'Oh', she said, 'I have always heard that what a man sows he shall reap, so I sowed the salt which our friends the north-country men laid up here with us, and if we only have rain I fancy it will come up nicely.'

'Silly you are', said her husband, 'and silly you will be so long as you live; but that is all one now, for the rest are not a bit wiser than you. There is not a pin to choose between you.'



ONE'S OWN CHILDREN ARE ALWAYS PRETTIEST

A sportsman went out once into a wood to shoot, and he met a Snipe.

'Dear friend', said the Snipe, 'don't shoot my children!'

'How shall I know your children?' asked the Sportsman; 'what are they like?'

'Oh!' said the Snipe, 'mine are the prettiest children in all the wood.'

'Very well', said the Sportsman, 'I'll not shoot them; don't be afraid.'

But for all that, when he came back, there he had a whole string of young snipes in his hand which he had shot.

'Oh, oh!' said the Snipe, 'why did you shoot my children after all?'

'What! these your children!' said the Sportsman; 'why, I shot the ugliest I could find, that I did!'

'Woe is me!' said the Snipe; 'don't you know that each one thinks his own children the prettiest in the world?'



THE THREE PRINCESSES OF WHITELAND

Once on a time there was a fisherman who lived close by a palace, and fished for the king's table. One day when he was out fishing he just caught nothing. Do what he would—however he tried with bait and angle—there was never a sprat on his hook. But when the day was far spent a head bobbed up out of the water, and said:

'If I may have what your wife bears under her girdle, you shall catch fish enough.'

So the man answered boldly, 'Yes'; for he did not know that his wife was going to have a child. After that, as was like enough, he caught plenty of fish of all kinds. But when he got home at night and told his story, how he had got all that fish, his wife fell a-weeping and moaning, and was beside herself for the promise which her husband had made, for she said, 'I bear a babe under my girdle.'

Well, the story soon spread, and came up to the castle; and when the king heard the woman's grief and its cause, he sent down to say he would take care of the child, and see if he couldn't save it.

So the months went on and on, and when her time came the fisher's wife had a boy; so the king took it at once, and brought it up as his own son, until the lad grew up. Then he begged leave one day to go out fishing with his father; he had such a mind to go, he said. At first the king wouldn't hear of it, but at last the lad had his way, and went. So he and his father were out the whole day, and all went right and well till they landed at night. Then the lad remembered he had left his handkerchief, and went to look for it; but as soon as ever he got into the boat, it began to move off with him at such speed that the water roared under the bow, and all the lad could do in rowing against it with the oars was no use; so he went and went the whole night, and at last he came to a white strand, far far away.

There he went ashore, and when he had walked about a bit, an old, old man met him, with a long white beard.

'What's the name of this land?' asked the lad.

'Whiteland', said the man, who went on to ask the lad whence he came, and what he was going to do. So the lad told him all.

'Aye, aye!' said the man; 'now when you have walked a little farther along the strand here, you'll come to three Princesses, whom you will see standing in the earth up to their necks, with only their heads out. Then the first—she is the eldest—will call out and beg you so prettily to come and help her; and the second will do the same; to neither of these shall you go; make haste past them, as if you neither saw nor heard anything. But the third you shall go to, and do what she asks. If you do this, you'll have good luck—that's all.'

When the lad came to the first Princess, she called out to him, and begged him so prettily to come to her, but he passed on as though he saw her not. In the same way he passed by the second; but to the third he went straight up.

'If you'll do what I bid you', she said, 'you may have which of us you please.'

'Yes'; he was willing enough; so she told him how three Trolls had set them down in the earth there; but before they had lived in the castle up among the trees.

'Now', she said, 'you must go into that castle, and let the Trolls whip you each one night for each of us. If you can bear that, you'll set us free.'

Well, the lad said he was ready to try.

'When you go in', the Princess went on to say, 'you'll see two lions standing at the gate; but if you'll only go right in the middle between them they'll do you no harm. Then go straight on into a little dark room, and make your bed. Then the Troll will come to whip you; but if you take the flask which hangs on the wall, and rub yourself with the ointment that's in it, wherever his lash falls, you'll be as sound as ever. Then grasp the sword that hangs by the side of the flask and strike the Troll dead.'

Yes, he did as the Princess told him; he passed in the midst between the lions, as if he hadn't seen them, and went straight into the little room, and there he lay down to sleep. The first night there came a Troll with three heads and three rods, and whipped the lad soundly; but he stood it till the Troll was done; then he took the flask and rubbed himself, and grasped the sword and slew the Troll.

So, when he went out next morning, the Princesses stood out of the earth up to their waists.

The next night 'twas the same story over again, only this time the Troll had six heads and six rods, and he whipped him far worse than the first; but when he went out next morning, the Princesses stood out of the earth as far as the knee. The third night there came a Troll that had nine heads and nine rods, and he whipped and flogged the lad so long that he fainted away; then the Troll took him up and dashed him against the wall; but the shock brought down the flask, which fell on the lad, burst, and spilled the ointment all over him, and so he became as strong and sound as ever again. Then he wasn't slow; he grasped the sword and slew the Troll; and next morning when he went out of the castle the Princesses stood before him with all their bodies out of the earth. So he took the youngest for his Queen, and lived well and happily with her for some time.

At last he began to long to go home for a little to see his parents. His Queen did not like this; but at last his heart was so set on it, and he longed and longed so much, there was no holding him back, so she said,

'One thing you must promise me. This—Only to do what your father begs you to do, and not what your mother wishes'; and that he promised.

Then she gave him a ring, which was of that kind that any one who wore it might wish two wishes. So he wished himself home, and when he got home his parents could not wonder enough what a grand man their son had become.

Now, when he had been at home some days, his mother wished him to go up to the palace and show the king what a fine fellow he had come to be. But his father said:

'No! don't let him do that; if he does, we shan't have any more joy of him this time.'

But it was no good, the mother begged and prayed so long, that at last he went. So when he got up to the palace, he was far braver, both in clothes and array, than the other king, who didn't quite like this, and at last he said:

'All very fine; but here you can see my queen, what like she is, but I can't see yours, that I can't. Do you know, I scarce think she's so good-looking as mine.'

'Would to Heaven', said the young king, 'she were standing here, then you'd see what she was like.' And that instant there she stood before them.

But she was very woeful, and said to him:

'Why did you not mind what I told you; and why did you not listen to what your father said? Now, I must away home, and as for you, you have had both your wishes.'

With that she knitted a ring among his hair with her name on it, and wished herself home, and was off.

Then the young king was cut to the heart, and went, day out day in, thinking and thinking how he should get back to his queen. 'I'll just try', he thought, 'if I can't learn where Whiteland lies'; and so he went out into the world to ask. So when he had gone a good way, he came to a high hill, and there he met one who was lord over all the beasts of the wood, for they all came home to him when he blew his horn; so the king asked if he knew where Whiteland was?

'No, I don't', said he, 'but I'll ask my beasts.' Then he blew his horn and called them, and asked if any of them knew where Whiteland lay? but there was no beast that knew.

So the man gave him a pair of snow-shoes.

'When you get on these', he said, 'you'll come to my brother, who lives hundreds of miles off; he is lord over all the birds of the air. Ask him. When you reach his house, just turn the shoes, so that the toes point this way, and they'll come home of themselves.' So when the king reached the house, he turned the shoes as the lord of the beasts had said, and away they went home of themselves.

So he asked again after Whiteland, and the man called all the birds with a blast of his horn, and asked if any of them knew where Whiteland lay; but none of the birds knew. Now, long, long after the rest of the birds, came an old eagle, which had been away ten round years, but he couldn't tell any more than the rest.

'Well! well!' said the man, 'I'll lend you a pair of snow-shoes, and when you get them on, they'll carry you to my brother, who lives hundreds of miles off; he's lord of all the fish in the sea; you'd better ask him. But don't forget to turn the toes of the shoes this way.'

The king was full of thanks, got on the shoes, and when he came to the man who was lord over the fish of the sea, he turned the toes round, and so off they went home like the other pair. After that, he asked again after Whiteland.

So the man called the fish with a blast, but no fish could tell where it lay. At last came an old pike, which they had great work to call home, he was such a way off. So when they asked him he said:

'Know it! I should think I did. I've been cook there ten years, and to-morrow I'm going there again; for now, the queen of Whiteland, whose king is away, is going to wed another husband.'

'Well!' said the man, 'as this is so, I'll give you a bit of advice. Hereabouts, on a moor, stand three brothers, and here they have stood these hundred years, fighting about a hat, a cloak, and a pair of boots. If any one has these three things he can make himself invisible, and wish himself any where he pleases. You can tell them you wish to try the things, and after that, you'll pass judgment between them, whose they shall be.'

Yes! the king thanked the man, and went and did as he told him.

'What's all this?' he said to the brothers. 'Why do you stand here fighting for ever and a day? Just let me try these things, and I'll give judgment whose they shall be.'

They were very willing to do this; but as soon as he had got the hat, cloak, and boots, he said:

'When we meet next time, I'll tell you my judgment', and with these words he wished himself away.

So as he went along up in the air, he came up with the North Wind.

'Whither away?' roared the North Wind.

'To Whiteland', said the king; and then he told him all that had befallen him.

'Ah', said the North Wind, 'you go faster than I—you do; for you can go straight, while I have to puff and blow round every turn and corner. But when you get there, just place yourself on the stairs by the side of the door, and then I'll come storming in, as though I were going to blow down the whole castle. And then when the prince, who is to have your queen, comes out to see what's the matter, just you take him by the collar and pitch him out of doors; then I'll look after him, and see if I can't carry him off.'

Well—the king did as the North Wind said. He took his stand on the stairs, and when the North Wind came, storming and roaring, and took hold of the castle wall, so that it shook again, the prince came out to see what was the matter. But as soon as ever he came, the king caught him by the collar and pitched him out of doors, and then the North Wind caught him up and carried him off. So when there was an end of him, the king went into the castle, and at first his queen didn't know him, he was so wan and thin, through wandering so far and being so woeful; but when he shewed her the ring, she was as glad as glad could be; and so the rightful wedding was held, and the fame of it spread far and wide.



THE LASSIE AND HER GODMOTHER

Once on a time a poor couple lived far, far away in a great wood. The wife was brought to bed, and had a pretty girl, but they were so poor they did not know how to get the babe christened, for they had no money to pay the parson's fees. So one day the father went out to see if he could find any one who was willing to stand for the child and pay the fees; but though he walked about the whole day from one house to another, and though all said they were willing enough to stand, no one thought himself bound to pay the fees. Now, when he was going home again, a lovely lady met him, dressed so fine, and who looked so thoroughly good and kind; she offered to get the babe christened, but after that, she said, she must keep it for her own. The husband answered, he must first ask his wife what she wished to do; but when he got home and told his story, the wife said, right out, 'No!'

Next day the man went out again, but no one would stand if they had to pay the fees; and though he begged and prayed, he could get no help. And again as he went home, towards evening the same lovely lady met him, who looked so sweet and good, and she made him the same offer. So he told his wife again how he had fared, and this time she said, if he couldn't get any one to stand for his babe next day, they must just let the lady have her way, since she seemed so kind and good.

The third day, the man went about, but he couldn't get any one to stand; and so when, towards evening, he met the kind lady again, he gave his word she should have the babe if she would only get it christened at the font. So next morning she came to the place where the man lived, followed by two men to stand godfathers, took the babe and carried it to church, and there it was christened. After that she took it to her own house, and there the little girl lived with her several years, and her foster-mother was always kind and friendly to her.

Now, when the lassie had grown to be big enough to know right and wrong, her foster-mother got ready to go on a journey. 'You have my leave', she said, 'to go all over the house, except those rooms which I shew you'; and when she had said that, away she went.

But the lassie could not forbear just to open one of the doors a little bit, when—POP! out flew a Star.

When her foster-mother came back, she was very vexed to find that the star had flown out, and she got very angry with her foster-daughter, and threatened to send her away; but the child cried and begged so hard that she got leave to stay.

Now, after a while, the foster-mother had to go on another journey; and, before she went, she forbade the lassie to go into those two rooms into which she had never been. She promised to beware; but when she was left alone, she began to think and to wonder what there could be in the second room, and at last she could not help setting the door a little ajar, just to peep in, when—POP! out flew the Moon.

When her foster-mother came home and found the Moon let out, she was very downcast, and said to the lassie she must go away, she could not stay with her any longer. But the lassie wept so bitterly, and prayed so heartily for forgiveness, that this time, too, she got leave to stay.

Some time after, the foster-mother had to go away again, and she charged the lassie, who by this time was half grown up, most earnestly that she mustn't try to go into, or to peep into, the third room. But when her foster-mother had been gone some time, and the lassie was weary of walking about alone, all at once she thought, 'Dear me, what fun it would be just to peep a little into that third room.' Then she thought she mustn't do it for her foster-mother's sake; but when the bad thought came the second time she could hold out no longer; come what might, she must and would look into the room; so she just opened the door a tiny bit, when—POP! out flew the Sun.

But when her foster-mother came back and saw that the sun had flown away, she was cut to the heart, and said, 'Now, there was no help for it, the lassie must and should go away; she couldn't hear of her staying any longer.' Now the lassie cried her eyes out, and begged and prayed so prettily; but it was all no good.

'Nay! but I must punish you!' said her foster-mother; 'but you may have your choice, either to be the loveliest woman in the world, and not to be able to speak, or to keep your speech, and be the ugliest of all women; but away from me you must go.'

And the lassie said, 'I would sooner be lovely.' So she became all at once wondrous fair; but from that day forth she was dumb.

So, when she went away from her foster-mother, she walked and wandered through a great, great wood; but the farther she went, the farther off the end seemed to be. So, when the evening came on, she clomb up into a tall tree, which grew over a spring, and there she made herself up to sleep that night. Close by lay a castle, and from that castle came early every morning a maid to draw water to make the Prince's tea, from the spring over which the lassie was sitting. So the maid looked down into the spring, saw the lovely face in the water, and thought it was her own; then she flung away the pitcher, and ran home; and, when she got there, she tossed up her head and said, 'If I'm so pretty, I'm far too good to go and fetch water.'

So another maid had to go for the water, but the same thing happened to her; she went back and said she was far too pretty and too good to fetch water from the spring for the Prince. Then the Prince went himself, for he had a mind to see what all this could mean. So, when he reached the spring, he too saw the image in the water; but he looked up at once, and became aware of the lovely lassie who sate there up in the tree. Then he coaxed her down and took her home; and at last made up his mind to have her for his queen, because she was so lovely; but his mother, who was still alive, was against it.

'She can't speak', she said, 'and maybe she's a wicked witch.'

But the Prince could not be content till he got her. So after they had lived together a while, the lassie was to have a child, and when the child came to be born, the Prince set a strong watch round her; but at the birth one and all fell into a deep sleep, and her foster- mother came, cut the babe on its little finger, and smeared the queen's mouth with the blood; and said:

'Now you shall be as grieved as I was when you let out the star'; and with these words she carried off the babe.

But when those who were on the watch woke, they thought the queen had eaten her own child, and the old queen was all for burning her alive, but the Prince was so fond of her that at last he begged her off, but he had hard work to set her free.

So the next time the young queen was to have a child, twice as strong a watch was set as the first time, but the same thing happened over again, only this time her foster-mother said:

'Now you shall be as grieved as I was when you let the moon out.'

And the queen begged and prayed, and wept; for when her foster-mother was there, she could speak—but it was all no good.

And now the old queen said she must be burnt, but the Prince found means to beg her off. But when the third child was to be born, a watch was set three times as strong as the first, but just the same thing happened. Her foster-mother came while the watch slept, took the babe, and cut its little finger, and smeared the queen's mouth with the blood, telling her now she should be as grieved as she had been when the lassie let out the sun.

And now the Prince could not save her any longer. She must and should be burnt. But just as they were leading her to the stake, all at once they saw her foster-mother, who came with all three children—two she led by the hand, and the third she had on her arm; and so she went up to the young queen and said:

'Here are your children; now you shall have them again. I am the Virgin Mary, and so grieved as you have been, so grieved was I when you let out sun, and moon, and star. Now you have been punished for what you did, and henceforth you shall have your speech.'

How glad the Queen and Prince now were, all may easily think, but no one can tell. After that they were always happy; and from that day even the Prince's mother was very fond of the young queen.



THE THREE AUNTS

Once on a time there was a poor man who lived in a hut far away in the wood, and got his living by shooting. He had an only daughter who was very pretty, and as she had lost her mother when she was a child, and was now half grown up, she said she would go out into the world and earn her bread.

'Well, lassie!' said the father, 'true enough you have learnt nothing here but how to pluck birds and roast them, but still you may as well try to earn your bread.'

So the girl went off to seek a place, and when she had gone a little while, she came to a palace. There she stayed and got a place, and the queen liked her so well, that all the other maids got envious of her. So they made up their minds to tell the queen how the lassie said she was good to spin a pound of flax in four and twenty hours, for you must know the queen was a great housewife, and thought much of good work.

'Have you said this? then you shall do it', said the queen; 'but you may have a little longer time if you choose.'

Now, the poor lassie dared not say she had never spun in all her life, but she only begged for a room to herself. That she got, and the wheel and the flax were brought up to her. There she sat sad and weeping, and knew not how to help herself. She pulled the wheel this way and that, and twisted and turned it about, but she made a poor hand of it, for she had never even seen a spinning-wheel in her life.

But all at once, as she sat there, in came an old woman to her.

'What ails you, child?' she said.

'Ah!' said the lassie, with a deep sigh, 'it's no good to tell you, for you'll never be able to help me.'

'Who knows?' said the old wife. 'May be I know how to help you after all.'

Well, thought the lassie to herself, I may as well tell her, and so she told her how her fellow-servants had given out that she was good to spin a pound of flax in four and twenty hours.

'And here am I, wretch that I am, shut up to spin all that heap in a day and a night, when I have never even seen a spinning-wheel in all my born days.'

'Well, never mind, child', said the old woman. 'If you'll call me Aunt on the happiest day of your life, I'll spin this flax for you, and so you may just go away and lie down to sleep.'

Yes, the lassie was willing enough, and off she went and lay down to sleep.

Next morning when she awoke, there lay all the flax spun on the table, and that so clean and fine, no one had ever seen such even and pretty yarn. The queen was very glad to get such nice yarn, and she set greater store by the lassie than ever. But the rest were still more envious, and agreed to tell the queen how the lassie had said she was good to weave the yarn she had spun in four and twenty hours. So the queen said again, as she had said it she must do it; but if she couldn't quite finish it in four and twenty hours, she wouldn't be too hard upon her, she might have a little more time. This time, too, the lassie dared not say No, but begged for a room to herself, and then she would try. There she sat again, sobbing and crying, and not knowing which way to turn, when another old woman came in and asked:

'What ails you, child?'

At first the lassie wouldn't say, but at last she told her the whole story of her grief.

'Well, well!' said the old wife, 'never mind. If you'll call me Aunt on the happiest day of your life, I'll weave this yarn for you, and so you may just be off, and lie down to sleep.'

Yes, the lassie was willing enough; so she went away and lay down to sleep. When she awoke, there lay the piece of linen on the table, woven so neat and close, no woof could be better. So the lassie took the piece and ran down to the queen, who was very glad to get such beautiful linen, and set greater store than ever by the lassie. But as for the others, they grew still more bitter against her, and thought of nothing but how to find out something to tell about her.

At last they told the queen the lassie had said she was good to make up the piece of linen into shirts in four and twenty hours. Well, all happened as before; the lassie dared not say she couldn't sew; so she was shut up again in a room by herself, and there she sat in tears and grief. But then another old wife came, who said she would sew the shirts for her if she would call her Aunt on the happiest day of her life. The lassie was only too glad to do this, and then she did as the old wife told her, and went and lay down to sleep.

Next morning when she woke she found the piece of linen made up into shirts, which lay on the table—and such beautiful work no one had ever set eyes on; and more than that, the shirts were all marked and ready for wear. So, when the queen saw the work, she was so glad at the way in which it was sewn, that she clapped her hands, and said:

'Such sewing I never had, nor even saw in all my born days'; and after that she was as fond of the lassie as of her own children; and she said to her:

'Now, if you like to have the Prince for your husband, you shall have him; for you will never need to hire work-women. You can sew, and spin, and weave all yourself.'

So as the lassie was pretty, and the Prince was glad to have her, the wedding soon came on. But just as the Prince was going to sit down with the bride to the bridal feast, in came an ugly old hag with a long nose—I'm sure it was three ells long.

So up got the bride and made a curtsey, and said: 'Good-day, Auntie.'

'That Auntie to my bride?' said the Prince.

'Yes, she was!'

'Well, then, she'd better sit down with us to the feast', said the Prince; but, to tell you the truth, both he and the rest thought she was a loathsome woman to have next you.

But just then in came another ugly old hag. She had a back so humped and broad, she had hard work to get through the door. Up jumped the bride in a trice, and greeted her with 'Good-day, Auntie!'

And the Prince asked again if that were his bride's aunt. They both said Yes; so the Prince said, if that were so, she too had better sit down with them to the feast.

But they had scarce taken their seats before another ugly old hag came in, with eyes as large as saucers, and so red and bleared, 'twas gruesome to look at her. But up jumped the bride again, with her 'Good-day, Auntie', and her, too, the Prince asked to sit down; but I can't say he was very glad, for he thought to himself: 'Heaven shield me from such Aunties as my bride has!' So when he had sat awhile, he could not keep his thoughts to himself any longer, but asked,

'But how, in all the world, can my bride, who is such a lovely lassie, have such loathsome, misshapen Aunts?'

'I'll soon tell you how it is', said the first. 'I was just as good- looking when I was her age; but the reason why I've got this long nose is, because I was always kept sitting, and poking, and nodding over my spinning, and so my nose got stretched and stretched, until it got as long as you now see it.'

'And I', said the second, 'ever since I was young, I have sat and scuttled backwards and forwards over my loom, and that's how my back has got so broad and humped as you now see it.'

'And I', said the third, 'ever since I was little, I have sat, and stared, and sewn, and sewn and stared, night and day; and that's why my eyes have got so ugly and red, and now there's no help for them.'

'So! so! 'said the Prince, ''twas lucky I came to know this; for if folk can get so ugly and loathsome by all this, then my bride shall neither spin, nor weave, nor sew all her life long.'



THE COCK, THE CUCKOO, AND THE BLACK-COCK

[This is another of those tales in which the birds' notes must be imitated.]

Once on a time the Cock, the Cuckoo, and the Black-cock bought a cow between them. But when they came to share it, and couldn't agree which should buy the others out, they settled that he who woke first in the morning should have the cow.

So the Cock woke first.

Now the cow's mine! Now the cow's mine! Hurrah! hurrah!

he crew, and as he crew, up awoke the Cuckoo.

Half cow! Half cow!

sang the Cuckoo, and woke up the Black-cock.

A like share, a like share; Dear friends, that's only fair! Saw see! See saw!

That's what the Black-cock said.

And now, can you tell me which of them ought to have the cow?



RICH PETER THE PEDLAR

Once on a time there was a man whom they called Rich Peter the Pedlar, because he used to travel about with a pack, and got so much money, that he became quite rich. This Rich Peter had a daughter, whom he held so dear that all who came to woo her, were sent about their business, for no one was good enough for her, he thought. Well, this went on and on, and at last no one came to woo her, and as years rolled on, Peter began to be afraid that she would die an old maid.

'I wonder now', he said to his wife, 'why suitors no longer come to woo our lass, who is so rich. 'Twould be odd if no body cared to have her, for money she has, and more she shall have. I think I'd better just go off to the Stargazers, and ask them whom she shall have, for not a soul comes to us now.'

'But how', asked the wife, 'can the Stargazers answer that?'

'Can't they?' said Peter; 'why! they read all things in the stars.'

So he took with him a great bag of money, and set off to the Stargazers, and asked them to be so good as to look at the stars, and tell him the husband his daughter was to have. Well! the Stargazers looked and looked, but they said they could see nothing about it. But Peter begged them to look better, and to tell him the truth; he would pay them well for it. So the Stargazers looked better, and at last they said that his daughter's husband was to be the miller's son, who was only just born, down at the mill below Rich Peter's house. Then Peter gave the Stargazers a hundred dollars, and went home with the answer he had got. Now, he thought it too good a joke that his daughter should wed one so newly born, and of such poor estate. He said this to his wife, and added:

'I wonder now if they would sell me the boy; then I'd soon put him out of the way?'

'I daresay they would', said his wife; 'you know they're very poor.'

So Peter went down to the mill, and asked the miller's wife whether she would sell him her son; she should get a heap of money for him?

'No!' that she wouldn't.

'Well!' said Peter, 'I'm sure I can't see why you shouldn't; you've hard work enough as it is to keep hunger out of the house, and the boy won't make it easier, I think.'

But the mother was so proud of the boy, she couldn't part with him. So when the miller came home, Peter said the same thing to him, and gave his word to pay six hundred dollars for the boy, so that they might buy themselves a farm of their own, and not have to grind other folks' corn, and to starve when they ran short of water. The miller thought it was a good bargain, and he talked over his wife; and the end was, that Rich Peter got the boy. The mother cried and sobbed, but Peter comforted her by saying the boy should be well cared for; only they had to promise never to ask after him, for he said he meant to send him far away to other lands, so that he might learn foreign tongues.

So when Peter the Pedlar got home with the boy, he sent for a carpenter, and had a little chest made, which was so tidy and neat, 'twas a joy to see. This he made water-tight with pitch, put the miller's boy into it, locked it up, and threw it into the river, where the stream carried it away.

'Now, I'm rid of him', thought Peter the Pedlar.

But when the chest had floated ever so far down the stream, it came into the mill-head of another mill, and ran down and hampered the shaft of the wheel, and stopped it. Out came the miller to see what stopped the mill, found the chest and took it up. So when he came home to dinner to his wife, he said:

'I wonder now whatever there can be inside this chest which came floating down the mill-head, and stopped our mill to-day?'

'That we'll soon know', said his wife; 'see, there's the key in the lock, just turn it.'

So they turned the key and opened the chest, and lo! there lay the prettiest child you ever set eyes on. So they were both glad, and were ready to keep the child, for they had no children of their own, and were so old, they could now hope for none.

Now, after a little while, Peter the Pedlar began to wonder how it was no one came to woo his daughter, who was so rich in land, and had so much ready money. At last, when no one came, off he went again to the Stargazers, and offered them a heap of money if they could tell him whom his daughter was to have for a husband.

'Why! we have told you already, that she is to have the miller's son down yonder', said the Stargazers.

'All very true, I daresay', said Peter the Pedlar; 'but it so happens he's dead; but if you can tell me whom she's to have, I'll give you two hundred dollars, and welcome.' So the Stargazers looked at the stars again, but they got quite cross, and said,

'We told you before, and we tell you now, she is to have the miller's son, whom you threw into the river, and wished to make an end of; for he is alive, safe and sound, in such and such a mill, far down the stream.'

So Peter the Pedlar gave them two hundred dollars for this news, and thought how he could best be rid of the miller's son. The first thing Peter did when he got home, was to set off for the mill. By that time the boy was so big that he had been confirmed, and went about the mill and helped the miller. Such a pretty boy you never saw.

'Can't you spare me that lad yonder?' said Peter the Pedlar to the miller.

'No! that I can't', he answered; 'I've brought him up as my own son, and he has turned out so well, that now he's a great help and aid to me in the mill, for I'm getting old and past work.'

'It's just the same with me', said Peter the Pedlar; 'that's why I'd like to have some one to learn my trade. Now, if you'll give him up to me, I'll give you six hundred dollars, and then you can buy yourself a farm, and live in peace and quiet the rest of your days.'

Yes! when the miller heard that, he let Peter the Pedlar have the lad.

Then the two travelled about far and wide, with their packs and wares, till they came to an inn, which lay by the edge of a great wood. From this Peter the Pedlar sent the lad home with a letter to his wife, for the way was not so long if you took the short cut across the wood, and told him to tell her she was to be sure and do what was written in the letter as quickly as she could. But it was written in the letter, that she was to have a great pile made there and then, fire it, and cast the miller's son into it. If she didn't do that, he'd burn her alive himself when he came back. So the lad set off with the letter across the wood, and when evening came on he reached a house far, far away in the wood, into which he went; but inside he found no one. In one of the rooms was a bed ready made, so he threw himself across it and fell asleep. The letter he had stuck into his hat-band, and the hat he pulled over his face. So when the robbers came back—for in that house twelve robbers had their abode— and saw the lad lying on the bed, they began to wonder who he could be, and one of them took the letter and broke it open, and read it.

'Ho! ho!' said he; 'this comes from Peter the Pedlar, does it? Now we'll play him a trick. It would be a pity if the old niggard made an end of such a pretty lad.'

So the robbers wrote another letter to Peter the Pedlar's wife, and fastened it under his hat-band while he slept; and in that they wrote, that as soon as ever she got it she was to make a wedding for her daughter and the miller's boy, and give them horses and cattle, and household stuff, and set them up for themselves in the farm which he had under the hill; and if he didn't find all this done by the time he came back, she'd smart for it—that was all.

Next day the robbers let the lad go, and when he came home and delivered the letter, he said he was to greet her kindly from Peter the Pedlar, and to say that she was to carry out what was written in the letter as soon as ever she could.

'You must have behaved very well then', said Peter, the Pedlar's wife to the miller's boy, 'if he can write so about you now, for when you set off, he was so mad against you, he didn't know how to put you out of the way.' So she married them on the spot, and set them up for themselves, with horses, and cattle, and household stuff, in the farm up under the hill.

No long time after Peter the Pedlar came home, and the first thing he asked was, if she had done what he had written in his letter.

'Aye! aye!' she said; 'I thought it rather odd, but I dared not do anything else'; and so Peter asked where his daughter was.

'Why, you know well enough where she is', said his wife. 'Where should she be but up at the farm under the hill, as you wrote in the letter.'

So when Peter the Pedlar came to hear the whole story, and came to see the letter, he got so angry he was ready to burst with rage, and off he ran up to the farm to the young couple.

'It's all very well, my son, to say you have got my daughter', he said to the miller's lad; 'but if you wish to keep her, you must go to the Dragon of Deepferry, and get me three feathers out of his tail; for he who has them may get anything he chooses.'

'But where shall I find him?' said his son-in-law.

'I'm sure I can't tell', said Peter the Pedlar; 'that's your look- out, not mine.'

So the lad set off with a stout heart, and after he had walked some way, he came to a king's palace.

'Here I'll just step in and ask', he said to himself; 'for such great folk know more about the world than others, and perhaps I may here learn the way to the Dragon.'

Then the King asked him whence he came, and whither he was going?

'Oh!' said the lad, 'I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry to pluck three feathers out of his tail, if I only knew where to find him.'

'You must take luck with you, then', said the King, 'for I never heard of any one who came back from that search. But if you find him, just ask him from me why I can't get clear water in my well; for I've dug it out time after time, and still I can't get a drop of clear water.'

'Yes, I'll be sure to ask him', said the lad. So he lived on the fat of the land at the palace, and got money and food when he left it.

At even he came to another king's palace; and when he went into the kitchen, the King came out of the parlour, and asked whence he came, and on what errand he was bound?

'Oh!' said the lad, 'I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry to pluck three feathers out of his tail.'

'Then you must take luck with you', said the King, 'for I never yet heard that any one came back who went to look for him. But if you find him, be so good as to ask him from me where my daughter is, who has been lost so many years. I have hunted for her, and had her name given out in every church in the country, but no one can tell me anything about her.'

'Yes, I'll mind and do that', said the lad; and in that palace too he lived on the best, and when he went away he got both money and food.

So when evening drew on again he came at last to another king's palace. Here who should come out into the kitchen but the Queen, and she asked him whence he came, and on what errand he was bound?

'I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry to pluck three feathers out of his tail', said the lad.

'Then you'd better take a good piece of luck with you', said the Queen, 'for I never heard of any one that came back from him. But if you find him, just be good enough to ask him from me where I shall find my gold keys which I have lost.'

'Yes! I'll be sure to ask him', said the lad.

Well! when he left the palace he came to a great broad river; and while he stood there and wondered whether he should cross it, or go down along the bank, an old hunchbacked man came up, and asked whither he was going?

'Oh, I'm going to the Dragon of Deepferry, if I could only find any one to tell where I can find him.'

'I can tell you that', said the man; 'for here I go backwards and forwards, and carry those over who are going to see him. He lives just across, and when you climb the hill you'll see his castle; but mind, if you come to talk with him, to ask him from me how long I'm to stop here and carry folk over.'

'I'll be sure to ask him', said the lad.

So the man took him on his back and carried him over the river; and when he climbed the hill, he saw the castle, and went in.

He found there a Princess who lived with the Dragon all alone; and she said:

'But, dear friend, how can Christian folk dare to come hither? None have been here since I came, and you'd best be off as fast as you can; for as soon as the Dragon comes home, he'll smell you out, and gobble you up in a trice, and that'll make me so unhappy.'

'Nay! nay!' said the lad; 'I can't go before I've got three feathers out of his tail.'

'You'll never get them', said, the Princess; 'you'd best be off.'

But the lad wouldn't go; he would wait for the Dragon, and get the feathers, and an answer to all his questions.

'Well, since you're so steadfast I'll see what I can do to help you', said the Princess; 'just try to lift that sword that hangs on the wall yonder.'

No; the lad could not even stir it.

'I thought so', said the Princess; 'but just take a drink out of this flask.'

So when the lad had sat a while, he was to try again; and then he could just stir it.

'Well! you must take another drink', said the Princess, 'and then you may as well tell me your errand hither.'

So he took another drink, and then he told her how one king had begged him to ask the Dragon, how it was he couldn't get clean water in his well?—how another had bidden him ask, what had become of his daughter, who had been lost many years since?—and how a queen had begged him to ask the Dragon what had become of her gold keys?—and, last of all, how the ferryman had begged him to ask the Dragon, how long he was to stop there and carry folk over?? When he had done his story, and took hold of the sword, he could lift it; and when he had taken another drink, he could brandish it.

'Now', said the Princess, 'if you don't want the Dragon to make an end of you, you'd best creep under the bed, for night is drawing on, and he'll soon be home, and then you must lie as still as you can, lest he should find you out. And when we have gone to bed, I'll ask him, but you must keep your ears open, and snap up all that he says; and under the bed you must lie till all is still, and the Dragon falls asleep; then creep out softly and seize the sword, and as soon as he rises, look out to hew off his head at one stroke, and at the same time pluck out the three feathers, for else he'll tear them out himself, that no one may get any good by them.'

So the lad crept under the bed, and the Dragon came home.

'What a smell of Christian flesh', said the Dragon.

'Oh, yes', said the Princess, 'a raven came flying with a man's bone in his bill, and perched on the roof. No doubt it's that you smell.'

'So it is, I daresay', said the Dragon.

So the Princess served supper; and after they had eaten, they went to bed. But after they had lain a while, the Princess began to toss about, and all at once she started up and said:

'Ah! ah!'

'What's the matter?' said the Dragon.

'Oh', said the Princess, 'I can't rest at all, and I've had such a strange dream.'

'What did you dream about? Let's hear?' said the Dragon.

'I thought a king came here, and asked you what he must do to get clear water in his well.'

'Oh', said the Dragon, 'he might just as well have found that out for himself. If he dug the well out, and took out the old rotten stump which lies at the bottom, he'd get clean water, fast enough. But be still now, and don't dream any more.'

When the Princess had lain a while, she began to toss about, and at last she started up with her

'Ah! ah!'

'What's the matter now?' said the Dragon.

'Oh! I can't get any rest at all, and I've had such a strange dream', said the Princess.

'Why, you seem full of dreams to-night', said the Dragon what was your dream now?'

'I thought a king came here, and asked you what had become of his daughter who had been lost many years since', said the Princess.

'Why, you are she', said the Dragon; 'but he'll never set eyes on you again. But now, do pray be still, and let me get some rest, and don't let's have any more dreams, else I'll break your ribs.'

Well, the Princess hadn't lain much longer before she began to toss about again. At last she started up with her

'Ah! ah!'

'What! Are you at it again?' said the Dragon. 'What's the matter now?' for he was wild and sleep-surly, so that he was ready to fly to pieces.

'Oh, don't be angry', said the Princess; 'but I've had such a strange dream.'

'The deuce take your dreams', roared the Dragon; 'what did you dream this time?'

I thought a queen came here, who asked you to tell her where she would find her gold keys, which she has lost.'

'Oh', said the Dragon, 'she'll find them soon enough if she looks among the bushes where she lay that time she wots of. But do now let me have no more dreams, but sleep in peace.'

So they slept a while; but then the Princess was just as restless as ever, and at last she screamed out:

'Ah! ah!'

'You'll never behave till I break your neck', said the Dragon, who was now so wroth that sparks of fire flew out of his eyes. 'What's the matter now?'

'Oh, don't be so angry', said the Princess; 'I can't bear that; but I've had such a strange dream.'

'Bless me!' said the Dragon, 'if I ever heard the like of these dreams—there's no end to them. And pray, what did you dream now?'

'I thought the ferryman down at the ferry came and asked how long he was to stop there and carry folk over', said the Princess.

'The dull fool!' said the Dragon; 'he'd soon be free, if he chose. When any one comes who wants to go across, he has only to take and throw him into the river, and say, "Now, carry folk over yourself till someone sets you free." But now, pray let's have an end of these dreams, else I'll lead you a pretty dance.'

So the Princess let him sleep on. But as soon as all was still, and the miller's lad heard that the Dragon snored, he crept out. Before it was light the Dragon rose; but he had scarce set both his feet on the floor before the lad cut off his head, and plucked three feathers out of his tail. Then came great joy, and both the lad and the Princess took as much gold, and silver, and money, and precious things as they could carry; and when they came down to the ford, they so puzzled the ferryman with all they had to tell, that he quite forgot to ask what the Dragon had said about him till they had got across.

'Halloa, you sir', he said, as they were going off, 'did you ask the Dragon what I begged you to ask?'

'Yes I did', said the lad, 'and he said, "When any one comes and wants to go over, you must throw him into the midst of the river, and say, 'Now, carry folk over yourself till some one comes to set you free,'" and then you'll be free.'

'Ah, bad luck to you', said the ferryman; 'had you told me that before, you might have set me free yourself.'

So, when they got to the first palace, the Queen asked if he had spoken to the Dragon about her gold keys? 'Yes', said the lad, and whispered in the Queen's ear, 'he said you must look among the bushes where you lay the day you wot of.'

'Hush! hush! Don't say a word', said the Queen, and gave the lad a hundred dollars.

When they came to the second palace, the King asked if he had spoken to the Dragon of what he begged him?

'Yes', said the lad, 'I did; and see, here is your daughter.'

At that the King was so glad, he would gladly have given the Princess to the miller's lad to wife, and half the kingdom beside; but as he was married already, he gave him two hundred dollars, and coaches and horses, and as much gold and silver as he could carry away.

When he came to the third King's palace, out came the King and asked if he had asked the Dragon of what he begged him?

'Yes', said the lad, 'and he said you must dig out the well, and take out the rotten old stump which lies at the bottom, and then you'll get plenty of clear water.'

Then the King gave him three hundred dollars, and he set out home; but he was so loaded with gold and silver, and so grandly clothed, that it gleamed and glistened from him, and he was now far richer than Peter the Pedlar.

When Peter got the feathers he hadn't a word more to say against the wedding; but when he saw all that wealth, he asked if there was much still left at the Dragon's castle.

'Yes, I should think so', said the lad; 'there was much more than I could carry with me—so much, that you might load many horses with it; and if you choose to go, you may be sure there'll be enough for you.'

So his son-in-law told him the way so clearly, that he hadn't to ask it of any one.

'But the horses', said the lad 'you'd best leave this side the river; for the old ferryman, he'll carry you over safe enough.'

So Peter set off, and took with him great store of food and many horses; but these he left behind him on the river's brink, as the lad had said. And the old ferryman took him upon his back; but when they had come a bit out into the stream, he cast him into the midst of the river, and said,

'Now you may go backwards and forwards here, and carry folk over till you are set free.'

And unless some one has set him free, there goes Rich Peter the Pedlar backwards and forwards, and carries folk across this very day.



GERTRUDE'S BIRD

In those days when our Lord and St Peter wandered upon earth, they came once to an old wife's house, who sat baking. Her name was Gertrude, and she had a red mutch on her head. They had walked a long way, and were both hungry, and our Lord begged hard for a bannock to stay their hunger. Yes, they should have it. So she took a little tiny piece of dough and rolled it out, but as she rolled it, it grew and grew till it covered the whole griddle.

Nay, that was too big; they couldn't have that. So she took a tinier bit still; but when that was rolled out, it covered the whole griddle just the same, and that bannock was too big, she said; they couldn't have that either.

The third time she took a still tinier bit—so tiny you could scarce see it; but it was the same story over again—the bannock was too big.

'Well', said Gertrude, 'I can't give you anything; you must just go without, for all these bannocks are too big.'

Then our Lord waxed wroth, and said:

'Since you loved me so little as to grudge me a morsel of food, you shall have this punishment: you shall become a bird, and seek your food between bark and bole; and never get a drop to drink save when it rains.'

He had scarce said the last word before she was turned into a great black woodpecker, or Gertrude's bird, and flew from her kneading- trough right up the chimney; and till this very day you may see her flying about, with her red mutch on her head, and her body all black, because of the soot in the chimney; and so she hacks and taps away at the trees for her food, and whistles when rain is coming, for she is ever athirst, and then she looks for a drop to cool her tongue.



BOOTS AND THE TROLL

Once on a time there was a poor man who had three sons. When he died, the two elder set off into the world to try their luck, but the youngest they wouldn't have with them at any price.

'As for you', they said, 'you're fit for nothing but to sit and poke about in the ashes.'

So the two went off and got places at a palace—the one under the coachman, and the other under the gardener. But Boots, he set off too, and took with him a great kneading-trough, which was the only thing his parents left behind them, but which the other two would not bother themselves with. It was heavy to carry, but he did not like to leave it behind, and so, after he had trudged a bit, he too came to the palace, and asked for a place. So they told him they did not want him, but he begged so prettily that at last he got leave to be in the kitchen, and carry in wood and water for the kitchen maid. He was quick and ready, and in a little while every one liked him; but the two others were dull, and so they got more kicks than halfpence, and grew quite envious of Boots, when they saw how much better he got on.

Just opposite the palace, across a lake, lived a Troll, who had seven silver ducks which swam on the lake, so that they could be seen from the palace. These the king had often longed for; and so the two elder brothers told the coachman:

'If our brother only chose, he has said he could easily get the king those seven silver ducks.'

You may fancy it wasn't long before the coachman told this to the king; and the king called Boots before him, and said:

'Your brothers say you can get me the silver ducks; so now go and fetch them.'

'I'm sure I never thought or said anything of the kind,' said the lad.

'You did say so, and you shall fetch them', said the king, who would hold his own.

'Well! well!' said the lad; 'needs must, I suppose; but give me a bushel of rye, and a bushel of wheat, and I'll try what I can do.'

So he got the rye and the wheat, and put them into the kneading- trough he had brought with him from home, got in, and rowed across the lake. When he reached the other side he began to walk along the shore, and to sprinkle and strew the grain, and at last he coaxed the ducks into his kneading-trough, and rowed back as fast as ever he could.

When he got half over, the Troll came out of his house, and set eyes on him.

'HALLOA!' roared out the Troll; 'is it you that has gone off with my seven silver ducks.'

'AYE! AYE!' said the lad.

'Shall you be back soon?' asked the Troll.

'Very likely', said the lad.

So when he got back to the king, with the seven silver ducks, he was more liked than ever, and even the king was pleased to say, 'Well done!' But at this his brothers grew more and more spiteful and envious; and so they went and told the coachman that their brother had said, if he chose, he was man enough to get the king the Troll's bed-quilt, which had a gold patch and a silver patch, and a silver patch and a gold patch; and this time, too, the coachman was not slow in telling all this to the king. So the king said to the lad, how his brothers had said he was good to steal the Troll's bed-quilt, with gold and silver patches; so now he must go and do it, or lose his life.

Boots answered, he had never thought or said any such thing; but when he found there was no help for it, he begged for three days to think over the matter.

So when the three days were gone, he rowed over in his kneading- trough, and went spying about. At last he saw those in the Troll's cave come out and hang the quilt out to air, and as soon as ever they had gone back into the face of the rock, Boots pulled the quilt down, and rowed away with it as fast as he could.

And when he was half across, out came the Troll and set eyes on him, and roared out:

'HALLOA! Is it you who took my seven silver ducks?'

'AYE! AYE!' said the lad.

'And now, have you taken my bed-quilt, with silver patches and gold patches, and gold patches and silver patches?'

'Aye! aye!' said the lad.

'Shall you come back again?'

'Very likely', said the lad.

But when he got back with the gold and silver patchwork quilt, every one was fonder of him than ever, and he was made the king's body- servant.

At this, the other two were still more vexed, and, to be revenged, they went and told the coachman:

'Now, our brother has said, he is man enough to get the king the gold harp which the Troll has, and that harp is of such a kind, that all who listen when it is played grow glad, however sad they may be.'

Yes! the coachman went and told the king, and he said to the lad:

'If you have said this, you shall do it. If you do it, you shall have the Princess and half the kingdom. If you don't, you shall lose your life.'

'I'm sure I never thought or said anything of the kind', said the lad; 'but if there's no help for it, I may as well try; but I must have six days to think about it.'

Yes! he might have six days, but when they were over, he must set out.

Then he took a tenpenny nail, a birch-pin, and a waxen taper-end in his pocket, and rowed across, and walked up and down before the Troll's cave, looking stealthily about him. So when the Troll came out, he saw him at once.

'HO, HO!' roared the Troll; 'is it you who took my seven silver ducks?'

'AYE! AYE!' said the lad.

'And it is you who took my bed-quilt, with the gold and silver patches?' asked the Troll.

'Aye! aye!' said the lad.

So the Troll caught hold of him at once, and took him off into the cave in the face of the rock.

'Now, daughter dear', said the Troll, 'I've caught the fellow who stole the silver ducks and my bed-quilt, with gold and silver patches; put him into the fattening coop, and when he's fat, we'll kill him, and make a feast for our friends.'

She was willing enough, and put him at once into the fattening coop, and there he stayed eight days, fed on the best, both in meat and drink, and as much as he could cram. So, when the eight days were over, the Troll said to his daughter to go down and cut him in his little finger, that they might see if he were fat. Down she came to the coop.

'Out with your little finger!' she said.

But Boots stuck out his tenpenny nail, and she cut at it.

'Nay! nay! he's as hard as iron still', said the Troll's daughter, when she got back to her father; 'we can't take him yet.'

After another eight days the same thing happened, and this time Boots stuck out his birchen pin.

'Well, he's a little better', she said, when she got back to the Troll; 'but still he'll be as hard as wood to chew.'

But when another eight days were gone, the Troll told his daughter to go down and see if he wasn't fat now.

'Out with your little finger', said the Troll's daughter, when she reached the coop, and this time Boots stuck out the taper end.

'Now he'll do nicely', she said.

'Will he?' said the Troll. 'Well, then, I'll just set off and ask the guests; meantime you must kill him, and roast half and boil half.'

So when the Troll had been gone a little while, the daughter began to sharpen a great long knife.

'Is that what you're going to kill me with?' asked the lad.

'Yes it is,' said she.

'But it isn't sharp', said the lad. 'Just let me sharpen it for you, and then you'll find it easier work to kill me.'

So she let him have the knife, and he began to rub and sharpen it on the whetstone.

'Just let me try it on one of your hair plaits; I think it's about right now.'

So he got leave to do that; but at the same time that he grasped the plait of hair, he pulled back her head, and at one gash, cut off the Troll's daughter's head; and half of her he roasted and half of her he boiled, and served it all up.

After that he dressed himself in her clothes, and sat away in the corner.

So when the Troll came home with his guests, he called out to his daughter—for he thought all the time it was his daughter—to come and take a snack.

'No, thank you', said the lad, 'I don't care for food, I'm so sad and downcast.'

'Oh!' said the Troll, 'if that's all, you know the cure; take the harp, and play a tune on it.'

'Yes!' said the lad; 'but where has it got to; I can't find it.'

'Why, you know well enough', said the Troll; 'you used it last; where should it be but over the door yonder?

The lad did not wait to be told twice; he took down the harp, and went in and out playing tunes; but, all at once he shoved off the kneading-trough, jumped into it, and rowed off, so that the foam flew around the trough.

After a while the Troll thought his daughter was a long while gone, and went out to see what ailed her; and then he saw the lad in the trough, far, far out on the lake.

'HALLOA! Is it you', he roared, 'that took my seven silver ducks?'

'AYE, AYE!' said the lad.

'Is it you that took my bed-quilt, with the gold and silver patches.'

'Yes!' said the lad.

'And now you have taken off my gold harp?' screamed the Troll.

'Yes!' said the lad; 'I've got it, sure enough.'

'And haven't I eaten you up after all, then?'

'No, no! 'twas your own daughter you ate', answered the lad.

But when the Troll heard that, he was so sorry, he burst; and then Boots rowed back, and took a whole heap of gold and silver with him, as much as the trough could carry. And so, when he came to the palace with the gold harp, he got the Princess and half the kingdom, as the king had promised him; and, as for his brothers, he treated them well, for he thought they had only wished his good when they said what they had said.



GOOSEY GRIZZEL

Once on a time there was a widower, who had a housekeeper named Grizzel, who set her mutch at him and teazed him early and late to marry her. At last the man got so weary of her, he was at his wits' end to know how to get rid of her. So it fell on a day, between hay time and harvest, the two went out to pull hemp. Grizzel's head was full of her good looks and her handiness, and she worked away at the hemp till she grew giddy from the strong smell of the ripe seed, and at last down she fell flat, fast asleep among the hemp. While she slept, her master got a pair of scissors and cut her skirts short all round, and then he rubbed her all over, face and all, first with tallow and then with soot, till she looked worse than the Deil himself. So, when Grizzel woke and saw how ugly she was, she didn't know herself.

'Can this be me now?' said Grizzel. 'Nay, nay! it can never be me. So ugly have I never been; it's surely the Deil himself?'

Well! that she might really know the truth, she went off and knocked at her master's door, and asked,

'Is your Girzie at home the day, father?'

'Aye, aye, our Girzie is at home safe enough', said the man, who wanted to be rid of her.

'Well, well!' she said to herself, 'then I can't be his Grizzel,' and stole away; and right glad the man was, I can tell you.

So, when she had walked a bit she came to a great wood, where she met two thieves. 'The very men for my money, thought Grizzel, 'since I am the Deil, thieves are just fit fellows for me.'

But the thieves were not of the same mind, not they. As soon as they set eyes on her, they took to their heels as fast as they could, for they thought the Evil One was come to catch them. But it was no good, for Grizzel was long-legged and swift-footed, and she came up with them before they knew where they were.

'If you're going out to steal, I'll go with you and help,' said Grizzel, 'for I know the whole country round.' So, when the thieves heard that, they thought they had found a good mate, and were no longer afraid.

Then they said they were off to steal a sheep, only they didn't know where to lay hold of one.

'Oh!' said Grizzel, 'that's a small matter, for I was maid with a farmer ever so long out in the wood yonder, and I could find the sheepfold, though the night were dark as pitch.'

The thieves thought that grand; and when they came to the place, Grizzel was to go into the fold and turn out the sheep, and they were to lay hold on it. Now, the sheepfold lay close to the wall of the room where the farmer slept, so Grizzel crept quite softly and carefully into the fold; but, as soon as she got in, she began to scream out to the thieves, 'Will you have a wether or a ewe? here are lots to choose from.'

'Hush, hush!' said the thieves, 'only take one that is fine and fat.'

'Yes, yes! but will you have a wether or a ewe? will you have a wether or a ewe? for here are lots to choose from,' screeched Grizzel.

'Hush, hush!' said the thieves again, 'only take one that's fine and fat; it's all the same to us whether it's a wether or a ewe.'

'Yes!' screeched Grizzel, who stuck to her own; 'but will you have a wether or a ewe—a wether or a ewe? here are lots to choose from.'

'Hold your jaw!' said the thieves, 'and take a fine fat one, wether or ewe, its all one to us.'

But just then out came the farmer in his shirt, who had been waked by all this clatter, and wanted to see what was going on. So the thieves took to their heels, and Grizzel after them, upsetting the farmer in her flight.

'Stop, boys! stop, boys!' she screamed; but the farmer, who had only seen the black monster, grew so afraid that he could scarce stand, for he thought it was the Deil himself that had been in his sheepfold. The only help he knew was, to go indoors and wake up the whole house; and they all sat down to read and pray, for he had heard that was the way to send the Deil about his business.

Now the next night the thieves said they must go and steal a fat goose, and Grizzel was to shew them the way. So when they came to the goosepen, Grizzel was to go in and turn one out, for she knew the ways of the place, and the thieves were to stand outside and catch it. But as soon as ever she got in she began to scream,

'Will you have goose or gander? you may pick and choose here.'

'Hush hush! choose only a fine fat one', said the thieves. 'Yes, yes! but will you have goose or gander—goose or gander? you may pick and choose', screamed Grizzel.

'Hush, hush! only choose one that's fine and fat, and it's all one to us whether it's goose or gander; but do hold your jaw', said they.

But while Grizzel and the thieves were settling this, one of the geese began to cackle, and then another cackled, and then the whole flock cackled and hissed, and out came the farmer to see what all the noise could mean, and away went the thieves, and Grizzel after them, at full speed, and the farmer thought again it was the black Deil flying away; for long-legged she was, and she had no skirts to hamper her.

'Stop a bit, boys!' she kept on screaming, 'you might as well have said whether you would have goose or gander?'

But they had no time to stop, they thought; and, as for the farmer, he began to read and pray with all his house, small and great, for they thought it was the Deil, and no mistake.

Now, the third day, when night came, the thieves and Grizzel were so hungry they did not know what to do; so they made up their minds to go to the larder of a rich farmer, who lived by the wood's side, and steal some food. Well, off they went, but the thieves did not dare to venture themselves, so Grizzel was to go up the steps which led to the larder, and hand the food out, and the others were to stand below and take it from her. So when Grizzel got inside, she saw the larder was full of all sorts of things, fresh meat and salt, and sausages and oat-cake. The thieves begged her to be still, and just throw out something to eat, and to bear in mind how badly they had fated for two nights. But Grizzel stuck to her own, that she did.

'Will you have fresh meat, or salt, or sausages, or oat-cake? Just look, what a lovely oat-cake', she bawled out enough to split your head. 'You may have what you please, for here's plenty to choose from.'

But the farmer woke with all this noise, and ran out to see what it all meant. As for the thieves, off they ran as fast as they could; but while the farmer was looking after them, down came Grizzel so black and ugly.

'Stop a bit! stop a bit, boys!' she bellowed; 'you may have what you please, for there's plenty to choose from.'

And when the farmer saw that ugly monster, he, too, thought the Deil was loose, for he had heard what had happened to his neighbours the evenings before; so he began both to read and pray, and every one in the whole parish began to read and pray, for they knew that you could read the Deil away.

The next evening was Saturday evening, and the thieves wanted to steal a fat ram for their Sunday dinner; and well they might, for they had fasted many days. But they wouldn't have Grizzel with them at any price. She brought bad luck with her jaw, they said; so while Grizzel was walking about waiting for them on Sunday morning, she got so awfully hungry—for she had fasted for three days—that she went into a turnip-field and pulled up some turnips to eat. But when the farmer who owned the turnips rose, he felt uneasy in his mind, and thought he would just go and take a look at his turnips on the Sunday morning. So he pulled on his trousers and went across the moss which lay under the hill, where the turnip-field lay. But when he got to the bottom of the field, he saw something black walking about in the field and pulling up his turnips, and he soon made up his mind that it was the Deil. So away he ran home as fast as he could, and said the Deil was among the turnips. This frightened the whole house out of their wits, and they agreed they'd best send for the priest, and get him to bind the Deil.

'That won't do', said the goodwife, 'this is Sunday morning, you'll never get the priest to come; for either he'll be in bed; or if he's up, he'll be learning his sermon by heart.'

'Oh!' said the goodman, 'never fear; I'll promise him a fat loin of veal, and then he'll come fast enough.'

So off he went to the priest's house; but when he got there, sure enough, the priest was still in bed. The maid begged the farmer to walk into the parlour while she ran up to the priest, and said:

'Farmer So-and-So was downstairs, and wished to have a word with him.'

Well! when the priest heard that such a worthy man was downstairs, he got up at once, and came down just as he was, in his slippers and nightcap.

So the goodman told his errand; how the Deil was loose in his turnip- field; and if the priest would only come and bind him, he would send him a fat loin of veal. Yes! the priest was willing enough, and called out to his groom, to saddle his horse, while he dressed himself.

'Nay, nay, father!' said the man; 'the Deil won't wait for us long, and no one knows where we shall find him again if we miss him now. Your reverence must come at once, just as you are.'

So the priest followed him just as he was, with the clothes he stood in, and went off in his nightcap and slippers. But when they got to the moss, it was so moist the priest couldn't cross it in his slippers. So the goodman took him on his back to carry him over. On they went, the goodman picking his way from one clump to the other, till they got to the middle; then Grizzel caught sight of them, and thought it was the thieves bringing the ram.

'Is he fat?' she screamed; 'is he fat?' and made such a noise that the wood rang again.

'The Deil knows if he's fat or lean; I'm sure I don't', said the goodman, when he heard that; 'but, if you want to know, you had better come yourself and see.'

And then he got so afraid, he threw the priest head over heels into the soft wet moss, and took to his legs; and if the priest hasn't got out, why I dare say he's lying there still.



THE LAD WHO WENT TO THE NORTH WIND

Once on a time there was an old widow who had one son; and as she was poorly and weak, her son had to go up into the safe to fetch meal for cooking; but when he got outside the safe, and was just going down the steps, there came the North Wind, puffing and blowing, caught up the meal, and so away with it through the air. Then the lad went back into the safe for more; but when he came out again on the steps, if the North Wind didn't come again and carry off the meal with a puff; and, more than that, he did so the third time. At this the lad got very angry; and as he thought it hard that the North Wind should behave so, he thought he'd just look him up, and ask him to give up his meal.

So off he went, but the way was long, and he walked and walked; but at last he came to the North Wind's house.

'Good day!' said the lad, 'and thank you for coming to see us yesterday.'

'GOOD DAY!' answered the North Wind, for his voice was loud and gruff, 'AND THANKS FOR COMING TO SEE ME. WHAT DO YOU WANT?'

'Oh!' answered the lad, 'I only wished to ask you to be so good as to let me have back that meal you took from me on the safe steps, for we haven't much to live on; and if you're to go on snapping up the morsel we have, there'll be nothing for it but to starve.'

'I haven't got your meal', said the North Wind; 'but if you are in such need, I'll give you a cloth which will get you everything you want, if you only say, 'Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kind of good dishes!'

With this the lad was well content. But, as the way was so long he couldn't get home in one day, so he turned into an inn on the way; and when they were going to sit down to supper he laid the cloth on a table which stood in the corner, and said,

'Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kinds of good dishes.'

He had scarce said so before the cloth did as it was bid; and all who stood by thought it a fine thing, but most of all the landlady. So, when all were fast asleep at dead of night, she took the lad's cloth, and put another in its stead, just like the one he had got from the North Wind, but which couldn't so much as serve up a bit of dry bread.

So, when the lad woke, he took his cloth and went off with it, and that day he got home to his mother.

'Now', said he, 'I've been to the North Wind's house, and a good fellow he is, for he gave me this cloth, and when I only say to it, "Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kind of good dishes", I get any sort of food I please.'

'All very true, I daresay,' said his mother; 'but seeing is believing, and I shan't believe it till I see it.'

So the lad made haste, drew out a table, laid the cloth on it, and said:

'Cloth, spread yourself, and serve up all kind of good dishes.'

But never a bit of dry bread did the cloth serve up.

'Well', said the lad, 'there's no help for it but to go to the North Wind again'; and away he went.

So he came to where the North Wind lived late in the afternoon.

'Good evening!' said the lad.

'Good evening!' said the North Wind.

'I want my rights for that meal of ours which you took', said the lad; 'for, as for that cloth I got, it isn't worth a penny.'

'I've got no meal', said the North Wind; 'but yonder you have a ram which coins nothing but golden ducats as soon as you say to it:

"Rain, ram! make money!"

So the lad thought this a fine thing; but as it was too far to get home that day, he turned in for the night to the same inn where he had slept before.

Before he called for anything, he tried the truth of what the North Wind had said of the ram, and found it all right; but, when the landlord saw that, he thought it was a famous ram, and, when the lad had fallen asleep, he took another which couldn't coin gold ducats, and changed the two.

Next morning off went the lad; and when he got home to his mother, he said:

'After all, the North Wind is a jolly fellow; for now he has given me a ram which can coin golden ducats if I only say "Ram, ram! make money."'

'All very true, I daresay', said his mother; 'but I shan't believe any such stuff until I see the ducats made.'

'Ram, ram! make money!' said the lad; but if the Ram made anything, it wasn't money.

So the lad went back again to the North Wind, and blew him up, and said the ram was worth nothing, and he must have his rights for the meal.

'Well!' said the North Wind; 'I've nothing else to give you but that old stick in the corner yonder; but it's a stick of that kind that if you say:

'"Stick, stick! lay on!" it lays on till you say: "Stick, stick! now stop!"'

So, as the way was long, the lad turned in this night too to the landlord; but as he could pretty well guess how things stood as to the cloth and the ram, he lay down at once on the bench and began to snore, as if he were asleep.

Now the landlord, who easily saw that the stick must be worth something, hunted up one which was like it, and when he heard the lad snore, was going to change the two; but, just as the landlord was about to take it, the lad bawled out: 'Stick, stick! lay on!'

So the stick began to beat the landlord, till he jumped over chairs, and tables, and benches, and yelled and roared:

'Oh my! oh my! bid the stick be still, else it will beat me to death, and you shall have back both your cloth and our ram.'

When the lad thought the landlord had got enough, he said:

'Stick, stick! now stop!'

Then he took the cloth and put it into his pocket, and went home with his stick in his hand, leading the ram by a cord round its horns; and so he got his rights for the meal he had lost.



THE MASTER THIEF

Once upon a time there was a poor cottager who had three sons. He had nothing to leave them when he died, and no money with which to put them to any trade, so that he did not know what to make of them. At last he said he would give them leave to take to anything each liked best, and to go whithersoever they pleased, and he would go with them a bit of the way; and so he did. He went with them till they came to a place where three roads met, and there each of them chose a road, and their father bade them good-bye, and went back home. I have never heard tell what became of the two elder; but as for the youngest, he went both far and long, as you shall hear.

So it fell out one night as he was going through a great wood that such bad weather overtook him. It blew, and sleeted, and drove so that he could scarce keep his eyes open; and in a trice, before he knew how it was, he got bewildered, and could not find either road or path. But as he went on and on, at last he saw a glimmering of light far far off in the wood. So he thought he would try and get to the light; and after a time he did reach it. There it was in a large house, and the fire was blazing so brightly inside, that he could tell the folk had not yet gone to bed; so he went in and saw an old dame bustling about and minding the house.

'Good evening!' said the youth.

'Good evening!' said the old dame.

'Hutetu! it's such foul weather out of doors to-night', said he.

'So it is', said she.

'Can I get leave to have a bed and shelter here to-night?' asked the youth.

'You'll get no good by sleeping here', said the old dame; 'for if the folk come home and find you here, they'll kill both me and you.'

'What sort of folk, then, are they who live here?' asked the youth.

'Oh, robbers! And a bad lot of them too', said the old dame. 'They stole me away when I was little, and have kept me as their housekeeper ever since.'

'Well, for all that, I think I'll just go to bed', said the youth. 'Come what may, I'll not stir out at night in such weather.'

'Very well', said the old dame; 'but if you stay, it will be the worse for you.'

With that the youth got into a bed which stood there, but he dared not go to sleep, and very soon after in came the robbers; so the old dame told them how a stranger fellow had come in whom she had not been able to get out of the house again.

'Did you see if he had any money?' said the robbers.

'Such a one as he money!' said the old dame, 'the tramper! Why, if he had clothes to his back, it was as much as he had.'

Then the robbers began to talk among themselves what they should do with him; if they should kill him outright, or what else they should do. Meantime the youth got up and began to talk to them, and to ask if they didn't want a servant, for it might be that he would be glad to enter their service.

'Oh', said they, 'if you have a mind to follow the trade that we follow, you can very well get a place here.'

'It's all one to me what trade I follow', said the youth; 'for when I left home, father gave me leave to take to any trade I chose.'

'Well, have you a mind to steal?' asked the robbers.

'I don't care', said the youth, for he thought it would not take long to learn that trade.

Now there lived a man a little way off who had three oxen. One of these he was to take to the town to sell, and the robbers had heard what he was going to do, so they said to the youth, if he were good to steal the ox from the man by the way without his knowing it, and without doing him any harm, they would give him leave to be their serving-man.

Well! the youth set off, and took with him a pretty shoe, with a silver buckle on it, which lay about the house; and he put the shoe in the road along which the man was going with his ox; and when he had done that, he went into the wood and hid himself under a bush. So when the man came by he saw the shoe at once.

'That's a nice shoe', said he. 'If I only had the fellow to it, I'd take it home with me, and perhaps I'd put my old dame in a good humour for once.' For you must know he had an old wife, so cross and snappish, it was not long between each time that she boxed his ears. But then he bethought him that he could do nothing with the odd shoe unless he had the fellow to it; so he went on his way and let the shoe lie on the road.

Then the youth took up the shoe, and made all the haste he could to get before the man by a short cut through the wood, and laid it down before him in the road again. When the man came along with his ox, he got quite angry with himself for being so dull as to leave the fellow to the shoe lying in the road instead of taking it with him; so he tied the ox to the fence, and said to himself, 'I may just as well run back and pick up the other, and then I'll have a pair of good shoes for my old dame, and so, perhaps, I'll get a kind word from her for once.'

So he set off, and hunted and hunted up and down for the shoe, but no shoe did he find; and at length he had to go back with the one he had. But, meanwhile the youth had taken the ox and gone off with it; and when the man came and saw his ox gone, he began to cry and bewail, for he was afraid his old dame would kill him outright when she came to know that the ox was lost. But just then it came across his mind that he would go home and take the second ox, and drive it to the town, and not let his old dame know anything about the matter. So he did this, and went home and took the ox without his dame's knowing it, and set off with it to the town. But the robbers knew all about it, and they said to the youth, if he could get this ox too, without the man's knowing it, and without his doing him any harm, he should be as good as any one of them. If that were all, the youth said, he did not think it a very hard thing.

This time he took with him a rope, and hung himself up under the arm- pits to a tree right in the man's way. So the man came along with his ox, and when he saw such a sight hanging there he began to feel a little queer.

'Well', said he, 'whatever heavy thoughts you had who have hanged yourself up there, it can't be helped; you may hang for what I care! I can't breathe life into you again'; and with that he went on his way with his ox. Down slipped the youth from the tree, and ran by a footpath, and got before the man, and hung himself up right in his way again.

'Bless me!' said the man, 'were you really so heavy at heart that you hanged yourself up there—or is it only a piece of witchcraft that I see before me? Aye, aye! you may hang for all I care, whether you are a ghost or whatever you are.' So he passed on with his ox.

Now the youth did just as he had done twice before; he jumped down from the tree, ran through the wood by a footpath, and hung himself up right in the man's way again. But when the man saw this sight for the third time, he said to himself:

'Well! this is an ugly business! Is it likely now that they should have been so heavy at heart as to hang themselves, all these three? No! I cannot think it is anything else than a piece of witchcraft that I see. But now I'll soon know for certain; if the other two are still hanging there, it must be really so; but if they are not, then it can be nothing but witchcraft that I see.'

So he tied up his ox, and ran back to see if the others were still really hanging there. But while he went and peered up into all the trees, the youth jumped down and took his ox and ran off with it. When the man came back and found his ox gone, he was in a sad plight, and, as any one might know without being told, he began to cry and bemoan; but at last he came to take it easier, and so he thought:

'There's no other help for it than to go home and take the third ox without my dame's knowing it, and to try and drive a good bargain with it, so that I may get a good sum of money for it.'

So he went home and set off with the ox, and his old dame knew never a word about the matter. But the robbers, they knew all about it, and they said to the youth, that if he could steal this ox as he had stolen the other two, then he should be master over the whole band. Well, the youth set off, and ran into the wood; and as the man came by with his ox he set up a dreadful bellowing, just like a great ox in the wood. When the man heard that, you can't think how glad he was, for it seemed to him that he knew the voice of his big bullock, and he thought that now he should find both of them again; so he tied up the third ox, and ran off from the road to look for them in the wood; but meantime the youth went off with the third ox. Now, when the man came back and found he had lost this ox too, he was so wild that there was no end to his grief. He cried and roared and beat his breast, and, to tell the truth, it was many days before he dared go home; for he was afraid lest his old dame should kill him outright on the spot.

As for the robbers, they were not very well pleased either, when they had to own that the youth was master over the whole band. So one day they thought they would try their hands at something which he was not man enough to do; and they set off all together, every man Jack of them, and left him alone at home. Now, the first thing that he did when they were all well clear of the house, was to drive the oxen out to the road, so that they might run back to the man from whom he had stolen them; and right glad he was to see them, as you may fancy. Next he took all the horses which the robbers had, and loaded them with the best things he could lay his hands on-gold and silver, and clothes and other fine things; and then he bade the old dame to greet the robbers when they came back, and to thank them for him, and to say that now he was setting off on his travels, and they would have hard work to find him again; and with that, off he started.