'Let me look at it,' said the old neighbour. 'Ah, I thought so; it is

a turkey's egg. Once, when I was young, they tricked me to sitting on

a brood of turkey's eggs myself, and when they were hatched the

creatures were so stupid that nothing would make them learn to swim. I

have no patience when I think of it.'

'Well, I will give it another chance,' sighed the duck, 'and if it

does not come out of its shell in another twenty-four hours, I will

just leave it alone and teach the rest of them to swim properly and to

find their own food. I really can't be expected to do two things at

once.' And with a fluff of her feathers she pushed the egg into the

middle of the nest.

All through the next day she sat on, giving up even her morning bath

for fear that a blast of cold might strike the big egg. In the

evening, when she ventured to peep, she thought she saw a tiny crack

in the upper part of the shell. Filled with hope, she went back to her

duties, though she could hardly sleep all night for excitement. When

she woke with the first streaks of light she felt something stirring

under her. Yes, there it was at last; and as she moved, a big awkward

bird tumbled head foremost on the ground.

There was no denying it was ugly, even the mother was forced to admit

that to herself, though she only said it was 'large' and 'strong.'

'You won't need any teaching when you are once in the water,' she told

him, with a glance of surprise at the dull brown which covered his

back, and at his long naked neck. And indeed he did not, though he was

not half so pretty to look at as the little yellow balls that followed

her.

When they returned they found the old neighbour on the bank waiting

for them to take them into the duckyard. 'No, it is not a young

turkey, certainly,' whispered she in confidence to the mother, 'for

though it is lean and skinny, and has no colour to speak of, yet there

is something rather distinguished about it, and it holds its head up

well.'

'It is very kind of you to say so,' answered the mother, who by this

time had some secret doubts of its loveliness. 'Of course, when you

see it by itself it is all right, though it is different, somehow,

from the others. But one cannot expect _all_ one's children to be

beautiful!'

By this time they had reached the centre of the yard, where a very old

duck was sitting, who was treated with great respect by all the fowls

present.

'You must go up and bow low before her,' whispered the mother to her

children, nodding her head in the direction of the old lady, 'and keep

your legs well apart, as you see me do. No well-bred duckling turns in

its toes. It is a sign of common parents.'

The little ducks tried hard to make their small fat bodies copy the

movements of their mother, and the old lady was quite pleased with

them; but the rest of the ducks looked on discontentedly, and said to

each other:

'Oh, dear me, here are ever so many more! The yard is full already;

and did you _ever_ see anything quite as ugly as that great tall

creature? He is a disgrace to any brood. I shall go and chase him

out!' So saying she put up her feathers, and running to the big

duckling bit his neck.

The duckling gave a loud quack; it was the first time he had felt any

pain, and at the sound his mother turned quickly.

'Leave him alone,' she said fiercely, 'or I will send for his father.

He was not troubling _you_.'

'No; but he is so ugly and awkward no one can put up with him,'

answered the stranger. And though the duckling did not understand the

meaning of the words, he felt he was being blamed, and became more

uncomfortable still when the old Spanish duck who ruled the fowl-yard

struck in:

'It certainly _is_ a great pity he is so different from these

beautiful darlings. If he could only be hatched over again!'

The poor little fellow drooped his head, and did not know where to

look, but was comforted when his mother answered:

'He may not be quite as handsome as the others, but he swims better,

and is very strong; I am sure he will make his way in the world as

well as anybody.'

'Well, you must feel quite at home here,' said the old duck waddling

off. And so they did, all except the duckling, who was snapped at by

everyone when they thought his mother was not looking. Even the

turkeycock, who was so big, never passed him without mocking words,

and his brothers and sisters, who would not have noticed any

difference unless it had been put into their heads, soon became as

rude and unkind as the rest.

At last he could bear it no longer, and one day he fancied he saw

signs of his mother turning against him too; so that night, when the

ducks and hens were still asleep, he stole away through an open door,

and under cover of the burdock leaves scrambled on by the bank of the

canal, till he reached a wide grassy moor, full of soft marshy places

where the reeds grew. Here he lay down, but he was too tired and too

frightened to fall asleep, and with the earliest peep of the sun the

reeds began to rustle, and he saw that he had blundered into a colony

of wild ducks. But as he could not run away again he stood up and

bowed politely.

'You _are_ ugly,' said the wild ducks, when they had looked him well

over; 'but, however, it is no business of ours, unless you wish to

marry one of our daughters, and that we should not allow.' And the

duckling answered that he had no idea of marrying anybody, and wanted

nothing but to be left alone after his long journey.

So for two whole days he lay quietly among the reeds, eating such food

as he could find, and drinking the water of the moorland pool, till he

felt himself quite strong again. He wished he might stay where he was

for ever, he was so comfortable and happy, away from everyone, with

nobody to bite him and tell him how ugly he was.

He was thinking these thoughts, when two young ganders caught sight of

him as they were having their evening splash among the reeds, looking

for their supper.

'We are getting tired of this moor,' they said, 'and to-morrow we

think of trying another, where the lakes are larger and the feeding

better. Will you come with us?'

'Is it nicer than this?' asked the duckling doubtfully. And the words

were hardly out of his mouth, when 'Pif! paf!' and the two new-comers

were stretched dead beside him.

At the sound of the gun the wild ducks in the rushes flew into the

air, and for a few minutes the firing continued.

Luckily for himself the duckling could not fly, and he floundered

along through the water till he could hide himself amidst some tall

ferns which grew in a hollow. But before he got there he met a huge

creature on four legs, which he afterwards knew to be a dog, who stood

and gazed at him with a long red tongue hanging out of his mouth. The

duckling grew cold with terror, and tried to hide his head beneath his

little wings; but the dog snuffed at him and passed on, and he was

able to reach his place of shelter.

'I am too ugly even for a dog to eat,' said he to himself. 'Well, that

is a great mercy.' And he curled himself up in the soft grass till the

shots died away in the distance.

When all had been quiet for a long time, and there were only the stars

to see him, he crept out and looked about him.

He would never go near a pool again, _never_, thought he; and seeing

that the moor stretched far away in the opposite direction from which

he had come, he marched bravely on till he got to a small cottage,

which seemed too tumbledown for the stones to hold together many hours

longer. Even the door only hung upon one hinge, and as the only light

in the room sprang from a tiny fire, the duckling edged himself

cautiously in, and lay down, under a chair close to the broken door,

from which he could get out if necessary. But no one seemed to see him

or smell him; so he spent the rest of the night in peace.

Now in the cottage dwelt an old woman, her cat, and a hen; and it was

really they, and not _she_, who were masters of the house. The old

woman, who passed all her days in spinning yarn, which she sold at the

nearest town, loved both the cat and the hen as her own children, and

never contradicted them in any way; so it was their grace, and not

hers, that the duckling would have to gain.

It was only next morning, when it grew light, that they noticed their

visitor, who stood trembling before them, with his eye on the door

ready to escape at any moment. They did not, however, appear very

fierce, and the duckling became less afraid as they approached him.

'Can you lay eggs?' asked the hen. And the duckling answered meekly:

'No; I don't know how.' Upon which the hen turned her back, and the

cat came forward.

'Can you ruffle your fur when you are angry, or purr when you are

pleased?' said she. And again the duckling had to admit that he could

do nothing but swim, which did not seem of much use to anybody.

So the cat and the hen went straight off to the old woman, who was

still in bed.

'Such a useless creature has taken refuge here,' they said. 'It calls

itself a duckling; but it can neither lay eggs nor purr! What had we

better do with it?'

'Keep it, to be sure!' replied the old woman briskly. 'It is all

nonsense about it not laying eggs. Anyway, we will let it stay here

for a bit, and see what happens.'

So the duckling remained for three weeks, and shared the food of the

cat and the hen; but nothing in the way of eggs happened at all. Then

the sun came out, and the air grew soft, and the duckling grew tired

of being in a hut, and wanted with all his might to have a swim. And

one morning he got so restless that even his friends noticed it.

'What is the matter?' asked the hen; and the duckling told her.

'I am so longing for the water again. You can't think how delicious it

is to put your head under the water and dive straight to the bottom.'

'I don't think _I_ should enjoy it,' replied the hen doubtfully. 'And

I don't think the cat would like it either.' And the cat, when asked,

agreed there was nothing she would hate so much.

'I can't stay here any longer, I _must_ get to the water,' repeated

the duck. And the cat and the hen, who felt hurt and offended,

answered shortly:

'Very well then, go.'

The duckling would have liked to say good-bye, and thank them for

their kindness, as he was polite by nature; but they had both turned

their backs on him, so he went out of the rickety door feeling rather

sad. But, in spite of himself, he could not help a thrill of joy when

he was out in the air and water once more, and cared little for the

rude glances of the creatures he met. For a while he was quite happy

and content; but soon the winter came on, and snow began to fall, and

everything to grow very wet and uncomfortable. And the duckling soon

found that it is one thing to enjoy being in the water, and quite

another to like being damp on land.

The sun was setting one day, like a great scarlet globe, and the

river, to the duckling's vast bewilderment, was getting hard and

slippery, when he heard a sound of whirring wings, and high up in the

air a flock of swans were flying. They were as white as the snow which

had fallen during the night, and their long necks with yellow bills

were stretched southwards, for they were going--they did not quite

know whither--but to a land where the sun shone all day. Oh, if he

only could have gone with them! But that was not possible, of course;

and besides, what sort of companion could an ugly thing like him be to

those beautiful beings? So he walked sadly down to a sheltered pool

and dived to the very bottom, and tried to think it was the greatest

happiness he could dream of. But, all the same, he knew it wasn't!

And every morning it grew colder and colder, and the duckling had hard

work to keep himself warm. Indeed, it would be truer to say that he

never was warm at all; and at last, after one bitter night, his legs

moved so slowly that the ice crept closer and closer, and when the

morning light broke he was caught fast, as in a trap; and soon his

senses went from him.

A few hours more and the poor duckling's life had been ended. But, by

good fortune, a man was crossing the river on his way to his work, and

saw in a moment what had happened. He had on thick wooden shoes, and

he went and stamped so hard on the ice that it broke, and then he

picked up the duckling and tucked him under his sheep-skin coat, where

his frozen bones began to thaw a little.

Instead of going on to his work, the man turned back and took the bird

to his children, who gave him a warm mess to eat and put him in a box

by the fire, and when they came back from school he was much more

comfortable than he had been since he had left the old woman's

cottage. They were kind little children, and wanted to play with him;

but, alas! the poor fellow had never played in his life, and thought

they wanted to tease him, and flew straight into the milk-pan, and

then into the butter-dish, and from that into the meal-barrel, and at

last, terrified at the noise and confusion, right out of the door, and

hid himself in the snow amongst the bushes at the back of the house.

He never could tell afterwards exactly how he had spent the rest of

the winter. He only knew that he was very miserable and that he never

had enough to eat. But by-and-by things grew better. The earth became

softer, the sun hotter, the birds sang, and the flowers once more

appeared in the grass. When he stood up, he felt different, somehow,

from what he had done before he fell asleep among the reeds to which

he had wandered after he had escaped from the peasant's hut. His body

seemed larger, and his wings stronger. Something pink looked at him

from the side of a hill. He thought he would fly towards it and see

what it was.

Oh, how glorious it felt to be rushing through the air, wheeling first

one way and then the other! He had never thought that flying could be

like that! The duckling was almost sorry when he drew near the pink

cloud and found it was made up of apple blossoms growing beside a

cottage whose garden ran down to the banks of the canal. He fluttered

slowly to the ground and paused for a few minutes under a thicket of

syringas, and while he was gazing about him, there walked slowly past

a flock of the same beautiful birds he had seen so many months ago.

Fascinated, he watched them one by one step into the canal, and float

quietly upon the waters as if they were part of them.

'I will follow them,' said the duckling to himself; 'ugly though I am,

I would rather be killed by them than suffer all I have suffered from

cold and hunger, and from the ducks and fowls who should have treated

me kindly.' And flying quickly down to the water, he swam after them

as fast as he could.

It did not take him long to reach them, for they had stopped to rest

in a green pool shaded by a tree whose branches swept the water. And

directly they saw him coming some of the younger ones swam out to meet

him with cries of welcome, which again the duckling hardly understood.

He approached them glad, yet trembling, and turning to one of the

older birds, who by this time had left the shade of the tree, he said:

'If I am to die, I would rather you should kill me. I don't know why I

was ever hatched, for I am too ugly to live.' And as he spoke, he

bowed his head and looked down into the water.

Reflected in the still pool he saw many white shapes, with long necks

and golden bills, and, without thinking, he looked for the dull grey

body and the awkward skinny neck. But no such thing was there.

Instead, he beheld beneath him a beautiful white swan!

'The new one is the best of all,' said the children when they came

down to feed the swans with biscuit and cake before going to bed. 'His

feathers are whiter and his beak more golden than the rest.' And when

he heard that, the duckling thought that it was worth while having

undergone all the persecution and loneliness that he had passed

through, as otherwise he would never have known what it was to be

really happy.

(Hans Andersen.)

_THE TWO CASKETS_

Far, far away, in the midst of a pine forest, there lived a woman who

had both a daughter and a stepdaughter. Ever since her own daughter

was born the mother had given her all that she cried for, so she grew

up to be as cross and disagreeable as she was ugly. Her stepsister, on

the other hand, had spent her childhood in working hard to keep house

for her father, who died soon after his second marriage; and she was

as much beloved by the neighbours for her goodness and industry as she

was for her beauty.

As the years went on, the difference between the two girls grew more

marked, and the old woman treated her stepdaughter worse than ever,

and was always on the watch for some pretext for beating her, or

depriving her of her food. Anything, however foolish, was good enough

for this, and one day, when she could think of nothing better, she set

both the girls to spin while sitting on the low wall of the well.

'And you had better mind what you do,' said she, 'for the one whose

thread breaks first shall be thrown to the bottom.'

[Illustration: 'THAT IS AN END OF YOU,' SHE SAID.

BUT SHE WAS WRONG, FOR IT WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING]

But of course she took good care that her own daughter's flax was fine

and strong, while the stepsister had only some coarse stuff, which no

one would have thought of using. As might be expected, in a very

little while the poor girl's thread snapped, and the old woman, who

had been watching from behind a door, seized her stepdaughter by

her shoulders, and threw her into the well.

'That is an end of you!' she said. But she was wrong, for it was only

the beginning.

Down, down, down went the girl--it seemed as if the well must reach to

the very middle of the earth; but at last her feet touched the ground,

and she found herself in a field more beautiful than even the summer

pastures of her native mountains. Trees waved in the soft breeze, and

flowers of the brightest colours danced in the grass. And though she

was quite alone, the girl's heart danced too, for she felt happier

than she had done since her father died. So she walked on through the

meadow till she came to an old tumbledown fence--so old that it was a

wonder it managed to stand up at all, and it looked as if it depended

for support on the old man's beard that climbed all over it.

The girl paused for a moment as she came up, and gazed about for a

place where she might safely cross. But before she could move a voice

cried from the fence:

'Do not hurt me, little maiden; I am so old, so old, I have not much

longer to live.'

And the maiden answered:

'No, I will not hurt you; fear nothing.' And then, seeing a spot where

the clematis grew less thickly than in other places, she jumped

lightly over.

'May all go well with thee,' said the fence, as the girl walked on.

She soon left the meadow and turned into a path which ran between two

flowery hedges. Right in front of her stood an oven, and through its

open door she could see a pile of white loaves.

'Eat as many loaves as you like, but do me no harm, little maiden,'

cried the oven. And the maiden told her to fear nothing, for she never

hurt anything, and was very grateful for the oven's kindness in giving

her such a beautiful white loaf. When she had finished it, down to

the last crumb, she shut the oven door and said: 'Good-morning.'

'May all go well with thee,' said the oven, as the girl walked on.

By-and-by she became very thirsty, and seeing a cow with a milk-pail

hanging on her horn, turned towards her.

'Milk me and drink as much as you will, little maiden,' cried the cow,

'but be sure you spill none on the ground; and do me no harm, for I

have never harmed anyone.'

'Nor I,' answered the girl; 'fear nothing.' So she sat down and milked

till the pail was nearly full. Then she drank it all up except a

little drop at the bottom.

'Now throw any that is left over my hoofs, and hang the pail on my

horns again,' said the cow. And the girl did as she was bid, and

kissed the cow on her forehead and went her way.

Many hours had now passed since the girl had fallen down the well, and

the sun was setting.

'Where shall I spend the night?' thought she. And suddenly she saw

before her a gate which she had not noticed before, and a very old

woman leaning against it.

'Good evening,' said the girl politely; and the old woman answered:

'Good evening, my child. Would that everyone was as polite as you. Are

you in search of anything?'

'I am in search of a place,' replied the girl; and the woman smiled

and said:

'Then stop a little while and comb my hair, and you shall tell me all

the things you can do.'

'Willingly, mother,' answered the girl. And she began combing out the

old woman's hair, which was long and white.

Half an hour passed in this way, and then the old woman said:

'As you did not think yourself too good to comb me, I will show you

where you may take service. Be prudent and patient and all will go

well.'

So the girl thanked her, and set out for a farm at a little distance,

where she was engaged to milk the cows and sift the corn.

[Illustration: SHE FOUND SITTING ROUND HER A WHOLE CIRCLE OF CATS]

As soon as it was light next morning the girl got up and went into the

cow-house. 'I'm sure you must be hungry,' said she, patting each in

turn. And then she fetched hay from the barn, and while they were

eating it, she swept out the cow-house, and strewed clean straw upon

the floor. The cows were so pleased with the care she took of them

that they stood quite still while she milked them, and did not play

any of the tricks on her that they had played on other dairymaids who

were rough and rude. And when she had done, and was going to get up

from her stool, she found sitting round her a whole circle of cats,

black and white, tabby and tortoiseshell, who all cried with one

voice:

'We are very thirsty, please give us some milk!'

'My poor little pussies,' said she, 'of course you shall have some.'

And she went into the dairy, followed by all the cats, and gave each

one a little red saucerful. But before they drank they all rubbed

themselves against her knees and purred by way of thanks.

The next thing the girl had to do was to go to the storehouse, and to

sift the corn through a sieve. While she was busy rubbing the corn she

heard a whirr of wings, and a flock of sparrows flew in at the window.

'We are hungry; give us some corn! give us some corn!' cried they; and

the girl answered:

'You poor little birds, of course you shall have some!' and scattered

a fine handful over the floor. When they had finished they flew on her

shoulders and flapped their wings by way of thanks.

* * * * *

Time went by, and no cows in the whole country-side were so fat and

well tended as hers, and no dairy had so much milk to show. The

farmer's wife was so well satisfied that she gave her higher wages,

and treated her like her own daughter. At length, one day, the girl

was bidden by her mistress to come into the kitchen, and when there,

the old woman said to her: 'I know you can tend cows and keep a dairy;

now let me see what you can do besides. Take this sieve to the well,

and fill it with water, and bring it home to me without spilling one

drop by the way.'

The girl's heart sank at this order; for how was it possible for her

to do her mistress's bidding? However, she was silent, and taking the

sieve went down to the well with it. Stooping over the side, she

filled it to the brim, but as soon as she lifted it the water all ran

out of the holes. Again and again she tried, but not a drop would

remain in the sieve, and she was just turning away in despair when a

flock of sparrows flew down from the sky.

'Ashes! ashes!' they twittered; and the girl looked at them and said:

'Well, I can't be in a worse plight than I am already, so I will take

your advice.' And she ran back to the kitchen and filled her sieve

with ashes. Then once more she dipped the sieve into the well, and,

behold, this time not a drop of water disappeared!

* * * * *

'Here is the sieve, mistress,' cried the girl, going to the room where

the old woman was sitting.

'You are cleverer than I expected,' answered she; 'or else someone

helped you who is skilled in magic.' But the girl kept silence, and

the old woman asked her no more questions.

Many days passed during which the girl went about her work as usual,

but at length one day the old woman called her and said:

'I have something more for you to do. There are here two yarns, the

one white, the other black. What you must do is to wash them in the

river till the black one becomes white and the white black.' And the

girl took them to the river and washed hard for several hours, but

wash as she would they never changed one whit.

'This is worse than the sieve,' thought she, and was about to give up

in despair when there came a rush of wings through the air, and on

every twig of the birch trees which grew by the bank was perched a

sparrow.

'The black to the east, the white to the west!' they sang, all at

once; and the girl dried her tears and felt brave again. Picking up

the black yarn, she stood facing the east and dipped it in the river,

and in an instant it grew white as snow, then turning to the west, she

held the white yarn in the water, and it became as black as a crow's

wing. She looked back at the sparrows and smiled and nodded to them,

and flapping their wings in reply they flew swiftly away.

At the sight of the yarn the old woman was struck dumb; but when at

length she found her voice she asked the girl what magician had helped

her to do what no one had done before. But she got no answer, for the

maiden was afraid of bringing trouble on her little friends.

For many weeks the mistress shut herself up in her room, and the girl

went about her work as usual. She hoped that there was an end to the

difficult tasks which had been set her; but in this she was mistaken,

for one day the old woman appeared suddenly in the kitchen, and said

to her:

'There is one more trial to which I must put you, and if you do not

fail in that you will be left in peace for evermore. Here are the

yarns which you washed. Take them and weave them into a web that is as

smooth as a king's robe, and see that it is spun by the time that the

sun sets.'

'This is the easiest thing I have been set to do,' thought the girl,

who was a good spinner. But when she began she found that the skein

tangled and broke every moment.

'Oh, I can never do it!' she cried at last, and leaned her head

against the loom and wept; but at that instant the door opened, and

there entered, one behind another, a procession of cats.

'What is the matter, fair maiden?' asked they. And the girl answered:

'My mistress has given me this yarn to weave into a piece of cloth,

which must be finished by sunset, and I have not even begun yet,

for the yarn breaks whenever I touch it.'

[Illustration: 'ASHES, ASHES!' TWITTERED THE SPARROWS]

'If that is all, dry your eyes,' said the cats; 'we will manage it for

you.' And they jumped on the loom, and wove so fast and so skilfully

that in a very short time the cloth was ready and was as fine as any

king ever wore. The girl was so delighted at the sight of it that she

gave each cat a kiss on his forehead as they left the room one behind

the other as they had come.

* * * * *

'Who has taught you this wisdom?' asked the old woman, after she had

passed her hands twice or thrice over the cloth and could find no

roughness anywhere. But the girl only smiled and did not answer. She

had learned early the value of silence.

After a few weeks the old woman sent for her maid and told her that as

her year of service was now up, she was free to return home, but that,

for her part, the girl had served her so well that she hoped she might

stay with her. But at these words the maid shook her head, and

answered gently:

'I have been happy here, Madam, and I thank you for your goodness to

me; but I have left behind me a stepsister and a stepmother, and I am

fain to be with them once more.' The old woman looked at her for a

moment, and then she said:

'Well, that must be as you like; but as you have worked faithfully for

me I will give you a reward. Go now into the loft above the storehouse

and there you will find many caskets. Choose the one which pleases you

best, but be careful not to open it till you have set it in the place

where you wish it to remain.'

The girl left the room to go to the loft, and as soon as she got

outside, she found all the cats waiting for her. Walking in

procession, as was their custom, they followed her into the loft,

which was filled with caskets big and little, plain and splendid. She

lifted up one and looked at it, and then put it down to examine

another yet more beautiful. Which should she choose, the yellow or the

blue, the red or the green, the gold or the silver? She hesitated

long, and went first to one and then to another, when she heard the

cats' voices calling: 'Take the black! take the black!'

[Illustration: 'TAKE THE BLACK! TAKE THE BLACK!' CRIED THE CATS]

The words made her look round--she had seen no black casket, but as

the cats continued their cry she peered into several corners that had

remained unnoticed, and at length discovered a little black box, so

small and so black, that it might easily have been passed over.

'This is the casket that pleases me best, mistress,' said the girl,

carrying it into the house. And the old woman smiled and nodded, and

bade her go her way. So the girl set forth, after bidding farewell to

the cows and the cats and the sparrows, who all wept as they said

good-bye.

She walked on and on and on, till she reached the flowery meadow, and

there, suddenly, something happened, she never knew what, but she was

sitting on the wall of the well in her stepmother's yard. Then she got

up and entered the house.

The woman and her daughter stared as if they had been turned into

stone; but at length the stepmother gasped out:

'So you are alive after all! Well, luck was ever against me! And where

have you been this year past?' Then the girl told how she had taken

service in the under-world, and, besides her wages, had brought home

with her a little casket, which she would like to set up in her room.

'Give me the money, and take the ugly little box off to the outhouse,'

cried the woman, beside herself with rage, and the girl, quite

frightened at her violence, hastened away, with her precious box

clasped to her bosom.

The outhouse was in a very dirty state, as no one had been near it

since the girl had fallen down the well; but she scrubbed and swept

till everything was clean again, and then she placed the little casket

on a small shelf in the corner.

'Now I may open it,' she said to herself; and unlocking it with the

key which hung to its handle, she raised the lid, but started back as

she did so, almost blinded by the light that burst upon her. No one

would ever have guessed that that little black box could have held

such a quantity of beautiful things! Rings, crowns, girdles,

necklaces--all made of wonderful stones; and they shone with such

brilliance that not only the stepmother and her daughter but all the

people round came running to see if the house was on fire. Of course

the woman felt quite ill with greed and envy, and she would have

certainly taken all the jewels for herself had she not feared the

wrath of the neighbours, who loved her stepdaughter as much as they

hated her.

But if she could not steal the casket and its contents for herself, at

least she could get another like it, and perhaps a still richer one.

So she bade her own daughter sit on the edge of the well, and threw

her into the water, exactly as she had done to the other girl; and,

exactly as before, the flowery meadow lay at the bottom.

Every inch of the way she trod the path which her stepsister had

trodden, and saw the things which she had seen; but there the likeness

ended. When the fence prayed her to do it no harm, she laughed rudely,

and tore up some of the stakes so that she might get over the more

easily; when the oven offered her bread, she scattered the loaves on

the ground and stamped on them; and after she had milked the cow, and

drunk as much as she wanted, she threw the rest on the grass, and

kicked the pail to bits, and never heard them say, as they looked

after her: 'You shall not have done this to me for nothing!'

Towards evening she reached the spot where the old woman was leaning

against the gate-post, but she passed her by without a word.

'Have you no manners in your country?' asked the crone.

'I can't stop and talk; I am in a hurry,' answered the girl. 'It is

getting late, and I have to find a place.'

'Stop and comb my hair for a little,' said the old woman, 'and I will

help you to get a place.'

'Comb your hair, indeed! I have something better to do than that!' And

slamming the gate in the crone's face she went her way. And she never

heard the words that followed her: 'You shall not have done this to me

for nothing!'

By-and-by the girl arrived at the farm, and she was engaged to look

after the cows and sift the corn as her stepsister had been. But it

was only when someone was watching her that she did her work; at other

times the cow-house was dirty, and the cows ill-fed and beaten, so

that they kicked over the pail, and tried to butt her; and everyone

said they had never seen such thin cows or such poor milk. As for the

cats, she chased them away, and ill-treated them, so that they had not

even the spirit to chase the rats and mice, which nowadays ran about

everywhere. And when the sparrows came to beg for some corn, they

fared no better than the cows and the cats, for the girl threw her

shoes at them, till they flew in a fright to the woods, and took

shelter amongst the trees.

* * * * *

Months passed in this manner, when, one day, the mistress called the

girl to her.

'All that I have given you to do you have done ill,' said she, 'yet

will I give you another chance. For though you cannot tend cows, or

divide the grain from the chaff, there may be other things that you

can do better. Therefore take this sieve to the well, and fill it with

water, and see that you bring it back without spilling a single drop.'

The girl took the sieve and carried it to the well as her sister had

done; but no little birds came to help her, and after dipping it in

the well two or three times she brought it back empty.

'I thought as much,' said the old woman angrily; 'she that is useless

in one thing is useless in another.'

Perhaps the mistress may have thought that the girl had learnt a

lesson, but, if she did, she was quite mistaken, as the work was no

better done than before. By-and-by she sent for her again, and gave

her maid the black and the white yarn to wash in the river; but there

was no one to tell her the secret by which the black would turn white,

and the white black; so she brought them back as they were. This time

the old woman only looked at her grimly, but the girl was too well

pleased with herself to care what anyone thought about her.

After some weeks her third trial came, and the yarn was given her to

spin, as it had been given to her stepsister before her.

But no procession of cats entered the room to weave a web of fine

cloth, and at sunset she only brought back to her mistress an armful

of dirty, tangled wool.

'There seems nothing in the world you can do,' said the old woman, and

left her to herself.

* * * * *

Soon after this the year was up, and the girl went to her mistress to

tell her that she wished to go home.

'Little desire have I to keep you,' answered the old woman, 'for no

one thing have you done as you ought. Still, I will give you some

payment, therefore go up into the loft, and choose for yourself one of

the caskets that lies there. But see that you do not open it till you

place it where you wish it to stay.'

This was what the girl had been hoping for, and so rejoiced was she,

that, without even stopping to thank the old woman, she ran as fast as

she could to the loft. There were the caskets, blue and red, green and

yellow, silver and gold; and there in the corner stood a little black

casket, just like the one her stepsister had brought home.

'If there are so many jewels in that little black thing, this big red

one will hold twice the number,' she said to herself; and snatching it

up she set off on her road home without even going to bid farewell to

her mistress.

* * * * *

'See, mother, see what I have brought!' cried she, as she entered the

cottage holding the casket in both hands.

'Ah! you have got something very different from that little black

box,' answered the old woman with delight. But the girl was so busy

finding a place for it to stand that she took little notice of her

mother.

'It will look best here--no, here,' she said, setting it first on one

piece of furniture and then on another. 'No, after all it is too fine

to live in a kitchen, let us place it in the guest chamber.'

So mother and daughter carried it proudly upstairs and put it on a

shelf over the fireplace; then, untying the key from the handle, they

opened the box. As before, a bright light leapt out directly the lid

was raised, but it did not spring from the lustre of jewels, but from

hot flames, which darted along the walls and burnt up the cottage and

all that was in it, and the mother and daughter as well.

As they had done when the stepdaughter came home, the neighbours all

hurried to see what was the matter; but they were too late. Only the

hen-house was left standing; and, in spite of her riches, there the

stepdaughter lived happily to the end of her days.

(From Thorpe's _Yule-Tide Stories_.)

_THE GOLDSMITH'S FORTUNE_

Once upon a time there was a goldsmith who lived in a certain village

where the people were as bad and greedy, and covetous, as they could

possibly be; however, in spite of his surroundings, he was fat and

prosperous. He had only one friend whom he liked, and that was a

cowherd, who looked after cattle for one of the farmers in the

village. Every evening the goldsmith would walk across to the

cowherd's house and say: 'Come, let's go out for a walk!'

Now the cowherd didn't like walking in the evening, because, he said,

he had been out grazing the cattle all day, and was glad to sit down

when night came; but the goldsmith always worried him so that the poor

man had to go against his will. This at last so annoyed him that he

tried to think how he could pick a quarrel with the goldsmith, so that

he should not beg him to walk with him any more. He asked another

cowherd for advice, and he said the best thing he could do was to go

across and kill the goldsmith's wife, for then the goldsmith would be

_sure_ to regard him as an enemy; so, being a foolish person, and

there being no laws in that country by which a man would be certainly

punished for such a crime, the cowherd one evening took a big stick

and went across to the goldsmith's house when only Mrs. Goldsmith was

at home, and banged her on the head so hard that she died then and

there.

When the goldsmith came back and found his wife dead he said nothing,

but just took her outside into the dark lane and propped her up

against the wall of his house, and then went into the courtyard and

waited. Presently a rich stranger came along the lane, and seeing

someone there, as he supposed, he said:

'Good-evening, friend! a fine night to-night!' But the goldsmith's

wife said nothing. The man then repeated his words louder; but still

there was no reply. A third time he shouted:

'Good-evening, friend! are you _deaf_?' but the figure never replied.

Then the stranger, being angry at what he thought very rude behaviour,

picked up a big stone and threw it at Mrs. Goldsmith, crying:

'Let _that_ teach you manners!'

Instantly poor Mrs. Goldsmith tumbled over; and the stranger,

horrified at seeing what he had done, was immediately seized by the

goldsmith, who ran out screaming:

'Wretch! you have killed my wife! Oh, miserable one; we will have

justice done to thee!'

With many protestations and reproaches they wrangled together, the

stranger entreating the goldsmith to say nothing and he would pay him

handsomely to atone for the sad accident. At last the goldsmith

quieted down, and agreed to accept one thousand gold pieces from the

stranger, who immediately helped him to bury his poor wife, and then

rushed off to the guest house, packed up his things and was off by

daylight, lest the goldsmith should repent and accuse him as the

murderer of his wife. Now it very soon appeared that the goldsmith had

a lot of extra money, so that people began to ask questions, and

finally demanded of him the reason for his sudden wealth.

'Oh,' said he, 'my wife died, and I sold her.'

'You sold your dead wife?' cried the people.

'Yes,' said the goldsmith.

'For how much?'

'A thousand gold pieces,' replied the goldsmith.

Instantly the villagers went away and each caught hold of his own

wife and throttled her, and the next day they all went off to sell

their dead wives. Many a weary mile did they tramp, but got nothing

but hard words or laughter, or directions to the nearest cemetery,

from people to whom they offered dead wives for sale. At last they

perceived that they had been cheated somehow by that goldsmith. So off

they rushed home, seized the unhappy man, and, without listening to

his cries and entreaties, hurried him down to the river bank and flung

him--plop!--into the deepest, weediest, and nastiest place they could

find.

'_That_ will teach him not to play tricks on us,' said they. 'For as

he can't swim he'll drown, and we sha'n't have any more trouble with

_him_!'

Now the goldsmith really could not swim, and as soon as he was thrown

into the deep river he sank below the surface; so his enemies went

away believing that they had seen the last of him. But, in reality, he

was carried down, half drowned, below the next bend in the river,

where he fortunately came across a 'snag' floating in the water (a

snag is, you know, a part of a tree or bush which floats very nearly

under the surface of the water); and he held on to this snag, and by

great good luck eventually came ashore some two or three miles down

the river. At the place where he landed he came across a fine fat cow

buffalo, and immediately he jumped on her back and rode home. When the

village people saw him, they ran out in surprise, and said:

'Where on earth do you come from, and where did you get that buffalo?'

'Ah!' said the goldsmith, 'you little know what delightful adventures

I have had! Why, down in that place in the river where you threw me in

I found meadows, and trees, and fine pastures, and buffaloes, and all

kinds of cattle. In fact, I could hardly tear myself away; but I

thought that I must really let you all know about it.'

'Oh, oh!' thought the greedy village people; 'if there are buffaloes

to be had for the taking we'll go after some too.' Encouraged by the

goldsmith they nearly all ran off the very next morning to the river;

and, in order that they might get down quickly to the beautiful place

the goldsmith told them of, they tied great stones on to their feet

and their necks, and one after another they jumped into the water as

fast as they could, and were drowned. And whenever any one of them

waved his hands about and struggled the goldsmith would cry out:

'Look! he's beckoning the rest of you to come; he's got a fine

buffalo!' And others who were doubtful would jump in, until not one

was left. Then the cunning goldsmith went back and took all the

village for himself, and became very rich indeed. But do you think he

was happy? Not a bit. Lies never made a man happy yet. Truly, he got

the better of a set of wicked and greedy people, but only by being

wicked and greedy himself; and, as it turned out, when he got so rich

he got very fat; and at last was so fat that he couldn't move, and one

day he got the apoplexy and died, and no one in the world cared the

least bit.

(_Told by a Pathan to Major Campbell._)

_THE ENCHANTED WREATH_

Once upon a time there lived near a forest a man and his wife and two

girls; one girl was the daughter of the man, and the other the

daughter of his wife; and the man's daughter was good and beautiful,

but the woman's daughter was cross and ugly. However, her mother did

not know that, but thought her the most bewitching maiden that ever

was seen.

One day the man called to his daughter and bade her come with him into

the forest to cut wood. They worked hard all day, but in spite of the

chopping they were very cold, for it rained heavily, and when they

returned home, they were wet through. Then, to his vexation, the man

found that he had left his axe behind him, and he knew that if it lay

all night in the mud it would become rusty and useless. So he said to

his wife:

'I have dropped my axe in the forest, bid your daughter go and fetch

it, for mine has worked hard all day and is both wet and weary.'

But the wife answered:

'If your daughter is wet already, it is all the more reason that _she_

should go and get the axe. Besides, she is a great strong girl, and a

little rain will not hurt her, while _my_ daughter would be sure to

catch a bad cold.'

By long experience the man knew there was no good saying any more, and

with a sigh he told the poor girl she must return to the forest for

the axe.

[Illustration: THREE LITTLE DOVES WERE SEATED ON THE HANDLE OF

THE AXE]

The walk took some time, for it was very dark, and her shoes often

stuck in the mud; but she was brave as well as beautiful and never

thought of turning back merely because the path was both difficult and

unpleasant. At last, with her dress torn by brambles that she could

not see, and her face scratched by the twigs on the trees, she reached

the spot where she and her father had been cutting in the morning, and

found the axe in the place he had left it. To her surprise, three

little doves were sitting on the handle, all of them looking very

sad.

'You poor little things,' said the girl, stroking them. 'Why do you

sit there and get wet? Go and fly home to your nest, it will be much

warmer than this; but first eat this bread, which I saved from my

dinner, and perhaps you will feel happier. It is my father's axe you

are sitting on, and I must take it back as fast as I can, or I shall

get a terrible scolding from my stepmother.' She then crumbled the

bread on the ground, and was pleased to see the doves flutter quite

cheerfully towards it.

'Good-bye,' she said, picking up the axe, and went her way homewards.

By the time they had finished all the crumbs the doves felt much

better, and were able to fly back to their nests in the top of a tree.

'That is a good girl,' said one; 'I really was too weak to stretch out

a wing before she came. I should like to do something to show how

grateful I am.'

'Well, let us give her a wreath of flowers that will never fade as

long as she wears it,' cried another.

'And let the tiniest singing birds in the world sit amongst the

flowers,' rejoined the third.

'Yes, that will do beautifully,' said the first. And when the girl

stepped into her cottage a wreath of rose-buds was on her head, and a

crowd of little birds were singing unseen.

The father, who was sitting by the fire, thought that, in spite of her

muddy clothes, he had never seen his daughter looking so lovely; but

the stepmother and the other girl grew wild with envy.

'How absurd to walk about on such a pouring night, dressed up like

that,' she remarked crossly, and roughly pulled off the wreath as she

spoke, to place it on her own daughter. As she did so the roses became

withered and brown, and the birds flew out of the window.

'See what a trumpery thing it is!' cried the stepmother; 'and now

take your supper and go to bed, for it is near upon midnight.'

But though she pretended to despise the wreath, she longed none the

less for her daughter to have one like it.

Now it happened that the next evening the father, who had been alone

in the forest, came back a second time without his axe. The

stepmother's heart was glad when she saw this, and she said quite

mildly:

'Why, you have forgotten your axe again, you careless man! But now

_your_ daughter shall stay at home, and _mine_ shall go and bring it

back'; and throwing a cloak over the girl's shoulders, she bade her

hasten to the forest.

With a very ill grace the damsel set forth, grumbling to herself as

she went; for though she wished for the wreath, she did not at all

want the trouble of getting it.

By the time she reached the spot where her stepfather had been cutting

the wood the girl was in a very bad temper indeed, and when she caught

sight of the axe, there were the three little doves, with drooping

heads and soiled, bedraggled feathers, sitting on the handle.

'You dirty creatures,' cried she, 'get away at once, or I will throw

stones at you.' And the doves spread their wings in a fright and flew

up to the very top of a tree, their bodies shaking with anger.

'What shall we do to revenge ourselves on her?' asked the smallest of

the doves, 'we were never treated like that before.'

'Never,' said the biggest dove. 'We must find some way of paying her

back in her own coin!'

'_I_ know,' answered the middle dove; 'she shall never be able to say

anything but "dirty creatures" to the end of her life.'

'Oh, how clever of you! That will do beautifully,' exclaimed the other

two. And they flapped their wings and clucked so loud with delight,

and made such a noise, that they woke up all the birds in the trees

close by.

'What in the world is the matter?' asked the birds sleepily.

'That is _our_ secret,' said the doves.

Meanwhile the girl had reached home crosser than ever; but as soon as

her mother heard her lift the latch of the door she ran out to hear

her adventures. 'Well, did you get the wreath?' cried she.

'Dirty creatures!' answered her daughter.

'Don't speak to me like that! What do you mean?' asked the mother

again.

'Dirty creatures!' repeated the daughter, and nothing else could she

say.

Then the woman saw that something evil had befallen her, and turned in

her rage to her stepdaughter.

'_You_ are at the bottom of this, I know,' she cried; and as the

father was out of the way she took a stick and beat the girl till she

screamed with pain and went to bed sobbing.

If the poor girl's life had been miserable before, it was ten times

worse now, for the moment her father's back was turned the others

teased and tormented her from morning till night; and their fury was

increased by the sight of the wreath, which the doves had placed again

on her head.

Things went on like this for some weeks, when, one day, as the king's

son was riding through the forest, he heard some strange birds singing

more sweetly than birds had ever sung before. He tied his horse to a

tree, and followed where the sound led him, and, to his surprise, he

saw before him a beautiful girl chopping wood, with a wreath of pink

rose-buds, out of which the singing came. Standing in the shelter of a

tree, he watched her a long while, and then, hat in hand, he went up

and spoke to her.

[Illustration: STANDING IN THE SHELTER OF A TREE, HE WATCHED HER

A LONG WHILE]

'Fair maiden, who are you, and who gave you that wreath of singing

roses?' asked he, for the birds were so tiny that till you looked

closely you never saw them.

'I live in a hut on the edge of the forest,' she answered, blushing,

for she had never spoken to a prince before. 'And as to the wreath, I

know not how it came there, unless it may be the gift of some doves

whom I fed when they were starving.' The prince was delighted with

this answer, which showed the goodness of the girl's heart, and

besides he had fallen in love with her beauty, and would not be

content till she promised to return with him to the palace, and become

his bride. The old king was naturally disappointed at his son's choice

of a wife, as he wished him to marry a neighbouring princess; but as

from his birth the prince had always done exactly as he liked, nothing

was said and a splendid wedding feast was got ready.

The day after her marriage the bride sent a messenger, bearing

handsome presents to her father, and telling him of the good fortune

which had befallen her. As may be imagined, the stepmother and her

daughter were so filled with envy that they grew quite ill, and had to

take to their beds, and nobody would have been sorry if they had never

got up again; but that did not happen. At length, however, they began

to feel better, for the mother invented a plan by which she could be

revenged on the girl who had never done her any harm.

Her plan was this. In the town where she had lived before she was

married there was an old witch, who had more skill in magic than any

other witch she knew. To this witch she would go and beg her to make

her a mask with the face of her stepdaughter, and when she had the

mask the rest would be easy. She told her daughter what she meant to

do, and although the daughter could only say 'dirty creatures,' in

answer, she nodded and smiled and looked well pleased.

Everything fell out exactly as the woman had hoped. By the aid of her

magic mirror the witch beheld the new princess walking in her gardens

in a dress of green silk, and in a few minutes had produced a mask so

like her that very few people could have told the difference. However,

she counselled the woman that when her daughter first wore it--for

that, of course, was what she intended her to do--she had better

pretend that she had a toothache, and cover her head with a lace veil.

The woman thanked her and paid her well, and returned to her hut,

carrying the mask with her under her cloak.

[Illustration: THE STEPMOTHER TRIES TO DROWN THE PRINCESS]

In a few days she heard that a great hunt was planned, and the prince

would leave the palace very early in the morning, so that his wife

would be alone all day. This was a chance not to be missed, and taking

her daughter with her she went up to the palace, where she had never

been before. The princess was too happy in her new home to remember

all that she had suffered in the old one, and she welcomed them both

gladly, and gave them quantities of beautiful things to take back with

them. At last she took them down to the shore to see a pleasure boat

which her husband had had made for her; and here, the woman seizing

her opportunity, stole softly behind the girl and pushed her off the

rock on which she was standing, into the deep water, where she

instantly sank to the bottom. Then she fastened the mask on her

daughter, flung over her shoulders a velvet cloak, which the princess

had let fall, and finally arranged a lace veil over her head.

'Rest your cheek on your hand, as if you were in pain, when the prince

returns,' said the mother; 'and be careful not to speak, whatever you

do. I will go back to the witch and see if she cannot take off the

spell laid on you by those horrible birds. Ah! why did I not think of

it before!'

No sooner had the prince entered the palace than he hastened to the

princess's apartments, where he found her lying on the sofa apparently

in great pain.

'My dearest wife, what is the matter with you?' he cried, kneeling

down beside her, and trying to take her hand; but she snatched it

away, and pointing to her cheek murmured something he could not catch.

'What is it? tell me! Is the pain bad? When did it begin? Shall I send

for your ladies to bathe the place?' asked the prince, pouring out

these and a dozen other questions, to which the girl only shook her

head.

'But I can't leave you like this,' he continued, starting up, 'I must

summon all the court physicians to apply soothing balsams to the sore

place.' And as he spoke he sprang to his feet to go in search of them.

This so frightened the pretended wife, who knew that if the physicians

once came near her the trick would at once be discovered, that she

forgot her mother's counsel not to speak, and forgot even the spell

that had been laid upon her, and catching hold of the prince's tunic,

she cried in tones of entreaty: 'Dirty creatures!'

The young man stopped, not able to believe his ears, but supposed that

pain had made the princess cross, as it sometimes does. However, he

guessed somehow that she wished to be left alone, so he only said:

'Well, I dare say a little sleep will do you good, if you can manage

to get it, and that you will wake up better to-morrow.'

Now, that night happened to be very hot and airless, and the prince,

after vainly trying to rest, at length got up and went to the window.

Suddenly he beheld in the moonlight a form with a wreath of roses on

her head rise out of the sea below him and step on to the sands,

holding out her arms as she did so towards the palace.

'That maiden is strangely like my wife,' thought he; 'I must see her

closer.' And he hastened down to the water. But when he got there, the

princess, for she indeed it was, had disappeared completely, and he

began to wonder if his eyes had deceived him.

The next morning he went to the false bride's room, but her ladies

told him she would neither speak nor get up, though she ate everything

they set before her. The prince was sorely perplexed as to what could

be the matter with her, for naturally he could not guess that she was

expecting her mother to return every moment, and to remove the spell

the doves had laid upon her, and meanwhile was afraid to speak lest

she should betray herself. At length he made up his mind to summon all

the court physicians; he did not tell her what he was going to do,

lest it should make her worse, but he went himself and begged the

four learned leaches attached to the king's person to follow him to

the princess's apartments. Unfortunately, as they entered, the

princess was so enraged at the sight of them that she forgot all about

the doves, and shrieked out: 'Dirty creatures! dirty creatures!' which

so offended the physicians that they left the room at once, and

nothing that the prince could say would prevail on them to remain. He

then tried to persuade his wife to send them a message that she was

sorry for her rudeness, but not a word would she say.

Late that evening, when he had performed all the tiresome duties which

fall to the lot of every prince, the young man was leaning out of his

window, refreshing himself with the cool breezes that blew off the

sea. His thoughts went back to the scene of the morning, and he

wondered if, after all, he had not made a great mistake in marrying a

low-born wife, however beautiful she might be. How could he have

imagined that the quiet, gentle girl who had been so charming a

companion to him during the first days of their marriage, could have

become in a day the rude, sulky woman, who could not control her

temper even to benefit herself. One thing was clear, if she did not

change her conduct very shortly he would have to send her away from

court.

He was thinking these thoughts, when his eyes fell on the sea beneath

him, and there, as before, was the figure that so closely resembled

his wife, standing with her feet in the water, holding out her arms to

him.

'Wait for me! Wait for me! Wait for me!' he cried; not even knowing he

was speaking. But when he reached the shore there was nothing to be

seen but the shadows cast by the moonlight.

A state ceremonial in a city some distance off caused the prince to

ride away at daybreak, and he left without seeing his wife again.

'Perhaps she may have come to her senses by to-morrow,' said he to

himself; 'and, anyhow, if I am going to send her back to her father,

it might be better if we did not meet in the meantime.' Then he put

the matter from his mind, and kept his thoughts on the duty that lay

before him.

It was nearly midnight before he returned to the palace, but, instead

of entering, he went down to the shore and hid behind a rock. He had

scarcely done so when the girl came out of the sea, and stretched out

her arms towards his window. In an instant the prince had seized her

hand, and though she made a frightened struggle to reach the

water--for she in her turn had had a spell laid upon her--he held her

fast.

'You are my own wife, and I shall never let you go,' he said. But the

words were hardly out of his mouth when he found that it was a hare

that he was holding by the paw. Then the hare changed into a fish, and

the fish into a bird, and the bird into a slimy wriggling snake. This

time the prince's hand nearly opened of itself, but with a strong

effort he kept his fingers shut, and drawing his sword cut off its

head, when the spell was broken, and the girl stood before him as he

had seen her first, the wreath upon her head and the birds singing for

joy.

The very next morning the stepmother arrived at the palace with an

ointment that the old witch had given her to place upon her daughter's

tongue, which would break the dove's spell, if the rightful bride had

really been drowned in the sea; if not, then it would be useless. The

mother assured her that she had seen her stepdaughter sink, and that

there was no fear that she would ever come up again; but, to make all

quite safe, the old woman might bewitch the girl; and so she did.

After that the wicked stepmother travelled all through the night to

get to the palace as soon as possible, and made her way straight into

her daughter's room.

'I have got it! I have got it!' she cried triumphantly, and laid the

ointment on her daughter's tongue.

[Illustration: THE PRINCESS RETURNS FROM THE SEA]

'_Now_ what do you say?' she asked proudly.

'Dirty creatures! dirty creatures!' answered the daughter; and the

mother wrung her hands and wept, as she knew that all her plans had

failed.

At this moment the prince entered with his real wife. 'You both

deserve death,' he said, 'and if it were left to me, you should have

it. But the princess has begged me to spare your lives, so you will be

put into a ship and carried off to a desert island, where you will

stay till you die.'

Then the ship was made ready and the wicked woman and her daughter

were placed in it, and it sailed away, and no more was heard of them.

But the prince and his wife lived together long and happily, and ruled

their people well.

(Adapted from Thorpe's _Yule-Tide Stories_.)

_THE FOOLISH WEAVER_

Once a weaver, who was in want of work, took service with a certain

farmer as a shepherd.

The farmer, knowing that the man was very slow-witted, gave him the

most careful instructions as to everything that he was to do.

Finally he said: 'If a wolf or any wild animal attempts to hurt the

flock you should pick up a big stone like _this_' (suiting the action

to the word) 'and throw a few such at him, and he will be afraid and

go away.' The weaver said that he understood, and started with the

flocks to the hillsides where they grazed all day.

By chance in the afternoon a leopard appeared, and the weaver

instantly ran home as fast as he could to get the stones which the

farmer had shown him, to throw at the creature. When he came back all

the flock were scattered or killed, and when the farmer heard the tale

he beat him soundly. 'Were there no stones on the hillside that you

should run back to get them, you senseless one?' he cried; 'you are

not fit to herd sheep. To-day you shall stay at home and mind my old

mother who is sick, perhaps you will be able to drive flies off her

face, if you can't drive beasts away from the sheep!'

So, the next day, the weaver was left at home to take care of the

farmer's old sick mother. Now as she lay outside on a bed, it turned

out that the flies became very troublesome, and the weaver looked

around for something to drive them away with; and as he had been told

to pick up the nearest stone to drive the beasts away from the flock,

he thought he would this time show how cleverly he could obey orders.

Accordingly he seized the nearest stone, which was a big, heavy one,

and dashed it at the flies; but, unhappily, he slew the poor old woman

also; and then, being afraid of the wrath of the farmer, he fled and

was not seen again in that neighbourhood.

All that day and all the next night he walked, and at length he came

to a village where a great many weavers lived together.

'You are welcome,' said they. 'Eat and sleep, for to-morrow six of us

start in search of fresh wool to weave, and we pray you to give us

your company.'

'Willingly,' answered the weaver. So the next morning the seven

weavers set out to go to the village where they could buy what they

wanted. On the way they had to cross a ravine which lately had been

full of water, but now was quite dry. The weavers, however, were

accustomed to swim over this ravine; therefore, regardless of the fact

that this time it was dry, they stripped, and, tying their clothes on

their heads, they proceeded to swim across the dry sand and rocks that

formed the bed of the ravine. Thus they got to the other side without

further damage than bruised knees and elbows, and as soon as they were

over, one of them began to count the party to make sure that all were

safe there. He counted all except himself, and then cried out that

somebody was missing! This set each of them counting; but each made

the same mistake of counting all except himself, so that they became

certain that one of their party was missing! They ran up and down the

bank of the ravine wringing their hands in great distress and looking

for signs of their lost comrade. There a farmer found them and asked

what was the matter. 'Alas!' said one, 'seven of us started from the

other bank and one must have been drowned on the crossing, as we can

only find six remaining!' The farmer eyed them a minute, and then,

picking up his stick, he dealt each a sounding blow, counting, as he

did so, 'One! two! three!' and so on up to the seven. When the weavers

found that there were seven of them they were overcome with gratitude

to one whom they took for a magician as he could thus make seven out

of an obvious six.

(_From the Pushto._)

_THE CLEVER CAT_

Once upon a time there lived an old man who dwelt with his son in a

small hut on the edge of the plain. He was very old, and had worked

very hard, and when at last he was struck down by illness he felt that

he should never rise from his bed again.

So, one day, he bade his wife summon their son, when he came back from

his journey to the nearest town, where he had been to buy bread.

'Come hither, my son,' said he; 'I know myself well to be dying, and I

have nothing to leave you but my falcon, my cat and my greyhound; but

if you make good use of them you will never lack food. Be good to your

mother, as you have been to me. And now farewell!'

Then he turned his face to the wall and died.

There was great mourning in the hut for many days, but at length the

son rose up, and calling to his greyhound, his cat and his falcon, he

left the house saying that he would bring back something for dinner.

Wandering over the plain, he noticed a troop of gazelles, and pointed

to his greyhound to give chase. The dog soon brought down a fine fat

beast, and slinging it over his shoulders, the young man turned

homewards. On the way, however, he passed a pond, and as he approached

a cloud of birds flew into the air. Shaking his wrist, the falcon

seated on it darted into the air, and swooped down upon the quarry he

had marked, which fell dead to the ground. The young man picked it up,

and put it in his pouch and then went towards home again.

Near the hut was a small barn in which he kept the produce of the

little patch of corn, which grew close to the garden. Here a rat ran

out almost under his feet, followed by another and another; but quick

as thought the cat was upon them and not one escaped her.

When all the rats were killed, the young man left the barn. He took

the path leading to the door of the hut, but stopped on feeling a hand

laid on his shoulder.

'Young man,' said the Jew (for such was the stranger), 'you have been

a good son, and you deserve the piece of luck which has befallen you

this day. Come with me to that shining lake yonder, and fear nothing.'

Wondering a little at what might be going to happen to him, the youth

did as the Jew bade him, and when they reached the shore of the lake,

the old man turned and said to him:

'Step into the water and shut your eyes! You will find yourself

sinking slowly to the bottom; but take courage, all will go well. Only

bring up as much silver as you can carry, and we will divide it

between us.'

So the young man stepped bravely into the lake, and felt himself

sinking, sinking, till he reached firm ground at last. In front of him

lay four heaps of silver, and in the midst of them a curious white

shining stone, marked over with strange characters, such as he had

never seen before. He picked it up in order to examine it more

closely, and as he held it the stone spoke.

'As long as you hold me, all your wishes will come true,' it said.

'But hide me in your turban, and then call to the Jew that you are

ready to come up.'

In a few minutes the young man stood again by the shores of the lake.

'Well, where is the silver?' asked the Jew, who was awaiting him.

'Ah, my father, how can I tell you! So bewildered was I, and so

dazzled with the splendours of everything I saw, that I stood like a

statue, unable to move. Then hearing steps approaching I got

frightened, and called to you, as you know.'

'You are no better than the rest,' cried the Jew, and turned away in a

rage.

When he was out of sight the young man took the stone from his turban

and looked at it. 'I want the finest camel that can be found, and the

most splendid garments,' said he.

'Shut your eyes then,' replied the stone. And he shut them; and when

he opened them again the camel that he had wished for was standing

before him, while the festal robes of a desert prince hung from his

shoulders. Mounting the camel, he whistled the falcon to his wrist,

and, followed by his greyhound and his cat, he started homewards.

His mother was sewing at her door when this magnificent stranger rode

up, and, filled with surprise, she bowed low before him.

'Don't you know me, mother?' he said with a laugh. And on hearing his

voice the good woman nearly fell to the ground with astonishment.

'How have you got that camel and those clothes?' asked she. 'Can a son

of mine have committed murder in order to possess them?'

'Do not be afraid; they are quite honestly come by,' answered the

youth. 'I will explain all by-and-by; but now you must go to the

palace and tell the king I wish to marry his daughter.'

At these words the mother thought her son had certainly gone mad, and

stared blankly at him. The young man guessed what was in her heart,

and replied with a smile:

'Fear nothing. Promise all that he asks; it will be fulfilled

somehow.'

So she went to the palace, where she found the king sitting in the

Hall of Justice listening to the petitions of his people. The woman

waited until all had been heard and the hall was empty, and then went

up and knelt before the throne.

'My son has sent me to ask for the hand of the princess,' said she.

The king looked at her and thought that she was mad; but, instead of

ordering his guards to turn her out, he answered gravely:

'Before he can marry the princess he must build me a palace of ice,

which can be warmed with fires, and wherein the rarest singing-birds

can live!'

'It shall be done, your Majesty,' said she, and got up and left the

hall.

* * * * *

Her son was anxiously awaiting her outside the palace gates, dressed

in the clothes that he wore every day.

'Well, what have I got to do?' he asked impatiently, drawing his

mother aside so that no one could overhear them.

'Oh, something quite impossible; and I hope you will put the princess

out of your head,' she replied.

'Well, but what _is_ it?' persisted he.

'Nothing but to build a palace of ice wherein fires can burn that

shall keep it so warm that the most delicate singing-birds can live in

it!'

'I thought it would be something much harder than that,' exclaimed the

young man. 'I will see about it at once.' And leaving his mother, he

went into the country and took the stone from his turban.

'I want a palace of ice that can be warmed with fires and filled with

the rarest singing-birds!'

'Shut your eyes, then,' said the stone; and he shut them, and when he

opened them again there was the palace, more beautiful than anything

he could have imagined, the fires throwing a soft pink glow over the

ice.

'It is fit even for the princess,' thought he to himself.

As soon as the king awoke next morning he ran to the window, and

there across the plain he beheld the palace.

[Illustration: THE JEW BRINGS THE JEWELS TO THE PRINCESS]

'That young man must be a great wizard; he may be useful to me.' And

when the mother came again to tell him that his orders had been

fulfilled he received her with great honour, and bade her tell her son

that the wedding was fixed for the following day.

The princess was delighted with her new home, and with her husband

also; and several days slipped happily by, spent in turning over all

the beautiful things that the palace contained. But at length the

young man grew tired of always staying inside walls, and he told his

wife that the next day he must leave her for a few hours, and go out

hunting. 'You will not mind?' he asked. And she answered as became a

good wife:

'Yes, of course I shall mind; but I will spend the day in planning out

some new dresses; and then it will be so delightful when you come

back, you know!'

So the husband went off to hunt, with the falcon on his wrist, and the

greyhound and the cat behind him--for the palace was so warm that even

the cat did not mind living in it.

No sooner had he gone, than the Jew, who had been watching his chance

for many days, knocked at the door of the palace.

'I have just returned from a far country,' he said, 'and I have some

of the largest and most brilliant stones in the world with me. The

princess is known to love beautiful things, perhaps she might like to

buy some?'

Now the princess had been wondering for many days what trimming she

should put on her dresses, so that they should outshine the dresses of

the other ladies at the court balls. Nothing that she thought of

seemed good enough, so, when the message was brought that the Jew and

his wares were below, she at once ordered that he should be brought to

her chamber.

Oh! what beautiful stones he laid before her; what lovely rubies, and

what rare pearls! No other lady would have jewels like _those_--of

that the princess was quite sure; but she cast down her eyes so that

the Jew might not see how much she longed for them.

'I fear they are too costly for me,' she said carelessly; 'and

besides, I have hardly need of any more jewels just now.'

'I have no particular wish to sell them myself,' answered the Jew,

with equal indifference. 'But I have a necklace of shining stones

which was left me by my father, and one, the largest, engraven with

weird characters, is missing. I have heard that it is in your

husband's possession, and if you can get me that stone you shall have

any of these jewels that you choose. But you will have to pretend that

you want it for yourself; and, above all, do not mention me, for he

sets great store by it, and would never part with it to a stranger!

To-morrow I will return with some jewels yet finer than those I have

with me to-day. So, madam, farewell!'

* * * * *

Left alone, the princess began to think of many things, but chiefly as

to whether she would persuade her husband to give her the stone or

not. At one moment she felt he had already bestowed so much upon her

that it was a shame to ask for the only object he had kept back. No,

it would be mean; she could not do it! But then, those diamonds, and

those strings of pearls! After all, they had only been married a week,

and the pleasure of giving it to her ought to be far greater than the

pleasure of keeping it for himself. And she was sure it _would_ be!

* * * * *

Well, that evening, when the young man had supped off his favourite

dishes which the princess took care to have specially prepared for

him, she sat down close beside him, and began stroking his hand. For

some time she did not speak, but listened attentively to all the

adventures that had befallen him that day.

'But I was thinking of you all the time,' said he at the end, 'and

wishing that I could bring you back something you would like. But,

alas! what is there that you do not possess already?'

'How good of you not to forget me when you are in the midst of such

dangers and hardships,' answered she. 'Yes, it is true I have many

beautiful things; but if you _want_ to give me a present--and

to-morrow is my birthday--there _is_ one thing that I wish for very

much.'

'And what is that? Of course you shall have it directly!' he asked

eagerly.

'It is that bright stone which fell out of the folds of your turban a

few days ago,' she answered, playing with his finger; 'the little

stone with all those funny marks upon it. I never saw any stone like

it before.'

The young man did not answer at first; then he said, slowly:

'I have promised, and therefore I must perform. But will you swear

never to part from it, and to keep it safely about you always? More I

cannot tell you, but I beg you earnestly to take heed to this.'

The princess was a little startled by his manner, and began to be

sorry that she had ever listened to the Jew. But she did not like to

draw back, and pretended to be immensely delighted at her new toy, and

kissed and thanked her husband for it.

'After all I needn't give it to the Jew,' thought she as she dropped

to sleep.

Unluckily the next morning the young man went hunting again, and the

Jew, who was watching, knew this, and did not come till much later

than before. At the moment that he knocked at the door of the palace

the princess had tired of all her employments, and her attendants were

at their wits' end how to amuse her, when a tall negro dressed in

scarlet came to announce that the Jew was below, and desired to know

if the princess would speak with him.

'Bring him hither at once!' cried she, springing up from her cushions,

and forgetting all her resolves of the previous night. In another

moment she was bending with rapture over the glittering gems.

'Have you got it?' asked the Jew in a whisper, for the princess's

ladies were standing as near as they dared to catch a glimpse of the

beautiful jewels.

'Yes, here,' she answered, slipping the stone from her sash and

placing it among the rest. Then she raised her voice, and began to

talk quickly of the prices of the chains and necklaces, and after some

bargaining, to deceive the attendants, she declared that she liked one

string of pearls better than all the rest, and that the Jew might take

away the other things, which were not half so valuable as he supposed.

'As you please, madam,' said he, bowing himself out of the palace.

Soon after he had gone a curious thing happened. The princess

carelessly touched the wall of her room, which was wont to reflect the

warm red light of the fire on the hearth, and found her hand quite

wet. She turned round, and--was it her fancy? or did the fire burn

more dimly than before? Hurriedly she passed into the picture gallery,

where pools of water showed here and there on the floor, and a cold

chill ran through her whole body. At that instant her frightened

ladies came running down the stairs, crying:

'Madam! madam! what has happened? The palace is disappearing under our

eyes!'

'My husband will be home very soon,' answered the princess--who,

though nearly as much frightened as her ladies, felt that she must set

them a good example. 'Wait till then, and he will tell us what to do.'

So they waited, seated on the highest chairs they could find, wrapped

in their warmest garments, and with piles of cushions under their

feet, while the poor birds flew with numbed wings hither and thither,

till they were so lucky as to discover an open window in some

forgotten corner. Through this they vanished, and were seen no more.

At last, when the princess and her ladies had been forced to leave the

upper rooms, where the walls and floors had melted away, and to take

refuge in the hall, the young man came home. He had ridden back along

a winding road from which he did not see the palace till he was close

upon it, and stood horrified at the spectacle before him. He knew in

an instant that his wife must have betrayed his trust, but he would

not reproach her, as she must be suffering enough already. Hurrying on

he sprang over all that was left of the palace walls, and the princess

gave a cry of relief at the sight of him.

'Come quickly,' he said, 'or you will be frozen to death!' And a

dreary little procession set out for the king's palace, the greyhound

and the cat bringing up the rear.

At the gates he left them, though his wife besought him to allow her

to enter.

'You have betrayed me and ruined me,' he said sternly; 'I go to seek

my fortune alone.' And without another word he turned and left her.

With his falcon on his wrist, and his greyhound and cat behind him,

the young man walked a long way, inquiring of everyone he met whether

they had seen his enemy the Jew. But nobody had. Then he bade his

falcon fly up into the sky--up, up, and up--and try if _his_ sharp

eyes could discover the old thief. The bird had to go so high that he

did not return for some hours; but he told his master that the Jew was

lying asleep in a splendid palace in a far country on the shores of

the sea. This was delightful news to the young man, who instantly

bought some meat for the falcon, bidding him make a good meal.

'To-morrow,' said he, 'you will fly to the palace where the Jew lies,

and while he is asleep you will search all about him for a stone on

which is engraved strange signs; this you will bring to me. In three

days I shall expect you back here.'

'Well, I must take the cat with me,' answered the bird.

* * * * *

The sun had not yet risen before the falcon soared high into the air,

the cat seated on his back, with his paws tightly clasping the bird's

neck.

'You had better shut your eyes or you may get giddy,' said the bird;

and the cat, who had never before been off the ground except to climb

a tree, did as she was bid.

[Illustration: I GO TO SEEK MY FORTUNE ALONE]

All that day and all that night they flew, and in the morning they saw

the Jew's palace lying beneath them.

'Dear me,' said the cat, opening her eyes for the first time, 'that

looks to me very like a rat city down there, let us go down to it;

they may be able to help us.' So they alighted in some bushes in the

heart of the rat city. The falcon remained where he was, but the cat

lay down outside the principal gate, causing terrible excitement among

the rats.

At length, seeing she did not move, one bolder than the rest put its

head out of an upper window of the castle, and said, in a trembling

voice:

'Why have you come here? What do you want? If it is anything in our

power, tell us, and we will do it.'

'If you would have let me speak to you before, I would have told you

that I come as a friend,' replied the cat; 'and I shall be greatly

obliged if you would send four of the strongest and cunningest among

you, to do me a service.'

'Oh, we shall be delighted,' answered the rat, much relieved. 'But if

you will inform me what it is you wish them to do I shall be better

able to judge who is most fitted for the post.'

'I thank you,' said the cat. 'Well, what they have to do is this:

To-night they must burrow under the walls of the castle and go up to

the room where a Jew lies asleep. Somewhere about him he has hidden a

stone, on which are engraved strange signs. When they have found it

they must take it from him without his waking, and bring it to me.'

'Your orders shall be obeyed,' replied the rat. And he went out to

give his instructions.

About midnight the cat, who was still sleeping before the gate, was

awakened by some water flung at him by the head rat, who could not

make up his mind to open the doors.

'Here is the stone you wanted,' said he, when the cat started up with

a loud mew; 'if you will hold up your paws I will drop it down.' And

so he did. 'And now farewell,' continued the rat; 'you have a long way

to go, and will do well to start before daybreak.'

'Your counsel is good,' replied the cat, smiling to itself; and

putting the stone in her mouth she went off to seek the falcon.

Now all this time neither the cat nor the falcon had had any food, and

the falcon soon got tired carrying such a heavy burden. When night

arrived he declared he could go no further, but would spend it on the

banks of a river.

'And it is my turn to take care of the stone,' said he, 'or it will

seem as if you had done everything and I nothing.'

'No, I got it, and I will keep it,' answered the cat, who was tired

and cross; and they began a fine quarrel. But, unluckily, in the midst

of it, the cat raised her voice, and the stone fell into the ear of a

big fish which happened to be swimming by, and though both the cat and

the falcon sprang into the water after it, they were too late.

Half drowned, and more than half choked, the two faithful servants

scrambled back to land again. The falcon flew to a tree and spread his

wings in the sun to dry, but the cat, after giving herself a good

shake, began to scratch up the sandy banks and to throw the bits into

the stream.

'What are you doing that for?' asked a little fish. 'Do you know that

you are making the water quite muddy?'

'That doesn't matter at all to me,' answered the cat. 'I am going to

fill up all the river, so that the fishes may die.'

'That is very unkind, as we have never done you any harm,' replied the

fish. 'Why are you so angry with us?'

'Because one of you has got a stone of mine--a stone with strange

signs upon it--which dropped into the water. If you will promise to

get it back for me, why, perhaps I will leave your river alone.'

'I will certainly try,' answered the fish in a great hurry; 'but you

must have a little patience, as it may not be an easy task.' And in

an instant his scales might be seen flashing quickly along.

The fish swam as fast as he could to the sea, which was not far

distant, and calling together all his relations who lived in the

neighbourhood, he told them of the terrible danger which threatened

the dwellers in the river.

[Illustration: {THE CAT LETS FALL THE STONE}]

'None of us has got it,' said the fishes, shaking their heads; 'but in

the bay yonder there is a tunny who, although he is so old, always

goes everywhere. He will be able to tell you about it, if anyone can.'

So the little fish swam off to the tunny, and again related his story.

'Why _I_ was up that river only a few hours ago!' cried the tunny;

'and as I was coming back something fell into my ear, and there it is

still, for I went to sleep when I got home and forgot all about it.

Perhaps it may be what you want.' And stretching up his tail he

whisked out the stone.

'Yes, I think that must be it,' said the fish with joy. And taking

the stone in his mouth he carried it to the place where the cat was

waiting for him.

'I am much obliged to you,' said the cat, as the fish laid the stone

on the sand, 'and to reward you, I will let your river alone.' And she

mounted the falcon's back, and they flew to their master.

Ah, how glad he was to see them again with the magic stone in their

possession. In a moment he had wished for a palace, but _this_ time it

was of green marble; and then he wished for the princess and her

ladies to occupy it. And there they lived for many years, and when the

old king died the princess's husband reigned in his stead.

(Adapted from _Contes Berberes_.)

_THE STORY OF MANUS_

Far away over the sea of the West there reigned a king who had two

sons; and the name of the one was Oireal, and the name of the other

was Iarlaid. When the boys were still children, their father and

mother died, and a great council was held, and a man was chosen from

among them who would rule the kingdom till the boys were old enough to

rule it themselves.

The years passed on, and by-and-by another council was held, and it

was agreed that the king's sons were now of an age to take the power

which rightly belonged to them. So the youths were bidden to appear

before the council, and Oireal the elder was smaller and weaker than

his brother.

'I like not to leave the deer on the hill and the fish in the rivers,

and sit in judgment on my people,' said Oireal, when he had listened

to the words of the chief of the council. And the chief waxed angry,

and answered quickly:

'Not one clod of earth shall ever be yours if this day you do not take

on yourself the vows that were taken by the king your father.'

Then spake Iarlaid, the younger, and he said: 'Let one half be yours,

and the other give to me; then you will have fewer people to rule

over.'

'Yes, I will do that,' answered Oireal.

After this, one half of the men of the land of Lochlann did homage to

Oireal, and the other half to Iarlaid. And they governed their

kingdoms as they would, and in a few years they became grown men with

beards on their chins; and Iarlaid married the daughter of the king

of Greece, and Oireal the daughter of the king of Orkney. The next

year sons were born to Oireal and Iarlaid; and the son of Oireal was

big and strong, but the son of Iarlaid was little and weak, and each

had six foster brothers who went everywhere with the princes.

One day Manus, son of Oireal, and his cousin, the son of Iarlaid,

called to their foster brothers, and bade them come and play a game at

shinny in the great field near the school where they were taught all

that princes and nobles should know. Long they played, and swiftly did

the ball pass from one to another, when Manus drove the ball at his

cousin, the son of Iarlaid. The boy, who was not used to be roughly

handled, even in jest, cried out that he was sorely hurt, and went

home with his foster brothers and told his tale to his mother. The

wife of Iarlaid grew white and angry as she listened, and thrusting

her son aside, sought the council hall where Iarlaid was sitting.

'Manus has driven a ball at my son, and fain would have slain him,'

said she. 'Let an end be put to him and his ill deeds.'

But Iarlaid answered:

'Nay, I will not slay the son of my brother.'

'And he shall not slay my son,' said the queen. And calling to her

chamberlain she ordered him to lead the prince to the four brown

boundaries of the world, and to leave him there with a wise man, who

would care for him, and let no harm befall him. And the wise man set

the boy on the top of a hill where the sun always shone, and he could

see every man, but no man could see him.

Then she summoned Manus to the castle, and for a whole year she kept

him fast, and his own mother could not get speech of him. But in the

end, when the wife of Oireal fell sick, Manus fled from the tower

which was his prison, and stole back to his own home.

For a few years he stayed there in peace, and then the wife of

Iarlaid his uncle sent for him.

'It is time that you were married,' she said, when she saw that Manus

had grown tall and strong like unto Iarlaid. 'Tall and strong you are,

and comely of face. I know a bride that will suit you well, and that

is the daughter of the mighty earl of Finghaidh, that does homage for

his lands to me. I myself will go with a great following to his house,

and you shall go with me.'

Thus it was done; and though the earl's wife was eager to keep her

daughter with her yet a while, she was fain to yield, as the wife of

Iarlaid vowed that not a rood of land should the earl have, unless he

did her bidding. But if he would give his daughter to Manus, she would

bestow on him the third part of her own kingdom, with much treasure

beside. This she did, not from love to Manus, but because she wished

to destroy him. So they were married, and rode back with the wife of

Iarlaid to her own palace. And that night, while he was sleeping,

there came a wise man, who was his father's friend, and awoke him

saying: 'Danger lies very close to you, Manus, son of Oireal. You hold

yourself favoured because you have as a bride the daughter of a mighty

earl; but do you know what bride the wife of Iarlaid sought for her

own son? It was no worldly wife she found for _him_, but the swift

March wind, and never can you prevail against her.'

'Is it thus?' answered Manus. And at the first streak of dawn he went

to the chamber where the queen lay in the midst of her maidens.

'I have come,' he said, 'for the third part of the kingdom, and for

the treasure which you promised me.' But the wife of Iarlaid laughed

as she heard him.

'Not a clod shall you have here,' spake she. 'You must go to the Old

Bergen for that. Mayhap under its stones and rough mountains you may

find a treasure!'

'Then give me your son's six foster brothers as well as my own,'

answered he. And the queen gave them to him, and they set out for Old

Bergen.

* * * * *

A year passed by, and found them still in that wild land, hunting the

reindeer, and digging pits for the mountain sheep to fall into. For a

time Manus and his twelve companions lived merrily, but at length

Manus grew weary of the strange country, and they all took ship for

the land of Lochlann. The wind was fierce and cold, and long was the

voyage; but, one spring day, they sailed into the harbour that lay

beneath the castle of Iarlaid. The queen looked from her window and

beheld him mounting the hill, with the twelve foster brothers behind

him. Then she said to her husband: 'Manus has returned with his twelve

foster brothers. Would that I could put an end to him and his

murdering and his slaying.'

'That were a great pity,' answered Iarlaid. 'And it is not I that will

do it.'

'If you will not do it I will,' said she. And she called the twelve

foster brothers and made them vow fealty to herself. So Manus was left

with no man, and sorrowful was he when he returned alone to Old

Bergen. It was late when his foot touched the shore, and took the path

towards the forest. On his way there he met him a man in a red tunic.

'Is it you, Manus, come back again?' asked he.

'It is I,' answered Manus; 'alone have I returned from the land of

Lochlann.'

The man eyed him silently for a moment, and then he said:

'I dreamed that you were girt with a sword and became king of

Lochlann.' But Manus answered:

'I have no sword and my bow is broken.'

'I will give you a new sword if you will make me a promise,' said the

man once more.

'To be sure I will make it, if ever I am king,' answered Manus. 'But

speak, and tell me what promise I am to make!'

'I was your grandfather's armourer,' replied the man, 'and I wish to

be your armourer also.'

[Illustration: HOW MANUS GOT THE LION'S CUB]

'That I will promise readily,' said Manus; and followed the man into

his house, which was at a little distance. But the house was not like

other houses, for the walls of every room were hung so thick with

arms that you could not see the boards.

'Choose what you will,' said the man; and Manus unhooked a sword and

tried it across his knee, and it broke, and so did the next, and the

next.

'Leave off breaking the swords,' cried the man, 'and look at this old

sword and helmet and tunic that I wore in the wars of your

grandfather. Perhaps you may find them of stouter steel.' And Manus

bent the sword thrice across his knee but he could not break it. So he

girded it to his side, and put on the old helmet. As he fastened the

strap his eye fell on a cloth flapping outside the window.

'What cloth is that?' asked he.

'It is a cloth that was woven by the Little People of the forest,'

said the man; 'and when you are hungry it will give you food and

drink, and if you meet a foe, he will not hurt you, but will stoop and

kiss the back of your hand in token of submission. Take it, and use it

well.' Manus gladly wrapped the shawl round his arm, and was leaving

the house, when he heard the rattling of a chain blown by the wind.

'What chain is that?' asked he.

'The creature who has that chain round his neck, need not fear a

hundred enemies,' answered the armourer. And Manus wound it round him

and passed on into the forest.

Suddenly there sprang out from the bushes two lions, and a lion cub

with them. The fierce beasts bounded towards him, roaring loudly, and

would fain have eaten him, but quickly Manus stooped and spread the

cloth upon the ground. At that the lions stopped, and bowing their

great heads, kissed the back of his wrist and went their ways. But the

cub rolled itself up in the cloth; so Manus picked them both up, and

carried them with him to Old Bergen.

Another year went by, and then he took the lion cub and set forth to

the land of Lochlann. And the wife of Iarlaid came to meet him, and a

brown dog, small but full of courage, came with her. When the dog

beheld the lion cub he rushed towards him, thinking to eat him; but

the cub caught the dog by the neck, and shook him, and he was dead.

And the wife of Iarlaid mourned him sore, and her wrath was kindled,

and many times she tried to slay Manus and his cub, but she could not.

And at last they two went back to Old Bergen, and the twelve foster

brothers went also.

'Let them go,' said the wife of Iarlaid, when she heard of it. 'My

brother the Red Gruagach will take the head off Manus as well in Old

Bergen as elsewhere.'

Now these words were carried by a messenger to the wife of Oireal, and

she made haste and sent a ship to Old Bergen to bear away her son

before the Red Gruagach should take the head off him. And in the ship

was a pilot. But the wife of Iarlaid made a thick fog to cover the

face of the sea, and the rowers could not row, lest they should drive

the ship on to a rock. And when night came, the lion cub, whose eyes

were bright and keen, stole up to Manus, and Manus got on his back,

and the lion cub sprang ashore and bade Manus rest on the rock and

wait for him. So Manus slept, and by-and-by a voice sounded in his

ears, saying: 'Arise!' And he saw a ship in the water beneath him, and

in the ship sat the lion cub in the shape of the pilot.

Then they sailed away through the fog, and none saw them; and they

reached the land of Lochlann, and the lion cub with the chain round

his neck sprang from the ship and Manus followed after. And the lion

cub killed all the men that guarded the castle, and Iarlaid and his

wife also, so that, in the end, Manus son of Oireal was crowned king

of Lochlann.

(Shortened from _West Highland Tales_.)

_PINKEL THE THIEF_

Long, long ago there lived a widow who had three sons. The two eldest

were grown up, and though they were known to be idle fellows, some of

the neighbours had given them work to do on account of the respect in

which their mother was held. But at the time this story begins they

had both been so careless and idle that their masters declared they

would keep them no longer.

So home they went to their mother and youngest brother, of whom they

thought little, because he made himself useful about the house, and

looked after the hens, and milked the cow. 'Pinkel,' they called him

in scorn, and by-and-by 'Pinkel' became his name throughout the

village.

The two young men thought it was much nicer to live at home and be

idle than to be obliged to do a quantity of disagreeable things they

did not like, and they would have stayed by the fire till the end of

their lives had not the widow lost patience with them and said that

since they would not look for work at home they must seek it

elsewhere, for she would not have them under her roof any longer. But

she repented bitterly of her words when Pinkel told her that he too

was old enough to go out into the world, and that when he had made a

fortune he would send for his mother to keep house for him.

The widow wept many tears at parting from her youngest son, but as she

saw that his heart was set upon going with his brothers, she did not

try to keep him. So the young men started off one morning in high

spirits, never doubting that work such as they might be willing to do

would be had for the asking, as soon as their little store of money

was spent.

But a very few days of wandering opened their eyes. Nobody seemed to

want them, or, if they did, the young men declared that they were not

able to undertake all that the farmers or millers or woodcutters

required of them. The youngest brother, who was wiser, would gladly

have done some of the work that the others refused, but he was small

and slight, and no one thought of offering him any. Therefore they

went from one place to another, living only on the fruit and nuts they

could find in the woods, and getting hungrier every day.

One night, after they had been walking for many hours and were very

tired, they came to a large lake with an island in the middle of it.

From the island streamed a strong light, by which they could see

everything almost as clearly as if the sun had been shining, and they

perceived that, lying half hidden in the rushes, was a boat.

'Let us take it and row over to the island, where there must be a

house,' said the eldest brother; 'and perhaps they will give us food

and shelter.' And they all got in and rowed across in the direction of

the light. As they drew near the island they saw that it came from a

golden lantern hanging over the door of a hut, while sweet tinkling

music proceeded from some bells attached to the golden horns of a goat

which was feeding near the cottage. The young men's hearts rejoiced as

they thought that at last they would be able to rest their weary

limbs, and they entered the hut, but were amazed to see an ugly old

woman inside, wrapped in a cloak of gold which lighted up the whole

house. They looked at each other uneasily as she came forward with

her daughter, as they knew by the cloak that this was a famous witch.

'What do you want?' asked she, at the same time signing to her

daughter to stir the large pot on the fire.

'We are tired and hungry, and would fain have shelter for the night,'

answered the eldest brother.

'You cannot get it here,' said the witch, 'but you will find both food

and shelter in the palace on the other side of the lake. Take your

boat and go; but leave this boy with me--I can find work for him,

though something tells me he is quick and cunning, and will do me

ill.'

'What harm can a poor boy like me do a great Troll like you,' answered

Pinkel. 'Let me go, I pray you, with my brothers. I will promise never

to hurt you.' And at last the witch let him go, and he followed his

brothers to the boat.

The way was further than they thought, and it was morning before they

reached the palace.

Now, at last, their luck seemed to have turned, for while the two

eldest were given places in the king's stables, Pinkel was taken as

page to the little prince. He was a clever and amusing boy, who saw

everything that passed under his eyes, and the king noticed this, and

often employed him in his own service, which made his brothers very

jealous.

Things went on in this way for some time, and Pinkel every day rose in

the royal favour. At length the envy of his brothers became so great

that they could bear it no longer, and consulted together how best

they might ruin his credit with the king. They did not wish to kill

him--though, perhaps, they would not have been sorry if they had heard

he was dead--but merely wished to remind him that he was after all

only a child, not half so old and wise as they.

[Illustration: PINKEL BRINGS THE WITCH'S LANTERN TO THE KING]

Their opportunity soon came. It happened to be the king's custom to

visit his stables once a week, so that he might see that his horses

were being properly cared for. The next time he entered the stables

the two brothers managed to be in the way, and when the king praised

the beautiful satin skins of the horses under their charge, and

remarked how different was their condition when his grooms had first

come across the lake, the young men at once began to speak of the

wonderful light which sprang from the lantern over the hut. The king,

who had a passion for collecting all the rarest things he could find,

fell into the trap directly, and inquired where he could get this

marvellous lantern.