THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN AND HIS WATER LOTS

THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN AND HIS WATER LOTS
BY GEORGE POPE MORRIS (1802-1864)
[From The Little Frenchman and His Water Lots, with Other Sketches ofthe Times (1839)]

Look into those they call unfortunate,
And, closer view'd, you'll find they are unwise.--_Young._
Let wealth come in by comely thrift,
And not by any foolish shift:
'Tis haste
Makes waste:
Who gripes too hard the dry and slippery sand
Holds none at all, or little, in his hand.--_Herrick_.
Let well alone.--_Proverb_.

How much real comfort every one might enjoy if he would be contented
with the lot in which heaven has cast him, and how much trouble would
be avoided if people would only "let well alone." A moderate
independence, quietly and honestly procured, is certainly every way
preferable even to immense possessions achieved by the wear and tear
of mind and body so necessary to procure them. Yet there are very few
individuals, let them be doing ever so well in the world, who are not
always straining every nerve to do better; and this is one of the many
causes why failures in business so frequently occur among us. The
present generation seem unwilling to "realize" by slow and sure
degrees; but choose rather to set their whole hopes upon a single
cast, which either makes or mars them forever!
Gentle reader, do you remember Monsieur Poopoo? He used to keep a
small toy-store in Chatham, near the corner of Pearl Street. You must
recollect him, of course. He lived there for many years, and was one
of the most polite and accommodating of shopkeepers. When a juvenile,
you have bought tops and marbles of him a thousand times. To be sure
you have; and seen his vinegar-visage lighted up with a smile as you
flung him the coppers; and you have laughed at his little straight
queue and his dimity breeches, and all the other oddities that made up
the every-day apparel of my little Frenchman. Ah, I perceive you
recollect him now.
Well, then, there lived Monsieur Poopoo ever since he came from "dear,
delightful Paris," as he was wont to call the city of his
nativity--there he took in the pennies for his kickshaws--there he
laid aside five thousand dollars against a rainy day--there he was as
happy as a lark--and there, in all human probability, he would have
been to this very day, a respected and substantial citizen, had he
been willing to "let well alone." But Monsieur Poopoo had heard
strange stories about the prodigious rise in real estate; and, having
understood that most of his neighbors had become suddenly rich by
speculating in lots, he instantly grew dissatisfied with his own lot,
forthwith determined to shut up shop, turn everything into cash, and
set about making money in right-down earnest. No sooner said than
done; and our quondam storekeeper a few days afterward attended an
extensive sale of real estate, at the Merchants' Exchange.
There was the auctioneer, with his beautiful and inviting lithographic
maps--all the lots as smooth and square and enticingly laid out as
possible--and there were the speculators--and there, in the midst of
them, stood Monsieur Poopoo.
"Here they are, gentlemen," said he of the hammer, "the most valuable
lots ever offered for sale. Give me a bid for them!"
"One hundred each," said a bystander.
"One hundred!" said the auctioneer, "scarcely enough to pay for the
maps. One hundred--going--and fifty--gone! Mr. H., they are yours. A
noble purchase. You'll sell those same lots in less than a fortnight
for fifty thousand dollars profit!"
Monsieur Poopoo pricked up his ears at this, and was lost in
astonishment. This was a much easier way certainly of accumulating
riches than selling toys in Chatham Street, and he determined to buy
and mend his fortune without delay.
The auctioneer proceeded in his sale. Other parcels were offered and
disposed of, and all the purchasers were promised immense advantages
for their enterprise. At last came a more valuable parcel than all the
rest. The company pressed around the stand, and Monsieur Poopoo did
the same.
"I now offer you, gentlemen, these magnificent lots, delightfully
situated on Long Island, with valuable water privileges. Property in
fee--title indisputable--terms of sale, cash--deeds ready for delivery
immediately after the sale. How much for them? Give them a start at
something. How much?" The auctioneer looked around; there were no
bidders. At last he caught the eye of Monsieur Poopoo. "Did you say
one hundred, sir? Beautiful lots--valuable water privileges--shall I
say one hundred for you?"
"_Oui, monsieur_; I will give you von hundred dollar apiece, for de
lot vid de valuarble vatare privalege; _c'est ca_."
"Only one hundred apiece for these sixty valuable lots--only one
hundred--going--going--going--gone!"
Monsieur Poopoo was the fortunate possessor. The auctioneer
congratulated him--the sale closed--and the company dispersed.
"_Pardonnez-moi, monsieur_," said Poopoo, as the auctioneer descended
his pedestal, "you shall _excusez-moi_, if I shall go to _votre
bureau_, your counting-house, ver quick to make every ting sure wid
respec to de lot vid de valuarble vatare privalege. Von leetle bird in
de hand he vorth two in de tree, _c'est vrai_--eh?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Vell den, _allons_."
And the gentlemen repaired to the counting-house, where the six
thousand dollars were paid, and the deeds of the property delivered.
Monsieur Poopoo put these carefully in his pocket, and as he was about
taking his leave, the auctioneer made him a present of the
lithographic outline of the lots, which was a very liberal thing on
his part, considering the map was a beautiful specimen of that
glorious art. Poopoo could not admire it sufficiently. There were his
sixty lots, as uniform as possible, and his little gray eyes sparkled
like diamonds as they wandered from one end of the spacious sheet to
the other.
Poopoo's heart was as light as a feather, and he snapped his fingers
in the very wantonness of joy as he repaired to Delmonico's, and
ordered the first good French dinner that had gladdened his palate
since his arrival in America.
After having discussed his repast, and washed it down with a bottle of
choice old claret, he resolved upon a visit to Long Island to view his
purchase. He consequently immediately hired a horse and gig, crossed
the Brooklyn ferry, and drove along the margin of the river to the
Wallabout, the location in question.
Our friend, however, was not a little perplexed to find his property.
Everything on the map was as fair and even as possible, while all the
grounds about him were as undulated as they could well be imagined,
and there was an elbow of the East River thrusting itself quite into
the ribs of the land, which seemed to have no business there. This
puzzled the Frenchman exceedingly; and, being a stranger in those
parts, he called to a farmer in an adjacent field.
"_Mon ami_, are you acquaint vid dis part of de country--eh?"
"Yes, I was born here, and know every inch of it."
"Ah, _c'est bien_, dat vill do," and the Frenchman got out of the gig,
tied the horse, and produced his lithographic map.
"Den maybe you vill have de kindness to show me de sixty lot vich I
have bought, vid de valuarble vatare privalege?"
The farmer glanced his eye over the paper.
"Yes, sir, with pleasure; if you will be good enough to _get into my
boat, I will row you out to them_!"
"Vat dat you say, sure?"
"My friend," said the farmer, "this section of Long Island has
recently been bought up by the speculators of New York, and laid out
for a great city; but the principal street is only visible _at low
tide_. When this part of the East River is filled up, it will be just
there. Your lots, as you will perceive, are beyond it; _and are now
all under water_."
At first the Frenchman was incredulous. He could not believe his
senses. As the facts, however, gradually broke upon him, he shut one
eye, squinted obliquely at the heavens---the river--the farmer--and
then he turned away and squinted at them all over again! There was his
purchase sure enough; but then it could not be perceived for there was
a river flowing over it! He drew a box from his waistcoat pocket,
opened it, with an emphatic knock upon the lid, took a pinch of snuff
and restored it to his waistcoat pocket as before. Poopoo was
evidently in trouble, having "thoughts which often lie too deep for
tears"; and, as his grief was also too big for words, he untied his
horse, jumped into his gig, and returned to the auctioneer in hot
haste.
It was near night when he arrived at the auction-room--his horse in a
foam and himself in a fury. The auctioneer was leaning back in his
chair, with his legs stuck out of a low window, quietly smoking a
cigar after the labors of the day, and humming the music from the last
new opera.
"Monsieur, I have much plaisir to fin' you, _chez vous_, at home."
"Ah, Poopoo! glad to see you. Take a seat, old boy."
"But I shall not take de seat, sare."
"No--why, what's the matter?"
"Oh, _beaucoup_ de matter. I have been to see de gran lot vot you sell
me to-day."
"Well, sir, I hope you like your purchase?"
"No, monsieur, I no like him."
"I'm sorry for it; but there is no ground for your complaint."
"No, sare; dare is no _ground_ at all--de ground is all vatare!"
"You joke!"
"I no joke. I nevare joke; _je n'entends pas la raillerie_, Sare,
_voulez-vous_ have de kindness to give me back de money vot I pay!"
"Certainly not."
"Den vill you be so good as to take de East River off de top of my
lot?"
"That's your business, sir, not mine."
"Den I make von _mauvaise affaire_--von gran mistake!"
"I hope not. I don't think you have thrown your money away in the
_land_."
"No, sare; but I tro it avay in de _vatare!_"
"That's not my fault."
"Yes, sare, but it is your fault. You're von ver gran rascal to
swindle me out of _de l'argent_."
"Hello, old Poopoo, you grow personal; and if you can't keep a civil
tongue in your head, you must go out of my counting-room."
"Vare shall I go to, eh?"
"To the devil, for aught I care, you foolish old Frenchman!" said the
auctioneer, waxing warm.
"But, sare, I vill not go to de devil to oblige you!" replied the
Frenchman, waxing warmer. "You sheat me out of all de dollar vot I
make in Shatham Street; but I vill not go to de devil for all dat. I
vish you may go to de devil yourself you dem yankee-doo-dell, and I
vill go and drown myself, _tout de suite_, right avay."
"You couldn't make a better use of your water privileges, old boy!"
"Ah, _misericorde!_ Ah, _mon dieu, je suis abime_. I am ruin! I am
done up! I am break all into ten sousan leetle pieces! I am von lame
duck, and I shall vaddle across de gran ocean for Paris, vish is de
only valuarble vatare privalege dat is left me _a present!_"
Poor Poopoo was as good as his word. He sailed in the next packet, and
arrived in Paris almost as penniless as the day he left it.
Should any one feel disposed to doubt the veritable circumstances here
recorded, let him cross the East River to the Wallabout, and farmer
J---- will _row him out_ to the very place where the poor Frenchman's
lots still remain _under water_.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - LITTLE ONE-EYE, TWO-EYES AND THREE-EYES

Once upon a time there was a Woman, who had three daughters, the eldest
of whom was named One-Eye, because she had but a single eye, and that
placed in the middle of her forehead; the second was called Two-Eyes,
because she was like other mortals; and the third, Three-Eyes, because
she had three eyes, and one of them in the centre of her forehead, like
her eldest sister. But, because her second sister had nothing out of the
common in her appearance, she was looked down upon by her sisters, and
despised by her mother. "You are no better than common folk," they would
say to her; "you do not belong to us"; and then they would push her
about, give her coarse clothing, and nothing to eat but their leavings,
besides numerous other insults as occasion offered.
Once it happened that Two-Eyes had to go into the forest to tend the
goat; and she went very hungry, because her sisters had given her very
little to eat that morning. She sat down upon a hillock, and cried so
much that her tears flowed almost like rivers out of her eyes! By and by
she looked up and saw a Woman standing by, who asked, "Why are you
weeping, Two-Eyes?" "Because I have two eyes like ordinary people,"
replied the maiden, "and therefore my mother and sisters dislike me,
push me into corners, throw me their old clothes, and give me nothing to
eat but what they leave. To-day they have given me so little that I am
still hungry." "Dry your eyes, then, now," said the wise Woman; "I will
tell you something which shall prevent you from being hungry again. You
must say to your goat:
"'Little kid, milk
Table, appear!'
"and immediately a nicely filled table will stand before you, with
delicate food upon it, of which you can eat as much as you please. And
when you are satisfied, and have done with the table, you must say:
'Little kid, milk
Table, depart!'
"and it will disappear directly."
With these words the wise Woman went away, and little Two-Eyes thought
to herself she would try at once if what the Woman said were true, for
she felt very hungry indeed.
"Little kid, milk
Table, appear!"
said the maiden, and immediately a table covered with a white cloth
stood before her, with a knife and fork, and silver spoon; and the most
delicate dishes were ranged in order upon it, and everything as warm as
if they had been just taken away from the fire. Two-Eyes said a short
grace, and then began to eat; and when she had finished she pronounced
the words which the wise Woman had told her:
"Little kid, milk
Table, depart!"
and directly the table and all that was on it quickly disappeared. "This
is capital housekeeping," said the maiden, in high glee; and at evening
she went home with her goat, and found an earthen dish which her sisters
had left her filled with their leavings. She did not touch it; and the
next morning she went off again without taking the meagre breakfast
which was left out for her. The first and second time she did this the
sisters thought nothing of it; but when she did the same the third
morning their attention was roused, and they said, "All is not right
with Two-Eyes, for she has left her meals twice, and has touched nothing
of what was left for her; she must have found some other way of living."
So they determined that One-Eye should go with the maiden when she drove
the goat to the meadow and pay attention to what passed, and observe
whether any one brought her to eat or to drink.
When Two-Eyes, therefore, was about to set off, One-Eye told her she was
going with her to see whether she took proper care of the goat and fed
her sufficiently. Two-Eyes, however, divined her sister's object, and
drove the goat where the grass was finest, and then said, "Come,
One-Eye, let us sit down, and I will sing to you." So One-Eye sat down,
for she was quite tired with her unusual walk and the heat of the sun.
"Are you awake or asleep, One-Eye?
Are you awake or asleep?"
sang Two-Eyes, until her sister really went to sleep. As soon as she was
quite sound, the maiden had her table out, and ate and drank all she
needed; and by the time One-Eye woke again the table had disappeared,
and the maiden said to her sister, "Come, we will go home now; while you
have been sleeping the goat might have run about all over the world." So
they went home, and after Two-Eyes had left her meal untouched, the
mother inquired of One-Eye what she had seen, and she was obliged to
confess that she had been asleep.
The following morning the mother told Three-Eyes that she must go out
and watch Two-Eyes, and see who brought her food, for it was certain
that some one must. So Three-Eyes told her sister that she was going to
accompany her that morning to see if she took care of the goat and fed
her well; but Two-Eyes saw through her design, and drove the goat again
to the best feeding-place. Then she asked her sister to sit down and she
would sing to her, and Three-Eyes did so, for she was very tired with
her long walk in the heat of the sun. Then Two-Eyes began to sing as
before:
"Are you awake, Three-Eyes?"
but, instead of continuing as she should have done,
"Are you asleep, Three-Eyes?"
she said by mistake,
"Are you asleep, Two-Eyes?"
and so went on singing:
"Are you awake, Three-Eyes?"
"Are you asleep, Two-Eyes?"
By and by Three-Eyes closed two of her eyes, and went to sleep with
them; but the third eye, which was not spoken to, kept open. Three-Eyes,
however, cunningly shut it too, and feigned to be asleep, while she was
really watching; and soon Two-Eyes, thinking all safe, repeated the
words:
"Little kid, milk
Table, appear!"
and as soon as she was satisfied she said the old words:
"Little kid, milk
Table, depart!"
Three-Eyes watched all these proceedings; and presently Two-Eyes came
and awoke her, saying, "Ah, sister! you are a good watcher, but come,
let us go home now." When they reached home Two-Eyes again ate nothing;
and her sister told her mother she knew now why the haughty hussy would
not eat their victuals. "When she is out in the meadow," said her
sister, "she says:
"'Little kid, milk
Table, appear!'
"and, directly, a table comes up laid out with meat and wine, and
everything of the best, much better than we have; and as soon as she has
had enough she says:
"'Little kid, milk
Table, depart!'
"and all goes away directly, as I clearly saw. Certainly she did put to
sleep two of my eyes, but the one in the middle of my forehead luckily
kept awake!"
"Will you have better things than we?" cried the envious mother; "then
you shall lose the chance"; and so saying, she took a carving-knife and
killed the goat dead.
As soon as Two-Eyes saw this she went out, very sorrowful, to the old
spot and sat down where she had sat before to weep bitterly. All at once
the wise Woman stood in front of her again, and asked why she was
crying. "Must I not cry," replied she, "when the goat which used to
furnish me every day with a dinner, according to your promise, has been
killed by my mother, and I am again suffering hunger and thirst?"
"Two-Eyes," said the wise Woman, "I will give you a piece of advice. Beg
your sisters to give you the entrails of the goat, and bury them in the
earth before the house door, and your fortune will be made." So saying,
she disappeared, and Two-Eyes went home, and said to her sisters, "Dear
sisters, do give me some part of the slain kid; I desire nothing
else--let me have the entrails." The sisters laughed and readily gave
them to her; and she buried them secretly before the threshold of the
door, as the wise Woman had bidden her.
The following morning they found in front of the house a wonderfully
beautiful tree, with leaves of silver and fruits of gold hanging from
the boughs, than which nothing more splendid could be seen in the world.
The two elder sisters were quite ignorant how the tree came where it
stood; but Two-Eyes perceived that it was produced by the goat's
entrails, for it stood on the exact spot where she had buried them. As
soon as the mother saw it she told One-Eye to break off some of the
fruit. One-Eye went up to the tree, and pulled a bough toward her, to
pluck off the fruit; but the bough flew back again directly out of her
hands; and so it did every time she took hold of it, till she was forced
to give up, for she could not obtain a single golden apple in spite of
all her endeavors. Then the mother said to Three-Eyes, "Do you climb up,
for you can see better with your three eyes than your sister with her
one." Three-Eyes, however, was not more fortunate than her sister, for
the golden apples flew back as soon as she touched them. At last the
mother got so impatient that she climbed the tree herself; but she met
with no more success than either of her daughters, and grasped the air
only when she thought she had the fruit. Two-Eyes now thought she would
try, and said to her sisters, "Let me get up, perhaps I may be
successful." "Oh, you are very likely indeed," said they, "with your two
eyes: you will see well, no doubt!" So Two-Eyes climbed the tree, and
directly she touched the boughs the golden apples fell into her hands,
so that she plucked them as fast as she could, and filled her apron
before she went down. Her mother took them of her, but returned her no
thanks; and the two sisters, instead of treating Two-Eyes better than
they had done, were only the more envious of her, because she alone
could gather the fruit--in fact, they treated her worse.
One morning, not long after the springing up of the apple-tree, the
three sisters were all standing together beneath it, when in the
distance a young Knight was seen riding toward them. "Make haste,
Two-Eyes!" exclaimed the two elder sisters; "make haste, and creep out
of our way, that we may not be ashamed of you"; and so saying, they put
over her in great haste an empty cask which stood near, and which
covered the golden apples as well, which she had just been plucking.
Soon the Knight came up to the tree, and the sisters saw he was a very
handsome man, for he stopped to admire the fine silver leaves and golden
fruit, and presently asked to whom the tree belonged, for he should like
to have a branch off it. One-Eye and Three-Eyes replied that the tree
belonged to them; and they tried to pluck a branch off for the Knight.
They had their trouble for nothing, however, for the boughs and fruit
flew back as soon as they touched them. "This is very wonderful." cried
the Knight, "that this tree should belong to you, and yet you cannot
pluck the fruit!" The sisters, however, maintained that it was theirs;
but while they spoke Two-Eyes rolled a golden apple from underneath the
cask, so that it travelled to the feet of the Knight, for she was angry,
because her sisters had not spoken the truth. When he saw the apple he
was astonished, and asked where it came from; and One-Eye and Three-Eyes
said they had another sister, but they dared not let her be seen,
because she had only two eyes, like common folk! The Knight, however,
would see her, and called, "Two-Eyes, come here!" and soon she made her
appearance from under the cask. The Knight was bewildered at her great
beauty, and said, "You, Two-Eyes, can surely break off a bough of this
tree for me?" "Yes," she replied, "that I will, for it is my property";
and climbing up, she easily broke off a branch with silver leaves and
golden fruit, which she handed to the Knight. "What can I give you in
return, Two-Eyes?" asked the Knight. "Alas! if you will take me with you
I shall be happy, for now I suffer hunger and thirst, and am in trouble
and grief from early morning to late evening; take me, and save me!"
Thereupon the Knight raised Two-Eyes upon his saddle, and took her home
to his father's castle. There he gave her beautiful clothes, and all she
wished for to eat or to drink; and afterward, because his love for her
had become so great, he married her, and a very happy wedding they had.
Her two sisters, meanwhile, were very jealous when Two-Eyes was carried
off by the Knight; but they consoled themselves by saying, "The
wonderful tree remains still for us; and even if we cannot get at the
fruit, everybody that passes will stop to look at it, and then come and
praise it to us. Who knows where our wheat may bloom?" The morning after
this speech, however, the tree disappeared, and with it all their hopes;
but when Two-Eyes that same day looked out of her chamber window,
behold, the tree stood before it, and there remained!
For a long time after this occurrence Two-Eyes lived in the enjoyment of
the greatest happiness; and one morning two poor women came to the
palace and begged an alms. Two-Eyes, after looking narrowly at their
faces, recognized her two sisters, One-Eye and Three-Eyes, who had come
to such great poverty that they were forced to wander about, begging
their bread from day to day. Two-Eyes, however, bade them welcome,
invited them in, and took care of them, till they both repented of their
evil which they had done to their sister in the days of their childhood.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - RUMPELSTILTSKIN

There was once a poor Miller who had a beautiful daughter, and one day,
having to go to speak with the King, he said, in order to make himself
appear of consequence, that he had a daughter who could spin straw into
gold. The King was very fond of gold, and thought to himself, "That is
an art which would please me very well"; and so he said to the Miller,
"If your daughter is so very clever, bring her to the castle in the
morning, and I will put her to the proof."
As soon as she arrived the King led her into a chamber which was full of
straw; and, giving her a wheel and a reel, he said, "Now set yourself to
work, and if you have not spun this straw into gold by an early hour
to-morrow, you must die." With these words he shut the room door, and
left the maiden alone.
There she sat for a long time, thinking how to save her life; for she
understood nothing of the art whereby straw might be spun into gold; and
her perplexity increased more and more, till at last she began to weep.
All at once the door opened, and in stepped a little Man, who said,
"Good evening, fair maiden; why do you weep so sore?" "Ah," she replied,
"I must spin this straw into gold, and I am sure I do not know how."
The little Man asked, "What will you give me if I spin it for you?"
"My necklace," said the maiden.
The Dwarf took it, placed himself in front of the wheel, and whirr,
whirr, whirr, three times round, and the bobbin was full. Then he set up
another, and whir, whir, whir, thrice round again, and a second bobbin
was full; and so he went all night long, until all the straw was spun,
and the bobbins were full of gold. At sunrise the King came, very much
astonished to see the gold; the sight of which gladdened him, but did
not make his heart less covetous. He caused the maiden to be led into
another room, still larger, full of straw; and then he bade her spin it
into gold during the night if she valued her life. The maiden was again
quite at a loss what to do; but while she cried the door opened
suddenly, as before, and the Dwarf appeared and asked her what she would
give him in return for his assistance. "The ring off my finger," she
replied. The little Man took the ring and began to spin at once, and by
morning all the straw was changed to glistening gold. The King was
rejoiced above measure at the sight of this, but still he was not
satisfied, but, leading the maiden into another still larger room, full
of straw as the others, he said, "This you must spin during the night;
but if you accomplish it you shall be my bride." "For," thought he to
himself, "a richer wife thou canst not have in all the world."
When the maiden was left alone, the Dwarf again appeared and asked, for
the third time, "What will you give me to do this for you?"
"I have nothing left that I can give you," replied the maiden.
"Then promise me your first-born child if you become Queen," said he.
The Miller's daughter thought, "Who can tell if that will ever happen?"
and, ignorant how else to help herself out of her trouble, she promised
the Dwarf what he desired; and he immediately set about and finished the
spinning. When morning came, and the King found all he had wished for
done, he celebrated his wedding, and the Miller's fair daughter became
Queen.
The gay times she had at the King's Court caused her to forget that she
had made a very foolish promise.
About a year after the marriage, when she had ceased to think about the
little Dwarf, she brought a fine child into the world; and, suddenly,
soon after its birth, the very man appeared and demanded what she had
promised. The frightened Queen offered him all the riches of the kingdom
if he would leave her her child; but the Dwarf answered, "No; something
human is dearer to me than all the wealth of the world."
The Queen began to weep and groan so much that the Dwarf pitied her, and
said, "I will leave you three days to consider; if you in that time
discover my name you shall keep your child."
All night long the Queen racked her brains for all the names she could
think of, and sent a messenger through the country to collect far and
wide any new names. The following morning came the Dwarf, and she began
with "Caspar," "Melchior," "Balthassar," and all the odd names she knew;
but at each the little Man exclaimed, "That is not my name." The second
day the Queen inquired of all her people for uncommon and curious names,
and called the Dwarf "Ribs-of-Beef," "Sheep-shank," "Whalebone," but at
each he said, "This is not my name." The third day the messenger came
back and said, "I have not found a single name; but as I came to a high
mountain near the edge of a forest, where foxes and hares say good night
to each other, I saw there a little house, and before the door a fire
was burning, and round this fire a very curious little Man was dancing
on one leg, and shouting:
"'To-day I stew, and then I'll bake,
To-morrow I shall the Queen's child take;
Ah! how famous it is that nobody knows
That my name is Rumpelstiltskin.'"
When the Queen heard this she was very glad, for now she knew the name;
and soon after came the Dwarf, and asked, "Now, my lady Queen, what is
my name?"
First she said, "Are you called Conrade?" "No."
"Are you called Hal?" "No."
"Are you called Rumpelstiltskin?"
"A witch has told you! a witch has told you!" shrieked the little Man,
and stamped his right foot so hard in the ground with rage that he could
not draw it out again. Then he took hold of his left leg with both his
hands, and pulled away so hard that his right came off in the struggle,
and he hopped away howling terribly. And from that day to this the Queen
has heard no more of her troublesome visitor.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - THE THREE LITTLE MEN IN THE WOOD

Once upon a time there lived a man, whose wife had died; and a woman,
also, who had lost her husband: and this man and this woman had each a
daughter. These two maidens were friendly with each other, and used to
walk together, and one day they came by the widow's house. Then the
widow said to the man's daughter, "Do you hear, tell your father I wish
to marry him, and you shall every morning wash in milk and drink wine,
but my daughter shall wash in water and drink water." So the girl went
home and told her father what the woman had said, and he replied, "What
shall I do? Marriage is a comfort, but it is also a torment." At last,
as he could come to no conclusion, he drew off his boot and said: "Take
this boot, which has a hole in the sole, and go with it out of doors and
hang it on the great nail and then pour water into it. If it holds the
water, I will again take a wife; but if it runs through, I will not have
her." The girl did as he bid her, but the water drew the hole together
and the boot became full to overflowing. So she told her father how it
had happened, and he, getting up, saw it was quite true; and going to
the widow he settled the matter, and the wedding was celebrated.
The next morning, when the two girls arose, milk to wash in and wine to
drink were set for the man's daughter, but only water, both for washing
and drinking, for the woman's daughter. The second morning, water for
washing and drinking stood before both the man's daughter and the
woman's; and on the third morning, water to wash in and water to drink
were set before the man's daughter, and milk to wash in and wine to
drink before the woman's daughter, and so it continued.
Soon the woman conceived a deadly hatred for her step-daughter, and knew
not how to behave badly enough to her from day to day. She was envious,
too, because her step-daughter was beautiful and lovely, and her own
daughter was ugly and hateful.
Once, in the winter-time, when the river was frozen as hard as a stone,
and hill and valley were covered with snow, the woman made a cloak of
paper, and called the maiden to her and said, "Put on this cloak, and go
away into the wood to fetch me a little basketful of strawberries, for I
have a wish for some."
"Mercy on us!" said the maiden, "in winter there are no strawberries
growing; the ground is frozen, and the snow, too, has covered
everything. And why must I go in that paper cloak? It is so cold out of
doors that it freezes one's breath even, and if the wind does not blow
off this cloak, the thorns will tear it from my body."
"Will you dare to contradict me?" said the step-mother. "Make haste off,
and let me not see you again until you have found me a basket of
strawberries." Then she gave her a small piece of dry bread, saying, "On
that you must subsist the whole day." But she thought--out of doors she
will be frozen and starved, so that my eyes will never see her again!
So the girl did as she was told, and put on the paper cloak, and went
away with the basket. Far and near there was nothing but snow, and not a
green blade was to be seen. When she came to the forest she discovered a
little cottage, out of which three little Dwarfs were peeping. The girl
wished them good morning, and knocked gently at the door. They called
her in, and entering the room, she sat down on a bench by the fire to
warm herself, and eat her breakfast. The Dwarfs called out, "Give us
some of it!" "Willingly," she replied, and, dividing her bread in two,
she gave them half. They asked, "What do you here in the forest, in the
winter-time, in this thin cloak?"
"Ah!" she answered, "I must, seek a basketful of strawberries, and I
dare not return home until I can take them with me." When she had eaten
her bread, they gave her a broom, saying, "Sweep away the snow with this
from the back door." But when she was gone out of doors the three Dwarfs
said one to another, "What shall we give her, because she is so gentle
and good, and has shared her bread with us?" Then said the first, "I
grant to her that she shall become more beautiful every day." The second
said, "I grant that a piece of gold shall fall out of her mouth for
every word she speaks." The third said, "I grant that a King shall come
and make her his bride."
Meanwhile, the girl had done as the Dwarf had bidden her, and had swept
away the snow from behind the house. And what do you think she found
there? Actually, ripe strawberries! which came quite red and sweet up
under the snow. So filling her basket in great glee, she thanked the
little men and gave them each her hand, and then ran home to take her
step-mother what she wished for. As she went in and said "Good evening,"
a piece of gold fell from her mouth. Thereupon she related what had
happened to her in the forest; but at every word she spoke a piece of
gold fell, so that the whole floor was covered.
"Just see her arrogance," said the step-sister, "to throw away money in
that way!" but in her heart she was jealous, and wished to go into the
forest, too, to seek strawberries. Her mother said, "No, my dear
daughter; it is too cold, you will be frozen!" but as her girl let her
have no peace, she at last consented, and made her a beautiful fur cloak
to put on; she also gave her buttered bread and cooked meat to eat on
her way.
The girl went into the forest and came straight to the little cottage.
The three Dwarfs were peeping out again, but she did not greet them;
and, stumbling on without looking at them, or speaking, she entered the
room, and, seating herself by the fire, began to eat the bread and
butter and meat. "Give us some of that," exclaimed the Dwarfs; but she
answered, "I have not got enough for myself, so how can I give any
away?" When she had finished they said, "You have a broom there, go and
sweep the back door clean." "Oh, sweep it yourself," she replied; "I am
not your servant." When she saw that they would not give her anything
she went out at the door, and the three Dwarfs said to each other, "What
shall we give her? She is so ill-behaved, and has such a bad and envious
disposition, that nobody can wish well to her." The first said, "I grant
that she becomes more ugly every day." The second said, "I grant that at
every word she speaks a toad shall spring out of her mouth." The third
said, "I grant that she shall die a miserable death." Meanwhile the girl
had been looking for strawberries out of doors, but as she could find
none she went home very peevish. When she opened her mouth to tell her
mother what had happened to her in the forest, a toad jumped out of her
mouth at each word, so that every one fled away from her in horror.
The step-mother was now still more vexed, and was always thinking how
she could do the most harm to her husband's daughter, who every day
became more beautiful. At last she took a kettle, set it on the fire,
and boiled a net therein. When it was sodden she hung it on the shoulder
of the poor girl, and gave her an axe, that she might go upon the frozen
pond and cut a hole in the ice to drag the net. She obeyed, and went
away and cut an ice-hole; and while she was cutting, an elegant carriage
came by, in which the King sat. The carriage stopped, and the King
asked, "My child, who are you? and what do you here?" "I am a poor girl,
and am dragging a net," said she. Then the King pitied her, and saw how
beautiful she was, and said, "Will you go with me?" "Yes, indeed, with
all my heart," she replied, for she was glad to get out of the sight of
her mother and sister.
So she was handed into the carriage, and driven away with the King; and
as soon as they arrived at his castle the wedding was celebrated with
great splendor, as the Dwarfs had granted to the maiden. After a year
the young Queen bore a son; and when the step-mother heard of her great
good fortune, she came to the castle with her daughter, and behaved as
if she had come on a visit. But one day when the King had gone out, and
no one was present, this bad woman seized the Queen by the head, and her
daughter caught hold of her feet, and raising her out of bed, they threw
her out of the window into the river which ran past. Then, laying her
ugly daughter in the bed, the old woman covered her up, even over her
head; and when the King came back he wished to speak to his wife, but
the old woman exclaimed, "Softly! softly! do not go near her; she is
lying in a beautiful sleep, and must be kept quiet to-day." The King,
not thinking of an evil design, came again the next morning the first
thing; and when he spoke to his wife, and she answered, a toad sprang
out of her mouth at every word, as a piece of gold had done before. So
he asked what had happened, and the old woman said, "That is produced by
her weakness, she will soon lose it again."
But in the night the kitchen-boy saw a Duck swimming through the brook,
and the Duck asked:
"King, King, what are you doing?
Are you sleeping, or are you waking?"
And as he gave no answer, the Duck said:
"What are my guests a-doing?"
Then the boy answered:
"They all sleep sound."
And she asked him:
"How fares my child?"
And he replied:
"In his cradle he sleeps."
Then she came up in the form of the Queen to the cradle, and gave the
child drink, shook up his bed, and covered him up, and then swam away
again as a duck through the brook. The second night she came again; and
on the third she said to the kitchen-boy, "Go and tell the King to take
his sword, and swing it thrice over me, on the threshold." Then the boy
ran and told the King, who came with his sword, and swung it thrice over
the Duck; and at the third time his bride stood before him, bright,
living, and healthful, as she had been before.
Now the King was in great happiness, but he hid the Queen in a chamber
until the Sunday when the child was to be christened; and when all was
finished he asked, "What ought to be done to one who takes another out
of a bed and throws her into the river?" "Nothing could be more proper,"
said the old woman, "than to put such a one into a cask, stuck round
with nails, and to roll it down the hill into the water." Then the King
said, "You have spoken your own sentence"; and ordering a cask to be
fetched, he caused the old woman and her daughter to be put into it, and
the bottom nailed up. Then the cask was rolled down the hill until it
fell into the water.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - SNOW-WHITE AND ROSE-RED

A poor widow once lived in a little cottage. In front of the cottage was
a garden, in which were growing two rose trees; one of these bore white
roses, and the other red.
She had two children, who resembled the rose trees. One was called
Snow-White, and the other Rose-Red; and they were as religious and
loving, busy and untiring, as any two children ever were.
Snow-White was more gentle, and quieter than her sister, who liked
better skipping about the fields, seeking flowers, and catching summer
birds; while Snow-White stayed at home with her mother, either helping
her in her work, or, when that was done, reading aloud.
The two children had the greatest affection the one for the other. They
were always seen hand in hand; and should Snow-White say to her sister,
"We will never separate," the other would reply, "Not while we live,"
the mother adding, "That which one has, let her always share with the
other."
They constantly ran together in the woods, collecting ripe berries; but
not a single animal would have injured them; quite the reverse, they all
felt the greatest esteem for the young creatures. The hare came to eat
parsley from their hands, the deer grazed by their side, the stag
bounded past them unheeding; the birds, likewise, did not stir from the
bough, but sang in entire security. No mischance befell them; if
benighted in the wood, they lay down on the moss to repose and sleep
till the morning; and their mother was satisfied as to their safety, and
felt no fear about them.
Once, when they had spent the night in the wood, and the bright sunrise
awoke them, they saw a beautiful child, in a snow-white robe, shining
like diamonds, sitting close to the spot where they had reposed. She
arose when they opened their eyes, and looked kindly at them; but said
no word, and passed from their sight into the wood. When the children
looked around they saw they had been sleeping on the edge of a
precipice, and would surely have fallen over if they had gone forward
two steps further in the darkness. Their mother said the beautiful child
must have been the angel who keeps watch over good children.
Snow-White and Rose-Red kept their mother's cottage so clean that it
gave pleasure only to look in. In summer-time Rose-Red attended to the
house, and every morning, before her mother awoke, placed by her bed a
bouquet which had in it a rose from each of the rose-trees. In
winter-time Snow-White set light to the fire, and put on the kettle,
after polishing it until it was like gold for brightness. In the
evening, when snow was falling, her mother would bid her bolt the door,
and then, sitting by the hearth, the good widow would read aloud to them
from a big book while the little girls were spinning. Close by them lay
a lamb, and a white pigeon, with its head tucked under its wing, was on
a perch behind.
One evening, as they were all sitting cosily together like this, there
was a knock at the door, as if someone wished to come in.
"Make haste, Rose-Red!" said her mother; "open the door; it is surely
some traveller seeking shelter." Rose-Red accordingly pulled back the
bolt, expecting to see some poor man. But it was nothing of the kind; it
was a bear, that thrust his big, black head in at the open door.
Rose-Red cried out and sprang back, the lamb bleated, the dove fluttered
her wings, and Snow-White hid herself behind her mother's bed. The bear
began speaking, and said, "Do not be afraid; I will not do you any harm;
I am half-frozen and would like to warm myself a little at your fire."
"Poor bear!" the mother replied; "come in and lie by the fire; only be
careful that your hair is not burnt." Then she called Snow-White and
Rose-Red, telling them that the bear was kind, and would not harm them.
They came, as she bade them, and presently the lamb and the dove drew
near also without fear.
"Children," begged the bear; "knock some of the snow off my coat." So
they brought the broom and brushed the bear's coat quite clean.
After that he stretched himself out in front of the fire, and pleased
himself by growling a little, only to show that he was happy and
comfortable. Before long they were all quite good friends, and the
children began to play with their unlooked-for visitor, pulling his
thick fur, or placing their feet on his back, or rolling him over and
over. Then they took a slender hazel-twig, using it upon his thick coat,
and they laughed when he growled. The bear permitted them to amuse
themselves in this way, only occasionally calling out, when it went a
little too far, "Children, spare me an inch of life."
When it was night, and all were making ready to go to bed, the widow
told the bear, "You may stay here and lie by the hearth, if you like, so
that you will be sheltered from the cold and from the bad weather."
The offer was accepted, but when morning came, as the day broke in the
east, the two children let him out, and over the snow he went back into
the wood.
After this, every evening at the same time the bear came, lay by the
fire, and allowed the children to play with him; so they became quite
fond of their curious playmate, and the door was not ever bolted in the
evening until he had appeared.
When spring-time came, and all around began to look green and bright,
one morning the bear said to Snow-White, "Now I must leave you, and all
the summer long I shall not be able to come back."
"Where, then, are you going, dear Bear?" asked Snow-White.
"I have to go to the woods to protect my treasure from the bad dwarfs.
In winter-time, when the earth is frozen hard, they must remain
underground, and cannot make their way through: but now that the
sunshine has thawed the earth they can come to the surface, and whatever
gets into their hands, or is brought to their caves, seldom, if ever,
again sees daylight."
Snow-White was very sad when she said good-bye to the good-natured
beast, and unfastened the door, that he might go; but in going out he
was caught by a hook in the lintel, and a scrap of his fur being torn,
Snow-White thought there was something shining like gold through the
rent: but he went out so quickly that she could not feel certain what it
was, and soon he was hidden among the trees.
One day the mother sent her children into the wood to pick up sticks.
They found a big tree lying on the ground. It had been felled, and
towards the roots they noticed something skipping and springing, which
they could not make out, as it was sometimes hidden in the grasses. As
they came nearer they could see it was a dwarf, with a shrivelled-up
face and a snow-white beard an ell long. The beard was fixed in a gash
in the tree trunk, and the tiny fellow was hopping to and fro, like a
dog at the end of a string, but he could not manage to free himself. He
stared at the children with his red, fiery eyes, and called out, "Why
are you standing there? Can't you come and try to help me?"
"What were you doing, little fellow?" inquired Rose-Red.
"Stupid, inquisitive goose!" replied the dwarf; "I meant to split the
trunk, so that I could chop it up for kitchen sticks; big logs would
burn up the small quantity of food we cook, for people like us do not
consume great heaps of food, as you heavy, greedy folk do. The bill-hook
I had driven in, and soon I should have done what I required; but the
tool suddenly sprang from the cleft, which so quickly shut up again that
it caught my handsome white beard; and here I must stop, for I cannot
set myself free. You stupid pale-faced creatures! You laugh, do you?"
In spite of the dwarf's bad temper, the girls took all possible pains to
release the little man, but without avail, the beard could not be moved,
it was wedged too tightly.
"I will run and get someone else," said Rose-Red.
"Idiot!" cried the dwarf. "Who would go and get more people? Already
there are two too many. Can't you think of something better?"
"Don't be so impatient," said Snow-White. "I will try to think." She
clapped her hands as if she had discovered a remedy, took out her
scissors, and in a moment set the dwarf free by cutting off the end of
his beard.
Immediately the dwarf felt that he was free he seized a sack full of
gold that was hidden amongst the tree's roots, and, lifting it up,
grumbled out, "Clumsy creatures, to cut off a bit of my beautiful beard,
of which I am so proud! I leave the cuckoos to pay you for what you
did." Saying this, he swung the sack across his shoulder, and went off,
without even casting a glance at the children.
Not long afterwards the two sisters went to angle in the brook, meaning
to catch fish for dinner. As they were drawing near the water they
perceived something, looking like a large grasshopper, springing towards
the stream, as if it were going in. They hurried up to see what it might
be, and found that it was the dwarf. "Where are you going?" said
Rose-Red. "Surely you will not jump into the water?"
"I'm not such a simpleton as that!" yelled the little man. "Don't you
see that a wretch of a fish is pulling me in?"
The dwarf had been sitting angling from the side of the stream when, by
ill-luck, the wind had entangled his beard in his line, and just
afterwards a big fish taking the bait, the unamiable little fellow had
not sufficient strength to pull it out; so the fish had the advantage,
and was dragging the dwarf after it. Certainly, he caught at every stalk
and spray near him, but that did not assist him greatly; he was forced
to follow all the twistings of the fish, and was perpetually in danger
of being drawn into the brook.
The girls arrived just in time. They caught hold of him firmly and
endeavored to untwist his beard from the line, but in vain; they were
too tightly entangled. There was nothing left but again to make use of
the scissors; so they were taken out, and the tangled portion was cut
off.
When the dwarf noticed what they were about, he exclaimed in a great
rage, "Is this how you damage my beard? Not content with making it
shorter before, you are now making it still smaller, and completely
spoiling it. I shall not ever dare show my face to my friends. I wish
you had missed your way before you took this road." Then he fetched a
sack of pearls that lay among the rushes, and, not saying another word,
hobbled off and disappeared behind a large stone.
Soon after this it chanced that the poor widow sent her children to the
town to purchase cotton, needles, ribbon, and tape. The way to the town
ran over a common, on which in every direction large masses of rocks
were scattered about. The children's attention was soon attracted to a
big bird that hovered in the air. They remarked that, after circling
slowly for a time, and gradually getting nearer to the ground, it all of
a sudden pounced down amongst a mass of rock. Instantly a heartrending
cry reached their ears, and, running quickly to the place, they saw,
with horror, that the eagle had seized their former acquaintance, the
dwarf, and was just about to carry him off. The kind children did not
hesitate for an instant. They took a firm hold of the little man, and
strove so stoutly with the eagle for possession of his contemplated
prey, that, after much rough treatment on both sides, the dwarf was left
in the hands of his brave little friends, and the eagle took to flight.
As soon as the little man had in some measure recovered from his alarm,
his small squeaky, cracked voice was heard saying, "Couldn't you have
held me more gently? See my little coat; you have rent and damaged it in
a fine manner, you clumsy, officious things!" Then he picked up a sack
of jewels, and slipped out of sight behind a piece of rock.
The maidens by this time were quite used to his ungrateful, ungracious
ways; so they took no notice of it, but went on their way, made their
purchases, and then were ready to return to their happy home.
On their way back, suddenly, once more they ran across their dwarf
friend. Upon a clear space he had turned out his sack of jewels, so
that he could count and admire them, for he had not imagined that
anybody would at so late an hour be coming across the common.
The setting sun was shining upon the brilliant stones, and their
changing hues and sparkling rays caused the children to pause to admire
them also.
"What are you gazing at?" cried the dwarf, at the same time becoming
red with rage; "and what are you standing there for, making ugly
faces?" It is probable that he might have proceeded in the same
complimentary manner, but suddenly a great growl was heard near by
them, and a big black bear joined the party. Up jumped the dwarf in
extremest terror, but could not get to his hiding-place, the bear was
too close to him; so he cried out in very evident anguish--
"Dear Mr. Bear, forgive me, I pray! I will render to you all my
treasure. Just see those precious stones lying there! Grant me my life!
What would you do with such an insignificant little fellow? You would
not notice me between your teeth. See, though, those two children,
they would be delicate morsels, and are as plump as partridges; I beg
of you to take them, good Mr. Bear, and let me go!"
But the bear would not be moved by his speeches. He gave the
ill-disposed creature a blow with his paw, and he lay lifeless on the
ground.
Meanwhile the maidens were running away, making off for home as well as
they could; but all of a sudden they were stopped by a well-known voice
that called out, "Snow-White, Rose-Red, stay! Do not fear. I will
accompany you."
The bear quickly came towards them, but, as he reached their side,
suddenly the bear-skin slipped to the ground, and there before them was
standing a handsome man, completely garmented in gold, who said--
"I am a king's son, who was enchanted by the wicked dwarf lying over
there. He stole my treasure, and compelled me to roam the woods
transformed into a big bear until his death should set me free.
Therefore he has only received a well-deserved punishment."
Some time afterwards Snow-White married the Prince, and Rose-Red his
brother.
They shared between them the enormous treasure which the dwarf had
collected in his cave.
The old mother spent many happy years with her children.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - THE TRAVELS OF TOM THUMB

There lived a tailor who had only one son, and he was extremely small,
not any larger than your thumb, and so was called Tom Thumb.
However, he was a courageous little fellow, and he told his father,
"Father, I am determined to go into the world to seek my fortune."
"Very well, my son," answered the old man, and taking a big darning
needle, he made a top to it of sealing wax, and gave it to Tom Thumb,
saying:
"There is a sword for you to use to defend yourself on your
journeyings."
Then the little fellow, desiring to dine once more with his parents,
popped into the kitchen to find out what his mother was preparing for
his last dinner at home. All the dishes were ready to be taken in, and
they were standing upon the hearth.
"What is it you have for dinner, dear mother?" he inquired.
"You can look for yourself," she replied.
Then Tom sprang up on to the hob, and peeped into all the dishes, but
over one he leant so far, that he was carried up by the steam through
the chimney, and then for some distance he floated on the smoke, but
after a while he fell upon the ground once more.
Now, at last, Tom Thumb was really out in the wide world, and he went on
cheerily, and after a time was engaged by a master tailor; but here the
food was not so good as his mother's, and it was not to his taste.
So he said, "Mistress, if you will not give me better things to eat, I
shall chalk upon your door, 'Too many potatoes, and not enough meat.
Good-bye, potato-mill.'"
"I should like to know what you want, you little grasshopper!" cried the
woman very angrily, and she seized a shred of cloth to strike him;
however, the tiny tailor popped under a thimble, and from it he peeped,
putting out his tongue at the mistress.
So she took up the thimble, meaning to catch him, but Tom Thumb hid
himself amongst the shreds of cloth, and when she began to search
through those, he slipped into a crack in the table, but put out his
head to laugh at her; so she tried again to hit him with the shred, but
did not succeed in doing so, for he slipped through the crack into the
table drawer.
At last, though, he was caught, and driven out of the house.
So the little fellow continued his travels, and presently entering a
thick forest, he encountered a company of robbers who were plotting to
steal the king's treasure.
As soon as they saw the little tailor, they said to themselves, "A
little fellow like this could creep through a keyhole, and aid us
greatly." So one called out--
"Hullo, little man, will you come with us to the king's treasury?
Certainly a Goliath like you could creep in with ease, and throw out the
coins to us."
After considering awhile, Tom Thumb consented, and accompanied them to
the king's treasury.
From top to bottom they inspected the door to discover a crack large
enough for him to get through, and soon found one. He was for going in
directly, but one of the sentinels happening to catch sight of him,
exclaimed: "Here is indeed an ugly spider; I will crush it with my
foot."
"Leave the poor creature alone," the other said; "it has not done you
any harm."
So Tom Thumb slipped through the crack, and made his way to the
treasury. Then he opened the window, and cast out the coins to the
robbers who were waiting below. While the little tailor was engaged in
this exciting employment, he heard the king coming to inspect his
treasure, so as quickly as possible he crept out of sight. The king
noticed that his treasure had been disarranged, and soon observed that
coins were missing: but he was utterly unable to think how they could
have been stolen, for the locks and bolts had not been tampered with,
and everything was well fastened.
On going from the treasury, he warned the two sentinels, saying--
"Be on the watch, some one is after the money," and quite soon, on Tom
Thumb setting to work again, they heard very clearly the coins ringing,
chink, chank, as they struck one against the other.
As quickly as possible they unfastened the building and went in, hoping
to take the thief.
But Tom Thumb was too quick for them, he sprang into a corner, and
hiding himself behind a coin, so that nothing of him was visible, he
made fun of the sentinels; crying "I am here!" Then when the men hurried
to the spot where the voice came from, he was no longer there, but from
a different place cried out: "Ha, Ha! here I am!"
So the sentinels kept jumping about, but so cleverly did Tom move from
one spot to another, that they were obliged to run around the whole
time, hoping to find somebody, until at length, quite tired out, they
went off.
Then Tomb Thumb went on with his work, and one after another he threw
all the coins out of the window, but the very last he sounded and rang
with all his might and springing nimbly upon it, so flew through the
window.
The robbers were loud in their praises.
"Indeed you are a brave fellow," they said, "will you be our captain?"
Tom Thumb, thanking them, declined this honor, for he was anxious to see
more of the world. Then the booty was apportioned out, but only a ducat
was given to the little tailor, for that was as much as he could carry.
So Tom girded on his sword again, and bidding farewell to the robbers,
continued his travels.
He tried to get work under various masters, but they would have nothing
to do with him, so after a while he took service at an inn. But the
maids there disliked him, for he was about everywhere, and saw all that
went on, without being seen himself; and he told their mistress of their
dishonest ways, of what was taken off the plates, and from out the
cellars.
So they threatened they would drown him, if they caught him, and
determined to do him some harm. Then, one day, a maid mowing in the
garden saw Tom Thumb running in and out between the blades of grass, so
she cut the grass, in great haste, just where he chanced to be, tied it
all in a bundle, and, without anyone knowing, threw it to the cows.
Then one big black cow took up a mouthful of grass directly, with Tom in
it, and swallowed it down; without doing him any damage, however.
But Tom did not approve of his position, for it was pitch dark down
there, with no light burning.
When milking time came, he shouted--
"Drip, drap, drop,
Will the milking soon stop?"
but the sound of the milk trickling into the pail prevented his voice
being heard.
Not long afterwards the master came into the shed, and said:
"I will have that cow killed to-morrow."
This put Tom Thumb into a great fright, and he called out loudly:
"Please let me out, here I am inside."
This the master heard plainly enough, but could not make out where the
voice came from.
"Where are you?" he inquired.
"In the black cow," was the reply.
However, the master could not understand what was meant, and so went
away.
The following morning the cow was killed, but fortunately in the cutting
up the knife did not touch Tom Thumb, who was put aside with the meat
that was to be made into sausages.
When the butcher began chopping, he cried as loudly as he could--
"Don't chop far, I am down beneath," but the chopper made so much noise,
that he attracted no attention.
It was indeed a terrible situation for poor Tom. But being in danger
brightens one's wits, and he sprang so nimbly, this way and that,
keeping clear of the chopper, that not a blow struck him, and he did not
get even a scratch.
However, he could not escape, there was no help for it, he was forced
into a skin with the sausage meat, so was compelled to make himself as
comfortable as might be. It was very close quarters, and besides that,
the sausages were suspended to smoke in the chimney, which was by no
means entertaining, and the time passed slowly.
When winter came, he was taken down for a guest's meal, and while the
hostess was slicing the sausage he had to be on his guard, lest if he
stretched out his head it might be cut off.
Watching his opportunity, at last he was able to jump out of the
sausage, and right glad was he to be once again in the company of his
fellow-men.
It was not very long, however, that he stayed in this house, where he
had been met by so many misfortunes, and again he set forth on his
travels, rejoicing in his freedom, but this did not long continue.
Swiftly running across the field came a fox, who, in an instant, had
snapped up poor little Tom.
"Oh, Mr. Fox," called out the little tailor, "it is I who am in your
throat; please let me out."
"Certainly," answered Reynard, "you are not a bit better than nothing at
all, you don't in the least satisfy me; make me a promise, that I shall
have the hens in your father's yard, and you shall regain your liberty."
"Willingly, you shall have all the hens; I make you a faithful promise,"
responded Tom Thumb.
So the fox coughed and set him free, and himself carried Tom home.
Then when the father had his dear little son once more he gave the fox
all his hens, with the greatest of pleasure.
"Here, father, I am bringing you a golden coin from my travels," said
the little fellow, and he brought out the ducat the thieves had
apportioned to him.
"But how was it that the fox was given all the poor little hens?"
"Foolish little one, don't you think your father would rather have you,
than all the hens he ever had in his yard?"

Grimm's Fairy Stories - THE FROG PRINCE

In the olden time, when wishing was having, there lived a King, whose
daughters were all beautiful; but the youngest was so exceedingly
beautiful that the Sun himself, although he saw her very, very often,
was delighted every time she came out into the sunshine.
Near the castle of this King was a large and gloomy forest, where in the
midst stood an old lime-tree, beneath whose branches splashed a little
fountain; so, whenever it was very hot, the King's youngest daughter ran
off into this wood, and sat down by the side of the fountain; and, when
she felt dull, would often divert herself by throwing a golden ball up
into the air and catching it again. And this was her favorite amusement.
Now, one day it happened that this golden ball, when the King's daughter
threw it into the air, did not fall down into her hand, but on to the
grass; and then it rolled right into the fountain. The King's daughter
followed the ball with her eyes, but it disappeared beneath the water,
which was so deep that she could not see to the bottom. Then she began
to lament, and to cry more loudly and more loudly; and, as she cried, a
voice called out, "Why weepest thou, O King's daughter? thy tears would
melt even a stone to pity." She looked around to the spot whence the
voice came, and saw a frog stretching his thick, ugly head out of the
water. "Ah! you old water-paddler," said she, "was it you that spoke? I
am weeping for my golden ball which bounced away from me into the
water."
"Be quiet, and do not cry," replied the Frog; "I can give thee good
assistance. But what wilt thou give me if I succeed in fetching thy
plaything up again?"
"What would you like, dear Frog?" said she. "My dresses, my pearls and
jewels, or the golden crown which I wear?"
The Frog replied, "Dresses, or jewels, or golden crowns, are not for me;
but if thou wilt love me, and let me be thy companion and playmate, and
sit at thy table, and eat from thy little golden plate, and drink out of
thy cup, and sleep in thy little bed,--if thou wilt promise me all these
things, then I will dive down and fetch up thy golden ball."
"Oh, I will promise you all," said she, "if you will only get me my
golden ball." But she thought to herself, "What is the silly Frog
chattering about? Let him stay in the water with his equals; he cannot
enter into society." Then the Frog, as soon as he had received her
promise, drew his head under the water and dived down. Presently he swam
up again with the golden ball in his mouth, and threw it on to the
grass. The King's daughter was full of joy when she again saw her
beautiful plaything; and, taking it up, she ran off immediately. "Stop!
stop!" cried the Frog; "take me with thee. I cannot run as thou canst."
But this croaking was of no avail; although it was loud enough, the
King's daughter did not hear it, but, hastening home, soon forgot the
poor Frog, who was obliged to leap back into the fountain.
The next day, when the King's daughter was sitting at table with her
father and all his courtiers, and was eating from her own little golden
plate, something was heard coming up the marble stairs, splish-splash,
splish-splash; and when it arrived at the top, it knocked at the door,
and a voice said--
"Open the door, thou youngest daughter of the King!"
So she arose and went to see who it was that called to her; but when she
opened the door and caught sight of the Frog, she shut it again very
quickly and with great passion, and sat down at the table, looking
exceedingly pale.
But the King perceived that her heart was beating violently, and asked
her whether it were a giant who had come to fetch her away who stood at
the door. "Oh, no!" answered she; "it is no giant, but an ugly Frog."
"What does the Frog want with you?" said the King.
"Oh, dear father, yesterday when I was playing by the fountain, my
golden ball fell into the water, and this Frog fetched it up again
because I cried so much: but first, I must tell you, he pressed me so
much, that I promised him he should be my companion. I never thought
that he could come out of the water, but somehow he has managed to jump
out, and now he wants to come in here."
At that moment there was another knock, and a voice said--
"King's daughter, youngest,
Open the door.
Hast thou forgotten
Thy promises made
At the fountain so clear
'Neath the lime-tree's shade?
King's daughter, youngest.
Open the door."
Then the King said, "What you have promised, that you must perform; go
and let him in." So the King's daughter went and opened the door, and
the Frog hopped in after her right up to her chair: and as soon as she
was seated, he said, "Lift me up;" but she hesitated so long that the
King had to order her to obey. And as soon as the Frog sat on the chair
he jumped on to the table and said, "Now push thy plate near me, that we
may eat together." And she did so, but as every one noticed, very
unwillingly. The Frog seemed to relish his dinner very much, but every
bit that the King's daughter ate nearly choked her, till at last the
Frog said, "I have satisfied my hunger, and feel very tired; wilt thou
carry me upstairs now into thy chamber, and make thy bed ready that we
may sleep together?" At this speech the King's daughter began to cry,
for she was afraid of the cold Frog, and dared not touch him; and
besides, he actually wanted to sleep in her own beautiful, clean bed!
But her tears only made the King very angry, and he said, "He who helped
you in the time of your trouble must not now be despised!" So she took
the Frog up with two fingers, and put him into a corner of her chamber.
But as she lay in her bed, he crept up to it, and said, "I am so very
tired that I shall sleep well; do take me up, or I will tell thy
father." This speech put the King's daughter into a terrible passion,
and catching the Frog up, she threw him with all her strength against
the wall, saying "Now will you be quiet, you ugly Frog!"
But as he fell he was changed from a Frog into a handsome Prince with
beautiful eyes, who after a little while became her dear companion and
betrothed. One morning, Henry, trusted servant of the Prince, came for
them with a carriage. When his master was changed into a frog, trusty
Henry had grieved so much that he had bound three iron bands around his
heart, for fear it should break with grief and sorrow. The faithful
Henry (who was also the trusty Henry) helped in the bride and
bridegroom, and placed himself in the seat behind, full of joy at his
master's release. They had not proceeded far when the Prince heard a
crack as if something had broken behind the carriage; so he put his head
out of the window and asked trusty Henry what was broken, and faithful
Henry answered, "It was not the carriage, my master, but an iron band
which I bound around my heart when it was in such grief because you were
changed into a frog."
Twice afterwards on the journey there was the same noise, and each time
the Prince thought that it was some part of the carriage that had given
way; but it was only the breaking of the bands which bound the heart of
the trusty Henry (who was also the faithful Henry), and who was
thenceforward free and happy.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - MOTHER HOLLE

There was once a widow who had two daughters--one of whom was pretty and
industrious, while the other was ugly and idle. But she was much fonder
of the ugly and idle one, because she was her own daughter; and the
other, who was a step-daughter, was obliged to do all the work, and be
the Cinderella of the house. Every day the poor girl had to sit by a
well, in the highway, and spin and spin till her fingers bled.
Now it happened that one day the shuttle was marked with her blood, so
she dipped it in the well, to wash the mark off; but it dropped out of
her hand and fell to the bottom. She began to weep, and ran to her
step-mother and told of the mishap. But she scolded her sharply, and was
so merciless as to say, "Since you have let the shuttle fall in, you
must fetch it out again."
So the girl went back to the well, and did not know what to do; and in
the sorrow of her heart she jumped into the well to get the shuttle. She
lost her senses; and when she awoke and came to herself again, she was
in a lovely meadow where the sun was shining and many thousands of
flowers were growing. Along this meadow she went, and at last came to a
baker's oven full of bread, and the bread cried out, "Oh, take me out!
take me out! or I shall burn; I have been baked a long time!" So she
went up to it, and took out all the loaves one after another with the
bread-shovel. After that she went on till she came to a tree covered
with apples, which called out to her, "Oh, shake me! shake me! we apples
are all ripe!" So she shook the tree till the apples fell like rain, and
went on shaking till they were all down, and when she had gathered them
into a heap, she went on her way.
At last she came to a little house, out of which an old woman peeped;
but she had such large teeth that the girl was frightened, and was about
to run away.
But the old woman called out to her, "What are you afraid of, dear
child? Stay with me; if you will do all the work in the house properly,
you shall be the better for it. Only you must take care to make my bed
well, and to shake it thoroughly till the feathers fly--for then there
is snow on the earth. I am Mother Holle."
As the old woman spoke so kindly to her, the girl took courage and
agreed to enter her service. She attended to everything to the
satisfaction of her mistress, and always shook her bed so vigorously
that the feathers flew about like snow-flakes. So she had a pleasant
life with her; never an angry word; and boiled or roast meat every day.
She stayed some time with Mother Holle, and then she became sad. At
first she did not know what was the matter with her, but found at length
that it was homesickness; although she was many times better off here
than at home, still she had a longing to be there. At last she said to
the old woman, "I have a longing for home; and however well off I am
down here, I cannot stay any longer; I must go up again to my own
people." Mother Holle said, "I am pleased that you long for your home
again, and as you have served me so truly, I myself will take you up
again." Thereupon she took her by the hand, and led her to a large door.
The door was opened, and just as the maiden was standing beneath the
doorway, a heavy shower of golden rain fell, and all the gold remained
sticking to her, so that she was completely covered with it.
"You shall have that because you are so industrious," said Mother Holle;
and at the same time she gave her back the shuttle which she had let
fall into the well. Thereupon the door closed, and the maiden found
herself up above upon the earth, not far from her mother's house.
And as she went into the yard the cock cried: "Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your
golden girl's come back to you!"
So she went in to her mother, and as she arrived thus covered with gold,
she was well received, both by her and her sister.
The girl told all that had happened to her; and as soon as the mother
heard how she had come by so much wealth, she was very anxious to obtain
the same good luck for the ugly and lazy daughter. She had to seat
herself by the well and spin; and in order that her shuttle might be
stained with blood, she stuck her hand into a thorn-bush and pricked her
finger. Then she threw her shuttle into the well, and jumped in after
it.
She came, like the other, to the beautiful meadow and walked along the
very same path. When she got to the oven the bread again cried, "Oh,
take me out! take me out! or I shall burn; I have been baked a long
time!" But the lazy thing answered, "As if I had any wish to make myself
dirty!" and on she went. Soon she came to the apple-tree, which cried,
"Oh, shake me! shake me! we apples are all ripe!" But she answered, "I
like that! one of you might fall on my head," and so went on.
When she came to Mother Holle's house she was not afraid, for she had
already heard of her big teeth, and she hired herself to her
immediately.
The first day she forced herself to work diligently, and obeyed Mother
Holle when she told her to do anything, for she was thinking of all the
gold that she would give her. But on the second day she began to be
lazy, and on the third day still more so, and then she would not get up
in the morning at all. Neither did she make Mother Holle's bed as she
ought, and did not shake it so as to make the feathers fly up. Mother
Holle was soon tired of this, and gave her notice to leave. The lazy
girl was willing enough to go, and thought that now the golden rain
would come. Mother Holle led her, too, to the great door; but while she
was standing beneath it, instead of the gold a big kettleful of pitch
was emptied over her. "That is the reward of your service," said Mother
Holle, and shut the door.
So the lazy girl went home; but she was quite covered with pitch, and
the cock by the well-side, as soon as he saw her, cried:
"Cock-a-doodle-doo! Your pitchy girl's come back to you." But the pitch
stuck fast to her, and could not be got off as long as she lived.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - RAPUNZEL

There were once a man and a woman who had long in in vain wished for a
child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire.
These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a
splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful
flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no
one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had
great power and was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman was
standing by this window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a
bed which was planted with the most beautiful rampion (rapunzel), and it
looked so fresh and green that she longed for it, and had the greatest
desire to eat some. This desire increased every day, and as she knew
that she could not get any of it, she quite pined away, and looked pale
and miserable. Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, "What ails you,
dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, "if I can't get some of the rampion which
is in the garden behind our house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who
loved her, thought, "Sooner than let your wife die, bring her some of
the rampion yourself, let it cost you what it will." In the twilight of
evening, he clambered down over the wall into the garden of the
enchantress, hastily clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his
wife. She at once made herself a salad of it, and ate it with much
relish. She, however, liked it so much, so very much, that the next day
she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any
rest, her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom
of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had
clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the
enchantress standing before him. "How can you dare," said she with angry
look, "to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief? You
shall suffer for it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy take the place of
justice. I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw
your rampion from the window, and felt such a longing for it that she
would have died if she had not got some to eat." Then the enchantress
allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him, "If the case be as
you say, I will allow you to take away with you as much rampion as you
will, only I make one condition, you must give me the child which your
wife will bring into the world; it shall be well treated, and I will
care for it like a mother." The man in his terror consented to
everything, and when the little one came to them, the enchantress
appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away
with her.
Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she
was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay
in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a
little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself
beneath this, and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me."
Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she
heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses,
wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair
fell twenty yards down, and the enchantress climbed up by it.
After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through
the forest and went by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so
charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her
solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The King's
son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but
none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply
touched his heart, that every day he went out into the forest and
listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw
that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair."
Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress
climbed up to her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will
for once try my fortune," said he, and the next day, when it began to
grow dark, he went to the tower and cried.
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair."
Immediately the hair fell down, and the King's son climbed up.
At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes
had never yet beheld came to her; but the King's son began to talk to
her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred
that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her.
Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him
for a husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought,
"He will love me more than old Dame Gothel does;" and she said yes, and
laid her hand in his. She said, "I will willingly go away with you, but
I do not know how to get down. Bring with you a skein of silk every time
that you come, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready
I will descend, and you will take me on your horse." They agreed that
until that time he should come to her every evening, for the old woman
came by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once
Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are
so much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's son--he is with
me in a moment." "Ah! you wicked child," cried the enchantress, "what do
I hear you say! I thought I had separated you from all the world, and
yet you have deceived me!" In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's
beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair
of scissors with the right, and snip, snip, they were cut off, and the
lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took
poor Rapunzel into a desert, where she had to live in great grief and
misery.
On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress in
the evening fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to the
hook of the window, and when the King's son came and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair,"
she let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find his
dearest Rapunzel above, but the enchantress, who gazed at him with
wicked and venomous looks. "Aha!" she cried mockingly. "You would fetch
your dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest;
the cat has got it, and will scratch out your eyes as well. Rapunzel is
lost to you; you will never see her more." The King's son was beside
himself with pain, and in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He
escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell pierced his
eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate nothing but
roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weep over the loss of
his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about I in misery for some years, and
at length came to the desert where Rapunzel lived in wretchedness. He
heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it,
and when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck and wept.
Two of her tears wetted his eyes, and they grew clear again, and he
could see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom, where he was
joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and
contented.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - RAPUNZEL

There were once a man and a woman who had long in in vain wished for a
child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire.
These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a
splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful
flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no
one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had
great power and was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman was
standing by this window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a
bed which was planted with the most beautiful rampion (rapunzel), and it
looked so fresh and green that she longed for it, and had the greatest
desire to eat some. This desire increased every day, and as she knew
that she could not get any of it, she quite pined away, and looked pale
and miserable. Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, "What ails you,
dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, "if I can't get some of the rampion which
is in the garden behind our house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who
loved her, thought, "Sooner than let your wife die, bring her some of
the rampion yourself, let it cost you what it will." In the twilight of
evening, he clambered down over the wall into the garden of the
enchantress, hastily clutched a handful of rampion, and took it to his
wife. She at once made herself a salad of it, and ate it with much
relish. She, however, liked it so much, so very much, that the next day
she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any
rest, her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom
of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had
clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the
enchantress standing before him. "How can you dare," said she with angry
look, "to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief? You
shall suffer for it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy take the place of
justice. I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw
your rampion from the window, and felt such a longing for it that she
would have died if she had not got some to eat." Then the enchantress
allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him, "If the case be as
you say, I will allow you to take away with you as much rampion as you
will, only I make one condition, you must give me the child which your
wife will bring into the world; it shall be well treated, and I will
care for it like a mother." The man in his terror consented to
everything, and when the little one came to them, the enchantress
appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away
with her.
Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she
was twelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay
in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a
little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself
beneath this, and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair to me."
Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she
heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses,
wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair
fell twenty yards down, and the enchantress climbed up by it.
After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through
the forest and went by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so
charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her
solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The King's
son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but
none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply
touched his heart, that every day he went out into the forest and
listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw
that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair."
Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress
climbed up to her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will
for once try my fortune," said he, and the next day, when it began to
grow dark, he went to the tower and cried.
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair."
Immediately the hair fell down, and the King's son climbed up.
At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes
had never yet beheld came to her; but the King's son began to talk to
her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred
that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her.
Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him
for a husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought,
"He will love me more than old Dame Gothel does;" and she said yes, and
laid her hand in his. She said, "I will willingly go away with you, but
I do not know how to get down. Bring with you a skein of silk every time
that you come, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready
I will descend, and you will take me on your horse." They agreed that
until that time he should come to her every evening, for the old woman
came by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once
Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are
so much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's son--he is with
me in a moment." "Ah! you wicked child," cried the enchantress, "what do
I hear you say! I thought I had separated you from all the world, and
yet you have deceived me!" In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's
beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair
of scissors with the right, and snip, snip, they were cut off, and the
lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took
poor Rapunzel into a desert, where she had to live in great grief and
misery.
On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress in
the evening fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to the
hook of the window, and when the King's son came and cried,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel,
Let down your hair,"
she let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find his
dearest Rapunzel above, but the enchantress, who gazed at him with
wicked and venomous looks. "Aha!" she cried mockingly. "You would fetch
your dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest;
the cat has got it, and will scratch out your eyes as well. Rapunzel is
lost to you; you will never see her more." The King's son was beside
himself with pain, and in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He
escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell pierced his
eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate nothing but
roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weep over the loss of
his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about I in misery for some years, and
at length came to the desert where Rapunzel lived in wretchedness. He
heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it,
and when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck and wept.
Two of her tears wetted his eyes, and they grew clear again, and he
could see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom, where he was
joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and
contented.

Grimm's Fairy Stories - THE SIX SWANS

A King was once hunting in a large wood, and pursued his game so hotly
that none of his courtiers could follow him. But when evening approached
he stopped, and looking around him perceived that he had lost himself.
He sought a path out of the forest but could not find one, and presently
he saw an old woman, with a nodding head, who came up to him. "My good
woman," said he to her, "can you not show me the way out of the forest?"
"Oh, yes, my lord King," she replied; "I can do that very well, but upon
one condition, which if you do not fulfil, you will never again get out
of the wood, but will die of hunger."
"What, then, is this condition?" asked the King.
"I have a daughter," said the old woman, "who is as beautiful as any one
you can find in die whole world, and well deserves to be your bride.
Now, if you will make her your Queen, I will show you your way out of
the wood." In the anxiety of his heart, the King consented, and the old
woman led him to her cottage, where the daughter was sitting by the
fire. She received the King as if she had expected him, and he saw at
once that she was very beautiful, but yet she did not quite please him,
for he could not look at her without a secret shuddering. However, he
took the maiden upon his horse, and the old woman showed him the way,
and the King arrived safely at his palace, where the wedding was to be
celebrated.
The King had been married once before, and had seven children by his
first wife, six boys and a girl, whom he loved above everything else in
the world. He became afraid, soon, that the step-mother might not treat
his children very well, and might even do them some great injury, so he
took them away to a lonely castle which stood in the midst of a forest.
The castle was so entirely hidden, and the way to it was so difficult to
discover, that he himself could not have found it if a wise woman had
not given him a ball of cotton which had the wonderful property, when he
threw it before him, of unrolling itself and showing him the right path.
The King went, however, so often to see his dear children, that the
Queen, noticing his absence, became inquisitive, and wished to know what
he went to fetch out of the forest. So she gave his servants a great
quantity of money, and they disclosed to her the secret, and also told
her of the ball of cotton which alone could show her the way. She had
now no peace until she discovered where this ball was concealed, and
then she made some fine silken shirts, and, as she had learnt of her
mother, she sewed within each a charm. One day soon after, when the King
was gone out hunting, she took the little shirts and went into the
forest, and the cotton showed her the path. The children, seeing some
one coming in the distance, thought it was their dear father, and ran
out full of joy. Then she threw over each of them a shirt, that, as it
touched their bodies, changed them into Swans, which flew away over the
forest. The Queen then went home quite contented, and thought she was
free of her step-children; but the little girl had not met her with the
brothers, and the Queen did not know of her.
The following day the King went to visit his children, but he found only
the Maiden. "Where are your brothers?" asked he. "Ah, dear father," she
replied, "they are gone away and have left me alone"; and she told him
how she had looked out of the window and seen them changed into Swans,
which had flown over the forest; and then she showed him the feathers
which they had dropped in the courtyard, and which she had collected
together. The King was much grieved, but he did not think that his wife
could have done this wicked deed, and, as he feared the girl might also
be stolen away, he took her with him. She was, however, so much afraid
of the step-mother, that she begged him not to stop more than one night
in the castle.
The poor Maiden thought to herself, "This is no longer my place; I will
go and seek my brothers"; and when night came she escaped and went quite
deep into the wood. She walked all night long, and a great part of the
next day, until she could go no further from weariness. Just then she
saw a rough-looking hut, and going in, she found a room with six little
beds, but she dared not get into one, so crept under, and laying herself
upon the hard earth, prepared to pass the night there. Just as the sun
was setting, she heard a rustling, and saw six white Swans come flying
in at the window. They settled on the ground and began blowing one
another until they had blown all their feathers off, and their swan's
down slipped from them like a shirt. Then the Maiden knew them at once
for her brothers, and gladly crept out from under the bed, and the
brothers were not less glad to see their sister, but their joy was of
short duration. "Here you must not stay," said they to her; "this is a
robbers' hiding-place; if they should return and find you here, they
would murder you."
"Can you not protect me, then?" inquired the sister.
"No," they replied; "for we can only lay aside our swan's feathers for a
quarter of an hour each evening, and for that time we regain our human
form, but afterwards we resume our changed appearance."
Their sister then asked them, with tears, "Can you not be restored
again?"
"Oh, no," replied they; "the conditions are too difficult. For six long
years you must neither speak nor laugh, and during that time you must
sew together for us six little shirts of star-flowers, and should there
fall a single word from your lips, then all your labor will be in vain."
Just as the brothers finished speaking, the quarter of an hour elapsed,
and they all flew out of the window again like Swans.
The little sister, however, made a solemn resolution to rescue her
brothers, or die in the attempt; and she left the cottage, and,
penetrating deep into the forest, passed the night amid the branches of
a tree. The next morning she went out and collected the star-flowers to
sew together. She had no one to converse with and for laughing she had
no spirits, so there up in the tree she sat, intent upon her work.
After she had passed some time there, it happened that the King of that
country was hunting in the forest, and his huntsmen came beneath the
tree on which the Maiden sat. They called to her and asked, "Who art
thou?" But she gave no answer. "Come down to us," continued they; "we
will do thee no harm." She simply shook her head, and when they pressed
her further with questions, she threw down to them her gold necklace,
hoping therewith to satisfy them. They did not, however, leave her, and
she threw down her girdle, but in vain! and even her rich dress did not
make them desist. At last the huntsman himself climbed the tree and
brought down the Maiden, and took her before the King.
The King asked her, "Who art thou? What dost thou upon that tree?" But
she did not answer; and then he questioned her in all the languages that
he knew, but she remained dumb to all, as a fish. Since, however, she
was so beautiful, the King's heart was touched, and he conceived for her
a strong affection. Then he put around her his cloak, and, placing her
before him on his horse, took her to his castle. There he ordered rich
clothing to be made for her, and, although her beauty shone as the
sunbeams, not a word escaped her. The King placed her by his side at
table, and there her dignified mien and manners so won upon him, that he
said, "This Maiden will I marry, and no other in the world;" and after
some days he wedded her.
Now, the King had a wicked step-mother, who was discontented with his
marriage, and spoke evil of the young Queen. "Who knows whence the wench
comes?" said she. "She who cannot speak is not worthy of a King." A year
after, when the Queen brought her first-born into the world, the old
woman took him away. Then she went to the King and complained that the
Queen was a murderess. The King, however, would not believe it, and
suffered no one to do any injury to his wife, who sat composedly sewing
at her shirts and paying attention to nothing else. When a second child
was born, the false stepmother used the same deceit, but the King again
would not listen to her words, saying, "She is too pious and good to act
so; could she but speak and defend herself, her innocence would come to
light." But when again, the old woman stole away the third child, and
then accused the Queen, who answered not a word to the accusation, the
King was obliged to give her up to be tried, and she was condemned to
suffer death by fire.
When the time had elapsed, and the sentence was to be carried out, it
happened that the very day had come round when her dear brothers should
be set free; the six shirts were also ready, all but the last, which yet
wanted the left sleeve. As she was led to the scaffold, she placed the
shirts upon her arm, and just as she had mounted it, and the fire was
about to be kindled, she looked around, and saw six Swans come flying
through the air. Her heart leapt for joy as she perceived her deliverers
approaching, and soon the Swans, flying towards her, alighted so near
that she was enabled to throw over them the shirts, and as soon as she
had done so, their feathers fell off and the brothers stood up alive and
well; but the youngest was without his left arm, instead of which he had
a swan's wing. They embraced and kissed each other, and the Queen, going
to the King, who was thunderstruck, began to say, "Now may I speak, my
dear husband, and prove to you that I am innocent and falsely accused;"
and then she told him how the wicked woman had stolen away and hidden
her three children. When she had concluded, the King was overcome with
joy, and the wicked stepmother was led to the scaffold and bound to the
stake and burnt to ashes. The King and Queen for ever after lived in
peace and prosperity with their six brothers.