"Who hath dared to wound thee?" cried the Giant; "tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him."

"Nay!" answered the child; "but these are the wounds of Love."

"Who art thou?" said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him:

"You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise."

And when the children ran in that afternoon they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.









THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS, OR, THE GRATEFUL RAVEN AND THE PRINCE

A Scotch Tale

Once upon a time a great contest took place between every wild creature. The son of the King of Tethertown went to see the battle; but he arrived late, and saw only one fight. This was between a huge Raven and a Snake. The King's son ran to aid the Raven, and with one blow took the head off the Snake. The Raven was very grateful, and said: "Now, I will give thee a sight; come upon my wings."

They flew over seven mountains, seven glens, and seven moors. That night, at the Raven's request, the King's son slept in the house of one of the Raven's sisters. He was to meet the Raven next morning for another trip; and for three days they journeyed. On the third morning a handsome boy, who was carrying a bundle, came to meet the King's son.

This boy told how he had been under a spell; and he was at once released from it by the power of the King's son. In return, he gave him the bundle which he carried, and cautioned him not to open it until he found the place where he desired to dwell.

On the homeward trip the bundle became very heavy, and the King's son stopped in a grove to open it. Immediately a beautiful castle sprang up before him. He was very sorry, for he wanted to live in the glen opposite his father's palace. Just then a Giant appeared and offered to put the castle back in the bundle on condition that the Prince give him his first son when he was seven years old. The Prince promised, and soon he had his castle in the right place. At the palace door there was a beautiful maiden, who asked him to marry her. The wedding took place at once, and all were happy.

Before many years they had a son; and then the Prince, who was now King, remembered his promise to the Giant. When the boy was seven years old the Giant came to claim him. The Queen said she would save her child. She dressed the cook's son in fine clothes, and gave him to the Giant. But the Giant feared some treachery, and said to the boy: "If thy father had a rod what would he do with it?"

"He would beat the dogs if they went near the King's meat," answered the boy.

Then the Giant knew he had been deceived, and he went again to the palace. Again the Queen tried to trick him by giving him the butler's son. When the Giant found he had been fooled a second time, he stalked back to the castle, and made a terrible scene. The castle shook under the soles of his feet as he cried: "Out here with thy son, or the stone that is highest in thy dwelling shall be the lowest." So, in great fear, the Queen gave her son to the Giant.

The lad lived many years in the Giant's home. On a certain holiday, when the Giant was away, the boy heard sweet music. Looking up the stairs he saw a beautiful little maiden. She beckoned to him to come to her, then said: "To-morrow you may choose between my two sisters for your bride; but, I pray you, say you will take only me. My father is forcing me to marry a Prince whom I hate."

On the morrow the Giant said: "Now, Prince, you may go home to-morrow, and take with you either of my two eldest daughters as your wife."

The Giant was very angry when the Prince said: "I want only the pretty little one."

The Giant in a great rage imposed three tasks upon the King's son. He had to clean a byre, or cow-shed, which had not been cleaned for seven years. Secondly, he was to thatch the byre with bird's down; and lastly, he must climb a tall fir-tree and bring five eggs, unbroken, from the magpie's nest for the Giant's breakfast. These tasks were too great for any mortal to accomplish, but the youth was willing to try.

He worked all morning on the dirty byre, and accomplished practically nothing. At noon, while he was resting under a tree, the Giant's daughter came and talked to him. In utter dejection he showed her the impossibility of completing the task by nightfall. With words of sympathy and encouragement, she left him and went on her way. After she had gone, the Prince in great weariness fell asleep under the tree.

It was evening before he awoke. His first thought was of the unfinished task, and he jumped to his feet, though only half awake. He looked at the byre, and then he rubbed his eyes; and then he looked at the byre again, for, lo! it was clean. Some one had come to his aid while he slept. When the Giant came home, he knew the King's son had not cleaned the byre, but he could not prove it, so he had to keep his word.

The second and third tasks were done in much the same way. The Prince would try very hard to do the work alone, and when he was just about to fail the Giant's daughter would come and encourage the youth.

In getting the eggs from the magpie's nest, the Giant's daughter was in a great hurry, because she felt her father's breath on the back of her neck. In her haste she left her little finger in the magpie's nest, but there was no time to go back and get it.

When the third task was finished, the Giant ordered them to get ready for the wedding.

The Giant tried to deceive the King's son at the very last. The three daughters were dressed alike, and brought before him, and he was to choose which one was his promised bride. But the Prince knew her by the hand on which the little finger was missing; so all was well.

After the wedding the bride and bridegroom went to their chamber. The Giant's daughter said: "Quick! quick! We must fly. My father plans to kill you."

Then she took an apple and cut it into four parts, two of which she put on the bed; one piece was placed by the door, and the other outside. After that was done, they hurried out to the stables, mounted the blue-gray filly, and were off.

In the meantime the Giant was waiting for them to go to sleep. At last he could wait no longer, so he called out: "Are you asleep yet?" And the apple at the head of the bed answered: "No, we are not asleep." He called out the same thing three more times, and the three other pieces of apple answered him the same way. When the piece outside the door replied, the Giant knew he had been fooled, and that the couple had fled. He started after them in hot pursuit.

Just at dawn the Giant's daughter said: "My father is close behind us, because his breath is burning my neck. Put thy hand in the filly's ear and throw behind thee whatever thou findest."

The Prince did so, and at once a thick forest of blackthorn sprang up behind them.

At noon the Giant's daughter again said: "I feel my father's breath on my neck." So the Prince reached into the filly's ear and took a piece of stone, which he threw behind him. At once a huge rock was between them and the Giant.

By evening the Giant was close upon them for the third time. Out of the filly's ear the King's son took a bladder of water, and threw it behind him. A fresh-water lake then stretched twenty miles behind them. By this time the Giant was coming so fast that he could not stop, but plunged headlong into the lake and was drowned.

When they approached the Prince's home, the maiden said she would wait for him by the well. "Go thou and greet thy father, then come back for me. But let neither man nor creature kiss thee, or thou wilt forget me."

The youth was welcomed by all his family, but he kissed none of them. As misfortune would have it, however, an old grayhound jumped upon him and licked his face, and then he did not remember the Giant's daughter.

She waited a long time for his return. After a while she wandered to an old Shoemaker's cottage and asked him to take her to the palace, that she might see the newly returned Prince. The Shoemaker, greatly awed by her unusual beauty, said: "Come with me. I am well acquainted with the servants at the castle, and will arrange for you to see the company."

The pretty woman attracted much attention at the feast. The gentlefolk took her to the banquet hall and gave her a glass of cordial. Just as she was going to drink, a flame appeared in the glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprang out of the flame. At the same time, three grains of barley fell upon the floor.

The two pigeons flew down and ate the barley grains. As they ate, the golden pigeon said: "Do you remember how I cleaned the byre?" Three more grains of barley fell to the ground, and the golden pigeon again spoke: "Do you remember how I thatched the byre?" Still three more grains fell to the ground, and the golden pigeon once more spoke: "Do you remember how I robbed the magpie's nest? I lost my little finger, and I lack it still."

Then the King's son remembered, and he sprang and claimed the Giant's little daughter as his bride.



JACK AND THE BEANSTALK

RETOLD BY MARY LENA WILSON

A long, long time ago there was a boy named Jack. He and his mother were very poor, and lived in a tiny cottage. Jack's mother loved him so much that she could never say no to anything he asked. So whenever he wanted money she gave it to him, until at last all they had was gone. There was nothing left with which to buy supper. Then the poor woman began to cry, and said to her son:

"Oh, Jack, there is nothing in the house to eat; and there is no money to buy food. You will have to take the old cow to town and sell her. She is all we have left."

Jack felt very bad when he saw his mother crying; so he quickly got the cow and started off to town. As he was walking along he passed the butcher, who stopped him and said:

"Why, Jack! what are you driving your cow away from home for?" And Jack replied sadly: "I am taking her to town to sell her."

Then he noticed that the butcher held in his hand some colored beans. They were so beautiful he could not keep from staring at them.

Now, the butcher was a very mean man. He knew the cow was worth more than the beans, but he did not believe Jack knew it, so he said: "You let me have your cow, and I will give you a whole bag of these beans."

Jack was so delighted that he could hardly wait to get the bag in his hand. He ran off home as fast as he could.

"Oh, mother, mother!" he shouted, as he reached the house; "see what I have got for the old cow!"

The good lady came hurrying out of the house, but when she saw only a bagful of colored beans she was so disappointed to think he had sold her cow "for nothing" that she flung the beans as far as she could. They fell everywhere—on the steps, down the road, and in the garden.

That night Jack and his mother had to go to bed without anything to eat.

Next morning, when Jack looked out of his window, he could hardly believe his eyes. In the garden where his mother had thrown some of the beans there were great beanstalks. They were twisted together so that they made a ladder. When Jack ran out to the garden to look more closely he found the ladder reached up, up—'way up into the clouds! It was so high he could not see the top.

Jack was very excited, and called to his mother: "Mother, dear, come quickly! My beans have grown into a beautiful beanstalk ladder that reaches to the sky! I am going to climb up and see what is at the top."

Hour after hour he climbed, until he was so tired he could hardly climb any more. At last he came to the end, and peered eagerly over the top to see what was there. Not a thing was to be seen but rocks and bare ground.

"Oh," said Jack to himself. "This is a horrid place. I wish I had never come."

Just then he saw, hobbling along, a wrinkled, ragged old woman. When she reached Jack she looked at him and said:

"Well, my boy, where did you come from?"

"I came up the ladder," answered Jack.



The old woman looked at him very sharply. "Do you remember your father?" she asked.

Jack thought this a queer question, but he replied: "No, I do not. Whenever I ask my mother about him she cries, and will not tell me."

At this, the old woman leaned her face very close to Jack's and snapped her bright eyes. "I will tell you," she said, "for I am a Fairy!"

The Fairy smiled. "Do not be afraid, my dear, for I am a good, good Fairy. But before I tell you anything, you must promise to do exactly as I say."

Jack promised, and the Fairy began her story.

"A long while ago, when you were only a tiny baby, your father and mother lived in a beautiful house, with plenty of money and servants and everything nice. They were very happy, because everyone loved your father for the kind things he did. He always helped people who were poor and in trouble.

"Now, miles and miles away there was a wicked Giant. He was just as bad as your father was good. When he heard about your father he decided to do something very terrible. He went to your house and killed him. He would have killed you and your mother, too, but she fell down on her knees and begged: 'Oh, please do not hurt me and my little baby. Take all our treasures, but do not kill us.'

"Now of course the money was what the Giant really wanted, so he said: 'If you promise that you will never tell your little boy who his father was, or anything about me, I will let you go. If you do tell him, I shall find out and kill you both.'

"Your mother quickly promised, and ran out of the house as fast as she could. All day long she hurried over the rough roads with you in her arms. At last, when she could hardly walk a step further, she came to the little house where you live now.

"Now, my dear Jack. I am your father's good fairy. The reason I could not help him against the wicked Giant was because I had done something wrong. When a fairy does something wrong she loses her power. My power did not come back to me until the day when you went to sell your cow. Then I put it into your head to sell the cow for the pretty beans. I made the beanstalk grow. I made you climb up the beanstalk.

"Now, Jack, this is the country where the wicked Giant lives. I had you come here so you could get back your mother's treasure."

When Jack heard this he was very excited.

"Follow the road," said the Fairy, "and you will come to the Giant's house. And do not forget that some day you are to punish the wicked Giant." And then she disappeared.

Jack had not gone far before he came to a great house. In front of it stood a little woman. Jack went up to her and said very piteously: "Oh, please, good, kind lady, let me come in your beautiful house and have something to eat and a place to sleep."

The woman looked surprised. "Why, what are you doing here?" she said. "Don't you know this is where my husband, the terrible Giant, lives? No one dares to come near here. Every one my husband finds he has locked up in his house. Then when he is hungry he eats them! He walks fifty miles to find some one to eat."

When Jack heard this he was very much afraid. But he remembered what the Fairy had told him, and once more he asked the woman to let him in.

"Just let me sleep in the oven," he said. "The Giant will never find me there."

He seemed so tired and sad that the woman couldn't say no, and she gave him a nice supper.

Then they climbed a winding stair and reached a bright, cozy kitchen. Jack was just beginning to enjoy himself, when suddenly there was a great pounding at the front door.

"Quick, quick!" cried the Giant's wife; "jump into the oven."

Jack was no sooner safely hidden than he heard the Giant say, in tones of thunder:

"Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!"

When Jack heard this he thought surely the Giant knew that he was in the house, but the wife said calmly:

"Oh, my dear, it is probably the people in the dungeon."

Then they both came down to the kitchen. The Giant sat so close to the oven that by peeping through a hole, Jack could easily see him. He was enormous! And how much he did eat and drink for his supper! When at last he was through, he roared:

"Wife, bring me my hen!" And the woman brought in a beautiful hen.

"Lay!" commanded the Giant; and what was Jack's surprise when the hen laid a golden egg. Every time the Giant said: "Lay!"—and he said it many times—the hen obeyed.

At last both the woman and her husband fell asleep. But Jack did not dare to sleep. He sat all cramped and tired in the oven, watching the Giant.

When it began to get light he slowly pushed the oven door open and crawled out ever so softly. For a minute he hardly dared breathe for fear of waking the Giant. Then quick as a flash, he seized the hen and stole out of the house as fast as his feet could carry him.

He did not stop running until he reached the beanstalk. All out of breath, he climbed down the ladder with the hen in his arms.

Now, all this time, Jack's poor mother thought her son was surely lost. When she saw him she said:

"Oh, Jack, why did you go off and leave me like that?"

"But, mother," said Jack—and proudly he held out the hen—"see what I have brought you this time: a hen that lays golden eggs. Now we can have everything we want. You need never be sad any more."

Jack and his mother were very happy together for many months. Whenever they wanted anything, they just told the hen to lay a golden egg.

But after a while Jack remembered his promise to the Fairy to punish the Giant. So he said to his mother:

"Mother dear, I think I will go back and get some more of our treasure from the Giant."

The poor woman felt very bad when her son said this. "Oh, please do not go, Jack," she begged. "This time the Giant will find you and kill you for stealing his hen."

Jack decided he would not worry his mother, but he would find a way to fool the Giant. He got some paint to color his skin brown and had a queer suit of clothes made so that no one could discover who he was. Without telling anyone, he got up early one morning and climbed up the beanstalk.

It was dark and cold before he reached the Giant's house. There at the front door was the Giant's wife; but she did not know Jack in his queer clothes.

"Good evening, Lady," said Jack, very politely. "Will you let me in for a night's rest? I am very tired and hungry."

But the woman shook her head. "I can't let anyone in. One night I let in a poor boy like yourself, and he stole my husband's favorite treasure. My husband is a cruel Giant, and since his hen was stolen he has been worse than ever."

"Oh, please let me come in just for to-night. If you don't I shall have to lie here on the ground and die."

"Well, I can't let you do that. But mind, I shall have to hide you in the lumber-closet, or my husband may find you and eat you up."

Of course, Jack was very glad to agree to do this. As soon as he was safely hidden away he heard a tremendous noise, and knew that the Giant had come home. The big fellow walked so heavily that he shook the whole house.

"Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman!" he shouted.

"Oh, no, my dear," she answered. "It is an old piece of meat that a crow left on the roof."

"All right," said the Giant. "Now, hurry and get my supper." And with that he tried to strike his poor wife. Jack could see from where he was hiding that the Giant was even uglier than before.

"It was you who let in the boy that stole my hen," he kept saying to her. And when Jack heard this he shivered for fear.

After his supper the Giant said in a very cross voice:

"Now, wife, bring me my bags of gold and silver."

So the old woman brought in two huge bags and put them down on the table. The Giant opened each and poured out a great heap of silver and gold. For a long while he sat counting the money. But at last he began to get drowsy. So he put the gold carefully back and fell over in his chair asleep.

Jack thought maybe the Giant was only pretending to be asleep, so that he could catch anyone who might try to take his gold. But when the Giant had been snoring some time, the boy carefully opened the door of the closet and tip-toed over to the table. Not a sound could be heard except the terrible snoring of the Giant. Slowly Jack reached out to take the bags of money.

"Bow, wow, wow!" And a little dog, which Jack had not seen before, jumped up from a corner by the fire, barking furiously. Jack had never been so frightened in his life as now. Surely the Giant would wake and kill him.

But the Giant never woke at all. He had eaten so much that he couldn't! So Jack snatched the bags, and dashed for the beanstalk.

When at last he reached the bottom, he ran at once to the cottage to show his mother the treasure.

For three years Jack and his mother lived very happily together. But all this time Jack could not forget his promise to the Fairy, and what might happen to him if he did not keep it.

At last he felt that he must go and kill the wicked Giant. He got some yellow paint and another queer suit, so that he would not look like himself at all. Early one morning, when it was barely light, he crept softly out of the house and climbed up into the Giant's country.

This time he was bigger and older, and did not feel nearly so afraid as he had before. He met the Giant's wife, just as he had the two other times; and after a great deal of coaxing she let him in, and hid him in the boiler.

He had barely gotten in when he felt the whole house shake, and knew that the Giant had come home.

"Fe, fi, fo, fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman."

He roared in a voice louder than ever. But now Jack was not at all scared. He remembered what had happened before, and thought he was quite safe.

But this time the Giant would not listen to anything his wife said. He jumped up and began stumping around the room, shouting: "There is fresh meat here! I can smell it! Where is it?" And he put his hand right on the boiler.

Jack held his breath tight, and did not move a muscle. Just when he felt sure the Giant was going to lift off the lid and find him, he heard him say: "Well, never mind now. Bring me my supper." And then he went over to the table and began to eat.

It seemed to Jack that he ate more than ever. But suddenly he stopped and called out: "Wife, bring me my harp."

The poor woman ran at once and brought back the most beautiful harp Jack had ever seen. She placed it beside her husband, and he commanded: "Play!" And the most surprising thing happened: The harp began to play the loveliest tunes without anyone touching it at all. Jack thought he had never seen anything so wonderful, and said to himself:

"That harp really belongs to my mother. I shall get it away from the Giant and take it to her."

Soon the Giant fell asleep. Jack crawled very quietly out of the boiler and up toward the table. He stretched out his hand to seize the harp; but just as his fingers touched it, it shouted: "Master, master, wake up!"

Jack was horrified, for he saw at once that the harp was the Giant's fairy, and was trying to help him.

The Giant opened his eyes, but before he could get to his feet Jack was running for his life. Down the winding stair and through the dark hall he went. He felt the floor tremble as the Giant came roaring after him. He was panting for breath when he reached the front door, but did not dare to stop. If he did, he knew the Giant would catch him, and that would be the end of him.

And this is what surely would have happened, but the Giant had eaten so much for his supper that he could hardly run at all. Even so, he was close behind him all the way. And all the time he kept roaring and shouting, which frightened Jack all the more.

As soon as Jack reached the beanstalk he called out: "Someone quick! get me a hatchet!" Then he almost fell down the beanstalk in his hurry.

When he reached the bottom the Giant had already started to come down. "Oh, now," thought poor Jack, "he will come and burn our house, and kill my mother and me."

Just then a neighbor ran up to Jack with a hatchet. Jack grabbed it and cut down the beanstalk! With a terrible crash it fell to the ground, bringing the Giant with it.

Jack and his friends rushed up to where he fell.

"Oh, he is dead! He is dead!" they shouted.

When Jack's mother heard this she came running out of the house and flung her arms around her son.

"Oh, mother, I am so sorry that I have been all this trouble to you. But I promise I shall never be any more." And just at this moment the Fairy appeared.

"Yes," she said. "Your Jack is a good boy. He did all this only because I told him to." To Jack she said:

"Now, my dear, I hope you will always be good and kind to your mother. And I hope you will always be kind to the poor and unhappy people, just as your father was. If you are, I am sure that you will both be very happy as long as you live. Good-by, good-by, my dears!" And before they could thank her the Fairy disappeared.

Jack remembered all she had told him, and he and his mother lived together very happily all the rest of their lives.



TOM THUMB

RETOLD BY LAURA CLARKE

Have you ever heard about Little Thumb, or Tom Thumb as he was sometimes called? Such a queer little fellow, and such adventures, you surely must become acquainted with.

'Way back in the days of the good King Arthur, there lived a poor man and his wife who had no children. They wanted a child more than anything else in the world; and one day the woman said to her husband:

"Husband, if I had a son, even if he were no bigger than my thumb, I should be the happiest woman alive."

Now, Merlin, the King's magician, overheard this wish; and I suspect he was fond of playing tricks, for it was not many days before the woman had a child given her. He was so tiny that his father burst out laughing when he saw him, and called him Tom Thumb. But the parents were as happy as if he had been a large boy.

Tom Thumb had many exciting adventures and narrow escapes, because he was so small. He used to drive his father's horse by standing in the horse's ear and calling out "Gee up!" and "Gee, whoa!" just like his father. When people saw horse and cart going along at a brisk pace, and heard the voice but saw no driver, you may be sure they were surprised.



One day two men saw him, and thought they might get rich if they could get Tom Thumb, take him to country fairs, and make him do funny things to amuse the crowds. They offered Little Thumb's father a sum of gold for the tiny fellow, but the good man said: "I would not take any sum of money for my dear son."

Then Tom whispered in his father's ear: "Dear father, take the money and let them have me. I can easily get away and return home."

Now, if Tom's father had known what dangers were before the little fellow he never would have consented; but it sounded so easy that he took the gold, and the men took Tom.

Tom rode on the brim of his new master's hat for a long time, thinking how he might escape. Finally he saw a field-mouse's nest over a hedge, and he said: "Master, I am cold and stiff; put me down that I may run about and get warm."

Not suspecting anything, the man put him on the ground. What was his surprise and anger when Little Tom darted off through the hedge. Calling to him to come back, the master with difficulty climbed over the bushes and started searching for his small runaway. He looked behind stones, under clumps of grass, in little furrows, but never thought of the nest of the field-mouse.

Little Tom stayed very still long after the angry voice had died away in the distance. When he came forth it was dark, and he did not know which way to go. He was still trying to make up his mind, when he overheard two robbers on the other side of the hedge.

The first robber said: "There is plenty of gold and silver in the rector's house, but his doors are locked and his windows barred."

"Yes," said the other one, "and if we break in we shall wake up the servants."

This conversation gave Tom an idea. Stepping through the hedge he said in a loud voice: "I can help you. I am so small I can get between the bars on the window. Then I'll pass all the gold and silver out to you, and when I get out you can divide with me."



The robbers were pleased with the idea. They decided between themselves that as soon as they got the money in their own hands they would make off and not divide it at all. They never suspected that Little Thumb was planning to give them away.

Reaching the rector's home they lifted Tom up, and he crawled between the bars and out of reach of the robbers.

Then he called out in a very loud voice, so as to waken the servants: "Will you have everything I can get?" The servants came running calling, "Thief! Thief!" and the two robbers escaped as fast as their feet would carry them.

Now, the servants were so angry, and told in such loud voices what they should do if they caught anyone in the house, that Little Thumb was very much afraid. So he climbed out through the window and hid in the barn in the hay.

It is best for little people to stay out of harm's way; the queerest things may happen. While our small adventurer was peacefully sleeping, the milkmaid came to give the cattle their morning fodder. As bad luck would have it, she took the very truss of hay in which Tom lay; and he awoke with a start to find himself in the cow's great mouth, in danger of being crushed at any minute by her tremendous teeth. He dodged back and forth in terror; and it was a relief when the cow gave one big swallow, and he slid down into her roomy stomach.



It was dark and moist down there, however, and more hay came down with every swallow; so Tom called out with all his might: "No more hay, please! no more hay!"

The milkmaid screamed, and ran to the house, telling everyone that the cow had been talking to her just like a man.

"Nonsense," said the rector; "cows do not talk." Nevertheless, he went to the cow-shed. No sooner had he stepped inside the door than the cow lifted her head, and a voice called in great distress: "No more hay, please! no more hay!"

"Alas," cried the rector, "my beautiful cow is bewitched! It is best to kill her before she makes mischief with the other cows."

So the cow was slaughtered, and the stomach, with Little Thumb inside, was flung away.

"Now, I will work my way out and run home," thought Tom. But he was to have another adventure first. He had just gotten his head free, when a hungry wolf, attracted by the smell of the freshly-killed meat, seized the stomach in its jaws and sprang away into the forest.

Instead of losing courage, Little Thumb began to plan a way of escape. He decided on a bold scheme. In his loudest voice he called: "Wolf, if you are hungry, I know where you can get a choice dinner."

"Where?" asked the wolf.

"There is a house not far away, and I know a hole through which you can crawl into the kitchen. Once there you can eat and drink to your heart's content."

The wolf did not know that Tom meant his own home; but the mention of these good things to eat made him very hungry, and following Tom's directions he quickly reached the house.

Things were exactly as promised. Tom waited till he was sure the wolf had eaten so much that he could not get out through the hole he came in. Then he called from inside the wolf: "Father, mother, help! I am here—in the wolf's body."

It did not take long for the father to finish the wolf and rescue his dear boy.

"We shall never let you go again, for all the riches of the world," said the mother and father. But Tom was rather pleased with his adventures.

One day, when walking beside the river, he slipped and fell in. Before he had a chance to swim out a fish came along and swallowed him. Tom had escaped so often from such dangers that he was not much afraid. After a time the fish saw a dainty worm, and, little thinking that it was on a hook, took it in its mouth. Before it realized what had happened it was pulled out of the water, with Little Thumb still inside.

Now, as luck would have it, this fish was to be for the King's dinner. When the cook opened the fish to clean it and make it ready for broiling, out stepped Little Thumb, much to the astonishment and delight of everyone. The King said he had never seen so tiny and merry a fellow. He knighted him, and had Sir Thomas Thumb and his father and mother live in the palace the rest of their lives.





WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT

In the reign of the famous King Edward III there was a little boy called Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very young, so that he remembered nothing at all about them, and was left a ragged little fellow, running about a country village. As poor Dick was not old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for the people who lived in the village were very poor indeed, and could not spare him much more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard crust of bread.

For all this Dick Whittington was a very sharp boy, and was always listening to what everybody talked about. On Sunday he was sure to get near the farmers, as they sat talking on the tombstones in the churchyard, before the parson was come; and once a week you might see little Dick leaning against the sign-post of the village inn, where people stopped as they came from the next market town; and when the barber's shop door was open, Dick listened to all the news that his customers told one another.

In this manner Dick heard a great many very strange things about the great city called London; for the foolish country people at that time thought that folks in London were all fine gentlemen and ladies; and that there was singing and music there all day long; and that the streets were all paved with gold.

One day a large wagon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads, drove through the village while Dick was standing by the sign-post. He thought that this wagon must be going to the fine town of London; so he took courage, and asked the wagoner to let him walk with him by the side of the wagon. As soon as the wagoner heard that poor Dick had no father or mother, and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be worse off than he was, he told him he might go if he would, so they set off together.

It has never been found out how little Dick contrived to get meat and drink on the road; nor how he could walk so far, for it was a long way; nor what he did at night for a place to lie down and sleep. Perhaps some good-natured people in the towns that he passed through, when they saw he was a poor little ragged boy, gave him something to eat; and perhaps the wagoner let him get into the wagon at night, and take a nap upon one of the boxes or large parcels in the wagon.

Dick however got safe to London, and was in such a hurry to see the fine streets paved all over with gold, that he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, through many of the streets, thinking every moment to come to those that were paved with gold; for Dick had seen a guinea three times in his own little village, and remembered what a deal of money it brought in change; so he thought he had nothing to do but to take up some little bits of the pavement, and should then have as much money as he could wish for.

Poor Dick ran till he was tired; but at last, finding it grew dark, and that every way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he sat down in a dark corner and cried himself to sleep.

Little Dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being very hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked everybody he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer him, and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boy was soon quite weak and faint for the want of food.

At last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked. "Why don't you go to work, my lad?" said he to Dick. "That I would, but I do not know how to get any," answered Dick. "If you are willing, come along with me," said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field, where Dick worked briskly, and lived merrily till the hay was made.

After this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almost starved again, he laid himself down at the door of Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich merchant. Here he was soon seen by the cook-maid, who was an ill-tempered creature, and happened just then to be very busy dressing dinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to poor Dick: "What business have you there, you lazy rogue? there is nothing else but beggars; if you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some dish-water; I have some here hot enough to make you jump."

Just at that time, Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and when he saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: "Why do you lie there, my boy? You seem old enough to work; I am afraid you are inclined to be lazy."

"No, indeed, sir," said Dick to him, "that is not the case, for I would work with all my heart, but I do not know anybody, and I believe I am very sick for the want of food." "Poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you."

Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the street. So the kind merchant ordered him to be taken into the house, and have a good dinner given him, and be kept to do what dirty work he was able for the cook.

Little Dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it had not been for the ill-natured cook, who was finding fault and scolding him from morning to night, and besides, she was so fond of basting, that when she had no meat to baste, she would baste poor Dick's head and shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to fall in her way. At last her ill-usage of him was told to Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren's daughter, who told the cook she should be turned away if she did not treat him kinder.

The ill-humor of the cook was now a little amended; but besides this Dick had another hardship to get over. His bed stood in a garret, where there were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every night he was tormented with rats and mice. A gentleman having given Dick a penny for cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat with it. The next day he saw a girl with a cat, and asked her if she would let him have it for a penny. The girl said she would, and at the same time told him the cat was an excellent mouser.

Dick hid his cat in the garret, and always took care to carry a part of his dinner to her; and in a short time he had no more trouble with the rats and mice, but slept quite sound every night.

Soon after this, his master had a ship ready to sail; and as he thought it right that all his servants should have some chance for good fortune as well as himself, he called them all into the parlor and asked them what they would send out.

They all had something that they were willing to venture except poor Dick, who had neither money nor goods, and therefore could send nothing.

For this reason he did not come into the parlor with the rest; but Miss Alice guessed what was the matter, and ordered him to be called in. She then said she would lay down some money for him, from her own purse; but the father told her this would not do, for it must be something of his own.

When poor Dick heard this, he said he had nothing but a cat which he bought for a penny some time since of a little girl.

"Fetch your cat then, my good boy," said Mr. Fitzwarren, "and let her go."

Dick went upstairs, and with tears in his eyes brought down poor puss, and gave her to the captain.

All the company laughed at Dick's odd venture; and Miss Alice, who felt pity for the poor boy, gave him some money to buy another cat.

This, and many other marks of kindness shown him by Miss Alice, made the ill-tempered cook jealous of poor Dick, and she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and always made game of him for sending his cat to sea. She asked him if he thought his cat would sell for as much money as would buy a stick to beat him.

At last poor Dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thought he would run away from this place; so he packed up his few things, and started very early in the morning, on All-hallows Day, which is the first of November. He walked as far as Holloway; and there sat down on a stone, which to this day is called Whittington's Stone, and began to think to himself which road he should take as he proceeded onward.

While he was thinking what he should do, the Bells of Bow Church, which at that time had only six, began to ring, and he fancied their sound seemed to say to him:

"Turn again, Whittington, Lord Mayor of London."

"Lord Mayor of London!" said he to himself. "Why, to be sure, I would put up with almost anything now, to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in a fine coach, when I grow to be a man! Well, I will go back, and think nothing of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook, if I am to be Lord Mayor of London at last."

Dick went back, and was lucky enough to get into the house, and set about his work, before the old cook came downstairs.

The ship, with the cat on board, was a long time at sea; and was at last driven by the winds on a part of the coast of Barbary, where the only people were the Moors, that the English had never known before.

The people then came in great numbers to see the sailors, who were of different color to themselves, and treated them very civilly; and, when they became better acquainted, were very eager to buy the fine things with which the ship was loaded.

When the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best things he had to the King of the country; who was so much pleased with them, that he ordered the captain to come to the palace. Here the guests were placed, as it is the custom of the country, on rich carpets marked with gold and silver flowers. The King and Queen were seated at the upper end of the room; and a number of dishes were brought in for dinner. They had not sat long, when a vast number of rats and mice rushed in, helping themselves from almost every dish. The captain wondered at this, and asked if these vermin were not very unpleasant.

"Oh, yes," said they, "very offensive; and the King would give half his treasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, as you see, but they assault him in his chamber, and even in bed, so that he is obliged to be watched while he is sleeping for fear of them."

The captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor Whittington and his cat, and told the King he had a creature on board the ship that would despatch all these vermin immediately. The King's heart heaved so high at the joy which this news gave him that his turban dropped off his head. "Bring this creature to me," says he; "vermin are dreadful in a court, and if she will perform what you say, I will load your ship with gold and jewels in exchange for her."

The captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forth the merits of Miss Puss. He told his Majesty that it would be inconvenient to part with her, as, when she was gone, the rats and mice might destroy the goods in the ship; but to oblige his Majesty he would fetch her. "Run, run!" said the Queen; "I am impatient to see the dear creature."

Away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner was got ready. He put puss under his arm, and arrived at the place soon enough to see the table full of rats.

When the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding, but jumped out of the captain's arms, and in a few minutes laid almost all the rats and mice dead at her feet. The rest of them in their fright scampered away to their holes.

The King and Queen were quite charmed to get so easily rid of such plagues, and desired that the creature who had done them so great a kindness might be brought to them for inspection. Upon which the captain called: "Pussy, pussy, pussy!" and she came to him. He then presented her to the Queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch a creature who had made such a havoc among the rats and mice. However, when the captain stroked the cat and called: "Pussy, pussy," the Queen also touched her and cried, "Putty, putty," for she had not learned English. He then put her down on the Queen's lap, where she, purring, played with her Majesty's hand, and then sung herself to sleep.

The King, having seen the exploits of Mistress Puss, and being informed that some day she would have some little kitties, which in turn would have other little kitties, and thus stock the whole country, bargained with the captain for the ship's entire cargo, and then gave him ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to.

The captain then took leave of the royal party, and set sail with a fair wind for England, and after a happy voyage arrived safe in London.

One morning Mr. Fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house and seated himself at the desk, when somebody came tap, tap, at the door. "Who's there?" asked Mr. Fitzwarren. "A friend," answered the other; "I come to bring you good news of your ship 'Unicorn.'" The merchant, bustling up instantly, opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage.

Then they told the story of the cat, and showed the rich present that the King and Queen had sent for her to poor Dick. As soon as the merchant heard this, he called out to his servants:

"Go fetch him—we will tell him of the same; Pray call him Mr. Whittington by name."

Mr. Fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man; for when some of his servants said so great a treasure was too much for him, he answered: "God forbid I should deprive him of the value of a single penny."

He then sent for Dick, who at that time was scouring pots for the cook, and was quite dirty.

Mr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so he began to think they were making game of him, at the same time begging them not to play tricks with a poor simple boy, but to let him go down again, if they pleased, to his work.

"Indeed, Mr. Whittington," said the merchant, "we are all quite in earnest with you, and I most heartily rejoice in the news these gentlemen have brought you; for the captain has sold your cat to the King of Barbary, and brought you in return for her more riches than I possess in the whole world; and I wish you may long enjoy them!"

Mr. Fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they had brought with them; and said: "Mr. Whittington has nothing to do but to put it in some place of safety."

Poor Dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. He begged his master to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to his kindness. "No, no," answered Mr. Fitzwarren, "this is all your own; and I have no doubt but you will use it well."

Dick next asked his mistress, and then Miss Alice, to accept a part of his good fortune; but they would not, and at the same time told him they felt great joy at his good success. But this poor fellow was too kind-hearted to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to the captain, the mate, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants; and even to the ill-natured old cook.

After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for a proper tradesman, and get himself dressed like a gentleman; and told him he was welcome to live in his house till he could provide himself with a better.

When Whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, his hat cocked, and he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes, he was as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited at Mr. Fitzwarren's; so that Miss Alice, who had once been so kind to him, and thought of him with pity, now looked upon him as fit to be her sweetheart; and the more so, no doubt, because Whittington was now always thinking what he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest presents that could be.

Mr. Fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other, and proposed to join them in marriage; and to this they both readily agreed. A day for the wedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the Lord Mayor, the court of aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the richest merchants in London, to whom they afterward gave a very rich feast.

History tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady lived in great splendor, and were very happy. They had several children. He was Sheriff of London, also Mayor, and received the honor of knighthood by Henry V.

The figure of Sir Richard Whittington with his cat in his arms, carved in stone, was to be seen till the year 1780 over the archway of the old prison of Newgate, that stood across Newgate Street.





WILD ROBIN

A Scotch Fairy Tale

RETOLD BY SOPHIE MAY

In the green valley of the Yarrow, near the castle-keep of Norham, dwelt an honest little family, whose only grief was an unhappy son, named Robin.

Janet, with jimp form, bonnie eyes, and cherry cheeks, was the best of daughters; the boys, Sandie and Davie, were swift-footed, brave, kind, and obedient; but Robin, the youngest, had a stormy temper, and when his will was crossed he became as reckless as a reeling hurricane. Once, in a passion, he drove two of his father's "kye," or cattle, down a steep hill to their death. He seemed not to care for home or kindred, and often pierced the tender heart of his mother with sharp words. When she came at night, and "happed" the bed-clothes carefully about his form, and then stooped to kiss his nut-brown cheeks, he turned away with a frown, muttering: "Mither, let me be."

It was a sad case with Wild Robin, who seemed to have neither love nor conscience.

"My heart is sair," sighed his mother, "wi' greeting over sich a son."

"He hates our auld cottage and our muckle wark," said the poor father. "Ah, weel! I could a'maist wish the fairies had him for a season, to teach him better manners."

This the gudeman said heedlessly, little knowing there was any danger of Robin's being carried away to Elf-land. Whether the fairies were at that instant listening under the eaves, will never be known; but it chanced, one day, that Wild Robin was sent across the moors to fetch the kye.

"I'll rin away," thought the boy; "'t is hard indeed if ilka day a great lad like me must mind the kye. I'll gae aff; and they'll think me dead."

So he gaed, and he gaed, over round swelling hills, over old battle-fields, past the roofless ruins of houses whose walls were crowned with tall climbing grasses, till he came to a crystal sheet of water called St. Mary's Loch. Here he paused to take breath. The sky was dull and lowering; but at his feet were yellow flowers, which shone, on that gray day, like streaks of sunshine.

He threw himself wearily upon the grass, not heeding that he had chosen his couch within a little mossy circle known as a "fairy's ring." Wild Robin knew that the country people would say the fays had pressed that green circle with their light feet. He had heard all the Scottish lore of brownies, elves, will-o'-the-wisps and the strange water-kelpies, who shriek with eldritch laughter. He had been told that the Queen of the Fairies had coveted him from his birth, and would have stolen him away, only that, just as she was about to seize him from the cradle, he had sneezed; and from that instant the fairy-spell was over, and she had no more control of him.

Yet, in spite of all these stories, the boy was not afraid; and if he had been informed that any of the uncanny people were, even now, haunting his footsteps, he would not have believed it.

"I see," said Wild Robin, "the sun is drawing his nightcap over his eyes, and dropping asleep. I believe I'll e'en take a nap mysel', and see what comes o' it."

In two minutes he had forgotten St. Mary's Loch, the hills, the moors, the yellow flowers. He heard, or fancied he heard, his sister Janet calling him home.

"And what have ye for supper?" he muttered between his teeth.

"Parritch and milk," answered the lassie gently.

"Parritch and milk! Whist! say nae mair! Lang, lang may ye wait for Wild Robin: he'll not gae back for oatmeal parritch!"

Next a sad voice fell on his ear.

"Mither's; and she mourns me dead!" thought he; but it was only the far-off village-bell, which sounded like the echo of music he had heard lang syne, but might never hear again.

"D' ye think I'm not alive?" tolled the bell. "I sit all day in my little wooden temple, brooding over the sins of the parish."

"A brazen lie!" cried Robin.

"Nay, the truth, as I'm a living soul! Wae worth ye, Robin Telfer: ye think yersel' hardly used. Say, have your brithers softer beds than yours? Is your ain father served with larger potatoes or creamier buttermilk? Whose mither sae kind as yours, ungrateful chiel? Gae to Elf-land, Wild Robin; and dool and wae follow ye! dool and wae follow ye!"

The round yellow sun had dropped behind the hills; the evening breezes began to blow; and now could be heard the faint trampling of small hoofs, and the tinkling of tiny bridle-bells: the fairies were trooping over the ground. First of all rode the Queen.

"Her skirt was of the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fine; At ilka tress of her horse's mane Hung fifty silver bells and nine."

But Wild Robin's closed eyes saw nothing: his sleep-sealed ears heard nothing. The Queen of the fairies dismounted, stole up to him, and laid her soft fingers on his cheeks.

"Here is a little man after my ain heart," said she: "I like his knitted brow, and the downward curve of his lips. Knights, lift him gently, set him on a red-roan steed, and waft him away to Fairy-land."

Wild Robin was lifted as gently as a brown leaf borne by the wind; he rode as softly as if the red-roan steed had been saddled with satin, and shod with velvet. It even may be that the faint tinkling of the bridle-bells lulled him into a deeper slumber; for when he awoke it was morning in Fairy-land.

Robin sprang from his mossy couch, and stared about him. Where was he? He rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Dreaming, no doubt; but what meant all these nimble little beings bustling hither and thither in hot haste? What meant these pearl-bedecked caves, scarcely larger than swallow's nests? these green canopies, overgrown with moss? He pinched himself, and gazed again. Countless flowers nodded to him, and seemed, like himself, on tip-toe with curiosity, he thought. He beckoned one of the busy, dwarfish little brownies toward him.

"I ken I'm talking in my sleep," said the lad; "but can ye tell me what dell is this, and how I chanced to be in it?"

The brownie might or might not have heard; but, at any rate, he deigned no reply, and went on with his task, which was pounding seeds in a stone mortar.

"Am I Robin Telfer, of the Valley of Yarrow, and yet canna shake aff my silly dreams?"

"Weel, my lad," quoth the Queen of the Fairies, giving him a smart tap with her wand, "stir yersel', and be at work; for naebody idles in Elf-land."

Bewildered Robin ventured a look at the little Queen. By daylight she seemed somewhat sleepy and tired; and was withal so tiny, that he might almost have taken her between his thumb and finger, and twirled her above his head; yet she poised herself before him on a mullein-stalk and looked every inch a queen. Robin found her gaze oppressive; for her eyes were hard, and cold, and gray, as if they had been little orbs of granite.

"Get ye to work, Wild Robin!"

"What to do?" meekly asked the boy, hungrily glancing at a few kernels of rye which had rolled out of one of the brownie's mortars.

"Are ye hungry, my laddie? Touch a grain of rye if ye dare! Shell these dry beans; and if so be ye're starving, eat as many as ye can boil in an acorn-cup."

With these words she gave the boy a withered bean-pod, and, summoning a meek little brownie, bade him see that the lad did not over-fill the acorn-cup, and that he did not so much as peck at a grain of rye. Then glancing sternly at her prisoner, she withdrew, sweeping after her the long train of her green robe.

The dull days crept by, and still there seemed no hope that Wild Robin would ever escape from his beautiful but detested prison. He had no wings, poor laddie; and he could neither become invisible nor draw himself through a keyhole bodily.

It is true, he had mortal companions: many chubby babies; many bright-eyed boys and girls, whose distracted parents were still seeking them, far and wide, upon the earth. It would almost seem that the wonders of Fairy-land might make the little prisoners happy. There were countless treasures to be had for the taking, and the very dust in the little streets was precious with specks of gold: but the poor children shivered for the want of a mother's love; they all pined for the dear home-people. If a certain task seemed to them particularly irksome, the heartless Queen was sure to find it out, and oblige them to perform it, day after day. If they disliked any article of food, that, and no other, were they forced to eat, or else starve.

Wild Robin, loathing his withered beans and unsalted broths, longed intensely for one little breath of fragrant steam from the toothsome parritch on his father's table, one glance at a roasted potato. He was homesick for the gentle sister he had neglected, the rough brothers whose cheeks he had pelted black and blue; and yearned for the very chinks in the walls, the very thatch on the home-roof.

Gladly would he have given every fairy flower, at the root of which clung a lump of gold ore, if he might have had his own coverlet "happed" about him once more by his gentle mother.



"Mither," he whispered in his dreams, "my shoon are worn, and my feet bleed; but I'll soon creep hame, if I can. Keep the parritch warm for me."

Robin was as strong as a mountain-goat; and his strength was put to the task of threshing rye, grinding oats and corn, or drawing water from a brook.

Every night, troops of gay fairies and plodding brownies stole off on a visit to the upper world, leaving Robin and his companions in ever-deeper despair. Poor Robin! he was fain to sing—

"Oh, that my father had ne'er on me smiled! Oh, that my mother had ne'er to me sung! Oh, that my cradle had never been rocked, But that I had died when I was young."

Now, there was one good-natured brownie who pitied Robin. When he took a journey to earth with his fellow-brownies, he often threshed rye for the laddie's father, or churned butter in his good mother's dairy, unseen and unsuspected. If the little creature had been watched, and paid for these good offices, he would have left the farmhouse forever in sore displeasure.

To homesick Robin he brought news of the family who mourned him as dead. He stole a silky tress of Janet's fair hair, and wondered to see the boy weep over it; for brotherly affection is a sentiment which never yet penetrated the heart of a brownie. The dull little sprite would gladly have helped the poor lad to his freedom, but told him that only on one night of the year was there the least hope, and that was on Hallow-e'en, when the whole nation of fairies ride in procession through the streets of earth.

So Robin was instructed to spin a dream, which the kind brownie would hum in Janet's ear while she slept. By this means the lassie would not only learn that her brother was in the power of the elves, but would also learn how to release him.

Accordingly, the night before Hallow-e'en, the bonnie Janet dreamed that the long-lost Robin was living in Elf-land, and that he was to pass through the streets with a cavalcade of fairies. But, alas! how should even a sister know him in the dim starlight, among the passing troops of elfish and mortal riders? The dream assured her that she might let the first company go by, and the second; but Robin would be one of the third.

The full directions as to how she should act were given in poetical form, as follows:

"First let pass the black, Janet, And syne let pass the brown; But grip ye to the milk-white steed, And pull the rider down.

For I ride on the milk-white steed, And aye nearest the town: Because I was a christened lad They gave me that renown.

My right hand will be gloved, Janet; My left hand will be bare; And these the tokens I give thee, No doubt I will be there.

They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, A toad, snake, and an eel; But hold me fast, nor let me gang, As you do love me weel.

They'll shape me in your arms, Janet, A dove, bat, and a swan: Cast your green mantle over me, I'll be myself again."

The good sister Janet, far from remembering any of the old sins of her brother, wept for joy to know that he was yet among the living. She told no one of her strange dream; but hastened secretly to the Miles Cross, saw the strange cavalcade pricking through the greenwood, and pulled down the rider on the milk-white steed, holding him fast through all his changing shapes. But when she had thrown her green mantle over him, and clasped him in her arms as her own brother Robin, the angry voice of the Fairy Queen was heard.

"Up then spake the Queen of Fairies, Out of a blush of rye: 'You've taken away the bonniest lad In all my companie.

'Had I but had the wit, yestreen, That I have learned to-day, I'd pinned the sister to her bed Ere he'd been won away!'"

However, it was too late now. Wild Robin was safe, and the elves had lost their power over him forever. His forgiving parents and his lead-hearted brothers welcomed him home with more than the old love.

So grateful and happy was the poor laddie that he nevermore grumbled at his oatmeal parritch, or minded his kye with a scowling brow.

But to the end of his days, when he heard mention of fairies and brownies, his mind wandered off in a mizmaze. He died in peace, and was buried on the banks of the Yarrow.



THE STORY OF MERLIN

Merlin was a King in early Britain; he was also an Enchanter. No one knows who were his parents, or where he was born; but it is said that he was brought in by the white waves of the sea, and that, at the last, to the sea he returned.

When Merlin was King of Britain, it was a delightful island of flowery meadows. His subjects were fairies, and they spent their lives in singing, playing, and enjoyment. The Prime Minister of Merlin was a tame wolf. Part of his kingdom was beneath the waves, and his subjects there were the mermaids. Here, too, everyone was happy, and the only want they ever felt was of the full light of the sun, which, coming to them through the water, was but faint and cast no shadow. Here was Merlin's workshop, where he forged the enchanted sword Excalibur. This was given to King Arthur when he began to reign, and after his life was through it was flung into the ocean again, where it will remain until he returns to rule over a better kingdom.

Merlin was King Arthur's trusted counselor. He knew the past, present, and the future; he could foretell the result of a battle, and he had courage to rebuke even the bravest Knights for cowardice. On one occasion, when the battle seemed to be lost, he rode in among the enemy on a great white horse, carrying a banner with a golden dragon, which poured forth flaming fire from its throat. Because of this dragon, which became King Arthur's emblem, Arthur was known as Pendragon, and always wore a golden dragon on the front of his helmet.

Merlin was always fond of elfin tricks. He would disguise himself—now as a blind boy, again as an old witch, and once more as a dwarf. There was a song about him all over Britain, which began as follows:

"Merlin, Merlin, where art thou going So early in the day, with thy black dog? Oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! oi! Oi! oi! oi! oi! oi!"

This is the way the early British explained the gathering and arrangement of the vast stones of Stonehenge. After a famous battle had been won there, Merlin said: "I will now cause a thing to be done that will endure to the world's end." So he bade the King, who was the father of King Arthur, to send ships and men to Ireland. Here he showed him stones so great that no man could handle, but by his magic art he placed them upon the boats and they were borne to England. Again by his magic he showed how to transport them across the land; and after they were gathered he had them set on end, "because," he said, "they would look fairer than as if they were lying down."

Now, strange to say, the greatest friend of Merlin was a little girl. Her name was Vivian; she was twelve years old, and she was the daughter of King Dionas. In order to make her acquaintance, Merlin changed himself into a young Squire, and when she asked him who was his master, he said: "It is one who has taught me so much that I could here erect for you a castle, and I could make many people outside to attack it and inside to defend it."

"I wish I could thus disport myself," answered Vivian. "I would always love you if you could show me such wonders."

Then Merlin described a circle with his wand, and went back and sat down beside her. Within a few hours the castle was before her in the wood, Knights and ladies were singing in its courtyard, and an orchard in blossom grew about.

"Have I done what I promised?" asked Merlin.

"Fair, sweet friend," said she, "you have done so much for me that I am always yours."

Vivian became like a daughter to the old magician, and he taught her many of the most wonderful things that any mortal heart could think of—things past, things that were done, and part of what was to come.

You have been told in Tennyson that Vivian learned so many of Merlin's enchantments that in his old age she took advantage of him and put him to sleep forever in the hollow of a tree. But the older legend gives us better news. He showed her how to make a tower without walls so they might dwell there together alone in peace. This tower was "so strong that it may never be undone while the world endures." After it was finished he fell asleep with his head in her lap, and she wove a spell nine times around his head so that he might rest more peacefully.

But the old enchanter does not sleep forever. Here in the forest of Broceliande, on a magic island, Merlin dwells with his nine bards, and only Vivian can come or go through the magic walls. It was toward this tower, so the legends say, that, after the passing of King Arthur, Merlin was last seen by some Irish monks, sailing away westward, with the maiden Vivian, in a boat of crystal, beneath the sunset sky.











THE CUB'S TRIUMPH

Once upon a time there lived in a forest a badger and a mother fox with one little Cub.

There were no other beasts in the wood, because the hunters had killed them all with bows and arrows, or by setting snares. The deer, and the wild boar, the hares, the weasels, and the stoats—even the bright little squirrels—had been shot, or had fallen into traps. At last, only the badger and the fox, with her young one, were left, and they were starving, for they dared not venture from their holes for fear of the traps.

They did not know what to do, or where to turn for food. At last the badger said:

"I have thought of a plan. I will pretend to be dead. You must change yourself into a man, and take me into the town and sell me. With the money you get for me, you must buy food and bring it into the forest. When I get a chance I will run away, and come back to you, and we will eat our dinner together. Mind you wait for me, and don't eat any of it until I come. Next week it will be your turn to be dead, and my turn to sell—do you see?"

The fox thought this plan would do very well; so, as soon as the badger had lain down and pretended to be dead, she said to her little Cub:

"Be sure not to come out of the hole until I come back. Be very good and quiet, and I will soon bring you some nice dinner."

She then changed herself into a wood-cutter, took the badger by the heels and swung him over her shoulders, and trudged off into the town. There she sold the badger for a fair price, and with the money bought some fish, some tofu,[M] and some vegetables. She then ran back to the forest as fast as she could, changed herself into a fox again, and crept into her hole to see if little Cub was all right. Little Cub was there, safe enough, but very hungry, and wanted to begin upon the tofu at once.

[M] Curd made from white beans.

"No, no," said the mother fox. "Fair play's a jewel. We must wait for the badger."

Soon the badger arrived, quite out of breath with running so fast.

"I hope you haven't been eating any of the dinner," he panted. "I could not get away sooner. The man you sold me to brought his wife to look at me, and boasted how cheap he had bought me. You should have asked twice as much. At last they left me alone, and then I jumped up and ran away as fast as I could."

The badger, the fox, and the Cub now sat down to dinner, and had a fine feast, the badger taking care to get the best bits for himself.

Some days after, when all the food was finished, and they had begun to get hungry again, the badger said to the fox:

"Now it's your turn to die." So the fox pretended to be dead, and the badger changed himself into a hunter, shouldered the fox, and went off to the town, where he made a good bargain, and sold her for a nice little sum of money.

You have seen, already that the badger was greedy and selfish. What do you think he did now? He wished to have all the money, and all the food it would buy for himself, so he whispered to the man who had bought the fox:

"That fox is only pretending to be dead; take care he doesn't run away."

"We'll soon settle that," said the man, and he knocked the fox on the head with a big stick, and killed her.

The badger next laid out the money in buying all the nice things he could think of. He carried them off to the forest, and there ate them all up himself, without giving one bit to the poor little Cub, who was all alone, crying for its mother, very sad, and very hungry.

Poor little motherless Cub! But, being a clever little fox, he soon began to put two and two together, and at last felt quite sure that the badger had, in some way, caused the loss of his mother.

He made up his mind that he would punish the badger; and, as he was not big enough or strong enough to do it by force, he was obliged to try another plan.

He did not let the badger see how angry he was with him, but said in a friendly way:

"Let us have a game of changing ourselves into men. If you can change yourself so cleverly that I cannot find you out, you will have won the game; but, if I change myself so that you cannot find me out, then I shall have won the game. I will begin, if you like; and, you may be sure, I shall turn myself into somebody very grand while I am about it."

The badger agreed. So then, instead of changing himself at all, the cunning little Cub just went and hid himself behind a tree, and watched to see what would happen. Presently there came along the bridge leading into the town a nobleman, seated in a sedan-chair, a great crowd of servants and men at arms following him.

The badger was quite sure that this must be the fox, so he ran up to the sedan-chair, put in his head, and cried:

"I've found you out! I've won the game!"

"A badger! A badger! Off with his head," cried the nobleman.

So one of the retainers cut off the badger's head with one blow of his sharp sword, the little Cub all the time laughing unseen behind the tree.





CHIN-CHIN KOBAKAMA

Once there was a little girl who was very pretty, but also very lazy. Her parents were rich, and had a great many servants; and these servants were very fond of the little girl, and did everything for her which she ought to have been able to do for herself. Perhaps this was what made her so lazy. When she grew up into a beautiful woman she still remained lazy; but as the servants always dressed and undressed her, and arranged her hair, she looked very charming, and nobody thought about her faults.

At last she was married to a brave warrior, and went away with him to live in another house where there were but few servants. She was sorry not to have as many servants as she had had at home, because she was obliged to do several things for herself which other folks had always done for her, and it was a great deal of trouble to her to dress herself, and take care of her own clothes, and keep herself looking neat and pretty to please her husband. But as he was a warrior, and often had to be far away from home with the army, she could sometimes be just as lazy as she wished, and her husband's parents were very old and good-natured, and never scolded her.

Well, one night while her husband was away with the army, she was awakened by queer little noises in her room. By the light of a big paper lantern she could see very well, and she saw strange things.

Hundreds of little men, dressed just like Japanese warriors, but only about one inch high, were dancing all around her pillow. They wore the same kind of dress her husband wore on holidays (Kamishimo, a long robe with square shoulders), and their hair was tied up in knots, and each wore two tiny swords. They all looked at her as they danced, and laughed, and they all sang the same song over and over again:

"Chin-chin Kobakama, Yomo fuke sōro— Oshizumare, Hime-gimi!— Ya ton ton!—"

Which meant: "We are the Chin-chin Kobakama; the hour is late; sleep, honorable, noble darling!"

The words seemed very polite, but she soon saw that the little men were only making cruel fun of her. They also made ugly faces at her.

She tried to catch some of them, but they jumped about so quickly that she could not. Then she tried to drive them away, but they would not go, and they never stopped singing:

"Chin-chin Kobakama...."

and laughing at her. Then she knew they were little fairies, and became so frightened that she could not even cry out. They danced around her until morning; then they all vanished suddenly.

She was ashamed to tell anybody what had happened, because, as she was the wife of a warrior, she did not wish anybody to know how frightened she had been.

Next night, again, the little men came and danced; and they came also the night after that, and every night, always at the same hour, which the old Japanese used to call the "hour of the ox"; that is, about two o'clock in the morning by our time. At last she became very sick, through want of sleep and through fright. But the little men would not leave her alone.

When her husband came back home he was very sorry to find her sick in bed. At first she was afraid to tell him what had made her ill, for fear that he would laugh at her. But he was so kind, and coaxed her so gently, that after a while she told him what happened every night.

He did not laugh at her at all, but looked very serious for a time. Then he asked:

"At what time do they come?"

She answered, "Always at the same hour—the 'hour of the ox.'"

"Very well," said her husband; "to-night I shall hide, and watch for them. Do not be frightened."

So that night the warrior hid himself in a closet in the sleeping-room, and kept watch through a chink between the sliding doors.

He waited and watched until the "hour of the ox." Then, all at once, the little men came up through the mats, and began their dance and their song:

"Chin-chin Kobakama, Yomo fuke sōro...."

They looked so queer, and danced in such a funny way, that the warrior could scarcely keep from laughing. But he saw his young wife's frightened face; and then, remembering that nearly all Japanese ghosts and goblins are afraid of a sword, he drew his blade and rushed out of the closet, and struck at the little dancers. Immediately they all turned into—what do you think?

Toothpicks!

There were no more little warriors—only a lot of old toothpicks scattered over the mats.

The young wife had been too lazy to put her toothpicks away properly; and every day, after having used a new toothpick, she would stick it down between the mats on the floor, to get rid of it. So the little fairies who take care of the floor-mats became angry with her, and tormented her.

Her husband scolded her, and she was so ashamed that she did not know what to do. A servant was called, and the toothpicks were taken away and burned, and after that the little men never came back again.



THE WONDERFUL MALLET

Once upon a time there were two brothers. The elder was an honest and good man, but he was very poor, while the younger, who was dishonest and stingy, had managed to pile up a large fortune. The name of the elder was Kane, and that of the younger was Cho.

Now, one day Kane went to Cho's house, and begged for the loan of some seed-rice and some silkworms' eggs, for last season had been unfortunate, and he was in want of both.

Cho had plenty of good rice and excellent silkworms' eggs, but he was such a miser that he did not want to lend them. At the same time, he felt ashamed to refuse his brother's request, so he gave him some worm-eaten musty rice and some dead eggs, which he felt sure would never hatch.

Kane, never suspecting that his brother would play him such a shabby trick, put plenty of mulberry leaves with the eggs, to be food for the silkworms when they should appear. Appear they did, and throve and grew wonderfully, much better than those of the stingy brother, who was angry and jealous when he heard of it.

Going to Kane's house one day, and finding his brother was out, Cho took a knife and killed all the silkworms, cutting each poor little creature in two; then he went home without having been seen by anybody.

When Kane came home he was dismayed to find his silkworms in this state, but he did not suspect who had done him this bad trick, and tried to feed them with mulberry leaves as before. The silkworms came to life again, and doubled the number, for now each half was a living worm. They grew and throve, and the silk they spun was twice as much as Kane had expected. So now he began to prosper.

The envious Cho, seeing this, cut all his own silkworms in half, but, alas! they did not come to life again, so he lost a great deal of money, and became more jealous than ever.

Kane also planted the rice-seed which he had borrowed from his brother, and it sprang up, and grew and flourished far better than Cho's had done.

The rice ripened well, and he was just intending to cut and harvest it when a flight of thousands upon thousands of swallows came and began to devour it. Kane was much astonished, and shouted and made as much noise as he could in order to drive them away. They flew away, indeed, but came back immediately, so that he kept driving them away, and they kept flying back again.

At last he pursued them into a distant field, where he lost sight of them. He was by this time so hot and tired that he sat down to rest. By little and little his eyes closed, his head dropped upon a mossy bank, and he fell fast asleep.

Then he dreamed that a merry band of children came into the field, laughing and shouting. They sat down upon the ground in a ring, and one who seemed the eldest, a boy of fourteen or fifteen, came close to the bank on which he lay asleep, and, raising a big stone near his head, drew from under it a small wooden Mallet.

Then in his dream Kane saw this big boy stand in the middle of the ring with the Mallet in his hand, and ask the children each in turn, "What would you like the Mallet to bring you?" The first child answered, "A kite." The big boy shook the Mallet, upon which appeared immediately a fine kite with tail and string all complete. The next cried, "A battledore." Out sprang a splendid battledore and a shower of shuttlecocks. Then a little girl shyly whispered, "A doll." The Mallet was shaken, and there stood a beautifully dressed doll. "I should like all the fairy-tale books that have ever been written in the whole world," said a bright-eyed intelligent maiden, and no sooner had she spoken than piles upon piles of beautiful books appeared. And so at last the wishes of all the children were granted, and they stayed a long time in the field with the things the Mallet had given them. At last they got tired, and prepared to go home; the big boy first carefully hiding the Mallet under the stone from whence he had taken it. Then all the children went away.

Presently Kane awoke, and gradually remembered his dream. In preparing to rise he turned round, and there, close to where his head had lain, was the big stone he had seen in his dream. "How strange!" he thought, expecting he hardly knew what; he raised the stone, and there lay the Mallet!

He took it home with him, and, following the example of the children he had seen in his dream, shook it, at the same time calling out, "Gold" or "Rice," "Silk" or "Sake." Whatever he called for flew immediately out of the Mallet, so that he could have everything he wanted, and as much of it as he liked.

Kane being now a rich and prosperous man, Cho was of course jealous of him, and determined to find a magic mallet which would do as much for him. He came, therefore, to Kane and borrowed seed-rice, which he planted and tended with care, being impatient for it to grow and ripen soon.

It grew well and ripened soon, and now Cho watched daily for the swallows to appear. And, to be sure, one day a flight of swallows came and began to eat up the rice.

Cho was delighted at this, and drove them away, pursuing them to the distant field where Kane had followed them before. There he lay down, intending to go to sleep as his brother had done, but the more he tried to go to sleep the wider awake he seemed.

Presently the band of children came skipping and jumping, so he shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep, but all the time watched anxiously what the children would do. They sat down in a ring, as before, and the big boy came close to Cho's head and lifted the stone. He put down his hand to lift the Mallet, but no mallet was there.

One of the children said, "Perhaps that lazy old farmer has taken our Mallet." So the big boy laid hold of Cho's nose, which was rather long, and gave it a good pinch, and all the other children ran up and pinched and pulled his nose, and the nose itself got longer and longer; first it hung down to his chin, then over his chest, next down to his knees, and at last to his very feet.

It was in vain that Cho protested his innocence; the children pinched and pummeled him to their hearts' content, then capered round him, shouting and laughing, and making game of him, and so at last went away.