Produced by MFR, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive).--Dedicated to Emmy Miller
Books by Frances Jenkins Olcott
PUBLISHED BY
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
THE BOOK OF ELVES AND FAIRIES. Illustrated in color by Milo Winter.
TALES OF THE PERSIAN GENII. Illustrated in color by Willy Pogany.
THE RED INDIAN FAIRY BOOK. Illustrated in color by Frederick Richardson.
BIBLE STORIES TO READ AND TELL. Illustrated in color by Willy Pogany.
GOOD STORIES FOR GREAT HOLIDAYS. Illustrated.
STORY-TELLING POEMS.
THE CHILDREN’S READING.
With Amena Pendleton
THE JOLLY BOOK FOR BOYS AND GIRLS.
THE BOOK OF ELVES
AND FAIRIES
“THIS IS MAB, THE MISTRESS FAIRY” (page 209)
THE BOOK OF
ELVES AND FAIRIES
_FOR STORY-TELLING AND READING ALOUD
AND FOR THE CHILDREN’S OWN READING_
BY
FRANCES JENKINS OLCOTT
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY MILO WINTER
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
The Riverside Press Cambridge
1918
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY FRANCES JENKINS OLCOTT
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published October 1918
TO
THEODORE OLCOTT PHILLIPS
“_Good luck befriend thee, son; for, at thy birth, The FAIRY LADIES danced upon the hearth; The drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy Come tripping to the room, where thou didst lie, And sweetly singing round about thy bed Strew all their blessings on thy sleeping head!_”
MILTON
FOREWORD
Let a child open the covers of this book, and straightway he is in that land of all delights--Fairy Realm. Here Fairy Godmothers reward good children, and punish bad ones; here red-capped Little Men yield up their treasures of gold and magic gifts, while Pixies drop silver pennies in water-pails, and merry Spriggans and Fays hold nightly revels in the moonlight. Here, too, a child may dance in Fairy Rings, or hie away to Elfinland for a year and a day to play with wonder-children, pick Fairy flowers, listen to Fairy birds, and be fed on magic goodies.
Old favourites like “Cinderella,” “Toads and Diamonds,” and “Robin Goodfellow,” may charm the little reader, or other delightful tales, new to most children, such as “Butterfly’s Diamond” and “Timothy Tuttle and the Little Imps,” will fascinate as much as do the older tales. Stories are here from all lands where Fairies thrive--Elfin-lore, legends, myths, and wonder-tales from China, Japan, the South Seas, England, Ireland, Wales, Cornwall, and Red Indian land, and from many other Elfin-haunted spots.
And every story is about “Fairies black, grey, green, and white,” and every one has been selected for delightful humour, fancy, or ethical teaching. Nearly all have been retold to meet the needs of story-tellers and to please the children. As far as possible the language of the originals has been retained and elements that will terrify little children or teach them that wrong is right, have been eliminated. The French tales--all but one--have been freshly translated.
A subject index is appended to aid the storyteller in choosing stories dealing with specific subjects, such as fruits, flowers, seasons, holidays, trees, also with moral qualities like obedience, thrift, honesty, and truth-telling.
To impart true Fairy spirit as well as literary flavour, many famous Fairy poems by Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, and other poets are included; so that the volume forms a collection of the best Fairy literature, not merely planned to give the children joy, but to be of real educational value.
“But of what possible educational value are Fairy tales?” asks the practical parent or teacher.
They are essential in the right development of a child’s mind. They embody the poetic fancy of the race. They stimulate a child’s imagination, feed his fancy, and satisfy poetically his groping after things unseen. His craving for such tales is due to a normal growth of mind. If he be deprived of Fairy tales in childhood, he is likely, as an adult, to lack the creative imagination which makes big-visioned men and women, and leads to success in literature, art, invention, or in the practical things of business life. There are, of course, children who do not like Fairy tales, but they are few and far between, and other forms of literature may be found which will, in part, help to develop their peculiar type of mentality. But Fairy tales are the heritage of the normal child, and if he be judiciously fed on them, in later life he will have a more plastic imagination and be able to enjoy more fully the beauties of great poetry and other fine literature.
Robert Burns said in a letter to Dr. Moore that in his infant and boyish days he owed much to an old woman who lived in his family; for her tales of Brownies, and Fairies, and other wonders “cultivated the latent seeds of poetry” in the poet’s mind. And even the grave Luther said, “I would not for any quantity of gold part with the wonderful tales which I have retained from my earliest childhood, or have met with in my progress through life.”
Charles Lamb, and Coleridge too, believed heartily in Fairy tales. “Ought children to be permitted to read romances, and stories of Giants, Magicians, and Genii?” asked Coleridge. “I know all that has been said against it; but I have formed my faith in the affirmative. I know no other way of giving the mind a love of the Great and the Whole.... I read every book that came in my way without distinction, and my father was fond of me and used to take me on his knee, and hold long conversations with me. I remember when eight years old walking with him one winter evening, ... and he then told me the names of the stars, and how Jupiter was a thousand times larger than our world, and that the other twinkling stars were suns that had worlds rolling round them; and when I came home he showed me how they rolled round. I heard him with a profound delight and admiration, but without the least mixture of wonder or incredulity. For from my early reading of Fairy tales and about Genii, and the like, my mind had been habituated to the Vast; and I never regarded my senses in any way as the criteria of my belief.”
Such, then, is the educational mission of the Fairy tale, not only to give pure joy, but to enlarge the mind. And as childhood is the only time when this miracle takes place in its completeness, every child who so desires should be allowed to wander at will in the land of imaginative delights, where the King of Fairy Poets, Shakespeare, loved to wander as a child and as a man. In “The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies” that benign shape answers grisly Time who would cut down “all the assembled Fays”:--
“_These be the pretty Genii of the flow’rs,
Daintily fed with honey and pure dew--
Midsummer’s phantoms in her dreaming hours,
King Oberon, and all his merry crew,
The darling puppets of romance’s view;
Fairies, and Sprites, and Goblin Elves we call them,
Famous for patronage of lovers true;--
No harm they act, neither shall harm befall them,
So do not thus with crabbed frowns appall them._
* * * * *
“_Likewise to them are Poets much beholden
For secret favours in the midnight glooms;
Brave Spenser quaff’d out of their goblets golden,
And saw their tables spread of prompt mushrooms,
And heard their horns of honeysuckle blooms
Sounding upon the air, most soothing soft,
Like humming bees busy about the brooms,--
And glanced this fair Queen’s witchery full oft,
And in her magic wain soared far aloft._
* * * * *
“_’Twas they first school’d my young imagination To take its flights like any new-fledged bird, And show’d the span of wingèd meditation Stretched wider than things grossly seen or heard. With sweet swift Ariel how I soar’d and stirred The fragrant blooms of spiritual bow’rs! ’Twas they endear’d what I have still preferr’d, Nature’s blest attributes and balmy pow’rs, Her hills and vales and brooks, sweet birds and flow’rs!_”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special acknowledgment is here made to the Saturday Magazine of the New York Evening Post for use of many stories included in this volume, which I have written for its columns.
Grateful acknowledgment is due also to the following publishers for material from their books:--
To Messrs. Houghton Mifflin Company, for “The Sick-Bed Elves,” from Strange Stories from the Lodge of Leisures, by George Soulié; “The Brown Dwarf of Rügen,” by John Greenleaf Whittier; “The Immortal Fountain,” and “A Little Knight and Little Maid,” by Lucy Larcom.
To Messrs. E. P. Dutton & Co., for “Little Niebla,” from The Purple Land, by W. H. Hudson.
Thanks are due to Mrs. Anna Todd Paddock for “Timothy Tuttle and the Little Imps,” and to Miss Julia Fish for the French stories specially translated for this volume.
F.J.O.
CONTENTS
THE FAIRIES’ STORY HOUR
“’TIS THE HOUR OF FAIRY BAN AND SPELL,” Joseph Rodman Drake 2
COME! COME! TO THE FAIRIES’ STORY HOUR! 3
PART ONE
FAIRY-LORE AND ELFIN LEGENDS
AROUND! AROUND! IN FAIRY RINGS!
“IN THE GLOWING LIGHT OF A SUMMER SKY,” William Jones 8
ADVENTURES OF ROBIN GOODFELLOW, Old English 9
THE POTATO SUPPER, Irish 15
THE MILK-WHITE CALF AND THE FAIRY RING, Irish 20
THE WOOD-LADY, Bohemian 26
THE DANCE OF THE FAIRIES, From The Maydes Metamorphosis (1600) 32
ELFIN MOUNDS AND FAIRY HILLS
“’TIS THE MIDNIGHT HOUR” 34
MONDAY! TUESDAY! Irish 35
THE GREEDY OLD MAN, Cornish 39
LEGEND OF BOTTLE HILL, Irish 44
THE BROWN DWARF, John Greenleaf Whittier 53
LITTLE MEN AND TREASURES OF GOLD
“AND WILL YOU COME AWAY, MY LAD?” 62
THE BOY WHO FOUND THE POTS OF GOLD, Irish 63
THE RAGWEED, Irish 66
THE BAD BOY AND THE LEPRECHAUN, Irish 70
TOM AND THE KNOCKERS, Cornish 73
THE KNOCKERS’ DIAMONDS, Cornish 77
SKILLYWIDDEN, Cornish 79
THE LEPRECHAUN, OR FAIRY SHOEMAKER, William Allingham 84
GLAD LITTLE, SAD LITTLE, BAD LITTLE ELVES
“SAINT FRANCIS AND SAINT BENEDICT,” William Cartwright (1635?) 90
LITTLE REDCAP, Irish 91
THE CURMUDGEON’S SKIN, Irish 97
JUDY AND THE FAIRY CAT, Irish 103
THE BOGGART, English 105
OWNSELF, English 107
THE SICK-BED ELVES, Chinese 109
HOW PEEPING KATE WAS PISKEY-LED, Cornish 111
ONE-EYED PRYING JOAN’S TALE, Cornish 121
THE FAIRY FOLK, William Allingham 128
FAIRY SERVANTS IN THE HOUSE
“THEIR DWELLINGS BE,” From the Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells (1635) 132
THE FAIRY’S SERVANTS, Basque 133
THE PIXIES, English 138
THE BROWNIE OF BLEDNOCH, Scottish 142
ELSA AND THE TEN ELVES, Swedish 145
PISKEY FINE! AND PISKEY GAY! Cornish 149
THE FAIRY WEDDING, Swedish 151
THE TOMTS, Swedish 155
SONG OF THE ELFIN MILLER, Allan Cunningham 157
FAYS OF WATER, WOOD, AND MEADOW
“OVER HILL, OVER DALE,” Shakespeare 160
KINTARO THE GOLDEN BOY, Japanese 161
THE FLOWER FAIRIES, Chinese 166
THE FAIRY ISLAND, Cornish 169
THE FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER, Cornish 171
THE GILLIE DHU, Scottish 174
HOW KAHUKURA LEARNED TO MAKE NETS, New Zealand 176
ECHO, THE CAVE FAIRY, From the Island of Mangaia 179
THE ISLES OF THE SEA FAIRIES, Mary Howitt 182
AWAY! AWAY! TO FAIRYLAND
“BUT WE THAT LIVE IN FAIRYLAND,” Old Ballad 188
THE MAGIC FERNS, Cornish 189
THE SMITH AND THE FAIRIES, Scottish 194
THE COAL-BLACK STEED, English 198
THE GIRL WHO WAS STOLEN BY THE FAIRIES, Irish 201
THE GIRL WHO DANCED WITH THE FAIRIES, Irish 203
ELIDORE AND THE GOLDEN BALL, Welsh 206
AT THE COURT OF FAIRYLAND, Selections from Ben Jonson, Michael Drayton, Joseph Rodman Drake, Shakespeare, and Old Ballads 209
PART TWO
FAIRY STORIES
FAIRY GODMOTHERS AND WONDERFUL GIFTS
“RAP! RAP! RAP!” 220
CINDERELLA, Charles Perrault 221
SLEEPING BEAUTY IN THE WOOD, Charles Perrault 231
PRINCE CHÉRI, Madame Le Prince de Beaumont 239
TOADS AND DIAMONDS, Charles Perrault 254
BLANCHE AND ROSE, Madame Le Prince de Beaumont 258
THE ENCHANTED WATCH, Jean Macé 264
QUEEN MAB, Thomas Hood 276
FAIRY ADVENTURES
“A LITTLE KNIGHT AND LITTLE MAID,” Lucy Larcom 280
FAIRY DO-NOTHING AND GIANT SNAP-’EM-UP, Catherine Sinclair 281
TIMOTHY TUTTLE AND THE LITTLE IMPS, Dr. John Todd 290
BUTTERFLY’S DIAMOND, Lydia Maria Child 304
LITTLE NIEBLA, W. H. Hudson 312
LITTLE TINY, Hans Christian Andersen 319
THE IMMORTAL FOUNTAIN, Lydia Maria Child 337
THE STORY OF CHILDE CHARITY, Frances Browne 348
THE SHINING CHILD AND THE WICKED MOUCHE, Adapted 361
MABEL ON MIDSUMMER DAY, Mary Howitt 400
FAREWELL! FAREWELL! DEAR FAIRIES
“OH! WHERE DO FAIRIES HIDE THEIR HEADS?” Thomas Haynes Bayly 412
THE FAIRIES’ PASSAGE, James Clarence Mangan 413
OLD WINTER’S FAIRYLAND, Anonymous 418
SUBJECT INDEX FOR STORY-TELLERS 423
ILLUSTRATIONS
“THIS IS MAB, THE MISTRESS FAIRY” Frontispiece
“DERMOD GAZED AT THEM IN WONDER” 18
“SHE SAW A WHOLE TROOP OF SPRIGGANS HOLDING AN ELFIN FAIR” 118
“CHILDE CHARITY CAME OUT AND ASKED THE OLD WOMAN TO TAKE HER SHARE OF THE SUPPER” 350
THE FAIRIES’ STORY HOUR
“_’Tis the hour of Fairy ban and spell;
The wood-tick has kept the minutes well;
He has counted them all with click and stroke,
Deep in the heart of the mountain oak,
And he has awakened the sentry Elve
Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree,
To bid him ring the hour of twelve,
And call the Fays to their revelry;
Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell--
(’Twas made of the white snail’s pearly shell:--)
Midnight comes, and all is well!
Hither, hither, wing your way!
’Tis the dawn of the Fairy day_.”
JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE
COME! COME! TO THE FAIRIES’ STORY HOUR!
IN THE MOONLIT MEADOW
Fairies! Fairies everywhere! Hear them come! See them come in the pale moonlight to this lovely meadow! They rush through the air; they throng from the wood; they spring up from the ground; they peep from the flowers and leaves. They are all hastening to the Fairies’ Story Hour. The Midsummer moon is shining, shining; while the Midsummer breeze is swaying, swaying the harebells, lilies, and grasses.
Laughter! whisper! Laughter! whisper! See, through the air comes gliding a whole host of radiant little Fairies. They poise lightly on their silvery wings, and float down to the harebells and lilies. They flicker over the meadow like gay butterflies. Laughter! whisper!
Hum! whirr! Hum! whirr! What is that noise in the tree-tops? From among the dark leaves fly hundreds and hundreds of broad-backed beetles, bumping and thumping each other. They are followed by a silent cloud of bats, that wheel and whirl, and flap their leathery wings. And to the back of every beetle and every bat clings a tiny roguish Elf peeping down at the meadow below.
Rap! tack! tack! Rap! tack! tack! From behind each tree-trunk steps a little Leprechaun as big as your thumb. They are the Fairy Shoemakers. Their long beards and red caps wag in the moonlight; and the little men smile and chuckle to themselves, for well they know where the pots of Fairy Gold are hidden. Near them, peering from behind stones and bushes, are the Curmudgeons, rolling their mischievous eyes.
Skip! skip! Knock! knock! What have we here? From out of the earth pours a swarm of little Spriggans and Pixies gaily dressed, and Knockers with their tiny hammers in their tiny hands. They have left the meadows and moors; they have left the mines of tin and copper, and the diamond caves, to come to the Fairies’ Story Hour. How they hustle, how they bustle, out of the earth!
Gallop-a-trot! Gallop-a-trot! What comes from the wood? A long line of prancing goats and house-cats! And on the back of each is a House-Elf, to be sure! The Brownies, the Boggarts, the Tomts, the Piskeys, are all there. They have left their snug corners in human homes; they have left cellars, barns, and threshing-floors; they have left bowls of clubbered cream on warm hearthstones, to come to the Fairies’ Story Hour. And who is this that lights their way with a Will-o’-the-Wisp lantern? ’Tis Robin Goodfellow, freakish Elf! Ho! Ho! Ho!
Sing! cling! Sing! cling! What are these that come sailing through the air? Mother-of-pearl boats with coral masts and sails of sea-lace! Each little boat is crowded with Sea-Queens and Water-Fairies. Their green hair is long and flowing, and their robes are of rainbow spray. And near them, astride frisky sea-horses, are the Kelpies, blowing loudly on their conch-shell trumpets. And each Kelpie is armed with a shield of pearl and a sword-fish weapon. They have all left the foaming green waves and the pink coral palaces to come to the Fairies’ Story Hour.
Now! Listen! Listen! The harebells and lilies are ringing sweet music, while from meadow flowers and acorn-cups and forest nuts tumble lazy, sleepy Elves rubbing their eyes, and hastening to join the others at the Fairies’ Story Hour.
The harebells and lilies ring louder and louder. And from out the cool wood step King Oberon and Queen Mab, with all their Fairy train that glitters in the moonshine like a long string of jewels.
The royal train advances into the middle of the meadow. The King and Queen seat themselves on a throne of moss. At their left is capering Puck mowing and mouthing; at their right, Ariel the sweetest singer. All present bow themselves before the throne.
See! Queen Mab raises her wand, and each little Elf and Fairy scurries and hurries to make himself comfortable. Some sway on the blades of grass; others climb the flower stalks and curl up inside the fragrant blossoms; while still others swing and rock in the trees, or nestle among the ferns and under toadstool umbrellas.
Every wee Elf, and every tiny Fairy, and every little Imp, from all the world over, is here. Indeed, all the members of the entire Fairy Family are present except the human-sized ones. They are too busy to come. The Elfin Princes are searching cottages and palaces for mortal brides to carry off to Fairyland. The Elfin nurses are leaving Changelings in babies’ cradles; while the Fairy Godmothers are far away bestowing wonderful gifts on good children, and punishing bad ones.
Look! Look! Queen Mab waves her wand! The Fairies’ Story Hour is beginning. All is hushed.
Listen now to the Fairy tales.
PART ONE
FAIRY-LORE AND ELFIN LEGENDS
Around! Around! in Fairy Rings
_In the glowing light of a Summer sky,
When the fields are clad in green.
Oft in their midst, with a sunnier dye,
May the Fairies’ Ring be seen!
’Tis a circle formed by the tiny feet
Of the Elves, as they dance around:
When the moon rides high it is there they meet,
And merrily tread the ground!_
WILLIAM JONES
ADVENTURES OF ROBIN GOODFELLOW
From Merry England
HOW ROBIN GOODFELLOW WAS BORN
Once upon a time, when men did eat more and drink less, when men did know no knavery, there were wont to walk many harmless sprites called Fairies, dancing in brave order in Fairy Rings on green hills, to sweet music. These sprites would make themselves invisible, and many mad pranks would they play, pinching careless housemaids black and blue, and turning ill-kept houses topsy-turvy. But lovingly they would use neat housemaids, giving them silver and other pretty toys which they left in the maids’ shoes and pockets, or in bright kitchen pans.
Now, in those Fairy days there was born on earth a tiny Elfin boy whom folk called Robin Goodfellow. And wonderful were the gifts from Fairyland that came to Robin when he was a baby. In his room suddenly would appear rich embroidered cushions, delicate linen garments, and all sorts of delicious things to eat and drink. So he was never in want.
Now, when Robin was grown to six years, he was so mischievous that the neighbours all complained of his pranks until he was forced to run away.
He wandered about until he began to get hungry; then, going to a tailor, he took service with him. He remained there until he grew so mischievous that he was obliged to run away again.
HOW HE RECEIVED A MESSAGE FROM FAIRYLAND
After he had travelled a good day’s journey from the tailor’s house, he sat down by the wayside and, being weary, fell asleep. No sooner had he closed his eyes than he fancied he saw tiny beings tripping on the grass before him, to the sound of sweet music. And when he awoke, he found, to his surprise, a scroll lying near by on which were these verses, written in letters of gold:--
“_Robin, my only son and heir,
For food and drink take thou no care.
Wish what thou wilt, and thou shalt have
The power to tease both fool and knave.
Change when thou wilt thine Elfish shape,
To horse, or hog, or dog, or ape;
And scare each idle dirty maid,
And make all wicked men afraid.
But love thou those that honest be,
And help them in necessity._
“_Do thus, and all the world shall know
The pranks of Robin Goodfellow.
If thou’lt observe my just command,
One day thou shalt see Fairyland._”
Robin, having read this, was very joyful, for he perceived that he had Fairy power. He straightway wished for something to eat, and it appeared before him. Then he wished himself a horse, and no sooner did he say so than he became a handsome colt, curveting and leaping about. He wished himself a dog, and was one. After that he turned himself into any shape he liked. Then taking his own form again, he once more started on his travels.
OF HIS MAD PRANKS--HO! HO! HO!
And from that time forward many were the merry tricks Robin played on those he met.
Once, seeing a rude and clownish fellow searching for a lost horse, Robin turned himself into a horse, and led the rude man a chase over field and briar, until he allowed the man to catch him and mount his back. Then Robin jumped into a stream and, turning into a fish, swam to the shore and ran away, laughing, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”--leaving the man to get out of the water as best he could.
At night Robin often visited farmers’ houses, and helped the neat housemaids with their work, breaking their hemp, dressing their flax, and spinning their yarn. One night he came to a house where there was a good and handsome maid. And while she slept Robin did her work, more than she could have done in twelve hours. The maid wondered the next morning to see all done so finely, and that night she watched to see what would follow.
At twelve of the clock in came Robin and, singing, fell to work breaking her hemp and doing her spinning, and as he worked he sang a mad song:--
“_Within and out, in and out, round as a ball,
With hither and thither, as straight as a line,
With lily and germander, and sops of wine,
With sweetbriar,
And bonfire,
And strawberry wire,
And columbine!_”
The maid, seeing that he had no clothes, pitied him, and the next night she laid out a little suit that she had cut and sewed during the day. Robin, coming in, spied the clothes, whereat he started, and said:--
“_’Tis not your garments new or old
That Robin loves. I feel no cold.
Had you left me milk or cream,
You should have had a pleasant dream,
Became you left no drop or crumb,
Robin never more will come._”
And with that he ran out of the door, laughing loudly, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
And many other mad pranks did Robin Goodfellow play. At times he turned himself into a will-o’-the-wisp, misleading lovers who came over the heath; at other times he punished knaves and idle maids, or rewarded good and worthy people. And always he ran laughing, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
HOW HE DANCED IN THE FAIRY RING
At length Oberon, King of Fairyland, seeing so many honest and merry tricks, called one night to Robin as he lay sleeping in the green-wood:--
“_Robin, my son, come, quickly rise!
First stretch, then yawn, and rub your eyes.
For you must go with me to-night
To dance with Fairy, Elf, and Sprite.
Come quickly now, my roguish son,
’Tis time our sports were well begun._”
Robin, hearing this, woke and rose hastily, and, looking about, saw in the moonlight King Oberon, and many Fairies with him dressed in green silk. And all these did welcome Robin Goodfellow into their company.
King Oberon took Robin by the hand and led him a dance. And near by sat little Tom Thumb, the Fairy piper, no bigger than a plum. His bagpipe was made of a wren’s quill and the skin of a tiny bug. This pipe made music so shrill and sweet, that naught might be compared to it.
Then all the Fairies for joy did circle Robin around, and in a ring did dance about him; and Robin Goodfellow danced in the midst of them, and sang this song:--
“_Quick and nimble!
Quick and nimble!
Round about little ones!
In and out, wheel about,
Run, hop, or amble!_
“_Elves, Urchins, Goblins all, and little Fairies, Who do pinch black and blue, idle maids in dairies, Make a ring on the grass, with your quick measures. Tom shall play, and I will sing, for all your pleasures._
“_Quick and nimble!
Quick and nimble!
Round about little ones!
In and out, wheel about,
Run, hop, or amble!_”
Thus they danced for a good space, then sat themselves down upon the grass, and the Fairies told Robin of many Elfish tricks and merry capers; until, the time passing, a shepherd in a field near by blew his pipes so loudly that he frightened little Tom Thumb.
The Fairies punished the shepherd by the loss of his pipes, so that they presently broke in his hand, to his great amazement. Hereat Robin Goodfellow laughed, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
The morning being come, at cock-crow the Fairies hastened away to Fairyland, where I think they yet remain.
THE POTATO SUPPER
From Ireland
Some folk say that the Little People, the Fairies, were once angels that were cast out of Heaven for their sins. They fell to earth and grew smaller and smaller. And to-day they dance on moonlit nights in Fairy Rings, and play all manner of pranks.
Be that as it may, one night a merry troop of them was capering in the moonshine. On a nice green sward by a river’s bank the little fellows were dancing hand-in-hand, with their red caps wagging at every bound. And so light were their feet that the dew trembled, but was not disturbed. So they danced, spinning around and around, and twirling, and bobbing, and diving, until one of them chirped:--
“_Cease! Cease with your humming!
Here’s an end to your mumming!
By my smell
I can tell
That a Priest is now coming!_”
And away all the Fairies scampered as fast as they could. Some hid under the green leaves of the Foxglove, their little caps peeping out like crimson bells. Others crept under the shadow of stones, or beneath the bank of the river.
And scarcely had they done so, when along came Father Horrigan riding slowly on his pony. He was thinking to himself that he would end his journey at the first cabin he came to. And so he did, for soon he stopped at the little house of Dermod Leary, and, lifting the latch, walked in with: “A blessing on all here!”
And a welcome guest, you may be sure, was Father Horrigan, for no man was better loved in all that country. But when Dermod saw him enter, he was troubled, for he had nothing to offer for supper except some potatoes that his wife was boiling in a pot over the fire. Then he remembered that he had set a net in the river. “There’ll be no harm,” thought he, “in my stepping down to see if anything has been caught.”
So down to the river went Dermod. He found as fine a salmon in the net as ever jumped from water. But as he was taking it out, the net was jerked from his hands, and away the salmon went, swimming along as though nothing had happened.
Dermod looked sorrowfully at the wake that the fish left shining like a line of silver in the moonlight.
“May bitter luck attend you night and day!” cried he, shaking his fist. “Some evil thing sure it was that helped you, for did I not feel it pull the net out of my hand!”
“You’re all wrong, Dermod! There were a hundred or more of us pulling against you!” squeaked a little voice near his feet, and the whole troop of Fairies--hundreds and hundreds of them--came rushing from their hiding-places, and stood before him, their red caps nodding violently.
Dermod gazed at them in wonder; then one of the Fairies said:--
“Make yourself noways uneasy about the Priest’s supper, Dermod Leary. If you will go back and ask him one question for us, there’ll be as fine a supper spread before him in no time, as ever was put on table.”
“I’ll have nothing to do with you at all, at all!” answered Dermod; “I know better than to sell my soul to the likes of you!”
But the little Fairy was not to be repulsed. “Will you ask the Priest just one civil question for us, Dermod?” said he.
Dermod considered for a moment. “I see no objection,” said he, “to the same. But I’ll have nothing to do with your supper, mind that!”
The Little People all crowded near him, while the Fairy answered:--
“Go and ask Father Horrigan to tell us whether our souls will be saved at the Last Day. And, if you wish us well, Dermod Leary, you will bring the word that he says.”
Away went Dermod to his cabin.
“Please, your reverence,” said he to Father Horrigan, “may I make bold to ask your honour a question?”
“What is it?” said Father Horrigan.
“Why, then,” said Dermod, “will the souls of the Little People be saved at the Last Day?”
“Who bids you ask that question, Leary?” said Father Horrigan, fixing his eyes sternly on Dermod.
“I’ll tell no lies about the matter, nothing in life but the truth,” answered Dermod. “’Twas the Little People themselves who sent me. They are in thousands down on the bank of the river waiting for your word.”
“Go back,” said Father Horrigan, “and tell them that if they want to know they must come here to me themselves, and I’ll answer that and any other question.”
So back Dermod hurried to the river. The Fairies came swarming around him. They pressed close to his feet, with faces upturned as they anxiously waited. And Dermod, brave man that he was, spoke out boldly and gave them the Priest’s message. And when they heard that, the whole multitude of little Fairies uttered shrill cries and groans; and they whisked past Dermod in such numbers that he was quite bewildered. Then in a trice he found himself alone.
“DERMOD GAZED AT THEM IN WONDER”
He went slowly back to his cabin. He opened the door. The fire was burning brightly. The candles were lighted. And good Father Horrigan was seated comfortably at the table, a pitcher of new milk before him, and a bit of fresh butter, from Dermod’s cow. And Dermod’s wife was handing him a big, handsome potato, whose white, mealy insides were bursting through its skin, and smoking like a hard-ridden horse on a frosty night.
Dermod sat down at the table, and began to eat without a word. And when Father Horrigan was through the good Priest smacked his lips, and said that he had relished the hot tasty potatoes, more than a dozen fat salmon, and a whole Fairy feast!
THE MILK-WHITE CALF AND THE FAIRY RING
From Ireland
In Tipperary is one of the most singularly shaped hills in the world. It has a peak at the top like a conical nightcap. On this very peak, long years ago, a herdsman spent his nights and days watching the herd. Now, the hill was ancient Fairy ground, and the Little People were angry that the scene of their light and airy gambols should be trampled by the rude hoofs of bulls and cows. The lowing of the cattle sounded sad in their ears. So the Queen of the Fairies determined to drive away the herdsman.
One night the moon shone brightly on the hill. The cattle were lying down. The herdsman, wrapped in his mantle, was watching the twinkling stars, when suddenly there appeared before him a great horse with the wings of an eagle, and the tail of a dragon. This beast hissed loudly and spat fire, and, while the herdsman was looking on, half dead with fright, it turned into a little old man, lame of leg, with a bull’s head around which flames were playing.
The next moment the little old man changed into a huge ape, with duck’s feet, and a turkey-cock’s tail. And then the Queen of the Fairies--for of course it was she--roared, neighed, hissed, bellowed, howled, and hooted so fearfully that the poor herdsman in terror covered his head with his mantle. But it was of no use, for with one puff of wind she blew away the fold of his mantle, let him hold it never so tightly. As for the poor man, he could not stir or close his eyes, but was forced to sit there gazing at this terrible sight until his hair lifted his hat half a foot from his head, and his teeth chattered so that they almost fell out of his mouth.
Meanwhile the frightened cattle scampered about like mad, as if bitten by fleas, and so they continued to do until the sun rose. Then the Fairy Queen disappeared.
Night after night, the same thing happened, and the cattle went mad. Some fell into pits, or tumbled into the river and were drowned. By and by, not a herdsman was willing to tend the cattle at night. The farmer who owned the hill offered triple and quadruple wages, but not a man was found who would face the terrors of the Fairy Ring. The herd gradually thinned, and the Fairies, on moonlit nights, danced and gambolled as merrily as before, sipping dew-drops from acorn-cups, and spreading their feasts on the heads of mushrooms.
Now, there dwelt in that part of the country a man named Larry Hoolahan, who played on the pipes better than any other player within fifteen parishes. A dashing, roving blade was Larry, and afraid of nothing. One day the farmer met him, and told him all his misfortunes.
“If that is what ails you,” said Larry, “make your mind easy. Were there as many Fairies on the hill as there are potato-blossoms in Tipperary, I would face them. It would be a queer thing, indeed, if I, who was never afraid of a proper man, should turn my back on a Fairy not the bigness of one’s thumb!”
“Larry,” said the farmer, “do not talk so bold, for you know not who is hearing you! But, if you make your words good, and watch my herds for a week on top of the hill, your hand shall be free of my dish till the sun has burnt itself down to the bigness of a farthing rushlight!”
The bargain was struck, and Larry went to the hill-top when the moon was beginning to peep over its brow. He took his seat on a big stone under a hollow of the hill, with his back to the wind, and pulled out his pipes.
He had not played long when the voices of the Fairies were heard upon the blast like a low stream of music. Presently they burst into a loud laugh, and Larry could plainly hear one say:--
“What! Another man upon the Fairies’ Ring! Go to him, Queen, and make him repent of his rashness!”
And away they flew, and Larry felt them pass by his face like a swarm of midges. Looking up hastily he saw, between the moon and him, a great black cat, standing on the very tip of its claws, with its back up, and mewing with a voice like a water-mill.
Presently it swelled up toward the sky, and, turning round on its left hind leg, whirled till it fell to the ground. Then it started up in the shape of a salmon with a cravat round its neck, and wearing a pair of new top-boots.
“Go on, my jewel!” said Larry. “If you dance, I’ll pipe,” and he struck up.
But the Queen of the Fairies--for of course it was she--turned into this and that and the other; but still Larry played on, as well as he knew how. At last she lost patience, and changed herself into a calf, milk-white as the cream of Cork, and with eyes as mild as those of a loving girl.
She came up gentle and fawning, hoping to throw him off his guard, and then to work him some wrong. But Larry was not so deceived, for when she came near, dropping his pipes, he leaped on her back.
Now, from the top of the hill, as you look westward, you may see the broad river Shannon, full ten miles away. On this night its waters shone beautifully under the moon, and no sooner had Larry leaped on the back of the Fairy Queen than she sprang from the hill-top, and bounded clear at one jump, over the Shannon. It was done in a second; and, when she alighted on the distant bank, she kicked up her heels, and flung Larry on the soft turf.
No sooner was Larry thus planted than he looked her straight in the face, and cried out:--
“By my word, well done! That was not a bad leap, for a calf!”
She gazed at him for a moment, and then, assuming her own shape, said:--
“Larry Hoolahan, you are a bold fellow! Will you go back the way you came?”
“And that’s what I will!” said he, “if you’ll let me!”
So she changed to a calf again, and Larry got on her back. At another bound they were standing inside the Fairy Ring.
Then the Queen, once more assuming her own shape, addressed him.
“You have shown so much courage, Larry Hoolahan,” said she, “that while you keep herds on this hill, you shall not be molested by me or mine. The day dawns. Go down to the farmer, and tell him this. And, if anything I can do will be of service to you, ask and you shall have it.”
She vanished accordingly, and kept her word in never visiting the hill during Larry’s lifetime; but he never troubled her with requests. He piped, and ate and drank at the farmer’s expense, and roosted in the chimney-corner, occasionally casting an eye on the herd. He died at last; and is buried in a green valley of pleasant Tipperary. But whether the Fairies returned to the hill after his death is more than I can say.
THE WOOD-LADY
From Bohemia
Once upon a time there was a little girl named Betty. Her mother was a widow and very poor, and owned only a tumble-down house and two goats. Nevertheless, Betty was always cheerful. From Spring to Autumn she pastured the goats in the birch wood. Every morning when she left home, her mother gave her a little basket in which were a slice of bread and a spindle.
“My child,” she said, “work hard to-day and fill the spindle before you return.”
And, as Betty had no distaff, she wound the flax around her head, took the basket, and, with a skip and a jump, led her goats to the birch wood. There she sat under a tree and drew fibres of the flax from her head with her left hand, and let down the spindle with her right, so that it just hummed over the ground. And all the while she sang merrily, and the goats nibbled the green grass.
When the sun showed that it was midday she put aside her work, called her goats, and, after giving them each a morsel of bread, bounded into the wood to look for strawberries. When she came back she ate her fruit and bread, and, folding her hands, danced and sang. The goats, enjoying themselves among the green grass, thought: “What a merry shepherdess we have!” After her dance, she spun again. And at evening she drove her goats home, and her mother never had to scold her for bringing the spindle back empty.
One lovely Spring day, just as Betty sprang up to dance, suddenly--where she came, there she came!--a beautiful maiden stood before her. She wore a white dress as thin as gossamer, golden hair flowed to her waist, and on her head was a garland of wood flowers. Betty was struck dumb with astonishment.
The maiden smiled at her, and said in a very sweet voice:--
“Betty, are you fond of dancing?”
When the maiden spoke so prettily, Betty’s terror quitted her, and she answered:--
“Oh! I should like to dance all day!”
“Come, then, let us dance together. I will teach you,” said the maiden.
And she took Betty by the waist, and began to dance with her.
As they circled, such delicious music sounded over their heads that Betty’s heart skipped within her. The musicians sat on branches of the birches. They were clad in black, ash-coloured, and variegated coats. They were choice musicians who had come together at the call of the beautiful maiden--nightingales, larks, linnets, goldfinches, thrushes, blackbirds, and a very skillful mocking-bird. Betty’s cheeks flamed, her eyes glittered, she forgot her task and her goats. She could only gaze at her partner, who whirled her around with the most charming movements, and so lightly that the grass did not bend beneath her delicate weight.
They danced from noon till eve, and Betty’s feet were neither weary nor sore. Then the beautiful maiden stopped, the music ceased, and as she came, so she went, and she vanished as if the earth had swallowed her.
Betty looked about. The sun had set. She clapped her hands to the top of her head, and remembered that her spindle was by no means full. She took the flax and put it with the spindle into her basket, and drove the goats home. That night her mother did not ask to see her work.
Next morning Betty again drove the goats to pasture. All happened as before. Where she came, there she came!--and the beautiful maiden seized Betty by the waist, and they danced from noon till eve.
Then Betty saw that the sun was setting and her spindle nearly empty, so she began to cry. But the maiden put her hands to Betty’s head, took off the flax, and twined it round the stem of a slender birch, and began to spin. The spindle just swung over the ground. It grew fuller and fuller, and before the sun set behind the wood, all the yarn was spun. Giving the full spindle into Betty’s hands, the maiden said:--
“_Reel and grumble not!
Reel and grumble not!_”
And as she came, so she went, and she vanished as if the ground had swallowed her. Betty drove the goats home, and gave her mother the full spindle.
Well, the next day all happened as before. Where she came, there she came!--and the beautiful maiden seized Betty by the waist, and they danced from noon to eve. Then the maiden handed Betty a covered basket, saying:--
“_Peep not, but go home!
Peep not, but go home!_”
And as she came, so she went, and she vanished as if the ground had swallowed her.
At first Betty was afraid to peep into the basket, but when she was halfway home, she could not restrain herself. She lifted the cover and peeped, and, oh! how disappointed she was when she saw that the basket was full of birch leaves! She began to cry, and threw out two handfuls of the leaves, and was going to shake them all out of the basket, but she thought to herself: “They’ll make good litter for the goats.”
When she reached home her mother was waiting for her at the door.
“What sort of a spindle did you bring home to me yesterday?” cried she. “After you left this morning I began to reel. I reeled and I reeled, and the spindle remained full. One skein! two skeins! three skeins! and the spindle was yet full! ‘What evil spirit has spun you?’ grumbled I; and at that instant the yarn vanished from the spindle. Tell me the meaning of this.”
So Betty confessed how she had danced with the beautiful maiden who had given her the full spindle, and who had said: “Reel and grumble not.”
“That was a Wood-Fairy!” cried her mother in astonishment. “About noon in the Spring-time, the Wood-Ladies dance. Lucky for you that she did not tickle you to death! It’s a pity that you did not tell me before, for I might have had a room full of yarn, if I had reeled and grumbled not.”
Then Betty bethought herself of the basket of leaves. She lifted the cover and peeped in again.
“Look! Look! Mother!” she cried.
Her mother looked and clapped her hands. The birch leaves were turned to gold!
“She told me not to peep until I reached home,” said Betty, “but I disobeyed and threw two handfuls of the leaves away.”
“Lucky for you that you did not throw them all away!” exclaimed her mother.
The next morning they both went to the place where Betty had thrown out the leaves, but on the road lay nothing but birch leaves. However, the gold Betty had brought home was enough to make them rich. Her mother bought a fine house and garden. They had many cattle. Betty had handsome clothes, and she did not need to pasture the goats any more. But though she had everything she desired, nothing gave her so great delight as the dance with the Wood-Fairy. She often went to the birch wood hoping to see the beautiful maiden, but she never again set eyes upon her.
THE DANCE OF THE FAIRIES
By the moon we sport and play,
With the night begins our day;
As we dance, the dew doth fall--
Trip it, little Urchins all,
Lightly as the little bee,
Two by two, and three by three;
And about go we! And about go we!
Oh, you must needs dance and sing,
Which if you refuse to do,
We will pinch you black and blue;
And about go we!
Round about, round about, in a fine ring-a, Thus we dance, thus we dance, and thus we sing-a; Trip and go, to and fro, over this green-a, All about, in and out, for our brave Queen-a.
We have danced round about, in a fine ring-a, We have danced lustily, and thus we sing-a; All about, in and out, over this green-a, To and fro, trip and go, to our brave Queen-a.
The Maydes Metamorphosis (1600)
ELFIN MOUNDS AND FAIRY HILLS
_’Tis the Midnight Hour!
The Moon hangs white!
Mortal beware,
’Tis Fairy Night!_
_From Elfin Mound,
And Fairy Hill,
Comes music sweet,
And laughter shrill!_
_Mortal beware,
For Fairy-Spell
Lies on meadow,
Wood and dell!_
MONDAY! TUESDAY!
From Ireland
There once lived a lad in old Ireland named Lusmore. He had a great hump on his back, and whenever he sat down he had to rest his chin on his knee for support. But, in spite of this, he was as happy as a cricket, and used to go about the country with a sprig of Fairy-cap, or Foxglove, in his little straw hat. He went from house to house plaiting baskets out of rushes, and in that way he earned a living. And he was so merry that people always gave him a penny more than he asked.
One evening, he was returning from a distant town, and as he walked slowly on account of his hump, it grew dark before he could reach home. He came to an old mound by the side of the road, and, being tired, sat down on it to rest.
He had not been sitting there long when he heard strains of music, and many little voices singing sweetly. He laid his ear to the mound, and perceived that the music and singing came from inside it. And he could hear the words that the little voices were chanting over and over again:--
“_Monday! Tuesday!
Monday! Tuesday!
Monday! Tuesday!_”
It was all so very sweet, that Lusmore listened with delight; but by and by he grew tired of hearing the same words sung over and over. He waited politely until the voices had finished their song, then he called:--
“And Wednesday!”
The Fairies--for it was the singing of Fairies that he heard--were so pleased with Lusmore’s addition to their words, that they pulled him right down through the top of the mound with the speed of a whirlwind. And he went falling and twirling round and round as light as a feather.
He found himself in a palace so bright that it dazzled his eyes. Then all the Fairies stopped capering and dancing, and came crowding around him. And one, wearing a crown, stepped forward and said:--
“_Lusmore! Lusmore!
The hump that you wore,
On your back is no more.
Look down on the floor,
And see it, Lusmore!_”
And as these words were being said, Lusmore felt himself grow so light and happy, that he could have bounded up to the moon. And he saw his hump tumble off his back and roll on the floor. Then the Fairies took hands, and danced around him, and as they did so he became dizzy and fell asleep.
When he opened his eyes it was broad daylight, and the sun was shining, and the birds were singing, and cows and sheep were grazing peacefully around him. He put his hand to his hump. It was gone! And there he was, as tall, straight, and handsome as any other lad in Ireland. And, besides all that, he was dressed in a full suit of beautiful clothes.
He went toward his home stepping out lightly, and jumping high at every step, so full of joy was he. And as he passed his neighbours, they hardly knew him without his hump, and because he was so straight and handsome, and was dressed so finely.
Now, in another village, not far away, lived a lad named Jack Madden. He also had a great hump on his back. He was a peevish, cunning creature, and liked to scratch and pinch all who came near him.
When he heard how the Fairies had taken away Lusmore’s hump, he decided that he, too, would visit them. So one night after darkness had fallen, he sat down on the mound all alone, and waited. He had not been there long before he heard the music, and the sweet voices singing:--
“_Monday! Tuesday!
Monday! Tuesday!
Monday! Tuesday!
And Wednesday!_”
And as he was in a very great hurry to get rid of his hump, he did not wait for the Fairies to finish their song, but yelled out, thinking that two days were better than one:--
“And Thursday and Friday!”
No sooner had the words left his lips, than he was taken up quickly, and whisked through the mound with terrific force. And the Fairies came crowding around him, screeching and buzzing with anger, and crying out:--
“_Our song you have spoiled!
Our song you have spoiled!
Our song you have spoiled!_”
Then the one wearing the crown stepped forward, and said:--
“_Jack Madden! Jack Madden!
Your words came so bad in,
That your life we will sadden!
Here’s two humps for Jack Madden!_”
And quick as a wink, twenty Fairies brought Lusmore’s hump and clapped it down on Jack Madden’s back, and there it was fixed as firmly as if nailed on with tenpenny nails.
Then out of the mound they kicked him. And when morning was come, he crept home with the two humps on his back--and he is wearing them still.
THE GREEDY OLD MAN
From Cornwall
Long ago in Cornwall, on a hillock called “the Gump,” there was a Fairy Ring. Many a good old man or woman, on moonlit nights, had seen the Fairies dancing there at their revels, and had been rewarded with gifts small but rich.
Now, there was one greedy old man, who, having heard his neighbours tell of the Fairy Gold at the revels, decided to steal some of the treasure. So on a moonlit night, when all was quiet, he stole softly up to “the Gump.”
As he drew near he heard delightful music, which seemed to come from inside the hillock. The notes were now slow and solemn, and now quick and gay, so that the old man had to weep and laugh in one breath. Then before he knew it, he began to dance to the Fairy measure. He was forced by some unseen power to whirl round and round; but in spite of this he kept his wits about him, and watched to see what would happen.
Suddenly there was a crashing sound, and a door in the hillock opened. Instantly the old man saw that everything about him was ablaze with coloured lights. Each blade of grass was hung with tiny bright lamps, and every tree and bush was illuminated with stars.
Out of the opening in the hillock marched a band of Goblins, as if to clear the way. Then came a number of Fairy musicians playing on every kind of musical instrument. These were followed by troop after troop of Elfin soldiers, carrying waving banners.
The soldiers arranged themselves in two files on either side of the door; but the Goblins, much to the old man’s disgust, placed themselves close behind him. As they were no bigger than his thumb, he thought to himself: “If they bother me, I can easily step on them and crush them with my foot.”
This vast array having disposed itself, next from the hillock came a crowd of Elfin servants carrying pitchers of silver and gold, and goblets cut out of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones. Servants followed bearing aloft gold and silver platters heaped high with the richest meats, pastries, candies, and glowing fruits. A number of Elfin boys, clad in crimson, then set out small tables made of ivory curiously carved, and the servants arranged the feast with order.
Then out of the hillock came crowding thousands and thousands of lovely winged Fairies clad in gossamer robes of every colour, like the rainbow.
The music suddenly changed to low, delicate notes, and the old man found that he was no longer forced to dance and whirl about. And as he stood still, the perfume of a thousand rich flowers filled the air, and the whole vast host of Fairies began to sing a song as clear and sweet as the tinkle of silver bells.
Then from the hillock issued forth line after line of Elfin boys dressed in green and gold, and behind them on an ivory throne, borne aloft by a hundred Fairies, came the King and Queen of Fairyland blazing with beauty and jewels.
The throne was placed upon the hillock, which immediately bloomed with lilies and roses. Before the King and Queen was set the most beautiful of all the little tables laden with gold and silver dishes and precious goblets. The Fairies took their places at the other tables, and began to feast with a will.
“Now,” thought the old man, “my time is come! If only I can creep up, without being seen, to the Fairy King’s table, I shall be able to snatch enough gold to make me rich for life.”
And with his greedy mind set on this, he crouched down, and began very slowly to creep toward the throne. But he did not see that thousands of Goblins had cast fine threads about his body, and were holding the ends in their hands.
Trembling with greed, the old man crept closer and closer to the Fairy King and Queen. He took his hat from his head, and raised it carefully to cover the royal throne and table; and, as he did so, he heard a shrill whistle. Instantly his hand was fixed powerless in the air. Then, with a sudden crash, all became dark around him.
“Whirr! Whirr! Whirr!” and he heard as if a flight of bees were brushing past his ears, and suddenly, his body, from head to foot, was stabbed with pins and pinched with tweezers. Then he was thrown violently upon his back with his arms outstretched; and his arms and legs were fastened to the ground with magic chains. His tongue seemed tied with cords so that he could not call out.
And as he lay there trembling with fright and pain, he felt as though swarms of insects were running over him. Then he saw standing on his nose a grinning Goblin. This little monster stamped and jumped with great delight; then making a fearful grimace, shouted:--
“_Away! Away!
I smell the day!_”
And on this, an army of Goblins, Fairies, and Elves, who were running up and down the old man’s body, stabbing him with pins, and pinching him with tweezers, jumped quickly down, and rushed into the hillock; which closed immediately. And the old man saw the Fairies no more.
At length the sun rose and he found that he was tied to the ground with a myriad of gossamer webs, which were covered with dew-drops that glistened like diamonds in the sunlight.
He shook himself free, and got up. Wet, cold, ashamed, and pinched black and blue, he returned to his home. And you may be sure that he never again tried to steal the Fairy Gold.
LEGEND OF BOTTLE HILL
From Ireland
It was in the good days, when the Little People were more frequently seen than they are in these unbelieving times, that a farmer, named Mick Purcell, rented a few acres of barren ground not far from the city of Cork.
Mick had a wife and seven children. They did all that they could to get on, which was very little, for the poor man had no child grown big enough to help him in his work; and all that the poor woman could do was to mind the children, milk the cow, boil the potatoes, and carry the eggs to market. So besides the difficulty of getting enough to eat, it was hard on them to pay the rent.
Well, they did manage to get along for a good while; but at last came a bad year, and the little field of oats was spoiled, and the chickens died of the pip, and the pig got the measles, and poor Mick found that he hadn’t enough to pay half his rent.
“Why, then, Molly,” said he, “what’ll we do?”
“Wisha, then, mavourneen, what would you do but take the cow to the Fair of Cork, and sell her?” said she. “And Monday is Fair-day, so you must go to-morrow.”
“And what’ll we do when she’s gone?” said Mick.