Chapter VI: Part 6

The cunning thief climbed the tree, and removed the five eggs from underneath the bird so deftly that she never noticed what he had done, and he brought them down to his father. The father took them and put one on each corner of a table, and the fifth in the middle, and said to the huntsman, “You must cut all those eggs in half at one shot.”

The huntsman aimed and divided each egg in half at one shot, as his father desired. He certainly must have had some of the powder that shoots round a corner. The eggs had little birds in them, and the neck of each had been severed by the bullet.

“Now it is your turn,” said the father to the fourth son. “I expect you to sew the birds and the shells together so they will be none the worse for that shot.”

The tailor produced his needle, and stitched away as his father had desired. When he finished the task, the thief climbed the tree with the eggs, and put them back under the bird without her perceiving him. The bird continued to sit on the eggs, and a few days later the fledgelings crept out of the shells. Each had a red streak round its neck where the tailor had sewn them together, but were none the worse otherwise.

“I can certainly praise your skill,” said the father to his sons. “You have used your time well while you have been away, and you have all acquired very useful knowledge.”

Not long after this a great lamentation was made in the country because the king’s daughter had been carried away by a dragon. The king was overcome by grief and sorrowed for her day and night, and he had it proclaimed that whoever rescued the princess should have her for his wife.

The four brothers said to one another, “This will be an opportunity for us to show what we can do;” and they agreed to sally forth together to deliver the princess.

“I will soon discover where she is,” said the star-gazer.

He looked through his telescope, and said: “I see her already. She is a long way from here, sitting on a rock in the middle of the sea, and the dragon is there watching her.”

Then they went to the king, who, at their request, furnished them with a ship, in which they sailed away over the sea till they approached the rock. The princess was sitting there, and the dragon was asleep with his head on her lap.

“I dare not shoot,” said the hunter, “for fear I should kill the princess as well as the dragon.”

“Then I will try my luck,” said the thief, and he rowed a boat to the rock and took the princess away so lightly and stealthily that the monster continued to sleep and snore.

The thief got the princess safely on board the ship, and, full of joy, the brothers spread the sails to the wind, and steered for the open sea. But the dragon soon awoke, and when he realized that the princess was gone, he started in pursuit of the ship, flapping through the air at his best speed, snapping his tail savagely, and foaming at the mouth with rage. Just as he was hovering over the ship about to plunge down on it, the huntsman took aim with his unerring gun and shot the dragon through the heart. The monster was killed instantly, but his huge body fell on the ship and smashed it to pieces.

The brothers and the princess managed each to grasp a plank and thus kept themselves afloat. They were in great straits, but the tailor was equal to the emergency. With his wonderful needle he sewed together the planks on which he and his companions were sustaining themselves, and then they paddled about and collected all the other floating fragments of the ship. The tailor stitched them together so cleverly that in a short time the ship was seaworthy once more, and they sailed happily home.

When the king saw his dear daughter again, he was very glad, and said to the four brothers, “One of you shall marry her, but you must settle among yourselves which one that shall be.”

They discussed the matter with a good deal of warmth, for each pressed his own claims. The star-gazer said: “Had I not discovered the princess all your doings would have been in vain. Therefore, she is mine.”

The thief said: “What would have been the good of discovering her if I had not stolen her away from the dragon? So she is mine.”

The huntsman said: “But you all would have been destroyed by the monster had not my ball reached his heart. So she must be mine.”

“That is all very fine,” said the tailor, “but if it had not been for my sewing the wreck together, you would all have been miserably drowned. Therefore the princess is mine.”

When they had all voiced their claims to the princess, the king said: “Each of you is equally entitled to her, but since you cannot all have her, none of you shall have her. Instead, I will reward you each with half a province.”

The brothers were quite satisfied with this decision, and said, “It is better so than that we should quarrel.”

So each of them received half a province, and they lived happily in the home of their father the rest of their days.

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THE YOUTH WITHOUT FEAR

THERE was once a father who had two sons. One was ambitious, and sensible, and clever enough to do almost anything. But the younger one was so stupid he made no progress at all. When people saw how useless he was, they said, “His father will have plenty of trouble with him.”

If there was any task that needed doing, it fell to the lot of the elder son, who never failed to do his work faithfully and well, unless his father asked him to fetch something in the evening after dark. Then, if the errand would compel him to pass through the churchyard or along a dismal stretch of roadway, he would say: “Oh no, father, I cannot go! I am afraid. It would make me shiver and shake.”

Occasionally when the household gathered around the fire after supper, with very likely the company of a neighbor or two, some one would tell a ghost story which would cause the listeners’ flesh to creep, and they would exclaim, “How you make me shiver!”

The youngest son, however, as he sat in the corner and heard these exclamations, could not imagine what was meant. “There’s something queer about it,” said he. “They say: ‘It makes me shiver! It makes me shiver!’ But it doesn’t make me shiver a bit. Shivering is an accomplishment I don’t understand.”

One day his father said to him, “Listen, you lad in the corner there, you are growing big and strong. You must learn some trade by which to get a living. See how your brother works, but you are not worth your salt.”

“Well, father,” he responded, “I am quite ready to learn something. With what shall I begin? I would very much like to learn how to shiver and shake, for about that I know nothing.”

The elder son laughed when he heard him speak thus. “Good heavens!” he thought, “what a simpleton my brother is! He will never be good for anything as long as he lives.”

His father sighed and said, “What shivering means you may learn easily enough, but such knowledge will not help you any in getting your bread.”

Soon afterward the sexton called at the house, and the father confided to him his anxiety about his younger son. “It is quite evident,” said he, “that the lad will never be any credit to us. Would you believe that when I asked him how he was going to earn his living, he said he would like to learn to shiver and shake?”

“If that’s what he wants to learn,” said the sexton, “we can easily gratify him. I can teach him that myself. Just let him serve me for a while and I’ll put the polish on him.”

The father was pleased, for he thought, “Anyhow the lad will gain something by the experience.”

So the sexton took the youth home with him, and he had to ring the church bells. A few days passed, and the sexton woke him at midnight and told him to get up and go to the church tower to ring the bells. “You shall soon be taught how to shiver and shake,” thought the sexton as he hastened to the belfry ahead of the lad, and crept stealthily up the stairs.

The youth arrived a few minutes later and stumbled along up the stairway in the darkness. He was about to grasp the bell rope when he observed a white figure standing at the head of the stairs. “Who is there?” he called out, but the figure neither stirred nor spoke.

“Answer!” cried the lad, “or get out of the way. You have no business here in the night.”

But the sexton wanted the boy to think he was a ghost, and he did not stir.

The lad called out a second time: “What do you want here? Speak, if you are an honest fellow, or I’ll throw you down the stairs.”

“He never would dare undertake such a thing,” thought the sexton. So he made no sound and stood as still as if he were made of stone.

Once more the lad threatened the shrouded figure, and as he got no answer he sprang forward and threw the ghost down the stairs. The apparition bumped along down the steps and lay motionless in a corner. Then the lad rang the bells, walked home, and without saying a word to anybody went to bed. Soon he was fast asleep.

The sexton’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but he did not come, and at last she became anxious and woke up the lad. “Do you know what has become of my husband?” she asked. “He went up into the church tower in front of you.”

“No,” answered the lad; “but there was somebody standing at the head of the stairs in the belfry, and as he would neither reply nor go away, I thought he was a rogue and I threw him downstairs. Go and see if he was your husband. I should be sorry if he was.”

The woman hurried away and found the sexton moaning with a broken leg. She carried him home, and the first thing in the morning hastened with loud cries to the lad’s father. “Your son has brought a great misfortune on us,” she said. “He has thrown my husband downstairs and broken his leg. Take the good-for-nothing wretch away out of our house.”

The father was horrified. He went back with her and gave the lad a good scolding. “What is the meaning of this inhuman prank?” he said. “The evil one must have put it into your head.”

“Father,” responded the lad, “I am quite innocent. He stood there in the dark like a man with some wicked purpose. I did not know who he was, and I warned him three times to speak or to go away.”

“Alas!” said his father, “you bring me nothing but disaster. Get out of my sight. I will have nothing more to do with you.”

“To travel elsewhere is just what I wish,” said the lad, “for I hope that will lead to my learning how to shiver and shake. I want at least to have that accomplishment to my credit.”

“Learn what you like,” said his father. “It’s all the same to me. Here are fifty silver pieces for you. Go out into the world, but tell no one whence you come, or who your father is, for you would only bring me to shame.”

“Just as you please, father,” said the lad. “If that is all you want I can easily fulfil your desire.”

So the lad put his fifty silver pieces into his pocket and betook himself to the highroad. As he tramped along he said over and over, “Oh that I could learn to shiver! Oh that I could learn to shake!”

A man overtook him and heard the words he was saying. They went on together till they came to a gallows whereon seven men were hanging. “Sit down here,” said the man, “and when night comes you will learn to shiver and shake.”

“If nothing more than that is needed,” said the lad, “I shall be well pleased; and I promise you, in case I learn to shiver so speedily, that you shall have the fifty silver pieces now in my pocket. Come back to me early tomorrow morning.”

Then the lad sat down beside the gallows. It grew cold after sundown, and a sharp wind blew and made the bodies on the gallows swing back and forth with a dismal creaking of the ropes by which they were suspended. “Poor fellows!” said the lad, “I am none too warm down here in a sheltered nook on the ground, and you must have a chilly time of it up aloft there.”

Then he curled up and went to sleep. Next morning the man who had been his companion on the day before came and said, “Well, I suppose you know now what shivering means.”

“No,” said the lad, “how could I learn it? Those fellows on the gallows never opened their mouths.”

The man saw that he would get no silver pieces, and he went away, saying, “Never before in my life did I meet such a person as that.”

Soon afterward the lad resumed his travels, and again began saying to himself: “Oh that I could learn to shiver! Oh that I could learn to shake!”

A carter, who chanced to be on the road, heard his plaint, and asked, “Who are you?”

“I don’t know,” said the youth.

“Who is your father?” the carter questioned.

“That I must not say,” was the lad’s response.

“What is it you are grumbling about to yourself as you walk along?” the carter inquired.

“Ah,” said the youth, “I wish to learn what shivering is, but no one can teach me.”

“Nonsense!” said the carter. “Just you come with me and I’ll see that your desire is gratified.”

So the youth went with the carter, and in the evening they reached an inn and arranged to stay there for the night. “Oh that I could learn to shiver! Oh that I could learn to shake!” sighed the youth as he sat down to wait for supper.

The landlord laughed, and said, “If that’s what you want, you can have plenty of opportunity for learning here.”

“Hold your tongue,” said the landlady. “Many an imprudent fellow has paid the penalty for his curiosity with his life already. It would be a sin and a shame not to have this stranger’s bright eyes see the light of day again.”

But the youth said: “However difficult it may be to learn what shivering is, the lesson is one I am eager to learn. I left my home to seek such knowledge.”

He would not be put off with evasions, and at last the landlord told him that not far distant stood an enchanted castle, and that any one who stayed there over night would surely learn to shiver. Moreover, the king had promised his daughter in marriage to the man who would spend three nights in the castle, and every one said she was the most beautiful young lady the sun ever shone on. Such a vigil would break the spell that was on the castle, and he who accomplished this would become master of a great treasure hidden there and guarded by evil spirits. But many, aspiring to win the princess and the treasure and the renown, had gone into the castle, and not one had ever come out.

The next morning the youth went to the king, and said, “By your leave, I would like to pass three nights in the enchanted castle.”

His request was granted, though with some reluctance, for the king took a fancy to the lad, and was sorry to think of his probable fate.

When night came, the youth went to the castle, made a bright fire in one of the rooms, and sat down beside it. “Oh, if I could only shiver!” said he, “but I doubt if I can learn how even here.”

At midnight he got up from where he was sitting and freshened the fire. Suddenly some creatures in a corner of the room began to shriek, “Mew, mew! how cold we are!”

“Simpletons!” he exclaimed, “what are you screeching for? If you are cold, come and warm yourselves by the fire.”

Immediately two big black cats sprang forth from the gloomy corner and sat down one on each side of him. They stared at him with wild, fiery eyes until they had warmed themselves, and then said, “Comrade, shall we have a game of cards?”

“Certainly,” he replied, “but show me your paws first.”

They each lifted a front foot and stretched out their claws.

“Why,” said he, “what long nails you’ve got! Wait a bit. I must cut them for you.”

He picked up a sword he had brought with him, but instead of cutting their nails he seized each cat in turn by the scruff of the neck and killed it by thrusting his sword through its body. That done, he dragged them to a window and heaved them out. But no sooner had he got rid of these cats and was about to sit down by his fire again than crowds of dogs, all jet black, swarmed out of every nook and corner of the room. They howled horribly and trampled on his fire, and tried to put it out.

For a time he looked quietly on, but at last he got angry, took up his sword, and cried, “You rascally pack, away with you!” and he let fly among them right and left. Some of them escaped, and the rest he struck dead and threw out of the window.

When he finished, he returned to the fire, scraped the embers together, and set it to blazing. At the far side of the room was a big bed, and he went and lay down on it, intending to sleep the remainder of the night. But just as he was closing his eyes the bed began to move. It crossed the room, went out at a door, and soon was tearing round and round the castle. “Very good,” he said, “the faster the better!”

The bed careered along as if it were drawn by six horses. Sometimes it was in the castle, sometimes outside, and the way it jolted over the thresholds and jigged up and down the stairs was very surprising, to say the least. Suddenly it went hop, hop, hop, with more violence than ever, and turned topsy-turvy so that it lay on the lad like a mountain. But he pitched the pillows and blankets into the air, and soon he had disencumbered himself and got on his feet. “Now some one else may ride,” said he, and he made his way back to his fire and lay down on the hearth and went to sleep.

In the morning the king came to the castle and found the youth stretched out on the floor. He thought the ghosts had killed him, and he said, “It is a pity that such a vigorous, handsome fellow should thus perish.”

But the youth heard him and sat up, saying, “It has not come to that yet.”

The king was much surprised, and asked him how he had fared.

“Very well,” he answered. “One night is gone, and I expect to get safely through the others.”

Presently he returned to the inn. The landlord opened his eyes when he saw him, and said: “I never thought to behold you alive again. Have you learned how to shiver yet?”

“No,” replied the lad, “it’s all in vain.”

The second night he went again to the castle, started a fire, and sat down by it and began his old song, “Oh if I could only learn to shiver!”

At midnight he commenced to hear a ringing, rattling noise, first soft, but increasing till there was a great uproar. Then there was a sudden silence. At last, with a loud scream, half a man’s body came tumbling down the chimney and rolled out on the floor in front of the lad. “Hello!” he said, “here is only half a man. This is not enough.”

The rattling and ringing were renewed, and soon, amidst shrieks and howls, the other half fell down.

“Wait a moment,” said the youth, “and I’ll poke up the fire.”

When this was done, and he looked around, the two halves had joined themselves together, and a hideous man sat on the bench. “We didn’t bargain for that,” said the lad. “The bench is mine.”

He went to sit down, and the man tried to push him out of the way. Then the youth became angry and flung the man aside and sat down in his usual seat. Presently more men fell down the chimney, one after the other, and they fetched with them nine thigh bones and two skulls, and began to play skittles. The youth felt inclined to join in the sport, and he called out, “I say, can I play too?”

“Certainly,” said they.

“Then here goes!” he cried. “The more, the merrier!”

He played with them till ten o’clock, when they disappeared. So he lay down, and soon was fast asleep.

Next morning the king again came to see him, and said, “Well, how did you get on this time?”

“I have been playing skittles,” he answered.

“Didn’t you learn to shiver?” the king asked.

“Not I,” he responded. “I only made merry.”

On the third night he once more was in the enchanted castle sitting on his bench by the fire. “Oh, if I could only learn to shiver!” he said, in great vexation.

When it grew late, six tall men came in carrying a coffin. “Hello there!” said he, “set down your burden and make yourselves comfortable.”

They put the coffin on the floor and he went to it and removed the lid. Inside lay a man. He felt of the man’s hands and face. They were as cold as ice. “I will soon see whether there is any life left in you,” said he, and he picked up the man and sat down with him close by the fire and rubbed his arms to make the blood circulate.

After a time the man grew warm and began to move. “There,” said the youth, “you see I have got you warmed at last.”

But the man rose up and cried, “Now I will strangle you!”

“What!” exclaimed the youth, “is that all the thanks I get? Back you go into your coffin then.”

So saying, he grasped him, threw him in, and fastened down the lid. Then the six men carried the coffin away. “Oh, deary me!” sighed the youth, “I shall never learn to shiver if I stop here all my life.”

Just then a huge man entered the room. He was frightful to look at, very old, with a long white beard. “You miserable wretch!” he cried, “now you shall learn what shivering is, for you shall die.”

“Not so fast,” said the youth. “If I am to die, some one must kill me.”

“I will make short work of you,” declared the old monster.

“Softly, softly!” said the lad. “Don’t boast. Very likely I am stronger than you are.”

“We shall see about that,” said the old man. “Come with me.”

Then he led the way through numberless dark passages to a smithy, took a sledge hammer, and with one blow struck an anvil down into the earth so it was nearly buried out of sight.

“I can better that,” affirmed the youth, and he went to another anvil, took an ax, and with one blow split the anvil half in two.

The old man had come so near to watch that his beard had dropped down on the anvil, and it was wedged into the crevice by the blow of the ax. “Now I have you,” said the youth, “and you will be the one to die.”

Then he seized an iron rod and belabored the old man till the sufferer shrieked for mercy and promised him great riches if he would stop. So the lad pulled out the ax, and the released captive led the way back into the castle and showed the youth three chests of gold in the cellar. “One is for the poor,” he said, “one is for the king, and one is for you.”

The clock struck twelve just as the old man finished speaking, and he disappeared and left the youth alone in the dense darkness of the cellar. “I must manage to get out somehow,” said the lad, and he groped about till he found his way back to the room where he had his fire. There he lay down and went to sleep.

Next morning the king came and said, “Surely you have now learned to shiver.”

“No,” said the youth, “a coffin was brought to me containing a man who was nearly frozen, and when I revived him he wanted to strangle me. Afterward, an old man came who wanted to kill me, but I got the better of him, and he showed me a lot of gold. However, no one can show me what shivering means.”

Then the king said, “You have broken the spell on the castle, and you shall be made a prince and marry my daughter.”

“That is all very fine,” said the youth, “but still I don’t know what shivering is.”

The gold was brought out from the castle cellar, and the marriage was celebrated; but happy as the youth now was, and much as he loved his bride, there yet remained one cause for discontent, and he was always saying: “Oh that I could learn to shiver! Oh that I could learn to shake!”

This became quite a source of vexation to his wife as time went on, and at last her waiting-woman said, “I will help you to teach him the meaning of shivering.”

She went out to a brook that ran through the garden, and got a pail of cold water full of little fishes. At night, when the prince was asleep, his wife took off the coverings and poured the cold water over him. The little fishes flopped all about him. Then he woke up and cried, “Oh, how I am shivering, dear wife, how I am shivering! Now I know what shivering is!”

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THE WONDERFUL TURNIP

THERE were once two brothers who were soldiers, and one had become an officer and grown rich. The other remained a common soldier and was poor. At last the poor one, with the hope to improve his fortune, took off his soldiering coat and became a farmer. He ploughed a small field and sowed turnip seed. The seed came up, and the farmer soon observed that one turnip was growing much faster than any of the others. It grew till he thought it would never get done growing, and at the end of the season, when he uprooted it, that one turnip filled a cart and required two oxen to draw it. Truly it was the queen of turnips, and its like had never been seen before, nor ever will be again. The farmer knew not what to do with it, and was uncertain whether it would bring good fortune or bad.

“If I sold it I should not get much money for it,” said he. “As for eating it, the ordinary turnips would do as well for that. I think I will take it to the king.”

So away he went, with oxen dragging the cart that contained the turnip, and in due time he arrived at court and presented the turnip to the king.

“What an extraordinary object!” the king exclaimed. “I have seen many marvels, but never anything so remarkable as this. You must be a child of good luck, whether you raised this turnip from seed or found it full grown.”

“Oh no!” said the farmer, “lucky I certainly am not. For many years I was a poor soldier, but recently I hung my uniform on a nail, and now I till the earth. I have a brother who is rich and well known to you, my lord king; but I, because I have nothing, am forgotten by all the world.”

Thereupon the king pitied him and said, “You shall be poor no longer;” and he presented him with gold, land, flocks, and herds that made him richer than his brother.

When the brother heard what had happened he was envious and pondered how he might gain a like treasure for himself. Presently he took jewels and swift horses and gave them to the king. “If my brother got so much for a single turnip,” thought he, “what will I not get for these beautiful things?”

The king received the present very graciously and told the soldier he could give him in return nothing rarer or better than the magnificent turnip.

So the wealthy soldier was obliged to hire a cart, and have the turnip taken to his home. He arrived there full of wrath and bitterness. The more he thought on the matter the worse he felt, and at length he formed the evil design of having his brother killed. He hired two ruffians, who waylaid the former poor soldier as he was passing through a wood. They seized and bound him and prepared to hang him on a tree. But before they had accomplished their purpose they heard an approaching clatter of hoofs and the sound of singing. That frightened them so much that they thrust their prisoner head first into a sack, attached a rope to it, threw the end of the rope over a branch of an oak and hauled him well up into the tree. Then they took to flight.

The prisoner soon contrived to work a hole in the sack, and stuck his head out. Then he perceived that the noise which had saved him was made by a student, a young fellow who was riding through the wood singing snatches of song as he went along. Just as the student was passing the tree, the man called out: “Good day. You come in the nick of time.”

The youth stopped his horse and looked all round, but could not make out where the voice came from. At last he said, “Who calls?”

“Raise your eyes,” said the man. “I am sitting up here in the Sack of Knowledge, and in a short time I have learned so much that the wisdom of the schools is as air compared to mine. Soon I shall have learned everything, and I shall come down and be the wisest of mankind. I understand astronomy and the blowing of the winds and the art of healing the sick, and I know every herb and all the birds and stones. If you were here in my place you would feel what splendor flows from the Sack of Knowledge.”

All this greatly astonished and impressed the student, in which he said: “Blessed be the hour in which I met you! Let me get into the sack for a little while.”

“Well,” said the other with apparent reluctance, “that you may do if you will wait for a short time till I am ready. There is one piece of learning which I have not yet fully mastered.”

So the student waited, but he soon became impatient and entreated to be allowed to get into the sack at once and satisfy his great thirst for knowledge. Then the man pretended to take pity on him and told him to lower the sack to the ground and open the mouth of it. That done, the farmer got out, and the student started to get in, feet first, saying, “I want you to make haste and pull me up as fast as possible.”

“Stop, stop!” cried the man. “That won’t do.”

Then he laid hold of the student by the shoulders and thrust him into the sack head downward, tied it up, and swung the disciple of wisdom up on the bough of the tree. When the student was dangling up aloft in the air, the man said: “How do you feel now, my dear fellow? Do you find that wisdom comes with experience? Stay there quietly till you become wiser.”

Thereupon he mounted the student’s horse and rode off; but an hour later he sent some one to release the prisoner in the sack.

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THE ENCHANTED DOVE

A POOR maidservant was once traveling with her master’s family in a coach through a great wood. When they were in the very middle of the wood, a band of robbers sprang out of a thicket and killed every one of the travelers that they could lay their hands on. Only the maidservant escaped. She, in her fright, jumped out of the coach and hid behind a tree.

When the robbers had made off with their booty she came from her place of concealment and wept as she saw what had happened. “Alas!” she cried, “here I am left alone in this wild forest. I can never find my way out, and not a human creature lives in it, so that I shall certainly die of hunger.”

She wandered about for some time looking for a pathway, but could not find one. Evening came, and she sat down under a tree and made up her mind to spend the night there, no matter what might happen. But soon a little white dove came flying to her with a small golden key in its beak. It put the key in the girl’s hand, and said: “Examine closely the bark of the tree-trunk you are leaning against, and you will find a lock which this key will fit. Turn the key in that lock, and a door will open and reveal a cupboard in which is food and drink. Take all you need.”

The girl examined the tree, found the lock, and opened the door, and inside was a basin of milk, and some white bread to eat with it. So she made a good meal. When she finished, she said to herself: “At home the hens are going to roost now. Oh, that I had some shelter for the night!”

Then the little dove again came flying to her with another golden key in its beak, and it said, “This will open a door in yonder tree, within which you will find a nice bed.”

She opened the door and found a soft, clean bed inside, and she lay down in it and went to sleep. Next morning the dove came a third time and brought her a key. This opened a door in another large tree near by, and there she found many beautiful garments embroidered with gold and silver, and ornamented with precious stones. No princess could have desired anything finer.

For a long time the maid dwelt there in the forest, and the dove visited her every day and supplied all her wants. Her life was peaceful and happy. One day the dove came to her and said, “Will you do something for my sake?”

“With all my heart,” replied the maiden.

Then the dove said: “I will take you to a little house, which you must enter. By the hearth you will see an old woman sitting. She will bid you good day, but on no account speak a word to her, whatever she may say or do. Walk right past her, and at the far side of the fireplace you will see a door. Open it and go into the room beyond. There, on a table, you will find a heap of rings of every description. Many of them are very beautiful and glitter with precious stones, but take none of those. Instead, search for a small plain one, which is somewhere in the room. After you secure it, bring it to me as quickly as you can.”

So the dove guided the maiden to the little house, and she opened the door and saw the old woman, who stared and said, “Good day, my child.”

The maiden did not answer, but went on toward the inner door. “Whither are you going?” cried the old woman, seizing her by the skirt. “This is my house, and no one shall pass through that door without my permission.”

But the girl said never a word. She loosened her skirt from the woman’s grasp and went into the room beyond the fireplace. On a table lay a glittering heap of jeweled rings. She searched among them for the plain one, but could not find it. While she continued her search, the old woman slipped into the room and took up a bird cage, with which she started to slyly creep away. Her actions aroused the suspicions of the maiden, who ran after her and wrenched the cage out of her hands.

Then the girl saw that the bird inside held the plain ring in its beak. She took the ring and ran joyfully out of the house, thinking she would find the dove close at hand waiting for her, but no dove appeared. Anxious and fearful, she leaned against a tree, watching for the coming of the bird. As she stood there it seemed to her that the tree became soft and supple and bent its branches downward. Then two of the branches twined themselves around her, and behold, when she tried to free herself, they were not branches at all, but two strong arms. She looked up, and the tree was gone, and in its stead was a fine handsome man with his arms clasped about her.

“You have released me from the power of the old woman, who is an evil witch,” said he. “She changed me into a tree a long time ago, but every day I became a white dove for a couple of hours. So long as she possessed the ring I could not regain my human form. I am a king’s son, and I came hither accompanied by servants and horses, who were likewise changed into trees. But now you see them around me in their natural forms, and you must come with us to my father’s kingdom.”

When they reached their journey’s end the prince and the maiden married, and they lived happily ever after.

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THE THREE WISHES

ONCE upon a time there lived a poor woodman in a great forest, and every morning his wife filled a basket with food and a bottle with drink for his lunch, and, laden with this lunch and his ax, he went off to be gone till evening cutting timber. One day he was about to fell a huge oak which he thought would furnish many a good plank. He had his ax raised for the first blow when he heard a pitiful entreating, and there stood before him a little fairy, who beseeched him to spare the tree.

So dazed was he with wonder that for a while he could not open his mouth to speak a word, but at last he said, “Well, I’ll do as you ask.”

“That tree is my home,” explained the fairy, “and you will not lose as much as you think by letting it stand, for it is hollow at the heart. Besides, to show you that I am not ungrateful, I will grant you and your wife the first three wishes you and she wish after you get home, let them be what they may.”

Then the fairy opened a little door at the base of the tree, which he had not seen before, and disappeared.

“Well,” said the woodman, “if my wife and I can have three wishes, our fortune is as good as made. It is nearly evening, and I may as well go home at once. I shall never need to cut any more trees.”

He put his ax over his shoulder, picked up his basket and bottle, and off he went. When he arrived at his cottage he sat down by the fireside to rest and told his wife about the fairy.

“Well,” said she, when she had heard him through, “If it is left to my choice, I know very well what I would wish for. I think nothing is so good as to be handsome, and rich, and aristocratic.”

“And yet,” said the husband, “even with such wishes realized, one might be sick and fretful and die young. It would be much wiser to wish for health, cheerfulness, and a long life.”

“The fairy should have promised a dozen wishes,” said the wife, “for there are at least that many things I want very much.”

“Yes,” agreed the man, “a dozen wishes would have been better, but as we have only three we must make those three do all that is possible. Let us consider the matter carefully until tomorrow before wishing, that we may decide wisely what three things are most necessary for us.”

“I’ll think the whole night through,” said she.

“After all,” remarked the man, “it may be the fairy’s promise was only a trick. Who can tell?”

The evening was chilly, and the wife took the tongs and poked the fire into brighter blazing. For a time the man sat in silence, and then he happened to think that he was hungry. “Why isn’t the supper ready?” he asked.

“You forget that you are home early,” she replied. “It won’t be supper time for two hours.”

“Ah!” sighed he, “two hours is a long wait after working in the woods all day. I wish I had some nice sausages this minute.”

No sooner had he said this than—rustle, rustle—what should come down the chimney but a dish containing a string of as fine sausages as ever were seen. The dish came down on the hearth with a slight clatter, and the woodman and his wife stared in astonishment. “What’s all this?” said she.

He answered not a word, and she glowered and glowered. “Oh, you silly man!” she cried, “there’s one wish gone already, and only two are left. What a fool you have been! I wish the sausages were fast to the tip of your nose.”

A noble string of sausages hung from his nose
]

Before you could wink, there the goodman sat with his nose the longer for a noble string of sausages. He tried to pull them off, but they stuck. Then his wife gave them a pull, but still they stuck. They refused to come off even when the two pulled together.

“Ouch, ouch!” exclaimed the man, “we must stop this pulling, or we shall pull my nose off. But I can’t have these things staying on my nose. What shall we do?”

“They are not so very unsightly,” said she, “and we had better wish for vast riches. Then we shall be able to live in comfort the rest of our lives, and if you object to the looks of the sausages we can have a golden case made to hide them.”

“I couldn’t endure them, case or no case,” declared the man. Then, lest the goodwife should wish for riches in spite of his protest, he hastily wished that the sausages might come off.

There they lay in the dish as before, and if the husband and wife did not ride in a golden coach and dress in silk and satin, why they at least had as fine a mess of sausages for their supper as the heart of man could desire.

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THE OLD HORSE

THERE was once a farmer who had a horse which served him faithfully till it had grown old and could do its work no longer. So its master grudged it food, and said: “I have no further use for you, and yet I still feel kindly toward you. Therefore, if you will show yourself strong enough to bring home a lion, I will take care of you to the end of your days. But away with you now and out of my stable.”

Then the farmer drove the poor horse out, and it went sadly away with drooping head to the forest to get a little shelter from the wind and weather. There it met a fox, who said, “Why do you hang your head and look so downcast, and wander about in this solitary fashion?”

“Alas!” said the horse, “avarice and fidelity cannot dwell together. My master has forgotten all the service I have rendered him these many years, and because I can no longer plough he will not give me any fodder, and he has driven me out of my stable.”

“Did he give you no hope that you might return?” asked the fox.

“Very little,” replied the horse. “He told me that if I could manage to bring home a lion he would take care of me, but he knows well enough that such a thing is impossible.”

“Perhaps not,” said the fox. “I will help you. Just you lie down here and stretch out your legs as if you were dead.”

The horse did as he was bid, and the fox went to a lion whose den was not far off, and said: “Near by lies a dead horse. Come along with me, and you can have a capital meal.”

The lion went with the fox, and when they got to the horse, the fox said: “Hist! hearken to my advice. You can’t eat the creature in comfort here. I will tie it to you, and you can drag it away to your den, and enjoy it at your leisure.”

The plan pleased the lion, and he stood quite still, close to the horse, while the fox knotted the horse’s tail fast to him. He did not realize that the fox was cunningly tying his legs together and twisting and knotting the hairs of the tail till it was impossible for him to get free with all his strength. As soon as the work was done, the fox patted the horse on the shoulder, and said: “Pull, old Gray! Pull!”

At once the horse jumped up and started for home, dragging the lion behind it. In his rage the lion roared so that all the birds in the forest flew away in terror. But the horse let him roar, and never stopped until it reached its master’s door.

When the farmer saw what the horse had done he was delighted, and he repented of his former resolution to let the creature shift for itself. “You shall remain with me in future and live at your ease,” said he.

So the faithful horse had plenty to eat and comfortable shelter till it died.

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THE DONKEY CABBAGES

THERE was once a young huntsman who went to the forest in search of game. He was light-hearted and merry, and he whistled a gay tune as he went along. By and by he met an ugly old woman, who said: “Good morning, huntsman. You are well fed and happy, while I am hungry and sad. Give me an alms, I pray you.”

The huntsman pitied the poor old woman, and he put his hand in his pocket and gave her what he could afford. Then he started to go on, but the old woman stopped him, and said: “Hark you, dear huntsman, I will make you a present because of your good heart. Go on your way, and you will soon come to a tree on which sit nine birds quarreling over a cloak. Take aim with your gun, and shoot into the midst of them. They will drop the cloak, and one of the birds will fall down dead. Take the cloak with you. It is a wishing-cloak. When you throw it round your shoulders, you have only to wish yourself at a place to be there at once. Cut open the dead bird, and you will find a ring inside. Wear it on your finger, and each morning there will be a gold piece under your pillow.”

The huntsman thanked the old woman, and thought, “She promises fine things, and I hope it will all turn out as she says.”

When he had gone about a hundred paces, he heard above him, in the branches of a tree, a great chattering and screaming. He looked up and saw a group of birds pulling at a cloak with their beaks and claws. It was evident from the snatching and tugging that each bird wanted the garment for itself.

“Well,” said the huntsman, “this is extraordinary, and it is just what the old woman said I would see.”

He put his gun to his shoulder, took aim, and fired. Away went the birds with a great noise and scattering of feathers—all except one, which fell down dead, and at the same time the cloak dropped at the huntsman’s feet. He cut open the bird and found a ring inside and put it on his finger. Then he took the cloak and went home.

When he awoke the next morning he remembered the old woman’s promise and looked under his pillow. Sure enough, there lay a shining gold coin, and on the morning following he found another, and thus it was every morning. Gradually, he collected quite a heap of gold, and at last he said to himself: “What is the good of all this gold to me if I stay at home? I will go and look about in the world.”

So he took leave of his parents, shouldered his gun, and set out on his travels. One day a turn in the road brought into view a magnificent castle. An old woman and a beautiful girl were looking out from an upper window. The old woman was a witch, and the maiden was her daughter. “Here comes some one,” said she, “who has a magic ring on his finger. We must try to get it, my darling. It is better suited to us than to him. Whoever wears that ring finds a gold coin every morning under the pillow. You must get it from him or it will be the worse for you.”

She then withdrew, but the maiden remained looking out of the window. When the huntsman got nearer he saw her, and said to himself: “I am weary with traveling. I will stop at this fine castle and rest.” But he would not have felt such an urgent need of stopping if he had not seen the maiden.

He was kindly received and hospitably entertained, and he was soon so in love with the daughter of the witch that she was constantly in his thoughts, and he cared for nothing but pleasing her.

At length the witch decided on a plan for getting the ring. She concocted a drink that would make the huntsman insensible, put it in a goblet, and said to her daughter: “Carry this to the youth, and get his ring. He will not miss it.”

The maiden went to the huntsman, and said, “My dearest, here is a pleasant drink we have prepared for you.”

He took the goblet and drank what was in it, and soon it overpowered him and she secured the magic ring. After that the huntsman found no more gold under his pillow; but the maiden wore the ring every night, and the coin was under her pillow instead, and each morning the old woman used to come and get it. However, he did not trouble himself about the matter, and was content to enjoy the maiden’s company.

One day the old woman said to her daughter: “We have got the ring, but we must have his wishing-cloak, too.”

“Let us leave him that,” said the maiden. “Have we not done enough in taking away his means of getting riches?”

That made the old woman very angry, and she said, “The cloak is so rare and wonderful a thing that I am determined to have it, and I shall punish you unless you get it for me.”

The maiden seated herself at a window and looked sadly out at a distant blue mountain. Soon the huntsman joined her and asked, “Why are you so sad?”

“Alas! my sweetheart,” said she, “over there is the granite mountain, on which are great quantities of precious stones. I long for those precious stones so much that I grow melancholy whenever I think of them. But who can ever get them, except perhaps the birds, for the mountain-sides are too steep to climb.”

“If that is all your trouble,” said the huntsman, “I have a remedy for it.”