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Read Ebook: Fairy Tales From All Nations by Montalba Anthony R Anthony Reubens Doyle Richard Illustrator

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r me further," said the glow-worm.--"For four long months the billows bore the child, until he reached the shore of a far and distant land, where they left him on the strand. A stork came proudly stalking by,--well pleased when he such prize did spy; for by the garment green deceived, a tree-frog he the child believed. And he resolved the morsel rare to carry home unto his wife, who loved almost as her life, such choice and tender fare. He took him in his fine long beak, and with him mounted in the air; but had not travelled far nor long, when he beheld an eagle strong flying towards him in might; and being somewhat of a coward, surprised at this event untoward, his bill he opened in a fright,--and down the elfin child from high fell to the earth again.

"Why dost thou start as if some pain shot through thee? Why on thy breast are thy small hands pressed?"

The boy replied:--

"I feel an icy chill through all my members thrill. It must have been a dream, but unto me doth seem that I had such a fall one day,--and such a piercing blast right through my breast then passed, its very memory takes my breath away."

Then the glow-worm said:--

"Oft we mistake some vision vain for life's reality,--and view the wild creations of our brain as things long past but true. But listen, now, while I conclude my tale. Thou think'st perhaps the child, in falling, his limbs would break or dislocate; but as a feather would descend, light fell that child on the foliage green, and not a tender leaf was seen beneath his weight to bend. Giddy with spinning through the air, and breathless for awhile he lay; but soon to sense he did awaken, and found that he no harm had taken. Above his head, full, bright, and red, a strawberry hung, green leaves among, and its fragrance o'er him shed. Whether the child was of wit bereft, or that, deprived of the starry spark, he had fasted so long in the stork's bill dark, that hunger did his sense betray, is more than I can think or say; but the berry to him seemed ruddy and bright, as if woven with a web of light. This when the foolish elf-child saw, he strove with all his might to draw the unwholesome earth-fruit to the ground, which he no easy labour found; then round his little arms he threw, and to his lips the fruit he drew and sucked its ruby juice. A weary task the boy did find, to penetrate the tough hard rind; then for a second's space he drained the nectar which the fruit contained,--one hundredth part at least he drank,--and mastered by its potency, upon the earth he sank.

"But alas! all was now lost, that earthly food was unto him fell poison. Soon each little limb unseemly swelled and spread. His floating golden locks, as fine as the slight thread that spiders twine, became as coarse as hay; and every nerve and sinew grew thick and unsightly to the view. The berry's power had changed him into a child of man; and he now began to scream and cry and make such direful noises, as would have drowned the united sound of a thousand elfin voices."

"Ah woe is me!" exclaimed Julius, sobbing; "if I had not so madly sucked the deadly juice of that coarse berry, I still should feed on the perfumed air, and never have known vile human fare."

Then the glow-worm, greatly excited, whispered to him:--

"Know, child beloved, I am thy mother:--the elfin queen, entranced with joy at finding thee, dear human boy! Alas! that thou shouldst so gigantic be and I so very small, that we cannot rush into each other's arms to seal the charms of meeting by a kiss! Thou bearest the light upon thy brow that dull-eyed mortals cannot see; but we have found thee, child, and now from the magic thrall both we and those shall soon be free.

"List, and hear me, while I tell how thou may'st unbind the spell. First, thou must the white cross find; which, when withdrawn from us by Heaven, was to a holy hermit given. Wandering in the north, he bore it,--toiling in the south, he wore it,--whilst many a wonder by its power he wrought: and when his pious mission the holy man had ended, he took it to a church where as a relic 'tis suspended. The church full often hast thou seen when wandering in the forest green; and thither must thou go this night, nor sound nor sight must thy heart affright, and nought must make thee in thy purpose falter,--but boldly take the cross from the high altar. Nought of evil shall come to thee--'tis only fear that can undo thee; for the Butterfly King will strive, from fright, to make thee turn again, and all thy hopes our race to right, by magic to render vain. The cross hangs to a rosary, and a lamp burns before it unceasingly. Now, off to thy work without delay, and to the chapel gate on thy steps we will wait, to light thee on thy way."

Then up sprang Julius joyously. "How light feels my bosom, my heart how strong!--'tis as if I had known this all along. Hurrah! I'm the Elfin King. Little care I for the false butterfly. The white cross from the church I'll quickly bring. Come, light me, light me on the track!--triumphant soon you will see me back!"

Then his mother, attended by all the other glow-worms, lighted him on his way, and he followed with bounding steps. They drew up outside the church-door whilst he entered alone; cold blasts blowing down upon him from the lofty, pale, glimmering dome. Onward he went without fear. A great hideous bat fluttered round his head twittering: "Return; go not to the altar high, for if to spurn my threat thou dare, I will stick my claws into thy hair, and tear thy locks out one by one, until with pain thou shalt cry and moan, and thy curly head shall be bald as a stone."

"For this coarse straw I little care, soon I shall have much finer hair," said Julius;--and on he went cheerfully.

Next came a great black owl, with very sharp beak and claws, and sparkling eyes. He also fluttered round Julius, till the tips of his frightful wings scratched the boy's forehead, whilst he screeched aloud: "Return, return, go quickly back, else thy blue eyes I will claw and hack till thou shalt cry in agony, and blinded thou shalt be."

"My eyes are not so very fine; I shall soon have some that will softer shine," answered Julius, as he approached the altar before which stood the undying lamp.

Then suddenly up rose a pale rattling skeleton, round whose scraggy neck hung the rosary with the white cross; and as the spectre glared at him from its eyeless sockets, it said with a hollow voice: "Forbear, forbear, audacious boy! Ere that cross thy prize can be, thou must conquer it from me. I am Death, the strong, the mighty; no mortal yet has vanquished me."

Julius shrank, and for a moment hesitated; but he heard his mother whisper from the church-door: "Away with fear, 'tis all delusion, magic art and vain illusion. Fearlessly upon him look--thy gaze the phantom cannot brook; by thy mild look and gentle eye, thou shalt win the victory. Seize the cross and banish fear, the spectre so shall disappear."

Julius then regained courage; he rushed up to the skeleton and grasped the cross! Instantly the phantom vanished, and all was still around him. He returned thoughtfully and without running. The elves were waiting for him at the door, and lighted him back to the place whence they had come. He then set up the cross on a little mossy hillock; and all the glow-worms formed themselves into a circle round it, and prayed and sang songs of gratitude,--which, however, were inaudible to Julius.

His mother then seated herself on the tip of his ear, and whispered: "Ere our deliverance full can be, thou must once more become as we. The charmed drink already in thy veins is working. Four elements it contains: the sound of my voice, the forest's cool air, the fragrance of the flowers by night, and the brightly-coloured light which thou didst so eagerly inhale whilst we were dancing round thee. If that thou dost desire once more thy coarse fat body to restore to its once delicate form, then know, thou must henceforth to eat forego, save of the rays from the bright stars beaming, save of the sweets from the young flowers streaming. Now, sleep in peace, and by to-morrow's light thy limbs will be more delicate and slight."

Julius stretched himself on the moss, and slept. The next morning he did not waken until it was late; and then he felt himself so wonderfully light that he fancied he must be able to jump as high as the heavens. In order to try his strength, he made a spring, intending to clear a little ant-heap which he mistook for a hill; but he fell in the midst of it, and had great difficulty in extricating himself, so small had he already become. He ate nothing all that day; and at night, was lighted to bed by the glow-worms who danced round him whilst he slept.

On the second day he had already become so diminutive that he was obliged to stand on tip-toe to smell a yellow primrose. When he awoke on the third morning, he saw high in the heavens the sun with its golden disk surrounded by silver-white rays. But it did not dazzle him in the least, let him look at it as steadfastly as he would; and, to his great surprise, he observed an entirely green rainbow which stretched down from it to the earth. He went close to it; and then discovered that the rainbow was only a thick stem, which he grasped with both hands, and by a great effort shook,--when behold! the sun moved a little out of its place. He could not help laughing at himself; for he now perceived that what he had taken for the yellow sun with the white rays and the green rainbow, was only a large daisy on its stalk.

He had now diminished to the proper dimensions of an elf. When evening came, therefore, all the glow-worms assembled round him on the moss to swear fealty to him. The peers of the realm brought with them a crown of pure star-light ore, very delicately and tastefully wrought, with which they solemnly crowned Julius, and no sooner was the crown placed on his head, than in a moment, as if by magic touch, they were all changed into little graceful elves, and on the brow of each was a star. They then took the oath of fidelity, and Julius swore to maintain the constitution. This done, the rejoicings began, and they shouted and huzzaed until the noise was as great as that which the grass makes when it is growing in the sweet spring time.

Julius and his mother embraced and kissed each other. She could not repeat too often how pretty and slight he was, and how very much he resembled his father:--and then she shed oceans of tears for her murdered husband.

The elves rejoiced the whole night through; but when the morning dawned, they said to each other with some uneasiness: "How are we to get back to India, to our beautiful native land?" Then a light breeze murmured amongst the branches, and shook down a hundred-leaved rose, so that all its delicate curved petals were scattered to the ground--and a voice was heard, saying:

"There your carriages, light as air, you to the spicy east shall bear,--and the cross you shall find in your own bright land, already borne there by an unseen hand."

All the elves now seated themselves in the rose leaves,--Julius and his mother and the court occupying the finest. Then a gentle zephyr sprang up; which raised all the rose leaves into the air, and wafted them softly in the morning dawn home to the east,--the elves singing:--

To India, to India, the land of our birth! Where the zephyrs blow lightly, And the flowers glow brightly, And the atmosphere scent-laden floats o'er the earth; Where under the wide-spreading leaves we find shelter, Nor care how winds whistle, nor how the storms pelter. Over our heads Their green roof spreads--

THE TWO MISERS.

A miser living in Kufa had heard that in Bassora also there dwelt a Miser--more miserly than himself, to whom he might go to school, and from whom he might learn much. He forthwith journeyed thither; and presented himself to the great master as a humble commencer in the Art of Avarice, anxious to learn, and under him to become a student. "Welcome!" said the Miser of Bassora; "we will straight go into the market to make some purchase." They went to the baker.

"Hast thou good bread?"

"Good, indeed, my masters,--and fresh and soft as butter." "Mark this, friend," said the man of Bassora to the one of Kufa, "--butter is compared with bread as being the better of the two: as we can only consume a small quantity of that, it will also be the cheaper,--and we shall therefore act more wisely, and more savingly too, in being satisfied with butter."

They then went to the butter-merchant, and asked if he had good butter.

"Good, indeed,--and flavoury and fresh as the finest olive oil," was the answer.

"Mark this also,"--said the host to his guest; "oil is compared with the very best butter, and, therefore, by much ought to be preferred to the latter."

They next went to the oil vendor:--

"Have you good oil?"

"The very best quality,--white and transparent as water," was the reply.

"Mark that too," said the Miser of Bassora to the one of Kufa; "by this rule water is the very best. Now, at home I have a pail-full, and most hospitably therewith will I entertain you." And indeed on their return nothing but water did he place before his guest,--because they had learnt that water was better than oil, oil better than butter, butter better than bread.

"God be praised!" said the Miser of Kufa,--"I have not journeyed this long distance in vain!"

PRINCE CHAFFINCH.

There was once a king and queen who ruled with the greatest kindness and simplicity imaginable; and their subjects were just such good folks as themselves, so that both parties agreed very well. As, however, there is no condition in the world which has not its cares and sorrows, so also this king and queen were not free from them; in fact, the peace of their lives was considerably disturbed by a fairy, who had patronised them from their earliest years. Fairy Grumble-do--that was her name--was incessantly finding fault, would repeat the same words a hundred times a day, and grumbled at every thing that was doing, and at all that had been done. Setting aside this little failing, she was in all other respects the best soul in the world, and it gave her the greatest satisfaction when she could oblige or serve anybody.

The union of the royal pair had hitherto proved childless, but whenever they besought Fairy Grumble-do to give them children, she invariably replied:--"Children! what do you want children for? To hear them squalling from morning till night, till you, as well as I, will be ready to jump out of our skins with the noise? What's the use of children? Nobody knows what to do with them; they only bring care and trouble!"

Some such remarks were all the king and queen got for their entreaties; and the fairy's ill-humour, and the snuffling tone in which she uttered these speeches made them quite unbearable. The good king and queen, however, never lost their patience, so that at last the fairy lost hers, and, in a pet, she all of a sudden gratified them with seven princes at a birth.

The queen remarked in her usual mild and quiet manner, that she had now a great many children, to which Fairy Grumble-do answered, snarlingly:--"Well, you wished for children, Madam queen, and now you have got them according to your wish, and in order that you may have enough of them, I shall just double the number."

No sooner said than done, and the queen brought into the world seven more princes at a birth. The royal pair were now quite in trouble; fourteen princes of the blood are, in fact, no joke; for however rich one may be, fourteen princes to nurse, educate, and establish handsomely, costs a good bit of money. Fairy Grumble-do was quite right there; fourteen princes do require a good deal of waiting on, and so she found plenty to do all day, with finding fault, and scolding first this attendant, then that nursemaid, then this servant, or that preceptor; and when she once got into the children's apartment, no one could hear himself speak, for the noise she made. Still at bottom she meant very kindly, and she promised the anxious queen that she would take good care of the princes, and one day provide for them all. Those old times were very good ones, and things were managed in royal residences with great simplicity. The young princes played all day with the children of the towns-people, because they went to the same school with them, and no one had a word to say against it, which would hardly be the case now-a-days, for kings and everybody else are grown much grander than they were then.

Quite close to the palace dwelt an honest charcoal-burner, who lived in his little cottage contentedly on what he earned by the sale of his charcoal. All his neighbours esteemed him as the worthiest man in the world, and the king himself had great confidence in his capacity, and would often ask his counsel in matters of government. He was called the coal-man throughout all the country, and no one within ten miles round would have any coals but from him, so that he had to serve every household, even those of the nobility and the fairies. Wherever he carried his coals, he was a favourite, and even little children were not afraid of him, and no one ever said to them, "Behave prettily, else the charcoal-burner will take you away." After working all day at his business, he went to his little cottage at night to rest, and to enjoy his freedom, for he was sole master in the house. His wife had been long dead, and had left him only one little daughter, called Gracious; for she was the prettiest creature in the world.

He loved this child beyond all measure; and, indeed, not without reason, for a prettier little maiden could not be found on earth; in spite of the coal-smoke that enveloped her, and her poor clothing, she always appeared charming and agreeable, and no one could help loving her on account of her wonderful amiability. The king's youngest son, little Prince Chaffinch, who was as sprightly as he was pretty, was extremely attached to Gracious, preferred her to all the other children of his acquaintance, and would play with no one but her, so that they were always seen together, and indeed, they could not live without one another. Meanwhile the worthy coal-man, who felt old age approaching, grew very anxious about the fate of Gracious, after he should have ceased to live; for the partiality of the king for him did not seem to him sufficient to put him at ease about her. "The king," he would say to himself, as he pondered on the subject, "has a large family of his own, and is obliged to ask so much of the fairy for his own necessities, that he surely will not have courage to put in a good word for my child. Even if he were to promise to do so, I should not depend on him. For"--thus he ever concluded his self-conferences, "the poor king, is in fact, worse off than I am; he has fourteen to provide for; I only one. His are princes; mine is only a poor burgher maid. Mine therefore will be easier to provide for. A poor girl like her can manage to get along in the world; she stands alone; but a poor prince never; hundreds hang about him, draining him, and consuming all his substance." Now, after thinking it over and over, he grew quite unhappy at heart, and he knew not what to do. So he went one day, head and heart full of care, to a very beneficent fairy, who had always behaved very kindly to him. She was called Fairy Bonbon; she it was, who, in order to please epicures, both small and great, invented those sweets which now bear her name. When the good fairy saw the coal-man in such trouble, she asked him what ailed him; and after he had given her a highly sensible reply, she promised him in good earnest, that she would take Gracious under her own care, and desired him to bring the child to her the following Sunday.

The coal-man obeyed punctually, and when the time came he made little Gracious put on her best clothes, and the new coloured little shoes he had bought for her the day before, and set off with his dear little daughter. Gracious skipped before him, then ran back to him, and took hold of his hand, saying:--"We are going to the castle, we are going to the castle!" for her father had not told her anything further about it.

When they arrived, Fairy Bonbon received them very kindly, but notwithstanding all was so fine in the castle, and that she had so many bonbons and other nice things, Gracious could not be happy when her father went away and left her behind. For the first time in her life she began to cry, and could scarcely leave off again. This touched the fairy extremely, so that she grew quite fond of Gracious, and all who were present said:--"My daughter would not cry so if she were obliged to part from me." But in time little Gracious became reconciled to her new residence, and was so obedient and docile that the good fairy Bonbon never had occasion to reprove her, nor even to tell her twice of the same thing, so that she took great delight in her.

When her father came to visit her, the pretty child always ran to meet him, and threw herself into his arms without fearing to soil the fine clothes which the fairy had given her. After kissing and caressing her dear papa to her heart's content, she always inquired after her friend, Prince Chaffinch, and sent him her best bonbons and toys. The coal-man always carried them very conscientiously to the prince, who never failed to send his thanks and a message to say how earnestly he longed to see her once again.

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