Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales, by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing

There was once a wicked magician who prospered, and did much evil for many years. But there came a day when Vengeance, disguised as a blind beggar, overtook him, and outwitted him, and stole his magic wand. With this he had been accustomed to turn those who offended him into any shape he pleased; and now that he had lost it he could only transform himself.

As Vengeance was returning to his place, he passed through a village, the inhabitants of which had formerly lived in great terror of the magician, and told them of the downfall of his power. But they only said, “Blind beggars have long tongues. One must not believe all one hears,” and shrugged their shoulders, and left him.

Then Vengeance waved the wand and said, “As you have doubted me, distress each other;” and so departed.

By and by he came to another village, and told the news. But here the villagers were full of delight, and made a feast, and put the blind beggar in the place of honour; who, when he departed, said, “As you have done by me, deal with each other always!” and went on to the next village.

In this place he was received with even warmer welcome; and when the feast was over, the people brought him to the bridge which led out of the village, and gave him a guide-dog to help him on his way.

Then the blind beggar waved the wand once more and said;

“Those who are so good to strangers must needs be good to each other. But that nothing may be wanting to the peace of this place, I grant to the beasts and birds in it that they may understand the language of men.”

Then he broke the wand in pieces, and threw it into the stream. And when the people turned their heads back again from watching the bits as they floated away, the blind beggar was gone.

Meanwhile the magician was wild with rage at the loss of his wand, for all his pleasure was to do harm and hurt. But when he came to himself he said: “One can do a good deal of harm with his tongue. I will turn mischief-maker; and when the place is too hot to hold me, I can escape in what form I please.”

Then he came to the first village, where Vengeance had gone before, and here he lived for a year and a day in various disguises; and he made more misery with his tongue than he had ever accomplished in any other year with his magic wand. For every one distrusted his neighbour, and was ready to believe ill of him. So parents disowned their children, and husband and wives parted, and lovers broke faith; and servants and masters disagreed; and old friends became bitter enemies, till at last the place was intolerable even to the magician, and he changed himself into a cockchafer, and flew to the next village, where, Vengeance had gone before.

Here also he dwelt for a year and a day, and then he left it because he could do no harm. For those who loved each other trusted each other, and the magician made mischief in vain. In one of his disguises he was detected, and only escaped with his life from the enraged villagers by changing himself into a cockchafer and flying on to the next place, where Vengeance had gone before.

In this village he made less mischief than in the first, and more than in the second. And he exercised all his art, and changed his disguises constantly; but the dogs knew him under all.

One dog—the oldest dog in the place—was keeping watch over the miller’s house, when he saw the magician approaching, in the disguise of an old woman.

“Do you see that old witch?” said he to the sparrows, who were picking up stray bits of grain in the yard. “With her evil tongue she is parting my master’s daughter and the finest young fellow in the country-side. She puts lies and truth together, with more skill than you patch moss and feathers to build nests. And when she is asked where she heard this or that, she says, ‘A little bird told me so.’”

“We never told her,” said the sparrows indignantly, “and if we had your strength, Master Keeper, she should not malign us long!”

“I believe you are right!” said Master Keeper. “Of what avail is it that we have learned the language of men, if we do not help them to the utmost of our powers? She shall torment my young mistress no more.”

Saying which he flew upon the disguised magician as he entered the gate, and would have torn him limb from limb, but that the mischief-maker changed himself as before into a cockchafer, and flew hastily from the village.

And thus he might doubtless have escaped to do yet further harm, had not three cock-sparrows overtaken him just before he crossed the bridge.

From three sides they hemmed him in, crying, “Which of us told you?” “Which of us told you?” “Which of us told you?”—and pecked him to pieces before he could transform himself again.

After which peace and prosperity befell all the neighbourhood.

Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales, by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing

Many years ago, there lived a certain worthy man who was twice married. By his first wife he had a son, who soon after his mother’s death resolved to become a soldier, and go to foreign lands. “When one has seen the world, one values home the more,” said he; “and if I live I shall return.”

So the father gave him a blessing, and his mother’s wedding-ring, saying, “Keep this ring, and then, however long you stay away, and however changed you may become, by this token I shall know you to be my true son and heir.”

In a short time the father married again, and by this marriage also he had one son.

Years passed by, and the elder brother did not return, and at last every one believed him to be dead. But in reality he was alive, and after a long time he turned his steps homewards. He was so much changed by age and travelling that only his mother would have known him again, but he had the ring tied safe and fast round his neck. One night, however, he was too far from shelter to get a bed, so he slept under a hedge, and when he woke in the morning the string was untied and the ring was gone. He spent a whole day in searching for it, but in vain; and at last he resolved to proceed and explain the matter to his father.

The old man was overjoyed to see him, and fully believed his tale, but with the second wife it was otherwise. She was greatly displeased to think that her child was not now to be the sole heir of his father’s goods; and she so pestered and worked upon the old man by artful and malicious speeches, that he consented to send away the new-comer till he should have found the first wife’s wedding-ring.

“Is the homestead I have taken such care of,” she cried, “to go to the first vagrant who comes in with a brown face and a ragged coat, pretending that he is your son?”

So the soldier was sent about his business; but his father followed him to the gate, and slipped some money into his hand, saying, “God speed you back again with the ring!”

It was Sunday morning, and the bells were ringing for service as he turned sadly away.

“Ding, dong!” rang the bells, “ding, dong! Why do you not come to church like others? Why are you not dressed in your Sunday clothes, and wherefore do you heave such doleful sighs, whilst we ring merrily? Ding, dong! ding, dong!”

“Is there not a cause?” replied the soldier. “This day I am turned out of home and heritage, though indeed I am the true heir.”

“Nevertheless we shall ring for your return,” said the bells.

As he went, the sun shone on the green fields, and in the soldier’s eyes, and said, “See how brightly I shine! But you, comrade, why is your face so cloudy?”

“Is there not good reason?” replied he. “This day I am turned out of home and heritage, and yet I am the true heir.”

“Nevertheless I shall shine on your return,” said the sun.

Along the road the hawthorn hedges were white with blossom. “Heyday!” they cried, “who is this that comes trimp tramp, with a face as long as a poplar-tree? Cheer up, friend! It is spring! sweet spring! All is now full of hope and joy, and why should you look so sour?”

“May I not be excused?” said the soldier. “This day I am turned out, of home and heritage, and yet I am the true heir.”

“Nevertheless we shall blossom when you return,” said the hedges.

When he had wandered for three days and three nights, all he had was spent, and there was no shelter to be seen but a dark gloomy forest, which stretched before him. Just then he saw a small, weazened old woman, who was trying to lift a bundle of sticks on to her back.

“That is too heavy for you, good mother,” said the soldier; and he raised and adjusted it for her.

“Have you just come here?” muttered the old crone; “then the best thanks I can give you is to bid you get away as fast as you can.”

“I never retreated yet, dame,” said the soldier, and on he went.

Presently he met with a giant, who was strolling along by the edge of the wood, knocking the cones off the tops of the fir-trees with his finger-nails. He was an ill-favoured-looking monster, but he said, civilly enough, “You look in want of employment, comrade. Will you take service with me?”

“I must first know two things,” answered the soldier; “my work and my wages.”

“Your work,” said the giant, “is to cut a path through this wood to the other side. But then you shall have a year and a day to do it in. If you do it within the time, you will find at the other end a magpie’s nest, in which is the ring of which you are in search. The nest also contains the crown jewels which have been stolen, and if you take these to the king, you will need no further reward. But, on the other hand, if the work is not done within the time, you will thenceforth be my servant without wages.”

“It is a hard bargain,” said the soldier, “but need knows no law, and I agree to the conditions.”

When he came into the giant’s abode, he was greatly astonished to see the little weazened old woman. She showed no sign of recognizing him, however, and the soldier observed a like discretion. He soon discovered that she was the giant’s wife, and much in dread of her husband, who treated her with great cruelty.

“To-morrow you shall begin to work,” said the giant.

“If you please,” said the soldier, and before he went to bed he carried in water and wood for the old woman.

“There’s a kinship in trouble,” said he.

Next morning the giant led him to a certain place on the outskirts of the forest, and giving him an axe, said, “The sooner you begin, the better, and you may see that it is not difficult.” Saying which, he took hold of one of the trees by the middle, and snapped it off as one might pluck a flower.

“Thus to thee, but how to me?” said the soldier; and when the giant departed he set to work. But although he was so strong, and worked willingly, the trees seemed almost as hard as stone, and he made little progress. When he returned at night the giant asked him how he got on.

“The trees are very hard,” said he.

“So they always say,” replied the giant; “I have always had idle servants.”

“I will not be called idle a second time,” thought the soldier, and next day he went early and worked his utmost. But the result was very small. And when he came home, looking weary and disappointed, he could not fail to perceive that this gave great satisfaction to the giant.

Matters had gone on thus for some time, when one morning, as he went to work, he found the little old woman gathering sticks as before.

“Listen,” said she. “He shall not treat you as he has treated others. Count seventy to the left from where you are working, and begin again. But do not let him know that you have made a fresh start. And do a little at the old place from time to time, as a blind.” And before he could thank her, the old woman was gone. Without more ado, however, he counted seventy from the old place, and hit the seventieth tree such a blow with his axe, that it came crashing down then and there. And he found that, one after another, the trees yielded to his blows as if they were touch-wood. He did a good day’s work, gave a few strokes in the old spot, and came home, taking care to look as gloomy as before.

Day by day he got deeper and deeper into the wood, the trees falling before him like dry elder twigs; and now the hardest part of his work was walking backwards and fowards to the giant’s home, for the forest seemed almost interminable. But on the three hundred and sixty-sixth day from his first meeting with the giant, the soldier cut fairly through on to an open plain, and as the light streamed in, a magpie flew away, and on searching her nest, the soldier found his mother’s wedding-ring. He also found many precious stones of priceless value, which were evidently the lost crown jewels. And as his term of service with the giant was now ended, he did not trouble himself to return, but with the ring and the jewels in his pocket set off to find his way to the capital.

He soon fell in with a good-humoured, fellow who showed him the way, and pointed out everything of interest on the road. As they drew near, one of the royal carriages was driving out of the city gates, in which sat three beautiful ladies who were the king’s daughters.

“The two eldest are engaged to marry two neighbouring princes,” said the companion.

“And whom is the youngest to marry?” asked the soldier, “for she is by far the most beautiful.”

“She will never marry,” answered his companion, “for she is pledged to the man who shall find the crown jewels, and cut a path through the stone-wood forest that borders the king’s domains. And that is much as if she were promised to the man who should fetch down the moon for her to play with. For the jewels are lost beyond recall, and the wood is an enchanted forest.”

“Nevertheless she shall be wed with my mother’s ring,” thought the soldier. But he kept his own counsel, and only waited till he had smartened himself up, before he sought an audience of the king.

His claim to the princess was fully proved; the king heaped honours and riches upon him; and he made himself so acceptable to his bride-elect, that the wedding was fixed for an early day.

“May I bring my old father, madam?” he asked of the princess.

“That you certainly may,” said she. “A good son makes a good husband.”

As he entered his native village the hedges were in blossom, the sun shone; and the bells rang for his return.

His stepmother now welcomed him, and was very anxious to go to court also. But her husband said, “No. You took such good care of the homestead, it is but fit you should look to it whilst I am away.”

As to the giant, when he found that he had been outwitted, he went off, and was never more heard of in those parts. But the soldier took his wife into the city, and cared for her to the day of her death.

Old-Fashioned Fairy Tales, by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing

There was once a young fellow whom fortune had blessed with a good mother, a clever head, and a strong body. But beyond this she had not much favoured him; and though able and willing to work, he had often little to do, and less to eat. But his mother had taught him to be contented with his own lot, and to feel for others. Moreover, from her he inherited a great love for flowers.

One day, when his pockets were emptiest, a fair was held in the neighbouring town, and he must needs go as well as the rest, though he had no money to spend. But he stuck a buttercup in his cap, for which he had nothing to pay, and strode along as merrily as the most.

Towards evening some of the merrymakers became riotous; and a party of them fell upon an old Jew who was keeping a stall of glass and china, and would smash his stock. Now as the Jew stood before his booth beseeching them to spare his property, up came the strong young man, with the flower still unwithered in his cap, and he took the old Jew’s part and defended him. For from childhood his mother had taught him to feel for others.

So those who would have ill-treated the old Jew now moved off, and the young man stayed with him till he had packed up his wares.

Then the Jew turned towards him and said, “My son, he who delivers the oppressed, and has respect unto the aged, has need of no reward, for the blessing of Him that blesseth is about him. Nevertheless, that I may not seem ungrateful, choose, I pray thee, one of these china jars; and take it to thee for thine own. If thou shalt choose well, it may be of more use to thee than presently appears.”

Thereupon the young man examined the jars, which were highly ornamented with many figures and devices; but he chose one that was comparatively plain; only it had a bunch of flowers painted on the front, round which was a pretty device in spots or circles of gold.

Then said the Jew, “My son, why have you chosen this jar, when there are others so much finer?”

The young man said, “Because the flowers please me, and I have a love for flowers.”

Then said the Jew, “Happy is he whose tastes are simple! Moreover, herein is a rare wisdom, and thou hast gained that which is the most valuable of my possessions. This jar has properties which I will further explain to thee. It was given to me by a wise woman, subject to this condition, that I must expose it for sale from sunrise to sunset at the yearly fair. When I understood this I took counsel with myself how I should preserve it; and I bought other china jars of more apparent value, and I marked them all with the same price. For I said within myself, ‘There is no man who does not desire to get as much as he can for his money, therefore, from its contrast with these others, my jar is safe.’ And it was even so; for truly, many have desired to buy the jar because of the delicate beauty of the flowers, if I would have sold it for less than others which seemed more valuable.”

“Many times it has been almost gone, but when I have shown the others at the same price, my customers have reviled me, saying, ‘Dog of a Jew, dost thou ask as much for this as for these others Which are manifestly worth double?’ and they have either departed, cursing me, and taking nothing; or they have bought one of the more richly decorated jars at the same price. For verily in most men the spirit of covetousness is stronger than the love of beauty, and they rather desire to get much for their money, than to obtain that which is suitable and convenient.”

“But in thee, O young man! I have beheld a rare wisdom. To choose that which is good in thine eyes, and suitable to thy needs, rather than that which satisfieth the lust of over-reaching; and lo! what I have so long kept from thousands, has become thine!”

Then the young man wished to restore to the Jew the jar he valued so highly, and to choose another.

But the Jew refused, saying, “A gift cannot be recalled. Moreover, I will now explain to thee its uses. Within the jar lies a toad, whose spit is poison. But it will never spit at its master. Every evening thou must feed it with bread and milk, when it will fall asleep; and at sunrise in the morning it will awake and breathe heavily against the side of the jar, which will thus become warm. As it warms the flowers will blossom out, and become real, and full of perfume, and thou wilt be able to pluck them without diminishing their number. Moreover, these twelve round spots of gold will drop off, and become twelve gold pieces, which will be thine. And thus it will be every day. Only thou must thyself rise with the sun, and gather the flowers and the gold with thine own hands. Furthermore, when the jar cools, the flowers and gilding will be as before. Fare thee well.”

And even as he spoke the Jew lifted the huge crate of china on to his back, and disappeared among the crowd.

All came about as the Jew had promised. As he had twelve gold pieces a day, the young man now wanted for nothing, besides which he had fresh flowers on his table all the year round.

Now it is well said, “Thy business is my business, and the business of all beside;” for every man’s affairs are his neighbours’ property. Thus it came about that all those who lived near the young man were perplexed that he had such beautiful flowers in all seasons; and esteemed it as an injury to themselves that he should have them and give no explanation as to whence they came.

At last it came to the ears of the king, and he also was disturbed. For he was curious, and fond of prying into small matters; a taste which ill becomes those of high position. But the king had no child to succeed him; and he was always suspecting those about him of plotting to obtain the crown, and thus he came to be for ever prying into the affairs of his subjects.

Now when he heard of the young man who had flowers on his table all the year round, he desired one of his officers to go and question him as to how he obtained them. But the young man contrived to evade his questions, and the matter was at rest for a while.

Then the king sent another messenger, with orders to press the young man more closely; and because the young man disdained to tell a lie, he said, “I get the flowers from yon china jar.”

Then the messenger returned, and said to the king, “The young man says that he gets the flowers from a certain china jar which stands in his room.”

Then said the king, “Bring the contents of the jar hither to me.” And the messenger returned and brought the toad.

But when the king laid hold upon the toad, it spat in his face; and he was poisoned and died.

Then the toad sat upon the king’s mouth, and would not be enticed away. And every one feared to touch it because it spat poison. And they called the wise men of the council; and they performed certain rites to charm away the toad, and yet it would not go.

But after three days, the master of the toad came to the palace, and without saying who he was, he desired to be permitted to try and get the toad from the corpse of the king.

And when he was taken into the king’s chamber, he stood and beckoned to the toad, saying, “The person of the king and the bodies of the dead are sacred, wherefore come away.”

And the toad crawled from the king’s face and came to him, and did not spit at him; and he put it back into the jar.

Then said the wise men, “There is no one so fit to succeed to the kingdom as this man is; both for wisdom of speech and for the power of command.”

And what they said pleased the people; and the young man was made king. And in due time he married an amiable and talented princess, and had children. And he ruled the kingdom well and wisely, and was beloved till his death.

Now when, after the lapse of many years, he died, there was great grief among the people, and his body was laid out in his own room, and the people were permitted to come and look upon his face for the last time.

And among the crowd there appeared an aged Jew. And he did not weep as did the others; but he came and stood by the bier, and gazed upon the face of the dead king in silence. And after a while he exclaimed, and said:

“Oh, wonderful spectacle! A man, and not covetous. A ruler, and not oppressive. Contented in poverty, and moderate in wealth. Elect of the people, and beloved to the end!”

And when he had said this, he again became silent, and stood as one astonished.

And no one knew when he came in, nor perceived when he departed.

But when they came to search for the china jar, it was gone, and could never afterwards be found.