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The Lilac Fairy Book by Andrew Lang

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proofread by L.M. Shaffer.

The Lilac Fairy Book

Edited by Andrew Lang


'What cases are you engaged in at present?' 'Are you stopping
many teeth just now?' 'What people have you converted lately?'
Do ladies put these questions to the men--lawyers, dentists,
clergymen, and so forth--who happen to sit next them at
dinner parties?

I do not know whether ladies thus indicate their interest in the
occupations of their casual neighbours at the hospitable board.
But if they do not know me, or do not know me well, they
generally ask 'Are you writing anything now?' (as if they should
ask a painter 'Are you painting anything now?' or a lawyer 'Have
you any cases at present?'). Sometimes they are more definite and
inquire 'What are you writing now?' as if I must be writing
something--which, indeed, is the case, though I dislike being
reminded of it. It is an awkward question, because the fair being
does not care a bawbee what I am writing; nor would she be much
enlightened if I replied 'Madam, I am engaged on a treatise
intended to prove that Normal is prior to Conceptional Totemism'-
-though that answer would be as true in fact as obscure in
significance. The best plan seems to be to answer that I have
entirely abandoned mere literature, and am contemplating a book
on 'The Causes of Early Blight in the Potato,' a melancholy
circumstance which threatens to deprive us of our chief esculent
root. The inquirer would never be undeceived. One nymph who, like
the rest, could not keep off the horrid topic of my occupation,
said 'You never write anything but fairy books, do you?' A French
gentleman, too, an educationist and expert in portraits of Queen
Mary, once sent me a newspaper article in which he had written
that I was exclusively devoted to the composition of fairy books,
and nothing else. He then came to England, visited me, and found
that I knew rather more about portraits of Queen Mary than he

In truth I never did write any fairy books in my life, except
'Prince Prigio,' 'Prince Ricardo,' and 'Tales from a Fairy
Court'--that of the aforesaid Prigio. I take this opportunity of
recommending these fairy books--poor things, but my own--to
parents and guardians who may never have heard of them. They are
rich in romantic adventure, and the Princes always marry the
right Princesses and live happy ever afterwards; while the wicked
witches, stepmothers, tutors and governesses are never cruelly
punished, but retire to the country on ample pensions. I hate
cruelty: I never put a wicked stepmother in a barrel and send her
tobogganing down a hill. It is true that Prince Ricardo did kill
the Yellow Dwarf; but that was in fair fight, sword in hand, and
the dwarf, peace to his ashes! died in harness.

The object of these confessions is not only that of advertising
my own fairy books (which are not 'out of print'; if your
bookseller says so, the truth is not in him), but of giving
credit where credit is due. The fairy books have been almost
wholly the work of Mrs. Lang, who has translated and adapted them
from the French, German, Portuguese, Italian, Spanish, Catalan,
and other languages.

My part has been that of Adam, according to Mark Twain, in the
Garden of Eden. Eve worked, Adam superintended. I also
superintend. I find out where the stories are, and advise, and,
in short, superintend. I do not write the stories out of my own
head. The reputation of having written all the fairy books (an
European reputation in nurseries and the United States of
America) is 'the burden of an honour unto which I was not born.'
It weighs upon and is killing me, as the general fash of being
the wife of the Lord of Burleigh, Burleigh House by Stamford
Town, was too much for the village maiden espoused by that peer.

Nobody really wrote most of the stories. People told them in all
parts of the world long before Egyptian hieroglyphics or Cretan
signs or Cyprian syllabaries, or alphabets were invented. They
are older than reading and writing, and arose like wild flowers
before men had any education to quarrel over. The grannies told
them to the grandchildren, and when the grandchildren became
grannies they repeated the same old tales to the new generation.
Homer knew the stories and made up the 'Odyssey' out of half a
dozen of them. All the history of Greece till about 800 B.C. is a
string of the fairy tales, all about Theseus and Heracles and
Oedipus and Minos and Perseus is a Cabinet des Fes, a collection
of fairy tales. Shakespeare took them and put bits of them into
'King Lear' and other plays; he could not have made them up
himself, great as he was. Let ladies and gentlemen think of this
when they sit down to write fairy tales, and have them nicely
typed, and send them to Messrs. Longman & Co. to be published.
They think that to write a new fairy tale is easy work. They are
mistaken: the thing is impossible. Nobody can write a new fairy
tale; you can only mix up and dress up the old, old stories, and
put the characters into new dresses, as Miss Thackeray did so
well in 'Five Old Friends.' If any big girl of fourteen reads
this preface, let her insist on being presented with 'Five Old

But the three hundred and sixty-five authors who try to write new
fairy tales are very tiresome. They always begin with a little
boy or girl who goes out and meets the fairies of polyanthuses
and gardenias and apple blossoms: 'Flowers and fruits, and other
winged things.' These fairies try to be funny, and fail; or they
try to preach, and succeed. Real fairies never preach or talk
slang. At the end, the little boy or girl wakes up and finds that
he has been dreaming.

Such are the new fairy stories. May we be preserved from all the
sort of them!

Our stories are almost all old, some from Ireland, before that
island was as celebrated for her wrongs as for her verdure; some
from Asia, made, I dare say, before the Aryan invasion; some from
Moydart, Knoydart, Morar and Ardnamurchan, where the sea streams
run like great clear rivers and the saw-edged hills are blue, and
men remember Prince Charlie. Some are from Portugal, where the
golden fruits grow in the Garden of the Hesperides; and some are
from wild Wales, and were told at Arthur's Court; and others come
from the firesides of the kinsmen of the Welsh, the Bretons.
There are also modern tales by a learned Scandinavian named

All the stories were translated or adapted by Mrs. Lang, except
'The Jogi's Punishment' and 'Moti,' done by Major Campbell out of
the Pushtoo language; 'How Brave Walter hunted Wolves,' which,
with 'Little Lasse' and 'The Raspberry Worm,' was done from
Topelius by Miss Harding; and 'The Sea King's Gift,' by Miss
Christie, from the same author.

It has been suggested to the Editor that children and parents and
guardians would like ' The Grey True Ghost-Story Book.' He knows
that the children would like it well, and he would gladly give it
to them; but about the taste of fond anxious mothers and kind
aunts he is not quite so certain. Before he was twelve the Editor
knew true ghost stories enough to fill a volume. They were a pure
joy till bedtime, but then, and later, were not wholly a source
of unmixed pleasure. At that time the Editor was not afraid of
the dark, for he thought, ' If a ghost is here, we can't see
him.' But when older and better informed persons said that ghosts
brought their own light with them (which is too true), then one's
emotions were such as parents do not desire the young to endure.
For this reason 'The Grey True Ghost-Story Book' is never likely
to be illustrated by Mr. Ford.


The Shifty Lad
The False Prince and the True
The Jogi's Punishment
The Heart of a Monkey
The Fairy Nurse
A Lost Paradise
How Brave Walter Hunted Wolves
The Ring of the Waterfalls
A French Puck
The Three Crowns
The Story of a Very Bad Boy
The Brown Bear of Norway
Little Lasse
The Enchanted Deer
A Fish Story
The Wonderful Tune
The Rich Brother and the Poor Brother
The One-Handed Girl
The Bones of Djulung
The Sea Ring's Gift
The Raspberry Worm
The Stones of Plouhinec
The Castle of Kerglas
The Battle of the Birds
The Lady of the Fountain
The Four Gifts
The Groac'h of the Isle of Lok
The Escape of the Mouse
The Believing. Husbands
The Hoodie-Crow
The Brownie of the Lake
The Winning of Olwen

The Shifty Lad

In the land of Erin there dwelt long ago a widow who had an only
son. He was a clever boy, so she saved up enough money to send
him to school, and, as soon as he was old enough, to apprentice
him to any trade that he would choose. But when the time came, he
said he would not be bound to any trade, and that he meant to be
a thief.

Now his mother was very sorrowful when she heard of this, but she
knew quite well that if she tried to stop his having his own way
he would only grow more determined to get it. So all the answer
she made was that the end of thieves was hanging at the bridge of
Dublin, and then she left him alone, hoping that when he was
older he might become more sensible.

One day she was going to church to hear a sermon from a great
preacher, and she begged the Shifty Lad, as the neighbours called
him from the tricks he played, to come with her. But he only
laughed and declared that he did not like sermons, adding:

'However, I will promise you this, that the first trade you hear
named after you come out from church shall be my trade for the
rest of my life.'

These words gave a little comfort to the poor woman, and her
heart was lighter than before as she bade him farewell.

When the Shifty Lad thought that the hour had nearly come for the
sermon to be over, he hid himself in some bushes in a little path
that led straight to his mother's house, and, as she passed
along, thinking of all the good things she had heard, a voice
shouted close to her ear 'Robbery! Robbery! Robbery!' The
suddenness of it made her jump. The naughty boy had managed to
change his voice, so that she did not know it for his, and he had
concealed himself so well that, though she peered about all round
her, she could see no one. As soon as she had turned the corner
the Shifty Lad came out, and by running very fast through the
wood he contrived to reach home before his mother, who found him
stretched out comfortably before the fire.

'Well, have you got any news to tell me?' asked he.

'No, nothing; for I left the church at once, and did not stop to
speak to anyone.'

'Oh, then no one has mentioned a trade to you?' he said in tones
of disappointment.

'Ye--es,' she replied slowly. 'At least, as I walked down the
path a voice cried out "Robbery! Robbery! Robbery!" but that was

'And quite enough too,' answered the boy. 'What did I tell you?
That is going to be my trade.'

'Then your end will be hanging at the bridge of Dublin,' said
she. But there was no sleep for her that night, for she lay in
the dark thinking about her son.

'If he is to be a thief at all, he had better be a good one. And
who is there that can teach him?' the mother asked herself. But
an idea came to her, and she arose early, before the sun was up,
and set off for the home of the Black Rogue, or Gallows Bird, who
was such a wonderful thief that, though all had been robbed by
him, no one could catch him.

'Good-morning to you,' said the woman as she reached the place
where the Black Gallows Bird lived when he was not away on his
business. 'My son has a fancy to learn your trade. Will you be
kind enough to teach him?'

'If he is clever, I don't mind trying,' answered the Black
Gallows Bird; 'and, of course, if ANY one can turn him into a
first-rate thief, it is I. But if he is stupid, it is of no use
at all; I can't bear stupid people.'

'No, he isn't stupid,' said the woman with a sigh. 'So to-night,
after dark, I will send him to you.'

The Shifty Lad jumped for joy when his mother told him where she
had been.

'I will become the best thief in all Erin!' he cried, and paid no
heed when his mother shook her head and murmured something about
'the bridge of Dublin.'

Every evening after dark the Shifty Lad went to the home of the
Black Gallows Bird, and many were the new tricks he learned. By-
and-by he was allowed to go out with the Bird and watch him at
work, and at last there came a day when his master though that he
had grown clever enough to help in a big robbery.

'There is a rich farmer up there on the hill, who has just sold
all his fat cattle for much money and has bought some lean ones
which will cost him little. Now it happens that, while he has
received the money for the fat cattle, he has not yet paid the
price of the thin ones, which he has in the cowhouse. To-morrow
he will go to the market with the money in his hand, so to-night
we must get at the chest. When all is quiet we will hide in the

There was no moon, and it was the night of Hallowe'en, and
everyone was burning nuts and catching apples in a tub of water
with their hands tied, and playing all sorts of other games, till
the Shifty Lad grew quite tired of waiting for them to get to
bed. The Black Gallows Bird, who was more accustomed to the
business, tucked himself up on the hay and went to sleep, telling
the boy to wake him when the merry-makers had departed. But the
Shifty Lad, who could keep still no longer, crept down to the
cowshed and loosened the heads of the cattle which were tied, and
they began to kick each other and bellow, and made such a noise
that the company in the farmhouse ran out to tie them up again.
Then the Shifty Lad entered the room and picked up a big handful
of nuts, and returned to the loft, where the Black Rogue was
still sleeping. At first the Shifty Lad shut his eyes too, but
very soon he sat up, and taking a big needle and thread from his
pocket, he sewed the hem of the Black Gallows Bird's coat to a
heavy piece of bullock's hide that was hanging at his back.

By this time the cattle were all tied up again, but as the people
could not find their nuts they sat round the fire and began to
tell stories.

'I will crack a nut,' said the Shifty Lad.

'You shall not,' cried the Black Gallows Bird; 'they will hear

'I don't care,' answered the Shifty Lad. 'I never spend
Hallowe'en yet without cracking a nut'; and he cracked one.

'Some one is cracking nuts up there,' said one of the merry-
makers in the farmhouse. 'Come quickly, and we will see who it

He spoke loudly, and the Black Gallows Bird heard, and ran out of
the loft, dragging the big leather hide after him which the
Shifty Lad had sewed to his coat.

'He is stealing my hide!' shouted the farmer, and they all darted
after him; but he was too swift for them, and at last he managed
to tear the hide from his coat, and then he flew like a hare till
he reached his old hiding-place. But all this took a long time,
and meanwhile the Shifty Lad got down from the loft, and searched
the house till he found the chest with the gold and silver in it,
concealed behind a load of straw and covered with loaves of bread
and a great cheese. The Shifty Lad slung the money bags round his
shoulders and took the bread and the cheese under his arm, then
set out quietly for the Black Rogue's house.

'Here you are at last, you villain!' cried his master in great
wrath. 'But I will be revenged on you.'

'It is all right,' replied the Shifty Lad calmly. 'I have brought
what you wanted'; and he laid the things he was carrying down on
the ground.

'Ah! you are the better thief,' said the Black Rogue's wife; and
the Black Rogue added:

'Yes, it is you who are the clever boy'; and they divided the
spoil and the Black Gallows Bird had one half and the Shifty Lad
the other half.

A few weeks after that the Black Gallows Bird had news of a
wedding that was to be held near the town; and the bridegroom had
many friends and everybody sent him a present. Now a rich farmer
who lived up near the moor thought that nothing was so useful to
a young couple when they first began to keep house as a fine fat
sheep, so he bade his shepherd go off to the mountain where the
flock were feeding, and bring him back the best he could find.
And the shepherd chose out the largest and fattest of the sheep
and the one with the whitest fleece; then he tied its feet
together and put it across his shoulder, for he had a long way to

That day, the Shifty Lad happened to be wandering over the moor,
when he saw the man with the sheep on his shoulder walking along
the road which led past the Black Rogue's house. The sheep was
heavy and the man was in no hurry, so he came slowly and the boy
knew that he himself could easily get back to his master before
the shepherd was even in sight.

'I will wager,' he cried, as he pushed quickly through the bushes
which hid the cabin--'I will wager that I will steal the sheep
from the man that is coming before he passes here.'

'Will you indeed?' said the Gallows Bird. 'I will wager you a
hundred silver pieces that you can do nothing of the sort.'

'Well, I will try it, anyway,' replied the boy, and disappeared
in the bushes. He ran fast till he entered a wood through which
the shepherd must go, and then he stopped, and taking off one of
his shoes smeared it with mud and set it in the path. When this
was done he slipped behind a rock and waited.

Very soon the man came up, and seeing the shoe lying there, he
stooped and looked at it.

'It is a good shoe,' he said to himself, 'but very dirty. Still,
if I had the fellow, I would be at the trouble of cleaning it';
so he threw the shoe down again and went on.

The Shifty Lad smiled as he heard him, and, picking up the shoe,
he crept round by a short way and laid the other shoe on the
path. A few minutes after the shepherd arrived, and beheld the
second shoe lying on the path.

'Why, that is the fellow of the dirty shoe!' he exclaimed when he
saw it. 'I will go back and pick up the other one, and then I
shall have a pair of good shoes,' and he put the sheep on the
grass and returned to fetch the shoe. Then the Shifty Lad put on
his shoes, and, picking up the sheep, carried it home. And the
Black Rogue paid him the hundred marks of his wager.

When the shepherd reached the farmhouse that night he told his
tale to his master, who scolded him for being stupid and
careless, and bade him go the next day to the mountain and fetch
him a kid, and he would send that as a wedding gift. But the
Shifty Lad was on the look-out, and hid himself in the wood, and
the moment the man drew near with the kid on his shoulders began
to bleat like a sheep, and no one, not even the sheep's own
mother, could have told the difference.

'Why, it must have got its feet loose, and have strayed after
all,' thought the man; and he put the kid on the grass and
hurried off in the direction of the bleating. Then the boy ran
back and picked up the kid, and took it to the Black Gallows

The shepherd could hardly believe his eyes when he returned from
seeking the sheep and found that the kid had vanished. He was
afraid to go home and tell the same tale that he had told
yesterday; so he searched the wood through and through till night
was nearly come. Then he felt that there was no help for it, and
he must go home and confess to his master.

Of course, the farmer was very angry at this second misfortune;
but this time he told him to drive one of the big bulls from the
mountain, and warned him that if he lost THAT he would lose his
place also. Again the Shifty Lad, who was on the watch, perceived
him pass by, and when he saw the man returning with the great
bull he cried to the Black Rogue:

'Be quick and come into the wood, and we will try to get the bull

'But how can we do that?' asked the Black Rogue.

'Oh, quite easily! You hide yourself out there and baa like a
sheep, and I will go in the other direction and bleat like a kid.
It will be all right, I assure you.'

The shepherd was walking slowly, driving the bull before him,
when he suddenly heard a loud baa amongst the bushes far away on
one side of the path, and a feeble bleat answering it from the
other side.

'Why, it must be the sheep and the kid that I lost,' said he.
'Yes, surely it must'; and tying the bull hastily to a tree, he
went off after the sheep and the kid, and searched the wood till
he was tired. Of course by the time he came back the two thieves
had driven the bull home and killed him for meat, so the man was
obliged to go to his master and confess that he had been tricked

After this the Black Rogue and the Shifty Lad grew bolder and
bolder, and stole great quantities of cattle and sold them and
grew quite rich. One day they were returning from the market with
a large sum of money in their pockets when they passed a gallows
erected on the top of a hill.

'Let us stop and look at that gallows,' exclaimed the Shifty Lad.
'I have never seen one so close before. Yet some say that it is
the end of all thieves.'

There was no one in sight, and they carefully examined every part
of it.

'I wonder how it feels to be hanged,' said the Shifty Lad. 'I
should like to know, in case they ever catch me. I'll try first,
and then you can do so.'

As he spoke he fastened the loose cord about his neck, and when
it was quite secure he told the Black Rogue to take the other end
of the rope and draw him up from the ground.

'When I am tired of it I will shake my legs, and then you must
let me down,' said he.

The Black Rogue drew up the rope, but in half a minute the Shifty
Lad's legs began to shake, and he quickly let it down again.

'You can't imagine what a funny feeling hanging gives you,'
murmured the Shifty Lad, who looked rather purple in the face and
spoke in an odd voice. 'I don't think you have every tried it, or
you wouldn't have let me go up first. Why, it is the pleasantest
thing I have ever done. I was shaking my legs from sheer delight,
and if you had been there you would have shaken your legs too.'

'Well, let me try, if it is so nice,' answered the Black Rogue.
'But be sure you tie the knot securely, for I don't want to fall
down and break my neck.'

'Oh, I will see to that!' replied the Shifty Lad. 'When you are
tired, just whistle, and I'll let you down.'

So the Black Rogue was drawn up, and as soon as he was as high as
the rope would allow him to go the Shifty Lad called to him:

'Don't forest to whistle when you want to come down; but if you
are enjoying yourself as I did, shake your legs.'

And in a moment the Black Rogue's legs began to shake and to
kick, and the Shifty Lad stood below, watching him and laughing

'Oh, how funny you are! If you could only see yourself! Oh, you
ARE funny! But when you have had enough, whistle and you shall be
let down'; and he rocked again with laughter.

But no whistle came, and soon the legs ceased to shake and to
kick, for the Black Gallows Bird was dead, as the Shifty Lad
intended he should be.

Then he went home to the Black Rogue's wife, and told her that
her husband was dead, and that he was ready to marry her if she
liked. But the woman had been fond of the Black Rogue, thief
though he was, and she shrank from the Shifty Lad in horror, and
set the people after him, and he had to fly to another part of
the country where none knew of his doings.

Perhaps if the Shifty Lad's mother knew anything of this, she
may have thought that by this time her son might be tired of
stealing, and ready to try some honest trade. But in reality he
loved the tricks and danger, and life would have seemed very dull
without them. So he went on just as before, and made friends whom
he taught to be as wicked as himself, till they took to robbing
the king's storehouses, and by the advice of the Wise Man the
king sent out soldiers to catch the band of thieves.

For a long while they tried in vain to lay hands on them. The
Shifty Lad was too clever for them all, and if they laid traps he
laid better ones. At last one night he stole upon some soldiers
while they were asleep in a barn and killed them, and persuaded
the villagers that if THEY did not kill the other soldiers before
morning they would certainly be killed themselves. Thus it
happened that when the sun rose not a single soldier was alive in
the village.

Of course this news soon reached the king's ears, and he was very
angry, and summoned the Wise Man to take counsel with him. And
this was the counsel of the Wise Man--that he should invite all
the people in the countryside to a ball, and among them the bold
and impudent thief would be sure to come, and would be sure to
ask the king's daughter to dance with him.

'Your counsel is good,' said the king, who made his feast and
prepared for his ball; and all the people of the countryside were
present, and the Shifty Lad came with them.

When everyone had eaten and drunk as much as they wanted they
went into the ballroom. There was a great throng, and while they
were pressing through the doorway the Wise Man, who had a bottle
of black ointment hidden in his robes, placed a tiny dot on the
cheek of the Shifty Lad near his ear. The Shifty Lad felt
nothing, but as he approached the king's daughter to ask her to
be his partner he caught sight of the black dot in a silver
mirror. Instantly he guessed who had put it there and why, but he
said nothing, and danced so beautifully that the princess was
quite delighted with him. At the end of the dance he bowed low to
his partner and left her, to mingle with the crowd that was
filling the doorway. As he passed the Wise Man he contrived not
only to steal the bottle but to place two black dots on his face,
and one on the faces of twenty other men. Then he slipped the
bottle back in the Wise Man's robe.

By-and-by he went up to the king's daughter again, and begged for
the honour of another dance. She consented, and while he was
stooping to tie the ribbons on his shoe she took out from her
pocket another bottle, which the Wizard had given her, and put a
black dot on his cheek. But she was not as skilful as the Wise
Man, and the Shifty Lad felt the touch of her fingers; so as soon
as the dance was over he contrived to place a second black dot on
the faces of the twenty men and two more on the Wizard, after
which he slipped the bottle into her pocket.

At length the ball came to an end, and then the king ordered all
the doors to be shut, and search made for a man with two black
dots on his cheek. The chamberlain went among the guests, and
soon found such a man, but just as he was going to arrest him and
bring him before the king his eye fell on another with the same
mark, and another, and another, till he had counted twenty--
besides the Wise Man--on whose face were found spots.

Not knowing what to do, the chamberlain hurried back with his
tale to the king, who immediately sent for the Wise Man, and then
for his daughter.

'The thief must have stolen your bottle,' said the king to the

'No, my lord, it is here,' answered the Wise Man, holding it out.

'Then he must have got yours,' he cried, turning to his daughter.

'Indeed, father, it is safe in my pocket,' replied she, taking it
out as she spoke; and they all three looked at each other and
remained silent.

'Well,' said the king at last, 'the man who has done this is
cleverer than most men, and if he will make himself known to me
he shall marry the princess and govern half my kingdom while I am
alive, and the whole of it when I am dead. Go and announce this
in the ballroom,' he added to an attendant, 'and bring the fellow

So the attendant went into the ballroom and did as the king had
bidden him, when, to his surprise, not one man, but twenty,
stepped forward, all with black dots on their faces.

'I am the person you want,' they all exclaimed at once, and the
attendant, as much bewildered as the chamberlain had been,
desired them to follow him into the king's presence.

But the question was too difficult for the king to decide, so he
called together his council. For hours they talked, but to no
purpose, and in the end they hit upon a plan which they might
just as well have thought of at the beginning.

And this was the plan. A child was to be brought to the palace,
and next the king's daughter would give her an apple. Then the
child was to take the apple and be led into a room where the
twenty men with the black dots were sitting in a ring. And to
whomsoever the child gave the apple, that man should marry the
king's daughter.

'Of course,' said the king, 'it may not be the right man, after
all, but then again it MAY be. Anyhow, it is the best we can do.'

The princess herself led the child into the room where the twenty
men were now seated. She stood in the centre of the ring for a
moment, looking at one man after another, and then held out the
apple to the Shifty Lad, who was twisting a shaving of wood round
his finger, and had the mouthpiece of a bagpipe hanging from his

'You ought not to have anything which the others have not got,'
said the chamberlain, who had accompanied the princess; and he
bade the child stand outside for a minute, while he took away the
shaving and the mouthpiece, and made the Shifty Lad change his
place. Then he called the child in, but the little girl knew him
again, and went straight up to him with the apple.

'This is the man whom the child has twice chosen,' said the
chamberlain, signing to the Shifty Lad to kneel before the king.
'It was all quite fair; we tried it twice over.' In this way the
Shifty Lad won the king's daughter, and they were married the
next day.

A few days later the bride and bridegroom were taking a walk
together, and the path led down to the river, and over the river
was a bridge.

'And what bridge may this be?' asked the Shifty Lad; and the
princess told him that this was the bridge of Dublin.

'Is it indeed?' cried he. 'Well, now, many is the time that my
mother has said, when I played her a trick, that my end would be
that I should hang on the bridge of Dublin.'

'Oh, if you want to fulfil her prophecies,' laughed the princess,
'you have only to let me tie my handkerchief round your ankle,
and I will hold you as you hang over the wall of the bridge.'

'That would be fine fun,' said he; 'but you are not strong enough
to hold me up.'

'Oh, yes, I am,' said the princess; 'just try.' So at last he let
her bind the handkerchief round his ankle and hang him over the
wall, and they both laughed and jested at the strength of the

'Now pull me up again,' called he; but as he spoke a great cry
arose that the palace was burning. The princess turned round with
a start, and let go her handkerchief, and the Shifty Lad fell,
and struck his head on a stone, and died in an instant.

So his mother's prophecy had come true, after all.

West Highland Tales.

The False Prince and the True

The king had just awakened from his midday sleep, for it was
summer, and everyone rose early and rested from twelve to three,
as they do in hot countries. He had dressed himself in cool white
clothes, and was passing through the hall on his way to the
council chamber, when a number of young nobles suddenly appeared
before him, and one amongst them stepped forward and spoke.

'Sire, this morning we were all playing tennis in the court, the
prince and this gentleman with the rest, when there broke out
some dispute about the game. The prince lost his temper, and said
many insulting things to the other, who was playing against him,
till at length the gentleman whom you see there struck him
violently in the face, so that the blood ran from his mouth and
nose. We were all so horrified at the sight, that we should most
likely have killed the man then and there, for daring to lay
hands on the prince, had not his grandfather the duke stepped
between and commanded us to lay the affair before you.'

The king had listened attentively to the story, and when it was
ended he said:

'I suppose the prince had no arms with him, or else he would have
used them?'

'Yes, sire, he had arms; he always carries a dagger in his belt.
But when he saw the blood pouring from his face, he went to a
corner of the court and began to cry, which was the strangest
thing of all.'

On hearing this the king walked to the window and stood for a few
minutes with his back to the room, where the company of young men
remained silent. Then he came back, his face white and stern.

'I tell you,' he said, 'and it is the solemn truth, that I would
rather you had told me that the prince was dead, though he is my
only son, than know that he would suffer such an injury without
attempting to avenge it. As for the gentleman who struck him, he
will be brought before my judges, and will plead his own cause,
but I hardly think he can escape death, after having assaulted
the heir to the crown.'

The young man raised his head as if to reply, but the king would
not listen, and commanded his guards to put him under arrest,
adding, however, that if the prisoner wished to visit any part of
the city, he was at liberty to do so properly guarded, and in
fifteen days he would be brought to trial before the highest
judges in the land.

The young man left the king's presence, surrounded by soldiers,
and accompanied by many of his friends, for he was a great
favourite. By their advice he spent the fourteen days that
remained to him going about to seek counsel from wise men of all
sorts, as to how he might escape death, but no one could help
him, for none could find any excuse for the blow he had given to
the prince.

The fourteenth night had come, and in despair the prisoner went
out to take his last walk through the city. He wandered on hardly
knowing where he went, and his face was so white and desperate
that none of his companions dared speak to him. The sad little
procession had passed some hours in this manner, when, near the
gate of a monastery, an old woman appeared round a corner, and
suddenly stood before the young man. She was bent almost double,
and was so wizened and wrinkled that she looked at least ninety;
only her eyes were bright and quick as those of a girl.

'Sir,' she said, 'I know all that has happened to you, and how
you are seeking if in any wise you can save your life. But there
is none that can answer that question save only I myself, if you
will promise to do all I ask.'

At her words the prisoner felt as if a load had all at once been
rolled off him.

'Oh, save me, and I will do anything!' he cried. 'It is so hard
to leave the world and go out into the darkness.'

'You will not need to do that,' answered the old woman, 'you have
only got to marry me, and you will soon be free.'

'Marry you?' exclaimed he, 'but--but--I am not yet twenty, and
you --why, you must be a hundred at least! Oh, no, it is quite

He spoke without thinking, but the flash of anger which darted
from her eyes made him feel uncomfortable. However, all she said

'As you like; since you reject me, let the crows have you,' and
hurried away down the street.

Left to himself, the full horror of his coming death rushed upon
the young man, and he understood that he had thrown away his sole
chance of life. Well, if he must, he must, he said to himself,
and began to run as fast as he could after the old crone, who by
this time could scarcely be seen, even in the moonlight. Who
would have believed a woman past ninety could walk with such
speed? It seemed more like flying! But at length, breathless and
exhausted, he reached her side, and gasped out:

'Madam, pardon me for my hasty words just now; I was wrong, and
will thankfully accept the offer you made me.'

'Ah, I thought you would come to your senses,' answered she, in
rather an odd voice. 'We have no time to lose--follow me at
once,' and they went on silently and swiftly till they stopped at
the door of a small house in which the priest lived. Before him
the old woman bade the prisoner swear that she should be his
wife, and this he did in the presence of witnesses. Then, begging
the priest and the guards to leave them alone for a little, she
told the young man what he was to do, when the next morning he
was brought before the king and the judges.

The hall was full to overflowing when the prisoner entered it,
and all marvelled at the brightness of his face. The king
inquired if he had any excuse to plead for the high treason he
had committed by striking the heir to the throne, and, if so, to
be quick in setting it forth. With a low bow the youth made
answer in a clear voice:

'O my lord and gracious king, and you, nobles and wise men of the
land, I leave my cause without fear in your hands, knowing that
you will listen and judge rightly, and that you will suffer me to
speak to the end, before you give judgment.

'For four years, you, O king, had been married to the queen and
yet had no children, which grieved you greatly. The queen saw
this, and likewise that your love was going from her, and thought
night and day of some plan that might put an end to this evil. At
length, when you were away fighting in distant countries, she
decided what she would do, and adopted in secret the baby of a
poor quarryman, sending a messenger to tell you that you had a
son. No one suspected the truth except a priest to whom the queen
confessed the truth, and in a few weeks she fell ill and died,
leaving the baby to be brought up as became a prince. And now, if
your highness will permit me, I will speak of myself.'

'What you have already told me,' answered the king, 'is so
strange that I cannot imagine what more there is to tell, but go
on with your story.'

'One day, shortly after the death of the queen,' continued the
young man, 'your highness was hunting, and outstripped all your
attendants while chasing the deer. You were in a part of the
country which you did not know, so seeing an orchard all pink and
white with apple-blossoms, and a girl tossing a ball in one
corner, you went up to her to ask your way. But when she turned
to answer you, you were so struck with her beauty that all else
fled from your mind. Again and again you rode back to see her,
and at length persuaded her to marry you. She only thought you a
poor knight, and agreed that as you wished it, the marriage
should be kept secret.

'After the ceremony you gave her three rings and a charm with a
cross on it, and then put her in a cottage in the forest,
thinking to hide the matter securely.

'For some months you visited the cottage every week; but a
rebellion broke out in a distant part of the kingdom, and called
for your presence. When next you rode up to the cottage, it was
empty, and none could inform you whither your bride had gone.
That, sire, I can now tell you,' and the young man paused and
looked at the king, who coloured deeply. 'She went back to her
father the old duke, once your chamberlain, and the cross on her
breast revealed at once who you were. Fierce was his anger when
he heard his daughter's tale, and he vowed that he would hide her
safely from you, till the day when you would claim her publicly
as your queen.

'By and bye I was born, and was brought up by my grandfather in
one of his great houses. Here are the rings you gave to my
mother, and here is the cross, and these will prove if I am your
son or not.'

As he spoke the young man laid the jewels at the feet of the
king, and the nobles and the judges pressed round to examine
them. The king alone did not move from his seat, for he had
forgotten the hall of justice and all about him, and saw only the
apple-orchard, as it was twenty years ago, and the beautiful girl
playing at ball. A sudden silence round him made him look up, and
he found the eyes of the assembly fixed on him.

'It is true; it is he who is my son, and not the other,' he said
with an effort, 'and let every man present swear to acknowledge
him as king, after my death.'

Therefore one by one they all knelt before him and took the oath,
and a message was sent to the false prince, forbidding him ever
again to appear at court, though a handsome pension was granted

At last the ceremony was over, and the king, signing to his newly
found son to follow him, rose and went into another room.

'Tell me how you knew all that,' he said, throwing himself into a
carved chair filled with crimson cushions, and the prince told of
his meeting with the old woman who had brought him the jewels
from his mother, and how he had sworn before a priest to marry
her, though he did not want to do it, on account of the
difference in their ages, and besides, he would rather receive a
bride chosen by the king himself. But the king frowned, and
answered sharply:

'You swore to marry her if she saved your life, and, come what
may, you must fulfil your promise.' Then, striking a silver
shield that hung close by, he said to the equerry who appeared

'Go and seek the priest who lives near the door of the prison,
and ask him where you can find the old woman who visited him last
night; and when you have found her, bring her to the palace.'

It took some time to discover the whereabouts of the old woman,
but at length it was accomplished, and when she arrived at the
palace with the equerry, she was received with royal honours, as
became the bride of the prince. The guards looked at each other
with astonished eyes, as the wizened creature, bowed with age,
passed between their lines; but they were more amazed still at
the lightness of her step as she skipped up the steps to the
great door before which the king was standing, with the prince at
his side. If they both felt a shock at the appearance of the aged
lady they did not show it, and the king, with a grave bow, took
her band, and led her to the chapel, where a bishop was waiting
to perform the marriage ceremony.

For the next few weeks little was seen of the prince, who spent
all his days in hunting, and trying to forget the old wife at
home. As for the princess, no one troubled himself about her, and
she passed the days alone in her apartments, for she had
absolutely declined the services of the ladies-in-waiting whom
the king had appointed for her.

One night the prince returned after a longer chase than usual,
and he was so tired that he went up straight to bed. Suddenly he
was awakened by a strange noise in the room, and suspecting that
a robber might have stolen in, he jumped out of bed, and seized
his sword, which lay ready to his hand. Then he perceived that
the noise proceeded from the next room, which belonged to the
princess, and was lighted by a burning torch. Creeping softly to
the door, he peeped through it, and beheld her lying quietly,
with a crown of gold and pearls upon her head, her wrinkles all
gone, and her face, which was whiter than the snow, as fresh as
that of a girl of fourteen. Could that really be his wife--that
beautiful, beautiful creature?

The prince was still gazing in surprise when the lady opened her
eyes and smiled at him.

'Yes, I really am your wife,' she said, as if she had guessed his
thoughts, 'and the enchantment is ended. Now I must tell you who
I am, and what befell to cause me to take the shape of an old

'The king of Granada is my father, and I was born in the palace
which overlooks the plain of the Vega. I was only a few months
old when a wicked fairy, who had a spite against my parents, cast
a spell over me, bending my back and wrinkling my skin till I
looked as if I was a hundred years old, and making me such an
object of disgust to everyone, that at length the king ordered my
nurse to take my away from the palace. She was the only person
who cared about me, and we lived together in this city on a small
pension allowed me by the king.

'When I was about three an old man arrived at our house, and
begged my nurse to let him come in and rest, as he could walk no
longer. She saw that he was very ill, so put him to bed and took
such care of him that by and bye he was as strong as ever. In
gratitude for her goodness to him, he told her that he was a
wizard and could give her anything she chose to ask for, except
life or death, so she answered that what she longed for most in
the world was that my wrinkled skin should disappear, and that I
should regain the beauty with which I was born. To this he
replied that as my misfortune resulted from a spell, this was
rather difficult, but he would do his best, and at any rate he
could promise that before my fifteenth birthday I should be freed
from the enchantment if I could get a man who would swear to
marry me as I was.

'As you may suppose, this was not easy, as my ugliness was such
that no one would look at me a second time. My nurse and I were
almost in despair, as my fifteenth birthday was drawing near, and
I had never so much as spoken to a man. At last we received a
visit from the wizard, who told us what had happened at court,
and your story, bidding me to put myself in your way when you had
lost all hope, and offer to save you if you would consent to
marry me.

'That is my history, and now you must beg the king to send
messengers at once to Granada, to inform my father of our
marriage, and I think,' she added with a smile, 'that he will not
refuse us his blessing.'

Adapted from the Portuguese.

The Jogi's Punishment

Once upon a time there came to the ancient city of Rahmatabad a
jogi[FN#1: A Hindu holy man.] of holy appearance, who took up
his abode under a tree outside the city, where he would sit for
days at a time fasting from food and drink, motionless except for
the fingers that turned restlessly his string of beads. The fame
of such holiness as this soon spread, and daily the citizens
would flock to see him, eager to get his blessing, to watch his
devotions, or to hear his teaching, if he were in the mood to
speak. Very soon the rajah himself heard of the jogi, and began
regularly to visit him to seek his counsel and to ask his prayers
that a son might be vouchsafed to him. Days passed by, and at
last the rajah became so possessed with the thought of the holy
man that he determined if possible to get him all to himself. So
he built in the neighbourhood a little shrine, with a room or two
added to it, and a small courtyard closely walled up; and, when
all was ready, besought the jogi to occupy it, and to receive no
other visitors except himself and his queen and such pupils as
the jogi might choose, who would hand down his teaching. To this
the jogi consented; and thus he lived for some time upon the
king's bounty, whilst the fame of his godliness grew day by day.

Now, although the rajah of Rahmatabad had no son, he possessed a
daughter, who as she grew up became the most beautiful creature
that eye ever rested upon. Her father had long before betrothed
her to the son of the neighbouring rajah of Dilaram, but as yet
she had not been married to him, and lived the quiet life proper
to a maiden of her beauty and position. The princess had of
course heard of the holy man and of his miracles and his fasting,
and she was filled with curiosity to see and to speak to him; but
this was difficult, since she was not allowed to go out except
into the palace grounds, and then was always closely guarded.
However, at length she found an opportunity, and made her way one
evening alone to the hermit's shrine.

Unhappily, the hermit was not really as holy as he seemed; for no
sooner did he see the princess than he fell in love with her
wonderful beauty, and began to plot in his heart how he could win
her for his wife. But the maiden was not only beautiful, she was
also shrewd; and as soon as she read in the glance of the jogi
the love that filled his soul, she sprang to her feet, and,
gathering her veil about her, ran from the place as fast as she
could. The jogi tried to follow, but he was no match for her; so,
beside himself with rage at finding that he could not overtake
her, he flung at her a lance, which wounded her in the leg. The
brave princess stooped for a second to pluck the lance out of the
wound, and then ran on until she found herself safe at home
again. There she bathed and bound up the wound secretly, and told
no one how naughty she had been, for she knew that her father
would punish her severely.

Next day, when the king went to visit the jogi, the holy man
would neither speak to nor look at him.

'What is the matter?' asked the king. 'Won't you speak to me to-

'I have nothing to say that you would care to hear,' answered the

'Why?' said the king. 'Surely you know that I value all that you
say, whatever it may be.'

But still the jogi sat with his face turned away, and the more
the king pressed him the more silent and mysterious he became. At
last, after much persuasion, he said:

'Let me tell you, then, that there is in this city a creature
which, if you do not put an end to it, will kill every single
person in the place.'

The king, who was easily frightened, grew pale.

'What?' he gasped--'what is this dreadful thing? How am I to know
it and to catch it? Only counsel me and help me, and I will do
all that you advise.'

'Ah!' replied the jogi, 'it is indeed dreadful. It is in the
shape of a beautiful girl, but it is really an evil spirit. Last
evening it came to visit me, and when I looked upon it its beauty
faded into hideousness, its teeth became horrible fangs, its eyes
glared like coals of fire, great claws sprang from its slender
fingers, and were I not what I am it might have consumed me.'

The king could hardly speak from alarm, but at last he said:

'How am I to distinguish this awful thing when I see it?'

'Search,' said the jogi, 'for a lovely girl with a lance wound in
her leg, and when she is found secure her safely and come and
tell me, and I will advise you what to do next.'

Away hurried the king, and soon set all his soldiers scouring the
country for a girl with a lance wound in her left. For two days
the search went on, and then it was somehow discovered that the
only person with a lance wound in the leg was the princess
herself. The king, greatly agitated, went off to tell the jogi,
and to assure him that there must be some mistake. But of course
the jogi was prepared for this, and had his answer ready.

'She is not really your daughter, who was stolen away at her
birth, but an evil spirit that has taken her form,' said he
solemnly. 'You can do what you like, but if you don't take my
advice she will kill you all.' And so solemn he appeared, and so
unshaken in his confidence, that the king's wisdom was blinded,
and he declared that he would do whatever the jogi advised, and
believe whatever he said. So the jogi directed him to send him
secretly two carpenters; and when they arrived he set them to
make a great chest, so cunningly jointed and put together that
neither air nor water could penetrate it. There and then the
chest was made, and, when it was ready, the jogi bade the king to
bring the princess by night; and they two thrust the poor little
maiden into the chest and fastened it down with long nails, and
between them carried it to the river and pushed it out into the

As soon as the jogi got back from this deed he called two of his
pupils, and pretended that it had been revealed to him that there
should be found floating on the river a chest with something of
great price within it; and he bade them go and watch for it at
such a place far down the stream, and when the chest came slowly
along, bobbing and turning in the tide, they were to seize it and
secretly and swiftly bring it to him, for he was now determined
to put the princess to death himself. The pupils set off at once,
wondering at the strangeness of their errand, and still more at
the holiness of the jogi to whom such secrets were revealed.

It happened that, as the next morning was dawning, the gallant
young prince of Dilaram was hunting by the banks of the river,
with a great following of wazirs, attendants, and huntsmen, and
as he rode he saw floating on the river a large chest, which came
slowly along, bobbing and turning in the tide. Raising himself in
his saddle, he gave an order, and half a dozen men plunged into
the water and drew the chest out on to the river bank, where
every one crowded around to see what it could contain. The prince
was certainly not the least curious among them; but he was a
cautious young man, and, as he prepared to open the chest
himself, he bade all but a few stand back, and these few to draw
their swords, so as to be prepared in case the chest should hold
some evil beast, or djinn, or giant. When all were ready and
expectant, the prince with his dagger forced open the lid and
flung it back, and there lay, living and breathing, the most
lovely maiden he had ever seen in his life.

Although she was half stifled from her confinement in the chest,
the princess speedily revived, and, when she was able to sit up,
the prince began to question her as to who she was and how she
came to be shut up in the chest and set afloat upon the water;
and she, blushing and trembling to find herself in the presence
of so many strangers, told him that she was the princess of
Rahmatabad, and that she had been put into the chest by her own
father. When he on his part told her that he was the prince of
Dilaram, the astonishment of the young people was unbounded to
find that they, who had been betrothed without ever having seen
one another, should have actually met for the first time in such
strange circumstances. In fact, the prince was so moved by her
beauty and modest ways that he called up his wazirs and demanded
to be married at once to this lovely lady who had so completely
won his heart. And married they were then and there upon the
river bank, and went home to the prince's palace, where, when the
story was told, they were welcomed by the old rajah, the prince's
father, and the remainder of the day was given over to feasting
and rejoicing. But when the banquet was over, the bride told her
husband that now, on the threshold of their married life, she had
more to relate of her adventures than he had given her the
opportunity to tell as yet; and then, without hiding anything,
she informed him of all that happened to her from the time she
had stolen out to visit the wicked jogi.

In the morning the prince called his chief wazir and ordered him
to shut up in the chest in which the princess had been found a
great monkey that lived chained up in the palace, and to take the
chest back to the river and set it afloat once more and watch
what became of it. So the monkey was caught and put into the
chest, and some of the prince's servants took it down to the
river and pushed it off into the water. Then they followed
secretly a long way off to see what became of it.

Meanwhile the jogi's two pupils watched and watched for the chest
until they were nearly tired of watching, and were beginning to
wonder whether the jogi was right after all, when on the second
day they spied the great chest coming floating on the river,
slowly bobbing and turning in the tide; and instantly a great joy
and exultation seized them, for they thought that here indeed was
further proof of the wonderful wisdom of their master. With some
difficulty they secured the chest, and carried it back as swiftly
and secretly as possible to the jogi's house. As soon as they
brought in the chest, the jogi, who had been getting very cross
and impatient, told them to put it down, and to go outside whilst
he opened the magic chest.

'And even if you hear cries and sounds, however alarming, you
must on no account enter,' said the jogi, walking over to a
closet where lay the silken cord that was to strangle the

And the two pupils did as they were told, and went outside and
shut close all the doors. Presently they heard a great outcry
within and the jogi's voice crying aloud for help; but they dared
not enter, for had they not been told that whatever the noise,
they must not come in? So they sat outside, waiting and
wondering; and at last all grew still and quiet, and remained so
for such a long time that they determined to enter and see if all
was well. No sooner had they opened the door leading into the
courtyard than they were nearly upset by a huge monkey that came
leaping straight to the doorway and escaped past them into the
open fields. Then they stepped into the room, and there they saw
the jogi's body lying torn to pieces on the threshold of his

Very soon the story spread, as stories will, and reached the ears
of the princess and her husband, and when she knew that her enemy
was dead she made her peace with her father.

From Major Campbell, Feroshepore.

The Heart of a Monkey

A long time ago a little town made up of a collection of low huts
stood in a tiny green valley at the foot of a cliff. Of course
the people had taken great care to build their houses out of
reach of the highest tide which might be driven on shore by a
west wind, but on the very edge of the town there had sprung up a
tree so large that half its boughs hung over the huts and the
other half over the deep sea right under the cliff, where sharks
loved to come and splash in the clear water. The branches of the
tree itself were laden with fruit, and every day at sunrise a big
grey monkey might have been seen sitting in the topmost branches
having his breakfast, and chattering to himself with delight.

After he had eaten all the fruit on the town side of the tree the
monkey swung himself along the branches to the part which hung
over the water. While he was looking out for a nice shady place
where he might perch comfortably he noticed a shark watching him
from below with greedy eyes.

'Can I do anything for you, my friend?' asked the monkey

'Oh! if you only would thrown me down some of those delicious
things, I should be so grateful,' answered the shark. 'After you
have lived on fish for fifty years you begin to feel you would
like a change. And I am so very, very tired of the taste of

'Well, I don't like salt myself,' said the monkey; 'so if you
will open your mouth I will throw this beautiful juicy kuyu into
it,' and, as he spoke, he pulled one off the branch just over his
head. But it was not so easy to hit the shark's mouth as he
supposed, even when the creature had turned on his back, and the
first kuyu only struck one of his teeth and rolled into the
water. However, the second time the monkey had better luck, and
the fruit fell right in.

'Ah, how good!' cried the shark. 'Send me another, please.' And
the monkey grew tired of picking the kuyu long before the shark
was tired of eating them.

'It is getting late, and I must be going home to my children,' he
said, at length, 'but if you are here at the same time to-morrow
I will give you another treat.'

'Thank you, thank you,' said the shark, showing all his great
ugly teeth as he grinned with delight; 'you can't guess how happy
you have made me,' and he swam away into the shadow, hoping to
sleep away the time till the monkey came again.

For weeks the monkey and the shark breakfasted together, and it
was a wonder that the tree had any fruit left for them. They
became fast friends, and told each other about their homes and
their children, and how to teach them all they ought to know. By
and bye the monkey became rather discontented with his green
house in a grove of palms beyond the town, and longed to see the
strange things under the sea which he had heard of from the
shark. The shark perceived this very clearly, and described
greater marvels, and the monkey as he listened grew more and more

Matters were in this state when one day the shark said: 'I really
hardly know how to thank you for all your kindness to me during
these weeks. Here I have nothing of my own to offer you, but if
you would only consent to come home with me, how gladly would I
give you anything that might happen to take your fancy.'

'I should like nothing better,' cried the monkey, his teeth
chattering, as they always did when he was pleased. 'But how
could I get there? Not by water. Ugh! It makes me ill to think of

'Oh! don't let that trouble you,' replied the shark, 'you have
only to sit on my back and I will undertake that not a drop of
water shall touch you.'

So it was arranged, and directly after breakfast next morning the
shark swam close up under the tree and the monkey dropped neatly
on his back, without even a splash. After a few minutes--for at
first he felt a little frightened at his strange position--the
monkey began to enjoy himself vastly, and asked the shark a
thousand questions about the fish and the sea-weeds and the
oddly-shaped things that floated past them, and as the shark
always gave him some sort of answer, the monkey never guessed
that many of the objects they saw were as new to his guide as to

The sun had risen and set six times when the shark suddenly said,
'My friend, we have now performed half our journey, and it is
time that I should tell you something.'

'What is it?' asked the monkey. 'Nothing unpleasant, I hope, for
you sound rather grave?'

'Oh, no! Nothing at all. It is only that shortly before we left I
heard that the sultan of my country is very ill, and that the
only thing to cure him is a monkey's heart.'

'Poor man, I am very sorry for him,' replied the monkey; 'but you
were unwise not to tell me till we had started.'

'What do you mean?' asked the shark; but the monkey, who now
understood the whole plot, did not answer at once, for he was
considering what he should say.

'Why are you so silent?' inquired the shark again.

'I was thinking what a pity it was you did not tell me while I
was still on land, and then I would have brought my heart with

'Your heart! Why isn't your heart here?' said the shark, with a
puzzled expression.

'Oh, no! Of course not. Is it possible you don't know that when
we leave home we always hang up our hearts on trees, to prevent
their being troublesome? However, perhaps you won't believe that,
and will just think I have invented it because I am afraid, so
let us go on to your country as fast as we can, and when we
arrive you can look for my heart, and if you find it you can kill

The monkey spoke in such a calm, indifferent way that the shark
was quite deceived, and began to wish he had not been in such a

'But there is no use going on if your heart is not with you,' he
said at last. 'We had better turn back to the town, and then you
can fetch it.'

Of course, this was just what the monkey wanted, but he was
careful not to seem too pleased.

'Well, I don't know,' he remarked carelessly, 'it is such a long
way; but you may be right.'

'I am sure I am,' answered the shark, 'and I will swim as quickly
as I can,' and so he did, and in three days they caught sight of
the kuyu tree hanging over the water.

With a sigh of relief the monkey caught hold of the nearest
branch and swung himself up.

'Wait for me here,' he called out to the shark. 'I am so hungry I
must have a little breakfast, and then I will go and look for my
heart,' and he went further and further into the branches so that
the shark could not see him. Then he curled himself up and went
to sleep.

'Are you there?' cried the shark, who was soon tired of swimming
about under the cliff, and was in haste to be gone.

The monkey awoke with a start, but did not answer.

'Are you there?' called the shark again, louder than before, and
in a very cross voice.

'Oh, yes. I am here,' replied the monkey; 'but I wish you had not
wakened me up. I was having such a nice nap.'

'Have you got it?' asked the shark. 'It is time we were going.'

'Going where?' inquired the monkey.

'Why, to my country, of course, with your heart. You CAN'T have

'My dear friend,' answered the monkey, with a chuckle, 'I think
you must be going a little mad. Do you take me for a washerman's

'Don't talk nonsense,' exclaimed the shark, who did not like
being laughed at. 'What do you mean about a washerman's donkey?
And I wish you would be quick, or we may be too late to save the

'Did you really never hear of the washerman's donkey?' asked the
monkey, who was enjoying himself immensely. 'Why, he is the beast
who has no heart. And as I am not feeling very well, and am
afraid to start while the sun is so high lest I should get a
sunstroke, if you like, I will come a little nearer and tell you
his story.'

'Very well,' said the shark sulkily, 'if you won't come, I
suppose I may as well listen to that as do nothing.'

So the monkey began.

'A washerman once lived in the great forest on the other side of
the town, and he had a donkey to keep him company and to carry
him wherever he wanted to go. For a time they got on very well,
but by and bye the donkey grew lazy and ungrateful for her
master's kindness, and ran away several miles into the heart of
the forest, where she did nothing but eat and eat and eat, till
she grew so fat she could hardly move.

'One day as she was tasting quite a new kind of grass and
wondering if it was as good as what she had had for dinner the
day before, a hare happened to pass by.

'"Well, that is a fat creature," thought she, and turned out of
her path to tell the news to a lion who was a friend of hers. Now
the lion had been very ill, and was not strong enough to go
hunting for himself, and when the hare came and told him that a
very fat donkey was to be found only a few hundred yards off,
tears of disappointment and weakness filled his eyes.

'"What is the good of telling me that?" he asked, in a weepy
voice; "you know I cannot even walk as far as that palm."

'"Never mind," answered the hare briskly. "If you can't go to
your dinner your dinner shall come to you," and nodding a
farewell to the lion she went back to the donkey.

'"Good morning," said she, bowing politely to the donkey, who
lifted her head in surprise. "Excuse my interrupting you, but I
have come on very important business."

'"Indeed," answered the donkey, "it is most kind of you to take
the trouble. May I inquire what the business is?"

'"Certainly," replied the hare. "It is my friend the lion who has
heard so much of your charms and good qualities that he has sent
me to beg that you will give him your paw in marriage. He regrets
deeply that he is unable to make the request in person, but he
has been ill and is too weak to move."

'"Poor fellow! How sad!" said the donkey. "But you must tell him
that I feel honoured by his proposal, and will gladly consent to
be Queen of the Beasts."

'"Will you not come and tell him so yourself?" asked the hare.

'Side by side they went down the road which led to the lion's
house. It took a long while, for the donkey was so fat with
eating she could only walk very slowly, and the hare, who could
have run the distance in about five minutes, was obliged to creep
along till she almost dropped with fatigue at not being able to
go at her own pace. When at last they arrived the lion was
sitting up at the entrance, looking very pale and thin. The
donkey suddenly grew shy and hung her head, but the lion put on
his best manners and invited both his visitors to come in and
make themselves comfortable.

'Very soon the hare got up and said, "Well, as I have another
engagement I will leave you to make acquaintance with your future
husband," and winking at the lion she bounded away.

'The donkey expected that as soon as they were left alone the
lion would begin to speak of their marriage, and where they
should live, but as he said nothing she looked up. To her
surprise and terror she saw him crouching in the corner, his eyes
glaring with a red light, and with a loud roar he sprang towards
her. But in that moment the donkey had had time to prepare
herself, and jumping on one side dealt the lion such a hard kick
that he shrieked with the pain. Again and again he struck at her
with his claws, but the donkey could bite too, as well as the
lion, who was very weak after his illness, and at last a well-
planted kick knocked him right over, and he rolled on the floor,
groaning with pain. The donkey did not wait for him to get up,
but ran away as fast as she could and was lost in the forest.

'Now the hare, who knew quite well what would happen, had not
gone to do her business, but hid herself in some bushes behind
the cave, where she could hear quite clearly the sounds of the
battle. When all was quiet again she crept gently out, and stole
round the corner.

'"Well, lion, have you killed her?" asked she, running swiftly up
the path.

'"Killed her, indeed!" answered the lion sulkily, "it is she who
has nearly killed me. I never knew a donkey could kick like that,
though I took care she should carry away the marks of my claws."

'"Dear me! Fancy such a great fat creature being able to fight!"
cried the hare. "But don't vex yourself. Just lie still, and your
wounds will soon heal," and she bade her friend, good bye, and
returned to her family.

'Two or three weeks passed, and only bare places on the donkey's
back showed where the lion's claws had been, while, on his side,
the lion had recovered from his illness and was now as strong as
ever. He was beginning to think that it was almost time for him
to begin hunting again, when one morning a rustle was heard in
the creepers outside, and the hare's head peeped through.

'"Ah! there is no need to ask how you are," she said. "Still you
mustn't overtire yourself, you know. Shall I go and bring you
your dinner?"

'"If you will bring me that donkey I will tear it in two," cried
the lion savagely, and the hare laughed and nodded and went on
her errand.

'This time the donkey was much further than before, and it took
longer to find her. At last the hare caught sight of four hoofs
in the air, and ran towards them. The donkey was lying on a soft
cool bed of moss near a stream, rolling herself backwards and
forwards from pleasure.

'"Good morning," said the hare politely, and the donkey got
slowly on to her legs, and looked to see who her visitor could

'"Oh, it is you, is it?" she exclaimed. "Come and have a chat.
What news have you got?"

'"I mustn't stay," answered the hare; "but I promised the lion to
beg you to pay him a visit, as he is not well enough to call on

'"Well, I don't know," replied the donkey gloomily, "the last
time we went he scratched me very badly, and really I was quite

'"He was only trying to kiss you," said the hare, "and you bit
him, and of course that made him cross."

'"If I were sure of that," hesitated the donkey.

'"Oh, you may be quite sure," laughed the hare. "I have a large
acquaintance among lions. But let us be quick," and rather
unwillingly the donkey set out.

'The lion saw them coming and hid himself behind a large tree. As
the donkey went past, followed by the hare, he sprang out, and
with one blow of his paw stretched the poor foolish creature dead
before him.

'"Take this meat and skin it and roast it," he said to the hare;
"but my appetite is not so good as it was, and the only part I
want for myself is the heart. The rest you can either eat
yourself or give away to your friends."

'"Thank you," replied the hare, balancing the donkey on her back
as well as she was able, and though the legs trailed along the
ground she managed to drag it to an open space some distance off,
where she made a fire and roasted it. As soon as it was cooked
the hare took out the heart and had just finished eating it when
the lion, who was tired of waiting, came up.

'"I am hungry," said he. "Bring me the creature's heart; it is
just what I want for supper."

'"But there is no heart," answered the hare, looking up at the
lion with a puzzled face.

'"What nonsense!" said the lion. "As if every beast had not got a
heart. What do you mean?"

'"This is a washerman's donkey," replied the hare gravely.

'"Well, and suppose it is?"

'"Oh, fie!" exclaimed the hare. "You, a lion and a grown-up
person, and ask questions like that. If the donkey had had a
heart would she be here now? The first time she came she knew you
were trying to kill her, and ran away. Yet she came back a second
time. Well, if she had had a heart would she have come back a
second time? Now would she?"

'And the lion answered slowly, "No, she would not."

'So you think I am a washerman's donkey?' said the monkey to the
shark, when the story was ended. 'You are wrong; I am not. And as
the sun is getting low in the sky, it is time for you to begin
your homeward journey. You will have a nice cool voyage, and I
hope you will find the sultan better. Farewell!' And the monkey
disappeared among the green branches, and was gone.

From 'Swahili Tales,' by Edward Steere, LL.D.

The Fairy Nurse

There was once a little farmer and his wife living near
Coolgarrow. They had three children, and my story happened while
the youngest was a baby. The wife was a good wife enough, but her
mind was all on her family and her farm, and she hardly ever went
to her knees without falling asleep, and she thought the time
spent in the chapel was twice as long as it need be. So, friends,
she let her man and her two children go before her one day to
Mass, while she called to consult a fairy man about a disorder
one of her cows had. She was late at the chapel, and was sorry
all the day after, for her husband was in grief about it, and she
was very fond of him.

Late that night he was wakened up by the cries of his children
calling out 'Mother! Mother!' When he sat up and rubbed his eyes,
there was no wife by his side, and when he asked the little ones
what was become of their mother, they said they saw the room full
of nice little men and women, dressed in white and red and green,
and their mother in the middle of them, going out by the door as
if she was walking in her sleep. Out he ran, and searched
everywhere round the house but, neither tale nor tidings did he
get of her for many a day.

Well, the poor man was miserable enough, for he was as fond of
his woman as she was of him. It used to bring the salt tears down
his cheeks to see his poor children neglected and dirty, as they
often were, and they'd be bad enough only for a kind neighbour
that used to look in whenever she could spare time. The infant
was away with a nurse.

About six weeks after--just as he was going out to his work one
morning--a neighbour, that used to mind women when they were ill,
came up to him, and kept step by step with him to the field, and
this is what she told him.

'Just as I was falling asleep last night, I heard a horse's tramp
on the grass and a knock at the door, and there, when I came out,
was a fine-looking dark man, mounted on a black horse, and he
told me to get ready in all haste, for a lady was in great want
of me. As soon as I put on my cloak and things, he took me by the
hand, and I was sitting behind him before I felt myself stirring.
"Where are we going, sir?" says I. "You'll soon know," says he;
and he drew his fingers across my eyes, and not a ray could I
see. I kept a tight grip of him, and I little knew whether he was
going backwards or forwards, or how long we were about it, till
my hand was taken again, and I felt the ground under me. The
fingers went the other way across my eyes, and there we were
before a castle door, and in we went through a big hall and great
rooms all painted in fine green colours, with red and gold bands
and ornaments, and the finest carpets and chairs and tables and
window curtains, and grand ladies and gentlemen walking about. At
last we came to a bedroom, with a beautiful lady in bed, with a
fine bouncing boy beside her. The lady clapped her hands, and in
came the Dark Man and kissed her and the baby, and praised me,
and gave me a bottle of green ointment to rub the child all over.

'Well, the child I rubbed, sure enough; but my right eye began to
smart, and I put up my finger and gave it a rub, and then stared,
for never in all my life was I so frightened. The beautiful room
was a big, rough cave, with water oozing over the edges of the
stones and through the clay; and the lady, and the lord, and the
child weazened, poverty-bitten creatures--nothing but skin and
bone--and the rich dresses were old rags. I didn't let on that I
found any difference, and after a bit says the Dark Man, "Go
before me to the hall door, and I will be with you in a few
moments, and see you safe home." Well, just as I turned into the
outside cave, who should I see watching near the door but poor
Molly. She looked round all terrified, and says she to me in a
whisper, "I'm brought here to nurse the child of the king and
queen of the fairies; but there is one chance of saving me. All
the court will pass the cross near Templeshambo next Friday
night, on a visit to the fairies of Old Ross. If John can catch
me by the hand or cloak when I ride by, and has courage not to
let go his grip, I'll be safe. Here's the king. Don't open your
mouth to answer. I saw what happened with the ointment."

'The Dark Man didn't once cast his eye towards Molly, and he
seemed to have no suspicion of me. When we came out I looked
about me, and where do you think we were but in the dyke of the
Rath of Cromogue. I was on the horse again, which was nothing but
a big rag-weed, and I was in dread every minute I'd fall off; but
nothing happened till I found myself in my own cabin. The king
slipped five guineas into my hand as soon as I was on the ground,
and thanked me, and bade me good night. I hope I'll never see his
face again. I got into bed, and couldn't sleep for a long time;
and when I examined my five guineas this morning, that I left in
the table drawer the last thing, I found five withered leaves of
oak--bad luck to the giver!'

Well, you may all think the fright, and the joy, and the grief
the poor man was in when the woman finished her story. They
talked and they talked, but we needn't mind what they said till
Friday night came, when both were standing where the mountain
road crosses the one going to Ross.

There they stood, looking towards the bridge of Thuar, in the
dead of the night, with a little moonlight shining from over
Kilachdiarmid. At last she gave a start, and "By this and by
that," says she, "here they come, bridles jingling and feathers
tossing!" He looked, but could see nothing; and she stood
trembling and her eyes wide open, looking down the way to the
ford of Ballinacoola. "I see your wife," says she, "riding on the
outside just so as to rub against us. We'll walk on quietly, as
if we suspected nothing, and when we are passing I'll give you a
shove. If you don't do YOUR duty then, woe be with you!"

Well, they walked on easy, and the poor hearts beating in both
their breasts; and though he could see nothing, he heard a faint
jingle and trampling and rustling, and at last he got the push
that she promised. He spread out his arms, and there was his
wife's waist within them, and he could see her plain; but such a
hullabulloo rose as if there was an earthquake, and he found
himself surrounded by horrible-looking things, roaring at him and
striving to pull his wife away. But he made the sign of the cross
and bid them begone in God's name, and held his wife as if it was
iron his arms were made of. Bedad, in one moment everything was
as silent as the grave, and the poor woman lying in a faint in
the arms of her husband and her good neighbour. Well, all in good
time she was minding her family and her business again; and I'll
go bail, after the fright she got, she spent more time on her
knees, and avoided fairy men all the days of the week, and
particularly on Sunday.

It is hard to have anything to do with the good people without
getting a mark from them. My brave nurse didn't escape no more
than another. She was one Thursday at the market of Enniscorthy,
when what did she see walking among the tubs of butter but the
Dark Man, very hungry-looking, and taking a scoop out of one tub
and out of another. 'Oh, sir,' says she, very foolish, 'I hope
your lady is well, and the baby.' 'Pretty well, thank you,' says
he, rather frightened like. 'How do I look in this new suit?'
says he, getting to one side of her. 'I can't see you plain at
all, sir,' says she. 'Well, now?' says he, getting round her back
to the other side. 'Musha, indeed, sir, your coat looks no better
than a withered dock-leaf.' 'Maybe, then,' says he, 'it will be
different now,' and he struck the eye next him with a switch.
Friends, she never saw a glimmer after with that one till the day
of her death.

'Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts,' by Patrick Kennedy.

A Lost Paradise

In the middle of a great forest there lived a long time ago a
charcoal-burner and his wife. They were both young and handsome
and strong, and when they got married, they thought work would
never fail them. But bad times came, and they grew poorer and
poorer, and the nights in which they went hungry to bed became
more and more frequent.

Now one evening the king of that country was hunting near the
charcoal-burner's hut. As he passed the door, he heard a sound of
sobbing, and being a good-natured man he stopped to listen,
thinking that perhaps he might be able to give some help.

'Were there ever two people so unhappy!' said a woman's voice.
'Here we are, ready to work like slaves the whole day long, and
no work can we get. And it is all because of the curiosity of old
mother Eve! If she had only been like me, who never want to know
anything, we should all have been as happy as kings to-day, with
plenty to eat, and warm clothes to wear. Why--' but at this point
a loud knock interrupted her lamentations.

'Who is there?' asked she.

'I!' replied somebody.

'And who is "I"?'

'The king. Let me in.'

Full of surprise the woman jumped up and pulled the bar away from
the door. As the king entered, he noticed that there was no
furniture in the room at all, not even a chair, so he pretended
to be in too great a hurry to see anything around him, and only
said 'You must not let me disturb you. I have no time to stay,
but you seemed to be in trouble. Tell me; are you very unhappy?'

'Oh, my lord, we can find no work and have eaten nothing for two
days!' answered she. 'Nothing remains for us but to die of

'No, no, you shan't do that,' cried the king, 'or if you do, it
will be your own fault. You shall come with me into my palace,
and you will feel as if you were in Paradise, I promise you. In
return, I only ask one thing of you, that you shall obey my
orders exactly.'

The charcoal-burner and his wife both stared at him for a moment,
as if they could hardly believe their ears; and, indeed, it was
not to be wondered at! Then they found their tongues, and
exclaimed together:

'Oh, yes, yes, my lord! we will do everything you tell us. How
could we be so ungrateful as to disobey you, when you are so

The king smiled, and his eyes twinkled.

'Well, let us start at once,' said he. 'Lock your door, and put
the key in your pocket.'

The woman looked as if she thought this was needless, seeing it
was quite, quite certain they would never come back. But she
dared not say so, and did as the king told her.

After walking through the forest for a couple of miles, they all
three reached the palace, and by the king's orders servants led
the charcoal-burner and his wife into rooms filled with beautiful
things such as they had never even dreamed of. First they bathed
in green marble baths where the water looked like the sea, and
then they put on silken clothes that felt soft and pleasant. When
they were ready, one of the king's special servants entered, and
took them into a small hall, where dinner was laid, and this
pleased them better than anything else.

They were just about to sit down to the table when the king
walked in.

'I hope you have been attended to properly,' said he, 'and that
you will enjoy your dinner. My steward will take care you have
all you want, and I wish you to do exactly as you please. Oh, by
the bye, there is one thing! You notice that soup-tureen in the
middle of the table? Well, be careful on no account to lift the
lid. If once you take off the cover, there is an end of your good
fortune.' Then, bowing to his guests, he left the room.

'Did you hear what he said?' inquired the charcoal-burner in an
awe-stricken voice. 'We are to have what we want, and do what we
please. Only we must not touch the soup-tureen.'

'No, of course we won't,' answered the wife. 'Why should we wish
to? But all the same it is rather odd, and one can't help
wondering what is inside.'

For many days life went on like a beautiful dream to the
charcoal- burner and his wife. Their beds were so comfortable,
they could hardly make up their minds to get up, their clothes
were so lovely they could scarcely bring themselves to take them
off; their dinners were so good that they found it very difficult
to leave off eating. Then outside the palace were gardens filled
with rare flowers and fruits and singing birds, or if they
desired to go further, a golden coach, painted with wreaths of
forget-me-nots and lined with blue satin, awaited their orders.
Sometimes it happened that the king came to see them, and he
smiled as he glanced at the man, who was getting rosier and
plumper each day. But when his eyes rested on the woman, they
took on a look which seemed to say 'I knew it,' though this
neither the charcoal-burner nor his wife ever noticed.

'Why are you so silent?' asked the man one morning when dinner
had passed before his wife had uttered one word. 'A little while
ago you used to be chattering all the day long, and now I have
almost forgotten the sound of your voice.'

'Oh, nothing; I did not feel inclined to talk, that was all!' She
stopped, and added carelessly after a pause, 'Don't you ever
wonder what is in that soup-tureen?'

'No, never,' replied the man. 'It is no affair of ours,' and the
conversation dropped once more, but as time went on, the woman
spoke less and less, and seemed so wretched that her husband grew
quite frightened about her. As to her food, she refused one thing
after another.

'My dear wife,' said the man at last, 'you really must eat
something. What in the world is the matter with you? If you go on
like this you will die.'

'I would rather die than not know what is in that tureen,' she
burst forth so violently that the husband was quite startled.

'Is that it?' cried he; 'are you making yourself miserable
because of that? Why, you know we should be turned out of the
palace, and sent away to starve.'

'Oh no, we shouldn't. The king is too good-natured. Of course he
didn't mean a little thing like this! Besides, there is no need
to lift the lid off altogether. Just raise one corner so that I
may peep. We are quite alone: nobody will ever know.'

The man hesitated: it did seem a 'little thing,' and if it was to
make his wife contented and happy it was well worth the risk. So
he took hold of the handle of the cover and raised it very slowly
and carefully, while the woman stooped down to peep. Suddenly she
startled back with a scream, for a small mouse had sprung from
the inside of the tureen, and had nearly hit her in the eye.
Round and round the room it ran, round and round they both ran
after it, knocking down chairs and vases in their efforts to
catch the mouse and put it back in the tureen. In the middle of
all the noise the door opened, and the mouse ran out between the
feet of the king. In one instant both the man and his wife were
hiding under the table, and to all appearance the room was empty.

'You may as well come out,' said the king, 'and hear what I have
to say.'

'I know what it is,' answered the charcoal-burner, hanging his
head. The mouse has escaped.'

'A guard of soldiers will take you back to your hut,' said the
king. 'Your wife has the key.'

'Weren't they silly?' cried the grandchildren of the charcoal-
burners when they heard the story. 'How we wish that we had had
the chance! WE should never have wanted to know what was in the

From 'Litterature Orale de l'Auvergne,' par Paul Sebillot.

How Brave Walter Hunted Wolves

A little back from the high road there stands a house which is
called 'Hemgard.' Perhaps you remember the two beautiful mountain
ash trees by the reddish-brown palings, and the high gate, and
the garden with the beautiful barberry bushes which are always
the first to become grown in spring, and which in summer are
weighed down with their beautiful berries.

Behind the garden there is a hedge with tall aspens which rustle
in the morning wind, behind the hedge is a road, behind the road
is a wood, and behind the wood the wide world.

But on the other side of the garden there is a lake, and beyond
the lake is a village, and all around stretch meadows and fields,
now yellow, now green.

In the pretty house, which has white window-frames, a neat porch
and clean steps, which are always strewn with finely-cut juniper
leaves, Walter's parents live. His brother Frederick, his sister
Lotta, old Lena, Jonah, Caro and Bravo, Putte and Murre, and

Caro lives in the dog house, Bravo in the stable, Putte with the
stableman, Murre a little here and a little there, and Kuckeliku
lives in the hen house, that is his kingdom.

Walter is six years old, and he must soon begin to go to school.
He cannot read yet, but he can do many other things. He can turn
cartwheels, stand on his head, ride see-saw, throw snowballs,
play ball, crow like a cock, eat bread and butter and drink sour
milk, tear his trousers, wear holes in his elbows, break the
crockery in pieces, throw balls through the windowpanes, draw old
men on important papers, walk over the flower-beds, eat himself
sick with gooseberries, and be well after a whipping. For the
rest he has a good heart but a bad memory, and forgets his
father's and his mother's admonitions, and so often gets into
trouble and meets with adventures, as you shall hear, but first
of all I must tell you how brave he was and how he hunted wolves.

Once in the spring, a little before Midsummer, Walter heard that
there were a great many wolves in the wood, and that pleased him.
He was wonderfully brave when he was in the midst of his
companions or at home with his brothers and sister, then he used
often to say 'One wolf is nothing, there ought to be at least

When he wrestled with Klas Bogenstrom or Frithiof Waderfelt and
struck them in the back, he would say 'That is what I shall do to
a wolf!' and when he shot arrows at Jonas and they rattled
against his sheepskin coat he would say: 'That is how I should
shoot you if you were a wolf!'

Indeed, some thought that the brave boy boasted a little; but one

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