then, as the poor pancake could go no farther, why--this story can go no
farther either.
WHY THE SEA IS SALT
Once on a time, but it was a long, long time ago, there were two
brothers, one rich and one poor.
Now, one Christmas eve, the poor one had not so much as a crumb in the
house, either of meat or bread, so he went to his brother to ask him for
something with which to keep Christmas. It was not the first time his
brother had been forced to help him, and, as he was always stingy, he
was not very glad to see him this time, but he said, "I'll give you a
whole piece of bacon, two loaves of bread, and candles into the bargain,
if you'll never bother me again--but mind you don't set foot in my house
from this day on."
The poor brother said he wouldn't, thanked his brother for the help he
had given him, and started on his way home.
He hadn't gone far before he met an old, old man with a white beard, who
looked so thin and worn and hungry that it was pitiful to see him.
"In heaven's name give a poor man a morsel to eat," said the old man.
"Now, indeed, I have been begging myself," said the poor brother, "but
I'm not so poor that I can't give you something on the blessed Christmas
eve." And with that he handed the old man a candle, a loaf of bread, and
he was just going to cut off a slice of bacon, when the old man stopped
him--"That is enough and to spare," said he. "And now, I'll tell you
something. Not far from here is the entrance to the home of the
underground folks. They have a mill there which can grind out anything
they wish for except bacon; now mind you go there. When you get inside
they will all want to buy your bacon, but don't sell it unless you get
in return the mill which stands behind the door. When you come out I'll
teach you how to handle the mill."
So the man with the bacon thanked the other for his good advice and
followed the directions which the old man had given him, and soon he
stood outside the door of the hillfolk's home.
When he got in, everything went just as the old man had said. All the
hillfolk, great and small, came swarming up to him, like ants around an
ant-hill, and each tried to outbid the other for the bacon.
"Well!" said the man, "by rights, my old dame and I ought to have this
bacon for our Christmas dinner; but, since you have all set your hearts
on it, I suppose I must give it up to you. Now, if I sell it at all,
I'll have for it that mill behind the door yonder."
At first the hillfolk wouldn't hear of such a bargain and higgled and
haggled with the man, but he stuck to what he said, and at last they
gave up the mill for the bacon.
When the man got out of the cave and into the woods again, he met the
same old beggar and asked him how to handle the mill. After he had
learned how to use it, he thanked the old man and went off home as fast
as he could; but still the clock had struck twelve on Christmas eve
before he reached his own door.
"Wherever in the world have you been?" said his old dame. "Here have I
sat hour after hour, waiting and watching, without so much as two sticks
to lay together under the Christmas porridge."
"Oh!" said the man, "I could not get back before, for I had to go a long
way first for one thing and then for another; but now you shall see what
you shall see."
So he put the mill on the table, and bade it first of all grind lights,
then a tablecloth, then meat, then ale, and so on till they had
everything that was nice for Christmas fare. He had only to speak the
word and the mill ground out whatever he wanted. The old dame stood by
blessing her stars, and kept on asking where he had got this wonderful
mill, but he wouldn't tell her.
"It's all the same where I got it. You see the mill is a good one, and
the mill stream never freezes. That's enough."
So he ground meat and drink and all good things to last out the whole of
Christmas holidays, and on the third day he asked all his friends and
kin to his house and gave them a great feast. Now, when his rich brother
saw all that was on the table and all that was in the cupboards, he grew
quite wild with anger, for he could not bear that his brother should
have anything.
"'Twas only on Christmas eve," he said to the rest, "he was so poorly
off that he came and begged for a morsel of food, and now he gives a
feast as if he were count or a king." and he turned to his brother and
said, "But where in the world did you get all this wealth?"
"From behind the door," answered the owner of the mill, for he did not
care to tell his brother much about it. But later in the evening, when
he had gotten a little too merry, he could keep his secret no longer,
and he brought out the mill and said:
"There you see what has gotten me all this wealth," and so he made the
mill grind all kinds of things.
When his brother saw it, he set his heart on having the mill, and, after
some talk, it was agreed that the rich brother was to get it at
hay-harvest time, when he was to pay three hundred dollars for it. Now,
you may fancy the mill did not grow rusty for want of work, for while he
had it the poor brother made it grind meat and drink that would last for
years. When hay-harvest came, the rich brother got it, but he was in
such a hurry to make it grind that he forgot to learn how to handle it.
It was evening when the rich brother got the mill home, and next morning
he told his wife to go out into the hayfield and toss hay while the
mowers cut the grass, and he would stay at home and get the dinner
ready. So, when dinner time drew near, he put the mill on the kitchen
table and said:
"Grind herrings and broth, and grind them good and fast."
And the mill began to grind herrings and broth; first of all the dishes
full, then all the tubs full, and so on till the kitchen floor was quite
covered. The man twisted and twirled at the mill to get it to stop, but
for all his fiddling and fumbling the mill went on grinding, and in a
little while the broth rose so high that the man was nearly drowning. So
he threw open the kitchen door and ran into the parlor, but it was not
long before the mill had ground the parlor full too, and it was only at
the risk of his life that the man could get hold of the latch of the
house door through the stream of broth. When he got the door open, he
ran out and set off down the road, with the stream of herrings and broth
at his heels, roaring like a waterfall over the whole farm.
Now, his old dame, who was in the field tossing hay, thought it a long
time to dinner, and at last she said:
"Well! though the master doesn't call us home, we may as well go. Maybe
he finds it hard work to boil the broth, and will be glad of my help."
The men were willing enough, so they sauntered homewards. But just as
they had got a little way up the hill, what should they meet but
herrings and broth, all running and dashing and splashing together in a
stream, and the master himself running before them for his life, and as
he passed them he called out: "Eat, drink! eat, drink! but take care
you're not drowned in the broth."
Away he ran as fast as his legs would carry him to his brother's house,
and begged him in heaven's name to take back the mill, and that at once,
for, said he, "If it grinds only one hour more, the whole parish will be
swallowed up by herrings and broth."
So the poor brother took back the mill, and it wasn't long before it
stopped grinding herrings and broth.
[Illustration: With the herrings and broth at his heels]
And now he set up a farmhouse far finer than the one in which his
brother lived, and with the mill he ground so much gold that he covered
it with plates of gold. And, as the farm lay by the seaside, the golden
house gleamed and glistened far away over the sea. All who sailed by put
ashore to see the rich man in the golden house, and to see the wonderful
mill the fame of which spread far and wide, till there was nobody who
hadn't heard of it.
So one day there came a skipper who wanted to see the mill, and the
first thing he asked was if it could grind salt.
"Grind salt!" said the owner, "I should just think it could. It can
grind anything."
When the skipper heard that, he said he must have the mill, for if he
only had it, he thought, he need not take his long voyages across stormy
seas for a lading of salt. He much preferred sitting at home with a pipe
and a glass. Well, the man let him have it, but the skipper was in such
a hurry to get away with it that he had no time to ask how to handle the
mill. He got on board his ship as fast as he could and set sail. When he
had sailed a good way off, he brought the mill on deck and said, "Grind
salt, and grind both good and fast."
And the mill began to grind salt so that it poured out like water, and
when the skipper had got the ship full he wished to stop the mill, but
whichever way he turned it, and however much he tried, it did no good;
the mill kept on grinding, and the heap of salt grew higher and higher,
and at last down sank the ship.
There lies the mill at the bottom of the sea, and grinds away to this
very day, and that is the reason why the sea is salt--so some folks say.
THE SQUIRE'S BRIDE
There was once a very rich squire who owned a large farm, had plenty of
silver at the bottom of his chest, and money in the bank besides; but
there was something he had not, and that was a wife.
One day a neighbor's daughter was working for him in the hayfield. The
squire liked her very much and, as she was a poor man's daughter, he
thought that if he only mentioned marriage she would be more than glad
to take him at once. So he said to her, "I've been thinking I want to
marry."
"Well, one may think of many things," said the lassie, as she stood
there and smiled slyly. She really thought the old fellow ought to be
thinking of something that behooved him better than getting married at
his time of life.
"Now, you see," he said, "I was thinking that you should be my wife!"
"No, thank you," said she, "and much obliged for the honor."
The squire was not used to being gainsaid, and the more she refused him
the more he wanted her. But the lassie would not listen to him at all.
So the old man sent for her father and told him that, if he could talk
his daughter over and arrange the whole matter for him, he would forgive
him the money he had lent him, and would give him the piece of land
which lay close to his meadow into the bargain.
"Yes, yes, be sure I'll bring the lass to her senses," said the father.
"She is only a child and does not know what is best for her."
But all his coaxing, all his threats and all his talking, went for
naught. She would not have the old miser, if he sat buried in gold up to
his ears, she said.
The squire waited and waited, but at last he got angry and told the
father that he had to settle the matter at once if he expected him to
stand by his bargain, for now he would wait no longer.
The man knew no other way out of it, but to let the squire get
everything ready for the wedding; then, when the parson and the wedding
guests had arrived, the squire would send for the lassie as if she were
wanted for some work on the farm. When she got there they would marry
her right away, in such a hurry that she would have no time to think it
over.
When the guests had arrived the squire called one of his farm lads, told
him to run down to his neighbor and ask him to send up immediately what
he had promised.
"But if you are not back with her in a twinkling," he said, shaking his
fist at him, "I'll----"
He did not finish, for the lad ran off as if he had been shot at.
"My master has sent me to ask for that which you promised him," said the
lad, when he got to the neighbor, "but, pray, lose no time, for master
is terribly busy to-day."
"Yes, yes! Run down in the meadow and take her with you--there she
goes," answered the neighbor.
The lad ran off and when he came to the meadow he found the daughter
there raking the hay.
"I am to fetch what your father has promised my master," said the lad.
"Ah, ha!" thought she, "is that what they are up to?" And with a wicked
twinkle of the eye, she said, "Oh, yes, it's that little bay mare of
ours, I suppose. You had better go and take her. She stands tethered on
the other side of the pea field."
The boy jumped on the back of the bay mare and rode home at full gallop.
"Have you got her with you?" asked the squire.
"She is down at the door," said the lad.
"Take her up to the room my mother had," said the squire.
"But, master, how can I?" said the lad.
"Do as I tell you," said the squire. "And if you can't manage her alone,
get the men to help you," for he thought the lassie might be stubborn.
When the lad saw his master's face he knew it would be no use to argue.
So he went and got all the farm hands together to help him. Some pulled
at the head and the forelegs of the mare and others pushed from behind,
and at last they got her upstairs and into the room. There lay all the
wedding finery ready.
"Well, that's done, master!" said the lad, while he wiped his wet brow,
"but it was the worst job I have ever had here on the farm."
"Never mind, never mind, you shall not have done it for nothing," said
his master, and he pulled a bright silver coin out of his pocket and
gave it to the lad. "Now send the women up to dress her."
"But, I say--master!--"
"None of your talk!" cried the squire. "Tell them to hold her while they
dress her, and mind not to forget either wreath or crown."
The lad ran into the kitchen:
"Listen, here, lasses," he called out, "you are to go upstairs and dress
up the bay mare as a bride--I suppose master wants to play a joke on his
guests."
The women laughed and laughed, but ran upstairs and dressed the bay mare
in everything that was there. And then the lad went and told his master
that now she was all ready, with wreath and crown and all.
"Very well, bring her down. I will receive her at the door myself," said
the squire.
There was a clatter and a thumping on the stairs, for that bride, you
know, had no silken slippers on.
When the door was opened and the squire's bride entered the room, you
can imagine there was laughing and tittering and grinning enough.
And as for the squire, they say he never went courting again.
PEIK
Once on a time there was a man, and he had a wife. They had a son and a
daughter who were twins, and these were so alike that no one could tell
one from the other except by their clothing. The boy they called Peik.
He was of little use while his father and mother lived, for he cared to
do naught else than to befool folk, and he was so full of tricks and
pranks that no one was left in peace. When the parents died, matters
grew still worse and worse. He would not turn his hand to anything. All
he would do was to squander what they left behind them.
His sister toiled and moiled all she could, but it helped little; so at
last she told him how silly it was to do naught for the house.
"What shall we have to live on when you have wasted everything?"
she said.
"Oh, I'll go out and befool somebody," said Peik.
"Yes, Peik, I'll be bound you'll do that soon enough," said the sister.
"Well, I'll try," said Peik.
At last they had indeed nothing more. There was an end of everything;
and Peik started off, and walked and walked till he came to the King's
palace.
Now, I must tell you, this King and his queen and eldest daughter were
little better than trolls,--mean and hateful and very foolish,--so there
was no love lost between them and the people.
When Peik came to the King's palace, there stood the King in the porch,
and as soon as he set eyes on the lad he said,
"Whither away, to-day, Peik?"
"Oh, I was going out to see if I could befool anybody," said Peik.
"Can't you befool me now?" said the King.
"No, I'm sure I can't," said Peik, "for I've forgotten my fooling rods."
"Can't you go home and fetch them?" said the King, "I should be very
glad to see if you are such a trickster as folks say."
"I've no strength to walk," said Peik.
"I'll lend you a horse and saddle," said the King
"But I can't ride either," said Peik.
"We'll lift you up," said the King, "then you'll be able to stick on."
Well, Peik stood and scratched his head as though he would pull the hair
off, and he let them lift him up into the saddle. There he sat, swinging
this side and that, so long as the King could see him, and the King
laughed till the tears came into his eyes, for such a tailor on
horseback he had never seen. But when Peik was come well into the wood
behind the hill, so that he was out of the King's sight, he sat as
though he were tied to the horse, and off he rode as fast as the horse
could carry him. But when he got to the town he sold both horse and
saddle.
All the while the King walked up and down, and loitered, and waited for
Peik to come tottering back again with his fooling rods. And every now
and then he laughed when he called to mind how wretched the lad looked
as he sat swinging about on the horse like a sack of corn, not knowing
on which side to fall off. This lasted for seven lengths and seven
breaths, but no Peik came, and so at last the King saw that he was
fooled and cheated out of his horse and saddle, even though Peik had not
had his fooling rods with him. Then there was another story, for the
King got wroth, and was all for setting off to kill Peik.
But Peik had found out the day he was coming, and told his sister she
must put on the big boiling-pot with a little water in it. Just as the
King came in, Peik dragged the pot off the fire and ran off with it to
the chopping-block, and so boiled the porridge on the block.
The King wondered at that, and wondered on and on, so much that he quite
forgot what brought him there.
"What do you want for that pot?" said he.
"I can't spare it," said Peik.
"Why not?" said the King; "I'll pay what you ask."
"No, no!" said Peik. "It saves me time and money, wood hire and chopping
hire, carting and carrying."
"Never mind," said the King, "I'll give you a hundred dollars. It's true
you've fooled me out of a horse and saddle, and bridle besides, but all
that shall go for nothing if I can only get the pot."
"Well, if you must have it, you must," said Peik.
When the King got home he asked guests and made a feast, but the meat
was to be boiled in the new pot, and so he took it up and set it in the
middle of the floor. The guests thought the King had lost his wits, and
went about elbowing one another, and laughing at him. But he walked
round and round the pot and cackled and chattered, saying all in a
breath--
"Well, well! bide a bit, bide a bit! 'Twill boil in a minute."
But there was no boiling. So he saw that Peik had been out with his
fooling rods and had cheated him again, and now he would set off at once
and slay him.
When the King came, Peik stood out by the barn door. "Wouldn't it boil?"
he asked.
"No, it would not, and you shall smart for it," said the King, about to
unsheath his knife.
"I can well believe that," said Peik, "for you did not take the block,
too."
"I wish I thought," said the King, "you weren't telling me a pack of
lies."
"I tell you it's because of the block it stands on; it won't boil
without it," said Peik.
"Well, what do you want for it?"
It was well worth three hundred dollars; but for the King's sake it
should go for two. So the King got the block and traveled home with it.
He bade guests again, made a feast, and set the pot on the
chopping-block in the middle of the room. The guests thought he was both
daft and mad, and they went about making game of him, while he cackled
and chattered around the pot, calling out, "Bide a bit! Now it boils,
now it boils in a trice."
But it wouldn't boil a bit more on the block than on the bare floor. So
he saw that Peik had been out with his fooling rods this time, too. Then
he fell a-tearing his hair, and said he would set off at once and slay
the lad. He wouldn't spare him this time, whether or no.
But Peik was ready for him. He had filled a leather bag with blood and
stuffed it into his sister's bosom, and told her what to say and do.
"Where's Peik?" screamed out the King. He was in such a rage that he
stuttered and stammered.
"He is so poorly that he can't stir hand or foot," she said, "and now
he's trying to get a nap."
"Wake him up!" said the King.
"Nay, I daren't, he will be so angry," said the sister.
"Well, I am angrier still," said the King, "and if you don't wake him, I
will," and with that he tapped his side where his knife hung.
"Well, she would go and wake him," but Peik turned hastily in his bed,
drew out a knife and ripped open the leather bag in her bosom, so that
the blood gushed out, and down she fell on the floor as though she were
dead.
"What an awful fellow you are, Peik," said the King; "you have killed
your sister right before my eyes!"
"Oh, there's no trouble with her so long as there's breath in my
nostrils," said Peik, and with that he pulled out a ram's horn and began
to toot on it.
"Toot-e-too-too," he blew, with one end of the horn to her body, and up
she rose as though there was nothing the matter with her.
"Dear me, Peik! Can you kill folk and blow life into them again? Can you
do that?" said the King.
"Why!" said Peik, "how could I get on at all if I couldn't? I am always
killing every one I come near; don't you know I have a terrible temper?"
"I am hot-tempered, too," said the King, "and that horn I must have.
I'll give you a hundred dollars for it, and besides I'll forgive you for
cheating me out of my horse and for fooling me about the pot and the
block, and all else."
Peik was loth to part with it, but for his sake he would let him have
it. And so the King went off home with it, and he hardly got back before
he must try it.
So he fell a-wrangling and quarreling with the queen and his eldest
daughter, and they paid him back in the same coin; but before they knew
what was happening he had whipped out his knife and cut their throats.
They fell down stone dead and the other two daughters ran from the
house, they were so afraid.
The King walked about the floor for a while and kept chattering that
there was no harm done so long as there was breath in him, and then he
pulled out the horn and began to blow "Toot-e-too-too! Toot-e-too-too!"
but, though he blew and tooted as hard as he could all that day and the
next, too, he could not blow life into them again. Dead they were, and
dead they stayed. But the people in the kingdom were only glad to get
rid of such troll-folk, and were wishing some one might make an end of
the King, too, so that they might have a good King in his place.
But the King was now angrier than ever, and must go right off to kill
Peik.
But Peik knew that he was coming and then he said to his sister--
"Now, you must change clothes with me and set off. If you will do that,
you may have all we own."
So, she changed clothes with him, packed up and started off as fast as
she could; but Peik sat all alone in his sister's clothes.
"Where is that Peik?" roared the King, as as he came, in a towering
rage, through the door.
"He has run away," said Peik. "He knew that your Majesty was coming, so
he left me all alone without a morsel of bread or a penny in my purse,"
and he made himself as gentle and sweet as a young lady.
"Come along, then, to the King's palace, and you shall have enough to
live on. There's no good sitting here and starving in this cabin by
yourself," said the King.
So Peik went home with the King, and there he was treated as the King's
own daughter, for Miss Peik sewed and stitched and sang and played with
the others, and was with them early and late.
But one day a man came to the King and told him that Peik's sister was
at a farm in the neighborhood, and that it was Peik he had brought up in
his own house. Now, Peik had heard all that the man told the King, so he
ran away from the King's palace, out into the wide world.
The King got into a terrible rage then, and called for Peik, but he was
nowhere to be found. Then he mounted his horse to go out to look for
Peik.
He had not gone far before he came to a ploughed field and there sat
Peik on a stone, playing on a mouth organ.
"What! Are you sitting there, Peik?" said the King.
"Here I sit, sure enough," said Peik; "where else should I sit?"
"You have cheated me foully time after time," said the King, "but now
you must come along home with me, and I'll kill you."
"Well, well," said Peik, "if it can't be helped, it can't; I suppose I
must go along with you."
When they got home to the King's palace they got ready a barrel which
Peik was to be put in, and when it was ready they carted it up a high
mountain. There he was to lie three days, thinking on all the evil he
had done, then they were to roll him down the mountain into the sea.
The third day a rich man passed by and when he heard Peik's story he was
ready to help him out of his trouble.
They made a stuffed man and put him with some stones into the
barrel--but the rich man gave Peik horses and cows, sheep and swine, and
money beside.
Now, the King came to roll Peik down the mountain. "A happy journey!"
said the King, "and now it is all over with you and your fooling rods."