, sjip, sjip,” and the man
tapping with the hammer.
The exorcist, now at the end of his resources, took the pail of holy
water and emptied the contents over the woman’s head, she being
apparently the most obstinate case.
“Have you finished?” the woman burst out, while the water dripped from
her body like snow melting off a snow-man.
“Dear little wife,” said the cobbler calmly, “you will take the
frying-pan to our neighbour.”
The good man threw away the shoe he held in his hand and danced for joy.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: NEITHER OF THEM WANTED TO RETURN THE FRYING-PAN]
[Illustration: THE THREE FARMERS]
FARMER BROOM, FARMER LEAVES, AND FARMER IRON
Once upon a time there were three peasants who lived in the same wood.
The first had a hut made of broom.
The second had a hut made of leaves.
The third had a hut made of iron.
That is why they were known as Farmer Broom, Farmer Leaves, and Farmer
Iron.
One cold winter afternoon a wolf came stealthily into the clearing where
the three farmers had built their huts. He hid himself behind a thick
bush and hungrily watched the skaters as they glided over the polished
surface of the ice. At twilight, just as Farmer Broom had returned home
from the forest with a faggot of wood, the wolf knocked at his door, and
cried, “Farmer Broom, Farmer Broom, open the door, my friend; my little
hands are so cold, and my little feet are frozen.”
“I will not open the door,” Farmer Broom replied gruffly.
“Then I shall break it open.” The wolf hurled himself with such force
against the door that he burst it open, went into the hut, and sat down
by the fire.
Farmer Broom was about to peel potatoes, and the wolf
[Illustration: THE THREE FARMERS AND THEIR HOUSES]
began to repeat in a hoarse voice, “Warm in the stomach, as I shall have
fat pigs. Warm in the stomach, as I shall have fat pigs.”
[Illustration: HE BURST IT OPEN]
“What are you muttering about?” Farmer Broom asked innocently.
“Well,” replied the wolf, “you will be the first! But give me a potato
at once; I am as hungry as can be.”
Farmer Broom put a potato on the point of his knife, and held it out at
arm’s length to the wolf, but the latter swallowed the potato, the
knife, and the farmer at a gulp.
The next day the wolf knocked at Farmer Leaves’ door, just after the
latter had returned with a basketful of dead leaves which he had
collected from beneath the snow.
“Farmer Leaves, Farmer Leaves, open the door, my dear friend; my little
feet are so cold, and my little hands are frozen.”
“I shall not open it,” replied Farmer Leaves.
“Then I shall burst it open,” said the wolf, and thereupon he threw his
weight against the door, forced it open, went in and sat down by the
fire.
Farmer Leaves was also about to peel potatoes, and the wolf said in a
deep voice, “Warm in the stomach, as I shall have fat pigs. Warm in the
stomach, as I shall have fat pigs.”
“What are you mumbling?” asked Farmer Leaves.
“Well,” said the wolf, “I was saying a little prayer for you, but,
quick, give me a potato, I am dying of hunger.”
[Illustration: THE WOLF WENT IN AND SAT DOWN]
Farmer Leaves held out his knife with a potato stuck on the end, but
again the wolf swallowed the potato, the knife, and the farmer at a
gulp.
The third day he went to Farmer Iron. The latter had seen him coming in
the distance, as he was entering his hut with a bucketful of water from
the well. He placed a large cauldron full of dried peas in the attic.
The wolf knocked, and cried, “Farmer Iron, Farmer Iron, open the door,
my friend; my little feet are so cold, and my little hands are frozen.”
“I shall not open it,” said Farmer Iron.
“Then I shall burst it open.”
“All right, burst it open,” said Farmer Iron.
The wolf made a spring and charged at the door, and dashed himself
against it until his paws were torn and bleeding. He lost so much blood
that Farmer Iron ended by taking pity on him, and opened the door.
The wolf went in and sat down by the fire with Farmer Iron. Very soon he
began to say in a sepulchral voice, “Warm in the stomach, as I shall
have fat pigs. Warm in the stomach, as I shall have fat pigs.”
[Illustration: FARMER BROOM AND FARMER LEAVES CAME OUT ALIVE]
“What nonsense are you repeating?” asked Farmer Iron in a derisive tone.
“Well,” said the wolf, “it is a little prayer for you, but give me a
potato, my stomach feels quite hollow and empty.”
Farmer Iron held out a potato. The wolf was about to swallow it when
Farmer Iron suddenly pulled a string and upset the cauldron of dried
peas, which made a great noise as they ran out on the attic floor.
“Whatever is it, whatever is it?” asked the frightened wolf.
“The police who are tracking you down,” answered Farmer Iron, laughing.
“They want to hang you for eating Farmer Broom and Farmer Leaves.”
“Good heavens, Farmer Iron, my friend, tell me where I can hide,” begged
the wolf.
“Quick, climb into the attic,” said Farmer Iron. “I will not betray
you.”
The wolf rushed to the ladder. Farmer Iron took a large saucepan of
boiling water off the fire and put it down at the foot of the ladder.
The wolf was in such a hurry that he slipped and fell into the saucepan,
and was terribly scalded. Farmer Iron pulled him out, cut him open, and,
oh, what joy! Farmer Broom and Farmer Leaves came out alive, each
carrying his knife with a potato on the end.
They all three lifted up the wolf and threw him outside, and each
returned to his own hut.
This is what happened in that wonderful country where after you are dead
you live happy ever after.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: LODEWYK AND HIS CARDS]
LITTLE LODEWYK AND ANNIE THE WITCH
Little Lodewyk built card houses, but Annie the witch always came to
blow them down.
One day little Lodewyk grew tired of this and built himself a stone
house. He put in a fireplace and a pump. Now if the witch came she could
not blow it down.
Suddenly he heard a knock at the door!
“Who is there?” asked the little man.
“Annie the witch, open the door,” was the answer.
“What can Annie the witch want with me?”
“Very little, nothing but a little fire.”
“I have no fire.”
“You most certainly have, I saw smoke coming out of the chimney.”
“Then you must squint, my chimney cannot smoke. I have never lighted the
fire; you must have seen the smoke from my neighbour’s chimney.”
“No, no, I am not to be taken in like that. My eyes are quite straight,”
and she went off in a huff.
The next day she came back and again knocked at the door.
“Who is there?” asked little Lodewyk.
“It is I, my good man, Annie the witch.”
“What can Annie the witch want with me again?”
“Nothing much, only a pail of water.”
“You know very well I have no water.”
“Most certainly you have water, for I heard it gurgling in the pump.”
“Then you have very strange ears. I have never raised the pump-handle.
No doubt the noise you heard came from my neighbour’s house.”
“I warn you that if you refuse to open the door I shall cut off your
head.”
Little Lodewyk was terrified; he put the chain on the door and hid
himself up the chimney.
In spite of this the witch went in and searched for him everywhere, but
she could not find him. However, at last she discovered him seated in
the chimney, and dragged him down by the hair of his head.
“Put your head on the table that I may cut it off,” commanded the witch,
opening wide her red eyes.
“Willingly Annie, but tell me how,” said Lodewyk, who had a scheme in
his head. “Show what I am to do.”
“Very well, place your head like this!” cried Annie the witch, and she
placed her large and hideous head quite unsuspectingly on the table.
Lodewyk quickly seized his axe and cut off the witch’s head.
Then little Lodewyk calmly fried a herring for his supper and smoked a
pipe.
And then there came a pig with a long snout.
And the little story has run out.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: ANNIE THE WITCH ALWAYS CAME TO BLOW THEM DOWN]
[Illustration: THE GIANT AND FIVE HIGHWAYMEN]
THE GIANT OF THE CAUSEWAY
In olden days there was a feudal castle on the site where now stand the
Causeway and Giant’s Mount, in the town of Brussels.