THE BOOK OF ELVES AND FAIRIES - Over 70 bedtime stories for children E-Book

Anon E. Mouse

• Herausgeber: Abela Publishing
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

An ancient Hopi proverb states “ He who tells stories, rules the world.” Well here is your chance to become a King, or a Queen for a day, or at least, a few hours……

Herein, are more than 70 stories and poems gathered from Scotland, Ireland, Sweden, Wales, China, England, Japan, New Zealand and other faraway places — are retold here by Olcott for children aged 10 and up.
Stories like Cinderella, Toads and Diamonds, Robin Goodfellow, Butterfly’s Diamond, Sleeping Beauty in the Wood, Timothy Tuttle and the Little Imps, The Coal-Black Steed, Elsa And The Ten Elves, The Fairy Island, The Four-Leafed Clover, The Enchanted Watch and Queen Mab abound.

When a child open the covers of this book, straightway they enter that land of all delights—the Fairy Realm. Here Fairy Godmothers reward good children, 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 fly 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.
And every story is about “Fairies black, grey, green, and white,” and every one has been selected for delightful humour, fancy, or ethical teaching.

10% of the profit from the sale of this book will be donated to charities.
YESTERDAYS BOOKS raising funds for TODAYS CHARITIES
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KEYWORDS/TAGS: folklore, fairy tales, fairytales, legends, myths, children’s stories, fables, bedtime stories, allegories, Fairies Story Hour, Come! Moonlit Meadow, Fairy-Lore, Elfin Legends, Around, Fairy Ring, Adventures, Robin Goodfellow, Potato Supper, Milk-White, Calf, Wood-Lady, Dance, Mounds, Fairy Hills, Monday, Tuesday, Greedy Old Man, Bottle Hill, Brown Dwarf, Little Men, Treasures Of Gold, Boy, Find, Found, Pots Of Gold, Ragweed, Bad Boy, Leprechaun, Tom,  Knockers, Diamonds, Skillywidden, Fairy Shoemaker, Glad Little, Sad Little, Bad Little,  Elves, Little Redcap, Curmudgeon, Skin, Judy, Fairy Cat, Boggart, Ownself, Sick-Bed, Peeping Kate, Piskey-Led, One-Eyed, Pry, Joan’s Tale, Fairy Folk, Fairy Servants, House, Pixies, Brownie, Blednoch, Elsa, Ten Elves, Piskey Fine, Piskey Gay, happy, Fairy Wedding, Tomts, Song, Elfin Miller, Fays, Water, Wood, Meadow, Kintaro, Golden, Flower, Island, Four-Leaved, Clover, Gillie Dhu, Kahukura, Nets, Echo, Cave, Isles, Sea Fairies, Away, Fairyland, Magic, Ferns, The Smith, Coal-Black Steed, Stolen, girl, Dance, Elidore, Golden Ball, Court, Godmother, Wonderful Gifts, Cinderella, Little Glass Slipper, Sleeping Beauty,  In The Wood, Prince Chéri, Toads, Diamonds, Blanche, Rose, Enchanted Watch, Queen Mab, Adventures, Do-Nothing, Giant, Snap-’Em-Up, Timothy Tuttle, Little Imps, Butterfly, Niebla, Tiny, Immortal Fountain, Childe Charity, Shining Child, Wicked Mouche, Mabel, Midsummer Day, Farewell, Passage, Old Winter, Fairyland,

Leseprobe

The Book OfElves and Fairies

FOR STORY-TELLING AND READING ALOUDAND FOR THE CHILDREN’S OWN READING

BY

Frances Jenkins Olcott

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

MILO WINTER

Originally Published By

The Riverside Press, Boston

[1918]

Resurrected by

Abela Publishing, London

[2018]

THE BOOK OF ELVES AND FAIRIES

Typographical arrangement of this edition

© Abela Publishing 2018

This book may not be reproduced in its current format in any manner in any media, or transmitted by any means whatsoever, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, or mechanical ( including photocopy, file or video recording, internet web sites, blogs, wikis, or any other information storage and retrieval system) except as permitted by law without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Abela Publishing,

London

United Kingdom

2018

ISBN-13: 978-X-XXXXXX-XX-X

Email

[email protected]

Website

AbelaPublishing

“THIS IS MAB, THE MISTRESS FAIRY”

Dedication

TOTHEODORE 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

Dedication

Foreword

Acknowledgments

Contents

Illustrations

The Fairies’ Story Hour

Come! Come! To The Fairies’ Story Hour!

In The Moonlit Meadow

Part One Fairy-Lore And Elfin Legends

Around! Around! In Fairy Rings

Adventures Of Robin Goodfellow

The Potato Supper

The Milk-White Calf And The Fairy Ring

The Wood-Lady

The Dance Of The Fairies

Elfin Mounds And Fairy Hills

Monday! Tuesday!

The Greedy Old Man

Legend Of Bottle Hill

The Brown Dwarf

Little Men And Treasures Of Gold

The Boy Who Found The Pots Of Gold

The Ragweed

The Bad Boy And The Leprechaun

Tom And The Knockers

The Knockers’ Diamonds

Skillywidden

The Leprechaun, Or Fairy Shoemaker

Glad Little, Sad Little, Bad Little Elves

Little Redcap

The Curmudgeon’s Skin

Judy And The Fairy Cat

The Boggart

Ownself

The Sick-Bed Elves

How Peeping Kate Was Piskey-Led

One-Eyed Prying Joan’s Tale

The Fairy Folk

Fairy Servants In The House

The Fairy’s Servants

The Pixies

The Brownie Of Blednoch

Elsa And The Ten Elves

Piskey Fine! And Piskey Gay!

The Fairy Wedding

The Tomts

Song Of The Elfin Miller

Fays Of Water, Wood, And Meadow

Kintaro The Golden Boy

The Flower Fairies

The Fairy Island

The Four-Leaved Clover

The Gillie Dhu

How Kahukura Learned To Make Nets

Echo, The Cave Fairy

The Isles Of The Sea Fairies

Away! Away! To Fairyland

The Magic Ferns

The Smith And The Fairies

The Coal-Black Steed

The Girl Who Was Stolen By The Fairies

The Girl Who Danced With The Fairies

Elidore And The Golden Ball

At The Court Of Fairyland

Part Two Fairy Stories

Fairy Godmothers And Wonderful Gifts

Cinderella Or The Little Glass Slipper

The Sleeping Beauty In The Wood

Prince Chéri

Toads And Diamonds

Blanche And Rose

The Enchanted Watch

Queen Mab

Fairy Adventures

Fairy Do-Nothing And Giant Snap-’Em-Up

Timothy Tuttle And The Little Imps

Butterfly’s Diamond

Little Niebla

Little Tiny

The Immortal Fountain

The Story Of Childe Charity

The Shining Child And The Wicked Mouche

Mabel On Midsummer Day

Farewell! Farewell! Dear Fairies

The Fairies’ Passage

Old Winter’s Fairyland

More Children’s Folklore And Fairy Tale Ebooks Raising Funds For Charities

Illustrations

“This is Mab, the Mistress Fairy”

“Dermod gazed at them in wonder”

“She saw a whole troop of Spriggans holding an Elfin Fair”

“Childe Charity came out and asked the old woman to take her share of the supper”

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 OneFairy-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 nearby 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.”

“DERMOD GAZED AT THEM IN WONDER”

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.

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 d [...]