(_Continued from_ p. 363.)
I am much pleased with MR. STERNBERG'S Oxfordshire version of _Die kluge
Else_ (Vol. v., p. 363.). I have heard another in that county, and think
the variations may be acceptable to those who are interested in our
rather scanty country legends.
An old couple lived in the country on a nice bit of land of their own,
and they had an only daughter whose name was Mary, and she had a
sweetheart whose name was John. Now there was a garden at the back of
their house with a well in it. One day, as the old man was walking in
the garden, he thought a thought. He thought, "If John should have
Mary, and Mary should have a child, and the child was to go
tittle-tottle by the well, and to fall in, what a thing that would be;"
so he sat down and cried. A little while after the old woman came into
the garden and saw him, and asked him why he cried. And he told her he
had thought, "If John should have Mary, and Mary should have a child,
and the child should go tittle-tottle by the well, and fall in, what a
thing that would be." "So it would," said the old woman; and she sat
down and cried.
Mary arrives, hears the thought, and sits down and cries. John finds
them crying, and says he will put on a new pair of shoes, and if, by the
time they are worn out, he has not found three such big fools, he will
save the child's life by not marrying Mary. He puts on the shoes, and
sets out early the next morning.
Before he had gone far he came to a barn with the two doors wide open,
and saw a man hard at work with a shovel, as if he was a shovelling
something into the barn; but there was nothing in the shovel. "What be
ye doing of, Measter?" says John. "I be a shovelling the sunshine in to
dry the wheat as was carried in the wet." "What a fool ye be!" says
John; "why don't you take out the sheaves, and lay 'em in the sun?" "Oh,
God bless ye, Sir," says the man; "I wish ye'd come this way afore. Many
a hard day's work ye'd a saved me." So John cut a notch in his stick for
one fool, and went on.
He went a little further, and came to where a man was cutting at pebbles
with a knife. "What be ye at, Measter?" says John. "I be a cutting of
the pebbles to get at the kernels," says the man. "What a fool ye be!"
says John "why don't ye get a masonter's hammer and split 'em, and then
ye'll see whether there be any kernels or no." "Ah, God bless you, Sir,"
says the man "many a good knife ye'd a saved me if ye'd come this way
afore." So John made another notch for the second fool.
The third is drawing a cow up the ladder, to eat the tussock of grass
that grows every year in the thatch, and is equally thankful on being
advised to cut it down and give it to the cow; for "many a good cow ye'd
a saved me that I've throttled, if ye'd come this way afore." So John
cut the third notch; and finding that folly was not peculiar to the
family, went back and married Mary while his shoes were new. And they
lived very happy, and she put a rail round the well, and the child was
not drowned.
In this department of history, old women are the highest authorities,
and it is desirable to fix their localities as nearly as we can. I heard
the story from my nurse, a native of Souldern, Oxon., a village on the
borders of Northamptonshire, and from another of Bucknel, fourteen miles
north of Oxford.
A version of the _Froschkönig_ is, or was, current in the same
neighbourhood.
There was a farmer that had an only daughter; and she was very handsome,
but proud. One day, when the servants were all afield, her mother sent
her to the well for a pitcher of water. When she had let down the
bucket, it was so heavy that she could hardly draw it up again; and she
was going to let loose of it, when a voice in the well said, "Hold tight
and pull hard, and good luck will come of it at last." So she held tight
and pulled hard; and when the bucket came up there was nothing in it but
a frog, and the frog said, "Thank you, my dear; I've been a long while
in the well, and I'll make a lady of you for getting me out." So when
she saw it was only a frog, she took no notice, but filled her pitcher
and went home.
Now, when they were at supper, there came a knock at the door, and
somebody outside said,--
"Open the door, my dearest sweet one,
And think of the well in the wood;
Where you and I were together, love a keeping,
And think of the well in the wood."
So she looked out of the window, and there was the frog in boots and
spurs. So says she, "I sha'n't open the door for a frog." Then says her
father, "Open the door to the gentleman. Who knows what it may come to
at last?" So she opened the door, and the frog came in. Then says the
frog,--
"Set me a chair, my dearest sweet one,
And think," &c.
"I'm sure I sha'n't set a chair; the floor's good enough for a frog."
The frog makes many requests, to all of which the lady returns uncivil
answers. He asks for beer, and is told "Water is good enough for a
frog;" to be put to bed, but "The cistern is good enough for a frog to
sleep in." The father, however, insists on her compliance; and even when
the frog says, "Cuddle my back, my dearest sweet one," orders her to do
so, "For who knows what it may come to at last?" And in the morning,
when she woke, she saw by her side the handsomest gentleman that ever
was seen, in a scarlet coat and top-boots, with a sword by his side and
a gold chain round his neck, and gold rings on his fingers and he
married her and made her a lady, and they lived very happy together.
I suspect the _scarlet coat and top-boots_ to be a modern interpolation,
the natural product of a sporting neighbourhood. It destroys the unity
of costume, as I believe Alderman Sawbridge is the only person recorded
as having gone hunting in a gold chain, and with a sword by his side.