hurried off north, the queen flew east, and the princess west, and a
little kitchen-maid, who had come up behind Philip and was looking on,
was hustled off south in such sudden haste it seemed to her she would be
scared out of a year’s growth.
“Stop me, you rascal! Bring me back!” yelled the king as he vanished in
the distance.
Philip turned the horn about and blew into the big end. In a few moments
the king and the others were back on the porch; and the little maid,
vastly astonished by her experiences, lost no time in escaping to the
kitchen. “What do you mean by treating me in that fashion?” the king
demanded. “You shall hang for it.”
Philip raised the little end of the horn to his lips, and the king,
fearful that he would have to repeat his wild race, called out: “Enough!
enough! The fault was mine. You shall have my daughter and half the
kingdom if only you won’t blow that horrible horn in my presence. I’m
too old and stiff to be dashing about over the country as I did just
now.”
So as soon as things could be made ready for a grand wedding, Philip
married the princess, and they lived happily the rest of their days.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ENVIOUS NEIGHBOR
THERE was a poor man in a tropical country who for many long years dwelt
in a city where he suffered great privations and often went hungry. At
last he left the city and built a hut far out in the country on the edge
of the wilderness and dug up a piece of ground for a garden. He depended
on this garden to furnish him a living, and he planted some corn and
melon seeds, which soon sent green sprouts up to the light. He took the
best of care of the growing melons and corn, and they throve
luxuriantly.
When the crops began to mature, the monkeys from the neighboring
wilderness observed the good things that were ripening in the garden,
and they came daily to eat of them. The man, thinking of his own past
privations and sufferings, willingly shared the product of his labor
with them; and they wondered greatly what manner of person he was that
permitted them to eat unmolested of his corn and melons.
One day the man lay down in the garden and fell asleep. By and by he
became aware of the arrival of a troop of monkeys, but he continued to
lie there as if still sound asleep. They saw him and drew near and cried
out with one accord: “He is dead! Our good friend is dead! Lo, these
many days we have eaten of the things growing in his garden. Therefore
it is only just that we should bury him in as choice a place as we can
find.”
The man heard what they said, but he did not open his eyes or stir, for
he was curious to find out what they would do. They lifted him and
carried him till they came to a place where two ways met. Then one of
the monkeys said, “Let us take him to the cave of silver.”
Another said, “No, the cave of gold would be better.”
“Go to the cave of gold,” commanded the head monkey.
There they carried him and left him. When he found himself alone, he
arose, gathered all the gold he could carry, and returned to his home.
This gold, thus easily gained, enabled him to build a beautiful house,
and to live in great comfort.
“How did you, who came here so poor, gain all this wealth?” asked a
neighbor; and the man freely told all that had befallen him.
[Illustration]
“What you have done I can do, too,” said the neighbor, and he hastened
home, planted a piece of ground with corn and melons, and waited for the
monkeys to feast there.
Everything came to pass as he had hoped. When the corn and melons
ripened, great numbers of monkeys visited the garden and feasted. One
day they found the owner lying in the garden apparently dead. Their
gratitude prompted them to give him a worthy burial, and they carried
him to the place where the two roads met. Here they disputed as to
whether they should place the man in the cave of silver or the cave of
gold.
Meanwhile the man was thinking: “As soon as I am alone in the cave I
will begin gathering up the gold, and I will make a basket of bamboo so
I can carry home a much larger amount than my neighbor brought away.”
Presently the head monkey said, “Put him in the cave of silver.”
That was such a disappointment to the man that he forgot he was supposed
to be dead, and he exclaimed, “No, put me in the cave of gold!”
At once the monkeys dropped him and fled in great fright, and the man,
bruised and disappointed, crept sorrowfully home.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BLUEBEARD
ONCE upon a time there was a man who lived in a splendid house, and had
dishes of gold and silver, chairs and sofas covered with flowered satin,
and curtains of the richest silk. But alas! this man was so unlucky as
to have a blue beard, which made him look so frightfully ugly that all
the women and girls ran away from him.
His nearest neighbor was a lady of quality who had two beautiful
daughters, and he wished to marry one of them. He was even willing to
let the lady decide which of the two it should be. Neither of the
daughters, however, would have him, and the lady sighed to think of her
children’s obstinacy in refusing to become the mistress of such a
magnificent mansion. But they were not able to make up their minds to
marry a man with a blue beard. Their aversion was increased by the fact
that he had already had several wives, and no one knew surely what had
become of them, though he made all sorts of excuses to account for their
disappearance.
At length Bluebeard, in order to cure the dislike of the lady’s
daughters, invited them and their mother and some young friends to spend
a whole week at his house. They came, and nothing was thought of but
parties for hunting and fishing, feasting, dancing, and music. The
guests were loaded with gifts of the most costly description and were so
delightfully entertained that before many days had passed, Fatima, the
youngest sister, began to imagine that the beard she had thought to be
so ugly was not so _very_ blue after all. By the end of the week the
kindness and politeness of her host had made such an impression that she
concluded it would be a pity to refuse to become his wife on account of
the trifling circumstance of his having a blue beard.
So they were married shortly afterward, and at first everything went
well. A month passed away, and one morning Bluebeard told Fatima that he
must go on a journey which would take him six weeks at least. He kissed
her affectionately, gave her the keys of the whole mansion, and bade her
amuse herself in any way she pleased while he was gone.
“But,” said he, “I would have you notice among the keys the small one of
polished steel. It unlocks the little room at the end of the long
corridor. Go where you will, and do what you choose, but remember I have
forbidden you to enter that one room.”
Fatima promised faithfully to obey his orders, and she watched him get
into his carriage, and stood at the door of the mansion waving her hand
to him as he drove away. Lest she should be lonesome during her
husband’s absence, she invited numerous guests to keep her company. Most
of them had not dared to venture into the house while Bluebeard was
there, and they came without any urging or delay, eager to see its
splendors. They ran about upstairs and downstairs, peeping into the
closets and wardrobes, admiring the rooms, and exclaiming over the
beauties of the tapestries, sofas, cabinets, and tables, and of the
mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to foot. With one
consent they praised what they saw, and envied the fortune of their
friend, the mistress of all this magnificence. She went about unlocking
the doors for their convenience until the only door that remained
untouched was that of the obscure room at the end of the long corridor.
She wondered why she had been forbidden to enter that room. What was
there in it? Even if she did go in, her husband need never know she had
done so. The more she thought about it the more curious she became. At
last she left her guests and hurried along the dark, narrow corridor
that led to the forbidden room. At the door she hesitated, recalling her
husband’s command, and fearful of his anger; but the temptation was too
strong, and she tremblingly opened the door.
At first she could see nothing because the window-shutters were closed;
but after a few moments she began to discern that on the floor lay the
bodies of all the wives Bluebeard had married. She uttered a cry of
horror, her strength left her, and she thought she would die from fear.
The key of the room fell from her hand, but she picked it up, hastily
retreated to the corridor, and locked the door. However, she could not
forget what she had seen, and when she returned to her guests her mind
was too disturbed for her to attend to their comfort or to attempt to
entertain them. One by one they bade their hostess good-by and went
home, until no one was left with her except her sister Anne.
Then Fatima noticed a spot of blood on the key of the fatal room. She
tried to wipe it off, but the spot remained. Then she washed the key
with soap and scoured it with sand, but her efforts were in vain, for it
was a magic key, and only Bluebeard himself had the power to remove the
stain. She decided not to put it with the other keys, but to hide it,
hoping her husband would not miss it.
Bluebeard returned unexpectedly that very evening. He said a horseman
had met him on the road and told him that the business which had taken
him from home had been satisfactorily settled, so there was no need of
his making the long journey.
Fatima tried to welcome her husband with every appearance of pleasure,
but all the time she was dreading the moment when he should ask for the
keys. This he did not do until the following morning, and then she gave
them to him with such a blanched face and shaking hand that he easily
guessed what had happened. “How is it that you have not brought me the
key of the little room?” he asked sternly.
“I must have left it on my table upstairs,” she faltered.
“Bring it to me at once,” said Bluebeard, and she was forced to go and
make a pretense of searching for it.
When she dared delay no longer she went to her husband and surrendered
the key, and he immediately demanded the cause of the stain on it. She
hesitated, at a loss what reply to make, and he shouted: “But why need I
ask? I know the meaning of it right well. You have disobeyed my commands
and have been into the room I ordered you not to enter. So you shall go
in again, madam, but you will never return. You shall take your place
among the ladies you saw there.”
Fatima fell on her knees at his feet weeping and begging for mercy, but
the cruel man had a heart like a stone, and he bade her prepare for
death. “Since I must die,” said she, “at least grant me a little time to
say my prayers.”
“I give you ten minutes,” said Bluebeard, “and not one moment more.”
Poor Fatima hastened to a little turret chamber whither her sister had
fled in terror and grief. “Sister Anne,” she said, “go up to the top of
the tower and see if our brothers are coming. They promised to visit me
today; and if they should be in sight beckon them to come quickly.”
So the sister climbed the narrow staircase that led to the top of the
tower, and no sooner was she there than Fatima called from below, “Anne,
sister Anne, do you see anyone coming?”
Anne replied sadly, “I see nothing but the sun shining and the grass
growing tall and green.”
Several times Fatima asked the same question and received the same
answer.
Meanwhile Bluebeard was waiting with a mighty cimeter in one hand and
his watch in the other. At length he shouted in a great voice, “Come
down, or I shall go up and fetch you.”
“Anne, sister Anne,” Fatima called softly, “look again. Is there no one
on the road?”
“I see a cloud of dust rising in the distance,” Anne answered.
“Perchance it is our brothers,” said Fatima.
“Alas! no, my dear sister,” responded Anne, “it is only a flock of
sheep.”
“Fatima!” roared Bluebeard, “I command you to come down.”
“One moment—just one moment more,” sobbed the wretched wife.
Then she called, “Anne, sister Anne, do you see anyone coming?”
“I see two horsemen riding in this direction,” said Anne, “but they are
a great way off.”
“Heaven be praised!” exclaimed Fatima. “They must be our brothers. Oh!
sign to them to hasten.”
By this time the enraged Bluebeard was howling so loud for his wife to
come down that his voice shook the whole castle. Fatima dared delay no
longer, and she descended to the great hall, threw herself at her wicked
husband’s feet, and once more begged him to spare her life.
“Silence!” cried Bluebeard. “Your entreaties are wasted. You shall die!”
He seized her hair and raised his cimeter to strike. At that moment a
loud knocking was heard at the gates. Bluebeard paused with a look of
alarm, and then the door of the hall was flung open and Fatima’s two
brothers appeared with swords ready drawn in their hands. They rushed at
Bluebeard, and one rescued his sister from her husband’s grasp, and the
other gave the wretch a sword-thrust that put an end to his life.
So the wicked Bluebeard perished miserably, and Fatima became mistress
of all his riches. Part of her wealth she bestowed on her sister Anne,
and part on her two brothers. The rest she retained herself, and
presently she married a man whose kind treatment helped her to forget
her unfortunate experience with Bluebeard.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE SPENDTHRIFT MERCHANT’S SON
THERE was once a merchant’s son, who, when his father died, squandered
all his inheritance. At last he had nothing to eat. So he took a spade,
went to the market-place, and stood waiting to see if anyone would hire
him for a laborer. By and by a rich noble drove into the market-place in
his golden coach. As soon as the men who were waiting there for work saw
him, all except the merchant’s son scattered in every direction and hid.
The gilded coach came to a stop before him, and the noble said, “Do you
want work, young man?”
“It is for no other purpose than to get work that I stand here,” replied
the merchant’s son.
“Then I will hire you,” said the noble. “What wages do you require?”
“One hundred silver pieces a day,” was the answer.
“That is a high price,” said the noble.
“If you think it too much,” said the merchant’s son, “go and find a
cheaper article. But I observe that you are not very popular as an
employer. Crowds of laborers seeking work were here a few minutes ago,
but you came, and away they all bolted.”
“Well,” said the noble, “I agree to pay your price. Meet me at the
harbor tomorrow.”
Early the next day the youth resorted to the harbor, where he found the
noble awaiting him. They went on board a ship, which soon put out to
sea, and sailed and sailed until it approached an island. On this island
were high mountains, and by the shore was a splendid castle. The ship
cast anchor, and the noble and the merchant’s son were rowed to the
castle, where they were met by the noble’s wife and daughter. After the
greetings were over they sat down at table and began to eat, drink, and
be merry. “Today we’ll feast,” said the noble, “and tomorrow we’ll
work.”
The noble’s daughter was beautiful beyond anything that pen can tell,
and the merchant’s son fell in love with her. Nor could she help liking
him, for he was lively, sturdy, and handsome. At length she found an
opportunity to call him secretly into an adjacent room, and gave him a
flint and steel. “Use these, if you should be in great danger,” said
she, “and they will bring you help.”
Next day the noble mounted a handsome steed and had his laborer mount an
old rackabones, and they set off for the mountains. They went up and up
till there rose before them a smooth wall of rock near the summit of the
loftiest peak, and they could go no farther. “I am thirsty after all
this climbing,” said the noble. “We will dismount and have something to
drink.”
He handed the merchant’s son a flask that contained a sleeping potion,
and the youth drank without any suspicion that he was being drugged. It
made him very drowsy, and he sat down by a tree and was soon fast
asleep. Then the noble killed the wretched nag on which the youth had
ridden, removed its entrails, put the young man and his spade inside of
the body, and sewed it up. That done, he went and hid in the bushes. In
a little while there flew down a host of black, iron-beaked crows. They
took up the carcass and carried it to the mountain-top, where they began
to peck and eat it. Presently they had eaten their way in to where lay
the merchant’s son. Then he awoke, beat off the crows, looked hither and
thither, and said, “Where am I?”
The noble at the foot of the precipice heard him and shouted: “You are
on the golden mountain. Take your spade and dig gold and throw it down
to me.”
Then the youth saw that the whole mountain-top was composed of gold, and
he dug and dug, and threw the gold down to the noble, who loaded it on
to his horse. When the noble had all the horse could carry, he bawled
out: “That’ll do. Thanks for your labor. Good-by!”
“But what is to become of me?” the merchant’s son shouted back.
“You will have to get along as best you can,” replied the noble.
“Ninety-nine of your sort have already perished on this mountain-top.
You will just make up a hundred.”
Thus spoke the noble and departed.
“What is to be done now?” thought the merchant’s son. “To get down the
steep, slippery sides of this mountain summit is impossible. I shall
starve to death.”
There he stood on the bleak height, and above him circled the
iron-beaked crows, which evidently regarded him as their prey. He
recalled the events that led to his being in his present plight, and it
occurred to him how the lovely damsel had given him the flint and steel
he had in his pocket. “She told me to use them if ever I was in great
danger,” said he. “I will try them now.”
He took them out and struck a spark from the flint with the steel.
Immediately there appeared before him two stout young men. “What do you
want?” they asked.
“I will first fill my pockets with gold,” said he, “and then I would
like to go from this mountain to the seashore.”
As soon as he was ready they lifted him and carried him away through the
air to the seashore. Then they vanished. While he was walking about
there he saw a ship not far distant sailing by the island. “Ho! good
ship-folk!” he shouted, “take me with you.”
“No, brother,” they responded, “to stop would cause us to lose too much
time.”
The mariners went on, but soon contrary winds began to blow, and they
were presently beset by a hurricane. “Alas!” said they, “the person who
hailed us from that island was no ordinary man. He has brought this
storm on us for a punishment, and we shall perish unless we return and
take him on the ship.”
[Illustration]
So they went back and got him and conveyed him to his native town. The
gold he had brought from the mountain supported him for a time, but when
it was gone he again took a spade and went to the market-place to wait
for some one to hire him. By and by the same noble who had hired him
before came to the market-place in his gilded coach. The men waiting for
employment all scattered in every direction and hid, except the
merchant’s son. The noble spoke to him and said, “Will you come and work
for me?”
“Willingly,” replied the youth, “if you will pay me two hundred pieces
of silver a day.”
“Isn’t that rather dear, eh?” said the noble.
“If you find it dear,” said the merchant’s son, “go and hire some other
man. But you saw how many people were waiting here for work when you
came, and in what haste they all got out of the way.”
“Very well,” said the noble, “meet me tomorrow morning at the harbor.”
Early next day they met at the harbor, went on board a ship, and sailed
to the island. There they ate and drank and took their ease for one day,
and on the following morning mounted horses and rode up into the
mountains. They arrived at the steep wall of rock near the summit of the
highest peak, and the noble said, “Now let us have a drink.”
“But first,” said the youth, “you who are chief must drink. Let me treat
you with what I have brought in my own flask.”
So the noble drank, but the merchant’s son had betimes filled his flask
with a sleeping potion that put his master into a sound sleep. Then he
killed the lame old horse he rode, removed the entrails, thrust the
noble and the spade into the body and sewed him up in there. Afterward
he hid in the bushes. Soon the black, iron-beaked crows flew down, took
up the carcass of the horse, carried it to the top of the cliff, and
began pecking at it. When they had made an opening to where the noble
lay, he awoke, crawled out, and looked around. “Where am I?” said he.
“You are on the golden mountain,” bawled the merchant’s son. “Take your
spade and dig gold and throw it down to me.”
The noble dug and dug, and threw down the gold, and the youth packed it
on to the noble’s horse until he had all the creature could carry.
“That’s enough,” he called. “Thanks for your labor. Adieu!”
“But how am I to get off this mountain?” cried the noble.
“Why, get off as best you can,” answered the youth. “Ninety-nine of your
sort have perished on that golden summit. You can be the hundredth.”
The merchant’s son returned to the splendid castle beside the sea,
married the lovely damsel, took possession of the noble’s riches, and
then went in a ship to his native city. There he dwelt in peace and
plenty the rest of his life.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE AMBITIOUS THRUSH
ONCE there was a thrush who lived in a tree on the borders of a field
that a man sowed to cotton seed. The seed sprouted up through the ground
and grew into bushes, and after a time the bushes had big, brown pods on
them. Presently the pods burst open and the fluffy white cotton bulged
out of them. “How nice and soft that cotton looks!” said the thrush.
She picked some of it and used it to line her nest. Never before had she
slept with such ease as she did on that bed of cotton.
In her flights about the region she often passed the door of a man who
made a business of carding cotton so it could be spun into thread. By
carding it he disentangled the fibers, and then he formed it into small
rolls and sold it to the spinners. The thrush often observed him at his
work, and at length she concluded that she, also, would make some use of
the cotton besides simply lining her nest with it. So again and again,
every day, she would fly down among the cotton bushes, pluck out a fluff
of cotton in her beak and fly away and hide it. She kept on doing this
till she had quite a large heap. Then she flew to the house of the
cotton-carder, and alighted in front of him. “Good day, man,” said she.
“Good day, little bird,” said the cotton-carder.
“Man,” said the thrush, “I have a heap of beautiful cotton; and you
shall have half of it if you will card the rest and make it into rolls
for me.”
“Very well,” said the man, “I will do as you desire. Where is your
cotton?”
“Come with me, and I will show you,” said the thrush.
So she flew along ahead of the man and guided him to the place where she
had hidden her hoard of cotton. The man took the cotton home and carded
it and made it into rolls. Half of it he took for doing the work, and
the rest he gave back to the thrush.
Not far from the carder lived a spinner, and the thrush went to him and
said: “Mr. Spinner, I have some rolls of cotton all ready to spin into
thread. If I give you half of them, will you spin the other half into
thread for me?”
“That I will,” said the spinner, and the thrush showed him the way to
where she had put the rolls.
In a few days the spinner had spun all the rolls into the finest thread.
Then he took a pair of scales and weighed the thread to make two equal
parts. Half he kept for himself, and the other half he gave to the
thrush.
The next thing the thrush did was to fly to the house of a weaver, to
whom she said: “Sir, I have some cotton thread all ready to weave into
cloth. If I give you half of the thread, will you weave the other half
into cloth for me?”
“Certainly,” said the weaver, and the thrush guided him to where she had
secreted the thread.
He carried it home and spun it into cloth, and half the cloth he kept,
and half he gave to the thrush. She was an ambitious bird, eager to
convey an impression of distinction, and she decided to have some
garments made for herself out of the cloth. So she went to a tailor, and
said, “I have a nice piece of cotton cloth, and I will give you half of
it if you will make the rest into clothes for me.”