The Golden Maiden

MT. ARARAT.

The Golden Maiden and
other folk tales and fairy
stories told in Armenia

A. G. Seklemian
Introduction
Alice Stone Blackwell
Initial Letters
Ella Dolbear
Cover Design
Elizabeth Geary

The Helman-Taylor Company
Cleveland and New York
1898

Copyrighted, 1897
The Helman-Taylor Company

Imperial Press:
CLEVELAND.

INTRODUCTION.

A distinguished English student of folk-lore has written: “Armenia offers a rich and hitherto almost untouched field to the folk-lorist, the difficulty of grappling with the language—the alphabet even of which was described by Byron as ‘a very Waterloo of an alphabet’—having hitherto baffled European collectors.”

So far as I can learn, the two volumes of Armenian folk-tales collected by Bishop Sirwantzdiants have hitherto been accessible to English and European readers only through the medium of a rare and more or less imperfect German translation. The late Ohannes Chatschumian had begun a compilation of Armenian folk-lore for Miss Alice Fletcher; but the work was cut short by his early death. Prof. Minas Tcheraz, of King’s College, London, has published from time to time during the last eight years, in his paper “L’Armenie,” a series of interesting articles on the folk-lore and fairy tales of the Armenians, under the title “L’Orient Inedit.” He gathered these stories from the lips of the poorer classes in Constantinople, as Mr. Seklemian did in Erzroom. Prof. Tcheraz says: “The lowest strata of the population, having received no instruction, and not having changed perceptibly since the earliest centuries of our planet, keep still intact the traditions of the past. It is above all from the talk of the women of the common people, born in Constantinople or from the provinces, that these things are to be learned. Gifted with strong memories and brilliant imaginations, they still preserve all the legends bequeathed from the past.” But the files of “L’Armenie,” like the books of Bishop Sirwantzdiants, are inaccessible to the general public. Mr. Seklemian has therefore rendered a real service to students of folk-lore who are unacquainted with the Oriental languages, by bringing these curious and interesting tales within their reach.

Many things combine to give especial value to Armenian folk-lore. Among these are the great antiquity of the Armenian race, and its singular tenacity of its own ideas and traditions.

Armenia was the seat of one of the most ancient civilizations on the globe. Its people were contemporary with the Assyrians and Babylonians. They are of Aryan race, and of pure Caucasian blood. Their origin is lost in the mists of time. According to their own tradition, they are descended from Togarmah, a grandson of Japhet, who settled in Armenia after the Ark rested on Ararat. In the earliest days of recorded history, we find them already occupying their present home. They are referred to by Herodotus. Xenophon describes their manners and customs much as they still exist in the mountain villages. The Bible relates that the sons of Sennacherib escaped “into the land of Armenia,” ([2 Kings xix., 37]; [Isaiah xxxvii., 38].) Ezekiel refers to Armenia, under the name of Togarmah, as furnishing Tyre with horses and mules, animals for which it is still famous; and “the Kingdom of Ararat” is one of the nations called upon by Jeremiah to aid in the destruction of Babylon. In the famous inscriptions of the Achemenidæ, at Persepolis and at Behistun, the name of Armenia occurs in various forms.

The Armenians, according to their own histories and mythology, enjoyed four periods of national independence, under four different dynasties, extending over about 3,000 years. The ruins of Ani and other great cities still testify to their former power and splendor. It is now many centuries, however, since they lost their political independence, and their country has been little more than a battle-ground for rival invaders. Geographically, Armenia is the bridge between Europe and Asia. In the early centuries, the Armenians acted the part of Horatius and “kept the bridge,” defending the gate of Europe against successive invasions of the uncivilized hordes of Asia. Their resistance was finally beaten down by superior numbers, and now for hundreds of years the armies of Europe and Asia have been marching and counter-marching across that bridge, slaughtering and devastating as they went, till it is a wonder that any Armenians are left, as a distinct race. Yet no race has ever retained its own characteristics more clearly. This persistency of the Armenian type is perhaps the most remarkable instance of race-survival in history, except that of the Jews. Good observers say that it is due in large measure to the comparatively pure family life of the Armenians in the interior of Turkey, and especially to the virtue of the Armenian women.

Tradition relates that Christianity was preached in Armenia early in the first century, by the Apostles Thaddeus and Bartholomew. It is historic fact that about A. D. 276 the king and the whole nation became Christian, under the preaching of St. Gregory, called “the Illuminator.” The Armenian Church is thus the oldest national Christian church in the world.

As a Christian nation whose lot has been cast beyond the frontiers of Christendom, the Armenians have had to suffer continual persecution,—in the early times from the Persian fire-worshippers, in later centuries from the Mohammedans. Since the withdrawal of the Crusaders, to whom they alone of Asiatic nations gave aid and support, the Armenians have been at the mercy of the surrounding heathen peoples. Their country has been invaded successively by the Caliphs of Baghdad, the Sultans of Egypt, the Khans of Tartary, the Shahs of Persia, and the Ottoman Turks. All these invasions were accompanied by great slaughter and fierce barbarities; but the Armenians have held steadfastly to their faith for more than 1,500 years. They have clung not only to Christianity, but to their own peculiar form of Christianity. At many periods of their history they could have obtained a measure of protection if they would have conformed either to the Roman Catholic or to the Greek Church; but they have remained a distinct national communion of Eastern Christians.

This tenacity is one of the most marked features of the Armenian character. It gives an additional interest to their folk-lore and to their customs, many of which have come down substantially unchanged from the farthest antiquity. Intensely wedded to Christianity as the nation has become through perpetual persecution, there are yet a multitude of curious Pagan rites, dating back before the dawn of recorded history, which still prevail among the common people, especially in the villages that nestle in remote nooks among the Caucasus mountains.

When the Armenians adopted Christianity, the old Pagan festivals could not be rooted out; they were only baptized, so to speak, with Christian names. On February 26th, in Armenia, every young man who has been married within the year brings a load of aromatic shrubs, and a huge pile is made of them in the church-yard. In the evening, after a religious service in the open air, the clergyman advances with a taper, and sets fire to the heap. All the villagers, men, women and children, dance around the great bonfire, and the boys and young men show their courage and agility by leaping over it. When the flames have died down, each person carries home a glowing brand, and places it on his hearthstone for good luck. This festival is now celebrated in commemoration of the bringing of the infant Christ to the Temple; but it is an old Pagan rite in honor of Mihr, the god of fire.

In summer, a festival is held in commemoration of the subsiding of the Deluge. Local traditions of a Flood lingered in the region around Mt. Ararat long before the introduction of Christianity. On “the day of our Father Noah,” it is everybody’s object to “baptize” everybody else by pouring water over him. Even a bishop will be drenched without ceremony, if he ventures to show himself on the street. It is considered necessary that every one should be baptized before sunset. After the sun goes down, hundreds of tame doves are let loose, in honor of Noah’s dove, and they play and “tumble” in the air, while all the people are out rowing on the river, or walking along its banks and sprinkling each other with water. This festival is a great delight to the Armenian boys.

“Fortune day” is more especially the day of the Armenian girls. It is now celebrated on the fortieth day after Easter, in honor of Christ’s ascension; but it is much older than Christianity. On the previous evening, the village girls assemble, and go in silence and mystery to fill a jar with water from seven springs. A single spoken word would break the spell. The jar is set for the night in some secret place under the open sky, where it can be “watched by the stars.” The young men of the village try their best to find it, or to coax from the girls the secret of its hiding place, but in vain. Next morning the girls bring out the jar in triumph, wreathe it with flowers, and carry it in procession to a grassy place outside the village. Everybody drops into it some small object easily identified—a ring, a coin, a snail-shell, etc. A little girl about four years old, dressed in white, blindfolded and veiled, takes her stand beside the jar. She represents Fortune. An older girl begins to sing a verse of poetry, and the whole choir of girls joins in. The little girl then takes out of the jar one of the things that have been dropped into it, and holds it up. The verse that has been sung is supposed to predict the fortune of the owner. This ceremony is repeated till everything has been taken out of the jar. Afterwards the villagers dance in a circle, hand-in-hand. On this occasion every girl weaves herself a cross of flowers, which is hung on the wall of her home, near the fireplace, and is carefully saved until the next “Fortune day.”

The brightest point in Armenian history is the “Holy War” of the fifth century. In A. D. 450, a vast Persian army invaded Armenia to force the Armenians to embrace fire-worship. The battle was fought on the plain of Avarair, under Mt. Ararat. The much smaller force of the Armenians was defeated, and their leader, Vartan, was killed; but the obstinate resistance offered by rich and poor,—men, women and children, convinced the King of Persia that he could never make fire-worshippers of the Armenians. Eghishe (Elisaeus), an Armenian bishop and historian who wrote in the fifth century, relates that even the high priest of fire saw it to be impossible, and said to the Persian monarch, “These people have put on Christianity not like a garment, but like their flesh and blood.” To-day, after 1,400 years, the Armenian mountaineers, at their festivals, still drink the health of Vartan next after that of the Catholicos, or head of their Church. From time immemorial it has been the custom in Armenian schools to celebrate the anniversary of the battle with songs and recitations, and to wreathe the picture of “Vartan the Red” with red flowers. Of late years, this celebration has been forbidden by the government.

In the minds of the common people, all sorts of picturesque superstitions still cluster around that battle-field. A particular kind of red flowers grow there, which are found nowhere else; and they are believed to have sprung from the blood of the Christian army. A species of antelope, with a pouch on its breast secreting a fragrant musk, is supposed to have acquired this peculiarity by browsing on herbage wet with the same blood. It is also believed that at Avarair the nightingales all sing “Vartan, Vartan!”

To the Armenian peasant, all nature is full of stories. The forests, the springs, the mountains, the lakes, the flowers,—all have spirits. An infinite number of strange superstitions prevail, some of which may cast a valuable light upon the early mythology of Asia. This, of course, refers only to the uneducated Armenians. The educated classes are no more superstitious than those of other nationalities.

Almost all travelers have been struck by the ability of the Armenians, and by the marked difference between them and other Oriental races. Lamartine calls them “the Swiss of the East.” Dulaurier compares them to the Dutch. American missionaries speak of them as “the Anglo-Saxons of Eastern Turkey.” The Hon. James Bryce, author of “The American Commonwealth,” who has traveled in Armenia and studied the people, says:

“Among all those who dwell in Western Asia, they stand first, with a capacity for intellectual and moral progress, as well as with a natural tenacity of will and purpose, beyond that of all their neighbors—not merely of Turks, Tartars, Kurds and Persians, but also of Russians. They are a strong race, not only with vigorous nerves and sinews, physically active and energetic, but also of conspicuous brain power.”

Mrs. Isabella Bird Bishop, the well-known English traveler, says: “It is not possible to deny that they are the most capable, energetic, enterprising and pushing race in Western Asia, physically superior and intellectually acute; and above all they are a race which can be raised in all respects to our own level, neither religion, color, customs, nor inferiority in intellect or force constituting any barrier between us. Their shrewdness and aptitude for business are remarkable, and whatever exists of commercial enterprise in Eastern Asia Minor is almost altogether in their hands.”

Dr. Grace N. Kimball, after living for years in the heart of Armenia, describes the Armenians as “a race full of enterprise and the spirit of advancement, much like ourselves in characteristics, and full of possibilities of every kind.”

Lord Byron said: “It would perhaps be difficult to find in the annals of a nation less crime than in those of this people, whose virtues are those of peace, and whose vices are the result of the oppression it has undergone.”

Dr. Cyrus Hamlin, the founder of Robert College, who spent thirty-five years in Turkey teaching among them, says: “The Armenians are a noble race.”

Dr. James L. Barton, of the American Board of Foreign Missions, ex-president of Euphrates College, writes: “I know the Armenians to be, by inheritance, religious, industrious and faithful. They are not inferior in mental ability to any race on earth. I say this after eight years’ connection with Euphrates College, which has continually from 550 to 625 Armenians upon its list of students, and after superintending schools which have four thousand more of them.”

While much criticism has been passed upon the Armenians by transient tourists, we may say truly of them, with the Rev. Edwin M. Bliss, late of Constantinople, that “those who know the race most widely and most intimately esteem it the most highly.”

Armenia has been described by a European traveler as the land of unsolved riddles. It is full of most interesting problems for the antiquarian, in its ruined cities, its rock grottoes, its unexplored mounds or tumuli, its half-effaced inscriptions, and the repositories of precious manuscripts in its ancient monasteries. But all these are doomed to remain uninvestigated, as its fertile fields must remain untilled, its rich mines unworked, and the fine natural abilities of its people unimproved by education, until the present disturbed condition of the country becomes quiet. When Armenia is thus “opened up” to the peaceful investigator, the folk-lorists will profit by the opportunity, as well as other classes of scholars. Meanwhile, rich gleanings may be obtained from the educated and English-speaking Armenians in this country; and by far the largest and most interesting collection yet made of these is the present work. Both the author and the publishers are to be congratulated on this valuable contribution to the world of folk-lore.

Alice Stone Blackwell.

Dorchester, Mass.

THE STORY-TELLER TO HIS AUDIENCE.

If I were telling my stories to an audience composed of Armenians, as I told them years ago, I would begin without any preliminary remarks or introduction. But since the audience is made up of people who are comparatively unacquainted with my native land and its traditions, naturally they will like to know who the story-teller is, where he got his narratives, and by whom and how his tales were first told.

About twenty years ago I was a boy living in a village on the heights of the Taurus Mountains in Cilicia, or Lesser Armenia, not far from the Mediterranean Sea. Like boys and girls all over the world, I was very fond of stories; but there were no story-books or other reading matter with which I and other children of my age could gratify our eager desire for stories. But better than these were the aged folks who told us all the interesting stories which our inquisitive childhood required. I had two grandmothers and half a dozen aunts, all unlettered country people, who took great delight in a rich store of folk-lore and fairy tales, and who told me the most entertaining and delightful stories that I have ever heard. In every village home there were one or two such old people, who entertained the youth of their respective homes. During the long winter evenings we boys and girls gathered together around the village hearth to listen to the old man or aged woman rehearsing tales of fairies, giants, genii, dragons, knights, winged beauties, captive maidens, and other thousand and one mysterious beings. I need not say how, with utmost interest, our youthful minds used to follow the details of these vivid and picturesque stories, drinking in every word with the greatest avidity. This was true not only of children but of grown-up people also, whose principal pastime, during the long and tedious winter nights, was the rehearsing of folk-tales and fairy stories, or listening to others as they told them.

These circumstances gave me opportunity and power to commit to memory a great number of tales and rehearse them whenever there was a favorable occasion. By this means I improved and increased my store of tales so much that I became quite a noted story-teller in our village, at a time when I was but a mere lad. Subsequently, both during my college course in Aintab, Cilicia, and during the period when I was a teacher in Erzroom, of Armenia proper, I had the opportunity to travel a great deal and to study the life and manners of the Armenians in their primitive homes. I found the same fairy stories and folk-tales current everywhere, with such slight differences only as the people made when appropriating the tales to their own surroundings and to their fund of knowledge. At that time it occurred to my mind that it would be a good plan to make a collection of these tales in order to make use of them some day, and so I kept notes of the tales just as they were told by the common, unlettered country people.

Bishop Sirwantzdiants, an Armenian clergyman, also made a collection of Armenian folk-tales, taking them from the mouth of the people just as they were told. He published his collection in two separate books. The first, “Manana” (Manna), was printed in Constantinople in 1876 by the Dindessian Printing-press (since closed), and the second, “Hamov-Hodov” (Delicious and Fragrant), was printed in Constantinople in 1884 by the Bagdadlian Printing-press.

My personal notes of Armenian tales and these two books of Bishop Sirwantzdiants have furnished the material of the present volume. As the Bishop and myself made our collections independently in different districts of Armenia, our texts naturally differed from each other in some points. But the two being substantially the same, in putting the stories into English I have followed the one which I thought to be the most original, taking all the circumstances into consideration. Let me here emphasize the point again that all the stories that appear in the present volume were taken down directly from the lips of the ignorant, unlettered peasantry of Armenia, literally without any embellishment or addition whatever, except in the case of rude and unbecoming expressions which had to undergo some slight change.

How those unlettered, ignorant people came into possession of these stories, and what the value of such tales is to the student of antiquity and ethnology, are questions which I will not venture to answer. I wish, however, to make a few statements which have been suggested to me by the study of the Armenian folk-tales and fairy stories.

The history of the Armenians is greatly mixed up with mythology and tradition, as is the case with the history of all ancient nations. Many of the legends given in the written history of Armenia bear a marked similarity to the folk-tales of the present day. The peculiar geography of Armenia must have had a great deal to do with the formation of these tales. High, inaccessible mountain ranges have divided the country into such distinct divisions that the inhabitants of one section have, even in the present time, very strange ideas with regard to the people of the other section, attributing to one another magic, witchcraft and other superhuman powers and practices. This, of course, was still more so in olden times, when the population of the country had not yet been fused together into one nation. That was probably the time when most of these tales were formed.

S. Baring-Gould supposes that many of the fairy tales current among all nations took their beginning at a time when a conquering people of one race lived among the conquered people of an entirely different race. Thus “two distinct races dwelt in close proximity, not comprehending each other, each suspicious of and dreading the other, and each investing the other with superhuman powers or knowledge.” [See “Fairy Tales from Grimm” Preface, pp. xvi. and xxi.] There are many instances in Armenian history which confirm this supposition, so that in the case of such tales or portion of tales as are purely Armenian, we may suppose that the process of fusion of two ancient races, one the conquering and the other the conquered, has given birth to them. Although all the tales contained in this volume are taken directly from the lips of the Armenians, it will be noticed that some of them bear traces of Persian, Arabic and Turkish influence. This, of course, was naturally to be expected, as the Armenians have been ruled successively by these nations.

But one of the greatest factors in the formation of the distinctively Armenian tales was, no doubt, Mount Ararat. That majestic mountain, situated in the middle of an extensive plateau in the heart of Armenia, and seen from points distant a three or four days’ journey, would naturally draw the attention of the people. The many mythological and historical facts attached to it; its hoary, inaccessible peak covered with everlasting snow; its towering heights piercing the sky; its high, steep precipices; its deep cañons; its underground caverns; its fierce storms, and the wild beasts and large birds living on its slopes—would naturally give birth to half-true and half-imaginary stories which gradually and by lapse of time would grow into legendary tales.

These are not the only folk-tales current among the Armenians; there are a great many more. We may be tempted to make another collection if this one proves acceptable.

Before closing these notes, I have to confess that my use of English is defective, owing to the fact that it is not my mother tongue. Consequently I owe a great deal to generous friends who have been so kind as to take up my manuscript and pass upon it before it was given to the press, smoothing the narrative without destroying the personality of the story-teller. Among these generous friends I take pleasure in mentioning the names of Mr. W. H. Brett, Librarian of the Cleveland Public Library; Mr. Wallace W. Newell, Secretary of the American Folk-Lore Society; Miss Alice Stone Blackwell, the noted poetess and editor of the Woman’s Journal, and my publishers.

Now, I do not see how to remunerate these friends for their valuable assistance to me unless I share with them the “three apples” which fall from Heaven at the end of each tale, and which I had to appropriate to myself as a genuine story-teller. This I gladly do. May they prove as pleasant to them, and the stories be as interesting to you, as has been the re-telling of them to me.

A. G. Seklemian.

TALES.

THE GOLDEN MAIDEN.

Once upon a time there was a wicked widow who had an ugly daughter. She married a second husband who had a beautiful daughter and a son by his first wife. The step-mother hated the two motherless children, and used every means to persuade her husband to take them away to the mountains and abandon them as a prey to wild beasts. The poor man loved his children, but being frail was unable to resist the frequent importunities and threats of his wife. Therefore one day he put bread in a bag, and taking the two children went to the mountains. After a long journey they came to a lonely wilderness. The man said to the children:

“Sit here and take a little rest,” and then, turning his face away, he began to sob bitterly.

“Father! father, why are you weeping?” exclaimed the children, and they also began to weep.

The man opened the bag and gave them bread, which they soon ate.

“Father,” said the boy, “I am thirsty.”

The man drove his stick into the ground, and placing his cloak over the stick, said:

“Come, children, sit here under the shadow of this cloak; I will go and see if there is a fountain near by.”

The children seated themselves under the cloak, while their father disappeared behind the trees and rocks.

After waiting a long time, the two innocent children grew tired and began to ramble about in search of their father, but in vain.

“Father! father!” they exclaimed, but only the echo of the mountains returned them answer—“Father! father!”

The children came back, crying: “Alas! alas! the stick is here, the cloak is here, but father is not here!”

Thus they cried for a long time, but seeing that nobody appeared, they rose up, and one of them took the stick and the other the cloak and they began to wander about in the wilderness, not knowing where to go. After a long ramble, they came to a place where some rain-water had gathered on the ground in a print made by the hoof of a horse.

“Sister,” said the little boy, “I am thirsty; I want to drink of this water.”

“No,” said the maiden, “do not drank of this water; as soon as you drink of it you will become a colt.”

Soon they came to another print made by the hoof of an ox, and the boy said:

“Sister, I am thirsty; I want to drink.”

But she would not let him drink, saying: “As soon as you drink of this water you will become a calf.”

Then they came to another print made by the paw of a bear, and the boy wanted to drink; but his sister prevented him lest he should become a cub of a bear. Then they came to a track made by the foot of a pig, and the boy again wanted to drink, but the maiden prevented him, lest he should turn into a young pig. Soon they came to a print made by the foot of a wolf; but the boy did not yield till they came to one made by the hoof of a lamb.

“Sister,” exclaimed the boy, “I am thirsty; I cannot wait any longer; I will drink from this at any risk.”

“Alas!” said the maiden, “what can I do? I am ready to give my life to save you, but it is impossible. You will turn into a lamb the moment you drink of this water.”

The boy drank, and was at once changed into a lamb, and began to follow his sister bleating. After a long and dangerous journey they found the way to the town, and came to their house. The step-mother was angry to see them come back, though one of them was now but a lamb. As she had great influence over her husband, he used every means to please her. One day she said to him:

“I want to eat meat; you must kill your lamb that I may eat it.”

The sister, hearing this, at once took her lamb-brother and fled secretly to the mountains, where, sitting on a high rock, she spun wool while the lamb grazed safely near her. As she was thus spinning, her spindle fell suddenly from her hand, and was precipitated into a deep cave. The maiden, leaving the lamb grazing, went down to find her spindle. Entering the cave, she was surprised to see an old fairy woman, a dame a thousand years of age, who perceiving the maiden, exclaimed: “Maiden, neither the bird with its wing, nor the snake on its belly can enter here; how could you venture to come hither?”

The terrified maiden was at a loss for an answer, but she replied with a gentle voice: “Your love brought me here, grandmother.”

The old fairy was pleased with this kind answer, and calling the maiden, gave her a seat beside herself and inquired of her many things concerning the upper world. The more she talked with the maiden the better she liked her and she said:

“Now you are hungry; let me bring you some fishes to eat.”

She went into the cave, and returned with a plateful of cooked snakes, at the sight of which the maiden shuddered with horror and began to weep.

“What is the matter?” inquired the old dame; “why are you weeping?”

“Nothing at all,” answered the maiden, shyly; “I remembered my dead mother who was so fond of fish, and therefore I wept.”

Then she told the old dame her sad story, and the ill treatment of the wicked step-mother. The fairy woman was very much interested in what the maiden told her, and said to her:

“Be seated, and let me sleep in your lap. In yonder fire-place there is a ploughshare heated in the fire. When the Black Fairy passes do not waken me; but when the Red-and-Green Fairy passes, at once press the red-hot ploughshare on my feet, that I may awake.”

The poor maiden shuddered with fear, but she could do nothing but consent. Accordingly the old fairy woman lay down in the maiden’s lap and slept. Soon a fairy as black as night passed through the cave; but the maiden did not stir. After him the Red-and-Green Fairy appeared and the whole cave was gilded with his radiant beams. The maiden at once pressed the red-hot ploughshare on the feet of the sleeping fairy woman, who immediately started up exclaiming:

“Oh! what is biting my feet?”

The maiden told her that nothing had bitten her, but it was the red-hot ploughshare she felt, and that it was time to get up. The old dame arose and at once caused the maiden to stand up as the Red-and-Green Fairy proceeded, whose gleaming rays had such an effect upon her that her hair and garments were all turned to gold and she herself was turned into a fairy maiden. After the Red-and-Green Fairy disappeared, the maiden, kissing the fairy woman’s hand, took leave of her, and taking her lamb-brother, went home. Seeing that the step-mother was not at home, she at once took off her golden garments and hiding them in a secret comer, put on her old rags. Soon the step-mother entered, and seeing the golden hair of the maiden, exclaimed:

“How now, little elf! what did you do to your hair to turn it into gold?”

The maiden told her what had taken place. On the following day the step-mother sent her own daughter to the same spot. There, on purpose, she let her spindle fall, and entered the cave as if to pick it up. The fairy woman saw her, and taking a dislike to her, changed her into an ugly thing, so ugly that it is impossible to describe her appearance. She came home, and the step-mother seeing her own daughter changed into a form of so great ugliness, was the more enraged against the two step-children.

One day the Prince of that country sent out heralds to proclaim all over his realm that his son was to be married, and that the most beautiful maiden in all the land should be his bride. He commanded all the marriageable maidens to assemble in the palace courtyard where the young Prince would make his selection. At the appointed time all the maidens of the land had crowded into the courtyard. The step-mother dressed her own daughter in the best garments and ornaments she could procure, veiling her ugly face very carefully, however, and took her to the courtyard, hoping that the Prince would select her for his bride. In order to prevent the orphan maiden from appearing before the Prince, the step-mother scattered a measure of wheat in the yard, and bade the maiden to pick up the wheat before she returned, threatening to beat her to death in case she failed to finish the task. Soon after the step-mother went away, however, the maiden let loose the chickens, which in a moment picked the wheat up to the very last grain; and she, putting on her golden garments, was changed to a fairy maiden so beautiful that she might say to the sun: “Sun, you need not shine, for I am shining.”

Then she went to the Prince’s courtyard, where she was the object of the admiration of all the crowd. But she could not stay very long lest her step-mother should return first, and not finding her at home should beat her upon her return, so she ran hastily back, and hiding her golden garments put on her old rags. But in her haste she had dropped one of her golden slippers in the Prince’s fountain.

Soon the young Prince, who had looked at the maidens without making a selection, came on horseback leading his animal to the fountain to water him; but the horse was frightened by the radiant beams from the slipper. The servants immediately entered the fountain, and taking out the slipper gave it to the Prince, who seeing it at once declared that the maiden who wore that slipper should be his bride. He and his peers began to search every house and to try the feet of the maidens to find the true owner of the slipper. They had just approached the house of the Golden Maiden, when the step-mother took her and hid her in the great kitchen pit which is used as a furnace, presenting her own ugly daughter as the owner of the golden slipper. Of course, the slipper did not fit. As the Prince and his peers were leaving the house, the cock flying from his roost perched on the top of the door, and cried:

“Goo-goo-lig-goo-goo! the Golden Maiden is in the pit!”

The pit was immediately opened, and lo! the maiden jumped out. The slipper fitted, and the maiden, taking out her golden garments and the mate of the slipper from the corner where she had hid them, put them on, and was changed to a fairy maiden. The Prince seeing this embraced her as his bride. Taking the lamb-brother with them, they went to the Prince’s palace, where their nuptials were celebrated for seven days and seven nights.

One day the step-mother took her own daughter and went to the Prince’s palace to pay a visit to her step-daughter, who conducted them to the Prince’s orchard for a walk. As they came to the seashore the step-mother said:

“Come, daughters, let us take a bath in the sea.”

No sooner had they entered the sea, than the step-mother, intending to drown the golden bride, pushed her into the deep water. A great fish, however, chanced to be there and swallowed her. The step-mother at once gathered up the golden dresses of the bride, and putting them on her own ugly daughter, brought her to the palace. There she left her in the place of the golden bride, veiling carefully her ugly face.

The true bride remained in the belly of the fish for several days. One day, very early in the morning, she heard the sexton ringing the bell and inviting the people to church. She cried to him from the belly of the fish:

“Sexton! sexton! who ring your morning bell,

Crossing your face, send the devils to hell,

For God’s sake, go to the young Prince and tell,

Let him not kill my lamb-brother, or sell.”

The sexton, hearing this call repeated several times, went and informed the young Prince, who had by that time discovered the loss of his fairy bride. He immediately came to the seashore, where the sexton had heard the voice. Once more it was repeated, and the Prince recognized it as the voice of his bride. He drew his sword and leaped into the sea. Splitting the fish’s belly, he drew out his bride, and taking her in his arms brought her to the palace. Soon he called the step-mother before him, saying:

“Now, kind mother, which gift do you prefer, a nimble-footed horse or a keen sword?”

“Let your keen sword stab your enemies,” answered the step-mother, overjoyed with the expectation of a valuable present; “I will have the nimble-footed horse.”

“I take you at your word,” said the Prince; “you shall have the horse.”

He ordered his men to bind the step-mother and her ugly daughter to the tail of a wild horse. It was done, and the horse being whipped, carried the two wicked women away to the mountains. They were thrown from stone to stone, and from tree to tree, until they were dashed into pieces.

The wicked persons being punished, the Prince celebrated a new nuptial for forty days and forty nights, because he had found his lost golden bride. She, being released from her rival, thenceforth enjoyed a happy life with her lamb-brother.

Three apples fell from Heaven;—one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.

THE BETROTHED OF DESTINY.

Once upon a time the King of the West had a son who, one night, dreamed a dream in which destiny betrothed him to the daughter of the King of the East. In the morning he awoke, and lo! the betrothal ring of the maiden was on his finger. On the very same night the same dream had come to the sleeping maiden, who on the morrow found on her finger the betrothal ring of the son of the King of the West. The lad at once started to find his betrothed, and after a long journey came to the city of the King of the East. He entered into the service of the King as a stranger, because he could not make himself known on account of the continuous strife existing between his father and the King of the East. He served the King seven years, during which he spent many happy hours with the young princess, his betrothed. At the expiration of the seven years he asked the hand of the princess as a remuneration for his services. The King, who was pleased with the lad, consented to give him his daughter in marriage. But the lad said he must take her to his country, where the wedding should take place. The King consented to that also, and let his daughter go, giving her a precious dower. On their way to the country of the King of the West they had to cross the sea, and so went on board a ship. The captain, being a wicked man, was charmed by the beauty of the maiden, and before the ship sailed he sent the lad ashore, bidding him to make further preparation, as the voyage would probably be long on account of contrary winds. As soon as the lad disappeared the captain weighed anchor and set sail. The lad came back only to find that the ship had sailed away with his love on board. There remained nothing for him to do but to lament and bewail his ill-luck. The maiden, who was in the cabin, did not discover the truth until it was too late. To her censure and upbraiding the vile captain answered with the proposal that she should become his wife.

“I marry you! such an ungracious beast as you!” she exclaimed. “I would rather make my grave in the unfathomable sea.”

But the captain was strong, and they were on the open sea where no help could be expected. Seeing that she could not resist force if the captain resorted to it, she resolved to use craft.

“Well, then,” she answered finally, “I will be your wife, but not upon the sea. We will go home to your city and there be married lawfully.”

The captain consented, and they soon reached the city.

“Now, do you go first,” said the maiden, “and make preparation. I will wait here until you return.”

Without suspicion the captain went ashore. As soon as he had disappeared the maiden bade the sailors weigh anchor, and she set sail without knowing where to go. At last she reached a certain city and cast anchor. The King of that city was a young lad of marriageable age, who was celebrating his wedding festival. Thirty-nine beautiful maidens were already elected; only one maiden was missing to complete the number forty from among whom he would choose his queen, while the others were to become hand-maids to the queen-elect. The King, hearing that a beautiful maiden had come to the haven, hastened thither, and seeing the princess, said to her:

“Fair maiden, come and by your presence complete the number forty. You are the jewel of all the maidens, and will surely be my dear queen, while the rest shall become your handmaids.”

“Very well, I will come,” answered the princess; “only send hither your thirty-nine maidens, that I may come to your palace with great pomp.”

The youthful King consented and sent his maidens on board the ship. As soon as they came, the princess weighed anchor and set sail. She told the thirty-nine maidens who she was, and asked them to accompany her until destiny showed them what to do. The maidens were fascinated by her beauty and commanding appearance, and promised to follow her wherever she went, even to the end of the earth. After sailing for a long time, they came to an unknown shore where there was a castle. They cast anchor and all the party landed. Entering the castle, they found in it forty rooms with a bed in each, all richly decorated. The castle contained great wealth and abundant food. Satisfying their hunger, they went to bed, each maiden occupying a chamber. In the middle of the night the door of the castle suddenly opened, and there entered forty brigands, who were the owners of the stronghold, and who were just returning from a nightly foray, bringing with them great booty.

“Aha!” exclaimed the brigands, seeing the maidens, “we hunted elsewhere, and lo! the antelopes have come to our own home.”

“Enter, you brave heroes,” said the maidens; “we were waiting for you.”

And they pretended to be very much pleased to see the brigands, who entered the rooms occupied by the maidens without suspicion. When they had laid down their arms and retired to rest, each maiden took the sword of the brigand who lay in her room and cut off his head. Thus the maidens were the owners of their wealth and property. In the morning the maidens rose, and putting on the clothes and arms of the robbers, appeared as youthful knights. They mounted the brigands’ horses, taking in their saddlebags gold, silver, jewels and other portable wealth. After a long journey they came to the city of the King of the West, and encamped in a meadow on the outskirts of the city. Soon they heard a herald crying that on the following day there should be elected a King of the realm, for inasmuch as the late sovereign had died and the heir-apparent was lost, it was necessary to choose a new ruler. On the following day all the people of the realm were gathered in the park adjoining the palace; the forty strangers also went to gratify their curiosity. Soon the nobles let loose the royal eagle, which flapped its wings and soared over the immense crowd, as though searching with its keen eyes for the true candidate for the throne. The multitude held their breath and stood stone-still. The royal bird once more flapped its wings, and descending from its towering flight, perched upon the head of the princess, who was disguised as a knight.

“That is a mistake,” exclaimed the noblemen; “we must try it again.”

Once more they let loose the royal eagle, but again it alighted upon the head of the same stranger. A third trial gave the same result. Thereupon all the multitude saluted the disguised princess, the elect of destiny, exclaiming with one voice: “Long live the King!” And with great pomp they took her and her companions to the royal palace, where the princess was anointed with holy oil, and crowned King over the realm, and her companions were made ministers.

This new King proved to be the wisest and most just ruler that that country had ever enjoyed, and all the people of the realm loved and honored their sovereign with all their hearts. She built a splendid fountain in the midst of the city, on which she caused her image to be carved, so that every one who came to drink might see it. She put guards to watch the fountain day and night, and said to them:

“Watch carefully, and when you perceive a stranger who, on seeing my image, shows signs of knowing me, bring him hither.”

One day there came a stranger who, after drinking, raised his eyes and saw the image. He gazed for a long time, and sighed deeply. Immediately he was arrested and taken to the King, who, looking at him from behind a curtain, ordered him to be imprisoned. This was the captain of the ship. On another day there came another stranger, and he also sighed. It was the King, the owner of the thirty-nine maidens. He was kept in an apartment of the palace. And at last, disguised as a stranger, came the Prince, the betrothed of the ruling sovereign, and the heir-apparent to the crown. He also looked at the image and sighed, and was taken to the palace. Thereupon the princess summoned a parliament of all the nobility and the learned and wise men of the realm. She caused the three strangers to be brought before the assembly, and told her story from beginning to end.

The captain was condemned to be hanged, and was executed forthwith. The lord of the thirty-nine maidens received them all, to whose number the princess added one of her most beautiful handmaids, thus making up the forty. The prince and the princess, the betrothed of destiny, celebrated their wedding with great joy and pomp for forty days and forty nights. The prince, as the true heir, was crowned King, his consort became Queen, and they reigned together.

Thus they reached their desire. May all of us attain our desires and the happiness ordained to us by an all-wise Providence.

Three apples fell from Heaven;—one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.

THE YOUNGEST OF THE THREE.

My grandmother once told me a story of a King who fell sick in his royal palace. All the doctors and magicians of the country gathered to consult, but they found no remedy. An old doctor, however, who was well versed in magic, said:

“There is only one remedy for our King. There is a certain garden in India and in it a tree upon which grows the Apple of Life. As soon as the King eats an apple of that tree he will be healed and become as sound as a new-born babe.”

“But I have heard,” answered the King, “that certain giants guard that tree, and pick off the fruit as soon as it is ripe, no mortal can get at it.”

Now the King had three sons standing near by. The eldest said:

“Long live the King! I will go and bring the Apple of Life for you;” and he took leave of his father.

After a long and perilous journey he came to the tree which bore the Apple of Life. But the night on which the fruit ripened a sound sleep overpowered his senses, and the giant came, and picking off the fruit went away. In the morning, the lad seeing the Apple had been picked off, returned home to tell of his ill-luck.

The following year the second brother undertook the expedition, but had the same unfortunate sleep during the critical night.

The third year the youngest of the three brothers said to his father:

“Long live the King! I will go and bring the fruit.”

“Why,” said the King, “your older brothers failed, and do you think you will succeed?”

But the lad importuned the King again and again until he gave him permission to go. The lad, taking his bow and arrow, came to the tree. During the critical night when the Apple would ripen he felt that a heavy sleep was taking possession of his senses. To prevent it, however, he wounded one of his little fingers and put salt on the wound, and the sharp pain did not let him sleep. In the middle of the night, as it was lightning and thundering, lo! a terrible giant appeared and began to climb the tree. The lad took aim with his bow and arrow and shot the giant in the leg. The giant roared and ran away. The lad climbed the tree, and picking off the Apple of Life brought it to his father, who ate it and was soon after healed.

Then the youngest of the three brothers said to the King:

“Please give me permission to go and avenge myself upon my enemy.”

The King consented, and his two older brothers also went with him. They found that the giant had fled from the tree of the Apple of Life, leaving a track of blood that came from his wound. The three brothers followed the bloody track till they came to the mouth of an immeasurably deep abyss, into which the giant had entered. The oldest brother said:

“Bind me by the waist and let me down; I want to fight him.”

The other two did as he said, but before he was half-way down he began to cry out:

“I am burning! I am roasting! Draw me up!” And they drew him up.

Then the second was lowered in his turn; but he also begin to cry as had the former, and was drawn out.

Now it was the turn of the youngest brother, who said: “Let me down, and the more I cry, ‘I am burning! I am roasting!’ the further let me descend.”

So they did, and the more he cried, the more they let him descend. At last he reached the bottom, and began to ramble about. Soon he saw a terrible giant lying down, with his head in the lap of a beautiful maiden; so beautiful that she seemed to say to the moon, “Moon, you need not shine, since I am shining.”

She was working with her needle, and before her a golden rat and a golden cat were playing in a golden basin. The maiden, seeing the lad, said:

“Human being! neither the snake on its belly, nor the bird with its wing would dare to come here. How could you venture to come?”

“Your love brought me hither,” answered the lad.

“Young man!” said the maiden, “if you love your life, go away; because if this giant, who is sleeping now, wakes he will cut you into pieces no larger than your ear.”

“Wake him up,” answered the lad; “I have come on purpose to fight him.”

“He sleeps forty days,” said the maiden, “and it is only eight days since he began to sleep; you have thirty-two days more to wait before he will awake. But if you will not wait so long, put yonder ploughshare into the fire, and heating it red-hot, press it on his legs and he will awake.”

The lad, heating the ploughshare, pressed it on the legs of the giant, who began to awake, saying, “Oh! what insects are biting my legs?”

“Aha! insects!” said the maiden. “Get up! a human being has come to fight you.”

The giant opened his eyes, and seeing the lad, exclaimed:

“What a delicious breakfast this morning!”

“Get up, monster!” said the lad. “Let us see whom fortune will favor—you or me.”

They prepared their bows and arrows.

“You shoot first,” said the giant to the lad.

“Not I,” said the lad; “you shoot first.”

The giant shot, but the lad avoided the arrow very cleverly, and it passed by without hurting him. It was now his turn. He took aim and shot the giant through the heart, nailing him to the ground; and then he cut off his head.

Leaving the body of the giant there, the lad went a little farther, and to his great surprise saw another giant asleep with his head in the lap of another beautiful maiden, whose beauty surpassed even that of the moon. She was working with her needle, and before her a golden hen and a golden weasel were playing in a golden basin. The maiden, seeing the lad, said to him:

“Human being! the snake on its belly, and the bird with its wing could not come here. How could you venture to come?”

“Your love brought me hither,” answered the lad.

“If you love your life,” said the maiden, “avoid this giant while he is asleep. If he wakes he will tear you into pieces.”

“Wake him up!” said the lad; “I have come to fight him.”

“Do you see that iron?” said the maiden; “heat it red-hot and press it on his feet; he will then awake.”

The hot iron being applied on the feet of the giant, he awoke, saying:

“Oh! what gnats are biting me?”

“Gnats!” exclaimed the maiden. “Get up! a human being has come to fight you.”

The giant, seeing the lad, exclaimed:

“Oh! what a good morsel has come for me on his own legs.”

“Come!” said the lad; “let us see whether fortune will favor you or me.”

They fought, and this giant also was killed as the former had been. The lad cut off his head, and leaving the dead body, went away.

Soon he saw a third giant asleep with his head in the lap of another beautiful maiden. So beautiful was she that she could say to the sun, “Sun, you need not shine, since I am shining.” She was working with her needle, and before her a golden greyhound and a golden fox were running a race in a golden basin. As soon as the lad saw this maiden he fell in love with her. The maiden also fell in love with the lad, and said:

“Oh, you noble human being! the snake upon its belly, and the bird with its wing cannot enter here. How could you come hither?”

“Your love brought me hither, fair creature,” answered the lad.

“Be on your guard, precious youth!” said the maiden. “If this giant awakes he will tear you into pieces.”

“Wake him!” said the lad; “I have come to fight him.”

A hot iron was applied to the feet of the giant, who awoke, saying: “Oh! what is biting me?”

“What!” said the maiden. “Get up! this human being has come to fight you.”

The giant, seeing the lad, said: “Oh! what a good featherless partridge for a breakfast.” The lad noticed that the giant was wounded in his leg, and at once recognized him as the one who had tried to steal the Apple of Life.

“Come!” said the lad, “let us see whom fortune will favor.”

And they begin to fight. After a long combat, this giant also shared the fate of the former two, and the lad cut his throat.

Then he brought together the three maidens, who told him that they were daughters of three Princes and had been stolen by these giants, who nourished them with the Apples of Life. Then they showed him their houses, their treasure, and everything belonging to the giants. The lad took what he chose from the treasures and prepared three chests for the maidens. He kept only a sword of lightning for himself. Then entering the stable, he found three horses of lightning, one black, a second one red, and the third white. The youngest maiden advised the lad to pick three hairs from the tails of the horses and keep them. The lad did so. Then they came to the bottom of the abyss where the lad had descended, and found the rope still hanging. He, binding the oldest maiden and her chest to the rope, called to his brothers to draw her up.

“This is,” he said, “the betrothed of my oldest brother, and the chest is her dowry.”

Then he bound the second maiden and her chest, saying: “This is the betrothed of my second brother, and the chest is her dowry.”

Now it was the turn of the youngest maiden.

“You go up first,” she said to the lad.

“Not I,” said the lad; “you must go up first.”

“But when your brothers see me,” said the maiden, “they will not draw you up, and you will remain here. I love you! I pity you!”

“Why,” said the lad, “are they not my brothers? Do you believe my brothers will do me evil? Go up, I say!”

“Alas!” said the maiden; “I will obey. But if you do remain here below, as I am afraid you will, do as I tell you. Next Friday evening three rams will come here, one of them black, the second red, and the third white. As soon as you see them, throw yourself upon the black ram. He will throw you upon the red, the red will throw you upon the white, and the white will throw you to the surface of the upper world. But if you make a mistake you are lost, or there is little hope for your release. Take this magic ring as a token of my love for you. Whatever you desire, kiss this ring and you will certainly have it. And when you are in need, cast the three hairs which you picked from the tails of the three horses in the fire, and they will immediately come to you. So farewell, my love!”

“Farewell!” said the lad; and the maiden was drawn up.

The two brothers were amazed at the beauty of the youngest maiden.

“Lo! lo! lo!” they exclaimed, “he has preserved the most beautiful one for himself, and has given us the uglier ones.”

Thus envying their youngest brother, they took the three maidens and went away, leaving the poor lad at the bottom of the abyss.

On Friday evening the three rams came, as foretold by the fair maiden. The lad was so afflicted that he had forgotten the directions of the maiden, and his desire to go up to the surface of the world being very great, he threw himself upon the back of the white ram. It, in turn, threw him upon the back of the red; the red one threw him upon the back of the black; and it, in turn, threw him into the world of Darkness. Oh! it was awfully dark. The lad began to grope his way until he found a door, at which he knocked.

“Who is there?” asked an old woman from behind the door.

“I am a poor orphan without father, without mother,” answered the lad in a pitiful voice.

“Come in, then,” said the old dame, opening the door. “I have no children; you take me as a mother, and I will take you as a son; so let us live together. God will give us our bread.”

They accepted one another as mother and son.

“Mother, please give me some water, I am thirsty,” said the lad.

“Oh!” sighed the old dame, “you are asking the hardest thing in the world. We have no water, son; be patient till we get some.”

“Why, have you no water now?” asked the lad, surprised.

“Alas!” said the woman, “there is only one fountain in our country, and it is guarded by a terrible dragon. Every day a virgin is cast to him to be devoured; else, he will not let the people take a drop of water. And soon after he finishes his repast upon the virgin, he again stops the fountain from flowing. To-day the last virgin of the country, the only daughter of the Prince, is to be given to the dragon. Hark! I hear an uproar in the streets; I suppose they are taking the maiden to the dragon.”

The lad looked out, and saw that indeed a great crowd of people were leading along a maiden as beautiful as the moon. He followed the crowd, which coming to the fountain, left the maiden there alone and went away. The lad approached the maiden, saying:

“Fair virgin, be not afraid. Let me sleep in your lap, and when the dragon comes, awake me; I will save you.”

She consented, and he slept in her lap. But soon the dragon began to creep toward the maiden with its mouth wide open, rolling up its terrible tail and hissing like the thunder from joy at finding two victims instead of one. The poor maiden was horror-stricken and mute. She could neither speak nor move to awake the brave hero asleep in her lap. She could only weep. Her warm tears rolling down her cheeks dropped upon the face of the lad, who at once jumped up and saw, to his great terror, that the dragon had partly swallowed the maiden. One minute more, and the maiden would be lost. But what could he do now? He could not cut the throat of the dragon without hurting the feet of the maiden. At once he drew his sword of lightning and placed it in the lap of the maiden. So when the dragon swallowed the maiden the sword cut its mouth and down through its side, and just when the maiden was swallowed entirely the dragon also was cut in two pieces, and the maiden came out uninjured. The lad cutting off the head of the dragon said to the maiden: “Now, fair one, get up and go to your parents.”

The maiden, soaking her hand in the blood of the dragon, made a red mark upon the back of the lad; and they departed, she to her father, and he to his adopted mother.

The dragon being killed, the fountain was opened and the people took the water freely.

“Mother, why is your country so dark?” asked the lad of the old woman.

“My son,” answered the old dame, sighing, “there is a very large eagle living upon the top of yonder mountain. Every year she hatches young ones, but a dragon eats them up; and the eagle thinking that men are the cause, deprives us of the sunlight.”

The lad, taking leave of the old woman, climbed up the mountain till he came to the nest of the eagle. Taking refuge under a rock, he set himself to watch. Soon a gigantic dragon came creeping up toward the young birds, and was just devouring them, when the lad drew his sword of lightning, and cutting the dragon into pieces, gave its flesh to the young eaglets, which began to eat it and to chirp merrily. The mother-eagle hearing the voice of her young ones, hastened to the spot as swiftly as a flash, and thinking that it was the lad that devoured her young ones every year, and that he had come now to destroy them, was about to tear him into pieces when her young ones cried out:

“Take care, mother! it was that noble lad that saved us from the dragon, and killing it gave its flesh to us to eat.”

“Now, noble youth!” said the eagle to the lad, “what do you want me to do as a reward for your heroic deed?”

“Nothing,” answered the lad, “but to take me to the upper world upon your wings.”

“You are requesting the hardest thing in the world,” answered the eagle; “but for such a brave hero as you I will do anything, even sacrifice my life if necessary. Go bring me forty bottles of wine and forty sheep’s tails, and I will do as you request.”

Now let us return for a moment to the maiden who was saved from being devoured by the dragon. She came to her father, who was very angry at seeing her.

“You little rogue!” he said, “you want to save your life, and never care that so many thousands of people are dying of thirst. Go quickly! let the dragon devour you, that we may have water.” The maiden told him how a brave hero saved her by killing the monster, and how the fountain was flowing in torrents to quench the thirst of all the people. Upon this the Prince sent heralds to proclaim that the man who had saved his daughter’s life must come to him; he should not only be the son-in-law of the Prince by marrying the maiden whom he had saved, but the Prince was ready to bestow upon him any gift which he might ask. Thousands of young men appeared before the Prince’s palace, every one of them claiming the credit of killing the dragon and saving the princess, but the maiden said, “No, none of these is the hero.”

The people of the town came before the Princess, but the hero was not to be found.

“Is there no other man left in the town?” asked the Prince.

“None,” answered the officials, “except a young stranger who is the guest of a poor widow.”

“Bring him here!” ordered the Prince. The lad was brought.

“Why,” exclaimed the maiden, pointing at the blood mark which she had made with her own hand, “this is the hero!”

“Now, hero,” said the Prince, “the maiden whom you saved is yours; ask of me whatever else you please.”

“Long live the Prince!” answered the lad. “May Heaven bless the union of your daughter with a suitable husband, and may you enjoy your estates for many, many years! I ask of you only forty bottles of wine and forty sheep’s tails, that the eagle may take me to the upper world.”

The Prince so commanded, and they were immediately given to the lad, who at once took them to the eagle.

“Now,” said the eagle, “place the sheep’s tails on my right wing, and the bottles of wine on my left, and seat yourself between. When I say, “Boo,” pour in my mouth a bottle of wine, and when I say “Coo,” give me a sheep’s tail.”

The lad went first to take leave of the old woman, who gave him her blessing. As soon as the load was placed on the back of the eagle she took her flight. Every time she said “Boo” a bottle of wine was poured into her mouth, and every time she said “Coo” a sheep’s tail was given to her. They ascended and ascended until they came to the world of light. “Coo!” said the eagle, the last time. The lad was so glad and in so great a hurry that the last sheep’s tail which he was going to give to the eagle fell from his hand. But he did not wish to disappoint his friend, so he drew his sword, and cutting one of the calves of his own leg, gave it to the eagle. The wise bird knew from the flavor that it was human flesh, and kept it under her tongue. They arrived at their destination.

“Well, now,” said the eagle putting the lad on the ground, “go along your way.”

“No,” said the lad, “you go first; my legs are benumbed, I want to take a little rest.”

The eagle insisted till the lad tried to walk, but he could not walk because of his wound. Then the eagle drew the flesh out from under her tongue, and placing it in its proper place, licked it up, and the wound was at once healed. She took her leave of the hero and flew down to her young ones, who were chirping and waiting for her. After that day she never deprived that country of the sun’s rays, as she had no longer reason for so doing.

The lad, before entering his father’s city, thought he had better disguise himself. So he went to a slaughter house, and getting a sheep’s stomach, wrapped it around his head, thus changing himself to a bald-headed youth. Entering the city as a stranger, he soon found out that a wedding ceremony was to be held in his father’s palace. His two brothers were to marry the two maidens whom he saved for them, and his own betrothed was to be married to the King. The lad felt his heart bleeding. He went to the market place, and presenting himself to a goldsmith, asked him to accept him as an apprentice. The goldsmith hesitated for a while, but afterwards said:

“Come, bald-headed fellow, be my apprentice.”

That very day the officials of the King brought to the goldsmith a large bag of gold, saying:

“You must make of this gold a golden rat and a golden cat that shall play in a golden basin.”

“I can make the rat and the cat out of this gold,” said the goldsmith, “but I cannot give them life to make them run about.”

“That is not our business,” said the officials, “it is the command of the King; you must either make them, or lose your head. The lady to whom the King is betrothed refuses to marry him until these are made for her. You must make them by the morrow.”

So saying, the officials went away, leaving the gold. The goldsmith was at a loss. Poor man! what could he do? He could not make them, and in case he failed to make them by the appointed time his head was in danger.

“What is the matter, master?” said the lad; “why are you puzzled and sad?”

“Keep silent!” exclaimed the goldsmith. “I have no time to hear your chatter.”

“Be of good cheer, master,” returned the lad; “if you bring me two or three handfuls of nuts, I will make the golden rat and the golden cat to-night.”

“Why, you rascal! you bald-headed dog!” exclaimed the goldsmith; “as if my affliction is not enough for me, do you make fun of me?”

“No, master,” said the lad, “do not think I am making fun of you. I really say bring me some nuts, and to-morrow morning come and take what you want.”

The goldsmith thought there was no harm if he did what the lad requested of him, and brought the nuts. That night he could not sleep at all, and very often he came to the door of the shop to listen to what the lad was doing, and heard nothing but the crack of the nuts, which the bald-headed apprentice was eating all the time. At daybreak the lad took out of his pocket the magic ring which was given him by his betrothed as a token. He kissed it, and immediately two negroes presented themselves with their hands folded on their breasts, saying:

“Say what is your will, and we will do it at once.”

“Bring me here,” said the lad, “the golden rat and the golden cat which I saw playing in the golden basin.”

He had scarcely finished the sentence, when lo! the golden basin was placed before him. Just at that moment the goldsmith entered with beating heart.

“Here, master,” exclaimed the lad; “I have just finished it.”

The goldsmith began to dance with excess of joy, and at once took the basin to the King, who was so much pleased with it that he gave him costly presents and invited him to come to the royal wedding. The goldsmith came back. He was so happy that he was dancing all the time.

“Master,” said the lad, “please take me with you to the wedding.”

“But, my lad,” said the goldsmith, “there will be a tournament to-morrow; if you go there, I am afraid you will be trampled down by cavalry and get your bald head broken. You had better stay at home.”

On the following day the goldsmith went to the tournament. The lad cast the black horse’s hair into the fire, and lo! the black horse of the first giant whom he killed came neighing with a suit of black armor on his back. Immediately the lad put on the suit of armor and mounted the horse; thus being changed to a black knight, he rushed to the place of the tournament. He vanquished all the princes and his brothers, and unhorsing his own master, disappeared, leaving the spectators in utmost surprise. He came to his home, and changing his clothes, was the same bald-headed apprentice. In the evening when the goldsmith came, the lad implored him to tell him what he had seen; and he began to describe the tournament.

“But the unexpected thing,” said he, “was the appearance of a black knight, clad in armor at all points. Whether he was a fairy or a human being, I cannot tell. He vanquished all the princes and knights, and disappeared in a hurricane after unhorsing me, too.”

“Alas!” exclaimed the lad, shaking his head very sadly, as if understanding nothing.

Now let us return to the maiden. She, seeing the golden rat and the golden cat in a golden basin brought to her, was assured that her betrothed had come from the infernal regions up to the world of light.

“I will not marry you,” she said to the King, “until you get me a golden hen and a golden weasel playing in a golden basin.”

The King sent his order to the goldsmith, who promised to make them, first getting the consent of the bald-headed apprentice. He brought him nuts; and the lad, kissing the magic ring, the two negroes again appeared, who immediately brought the golden hen and the golden weasel playing in a golden basin. The goldsmith took them to the King, who invited him to the second day’s tournament. The lad again asked leave to go with his master, and the goldsmith again refused him. Soon after the goldsmith went, however, the lad cast into the fire the hair of the red horse, which immediately made its appearance with a suit of red armor on its back. The lad, changing his clothes, mounted the horse, which immediately ran to the place of the tournament. At once vanquishing all who were there and unhorsing his own master, the lad disappeared, and coming home changed his clothes and was again the bald-headed apprentice. In the evening the goldsmith began to describe the tournament, and the apprentice listened to his story with great surprise and seriousness.

The maiden was now sure that her betrothed had come, for no one else could do these things. On the following day she said to the King:

“I want you to get for me a golden greyhound and a golden fox running a race in a golden basin, else I will not marry you.”

The goldsmith was again called, and promised to make them, first consulting with the bald-headed apprentice, to whom he brought the usual quantity of nuts. The lad cracked and ate the nuts till morning. At daybreak he kissed the magic ring, and for the third time the two negroes appeared, bringing in the golden greyhound and the golden fox running a race in a golden basin. The goldsmith at once took them to the King, who invited him to the third day’s tournament. The lad cast into the fire, this time, the white horse’s hair, which was the third giant’s horse; and immediately it stood before him with a suit of white armor on its back. The lad, putting the armor on, was changed to a white knight; and taking the sword of lightning in hand, rushed to the place of the tournament. After vanquishing all, and killing the King and his own unworthy brothers, he stood in the midst of the crowd and told them who he was, what heroic deeds he had done, and what wrongs he had endured. The people being tired of the tyrannical King, immediately hailed the youth as their monarch.

He married his betrothed, and gave the other two maidens in marriage to two of his best friends. Thus he attained his wishes. May Heaven grant that you may attain your wishes!

Three apples fell from Heaven;—one for me, one for the story-teller, and one for him who entertained the company.

THE FAIRY NIGHTINGALE.

A very interesting story was once told me of a King who built a splendid church. It took the architects seven years to finish the building. The King went to dedicate the church and to pray in it, and lo! there was a fog so dense that the King was almost suffocated. In the very midst of the dense fog a monk stood before the King, saying:

“Long live the King! You have built a fine church, but it lacks one thing.”

The monk then quickly disappeared. The King came out and ordered his men to take down the building and to put up another one finer than the first. It took them another seven years to finish the second building. The King again went to dedicate the church and pray in it, and lo! again there was a dense fog, and the same monk stood before the King, saying:

“Long live the King! You have built a beautiful church, but it lacks one thing.”

Again the monk mysteriously disappeared. The King again ordered his men to take down the building and to put up a new one. It took them another seven years to finish the third building, and it was this time so splendid that there was nothing like it in all the world. The King again went to dedicate it and to pray in it, and lo! again there was a dense fog, and the same monk stood before the King saying:

“Long live the King! You have built a church incomparably beautiful, but it lacks one thing.”

The monk was again about to make his exit when the King took hold of his collar, saying:

“Tell me what is the one thing lacking in my church. This is the third time that you compel me to take down my building, upon which so much labor and time have been spent.”

“The Fairy Nightingale is the only thing that is lacking in this magnificent church,” said the monk, and disappeared in the fog.

The King returned to his palace, and thereafter was very sad. He had three sons, who seeing their father sad, asked:

“Long live the King! What grieves you, father?”

“My sons,” said the King, “I am getting old, and the Fairy Nightingale is needed for the church. I do not know how to get it.”

“Be of good cheer, father,” said the lads; “we will go and bring it.”

And they started. After a long journey they came to a place where the road divided into three branches, with a sign on each. The sign of the broad road was,—“He who goes on this road returns safely.” The sign on the middle road was,—“He who goes on this road may return or may not return.” And the sign on the third narrow road was,—“He who goes on this road never returns.” The oldest brother took the broad road; the second brother took the middle road, and the youngest brother took the narrow road. The oldest lad soon came to a large city, at sight of which he said to himself:

“Why should I go farther and be killed? I would better stay in this place.” And he became a servant in one of the inns of the city.