[Illustration: EVERY TIME A BEAR WAS KILLED HIS SHADOW RETURNED TO
THE HOUSE OF THE GREAT BEAR CHIEF]
The sons were rather disappointed at hearing this, and though there
was plenty of meat to last for two or three days, they started off
early in the morning down the same trail that they had followed
before. As they drew near the fork a bear suddenly ran out from
behind a tree, and took the path on the right. The two elder boys and
their dogs pursued him, and soon the second son, who was also a good
shot, killed him instantly with an arrow. At the fork of the trail,
on their way home, they met the youngest, who had taken the left-hand
road, and had shot a bear for himself. But when they threw the two
bears triumphantly on the floor of the hut their father hardly looked
at them, and only said:
'When _I_ was a young man I used to get three bears in one day.'
The next day they were luckier than before, and brought back three
bears, on which their father told them that _he_ had always killed
four. However, that did not prevent him from skinning the bears and
cooking them in a way of his own, which he thought very good, and they
all ate an excellent supper.
Now these bears were the servants of the great bear chief who lived in
a high mountain a long way off. And every time a bear was killed his
shadow returned to the house of the bear chief, with the marks of his
wounds plainly to be seen by the rest.
The chief was furious at the number of bears the hunters had killed,
and determined that he would find some way of destroying them. So he
called another of his servants, and said to him:
'Go to the thicket near the fork, where the boys killed your brothers,
and directly they or the dogs see you return here as fast as ever you
can. The mountain will open to let you in, and the hunters will follow
you. Then I shall have them in my power, and be able to revenge
myself.'
The servant bowed low, and started at once for the fork, where he hid
himself in the bushes.
By-and-by the boys came in sight, but this time there were only two of
them, as the youngest had stayed at home. The air was warm and damp,
and the snow soft and slushy, and the elder brother's bowstring hung
loose, while the bow of the younger caught in a tree and snapped in
half. At that moment the dogs began to bark loudly, and the bear
rushed out of the thicket and set off in the direction of the
mountain. Without thinking that they had nothing to defend themselves
with, should the bear turn and attack them, the boys gave chase. The
bear, who knew quite well that he could not be shot, sometimes
slackened his pace and let the dogs get quite close; and in this way
the elder son reached the mountain without observing it, while his
brother, who had hurt his foot, was still far behind.
As he ran up, the mountain opened to admit the bear, and the boy, who
was close on his heels, rushed in after him, and did not know where he
was till he saw bears sitting on every side of him, holding a council.
The animal he had been chasing sank panting in their midst, and the
boy, very much frightened, stood still, letting his bow fall to the
ground.
'Why are you trying to kill all my servants?' asked the chief. 'Look
round and see their shades, with arrows sticking in them. It was I who
told the bear to-day how he was to lure you into my power. I shall
take care that you shall not hurt my people any more, because you will
become a bear yourself.'
At this moment the second brother came up--for the mountain had been
left open on purpose to tempt him also--and cried out breathlessly:
'Don't you see that the bear is lying close to you? Why don't you
shoot him?' And, without waiting for a reply, pressed forward to drive
his arrow into the heart of the bear. But the elder one caught his
raised arm, and whispered: 'Be quiet! can't you tell where you are?'
Then the boy looked up and saw the angry bears about him. On the one
side were the servants of the chief, and on the other the servants of
the chief's sister, who was sorry for the two youths, and begged that
their lives might be spared. The chief answered that he would not kill
them, but only cast a spell over them, by which their heads and bodies
should remain as they were, but their arms and legs should change into
those of a bear, so that they would go on all fours for the rest of
their lives. And, stooping over a spring of water, he dipped a handful
of moss in it and rubbed it over the arms and legs of the boys. In an
instant the transformation took place, and two creatures, neither
beast nor human, stood before the chief.
[Illustration: HOW THE BOYS WERE HALF TURNED INTO BEARS]
Now the bear chief of course knew that the boys' father would seek for
his sons when they did not return home, so he sent another of his
servants to the hiding-place at the fork of the trail to see what
would happen. He had not waited long, when the father came in sight,
stooping as he went to look for his sons' tracks in the snow. When he
saw the marks of snow-shoes along the path on the right he was filled
with joy, not knowing that the servant had made some fresh tracks on
purpose to mislead him; and he hastened forward so fast that he fell
headlong into a pit, where the bear was sitting. Before he could pick
himself up the bear had quietly broken his neck, and, hiding the body
under the snow, sat down to see if anyone else would pass that way.
Meanwhile the mother at home was wondering what had become of her two
sons, and as the hours went on, and their father never returned, she
made up her mind to go and look for him. The youngest boy begged her
to let him undertake the search, but she would not hear of it, and
told him he must stay at home and take care of his sister. So,
slipping on her snow-shoes, she started on her way.
As no fresh snow had fallen, the trail was quite easy to find, and she
walked straight on, till it led her up to the pit where the bear was
waiting for her. He grasped her as she fell and broke her neck, after
which he laid her in the snow beside her husband, and went back to
tell the bear chief.
Hour after hour dragged heavily by in the forest hut, and at last the
brother and sister felt quite sure that in some way or other all the
rest of the family had perished. Day after day the boy climbed to the
top of a tall tree near the house, and sat there till he was almost
frozen, looking on all sides through the forest openings, hoping that
he might see someone coming along. Very soon all the food in the house
was eaten, and he knew he would have to go out and hunt for more.
Besides, he wished to seek for his parents.
The little girl did not like being left alone in the hut, and cried
bitterly; but her brother told her that there was no use sitting down
quietly to starve, and that whether he found any game or not he would
certainly be back before the following night. Then he cut himself some
arrows, each from a different tree, and winged with the feathers of
four different birds. He then made himself a bow, very light and
strong, and got down his snow-shoes. All this took some time, and he
could not start that day, but early next morning he called his little
dog Redmouth, whom he kept in a box, and set out.
After he had followed the trail for a great distance he grew very
tired, and sat upon the branch of a tree to rest. But Redmouth barked
so furiously that the boy thought that perhaps his parents might have
been killed under its branches, and, stepping back, shot one of his
arrows at the root of the tree. Whereupon a noise like thunder shook
it from top to bottom, fire broke out, and in a few minutes a little
heap of ashes lay in the place where it had stood.
Not knowing quite what to make of it all, the boy continued on the
trail, and went down the right-hand fork till he came to the clump of
bushes where the bears used to hide.
Now, as was plain by his being able to change the shape of the two
brothers, the bear chief knew a good deal of magic, and he was quite
aware that the little boy was following the trail, and he sent a very
small but clever bear servant to wait for him in the bushes and to try
to tempt him into the mountain. But somehow his spells could not have
worked properly that day, as the bear chief did not know that Redmouth
had gone with his master, or he would have been more careful. For the
moment the dog ran round the bushes barking loudly, the little bear
servant rushed out in a fright, and set out for the mountains as fast
as he could.
The dog followed the bear, and the boy followed the dog, until the
mountain, the house of the great bear chief, came in sight. But along
the road the snow was so wet and heavy that the boy could hardly get
along, and then the thong of his snow-shoes broke, and he had to stop
and mend it, so that the bear and the dog got so far ahead that he
could scarcely hear the barking. When the strap was firm again the boy
spoke to his snow-shoes and said:
'Now you must go as fast as you can, or, if not, I shall lose the dog
as well as the bear.' And the snow-shoes sang in answer that they
would run like the wind.
As he came along, the bear chief's sister was looking out of the
window, and took pity on this little brother, as she had on the two
elder ones, and waited to see what the boy would do, when he found
that the bear servant and the dog had already entered the mountain.
The little brother was certainly very much puzzled at not seeing
anything of either of the animals, which had vanished suddenly out of
his sight. He paused for an instant to think what he should do next,
and while he did so he fancied he heard Redmouth's voice on the
opposite side of the mountain. With great difficulty he scrambled over
steep rocks, and forced a path through tangled thickets; but when he
reached the other side the sound appeared to start from the place from
which he had come. Then he had to go all the way back again, and at
the very top, where he stopped to rest, the barking was directly
beneath him, and he knew in an instant where he was and what had
happened.
'Let my dog out at once, bear chief!' cried he. 'If you do not, I
shall destroy your palace.' But the bear chief only laughed, and said
nothing. The boy was very angry at his silence, and aiming one of his
arrows at the bottom of the mountain, shot straight through it.
As the arrow touched the ground a rumbling was heard, and with a roar
a fire broke out which seemed to split the whole mountain into pieces.
The bear chief and all his servants were burnt up in the flames, but
his sister and all that belonged to her were spared because she had
tried to save the two elder boys from punishment.
As soon as the fire had burnt itself out the little hunter entered
what was left of the mountain, and the first thing he saw was his two
brothers--half bear, half boy.
'Oh, help us! help us!' cried they, standing on their hind legs as
they spoke, and stretching out their fore-paws to him.
'But how am I to help you?' asked the little brother, almost weeping.
'I can kill people, and destroy trees and mountains, but I have no
power over men.' And the two elder brothers came up and put their paws
on his shoulders, and they all three wept together.
The heart of the bear chief's sister was moved when she saw their
misery, and she came gently up behind, and whispered:
'Little boy, gather some moss from the spring over there, and let your
brothers smell it.'
With a bound all three were at the spring, and as the youngest plucked
a handful of wet moss, the two others sniffed at it with all their
might. Then the bear-skin fell away from them, and they stood upright
once more.
'How can we thank you? how can we thank you?' they stammered, hardly
able to speak; and fell at her feet in gratitude. But the bear's
sister only smiled, and bade them go home and look after the little
girl, who had no one else to protect her.
And this the boys did, and took such good care of their sister that,
as she was very small, she soon forgot that she had ever had a father
and mother.
[From the _Bureau of Ethnology, U.S._]
_THE SACRED MILK OF KOUMONGOÉ_
Far away, in a very hot country, there once lived a man and woman who
had two children, a son named Koané and a daughter called Thakané.
Early in the morning and late in the evenings the parents worked hard
in the fields, resting, when the sun was high, under the shade of some
tree. While they were absent the little girl kept house alone, for her
brother always got up before the dawn, when the air was fresh and
cool, and drove out the cattle to the sweetest patches of grass he
could find.
One day, when Koané had slept later than usual, his father and mother
went to their work before him, and there was only Thakané to be seen
busy making the bread for supper.
'Thakané,' he said, 'I am thirsty. Give me a drink from the tree
Koumongoé, which has the best milk in the world.'
'Oh, Koané,' cried his sister, 'you know that we are forbidden to
touch that tree. What would father say when he came home? For he would
be sure to know.'
'Nonsense,' replied Koané, 'there is so much milk in Koumongoé that he
will never miss a little. If you won't give it to me, I sha'n't take
the cattle out. They will just have to stay all day in the hut, and
you know that they will starve.' And he turned from her in a rage, and
sat down in the corner.
After a while Thakané said to him: 'It is getting hot, had you not
better drive out the cattle now?'
But Koané only answered sulkily: 'I told you I am not going to drive
them out at all. If I have to do without milk, they shall do without
grass.'
Thakané did not know what to do. She was afraid to disobey her
parents, who would most likely beat her, yet the beasts would be sure
to suffer if they were kept in, and she would perhaps be beaten for
that too. So at last she took an axe and a tiny earthen bowl, she cut
a very small hole in the side of Koumongoé, and out gushed enough milk
to fill the bowl.
'Here is the milk you wanted,' said she, going up to Koané, who was
still sulking in his corner.
'What is the use of that?' grumbled Koané; 'why, there is not enough
to drown a fly. Go and get me three times as much!'
Trembling with fright, Thakané returned to the tree, and struck it a
sharp blow with the axe. In an instant there poured forth such a
stream of milk that it ran like a river into the hut.
'Koané! Koané!' cried she, 'come and help me to plug up the hole.
There will be no milk left for our father and mother.' But Koané could
not stop it any more than Thakané, and soon the milk was flowing
through the hut downhill towards their parents in the fields below.
The man saw the white stream a long way off, and guessed what had
happened.
'Wife, wife,' he called loudly to the woman, who was working at a
little distance: 'Do you see Koumongoé running fast down the hill?
That is some mischief of the children's, I am sure. I must go home and
find out what is the matter.' And they both threw down their hoes and
hurried to the side of Koumongoé.
Kneeling on the grass, the man and his wife made a cup of their hands
and drank the milk from it. And no sooner had they done this, than
Koumongoé flowed back again up the hill, and entered the hut.
'Thakané,' said the parents, severely, when they reached home panting
from the heat of the sun, 'what have you been doing? Why did Koumongoé
come to us in the fields instead of staying in the garden?'
'It was Koané's fault,' answered Thakané. 'He would not take the
cattle to feed until he drank some of the milk from Koumongoé. So, as
I did not know what else to do, I gave it to him.'
The father listened to Thakané's words, but made no answer. Instead,
he went outside and brought in two sheepskins, which he stained red
and sent for a blacksmith to forge some iron rings. The rings were
then passed over Thakané's arms and legs and neck, and the skins
fastened on her before and behind. When all was ready, the man sent
for his servants and said:
'I am going to get rid of Thakané.'
'Get rid of your only daughter?' they answered, in surprise. 'But
why?'
'Because she has eaten what she ought not to have eaten. She has
touched the sacred tree which belongs to her mother and me alone.'
And, turning his back, he called to Thakané to follow him, and they
went down the road which led to the dwelling of an ogre.
They were passing along some fields where the corn was ripening, when
a rabbit suddenly sprang out at their feet, and standing on its hind
legs, it sang:
Why do you give to the ogre
Your child, so fair, so fair?
'You had better ask her,' replied the man, 'she is old enough to give
you an answer.'
Then, in her turn, Thakané sang:
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,
Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;
For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:
Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;
That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
And when the rabbit heard that, he cried: 'Wretched man! it is you
whom the ogre should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.'
[Illustration: 'WHY DO YOU GIVE TO THE OGRE YOUR CHILD, SO FAIR,
SO FAIR?']
But the father paid no heed to what the rabbit said, and only walked
on the faster, bidding Thakané to keep close behind him. By-and-by
they met with a troop of great deer, called elands, and they stopped
when they saw Thakané and sang:
Why do you give to the ogre
Your child, so fair, so fair?
'You had better ask her,' replied the man, 'she is old enough to give
you an answer.'
Then, in her turn, Thakané sang:
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,
Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;
For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:
Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;
That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
And the elands all cried: 'Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre
should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.'
By this time it was nearly dark, and the father said they could travel
no further that night, and must go to sleep where they were. Thakané
was thankful indeed when she heard this, for she was very tired, and
found the two skins fastened round her almost too heavy to carry. So,
in spite of her dread of the ogre, she slept till dawn, when her
father woke her, and told her roughly that he was ready to continue
their journey.
Crossing the plain, the girl and her father passed a herd of gazelles
feeding. They lifted their heads, wondering who was out so early, and
when they caught sight of Thakané, they sang:
Why do you give to the ogre
Your child, so fair, so fair?
'You had better ask her,' replied the man, 'she is old enough to
answer for herself.'
Then, in her turn, Thakané sang:
I gave Koumongoé to Koané,
Koumongoé to the keeper of beasts;
For without Koumongoé they could not go to the meadows:
Without Koumongoé they would starve in the hut;
That was why I gave him the Koumongoé of my father.
And the gazelles all cried: 'Wretched man! it is you whom the ogre
should eat, and not your beautiful daughter.'
At last they arrived at the village where the ogre lived, and they
went straight to his hut. He was nowhere to be seen, but in his place
was his son Masilo, who was not an ogre at all, but a very polite
young man. He ordered his servants to bring a pile of skins for
Thakané to sit on, but told her father he must sit on the ground.
Then, catching sight of the girl's face, which she had kept bent down,
he was struck by its beauty, and put the same question that the
rabbit, and the elands, and the gazelles had done.
Thakané answered him as before, and he instantly commanded that she
should be taken to the hut of his mother, and placed under her care,
while the man should be led to his father. Directly the ogre saw him
he bade the servant throw him into the great pot which always stood
ready on the fire, and in five minutes he was done to a turn. After
that the servant returned to Masilo and related all that had happened.
Now Masilo had fallen in love with Thakané the moment he saw her. At
first he did not know what to make of this strange feeling, for all
his life he had hated women, and had refused several brides whom his
parents had chosen for him. However, they were so anxious that he
should marry, that they willingly accepted Thakané as their
daughter-in-law, though she did not bring any marriage portion with
her.
After some time a baby was born to her, and Thakané thought it was the
most beautiful baby that ever was seen. But when her mother-in-law saw
it was a girl, she wrung her hands and wept, saying:
'O miserable mother! Miserable child! Alas for you! why were you not a
boy!'
Thakané, in great surprise, asked the meaning of her distress; and the
old woman told her that it was the custom in that country that all
the girls who were born should be given to the ogre to eat.
Then Thakané clasped the baby tightly in her arms, and cried:
'But it is not the custom in _my_ country! There, when children die,
they are buried in the earth. No one shall take my baby from me.'
That night, when everyone in the hut was asleep, Thakané rose, and
carrying her baby on her back, went down to a place where the river
spread itself out into a large lake, with tall willows all round the
bank. Here, hidden from everyone, she sat down on a stone and began to
think what she should do to save her child.
Suddenly she heard a rustling among the willows, and an old woman
appeared before her.
'What are you crying for, my dear?' said she.
And Thakané answered: 'I was crying for my baby--I cannot hide her for
ever, and if the ogre sees her, he will eat her; and I would rather
she was drowned than that.'
'What you say is true,' replied the old woman. 'Give me your child,
and let me take care of it. And if you will fix a day to meet me here
I will bring the baby.'
Then Thakané dried her eyes, and gladly accepted the old woman's
offer. When she got home she told her husband she had thrown it in the
river, and as he had watched her go in that direction he never thought
of doubting what she said.
On the appointed day, Thakané slipped out when everybody was busy, and
ran down the path that led to the lake. As soon as she got there, she
crouched down among the willows, and sang softly:
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,
Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
And in a moment the old woman appeared holding the baby in her arms.
Dilah had become so big and strong, that Thakané's heart was filled
with joy and gratitude, and she stayed as long as she dared, playing
with her baby. At last she felt she must return to the village, lest
she should be missed, and the child was handed back to the old woman,
who vanished with her into the lake.
Children grow up very quickly when they live under water, and in less
time than anyone could suppose, Dilah had changed from a baby to a
woman. Her mother came to visit her whenever she was able, and one
day, when they were sitting talking together, they were spied out by a
man who had come to cut willows to weave into baskets. He was so
surprised to see how like the face of the girl was to Masilo, that he
left his work and returned to the village.
'Masilo,' he said, as he entered the hut, 'I have just beheld your
wife near the river with a girl who must be your daughter, she is so
like you. We have been deceived, for we all thought she was dead.'
When he heard this, Masilo tried to look shocked because his wife had
broken the law; but in his heart he was very glad.
'But what shall we do now?' asked he.
'Make sure for yourself that I am speaking the truth by hiding among
the bushes the first time Thakané says she is going to bathe in the
river, and waiting till the girl appears.'
For some days Thakané stayed quietly at home, and her husband began to
think that the man had been mistaken; but at last she said to her
husband: 'I am going to bathe in the river.'
[Illustration: 'BRING TO ME DILAH, DILAH THE REJECTED ONE']
'Well, you can go,' answered he. But he ran down quickly by another
path, and got there first, and hid himself in the bushes. An instant
later, Thakané arrived, and standing on the bank, she sang:
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,
Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
Then the old woman came out of the water, holding the girl, now tall
and slender, by the hand. And as Masilo looked, he saw that she was
indeed his daughter, and he wept for joy that she was not lying dead
in the bottom of the lake. The old woman, however, seemed uneasy, and
said to Thakané: 'I feel as if someone was watching us. I will not
leave the girl to-day, but will take her back with me'; and sinking
beneath the surface, she drew the girl after her. After they had gone,
Thakané returned to the village, which Masilo had managed to reach
before her.
All the rest of the day he sat in a corner weeping, and his mother who
came in asked: 'Why are you weeping so bitterly, my son?'
'My head aches,' he answered; 'it aches very badly.' And his mother
passed on, and left him alone.
In the evening he said to his wife: 'I have seen my daughter, in the
place where you told me you had drowned her. Instead, she lives at the
bottom of the lake, and has now grown into a young woman.'
'I don't know what you are talking about,' replied Thakané. 'I buried
my child under the sand on the beach.'
Then Masilo implored her to give the child back to him; but she would
not listen, and only answered: 'If I were to give her back you would
only obey the laws of your country and take her to your father, the
ogre, and she would be eaten.'
But Masilo promised that he would never let his father see her, and
that now she was a woman no one would try to hurt her; so Thakané's
heart melted, and she went down to the lake to consult the old woman.
'What am I to do?' she asked, when, after clapping her hands, the old
woman appeared before her. 'Yesterday Masilo beheld Dilah, and ever
since he has entreated me to give him back his daughter.'
'If I let her go he must pay me a thousand head of cattle in
exchange,' replied the old woman. And Thakané carried her answer back
to Masilo.
'Why, I would gladly give her two thousand!' cried he, 'for she has
saved my daughter.' And he bade messengers hasten to all the
neighbouring villages, and tell his people to send him at once all the
cattle he possessed. When they were all assembled he chose a thousand
of the finest bulls and cows, and drove them down to the river,
followed by a great crowd wondering what would happen.
Then Thakané stepped forward in front of the cattle and sang:
Bring to me Dilah, Dilah the rejected one,
Dilah, whom her father Masilo cast out!
And Dilah came from the waters holding out her hands to Masilo and
Thakané, and in her place the cattle sank into the lake, and were
driven by the old woman to the great city filled with people, which
lies at the bottom.
[_Contes Populaires des Bassoutos._]
_THE WICKED WOLVERINE_
One day a wolverine was out walking on the hillside, when, on turning
a corner, he suddenly saw a large rock.
'Was that you I heard walking about just now?' he asked, for
wolverines are cautious animals, and always like to know the reasons
of things.
'No, certainly not,' answered the rock; 'I don't know how to walk.'
'But I _saw_ you walking,' continued the wolverine.
'I am afraid that you were not taught to speak the truth,' retorted
the rock.
'You need not speak like that, for I have _seen_ you walking,' replied
the wolverine, 'though I am quite sure that you could never catch
_me_!' and he ran a little distance and then stopped to see if the
rock was pursuing him; but, to his vexation, the rock was still in the
same place. Then the wolverine went up close, and struck the rock a
blow with his paw, saying: 'Well, will you catch me _now_?'
'I can't walk, but I can _roll_,' answered the rock.
And the wolverine laughed and said: 'Oh, that will do just as well';
and began to run down the side of the mountain.
At first he went quite slowly, 'just to give the rock a chance,' he
thought to himself; but soon he quickened his pace, for he found that
the rock was almost at his heels. But the faster the wolverine ran,
the faster the rock rolled, and by-and-by the little creature began to
get very tired, and was sorry he had not left the rock to itself.
Thinking that if he could manage to put on a spurt he would reach the
forest of great trees at the bottom of the mountain, where the rock
could not come, he gathered up all his strength, and instead of
running he leaped over sticks and stones, but, whatever he did, the
rock was always close behind him. At length he grew so weary that he
could not even see where he was going, and catching his foot in a
branch he tripped and fell. The rock stopped at once, but there came a
shriek from the wolverine:
'Get off, get off! can't you see that you are on my legs?'
[Illustration: ALL THE ANIMALS TRY TO GET THE ROCK OFF WOLVERINE'S
LEGS]
'Why did you not leave me alone?' asked the rock. 'I did not want to
move--I hate moving. But you _would_ have it, and I certainly sha'n't
move now till I am forced to.'
'I will call my brothers,' answered the wolverine. 'There are many of
them in the forest, and you will soon see that they are stronger than
you.' And he called, and called, and called, till wolves and foxes and
all sorts of other creatures all came running to see what was the
matter.
'How _did_ you get under that rock?' asked they, making a ring round
him; but they had to repeat their question several times before the
wolverine would answer, for he, like many other persons, found it hard
to confess that he had brought his troubles on himself.
'Well, I was dull, and wanted someone to play with me,' he said at
last, in a sulky voice, 'and I challenged the rock to catch me. Of
course I thought I could run the fastest; but I tripped, and it rolled
on me. It was just an accident.'
'It serves you right for being so silly,' said they; but they pushed
and hauled at the rock for a long time without making it move an inch.
'You are no good at all,' cried the wolverine crossly, for it was
suffering great pain, 'and if you cannot get me free, I shall see what
my friends the lightning and the thunder can do.' And he called loudly
to the lightning to come and help him as quickly as possible.
In a few minutes a dark cloud came rolling up the sky, giving out such
terrific claps of thunder that the wolves and the foxes and all the
other creatures ran helter-skelter in all directions. But, frightened
though they were, they did not forget to beg the lightning to take off
the wolverine's coat and to free his legs, but to be careful not to
hurt him. So the lightning disappeared into the cloud for a moment to
gather up fresh strength, and then came rushing down, right upon the
rock, which it sent flying in all directions, and took off the
wolverine's coat so neatly that, though it was torn into tiny shreds,
the wolverine himself was quite unharmed.
'That was rather clumsy of you,' said he, standing up naked in his
flesh. 'Surely you could have split the rock without tearing my coat
to bits!' And he stooped down to pick up the pieces. It took him a
long time, for there were a great many of them, but at last he had
them all in his hand.
'I'll go to my sister the frog,' he thought to himself, 'and she will
sew them together for me'; and he set off at once for the swamp in
which his sister lived.
'Will you sew my coat together? I had an unlucky accident, and it is
quite impossible to wear,' he said, when he found her.
'With pleasure,' she answered, for she had always been taught to be
polite; and getting her needle and thread she began to fit the pieces.
But though she was very good-natured, she was not very clever, and she
got some of the bits wrong. When the wolverine, who was very
particular about his clothes, came to put it on, he grew very angry.
'What a useless creature you are!' cried he. 'Do you expect me to go
about in such a coat as that? Why it bulges all down the back, as if I
had a hump, and it is so tight across the chest that I expect it to
burst every time I breathe. I knew you were stupid, but I did not
think you were as stupid as that.' And giving the poor frog a blow on
her head, which knocked her straight into the water, he walked off in
a rage to his younger sister the mouse.
'I tore my coat this morning,' he began, when he had found her sitting
at the door of her house eating an apple. 'It was all in little bits,
and I took it to our sister the frog to ask her to sew it for me. But
just look at the way she has done it! You will have to take it to
pieces and fit them together properly, and I hope I shall not have to
complain again.' For as the wolverine was older than the mouse, he was
accustomed to speak to her in this manner. However, the mouse was used
to it and only answered: 'I think you had better stay here till it is
done, and if there is any alteration needed I can make it.' So the
wolverine sat down on a heap of dry ferns, and, picking up the apple,
he finished it without even asking the mouse's leave.
At last the coat was ready, and the wolverine put it on.
'Yes, it fits very well,' said he, 'and you have sewn it very neatly.
When I pass this way again I will bring you a handful of corn, as a
reward'; and he ran off as smart as ever, leaving the mouse quite
grateful behind him.
He wandered about for many days, till he reached a place where food
was very scarce, and for a whole week he went without any. He was
growing desperate, when he suddenly came upon a bear that was lying
asleep. 'Ah! here is food at last!' thought he; but how was he to kill
the bear, who was so much bigger than himself? It was no use to try
force, he must invent some cunning plan which would get her into his
power. At last, after thinking hard, he decided upon something, and
going up to the bear, he exclaimed: 'Is that you, my sister?'
The bear turned round and saw the wolverine, and murmuring to herself,
so low that nobody could hear, 'I never heard before that I had a
brother,' got up and ran quickly to a tree, up which she climbed. Now
the wolverine was very angry when he saw his dinner vanishing in front
of him, especially as _he_ could not climb trees like the bear, so he
followed, and stood at the foot of the tree, shrieking as loud as he
could, 'Come down, sister; our father has sent me to look for you! You
were lost when you were a little girl and went out picking berries,
and it was only the other day that we heard from a beaver where you
were.' At these words, the bear came a little way down the tree, and
the wolverine, seeing this, went on:
'Are you not fond of berries? _I_ am! And I know a place where they
grow so thick the ground is quite hidden. Why, look for yourself! That
hillside is quite red with them!'
'I can't see so far,' answered the bear, now climbing down altogether.
'You must have wonderfully good eyes! I wish _I_ had; but my sight is
very short.'
'So was mine till my father smashed a pailful of cranberries, and
rubbed my eyes with them,' replied the wolverine. 'But if you like to
go and gather some of the berries I will do just as he did, and you
will soon be able to see as far as me.'
It took the bear a long while to gather the berries, for she was slow
about everything, and, besides, it made her back ache to stoop. But at
last she returned with a sackful, and put them down beside the
wolverine. 'That is splendid, sister!' cried the wolverine. 'Now lie
flat on the ground with your head on this stone, while I smash them.'
The bear, who was very tired, was only too glad to do as she was bid,
and stretched herself comfortably on the grass.
'I am ready now,' said the wolverine after a bit; 'just at first you
will find that the berries make your eyes smart, but you must be
careful not to move, or the juice will run out, and then it will have
to be done all over again.'
So the bear promised to lie very still; but the moment the cranberries
touched her eyes she sprang up with a roar.
'Oh, you mustn't mind a little pain,' said the wolverine, 'it will
soon be over, and then you will see all sorts of things you have never
dreamt of.' The bear sank down with a groan, and as her eyes were full
of cranberry juice, which completely blinded her, the wolverine took
up a sharp knife and stabbed her to the heart.
Then he took off the skin, and, stealing some fire from a tent, which
his sharp eyes had perceived hidden behind a rock, he set about
roasting the bear bit by bit. He thought the meat was the best he ever
had tasted, and when dinner was done he made up his mind to try that
same trick again, if ever he was hungry.
And very likely he did!
[Adapted from _Bureau of Ethnology_.]
_THE HUSBAND OF THE RAT'S DAUGHTER_
Once upon a time there lived in Japan a rat and his wife who came of
an old and noble race, and had one daughter, the loveliest girl in all
the rat world. Her parents were very proud of her, and spared no pains
to teach her all she ought to know. There was not another young lady
in the whole town who was as clever as she was in gnawing through the
hardest wood, or who could drop from such a height on to a bed, or run
away so fast if anyone was heard coming. Great attention, too, was
paid to her personal appearance, and her skin shone like satin, while
her teeth were as white as pearls, and beautifully pointed.
Of course, with all these advantages, her parents expected her to make
a brilliant marriage, and, as she grew up, they began to look round
for a suitable husband.
But here a difficulty arose. The father was a rat from the tip of his
nose to the end of his tail, outside as well as in, and desired that
his daughter should wed among her own people. She had no lack of
lovers, but her father's secret hopes rested on a fine young rat, with
moustaches which almost swept the ground, whose family was still
nobler and more ancient than his own. Unluckily, the mother had other
views for her precious child. She was one of those people who always
despise their own family and surroundings, and take pleasure in
thinking that they themselves are made of finer material than the rest
of the world. '_Her_ daughter should never marry a mere rat,' she
declared, holding her head high. 'With her beauty and talents she had
a right to look for someone a little better than _that_.'
So she talked, as mothers will, to anyone that would listen to her.
What the girl thought about the matter nobody knew or cared--it was
not the fashion in the rat world.
Many were the quarrels which the old rat and his wife had upon the
subject, and sometimes they bore on their faces certain marks which
looked as if they had not kept to words only.
'Reach up to the stars is _my_ motto,' cried the lady one day, when
she was in a greater passion than usual. 'My daughter's beauty places
her higher than anything upon earth,' she cried; 'and I am certainly
not going to accept a son-in-law who is beneath her.'
'Better offer her in marriage to the sun,' answered her husband
impatiently. 'As far as I know there is nothing greater than he.'
'Well, I _was_ thinking of it,' replied the wife, 'and as you are of
the same mind, we will pay him a visit to-morrow.'
So the next morning, the two rats, having spent hours in making
themselves smart, set out to see the sun, leading their daughter
between them.
The journey took some time, but at length they came to the golden
palace where the sun lived.
'Noble king,' began the mother, 'behold our daughter! She is so
beautiful that she is above everything in the whole world. Naturally,
we wish for a son-in-law who, on his side, is greater than all.
Therefore we have come to you.'
'I feel very much flattered,' replied the sun, who was so busy that he
had not the least wish to marry anybody. 'You do me great honour by
your proposal. Only, in one point you are mistaken, and it would be
wrong of me to take advantage of your ignorance. There _is_ something
greater than I am, and that is the cloud. Look!' And as he spoke a
cloud spread itself over the sun's face, blotting out his rays.
'Oh, well, we will speak to the cloud,' said the mother. And turning
to the cloud she repeated her proposal.
'Indeed I am unworthy of anything so charming,' answered the cloud;
'but you make a mistake again in what you say. There is one thing that
is even more powerful than I, and that is the wind. Ah, here he comes,
you can see for yourself.'
And she _did_ see, for catching up the cloud as he passed, he threw it
on the other side of the sky. Then, tumbling father, mother and
daughter down to the earth again, he paused for a moment beside them,
his foot on an old wall.
When she had recovered her breath, the mother began her little speech
once more.
'The wall is the proper husband for your daughter,' answered the wind,
whose home consisted of a cave, which he only visited when he was not
rushing about elsewhere; 'you can see for yourself that he is greater
than I, for he has power to stop me in my flight.' And the mother, who
did not trouble to conceal her wishes, turned at once to the wall.
Then something happened which was quite unexpected by everyone.
'I won't marry that ugly old wall, which is as old as my grandfather,'
sobbed the girl, who had not uttered one word all this time. 'I would
have married the sun, or the cloud, or the wind, because it was my
duty, although I love the handsome young rat, and him only. But that
horrid old wall--I would sooner die!'
And the wall, rather hurt in his feelings, declared that he had no
claim to be the husband of so beautiful a girl.
'It is quite true,' he said, 'that I can stop the wind who can part
the clouds who can cover the sun; but there is someone who can do more
than all these, and that is the rat. It is the rat who passes through
me, and can reduce me to powder, simply with his teeth. If, therefore,
you want a son-in-law who is greater than the whole world, seek him
among the rats.'
'Ah, what did I tell you?' cried the father. And his wife, though for
the moment angry at being beaten, soon thought that a rat son-in-law
was what she had always desired.
So all three returned happily home, and the wedding was celebrated
three days after.
[_Contes Populaires._]
_THE MERMAID AND THE BOY_
Long, long ago, there lived a king who ruled over a country by the
sea. When he had been married about a year, some of his subjects,
inhabiting a distant group of islands, revolted against his laws, and
it became needful for him to leave his wife and go in person to settle
their disputes. The queen feared that some ill would come of it, and
implored him to stay at home, but he told her that nobody could do his
work for him, and the next morning the sails were spread, and the king
started on his voyage.
The vessel had not gone very far when she ran upon a rock, and stuck
so fast in a cleft that the strength of the whole crew could not get
her off again. To make matters worse, the wind was rising too, and it
was quite plain that in a few hours the ship would be dashed to pieces
and everybody would be drowned, when suddenly the form of a mermaid
was seen dancing on the waves which threatened every moment to
overwhelm them.
'There is only one way to free yourselves,' she said to the king,
bobbing up and down in the water as she spoke, 'and that is to give me
your solemn word that you will deliver to me the first child that is
born to you.'
The king hesitated at this proposal. He hoped that some day he might
have children in his home, and the thought that he must yield up the
heir to his crown was very bitter to him; but just then a huge wave
broke with great force on the ship's side, and his men fell on their
knees and entreated him to save them.
So he promised, and this time a wave lifted the vessel clean off the
rocks, and she was in the open sea once more.
The affairs of the islands took longer to settle than the king had
expected, and some months passed away before he returned to his
palace. In his absence a son had been born to him, and so great was
his joy that he quite forgot the mermaid and the price he had paid for
the safety of his ship. But as the years went on, and the baby grew
into a fine big boy, the remembrance of it came back, and one day he
told the queen the whole story. From that moment the happiness of both
their lives was ruined. Every night they went to bed wondering if they
should find his room empty in the morning, and every day they kept him
by their sides, expecting him to be snatched away before their very
eyes.
At last the king felt that this state of things could not continue,
and he said to his wife:
'After all, the most foolish thing in the world one can do is to keep
the boy here in exactly the place in which the mermaid will seek him.
Let us give him food and send him on his travels, and perhaps, if the
mermaid ever _does_ come to seek him, she may be content with some
other child.' And the queen agreed that his plan seemed the wisest.
So the boy was called, and his father told him the story of the
voyage, as he had told his mother before him. The prince listened
eagerly, and was delighted to think that he was to go away all by
himself to see the world, and was not in the least frightened; for
though he was now sixteen, he had scarcely been allowed to walk alone
beyond the palace gardens. He began busily to make his preparations,
and took off his smart velvet coat, putting on instead one of green
cloth, while he refused a beautiful bag which the queen offered him to
hold his food, and slung a leather knapsack over his shoulders
instead, just as he had seen other travellers do. Then he bade
farewell to his parents and went his way.
[Illustration: THE MERMAID ASKS FOR THE KING'S CHILD]
All through the day he walked, watching with interest the strange
birds and animals that darted across his path in the forest or peeped
at him from behind a bush. But as evening drew on he became tired, and
looked about as he walked for some place where he could sleep. At
length he reached a soft mossy bank under a tree, and was just about
to stretch himself out on it, when a fearful roar made him start and
tremble all over. In another moment something passed swiftly through
the air and a lion stood before him.
'What are you doing here?' asked the lion, his eyes glaring fiercely
at the boy.
'I am flying from the mermaid,' the prince answered, in a quaking
voice.
'Give me some food then,' said the lion, 'it is past my supper time,
and I am very hungry.'
The boy was so thankful that the lion did not want to eat _him_, that
he gladly picked up his knapsack which lay on the ground, and held out
some bread and a flask of wine.
'I feel better now,' said the lion when he had done, 'so now I shall
go to sleep on this nice soft moss, and if you like you can lie down
beside me.' So the boy and the lion slept soundly side by side, till
the sun rose.
'I must be off now,' remarked the lion, shaking the boy as he spoke;
'but cut off the tip of my ear, and keep it carefully, and if you are
in any danger just wish yourself a lion and you will become one on the
spot. One good turn deserves another, you know.'
The prince thanked him for his kindness, and did as he was bid, and
the two then bade each other farewell.
'I wonder how it feels to be a lion,' thought the boy, after he had
gone a little way; and he took out the tip of the ear from the breast
of his jacket and wished with all his might. In an instant his head
had swollen to several times its usual size, and his neck seemed very
hot and heavy; and, somehow, his hands became paws, and his skin grew
hairy and yellow. But what pleased him most was his long tail with a
tuft at the end, which he lashed and switched proudly. 'I like being a
lion very much,' he said to himself, and trotted gaily along the road.
After a while, however, he got tired of walking in this unaccustomed
way--it made his back ache and his front paws felt sore. So he wished
himself a boy again, and in the twinkling of an eye his tail
disappeared and his head shrank, and the long thick mane became short
and curly. Then he looked out for a sleeping place, and found some dry
ferns, which he gathered and heaped up.
But before he had time to close his eyes there was a great noise in
the trees near by, as if a big heavy body was crashing through them.
The boy rose and turned his head, and saw a huge black bear coming
towards him.
'What are you doing here?' cried the bear.
'I am running away from the mermaid,' answered the boy; but the bear
took no interest in the mermaid, and only said: 'I am hungry; give me
something to eat.'
The knapsack was lying on the ground among the fern, but the prince
picked it up, and, unfastening the strap, took out his second flask of
wine and another loaf of bread. 'We will have supper together,' he
remarked politely; but the bear, who had never been taught manners,
made no reply, and ate as fast as he could. When he had quite
finished, he got up and stretched himself.
'You have got a comfortable-looking bed there,' he observed. 'I really
think that, bad sleeper as I am, I might have a good night on it. I
can manage to squeeze you in,' he added; 'you don't take up a great
deal of room.' The boy was rather indignant at the bear's cool way of
talking; but as he was too tired to gather more fern, they lay down
side by side, and never stirred till sunrise next morning.
'I must go now,' said the bear, pulling the sleepy prince on to his
feet; 'but first you shall cut off the tip of my ear, and when you are
in any danger just wish yourself a bear and you will become one. One
good turn deserves another, you know.' And the boy did as he was bid,
and he and the bear bade each other farewell.
'I wonder how it feels to be a bear,' thought he to himself when he
had walked a little way; and he took out the tip from the breast of
his coat and wished hard that he might become a bear. The next moment
his body stretched out and thick black fur covered him all over. As
before, his hands were changed into paws, but when he tried to switch
his tail he found to his disgust that it would not go any distance.
'Why it is hardly worth calling a tail!' said he. For the rest of the
day he remained a bear and continued his journey, but as evening came
on the bear-skin, which had been so useful when plunging through
brambles in the forest, felt rather heavy, and he wished himself a boy
again. He was too much exhausted to take the trouble of cutting any
fern or seeking for moss, but just threw himself down under a tree,
when exactly above his head he heard a great buzzing as a bumble-bee
alighted on a honeysuckle branch. 'What are you doing here?' asked the
bee in a cross voice; 'at your age you ought to be safe at home.'
'I am running away from the mermaid,' replied the boy; but the bee,
like the lion and the bear, was one of those people who never listen
to the answers to their questions, and only said: 'I am hungry. Give
me something to eat.'
The boy took his last loaf and flask out of his knapsack and laid them
on the ground, and they had supper together. 'Well, now I am going to
sleep,' observed the bee when the last crumb was gone, 'but as you are
not very big I can make room for you beside me,' and he curled up his
wings, and tucked in his legs, and he and the prince both slept
soundly till morning. Then the bee got up and carefully brushed every
scrap of dust off his velvet coat and buzzed loudly in the boy's ear
to waken him.
'Take a single hair from one of my wings,' said he, 'and if you are in
danger just wish yourself a bee and you will become one. One good turn
deserves another, so farewell, and thank you for your supper.' And the
bee departed after the boy had pulled out the hair and wrapped it
carefully in a leaf.
'It must feel quite different to be a bee from what it does to be a
lion or bear,' thought the boy to himself when he had walked for an
hour or two. 'I dare say I should get on a great deal faster,' so he
pulled out his hair and wished himself a bee.
In a moment the strangest thing happened to him. All his limbs seemed
to draw together, and his body to become very short and round; his
head grew quite tiny, and instead of his white skin he was covered
with the richest, softest velvet. Better than all, he had two lovely
gauze wings which carried him the whole day without getting tired.
Late in the afternoon the boy fancied he saw a vast heap of stones a
long way off, and he flew straight towards it. But when he reached the
gates he saw that it was really a great town, so he wished himself
back in his own shape and entered the city.
He found the palace doors wide open and went boldly into a sort of
hall which was full of people, and where men and maids were gossiping
together. He joined their talk and soon learned from them that the
king had only one daughter who had such a hatred to men that she would
never suffer one to enter her presence. Her father was in despair, and
had had pictures painted of the handsomest princes of all the courts
in the world, in the hope that she might fall in love with one of
them; but it was no use; the princess would not even allow the
pictures to be brought into her room.
[Illustration: THE PRINCESS ON THE SEASHORE]
'It is late,' remarked one of the women at last; 'I must go to my
mistress.' And, turning to one of the lackeys, she bade him find a bed
for the youth.
'It is not necessary,' answered the prince, 'this bench is good enough
for me. I am used to nothing better.' And when the hall was empty he
lay down for a few minutes. But as soon as everything was quiet in the
palace he took out the hair and wished himself a bee, and in this
shape he flew upstairs, past the guards, and through the keyhole into
the princess's chamber. Then he turned himself into a man again.
At this dreadful sight the princess, who was broad awake, began to
scream loudly. 'A man! a man!' cried she; but when the guards rushed
in there was only a bumble-bee buzzing about the room. They looked
under the bed, and behind the curtains, and into the cupboards, then
came to the conclusion that the princess had had a bad dream, and
bowed themselves out. The door had scarcely closed on them than the
bee disappeared, and a handsome youth stood in his place.
'I _knew_ a man was hidden somewhere,' cried the princess, and
screamed more loudly than before. Her shrieks brought back the guards,
but though they looked in all kinds of impossible places no man was to
be seen, and so they told the princess.
'He was here a moment ago--I saw him with my own eyes,' and the guards
dared not contradict her, though they shook their heads and whispered
to each other that the princess had gone mad on this subject, and saw
a man in every table and chair. And they made up their minds that--let
her scream as loudly as she might--they would take no notice.
Now the princess saw clearly what they were thinking, and that in
future her guards would give her no help, and would perhaps, besides,
tell some stories about her to the king, who would shut her up in a
lonely tower and prevent her walking in the gardens among her birds
and flowers. So when, for the third time, she beheld the prince
standing before her, she did not scream but sat up in bed gazing at
him in silent terror.
'Do not be afraid,' he said, 'I shall not hurt you'; and he began to
praise her gardens, of which he had heard the servants speak, and the
birds and flowers which she loved, till the princess's anger softened,
and she answered him with gentle words. Indeed, they soon became so
friendly that she vowed she would marry no one else, and confided to
him that in three days her father would be off to the wars, leaving
his sword in her room. If any man could find it and bring it to him he
would receive her hand as a reward. At this point a cock crew, and the
youth jumped up hastily saying: 'Of course I shall ride with the king
to the war, and if I do not return, take your violin every evening to
the seashore and play on it, so that the very sea-kobolds who live at
the bottom of the ocean may hear it and come to you.'
Just as the princess had foretold, in three days the king set out for
the war with a large following, and among them was the young prince,
who had presented himself at court as a young noble in search of
adventures. They had left the city many miles behind them, when the
king suddenly discovered that he had forgotten his sword, and though
all his attendants instantly offered theirs, he declared that he could
fight with none but his own.
'The first man who brings it to me from my daughter's room,' cried he,
'shall not only have her to wife, but after my death shall reign in my
stead.'
At this the Red Knight, the young prince, and several more turned
their horses to ride as fast as the wind back to the palace. But
suddenly a better plan entered the prince's head, and, letting the
others pass him, he took his precious parcel from his breast and
wished himself a lion. Then on he bounded, uttering such dreadful
roars that the horses were frightened and grew unmanageable, and he
easily outstripped them, and soon reached the gates of the palace.
Here he hastily changed himself into a bee, and flew straight into the
princess's room, where he became a man again. She showed him where the
sword hung concealed behind a curtain, and he took it down, saying as
he did so: 'Be sure not to forget what you have promised to do.'
The princess made no reply, but smiled sweetly, and slipping a golden
ring from her finger she broke it in two and held half out silently to
the prince, while the other half she put in her own pocket. He kissed
it, and ran down the stairs bearing the sword with him. Some way off
he met the Red Knight and the rest, and the Red Knight at first tried
to take the sword from him by force. But as the youth proved too
strong for him, he gave it up, and resolved to wait for a better
opportunity.
This soon came, for the day was hot and the prince was thirsty.
Perceiving a little stream that ran into the sea, he turned aside,
and, unbuckling the sword, flung himself on the ground for a long
drink. Unluckily, the mermaid happened at that moment to be floating
on the water not very far off, and knew he was the boy who had been
given her before he was born. So she floated gently in to where he was
lying, she seized him by the arm, and the waves closed over them both.
Hardly had they disappeared, when the Red Knight stole cautiously up,
and could hardly believe his eyes when he saw the king's sword on the
bank. He wondered what had become of the youth, who an hour before had
guarded his treasure so fiercely; but, after all, that was no affair
of his! So, fastening the sword to his belt, he carried it to the
king.
The war was soon over, and the king returned to his people, who
welcomed him with shouts of joy. But when the princess from her window
saw that her betrothed was not among the attendants riding behind her
father, her heart sank, for she knew that some evil must have befallen
him, and she feared the Red Knight. She had long ago learned how
clever and how wicked he was, and something whispered to her that it
was _he_ who would gain the credit of having carried back the sword,
and would claim her as his bride, though he had never even entered her
chamber. And she could do nothing; for although the king loved her, he
never let her stand in the way of his plans.
The poor princess was only too right, and everything came to pass
exactly as she had foreseen it. The king told her that the Red Knight
had won her fairly, and that the wedding would take place next day,
and there would be a great feast after it.
In those days feasts were much longer and more splendid than they are
now; and it was growing dark when the princess, tired out with all she
had gone through, stole up to her own room for a little quiet. But the
moon was shining so brightly over the sea that it seemed to draw her
towards it, and taking her violin under her arm, she crept down to the
shore.
'Listen! listen!' said the mermaid to the prince, who was lying
stretched on a bed of seaweeds at the bottom of the sea. 'Listen! that
is your old love playing, for mermaids know everything that happens
upon earth.'
'I hear nothing,' answered the youth, who did not look happy. 'Take me
up higher, where the sounds can reach me.'
So the mermaid took him on her shoulders and bore him up midway to the
surface. 'Can you hear now?' she asked.
'No,' answered the prince, 'I hear nothing but the water rushing; I
must go higher still.'
Then the mermaid carried him to the very top. 'You must surely be able
to hear _now_?' said she.
'Nothing but the water,' repeated the youth. So she took him right to
the land.
'At any rate you can hear _now_?' she said again.
[Illustration: 'LISTEN, LISTEN!' SAID THE MERMAID TO THE PRINCE]
'The water is still rushing in my ears,' answered he; 'but wait a
little, that will soon pass off.' And as he spoke he put his hand
into his breast, and seizing the hair wished himself a bee, and flew
straight into the pocket of the princess. The mermaid looked in vain
for him, and floated all night upon the sea; but he never came back,
and never more did he gladden her eyes. But the princess felt that
something strange was about her, though she knew not what, and
returned quickly to the palace, where the young man at once resumed
his own shape. Oh, what joy filled her heart at the sight of him! But
there was no time to be lost, and she led him right into the hall,
where the king and his nobles were still sitting at the feast. 'Here
is a man who boasts that he can do wonderful tricks,' said she,
'better even than the Red Knight's! That cannot be true, of course;
but it might be well to give this impostor a lesson. He pretends, for
instance, that he can turn himself into a lion; but that I do not
believe. I know that you have studied the art of magic,' she went on,
turning to the Red Knight, 'so suppose you just show him how it is
done, and bring shame upon him.'
Now the Red Knight had never opened a book of magic in his life; but
he was accustomed to think that he could do everything better than
other people without any teaching at all. So he turned and twisted
himself about, and bellowed and made faces; but he did not become a
lion for all that.
'Well, perhaps it _is_ very difficult to change into a lion. Make
yourself a bear,' said the princess. But the Red Knight found it no
easier to become a bear than a lion.
'Try a bee,' suggested she. 'I have always read that anyone who can do
magic at all can do that.' And the old knight buzzed and hummed, but
he remained a man and not a bee.
'Now it is your turn,' said the princess to the youth. 'Let us see if
you can change yourself into a lion.' And in a moment such a fierce
creature stood before them, that all the guests rushed out of the
hall, treading each other underfoot in their fright. The lion sprang
at the Red Knight, and would have torn him in pieces had not the
princess held him back, and bidden him to change himself into a man
again. And in a second a man took the place of the lion.
'Now become a bear,' said she; and a bear advanced panting and
stretching out his arms to the Red Knight, who shrank behind the
princess.
By this time some of the guests had regained their courage, and
returned as far as the door, thinking that if it was safe for the
princess perhaps it was safe for them. The king, who was braver than
they, and felt it needful to set them a good example besides, had
never left his seat, and when at a new command of the princess the
bear once more turned into a man, he was silent from astonishment, and
a suspicion of the truth began to dawn on him. 'Was it _he_ who
fetched the sword?' asked the king.
'Yes, it was,' answered the princess; and she told him the whole
story, and how she had broken her gold ring and given him half of it.
And the prince took out his half of the ring, and the princess took
out hers, and they fitted exactly. Next day the Red Knight was hanged,
as he richly deserved, and there was a new marriage feast for the
prince and princess.
[_Lappländische Mährchen._]
[Illustration: THE BEE, THE PRINCESS, THE RED KNIGHT, & THE LION]
_PIVI AND KABO_
When birds were men, and men were birds, Pivi and Kabo lived in an
island far away, called New Caledonia. Pivi was a cheery little bird
that chirps at sunset; Kabo was an ugly black fowl that croaks in the
darkness. One day Pivi and Kabo thought that they would make slings,
and practise slinging, as the people of the island still do. So they
went to a banyan tree, and stripped the bark to make strings for their
slings, and next they repaired to the river bank to find stones. Kabo
stood on the bank of the river, and Pivi went into the water. The game
was for Kabo to sling at Pivi, and for Pivi to dodge the stones, if he
could. For some time he dodged them cleverly, but at last a stone from
Kabo's sling hit poor Pivi on the leg and broke it. Down went Pivi
into the stream, and floated along it, till he floated into a big
hollow bamboo, which a woman used for washing her sweet potatoes.
'What is that in my bamboo?' said the woman. And she blew in at one
end, and blew little Pivi out at the other, like a pea from a
pea-shooter.
'Oh!' cried the woman, 'what a state you are in! What have you been
doing?'
'It was Kabo who broke my leg at the slinging game,' said Pivi.
'Well, I am sorry for you,' said the woman; 'will you come with me,
and do what I tell you?'
'I will!' said Pivi, for the woman was very kind and pretty. She took
Pivi into a shed where she kept her fruit, laid him on a bed of mats,
and made him as comfortable as she could, and attended to his broken
leg without cutting off the flesh round the bone, as these people
usually do.
'You will be still, won't you, Pivi?' she said. 'If you hear a little
noise you will pretend to be dead. It is the Black Ant who will come
and creep from your feet up to your head. Say nothing, and keep quiet,
won't you, Pivi?'
'Certainly, kind lady,' said Pivi, 'I will lie as still as can be.'
'Next will come the big Red Ant--you know him?'
'Yes, I know him, with his feet like a grasshopper's.'
'He will walk over your body up to your head. Then you must shake all
your body. Do you understand, Pivi?'
'Yes, dear lady, I shall do just as you say.'
'Very good,' said the woman, going out and shutting the door.
Pivi lay still under his coverings, then a tiny noise was heard, and
the Black Ant began to march over Pivi, who lay quite still. Then came
the big Red Ant skipping along his body, and then Pivi shook himself
all over. He jumped up quite well again, he ran to the river, he
looked into the water and saw that he was changed from a bird into a
fine young man!
'Oh, lady,' he cried, 'look at me now! I am changed into a man, and so
handsome!'
'Will you obey me again?' said the woman.
'Always; whatever you command I will do it,' said Pivi, politely.
'Then climb up that cocoa-nut tree, with your legs only, not using
your hands,' said the woman.
Now the natives can run up cocoa-nut trees like squirrels, some using
only one hand; the girls can do that. But few can climb without using
their hands at all.
'At the top of the tree you will find two cocoa-nuts. You must not
throw them down, but carry them in your hands; and you must descend
as you went up, using your legs only.'
'I shall try, at least,' said Pivi. And up he went, but it was very
difficult, and down he came.
'Here are your cocoa-nuts,' he said, presenting them to the woman.
'Now, Pivi, put them in the shed where you lay, and when the sun sets
to cool himself in the sea and rise again not so hot in the dawn you
must go and take the nuts.'
All day Pivi played about in the river, as the natives do, throwing
fruit and silvery showers of water at each other. When the sun set he
went into the hut. But as he drew near he heard sweet voices talking
and laughing within.
'What is that? People chattering in the hut! Perhaps they have taken
my cocoa-nuts,' said Pivi to himself.
In he went, and there he found two pretty, laughing, teasing girls. He
hunted for his cocoa-nuts, but none were there.
Down he ran to the river. 'Oh, lady, my nuts have been stolen!' he
cried.
'Come with me, Pivi, and there will be nuts for you,' said the woman.
They went back to the hut, where the girls were laughing and playing.
'Nuts for you?' said the woman, 'there are two wives for you, Pivi,
take them to your house.'
'Oh, good lady,' cried Pivi, 'how kind you are!'
So they were married and very happy, when in came cross old Kabo.
'Is this Pivi?' said he. 'Yes, it is--no, it isn't. It is not the same
Pivi--but there is a kind of likeness. Tell me, _are_ you Pivi?'
'Oh, yes!' said Pivi. 'But I am much better looking, and there are my
two wives, are they not beautiful?'
'You are mocking me, Pivi! Your wives? How? Where did you get them?
_You_, with wives!'
Then Pivi told Kabo about the kind woman, and all the wonderful things
that had happened to him.
'Well, well!' said Kabo, 'but I want to be handsome too, and to have
pretty young wives.'
'But how can we manage that?' asked Pivi.
'Oh, we shall do all the same things over again--play at slinging,
and, this time, you shall break my leg, Pivi!'
'With all the pleasure in life,' said Pivi, who was always ready to
oblige.
So they went slinging, and Pivi broke Kabo's leg, and Kabo fell into
the river, and floated into the bamboo, and the woman blew him out,
just as before. Then she picked up Kabo, and put him in the shed, and
told him what to do when the Black Ant came, and what to do when the
Red Ant came. But he didn't!
When the Black Ant came, he shook himself, and behold, he had a
twisted leg, and a hump back, and was as black as the ant.
Then he ran to the woman.
'Look, what a figure I am!' he said; but she only told him to climb
the tree, as she had told Pivi.
But Kabo climbed with both hands and feet, and he threw down the nuts,
instead of carrying them down, and he put them in the hut. And when he
went back for them there he found two horrid old black hags,
wrangling, and scolding, and scratching! So back he went to Pivi with
his two beautiful wives, and Pivi was very sorry, but what could he
do? Nothing, but sit and cry.
So, one day, Kabo came and asked Pivi to sail in his canoe to a place
where he knew of a great big shell-fish, enough to feed on for a week.
Pivi went, and deep in the clear water they saw a monstrous
shell-fish, like an oyster, as big as a rock, with the shell wide
open.
'We shall catch it, and dry it, and kipper it,' said Pivi, 'and give a
dinner to all our friends!'
[Illustration: PIVI DIVES FOR THE SHELL-FISH]
'I shall dive for it, and break it off the rock,' said Kabo, 'and
then you must help me to drag it up into the canoe.'
There the shell-fish lay and gaped, but Kabo, though he dived in, kept
well out of the way of the beast.
Up he came, puffing and blowing: 'Oh, Pivi,' he cried, 'I cannot move
it. Jump in and try yourself!'
Pivi dived, with his spear, and the shell-fish opened its shell wider
yet, and sucked, and Pivi disappeared into its mouth, and the shell
shut up with a snap!
Kabo laughed like a fiend, and then went home.
'Where is Pivi?' asked the two pretty girls. Kabo pretended to cry,
and told how Pivi had been swallowed.
'But dry your tears, my darlings,' said Kabo, 'I will be your husband,
and my wives shall be your slaves. Everything is for the best, in the
best of all possible worlds.'
'No, no!' cried the girls, 'we love Pivi. We do not love anyone else.
We shall stay at home, and weep for Pivi!'
'Wretched idiots!' cried Kabo; 'Pivi was a scoundrel who broke my leg,
and knocked me into the river.'
Then a little cough was heard at the door, and Kabo trembled, for he
knew it was the cough of Pivi!
'Ah, dear Pivi!' cried Kabo, rushing to the door. 'What joy! I was
trying to console your dear wives.'
Pivi said not one word. He waved his hand, and five and twenty of his
friends came trooping down the hill. They cut up Kabo into little
pieces. Pivi turned round, and there was the good woman of the river.
'Pivi,' she said, 'how did you get out of the living tomb into which
Kabo sent you?'
'I had my spear with me,' said Pivi. 'It was quite dry inside the
shell, and I worked away at the fish with my spear, till he saw reason
to open his shell, and out I came.' Then the good woman laughed; and
Pivi and his two wives lived happy ever afterwards.
[_Moncelon. Bulletin de la Société d'Anthropologie._ Series iii.
vol. ix., pp. 613-365.]
_THE ELF MAIDEN_
Once upon a time two young men living in a small village fell in love
with the same girl. During the winter, it was all night except for an
hour or so about noon, when the darkness seemed a little less dark,
and then they used to see which of them could tempt her out for a
sleigh ride with the Northern Lights flashing above them, or which
could persuade her to come to a dance in some neighbouring barn. But
when the spring began, and the light grew longer, the hearts of the
villagers leapt at the sight of the sun, and a day was fixed for the
boats to be brought out, and the great nets to be spread in the bays
of some islands that lay a few miles to the north. Everybody went on
this expedition, and the two young men and the girl went with them.
They all sailed merrily across the sea chattering like a flock of
magpies, or singing their favourite songs. And when they reached the
shore, what an unpacking there was! For this was a noted fishing
ground, and here they would live, in little wooden huts, till autumn
and bad weather came round again.
The maiden and the two young men happened to share the same hut with
some friends, and fished daily from the same boat. And as time went
on, one of the youths remarked that the girl took less notice of him
than she did of his companion. At first he tried to think that he was
dreaming, and for a long while he kept his eyes shut very tight to
what he did not want to see, but in spite of his efforts, the truth
managed to wriggle through, and then the young man gave up trying to
deceive himself, and set about finding some way to get the better of
his rival.
The plan that he hit upon could not be carried out for some months;
but the longer the young man thought of it, the more pleased he was
with it, so he made no sign of his feelings, and waited patiently till
the moment came. This was the very day that they were all going to
leave the islands, and sail back to the mainland for the winter. In
the bustle and hurry of departure, the cunning fisherman contrived
that their boat should be the last to put off, and when everything was
ready, and the sails about to be set, he suddenly called out:
'Oh, dear, what shall I do! I have left my best knife behind in the
hut. Run, like a good fellow, and get it for me, while I raise the
anchor and loosen the tiller.'
Not thinking any harm, the youth jumped back on shore and made his way
up the steep bank. At the door of the hut he stopped and looked back,
then started and gazed in horror. The head of the boat stood out to
sea, and he was left alone on the island.
Yes, there was no doubt of it--he was quite alone; and he had nothing
to help him except the knife which his comrade had purposely dropped
on the ledge of the window. For some minutes he was too stunned by the
treachery of his friend to think about anything at all, but after a
while he shook himself awake, and determined that he would manage to
keep alive somehow, if it were only to revenge himself.
So he put the knife in his pocket and went off to a part of the island
which was not so bare as the rest, and had a small grove of trees.
From one of these he cut himself a bow, which he strung with a piece
of cord that had been left lying about the huts.
When this was ready the young man ran down to the shore and shot one
or two sea-birds, which he plucked and cooked for supper.
In this way the months slipped by, and Christmas came round again.
The evening before, the youth went down to the rocks and into the
copse, collecting all the drift wood the sea had washed up or the gale
had blown down, and he piled it up in a great stack outside the door,
so that he might not have to fetch any all the next day. As soon as
his task was done, he paused and looked out towards the mainland,
thinking of Christmas Eve last year, and the merry dance they had had.
The night was still and cold, and by the help of the Northern Lights
he could almost see across to the opposite coast, when, suddenly, he
noticed a boat, which seemed steering straight for the island. At
first he could hardly stand for joy, the chance of speaking to another
man was so delightful; but as the boat drew near there was something,
he could not tell what, that was different from the boats which he had
been used to all his life, and when it touched the shore he saw that
the people that filled it were beings of another world than ours. Then
he hastily stepped behind the wood stack, and waited for what might
happen next.
The strange folk one by one jumped on to the rocks, each bearing a
load of something that they wanted. Among the women he remarked two
young girls, more beautiful and better dressed than any of the rest,
carrying between them two great baskets full of provisions. The young
man peeped out cautiously to see what all this crowd could be doing
inside the tiny hut, but in a moment he drew back again, as the girls
returned, and looked about as if they wanted to find out what sort of
a place the island was.
Their sharp eyes soon discovered the form of a man crouching behind
the bundles of sticks, and at first they felt a little frightened, and
started as if they would run away. But the youth remained so still,
that they took courage and laughed gaily to each other. 'What a
strange creature, let us try what he is made of,' said one, and she
stooped down and gave him a pinch.
Now the young man had a pin sticking in the sleeve of his jacket, and
the moment the girl's hand touched him she pricked it so sharply that
the blood came. The girl screamed so loudly that the people all ran
out of their huts to see what was the matter. But directly they caught
sight of the man they turned and fled in the other direction, and
picking up the goods they had brought with them scampered as fast as
they could down to the shore. In an instant, boat, people, and goods
had vanished completely.
In their hurry they had, however, forgotten two things: a bundle of
keys which lay on the table, and the girl whom the pin had pricked,
and who now stood pale and helpless beside the wood stack.
'You will have to make me your wife,' she said at last, 'for you have
drawn my blood, and I belong to you.'
'Why not? I am quite willing,' answered he. 'But how do you suppose we
can manage to live till summer comes round again?'
'Do not be anxious about that,' said the girl; 'if you will only marry
me all will be well. I am very rich, and all my family are rich also.'
Then the young man gave her his promise to make her his wife, and the
girl fulfilled her part of the bargain, and food was plentiful on the
island all through the long winter months, though he never knew how it
got there. And by-and-by it was spring once more, and time for the
fisher-folk to sail from the mainland.
'Where are we to go now?' asked the girl, one day, when the sun seemed
brighter and the wind softer than usual.
'I do not care where I go,' answered the young man; 'what do you
think?'
The girl replied that she would like to go somewhere right at the
other end of the island, and build a house, far away from the huts of
the fishing-folk. And he consented, and that very day they set off in
search of a sheltered spot on the banks of a stream, so that it would
be easy to get water.
In a tiny bay, on the opposite side of the island, they found the very
thing, which seemed to have been made on purpose for them; and as they
were tired with their long walk, they laid themselves down on a bank
of moss among some birches and prepared to have a good night's rest,
so as to be fresh for work next day. But before she went to sleep the
girl turned to her husband, and said: 'If in your dreams you fancy
that you hear strange noises, be sure you do not stir, or get up to
see what it is.'
'Oh, it is not likely we shall hear any noises in such a quiet place,'
answered he, and fell sound asleep.
Suddenly he was awakened by a great clatter about his ears, as if all
the workmen in the world were sawing and hammering and building close
to him. He was just going to spring up and go to see what it meant,
when he luckily remembered his wife's words and lay still. But the
time till morning seemed very long, and with the first ray of sun they
both rose, and pushed aside the branches of the birch trees. There, in
the very place they had chosen, stood a beautiful house--doors and
windows, and everything all complete!
'Now you must fix on a spot for your cow-stalls,' said the girl, when
they had breakfasted off wild cherries; 'and take care it is the
proper size, neither too large nor too small.' And the husband did as
he was bid, though he wondered what use a cow-house could be, as they
had no cows to put in it. But as he was a little afraid of his wife,
who knew so much more than he, he asked no questions.
This night also he was awakened by the same sounds as before, and in
the morning they found, near the stream, the most beautiful cow-house
that ever was seen, with stalls and milk-pails and stools all
complete, indeed, everything that a cow-house could possibly want,
except the cows. Then the girl bade him measure out the ground for a
storehouse, and this, she said, might be as large as he pleased; and
when the storehouse was ready she proposed that they should set off to
pay her parents a visit.
[Illustration: THE ELF MAIDEN'S HOUSE]
The old people welcomed them heartily, and summoned their neighbours,
for many miles round, to a great feast in their honour. In fact, for
several weeks there was no work done on the farm at all; and at
length the young man and his wife grew tired of so much play, and
declared that they must return to their own home. But, before they
started on the journey, the wife whispered to her husband: 'Take care
to jump over the threshold as quick as you can, or it will be the
worse for you.'
The young man listened to her words, and sprang over the threshold
like an arrow from a bow; and it was well he did, for, no sooner was
he on the other side, than his father-in-law threw a great hammer at
him, which would have broken both his legs, if it had only touched
them.
When they had gone some distance on the road home, the girl turned to
her husband and said: 'Till you step inside the house, be sure you do
not look back, whatever you may hear or see.'
And the husband promised, and for a while all was still; and he
thought no more about the matter till he noticed at last that the
nearer he drew to the house the louder grew the noise of the trampling
of feet behind him. As he laid his hand upon the door he thought he
was safe, and turned to look. There, sure enough, was a vast herd of
cattle, which had been sent after him by his father-in-law when he
found that his daughter had been cleverer than he. Half of the herd
were already through the fence and cropping the grass on the banks of
the stream, but half still remained outside and faded into nothing,
even as he watched them.
However, enough cattle were left to make the young man rich, and he
and his wife lived happily together, except that every now and then
the girl vanished from his sight, and never told him where she had
been. For a long time he kept silence about it; but one day, when he
had been complaining of her absence, she said to him: 'Dear husband, I
am bound to go, even against my will, and there is only one way to
stop me. Drive a nail into the threshold, and then I can never pass in
or out.'
And so he did.
[_Lappländische Mährchen._]
_HOW SOME WILD ANIMALS BECAME TAME ONES_
Once upon a time there lived a miller who was so rich that, when he
was going to be married, he asked to the feast not only his own
friends but also the wild animals who dwelt in the hills and woods
round about. The chief of the bears, the wolves, the foxes, the
horses, the cows, the goats, the sheep, and the reindeer, all received
invitations; and as they were not accustomed to weddings they were
greatly pleased and flattered, and sent back messages in the politest
language that they would certainly be there.
The first to start on the morning of the wedding-day was the bear, who
always liked to be punctual; and, besides, he had a long way to go,
and his hair, being so thick and rough, needed a good brushing before
it was fit to be seen at a party. However, he took care to awaken very
early, and set off down the road with a light heart. Before he had
walked very far he met a boy who came whistling along, hitting at the
tops of the flowers with a stick.
'Where are you going?' said he, looking at the bear in surprise, for
he was an old acquaintance, and not generally so smart.
'Oh, just to the miller's marriage,' answered the bear carelessly. 'Of
course, I would much rather stay at home, but the miller was so
anxious I should be there that I really could not refuse.'
'Don't go, don't go!' cried the boy. 'If you do you will never come
back! You have got the most beautiful skin in the world--just the kind
that everyone is wanting, and they will be sure to kill you and strip
you of it.'
'I had not thought of that,' said the bear, whose face turned white,
only nobody could see it. 'If you are certain that they would be so
wicked--but perhaps you are jealous because nobody has invited _you_?'
'Oh, nonsense!' replied the boy angrily, 'do as you see. It is your
skin, and not mine; _I_ don't care what becomes of it!' And he walked
quickly on with his head in the air.
The bear waited until he was out of sight, and then followed him
slowly, for he felt in his heart that the boy's advice was good,
though he was too proud to say so.
The boy soon grew tired of walking along the road, and turned off into
the woods, where there were bushes he could jump and streams he could
wade; but he had not gone far before he met the wolf.
'Where are you going?' asked he, for it was not the first time he had
seen him.
'Oh, just to the miller's marriage,' answered the wolf, as the bear
had done before him. 'It is rather tiresome, of course--weddings are
always so stupid; but still one must be good-natured!'
'Don't go!' said the boy again. 'Your skin is so thick and warm, and
winter is not far off now. They will kill you, and strip it from you.'
The wolf's jaw dropped in astonishment and terror. 'Do you _really_
think that would happen?' he gasped.
'Yes, to be sure, I do,' answered the boy. 'But it is your affair, not
mine. So good-morning,' and on he went. The wolf stood still for a few
minutes, for he was trembling all over, and then crept quietly back to
his cave.
Next the boy met the fox, whose lovely coat of silvery grey was
shining in the sun.
'You look very fine!' said the boy, stopping to admire him, 'are you
going to the miller's wedding too?'
'Yes,' answered the fox; 'it is a long journey to take for such a
thing as that, but you know what the miller's friends are like--so
dull and heavy! It is only kind to go and amuse them a little.'
'You poor fellow,' said the boy pityingly. 'Take my advice and stay at
home. If you once enter the miller's gate his dogs will tear you in
pieces.'
'Ah, well, such things _have_ occurred, I know,' replied the fox
gravely. And without saying any more he trotted off the way he had
come.
His tail had scarcely disappeared, when a great noise of crashing
branches was heard, and up bounded the horse, his black skin
glistening like satin.
'Good-morning,' he called to the boy as he galloped past, 'I can't
wait to talk to you now. I have promised the miller to be present at
his wedding-feast, and they won't sit down till I come.'
'Stop! stop!' cried the boy after him, and there was something in his
voice that made the horse pull up. 'What is the matter?' asked he.
'You don't know what you are doing,' said the boy. 'If once you go
there you will never gallop through these woods any more. You are
stronger than many men, but they will catch you and put ropes round
you, and you will have to work and to serve them all the days of your
life.'
The horse threw back his head at these words, and laughed scornfully.
'Yes, I am stronger than many men,' answered he, 'and all the ropes in
the world would not hold me. Let them bind me as fast as they will, I
can always break loose, and return to the forest and freedom.'
And with this proud speech he gave a whisk of his long tail, and
galloped away faster than before.
But when he reached the miller's house everything happened as the boy
had said. While he was looking at the guests and thinking how much
handsomer and stronger he was than any of them, a rope was suddenly
flung over his head, and he was thrown down and a bit thrust between
his teeth. Then, in spite of his struggles, he was dragged to a
stable, and shut up for several days without any food, till his spirit
was broken and his coat had lost its gloss. After that he was
harnessed to a plough, and had plenty of time to remember all he had
lost through not listening to the counsel of the boy.
When the horse had turned a deaf ear to his words the boy wandered
idly along, sometimes gathering wild strawberries from a bank, and
sometimes plucking wild cherries from a tree, till he reached a
clearing in the middle of the forest. Crossing this open space was a
beautiful milk-white cow with a wreath of flowers round her neck.
'Good-morning,' she said pleasantly, as she came up to the place where
the boy was standing.
'Good-morning,' he returned. 'Where are you going in such a hurry?'
'To the miller's wedding; I am rather late already, for the wreath
took such a long time to make, so I can't stop.'
'Don't go,' said the boy earnestly; 'when once they have tasted your
milk they will never let you leave them, and you will have to serve
them all the days of your life.'
'Oh, nonsense; what do _you_ know about it?' answered the cow, who
always thought she was wiser than other people. 'Why, I can run twice
as fast as any of them! I should like to see anybody try to keep me
against my will.' And, without even a polite bow, she went on her way,
feeling very much offended.
But everything turned out just as the boy had said. The company had
all heard of the fame of the cow's milk, and persuaded her to give
them some, and then her doom was sealed. A crowd gathered round her,
and held her horns so that she could not use them, and, like the
horse, she was shut in the stable, and only let out in the mornings,
when a long rope was tied round her head, and she was fastened to a
stake in a grassy meadow.
And so it happened to the goat and to the sheep.
Last of all came the reindeer, looking as he always did, as if some
serious business was on hand.
'Where are you going?' asked the boy, who by this time was tired of
wild cherries, and was thinking of his dinner.
'I am invited to the wedding,' answered the reindeer, 'and the miller
has begged me on no account to fail him.'
'O fool!' cried the boy, 'have you no sense at all? Don't you know
that when you get there they will hold you fast, for neither beast nor
bird is as strong or as swift as you?'
'That is exactly why I am quite safe,' replied the reindeer. 'I am so
strong that no one can bind me, and so swift that not even an arrow
can catch me. So, good-bye for the present, you will soon see me
back.'
But none of the animals that went to the miller's wedding ever came
back. And because they were self-willed and conceited, and would not
listen to good advice, they and their children have been the servants
of men to this very day.
[_Lappländische Mährchen._]
_FORTUNE AND THE WOOD-CUTTER_
Several hundreds of years ago there lived in a forest a wood-cutter
and his wife and children. He was very poor, having only his axe to
depend upon, and two mules to carry the wood he cut to the
neighbouring town; but he worked hard, and was always out of bed by
five o'clock, summer and winter.
This went on for twenty years, and though his sons were now grown up,
and went with their father to the forest, everything seemed to go
against them, and they remained as poor as ever. In the end the
wood-cutter lost heart, and said to himself:
'What is the good of working like this if I never am a penny the
richer at the end? I shall go to the forest no more! And perhaps, if I
take to my bed, and do not run after Fortune, one day she may come to
me.'
So the next morning he did not get up, and when six o'clock struck,
his wife, who had been cleaning the house, went to see what was the
matter.
'Are you ill?' she asked wonderingly, surprised at not finding him
dressed. 'The cock has crowed ever so often. It is high time for you
to get up.'
'Why should I get up?' asked the man, without moving.
'Why? to go to the forest, of course.'
'Yes; and when I have toiled all day I hardly earn enough to give us
one meal.'
'But what can we do, my poor husband?' said she. 'It is just a trick
of Fortune's, who would never smile upon us.'
'Well, I have had my fill of Fortune's tricks,' cried he. 'If she
wants me she can find me here. But I have done with the wood for
ever.'
'My dear husband, grief has driven you mad! Do you think Fortune will
come to anybody who does not go after her? Dress yourself, and saddle
the mules, and begin your work. Do you know that there is not a morsel
of bread in the house?'
'I don't care if there isn't, and I am not going to the forest. It is
no use your talking; nothing will make me change my mind.'
The distracted wife begged and implored in vain; her husband persisted
in staying in bed, and at last, in despair, she left him and went back
to her work.
An hour or two later a man from the nearest village knocked at the
door, and when she opened it, he said to her: 'Good-morning, mother. I
have got a job to do, and I want to know if your husband will lend me
your mules, as I see he is not using them, and can lend me a hand
himself?'
'He is upstairs; you had better ask him,' answered the woman. And the
man went up, and repeated his request.
'I am sorry, neighbour, but I have sworn not to leave my bed, and
nothing will make me break my vow.'
'Well, then, will you lend me your two mules? I will pay you something
for them.'
'Certainly, neighbour. Take them and welcome.'
So the man left the house, and leading the mules from the stable,
placed two sacks on their back, and drove them to a field where he had
found a hidden treasure. He filled the sacks with the money, though he
knew perfectly well that it belonged to the sultan, and was driving
them quietly home again, when he saw two soldiers coming along the
road. Now the man was aware that if he was caught he would be
condemned to death, so he fled back into the forest. The mules, left
to themselves, took the path that led to their master's stable.
The wood-cutter's wife was looking out of the window when the mules
drew up before the door, so heavily laden that they almost sank under
their burdens. She lost no time in calling her husband, who was still
lying in bed.
'Quick, quick! get up as fast as you can. Our two mules have returned
with sacks on their backs, so heavily laden with something or other
that the poor beasts can hardly stand up.'
'Wife, I have told you a dozen times already that I am not going to
get up. Why can't you leave me in peace?'
As she found she could get no help from her husband the woman took a
large knife and cut the cords which bound the sacks on to the animals'
backs. They fell at once to the ground, and out poured a rain of gold
pieces, till the little courtyard shone like the sun.
'A treasure!' gasped the woman, as soon as she could speak from
surprise. 'A treasure!' And she ran off to tell her husband.
'Get up! get up!' she cried. 'You were quite right not to go to the
forest, and to await Fortune in your bed; she has come at last! Our
mules have returned home laden with all the gold in the world, and it
is now lying in the court. No one in the whole country can be as rich
as we are!'
In an instant the wood-cutter was on his feet, and running to the
court, where he paused, dazzled by the glitter of the coins which lay
around him.
'You see, my dear wife, that I was right,' he said at last. 'Fortune
is so capricious, you can never count on her. Run after her, and she
is sure to fly from you; stay still, and she is sure to come.'
[_Traditions Populaires de l'Asie Mineure._]
_THE ENCHANTED HEAD_
Once upon a time an old woman lived in a small cottage near the sea
with her two daughters. They were very poor, and the girls seldom left
the house, as they worked all day long making veils for the ladies to
wear over their faces, and every morning, when the veils were
finished, the mother took them over the bridge and sold them in the
city. Then she bought the food that they needed for the day, and
returned home to do her share of veil-making.
One morning the old woman rose even earlier than usual, and set off
for the city with her wares. She was just crossing the bridge when,
suddenly, she knocked up against a human head, which she had never
seen there before. The woman started back in horror; but what was her
surprise when the head spoke, exactly as if it had a body joined on to
it.
'Take me with you, good mother!' it said imploringly; 'take me with
you back to your house.'
At the sound of these words the poor woman nearly went mad with
terror. Have that horrible thing always at home? Never! never! And she
turned and ran back as fast as she could, not knowing that the head
was jumping, dancing, and rolling after her. But when she reached her
own door it bounded in before her, and stopped in front of the fire,
begging and praying to be allowed to stay.
All that day there was no food in the house, for the veils had not
been sold, and they had no money to buy anything with. So they all
sat silent at their work, inwardly cursing the head which was the
cause of their misfortunes.
When evening came, and there was no sign of supper, the head spoke,
for the first time that day:
'Good mother, does no one ever eat here? During all the hours I have
spent in your house not a creature has touched anything.'
'No,' answered the old woman, 'we are not eating anything.'
'And why not, good mother?'
'Because we have no money to buy any food.'
'Is it your custom never to eat?'
'No, for every morning I go into the city to sell my veils, and with
the few shillings I get for them I buy all we want. To-day I did not
cross the bridge, so of course I had nothing for food.'
'Then _I_ am the cause of your having gone hungry all day?' asked the
head.
'Yes, you are,' answered the old woman.
'Well, then, I will give you money and plenty of it, if you will only
do as I tell you. In an hour, as the clock strikes twelve, you must be
on the bridge at the place where you met me. When you get there call
out "Ahmed," three times, as loud as you can. Then a negro will
appear, and you must say to him: "The head, your master, desires you
to open the trunk, and to give me the green purse which you will find
in it."'
'Very well, my lord,' said the old woman, 'I will set off at once for
the bridge.' And wrapping her veil round her she went out.
Midnight was striking as she reached the spot where she had met the
head so many hours before.
'Ahmed! Ahmed! Ahmed!' cried she, and immediately a huge negro, as
tall as a giant, stood on the bridge before her.
'What do you want?' asked he.
'The head, your master, desires you to open the trunk, and to give me
the green purse which you will find in it.'
'I will be back in a moment, good mother,' said he. And three minutes
later he placed a purse full of sequins in the old woman's hand.
No one can imagine the joy of the whole family at the sight of all
this wealth. The tiny, tumble-down cottage was rebuilt, the girls had
new dresses, and their mother ceased selling veils. It was such a new
thing to them to have money to spend, that they were not as careful as
they might have been, and by-and-by there was not a single coin left
in the purse. When this happened their hearts sank within them, and
their faces fell.
'Have you spent your fortune?' asked the head from its corner, when it
saw how sad they looked. 'Well, then, go at midnight, good mother, to
the bridge, and call out "Mahomet!" three times, as loud as you can. A
negro will appear in answer, and you must tell him to open the trunk,
and to give you the red purse which he will find there.'
The old woman did not need twice telling, but set off at once for the
bridge.
'Mahomet! Mahomet! Mahomet!' cried she, with all her might; and in an
instant a negro, still larger than the last, stood before her.
'What do you want?' asked he.
'The head, your master, bids you open the trunk, and to give me the
red purse which you will find in it.'
'Very well, good mother, I will do so,' answered the negro, and, the
moment after he had vanished, he reappeared with the purse in his
hand.
This time the money seemed so endless that the old woman built herself
a new house, and filled it with the most beautiful things that were to
be found in the shops. Her daughters were always wrapped in veils that
looked as if they were woven out of sunbeams, and their dresses shone
with precious stones. The neighbours wondered where all this sudden
wealth had sprung from, but nobody knew about the head.
'Good mother,' said the head, one day, 'this morning you are to go to
the city and ask the sultan to give me his daughter for my bride.'
'Do what?' asked the old woman in amazement. 'How can I tell the
sultan that a head without a body wishes to become his son-in-law?
They will think that I am mad, and I shall be hooted from the palace
and stoned by the children.'
'Do as I bid you,' replied the head; 'it is my will.'
The old woman was afraid to say anything more, and, putting on her
richest clothes, started for the palace. The sultan granted her an
audience at once, and, in a trembling voice, she made her request.
'Are you mad, old woman?' said the sultan, staring at her.
'The wooer is powerful, O Sultan, and nothing is impossible to him.'
'Is that true?'
'It is, O Sultan; I swear it,' answered she.
'Then let him show his power by doing three things, and I will give
him my daughter.'
'Command, O gracious prince,' said she.
'Do you see that hill in front of the palace?' asked the sultan.
'I see it,' answered she.
'Well, in forty days the man who has sent you must make that hill
vanish, and plant a beautiful garden in its place. That is the first
thing. Now go, and tell him what I say.'
So the old woman returned and told the head the sultan's first
condition.
'It is well,' he replied; and said no more about it.
For thirty-nine days the head remained in its favourite corner. The
old woman thought that the task set before him was beyond his powers,
and that no more would be heard about the sultan's daughter. But on
the thirty-ninth evening after her visit to the palace, the head
suddenly spoke.
'Good mother,' he said, 'you must go to-night to the bridge, and when
you are there cry "Ali! Ali! Ali!" as loud as you can. A negro will
appear before you, and you will tell him that he is to level the hill,
and to make, in its place, the most beautiful garden that ever was
seen.'
'I will go at once,' answered she.