CHAPTER XVII

THE ONE GOOD GIANT: ST. CHRISTOPHER

Hearken to the tale in the _Golden Legend_ of the giant Syrian, fair

of face and spirit, who brought to the faith countless thousands of

unbelievers before he fell a martyr in the persecution of the Byzantine

emperor in the third century after Christ's birth. Never before or

since did such a flower as this patron saint of all ferrymen spring

from "the seed of the giant" that produced Og, King of Bashan, and

Goliath of Gath.

* * * * *

Christopher tofore his baptism was named Reprobus, but afterwards he

was named Christopher, which is as much to say as bearing Christ, of

that that he bare Christ in four manners. He bare him on his shoulders

by conveying and leading, in his body by making it lean, in mind by

devotion, and in his mouth by confession and prediction.

Christopher was of the lineage of the Canaanites, and he was of a right

great stature, and had a terrible and fearful cheer and countenance.

And he was twelve cubits of length, and as it is read in some histories

that, when he served and dwelled with the king of Canaan, it came in

his mind that he would seek the greatest prince that was in the world;

and him would he serve and obey.

And so far he went that he came to a right great king, of whom the

renome generally was that he was the greatest of the world. When the

king saw him, he received him into his service, and made him to dwell

in his court.

Upon a time a minstrel sang tofore him a song in which he named oft the

devil, and the king, which was a Christian man, when he heard him name

the devil, made anon the sign of the cross in his visage.

When Christopher saw that, he had great marvel what sign it was, and

wherefore the king made it, and he demanded of him. And because the

king would not say, he said:

"If thou tell me not, I shall no longer dwell with thee."

Then the king told to him, saying: "Alway when I hear the devil named,

I fear that he should have power over me, and I garnish me with this

sign that he grieve not ne annoy me."

Then Christopher said to him: "Doubtest thou the devil that he hurt

thee not? Then is the devil more mighty and greater than thou art. I am

then deceived of my hope and purpose, for I had supposed I had found

the most mighty and the most greatest Lord of the world, but I commend

thee to God, for I will seek him for to be my Lord, and I his servant."

And then departed from this king, and hasted him for to seek the devil.

As he went by a great desert, he saw a great company of knights, of

which a knight, cruel and horrible, came to him and demanded whither he

went.

Christopher answered to him and said: "I am he that thou seekest." And

then Christopher was glad, and bound him to be his servant perpetual,

and took him for his master and Lord.

As they went together by a common way, they found there a cross, erect

and standing. Anon as the devil saw the cross he was afeared and fled,

and left the right way, and brought Christopher about by a sharp

desert. And after, when they were past the cross, he brought him to the

highway that they had left. When Christopher saw that, he marvelled,

and demanded whereof he doubted, and had left the high and fair way,

and had gone so far about by so aspre a desert. And the devil would not

tell him in no wise.

Then Christopher said to him: "If thou wilt not tell me, I shall anon

depart from thee, and shall serve thee no more."

Wherefor the devil was constrained to tell him, and said: "There was

a man called Christ which was hanged on the cross, and when I see his

sign I am sore afraid, and flee from it wheresoever I see it."

To whom Christopher said: "Then he is greater, and more mightier than

thou, when thou art afraid of his sign; and I see well that I have

labored in vain, when I have not founden the greatest Lord of the

world. And I will serve thee no longer. Go thy way then, for I will

seek Christ."

And when he had long sought and demanded where he should find Christ,

at last he came into a great desert, to an hermit that dwelt there, and

this hermit preached to him Jesus Christ and informed him in the faith

diligently, and said to him: "This king whom thou desirest to serve,

requireth the service that thou must oft fast."

Christopher said to him: "Require of me some other thing, and I shall

do it, for that which thou requirest I may not do."

The hermit said: "Thou must then wake and make many prayers." And

Christopher said to him: "I wot not what it is; I may do no such

thing." And then the hermit said to him: "Knowest thou such a river, in

which many be perished and lost?" To whom Christopher said: "I know it

well."

Then said the hermit: "Because thou art noble and high of stature and

strong in thy members, thou shalt be resident by that river, and thou

shalt bear over all them that shall pass there, which shall be a thing

right convenable to our Lord Jesu Christ whom thou desirest to serve,

and I hope he shall show himself to thee."

Said Christopher: "Certes, this service may I well do, and I promise to

him for to do it."

Then went Christopher to this river, and made there his habitacle for

him, and bare a great pole in his hand instead of a staff, by which he

sustained him in the water, and bare over all manner of people without

ceasing. And there he abode, thus doing, many days.

And in a time, as he slept in his lodge, he heard the voice of a child

which called him and said: "Christopher, come out and bear me over."

Then he awoke and went out, but he found no man. And when he was again

in his house, he heard the same voice and he ran out and found nobody.

The third time he was called and came thither, and found a child beside

the rivage of the river, which prayed him goodly to bear him over the

water.

Christopher lift up the child on his shoulders, and took his staff, and

entered into the river for to pass. And the water of the river arose

and swelled more and more: and the child was heavy as lead, and alway

as he went farther, the water increased and grew more, and the child

more and more waxed heavy, insomuch that Christopher had great anguish

and was afeared to be drowned.

When he was escaped with great pain, and passed the water, and set the

child aground, he said to the child: "Child, thou hast put me in great

peril; thou weighest almost as I had all the world upon me. I might

bear no greater burden."

And the child answered: "Christopher, marvel thee nothing, for thou

hast not only borne all the world upon thee, but thou hast borne him

that created and made all the world, upon thy shoulders. I am Jesu

Christ the king, to whom thou servest in this work. And because that

thou know that I say to be the truth, set thy staff in the earth by

thy house, and thou shalt see to morn that it shall bear flowers and

fruit." And anon he vanished from his eyes.

Then Christopher set his staff in the earth, and when he arose on the

morn, he found his staff like a palmier bearing flowers, leaves and

dates.

Christopher went into the city of Lysia, and understood not their

language. Then he prayed our Lord that he might understand them, and so

he did. And as he was in this prayer, the judges supposed that he had

been a fool, and left him there. And then when Christopher understood

the language, he covered his visage and went to the place where they

martyred Christian men, and comforted them in our Lord. And the judges

smote him in the face, and Christopher said to them: "If I were not

Christian, I would avenge mine injury."

Then Christopher pitched his rod in the earth, and prayed to our Lord

that for to convert the people, it might bear flowers and fruit, and

anon it did so. Here he converted eight thousand men.

The king sent two knights for to fetch him to the king, and they found

him praying, and durst not tell him so. And anon after, the king sent

as many more, and they anon set them down for to pray with him.

When Christopher arose, he said to them: "What seek ye?" And when they

saw him in the visage, they said to him: "The king hath sent us, that

we should lead thee bound unto him."

Christopher said to them: "If I would, ye should not lead me to him,

bound ne unbound." And they said to him: "If thou wilt go thy way, go

quit, where thou wilt. And we shall say to the king that we have not

found thee."

"It shall not be so," said he, "but I shall go with you."

Then he converted them in the faith, and commanded them that they

should bind his hands behind his back, and lead him so bound to the

king. When the king saw him he was afeared and fell down off the seat,

and his servants lifted him up and relieved him again.

The king inquired his name and his country; and Christopher said to

him: "Tofore I was baptized I was named Reprobus, and after, I am

Christopher; tofore baptism, a Canaanite, now a Christian man." To whom

the king said: "Thou hast a foolish name, that is to wit of Christ

crucified, which could not help himself. How, therefore, thou cursed

Canaanite, why wilt thou not do sacrifice to our gods?"

Christopher said: "Thou art rightfully called Dagnus, for thou art the

death of the world, and fellow of the devil, and thy gods be made with

the hands of men."

And the king said to him: "Thou wert nourished among wild beasts, and

therefore thou mayest not say but wild language, and words unknown to

men. And if thou wilt now do sacrifice to the gods I shall give to thee

great gifts and great honors, and if not, I shall destroy thee and

consume thee by great pains and torments." But, for all this, he would

in no wise do sacrifice, wherefore he was sent into prison, and the

king did behead the other knights that he had sent for him, whom he had

converted.

After this he sent into the prison to Saint Christopher two fair women,

of whom that one was named Nicæa and that other Aquilina, and promised

to them many great gifts if they could draw Christopher to sin with

them. And when Christopher saw that, he set him down in prayer, and

when he was constrained by them that embraced him to move, he arose and

said: "What seek ye? For what cause be ye come hither?" And they, which

were afraid of his cheer and clearness of his visage, said: "Holy saint

of God, have pity on us so that we may believe in that God that thou

preachest."

When the king heard that, he commanded that they should be let out and

brought before him. To whom he said: "Ye be deceived, but I swear to

you by my gods that, if ye do no sacrifice to my gods, ye shall anon

perish by evil death."

They said to him: "If thou wilt that we shall do sacrifice command that

the places may be made clean, and that all the people may assemble at

the temple."

When this was done they entered into the temple, and took their

girdles, and put them about the necks of their gods, and drew them to

the earth, and brake them all in pieces, and said to them that were

there: "Go and call physicians and leeches for to heal your gods." And

then by the commandment of the king, Aquilina was hanged, and a right

great and heavy stone was hanged at her feet, so that her members were

much despitously broken. And when she was dead, and passed to our Lord,

her sister Nicæa was cast into a great fire, but she issued out without

harm all whole, and then he made to smite off her head, and so she

suffered death.

After this Christopher was brought tofore the king, and the king

commanded that he should be beaten with rods of iron, and that there

should be set upon his head a cross of iron red hot and burning; and

then after he did make a stool of iron, and made Christopher to be

bounden thereon, and after, to set fire under it, and cast therein

pitch. But the settle melted like wax, and Christopher issued out

without any harm.

When the king saw that, he commanded that he should be bound to a

strong stake, and that he should be through-shotten with arrows with

forty knights archers. But none of the knights might attain him, for

the arrows hung in the air about, nigh him, without touching.

Then the king weened that he had been through-shotten with the arrows

of the knights, and addressed him for to go to him. And one of the

arrows returned suddenly from the air and smote him in the eye, and

blinded him. To whom Christopher said: "Tyrant, I shall die to-morn.

Make a little clay, with my blood tempered, and anoint therewith thine

eye, and thou shalt receive health."

Then by the commandment of the king he was led forth to be beheaded,

and then, there made he his orison, and his head was smitten off, and

so suffered martyrdom.

The king then took a little of his blood and laid it on his eye, and

said: "In the name of God and of St. Christopher!" and was anon healed.

Then the king believed in God and gave commandment that if any person

blamed God or St. Christopher, he should anon be slain with the sword.

Then let us pray to good St. Christopher that he pray for us.

PART III

NURSERY TALES OF MANY LANDS

_The time came when men became so sophisticated that they lost faith in

the giants, even the work of their own minds. Only the children still

believed._

_In many lands the old people still tell to the simple of heart of all

ages such tales as these that follow._

_For more than two hundred years practically every English-speaking

child has read, or been read, the stories of "Jack the Giant-killer"

and "Jack and the Beanstalk," which are full of echoes of Thor's

adventures among the Frost Giants, and other misty myths of earliest

times. The famous "Fee, fi, fo, fum," speech of the giant seems to come

down from a couplet spoken by a giantess of old in the Arabic story of

"Sunebal and the Ogress."_

_While the present tales are not so well known, they doubtless have a

similarly ancient pedigree. Thus the Serbian tale comes largely from

the "Arabian Nights"; and it is our old friend Polyphemus from whom the

Korean seaman escaped._

_Even Gulliver's Travels in the land of Brobdignag has a close parallel

in faraway Japan: a man of Nagasaki, Shikaiya Wasōbiōye by name,

after marvelous adventures among the Three Thousand Worlds, comes to

the Land of Giants._

_He rides on the back of a stork through total darkness for five

months, and at length reaches a country where the sun shines again,

where weeds are as large as bamboos, trees so great that it is a

journey to walk round them, and the men some sixty feet in height.

A giant picks him up and feeds him on single grains of huge rice.

When the traveler tries to question the Tall Man upon the ways of

his people, the giant laughs and declares so tiny a person could not

possibly have intelligence enough to understand such great matters._

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GIANT HAND

IRISH

A day Finn and his men were in the Hunting-hill they killed a great

number of deer; and when they were wearied after the chase they sat

down on a pleasant green knoll, at the back of the wind and at the face

of the sun, where they could see every one, and no one at all could see

them.

While they were sitting in that place Finn lifted his eyes toward the

sea, and saw a ship making straight for the haven beneath the spot on

which they were sitting. When the ship came on land, a Big Young Hero

leaped out of her on the shore, seized her by the bows, and drew her

up, her own seven lengths, on green grass, where the eldest son of

neither land-owner nor of holder of large town-land dared mock or gibe

at her. Then he ascended the hillside, leaping over the hollows and

slanting the knolls, till he reached the spot on which Finn and his men

were sitting.

He saluted Finn frankly, energetically, fluently; and Finn saluted him

with the equivalent of the same words. Finn then asked him whence did

he come, or what was he wanting? He answered Finn that he had come

through night-watching and tempest of sea where he was; because he was

losing his children, and it had been told him that there was not a man

in the world who could keep his children for him but him, Finn, King of

the Feinne. And he said to Finn, "I lay on thee, as crosses and spells

and seven fairy fetters of travelling and straying to be with me before

thou shalt eat food, or drink a draught, or close an eye in sleep."

Having said this, he turned away from them and descended the hillside

the way he ascended it. When he reached the ship he placed his shoulder

against the bow, and put her out. He then leaped into her, and departed

in the direction he came until they lost sight of him.

Finn was now under great heaviness of mind, because the vows had been

laid on him, and he must fulfil them or travel onwards until he would

die. He knew not whither he should go, or what he should do. But he

left farewell with his men, and descended the hillside to the seaside.

When he reached that he could not go farther on the way in which he saw

the Big Young Hero depart. He therefore began to walk along the shore,

but before he had gone very far forward, he saw a company of seven men

coming to meet him.

When he reached the men he asked the first of them what was he good at?

The man answered that he was a good Carpenter. Finn asked him how good

was he at carpentry? The man said that, with three strokes of his ax,

he could make a large, capacious, complete ship of the alder stock over

yonder. "Thou art good enough," said Finn; "thou mayest pass by." He

then asked of the second man what was he good at? The man said that he

was a good Tracker. "How good art thou?" said Finn. "I can track the

wild duck over the crests of the nine waves within nine days," said the

man. "Thou art good enough," said Finn; "thou mayest pass by."

Then he said to the third man, "What art thou good at?" The man replied

that he was a good Gripper. "How good art thou?" "The hold I get I will

not let go until my two arms come from my shoulders, or until my hold

comes with me." "Thou art good enough; thou mayest pass by."

Then he said to the fourth man, "What art thou good at?" He answered

that he was a good Climber. "How good art thou?" "I can climb on a

filament of silk to the stars, although thou wert to tie it there."

"Thou art good enough; thou mayest pass by."

He then said to the fifth man, "What art thou good at?" He answered

that he was a good Listener. "How good art thou?" He said that he could

hear what people were saying at the extremity of the Uttermost World.

"Thou art good enough; thou mayest pass by."

He asked of the sixth man, "What art thou good at?" He replied that he

was a good Thief. "How good art thou?" "I can steal the egg from the

heron while her two eyes are looking at me." "Thou art good enough;

thou mayest pass by."

Then he said to the seventh man, "What art thou good at?" He replied

that he was a good Marksman. "How good art thou?" "I could hit an egg

as far away in the sky as bowstring could send or bow could carry."

"Thou art good enough; thou mayest pass by."

All this gave Finn great encouragement. He turned round and said to

the Carpenter, "Prove thy skill." The Carpenter went where the stock

was, and struck it with his ax thrice; and as he had said, the ship was

ready.

When Finn saw the ship ready he ordered his men to put her out. They

did that and went on board of her.

Finn now ordered the Tracker to go to the bow and prove himself. At

the same time he told him that yesterday a Big Young Hero left yonder

haven in his ship, and that he wanted to follow the Hero to the place

in which he now was. Finn himself went to steer the ship, and they

departed. The Tracker was telling him to keep her that way or to keep

her this way. They sailed a long time forward without seeing land,

but they kept on their course until the evening was approaching. In

the gloaming they noticed that land was ahead of them, and they made

straight for it. When they reached the shore they leaped to land, and

drew up the ship.

Then they noticed a large fine house in the glen above the beach. They

took their way up to the house; and when they were nearing it they saw

the Big Young Hero coming to meet them. He ran and placed his two arms

about Finn's neck and said, "Darling of all men in the world, hast thou

come?"

"If I had been thy darling of all the men in the world, it is not as

thou didst leave me that thou wouldst have left me," said Finn.

"Oh, it was not without a way of coming I left thee," said the Big

Young Hero. "Did I not send a company of seven men to meet thee?"

When they reached the house, the Big Young Hero told Finn and his men

to go in. They accepted the invitation and found abundance of meat and

drink.

After they had quenched their hunger and thirst, the Big Young Hero

came in where they were, and said to Finn, "Six years from this night

my wife was in child-bed, and a child was born to me. As soon as the

child came into the world, a large Hand came in at the chimney, and

took the child with it in the hollow of the hand. Three years from

this night the same thing happened. And tonight she is going to be in

child-bed again. It was told me that thou wert the only man in the

world who could keep my children for me, and now I have courage since I

have found thee."

Finn and his men were tired and sleepy. Finn said to the men that they

were to stretch themselves on the floor, and that he was going to keep

watch. They did as they were told, and he remained sitting beside the

fire. At last sleep began to come upon him; but he had a bar of iron

in the fire, and as often as his eyes would begin to close with sleep,

he would thrust the iron through the bone of his palm, and that was

keeping him awake. About midnight the woman was delivered; and as soon

as the child came into the world the Hand came in at the chimney. Finn

called on the Gripper to get up.

The Gripper sprang quickly on his feet, and laid hold of the Hand. He

gave a pull on the Hand, and took it in to the eye-brows at the chimney.

The Hand gave a pull on the Gripper, and took him out to the top of his

two shoulders. The Gripper gave another pull on the Hand, and brought

it in to the neck. The Hand gave a pull on the Gripper, and brought

him out to the very middle. The Gripper gave a pull on the Hand, and

took it in over the two armpits. The Hand gave a pull on the Gripper,

and took him out to the smalls of his two feet. Then the Gripper gave

a brave pull on the Hand and it came out of the shoulder. And when it

fell on the floor the pulling of seven geldings was in it. But the big

Giant outside put in the other hand, and took the child with him in the

hollow of his hand.

They were all very sorry that they lost the child. But Finn said, "We

will not yield to this yet. I and my men will go away after the Hand

before a sun shall rise on a dwelling tomorrow."

At break of dawn Finn and his men turned out, and reached the beach,

where they had left the ship.

They launched the ship and leaped on board of her. The Tracker went to

the bow, and Finn went to steer her. They departed, and now and again

the Tracker would cry to Finn to keep her in that direction, or to

keep her in this direction. They sailed onward a long distance without

seeing anything before them, except the great sea. At the going down

of the sun, Finn noticed a black spot in the ocean ahead of them. He

thought it too little for an island, and too large for a bird, but he

made straight for it. In the darkening of the night they reached it;

and it was a rock, and a Castle thatched with eel-skins was on its top.

They landed on the rock. They looked about the Castle, but they saw

neither window nor door at which they could get in. At last they

noticed that it was on the roof the door was. They did not know how

they could get up, because the thatch was so slippery. But the Climber

cried, "Let me over, and I will not be long in climbing it." He sprang

quickly towards the Castle, and in an instant was on its roof. He

looked in at the door, and after taking particular notice of everything

that he saw, he descended where the rest were waiting.

Finn asked of him, what did he see? He said that he saw a Big Giant

lying on a bed, a silk covering over him and a satin covering under

him, and his hand stretched out and an infant asleep in the hollow

of his hand; that he saw two boys on the floor playing with shinties

(shinny-sticks) of gold and a ball of silver; and that there was a very

large deer-hound bitch lying beside the fire, and two pups sucking her.

Then said Finn, "I do not know how we shall get them out." The Thief

answered and said, "If I get in I will not be long putting them out."

The Climber said, "Come on my back and I will take thee up to the

door." The Thief did as he was told, and got into the Castle.

Instantly he began to prove his skill. The first thing he put out was

the child that was in the cup of the Hand. He then put out the two boys

that were playing on the floor. He then stole the silk covering that

was over the Giant, and the satin covering that was under him, and put

them out. Then he put out the shinties of gold and the ball of silver.

He then stole the two pups that were sucking the bitch beside the fire.

These were the most valuable things which he saw inside. He left the

Giant asleep, and turned out.

They placed the things which the Thief stole in the ship, and departed.

They were but a short time sailing when the Listener stood up and said,

"'Tis I who am hearing him, 'tis I who am listening to him."

"What art thou hearing?" asked Finn.

"He has just awakened," said the Listener, "and missed everything that

was stolen from him. He is in great wrath, sending away the Bitch, and

saying to her that if she will not go that he will go himself. But it

is the Bitch that is going."

In a short time they looked behind them, and saw the Bitch coming

swimming. She was cleaving the sea on each side of her in red sparks of

fire. They were seized with fear, and said that they did not know what

they should do. But Finn considered, and then told them to throw out

one of the pups; perhaps when she would see the pup drowning she would

return with it. They threw out the pup, and, as Finn said, it happened:

the Bitch returned with the pup. This left them at the time pleased.

But shortly after that the Listener arose trembling, and said, "'Tis I

who am hearing him; 'tis I who am listening to him!"

"What art thou saying now?" said Finn.

"He is again sending away the Bitch, and since she will not go he is

coming himself."

When they heard this their eye was always behind them. At last they saw

him coming, and the great sea reached not beyond his haunches. They

were seized with fear and great horror, for they knew not what they

should do. But Finn thought of his knowledge-set of teeth, and having

put his finger under it, found out that the Giant was immortal, except

in a mole which was in the hollow of his palm. The Marksman then stood

up and said, "If I get one look of it I will have him."

The Giant came walking forward through the sea to the side of the ship.

Then he lifted up his hand to seize the top of the mast, in order to

sink the ship. But when the Hand was on high the Marksman noticed the

mole, and he let an arrow off in its direction. The arrow struck the

Giant in the death-spot, and he fell dead on the sea.

They were now very happy, for there was nothing more before them to

make them afraid. They put about, and sailed back to the castle. The

Thief stole the pup again, and they took it with them along with the

one they had. After that they returned to the place of the Big Young

Hero. When they reached the haven they leaped on land, and drew the

ship up on dry ground.

Then Finn went away with the family of the Big Young Hero and with

everything which he and his men took out of the Castle to the fine

house of the Big Young Hero.

The Big Young Hero met him coming, and when he saw his children he went

on his two knees to Finn, and said, "What now is thy reward?" Finn

answered and said that he was asking nothing but his choice of the two

pups which they took from the Castle. The Big Young Hero said that

he would get that and a great deal more if he would ask it. But Finn

wanted nothing except the pup. This pup was Bran, and his brother, that

the Big Young Hero got, was the Grey Dog.

The Big Young Hero took Finn and his men into his house, and made for

them a great, joyous, merry feast, which was kept up for a day and a

year, and if the last day was not the best, it was not the worst.

That is how Finn kept his children for the Big Young Hero of the Ship,

and how Bran was found.

Many and marvellous were the further deeds of Finn MacCumhal and of his

incomparable dog Bran; and they are duly recorded in the "Book of the

Dun Cow," and the "Book of Leinster," and "The Cualnge Cattle-raid,"

that all who will may know of them.

CHAPTER XIX

THE GIANT WHO HAD NO HEART IN HIS BODY

NORSE

Once on a time there was a King who had seven sons, and he loved them

so much that he could never bear to be without them all at once, but

one must be always with him. Now when they were grown up, six were to

set off to woo, but as for the youngest his father kept him at home,

and the others were to bring back a princess for him to the palace.

So the King gave the six the finest clothes you ever set eyes on, so

fine that the light gleamed from them a long way off, and each had his

horse, which cost many, many hundred dollars, and so they set off. Now,

when they had been to many palaces, and seen many princesses, at last

they came to a king who had six daughters; such lovely king's daughters

they had never seen, and so they fell to wooing them, each one, and

when they had got them for sweethearts they set off home again, but

they quite forgot that they were to bring back with them a sweetheart

for Boots, their brother who had stayed at home, for they were over

head and ears in love with their own sweethearts.

But when they had gone a good bit on their way they passed close by a

steep hillside, like a wall, where the giant's house was, and there

the giant came out, and set his eyes upon them, and turned them all

into stone, princes and princesses and all. Now the King waited and

waited for his six sons, but the more he waited the longer they stayed

away; so he fell into great trouble and said he should never know what

it was to be glad again.

"And if I had not you left," he said to Boots, "I would live no longer,

so full of sorrow am I for the loss of your brothers."

"Well, but now I've been thinking to ask your leave to set out and find

them again; that's what I've been thinking of," said Boots.

"Nay, nay!" said his father; "that leave you shall never get, for then

you would stay away, too."

But Boots had set his heart upon it; go he would; and he begged

and prayed so long that the King was forced to let him go. Now you

must know that the King had no other horse to give Boots but an old

broken-down jade, for his six other sons and their train had carried

off all his horses; but Boots did not care a pin for that, he sprang up

on his sorry old steed.

"Farewell, father," said he; "I'll come back, never fear, and like

enough I shall bring my six brothers back with me"; and with that he

rode off.

So, when he had ridden a while he came to a Raven, which lay in the

road and flapped its wings, and was not able to get out of the way, it

was so starved.

"Oh, dear friend," said the Raven, "give me a little food and I'll help

you again at your utmost need."

"I haven't much food," said the Prince, "and I don't see how you'll

ever be able to help me much; but still I can spare you a little. I see

you want it."

So he gave the Raven some of the food he had brought with him.

Now when he had gone a bit further he came to a brook, and in the brook

lay a great Salmon, which had got upon a dry place, and dashed itself

about, and could not get into the water again.

"Oh, dear friend," said the Salmon to the Prince, "shove me out into

the water again, and I'll help you again at your utmost need."

"Well!" said the Prince, "the help you'll give me will not be great,

I dare say, but it's a pity you should lie there and choke"; and with

that he shot the fish out into the stream again.

After that he went a long, long way, and there met him a Wolf, which

was so famished that it lay and crawled along the road on its belly.

"Dear friend, do let me have your horse," said the Wolf, "I'm so hungry

the wind whistles through my ribs. I've had nothing to eat these two

years." "No," said Boots, "this will never do; first I came to a raven,

and I was forced to give him my food; next I came to a salmon, and him

I had to help into the water again; and now you will have my horse. It

can't be done, that it can't, for then I should have nothing to ride

on."

"Nay, dear friend, but you can help me," said Graylegs the wolf. "You

can ride upon my back, and I'll help you again at your utmost need."

So when the wolf had eaten the horse, Boots took the bit and put it

into the wolf's jaw, and laid the saddle on his back; and now the wolf

was so strong, after what he had got inside, that he set off with the

Prince like nothing. So fast he had never ridden before.

"When we have gone a bit further," said Graylegs, "I'll show you the

Giant's house."

So after a while they came to it.

"See, here is the Giant's house," said the Wolf; "and see, here are

your six brothers whom the Giant has turned into stone; and see, here

are their six brides, and away yonder is the door, and in at that door

you must go."

"Nay, but I daren't go in," said the Prince; "he'll take my life."

"No! No!" said the Wolf. "When you get in you'll find a Princess, and

she'll tell you what to do to make an end of the Giant. Only mind and

do as she bids you."

Well, Boots went in, but, truth to say, he was very much afraid.

When he came in the Giant was away, but in one of the rooms sat the

Princess, just as the Wolf had said, and so lovely a Princess Boots had

never yet set eyes on.

"Oh! Heaven help you! whence have you come?" said the Princess, as she

saw him. "It will surely be your death. No one can make an end of the

Giant who lives here, for he has no heart in his body."

"Well! Well!" said Boots; "but now that I am here, I may as well try

what I can do with him; and I will see if I can't free my brothers, who

are standing turned to stone out of doors; and you, too, I will try to

save, that I will."

"Well, if you must, you must," said the Princess; "and so let us see if

we can't hit on a plan. Just creep under the bed yonder, and mind and

listen to what he and I talk about. But, pray, do lie still as a mouse."

So he crept under the bed, and he had scarce got well underneath it,

before the Giant came.

"Ha!" roared the Giant, "what a smell of Christian blood there is in

the house."

"Yes, I know there is," said the Princess, "for there came a magpie

flying with a man's bone, and let it fall down the chimney. I made all

the haste I could to get it out, but all one can do, the smell doesn't

go off so soon."

So the Giant said no more about it, and when night came, they went to

bed. After they had laid a while the Princess said:

"There is one thing I'd be so glad to ask you about, if I only dared."

"What thing is that?" asked the Giant.

"Only where it is you keep your heart, since you don't carry it about

with you," said the Princess.

"Ah! that's a thing you have no business to ask about; but if you must

know, it lies under the door-sill," said the Giant.

"Ho! ho!" said Boots to himself under the bed, "then we'll soon see if

we can't find it."

Next morning the Giant got up cruelly early, and strode off to the

wood; but he was hardly out of the house before Boots and the Princess

set to work to look under the door-sill for his heart; but the more

they dug, and the more they hunted, the more they couldn't find it.

"He has balked us this time," said the Princess, "but we'll try him

once more."

So she picked all the prettiest flowers she could find and strewed them

over the door-sill, which they had laid in its right place again, and

when the time came for the Giant to come home again, Boots crept under

the bed. Just as he was well under, back came the Giant.

Snuff-snuff, went the Giant's nose. "My eyes and limbs, what a smell of

Christian blood there is in here," said he.

"I know there is," said the Princess, "for there came a magpie flying

with a man's bone in his bill, and let it fall down the chimney. I made

as much haste as I could to get it out, but I dare say it's that you

smell."

So the Giant held his peace and said no more about it. A little while

after, he asked who it was that had strewed flowers about the door-sill.

"Oh, I, of course," said the Princess.

"And, pray, what's the meaning of all this?" said the Giant.

"Ah!" said the Princess, "I'm so fond of you that I couldn't help

strewing them, when I knew that your heart lay under there."

"You don't say so," said the Giant; "but after all it doesn't lie there

at all."

So when they went to bed again in the evening, the Princess asked the

Giant again where his heart was, for she said she would so like to know.

"Well," said the Giant, "if you must know, it lies away yonder in the

cupboard against the wall."

"So! so!" thought Boots and the Princess; "then we'll soon try to find

it."

Next morning the Giant was away early, and strode off to the wood, and

as soon as he was gone Boots and the Princess were in the cupboard

hunting for his heart. But the more they sought for it, the less they

found it.

"Well," said the Princess, "we'll just try him once more."

So she decked out the cupboard with flowers and garlands, and when the

time came for the Giant to come home, Boots crept under the bed again.

Then back came the Giant.

Snuff-snuff! "My eyes and limbs, what a smell of Christian blood there

is in here!"

"I know there is," said the Princess; "for a little while since there

came a magpie flying with a man's bone in his bill, and let it fall

down the chimney. I made all the haste I could to get it out of the

house again, but after all my pains I dare say it's that you smell."

When the Giant heard that he said no more about it; but a little while

after he saw how the cupboard was all decked about with flowers and

garlands, so he asked who it was that had done that. Who could it be

but the Princess?

"And, pray, what's the meaning of all this tomfoolery?" asked the Giant.

"Oh, I'm so fond of you, I couldn't help doing it when I knew your

heart lay there," said the Princess.

"How can you be so silly as to believe any such thing?" said the Giant.

"Oh, yes; how can I help believing it when you say it?" said the

Princess.

"You're a goose," said the Giant; "where my heart is you will never

come."

"Well," said the Princess, "but for all that, 'twould be such a

pleasure to know where it really lies."

Then the poor Giant could hold out no longer, but was forced to say:

"Far, far away in a lake lies an island; on that island stands a

church; in that church is a well; in that well swims a duck; in that

duck there is an egg, and in that egg there lies my heart--you darling!"

In the morning early, while it was still gray dawn, the Giant strode

off to the wood.

"Yes! now I must set off too," said Boots; "if I only knew how to find

the way." He took a long, long farewell of the Princess, and when he

got out of the Giant's door, there stood the Wolf waiting for him. So

Boots told him all that had happened inside the house and said now he

wished to ride to the well in the church, if he only knew the way. So

the Wolf bade him jump on his back, he'd soon find the way; and away

they went till the wind whistled after them, over hedge and field, over

hill and dale. After they had travelled many, many days, they came to

the lake. Then the Prince did not know how to get over it, but the

Wolf bade him only be not afraid, but stick on, and so he jumped into

the lake with the Prince on his back, and swam over to the island. So

they came to the church; but the church keys hung high, high up on the

top of the tower, and at first the Prince did not know how to get them

down.

"You must call on the Raven," said the Wolf.

So the Prince called on the Raven, and in a trice the Raven came, and

flew up and fetched the keys, and so the Prince got into the church.

But when he came to the well, there lay the duck, and swam about

backwards and forwards, just as the Giant had said. So the Prince stood

and coaxed it and coaxed it, till it came to him, and he grasped it in

his hand; but just as he lifted it up from the water the duck dropped

the egg into the well, and then Boots was beside himself to know how to

get it out again.

"Well, now you must call on the Salmon, to be sure," said the Wolf; and

the king's son called on the Salmon, and the Salmon came and fetched up

the egg from the bottom of the well.

Then the Wolf told him to squeeze the egg, and as soon as ever he

squeezed it, the Giant screamed out.

"Squeeze it again," said the Wolf; and when the Prince did so, the

Giant screamed still more piteously, and begged and prayed so earnestly

to be spared, saying he would do all that the Prince wished if he would

only not squeeze his heart in two.

"Tell him, if he will restore to life again your six brothers and their

brides, whom he has turned to stone, you will spare his life," said

the Wolf. Yes, the Giant was ready to do that, and he turned the six

brothers into king's sons again, and their brides into king's daughters.

"Now, squeeze the egg in two," said the Wolf. So Boots squeezed the egg

to pieces, and the Giant burst at once.

Now, when he had made an end of the Giant, Boots rode back on the Wolf

to the Giant's house, and there stood all his six brothers alive and

merry, with their brides. Then Boots went into the hillside after his

bride, and so they all set off home again to their father's house. And

you may fancy how glad the old king was when he saw all his seven sons

come back, each with his bride.

"But the loveliest bride of all is the bride of Boots, after all," said

the King, "and he shall sit uppermost at the table, with her by his

side."

So he sent out and called a great wedding-feast, and the mirth was both

loud and long; and if they have not done feasting, why, they are still

at it.

CHAPTER XX

THE BITER BIT

SERBIAN[275:1]

[275:1] From "Hero Tales and Legends of the Serbians," by

Vojislav M. Petrovic.

Once upon a time there was an old man who, whenever he heard anyone

complain how many sons he had to care for, always laughed and said, "I

wish that it would please God to give me a hundred sons!"

This he said in jest; as time went on, however, he had, in reality,

neither more nor less than a hundred sons.

He had trouble enough to find different trades for his sons, but when

they were once all started in life they worked diligently and gained

plenty of money. Now, however, came a fresh difficulty. One day the

eldest son came in to his father and said, "My dear father, I think it

is quite time that I should marry."

Hardly had he said these words before the second son came in, saying,

"Dear father, I think it is already time that you were looking out for

a wife for me."

A moment later came in the third son, asking, "Dear father, don't you

think it is high time that you should find me a wife?" In like manner

came the fourth and fifth, until the whole hundred had made a similar

request. All of them wished to marry and desired their father to find

wives for them as soon as he could.

The old man was not a little troubled at these requests; he said,

however, to his sons, "Very well, my sons, _I_ have nothing to say

against your marrying; there is, however, I foresee, one great

difficulty in the way. There are one hundred of you asking for wives,

and I hardly think we can find one hundred marriageable girls in all

the fifteen villages which are in our neighborhood."

To this the sons, however, answered, "Don't be anxious about that, but

mount your horse and take in your sack sufficient engagement cakes. You

must take, also, a stick in your hand so that you can cut a notch in it

for every girl you see. It does not signify whether she be handsome or

ugly, or lame or blind, just cut a notch in your stick for every one

you meet with."

The old man said, "Very wisely spoken, my sons! I will do exactly as

you tell me."

Accordingly he mounted his horse, took a sack full of cakes on his

shoulder and a long stick in his hand, and started off at once to beat

up the neighborhood for girls to marry his sons.

The old man had travelled from village to village during a whole month,

and whenever he had seen a girl he had cut a notch in his stick. But he

was getting pretty well tired, and he began to count how many notches

he had already made. When he had counted them carefully over and

over again, to be certain that he had counted all, he could only make

out seventy-four, so that still twenty-six were wanting to complete

the number required. He was, however, so weary with his month's ride

that he determined to return home. As he rode along, he saw a priest

driving oxen yoked to a plough, and seemingly very deep in anxious

thought about something. Now the old man wondered a little to see the

priest ploughing his own corn-fields without even a boy to help him; he

therefore shouted to ask him why he drove his oxen himself. The priest,

however, did not even turn his head to see who called him, so intent

was he in urging on his oxen and in guiding his plough.

The old man thought he had not spoken loud enough, so he shouted out

again as loud as he could, "Stop your oxen a little, and tell me why

you are ploughing yourself without even a lad to help you, and this,

too, on a holy-day!"

Now the priest--who was in a perspiration with his hard work--answered

testily, "I conjure you by your old age leave me in peace! I cannot

tell you my ill-luck."

At this answer, however, the old man was only the more curious, and

persisted all the more earnestly in asking questions to find out why

the priest ploughed on a saint's day. At last the priest, tired with

his importunity, sighed deeply and said, "Well, if you _will_ know: I

am the only man in my household and God has blessed me with a hundred

daughters!"

The old man was overjoyed at hearing this, and exclaimed cheerfully,

"That's very good! It is just what I want, for I have a hundred sons,

and so, as you have a hundred daughters, we can be friends."

The moment the priest heard this he became pleasant and talkative, and

invited the old man to pass the night in his house. Then, leaving his

plough in the field, he drove the oxen back to the village. Just before

reaching his house, however, he said to the old man, "Go yourself into

the house whilst I tie up my oxen."

No sooner, however, had the old man entered the yard than the wife of

the priest rushed at him with a big stick, crying out, "We have not

bread enough for our hundred daughters, and we want neither beggars nor

visitors," and with these words she drove him away.

Shortly afterwards the priest came out of the barn, and, finding the

old man on the road before the gate, asked him why he had not gone into

the house as he had told him to do. Whereupon the old man replied, "I

went in, but your wife drove me away!"

Then the priest said, "Only wait here a moment till I come back to

fetch you." He then went quickly into his house and scolded his wife

right well, saying, "What have you done? What a fine chance you have

spoiled! The man who came in was going to be our friend, for he has a

hundred sons who would gladly have married our hundred daughters!"

When the wife heard this she changed her dress hastily, and arranged

her hair and head-dress in a different fashion. Then she smiled very

sweetly, and welcomed with the greatest possible politeness the old

man, when her husband led him into the house. In fact, she pretended

that she knew nothing at all of anyone's having been driven away from

their door. And as the old man wanted much to find wives for his sons,

he also pretended that he did not know that the smiling house-mistress

and the woman who drove him away with a stick were one and the

self-same person.

So the old man passed the night in the house, and next morning asked

the priest formally to give him his hundred daughters for wives for

his hundred sons. Thereupon, the priest answered that he was quite

willing, and had already spoken to his daughters about the matter,

and that they, too, were all quite willing. Then the old man took his

engagement-cakes, and put them on the table beside him, and gave each

of the girls a piece of money to _mark_. Then each of the engaged girls

sent a small present by him to that one of his sons to whom she was

thus betrothed. These gifts the old man put in the bag wherein he had

carried the engagement-cakes. He then mounted his horse, and rode off

merrily homewards. There were great rejoicings in his household when

he told how successful he had been in his search, and that he really

had found a hundred girls ready and willing to be married; and these

hundred, too, a priest's daughters.

The sons insisted that they should begin to make the wedding

preparations without delay, and commenced at once to invite the guests

who were to form part of the wedding procession to go to the priest's

house and bring home the brides.

Here another difficulty occurred. The old father must find two hundred

bride-leaders (two for each bride); one hundred kooms (witnesses); one

hundred starisvats; one hundred chaious (running footmen to go before

the procession); and three hundred voivodes (standard-bearers); and,

besides these, a respectable number of other non-official guests.

To find all these persons the father had to hunt throughout the

neighborhood for three years; at last, however, they were all found,

and a day was appointed when they were to meet at his house, and go

thence in procession to the house of the priest.

On the appointed day all the invited guests gathered at the old man's

house. With great noise and confusion, after a fair amount of feasting,

the wedding procession was formed properly, and set out for the house

of the priest, where the hundred brides were already prepared for their

departure for their new home.

So great was the confusion, indeed, that the old man quite forgot to

take with him one of his hundred ones, and never missed him in the

greeting and talking and drinking he was obliged, as father of the

bridegrooms, to go through. Now the young man had worked so long and

so hard in preparing for the wedding-day that he never woke up till

long after the procession had started; and every one had had, like his

father, too much to do and too many things to think of to miss him.

The wedding procession arrived in good order at the priest's house

where a feast was already spread out for them. Having done honor to

the various good things, and having gone through all the ceremonies

usual on such occasions, the hundred brides were given over to their

"leaders," and the procession started on its return to the old man's

house. But, as they did not set off until pretty late in the afternoon,

it was decided that the night should be spent somewhere on the road.

When they came, therefore, to a certain river named "Luckless," as it

was already dark, some of the men proposed that the party should pass

the night by the side of the water without crossing over. However,

some others of the chief of the party so warmly advised the crossing

of the river and encamping on the other bank, that this course was at

length, after a very lively discussion, determined on; accordingly the

procession began to move over the bridge.

Just, however, as the wedding-party were half-way across the bridge,

its two sides began to draw nearer each other, and pressed the people

so close together that they had hardly room to breathe--much less could

they move forwards or backwards.

They were kept for some time in this position, some shouting and

scolding, others quiet because frightened, until at length a black

giant appeared, and shouted to them in a terribly loud voice, "Who are

you all? Where do you come from? Where are you going?"

Some of the bolder among them answered, "We are going to our old

friend's house, taking home the hundred brides for his hundred sons;

but unluckily we ventured on this bridge after nightfall, and it has

pressed us so tightly together that we cannot move one way or the

other."

"And where is your old friend?" inquired the black giant.

Now all the wedding guests turned their eyes towards the old man.

Thereupon he turned towards the giant, who instantly said to him,

"Listen, old man! Will you give me what you have forgotten at home, if

I let your friends pass over the bridge?"

The old man considered some time what it might be he had forgotten at

home, but at last, not being able to recollect anything in particular

that he had left, and hearing on all sides the groans and moans of his

guests, he replied, "Well, I will give it to you, if you will only let

the procession pass over."

Then the black giant said to the party, "You all hear what he has

promised, and are all my witnesses to the bargain. In three days I

shall come to fetch what I have bargained for."

Having said this, the black giant widened the bridge and the whole

procession passed on to the other bank in safety. The people, however,

no longer wished to spend the night on the way, so they moved on as

fast as they could, and early in the morning reached the old man's

house.

As everybody talked of the strange adventure they had met with, the

eldest son, who had been left at home, soon began to understand how the

matter stood, and went to his father saying, "O my father! you have

sold _me_ to the black giant!"

Then the old man was very sorry, and troubled; but his friends

comforted him, saying, "Don't be frightened! Nothing will come of it."

The marriage ceremonies were celebrated with great rejoicings. Just,

however, as the festivities were at their height, on the third day, the

black giant appeared at the gate and shouted, "Now, give me at once

what you have promised."

The old man, trembling all over, went forward and asked him, "What do

you want?"

"Nothing but what you have promised me!" returned the black giant.

As he could not break his promise, the old man, very distressed, was

then obliged to deliver up his eldest son to the giant, who thereupon

said, "Now I shall take your son with me, but after three years have

passed you can come to the Luckless River and take him away."

Having said this the black giant disappeared, taking with him the young

man, whom he carried off to his workshop as an apprentice to the trade

of witchcraft.

From that time the poor old man had not a single moment of happiness.

He was always sad and anxious, and counted every year, and every month,

and week, and even every day, until the dawn of the last day of the

three years. Then he took a staff in his hand and hurried off to the

bank of the river Luckless. As soon as he reached the river he was met

by the black giant, who asked him, "Why are you come?" The old man

answered that he came to take home his son according to his agreement.

Thereupon the giant brought out a tray on which stood a sparrow, a

turtle-dove, and a quail, and said to the old man, "Now, if you can

tell which of these is your son, you may take him away."

The poor old father looked intently at the three birds, one after the

other, and over and over again, but at last he was forced to own that

he could not tell which of them was his son. So he was obliged to go

away by himself, and was far more miserable than before. He had hardly,

however, got half-way home when he thought he would go back to the

river and take one of the birds which he remembered had looked at him

intently.

When he reached the river Luckless he was again met by the black giant,

who brought out the tray again, and placed on it this time a partridge,

a tit-mouse and a thrush, saying, "Now, my old man, find out which is

your son!"

The anxious father again looked at one bird after the other, but he

felt more uncertain than before, and so, crying bitterly, again went

away.

Just as the old man was going through a forest, which was between the

river Luckless and his house, an old woman met him and said, "Stop a

moment! Where are you hurrying to? And why are you in such trouble?"

Now, the old man was so deeply musing over his great unhappiness that

he did not at first attend to the old woman; but she followed him,

calling after him, and repeating her questions with more earnestness.

So he stopped at last, and told her what a terrible misfortune had

fallen upon him. When the old woman had listened to the whole story,

she said cheerfully, "Don't be cast down! Don't be afraid. Go back

again to the river, and, when the giant brings out the three birds,

look into their eyes sharply. When you see that one of the birds has a

tear in one of its eyes, seize that bird and hold it fast, for it has a

human soul."

The old man thanked her heartily for her advice, and turned back, for

the third time, towards the Luckless River. Again the black giant

appeared, and looked very merry whilst he brought out his tray and put

upon it a sparrow, a dove, and a woodpecker, saying, "My old man! find

out which is your son!" Then the father looked sharply into the eyes of

the birds, and saw that from the right eye of the dove a tear dropped

slowly down. In a moment he grasped the bird tightly, saying, "This is

my son!" The next moment he found himself holding fast his eldest son

by the shoulder, and so, singing and shouting in his great joy, took

him quickly home, and gave him over to his eldest daughter-in-law, the

wife of his son.

Now for some time they all lived together very happily. One day,

however, the young man said to his father, "Whilst I was apprenticed

in the workshop of the black giant, I learned a great many tricks of

witchcraft. Now I intend to change myself into a fine horse, and you

shall take me to market and sell me for a good sum of money. But be

sure not to give up the halter."

The father did as the son had said. Next market day he went to the

city with a fine horse which he offered for sale. Many buyers came

round him, admiring the horse, and bidding for it, so that at last the

old man was able to sell it for two thousand ducats. When he received

the money he took good care not to let go the halter, and he returned

home far richer than he ever dreamt of being.

A few days later, the man who had bought the horse sent his servant

with it to the river to bathe, and, whilst in the water, the horse got

loose from the servant and galloped off into the neighboring forest.

There he changed himself back into his real shape, and returned to his

father's house.

After some time had passed, the young man said one day to his father,

"Now I will change myself into an ox, and you can take me to market to

sell me; but take care not to give up the rope with which you lead me."

So next market-day the old man went to the city leading a very fine ox,

and soon found a buyer who offered ten times the usual price paid for

an ox. The buyer asked also for the rope to lead the animal home, but

the old man said, "What do you want with such an old thing? You had

better buy a new one!" and he went off taking with him the rope.

That evening, whilst the servants of the buyer were driving the ox to

the field, he ran away into a wood near, and having taken there his

human shape, returned home to his father's house.

On the eve of the next market-day, the young man said to his father:

"Now I will change myself into a cow with golden horns, and you can

sell me as before, only take care not to give up the string."

Accordingly he changed himself next morning into a cow, and the old man

took it to the market-place, and asked for it three hundred crowns.

But the black giant had learned that his former apprentice was making

a great deal of money by practicing the trade he had taught him, and,

being jealous at this, he determined to put an end to the young man's

gains.

Therefore on the third day he came to the market himself as a buyer,

and the moment he saw the beautiful cow with the golden horns he knew

that it could be no other than his former apprentice. So he came up to

the old man, and, having outbid all the other would-be purchasers, paid

at once the price he had agreed on. Having done this, he caught the

string in his hand, and tried to wrench it from the terrified old man,

who called out, "I have not sold you the string, but the cow!" and held

the string as fast as he could with both hands.

"Oh, no!" said the buyer, "I have the law and custom on my side.

Whoever buys a cow, buys also the string with which it is led!" Some

of the amused and astonished lookers-on said that this was quite true,

therefore the old man was obliged to give up the string.

The black giant, well satisfied with his purchase, took the cow with

him to his castle, and, after having put iron chains on her legs,

fastened her in a cellar. Every morning the giant gave the cow some

water and hay, but he never unchained her.

One evening, however, the cow, with incessant struggles, managed to get

free from the chains, and immediately opened the cellar-door with her

horns and ran away.

Next morning the black giant went as usual into the cellar, carrying

the hay and water for the cow; but seeing she had got free and run

away, he threw the hay down, and started off at once to pursue her.

When he came within sight of her he turned himself into a wolf and

ran at her with great fury; but his clever apprentice changed himself

instantly from a cow into a bear, whereupon the giant turned himself

from a wolf into a lion; the bear then turned into a tiger, and the

lion changed into a crocodile, whereupon the tiger turned into a

sparrow. Upon this the giant changed from the form of a crocodile into

a hawk, and the apprentice immediately changed into a hare; on seeing

which the hawk became a greyhound. Then the apprentice changed from

a hare into a falcon, and the greyhound into an eagle; whereupon the

apprentice changed into a fish. The giant then turned from an eagle

into a mouse, and immediately the apprentice, as a cat, ran after him;

then the giant turned himself into a heap of millet, and the apprentice

transformed himself into a hen and chickens, which very greedily picked

up all the millet, except one single seed, in which the master was, who

changed himself into a squirrel; instantly, however, the apprentice

became a hawk, and, pouncing on the squirrel, killed it.

In this way the apprentice beat his master, the black giant, and

revenged himself for all the sufferings he had endured whilst learning

the trade of witchcraft.

Having killed the squirrel, the hawk took his proper shape again, and

the young man returned joyfully to his father, whom he made immensely

rich.

CHAPTER XXI

THE PEACH'S SON

JAPANESE[290:1]

[290:1] From "Myths and Legends of Japan," by F. Hadland

Davis.

One day, while an old woman stood by a stream washing her clothes, she

chanced to see an enormous peach floating on the water. It was quite

the largest she had ever seen, and as this old woman and her husband

were extremely poor she immediately thought what an excellent meal this

extraordinary peach would make. As she could find no stick with which

to draw the fruit to the bank, she suddenly remembered the following

verse:

Distant water is bitter,

The near water is sweet;

Pass by the distant water

And come into the sweet.

This little song had the desired effect. The peach came nearer and

nearer till it stopped at the old woman's feet. She stooped down

and picked it up. So delighted was she with her discovery that she

could not stay to do any more washing, but hurried home as quickly as

possible.

When her husband arrived in the evening, with a bundle of grass upon

his back, the old woman excitedly took the peach out of a cupboard and

showed it to him.

The old man, who was tired and hungry, was equally delighted at the

thought of so delicious a meal. He speedily brought a knife and was

about to cut the fruit open, when it suddenly opened of its own accord,

and the prettiest child imaginable tumbled out with a merry laugh.

"Don't be afraid," said the little fellow. "The Gods have heard how

much you desired a child, and have sent me to be a solace and a comfort

in your old age."

The old couple were so overcome with joy that they scarcely knew what

to do with themselves. Each in turn nursed the child, caressed him, and

murmured many sweet and affectionate words. They called him Momotaro,

or "Son of a Peach."

When Momotaro was fifteen years old, he was a lad far taller and

stronger than boys of his own age. The making of a great hero stirred

in his veins, and it was a knightly heroism that desired to right the

wrong.

One day Momotaro came to his foster-father and asked him if he

would allow him to take a long journey to a certain island in the

North-eastern Sea where dwelt a number of ogres,[291:1] who had

captured a great company of innocent people, many of whom they ate.

Their wickedness was beyond description, and Momotaro desired to kill

them, rescue the unfortunate captives, and bring back the plunder of

the island that he might share it with his foster-parents.

[291:1] The author calls them "devils," but in other versions

of this well-known tale they are man-eating giants.

The old man was not a little surprised to hear this daring scheme. He

knew that Momotaro was no common child. He had been sent from heaven,

and he believed that all the ogres and demons could not harm him. So at

length the old man gave his consent, saying: "Go, Momotaro, slay the

ogres and bring peace to the land."

When the old woman had given Momotaro a number of rice-cakes the youth

bade his foster-parents farewell, and started out upon his journey.

While Momotaro was resting under a hedge eating one of the rice-cakes,

a great dog came up to him, growled, and showed his teeth. The dog,

moreover, could speak, and threateningly begged that Momotaro would

give him a cake. "Either you give me a cake," said he, "or I will kill

you!"

When, however, the dog heard that the famous Momotaro stood before

him, his tail dropped between his legs, and he bowed with head to the

ground, requesting that he might follow "Son of a Peach," and render to

him all the service that lay in his power.

Momotaro readily accepted this offer, and after throwing the dog half a

cake they proceeded on their way.

They had not gone far when they encountered a monkey, who also begged

to be admitted to Momotaro's service. This was granted, but it was some

time before the dog and the monkey ceased snapping at each other and

became good friends.

Proceeding upon their journey, they came across a pheasant. Now the

innate jealousy of the dog was again awakened, and he ran forward

and tried to kill the bright-plumed creature. Momotaro separated the

combatants, and in the end the pheasant was also admitted to the little

band, walking decorously in the rear.

At length Momotaro and his followers reached the shore of the

North-eastern Sea. Here our hero discovered a boat, and after a good

deal of timidity on the part of the dog, monkey and pheasant, they all

got aboard, and soon the little vessel was spinning away over the blue

sea.

After many days upon the ocean they sighted an island. Momotaro bade

the bird fly off, a winged herald to announce his coming, and bid the

ogres surrender.

The pheasant flew over the sea and alighted on the roof of a great

castle and shouted his stirring message, adding that the ogres, as a

sign of submission, should break their horns.

The ogres only laughed and shook their horns and shaggy red hair. Then

they brought forth iron bars and hurled them furiously at the bird. The

pheasant cleverly evaded the missiles, and flew at the heads of many

ogres.

In the meantime Momotaro had landed with his two companions. He had no

sooner done so than he saw two beautiful damsels weeping by a stream,

as they wrung out blood-soaked garments.

"Oh!" said they pitifully, "we are daughters of _daimyos_, and are now

the captives of the Demon King of this dreadful island. Soon he will

kill us, and alas! there is no one to come to our aid." Having made

these plaints the women wept anew.

"Ladies," said Momotaro, "I have come for the purpose of slaying your

wicked enemies. Show me a way into yonder castle."

So Momotaro, the dog, and the monkey entered through a small door in

the castle. Once inside this fortification, they fought tenaciously.

Many of the ogres were so frightened that they fell off the parapets

and were dashed to pieces, while others were speedily killed by

Momotaro and his companions. All were destroyed except the King, and he

resolved to surrender, and begged that his life might be spared.

"No," said Momotaro fiercely. "I will not spare your wicked life. You

have tortured many innocent people and robbed the country for many

years."

Having said these words he gave the Demon King into the monkey's

keeping, and then proceeded through all the rooms of the castle, and

set free the numerous prisoners he found there. He also gathered

together much treasure.

The return journey was a very joyous affair indeed. The dog and the

pheasant carried the treasure between them, while Momotaro led the

Demon King.

Momotaro restored the two daughters of _daimyos_ to their homes,

and many others who had been captives on the island. The whole

country rejoiced in his victory, but no one more than Momotaro's

foster-parents, who ended their days in peace and plenty, thanks to the

great treasure of the ogres which Momotaro bestowed upon them.

CHAPTER XXII

THE MAN WHO LOST HIS LEGS

KOREAN[295:1]

[295:1] From "Korean Folk Tales," by Im Bang and Yi Ryuk.

Translated by James S. Gale.

There was a merchant in Chong-ju who used to go to Quelpart to buy

seaweed. One time when he drew upon the shore he saw a man shuffling

along on the ground towards the boat. He crept nearer, and at last took

hold of the side with both his hands and pulled himself in.

"When I looked at him," said the merchant, "I found he was an old man

without any legs. Astonished, I asked, saying, 'How is it, old man,

that you have lost your legs?'

"He said in reply, 'I lost my legs on a trip once when I was

shipwrecked, and a great fish bit them off.'"

"However did that happen?" inquired the merchant.

And the old man said:

"We were caught in a gale and driven till we touched on some island or

other. Before us on the shore stood a high castle with a great gateway.

The twenty or so of us who were together in the storm-tossed boat were

all exhausted from cold and hunger, and lying exposed. We landed and

managed to go together to the castle.

"There was in it one man only, whose height was terrible to behold, and

whose chest was many spans round. His face was black and his eyes large

and rolling. His voice was like the braying of a monster donkey.

"Our people made motions showing that they wanted something to eat. The

man made no reply, but securely fastened the front gate. After this

he brought an armful of wood, put it in the middle of the courtyard,

and there made a fire. When the fire blazed up he rushed after us and

caught a young lad, one of our company, cooked him before our eyes,

pulled him to pieces and ate him. We were all reduced to a state of

horror, not knowing what to do. We gazed at each other in dismay and

stupefaction.

"When he had eaten his fill, he went up into a verandah and opened a

jar, from which he drank some kind of spirit. After drinking it he

uttered the most gruesome and awful noises; his face grew very red

and he lay down and slept. His snorings were like the roarings of the

thunder.

"We planned then to make our escape, and so tried to open the great

gate; but one leaf was about twenty-four feet across, and so thick and

heavy that with all our strength we could not move it. The walls, too,

were a hundred and fifty feet high, and so we could do nothing with

them. We were like fish in a pot--beyond all possible way of escape. We

held each other's hands and cried.

"Among us one man thought of this plan: We had a knife and he took it,

and while the monster was drunk and asleep, decided to stab his eyes

out, and cut his throat. We said in reply, 'We are all doomed to death

anyway; let's try'; and we made our way up on the verandah and stabbed

his eyes. He gave an awful roar, and struck out on all sides to catch

us. We rushed here and there, making our escape out of the court back

into the rear garden. There were in this enclosure pigs and sheep,

about sixty of them in all. There we rushed, in among the pigs and

sheep.

"He floundered about, waving his two arms after us, but not one of us

did he get hold of; we were all mixed up--sheep, pigs, and people. When

he did catch anything it was a sheep; and when it was not a sheep it

was a pig. So he opened the front gate to send all the animals out.

"We then each of us took a pig or sheep on the back and made straight

for the gate. The monster felt each, and finding it a pig or a sheep,

let it go. Then we all got out and rushed for the boat.

"A little later he came and sat on the bank and roared his threatenings

at us. A lot of other giants came at his call. They took steps of

thirty feet or so, came racing after us, caught the boat and made it

fast; but we took axes and struck at the hands that held it, and so got

free at last and out to the open sea.

"Again a great wind arose, and we ran on to the rocks and were all

destroyed. Every one was engulfed in the sea and drowned; I alone got

hold of a piece of boat-timber and lived. Then there was a horrible

fish from the sea that came swimming after me and bit off my legs. At

last I drifted back home and here I am.

"When I think of it still, my teeth are cold and my bones shiver. My

Eight Lucky Stars are very bad, that's why it happened to me."

CHAPTER XXIII

THE STONE GIANTESS

NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN[299:1]

[299:1] From "The Myths of the North American Indians," by

Lewis Spence.

In bygone times it was customary for a hunter's squaw to accompany her

husband when he sought the chase. A dutiful wife on these occasions

would carry home the game killed by the hunter and dress and cook it

for him.

There was once a chief among the Iroquois who was a very skilful

hunter. In all his expeditions his wife was his companion and helper.

On one excursion he found such large quantities of game that he built a

wigwam at the place, and settled there for some time with his wife and

child.

One day he struck out on a new track, while his wife followed the path

they had taken on the previous day, in order to gather the game killed

then. As the woman turned her steps homeward after a hard day's work

she heard the sound of another woman's voice inside the hut. Filled

with surprise she entered, but found to her consternation that her

visitor was no other than a Stone Giantess.

(The Stone Giants were a strange and terrible race, whose bodies were

all fashioned of solid stone; they once attacked the Iroquois, meaning

to exterminate them completely, but were defeated with the help of the

West Wind.)

To add to her alarm, she saw that the creature had in her arms the

chief's baby. While the mother stood in the doorway, wondering how she

could rescue her child from the clutches of the giantess, the latter

said in a gentle and soothing voice: "Do not be afraid; come inside."

The hunter's wife hesitated no longer, but boldly entered the wigwam.

Once inside, her fear changed to pity, for the giantess was evidently

much worn with trouble and fatigue. She told the hunter's wife, who

was kindly and sympathetic, how she had travelled from the land of the

Stone Giants, fleeing from her cruel husband, who had sought to kill

her, and how she had finally taken shelter in the solitary wigwam. She

besought the young woman to let her remain for a while, promising to

assist her in her daily tasks. She also said she was very hungry, but

warned her hostess that she must be exceedingly careful about the food

she gave her. It must not be raw or at all underdone, for if once she

tasted blood she might wish to kill the hunter and his wife and child.

So the wife prepared some food for her, taking care it was thoroughly

cooked, and the two sat down to dine together. The Stone Giantess knew

that the woman was in the habit of carrying home the game, and she now

declared she would do it in her stead. Moreover, she said she already

knew where it was to be found, and insisted on setting out for it at

once. She very shortly returned, bearing in one hand a load of game

which four men could scarcely have carried, and the woman recognized in

her a very valuable assistant.

The time of the hunter's return drew near, and the Stone Giantess bade

the woman go out and meet her husband and tell him of her visitor. The

man was very well pleased to learn how the newcomer had helped his

wife, and he gave her a hearty welcome. In the morning he went out

hunting as usual. When he had disappeared from sight in the forest, the

giantess turned quickly to the woman and said:

"I have a secret to tell you. My cruel husband is after me, and in

three days he will arrive here. On the third day your husband must

remain at home and help me to slay him."

When the third day came round the hunter remained at home, obedient to

the instructions of his guest.

"Now," said the giantess at last, "I hear him coming. You must both

help me to hold him. Strike him where I bid you, and we shall certainly

kill him."

The hunter and his wife were seized with terror when a great commotion

outside announced the arrival of the Stone Giant, but the firmness

and courage of the giantess reassured them, and with something like

calmness they awaited the monster's approach. Directly he came in

sight, the giantess rushed forward, grappled with him, and threw him to

the ground.

"Strike him on the arms!" she cried to the others. "Now on the nape of

the neck!"

The trembling couple obeyed, and very shortly they had succeeded in

killing the huge creature.

"I will go and bury him," said the giantess. And that was the end of

the Stone Giant.

The strange guest stayed on in the wigwam till the time came for the

hunter and his family to go back to the settlement, when she announced

her intention of returning to her own people.

"My husband is dead," said she; "I have no longer anything to fear."

Thus, having bid them farewell, she departed.

PART IV

SOME REAL GIANTS, _and_ WHAT SCIENCE HAS LEARNED ABOUT THEM

_Giant gods and demigods loom large in the myths of every land--in

India, China and Arabia, as well as Greece and Scandinavaia. Many

records follow of "real" giants, during the seven or eight thousand

years since the first flashes of history. But it needs to be stated at

once that here, as in many other matters, exactness of facts is a very

modern quality._

_Thus, when Pliny tells us that Gabbara, whom the Emperor Claudius

brought from Arabia, was nine feet, nine inches tall, we can only be

sure that he was probably the largest human being in Rome at that time.

And a suspicious number of these early tall men were seen through the

mist of reverence due to kingly station and power._

_A notable company these king-giants would make: Sesochris of Egypt,

perhaps 4000 B. C., who "passed for a giant"; King Saul, the gigantic

youth of the tribe of Benjamin chosen by lot to reign over Israel;

Maximinus, Thracian shepherd, fierce gladiator, and then savage Emperor

of Rome, who, Capitolinus declares, was over eight feet tall, wore his

wife's bracelet for a finger-ring, could break a horse's jaw with his

fist or outpull a chariot team, and was in the habit of draining a

six gallon amphora of wine and consuming forty pounds of meat a day;

Harold Hardrada, Viking rover, Mediterranean conqueror, and King of

Norway, whose height was "five ells" (ten feet!); Emperor Maximilian of

Germany, and many another._

_A regiment of formidable warriors would follow these rulers, such as

the huge grenadiers of King Frederick William of Prussia and of Peter

the Great. The Elector of Brandenburg, too, had in the 16th Century a

famous soldier named Michel, reputed to be eight feet tall--a worthy

descendant of that giant Swabian, Ænother, renowned in the army of

Charlemagne, who swam rushing rivers dragging his horse after him,

looked down upon his enemies as "little frogs," and would spit several

at once like birds on his weapon._

_Frederick William developed a theory that he could establish a new

race of physical marvels by intermarrying his huge guards with women of

phenomenal size, and he used to busy himself greatly over such matches._

_He had little success. The giant as a fighter passed swiftly away

before cannon, muskets and pistols. It was not long before he was

merely a prodigy to draw the curious crowd._

CHAPTER XXIV

SOME REAL GIANTS

Let us agree, arbitrarily, that people of from six to seven feet in

height are only very tall men, but that those who exceed the seven-foot

mark may fairly be called giants. During the last two hundred years

there have been over a hundred men and women, figuring in the public

eye, who have exceeded seven feet. Probably twenty-five of these

have had a height of eight feet or over. In spite of statements in

advertisements and handbills and newspapers, even in encyclopædias,

there does not seem to have been any human being measured by scientific

methods who reached nine feet.

To be sure, one may read in the histories and biographies that the

Roman Emperors Maximinus and Jovianus, and Charlemagne, and Emperor

Maximilian of Germany were eight-and-a-half or nine feet. But one

cannot measure even live Emperors, unfortunately, much less long dead

ones. Many a traveller asserted that he had seen with his own eyes

scores of Patagonian savages ranging from nine to eleven feet; yet as

soon as careful measurements were made these dwindled to a maximum

of something under seven. And the vast number of "giants' bones" dug

up from time to time, indicating men of nine feet and upward, have

practically all been shown to be those of great animals.

One of the most notable characteristics about the giant is a certain

shrinking tendency before the camera and the tape. In the last twenty

years or so a group of alert savants, especially in France, have been

gathering authoritative biological observations upon all the subjects

possible; and it is wise to recall that only such exact scientific

records can be relied on.

For, apart from pride, there is a vast deal of money involved in a few

extra inches for the show giant. For instance, Antoine Hugo, announced

as the tallest man, died in 1917 after having made quite a fortune

in America; and it was stated that a "freak" promoter would pay a

premium of $400 an inch, for any one who could show a greater stature

than Hugo! That is to say, he would give nearly $3000 for a nine-foot

giant--besides paying the giant himself something like $1500 to $2000 a

week. Whereas Hugo's brother, who was only a couple of inches shorter

than he, was not in demand in the United States, which calls for only

"champions" in the freak class.

Apparently the tallest man on record was Machnow, a Russian, who was

born at Witebsk about 1882, was exhibited in London in 1905, in the

United States, Germany, Holland, and elsewhere, and died around the age

of thirty.

None of his family was exceptionally tall, and he himself was a normal

child up to the age of four. Then he began to grow very rapidly, not

eating a great deal, but sometimes sleeping for twenty-four hours at a

time. At fifteen he was about five feet two; at twenty-two, according

to Professor Luschau and Lissauer he was seven feet and ten inches.

When he appeared in London next year, he was credited with nine feet

three inches, and the most conservative of British encyclopædias

accepts this figure. In the show world he was universally taken as the

"champion," with a figure of eight feet seven inches. It seems beyond

question that he was over eight and a half and under nine feet; his

weight was given as 360 pounds.

The champion in 1920 was George Auger, credited with eight feet four

inches, who is an American and affects frontier costume. Then there was

the famous smiling Chinaman, Chang, who exhibited his eight feet or so

to nearly the whole world for a long period beginning about the end of

the American Civil War.

A generation back there were in the eight-foot class the Austrian

Winkelmeier; Paul Marie Elizabeth Wehde, born at Ben-Rendorf in

Thuringia, who was called "The Queen of the Amazons" and was handsome

enough to appear with success at the London Alhambra in a review called

"Babil and Bijou"; Ben Hicks, "the Denver Steeple"; and, a little

smaller, Captain Martin Van Buren Bates of Kentucky, who married in

London in 1871 Miss Anna Swan, of Nova Scotia, who was three inches

taller than himself--they were celebrated as the tallest bride and

groom in the world--scoring fourteen feet eight inches between them,

while the captain's weight of 450 pounds made him a notable figure.

Public curiosity regarding the very tall men is by no means modern.

Fifteen hundred years ago a poor giant in Rome was almost killed by

the press of people crowding about to get a sight of him; but there

was a special outbreak of such prodigies during the 18th century,

particularly in England.[308:1] Three of the most celebrated of these

were from Ireland.

[308:1] A century earlier came "Long Meg of Westminster,"

heroine of most extraordinary and comical exploits in one of

the old ballads.

First came Cornelius MacGrath, born near the silver mines in Tipperary

in 1736. Neither his parents nor their other children were remarkable

in size; but when Cornelius visited Cork at the age of sixteen, a

regular mob followed him through the streets, since he towered already

head and shoulders above other men.

It appeared that the year before Cornelius was much troubled with pains

in his limbs; and thinking them rheumatic he would bathe in salt water

for a cure; but they were "growing pains" of a rare sort, for during

that year he shot up some eighteen inches.

Since this rapid growth caused him partially to lose the use of his

limbs, Dr. Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, took the youngster into his

house for a month or more, and had him treated so successfully that he

regained his powers.

"His hand was then as large as a middling-sized shoulder of mutton,

which joint he could cover with that member. The last of his shoes,

which he carried about with him, measured fifteen inches in length."

This charity of the worthy Bishop was ill rewarded. There grew

up a legend (which got into the newspapers and into Watkinson's

"Philosophical Survey of Ireland") that Bishop Berkeley, from an

inhuman scientific desire to experiment in giant-making, had taken a

poor orphan, and by some mysterious course of feeding, had caused him

to shoot up to the height of seven feet.

MacGrath kept on growing until at the age of thirty he measured seven

feet eight inches; and he created a sensation in London, Paris and

other European capitals, distracting attention from Cajanus, the great

Swede, who was taller but not so well proportioned. His body was

finally stolen by medical students of Trinity College, on the day on

which he was to have been "waked."

"This is said to have been the origin of the feud between the students

and the coal-porters of Dublin, which has continued to this day

(1868)." He was a great friend of the students, and he used to raise

by the collar of his coat and hold out at arm's length, for a long

time, a small-sized student named Hare, who was father of the late Dr.

Hare, F.T.C.D. Mr. Hare one day ran between MacGrath's legs, and the

giant strained himself in recovering his balance, from which accident

he failed in health, and ultimately died. His skeleton is preserved at

Trinity College.

Next there came a Cork man, James MacDonald, who was first exhibited,

served as a grenadier for thirty years, then became a day laborer, and

died, according to the _Annual Register_ for 1760 at the age of 117!

(which is nearly three times the average of giants, either modern or in

those--for them--unwholesome days of chivalry).

A little later Charles Byrne, who called himself O'Brien, eclipsed both

these notables. He came to London in 1782, as witness this announcement:

"IRISH GIANT. To be seen this, and every day this week, in his

large elegant room, at the cane-shop, next door to late Cox's Museum,

Spring Garden, Mr. Byrne, the surprising Irish Giant, who is allowed to

be the tallest man in the world; his height is eight feet two inches,

and in full proportion accordingly; only 21 years of age. His stay will

not be long in London, as he proposes shortly to visit the Continent.

The nobility and gentry are requested to take notice, there was a man

showed himself for some time past at the top of the Haymarket, and

Piccadilly, who advertised and endeavored to impose himself upon the

public for the Irish Giant; Mr. Byrne begs leave to assure them it

was an imposition, as he is the only Irish Giant, and never was in

this metropolis before Thursday the 11th inst. Hours of admittance

every day, Sundays excepted, from 11 till 3, and from 5 till 8, at

half-a-crown each person."

Poor Patrick had a rather unhappy time of it, in spite of the furore

attending his appearance during the short year when he stood "as the

most extraordinary production of the human species ever beheld since

the days of Goliath."

He got to drinking; and visiting the Black Horse Tavern one night was

robbed of all the fruits of his year's success--which he carried in two

banknotes, one for £700, one for £70.

Then he became so fearful that the surgeons would get his body for

dissection that he begged his remains should be thrown into the sea.

The London newspapers, during the summer of the consummation of

American Independence, were agog with wild tales of the plots to secure

the giant's body after death.

Says one: "The whole tribe of surgeons put in a claim for the poor

departed Irish Giant, and surrounded his house just as Greenland

harpooners would an enormous whale. One of them has gone so far as to

have a niche made for himself in the giant's coffin, in order to his

being ready at hand on 'the witching time of night, when churchyards

yawn.'"

Another tale was that a rival party had equipped itself with

diving-bells to salvage the prodigy from the river, where it was to

be sunk at the Downs in twenty fathoms of water. A third said the

undertakers had been offered a bribe of 800 guineas.

Whatever the facts, the huge skeleton was for a century a treasured

possession of the Hunterian Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons, in

London.

Spurred on by Byrne's reception, Patrick Cotter, of Kinsale, appeared

presently. He also took the name of O'Brien and admitted himself to be

a descendant of Brian Boru. He soon eclipsed all rival pretenders, and

in the twenty years before his death accumulated a competence. Many

were the stories told of him.

He used to travel in a carriage built especially for him, with a sort

of well in the floor to hold his legs. One evening the carriage was

stopped by a highwayman. As Cotter slowly rose to look out, the robber

saw this huge figure rising apparently endlessly, and, struck with

panic, he dropped his pistol, clapped spurs to his horse and galloped

away.

Then he liked to do such things as startle the watchmen by reaching

up to a street lamp and taking off the cover to light his pipe; or to

wager £10 that he would kiss a pretty girl at an upstairs window as he

walked past.

Some half a century back a gentleman wrote to one of the magazines that

he possessed the giant's gold watch, which weighed a pound, and had his

name engraved in it, and was still in good running order.

Rather more interesting than these show giants were the corps of

gigantic guards, such as those maintained for half a century at Potsdam

by the Prussian kings. (Even James I had a door-keeper, Walter Parsons,

about seven-and-a-half feet tall; and Cromwell boasted another, Daniel,

of the same size, who became insane from religious ecstasy.) These huge

soldiers were gathered with great care, from all countries, the tallest

being seven feet six inches; and since they were well built athletic

men they made a most impressive appearance.

King Frederick William, says Voltaire, "armed with a huge sergeant's

cane, marched forth every day to review his regiment of giants. These

giants were his greatest delight, and the things for which he went to

the heaviest expense.

"The men who stood in the first rank of this regiment were none of

them less than seven feet high, and he sent to purchase them from the

farthest parts of Europe to the borders of Asia. I have seen some

of them since his death. The king, his son, who loved handsome, not

gigantic men, had given those I saw to the queen, his wife, to serve in

quality of Heiduques. I remember that they accompanied the old state

coach which preceded the Marquis de Beauvau, who came to compliment the

king, in the month of November, 1740. The late king, Frederick William,

who had formerly sold all the magnificent furniture left by his father,

never could find a purchaser for that enormous engilded coach. The

Heiduques, who walked on each side to support it in case it should

fall, shook hands with each other over the roof."

A pleasant exception in character was one Antony Payne of Cornwall, a

region always famous for tall men. (In fact the learned author of a

"History of Oxfordshire" in 1676 was strongly of the opinion that a

huge Cornish skeleton discovered in his time was that of the famous

Arabian giant celebrated by Pliny, Gabbara, and that he had doubtless

been brought to Britain by the Emperor Claudius.)

Tony Payne was reputed to measure four inches over seven feet. He was

a faithful follower of the Stowe family, as noted for intelligence,

vigor and good humor as for size, and fought with distinction in the

royal army during the Great Rebellion; after the Restoration Charles II

had his portrait painted by Kneller. One Christmas Eve he sent a boy

with a donkey to bring in wood from the forest; going out after a while

to look for him, he found the youth loitering along, whereupon Payne

picked up the loaded donkey and carried it back to the castle. He lived

to an old age and left behind him a reputation for spirit, ability and

loyalty to his ideals which seems rare enough among physical prodigies.

Many historical figures have been at least on the border line of

gianthood: William of Scotland, Edward III, Godefroy of Bouillon,

Philip the Long, Fairfax, Baron Barford, Kléber, Rochester, Charles

II's favorite, Gall, Brillat-Savarin, Benjamin Constant, the painter

David, and others were men of quite extraordinary stature--just how

tall we cannot, unfortunately, find out.

But the facts seem to be that at any one time one could come pretty

near counting on one's fingers all the people in the world who really

measured over eight feet in height.

CHAPTER XXV

WHAT SCIENCE HAS LEARNED ABOUT GIANTS

Nor is this modest eight feet of stature, after Sir Ferumbras and

Angolafre, the most disheartening thing about giants.

For the cold-hearted biologists who have specialized on the subject

want to steal even the word and make "gigantism" signify a diseased

condition!

There is, alas! a good deal of justification for this iconoclastic

position. The exact observations are not yet numerous enough to enable

us to generalize; but it is all too evident that the vast majority of

these tallest men and women are suffering from an obscure malady, which

produces a disharmony of the bony structure, and also causes various

functional disorders. Generally the giant shows obvious signs of what

the pathologists call acromegaly--where there is a great enlargement of

head, feet and hands.

We do not know just what causes this abnormal growth. It seems usually

associated with ailments of one of the remarkable "ductless glands,"

the pituitary body, which clearly has some direct connection with the

growth of bones and tissues.

Oddly enough, many of the characteristics of the giants of legend fit

only too well with this modern theory that the giant is diseased.

Perhaps, after all, it is just as well that Roland and Launcelot and

Amadis and Guy of Warwick exterminated the poor creatures.

We can for more reasons than one afford to smile at that solemn French

Academician, who just two centuries ago worked out a table to prove the

shrinkage of the human stature since ancient times. Said M. Henrion,

here is the tabular record:

Adam measured 125 feet 9 inches

Eve " 118 " 9 "

Noah " 103 "

Abraham " 28 "

Moses " 13 "

Hercules " 10 "

Alexander " 6 "

Julius Caesar " 5 "

And he strove to convince the world that men for their wickedness

must have shrunk to nothing at all in a few more centuries; but the

appearance of the Messiah during the epoch of the Roman Emperor stopped

the degeneration and fixed the normal height at what it then was!

However, if our bodies today cannot be more than nine feet tall at the

uttermost--there is no limit on our minds. _They_ can scale the heavens

where the giant brood failed. They can be as lofty as we really desire.

It remains quite open to us moderns to be giants in intellect, and

energy, and true progress, and helpfulness toward our weaker brethren.