Wonder Tales from Many Lands 7

Wonder Tales from Many Lands 7

The Baba Yaga slept for a long time. At last she yawned and woke, but

she could not get her eyes open. They were stuck tight with pitch. She

was in a terrible rage; she stamped about and roared terribly. “I know

who has done this,” she cried, “and as soon as I get my eyes open, I

will go after her and tear her to pieces.” Then she called to the cat

to come and scratch her eyes open with its sharp little claws.

 

“That I will not,” answered the cat. “As long as I have been with you,

you have given me nothing but hard words and bones to gnaw, but she

stroked my fur, and gave me a cake to eat. Scratch your own eyes open,

for you shall have no help from me.” And then the little cat ran away

into the forest.

 

But the faithful servant and Peter journeyed safely on through the

forest, and you may guess whether or not the mother was glad to have

her little Peter safe home again.

 

As to the old Baba Yaga, she may be shouting and stamping and rubbing

the pitch from her eyes yet, for all I know.

 

 

 

 

TAMLANE

 

A STORY FROM AN OLD SCOTCH BALLAD

 

 

FAIR Janet was the daughter of the Earl of March, and she was so

beautiful that many knights and noble gentlemen had asked her to marry

them, but she would say yes to none of them.

 

One day she sat at her window sewing a seam, and she heard the sound of

a horn down in the forest. It blew so sweet and it blew so clear that

she laid down her seam to listen, and it seemed to her that it called

“Janet, fair Janet, come hither!”

 

Fair Janet dropped her sewing and down to the wood she ran. She looked

about her, and there stood a handsome knight. From head to foot he was

dressed in green, and in his hand he held a silver horn, and when he

saw her he raised it to his lips and blew again so soft and clear that

Janet had never heard anything like it.

 

“Now tell me,” said she, “is that a fairy horn that it blows so sweet a

note?”

 

“It is indeed a fairy horn,” answered the stranger, “and it was in

Fairyland that I learned to wind it. In many a forest have I blown it,

north and south, and east and west, and you are the first to hear and

answer it.”

 

Then fair Janet was afraid, for she thought the stranger must be a

fairy knight, and she did not know what charm he might cast about her.

 

The knight saw she was frightened, so he said, “From Fairyland I

brought it, yet I am of human flesh and blood like you. I am the son of

the Earl of Murray, and once my name was John, though in Fairyland they

call me Tamlane. When I was a child, the fairies stole me, and they

have kept me with them ever since. Bright and fair it is in Fairyland,

and I am the Queen’s favoured knight, but my heart wearies to be back

in my own country and living with my own kind once more.”

 

“And will not the fairies let you go?” asked fair Janet, and now she

was not afraid.

 

“That they will not of their own wills, and only a lady brave and true

can set me free. You yourself are that lady, fair Janet, for you alone

have heard and answered my horn.”

 

Then Janet promised she would do whatever Tamlane bade her do, if by so

doing she might bring him back from Fairyland, for he was very good to

look upon. She let him put a ring upon her finger, and they kissed each

other as a sign that they were betrothed.

 

Then Tamlane told her what she must do. On every Hallowe’en at midnight

the fairies ride abroad, and on that night she must go to Milescross

and wait for them to pass. At midnight they would come.

 

First would ride the Fairy Queen, her horse hung round with bells.

After her would come all her ladies and esquires, and then her band of

knights, and it was among these that Tamlane would ride.

 

“You’ll know me from among them all,” said he, “by the snow-white horse

I ride. Moreover, I’ll wear a glove on my right hand, but my left hand

will hang bare. Then is the time for you, Janet. Spring up and pull me

from my horse and hold me tight. There will be a loud cry raised, and

they’ll change me into many shapes in your arms, but hold me tight,

whatever I seem to be. Always it will be I, and I will not harm you. Do

this, and when I take my own shape again I will be free of the fairies

for ever.”

 

Janet promised to do all that he told her to, though she was terrified

at the thought of what might happen, and then they kissed each other

again and parted.

 

Now three nights after it was Hallowe’en, and Janet went out to

Milescross, and hid herself there and waited.

 

When midnight came there was a sound of bells, and a white light, and

the fairies came riding by. First came the Queen, and she was very

beautiful, with a circlet of stars about her head. Then came her

ladies and squires, talking and laughing together; and next a troop

of knights all in green, and each with a silver horn. Some rode on

black horses, and some on brown, but one knight there was who rode a

milk-white steed. His right hand was gloved, but his left hand hung

down bare at his side. He rode on and never turned his head, but when

Janet saw him she knew him for her true love, Tamlane, and she sprang

forward and caught him by the mantle and pulled him down from off his

horse and gripped him tight. Then from all the fairy train there arose

a cry, “Tamlane’s awa’!” “Tamlane’s awa’!”

 

[Illustration: THEN IT WAS A SWAN THAT BEAT ITS WINGS IN HER FACE]

 

Suddenly it was no knight that Janet held in her arms, but a great grey

wolf. It struggled and snapped, and its breath was hot in her face.

Almost it broke from her, but she remembered Tamlane’s words and held

it tight. And then it was not a wolf she held, but a bale of burning

straw. The flames roared in her ears, but she clasped it close, and it

did not scorch her. Then it was a great serpent that wrapped itself

about her, and tried to slip from her arms, but she held it tight and

did not let it go. Then it was a swan that beat its wings in her face,

but she shut her eyes and held it. Then the wings were still, and she

opened her eyes, and saw it was her own true love, Tamlane, that she

clasped in her arms.

 

The Fairy Queen turned herself about, and she cried, “Tamlane, Tamlane,

if I had known yesterday what I know to-day, I would have taken out

your two blue eyes and given you eyes of stone; had I known yesterday

what I know to-day, I would have taken the heart of flesh out of your

bosom and put in a heart of clay; had I but known yesterday what I know

now, never should you have ridden abroad with me this night!”

 

Then suddenly the fairies were gone, and Tamlane and Janet stood there

alone. He took her by the hand, and they went back to her father’s

castle together. There they were married with great joy and feasting,

and they lived together happily all the rest of their lives, a faithful

and loving man and wife.

 

 

 

 

THE FARMER AND THE PIXY

 

AN ENGLISH FAIRY TALE

 

 

FARMER BOGGINS lived on a lonely farm, and there were a great many

pixies and other fairies all around.

 

One morning in threshing-time Farmer Boggins went out to the barn

before anyone else, and what was his surprise to find that a great heap

of grain had been threshed out in the night. He wondered who had done

it. When his labourers came to work he questioned them, but none of

them knew anything about it.

 

The next night the same thing happened; no one went near the barn, but

in the morning there was a heap of clean grain on the floor.

 

The third night the farmer made up his mind to find out who it was

that was helping him, so he hid himself behind some hay, and lay there

watching. The moon shone in and lighted all the floor, but for a long

time the farmer heard and saw nothing.

 

Then suddenly he heard a sound of threshing, and there was a pixy

beating out the grain with a flail. The little man was not a foot high.

He was as brown as a nut and had scarce a rag of clothes upon him.

 

He worked so hard that the sweat poured down his forehead, and now and

then he stopped to wipe it away. Then he would cry out proudly, “How I

sweat! How I sweat!”

 

The farmer was filled with admiration, and the third time the little

man cried “How I sweat!” the farmer could hold his tongue no longer,

but answered him, “That you do!”

 

No sooner had he spoken, however, than the pixy was gone.

 

The farmer waited for a while, but the little man did not return. At

last Farmer Boggins went back to the house and told his good wife all

that had happened.

 

“You stupid!” she cried, when he had made an end of the story. “You

should never have spoken to him. The small folk cannot bear to be

spoken to!”

 

Well, the mischief was done, and now the only thing to do was to think

of some way to coax the pixy back again to the work.

 

Early the next morning the good wife woke her husband.

 

“Husband,” said she, “did you say the little man had scarce a stitch of

clothes upon him?”

 

“That’s what I said,” answered the farmer.

 

“Then listen,” said his wife. “To-day I will make a little suit of

clothes for him, and you shall take it out and lay it in the barn where

he will be likely to see it if he comes back. Maybe then he’ll be so

pleased he’ll get over his anger and begin to work for you again.”

 

[Illustration: “NOT SO FAST, MY FINE LITTLE FELLOW,” HE SAID]

 

Well, that seemed a good plan to the farmer, so his wife set to work,

and by evening she had made a complete set of little clothes just the

size for a pixy. The farmer took it out to the barn and spread it out

in the moonlight and hid himself where he could watch and see what

would happen.

 

For a long time all was still, and Farmer Boggins was beginning to feel

sleepy, when suddenly he saw the pixy was there. The little man had a

flail in his hands and was going toward a heap of grain. Then he saw

the little suit lying there in the moonlight. At first he stood quite

still, and then he laid down the flail and took up the clothes. He

looked at them all over, and then he put them on.

 

When he was dressed he began to hop about and sing:

 

“How fine I am, how fine I am:

Now I am nobody’s working-man.”

 

So singing, he danced across the floor and out of the barn and down the

hill.

 

Then the farmer was in a rage. His wife had taken all the trouble

to make the clothes, and the little man had taken them and gone off

without doing a stroke of work to pay for them. But this should not be

the end of the matter.

 

At the foot of the hill the farm road crossed a stream, and there was a

bridge. The farmer went down to the bridge and hid himself beside it,

for he thought that if the pixy were really leaving the farm, this was

the way he would go.

 

Sure enough, Boggins had not been hidden there long when he heard a

sound of voices, and along came a whole troop of pixies. They all

looked exactly like the little man the farmer had seen in the barn, but

none of them were dressed. Last of all came a pixy in a little suit of

clothes, so the farmer knew he must be the one who had threshed out the

grain.

 

Just as this pixy reached the bridge, Farmer Boggins stepped out in

front of him. “Not so fast, my fine little fellow,” he said. “There’s

some work owing me in payment for that suit you’re wearing.”

 

The farmer had scarcely got the words out of his mouth when he heard a

great splash in the stream behind him, and a voice that sounded like

his wife’s cried, “Husband! Husband! Come quick and help me, or I’ll

drown.”

 

The farmer turned about, and immediately there was a burst of elfin

laughter. The stream lay silent and smooth in the moonlight. No one was

there, and when the farmer turned back to the bridge again every pixy

was gone from it.

 

Then the farmer knew that he had been tricked, and he had to go home

without either the pixy or the suit of clothes. His wife was there

though. She had never been out of the house at all, and a fine scolding

she gave him for letting himself be tricked that way by the little men.

 

But the pixy never came back to help him with his grain, or to thank

him for the suit of clothes either.

 

 

 

 

RABBIT’S EYES

 

A KOREAN FAIRY TALE

 

 

ONCE upon a time the king of the fishes fell ill, and no one knew what

was the matter with him. All the doctors in the sea were called in, one

after another, and not one of them could cure him.

 

Once when the fishes were talking about it, a turtle stuck its head out

of a crack in a rock. “It is a pity,” said the turtle, “that no one has

ever thought of asking my advice. I could cure the king in a twinkling.

All he has to do is to swallow the eye of a live rabbit, and he will

become perfectly well again.”

 

This the turtle said, not because he knew anything at all about the

matter, but because he wished to appear wise before the fishes.

 

Now it so chanced that one of the fishes that heard him was the son of

the king’s councillor, and he swam straight home and told his father

what he had heard the turtle say. The councillor told the king, and the

king, who was feeling very ill that day, bade them bring the turtle to

him immediately.

 

When the messengers told the turtle that the king wished to speak to

him, the turtle was very much frightened. He drew his head and his tail

into his shell and pretended that he was asleep, but in the end he was

obliged to go with the messengers.

 

They soon reached the palace, and the turtle was taken immediately to

where the king was. He was lying on a bed of seaweed and looking very

ill indeed, and all his doctors were gathered round him.

 

The king turned his eyes toward the turtle, and spoke in a weak voice.

“Tell me, friend, is it true that you said you could cure me?”

 

Yes, it was true.

 

“And that all I have to do is to swallow the eye of a live rabbit, and

I will be well again?”

 

Yes, that was true too.

 

“Then go get a live rabbit and bring it here immediately, that I may be

well.”

 

When the turtle heard these words he was in despair. It did not seem at

all likely that he could catch a rabbit and bring it down into the sea,

but he was so much afraid of the king that he did not dare to explain

this to him. He said nothing, but crawled away as soon as he could,

wishing he could find some crack where he could hide himself and never

be found again.

 

Suddenly he remembered he had once seen a rabbit frisking about on a

hill not far from the seashore, and he determined to set out to find

it.

 

He crawled out of the sea and started up the hill. He climbed and he

climbed, and after a while he came to the top, and there he sat down to

rest.

 

Presently along came the rabbit, and it stopped to speak to him.

 

“Good day,” said the rabbit.

 

“Good day,” said the turtle.

 

“And what are you doing so far away from the sea?” asked the rabbit.

 

“Oh, I only came up here to look about and see what the green world was

like,” answered the turtle.

 

“And what do you think of it, now you are here?”

 

“Oh, it’s not so bad; but you ought to see the beautiful palaces and

gardens we have down under the sea.” The turtle began telling the

rabbit about them, and he talked so long and said so many fine things

about them, that the rabbit began to wish to see them for himself.

 

“Would it be very hard for me to live down under the water?” he asked.

 

“Oh, no,” said the turtle. “It might be a little inconvenient at

first, but that would not last long. If you like, I will take you on

my back and carry you down to the bottom of the sea, and then you can

see whether it is not all just as grand and beautiful as I have been

telling you.”

 

Well, the rabbit could not resist his curiosity, and he agreed to go

with the turtle.

 

They went to the edge of the sea, and then the rabbit got on the

turtle’s back, and down they went through the water to the very bottom

of the sea. The rabbit did not like it at first, but he soon grew used

to it, and when he saw all the fine palaces and gardens that were

there, he was filled with wonder.

 

The turtle took him directly to the palace of the king. There he bade

the rabbit get down and wait awhile, and he promised that presently he

would show him the king of all this magnificence.

 

The rabbit was delighted and willingly agreed to wait there while the

turtle went to announce him.

 

But while the turtle was away the rabbit heard two fishes talking in

the room next to where he was. He was very inquisitive, so he cocked

his ears forward and listened to what they were saying. What was his

horror to find that they were talking about taking out his eyes and

giving them to the king. The rabbit did not know what to do, nor how he

was to escape from the dangerous position he was in.

 

Presently the turtle came back, and the chief councillor came with

him, and immediately the rabbit began to talk. “Well,” said he, “it

all seems very fine here, and I am glad I came, but I wish now I had

brought my own eyes with me so that I could see it better. You see,

the eyes I have in my head now are only glass eyes. I am so afraid of

getting my own eyes hurt or dusty that I generally keep them in a safe

place, and wear these glass eyes instead. But if I had only known how

much there would be to look at, I would certainly have brought my own

eyes.”

 

When the turtle and the councillor heard this, they were very much

disappointed, for they believed the rabbit was speaking the truth, and

that the eyes he had in his head at the time were only glass eyes.

 

“I will take you back to the shore,” said the turtle, “and then you can

go and get your real eyes and come back again, for there are many more

things for you to see here—things more wonderful and beautiful than anything I have yet shown you.”