CHRISTMAS TALES
OF FLANDERS
KEEP THIS BOOK CLEAN
CHRISTMAS
TALES OF
FLANDERS
I L L U S T R A T E D B Y
JEAN DE BOSSCHERE
NEW YORK: DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
MCMXVII
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE COMPLETE PRESS
WEST NORWOOD, LONDON, S.E.
INTRODUCTION
HE CHRISTMAS TALES OF FLANDERS presented in this volume are popular fables and legends current in Flanders and Brabant, which have for centuries been told to children throughout Belgium. Their origin is doubtful, as all literature handed down by oral tradition must be. A good many of these stories are found in a different guise in the legends of other nations. “Seppy” is closely akin to the rhyme of “The Old Man who lived in the Wood”; and the prototypes of others will be readily recognized; but all of them have peculiar Flemish traits. They have the picturesqueness characteristic of the country which produced such a glorious school of painting, and the freshness of their presentation is a high tribute to the creative imagination of the Flanders folk. Sometimes they are primitive to a degree, and in such tales as “Simple John” and “The Boy who always said the Wrong Thing,” the storyteller attributes the most elementary and artless mentality to his heroes, so as to explain the extravagant adventures he relates. These tales occupy for the Flemish the place nursery rhymes take in England, and as the nursery rhymes have been collected in England at various times and in different forms and guises, so the Flemish folk-tales have also been collected in various ways and in various parts of Flanders. Messrs. Demont and Decock produced a book entitled “Zoo Vertellen de Vlamingen,” from which collection a good many of these stories are taken. Others came from the “Brabantsch Segenboak,” which J. Teiclinck wrote for the Flemish Academy. They were translated by M. C. O. Morris and are here published for the first time in English.
CONTENTS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
St. Peter and the Two Women
THE RICH WOMAN AND
THE POOR WOMAN
N a cold winter night, thousands of years ago, St. Peter took one of his occasional walks on earth. Towards nightfall he knocked at a rich peasant’s door. The farmer’s wife was busy making pancakes in her cosy kitchen. Her little chubby baby was watching her as she poured the batter into the frying-pan. She spied the stranger through the window, and said to herself, “This fellow is attracted by the good smell, but I do not waste my pancakes on strangers.” She sent the beggar away, wishing him God-speed.
He went on his way, and presently arrived at a mud cabin, where a poor widow lived with her six children. On hearing the old man begging her to have pity on him for God’s sake, she opened the door and bade him stay the night in her little hut. “Night is falling,” she said; “it is bitterly cold, stay with us, and you shall have my bedroom. I will doze in a chair near the fire.” The stranger gratefully accepted her offer, and after having supped, retired to bed.
Before leaving the next day, he thanked the good woman, and said to her, “Listen, little mother: as you welcomed me in your house, I give you a wish; ask anything you like and you shall have it.” The good woman thought at once of an unfinished roll of cloth which her dead husband was weaving a little before his death. Without further hesitation, she answered, “My good man, as you are so kind and so powerful, grant that the work which I begin the first thing in the morning may continue all day.” “It shall be as you wish,” said the stranger, as he bade her good-bye. Her six children accompanied him to the outskirts of the village, where they bade him God-speed.
She sent the Beggar away, wishing him God-speed
Very early the next day the busy little woman began to measure the piece of cloth, which was about twelve yards long. Marvellous to relate, she measured and measured, and she found that when she had measured a certain length of cloth the pattern, texture, and designs changed. She then cut it off carefully and rolled it up, and thus as the day advanced she had rolls of cloth of every imaginable shade, design, and material. They filled the whole cabin to the rafters; there was scarcely room to
THE RICH WOMAN AND THE POOR WOMAN: THE TWO FARMS AT CHRISTMAS EVE
when he said, “Woman, I can give you nothing in return for your kind hospitality, but I grant that the first work you undertake to-morrow will last all day.” Then he went on his way.
The woman was overwhelmed with joy. “To-morrow we shall be very rich,” she said to her husband. “I shall be more cunning than my neighbour; I shall count money all day. I shall not waste a minute; I shall get up at midnight, for before daybreak I must make some bags to pour our fortune into.”
All that night she never closed her eyes; on the stroke of midnight she sprang from her bed, and seizing the scissors she began to cut out the bags. But strange to say, she cut and cut until all the stuff was in fragments. Try as she would, she was obliged to go on cutting; she seized linen, shirts, sheets, tablecloths, napkins, handkerchiefs; even the window curtains did not escape. Then it was the turn of the wardrobe. Throwing it open, she took out her husband’s wedding suit. “Look!” she said, as she cut off his coat-tails, “these will make two more bags. Here are strings for the bags,” she added, snipping off her best bonnet-strings. She went on cutting without a pause. By night she had cut up everything except the clothes she was wearing. Her husband looked on at this terrible scene, howling with rage, while his wife sighed and cried with vexation. There was nothing left; her husband only managed to save the shirt he was wearing by running up the stairs as midnight struck.
The news of this disaster spread like wild-fire far and wide, but no one pitied the woman.
Seppy working in the Fields
THE TORY OF SEPPY WHO
WISHED TO MANAGE HIS
OWN HOUSE
EPPY and Bella lived together in a very small house. There was only one room, which served as kitchen, bedroom, and stable for the animals.
All they possessed was a pig, a cow, and some hens. The pig lay on some straw between two stakes in one corner of the room, the cow was tied up to a wooden trough in another corner, the hens roosted on the rafters.
It was not a happy household; quarrels were frequent, and Seppy was always finding fault with Bella. When he came in from his work at midday the potatoes were either too hot or too cold, the soup too thick or too thin, and he reproached Bella bitterly, declaring that she lived a life of idleness, while he worked like a slave in the fields.
These scenes became so frequent that Bella grew tired of this cat-and-dog life.
One day, when he began to grumble as usual, she defied him, insisting that the next morning they should change places: she would go to work like a slave in the fields, while he should stay at home to do the cooking. “He will soon see,” she said, “that when all the work has been done properly, there is no time for twiddling one’s thumbs.”
Very early next morning Bella started off with a sack and a scythe to cut grass for the animals.
Seppy remained at home and took off his coat, saying to himself, “I will show her how clever I am.”
It was a Wednesday, the day for butter-making. Seppy put the churn on the three-legged stool in the middle of the room, poured in the milk, and began to churn gaily. He heard the milk beating against the sides of the churn, and whistled happily as he worked.
Presently he heard the stout village priest tramping up the road. He stopped at Seppy’s cottage, put his head in at the door and asked for a glass of water, being very hot and red in the face from having walked so far.
HOWEVER, THE PRIEST HAD A GLASS
“Water is very dangerous; wouldn’t you rather have a small jug of beer?” said Seppy. He left the churn and went to the beer-barrel which stood on three bricks in a corner of the room, as far as possible from the fire. The barrel had not been tapped. Seppy found the key and set about piercing the bung, using his shoe instead of a hammer. He gave such a heavy blow that he pierced right through the barrel. The beer ran all over the floor. However, the priest had a glass, and, much refreshed, he wished Seppy good day and went on his way.
“It is too bad to lose all this beer,” said Seppy. He turned the empty barrel on end, mopped up the beer with a cloth and squeezed it into the barrel, and so succeeded in saving a little.
Meanwhile the pig, attracted by the smell of the beer, set to work to lap it up greedily until he could not swallow another drop.
Seppy was very angry with the pig and gave him a blow, but as it showed no inclination to lie down, he hit it so hard that it rushed out of the door and fell into the well. Now the well was very deep, and Seppy tried to drag the pig out, but in vain, and it was drowned.
“The beer is spilt and the pig is drowned,” thought Seppy; “if any misfortune overtakes the cow, or I fail to churn the milk into butter, I shall be for ever disgraced in Bella’s eyes.”
SEPPY WAS VERY ANGRY WITH THE PIG
He then remembered that the cow had had nothing to eat, and that he had to prepare the soup before Bella came back. “Now I’m going to work methodically,” he said; “I will hang the stock-pot over the fire, then take Molly to graze in the field, and then finish making the butter.”
The fire soon burnt up. When he led the cow outside he couldn’t find any grass near the house, but he saw some growing on the roof! Choosing the spot where the roof sloped very low, he succeeded after frantic efforts in hoisting Molly on to the roof. He was re-entering the house when it occurred to him that Molly might slip off the roof into the well and be drowned. He went to the well, cut the rope off the bucket and tied it round the cow’s horns, throwing the other end down the chimney. He then ran into the house, caught the end of the rope and tied it round his leg.
“Now,” he said, “the cow cannot escape however much she may want to, and Seppy will have made the butter and soup before midday.”
The cream again lashed the sides of the churn, but Seppy had no longer the heart to sing; he was thinking about the spilt beer and the poor drowned pig.
Meanwhile the cow grazed on the roof. The earth not
SHE GRADUALLY SLIPPED TO THE EDGE OF THE SLOPING ROOF
being very firm, she gradually slipped to the edge of the sloping roof. Suddenly, alackaday! she rolled off. As the result of her fall, Seppy was drawn up the chimney, where the soup was boiling over the fire.
Poor Seppy hung head downwards as far up the chimney as Molly was off the roof. To add to his misfortunes he had overturned the stool on which stood the churn, and so upset all the cream over the floor.
When Bella came home at midday, the first thing that met her eye was the cow, which being half strangled was dying outside the door. She quickly cut the rope with her scythe. Imagine her horror when on entering the cottage she found her husband hanging head downwards, dipping into the stock-pot.
SEPPY WAS DRAWN UP THE CHIMNEY, WHERE THE SOUP WAS BOILING OVER THE FIRE
Seppy never grumbled again. From henceforth Bella busied herself with her household duties. Seppy worked in the fields as before.
Seppy said to the pots, he said to the pans,
And likewise to the stools,
That men who try to do women’s work
Are all a parcel of fools.
The Death, Misery, the Old Man, and the Tree
THE ENCHANTED
APPLE-TREE
NCE upon a time there lived an old woman whose name was Misery.
Her one and only possession was an apple-tree, and even this caused her more pain than pleasure. When the apples were ripe, the village urchins came and stole them off the tree.
This went on year after year, when one day an old man, with a long white beard, knocked at Misery’s door. “Old woman,” he begged, “give me a crust of bread.”
“You, too, are a poor miserable creature,” said Misery, who, although she had nothing herself, was full of compassion for others. “Here is half a loaf, take it; it is all I have, eat it in peace, and may it refresh you.”
“As you have been so kind,” said the old fellow, “I will grant you a wish.”
“Oh!” sighed the old woman, “I have only one desire, that is, that any one who touches my apple-tree may stick to it until I set them free. The way my apples are stolen from me is past all bearing.”
“Your wish is granted,” said the old fellow, and he went away.
THE VILLAGE URCHINS CAME AND STOLE THEM OFF THE TREE
“Here is Half a Loaf, take it; it is all I have”
Two days later Misery went to look at her tree; she found hanging and sticking to the branches a crowd of children, servants, mothers who had come to rescue their children, fathers who had tried to save their wives, two parrots who had escaped from their cage, a cock, a goose, an owl, and other birds, not to mention a goat. When she saw this extraordinary sight, she burst out laughing, and rubbed her hands with delight. She let them all remain hanging on the tree some time before she released them.
The thieves had learnt their lesson, and never stole the apples again.
Some time passed by, when one day some one again knocked at old Misery’s door.
“Come in,” she cried.
“Guess who I am,” said a voice. “I am old Father Death himself. Listen, little mother,” he continued. “I think that you and your old dog have lived long enough; I have come to fetch you both.”
THE ENCHANTED APPLE-TREE
“You are all-powerful,” said Misery. “I do not oppose your will, but before I pack up, grant me one favour. On the tree yonder there grow the most delicious apples you have ever tasted. Don’t you think it would be a pity to leave them, without gathering one?”
“As you ask me so graciously, I will take one,” said Death, whose mouth was watering as he walked towards the tree. He climbed up to the topmost branches to gather a large rosy apple, but directly he touched it, the wretch remained glued to the tree by his long bony hand. Nothing could tear him off, in spite of his struggles.
“There you are, old tyrant, hanging high and dry,” said Misery.
As a result of Death hanging on the tree, no one died. If persons fell into the water they were not drowned; if a cart ran over them they did not even notice it; they did not die even if their heads were cut off.
After Death had hung, winter and summer, for ten long years on the tree, through all weathers, the old woman had pity on him, and allowed him to come down on condition that she should live as long as she liked.
This, Father Death agreed to, and that is why men live longer than the sparrows, and why Misery is always to be found in the world, and will doubtless remain until the end of time.
Two Monks of the Convent
THE CONVENT FREE
FROM CARE
NCE when the Emperor Charles V was travelling in the country, he saw a convent, and in passing by a little door he read this strange inscription:
“Here you live without a care.”
The Emperor was very surprised and could scarcely believe his eyes.
“It seems to me an impossibility,” he thought; “does some one really exist on earth who is free from care? As Emperor I am overwhelmed with troubles, while here in this convent, which is a little kingdom in itself, one would have nothing to worry about. I cannot believe it.”
Immediately on setting foot in the village inn, the Emperor sent the hostess to fetch the Abbot of this singular convent.
You can imagine what a state of mind the latter was in when he heard he was summoned to the Emperor’s presence.
“What have I done to displease him,” he asked himself. On the way he examined his conscience over and over again, and he could think of no fault of which he was guilty. “I am in troubled waters; I must steer my way through,” he said.
When he was in the Emperor’s presence, the latter expressed his astonishment at what he had read.
The Abbot now knew why he had been summoned, and smiled. “Sir,” said he, “does that astonish you? However, it is very simple; we eat, we drink, we sleep, and worry over nothing.”
“Well, Reverend Abbot, that state of things must come to an end,” said the Emperor, “and in order that you may have your share of trouble, I command you to bring me to-morrow the answers to the three following questions:
“First, What is the depth of the sea?
“Secondly, How many cows’ tails would it take to measure the distance between the earth and the sun?
“Thirdly, What am I thinking about?
HOW MANY COWS’ TAILS WOULD IT TAKE TO MEASURE THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THE EARTH AND THE SUN?
“Try to please me or I shall exact a penalty from you.”
On hearing these words, the Abbot returned to his convent with a heavy heart. From that moment he knew no peace. He cudgelled his brains as to what answer he could make to the Emperor.
When the little bell of the abbey rang, summoning the monks to prayer in the chapel, the Abbot continued to pace his garden. He was so deep in thought that he was quite oblivious of what was taking place around him. Even if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet, he would not have noticed it.
“What a horrible thing,” he thought. “Is it possible that such a misfortune has overtaken me? I cannot possibly answer. Who can save the situation? Perhaps our shepherd could; he has a very lively imagination; but talk of the devil——”
At that identical moment the shepherd appeared, leading his flock. He was very surprised to see the Abbot, who was always without a care, meditating in solitude.
What could have happened?
Without further ado he went to him, and asked him what was troubling him so deeply.
“Yes, I deserve to be pitied,” said the Abbot, and he told him what had happened.
“Why are you tormenting yourself over a little thing like that?” the shepherd laughingly replied. “Leave it to me, and all will be well. To-morrow I will come here and dress myself in your robe, and I will turn the tables on him.”
At first the Abbot demurred, but in the end he yielded, and the matter was settled.
“WHAT IS THE DEPTH OF THE SEA?”
The next day the shepherd went boldly to find the Emperor.
“Well, Reverend Abbot,” the Emperor said with serenity, “have you found out the answers?”
“Yes, certainly, sire.”
“Speak, I am listening.”
“Sire, the sea is as deep as a stone’s throw.
“To measure the distance between the earth and the sun, you only need one cow’s tail, if it is long enough.
“Do you wish to know, sire, what you are thinking? Well, at this moment, you think, sire, that the Abbot of the convent is in your presence, and it is only his shepherd.”
The Emperor laughed so heartily that if he has not stopped laughing he is laughing still.
John Twist and the Witches
THE WITCHES’ CELLAR
OHN Twist was courting a young girl who lived alone with her widowed mother.
His friends warned him that they were both witches, and that he ought to be very cautious, but he refused to believe them. One day, however, he determined to discover if it were true.
That day when he visited his fiancée, he pretended to be very tired, and after having chatted a while with the two women, he tipped his chair against the wall, drew down the peak of his cap over his eyes, in order to see what took place without appearing to do so, and feigned sleep.
“I think he is sleeping soundly,” the mother said to her daughter.
“I will make certain,” said the girl. She called him softly by name. The young man apparently heard nothing, and never moved a muscle.
The two women were quite reassured. The mother put on a beautiful red dress, and her daughter dressed herself in her best clothes. They then removed two bricks from the back of the stove, took out a little jar of pomade and rubbed it on their faces and hands.
When they had put everything carefully back in its place, they went out.
Then John Twist got up, and creeping as quietly as a mouse to the door, spied through the keyhole.
“Over hedges and fences, towards Spain, into the cellar,” he heard them say, and at the same moment they disappeared from view.
“I must find out what it all means,” said the lover. He went to the stove, took out the jar of pomade from its hiding-place, and after rubbing it on his face and hands, said, “Through hedges and fences, towards Spain, into the cellar.”
He was immediately lifted off his feet, and found himself flying through the air like a bird. He very quickly arrived in a cellar in Spain. There he saw the two witches, in a company composed of all nationalities. They all appeared to be mad. Some wore stove-pipes or saucepans instead of hats. Some were half man, half frog or stag. In one corner, mysterious dishes were in course of preparation, under the direction of a crow in spectacles, who was holding the recipe in his claw.
RUBBING IT ON HIS FACE AND HANDS
John Twist was in a deplorable condition. His clothes were torn to ribbons, and his skin was grazed all over.
“How is it that you have arrived in such a tattered state,” said his fiancée.
“I said, ‘Through hedges and fences,’” replied John Twist; “you may not believe me, but I assure you I have left half my clothing and skin hanging on thorn-bushes and palings.”
“You ought to have said, ‘Over hedges and fences,’” said the girl.
The subject was then dropped.
The company then sat down to eat tarts and drink wine out
DREW THE PEAK OF HIS CAP OVER HIS EYES, IN ORDER TO SEE WHAT TOOK PLACE
of large goblets. A witch, in a large hat, with two black cats in attendance, organized games. John Twist was so tired that he fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke the entire company had vanished, with the exception of an old man who was seated at a little table with a bottle of wine before him, at the entrance to the cellar.
“Where are the two ladies I know?” asked John Twist.
“Gone,” he replied.
“How shall I return home?” asked John uneasily.
“There is one way,” said the little man; “ride astride this pig, and he will take you home, but you must not utter a word on the way.”
“Oh, if that is all,” said John, “I know how to hold my tongue.”
So saying, he got on the pig’s back, and they started.
THE PIG TRAVELLED VERY QUICKLY
The pig travelled very quickly, obstacles were nothing to him. He leapt over hedges and ditches, until they reached a river twenty feet wide.
“We shall never arrive on the opposite bank,” thought John Twist, but the thought had hardly occurred to him, when w-whip—the pig landed on the other side.
“That was a splendid jump,” said John Twist. But, alack, the words were hardly out of his mouth before he was struggling in the water.
How he succeeded in getting out again, I am sure I do not know.
THE WITCHES’ CELLAR
The Mill, Tony, and his Mother’s House
THE BOY WHO ALWAYS
SAID THE WRONG THING
ONY was a very foolish, stupid boy. One morning his mother sent him to fetch a hundredweight of flour from the mill.
Knowing how silly he was, she said to him, “Tony, you will say to yourself all the way there, a hundredweight of flour, a hundredweight of flour.”
“Very well, mother,” he replied, and, slinging a sack over his shoulder, he walked off to the mill.
Presently he reached a field where he saw a peasant sowing. When the latter heard him say “A hundredweight of flour” instead of “Good morning,” he shouted to him, half in anger, “I shall be in a bad way if this piece of ground only yields a hundredweight of flour; say rather, I wish you a thousand.”
“I SHALL BE IN A BAD WAY”
“All right, I will say that,” said Tony, and he repeated, as he went on his way, “I wish you a thousand.” After a time he saw a shepherd and his dog struggling with a wolf. The man, thinking that Tony hoped he would be attacked by a thousand wolves, cried out angrily, “What, you good-for-nothing! Say rather, May the devil fly away with him.”
He then came to the Church ... on turning the Corner he saw a House on Fire
“Good, I will say that,” answered Tony, and with these words on his lips he arrived at a cemetery where at that moment a corpse was being buried.
“May the devil fly away with him,” said Tony.
The mourners were very indignant. “Wretched boy,” said the sexton, “say rather, God rest his soul.”
“All right,” said Tony. He then repeated incessantly, “God rest his soul.”
A passer-by who was dragging a dog to the river heard him, and cried, “What! his soul, foolish boy! Say rather, Get out of the way, horrid animal.”
“Good,” said Tony, and he repeated the new refrain.
THE STORY OF THE BOY WHO ALWAYS SAID THE WRONG THING
He then came to the church, and at that moment a newly married pair came out. When the bridegroom heard this strange greeting, he gave him a sounding box on the ears. “There, I’ll teach you manners, you vulgar little boy,” he said; “why don’t you say, It is a beautiful sight?”
On turning the corner of a street he saw a house on fire. Tony stopped a moment and said, “It is a beautiful sight.”
The people who were bringing pails of water to put out the fire cried angrily, “Say rather, I wish it were out.”
“All right, I will,” said Tony. He walked on. He was now only two minutes from the mill; the smithy was the last house he had to pass.
The blacksmith had not begun his work at the usual time that day. He had spent over a quarter of an hour trying to light his fire and had only half succeeded.
“I wish it were out,” he heard some one say.
“Rascal!” shouted the smith. “How dare you make fun of a good Christian man?” He seized his hammer and rushed outside. But Tony had such a holy terror of this grimy man that he ran away as fast as his legs could carry him, and is probably still running, in which case, no doubt, he has met with many adventures on the way.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb and a Duck
HOP-O’-MY-THUMB
OP-o’-my-Thumb was a tiny little fellow about as tall as your thumb.
He and his mother lived in a little hut made of dried leaves.
The little fellow was very fond of pancakes, and on Christmas Eve he begged his mother to make a dozen.
The latter replied, “Oh, Hop-o’-my-Thumb, my son, I have no butter, wood, or milk, and we are too poor to buy such things.”
Hop-o’-my-Thumb was very sad and sat down on a stool by the fire, while his mother went to fetch water from the stream.
Suddenly he heard some one call him, and looking up he espied a little lady standing at his elbow.
LOOKING UP HE ESPIED A LITTLE LADY
At first he was too much astonished to speak, but after a few seconds he blurted out, “Who are you, little lady?” She replied, “Hop-o’-my-Thumb, I am your fairy godmother, and because you are sad, and your mother is so poor, for this day I grant you the strength to do anything you may wish.” So saying, she vanished.
At first Hop-o’-my-Thumb thought he had been dreaming, and in order to determine whether his fairy godmother had really paid him a visit, he decided to put her words to the test. He seized his cap and ran to the miller’s.
“Miller,” said Hop-o’-my-Thumb, “my mother would so like to make pancakes on Christmas Eve, but we have no flour. Won’t you give us a little?”
“Well, Hop-o’-my-Thumb,” said the miller, “if you can carry this flour-bin away you can have it.”
“Do you mean that I can have whatever I can carry?” asked Hop-o’-my-Thumb.
The miller nodded his assent, and Hop-o’-my-Thumb crawled under the mill and carried it and the entire contents home.
Afterwards he went to the butter merchant. “Boss,” he said, “my mother would so like to make pancakes, but she has not a scrap of butter.”
“Oh, all right, Hop-o’-my-Thumb,” said the boss, “if you can carry this keg it is yours.”
“Ah! thank you,” replied Hop-o’-my-Thumb. In a second he was under the keg, which moved off as if it had two legs.
From thence he went to a wealthy farmer who had been lopping his trees the day before.
“Farmer,” said Hop-o’-my-Thumb, “can I have a little bundle of wood, my mother wants to make pancakes.”
“Oh, it is you, little Hop-o’-my-Thumb,” said the farmer. “You can have the whole stack if you can carry it.”
“I shall be ever grateful,” said Hop-o’-my-Thumb, and sliding under the stack he carried it home.
They now only lacked milk. Hop-o’-my-Thumb went to the milkman, and making a like request was given permission to carry away a whole can.
II
When the pancakes had been fried, and mother and son had enjoyed themselves to the full, the farmer who had given them
HOP-O’-MY-THUMB AND THE ROBBERS
the milk came to ask Hop-o’-my-Thumb’s mother if her son could take his cows to graze the next day.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb threw them some Crumbs
Next morning Hop-o’-my-Thumb went off to the field, taking a large pancake with him. On the way he came to a stream which was too wide for him to jump.
Fortunately some ducks were swimming about. Hop-o’-my-Thumb, who was a sharp little fellow, threw them some crumbs of pancake, which they swallowed greedily.
In recognition of his kindness the largest duck took him on his back and swam towards the opposite bank of the stream. In midstream he let poor little Hop-o’-my-Thumb fall into the water. However, after giving the ducks a few more crumbs he was landed safely on the other side on the back of another duck.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb, tired by his walk and wet through, lay down in the grass to rest. Presently an ant ran over the back of his hand. This so annoyed Hop-o’-my-Thumb that he caught it and killed it.
No sooner had he done so than he heard some one calling him. He recognized the voice of his fairy godmother, and looking up saw her in the grass.
This time she looked angrily at him. “Oh, Hop-o’-my-Thumb,” she said, “I am much disappointed in you. Up till now I have protected you because you are such a little thing, but after your cruelty to the poor little ant I withdraw my protection, and for one day you must suffer as do other little things.” She then disappeared into the ground.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb was very ashamed of himself, and, feeling very miserable, fell asleep.
Soon after a cow which was grazing in the field came up and swallowed the little fellow.
POOR LITTLE ANT
In the evening when the animals were driven into the shed, and the milkmaid waited to milk the greedy cow, she heard some one singing:
“This cow swallowed me at dawn,
Here I feel so nice and warm.”
The maid was much frightened and ran to tell the farmer. The latter came to listen and he heard the same thing.
“This cow swallowed me at dawn,
Here I feel so nice and warm.”
“I bet you ten to one it is Hop-o’-my-Thumb,” said the farmer. “There is only one thing to be done; we must slaughter the cow in order to rescue him.”
While the animal was being cut up, a poor woman passed and begged the farmer to give her a small piece of meat.
As luck would have it she received the very piece in which Hop-o’-my-Thumb was embedded. She put her present into her basket and went her way. Suddenly Hop-o’-my-Thumb began to sing:
“This cow swallowed me at dawn,
Here I feel so nice and warm.”
|
I. THE KEG MOVED AS IF IT HAD LEGS III. MOTHER AND SON ENJOYED THEMSELVES V. STUCK THE POINT INTO THE SOLDIER’S LEG |
II. HE CARRIED IT HOME IV. SWALLOWED THE LITTLE FELLOW VI. WAS PUSHED THROUGH THE VENTILATOR |
“Lord have mercy, this place is haunted,” cried the poor woman, and, flinging away the bag, she ran for her life.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb was greatly pleased and crawled out of the piece of meat.
At that moment he saw a soldier who had had too much to drink staggering along, so he quickly hid himself in a mole-hole. The soldier fell down on the hole and went to sleep.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb pulled his knife out of his pocket and stuck the point into the soldier’s leg. The latter bounded on to his feet, stamped savagely on the hole, and returned home.
Hop-o’-my-Thumb was now a prisoner; the soldier had stamped the ground so hard that it was impossible to get out. He heard people coming down the road, and on overhearing their conversation, concluded they were robbers. He cried out, “Captain, if you will let me out of this hole, I will follow you and be your faithful servant.”
“What is this whispering I hear?” said the captain.
Every one listened attentively, and finally they were able to catch what little Hop-o’-my-Thumb was saying. They scraped the earth away, and Hop-o’-my-Thumb appeared. He was at once enrolled as a member of the band.
The same night the robbers went to a provision shop. Hop-o’-my-Thumb was pushed through the ventilator, and handed a number of cheeses through this opening. He then went to the cellar where the eggs were stored, but he made such a noise that the servant jumped out of bed to see what was happening. Quick as lightning, Hop-o’-my-Thumb crept under an egg. The servant was about to crush the egg with his foot, when the clock struck midnight. Hop-o’-my-Thumb felt himself lifted into the air. He was drawn out through the cellar window, and presently found himself at the door of his mother’s cottage. He knew that his fairy godmother had saved him, and from that day forward he never did anything to forfeit her protection.
The Captain, the Peasant, the Parrot, and the Emperor
THE EMPEROR’S PARROT
NE day a parrot belonging to the Emperor Charlemagne escaped from its cage and could nowhere be found.
The Emperor, who was very fond of this parrot, which was a lovely bird, and could talk very well, promised a handsome reward for its recovery.
A peasant was fortunate enough to catch it one morning. “What luck to be able to see the Emperor,” he said, “and to be assured of being well received.”
Without further delay he talked the matter over with Caroline, his wife, in order to settle what he should wear and how he should behave at Court.
He decided to start on his journey the following Sunday.
He carefully brushed his wedding suit before putting it on, and thus in his Sunday best, with shining boots and chimney-pot hat, he set out for the Flemish town, carrying the parrot.
On his arrival at Ghent, he boldly entered the palace. Suddenly a loud voice cried, “Stop, peasant, do not approach a step nearer.”
It was the captain of the guard who tried to prevent our hero from entering.
He gave him back the Parrot as gallantly as he could
The peasant was not to be so easily deterred and said determinedly, “I demand an audience with the Emperor.”
“What have you to say to him?” asked the captain.
“I am bringing back the Emperor’s parrot,” the peasant replied, and proudly drawing his coat-tails on one side he showed the cage containing the bird.
“Oh, that somewhat alters the case,” replied the captain, who knew that the Emperor was searching for the bird and would reward the finder handsomely. “Nevertheless,” he continued, “I shall not permit you to pass unless you promise to give me half the reward.”
“I agree,” said the peasant, and he went in.
When he was in the Emperor’s presence he gave him back the parrot as gallantly as he could. The Emperor was overjoyed to have his favourite bird again, and gave orders that the promised reward should be given to the peasant. But our hero said, “May I be allowed to make a suggestion?”
“Certainly,” said the Emperor; “ask what you will.”
“Very well, instead of giving me money, I beg you to give me a couple of blows.”
At first the Emperor and his courtiers were much astonished, and then they burst out laughing.
They naturally thought the man was joking, but seeing that he was quite serious and insisted, the Emperor gave him the two blows he desired.
The little peasant bowed respectfully and left the hall with a smile on his face. When a good distance away he could still hear the courtiers laughing. With an indifferent air he passed the gateway, having apparently quite forgotten his promise to the captain of the guard.
“Hallo! my good man,” cried the captain, “where are you off to in such a hurry?”
“I am going home,” he replied.
“Yes, but do you not remember that in order to gain an entrance you promised me half your reward?”
“It is true, you are right,” said the peasant, and turning round quite close to the captain, he gave him such a blow in the face that he saw stars. I leave you to imagine the captain’s anger.
HE KICKED AND STRUGGLED VIOLENTLY
“Scamp, good-for-nothing,” he cried. “I will pay you out for this. Arrest this vulgar person,” he ordered, “and lock him up in the prison.”
Our peasant, however, had no intention of being led like a lamb to the slaughter. He kicked and struggled violently, and made such an uproar in the guard-room that the Emperor heard it.
The latter soon arrived on the scene and was struck dumb on hearing that the peasant had had the effrontery to strike a
A PEASANT WAS FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO CATCH IT
superior officer in the face. It was too much. The Emperor told the peasant what a very serious offence he had committed in flouting the military authority.
“Sir,” said the good man, “I have in no way flouted the authority of the guard.”
“Come, come,” said the Emperor, “how can you deny it, when you have even dared to strike the captain?”
“Sir, if I did it, it was at his own request,” replied the man coolly.
“What do you mean?”
“Sir, I could only obtain audience of your Majesty after having promised to give half my reward to the captain. Did I not receive two blows as reward, and ought I not to give him one of them? That is the whole matter; let your Majesty judge for himself.”
On hearing these words the Emperor turned to his courtiers and said, “I believe this peasant to be blessed with more than ordinary intelligence, and that he could render us great service in State affairs.”
Our hero returned home, and after a few days was summoned to the Court to take up an important office.
The captain of the guard, on the contrary, was dismissed in disgrace.
The Blacksmith Verholen and a Devil
THE LITTLE BLACKSMITH
VERHOLEN
HE little blacksmith was seated on a low stool with his elbows on his anvil, a prey to gloomy thoughts.
Indeed, things were going very badly for him. He, who was formerly the merry wag of the village, scarcely dared to go out for fear of meeting his friends and acquaintances, whose indiscreet questions made him blush with shame.
Gone were the days when his anvil rang merrily under the blows of ten workmen from dawn till often far into the night. Gone also the days when the savoury smell of ham and sausages pervaded the house, and his cellar was well stocked with barrels of delightful Brussels beer. The workmen had all left; there was now barely enough work for one. There was dearth in the kitchen, and Smith’s brewer lived at the bottom of a brick well, under the walnut-tree in front of his door.
He had lost all his customers. It was useless to give him work, as he had no money with which to procure the necessary materials. Of iron there were a few rusty scraps in the corners. Of coal there was hardly enough to heat the oven for an hour, and he was unable to buy any more.
A gentle Knocking at the Door
Yes! the village urchins spoke true when they sang outside his window in the evening:
Smith Verholen,
Smith Verholen,
Without wood and without coal,
Without iron and without lead,
Ah! is Smith Verholen dead?
Dead! No, he did not wish to die, however miserable he felt, for that would mean the end of all things, and one is dead such a long time!
He loved to live and to let live, and he still retained a grain of faith in the old proverb, “While there is life there is hope.”
When evening fell, Smith, who for obvious reasons had no thoughts of supper, was aroused from his dreams by a gentle knocking at the door.
No, that could not be an urchin playing him a trick, or a customer, as every one in the village knew of his distress. A stranger perhaps?
Smith got up, opened the door, and saw an old man carrying a carpenter’s bag and leading a donkey, on which sat a young woman, feeding her little baby. By force of habit, Smith said, “What can I do for you, my friend?”
“Smith,” replied the old man, “I know it is a late hour to trouble you; but we have come a very long way, and we have still a very long way to travel to-night. My donkey has cast a shoe; I beg you to shoe the beast at once, that we may continue our journey.”
“I would do so with pleasure, my friend,” said the blacksmith, “but I am very much afraid I have not a horseshoe left. You have no doubt noticed how poverty-stricken I am. However, come along.”
He immediately began to search right and left to see if he could discover a small piece of iron.
“Perhaps I shall find enough to shoe your donkey, and then I shall be very pleased to do what you ask.” He then turned to the young woman, who had dismounted, and said, “Rest yourself in the kitchen. If there is bread and milk in the larder, I pray you eat it. I possess very little, but what I have is at your service.”
Smith unearthed an old shoe from a heap of old iron; the donkey was soon tied up to the brake, and the fire was soon blazing with the help of the bellows. The shoe was tried on, put back into the fire, and then on to the anvil to round it with a stroke of the hammer, and everything was in order.
THE SHOE WAS TRIED ON
“What do I owe you, Smith?” asked the old man.
The blacksmith, who had noticed the stranger’s poor clothing and downtrodden shoes, shrugged his shoulders, and thought to himself, “Can I ask payment for such a small service from these poor creatures who have a long journey before them? I should be ashamed to do so, although I have not a penny to bless myself with.”
He answered, “You owe me nothing, my friend; I do it for you for pity’s sake.”
The old man’s eyes shone with a strange light, and in a solemn voice he said, “As you have helped me for the love of God, I grant you three wishes. Whatever you may ask of my wife, little child, and I, we will grant you.”
“Three wishes,” thought the smith; “no matter what I wish it will be granted. These poor creatures so miserably clothed have the power to grant them. Who can they be?”
Only half credulous, he wished that any one who sat in his chair should be unable to get up without his consent; that any one who had the audacity to climb up his walnut-tree should not come down unless he wished it; and, lastly, that anything that was in his purse should remain in it unless he wished otherwise.
“You might have wished for Heaven, and you wish for such childish things, but never mind, your wishes are granted. Adieu, and once again thank you for your kindness.”
HE WISHED
In the darkening twilight, the trio set forth, and the smith standing at his threshold saw luminous circles shining round their heads. He then shut the door, locked it, and went to the kitchen to rest on the couch he had placed there. He had hardly taken off his coat when—tap, tap, tap—three short but loud knocks sounded at the door.
“Who is there?” asked the smith rather crossly.
No answer, but soon afterwards another knock.
“All right, who is there?” the smith cried louder.
“Rat-tat-tat.” Again the short hard blows rang on the wood, and only after asking “Who is it?” for the third time did Smith receive an answer.
“Open the door, Smith. He who is before your door brings you happiness and riches!”
As soon as the door was opened, the night air wafted in a strong smell of burning phosphorus, and a gentleman dressed in black from head to foot, limping heavily with one foot, came into the kitchen.
The gentleman had strange pointed ears, and a green light shone in his eyes.
“Smith,” began the stranger, “I know that poverty stares you in the face; you, who knew prosperity and plenty, must find life insupportable now that your larder is bare. You deserve a better fate. Solely out of compassion for you I have journeyed a hundred thousand miles. I bring you, if you will accept them at my hands, prosperity, riches, and happiness. Come”—so saying, the sombre man drew a piece of parchment from his pocket—“put your signature to this paper, and for seven years you will have as much iron and coal as you need to employ twenty workmen.”
OPEN THE DOOR, SMITH
Smith thought, “You are the Devil himself, or my name’s not Smith. It is not merely for the pleasure of possessing my signature that you will give me a seven years’ supply of iron and coal. You have something up your sleeve.”
In order to find out, he asked to read the document. There he found written in black and white, that after seven years the Devil would be master of Smith’s most treasured possession, his immortal soul.
However, our Smith was not unduly alarmed. “If I accept,” he thought, “I am saved and shall be able to laugh in the face of those who have despised me. If, on the other hand, I refuse, one day I shall kill myself in my despair, and I shall be in the
THE LITTLE BLACKSMITH WAS SEATED ON A LOW STOOL
hands of the little black gentleman. The best thing to do is to sign the agreement. Later on I shall discover a means of saving my soul from Hell.”
Without further hesitation, he put his name to the paper, and even before the Devil departed, the miraculous took place.
His fire lighted itself, and a delicious joint of beef was roasting on the spit. On the table he found a large jug of foaming beer, all kinds of pastries, and, better than all, half a dozen carts drawn up at the door of the forge, from which about twenty workmen were silently unloading coal, wood, iron, lead, zinc, and even copper. They carried everything into the forge.
From early morning the forge again trembled under the strokes of the hammer. They often resounded even after the village slept.
Meanwhile the days flew by, days became weeks, weeks months, and months years. Before Smith had had time to think about it, the seven years had passed, and the Devil came to claim poor Smith’s soul.
“Hallo! Listen to me, Smith Verholen.
Don’t you remember that for seven years’ iron and coal
You sold to me your immortal soul?”
Smith was as unperturbed as though he were serving a customer. “Hallo! Good morning,” he cried, laughing. “How are you? You appear to be well fed, for you have a face like a butcher’s, and calves like a groom.”
The fallen angel was visibly impatient at this nonsense, and answered sharply, “You know what you sold to my master seven years ago. No more shuffling, follow me at once to Hell.”
“How should I have forgotten our agreement?” said Smith. “How could you think me guilty of such a thing? I am a man of honour, as I am about to convince you. Only I cannot go with you in my working clothes, and without washing my hands and brushing my hair. A moment’s patience. Rest a while in this chair. I shall be with you directly.”
REST A WHILE IN THIS CHAIR
CLIMBED UP THE TREE LIKE A CAT
The Devil, quite unsuspecting, sat down on the chair, and waited. A few minutes later Smith reappeared in his best clothes.
“Hallo! old fellow, have you rested long enough?” he asked. “I am quite ready to start.”
With a broad grin on his face, he watched the Devil’s vain efforts to rise.
“Oh, what has happened?” said the Devil. “It seems to me that black magic is also practised here. I cannot rise from this chair.”
“Yes, my friend,” said Smith, with the most innocent look, “it is a little joke of my own. Do you know what it means? That you will remain there at my pleasure.”
The Devil made frantic efforts to rise, but all in vain; he was at Smith’s mercy, and was as though screwed to the chair. This was hardly to his liking, and when he saw Smith heating an iron bar, and glancing at him significantly from time to time, he decided that his best course was to take it quietly.
“Smith,” he began in pleading tones, “listen to me. I will give you iron, wood, and coal for another seven years, but for the love of God let me get out of this chair.”
“I accept; you are free,” replied the other, rubbing his hands, and the Devil departed.
AS MUCH COAL AS HE COULD WISH
Now the blacksmith Verholen had as much iron and coal as he could wish. From dawn till evening the anvil shook under the strokes of the hammer. Again the days flew by, became weeks, months, then years, and one fine morning the same Devil came to Smith’s door, and cried in thundering tones, “Hallo! How now! Smith Verholen.
Don’t you remember that for seven years’ iron and coal
You sold to me your immortal soul?”
“Ha ha! there you are again,” said our friend, and he immediately took off his leather apron in preparation for a start. “You are a little later than the appointed time. I have such splendid walnuts, I should like to gather a little basketful to nibble on the way. I have heard that devils like nuts. Would you gather me a basketful, as you can climb so well? Come, will you do it?”
The Evil Spirit, seeing no cause for suspicion, climbed up the tree like a cat.
When Smith returned, he cried in jeering tones, “Hallo! are you coming down? Have you not gathered enough nuts? I am quite ready to start, you know.”
The little black gentleman, in spite of all his efforts, could not climb down from the branches. They closed round him as though they had taken root. Smith summoned his workmen and ordered them to burn the Devil’s feet with hot irons. When the martyrdom had continued some minutes, the Devil shouted to Smith:
“I implore you to make them stop. I will give you iron and coal for yet another seven years, if only you will let me climb down from this tree. Ooh! Ooh! my poor toes.”
“You are free as air,” answered Smith; and the Devil fled away as though pursued by a devil himself.
ORDERED THEM TO BURN THE DEVIL’S FEET WITH HOT IRONS
The years soon sped away, and this time Lucifer, accompanied by many other devils, came to fetch Smith’s soul. He was dressed in deep black, as though in mourning for his mother.
Smith greeted this important person very humbly, and exclaimed, “Bravo! bravo! I am very pleased at the prospective honour of travelling with such an august person. I am extremely sensible of this great favour.”
THE DEVIL BEATEN THREE TIMES
“Come, be quick; I have no time to waste in idle words,” the Devil replied. “You are awaited in my kingdom, where you will be treated with the honour you deserve! Ahem! If you think you can trick me as you did the other devil, you are very mistaken. Up you get, forward march!”
“Sire,” replied Smith very quietly, “I have heard say that you possess the power to make yourself as big as you like. I should like to know if it is true, as I never believe such foolish tales.”
“I most assuredly can,” said Satan with great dignity, “and to prove my words I will make myself as tall as the tower of the village church.”
He immediately grew so tall that he went through the roof, sparks darting from his eyes, and lighting up the countryside: houses, gardens, fields, and pasture land.
“I must admit it is truly marvellous, but could you make yourself small enough to go into my purse?”
“I can easily do that,” replied Satan, and in a trice he was in the little purse, the little enchanted purse, which was immediately shut and placed on the anvil.
“I WILL MAKE MYSELF AS TALL AS THE TOWER”
“Ha ha! You did not bargain for that, did you, my friend?” said Smith. “Now you will receive a few gentle blows with the hammer.” Hearing this, all the devils flew away in disorder.
He summoned all his workmen, and each in turn pounded Lucifer with their hammer, so gently, so very gently, until the prisoner promised never to torment Smith again. On the other hand, he promised that he should always receive his supplies of coal, iron, and wood from Hell.
With a red-hot nail Smith burnt a little hole in the purse. “Sssst” it hissed, and the Devil made his escape and disappeared.
Again days became weeks, months, and years, and one day it was not a messenger from Hell who came to the forge, but Death, who is no respecter of persons, and Smith left the earth.
He was now in a strange land, the land up above. He found himself before a forked road. On the left he saw a wide, well-kept road with an avenue of trees and flowering shrubs. To the right a rough and narrow path overgrown with brambles and thorns. The wide road descended, and the narrow path seemed to ascend a mountain side in the direction of Heaven. Smith chose the wide road, and presently arrived before a high and gloomy gateway, on which was written in letters of fire, “Hell.”
IT WAS NOT A MESSENGER FROM HELL
“I am curious to see what it is like in there,” thought Smith, and he deliberately pulled the bell.
“Who is there?” said a voice from behind the door.
“Only a poor blacksmith who has just died.”
“What is your name?”
“John James Francis Lewis William Verholen.”
He had hardly uttered the word Verholen, when the door-keeper began to scream so loudly that all the devils, including Lucifer himself, ran to see what was the matter. All he could say was, “Smith Verholen is there; the terrible Smith Verholen.”
HE WAS DRESSED IN DEEP BLACK
“Let that Good Fellow have a Glimpse of Heaven”
Then hundreds of evil spirits trembled and shivered so violently that the door creaked on its rusty hinges, and the windows of Hell rattled.
“If that is the state of things, I shall never succeed in getting inside,” said Smith, and he decided to retrace his steps, and to take the narrow path.
After walking some hours, he arrived before a splendid castle surmounted with high pointed turrets, and surrounded by a high wall, in which was a white carved doorway, on which was written in luminous letters, “This is the Gate of Paradise. Here enter the good and wise.”
Without hesitation, Smith decided to try his luck with the inhabitants of Heaven. He very carefully wiped his hands on his leather apron, and then knocked at the door. After a few minutes the grill in the door was opened, and an old man’s bearded face appeared. He asked in a pleasant but severe voice, “Your name?”
“John James Francis Lewis William Verholen,” our pilgrim replied, as he had done at the Gate of Hell.
“Smith Verholen,” cried St. Peter indignantly, “you are reckless boldness personified. How dare you come here? You sold your soul to the Devil. Your place is in the nethermost Hell.”
“That was my own idea, but they refused me admission. As I have come such a long way, I beseech you, good St. Peter, let me at least look through a crack in the door to catch a glimpse of the Divine radiance.”
“You shall never enter here,” said St. Peter, and he was about to close the grill, when a voice behind him said, “Little Peter, let that good fellow have a glimpse of Heaven.... I know him, he is very good-hearted. He gave shelter to Mary and me when we were fleeing into Egypt.”
St. Peter did not altogether approve, but dared not oppose St. Joseph’s wishes. He half opened the door, and Verholen put his head through the crack and looked in. As quick as thought our pilgrim threw his leather apron inside, and uttered all kinds of strange cries, such as “Ooh! boo! ooh! my poor head, you are crushing it. Ooh! ooh! my ear, my neck, my nose.” He pushed the door with his shoulder, and before St. Peter could stop him, he was seated on his leather apron, and cried, “Here I am, sitting on my own property, my friend. No one can turn me out.”
“OOH! BOO! MY POOR HEAD”
St. Joseph laughed heartily, and St. Peter himself was forced to acknowledge that Smith had played his part well.
So Smith remained in Heaven and had as much work to do as on earth. He had to repair the swords, breastplates, helmets, and shields which the archangels wore when they amused themselves by punishing the devils who became too bold.
This work was a pleasant pastime for Smith. In his spare moments he chatted a little with old friends he met in Paradise,
THE PROCESSION
humble and simple folk like himself, such as the Girl without Hands, Hop-o’-my-Thumb, Little Red Riding Hood, the Babes in the Wood, Snowdrop, and Puss in Boots.
There was one thing which very much displeased Smith. He enjoyed the rice pudding with plenty of sugar, which was served in golden plates and eaten with silver spoons, and the heavenly scones with butter spread thickly. But he never had a drop to drink, never a hand at “whist” or “bridge.” He found that dull, so dull that sometimes he secretly wished himself back on earth, among his friends and acquaintances in his own village in Brabant.
It was Easter Eve, the bells of Heaven were ringing for the great feast. St. Peter came to Smith, and said to him, “As you are aware, Smith, to-morrow we fête the Lord’s Resurrection. On this occasion, the heavenly host goes forth in procession. All the saints and all the elect take part. I know you are very strong. Will you carry the large flag and walk at the head of the procession? You will go out by the principal gate, mount the fortifications, and continue straight ahead to the end of the Milk-and-Honey Avenue. Directly you hear the sound of the cannon, you will turn round. Every one in the procession will do the same, and, retracing their steps, re-enter Heaven.”
“Dear me,” thought Smith, “that may be my opportunity for returning to earth.” He placed himself in St. Peter’s hands and promised to do his best.
Easter dawned, High Mass was over, and the procession set forth. Right in front walked our Smith bearing the flag, then followed a countless host of cherubim, seraphim, and other angels led by St. Michael, seated on the flaming horse which drew Elisha’s chariot; then dressed in glittering armour, all mounted on flaming chargers, St. Martin, St. George, St. Victor, St. Maurice, St. Sebastian. All these had been warriors on earth. Then came the martyrs, confessors, hermits, and pilgrims—more than tongue could number; then followed the Blessed Virgin surrounded by seraphim; and, lastly, Our Lord Himself clothed in papal robes, under a golden canopy.
Smith did exactly as he was told; he went out by the Great Gate, mounted the fortifications of Heaven. He walked with great dignity and with measured tread until he reached the Milk-and-Honey Avenue. Then suddenly, “boom” the canon sounded, and was answered by all the echoes of Heaven. Smith turned round, all the procession did likewise and re-entered Paradise. When our standard-bearer found he was the last before the gate, he signed to an angel in front of him and begged him to hold the flag for a moment; he then turned round and disappeared to the left.
Milk-and-Honey Avenue
In a few hours he found himself on earth once more before the door of his smithy.
No one in Heaven grieved at his departure. Smith recommenced his happy life on earth, and from the words of the song which is still sung by Flemish children, one may conclude he is still alive.
Smith Verholen, Smith Verholen,
For seven years received wood and coal,
Iron, lead and copper,
From the devil Lucifer.
Smith Verholen may burn, may be knocked on the head,
But Smith Verholen is never dead.
Balten, the Barrel, and the Wolf
BALTEN AND THE WOLF
ONG, long ago, when the animals were able to speak, two brothers called Jack and Balten lived in a little hut in a dense and gloomy forest in Flanders.
Needless to say they were very poor or they would not have lived in this lonely wood.
One day, Jack was sitting at the window plaiting a whip, while Balten was at the fire preparing their supper. Suddenly a wolf rushed into the house with his mouth wide open and ran towards Jack. The latter, seeing his danger, looked to his brother for help. He had an inspiration and cried loudly: “Balten, pour! Balten, pour!” Balten understood what Jack meant. Quick as lightning he seized the saucepan and poured the boiling soup over the wolf.
The wolf fled out of the door howling with pain, for his back was terribly burnt, while Jack and Balten, having recovered from their fright, laughing heartily, watched him run off into the distance.
When the wolf, half dead with pain and shame, heard peals of laughter behind him, he turned round and shouted to them:
“Ah, ruffians, good-for-nothings and scoundrels, you are much amused, but wait; whichever one of you I see first I shall devour!” So saying he disappeared among the trees.
The Wolf stared at Jack
Shortly afterwards Jack went to gather acorns for their little pig. He was deep in the forest, when suddenly he saw a wolf a few yards in front of him, watching him from among the bushes.
Jack was very much frightened, especially as he saw scars on the wolf’s back, and thus immediately recognized him as the one they had so shamefully handled. The wolf stared at Jack, and on recognizing him sprang at him, crying:
“Oh, ruffian, good-for-nothing! You are one of the scoundrels who treated me so badly that I dare not show my face anywhere. Wait! I shall at once make mincemeat of you.”
The wolf was about to spring at Jack, but the latter, seeing that to fight would be useless, climbed like a cat up the nearest tree. There he was high and dry and out of his enemy’s reach, as he fondly imagined. But the wolf was not to be thwarted; smothering his rage he disappeared behind the bushes.
“I will stay quietly here,” thought Jack. “I must be on my guard against this wretch. I lose nothing by waiting.”
He was right, for in five minutes the wolf returned accompanied by a dozen wolves as bad as himself.
“Ha ha, scoundrel,” he cried, “you will not escape me this time! If you think you are safe you are greatly mistaken, you know. We shall have you down in no time.”
What did the wolf do?
He planted himself firmly near the tree trunk and formed the base of a ladder for his companions. They seemed quite accustomed to this trick, for another wolf immediately climbed on the shoulders of the first. Then a third and fourth followed his example.
At first Jack was very much amused at the idea of such a ladder and roared with laughter. But he soon realized that it was no joke, but a very serious matter. The ladder of wolves became so high that Jack, frightened out of his wits, had to climb into the topmost branches of the tree.
The ladder became yet higher!
“Have you caught him?” cried the first wolf.
“A little higher,” replied the topmost wolf.
“Do not let him escape,” shouted the first wolf, “for it is a tasty morsel and we shall enjoy it. It is such a long time since I have eaten any that I quite forget the taste of human flesh.”
“So do I,” said another wolf; whereupon they all laughed.
Jack was in no laughing mood; he was so frightened that he had cold shivers down his spine.
THE LADDER BECAME YET HIGHER
“Oh, heavens!” he thought, “what a terrible death to be eaten alive! What will my poor brother say when I fail to return? I have no means of defending myself, not even boiling soup.”
The wolf which was to reach him had already begun to ascend; he heard him grunting and panting. In his distress Jack had an inspiration and began to shout at the top of his voice: “Balten, pour! Balten, pour!”
This had a curious effect. The first wolf, who supported all the others on his shoulders and who knew by experience what “Balten, pour!” meant, believed that Balten was behind the tree ready to throw boiling soup on his back. He leapt aside as quick as lightning and ran like a hare. At the same time all the wolves fell down one on top of the other, howling fiercely. One had a paw broken, another a crushed foot, and a third had his head smashed in.
ONE HAD A PAW BROKEN
All swore at their cowardly comrade, who had organized the undertaking and then so treacherously deserted them. Those of them who were still able to run chased the coward and soon caught him.
“Oh! that is the way we were to help you get the man out of the tree. Your intention was to do us all a bad turn.”
They all set on to the unhappy wretch, who only made good his escape after having all his skin torn off and losing an ear.
Jack, now recovered from his fright, was a spectator of this scene and laughed long and loud. “What a curious result my crying ‘Balten, pour!’ had,” he thought, and he returned home.
More than a year passed and neither Jack nor Balten had met the famous wolf.
The time came when Jack had to take the little pig, now well fattened, to market. After selling it, he was on his way home, when he was attacked by robbers. They stole his money and knocked him about. Not satisfied with this, they put him into an empty barrel, which they found by the roadside, and nailed down the lid.
Poor Jack was now a prisoner and could not imagine how he could ever hope to escape. There was only one aperture, through which he could hardly squeeze his hand.
THEY PUT HIM INTO AN EMPTY BARREL
However, he did not despair. “Time cures everything,” he thought; “I have been in greater danger!”
For several hours he was thinking and meditating in the barrel. Suddenly he heard a sniff quite close to him. He looked out and saw the wolf, the famous wolf with scars on his back!
Jack watched him, and as soon as the animal’s tail was within his reach, he seized it through the hole in the barrel and cried as loud as ever he could:
“Balten, pour! Balten, pour!”
This shout again had the desired effect: the wolf, mad with fear, fled, dragging the barrel after him. Jack held tightly on to his tail, shouting all the time as loudly as before: “Balten pour! Balten, pour!”
The louder he shouted, the faster ran the wolf. The barrel crashed and banged against the trees, it cracked and finally broke. The ribs fell in and Jack found himself once more on his feet, none the worse except for a few bruises.
The wolf ran on and on. Perhaps he is running still?
The Mermaid and the Child
THE MERMAID
ONG ago, in a little hut by the seashore, there lived a fisherman’s widow with her only child.
The water had a wonderful fascination for the little girl. Nothing delighted her more than playing on the golden sands, where the tide washed up thousands of shells. She ran gaily with her small naked feet into the water, jumping over the little waves, which came rolling in from the deep like little white horses.
The mother, who still grieved in secret the loss of her husband, who had been snatched from her by the cruel sea, looked on sadly at her child’s play. She dreaded that the sea would steal from her her one and only remaining treasure.
“My child,” she besought her each morning, “do not go beyond the sand-hills. The sea is wicked and cunning, my darling. It swallowed up your dear father; do not go near the treacherous water.”
However, she was not able constantly to watch her little girl, and it so happened that one day she awaited her in vain. She searched for her everywhere, ran up and down the sand-hills, questioning all the fishermen she met, but in vain! No one could give her tidings of the little girl.
When evening fell, and the sun had sunk like a ball of fire into the sea, the poor mother returned to her home in the blackest despair.
Presently she heard a voice singing. The voice rose from the waves as they lashed the sand-hills. She looked up and saw a mermaid with plaited hair, and a crown of coral and pearls, standing waist-high in the water.
The words of her song were:
Under a roof of sparkling water
In a crystal palace,
My little loved ones play.
SHE FELL ON HER KNEES
On hearing this, the widow thought that her child might be among the little loved ones. She fell on her knees, and implored the mermaid to tell her if she had seen the little girl who played on the sands every day. “Yes, I certainly know where she is,” replied the mermaid, “she grows and prospers with thousands of other children in my crystal palace at the bottom of the deep blue sea. She is happier than any child on earth.”
With a fresh outburst of weeping the mother begged the mermaid to restore to her her child. The water queen answered her that she was touched by her grief, but that the sea never returned alive the mortals it took away. The only thing she could do for the poor mother was to allow her to descend with her to her watery palace in order to see her child.
“Will you have the courage,” she added doubtfully, “to follow me on the mighty ocean for a hundred hours towards the West, and to dive with me where the sea is deepest, far down beneath the waves?”
“I have the courage,” answered the mother; “I am ready to follow you.”
Then the mermaid swam ashore near the sand-hill. She
EVERY MORNING THE MERMAID LOOKED IN AT THE WINDOW
told the widow to seat herself on her green and scaly fish’s tail, then she swam away faster than the fastest ship over the surface of the water. The boundless sea was soon plunged in the darkness of night as they continued their journey towards the West.
At length a ray of light was visible on the bosom of the ocean, and presently they came to an archway of coral, which they entered. “Here we are,” said the mermaid, “take a deep breath into your lungs; courage, we are going to dive.”
The dive was much quicker than the voyage over the ocean, and in a few seconds they found themselves in the most marvellous palace that mortal eyes have ever beheld. It was exactly as the mermaid had described it.
The roof was of sparkling water.
The building of crystal, flooded with a golden light.
The mother paid no heed to these splendours. She looked around on every side in the hope of discovering her beloved child. The mermaid led her into a hall framed with silver, to a glass door, behind which they saw a number of little girls and boys playing happily together. The mother was allowed to look as long as she pleased, but was forbidden to enter the room.
A NUMBER OF LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS
At first she could not see her child, but afterwards discovered her among a group of merry children. She was in blooming health, and was enjoying herself every bit as much as her companions.
The mother was very unhappy, and begged the mermaid to allow her to live in her palace, as she could not bear to be far away from her little girl. Her request was granted, and every day she would look with longing eyes through the glass door. She implored the mermaid daily on bended knee to allow her to return home with her child, but in vain.
One day she took pity on her, and said, “I will give you back your child, but on one condition.”
“Ask what you will,” said the mother; “I am willing to do anything possible.”
“You must weave me a cloak of your own hair,” said the mermaid. “Here is a pot of ointment which will make your hair grow again.”
The mother immediately set to work; she continued without a pause day and night.
Every morning the mermaid looked in at the window of her room to see what progress she had made. She could only make half a cloak, as she had used all her hair. She begged the mermaid to be satisfied with this, but in vain; she was immovable and demanded that the work should be completed.
At length, after sad years of waiting, the wonderful cloak was finished. The mermaid was delighted with it, and the little girl, now a young maiden, was restored to her mother.
The mermaid ordered a beautiful rounded barque, inlaid with shells, and with a brazen pelican as figure-head. Four mermaids were harnessed to it, and took the mother and her child across the mighty deep, back to their own home, where they lived happily ever after.
THE MERMAID, THE MOTHER, AND HER DAUGHTER
The Half-cock, the Two Foxes, and the Two Robbers
THE STORY OF THE LITTLE
HALF-COCK
OHNNY and Molly lived in a little hut in the forest. When their parents died they were left quite alone in the world, and had to divide their heritage between them. They were dreadfully poor and possessed nothing but two hens and a cock.
The puzzle was how to divide these animals into equal shares.
At last Molly said, “Let us cut the cock in two, and have half each.” This was done; Johnny had the part with the head, and Molly had the tail end.
Molly plucked her portion of the cock, and put it into the saucepan.
Suddenly Johnny’s godmother, who was a fairy, appeared down the chimney. “Listen,” she said to her godson, “you must not put your half into the saucepan; I will enchant him, and he will do anything you wish.”
On saying which the fairy thrust her wand in the cinders, murmured some strange words, and then touched the head of the Half-cock with her wand.
“Good-bye,” said the fairy, and she disappeared up the chimney.
“That is all very well,” said Johnny to his sister, “but what are we going to do with the Half-cock now?”
Molly, who was the cleverer of the two, thought to herself, “If we had money we should have everything we want.” She said, “Send him to Mr. Brauncastle’s to fetch three bags of silver.”
The cock started off immediately.
On the way he met two robbers, who were much surprised, and said to him, “Little Half-cock, where are you running to?”
“To Mr. Brauncastle’s,” he replied.
I WILL ENCHANT HIM
“May we go with you?”
“Yes, hide yourselves under my wings.”
The robbers settled themselves as comfortably as they could under the Half-cock’s wings.
A little farther on they overtook two foxes.
“Little Half-cock, where are you going?” they asked.
“To Mr. Brauncastle’s castle.”
“May we come with you?”
“Yes, hide yourselves under my wings.”
In less than a second the foxes had joined the robbers.
At length the Little Half-cock came to a large pond which was equally inquisitive.
“Little Half-cock, where are you running so quickly?” asked the water.
“To Mr. Brauncastle’s castle.”
“May I come with you?”
“Yes, hide under my wings.” Drip, drip—the water joined the other lodgers.
Ring-a-ding-ding! The Half-cock rang at the castle door.
They immediately mounted Two Horses
“Tell your master that I want three bags of silver.”
“What an impertinent creature!” thought the servant who answered the door. He took the message to his master. The latter replied, “Put the Little Half-cock into the chicken-run with the hens.” This was done.
When night fell the Half-cock said to the foxes, “My good fellows, come out from under my wings, and eat all the hens.”
There was no need to tell them twice; they set to work with a will, feathers flew in all directions, and before you could count three they had eaten the lot. When the servant went to the chicken-run the next morning, he was horrified, and said to his master in a trembling voice, “All the hens have been eaten. The Little Half-cock is roosting on the rafters, crying, ‘Cock-a-doodle-do! Cock-a-doodle-do!’”
“Well, put him into the stable,” said his master. The servant did so, but the next night the Little Half-cock set the robbers at liberty. They immediately mounted two horses, and in the twinkling of an eye they galloped off.
“Now I know what to expect,” the servant said the next day, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow. “This time the wretched thief shall not escape me.”
The Little Half-cock was shut up in a red-hot oven. Now it was the water’s turn to escape, and the fire was immediately put out.
The next day the water had risen to the first story, and the Little Half-cock was swimming courageously on the surface, crowing as loudly as ever he could.
“Give him three bags of silver as quickly as ever you can,” said Mr. Brauncastle; “get rid of him or he will ruin me and all my family.”
The Little Half-cock went away and gave the money to his master.
Johnny and Molly were now rich, very rich.
They are very happy and get on well together; the Little Half-cock lives with them, and is their best friend.
THE WATER JOINED THE OTHER LODGERS
The Blacksmith, the Dwarf, and his Hat
THE DWARF AND THE
BLACKSMITH
NCE upon a time there was a poor blacksmith who had no possessions other than his wife and six children. He worked like a nigger from morn to night, and it was all he could do to make both ends meet at the end of each year.
One day he went to see a dying friend who lived some distance from the village, and it was very late when he returned home. On the way the road wound round a hill, at the foot of which lay a wood. As he turned the corner of the road he heard a strange sound. In front of him, surrounded by an embankment crowned with willow-trees, was a field flooded by moonlight, where several little men with long beards were disporting themselves. They were throwing their red caps in the air, and catching them very skilfully on their toes.
Our blacksmith, who was not the bravest of mortals, dared not go on, and hid himself behind a large tree among the bushes. After he had been there some time there was a sudden silence, and quick as lightning all the little dwarfs disappeared into the hill. On peering round him, the blacksmith discovered that one dwarf remained behind. He seemed to be looking for something. He saw him put his arm into a crack in the rock several times and draw it out.
“This little fellow cannot harm me,” thought the smith; “I should very much like to know what he is looking for.” Treading cautiously, he approached the dwarf. He discovered that the dwarf’s hat had fallen into the crack, and that his arm was not long enough to reach it. He immediately pulled it out and handed it to him.
The little fellow thanked the smith, and said, “You will be rewarded for what you have done for me to-day. We had a feast here to-day, during which we are obliged to wear our caps on our heads. If I had lost mine I should not have been able to attend the feasts for seven years.”
“THIS LITTLE FELLOW CANNOT HARM ME”
It goes without saying that the smith related his strange adventures to his wife, and they were very curious to know how the dwarf would reward them.
Every night before going to bed the blacksmith prepared the work which he and his apprentice would begin the first thing in the morning.
Picture his surprise the next day, when he found that the work had been done during the night, and by such skilled hands that there was no fault to find with it. His assistant, still serving his apprenticeship, was incapable of such work. Who the clever workman could be he failed to discover.
THEY WANTED TO FIND OUT HOW IT WAS DONE
When the same thing happened the following night, the smith and his wife decided to keep watch. They wanted to find out how it was done.
The mystery was soon cleared up. Towards midnight, the smith, looking through the chinks in the boards of the attic, saw the little dwarf whose hat he had restored to him come in. The little fellow immediately set to work, and worked without a pause till morning. It was splendid to see how quickly he did it, and during this time he did more work than the smith and his assistant could do in half a day.
This went on for some time. The smith sent away his assistant, although his custom had increased, and he earned much money, so that he and his wife and children enjoyed good times, and saved a large sum.
ANOTHER SET OF VERY FINE MATERIAL
The smith and his wife very often watched the dwarf at his work, and they consulted together to see in what way they could reward his kindness. One day his wife said, “I have an idea; didn’t you notice last time that his clothes looked rather shabby? I shall make him another set of very fine material.” This was done. The wife made the dwarf a set of clothes fit for a prince, and in the evening it was folded neatly and placed on a chair in the smithy. The smith and his wife went into the attic to see what would happen.
The dwarf was delighted with the clothes. He unfolded them and examined them one by one, and his smiling face showed how pleased he was. He put the garments on, and when he was dressed, he put on his little red hat decorated with a feather.
He was as proud as a peacock, and greatly pleased with
THE DWARF’S FEAST
himself. At length he turned to the door and disappeared, this time without doing a stroke of work.
The blacksmith never saw the little imp again. The work prepared overnight was no longer finished in the morning. The smith was obliged to do the work himself, but his two eldest sons could help him now, and so, thanks to the dwarf, they were always able to keep the wolf from the door.
The Wizard, the Turkey, and the Countess
PERCY THE WIZARD
NICKNAMED SNAIL
ONG ago, when women spun at their spinning-wheels, there lived a man who was nicknamed Snail.
Snail was very fond of a glass, and his wife had a weakness for hotchpotch.
Every week Percy Snail took the thread his wife had spun to market. His wife never scolded him for losing a few pennies, or being muddle-headed on the way back, provided he brought all the necessary ingredients for a nice hotchpotch.
One day he sold the thread at a high price. He was in good spirits; all the way home he rattled the money in his pocket, thinking, “To-day I shall be able to have more than one glass.” He went into every little wayside inn he passed, in order to see where the best liquor was sold. Little by little his money began to disappear, until he had scarcely any left, and he realized at the same time that he was rather intoxicated. He stumbled along the road as well as he could, and on putting his hand in his pocket, found, to his great surprise, that he had only five farthings.
He counted them over and over again until he was forced to
THE NECESSARY INGREDIENTS FOR A NICE HOTCHPOTCH
believe his eyes. The worst of it was that he had quite forgotten his wife’s favourite dish. He continued his way meditating and calculating, and quite unconsciously entered another inn. In a second his last farthing was in the innkeeper’s pocket.
He suddenly felt very tired and fell asleep with his head on the table. When he awoke he felt better, and his head was clearer. He considered what he had better do. He dared not return home as he knew what a warm welcome he would have! He could not stay in the inn as he had spent all his money, and innkeepers do not give credit. Although undecided, he was about to leave the inn, when the innkeeper, pleased to have a chat so early in the evening, told him that the countess who lived at the neighbouring castle had had a ring set with diamonds stolen.
The wealthy lady, who set great value on the ring, had promised a reward of a hundred crowns to the finder.
“Well, upon my soul,” thought Percy, contemplating his empty glass, “that would be a stroke of luck for me; if I could discover the thief, I should be saved.”
IF I COULD DISCOVER THE THIEF
Without answering the innkeeper, he got up, went off at once to the castle, and introduced himself as a wizard.
The countess promised him a hundred crowns if in three days he succeeded in discovering the thief. If he failed to do so, he would be sent away in disgrace.
The first day he searched all the nooks and crannies in the garden for the lost jewel. He ferreted in every bush and ditch, turned over every mole-hill, but in vain. Quite by chance, while he was feeling in the moss and the grass, he saw three servants talking excitedly together. Very ashamed at the thought that these men should have witnessed his useless and ridiculous search, Snail passed by them still in a bent position, but at the same time glanced defiantly at them.
One of them whispered to the Others
Now a strange thing happened. He had hardly turned his back on the three men when one of them whispered to the others, so low that Percy was unable to hear what they were saying, “Beware, my friends, be careful what you say. This strange wizard looked at us as though he were watching us; has he already discovered the thief?”
In the evening, after Percy Snail had had his supper, the countess ordered a valet to show him to his room. Percy was very depressed; one day had passed without his having discovered a single clue. He sank into a chair with a deep sigh, and as the servant was leaving the room, muttered under his breath, “Poor fellow! That is one of the three.”
When the servant heard this he was very frightened. He rushed downstairs and said to his comrades, “My friends, we are lost, this stranger has discovered everything.” He told them what he had heard. From that moment they avoided Percy.
The second day he searched in the attics and cellars of the castle, but could not find the ring. As chance would have it, in the evening the countess ordered another valet to show Percy Snail to his room. He was more depressed than ever, and flung himself down on the bed, saying to himself, “Poor fellow, you are to be pitied! That is already the second, and still nothing.”
The valet, who listened attentively, repeated these words to his accomplices. “The wretch has certainly discovered all. I bet my life that to-morrow he will tell the countess everything. We shall then be imprisoned as well as lose our good places.”
TO OFFER HIM PART OF THEIR SAVINGS
After a long discussion, they decided to confess all to the wizard, to implore him not to betray them to the countess, and to offer him part of their savings.
This was done. They explained their position to Percy Snail, handed him the diamond ring, and the sum of money agreed on between them.
“Are you convinced now,” said Snail, taking leave of them, “that your sin will always find you out? I discovered your villainy during the first hour I passed in the castle. I will keep silence this time, but beware if I find you out again.”
Percy Snail, full of cunning, procured a little lump of paste; in it he concealed the ring, and threw it to some geese and turkeys which were feeding near by.
“Ik, kih, ih-kih!” said a fat turkey, and “slok,” the little lump of paste was swallowed.
An hour or two afterwards Percy asked for the countess.
THREW IT TO SOME GEESE AND TURKEYS
“Noble lady,” he said, “disabuse your mind of all suspicion against your servants. That black turkey is the thief.”
The bird was promptly seized and killed.
You can imagine every one’s astonishment when the ring was discovered.
Snail thought he would immediately receive the promised reward of a hundred crowns, but he was rudely mistaken.
The countess suspected that she was dealing with a rogue. In order to be quite satisfied on this point she decided to put him to a second test.
“I am lost in admiration at your ability,” she said in a forced manner. “I beg you not to go without giving me another proof of your skill.”
Snail, who knew full well what she meant, was very ill at ease. However, he boldly replied, “Madam, I am yours to command, one proof more or less is nothing to me.”
The Countess had Two Dishes placed before him
In the evening, when seated at table for supper, the countess had two dishes placed before him, one on the top of the other.
They fitted so exactly that no one could suspect that a little snail had been placed between them.
“Wizard,” said the countess, “listen to me; if you can tell me what lies between these two dishes, I will give you fifty crowns over and above those you were promised! If, however, you do not know, you will be turned out of the castle, after receiving as many lashes with the whip as you would have received crowns.”
You can imagine how his heart sank within him. He was struck dumb, and could not hide his confusion. He was over an hour cudgelling his brains for an answer, but without success. He dared not open his lips for fear of guessing wrong.
He thought of his wife, and the whipping that awaited him, and his courage slipped away from him. He strained every nerve in his agitation.
“Well, poor Snail, poor Snail,” he sighed.
Imagine his surprise when the countess said, “I am beaten, my friend, I am beaten. It is a snail....”
She lifted off the top dish. The insect was lying dead on the lower dish.
Our wizard’s joy was boundless. He received the hundred and fifty crowns, and ran home with all speed.
For a whole week he continued to indulge himself with little glasses, and his wife ate hotchpotch every day to the honour and glory of the worthy Snail, who by a stroke of good fortune had become such a clever wizard.
Simple John
SIMPLE JOHN
IMPLE John had served his master, a cowkeeper, for seven years, when the latter being overwhelmed by misfortunes was obliged to dismiss his servants. Having no money with which to reward John for his faithful service, he proposed to give him the one remaining horse in his stables.
John, who had sometimes driven in the horses from the field on Sunday evenings when the grooms were at the inn, jumped for joy at the suggestion. He thanked his master with all his heart, and led the beast from the stable. He set out on his journey home to his parents’ hut, singing:
“You set out on foot, you return on horseback.”
In about half an hour he reached a cross-road, where he saw a peasant with a cow harnessed to a plough working in his field.
“What a strange and useful beast,” thought John, as he pulled up his horse. “Tell me, man,” he cried to the peasant, “is that animal strong enough for such hard work?”
“If she chooses,” replied the other. “I wager she can pull as well as the best horse, and not only can she draw the plough, but she gives milk, which my wife churns into excellent cheeses,
SIMPLE JOHN, THE HORSE, THE COW AND THE PIG
that make one’s mouth water. If one day we wish to get rid of her we shall take her to the Brussels market, and any one will be pleased to give us a bag of silver for her.”
The Brussels Market
“Good gracious,” said John, “my mother should certainly have such a wonderful beast, but as it would cost a bag of silver, I am afraid we shall never have one. If only I could exchange my horse for one!—but no one would do so.”
“Oho,” thought the peasant, who already scented a bargain, “a horse in exchange for my old worn-out cow, that would be splendid. Listen to me, my friend,” he continued; “as you seem such a good fellow I am willing to give you my cow in exchange for your horse. Tell me you are not joking, and that the horse really belongs to you?”
“Certainly,” answered John, “to whom should it belong? I have served the same master for seven years, and have received this horse in lieu of wages.”
John was in the seventh heaven. “How pleased my mother will be,” he cried, and went on his way without further delay.
Soon after his path lay between two fields of ripe corn; suddenly a strange sound arrested him, “Ugh, ugh,” and immediately afterwards a farm hand came in sight with a willow twig in his hand, driving a pig down the winding path.
“Well, well,” said John, “what a pretty creature, what funny, roguish eyes, and what a curious corkscrew tail! Tell me what that pretty beast is called.”
“This one?” said the boy. “Tell me first what you call the animal you are leading, and then I will tell you what kind of pig mine is.”
“It is a cow,” said John. “She gives milk, which is churned into cheeses. I bought it for nothing. I only gave my horse, which I received as reward for seven years’ service.”
“Good,” replied the other. “You only gave a horse in exchange for your cow. Well, my beast makes its owner’s fortune, and is certainly worth more than a cow. If he finds something to nibble he rapidly becomes as fat as butter. Then he is slaughtered and cut open. It is incredible what comes out of him: liver, kidneys, ears, trotters, sausages, black-puddings, ham, bacon, and carbonades. You can make brushes with his bristles. Of course such an animal costs more than a foolish cow.”
“LIVER, KIDNEYS, SAUSAGES”
“Oh, dear!” sighed John, when he heard this, “that is a lot of money. It is quite beyond the likes of me.”
“Listen,” said the other; “as you seem so anxious to have the animal—well, because it is you, and to give you pleasure, I will exchange it for your cow.”
“Hurrah!” cried John, “mother will be pleased.” He was more overjoyed than ever. Then he went on his way, driving the pig.
He soon reached the outskirts of the village, and was at once startled by a hoarse voice, which cried unceasingly:
“Any knives or scissors to grind.”
THE EXCHANGES OF SIMPLE JOHN
Whrr, whrrr. John drew near and was struck dumb with amazement when he saw a wonderful machine, whirring round, at which a man was seated, shouting as he worked.
“Well,” said the man, “you are looking so attentively at my grindstone; would you like to learn the trade?”
“Isn’t it too difficult?” said John.
“Not really difficult; a clever boy like you would learn in no time. Yes, yes, my lad, it is a merry trade, and pays well. If you know your job, your grindstone works unceasingly and turns merrily all day long. Ah, my lad, if grindstones were not so expensive, every one would be able to earn a living.”
“Oh,” said John, “are these stones so dear? What did the one you are using cost?”
“Half a dozen pigs would pay for it. If you would like one, I have another which I would give you for your pig, in which case your fortune is made.” He showed him a fine large grindstone which lay at the bottom of his cart.
“My fortune is made,” said John; “I will willingly give my pig in exchange for this stone.”
He shouldered the stone and walked on. Unfortunately it was very heavy, and being very hot, John stooped down to drink at a stream without putting down his load. He managed very well, when suddenly the stone slipped and fell into deep water.
“Everything considered,” said John, “it is just as well it has happened; the weight was breaking my back, and I shall be home all the sooner.”
He shouted joyously and ran towards the house.
“Little mother,” he cried, “I have had great luck; I exchanged a horse for a cow, a cow for a pig, and a pig for a grindstone. The stone was very heavy, and I lost it. Now I have nothing to carry, nothing to look after. Mother, I am the happiest John in the whole world.”
The Two Chickens
THE TWO CHICKENS OR
THE TWO EARS
NE day a parish priest had invited a relative to luncheon and wished to give him something nice to eat. He ordered two tender young chickens to be killed and plucked.
In the morning, before celebrating Mass, he said to his servant:
“Cook the two chickens for lunch and prepare them as nicely as possible, as my cousin is very fond of his food.”
“All right, your Reverence,” replied the servant.
When the chickens were roasted, wanting to know if they were done to a turn, she cut off a piece of the wing.
“It wants another five minutes,” she thought; she then took another little piece. That so whetted her appetite that she continued to take pickings until nearly all the chicken had disappeared.
“One is worse than useless,” she thought, so the second chicken disappeared after the other.
Crying bitterly she went to find the cousin.
“Oh, sir! oh, sir!” she cried.
“What is the matter, Catherine, a misfortune? Has his Reverence caught measles?” he asked.
THE FIRST THING HE DID WAS TO TAKE UP HIS KNIFE
“Worse than that, sir,” sighed Catherine. “I must tell you everything. The vicar has been so strange lately. Sometimes when he returns from the church and finds a visitor awaiting him, without saying a word he begins to sharpen his knife and then cuts off both his ears. You must be on your guard if he seizes his knife when he comes in.”
“He will not catch me napping,” replied the cousin.
The words were hardly out of his mouth when the priest appeared. The first thing he did was to take up his knife. He was very hungry and wanted his luncheon at once.
“I will be off,” thought the cousin, and he ran like a hare.
“Can you tell me why the wretched man has run away?” the priest asked the servant.
“He has stolen the two fat chickens and thought it wiser to disappear.”
“What! stolen my chickens!” cried the priest.
“Hallo! Hallo!” he shouted as loud as ever he could, “at least leave me one.”
Of course the priest meant one chicken, but his cousin, thinking that it was a question of his ears, shouted back:
“No, no, I prefer to keep them both.”
THE WONDERFUL FISH
BEMOANING HER FATE AND REPROACHING THE ALMIGHTY
The Fisherman, the Fish, the Sea-King, and Susie Grill