THE ELF OF THE WOODLANDS
RETOLD FROM RICHARD HENGIST HORNE BY WILLIAM BYRON FORBUSH
One morning when the summer sun was still sleeping an Elf came up from below, tickling an oak-tree’s foot, skipping like a flea, and whispering mischievously to himself.
“With little legs straddling,
He dances about—
Pretends to be waddling—
Then leaps with a flout.
Now he stops—
Now he hops—
Now cautiously trips
On tiptoe
And sliptoe
He scuttles and skips;
Along the grass gliding,
Half dancing, half sliding.”
There was a pretty white cottage on the edge of the wood, and, with everybody quiet within, it also seemed asleep. Toward this cottage skipped the Elf.
He was a little fellow, scarce five inches tall. His body was as brown as the bark of a tree, all mixed with green streaks and tarnished gold. You could hardly see him as he went stooping along against the green leaves and the brown branches.
When he got to the sleeping cottage he climbed up the lattice, and poked his sharp little nose into every crevice. He pulled open a loose shutter, tapped once or twice on the windows, and when he found a broken pane—in he went!
In this cottage lived a girl named Toody. She was not very big, as you can believe when I tell you that all the shrubs in the garden were taller than she, and all the flowers nodded over her head. In this same house lived Toody’s cousins, Kitty, and Crocus, and Twig, and Tiny—only Tiny was a little dog, not a little boy. And here, too, lived Grandmother Grey.
“In spectacles, tucker and flower’d-chintz gown,
Who always half smiled when trying to frown.”
Grandmother Grey took care of them all. At five o’clock that morning she woke up. “What noise do I hear below?” she cried. “It is daylight, but nobody is up I know.”
So Grandmother Grey threw off her skullcap and bandage, and nightcap with all its ribbons, bows and strings, and called out loudly: “Come, children, jump up quickly! There’s a rat in the dairy! Come down with me.”
Then Toody, and Crocus, and Kitty, and Twig, in their nightgowns and nightcaps, ran scrambling and laughing down stairs, with Tiny barking and tumbling about between their legs. They crept through the parlor, where all the shutters were closed but one. Like cautious Indians they went silently on, Dame Grey and the children in single file, each holding on to the one before by the tail of her nightgown.
Into the dairy they went, and stared about. Then they huddled together in fear, for behind a milk-jug, under the spout, they saw a quaint little figure.
“It was golden, and greenish, and earthy brown,
With a perking nose and a pointed chin;
It had very bright eyes and a funny frown,
With a russet-apple’s network skin.”
They all started to run in terror, but brave Tiny sprang up and began to chase the Elf round a milkpan.
Oh, what a race was there! They ran so fast that the two small bodies were as one. They looked like the dark band on the humming-top when you spin it. And just as Tiny was about to catch him, the Elf leaped into a pan, swam across three pails of milk, climbed the wall and hid on a shelf.
“We’ve lost him; we’ve lost him!” cried all the children. But, just in time, Grandmother Grey seized her jelly-bag, swung it across the shelf, and into it was swept our little elfin friend.
“Now, children,” said she, “Go up and dress.”
The children did not know what the old dame was going to do next. She led the way into the parlor. “Tiny,” said she, “I depend on you to keep watch for us.” So Tiny stood like a soldier, with both ears cocked and his nose down bent, and watched every motion that was going on in the bag, which stood up now like a tent on the floor.
’Twas but a minute before the children were down again, all dressed. The tea-kettle was singing, and the hot rolls were on the table, and everybody was ringing the bell all at once for more eggs. But Tiny stood guard over the jelly-bag tent.
“I think the Elf is hungry and thirsty,” said Toody. So she slipped a saucer of milk under the edge of the tent, and then, laughing, she rolled in an egg. They all listened for ten minutes, and then they plainly heard the crackling of the shell.
“Away with the tea things!” said Dame Grey to Martha, the maid. “And bring me my white wicker bird-cage.”
So the bird-cage was brought, and Grandmother Grey took up the jelly-bag carefully, clapped its mouth to the open cage-door, shook it, and—pop! in went the Elf, and the cage door was made fast! Did he moan? Did he complain? Not he. With one spring and ten kicks he climbed to the pole and seated himself there, with his hands on the pole.
Toody ran close to the cage, and so did Crocus and Twig; and Kitty, a little farther off, stood staring and smiling. But the Elf was not a bit frightened. He sat swinging his little legs, with his tongue in his left cheek and his left eye looking down with a half-winking, impertinent air.
“Now,” cried Dame Grey, “tell us who you are, little Sir, and what you are. Do you know that you have spoilt all my cream, and broken my best china-cup? Speak up now! What have you to say for yourself?”
The Elf was very angry, but it would never do to show it. So he tried to look as gentle as a good child reading a book. He rubbed some of the yellow of the egg off his chin, and stuck it on his leg like a buttercup. He shrugged his shoulders up in a bunch, and then, with a sneeze as if he had caught cold in the forest, he began:
“Nine white witches sat in a circle close,
With their backs against a greenwood tree,
As around the dead-nettle’s summer stem
Its woolly white blossoms you see.
Then from hedges and ditches, these old lady-witches,
Took bird-weed and rag-weed and spear-grass for me,
And they wove me a bower, ’gainst the snow-storm or shower,
In a dry old hollow beech tree.
Twangle tee!
Ri-rigdum, dingle shade-laugh, tingle dee!”
“Nonsense!” said Grandmother Grey. “You can’t fool me with your nettles, and nonsense, and hedges, and ditches. What do I care about all that? You know as well as I do that you came here to steal cake and drink cream. Besides, you have broken my best china-cup!”
The Elf gave a sigh, and looked up in the air; then took a glance at Martha’s broom, and as he looked down he thought he saw Toody winking at him. So he just smiled and said: “I declare, by the tom-tit’s folly, and the mole’s pin-hole eye, and the woodpecker’s thorny tongue, that I have told you the truth.”
Noticing that Toody was still winking at him he kept on, and told the following story:
“One day when I was loafing about in the wood I heard a strange noise in the bushes. I peeped over the edge, and there was a robin bathing in the brook. It ruffled its feathers with a spattering sound, made itself into a fussy ball, and threw up a shower of water; but what I most noticed was its eye—its eye!—”
“Its eye—its eye?” broke in all the children. “What about its eye?”
The Elf glanced again at Toody, and he saw that this time she gave him a quiet nod, as much as to say, “I’ll find you a chance.” So the Elf gave a downward squint at the closed cage-door, just for a hint. Then he scratched his cheek, jumped down on the floor of the cage, and began to act out a “robin,” just as if he were on the stage.
“Its eye—its eye? Well, just as soon as it caught a glimpse of me it bobbed—took wing—and was out of sight. Then back it came again, as if angry. It looked like an alderman lecturing the poor, but meaning really to—unlock the cage! I mean—to try to fool me. See! How high it flies. Clear up to the tip-top of the tree. Look at its large bright eye! There! There! See how it bobs—makes a quick bow, just as I am doing—points down its tail and up its nose—and off it goes!”
And out and off went the Elf!
“Run, Tiny, run! Oh, Kitty! Twig! The little rascal is gone! Run, Toody, run! Ah, I caught you; you are the one who loosened the cage-door. Run, Tiny! Oh, Kitty, Twig, and Crocus, that robin redbreast story was only meant to fool us!” Thus cried Grandmother Grey, till she was breathless.
“Off they all ran trooping,
And hallooing and whooping,
Beneath the low boughs stooping,
Right through the wood,
For Grandmama Grey,
Like an old duck, led the way,
When a string of ducks trudge to a flood.
Then came Kitty, side by side
With Toody, who oft cried;
‘Oh, Kitty dear, was ever such rare fun, fun, fun!’
And Crocus close to Twig,
Both scampered in a jig,
For they knew the Elf his freedom-race had won, won, won!
As for him, the roguish Elf,
He took good care of himself;
His mites of legs they twinkled as he fled, fled, fled.
He was scarcely seen, indeed,
He so glistened with his speed,
And his hair streamed out like silver grass behind his head.”
So Dame Grey and the children chased the Elf till they were hot and tired, and till the sun went down; and by and by they gave up, and all went home to let Martha wash their soiled hands and faces.
It was a warm and pleasant night, and before very long all the children were fast asleep.
“Within a very little nook,
Toody always slept alone,
Its strip of window stole a look
Over the lawn and hayrick-cone.
Within the open lattice crept
Some jasmine from the cottage wall,
And to the breathing of her sleep,
Softly swayed, with rise and fall.
But something else comes creeping in,
As softly, from the starry night—
The Elf!—’tis he!—first peeping in,
Now like a moth doth he alight.
He trips up to the little bed,
And near it hangs a full-blown rose;
Then in the middle of the flower
Places a light that gleams and glows.
It is a glowworm from the lea,
And lighting up the rose’s heart,
A fairy grot it seems to be,
Where dream-thoughts live and ne’er depart.
And now the Elf once more is gone
Into the woodlands wild,
Leaving his blessing thus to shine
Upon the sleeping child.”
PRINCESS FINOLA AND THE DWARF[H]
BY EDMUND LEAMY
A long, long time ago there lived in a little hut in the midst of a bare, brown, lonely moor an old woman and a young girl. The old woman was withered, sour-tempered, and dumb. The young girl was as sweet and as fresh as an opening rosebud, and her voice was as musical as the whisper of a stream in the woods in the hot days of summer. The little hut, made of branches woven closely together, was shaped like a bee-hive. In the center of the hut a fire burned night and day from year’s end to year’s end, though it was never touched or tended by human hand. In the cold days and nights of winter it gave out light and heat that made the hut cozy and warm, but in the summer nights and days it gave out light only. With their heads to the wall of the hut and their feet toward the fire were two sleeping-couches—one of plain woodwork, in which slept the old woman; the other was Finola’s. It was of bog-oak, polished as a looking-glass, and on it were carved flowers and birds of all kinds that gleamed and shone in the light of the fire. This couch was fit for a Princess, and a Princess Finola was, though she did not know it herself.
Outside the hut the bare, brown, lonely moor stretched for miles on every side, but toward the east it was bounded by a range of mountains that looked to Finola blue in the daytime, but which put on a hundred changing colors as the sun went down. Nowhere was a house to be seen, nor a tree, nor a flower, nor sign of any living thing. From morning till night, nor hum of bee, nor song of bird, nor voice of man, nor any sound fell on Finola’s ear. When the storm was in the air the great waves thundered on the shore beyond the mountains, and the wind shouted in the glens; but when it sped across the moor it lost its voice, and passed as silently as the dead. At first the silence frightened Finola, but she got used to it after a time, and often broke it by talking to herself and singing.
The only other person beside the old woman Finola ever saw was a dumb Dwarf who, mounted on a broken-down horse, came once a month to the hut, bringing with him a sack of corn for the old woman and Finola. Although he couldn’t speak to her, Finola was always glad to see the Dwarf and his old horse, and she used to give them cake made with her own white hands. As for the Dwarf he would have died for the little Princess, he was so much in love with her, and often and often his heart was heavy and sad as he thought of her pining away in the lonely moor.
It chanced that he came one day, and she did not, as usual, come out to greet him. He made signs to the old woman, but she took up a stick and struck him, and beat his horse and drove him away; but as he was leaving he caught a glimpse of Finola at the door of the hut, and saw that she was crying. This sight made him so very miserable that he could think of nothing else but her sad face, that he had always seen so bright; and he allowed the old horse to go on without minding where he was going. Suddenly he heard a voice saying: “It is time for you to come.”
The Dwarf looked, and right before him, at the foot of a green hill, was a little man not half as big as himself, dressed in a green jacket with brass buttons, and a red cap and tassel.
“It is time for you to come,” he said the second time; “but you are welcome, anyhow. Get off your horse and come in with me, that I may touch your lips with the wand of speech, that we may have a talk together.”
The Dwarf got off his horse and followed the little man through a hole in the side of a green hill. The hole was so small that he had to go on his hands and knees to pass through it, and when he was able to stand he was only the same height as the little Fairyman. After walking three or four steps they were in a splendid room, as bright as day. Diamonds sparkled in the roof as stars sparkle in the sky when the night is without a cloud. The roof rested on golden pillars, and between the pillars were silver lamps, but their light was dimmed by that of the diamonds. In the middle of the room was a table, on which were two golden plates and two silver knives and forks, and a brass bell as big as a hazelnut, and beside the table were two little chairs.
“Take a chair,” said the Fairy, “and I will ring for the wand of speech.”
The Dwarf sat down, and the Fairyman rang the little brass bell, and in came a little weeny Dwarf no bigger than your hand.
“Bring me the wand of speech,” said the Fairy, and the weeny Dwarf bowed three times and walked out backward, and in a minute he returned, carrying a little black wand with a red berry at the top of it, and, giving it to the Fairy, he bowed three times and walked out backward as he had done before.
The little man waved the rod three times over the Dwarf, and struck him once on the right shoulder and once on the left shoulder, and then touched his lips with the red berry, and said: “Speak!”
The Dwarf spoke, and he was so rejoiced at hearing the sound of his own voice that he danced about the room.
“Who are you at all, at all?” said he to the Fairy.
“Who is yourself?” said the Fairy. “But come, before we have any talk let us have something to eat, for I am sure you are hungry.”
Then they sat down to table, and the Fairy rang the little brass bell twice, and the weeny Dwarf brought in two boiled snails in their shells, and when they had eaten the snails he brought in a dormouse, and when they had eaten the dormouse he brought in two wrens, and when they had eaten the wrens he brought in two nuts full of wine, and they became very merry, and the Fairyman sang “Cooleen Dhas,” and the Dwarf sang “The Little Blackbird of the Glen.”
“Did you ever hear the ‘Foggy Dew’?” said the Fairy.
“No,” said the Dwarf.
“Well, then, I’ll give it to you; but we must have some more wine.”
And the wine was brought, and he sang the “Foggy Dew,” and the Dwarf said it was the sweetest song he had ever heard, and that the Fairyman’s voice would coax the birds off the bushes!
“You asked me who I am?” said the Fairy.
“I did,” said the Dwarf.
“And I asked you who is yourself?”
“You did,” said the Dwarf.
“And who are you, then?”
“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t know,” said the Dwarf, and he blushed like a rose.
“Well, tell me what you know about yourself.”
“I remember nothing at all,” said the Dwarf, “before the day I found myself going along with a crowd of all sorts of people to the great fair of the Liffey. We had to pass by the King’s palace on our way, and as we were passing the King sent for a band of jugglers to come and show their tricks before him. I followed the jugglers to look on, and when the play was over the King called me to him, and asked me who I was and where I came from. I was dumb then, and couldn’t answer; but even if I could speak I could not tell him what he wanted to know, for I remembered nothing of myself before that day. Then the King asked the jugglers, but they knew nothing about me, and no one knew anything, and then the King said he would take me into his service; and the only work I have to do is to go once a month with a bag of corn to the hut in the lonely moor.”
“And there you fell in love with the little Princess,” said the Fairy, winking at the Dwarf.
The poor Dwarf blushed twice as much as he had done before.
“You need not blush,” said the Fairy; “it is a good man’s case. And now tell me, truly, do you love the Princess, and what would you give to free her from the spell of enchantment that is over her?”
“I would give my life,” said the Dwarf.
“Well, then, listen to me,” said the Fairy. “The Princess Finola was banished to the lonely moor by the King, your master. He killed her father, who was the rightful King, and would have killed Finola, only he was told by an old sorceress that if he killed her he would die himself on the same day, and she advised him to banish her to the lonely moor, and she said she would fling a spell of enchantment over it, and that until the spell was broken Finola could not leave the moor. And the sorceress also promised that she would send an old woman to watch over the Princess by night and by day, so that no harm should come to her; but she told the King that he himself should select a messenger to take food to the hut, and that he should look out for someone who had never seen or heard of the Princess, and whom he could trust never to tell anyone anything about her; and that is the reason he selected you.”
“Since you know so much,” said the Dwarf, “can you tell me who I am, and where I came from?”
“You will know that time enough,” said the Fairy. “I have given you back your speech. It will depend solely on yourself whether you will get back your memory of who and what you were before the day you entered the King’s service. But are you really willing to try and break the spell of enchantment and free the Princess?”
“I am,” said the Dwarf.
“Whatever it will cost you?”
“Yes, if it cost me my life,” said the Dwarf; “but tell me, how can the spell be broken?”
“Oh, it is easy enough to break the spell if you have the weapons,” said the Fairy.
“And what are they, and where are they?” said the Dwarf.
“The spear of the shining haft and the dark blue blade and the silver shield,” said the Fairy. “They are on the farther bank of the Mystic Lake in the Island of the Western Seas. They are there for the man who is bold enough to seek them. If you are the man who will bring them back to the lonely moor you will only have to strike the shield three times with the haft, and three times with the blade of the spear, and the silence of the moor will be broken forever, the spell of enchantment will be removed, and the Princess will be free.”
“I will set out at once,” said the Dwarf, jumping from his chair.
“And whatever it cost you,” said the Fairy, “will you pay the price?”
“I will,” said the Dwarf.
“Well, then, mount your horse, give him his head, and he will take you to the shore opposite the Island of the Mystic Lake. You must cross to the island on his back, and make your way through the water-steeds that swim around the island night and day to guard it; but woe betide you if you attempt to cross without paying the price, for if you do the angry water-steeds will rend you and your horse to pieces. And when you come to the Mystic Lake you must wait until the waters are as red as wine, and then swim your horse across it, and on the farther side you will find the spear and shield; but woe betide you if you attempt to cross the lake before you pay the price, for if you do, the black Cormorants of the Western Seas will pick the flesh from your bones.”
“What is the price?” said the Dwarf.
“You will know that time enough,” said the Fairy; “but now go, and good luck go with you.”
The Dwarf thanked the Fairy, and said good-by. He then threw the reins on his horse’s neck, and started up the hill, that seemed to grow bigger and bigger as he ascended, and the Dwarf soon found that what he took for a hill was a great mountain. After traveling all the day, toiling up by steep crags and heathery passes, he reached the top as the sun was setting in the ocean, and he saw far below him out in the waters the island of the Mystic Lake.
He began his descent to the shore, but long before he reached it the sun had set, and darkness, unpierced by a single star, dropped upon the sea. The old horse, worn out by his long and painful journey, sank beneath him, and the Dwarf was so tired that he rolled off his back and fell asleep by his side.
He awoke at the breaking of the morning, and saw that he was almost at the water’s edge. He looked out to sea, and saw the island, but nowhere could he see the water-steeds, and he began to fear he must have taken a wrong course in the night, and that the island before him was not the one he was in search of. But even while he was so thinking he heard fierce and angry snortings, and, coming swiftly from the island to the shore, he saw the swimming and prancing steeds. Sometimes their heads and manes only were visible, and sometimes, rearing, they rose half out of the water, and, striking it with their hoofs, churned it into foam, and tossed the white spray to the skies. As they approached nearer and nearer their snortings became more terrible, and their nostrils shot forth clouds of vapor. The Dwarf trembled at the sight and sound, and his old horse, quivering in every limb, moaned piteously, as if in pain. On came the steeds, until they almost touched the shore, then rearing, they seemed about to spring on to it.
The frightened Dwarf turned his head to fly, and as he did so he heard the twang of a golden harp, and right before him whom should he see but the little man of the hills, holding a harp in one hand and striking the strings with the other.
“Are you ready to pay the price?” said he, nodding gayly to the Dwarf.
As he asked the question, the listening water-steeds snorted more furiously than ever.
“Are you ready to pay the price?” said the little man a second time.
A shower of spray, tossed on shore by the angry steeds, drenched the Dwarf to the skin, and sent a cold shiver to his bones, and he was so terrified that he could not answer.
“For the third and last time, are you ready to pay the price?” asked the Fairy, as he flung the harp behind him and turned to depart.
When the Dwarf saw him going he thought of the little Princess in the lonely moor, and his courage came back, and he answered bravely:
“Yes, I am ready.”
The water-steeds, hearing his answer, and snorting with rage, struck the shore with their pounding hoofs.
“Back to your waves!” cried the little harper; and as he ran his fingers across his lyre, the frightened steeds drew back into the waters.
“What is the price?” asked the Dwarf.
“Your right eye,” said the Fairy; and before the Dwarf could say a word, the Fairy scooped out the eye with his finger, and put it into his pocket.
The Dwarf suffered most terrible agony; but he resolved to bear it for the sake of the little Princess. Then the Fairy sat down on a rock at the edge of the sea, and, after striking a few notes, he began to play the “Strains of Slumber.”
The sound crept along the waters, and the steeds, so ferocious a moment before, became perfectly still. They had no longer any motion of their own, and they floated on the top of the tide like foam before a breeze.
“Now,” said the Fairy, as he led the Dwarf’s horse to the edge of the tide.
The Dwarf urged the horse into the water, and once out of his depth, the old horse struck out boldly for the island. The sleeping water-steeds drifted helplessly against him, and in a short time he reached the island safely, and he neighed joyously as his hoofs touched solid ground.
The Dwarf rode on and on, until he came to a bridle-path, and following this, it led him up through winding lanes, bordered with golden furze that filled the air with fragrance, and brought him to the summit of the green hills that girdled and looked down on the Mystic Lake. Here the horse stopped of his own accord, and the Dwarf’s heart beat quickly as his eye rested on the lake, that, clipped round by the ring of hills, seemed in the breezeless and sunlit air—
“As still as death.
And as bright as life can be.”
After gazing at it for a long time, he dismounted, and lay at his ease in the pleasant grass. Hour after hour passed, but no change came over the face of the waters; and when the night fell, sleep closed the eyelids of the Dwarf.
The song of the lark awoke him in the early morning, and, starting up, he looked at the lake, but its waters were as bright as they had been the day before.
Toward midday he beheld what he thought was a black cloud sailing across the sky from east to west. It seemed to grow larger as it came nearer and nearer, and when it was high above the lake he saw it was a huge bird, the shadow of whose outstretched wings darkened the waters of the lake; and the Dwarf knew it was one of the Cormorants of the Western Seas. As it descended slowly, he saw that it held in one of its claws a branch of a tree larger than a full-grown oak, and laden with clusters of ripe red berries. It alighted at some distance from the Dwarf, and, after resting for a time, it began to eat the berries and to throw the stones into the lake, and wherever a stone fell a bright red stain appeared in the water. As he looked more closely at the bird the Dwarf saw that it had all the signs of old age, and he could not help wondering how it was able to carry such a heavy tree.
Later in the day, two other birds, as large as the first, but younger, came up from the west and settled down beside him. They also ate the berries, and throwing the stones into the lake it was soon as red as wine.
When they had eaten all the berries, the young birds began to pick the decayed feathers off the old bird and to smooth his plumage. As soon as they had completed their task, he rose slowly from the hill and sailed out over the lake, and dropping down on the waters dived beneath them. In a moment he came to the surface, and shot up into the air with a joyous cry, and flew off to the west in all the vigor of renewed youth, followed by the other birds.
When they had gone so far that they were like specks in the sky, the Dwarf mounted his horse and descended toward the lake.
He was almost at the margin, and in another minute would have plunged in, when he heard a fierce screaming in the air, and before he had time to look up, the three birds were hovering over the lake.
The Dwarf drew back frightened.
The birds wheeled over his head, and then, swooping down, they flew close to the water, covering it with their wings, and uttering harsh cries.
Then, rising to a great height, they folded their wings and dropped headlong, like three rocks, on the lake, crashing its surface, and scattering a wine-red shower upon the hills.
Then the Dwarf remembered what the Fairy told him, that if he attempted to swim the lake, without paying the price, the three Cormorants of the Western Seas would pick the flesh off his bones. He knew not what to do, and was about to turn away, when he heard once more the twang of the golden harp, and the little fairy of the hills stood before him.
“Faint heart never won fair lady,” said the little harper. “Are you ready to pay the price? The spear and shield are on the opposite bank, and the Princess Finola is crying this moment in the lonely moor.”
At the mention of Finola’s name the Dwarf’s heart grew strong.
“Yes,” he said; “I am ready—win or die. What is the price?”
“Your left eye,” said the Fairy. And as soon as said he scooped out the eye, and put it in his pocket.
The poor blind Dwarf almost fainted with pain.
“It’s your last trial,” said the Fairy, “and now do what I tell you. Twist your horse’s mane round your right hand, and I will lead him to the water. Plunge in, and fear not. I gave you back your speech. When you reach the opposite bank you will get back your memory, and you will know who and what you are.”
Then the Fairy led the horse to the margin of the lake.
“In with you now, and good luck go with you,” said the Fairy.
The Dwarf urged the horse. He plunged into the lake, and went down and down until his feet struck the bottom. Then he began to ascend, and as he came near the surface of the water the Dwarf thought he saw a glimmering light, and when he rose above the water he saw the bright sun shining and the green hills before him, and he shouted with joy at finding his sight restored.
But he saw more. Instead of the old horse he had ridden into the lake he was bestride a noble steed, and as the steed swam to the bank the Dwarf felt a change coming over himself, and an unknown vigor in his limbs.
When the steed touched the shore he galloped up the hillside, and on the top of the hill was a silver shield, bright as the sun, resting against a spear standing upright in the ground.
The Dwarf jumped off, and, running toward the shield, he saw himself as in a looking-glass.
He was no longer a dwarf, but a gallant knight. At that moment his memory came back to him, and he knew he was Conal, one of the Knights of the Red Branch, and he remembered now that the spell of dumbness and deformity had been cast upon him by the Witch of the Palace of the Quicken Trees.
Slinging his shield upon his left arm, he plucked the spear from the ground and leaped on to his horse. With a light heart he swam back over the lake, and nowhere could he see the black Cormorants of the Western Seas, but three white swans floating abreast followed him to the bank. When he reached the bank he galloped down to the sea, and crossed to the shore.
Then he flung the reins upon his horse’s neck, and swifter than the wind the gallant horse swept on and on, and it was not long until he was bounding over the enchanted moor. Wherever his hoofs struck the ground, grass and flowers sprang up, and great trees with leafy branches rose on every side.
At last the knight reached the little hut. Three times he struck the shield with the haft and three times with the blade of his spear. At the last blow the hut disappeared, and standing before him was the little Princess.
The knight took her in his arms and kissed her; then he lifted her on to the horse, and, leaping up before her, he turned toward the north, to the palace of the Red Branch Knights; and as they rode on beneath the leafy trees, from every tree the birds sang out, for the spell of deathly silence over the lonely moor was broken forever.
[H] From “The Golden Spear,” by Edmund Leamy; used by permission of the publisher, Desmond Fitzgerald, New York.
THE STRAW OX
A Russian Tale
An old man and an old woman lived in an old house on the edge of the forest. The old man worked in the field all day and the woman spun flax. But for all of their hard work they were very poor—never one penny could they save. One day the old man said to the old woman:
“I would like to give you something to please you, but I have nothing to give.”
“Never mind that,” said the old woman, “make me a straw ox.”
“A straw ox!” cried the old man. “What will you do with that?”
“Never mind that,” said the old woman.
So the old man made a straw ox.
“Smear it all over with tar,” said the old woman.
“Why should I smear it with tar?” asked the old man.
“Never mind that,” said the old woman.
So the old man smeared the straw ox all over with tar.
The next morning when the old woman went out into the field to gather flax she took the straw ox with her and left it standing alone near the edge of the forest.
A bear came out of the woods, and said to the ox: “Who are you?”
“I am an ox all smeared with tar,
And filled with straw, as oxen are,”
replied the ox.
“Oh,” said the bear. “I need some straw to mend my coat, and the tar will keep it in place. Give me some straw and some tar.”
“Help yourself,” said the ox.
So the bear began to tear at the ox, and his great paws stuck fast, and he pulled and he tugged, and he tugged and he pulled, and the more he pulled and tugged, the faster he stuck, and he could not get away.
Then the ox dragged the bear to the old house on the edge of the forest.
When the old woman came back with her apron full of flax and saw that the straw ox had gone she ran home as fast as she could. There stood the ox with the bear stuck fast to him.
“Husband, husband! Come here at once,” she cried. “The ox has brought home a bear; what shall we do?”
So the old man came as fast as he could, pulled the bear off the ox, tied him up, and threw him into the cellar.
The next morning when the old woman went into the field to gather flax she again took the straw ox with her, and again she left him standing alone near the edge of the forest.
A wolf came out of the woods, and said to the ox: “Who are you?”
“I am an ox all smeared with tar,
And filled with straw, as oxen are,”
replied the ox.
“Oh,” said the wolf, “I need some tar to smear my coat so that the dogs cannot catch me.”
“Help yourself,” said the ox.
The wolf put up his paws to take the tar and his paws stuck fast. He pulled and he tugged, and he tugged and he pulled, and the more he pulled and tugged, the faster he stuck and he could not get away.
Then the ox dragged the wolf to the old house on the edge of the forest.
When the old woman came back with her apron full of flax and saw that the straw ox had gone she ran home as fast as she could. There stood the ox in the yard with the wolf stuck fast to him.
“then came the fox, with many
geese running before him”
“Husband, husband! Come here at once!” she cried. “The ox has brought home a wolf; what shall we do?”
So the old man came as fast as he could, pulled the wolf off the ox, tied him up, and threw him into the cellar.
The next morning when the old woman went out into the field to gather flax she again took the straw ox with her, and again she left it standing alone near the edge of the forest.
A fox came out of the woods, and said to the ox: “Who are you?”
“I am an ox all smeared with tar,
And filled with straw, as oxen are,”
replied the ox.
“Oh,” said the fox, “I need some tar to smear my coat so that the dogs cannot catch me.”
“Help yourself,” said the ox.
The fox put up his paws to take the tar, and his paws stuck fast. He pulled and he tugged, and he tugged and he pulled, and the more he pulled and tugged, the faster he stuck, and he could not get away.
Then the ox dragged the fox to the old house on the edge of the forest.
When the old woman came back with her apron full of flax and saw that the straw ox had gone she ran home as fast as she could. There stood the ox with the fox stuck fast to him.
“Husband, husband! Come here at once!” she cried. “The ox has brought home a fox; what shall we do?”
So the old man came as fast as he could, pulled the fox off the ox, tied him up, and threw him into the cellar.
The next morning when the woman came back with her apron full of flax and saw that the ox had gone and she had run home as fast as she could, there stood the ox with a rabbit stuck fast to him.
And the old man threw the rabbit into the cellar.
The next morning the old man said:
“Now we will see what will come of all of this.”
So he took his knife and sat down by the cellar door and began to make the knife sharp and bright.
“What are you doing, old man?” asked the bear.
“I am making my knife sharp and bright so as to cut up your coat and make a nice warm jacket for the old woman to keep her warm this winter.”
“Oh,” said the bear. “Do not cut up my coat. Let me go, and I will bring you some nice, sweet honey to eat.”
“Very well,” said the old man, “see to it that you do.”
So the old man let the bear go.
Then he sat down again and began to make his knife sharp and bright.
“What are you doing, old man?” asked the wolf.
“I am making my knife sharp and bright so as to cut up your coat to make me a fine fur cap,” said the old man.
“Oh,” said the wolf. “Do not cut up my coat. Let me go and I will bring you some sheep.”
“Very well,” said the old man, “see to it that you do.”
So the old man let the wolf go.
Then he sat down again with his knife in his hand.
“What are you doing, old man?” asked the fox.
“I am making my knife sharp and bright so as to cut up your coat to make me a nice fur collar.”
“Oh,” said the fox, “do not cut up my coat. Let me go and I will bring you some geese.”
“Very well,” said the old man, “see to it that you do.”
And in the same way he let the rabbit loose, who said that he would bring some cabbage and some turnips and some carrots.
The next morning early the old woman woke up and said:
“Some one is knocking at the door.”
So the old man got up and went to the door and opened it.
“See,” said the bear, “I have brought you a jar full of honey.”
“Very well,” said the old man, and he gave the jar to the old woman who put it on the shelf.
Then came the wolf driving a flock of sheep into the yard.
“See,” said the wolf, “I have brought you a flock of sheep.”
“Very well,” said the old man, and he drove the sheep into the pasture.
Then came the fox, with many geese running before him, and the old man drove them into the pen; and then came the rabbit with cabbages and turnips and carrots and other good things, and the old woman took them and put them into the pot and cooked them.
And the old man said to the old woman, “Now we have sheep in the pasture and many geese in the pen, and we are rich, and I can give you something to please you.”
BY B. J. DASKAM
Once upon a time the great, yellow stork carried a baby Princess to the Queen of that country which lies next to fairy-land.
All throughout the kingdom the bells rang, the people shouted, and the King declared a holiday for a whole year. But the Queen was very anxious, for she knew that the fairies are a queer lot, and their borders were very close indeed.
“We must be very careful to slight none of them at the christening,” she said, “for goodness knows what they might do, if we did!”
So the wise-men drew up the lists, and when the day for the christening arrived, the fairies were all there, and everything went as smoothly as a frosted cake.
But the Queen said to the Lady-in-waiting:
“The first fairy godmother gave her nothing but a kiss! I don’t call that much of a gift!”
“’Sh!” whispered the Lady-in-waiting. “The fairies hear everything!”
And indeed, the fairy heard her well enough, and very angry she was about it, too. For she was so old that she knew all about it, from beginning to end, and she was sure that the Wizard with Three Dragons was sitting in the Black Forest, watching the whole matter in his crystal globe. So she had whispered her gift—which was nothing more nor less than a Fearless Heart—into the ear of the Little Princess. But the Queen thought she had only kissed her.
So, when the clock was on the hour of four (which, as every one knows, is the end of christenings and fairy gifts) the first godmother went up to the golden cradle.
“Since my first gift was not satisfactory to every one,” she said, angrily, “I will give the Little Princess another. And that is, that when the time comes she shall marry the Prince of the Black Heart!”
Then the clock struck four, while the Queen wept on the bosom of the Lady-in-waiting.
And that was the end of the christening.
Then the King called the wise-men together, and for forty days and nights they read the books and studied the stars.
In the end, they laid out a Garden, with a wall so high that the sun could not shine over it until noon, and so broad that it was a day’s journey for a swift horse to cross it. One tiny door there was: but the first gate was of iron, and five-and-twenty men-at-arms stood before it, day and night, with drawn swords; the second gate was of beaten copper, and before that were fifty archers, with arrows on the string; the third gate was of triple brass, and before it a hundred knights, in full armor, rode without ceasing.
Into the Garden went the Little Princess, and the Queen, and all her ladies; but no man might pass the gates, save the King himself. And there the Princess dwelt until her seventeenth birthday, without seeing any more of the world than the inside of the wall.
Now it happened that, some time before, a young Prince had ridden out of the west and set about his travels. For the wise-man on the hill had come to him and said:
“In the kingdom which lies next to fairyland dwells a Little Princess who has a Fearless Heart. There is a wall which will not be easy to climb, but the Princess is more beautiful than anything else in the world!”
And that was enough for the Prince, so he girded on his sword, and set out, singing as he went for pure lightness of heart.
But it is not so easy to find fairyland as it is to eat a ripe apple, and the Prince could have told you that, before he was through. For in some places it is so broad that it takes in the whole world, and in others so narrow that a flea could cross it in two jumps. So that some people never leave it all their lives long, but others cross at a single step, and never see it at all.
Finally, the Prince came to the place where all roads meet, and they were as much alike as the hairs on a dog’s back. But it was all one to him, so he rode straight ahead and lost himself in fairyland.
When the first fairy godmother saw him, she laughed to herself and flew away, straight over his head, to the wall around the Garden. But you may be sure that she did not trouble the guards at the triple gates: for, if one has wings, what is the use of stairs? So over the wall she flew to the room where the Little Princess lay sleeping.
You may readily believe that the Princess was astonished when she awoke to find the fairy beside her bed, but she was not in the least alarmed, for, you see, she did not know that there was anything in the world to be afraid of.
“My dear,” said the old lady, “I am your first fairy godmother.”
“How do you do, Godmother?” said the Princess, and she sat up in bed and courtesied. Which is a very difficult trick, indeed, and it is not every Princess who can do it.
Her godmother was so delighted that she leaned over and kissed her.
“That is the second time I have kissed you,” she said. “When I go, I will kiss you again, and you had better save the three of them, for they will be useful when you go out into the world. And, my dear, it is high time that you were going out.”
Then the Little Princess was overjoyed, but she only nodded her head wisely and said:
“I know, the world is as big as the whole Garden, and wider than the wall. But I can never go out, for the gates are always locked.”
“If you do not go now,” said the fairy, “you will have to go later, and that might not be so well. And you should not argue with me, for I am older than you will ever be, and your godmother, besides. Now kiss me, for I must be going.”
So she flew away, about her other affairs, for she was a very busy old lady indeed.
In the morning the Princess went to breakfast with the King and the Queen.
“Mother,” she said, “it is high time that I went out into the world!”
The Queen was so startled that she dropped her egg on the floor and the King was red as a beet with anger.
“Tut! Tut!” he shouted. “What nonsense is this?”
“My fairy godmother was here last night,” said the Princess, “and she told me all about it. I will go this morning, please, if I may.”
“Nonsense!” roared the King.
“You will do no such thing!” wailed the Queen.
“There could have been no one here,” said the King, “for the gates were all locked.”
“Who told you that you had a fairy godmother?” asked the Queen.
And there was an end of that.
But that night, after the Princess had said her prayers and crept into bed, she heard her godmother calling to her from the Garden, so she slipped on her cloak and stole out into the moonlight. There was no one to be seen, so she pattered along in her little bare feet until she came to the gate in the wall.
While she was hesitating whether or not to run back to her little white bed, the gates of triple brass opened as easily as if her godmother had oiled them, and the Little Princess passed through the copper gates, and the iron gate, and out into fairyland.
But if you ask me why she saw the guards at the gates no more than they saw her, I can only tell you that I do not know, and you will have to be satisfied with that.
As for the Princess, she was as happy as a duck in a puddle. As she danced along through the forests, the flowers broke from their stems to join her, the trees dropped golden fruit into her very hands, and the little brook which runs through fairyland left its course, and followed her, singing.
And all the while, her godmother was coming down behind her, close at hand, to see that she came to no harm; but the Princess did not know that.
At last she came to the place where the Prince from the west lay sleeping. He was dreaming that he had climbed the wall and had found the Princess, so that he smiled in his sleep and she knelt above him, wondering, for she had never seen a man before, save her father, the King, and the Prince was very fair. So she bent closer and closer, until her breath was on his cheek, and as he opened his eyes, she kissed him.
As for the Prince, he thought that he was still asleep, till he saw that she was many times more beautiful than in his dreams, and he knew that he had found her at last.
the princess and the fairy
“You are more beautiful than anything else in the world,” he said, “and I love you better than my life!”
“And I love you with all my heart!” said the Little Princess.
“Will you marry me,” asked the Prince, “and live with me forever and ever?”
“That I will,” said the Princess, “and gladly, if my father, the King, and my mother, the Queen, will let me leave the Garden.”
And she told the Prince all about the wall with the triple gates.
The Prince saw that it would be no easy task to win the consent of the King and the Queen, so nothing would do but that he must travel back to the west and return with a proper retinue behind him.
So he bade the Princess good-by and rode bravely off toward the west.
The Princess went slowly back through fairyland, till she came to the wall, just as the sun was breaking in the east. As every one knows, White Magic is not of very much use in the daytime, outside of fairyland, and if you ask why this is not so at christenings, I will send you to Peter Knowall, who keeps the Big Red Book.
So the guards at the triple gates saw the Princess, and they raised such a hub-bub, that the King and the Queen rushed out to see what all the noise was about. You can easily believe that they were in a great way when they saw the Little Princess, who they thought was safe asleep in her bed.
They lost no time in bundling her through the gates, and then they fell to kissing her, and scolding her, and shaking her, and hugging her, all in the same breath.
But the Princess said, “I have been out into the world, and I am going to marry the Prince!”
Then perhaps there was not a great to-do about the Garden!
They bullied and coaxed and scolded and wept, but the Princess only said,
“I love him with all my heart and when the time comes I will go to him, if I have to beg my way from door to door!”
At that the King flew into a towering rage.
“Very well, Miss!” he shouted. “But when you go, you may stay forever! I will cut your name off the records, and any one who speaks it will be beheaded, if it is the High Lord Chancellor, himself!”
Then it was the turn of the Princess to weep, for she loved her parents dearly, but she could not promise to forget the Prince.
So matters went from pence to ha’pennies, as the saying goes, till finally the Princess could bear it no longer, so she found her cloak and stole down to the triple gates.
Everything went very much as it had before, save that there was no Prince asleep under the tree where she had first found him. Then the Princess would have turned back, but the little brook which followed at her heel had swollen out into a broad, deep river, and there was nothing to do but go ahead, till she came to a cottage among the trees, and before the door sat an old, old woman, spinning gold thread out of moonlight. And by that any one could have told that she was a fairy, but the Princess thought it was always done that way in the world.
“Oh, Mother,” she cried, “how shall I find my way out of the forest?”
But the old woman went on spinning, and the Princess thought that she had never seen anything fly so fast as the shuttle.
“Where were you wanting to go?” she asked.
“I am searching for the Prince from the west,” said the Princess sadly. “Can you tell me where to find him?”
The fairy shook her head and went on with her spinning, so fast that you could not see the shuttle at all.
But the Princess begged so prettily that finally she said,
“If I were looking for a Prince, I would follow my nose until I came to the Black Forest, and then I would ask the Wizard with Three Dragons, who knows all about it, and more, too! That is, unless I thought that I would be afraid in the Black Forest.”
“What is afraid?” asked the Little Princess. “I do not know that.”
And no more she did, so the fairy laughed, for she saw trouble coming for the Wizard. She stopped her wheel with a click, but for all her fast spinning, there was only enough gold thread to go around the second finger of the Princess’s left hand.
As for the Princess, she thanked the old lady very kindly, and set bravely off toward the Black Forest.
But the Wizard with Three Dragons only laughed as he gazed into his crystal globe, for in it he could see everything that was happening in any place in the world, and I do not need Jacob Wise-man to tell me that a globe like that is worth having!
Now, when the Prince had left the Princess in fairyland, he lost no time in riding back to the west. The old King, his father, was overjoyed when he heard of the Little Princess, and he gave the Prince a retinue that stretched for a mile behind him.
the wizard with the three dragons,
and his crystal globe
But when they came to the place where all roads meet, the Prince was greatly perplexed, for this time, you see, he knew where he wanted to go. In the end, he trusted to chance and rode ahead, but they had not gone far before they came to the castle of the Wizard with Three Dragons, in the middle of the Black Forest.
In the great hall sat the Wizard, himself, waiting for them, and he was as soft as butter.
Yes, yes, he knew the Princess well enough, but it was too late to go further that night. So the Prince and all his train had best come into the castle and wait till morning.
That was what the Wizard said, and the Prince was glad enough to listen to him, for he was beginning to fear that he would never find the Princess again. But hardly had the last bowman come within the doors than the Wizard blew upon his crystal globe, and muttered a spell.
At that, the Prince and his entire train were changed to solid stone, in the twinkling of an eye, and there they remained till, at the proper time, the Little Princess of the Fearless Heart came up the great stone steps of the castle.
The Wizard was sitting on his throne with his Dragons behind his shoulder, staring into his crystal globe as it spun in the air, hanging on nothing at all.
He never took his eyes away when the Princess came up to the throne, and she was far too polite to interrupt him when he was so busy. So for a long, long time she stood there waiting, and the Wizard chuckled to himself, for he thought that she was too frightened to speak. So he breathed upon his crystal globe and muttered a spell.
But of course, nothing happened, for the Little Princess had a Fearless Heart!
Then the Wizard grew black as night, for he saw that the matter was not so easy as plucking wild flowers, so he turned away from the crystal globe and stared at the Princess. His eyes burned like two hot coals, so that she drew her cloak closer about her, but you cannot hide your heart from a Wizard with Three Dragons, unless your cloak is woven of sunlight, and the Little Black Dwarf has the only one of those in the whole world, stowed away in an old chest in the garret.
So the Wizard saw at once that the Little Princess had a Fearless Heart, and his voice was soft as rain-water.
“Oh, Little Princess,” he said. “What is it that you want of me in the Black Forest?”
“I am looking for the Prince from the west,” said the Princess, eagerly. “Can you tell me where to find him?”
“Yes,” said the Wizard. “I can tell you that, and perhaps some other things, besides. But what will you give me for my trouble?”
Then the Little Princess hung her head, for she had nothing about her that was worth so much as a bone button, and the Wizard knew that as well as you and I. So he said, very softly, “Will you give me your Fearless Heart?”
And there was the whole matter in a nutshell!
But the Princess stamped her foot on the stone floor. “Of course I will not give you my heart,” she said. “And if you will not tell me for kindness, I will be going on, for I have nothing with which to pay you!”
“Not so fast!” cried the Wizard—for he was as wise as a rat in a library—“If you will not give me your heart, just let me have a kiss and I will call it a bargain!”
Then the Princess remembered her godmother’s three kisses, and she thought that this was the place for them, if they were ever to be used at all, although she liked the thought of kissing the Wizard about as much as she liked sour wine. She crept up to the throne, and, with her eyes tight closed, gave the Wizard the first of the three kisses.
At that the whole Black Forest shook with the force of the Magic, hissing through the trees, and the Wizard, with his Three Dragons turned into solid stone!
The crystal globe spun around in the air, humming like a hive full of bees and sank slowly to the foot of the throne.
Hardly had it touched the ground than the whole castle rent and split into a thousand pieces, and I would not like to have been there, unless I had a bit of gold thread spun out of moonlight around my finger, for the huge rocks were falling as thick as peas in a pan!
But the Princess hardly noticed the rocks at all, for, as the sun rose over the Black Forest, she recognized the marble figure of the Prince, standing among the ruins. You may be sure that she was heartbroken as she went up to him, weeping very bitterly and calling and calling on his name. Then in her sorrow she reached up and kissed the cold stone face with the second magic kiss.
Then suddenly she felt the marble grow soft and warm beneath her touch, and the Prince came back to life and took her in his arms.
When he recognized the silent figures of his gay train, he was sad as death, and the Princess wept with him. But suddenly they saw an old, old woman picking her way among the fallen stones.
“Oh,” said the Little Princess, “that is the old woman whom I met in the forest, spinning!”
At that the fairy laughed so hard that her hair tumbled down about her feet, and it turned from gray to silver, and silver to gold. The years fell from her like a cloak, until she was more beautiful than the thought of man could conceive!
“Ah! I know you now!” cried the Little Princess. “You are my first fairy godmother!”
And that was the way of it, so she kissed them both for pure joy. But when they asked her as to which of the stone figures should have the third magic kiss, she shook her head,
“None of them at all!” she said. “But give me back that bit of gold thread, for you will have no further use for it.”
Then she stretched the thread between her two hands until it was so fine that you could not see it at all, and laid it on the ground around the Wizard and his Dragons, and tied a magic knot, just behind the crystal globe.
“Now give the third kiss to the crystal globe,” she said, “and see what will happen!”
So the Little Princess kissed the globe, and from the place where her lips touched it, a stream of water trickled down. As it touched the feet of each statue, the marble softened to flesh and blood, and the breath came back to it until all of the Prince’s train were alive again; but as for the Wizard, the water could not pass the gold thread, so there he sits until this day—unless some busybody has untied the magic knot. Then the fairy flew away, singing a low, happy song.
When the Prince and the Princess came to the Garden, there was a wedding which lasted a month, and then they rode off toward the west.
After they had gone, the Queen whispered to the Lady-in-waiting,
“You see what careful parents can do! The first fairy godmother was quite wrong about the Prince of the Black Heart!”
But at that very moment, the Prince had bared his arm to pluck a water-flower, as they rested beside the way.
“What is that black mark on your arm?” asked the Princess.
“Oh,” said the Prince, laughing, “that is just a scar I have borne from birth. It is in the shape of a heart, and so, for a jest, my people call me the Prince of the Black Heart.”
“Black Heart, indeed!” cried the Little Princess, angrily.
And that is the end of the story, for if you have no fear in your heart, black magic is no such great thing after all.
But if any old fogy should wag his gray beard and say there is not a word of truth in it, you may be very sure that he came to fairyland at the narrow place, and never saw it at all. So you may just smile at him, for there is one thing, at least, that you know more about than he does!
