Popular Tales from the Norse by Sir George Webbe DasentWith a memoir by Arthur Irwin Dasent (page 9)

quite at home at sea, for a captain. So they sailed about a long, long time, landed on every shore they came to, and hunted and asked after the Princesses, but they could neither hear nor see anything of them. And now, a few days only were wanting to make up seven years since they set sail, when one day a strong storm rose, and such foul weather, they thought they should never come to land again, and all had to work so hard, they couldn’t get a wink of sleep so long as the storm lasted. But when the third day was nearly over, the wind fell, and all at once it got as still as still could be. Now, they were all so weary with work and the rough weather, they fell fast asleep in the twinkling of an eye; all but the youngest Prince, he could get no rest, and couldn’t go off to sleep at all.

So as he was pacing up and down the deck, the ship came to a little island, and on the island ran a little dog, and bayed and barked at the ship as if it wanted to come on board. So the Prince went to that side of the deck, and tried to coax the dog, and whistled and whistled to him, but the more he whistled and coaxed, the more the dog barked and snarled. Well, he thought it a shame the dog should run about there and starve, for he made up his mind that it must have come thither from a ship that had been cast away in the storm; but still he thought he should never be able to help it after all, for he couldn’t put out the boat by himself, and as for the others, they all slept so sound, he wouldn’t wake them for the sake of a dog. But then the weather was so calm and still; and at last he said to himself: ‘Come what may, you must go on shore and save that dog’, and so he began to try to launch the boat, and he found it far easier work than he thought. So he rowed ashore, and went up to the dog; but every time he tried to catch it, it jumped on one side, and so it went on till he found himself inside a great grand castle, before he knew where he was. Then the dog, all at once, was changed into a lovely Princess; and there, on the bench, sat a man so big and ugly, the Prince almost lost his wits for fear.

‘YOU’VE NO NEED TO BE AFRAID’, said the man–but the Prince, to tell you the truth, got far more afraid when he heard his gruff voice– ‘for I know well enough what you want. There are twelve Princes of you, and you are looking for the twelve Princesses that are lost. I know, too, very well whereabouts they are; they’re with my lord and master, and there they sit, each of them on her chair, and comb his hair; for he has twelve heads. And now you have sailed seven years, but you’ll have to sail seven years more before you find them. As for you, you might stay here and welcome, and have my daughter; but you must first slay him, for he’s a hard master to all of us, and we’re all weary of him, and when he’s dead I shall be King in his stead; but first try if you can brandish this sword’.

Then the King’s son took hold of a rusty old sword which hung on the wall, but he could scarce stir it.

‘Now you must take a pull at this flask’, said the Troll; and when he had done that he could stir it, and when he had taken another he could lift it, and when he had taken a third he could brandish the sword as easily as if it had been his own.

‘Now, when you get on board’, said the Troll Prince, ‘you must hide the sword well in your berth, that Ritter Red mayn’t set eyes on it; he’s not man enough to wield it, but he’ll get spiteful against you, and try to take your life. And when seven years are almost out all but three days’, he went on to say, ‘everything will happen just as now; foul weather will come on you, with a great storm, and when it is over you’ll all be sleepy. Then you must take the sword and row ashore, and so you’ll come to a castle where all sorts of guards will stand–wolves, and bears, and lions; but you needn’t be afraid of them, for they’ll all come and crouch at your feet. But when you come inside the castle, you’ll soon see the Troll; he sits in a splendid chamber in grand attire and array; twelve heads he has of his own, and the Princesses sit round them, each on her chair, and comb his heads, and that’s a work you may guess they don’t much like. Then you must make haste, and hew off one head after the other as quick as you can; for if he wakes and sets his eyes on you, he’ll swallow you alive’.

So the King’s son went on board with the sword, and he bore in mind what he had come to know. The others still lay fast asleep and snored, and he hid the sword in his berth, so that neither Ritter Red nor any of the rest got sight of it. And now it began to blow again, so he woke up the others and said he thought they oughtn’t to sleep any longer now when there was such a good wind. And there was none of them that marked he had been away. Well, after the seven years were all gone but three days, all happened as the Troll had said. A great storm and foul weather came on that lasted three days, and when it had blown itself out, all the rest grew sleepy and went to rest; but the youngest King’s son rowed ashore, and the guards fell at his feet, and so he came to the castle. So when he got inside the chamber, there sat the King fast asleep as the Troll Prince had said, and the twelve Princesses sat each on her chair and combed one of his heads. The king’s son beckoned to the Princesses to get out of the way; they pointed to the Troll, and beckoned to him again to go his way as quick as ever he could, but he kept on making signs to them to get out of the way, and then they understood that he wanted to set them free, and stole away softly one after the other, and as fast as they went, he hewed off the Troll King’s heads, till at last the blood gushed out like a great brook. When the Troll was slain he rowed on board and hid his sword. He thought now he had done enough, and as he couldn’t get rid of the body by himself, he thought it only fair they should help him a little. So he woke them all up, and said it was a shame they should be snoring there, when he had found the Princesses, and set them free from the Troll. The others only laughed at him, and said he had been just as sound asleep as they, and only dreamt that he was man enough to do what he said; for if any one was to set the Princesses free, it was far more likely it would be one of them. But the youngest King’s son told them all about it, and when they followed him to the land and saw first of all the brook of blood, and then the castle, and the Troll, and the twelve heads, and the Princesses, they saw plain enough that he had spoken the truth, and now the whole helped him to throw the body and the heads into the sea. So all were glad and happy, but none more so than the Princesses, who got rid of having to sit there and comb the Troll’s hair all day. Of all the silver and gold and precious things that were there, they took as much as the ship could hold, and so they went on board altogether Princes and Princesses alike.

But when they had gone a bit out on the sea, the Princesses said they had forgotten in their joy their gold crowns; they lay behind in a press, and they would be so glad to have them. So when none of the others was willing to fetch them, the youngest King’s son said:

‘I have already dared so much, I can very well go back for the gold crowns too, if you will only strike sail and wait till I come again.’

Yes, that they would do. But when he had gone back so far that they couldn’t see him any longer, Ritter Red, who would have been glad enough to have been their chief, and to have the youngest Princess, said, ‘it was no use their lying there still waiting for him, for they might know very well he would never come back; they all knew, too, how the king had given him all power and authority to sail or not as he chose; and now they must all say ’twas he that had saved the Princesses, and if any one said anything else, he should lose his life’.

The Princes didn’t dare to do anything else than what Ritter Red willed, and so they sailed away.

Meanwhile the youngest King’s son rowed to land, went up to the castle, found the press with gold crowns in it, and at last lugged it down to the boat, and shoved off; but when he came where he ought to have seen the ship, lo! it was gone. Well, as he couldn’t catch a glimpse of it anywhere, he could very soon tell how matters stood. To row after them was no good, and so he was forced to turn about and row back to land. He was rather afraid to stay alone in the castle all night, but there was no other house to be got, so he plucked up a heart, locked up all the doors and gates fast, and lay down in a room where there was a bed ready made. But fearful and woeful he was, and still more afraid he got when he had lain a while and something began to creak and groan and quake in wall and roof, as if the whole castle were being torn asunder. Then all at once down something plunged close by the side of his bed, as if it were a whole cartload of hay. Then all was still again; but after a while he heard a voice, which bade him not to be afraid, and said:

Here am I the Big Bird Dan
Come to help you all I can.

‘But the first thing you must do when you wake in the morning, will be to go to the barn and fetch four barrels of rye for me. I must fill my crop with them for breakfast, else I can’t do anything’.

When he woke up, sure enough there he saw an awfully big bird, which had a feather at the nape of his neck, as thick and long as a half- grown spruce fir. So the King’s son went down to the barn to fetch four barrels of rye for the Big Bird Dan, and when he had crammed them into his crop he told the King’s son to hang the press with the gold crowns on one side of his neck, and as much gold and silver as would weigh it down on the other side, and after that to get on his back and hold fast by the feather in the nape of his neck. So away they went till the wind whistled after them, and so it wasn’t long before they outstripped the ship. The King’s son wanted to go on board for his sword, for he was afraid lest any one should get sight of it, for the Troll had told him that mustn’t be; but Bird Dan said that mustn’t be either.

‘Ritter Red will never see it, never fear; but if you go on board, he’ll try to take your life, for he has set his heart on having the youngest Princess; but make your mind quite easy about her, for she lays a naked sword by her side in bed every night.’

So after a long, long time, they came to the island where the Troll Prince was; and there the King’s son was welcomed so heartily there was no end to it. The Troll Prince didn’t know how to be good enough to him for having slain his Lord and Master, and so made him King of the Trolls, and if the King’s son had been willing he might easily have got the Troll King’s daughter, and half the kingdom. But he had so set his heart on the youngest of the twelve Princesses, he could take no rest, but was all for going after their ship time after time. So the Troll King begged him to be quiet a little longer, and said they had still nearly seven years to sail before they got home. As for the Princess the Troll said the same thing as the Big Bird Dan.

‘You needn’t fret yourself about her, for she lays a naked sword by her side every night in bed. And now if you don’t believe what I say’, said the Troll, ‘you can go on board when they sail by here, and see for yourself, and fetch the sword too, for I may just as well have it again.’

So when they sailed by another great storm arose, and when the king’s son went on board they all slept, and each Princess lay beside her Prince; but the youngest lay alone with a naked sword beside her in the bed, and on the floor by the bedside lay Ritter Red. Then the king’s son took the sword and rowed ashore again, and none of them had seen that he had been on board. But still the King’s son couldn’t rest, and he often and often wanted to be off, and so at last when it got near the end of the seven years, and only three weeks were left, the Troll King said:

‘Now you may get ready to go since you won’t stay with us; and you shall have the loan of my iron boat, which sails of itself, if you only say:

Boat, boat, go on!

‘In that boat there is an iron club, and that club you must lift a little when you see the ship straight a-head of you, and then they’ll get such a rattling fair breeze, they’ll forget to look at you; but when you get alongside them, you must lift the club a little again, and then they’ll get such a foul wind and storm, they’ll have something else to do than to stare at you; and when you have run past them, you must lift the club a third time, but you must always be sure and lay it down carefully again, else there’ll be such a storm both you and they will be wrecked and lost. Now, when you have got to land, you’ve no need to bother yourself at all about the boat; just turn it about, and shove it off, and say:

Boat, boat, go back home!

When he set out they gave him so much gold and silver, and so many other costly things, and clothes and linen which the Troll Princess had sewn and woven for him all that long time, that he was far richer than any of his brothers.

Well, he had no sooner seated himself in the boat, and said,

Boat, boat, go on!

than away went the boat, and when he saw the ship right ahead he lifted up the club, and then they got such a fair breeze, they forgot to look at him. When he was alongside the ship, he lifted the club again, and then such a storm arose and such foul weather, that the white foam flew about the ship, and the billows rolled over the deck, and they had something else to do than to stare at him; and when he had run past them he lifted the club the third time, and then the storm and the wind rose so, they had still less time to look after him, and to make him out. So he came to land long, long before the ship; and when he had got all his goods out of the boat, he shoved it off again, and turned it about and said:

Boat, boat, go back home!

And off went the boat.

Then he dressed himself up as a sailor–whether the Troll king had told him that, or it was his own device, I’m sure I can’t say–and went up to a wretched hut where an old wife lived, whom he got to believe that he was a poor sailor who had been on board a great ship that was wrecked, and that he was the only soul that had got ashore. After that he begged for house-room for himself and the goods he had saved.

‘Heaven mend me!’ said the old wife, ‘how can I lend any one house- room? look at me and mine, why, I’ve no bed to sleep on myself, still less one for any one else to lie on.’

Well, well, it was all the same, said the sailor; if he only got a roof over his head, it didn’t matter where he lay. So she couldn’t turn him out of the house, when he was so thankful for what there was. That afternoon he fetched up his things, and the old wife, who was very eager to hear a bit of news to run about and tell, began at once to ask who he was, whence he came, whither he was bound, what it was he had with him, what his business was, and if he hadn’t heard anything of the twelve Princesses who had been away the Lord knew how many years. All this she asked and much more, which it would be waste of time to tell. But he said he was so poorly and had such a bad headache after the awful weather he had been out in, that he couldn’t answer any of her questions; she must just leave him alone and let him rest a few days till he came to himself after the hard work he’d had in the gale, and then she’d know all she wanted.

The very next day the old wife began to stir him up and ask again, but the sailor’s head was still so bad he hadn’t got his wits together, but somehow he let drop a word or two to show that he did know something about the Princesses. Off ran the old wife with what she had heard to all the gossips and chatterboxes round about, and soon the one came running after the other to ask about the Princesses, ‘if he had seen them’, ‘if they would soon be there’, ‘if they were on the way’, and much more of the same sort. He still went on groaning over his headache after the storm, so that he couldn’t tell them all about it, but so much he told them, unless they had been lost in the great storm they’d make the land in about a fortnight or before perhaps; but he couldn’t say for sure whether they were alive or no, for though he had seen them, it might very well be that they had been cast away in the storm since. So what did one of these old gossips do but run up to the Palace with this story, and say that there was a sailor down in such and such an old wife’s hut, who had seen the Princesses, and that they were coming home in a fortnight or in a week’s time. When the King heard that he sent a messenger down to the sailor to come up to him and tell the news himself.

‘I don’t see how it’s to be’, said the sailor, ‘for I haven’t any clothes fit to stand in before the King.’

But the King said he must come; for the King must and would talk with him, whether he were richly or poorly clad, for there was no one else who could bring him any tidings of the Princesses. So he went up at last to the Palace and went in before the King, who asked him if it were true that he had seen anything of the Princesses.

‘Aye, aye’, said the sailor, ‘I’ve seen them sure enough, but I don’t know whether they’re still alive, for when I last caught sight of them, the weather was so foul we in our ship were cast away; but if they’re still alive they’ll come safe home in a fortnight or perhaps before.’

When the King heard that he was almost beside himself for joy; and when the time came that the sailor had said they would come, the King drove down to the strand to meet them in a great state; and there was joy and gladness over the whole land, when the ship came sailing in with the Princes and Princesses and Ritter Red. But no one was gladder than the old King, who had got his daughters back again. The eleven eldest Princesses too, were glad and merry, but the youngest who was to have Ritter Red, who said that he had set them all free and slain the Troll, she wept and was always sorrowful. The King took this ill, and asked why she wasn’t cheerful and merry like the others; she hadn’t anything to be sorry for now when she had got out of the Troll’s clutches, and was to have such a husband as Ritter Red. But she daredn’t say anything, for Ritter Red had said he would take the life of any one who told the truth how things had gone.

But now one day, when they were hard at work sewing and stitching the bridal array, in came a man in a great sailor’s cloak with a pedlar’s pack on his back, and asked if the Princesses wouldn’t buy something fine of him for the wedding; he had so many wares and costly things, both gold and silver. Yes, they might do so perhaps, so they looked at his wares and they looked at him, for they thought they had seen both him and many of his costly things before.

‘He who has so many fine things’, said the youngest Princess, ‘must surely have something still more precious, and which suits us better even than these.’

‘Maybe I have’, said the Pedlar.

But now all the others cried ‘Hush’, and bade her bear in mind what Ritter Red had said he would do.

Well, some time after the Princesses sat and looked out of the window, and then the King’s son came again with the great sea-cloak thrown about him, and the press with the gold crowns at his back; and when he got into the palace hall he unlocked the press before the Princesses, and when each of them knew her own gold crown again, the youngest said:

‘I think it only right that he who set us free should get the meed that is his due; and he is not Ritter Red, but this man who has brought us our gold crowns. He it is that set us free.’

Then the King’s son cast off the sailor’s cloak, and stood there far finer and grander than all the rest; and so the old King made them put Ritter Red to death. And now there was real right down joy in the palace; each took his own bride, and there just was a wedding! Why, it was heard of and talked about over twelve kings’ realms.

SORIA MORIA CASTLE

Once on a time there was a poor couple who had a son whose name was Halvor. Ever since he was a little boy he would turn his hand to nothing, but just sat there and groped about in the ashes. His father and mother often put him out to learn this trade or that, but Halvor could stay nowhere; for, when he had been there a day or two, he ran away from his master, and never stopped till he was sitting again in the ingle, poking about in the cinders.

Well, one day a skipper came, and asked Halvor if he hadn’t a mind to be with him, and go to sea, and see strange lands. Yes, Halvor would like that very much; so he wasn’t long in getting himself ready.

How long they sailed I’m sure I can’t tell; but the end of it was, they fell into a great storm, and when it was blown over, and it got still again, they couldn’t tell where they were; for they had been driven away to a strange coast, which none of them knew anything about.

Well, as there was just no wind at all, they stayed lying wind-bound there, and Halvor asked the skipper’s leave to go on shore and look about him; he would sooner go, he said, than lie there and sleep.

‘Do you think now you’re fit to show yourself before folk’, said the skipper, ‘why, you’ve no clothes but those rags you stand in?’

But Halvor stuck to his own, and so at last he got leave, but he was to be sure and come back as soon as ever it began to blow. So off he went and found a lovely land; wherever he came there were fine large flat corn-fields and rich meads, but he couldn’t catch a glimpse of a living soul. Well, it began to blow, but Halvor thought he hadn’t seen enough yet, and he wanted to walk a little farther just to see if he couldn’t meet any folk. So after a while he came to a broad high road, so smooth and even, you might easily roll an egg along it. Halvor followed this, and when evening drew on he saw a great castle ever so far off, from which the sunbeams shone. So as he had now walked the whole day and hadn’t taken a bit to eat with him, he was as hungry as a hunter, but still the nearer he came to the castle, the more afraid he got. In the castle kitchen a great fire was blazing, and Halvor went into it, but such a kitchen he had never seen in all his born days. It was so grand and fine; there were vessels of silver and vessels of gold, but still never a living soul. So when Halvor had stood there a while and no one came out, he went and opened a door, and there inside sat a Princess who span upon a spinning-wheel.

‘Nay, nay, now!’ she called out, ‘dare Christian folk come hither? But now you’d best be off about your business, if you don’t want the Troll to gobble you up; for here lives a Troll with three heads.’

‘All one to me’, said the lad, ‘I’d be just as glad to hear he had four heads beside; I’d like to see what kind of fellow he is. As for going, I won’t go at all. I’ve done no harm; but meat you must get me, for I’m almost starved to death.’

When Halvor had eaten his fill, the Princess told him to try if he could brandish the sword that hung against the wall; no, he couldn’t brandish it, he couldn’t even lift it up.

‘Oh!’ said the Princess, ‘now you must go and take a pull of that flask that hangs by its side; that’s what the Troll does every time he goes out to use the sword.’

So Halvor took a pull, and in the twinkling of an eye he could brandish the sword like nothing; and now he thought it high time the Troll came; and lo! just then up came the Troll puffing and blowing. Halvor jumped behind the door.

‘HUTETU’, said the Troll, as he put his head in at the door, ‘what a smell of Christian man’s blood!’

‘Aye’, said Halvor, ‘you’ll soon know that to your cost’, and with that he hewed off all his heads.

Now the Princess was so glad that she was free, she both danced and sang, but then all at once she called her sisters to mind, and so she said:

‘Would my sisters were free too’

‘Where are they?’ asked Halvor.

Well, she told him all about it; one was taken away by a Troll to his Castle which lay fifty miles off, and the other by another Troll to his Castle which was fifty miles further still.

‘But now’, she said, ‘you must first help me to get this ugly carcass out of the house.’

Yes, Halvor was so strong he swept everything away, and made it all clean and tidy in no time. So they had a good and happy time of it, and next morning he set off at peep of grey dawn; he could take no rest by the way, but ran and walked the whole day. When he first saw the Castle he got a little afraid; it was far grander than the first, but here too there wasn’t a living soul to be seen. So Halvor went into the kitchen, and didn’t stop there either, but went strait further on into the house.

‘Nay, nay’, called out the Princess, ‘dare Christian folk come hither? I don’t know I’m sure how long it is since I came here, but in all that time I haven’t seen a Christian man. ‘Twere best you saw how to get away as fast as you came; for here lives a Troll, who has six heads.’

‘I shan’t go’, said Halvor, ‘if he has six heads besides.’

‘He’ll take you up and swallow you down alive’, said the Princess.

But it was no good, Halvor wouldn’t go; he wasn’t at all afraid of the Troll, but meat and drink he must have, for he was half starved after his long journey. Well, he got as much of that as he wished, but then the Princess wanted him to be off again.

‘No’, said Halvor, ‘I won’t go, I’ve done no harm, and I’ve nothing to be afraid about.’

‘He won’t stay to ask that’, said the Princess, ‘for he’ll take you without law or leave; but as you won’t go, just try if you can brandish that sword yonder, which the Troll wields in war.’

He couldn’t brandish it, and then the Princess said he must take a pull at the flask which hung by its side, and when he had done that he could brandish it.

Just then back came the Troll, and he was both stout and big, so that he had to go sideways to get through the door. When the Troll got his first head in he called out ‘HUTETU, what a smell of Christian man’s blood!’

But that very moment Halvor hewed off his first head, and so on, all the rest as they popped in. The Princess was overjoyed, but just then she came to think of her sisters, and wished out loud they were free. Halvor thought that might easily be done, and wanted to be off at once; but first he had to help the Princess to get the Troll’s carcass out of the way, and so he could only set out next morning.

It was a long way to the Castle, and he had to walk fast and run hard to reach it in time; but about night-fall he saw the Castle, which was far finer and grander than either of the others. This time he wasn’t the least afraid, but walked straight through the kitchen, and into the Castle. There sat a Princess who was so pretty, there was no end to her loveliness. She too like the others told him there hadn’t been Christian folk there ever since she came thither, and bade him go away again, else the Troll would swallow him alive, and do you know, she said, he has nine heads.

‘Aye, aye’, said Halvor, ‘if he had nine other heads, and nine other heads still, I won’t go away’, and so he stood fast before the stove. The Princess kept on begging him so prettily to go away, lest the Troll should gobble him up, but Halvor said:

‘Let him come as soon as he likes.’

So she gave him the Troll’s sword, and bade him take a pull at the flask, that he might be able to brandish and wield it.

Just then back came the Troll puffing and blowing and tearing along. He was far stouter and bigger than the other two, and he too had to go on one side to get through the door. So when he got his first head in, he said as the others had said:

‘HUTETU what a smell of Christian man’s blood!

That very moment Halvor hewed off the first head and then all the rest; but the last was the toughest of them all, and it was the hardest bit of work Halvor had to do, to get it hewn off, although he knew very well he had strength enough to do it.

So all the Princesses came together to that Castle, which was called _Soria Moria Castle_, and they were glad and happy as they had never been in all their lives before, and they all were fond of Halvor and Halvor of them, and he might choose the one he liked best for his bride; but the youngest was fondest of him of all the three.

But there after a while, Halvor went about, and was so strange and dull and silent. Then the Princesses asked him what he lacked, and if he didn’t like to live with them any longer? Yes, he did, for they had enough and to spare, and he was well off in every way, but still somehow or other he did so long to go home, for his father and mother were alive, and them he had such a great wish to see.

Well, they thought that might be done easily enough.

‘You shall go thither and come back hither, safe and unscathed, if you will only follow our advice’, said the Princesses.

Yes, he’d be sure to mind all they said. So they dressed him up till he was as grand as a king’s son, and then they set a ring on his finger, and that was such a ring, he could wish himself thither and hither with it; but they told him to be sure not to take it off, and not to name their names, for there would be an end of all his bravery, and then he’d never see them more.

‘If I only stood at home I’d be glad’, said Halvor; and it was done as he had wished. Then stood Halvor at his father’s cottage door before he knew a word about it. Now it was about dusk at even, and so, when they saw such a grand stately lord walk in, the old couple got so afraid they began to bow and scrape. Then Halvor asked if he couldn’t stay there, and have a lodging there that night. No; that he couldn’t.

‘We can’t do it at all’, they said, ‘for we haven’t this thing or that thing which such a lord is used to have; ’twere best your lordship went up to the farm, no long way off, for you can see the chimneys, and there they have lots of everything.’

Halvor wouldn’t hear of it–he wanted to stop; but the old couple stuck to their own, that he had better go to the farmer’s; there he would get both meat and drink; as for them, they hadn’t even a chair to offer him to sit down on.

‘No’, said Halvor, ‘I won’t go up there till to-morrow early, but let the just stay here to-night; worst come to the worst, I can sit in the chimney-corner.’

Well, they couldn’t say anything against that; so Halvor sat down by the ingle, and began to poke about in the ashes, just as he used to do when he lay at home in old days, and stretched his lazy bones.

Well, they chattered and talked about many things; and they told Halvor about this thing and that; and so he asked them if they had never had any children.

‘Yes, yes, they had once a lad whose name was Halvor, but they didn’t know whither he had wandered; they couldn’t even tell whether he were dead or alive.’

‘Couldn’t it be me, now?’ said Halvor.

‘Let me see; I could tell him well enough’, said the old wife, and rose up. ‘Our Halvor was so lazy and dull, he never did a thing; and besides, he was so ragged, that one tatter took hold of the next tatter on him. No; there never was the making of such a fine fellow in him as you are, master.’

A little while after the old wife went to the hearth to poke up the fire, and when the blaze fell on Halvor’s face, just as when he was at home of old poking about in the ashes, she knew him at once.

‘Ah! but is it you after all, Halvor?’ she cried; and then there was such joy for the old couple, there was no end to it; and he was forced to tell how he had fared, and the old dame was so fond and proud of him, nothing would do but he must go up at once to the farmer’s, and show himself to the lassies, who had always looked down on him. And off she went first, and Halvor followed after. So, when she got up there, she told them all how her Halvor had come home again, and now they should only just see how grand he was, for, said she, ‘he looks like nothing but a king’s son’.

‘All very fine’, said the lassies, and tossed up their heads. ‘We’ll be bound he’s just the same beggarly ragged boy he always was.’

Just then in walked Halvor, and then the lassies were all so taken aback, they forgot their sarks in the ingle, where they were sitting darning their clothes, and ran out in their smocks. Well, when they were got back again, they were so shamefaced they scarce dared look at Halvor, towards whom they had always been proud and haughty.

‘Aye, aye’, said Halvor, ‘you always thought yourselves so pretty and neat, no one could come near you; but now you should just see the eldest Princess I have set free; against her you look just like milkmaids, and the midmost is prettier still; but the youngest, who is my sweetheart, she’s fairer than both sun and moon. Would to Heaven she were only here’, said Halvor, ‘then you’d see what you would see.’

He had scarce uttered these words before there they stood, but then he felt so sorry, for now what they had said came into his mind. Up at the farm there was a great feast got ready for the Princesses, and much was made of them, but they wouldn’t stop there.

‘No; we want to go down to your father and mother’, they said to Halvor; ‘and so we’ll go out now and look about us.’

So he went down with them, and they came to a great lake just outside the farm. Close by the water was such a lovely green bank; here the Princesses said they would sit and rest a while; they thought it so sweet to sit down and look over the water.

So they sat down there, and when they had sat a while, the youngest Princess said:

‘I may as well comb your hair a little, Halvor.’

Yes, Halvor laid his head on her lap, and so she combed his bonny locks, and it wasn’t long before Halvor fell fast asleep. Then she took the ring from his finger, and put another in its stead; and so she said:

‘Now hold me all together! and now would we were all in SORIA MORIA CASTLE.’

So when Halvor woke up, he could very well tell that he had lost the Princesses, and began to weep and wail; and he was so downcast, they couldn’t comfort him at all. In spite of all his father and mother said, he wouldn’t stop there, but took farewell of them, and said he was safe not to see them again; for if he couldn’t find the Princesses again, he thought it not worth while to live.

Well, he had still three hundred dollars left, so he put them into his pocket, and set out on his way. So, when he had walked a while, he met a man with a tidy horse, and he wanted to buy it, and began to chaffer with the man.

‘Aye’, said the man, ‘to tell the truth, I never thought of selling him; but if we could strike a bargain, perhaps—-‘

‘What do you want for him’, asked Halvor.

‘I didn’t give much for him, nor is he worth much; he’s a brave horse to ride, but he can’t draw at all; still he’s strong enough to carry your knapsack and you too, turn and turn about’, said the man.

At last they agreed on the price, and Halvor laid the knapsack on him, and so he walked a bit, and rode a bit, turn and turn about. At night he came to a green plain where stood a great tree, at the roots of which he sat down. There he let the horse loose, but he didn’t lie down to sleep, but opened his knapsack and took a meal. At peep of day off he set again, for he could take no rest. So he rode and walked and walked and rode the whole day through the wide wood, where there were so many green spots and glades that shone so bright and lovely between the trees. He didn’t know at all where he was or whither he was going, but he gave himself no more time to rest than when his horse cropped a bit of grass, and he took a snack out of his knapsack when they came to one of those green glades. So he went on walking and riding by turns, and as for the wood there seemed to be no end to it.

But at dusk the next day he saw a light gleaming away through the trees.

‘Would there were folk hereaway’, thought Halvor, ‘that I might warm myself a bit and get a morsel to keep body and soul together.’

When he got up to it, he saw the light came from a wretched little hut, and through the window he saw an old old couple inside. They were as grey-headed as a pair of doves, and the old wife had such a nose! why, it was so long she used it for a poker to stir the fire as she sat in the ingle.

‘Good evening’, said Halvor.

‘Good evening’, said the old wife.

‘But what errand can you have in coming hither?’ she went on, ‘for no Christian folk have been here these hundred years and more.’

Well, Halvor told her all about himself, and how he wanted to get to SORIA MORIA CASTLE, and asked if she knew the way thither.

‘No’, said the old wife, ‘that I don’t, but see now, here comes the Moon, I’ll ask her, she’ll know all about it, for doesn’t she shine on everything?’

So when the Moon stood clear and bright over the tree-tops, the old wife went out.

‘THOU MOON, THOU MOON’, she screamed, ‘canst thou tell me the way to SORIA MORIA CASTLE?’

‘No’, said the Moon, ‘that I can’t, for the last time I shone there a cloud stood before me.’

‘Wait a bit still’, said the old wife to Halvor, ‘by and bye comes the West Wind; he’s sure to know it, for he puffs and blows round every corner.’

‘Nay, nay’, said the old wife when she went out again, ‘you don’t mean to say you’ve got a horse too; just turn the poor beastie loose in our “toun”, and don’t let him stand there and starve to death at the door.’

Then she ran on:

‘But won’t you swop him away to me?–we’ve got an old pair of boots here, with which you can take twenty miles at each stride; those you shall have for your horse, and so you’ll get all the sooner to SORIA MORIA CASTLE.’

That Halvor was willing to do at once; and the old wife was so glad at having the horse, she was ready to dance and skip for joy.

‘For now’, she said, ‘I shall be able to ride to church. I too, think of that.’

As for Halvor, he had no rest, and wanted to be off at once, but the old wife said there was no hurry.

‘Lie down on the bench with you and sleep a bit, for we’ve no bed to offer you, and I’ll watch and wake you when the West Wind comes.’

So after a while up came the West Wind, roaring and howling along till the walls creaked and groaned again.

Out ran the old wife.

‘THOU WEST WIND, THOU WEST WIND! Canst thou tell me the way to SORIA MORIA CASTLE? Here’s one who wants to get thither.’

‘Yes, I know it very well’, said the West Wind, and now I’m just off thither to dry clothes for the wedding that’s to be; if he’s swift of foot he can go along with me.’

Out ran Halvor.

‘You’ll have to stretch your legs if you mean to keep up’, said the West Wind.

So off he set over field and hedge, and hill and fell, and Halvor had hard work to keep up.

‘Well’, said the West Wind, ‘now I’ve no time to stay with you any longer, for I’ve got to go away yonder and tear down a strip of spruce wood first before I go to the bleaching-ground to dry the clothes; but if you go alongside the hill you’ll come to a lot of lassies standing washing clothes, and then you’ve not far to go to SORIA MORIA CASTLE.’

In a little while Halvor came upon the lassies who stood washing, and they asked if he had seen anything of the West Wind who was to come and dry the clothes for the wedding. ‘Aye, aye, that I have’, said Halvor, ‘he’s only gone to tear down a strip of spruce wood. It’ll not be long before he’s here’, and then he asked them the way to SORIA MORIA CASTLE.

So they put him into the right way, and when he got to the Castle it was full of folk and horses; so full it made one giddy to look at them. But Halvor was so ragged and torn from having followed the West Wind through bush and brier and bog, that he kept on one side, and wouldn’t show himself till the last day when the bridal feast was to be.

So when all, as was then right and fitting, were to drink the bride and bridegroom’s health and wish them luck, and when the cupbearer was to drink to them all again, both knights and squires, last of all he came in turn to Halvor. He drank their health, but let the ring which the Princess had put upon his finger as he lay by the lake fall into the glass, and bade the cupbearer go and greet the bride and hand her the glass.

Then up rose the Princess from the board at once.

‘Who is most worthy to have one of us’, she said, ‘he that has set us free, or he that here sits by me as bridegroom?’

Well they all said there could be but one voice and will as to that, and when Halvor heard that he wasn’t long in throwing off his beggar’s rags, and arraying himself as bridegroom.

‘Aye, aye, here is the right one after all’, said the youngest Princess as soon as she saw him, and so she tossed the other one out of the window, and held her wedding with Halvor.

BRUIN AND REYNARD

The Bear and the Fox had once bought a firkin of butter together; they were to have it at Yule and hid it till then under a thick spruce bush.

After that they went a little way off and lay down on a sunny bank to sleep. So when they had lain a while the Fox got up, shook himself, and bawled out ‘yes’.

Then he ran off straight to the firkin and ate a good third part of it. But when he came back, and the Bear asked him where he had been, since he was so fat about the paunch, he said:

‘Don’t you believe then that I was bidden to barsel, to a christening feast.’

‘So, so’, said the Bear, ‘and pray what was the bairn’s name.’

‘Just-begun’, said the Fox.

So they lay down to sleep again. In a little while up jumped the Fox again, bawled out ‘yes’, and ran off to the firkin.

This time too he ate a good lump. When he came back, and the Bear asked him again where he had been, he said:

‘Oh, wasn’t I bidden to barsel again, don’t you think.’

‘And pray what was the bairn’s name this time’, asked the Bear.

‘Half-eaten’, said the Fox.

The Bear thought that a very queer name, but he hadn’t wondered long over it before he began to yawn and gape and fell asleep. Well, he hadn’t lain long before the Fox jumped up as he had done twice before, bawled out ‘yes’ and ran off to the firkin, which this time he cleared right out. When he got back he had been bidden to barsel again, and when the Bear wanted to know the bairn’s name, he answered:

‘Licked-to-the-bottom.’

After that they lay down again, and slept a long time; but then they were to go to the firkin to look at the butter, and when they found it eaten up, the Bear threw the blame on the Fox, and the Fox on the Bear; and each said the one had been at the firkin while the other slept.

‘Well, well’, said Reynard, ‘we’ll soon find this out, which of us has eaten the butter. We’ll just lay down in the sunshine, and he whose cheeks and chaps are greasiest when we wake, he is the thief.’

Yes, that trial Bruin was ready to stand; and as he knew in his heart he had never so much as tasted the butter, he lay down without a care to sleep in the sun.

Then Reynard stole off to the firkin for a morsel of butter, which stuck there in a crack, and then he crept back to the Bear, and greased his chaps and cheeks with it; and then he, too, lay down to sleep as if nothing had happened.

So when they both woke, the sun had melted the butter, and the Bear’s whiskers were all greasy; and so it was Bruin after all, and no one else, who had eaten the butter.

TOM TOTHERHOUSE

Once on a time there was a Goody who had a deaf husband. A good, easy man he was, but that was just why she thought more of the lad next door, whom they called ‘Tom Totherhouse’. Now the lad that served the deaf man saw very well that the two had something between them, and one day he said to the Goody:

‘Dare you wager ten dollars, mother, that I don’t make you lay bare your own shame?’

‘Yes I dare’, said she; and so they wagered ten dollars. So one day, while the lad and the deaf man stood thrashing in the barn, the lad saw that Tom Totherhouse came to see the Goody. He said nothing, but a good while before dinnertime he turned toward the barn-door, and bawled out ‘Halloa!’

‘What! are we to go home already?’ said the man, who hadn’t given any heed to what the lad did.

‘Yes, we must, since mother calls’, said the lad.

So when they got into the passage, the lad began to hem and cough, that the Goody might get Tom Totherhouse out of the way. But when they came into the room, there stood a whole bowl of custards on the table.

‘Nay, nay, mother’, cried out the man; ‘shall we have custards to- day?’

‘Yes, that you shall, dear’, said the Goody; but she was as sour as verjuice, and as cross as two sticks.

So when they had eaten and drank all the good cheer up, off they went again to their work, and the Goody said to Tom:

‘Deil take that lad’s sharp nose, this was all his fault; but now you must be off as fast as you can, and I’ll come down to you in the mead with a snack between meals.’

This the lad stood outside in the passage and listened to.

‘Do you know, father’, he said, ‘I think we’d best go down into the hollow and put our fence to rights, which is blown down, before the neighbours’ swine get in and root up our meadow.’

‘Aye, aye, let’s go and do it’, said the man; for he did all he was told, good, easy man.

So when the afternoon was half spent, down came the Goody sneaking along into the mead, with something under her apron.

‘Nay, nay, mother’, said the man, ‘it can’t be you any longer; are we to have a snack between meals too?’

‘Yes, yes, that you shall’, she said; but she was sourer and wilder than ever.

So they made merry, and crammed themselves with bannocks and butter, and had a drop of brandy into the bargain.

‘I’ll go off to Tom Totherhouse with a snack–shan’t I, mother?’ said the lad. ‘He’s had nothing between meals, I’ll be bound.’

‘Ah! do; there’s a good fellow’, said the Goody, who all at once got as mild as milk.

As he went along the lad broke a bannock to bits, and dropped the crumbs here and there as he walked. But when he got to Tom Totherhouse he said:

‘Now, just you take care, for our old cock has found out that you come too often to see our Goody. He won’t stand it any longer, and has sworn to drive his axe into you as soon as ever he can set eyes on you.’

As for Tom, he was so frightened he scarce knew which way to turn, and the lad went back again to his master.

‘There’s something wrong’, he said, ‘with Tom’s plough, and he begs you to be so good as to take your axe, and go and see if you can’t set it right.’

Yes, the man set off with his axe, but Tom Totherhouse had scarce caught sight of him before he took to his heels as fast as he could. The man turned and twisted the plough round and round, and looked at it on every side, and when he couldn’t see anything wrong with it he went off home again; but on the way he picked up the bits of broken bannock which the lad had let fall. His old dame stood in the meadow and looked at him as he did this for a while, and wondered and wondered what it could be her husband was gathering up.

‘Oh, I know’, said the lad, ‘master’s picking up stones, I’ll be bound; for he has marked how often this Tom Totherhouse runs over here; and the old fellow won’t stand it any longer; and now he has sworn to stone mother to death.’

Off went the Goody as fast as her legs could carry her.

‘What in the world is it that mother is running after now?’ asked the man, when he reached the spot where she had stood.

‘Oh’, said the lad, ‘maybe the house at home is on fire!’

So there ran the husband behind and the Goody before; and as she ran she screeched out:

‘Ah! ah! don’t stone me to death; don’t stone me to death! and I’ll give you my word never to let Tom Totherhouse come near me again.’

‘Now the ten dollars are mine’, bawled out the lad; and so they were.

LITTLE ANNIE THE GOOSE-GIRL

Once on a time there was a King who had so many geese he was forced to have a lassie to tend them and watch them; her name was Annie, and so they called her ‘Annie the Goose-girl’. Now you must know there was a King’s son from England who went out to woo; and as he came along Ann sat herself down in his way.

‘Sitting all alone there, you little Annie?’ said the King’s son.

‘Yes’, said little Annie, ‘here I sit and put stitch to stitch and patch on patch. I’m waiting to-day for the King’s son from England.’

‘Him you mustn’t look to have’, said the Prince.

‘Nay, but if I’m to have him’, said little Annie, ‘have him I shall, after all.’

And now limners were sent out into all lands and realms to take the likenesses of the fairest Princesses, and the Prince was to chose between them. So he thought so much of one of them, that he set out to seek her, and wanted to wed her, and he was glad and happy when he got her for his sweetheart.

But now I must tell you this Prince had a stone with him which he laid by his bedside, and that stone knew everything, and when the Princess came little Annie told her, if so be she’d had a sweetheart before, or didn’t feel herself quite free from anything which she didn’t wish the Prince to know, she’d better not step on that stone which lay by the bedside.

‘If you do, it will tell him all about you’, said little Annie.

So when the Princess heard that she was dreadfully downcast, and she fell upon the thought to ask Annie if she would get into bed that night in her stead and lie down by the Prince’s side; and then when he was sound asleep, Annie should get out and the Princess should get in, and so when he woke up in the morning he would find the right bride by his side.

So they did that, and when Annie the goose-girl came and stepped upon the stone the Prince asked:

‘Who is this that steps into my bed?’

‘A maid pure and bright’, said the stone, and so they lay down to sleep; but when the night wore on the Princess came and lay down in Annie’s stead.

But next morning, when they were to get up, the Prince asked the stone again:

‘Who is this that steps out of my bed?’

‘One that has had three bairns’, said the stone. When the Prince heard that he wouldn’t have her, you may know very well; and so he packed her off home again, and took another sweetheart.

But as he went to see her, little Annie went and sat down in his way again.

‘Sitting all alone there, little Annie, the goose-girl’, said the Prince.

‘Yes, here I sit, and put stitch to stitch, and patch on patch; for I’m waiting to-day for the king’s son from England’, said Annie.

‘Oh! you mustn’t look to have him’, said the king’s son.

‘Nay, but if I’m to have him, have him I shall, after all’; that was what Annie thought.

Well, it was the same story over again with the Prince; only this time, when his bride got up in the morning, the stone said she’d had six bairns.

So the Prince wouldn’t have her either, but sent her about her business; but still he thought he’d try once more if he couldn’t find one who was pure and spotless; and he sought far and wide in many lands, till at last he found one he thought he might trust. But when he went to see her, little Annie the goose-girl had put herself in his way again.

‘Sitting all alone there, you little Annie, the goose-girl’, said the Prince.

‘Yes, here I sit, and put stitch to stitch, and patch on patch; for I’m waiting to-day for the king’s son from England’, said Annie.

‘Him you mustn’t look to have’, said the Prince.

‘Nay, but if I’m to have him, have him I shall, after all’, said little Annie.

So when the Princess came, little Annie the goose-girl told her the same as she had told the other two, if she’d had any sweetheart before, or if there was anything else she didn’t wish the Prince to know, she mustn’t tread on the stone that the Prince had put at his bedside; for, said she:

‘It tells him everything.’

The Princess got very red and downcast when she heard that, for she was just as naughty as the others, and asked Annie if she would go in her stead and lie down with the Prince that night; and when he was sound asleep, she would come and take her place, and then he would have the right bride by his side when it was light next morning.

Yes! they did that. And when little Annie the goose-girl came and stepped upon the stone, the Prince asked:

‘Who is this that steps into my bed.’

‘A maid pure and bright’, said the stone; and so they lay down to rest.

Farther on in the night the Prince put a ring on Annie’s finger, and it fitted so tight she couldn’t get it off again; for the Prince saw well enough there was something wrong, and so he wished to have a mark by which he might know the right woman again.

Well, when the Prince had gone off to sleep, the Princess came and drove Annie away to the pigsty, and lay down in her place. Next morning, when they were to get up, the Prince asked:

‘Who is this that steps out of my bed?’

‘One that’s had nine bairns’, said the stone.

When the Prince heard that he drove her away at once, for he was in an awful rage; and then he asked the stone how it all was with these Princesses who had stepped on it, for he couldn’t understand it at all, he said.

So the stone told him how they had cheated him, and sent little Annie the goose-girl to him in their stead.

But as the Prince wished to have no mistake about it, he went down to her where she sat tending her geese, for he wanted to see if she had the ring too, and he thought, ‘if she has it, ’twere best to take her at once for my queen’.

So when he got down he saw in a moment that she had tied a bit of rag round one of her fingers, and so he asked her why it was tied up.

‘Oh! I’ve cut myself so badly’, said little Annie the goose-girl.

So he must and would see the finger, but Annie wouldn’t take the rag off. Then he caught hold of the finger; but Annie, she tried to pull it from him, and so between them the rag came off, and then he knew his ring.

So he took her up to the palace, and gave her much fine clothes and attire, and after that they held their wedding feast; and so little Annie the goose-girl came to have the king of England’s son for her husband after all, just because it was written that she should have him.

INTRODUCTION TO APPENDIX

ANANZI STORIES

The Negroes in the West Indies still retain the tales and traditions which their fathers and grandfathers brought with them from Africa. Some thirty years back these ‘Ananzi Stories’, as they are called, were invariably told at the Negro wakes, which lasted for nine successive nights. The reciters were always men. In those days when the slaves were still half heathen, and when the awful _Obeah_ was universally believed in, such of the Negroes as attended church or chapel kept their children away from these funeral gatherings. The wakes are now, it is believed, almost entirely discontinued, and with them have gone the stories. The Negroes are very shy of telling them, and both the clergyman of the Church of England, and the Dissenting Minister set their faces against them, and call them foolishness. The translator, whose early childhood was passed in those islands, remembers to have heard such stories from his nurse, who was an African born; but beyond a stray fragment here and there, the rich store which she possessed has altogether escaped his memory. The following stories have been taken down from the mouth of a West Indian nurse in his sister’s house, who, born and bred in it, is rather regarded as a member of the family than as a servant. They are printed just as she told them, and both their genuineness and their affinity with the stories of other races will be self-evident. Thus we have the ‘Wishing Tree’ of the Hindoos, the _Kalpa Vriksha_ of Somadeva, and of the German Fairy Tales in the ‘Pumpkin Tree’, which throws down as many pumpkins as the poor widow wishes. In one story we have ‘Boots’ to the life, while the man whom he outwits is own brother to the Norse Trolls. In another we find a ‘speaking beast’, which reminds us at once of the Egyptian story of Anessou and Satou, as well as of the ‘Machandelboom’, and ‘the Milk-white Doo’. We find here the woman who washes the dirty head rewarded, and the man who refuses to wash it punished, in the very words used in ‘The Bushy Bride’. We find, too, in ‘Nancy Fairy’, the same story, both in groundwork and incident, as we have in ‘the Lassie and her Godmother’; and most surprising of all, in the story of ‘Ananzi and Quanqua’, we find the very trait about a trick played with the tail of an ox, which is met with in a variation to ‘Boots who ate a match with the Troll’. Here is the variation: ‘Whilst he was with the Troll, the lad was to go out to watch the swine, so he drove them home to his father’s house, but first he cut their tails off, and stuck them into the ground. Then he went home to the Troll, and begged him to come and see how his swine were going down to Hell. But when the Troll saw the swine’s tails sticking out of the ground he wanted to pull them back again, so he caught hold of them and gave a great tug, and then down he fell with his heels up in the air, and the tails in his fist.’

They are called ‘Ananzi Stories’, because so many of them turn on the feats of Ananzi, whose character is a mixture of ‘the Master-thief’, and of ‘Boots’; but the most curious thing about him, is that he illustrates the Beast Epic in a remarkable way. In all the West Indian Islands, ‘Ananzi’ is the name of spiders in general, and of a very beautiful spider with yellow stripes in particular. [Footnote: Compare Crowther’s _Yoruba Glossary_, where _Alansasa_ is given as the Yoruban for _spider_. The change of _n_ into _l_ is not uncommon, even supposing the West Indian word to be uncorrupt.] The Negroes think that this spider is the ‘Ananzi’ of their stories, but that his superior cunning enables him to take any shape he pleases. In fact, he is the example which the African tribes from which these stories came, have chosen to take as pointing out the superiority of wit over brute strength. In this way they have matched the cleverness and dexterity of the Spider, against the bone and muscle of the Lion, invariably to the disadvantage of the latter.

After this introduction, we let the Tales speak for themselves, only premising that the ‘Jack-Spaniard’ in the first story is a very pretty fly of the wasp kind, and, like his European brother, very small in the waist; that the ‘Cush-cush’, is a little red yam which imparts a strong red dye to everything with which it is boiled; and that the ‘Doukana’ is a forest tree which bears a fruit, though of what kind it is hard to say.

APPENDIX

WHY THE JACK-SPANIARD’S WAIST IS SMALL

Ananzi and Mosquito were talking together one day, and boasting of their fathers’ crops. Ananzi said his father had never had such a crop in his life before; and Mosquito said, he was sure his father’s was bigger, for one yam they dug was as big as his leg. This tickled Jack-Spaniard so much, that he laughed till he broke his waist in two. That’s why the Jack-Spaniard’s waist is so small.

ANANZI AND THE LION

Once on a time Ananzi planned a scheme. He went to town and bought ever so many firkins of fat, and ever so many sacks, and ever so many balls of string, and a very big frying pan, then he went to the bay and blew a shell, and called the Head-fish in the sea, ‘Green Eel’, to him. Then he said to the fish, ‘The King sends me to tell you that you must bring all the fish on shore, for he wants to give them new life.’

So ‘Green Eel’ said he would, and went to call them. Meanwhile Ananzi lighted a fire, and took out some of the fat, and got his frying pan ready, and as fast as the fish came out of the water he caught them and put them into the frying pan, and so he did with all of them until he got to the Head-fish, who was so slippery that he couldn’t hold him, and he got back again into the water.

When Ananzi had fried all, the fish, he put them into the sacks, and took the sacks on his back and set off to the mountains. He had not gone very far when he met Lion, and Lion said to him’:

‘Well, brother Ananzi, where have you been? I have not seen you a long time.’

Ananzi said, ‘I have been travelling about.’

‘But what have you got there?’ said the Lion.

‘Oh! I have got my mother’s bones–she has been dead these forty- eleven years, and they say I must not keep her here, so I am taking her up into the middle of the mountains to bury her.’

Then they parted. After he had gone a little way, the Lion said, ‘I know that Ananzi is a great rogue; I daresay he has got something there that he doesn’t want me to see, and I will just follow him’; but he took care not to let Ananzi see him.

Now, when Ananzi got into the wood he set his sacks down, and took one fish out and began to eat; then a fly came, and Ananzi said, ‘I cannot eat any more, for there is some one near’; so he tied the sack up, and went on further into the mountains, where he set his sacks down, and took out two fish, which he ate; and no fly came, he said, ‘There’s no one near’; so he took out more fish. But when he had eaten about half-a-dozen, the Lion came up, and said:

‘Well, brother Ananzi, a pretty tale you have told me.’

‘Oh! brother Lion, I am so glad you have come; never mind what tale I have told you, but come and sit down–it was only my fun.’

So Lion sat down and began to eat; but before Ananzi had eaten two fish, Lion had emptied one of the sacks. Then said Ananzi to himself:

‘Greedy fellow, eating up all my fish.’

‘What do you say, sir?’

‘I only said you do not eat half fast enough’, for he was afraid the Lion would eat him up.

Then they went on eating, but Ananzi wanted to revenge himself, and he said to the Lion, ‘Which of us do you think is the strongest?’

The Lion said, ‘Why, I am, of course.’

Then Ananzi said, ‘We will tie one another to the tree and we shall see which is the stronger.’

Now they agreed that the Lion should tie Ananzi first, and he tied him with some very fine string, and did not tie him tight. Ananzi twisted himself about two or three times, and the string broke.

Then it was Ananzi’s turn to tie the Lion, and he took some very strong cord. The Lion said, ‘You must not tie me tight, for I did not tie you tight.’ And Ananzi said, ‘Oh! no, to be sure I will not.’ But he tied him as tight as ever he could, and then told him to try and get loose.

The Lion tried and tried in vain–he could not get loose. Then Ananzi thought, now is my chance; so he got a big stick and beat him, and then went away and left him, for he was afraid to loose him lest he should kill him.

Now there was a woman called Miss Nancy, who was going out one morning to get some ‘callalou’ (spinach) in the wood, and as she was going, she heard some one say, ‘Good morning, Miss Nancy!’ She could not tell who spoke to her, but she looked where the voice came from, and saw the Lion tied to the tree.

‘Good morning, Mr Lion, what are you doing there?’

He said, ‘It is all that fellow Ananzi who has tied me to the tree, but will you loose me?’

But she said, ‘No, for I am afraid, if I do, you will kill me.’ But he gave, her his word he would not; still she could not trust him; but he begged her again and again, and said:

‘Well, if I do try to eat you, I hope all the trees will cry out shame upon me.’

So at last she consented; but she had no sooner loosed him, than he came up to her to eat her, for he had been so many days without food that he was quite ravenous, but the trees immediately cried out ‘shame’, and so he could not eat her. Then she went away as fast as she could, and the Lion found his way home.

When Lion got home he told his wife and children all that happened to him, and how Miss Nancy had saved his life, so they said they would have a great dinner, and ask Miss Nancy. Now when Ananzi heard of it, he wanted to go to the dinner, so he went to Miss Nancy, and said she must take him with her as her child, but she said ‘No’. Then he said, I can turn myself into quite a little child, and then you can take me, and at last she said ‘Yes’; and he told her, when she was asked what pap her baby ate, she must be sure to tell them it did not eat pap, but the same food as every one else; and so they went, and had a very good dinner, and set off home again–but somehow one of the lion’s sons fancied that all was not right, and he told his father he was sure it was Ananzi, and the Lion set out after him.

Now as they were going along, before the Lion got up to them, Ananzi begged Miss Nancy to put him down, that he might run, which she did, and he got away and ran along the wood, and the Lion ran after him. When he found the Lion was overtaking him, he turned himself into an old man with a bundle of wood on his head–and when the Lion got up to him, he said, ‘Good-morning, Mr Lion’, and the Lion said ‘Good- morning, old gentleman.’

Then the old man said, ‘What are you after now? ‘and the Lion asked if he had seen Ananzi pass that way, but the old man said ‘No, that fellow Ananzi is always meddling with some one; what mischief has he been up to now?’

Then the Lion told him, but the old man said it was no use to follow him any more, for he would never catch him, and so the Lion wished him good day, and turned and went home again.

ANANZI AND QUANQUA

Quanqua was a very clever fellow, and he had a large house full of all sorts of meat. But you must know he had a way of saying _Quan? qua?_ (how? what?) when any one asked him anything and so they called him ‘Quanqua’. One day when he was out, he met Atoukama, Ananzi’s wife, who was going along driving an ox, but the ox would not walk, so Atoukama asked Quanqua to help her; and they got on pretty well, till they came to a river, when the ox would not cross through the water. Then Atoukama called to Quanqua to drive the ox across, but all she could get out of him was, ‘QUAN? QUA? _Quan? qua?_’ At last she said, ‘Oh! you stupid fellow, you’re no good; stop here and mind the ox while I go and get help to drive him across.’ So off she went to fetch Ananzi. As soon as Atoukama was gone away, Quanqua killed the ox, and hid it all away, where Ananzi should not see it; but first he cut off the tail, then he dug a hole near the river side and stuck the tail partly in, leaving out the tip. When he saw Ananzi coming, he caught hold of the tail, pretending to tug at it as if he were pulling the ox out of the hole. Ananzi seeing this, ran up as fast as he could, and tugging at the tail with all his might, fell over into the river, but he still had hold of the tail, and contrived to get across the water, when he called out to Quanqua, ‘You idle fellow, you couldn’t take care of the ox, so you shan’t have a bit of the tail’, and then on he went. When he was gone quite out of sight, Quanqua took the ox home, and made a very good dinner.

Next day he went to Ananzi’s house, and said, Ananzi must give him some of the tail, for he had got plenty of yams, but he had no meat. Then they agreed to cook their pot together. Quanqua was to put in white yams, and Ananzi the tail, and red yams. When they came to put the yams in, Quanqua put in a great many white yams, but Ananzi only put in one little red cush-cush yam. Quanqua asked him if that little yam would be enough, he said, ‘Oh! plenty’, for I don’t eat much.

When the pot boiled, they uncovered it, and sat down to eat their shares, but they couldn’t find any white yams at all; the little red one had turned them all red. So Ananzi claimed them all, and Quanqua was glad to take what Ananzi would give him.

Now, when they had done eating, they said they would try which could bear heat best, so they heated two irons, and Ananzi was to try first on Quanqua, but he made so many attempts, that the iron got cold before he got near him; then it was Quanqua’s turn, and he pulled the iron out of the fire, and poked it right down Ananzi’s throat.

THE EAR OF CORN AND THE TWELVE MEN

[This tale is imperfect at the beginning.]

Ananzi said to the King, that if he would give him an ear of corn, he would bring him twelve strong men. The King gave him the ear of corn, and he went away. At last he got to a house, where he asked for a night’s lodging which was given him; the next morning he got up very early, and threw the ear of corn out of the door to the fowls, and went back to bed. When he got up in the morning, he looked for his ear of corn, and could not find it anywhere, so he told them he was sure the fowls had eaten it, and he would not be satisfied unless they gave him the best cock they had. So they were obliged to give him the cock, and he went away with it, all day, until night, when he came to another house, and asked again for a night’s lodging, which he got; but when they wanted to put the cock into the fowl-house, he said no, the cock must sleep in the pen with the sheep, so they put the cock with the sheep. At midnight he got up, killed the cock, threw it back into the pen, and went back to bed. Next morning when it was time for him to go away, his cock was dead, and he would not take anything for it but one of the best sheep, so they gave it to him, and he went off with it all that day, until night-fall, when he got to a village, where he again asked for a night’s lodging, which was given to him, and when they wanted to put his sheep with the other sheep, he said, no, the sheep must sleep with the cattle; so they put the sheep with the cattle. In the middle of the night he got up and killed the sheep, and went back to bed. Next morning he went for his sheep, which was dead, so he told them they must give him the best heifer for his sheep, and if they would not do so, he would go back and tell the King, who would come and make war on them.

So to get rid of him, they were glad to give him the heifer, and let him go; and away he went, and walked nearly all day with the heifer. Towards evening he met a funeral, and asked whose it was? one of the men said, it was his sister, so he asked the men if they would let him have her; they said no, but after a while, he begged so hard, saying he would give them the heifer, that they consented, and he took the dead body and walked away, carrying it until it was dark, when he came to a large town, where he went to a house and begged hard for a night’s lodging for himself and his sister, who was so tired he was obliged to carry her, and they would be thankful if they would let them rest there that night. So they let them in, and he asked them to let them sit in the dark, as his sister could not bear the light. So they took them into a room, and left them in the dark; and when they were alone, he seated himself on a bench near the table, and put his sister close by his side, with his arm round her to keep her up. Presently they brought them in some supper; one plate he set before his sister, and put her hand in it, and the other plate for himself, but he ate out of both plates. When it was time to go to bed, he asked if they would allow his sister to sleep in a room where there were twelve strong men sleeping, for she had fits, and if she had one in the night, they would be able to hold her, and would not disturb the rest of the house. So they agreed to this, and he carried her in his arms, because, he said she was so tired, she was asleep, and laid her in a bed; he charged the men not to disturb her, and went himself to sleep in the next room. In the middle of the night he heard the men calling out, for they smelt a horrid smell, and tried to wake the woman-first one man gave her a blow, and then another, until all the men had struck her, but Ananzi took no notice of the noise. In the morning when he went in for his sister and found her dead, he declared they had killed her, and that he must have the twelve men; to this the townsmen said no, not supposing that all the men had killed her, but the men confessed that they had each given her a blow-so he would not be satisfied with less than the twelve, and he carried them off to the King, and delivered them up.

THE KING AND THE ANT’S TREE

There was a King who had a very beautiful daughter, and he said, whoever would cut down an Ant’s tree, which he had in his kingdom, without brushing off the ants, should marry his daughter. Now a great many came and tried, but no one could do it, for the ants fell out upon them and stung them, and they were forced to brush them off. There was always someone watching to see if they brushed the ants off.

Then Ananzi went, and the King’s son was set to watch him. When they showed him the tree, he said, ‘Why, that’s nothing, I know I can do that.’ So they gave him the axe, and he began to hew, but each blow he gave the tree, he shook himself and brushed himself, saying all the while, ‘Did you see me do that? I suppose you think I’m brushing myself, but I am not.’ And so he went, on until he had cut down the tree. But the boy thought he was only pretending to brush himself all the time, and the King was obliged to give him his daughter.

THE LITTLE CHILD AND THE PUMPKIN TREE

There was once a poor widow who had six children. One day when she was going out to look for something to eat, for she was very poor, she met an old man sitting by the river side. He said to her ‘Good morning.’

And she answered, ‘Good morning, father.’

He said to her, ‘Will you wash my head?’

She said she would, so she washed it, and when she was going away, he gave her a ‘stampee'[A small coin], and told her to go a certain distance, and she would see a large tree full of pumpkins; she was then to dig a hole at the root of the tree and bury the money, and when she had done so, she was to call for as many pumpkins as she liked, and she should have them.

So the woman went, and did as she was told, and she called for six pumpkins, one for each child, and six came down, and she carried them home; and now they always had pumpkins enough to eat, for whenever they wanted any, the woman had only to go to the tree and call, and they had as many as they liked. One morning when she got up, she found a little baby before the door, so she took it up and carried it in, and took care of it. Every day she went out, but in the morning she boiled enough pumpkins to serve the children all day. One day when she came back she found the food was all gone, so she scolded her children, and beat them for eating it all up. They told her they had not taken any–that it was the baby–but she would not believe them, and said, ‘How could a little baby get up and help itself’; but the children still persisted it was the baby. So one day when she was going out, she put some pumpkin in a calabash, and set a trap over it. When she was gone the baby got up as usual to eat the food, and got its head fastened in the trap, so that it could not get out, and began knocking its head about and crying out, ‘Oh! do loose me, for that woman will kill me when she comes back.’ When the woman came in, she found the baby fastened in the trap, so she beat it well, and turned it out of doors, and begged her children’s pardon for having wronged them.

Then after she turned the baby out, he changed into a great big man, and went to the river, where he saw the old man sitting by the river side, who asked him to wash his head, as he had asked the poor woman, but the man said:

‘No, he would not wash his dirty head’, and so he wished the old man ‘good bye’.

Then the old man asked him if he would like to have a pumpkin, to which he said ‘yes’, and the old man told him to go on till he saw a large tree with plenty of pumpkins on it, and then he must ask for one. So he went on till he got to the tree, and the pumpkins looked so nice he could not be satisfied with one, so he called out, ‘Ten pumpkins come down’, and the ten pumpkins fell and crushed him.

THE BROTHER AND HIS SISTERS

There were once upon a time three sisters and a brother. The sisters were all proud, and one was very beautiful, and she did not like her little brother, ‘because’, she said, ‘he was dirty’. Now, this beautiful sister was to be married, and the brother begged their mother not to let her marry, as he was sure the man would kill her, for he knew his house was full of bones. So the mother told her daughter, but she would not believe it, and said, ‘she wouldn’t listen to anything that such a dirty little scrub said’, and so she was married.

Now, it was agreed that one sister was to remain with their mother and the other was to go with the bride, and so they set out on their way. When they got to the beach, the husband picked up a beautiful tortoise-shell comb, which he gave to his bride. Then they got into his boat and rowed away over the sea, and when they reached their home, they were so surprised to see their little brother, for the comb had turned into their brother. They were not at all glad to see him, and the husband thought to himself he would kill him without telling his wife. When night came the boy told the husband that at home his mother always put him to sleep in the blacksmith’s shop, and so the husband said he should sleep in the smithy.

In the middle of the night the man got up, intending to kill them all, and went to his shop to get his irons ready, but the boy jumped up as soon as he went in, and he said, ‘Boy, what is the matter with you?’ So the boy said, when he was at home his mother always gave him two bags of gold to put his head on. Then the man said, he should have them, and went and fetched him two bags of gold, and told him to go to sleep.

But the boy said, ‘Now mind, when you hear me snore I’m not asleep, but when I am not snoring, then I’m asleep.’ Then the boy went to sleep and began to snore, and as long as the man heard the snoring, he blew his bellows; but as soon as the snoring stopped, the man took his irons out of the fire, and the boy jumped up.

Then the man said, ‘Why, what’s the matter? why, can’t you sleep?’

The boy said ‘No; for at home my mother always gave me four bags of money to lie upon.

Well, the man said he should have them, and brought him four bags of money. Then the boy told him again the same thing about his snoring and the man bade him go to sleep, and he began to snore, and the man to blow his bellows until the snoring stopped. Then the man took out his irons again, and the boy jumped up, and the man dropped the irons, saying, ‘Why, what’s the matter now that you can’t sleep?’

The boy said, ‘At home my mother always gave me two bushels of corn.’

So the man said he should have the corn, and went and brought it, and told him to go to sleep. Then the boy snored, and the man blew his bellows till the snoring stopped, when he again took out his irons, and the boy jumped up, and the man said, ‘Why, what’s it now?’

The boy said, ‘At home my mother always goes to the river with a sieve to bring me some water.’

So the man said ‘Very well, I will go, but I have a cock here, and before I go, I must speak to it.’

Then the man told the cock if he saw any one moving in the house, he must crow; that the cock promised to do, and the man set off.

Now when the boy thought the man was gone far away, he got up, and gave the cock some of the corn; then he woke up his sisters and showed them all the bones the man had in the house, and they were very frightened. Then he took the two bags of gold on his shoulders, and told his sisters to follow him. He took them to the bay, and put them into the boat with the bags of gold, and left them whilst he went back for the four bags of money. When he was leaving the house he emptied the bags of corn to the cock, who was so busy eating, he forget to crow, until they had got quite away.

When the man returned home and could not find them in the house, he went to the river, where he found his boat gone, and so he had no way of going after them. When they landed at their own place, the boy turned the boat over and stove it in, so that it was of no use any more; and he took his sisters home, and told their mother all that had happened, and his sisters loved him, and they lived very happily together ever afterwards, and do so still if they are not dead.

THE GIRL AND THE FISH

There was once a girl who used to go to the river to fetch water, but when she went she was never in a hurry to come back, but staid so long, that they made up their minds to watch her. So one day they followed her to the river, and found when she got there, she said something (the reciter forgets the words), and a fish came up and talked to her; and she did not like to leave it, for it was her sweetheart. So next day they went to the river to see if the fish would come up, for they remembered what the girl said and used the same words. Then up came the fish immediately, and they caught it, and took it home, and cooked it for dinner–and a part they set by, and gave to the girl when she came in. Whilst she was eating, a voice said, ‘Do you know what you are eating? I am he you have so often talked with. If you look in the pig’s tub, you will see my heart.’ Then the voice told her to take the heart, and wrap it up in a handkerchief, and carry it to the river. When she got to the river she would see three stones in the water, she was to stand on the middle stone, and dip the handkerchief three times into the water. All this she did, and then she sank suddenly, and was carried down to a beautiful place, where she found her lover changed from a fish into his proper form, and there she lived happily with him for ever. And this is the reason why there are mermaids in the water.

THE LION, THE GOAT, AND THE BABOON

A Lion had a Goat for his wife. One day Goat went out to market, and while she was gone, Lion went out in the wood, where he met with Baboon, who made friends with Lion, for fear he would eat him, and asked him to go home with him; but the Lion thought it would be a good chance, so he asked the Baboon to go home with him and see his little ones. When they got home, the Baboon said to the Lion.

‘Why, you have got plenty of little goats here.’

The Lion said, ‘Yes, they are my children.’

So the Baboon said, ‘If they are, they are little goats, and they are very good meat.’

So the Lion said, ‘Don’t make a noise; their mother will come presently, and we will see.’

So these little goats took no notice, but went out to meet their mother, and told her what had passed.

Their mother said to them, ‘Go back, take no notice, and I shall come home presently, and shall do for him.’

So she went and bought some molasses, and took it home with her. The Lion said, ‘Are you come; what news?’

‘Oh!’ she said, ‘good news, taste here.’ He tasted, and said, ‘It’s very good, it’s honey.’

And she said, ‘It’s baboon’s blood; they have been killing one to- day, the blood is running in the street, and every one is carrying it away.’

The Lion said, ‘Hush, there’s one in the house, and we shall have him.’

At this the Baboon rushed off, and when they looked for him, he was gone, and never came near them again, which saved the little goats’ lives.

ANANZI AND BABOON

Ananzi and Baboon were disputing one day which was fattest. Ananzi said he was sure he was fat, but Baboon declared he was fatter. Then Ananzi proposed that they should prove it; so they made a fire, and agreed that they should hang up before it, and see which would drop most fat.

Then Baboon hung up Ananzi first, but no fat dropped.

Then Ananzi hung up Baboon, and very soon the fat began to drop, which smelt so good that Ananzi cut a slice out of Baboon, and said,

‘Oh! brother Baboon, you’re fat for true.’

But Baboon didn’t speak.

So Ananzi said, ‘Well, speak or not speak, I’ll eat you every bit to- day’, which he really did. But when he had eaten up all Baboon, the bits joined themselves together in his stomach, and began to pull him about so much that he had no rest, and was obliged to go to a doctor.

The doctor told him not to eat anything for some days, then he was to get a ripe banana, and hold it to his mouth; when the Baboon, who would be hungry, smelt the banana, he would be sure to run up to eat it, and so he would run out of his mouth.

So Ananzi starved himself, and got the banana, and did as the doctor told him; but when he put the banana to his mouth, he was so hungry he couldn’t help eating it. So he didn’t get rid of the Baboon, which went on pulling him about till he was obliged to go back to the doctor, who told him he would soon cure him; and he took the banana, and held it to Ananzi’s mouth, and very soon the Baboon jumped up to catch it, and ran out of his mouth; and Ananzi was very glad to get rid of him. And Baboons to this very day like bananas.

THE MAN AND THE DOUKANA TREE

There was once a man and his wife, who were very poor, and they had a great many children. The man was very lazy, and would do nothing to help his family. The poor mother did all she could. In the wood close by grew a Doukana Tree, which was full of fruit. Every day the man went and ate some of the fruit, but never took any home, so he ate and he ate, until there were only two Doukanas left on the Tree. One he ate, and left the other. Next day, when he went for that one, he was obliged to climb up the tree to reach it; but when he got up, the Doukana fell down; when he got down the Doukana jumped up; and so it went on until he was quite tired.

Then he asked all the animals that passed by to help him, but they all made some excuse. They all had something to do. The horse had his work to do, or he would have no grass to eat. The donkey brayed. Last came a dog, and the man begged him hard to help him; so the dog said he would. Then the man climbed up the tree, and the Doukana jumped to the ground again, when the dog picked it up and ran off with it The man was very vexed, and ran after the dog, but it ran all the faster, so that the man could not overtake him. The dog, seeing the man after him, ran to the sea shore, and scratching a hole in the ground, buried himself all but his nose, which he left sticking out.

Soon after the man came up, and seeing the nose, cried out that he had ‘never seen ground have nose’; and catching hold of it he tugged till he pulled out the dog, when he squeezed him with all his might to make him give up the Doukana. And that’s why dogs are so small in their bodies to this very day.

NANCY FAIRY

There was once an old woman called ‘Nancy Fairy’. She was a witch, and used to steal all the little babies as soon as they were born, and eat them. One day she stole a little baby, who was so beautiful that she had not the heart to eat her; but she took her home and brought her up. She called her ‘daughter’, named her ‘Nancy Fairy’, after herself, and the girl called the old woman ‘Granny’.

So the girl grew up, and the more she grew the more beautiful she got.

The old woman never let her daughter know of her doings; but one day when she had brought a baby home, and had locked herself in a room, her daughter peeped through a chink to see what she was about, and the old woman saw her shadow, and thought her daughter had seen what she was doing, and the daughter thought her granny had seen her, and was very much afraid.

So the old woman asked her, ‘Nancy Fairy, did you see what I was doing?’

‘No, Granny.’

She asked the girl several times, ‘Nancy Fairy, did you see what I was doing?’ and the girl always said, ‘No, Granny.’

So the old woman took her up to a hut in a wood, and left her there as a punishment; and she took her food every day.

One day it happened that the king’s servant, going that way, saw the beautiful girl come out of the hut. Next day he went again and saw the same beautiful girl again. So he went home and told the prince that he could show him in the wood a girl more beautiful than he had ever seen. The prince went and saw the girl, and then sent a band of soldiers to fetch her home, and took her for his bride.

A year after she had a baby. Soldiers were set to keep guard at the gate, and the room was full of nurses; but in the middle of the night the old woman came in a whirlwind and put them all to sleep. She stole the child, and on going away gave the mother a slap on the mouth which made her dumb.

Next morning there was a great stir, and they said the mother had eaten the child. There was a trial, but the mother was let off that time.

Next year she had another baby, and the same thing happened again. The old woman came in the middle of the night in a whirlwind, and put them all to sleep. She stole the child, and struck the mother on the mouth, which made it bleed.

In the morning there was a stir; and the servant maid, who was jealous, said the mother had eaten the child. All believed it, as her mouth was covered with blood; and, besides, what would be expected of a girl brought out of the wood? So she was tried again, and condemned to be hanged.

Invitations were sent out to all the grand folk to come and see her hanged; so many fine carriages came driving up. At last, just before the time, there came a very grand carriage, all of gold, which glistened in the sun. In it were the old woman and two children, dressed in fine clothes, with the king’s star on them. When the queen saw this grand carriage she got her speech and sung,

‘Do spare me till I see that grand carriage.’

The old woman came into the courtyard, and asked the people if they saw any likeness to any one in the children. They said, ‘they were like the prince’, and asked her how she came by them, and told her she had stolen them. She said she had not stolen them; she had taken them, for they were her own; the prince had taken away her daughter without her leave, and so she had taken his children; but she was willing to give them back, if they would allow that she was right.

So they consented, and the old woman made the prince and his queen a present of the grand carriage, and so they lived happily. The old woman was allowed to come and see the children whenever she liked. But the servant girl, who said the queen had eaten her babies, was hanged.

‘THE DANCING GANG’

A water carrier once went to the river to fetch water. She dipped in her calabash, and brought out a cray-fish. The cray-fish began beating his claws on the calabash, and played such a beautiful tune, that the girl began dancing, and could not stop.

The driver of the gang wondered why she did not come, and sent another to see after her. When she came, she too began to dance. So the driver sent another, who also began to dance when she heard the music and the cray-fish singing:

Vaitsi, Vaitsi, O sulli Van.
Stay for us, stay for us, how long will you stay for us?

Then the driver sent another and another, till he had sent the whole gang.

At last he went himself, and when he found the whole gang dancing, he too began to dance; and they all danced till night, when the cray- fish went back into the water; and if they haven’t done dancing, they are dancing still.

FOOTNOTES TO INTRODUCTION

[1]

How strange is the terror of Natural Science, which seems to possess, with a religious possession, so many good and pious people! How rigidly do they bind themselves hand and foot with the mere letter of the law, forgetting Him who came to teach us, that ‘the letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life!’ What are we to say of those who, when the old crust which clogs and hampers human knowledge is cracking and breaking all around them, when the shell is too narrow an abode for the life within it, which is preparing to cast it off, still cling to the crust and shell, looking, like the disciples by the sepulchre, at the linen clothes lying, and know not that He has risen in glory? These are they who obstinately refuse to believe in the ‘Testimony of the Rocks’, who deny Geology the thousands, nay millions, of years which she requires to make her deposits in Nature’s great saving-bank. These are they for whom the Nile, as he brings down year by year his tribute to the sea from Central Africa, lays down in vain layer after layer of alluvial deposit, which can be measured to an inch for tens of thousands of years. These are they to whom the comparatively younger growth of trees, the dragon tree of Orotava, and the cedars of California, plead in vain when they show, year after year, ring on ring of wood for thousands of years. ‘No; the world is only five or six thousands of years old, or thereabouts. The Old Testament’–the dates in which have been confessedly tampered with, and in some cases forged and fabricated by Hebrew scribes– ‘says so. We believe in it–we will believe in nothing else, not even in our senses. We will believe literally in the first chapter of Genesis, in working days and nights of twenty-four hours, even before the sun and moon were made, on the fourth day, “to divide the day from the night”, and to be “for signs and for seasons, and for days and years”. We will not hear of ages or periods, but “days”, because the “letter” says so’. This is what our Western Brahmins say; but if they remembered that He who set sun and moon also planted the eye and ear, that he gave sense, and speech, and mind; if they considered that faith is a lively thing, elastic and expansive; that it embraces a thousand or a million years as easily as a moment of time; that bonds cannot fetter it, nor distance darken and dismay it; that it is given to man to grow with his growth and strengthen with his strength; that it rises at doubts and difficulties, and surmounts them; they would cease to condemn all the world to wear their own strait-waistcoat, cut and sewn by rabbis and doctors some thousand years ago; a garment which the human intellect has altogether outgrown, which it is ridiculous to wear, which careless and impious men laugh at when it is seen in the streets; and might begin to see that spirit is spirit, and flesh is flesh; that while one lives for ever, the other is corruptible and passes away; that there are developments in faith as in every thing else; that as man’s intellect and human knowledge have grown and expanded, so his faith must grow and expand too; that it really matters nothing at all, as an act of faith, whether the world is six thousand or six million years old; that it must have had a beginning; that there must be one great first cause, God. Surely there is no better way to bring His goodness into question, to throw doubt on His revelation, and to make it the laughing stock of the irreligious, than thus to clip the wings of faith, to throw her into a dungeon, to keep her from the light of day, to make her read through. Hebrew spectacles, and to force her to be a laggard and dullard, instead of a bright and volatile spirit, forward and foremost in the race of life.

[2]

But if the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be