by D. L. Ashliman
© 1999
pages 85-130
Then the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jephthah, and he passed over Gilead, and Manasseh, and passed over Mizpeh of Gilead, and from Mizpeh of Gilead he passed over unto the children of Ammon.
30.
And Jephthah vowed a vow unto the Lord, and said, "If thou shalt without
fail deliver the children of Ammon into mine hands,
31.
Then it shall be, that whatsoever cometh forth of the doors of my house to
meet me, when I return in peace from the children of Ammon, shall surely
be the Lord's, and I will offer it up for a burnt offering."
32.
So Jephthah passed over unto the children of Ammon to fight against them;
and the Lord delivered them unto his hands.
33.
And he smote them from Aroer, even until thou come to Minnith, even twenty
cities, and unto the plain of the vineyards, with a very great slaughter.
Thus the children of Ammon were subdued before the children of Israel.
34.
And Jephthah came to Mizpeh unto his house, and, behold, his daughter came
out to meet him with timbrels and with dances: and she was his only child;
beside her he had neither son nor daughter.
35.
And it came to pass, when he saw her, that he rent his clothes, and said,
"Alas, my daughter! thou hast brought me very low, and thou art one of
them that trouble me: for I have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I
cannot go back."
36.
And she said unto him, "My father, if thou hast opened thy mouth unto the
Lord, do to me according to that which hath proceeded out of thy mouth;
forasmuch as the Lord hath taken vengeance for thee of thine enemies, even
of the children of Ammon."
37.
And she said unto her father, "Let this thing be done for me: let me alone
two months, that I may go up and down upon the mountains, and bewail my
virginity, I and my fellows."
38.
And he said, "Go." And he sent her away for two months: and she went with
her companions, and bewailed her virginity upon the mountains.
39.
And it came to pass at the end of two months, that she returned unto her
father, who did with her according to his vow which he had vowed: and she
knew no man. And it was a custom in Israel,
40.
That the daughters of Israel went yearly to lament the daughter of
Jephthah the Gileadite four days in a year.
In the year 1284 a mysterious man appeared in Hameln. He was wearing a coat of many colored, bright cloth, for which reason he was called the Pied Piper. He claimed to be a rat catcher, and he promised that for a certain sum that he would rid the city of all mice and rats. The citizens struck a deal, promising him a certain price. The rat catcher then took a small fife from his pocket and began to blow on it. Rats and mice immediately came from every house and gathered around him. When he thought that he had them all he led them to the River Weser where he pulled up his clothes and walked into the water. The animals all followed him, fell in, and drowned.
Now that the citizens had been freed of their plague, they regreted having promised so much money, and, using all kinds of excuses, they refused to pay him. Finally he went away, bitter and angry. He returned on June 26, Saint John's and Saint Paul's Day, early in the morning at seven o'clock (others say it was at noon), now dressed in a hunter's costume, with a dreadful look on his face and wearing a strange red hat. He sounded his fife in the streets, but this time it wasn't rats and mice that came to him, but rather children: a great number of boys and girls from their fourth year on. Among them was the mayor's grown daughter. The swarm followed him, and he led them into a mountain, where he disappeared with them....
Until the middle of the eighteenth century, and probably still today, the street through which the children were led out to the town gate was called the bunge-lose (drumless, soundless, quiet) street, because no dancing or music was allowed there. Indeed, when a bridal procession on its way to church crossed this street, the musicians would have to stop playing. The mountain near Hameln where the the children disappeared is called Poppenberg. Two stone monuments in the form of crosses have been erected there, one on the left side and one on the right. Some say that the children were led into a cave, and that they came out again in Transylvania.
The citizens of Hameln recorded this event in their town register, and they came to date all their proclamations according to the years and days since the loss of their children.
According to Seyfried the 22nd rather than the 26th of June was entered into the town register.
The following lines were inscribed on the town hall:
In the year 1284 after the birth of Christ
From Hameln were led away
One hundred thirty children, born at this place
Led away by a piper into a mountain.
And on the new gate was inscribed:
Centum ter denos cum magus ab urbe puellos
duxerat ante annos CCLXXII condita porta fuit.
In the year 1572 the mayor had the story portrayed in the church windows. The accompanying inscription has become largely illegible. In addition, a coin was minted in memory of the event.
The following legend is told about King Aistulf, who ruled the Langobards in the middle of the eighth century: It is said that his mother brought five children to the world in one hour's time. The king only wanted to let one child live, and he said, "The child that takes hold of my spear shall live. The other four shall be set out!" One child reached out for the spear. The king named him Aistulf and allowed him to live.
A young woman who lived on a farm became pregnant. After giving birth to the child she set it out to die of exposure, not an uncommon act in this country before it became punishable by severe penalties. Now one day it happened that the young woman was invited to a celebration. However, she had no good clothes, so she stayed at home in a sour mood. That evening, while milking the ewes in the fold, she complained aloud that for the want of a proper dress she could not go to the celebration. She had scarcely spoken when she heard the following song:
Mother mine, in the fold
You need not be so sad.
You can wear my castoff rags
To the dance tonight.
The young woman who had let her child die of exposure thought that she recognized its voice. She took such a fright that she lost her mind and remained insane the rest of her life.
A seaman lived with his wife in their cottage by the shore. Their's was not an easy life, for his voyages kept him away from home many months at a time. One homecoming following a particularly long and arduous voyage, the seaman was greeted by his wife and an infant child. He was surprised, but not especially pleased, to see the newborn baby, as he had been at sea for nearly a year.
The wife countered the husband's enquiring look with an explanation.
"No, it is not your son," she admitted. "It's a miracle boy, a Snow Child!" She continued, "One winter's day while returning home from church I slipped on the ice and fell into a snowbank. Nine months later I gave birth to our Snow Child. Is he not a wonder!"
The husband had to admit that the child was a wonder, for he had no color. His hair and his skin were a bleached white. The seaman seemed to accept the new family member.
Many voyages and seasons later, it was on a hot summer's day, the seaman, announced to his wife that he would be going to market in the next village. "I'll take the Snow Child along for an outing," he said.
The seaman arrived back home that evening, but he was alone.
"Where is our son?" asked the anxious mother.
"Something terrible happened," responded the husband. "We were walking across a broad meadow in the hot sun, and he...," the husband faltered. "And he melted."
Next to a great forest there lived a poor woodcutter who had come upon such hard times that he could scarcely provide daily bread for his wife and his two children, Hansel and Gretel. Finally he could no longer even manage this, and he did not know where to turn for help. One evening as he was lying in bed worrying about his problems, his wife said to him, "Listen, man, early tomorrow take the two children, give each of them a piece of bread, then lead them into the middle of the woods where it is thickest, make a fire for them, and leave them there, for we can no longer feed them."
"No, woman," said the man, "I cannot bring myself to abandon my own children to wild animals that would quickly tear them to pieces."
"If you don't do it," said the woman, "all of us will starve together," and she gave him no peace until he said yes.
The two children were still awake from hunger and heard everything that their mother had said to their father. Gretel thought that she was doomed and began to cry pitifully, but Hansel said, "Be quiet, Gretel, and don't worry. I know what to do." With that he got up, pulled on his jacket, opened the lower door, and crept outside. The moon was shining brightly, and the white pebbles were glistening like silver coins. Hansel bent over and filled his jacket with them, as many as would fit, and then went back into the house. "Don't worry, Gretel; sleep well," he said, climbed back into bed himself, and fell asleep.
The next morning their mother woke them both before sunrise, "Get up, you children. We are going into the woods. Here is a piece of bread. Take care and save it until midday." Gretel put the bread under her apron, because Hansel's pockets were full of stones, and they set forth into the woods. After they had walked a little way, Hansel began stopping again and again and looking back toward the house. Their father said, "Hansel, why are you stopping and looking back? Pay attention now and keep up with us."
"Oh, father, I am looking at my white cat that is sitting on the roof and wants to say goodbye to me."
"The mother said, "You fool, that isn't your cat. That's the morning sun shining on the chimney." However, Hansel had not been looking at his cat but instead had been dropping the shiny pebbles from his pocket onto the path.
Hansel and Gretel sat by the fire until midday, and then ate their bread. They sat on until evening, but their mother and father did not return, and no one came to get them. When it became dark, Gretel began to cry, but Hansel said, "Wait a little until the moon comes up." After the moon had come up, he took Gretel by the hand. The pebbles were lying there like newly minted coins. Glistening, they showed them the way. They walked throughout the entire night, and as morning was breaking, they arrived at their father's house. The father was overjoyed when he saw his children once more, for he had not wanted to leave them alone. The mother pretended that she too was happy, but secretly she was angry.
Not long afterward there was once again no bread in the house, and one evening Hansel and Gretel heard their mother say to their father, "The children found their way back once, and I let it be, but once again we have only a half loaf of bread in the house. Tomorrow you must take them even deeper into the woods, so they cannot find their way home; otherwise there will be no help for us." The man was very disheartened, and he thought it would be better to share the last bit with the children, but because he had done it once, he could not say no.
Hansel and Gretel heard their parents' conversation. Hansel got up and wanted to gather pebbles once again, but when he came to the door, he found that his mother had locked it. Still, he comforted Gretel and said, "Just go to sleep, Gretel dear, God will help us."
Early the next morning they received their little pieces of bread, even less than the last time. On the way, Hansel crumbled his piece in his pocket, then often stood still, and threw crumbs onto the ground. "Why are you always stopping and looking around," said his father. "Keep walking straight ahead."
"Oh!, I can see my pigeon sitting on the roof. It wants to say goodbye to me."
"You fool," said his mother, "that isn't your pigeon. That's the morning sun shining on the chimney." But Hansel crumbled all of his bread and dropped the crumbs onto the path.
The mother took them deeper into the woods than they had ever been in their whole lifetime. There they were told to sleep by a large fire, and that their parents would come get them in the evening. At midday Gretel shared her bread with Hansel, because he had scattered all of his along the path. Midday passed, and evening passed, but no one came to get the poor children. Hansel comforted Gretel and said, "Wait, when the moon comes up I will be able to see the crumbs of bread that I scattered, and they will show us the way back home."
The moon came up, but when Hansel looked for the crumbs, they were gone. The thousands of birds in the forest had found them and pecked them up. Hansel thought that he would still be able to find the way home, and he and Gretel set forth, but they soon became totally lost in the great wilderness. They walked through the night and the entire next day, and then, exhausted, they fell asleep. They walked another day, but they could not find their way out of the woods. They were terribly hungry, for they had eaten only a few small berries that they found growing on the ground.
On the third day they walked until midday when they came to a little house built entirely from bread with a roof made of cake and windows of clear sugar. "Let's sit down and eat our fill," said Hansel. "I'll eat from the roof, and Gretel, you eat from the window. That will be nice and sweet for you." Hansel had already eaten a piece from the roof and Gretel had eaten a few round windowpanes, and she had just broken out another one when she heard a gentle voice calling out from inside:
Nibble, nibble, little mouse,
Who is nibbling at my house?
Hansel and Gretel were so frightened that they dropped what they were holding in their hands, and immediately they saw a little woman, as old as the hills, creeping out the door.
She shook her head and said, "Oh, you dear children, where did you come from? Come inside with me, and you will be just fine." She took them by the hand and led them into her house. Then she served them a good meal, pancakes with sugar, apples, and nuts; and made two beds for them. Hansel and Gretel went to bed, thinking it was though they were in heaven.
But the old woman was a wicked witch who was lying in wait there for children. She had built her house of bread in order to lure them to her, and if she captured one, she would kill him, cook him, and eat him; and for her that was a day to celebrate. So she was overjoyed that Hansel and Gretel had found their way to her.
Early the next morning, before they awoke, she got up, went to their beds, and looked at the two of them lying there so peacefully. "They will be a good mouthful," she thought. She grabbed Hansel and put him in a little stall, and when he awoke, he found himself in a cage, locked up like a young dog, and he could walk only a few steps. Then she shook Gretel and cried, "Get up, lazy bones! Fetch water. Go into the kitchen and cook something to eat. Your brother is locked in that stall there. I want to fatten him up, and when he is fat I am going to eat him. For now, you have to feed him. Gretel was frightened and cried, but she had to do what the witch demanded. Now Hansel was given the best things to eat every day, so he would get fat, but Gretel received nothing but crayfish shells. Every day the old woman came and said, "Hansel, stick out your finger, so I can feel if you are fat enough yet." But Hansel always stuck out a little bone, and she kept wondering why he didn't get any fatter.
After four weeks, one evening she said to Gretel, "Hurry up and fetch water. Whether your brother is fat enough now or not, tomorrow I am going to slaughter him and boil him. In the meantime I want to start the dough that we will bake to go with him." With a sad heart Gretel fetched the water in which Hansel was to be boiled. The next morning Gretel had to get up early, make a fire, and hang up the kettle with water. "Watch it until it boils," said the witch. "I am going to make a fire in the oven and put the bread into it." Gretel stood in the kitchen and cried tears of blood and thought that it would have been better if wild animals had devoured them in the forest, for then they would at least have died together and would not now be suffering so, and she herself would not have to be boiling the water that would kill her dear brother; and she prayed, "Dear God, save us poor children."
Then the old woman called, "Gretel, come here right now to the oven." And when Gretel came, she said, "Look inside and see if the bread is nicely brown and done, for my eyes are weak, and I can't see that far. If you can't see that far either, then sit on the board, and I'll push you inside, then you can walk around inside and take a look." But once Gretel was inside the witch wanted to close the door and bake her in the hot oven and eat her as well. That is what the wicked witch was thinking, and that is why she called Gretel. However, God let Gretel know this, so she said, "I don't know how to do that. First show me. You sit on the board, and I will push you inside." So the old woman sat on the board, and since she was light, Gretel pushed her all the way inside, then quickly closed the door and secured it with an iron bar. The old woman in the hot oven began to cry and to wail, but Gretel ran away, and the witch burned up miserably.
Gretel ran to Hansel and unlocked his door. He jumped out, and they kissed each other and were overjoyed. The whole house was filled with precious stones and pearls. They filled their pockets, then ran away and found their way back home. Their father rejoiced when he saw them once more, for he had not had a happy day since they had been gone, and now he was a rich man. However, their mother had died.
Once upon a time there lived a woodcutter and his wife; they had seven children, all boys. The eldest was but ten years old, and the youngest only seven. People were astonished that the woodcutter had had so many children in such a short time, but his wife was very fond of children, and never had less than two at a time
They were very poor, and their seven children inconvenienced them greatly, because not one of them was able to earn his own way. They were especially concerned, because the youngest was very sickly. He scarcely ever spoke a word, which they considered to be a sign of stupidity, although it was in truth a mark of good sense. He was very little, and when born no bigger than one's thumb, for which reason they called him Little Thumb.
The poor child bore the blame of everything that went wrong in the house. Guilty or not, he was always held to be at fault. He was, notwithstanding, more cunning and had a far greater share of wisdom than all his brothers put together. And although he spoke little, he listened well.
There came a very bad year, and the famine was so great that these poor people decided to rid themselves of their children. One evening, when the children were all in bed and the woodcutter was sitting with his wife at the fire, he said to her, with his heart ready to burst with grief, "You see plainly that we are not able to keep our children, and I cannot see them starve to death before my face. I am resolved to lose them in the woods tomorrow, which may very easily be done; for, while they are busy in tying up the bundles of wood, we can leave them, without their noticing."
"Ah!" cried out his wife; "and can you yourself have the heart to take your children out along with you on purpose to abandon them?"
In vain her husband reminded her of their extreme poverty. She would not consent to it. Yes, she was poor, but she was their mother. However, after having considered what a grief it would be for her to see them perish with hunger, she at last consented, and went to bed in tears.
Little Thumb heard every word that had been spoken; for observing, as he lay in his bed, that they were talking very busily, he got up softly, and hid under his father's stool, in order to hear what they were saying without being seen. He went to bed again, but did not sleep a wink all the rest of the night, thinking about what he had to do. He got up early in the morning, and went to the riverside, where he filled his pockets with small white pebbles, and then returned home.
They all went out, but Little Thumb never told his brothers one syllable of what he knew. They went into a very thick forest, where they could not see one another at ten paces distance. The woodcutter began his work, and the children gathered up the sticks into bundles. Their father and mother, seeing them busy at their work, slipped away from them without being seen, and returned home along a byway through the bushes.
When the children saw they had been left alone, they began to cry as loudly as they could. Little Thumb let them cry, knowing very well how to get home again, for he had dropped the little white pebbles all along the way. Then he said to them, "Don't be afraid, brothers. Father and mother have left us here, but I will lead you home again. Just follow me."
They did so, and he took them home by the very same way they had come into the forest. They dared not go in, but sat down at the door, listening to what their father and mother were saying.
The woodcutter and his wife had just arrived home, when the lord of the manor sent them ten crowns, which he had owed them a long while, and which they never expected. This gave them new life, for the poor people were almost famished. The woodcutter sent his wife immediately to the butcher's. As it had been a long while since they had eaten, she bought three times as much meat as would be needed for two people.
When they had eaten, the woman said, "Alas! Where are our poor children now? They would make a good feast of what we have left here; but it was you, William, who decided to abandon them. I told you that we would be sorry for it. What are they now doing in the forest? Alas, dear God, the wolves have perhaps already eaten them up. You are very inhuman to have abandoned your children in this way."
The woodcutter at last lost his patience, for she repeated it more than twenty times, that they would be sorry for it, and that she was right for having said so. He threatened to beat her if she did not hold her tongue. It was not that the woodcutter was less upset than his wife, but that she was nagging him. He, like many others, was of the opinion that wives should say the right thing, but that they should not do so too often.
She nearly drowned herself in tears, crying out, "Alas! Where are now my children, my poor children?"
She spoke this so very loud that the children, who were at the gate, began to cry out all together, "Here we are! Here we are!"
She immediately ran to open the door, and said, hugging them, "I am so glad to see you, my dear children; you are very hungry and tired. And my poor Peter, you are horribly dirty; come in and let me clean you." Now, you must know that Peter was her eldest son, whom she loved above all the rest, because he had red hair, as she herself did.
They sat down to supper and ate with a good appetite, which pleased both father and mother. They told them how frightened they had been in the forest, speaking almost always all together. The parents were extremely glad to see their children once more at home, and this joy continued while the ten crowns lasted; but, when the money was all gone, they fell again into their former uneasiness, and decided to abandon them again. This time they resolved to take them much deeper into the forest than before.
Although they tried to talk secretly about it, again they were overheard by Little Thumb, who made plans to get out of this difficulty as well as he had the last time. However, even though he got up very early in the morning to go and pick up some little pebbles, he could not do so, for he found the door securely bolted and locked. Their father gave each of them a piece of bread for their breakfast, and he fancied he might make use of this instead of the pebbles, by throwing it in little bits all along the way; and so he put it into his pocket.
Their father and mother took them into the thickest and most obscure part of the forest, then, slipping away by an obscure path, they left them there. Little Thumb was not concerned, for he thought he could easily find the way again by means of his bread, which he had scattered along the way; but he was very much surprised when he could not find so much as one crumb. The birds had come and had eaten every bit of it up. They were now in great distress, for the farther they went the more lost and bewildered they became.
Night now came on, and there arose a terrible high wind, which made them dreadfully afraid. They fancied they heard on every side of them the howling of wolves coming to eat them up. They scarcely dared to speak or turn their heads. After this, it rained very hard, which drenched them to the skin; their feet slipped at every step they took, and they fell into the mire, getting them muddy all over. Their hands were numb with cold.
Little Thumb climbed to the top of a tree, to see if he could discover anything. Turning his head in every direction, he saw at last a glimmering light, like that of a candle, but a long way from the forest. He came down, but from the ground, he could no longer see it no more, which concerned him greatly. However, after walking for some time with his brothers in the direction where he had seen the light, he perceived it again as he came out of the woods.
They came at last to the house where this candle was, but not without many fearful moments, for every time they walked down into a hollow they lost sight of it. They knocked at the door, and a good woman opened it. She asked them what they wanted.
Little Thumb told her they were poor children who had been lost in the forest, and begged her, for God's sake, to give them lodging.
The woman, seeing that they were good looking children, began to weep, and said to them, "Alas, poor babies, where are you from? Do you know that this house belongs to a cruel ogre who eats up little children?"
"Ah! dear madam," answered Little Thumb (who, as well as his brothers, was trembling all over), "what shall we do? If you refuse to let us sleep here then the wolves of the forest surely will devour us tonight. We would prefer the gentleman to eat us, but perhaps he would take pity upon us, especially if you would beg him to."
The ogre's wife, who believed she could hide them from her husband until morning, let them come in, and had them to warm themselves at a very good fire. There was a whole sheep on the spit, roasting for the ogre's supper.
After they warmed up a little, they heard three or four great raps at the door. This was the ogre, who was come home. Hearing him, she hid them under the bed and opened the door. The ogre immediately asked if supper was ready and the wine drawn, and then sat down at the table. The sheep was still raw and bloody, but he preferred it that way. He sniffed about to the right and left, saying, "I smell fresh meat."
His wife said, "You can smell the calf which I have just now killed and flayed."
"I smell fresh meat, I tell you once more," replied the ogre, looking crossly at his wife, "and there is something here which I do not understand."
As he spoke these words he got up from the table and went directly to the bed. "Ah, hah!" he said. "I see then how you would cheat me, you cursed woman; I don't know why I don't eat you as well. It is fortunate for you that you are tough old carrion. But here is good game, which has luckily arrived just in time to serve to three ogre friends who are coming here to visit in a day or two."
With that he dragged them out from under the bed, one by one. The poor children fell upon their knees, and begged his pardon; but they were dealing with one of the cruelest ogres in the world. Far from having any pity on them, he had already devoured them with his eyes. He told his wife that they would be delicate eating with good savory sauce. He then took a large knife, and, approaching the poor children, sharpened it on a large whetstone which he held in his left hand. He had already taken hold of one of them when his wife said to him, "Why do it now? Is it not tomorrow soon enough?"
"Hold your chatter," said the ogre; "they will be more tender, if I kill them now."
"But you have so much meat already," replied his wife. "You have no need for more. Here are a calf, two sheep, and half a hog."
"That is true," said the ogre. "Feed them so they don't get too thin, and put them to bed."
The good woman was overjoyed at this, and offered them a good supper, but they were so afraid that they could not eat a bit. As for the ogre, he sat down to drink, being highly pleased that now had something special to treat his friends. He drank a dozen glasses more than ordinary, which went to his head and made him sleepy.
The ogre had seven little daughters. These young ogresses all had very fine complexions, because they ate fresh meat like their father; but they had little gray eyes, quite round, hooked noses, and very long sharp teeth, well spaced from each other. As yet they were not overly mischievous, but they showed great promise for it, for they had already bitten little children in order to suck their blood.
They had been put to bed early, all seven in a large bed, and each of them wearing a crown of gold on her head. The ogre's wife gave the seven little boys a bed just as large and in the same room, then she went to bed to her husband.
Little Thumb, who had observed that the ogre's daughters had crowns of gold upon their heads, and was afraid lest the ogre should change his mind about not killing them, got up about midnight, and, taking his brothers' caps and his own, went very softly and put them on the heads of the seven little ogresses, after having taken off their crowns of gold, which he put on his own head and his brothers', that the ogre might take them for his daughters, and his daughters for the little boys whom he wanted to kill.
All of this happened according to his plan for, the ogre awakened about midnight and, regretting that he had put off until morning that which he might have done tonight, he hastily got out of bed and picked up his large knife. "Let us see," he said, "how our little rogues are doing! We'll not make that mistake a second time!"
He then went, groping all the way, into his daughters' room. He came to the bed where the little boys lay. They were all fast asleep except Little Thumb, who was terribly afraid when he felt the ogre feeling about his head, as he had done about his brothers'. Feeling the golden crowns, the ogre said, "That would have been a terrible mistake. Truly, I did drink too much last night."
Then he went to the bed where the girls lay. Finding the boys' caps on them, he said, "Ah, hah, my merry lads, here you are. Let us get to work." So saying, and without further ado, he cut all seven of his daughters' throats. Well pleased with what he had done, he went to bed again to his wife.
As soon as Little Thumb heard the ogre snore, he wakened his brothers and told them to put on their clothes immediately and to follow him. They stole softly down into the garden, and climbed over the wall. They kept running nearly the whole night, trembling all the while, and not knowing which way they were going.
The ogre, when he awoke, said to his wife, "Go upstairs and dress those young rascals who came here last night."
The ogress was very much surprised at this goodness of her husband, not dreaming how he intended that she should dress them, thinking that he had ordered her to go and put their clothes on them, she went up, and was horribly astonished when she saw her seven daughters with their throats cut and lying in their own blood.
She fainted away, for this is the first expedient almost all women find in such cases. The ogre, fearing his wife would be too long in doing what he had ordered, went up himself to help her. He was no less amazed than his wife at this frightful spectacle.
"What have I done?" he cried. "Those wretches shall soon pay for this!" He threw a pitcher of water on his wife's face, and, having brought her to herself, cried, "Bring me my seven-league boots at once, so that I can catch them."
He went out, and ran this way and that over a vast amount of ground. At last he came to the very road where the poor children were, and not more than a hundred paces from their father's house. They saw the ogre coming, who was stepping from mountain to mountain, and crossing over rivers as easily as if they were little streams. Little Thumb hid himself and his brothers in a nearby hollow rock, all the while keeping watch on the ogre.
The ogre was very tired from his long and fruitless journey (for seven-league boots are very tiring to wear), and decided to take a rest. By chance he sat on the rock where the little boys had hid themselves. He was so tired that he fell asleep, and began to snore so frightfully that the poor children were no less afraid of him than when he had held up his large knife and was about to cut their throats. However, Little Thumb was not as frightened as his brothers were, and told them that they immediately should run away towards home while the ogre was asleep so soundly, and that they should not worry about him. They took his advice, and soon reached home. Little Thumb came up to the ogre, pulled off his boots gently and put them on his own feet. The boots were very long and large, but because they were enchanted, they became big or little to fit the person who was wearing them. So they fit his feet and legs as well as if they had been custom made for him. He immediately went to the ogre's house, where he saw his wife crying bitterly for the loss of her murdered daughters.
"Your husband," said Little Thumb, "is in very great danger. He has been captured by a gang of thieves, who have sworn to kill him if he does not give them all his gold and silver. At the very moment they were holding their daggers to his throat he saw me, and begged me to come and tell you the condition he is in. You should give me everything he has of value, without keeping back anything at all, for otherwise they will kill him without mercy. Because his case is so very urgent, he lent me his boots (you see I have them on), that I might make the more haste and to show you that he himself has sent me to you."
The good woman, being sadly frightened, gave him all she had, for although this ogre ate up little children, he was a good husband. Thus Little Thumb got all the ogre' s money. He returned with it to his father's house, where he was received with great joy.
There are many people who do not agree with this last detail. They claim that Little Thumb never robbed the ogre at all, that he only made off with the seven-league boots, and that with a good conscience, because the ogre's only use of them was to pursue little children. These folks affirm that they are quite sure of this, because they have often drunk and eaten at the woodcutter's house.
These people claim that after taking off the ogre's boots, Little Thumb went to court, where he learned that there was much concern about the outcome of a certain battle and the condition of a certain army, which was two hundred leagues off. They say that he went to the king, and told him that, if he desired it, he would bring him news from the army before night. The king promised him a great sum of money if he could do so. Little Thumb was as good as his word, and returned that very same night with the news. This first feat brought him great fame, and he could then name his own price. Not only did the king pay him very well for carrying his orders to the army, but the ladies of the court paid him handsomely to bring them information about their lovers. Occasionally wives gave him letters for their husbands, but they paid so poorly, that he did not even bother to keep track of the money he made in this branch of his business.
After serving as a messenger for some time and thus acquiring great wealth, he went home to his father, where he was received with inexpressible joy. He made the whole family very comfortable, bought positions for his father and brothers, all the while handsomely looking after himself as well.
Moral: It is no affliction to have many children, if they all are good looking, courteous, and strong, but if one is sickly or slow witted, he will be scorned, ridiculed, and despised. However, it is often the little urchin who brings good fortune to the entire family.
Once upon a time there was a king who had twelve children, all boys. He also wanted to have a girl and said to the queen, "If our thirteenth child, which you are soon going to bring to the world, is a girl, then I shall have the twelve others killed, but if it is also a boy, then they may all live together." The queen tried to dissuade him, but the king would not listen to her. "If it happens as I said, then they must die. I would rather strike off their heads myself than to have a girl among them."
This saddened the queen, for she loved her sons greatly and did not know how to save them. Finally she went to the youngest one, whom she loved even more than the others, and revealed to him what the king had decided, saying, "Dear child, go out into the forest with your eleven brothers. Stay there and do not return home. One of you must keep watch from a tree and look toward the tower here. If I bring a little son into the world, then I shall fly a white flag from the top of the tower, but if it is a little daughter, then it shall be a red flag. Then you must save yourselves by fleeing into the world, and may God protect you. I will get up every night and pray for you, in the cold of winter that you may not freeze and that a warm fire may be burning before you, and in the heat of summer that you may rest and sleep in a cool forest."
Thus she blessed her children, and they went forth into the forest. They often looked toward the tower, and one of them always had to sit high in a tall oak tree and keep watch. Soon a flag was raised, but it was not the white one, but rather the red-blood flag that threatened their destruction. When the boys saw it they became angry and cried out, "Are we to lose our lives for the sake of a girl!" Then they swore among themselves to remain in the middle of the forest, and whenever they might happen upon a girl, they would kill her without mercy.
They found a cave in the darkest part of the forest, and there they lived. Every morning eleven of them set forth to hunt, but one of them had to stay at home to cook and keep house. Every girl that the eleven came upon was done away with without mercy. And so it was for many years.
The little sister at home grew up as an only child. One day she discovered twelve men's shirts in the wash. "Whose shirts are these?" asked the princess. "They are much too small for my father." Then the washerwoman told her that she had had twelve brothers who had secretly left home because the king had wanted to have them killed, and no one knew where they now were. The twelve shirts belonged to these twelve brothers. The little sister was amazed that she had never heard anything of her twelve brothers. That afternoon she sat in a meadow bleaching the wash and pondering the words of the washerwoman. Finally she stood up, took the twelve shirts, and walked into the forest where her brothers lived.
The little sister came to the cave where they lived. Eleven were out hunting, and only one of them was at home doing the cooking. When he saw the girl he grabbed her and reached for his sword, saying, "Kneel down! Your red blood will flow this instant!"
"Master, let me live!" she begged. "I will stay here and serve you well. I will cook and keep house." Now this was the youngest brother, and the girl's beauty softened him, and he spared her life. The eleven returned home and were amazed to find a live girl in their cave. He said to them, "Brothers, this girl came to our cave. I was about to strike her down, but she begged so fervently for her life, and agreed to serve us faithfully and to keep house for us, so I spared her." The others agreed that this was to their advantage, and that now all twelve would be able to go out hunting, and they were satisfied. Then she showed them the twelve shirts and said that she was their sister. They rejoiced and were happy that they had not killed her.
The little sister took over the household. While the brothers were out hunting, she gathered wood and herbs, tended the fire, made the clean, white beds, and did everything eagerly and well. One day it happened that when she was finished with her work she went for a walk in the woods. She came to a place where there were twelve tall white lilies, and because she liked them so much, she plucked them all. This had scarcely happened when an old woman appeared before her. "Oh, my daughter," she said. "Why didn't you leave the twelve flowers standing? They are your twelve brothers, who have now been transformed into ravens and are lost forever."
The little sister began to cry. "Oh!" she said. "Is there no way to redeem them?"
"No, there is only one way in the world, and it is so difficult that you will never succeed. You must remain silent for twelve whole years. If you speak a single word, even if all but one hour has passed, then it will all be for nothing, and your brothers will die that instant."
The little sister took a seat high in a tall tree in the forest where she would spin in silence for twelve years and thus redeem her brothers. One day a king was hunting in this forest. His dog stopped at the tree and barked. The king halted, looked up, and was amazed at the princess's beauty. He called to her, asking her if she would become his wife. She remained silent, but nodded a little with her head. The king himself climbed up and lifted her down, set her before him on his horse, and took her home to his castle, where their wedding was celebrated with splendor. The princess never spoke a word, and the king thought that she was a mute.
They would have lived happily together if it had not been for the king's mother, who began to slander her to him, "You have brought home a common beggar girl, and behind your back she is doing the most unspeakable things."
Because the queen could not defend herself, the king was led into believing his mother, and finally he had his wife sentenced to death. A large fire was set in the courtyard where she was to be burned to death. She was already standing in the fire, with the flames jumping at her dress when the last minutes of the twelve years elapsed. There was a rushing sound in the air, and twelve ravens came flying down and landed. When they touched the earth they turned into twelve handsome princes, who scattered the fire about, and pulled out their sister. Then she spoke once again, telling the king everything, how she had had to redeem her twelve brothers, and they all rejoiced that everything turned out so well.
But what should they do with the wicked stepmother? She was thrown into a barrel filled with boiling oil and poisonous snakes, and died a miserable death.
Once upon a time in mid winter, when the snowflakes were falling like feathers from heaven, a beautiful queen sat sewing at her window, which had a frame of black ebony wood. As she sewed, she looked up at the snow and pricked her finger with her needle. Three drops of blood fell into the snow. The red on the white looked so beautiful, that she thought, "If only I had a child as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as this frame." Soon afterward she had a little daughter that was as white as snow, as red as blood, and as black as ebony wood, and therefore they called her Little Snow-White.
Now the queen was the most beautiful woman in all the land, and very proud of her beauty. She had a mirror, which she stood in front of every morning, and asked:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
And the mirror always said:
You, my queen, are fairest of all.
And then she knew for certain that no one in the world was more beautiful than she.
Now Snow-White grew up, and when she was seven years old, she was so beautiful, that she surpassed even the queen herself. Now when the queen asked her mirror:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
The mirror said:
You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
But Little Snow-White is still
A thousand times fairer than you.
When the queen heard the mirror say this, she became pale with envy, and from that hour on, she hated Snow-White. Whenever she looked at her, she thought that Snow-White was to blame that she was no longer the most beautiful woman in the world. This turned her heart around. Her jealousy gave her no peace. Finally she summoned a huntsman and said to him, "Take Snow-White out into the woods to a remote spot, and stab her to death. As proof that she is dead bring her lungs and her liver back to me. I shall cook them with salt and eat them."
The huntsman took Snow-White into the woods. When he took out his hunting knife to stab her, she began to cry, and begged fervently that he might spare her life, promising to run away into the woods and never return. The huntsman took pity on her because she was so beautiful, and he thought, "The wild animals will soon devour her anyway. I'm glad that I don't have to kill her." Just then a young boar came running by. He killed it, cut out its lungs and liver, and took them back to the queen as proof of Snow-White's death. She cooked them with salt and ate them, supposing that she had eaten Snow-White's lungs and liver.
Snow-White was now all alone in the great forest. She was terribly afraid, and began to run. She ran over sharp stones and through thorns the entire day. Finally, just as the sun was about to set, she came to a little house. The house belonged to seven dwarfs. They were working in a mine, and not at home. Snow-White went inside and found everything to be small, but neat and orderly. There was a little table with seven little plates, seven little spoons, seven little knives and forks, seven little mugs, and against the wall there were seven little beds, all freshly made.
Snow-White was hungry and thirsty, so she ate a few vegetables and a little bread from each little plate, and from each little glass she drank a drop of wine. Because she was so tired, she wanted to lie down and go to sleep. She tried each of the seven little beds, one after the other, but none felt right until she came to the seventh one, and she lay down in it and fell asleep.
When night came, the seven dwarfs returned home from the work. They lit their seven little candles, and saw that someone had been in their house.
The first one said, "Who has been sitting in my chair?"
The second one, "Who has been eating from my plate?"
The third one, "Who has been eating my bread?"
The fourth one, "Who has been eating my vegetables?"
The fifth one, "Who has been sticking with my fork?"
The sixth one, "Who has been cutting with my knife?"
The seventh one, "Who has been drinking from my mug?"
Then the first one said, "Who stepped on my bed?"
The second one, "And someone has been lying in my bed."
And so forth until the seventh one, and when he looked at his bed, he found Snow-White lying there, fast asleep. The seven dwarfs all came running, and they cried out with amazement. They fetched their seven candles and looked at Snow-White. "My God! My God!" they cried. "She is so beautiful!" They liked her very much. They did not wake her up, but let her lie there in the bed. The seventh dwarf had to sleep with his companions, one hour with each one, and then the night was done.
When Snow-White woke up, they asked her who she was and how she had found her way to their house. She told them how her mother had tried to kill her, how the huntsman had spared her life, how she had run the entire day, finally coming to their house. The dwarfs pitied her and said, "If you will keep house for us, and cook, sew, make beds, wash, and knit, and keep everything clean and orderly, then you can stay here, and you'll have everything that you want. We come home in the evening, and supper must be ready by then, but we spend the days digging for gold in the mine. You will be alone then. Watch out for the queen, and do not let anyone in."
The queen thought that she was again the most beautiful woman in the land, and the next morning she stepped before the mirror and asked:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
The mirror answered once again:
You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
But Little Snow-White beyond the seven mountains
Is a thousand times fairer than you.
It startled the queen to hear this, and she knew that she had been deceived, that the huntsman had not killed Snow-White. Because only the seven dwarfs lived in the seven mountains, she knew at once that they must have rescued her. She began to plan immediately how she might kill her, because she would have no peace until the mirror once again said that she was the most beautiful woman in the land. At last she thought of something to do. She disguised herself as an old peddler woman and painted her face, so that no one would recognize her, and went to the dwarf's house. Knocking on the door she called out, "Open up. Open up. I'm the old peddler woman with good wares for sale."
Snow-White peered out the window, "What do you have?"
"Bodice laces, dear child," said the old woman, and held one up. It was braided from yellow, red, and blue silk. "Would you like this one?"
"Oh, yes," said Snow-White, thinking, "I can let the old woman come in. She means well." She unbolted the door and bargained for the bodice laces.
"You are not laced up properly," said the old woman. "Come here, I'll do it better." Snow-White stood before her, and she took hold of the laces and pulled them so tight that Snow-White could not breathe, and she fell down as if she were dead. Then the old woman was satisfied, and she went away.
Nightfall soon came, and the seven dwarfs returned home. They were horrified to find their dear Snow-White lying on the ground as if she were dead. They lifted her up and saw that she was laced up too tightly. They cut the bodice laces in two, and then she could breathe, and she came back to life. "It must have been the queen who tried to kill you," they said. "Take care and do not let anyone in again."
The queen asked her mirror:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
The mirror answered once again:
You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
But Little Snow-White with the seven dwarfs
Is a thousand times fairer than you.
She was so horrified that the blood all ran to her heart, because she knew that Snow-White had come back to life. Then for an entire day and a night she planned how she might catch her. She made a poisoned comb, disguised herself differently, and went out again. She knocked on the door, but Snow-White called out, "I am not allowed to let anyone in."
Then she pulled out the comb, and when Snow-White saw how it glistened, and noted that the woman was a complete stranger, she opened the door, and bought the comb from her. "Come, let me comb your hair," said the peddler woman. She had barely stuck the comb into Snow-White's hair, before the girl fell down and was dead. "That will keep you lying there," said the queen. And she went home with a light heart.
The dwarfs came home just in time. They saw what had happened and pulled the poisoned comb from her hair. Snow-White opened her eyes and came back to life. She promised the dwarfs not to let anyone in again.
The queen stepped before her mirror:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
The mirror answered:
You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
But Little Snow-White with the seven dwarfs
Is a thousand times fairer than you.
When the queen heard this, she shook and trembled with anger, "Snow-White will die, if it costs me my life!" Then she went into her most secret room -- no one else was allowed inside -- and she made a poisoned, poisoned apple. From the outside it was red and beautiful, and anyone who saw it would want it. Then she disguised herself as a peasant woman, went to the dwarfs' house and knocked on the door.
Snow-White peeped out and said, "I'm not allowed to let anyone in. The dwarfs have forbidden it most severely."
"If you don't want to, I can't force you," said the peasant woman. "I am selling these apples, and I will give you one to taste."
"No, I can't accept anything. The dwarfs don't want me to."
"If you are afraid, then I will cut the apple in two and eat half of it. Here, you eat the half with the beautiful red cheek!" Now the apple had been so artfully made that only the red half was poisoned. When Snow-White saw that the peasant woman was eating part of the apple, her desire for it grew stronger, so she finally let the woman hand her the other half through the window. She bit into it, but she barely had the bite in her mouth when she fell to the ground dead.
The queen was happy, went home, and asked her mirror:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
And it answered:
You, my queen, are fairest of all.
"Now I'll have some peace," she said, "because once again I'm the most beautiful woman in the land. Snow-White will remain dead this time."
That evening the dwarfs returned home from the mines. Snow-White was lying on the floor, and she was dead. They loosened her laces and looked in her hair for something poisonous, but nothing helped. They could not bring her back to life. They laid her on a bier, and all seven sat next to her and cried and cried for three days. They were going to bury her, but they saw that she remained fresh. She did not look at all like a dead person, and she still had beautiful red cheeks. They had a glass coffin made for her, and laid her inside, so that she could be seen easily. They wrote her name and her ancestry on it in gold letters, and one of them always stayed at home and kept watch over her.
Snow-White lay there in the coffin a long, long time, and she did not decay. She was still as white as snow and as red as blood, and if she had been able to open her eyes, they still would have been as black as ebony wood. She lay there as if she were asleep.
One day a young prince came to the dwarfs' house and wanted shelter for the night. When he came into their parlor and saw Snow-White lying there in a glass coffin, illuminated so beautifully by seven little candles, he could not get enough of her beauty. He read the golden inscription and saw that she was the daughter of a king. He asked the dwarfs to sell him the coffin with the dead Snow-White, but they would not do this for any amount of gold. Then he asked them to give her to him, for he could not live without being able to see her, and he would keep her, and honor her as his most cherished thing on earth. Then the dwarfs took pity on him and gave him the coffin.
The prince had it carried to his castle, and had it placed in a room where he sat by it the whole day, never taking his eyes from it. Whenever he had to go out and was unable to see Snow-White, he became sad. And he could not eat a bite, unless the coffin was standing next to him. Now the servants who always had to carry the coffin to and fro became angry about this. One time one of them opened the coffin, lifted Snow-White upright, and said, "We are plagued the whole day long, just because of such a dead girl," and he hit her in the back with his hand. Then the terrible piece of apple that she had bitten off came out of her throat, and Snow-White came back to life.
She walked up to the prince, who was beside himself with joy to see his beloved Snow-White alive. They sat down together at the table and ate with joy.
Their wedding was set for the next day, and Snow-White's godless mother was invited as well. That morning she stepped before the mirror and said:
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who in this land is fairest of all?
The mirror answered:
You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
But the young queen
Is a thousand times fairer than you.
She was horrified to hear this, and so overtaken with fear that she could not say anything. Still, her jealousy drove her to go to the wedding and see the young queen. When she arrived she saw that it was Snow-White. Then they put a pair of iron shoes into the fire until they glowed, and she had to put them on and dance in them. Her feet were terribly burned, and she could not stop until she had danced herself to death.
Once upon a time there lived seven brothers and a sister. The brothers were married, but their wives did not do the cooking for the family. It was done by their sister, who stopped at home to cook. The wives for this reason bore their sister-in-law much ill will, and at length they combined together to oust her from the office of cook and general provider, so that one of themselves might obtain it. They said, "She does not go out to the fields to work, but remains quietly at home, and yet she has not the meals ready at the proper time." They then called upon their bonga, and vowing vows unto him they secured his goodwill and assistance; then they said to the bonga, "At midday, when our sister-in-law goes to bring water, cause it thus to happen, that on seeing her pitcher, the water shall vanish, and again slowly reappear. In this way she will be delayed. Let the water not flow into her pitcher, and you may keep the maiden as your own."
At noon when she went to bring water, it suddenly dried up before her, and she began to weep. Then after a while the water began slowly to rise. When it reached her ankles she tried to fill her pitcher, but it would not go under the water. Being frightened she began to wail and cry to her brother:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my ankles,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
The water continued to rise until it reached her knee, when she began to wail again:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my knee,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
The water continued to rise, and when it reached her waist, she cried again:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my waist,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
The water still rose, and when it reached her neck she kept on crying:
Oh! my brother, the water reaches to my neck,
Still, Oh! my brother, the pitcher will not dip.
At length the water became so deep that she felt herself drowning, then she cried aloud:
Oh! my brother, the water measures a man's height,
Oh! my brother, the pitcher begins to fill.
The pitcher filled with water, and along with it she sank and was drowned. The bonga then transformed her into a bonga like himself, and carried her off.
After a time she reappeared as a bamboo growing on the embankment of the tank in which she had been drowned. When the bamboo had grown to an immense size, a jogi, who was in the habit of passing that way, seeing it, said to himself, "This will make a splendid fiddle."
So one day he brought an ax to cut it down; but when he was about to begin, the bamboo called out, "Do not cut at the root, cut higher up." When he lifted his ax to cut high up the stem, the bamboo cried out, "Do not cut near the top, cut at the root." When the jogi again prepared himself to cut at the root as requested, the bamboo said, "Do not cut at the root, cut higher up; "and when he was about to cut higher up, it again called out to him, "Do not cut high up, cut at the root." The jogi by this time felt sure that a bonga was trying to frighten him, so becoming angry he cut down the bamboo at the root, and taking it away made a fiddle out of it. The instrument had a superior tone and delighted all who heard it. The jogi carried it with him when he went a begging, and through the influence of its sweet music he returned home every evening with a full wallet.
He now and then visited, when on his rounds, the house of the bonga girl's brothers, and the strains of the fiddle affected them greatly. Some of them were moved even to tears, for the fiddle seemed to wail as one in bitter anguish. The elder brother wished to purchase it, and offered to support the jogi for a whole year if he would consent to part with his wonderful instrument. The jogi, however, knew its value, and refused to sell it.
It so happened that the jogi some time after went to the house of a village chief, and after playing a tune or two on his fiddle asked for something to eat. They offered to buy his fiddle and promised a high price for it, but he refused to sell it, as his fiddle brought to him his means of livelihood. When they saw that he was not to be prevailed upon, they gave him food and a plentiful supply of liquor. Of the latter he drank so freely that he presently became intoxicated. While he was in this condition, they took away his fiddle, and substituted their own old one for it. When the jogi recovered, he missed his instrument, and suspecting that it had been stolen asked them to return it to him. They denied having taken it, so he had to depart, leaving his fiddle behind him. The chief's son, being a musician, used to play on the jogi's fiddle, and in his hands the music it gave forth delighted the ears of all who heard it.
When all the household were absent at their labors in the fields, the bonga girl used to come out of the bamboo fiddle, and prepared the family meal. Having eaten her own share, she placed that of the chief's son under his bed, and covering it up to keep off the dust, reentered the fiddle. This happening every day, the other members of the household thought that some girl friend of theirs was in this manner showing her interest in the young man, so they did not trouble themselves to find out how it came about. The young chief, however, was determined to watch, and see which of his girl friends was so attentive to his comfort. He said in his own mind, "I will catch her today, and give her a sound beating; she is causing me to be ashamed before the others." So saying, he hid himself in a corner in a pile of firewood. In a short time the girl came out of the bamboo fiddle, and began to dress her hair. Having completed her toilet, she cooked the meal of rice as usual, and having eaten some herself, she placed the young man's portion under his bed, as before, and was about to enter the fiddle again, when he, running out from his hiding place, caught her in his arms. The bonga girl exclaimed, "Fie! Fie! You may be a dom, or you may be a hadi of some other caste with whom I cannot marry."
He said, "No. But from today, you and I are one." So they began lovingly to hold converse with each other. When the others returned home in the evening, they saw that she was both a human being and a bonga, and they rejoiced exceedingly.
Now in course of time the bonga girl's family became very poor, and her brothers on one occasion came to the chief's house on a visit. The bonga girl recognized them at once, but they did not know who she was. She brought them water on their arrival, and afterwards set cooked rice before them. Then sitting down near them, she began in wailing tones to upbraid them on account of the treatment she had been subjected to by their wives. She related all that had befallen her, and wound up by saying, "You must have known it all, and yet you did not interfere to save me." And that was all the revenge she took.
A wild boar was wreaking havoc throughout the country. No one dared venture into the forest where it ran about. With its tusks it ripped to pieces anyone who was bold enough to pursue it and attempt to kill it. Then the king proclaimed that anyone who could kill the boar would receive his daughter for a wife.
There were three brothers in the kingdom. The oldest was sly and clever; the second was of ordinary intelligence; but the third and youngest was innocent and slow witted. They wanted to win the princess, so they set forth to seek out the wild boar and kill it.
The two oldest ones went together, while the youngest one went by himself. When he entered the woods an old man approached him. He was holding a black lance in his hand, and said to him, "Take this lance and fearlessly attack the boar with it, and you will kill it." And that is what happened. He struck the boar with the lance, and it fell dead to the earth. Then he lifted it onto his shoulder, and cheerfully set off toward home.
On the way he came to a house where his brothers were making merry and drinking wine. When they saw him with the boar on his back, they called to him, "Come in and have a drink with us. You must be tired." The innocent simpleton, not thinking about any danger, went inside and told them how he had killed the boar with the black lance, and rejoiced in his good fortune. That evening they returned home together. The two oldest ones plotted to kill their brother. They let him walk ahead of them, and when they came to a bridge just outside the city, they attacked him, striking him dead. They buried him beneath the bridge. Then the oldest one took the boar, carried it to the king, claimed that he had killed it, and received the princess for a wife.
Many years passed, but it was not to remain hidden. One day a shepherd was crossing the bridge when he saw a little bone beneath him in the sand. It was so pure and snow-white that he wanted it to make a mouthpiece from, so he climbed down and picked it up. Afterward he made a mouthpiece from it for his horn, and when he put it to his lips to play, the little bone began to sing by itself:
Oh, dear shepherd
You are blowing on my bone.
My brothers struck me dead,
And buried me beneath the bridge,
To get the wild boar
For the king's daughter.
The shepherd took the horn to the king, and once again it sang the same words. After hearing this, the king had his people dig under the bridge, and they soon uncovered the skeleton. The two wicked brothers confessed their crime and were thrown into the water. The murdered brother's bones were laid to rest in a beautiful grave in the churchyard.
Once upon a time there were two king's daughters who lived in a bower near the bonny mill dams of Binnorie. And Sir William came wooing the eldest and won her love, and plighted troth with glove and with ring. But after a time he looked upon the youngest, with her cherry cheeks and golden hair, and his love went out to her until he cared no longer for the eldest one. So she hated her sister for taking away Sir William's love, and day by day her hate grew and grew and she plotted and she planned how to get rid of her.
So one fine morning, fair and clear, she said to her sister, "Let us go and see our father's boats come in at the bonny mill stream of Binnorie." So they went there hand in hand. And when they came to the river's bank the youngest got upon a stone to watch for the beaching of the boats. And her sister, coming behind her, caught her round the waist and dashed her into the rushing mill stream of Binnorie.
"Oh sister, sister, reach me your hand!" she cried, as she floated away, "and you shall have half of all I've got or shall get."
"No, sister, I'll reach you no hand of mine, for I am the heir to all your land. Shame on me if I touch her hand that has come "twixt me and my own heart's love."
"Oh sister, oh sister, then reach me your glove!" she cried, as she floated further away, "and you shall have your William again."
"Sink on," cried the cruel princess, "no hand or glove of mine you'll touch. Sweet William will be all mine when you are sunk beneath the bonny mill stream of Binnorie." And she turned and went home to the king's castle.
And the princess floated down the mill stream, sometimes swimming and sometimes sinking, until she came near the mill. Now the miller's daughter was cooking that day, and needed water for her cooking. And as she went to draw it from the stream, she saw something floating towards the mill dam, and she called out, "Father! father! draw your dam. There's something white -- a merrymaid or a milk white swan -- coming down the stream." So the miller hastened to the dam and stopped the heavy cruel mill wheels. And then they took out the princess and laid her on the bank.
Fair and beautiful she looked as she lay there. In her golden hair were pearls and precious stones; you could not see her waist for her golden girdle, and the golden fringe of her white dress came down over her lily feet. But she was drowned, drowned!
And as she lay there in her beauty a famous harper passed by the mill dam of Binnorie, and saw her sweet pale face. And though he traveled on far away he never forgot that face, and after many days he came back to the bonny mill stream of Binnorie. But then all he could find of her where they had put her to rest were her bones and her golden hair. So he made a harp out of her breast bone and her hair, and traveled on up the hill from the mill dam of Binnorie, until he came to the castle of the king her father.
That night they were all gathered in the castle hall to hear the great harper: king and queen, their daughter and son, Sir William, and all their court. And first the harper sang to his old harp, making them joy and be glad, or sorrow and weep just as he liked. But while he sang he put the harp he had made that day on a stone in the hall. And presently it began to sing by itself, low and clear, and the harper stopped and all were hushed.
And this was what the harp sung:
Oh yonder sits my father, the king,
Binnorie, oh Binnorie;
And yonder sits my mother, the queen;
By the bony mill dams o' Binnorie.
And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
Binnorie, oh Binnorie;
And by him, my William, false and true;
By the bonny mill dams o' Binnorie.
Then they all wondered, and the harper told them how he had seen the princess lying drowned on the bank near the bonny mill dams o' Binnorie, and how he had afterwards made this harp out of her hair and breast bone. Just then the harp began singing again, and this was what it sang out loud and clear:
And there sits my sister who drownèd me
By the bonny mill dams o' Binnorie.
And the harp snapped and broke, and never sang more.
There was once a king who had several daughters. To the first he said, "How do you love me?"
"I love you as sugar," said she.
To the next he said, "And how do you love me?"
"I love you as honey," said she.
To the third he said, "And how do you love me?"
"I love you as sherbet," said she.
To the last and youngest he said, "And how do you love me?"
"I love you as salt," said she.
On hearing the answer of his youngest daughter the king frowned, and, as she persisted in repeating it, he drove her out into the forest.
There, when wandering sadly along, she heard the tramping of a horse, and she hid herself in a hollow tree. But the fluttering of her dress betrayed her to the rider, who was a prince, and who instantly fell in love with her and married her.
Some time after, the king, her father, who did not know what had become of her, paid her husband a visit. When he sat down to meat, the princess took care that all the dishes presented to him should be made-up sweets, which he either passed by altogether or merely tasted. He was very hungry, and was longing sorely for something which he could eat, when the princess sent him a dish of common spinach, seasoned with salt, such as farmers eat, and the king signified his pleasure by eating it with relish.
Then the princess threw off her veil, and, revealing herself to her father, said, "Oh my father, I love you as salt. My love may be homely, but it is true, genuine and lasting, and I entreat your forgiveness."
Then the king perceived how great a mistake he had made, and there followed a full reconciliation.
In Treneglwys there is a certain shepherd's cot known by the name of Twt y Cymrws because of the strange strife that occurred there. There once lived there a man and his wife, and they had twins whom the woman nursed tenderly. One day she was called away to the house of a neighbor at some distance. She did not much like going and leaving her little ones all alone in a solitary house, especially as she had heard tell of the good folk haunting the neighborhood.
Well, she went and came back as soon as she could, but on her way back she was frightened to see some old elves of the blue petticoat crossing her path though it was midday. She rushed home, but found her two little ones in the cradle and everything seemed as it was before.
But after a time the good people began to suspect that something was wrong, for the twins didn't grow at all.
The man said, "They're not ours."
The woman said, "Then whose should they be?"
And so arose the great strife so that the neighbors named the cottage after it. It made the woman very sad, so one evening she made up her mind to go and see the Wise Man of Llanidloes, for he knew everything and would advise her what to do.
So she went to Llanidloes and told the case to the Wise Man. Now there was soon to be a harvest of rye and oats, so the Wise Man said to her, "When you are getting dinner for the reapers, clear out the shell of a hen's egg and boil some potage in it, and then take it to the door as if you meant it as a dinner for the reapers. Then listen if the twins say anything. If you hear them speaking of things beyond the understanding of children, go back and take them up and throw them into the waters of Lake Elvyn. But if you don't hear anything remarkable, do them no injury."
So when the day of the reap came the woman did all that the Wise Man ordered, and put the eggshell on the fire and took it off and carried it to the door, and there she stood and listened. Then she heard one of the children say to the other:
Acorn before oak I knew,
An egg before a hen,
But I never heard of an eggshell brew
A dinner for harvest men.
So she went back into the house, seized the children and threw them into the Llyn, and the goblins in their blue trousers came and saved their dwarfs and the mother had her own children back and so the great strife ended.
The following true story took place in the year 1580. Near Breslau there lived a distinguished nobleman who had a large crop of hay every summer which his subjects were required to harvest for him. One year there was a new mother among his harvest workers, a woman who barely had had a week to recover from the birth of her child. When she saw that she could not refuse the nobleman's decree, she took her child with her, placed it on a small clump of grass, and left it alone while she helped with the haymaking. After she had worked a good while, she returned to her child to nurse it. She looked at it, screamed aloud, hit her hands together above her head, and cried out in despair, that this was not her child. It sucked the milk from her so greedily and howled in such an inhuman manner that it was nothing like the child she knew.
As is usual in such cases, she kept the child for several days, but it was so ill behaved that the good woman nearly collapsed. She told her story to the nobleman. He said to her, "Woman, if you think that this is not your child, then do this one thing. Take it out to the meadow where you left your previous child and beat it hard with a switch. Then you will witness a miracle."
The woman followed the nobleman's advice. She went out and beat the child with a switch until it screamed loudly. Then the Devil brought back her stolen child, saying, "There, you have it!" And with that he took his own child away.
This story is often told and is known by both the young and the old in and around Breslau.
A peasant had a son who was only as big as a thumb and did not grow any larger. In several years he did not grow even the width of a hair. One day the peasant wanted to go to the field and plow, and the little one said, "Father, I want to go out with you."
"No," said the father," you have to stay here. There's nothing that you could do to help me, and besides that you might get lost." Then the thumbling began to cry and was not going to give the father any peace until he took him along. So the father put him in his pocket and carried him to the field, where he placed him in a fresh furrow. While he was sitting there a large giant came over the mountain towards them. "Do you see that bogeyman?" said the father, in order to frighten the little one into being good. "He's coming to get you." Now the giant had very long legs, and he reached the furrow in only a few steps, picked up the little thumbling, and walked away with him. The father stood there so frightened that he could not speak a word. He believed that his child was lost, and that he would never see him again as long as he lived.
The giant took the child home and let him suckle at his breast, and the thumbling grew large and strong like a giant. After two years had passed, the old giant took him into the woods in order to test him. He said, "Pull out a switch from over there." The boy was so strong already that a pulled a young tree up by the roots. The giant thought that he could do better and took him back home and suckled him for two more years. When he took him into the woods to test him this time, he pulled up a much larger tree. This was still not good enough for the giant, and he suckled him for yet another two years, took him into the woods, and said, "Now pull out a decent switch for once." This time the boy pulled the thickest oak tree out of the ground. He cracked it and laughed. When the old giant saw this, he said, "That's good enough. You've passed the test." And he took him back to the field where he found him.
The father was plowing again, and the young giant walked up to him and said, "Father, see what has become of me. I am your son."
The peasant was frightened and said, "No, you are not my son. Get away from me."
"Of course I am your son. Just let me plow. I can do it just as well as you can."
"No, you are not my son. You can't plow. Get away from me." He was so afraid of the large man that he let go of the plow and walked to the edge of the field. The boy picked up the handle to plow, but he pushed so hard with his one hand that the plow sank deep into the earth. The peasant could not watch this, and called to him, "If you insist on plowing, then don't push down so hard, or you will ruin the field."
Then the boy hitched himself in front of the plow and said, "Go on home and tell mother that she should cook up a big plate of something to eat. In the meantime, I'll tear around the field." The peasant went home and told his wife to fix something to eat, and she cooked up a large dinner, and the boy plowed the field: two full acres all by himself. Then he hitched himself to the harrow and harrowed the entire thing, pulling two harrows at the same time. When he was finished he went into the woods, pulled up two oak trees, laid them on his shoulders, then put a harrow on each end and a horse on each end as well, and carried the whole thing home like a bundle of straw.
When he walked into the farmyard, his mother did not recognize him and asked, "Who is this terrible large man?"
The peasant said, "This is our son."
She said, "No, this could never be our son. We did not have such a large child. Ours was a little thing. Go away. We don't want you."
The boy said nothing. He pulled his horses into the stall, gave them oats and hay, and put everything in order. When he was finished he went into the house, sat down on the bench, and said, "Mother, I'd like to eat. Will it be ready soon?"
She said, "Yes," and did not dare to contradict him. She brought in two very large plates, more than she and her husband could have eaten in an entire week. He ate it all and asked if they didn't have more. "No," she said. "That's all that we have."
"That was only a taste. I have to have more." Then she went out and filled a large hog cauldron and put it on the fire, and when it was done she brought it in. "That's a nice little bit," he said, and ate the whole thing, but it still wasn't enough. Then he said, "Father, I see that I'll never be full if I stay here with you. If you can get me an iron rod that is so strong I can't break it against my knees, then I'll go away again."
The peasant was happy to hear this. He hitched his two horses to his wagon and drove to the blacksmith and got a rod so large and thick that the two horses could barely pull it. The boy held it against his knees and -- crash! -- he broke it in two like a bean pole. Then the peasant hitched up four horses and brought back a rod that was so large and thick that the four horses could barely pull it. The son picked up this one as well, cracked it in two against his knee, tossed it aside, and said, "Father, this one is of no use to me. Hitch up more horses and get me a stronger staff." So the father hitched up eight horses and fetched one so large and thick that the eight horses could barely pull it. When the son received this one, he broke a little piece from the top of it and said, "Father, I see that you can't get me a proper staff, so I'll just go away anyhow."
So he went on his way, claiming to be a journeyman blacksmith. He came to a village where a smith lived who was a real cheapskate. He would never give anything to anyone, and always wanted everything for himself. The young giant walked into his smithy and asked him if he could use a journeyman. "Yes," answered the smith, looking at him and thinking what a strong fellow he was, someone who could really earn his keep. "What kind of wages do you want?"
"I don't want any wages at all," said the young giant. "But at the end of every two weeks when the other journeymen receive their pay, just let me hit you twice. And you'll have to be able to take it." The cheapskate was only too happy with this arrangement, for he thought that it would save him a lot of money.
The next morning the new journeyman was to have the first turn at the anvil. The master brought out a glowing rod, and the young giant knocked it into two pieces with his first blow, at the same time driving the anvil so deep into the ground that they could not get it back out again. This made the cheapskate angry, and he said, "I can't use you here. Your blows are too rough. What do you need for pay?"
The young giant said, "Just a little kick, nothing more." He lifted up his foot and gave him a kick that sent him flying over four loads of hay. Then he took the thickest rod from the smithy to use as a walking stick, and went on his way.
Sometime later he came to an estate and asked the foreman if he could use a chief farmhand. "Yes," said the foreman. "You look like a strong fellow who knows how to work. What kind of yearly wage do you want." The young giant replied that the only pay he wanted was to be able to give the foreman three blows, and that he would have to be able to stand them. The foreman was satisfied with this, for he too was a cheapskate.
The next morning the workers were supposed to go to work in the woods. The others were already up, but the young giant was still lying in bed. One of them shouted to him, "Get up now. It's time to go to the woods, and you have to come along too."
He replied, coarsely and sarcastically, "Go on without me. I'll be finished before any of you." The others reported to the foreman that the new chief farmhand was still lying in bed and would not go to the woods with them. The foreman told them to wake him up again and tell him to harness the horses. The young giant answered the same as before, "Go on without me. I'll be finished before any of you." He slept two more hours, then finally got out of bed, got two shovels full of peas from the barn, cooked them, ate them at his leisure, and when he had finished all this, he harnessed the horses and drove them to the woods. Just before the woods, the road passed through a hollow. He drove his wagon through the hollow, but then filled it in with such a pile of trees and branches that no horse would ever be able to get through.
He had just arrived in the woods when he met the others on their way home with their loaded wagons. He said to them, "Drive on. I'll be home before you are." He drove a little further into the woods, ripped two of the largest trees out of the ground, loaded them onto his wagon, and turned around. When he came to the pile of trees and branches, the others were just standing there, unable to get through. He said, "See, if you had stayed with me, you could have gone straight home, and you'd be able to sleep an extra hour." He started to drive through, but his four horses couldn't make it, so he unhitched them, hitched himself to the wagon, and pulled it through as easily as if it had been loaded with feathers. When he was on the other side of the rubble he called out, "See, I got through before you did," and he drove off, leaving them standing there. When he arrived at the farmyard he picked up a tree with one hand, showed it to the foreman, and said, "How is this for a measuring stick?"
Then the foreman said to his wife, "This chief farmhand is all right. Even when he sleeps in, he arrives home before the others.
He worked for the foreman for one year. When the year had passed and the other workers received their wages, he said that it was also time for his payment. The foreman became frightened that he was going to have to receive his blows, and he asked him to spare him. If he would do so, the foreman himself would become chief farmhand, and the young giant could become foreman. "No," replied the young giant. "I do not want to be foreman. I am chief farmhand and will remain chief farmhand. I only want to deliver what was promised me." The foreman offered to give him anything that he asked for, but there was no way out. The chief farmhand insisted on the original agreement.
The foreman did not know what else to do, so he asked for an extension of two weeks, and then called all of his clerks together and asked for their advice. They thought for a long time, and finally concluded that the chief farmhand would have to die. He would be asked to bring a load of large millstones to the edge of the well in the farmyard, then he would be sent down into the well to clean it, and while he was down there, they would throw the millstones onto his head. The foreman was delighted with this plan. Everything was prepared. The largest millstones were brought in. As soon as the chief farmhand was down in the well, they rolled the stones in on top of him. They fell with a great splash. Everyone thought that they had crushed his head, but he called out, "Chase the chickens away from the well. They are scratching in the sand, and throwing little grains into my eyes until I can't see."
The foreman called out, "Shoo! Shoo!" as though he were chasing the chickens away. When the chief farmhand was finished, he climbed out and said, "Look at this nice necklace." He was wearing the millstones around his neck.
The two weeks were now up, and the young giant demanded that he receive his wages. The foreman, beside himself with fear, and with sweat dripping from his face, opened the window for some fresh air. Before he knew what had happened, the young giant kicked him from behind. He flew so far through the air, that no one has seen him since.
Then the young giant turned to the foreman's wife and said that she would have to receive the next blow. "No, I'd never be able to withstand it," she said, and opened a window, because of the sweat dripping from her face. He gave her a kick as well, and she flew even higher than her husband.
"Come to me," he called to her.
"No, you come to me," she called back. "I can't come to you."
And they soared through the air, neither of them able to get to the other one. I do not know if they are still soaring. But as for the young giant, he picked up his iron rod and went on his way.
Once upon a time a king was out hunting when he came upon a hollow tree that his dogs would not pass by. They barked and jumped about and could not be brought to move on. Taking a closer look, the king discovered a beautiful maiden sitting in the hollow trunk. She was entirely naked and looked at him with terror. He threw his coat over her, and whistled to his servants. They came immediately, and he showed them the maiden, saying, "See what a beautiful animal I have captured!" Then he whistled again, and his coach came. He placed the maiden inside, rode home with her to his castle, and married her.
The old queen, the king's mother, still lived in the castle, and she did not like the young queen and did everything to make her life miserable. With time the king had to go off to war, and while he was away his wife gave birth to a son. The old queen cooked up a brew and gave it to the newborn, which caused hair to grow all over his body. Then the wicked old woman wrote to the king, "Your wife has given birth to a hairy animal. We do not know whether it is a dog or a cat." This news greatly angered the king, and he commanded that the newborn be tied to his wife's back, and that they both be driven away.
Thus the young queen and her hairy son were put out of the castle, and she returned to the hollow tree where the king had first seen her. She lived there as before. However, life in the woods was so good for the hairy boy that he grew a foot every day, and soon there was not enough room in the hollow tree. One day he went out and pulled up a bundle of large fir trees. He broke them over his knee and built a comfortable cabin for himself and his mother. Soon afterward he said to his mother, "Now tell me once and for all, who is my father?"
"Alas," answered the mother, "your father is the king, but you will never see him as long as you live."
"But I want to see him right now!" said the hairy boy, and he ripped a fir tree out of the ground, roots and all. He set forth carrying it, and did not rest until he had found the royal castle. The king had just sat down to eat and had a great quantity of expensive food before him. The hairy boy acted as if he were right at home, walked up to the king and said to him, "I am here too. I am your son, and I want to eat at your table with you." The king was terrified and wanted to stop him, but the hairy boy continued without hindrance, reaching his hairy hands into the king's plates and dishes. No one dared say a thing, for the king's people were all terrified and stood by helplessly. After the hairy boy had eaten every last morsel from the table, he said to the king, "I am going now, but I will be back tomorrow."
"Wait," thought the king, "I'll see that you do not come back." He quickly summoned five hundred soldiers, and placed them immediately before the castle with the command to shoot at the hairy boy on sight. The next day when the hairy boy returned carrying his fir tree the soldiers all fired at him. But the hairy boy calmly plucked the bullets from his body and threw them, fifty at a time, back at the soldiers, until he had killed them all.
He entered the castle just as the king was again sitting down to eat. The hairy boy said to him, "But father, what are you up to? Your soldiers are all lying dead outside, struck down by their own bullets. I am your son, and I want to eat at your table with you." And once again he reached his hairy hands into the king's plates and dishes, and did not stop eating until every last morsel had disappeared from the table. "I am going now," he said at last, "but I will be back tomorrow, and I am bringing my mother along."
"Stop!" thought the king, "That you will not do!" He immediately called up ten hundred soldiers and positioned them before the castle, half in the courtyard and half surrounding the castle, commanding them by their very lives to not let the hairy boy inside.
The next day the hairy boy returned, leading his mother by her hand. When soldiers shot at him, he placed himself in front of his mother. He again plucked the bullets from his body and threw them back, one hundred at a time, until all the soldiers lay dead on the ground. Then he walked into the castle and approached his father, saying, "But father, what are you up to again? Your soldiers are all dead as doornails, struck down by their own bullets! Go and see for yourself!" Then he took him by the hand and threw him into the courtyard below. He took him by the hand a second time and threw him back inside through the window. He threw him to the floor a third time, and the king was dead.
The old queen hurried in, and the hairy boy threatened to kill her if she did not treat him well, and she had to promise to rid his body of the ugly hair. Once again she cooked up a brew, and it removed the hair from his body and hands. From this hour on he had no more power than ordinary people. But the kingdom was now his, and he ruled with his mother in peace and splendor.
Once upon a time there was an old beggar woman, who had gone out to beg. She had a little boy with her, and when she had got her bag full, she struck across the hills towards her own home. When they had gone a bit up the hillside they came upon a little blue belt, which lay where two paths met, and the boy asked his mother's permission to pick it up.
"No," she said, "maybe there's witchcraft in it;" and so with threats she forced him to follow her. But when they had gone a bit farther, the boy said he must turn aside a moment out of the road, and meanwhile his mother sat down on a tree stump. But the boy was a long time gone, for as soon as he got so far into the wood that the old woman could not see him, he ran off to where the belt lay, picked it up, tied it round his waist and lo! he felt so strong that he could lift the whole mountain. When he got back, the old woman was very angry, and wanted to know what he had been doing so long. "You don't care how much time you waste, and yet you know the night is drawing on, and we must cross the mountain before it gets dark!" So on they tramped, but when they had got about halfway, the old woman grew tired, and said she must rest under a bush.
"Dear mother," said the boy, may I just go up to the top of this high crag while you rest, and try if I can't see some sign of folk hereabouts?"
Yes, he might do that. When he reached the top he saw a light shining from the north. So he ran down and told his mother.
"We must get on, mother; we are near a house, for I see a bright light shining quite close to us in the north." Then she got up, shouldered her bag, and set off to see. They hadn't gone far, before they came to a steep cliff, right across their path.
"Just as I thought!" said the old woman; "now we can't go a step farther; a pretty bed we shall have here!"
But the boy took the bag under one arm, and his mother under the other, and ran straight up the steep cliff with them."
"Now, don't you see! Don't you see that we are close to a house! Don't you see the bright light?"
The old woman said those were not Christians, but trolls, for she knew her way about that forest far and near, and knew there was not a living soul in it until you were well over the ridge and had come down on the other side. But they went on, and in a little while they came to a large house which was all painted red.
"What's the good of it?" asked the old woman. "We don't dare go inside, for trolls live here."
"Don't say that; we must go in. There must be men where the lights shine so," said the boy. So in he went, and his mother followed him, but he had barely opened the door before she fainted, for there she saw a great stout man at least twenty feet high, sitting on the bench.
"Good evening, grandfather!" said the boy.
"Well, I've sat here three hundred years," said the man on the bench, "and no one has ever come and called me grandfather before." Then the boy sat down by the man's side, and began to talk to him as if they had been old friends.
"But what's come over your mother?" said the man, after they had chatted a while. "I think she fainted; you had better look after her."
So the boy took hold of the old woman and dragged her up the hall along the floor. That brought her to herself, and she kicked and scratched, and flung herself about, and at last sat down on a heap of firewood in the corner; but she was so frightened that she scarcely dared to look one in the face.
After a while, the boy asked if they could spend the night there.
"Yes, to be sure," said the man.
So they went on talking again, but the boy soon got hungry, and wanted to know if they could get food as well as lodging.
"Of course," said the man, "you may have that too." And after he had sat a while longer, he rose up and threw six loads of dry pitch-pine on the fire. This made the old woman still more afraid.
"Oh! now he's going to roast us alive," she said, in the corner where she sat. And when the wood had burned down to glowing embers, the man got up and walked out of his house.
"Heaven bless and help us! You are so brave," said the old woman; "don't you see we have ended up with trolls?"
"Stuff and nonsense!" said the boy; "no harm if we have."
In a little while, the man came back with an ox so fat and big, the boy had never seen its like, and he gave it one blow with his fist under the ear, and it fell down dead on the floor. When that was done, he took it up by all four legs, and laid it on the glowing embers, and turned it and twisted it about until it was roasted brown outside. After that, he went to a cupboard and took out a great silver dish and laid the ox on it; and the dish was so big that none of the ox hung over on any side. This he put on the table, and then he went down into the cellar, and fetched a cask of wine, knocked out one end, and put the cask on the table, together with two knives, which were each six feet long. When this was done, he asked them go and sit down to supper and eat. So they went, the boy first and the old woman after, but she began to whimper and wail, and to wonder how she should ever use such knives. But her son seized one and began to cut slices out of the thigh of the ox, which he placed before his mother. And when they had eaten a bit, he took up the cask with both hands, and lifted it down to the floor; then he told his mother to come and drink, but it was still so high she couldn't reach up to it; so he caught her up, and held her up to the edge of the cask while she drank. As for himself, he clambered up and hung down like a cat inside the cask while he drank. So when he had quenched his thirst, he picked up the cask and put it back on the table, and thanked the man for the good meal, and told his mother to come and thank him too. Afraid though she was, she dared do nothing else but thank the man. Then the boy sat down again next to the man and began to gossip. After they had sat a while, the man said, "Well, I must just go and get a bit of supper too," and so he went to the table and ate up the whole ox -- hoofs, and horns, and all -- and drained the cask to the last drop, and then went back and sat on the bench.
"As for beds," he said, "I don't know what's to be done. I've only got one bed and a cradle; but we could get on pretty well if you would sleep in the cradle, and then your mother might lie in the bed yonder."
"Thank you kindly, that will do nicely," said the boy; and with that he pulled off his clothes and lay down in the cradle; but to tell you the truth, it was quite as big as a four-poster. As for the old woman, she had to follow the man, who showed her to bed, though she was out of her wits for fear.
"Well," thought the boy to himself, "it will never do to go to sleep yet. I'd best lie awake and listen how things go as the night wears on."
After a while the man began to talk to the old woman, and at last he said, "We two might live here quite happily together could we only be rid of this son of yours."
"But do you know how to take care of him? Is that what you're thinking of?" she asked.
"Nothing easier," he said; at any rate he would try. He would just say that he wished the old woman would stay and keep house for him a day or two. Then he would take the boy with him up the mountain to quarry cornerstones, and roll down a large rock on him. As they spoke, the boy lay still and listened.
The next day the troll -- for it was a troll, as clear as day -- asked if the old woman would stay and keep house for him a few days. Later that day he took a large iron crowbar and asked the boy if he had a mind to go with him up the mountain and quarry a few cornerstones. With all his heart, he said, and went with him; and so, after they had split a few stones, the troll wanted him to go down below and look for cracks in the rock. While he was doing this, the troll worked away, and wearied himself with his crowbar until he moved a whole crag out of its bed, which came rolling right down on the place where the boy was; but he held it up until he could get to one side, and then let it roll on.
"Oh!" said the boy to the troll, "now I see what you mean to do with me. You want to crush me to death; so just go down yourself and look for cracks and splits in the rock, and I'll stand up above."
The troll did not dare to do otherwise than the boy asked him, and the end of it was that the boy rolled down a large rock, which fell on the troll and broke one of his thighs.
"Well! you are in a sad plight," said the boy, as he strode down, lifted up the rock, and set the man free. After that he had to put him on his back and carry him home; so he ran with him as fast as a horse, and shook him, so that the troll screamed and screeched as if a knife had been run into him. When he got home, they had to put the troll to bed, and there he lay in a sad pickle.
The night wore on, and the troll began to talk to the old woman again, and to wonder however they could be rid of the boy.
"Well," said the old woman, "if you can't hit on a plan to get rid of him, I'm sure I can't."
"Let me see," said the troll; "I've got twelve lions in a garden. If they could only get hold of the boy they'd soon tear him to pieces."
So the old woman said it would be easy enough to get him there. She would pretend to be sick and say she felt so poorly, nothing would do her any good but lion's milk. All that the boy lay and listened to; and when he got up in the morning his mother said she was worse than she looked, and she thought she should never be well again unless she could get some lion's milk.
"Then I'm afraid you'll be sick a long time, mother," said the boy, "for I'm sure I don't know where any is to be got."
"Oh! if that be all," said the troll, "there's no lack of lion's milk, if we only had the man to fetch it," and then he went on to say how his brother had a garden with twelve lions in it, and how the boy might have the key if he had a mind to milk the lions. So the boy took the key and a milking pail and walked off. When he unlocked the gate and entered the garden, there stood all the twelve lions on their hind paws, raging and roaring at him. But the boy laid hold of the biggest, and led him about by the forepaws, and dashed him against sticks and stones, until there wasn't a bit of him left but the two paws. When the rest saw that, they were so afraid that they crept up and lay at his feet like so many curs. After that they followed him about wherever he went, and when he got home they laid down outside the house, with their forepaws on the door sill.
"Now, mother, you'll soon be well," said the boy, when he went in, "for here is the lion's milk."
He had just milked a drop in the pail.
But the troll, as he lay in bed, swore it was all a lie. He was sure the boy was not the man to milk lions.
When the boy heard that, he forced the troll to get out of bed, threw open the door, and all the lions rose up and seized the troll, and at last the boy had to make them leave their hold.
That night the troll began to talk to the old woman again. "I'm sure I can't tell how to put this boy out of the way. He is so awfully strong. Can't you think of some way?"
"No," said the old woman; "if you can't tell, I'm sure I can't."
"Well," said the troll, "I have two brothers in a castle; they are twelve times as strong as I am, and that's why I was turned out and had to put up with this farm. They hold that castle, and nearby there is an apple orchard, and whoever eats those apples sleeps for three days and three nights. If we could only get the boy to go for the fruit, he wouldn't be able to keep from tasting the apples, and as soon as he fell asleep my brothers would tear him to pieces."
The old woman said she would pretend to be sick, and say she could never be herself again unless she tasted those apples, for she had set her heart on them.
All this the boy lay and listened to.
When the morning came the old woman was so ill that she couldn't utter a word but groans and sighs. She was sure she should never be well again, unless she had some of the apples that grew in the orchard near the castle where the man's brothers lived; only she had no one to send for them.
The boy was ready to go that instant, and the eleven lions went with him. He came to the orchard, he climbed the apple tree and ate as many apples as he could. He was barely down again before he fell into a deep sleep; but the lions all lay around him in a ring. On the third day the troll's brothers came, but they did not come in human shape. They came snorting like man-eating steeds, and wondered who it was that dared to be there, and said they would tear him to pieces so small that there would be nothing left of him. But the lions rose up and tore the trolls into small pieces, so that the place looked as if a manure pile had been tossed about. After they had finished the trolls, they lay down again. The boy did not wake up until late in the afternoon, and when he got on his knees, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and saw the hoof marks, he wondered what had been going on. He walked towards the castle, and a girl who had seen all that had happened looked out of a window said, "You may thank your stars that you weren't in that tussle, or you surely would have lost your life."
"What! I lose my life! No fear of that, I think," said the boy.
She begged him to come in and talk with her, for she hadn't seen a Christian soul ever since she came there. But when she opened the door the lions wanted to go in too, and she got so frightened that she began to scream, and so the boy had them lie outside. Then the two talked and talked, and the boy asked how it came that she, who was so lovely, could put up with those ugly trolls. She never wished it, she said; it was quite against her will. They had seized her by force, and she was the King of Arabia's daughter. So they talked on, and at last she asked him what he would do; whether she should go back home, and if he would take her as a wife. Of course he would marry her, and she shouldn't go home.
After that they went around the castle, and at last they came to a great hall, where the trolls' two great swords hung high up on the wall.
"I wonder if you are man enough to wield one of these," said the princess.
"Who? I?" said the boy. "It would be a pretty thing if I couldn't wield one of these."
With that he stacked two or three chairs on top of each other, jumped up, and touched the biggest sword with his finger tips, tossed it up in the air, and caught it again by the hilt; leapt down, and at the same time dealt such a blow with it on the floor that the whole hall shook. After he had thus got down he put the sword under his arm and carried it about with him.
So when they had lived a little while in the castle, the princess thought she ought to go home to her parents and let them know what had become of her; so they loaded a ship, and she set sail from the castle.
After she had gone, and the boy had wandered about a little, he remembered that he had been sent on an errand, and had come to fetch something for his mother's health. He said to himself, "After all, the old woman was not so bad, and she's probably all right by now." Still, he thought he ought to go and just see how she was. So he went and found both the man and his mother quite fresh and healthy.
"What wretches you are to live in this beggarly hut," said the boy. "Come with me up to my castle, and you shall see what a fine fellow I am."
Well! they were both ready to go, and on the way his mother talked to him, and asked how it was he had become so strong.
"If you must know, it came from that blue belt which lay on the mountainside that time when you and I were out begging," said the boy.
"Have you got it still?" asked she.
"Yes," he had. It was tied around his waist.
"May I see it?"
"Yes, you may." And with that he pulled open his waistcoat and shirt to show it to her.
Then she seized it with both hands, tore it off, and twisted it around her fist. "Now," she cried, "what shall I do with such a wretch as you? I'll just give you one blow, and dash your brains out!"
"Far too good a death for such a scamp," said the troll. "No! let's first burn out his eyes, and then turn him adrift in a little boat."
So they burned out his eyes and turned him adrift, in spite of his prayers and tears; but, as the boat drifted, the lions swam after, and at last they laid hold of it and dragged it ashore on an island, and placed the boy under a fir tree. They caught game for him, and they plucked the birds and made him a bed of down; but he was forced to eat his meat raw, and he was blind. At last, one day the biggest lion was chasing a hare which was blind, for it ran straight over stock and stone, and in the end, it ran right up against a fir stump and tumbled head over heels across the field right into a spring; but lo! when it came out of the spring it saw its way quite plain, and thus saved its life.
"So, so!" thought the lion, and dragged the boy to the spring, and dipped his head and ears into it. When he had his sight again, he went down to the shore and made signs to the lions that they should all lie close together like a raft; then he stood on their backs while they swam with him to the mainland. When he had reached the shore he went up into a birch grove and made the lions lie quiet. Then he stole up to the castle, like a thief, to see if he couldn't lay hands on his belt. When he arrived at the door, he peeped through the keyhole, and there he saw his belt hanging over a door in the kitchen. He crept softly across the floor, for there was no one there; but as soon as he got hold of the belt, he began to kick and stomp about as though he were crazy. Just then his mother came rushing out.
"Dear heart, my darling little boy! Do give me the belt again," she said.
"Thank you kindly," he said. "Now you shall have the fate that you gave to me," and he finished the task at once. The old troll heard what was happening and came in. He begged fervently that his life might be spared.
"Well, you may live," said the boy, "but you shall undergo the same punishment that you gave me;" and so he burned out the troll's eyes, and set him adrift at sea in a little boat, but he had no lions to follow him.
Now the boy was all alone, and he went about longing and longing for the princess. Finally he could bear it no longer. He had to look for her, his heart was so bent on having her. So he loaded four ships and set sail for Arabia. For some time they had fair wind and fine weather, but after that they lay wind-bound near a rocky island. The sailors went ashore and strolled about to spend the time, and there they found a huge egg, almost as big as a little house. So they began to knock it about with large stones, but they couldn't crack the shell. Then the boy came up with his sword to see what all the noise was about. When he saw the egg, he thought it a simple matter to crack it. He gave it one blow, and the egg split, and out came a chicken as big as an elephant.
"We have done a bad thing," said the boy; "this can cost us all our lives." He then asked his sailors if they were men enough to sail to Arabia in twenty-four hours, if they had a good wind. Yes, they would be able to do that, they said, so they set sail with a fine breeze, and got to Arabia in twenty-three hours. As soon as they landed, the boy ordered all the sailors to go and bury themselves up to their eyes in a sand hill, so that they could barely see the ships. The boy and the captains climbed a high crag and sat down under a fir tree. In a little while a great bird came flying with an island in its claws, which it let fall down on the fleet, sinking every ship. After it had done that, it flew up to the sand hill and flapped its wings, so that the wind nearly blew off the sailors' heads, and it flew past the fir tree with such force that it turned the boy right around, but he was ready with his sword, and gave the bird one blow and brought it down dead.
After that he went to the town, where everyone was glad, because the king had got his daughter back. However, the king had now hidden her away himself, and promised her hand as a reward to anyone who could find her, even though she was already engaged. Now as the boy went along he met a man who had white bearskins for sale. He bought one of the hides and put it on. One of the captains took an iron chain and lead him about, and so disguised he went into the town and began to play pranks. The news came to the king's ears that there never had been such fun in the town before, for here was a white bear that danced and cut capers just as it was asked. A messenger came to say that the bear must come to the castle at once, for the king wanted to see its tricks. When it got to the castle everyone was afraid, for they had never seen such a beast before. However, the captain said there was no danger unless they laughed at it. They mustn't do that, or else it would tear them to pieces. When the king heard that, he warned all the court not to laugh. But while the fun was going on, in came one of the king's maids, and began to laugh and make fun of the bear. The bear pounced on her and clawed her until there was barely a rag of her left. Then all the court began to cry, and the captain most of all.
"Stuff and nonsense," said the king; "she's only a maid, besides it's more my affair than yours."
When the show was over, it was late at night. "It's no good your going away when it's so late," said the king. "The bear had best sleep here."
"Perhaps it might sleep in the inglenook by the kitchen fire," said the captain.
"No," said the king, "it shall sleep up here, and it shall have pillows and cushions to sleep on." So a whole heap of pillows and cushions was brought, and the captain had a bed in a side room.
At midnight the king came with a lamp in his hand and a big bunch of keys, and led the white bear away. He passed along gallery after gallery, through doors and rooms, upstairs and downstairs, until at last he came to a pier which ran out into the sea. Then the king began to pull and haul at posts and pins, this one up and that one down, until at last a little house floated up to the water's edge. There he kept his daughter, for she was so dear to him that he had hid her, so that no one could find her. He left the white bear outside while he went in and told her how it had danced and played its pranks. She said she was afraid, and did not dare to look at it; but he convinced her that there was no danger, if she only wouldn't laugh. So they brought the bear in, and locked the door, and it danced and played its tricks. Just when the fun was at its height the princess's maid began to laugh. Then the boy pounced on her and tore her to bits, and the princess began to cry and sob.
"Stuff and nonsense," cried the king; "all this fuss about a maid! I'll get you just as good a one again. But now I think the bear had best stay here until morning, for I don't want to lead it along all those galleries and stairs at this time of night."
"Well," said the princess, "if it sleeps here I'm sure I won't."
But just then the bear curled himself up and lay down by the stove. It was determined that the princess should sleep there too, with a light burning. As soon as the king was gone, the white bear begged her to undo his collar. The princess was so frightened that she almost fainted; but she felt about until she found the collar. She had barely undone it before the bear pulled his head off. Then she recognized him, and was so glad that there was no end to her joy. She wanted to tell her father at once that her rescuer had come, but the boy would not hear of it. He would earn her once more, he said. So in the morning, when they heard the king rattling at the posts outside, the boy pulled on the hide, and lay down by the stove.
"Well, has it lain still?" the king asked.
"I should think so," said the princess. "It hasn't so much as turned or stretched itself once."
When they got up to the castle again, the captain took the bear and led it away. Then the boy threw off the hide and went to a tailor and ordered clothes fit for a prince. When they were ready he went to the king, and said he wanted to find the princess.
"You're not the first who has wished the same thing," said the king, "but they have all lost their lives; for if anyone who tries can't find her in twenty-four hours his life is forfeited."
Yes, the boy knew all that. Still he wished to try, and if he couldn't find her, it would be his responsibility. Now in the castle there was a band that played sweet tunes, and there were fair maids to dance with, and so the boy danced away. When twelve hours were gone, the king said, "I pity you with all my heart. You are not very good at seeking; you will surely lose your life."
"Stuff!" said the boy. "While there's life there's hope. So as long as there's breath in the body there's no fear. we have lots of time." And so he went on dancing until there was only one hour left.
Then he said he would begin to search.
"It's no use now," said the king. "Time's up."
"Light your lamp; out with your big bunch of keys," said the boy, "and follow me where I want to go. There is still a whole hour left."
So the boy went the same way which the king had led him the night before, and he asked the king to unlock door after door until they came to the pier which ran out into the sea.
"It's all no use, I tell you," said the king; "time's up, and this will only lead you out into the sea."
"Still five minutes more," said the boy, as he pulled and pushed at the posts and pins, and the house floated up.
"Now the time is up," bawled the king. "Come here, headsman, and cut off his head."
"No, no!" said the boy; "stop a bit, there are still three minutes. Out with the key, and let me get into this house."
But the king stood there and fumbled with his keys, to draw out the time. At last he said he didn't have the key.
"Well, if you haven't, I have," said the boy, and he gave the door such a kick that it flew to splinters inwards on the floor.
The princess met him at the door, and told her father this was her rescuer, on whom her heart was set. So she got him, and this was how the beggar boy came to marry the daughter of the King of Arabia.