How Cats Came to PurrBY JOHN BENNETTA Boy having a Pet Cat which he Wished to Feed, Said to Her, “Come, Cat, Drink this Dish of Cream; it will Keep your Fur as Soft as Silk, and Make you Purr like a Coffee-Mill.”He had no sooner said this than the Cat, with a Great Glare of her Green Eyes, bristled her Tail like a Gun-Swab and went over the Back Fence, head first—pop!—as Mad as a Wet Hen.And this is how she came to do so:The story is an old one—very, very old. It may be Persian; it may be not: that is of very little moment. It is so old that if all the nine lives of all the cats that have ever lived in the world were set up together in a line, the other end of it would just reach back to the time when this occurred.“the cat that ground the coffee in the king’s kitchen”And this is the story:Many, many years ago, in a country which was quite as far from anywhere else as the entire distance thither and back, there was a huge cat that ground the coffee in the King’s kitchen, and otherwise assisted with the meals.This cat was, in truth, the actual and very father of all subsequent cats, and his name was Sooty Will, for his hair was as black as a night in a coal-hole. He was ninety years old, and his mustaches were like whisk-brooms. But the most singular thing about him was that in all his life he had never once purred nor humped up his back, although his master often stroked him. The fact was that he never had learned to purr, nor had any reason, so far as he knew, for humping up his back. And being the father of all the cats, there was no one to tell him how. It remained for him to acquire a reason, and from his example to devise a habit which cats have followed from that time forth, and no doubt will forever follow.The King of the country had long been at war with one of his neighbors, but one morning he sent back a messenger to say that he had beaten his foeman at last, and that he was coming home for an early breakfast as hungry as three bears. “Have batter-cakes and coffee,” he directed, “hot, and plenty of ’em!”At that the turnspits capered and yelped with glee, for batter-cakes and coffee are not cooked upon spits, and so they were free to sally forth into the city streets and watch the King’s homecoming in a grand parade.But the cat sat down on his tail in the corner and looked cross. “Scat!” said he, with an angry caterwaul. “It is not fair that you should go and that I should not.”“Oh, yes, it is,” said the gleeful turnspits; “turn and turn about is fair play: you saw the rat that was killed in the parlor.”“Turn about fair play, indeed!” cried the cat. “Then all of you get to your spits; I am sure that is turn about!”“Nay,” said the turnspits, wagging their tailsand laughing. “That is over and over again, which is not fair play. ’Tis the coffee-mill that is turn and turn about. So turn about to your mill, Sooty Will; we are off to see the King!”“turning hand-springs, head-springs, and heel-springs as they went”With that they pranced out into the court-yard, turning hand-springs, head-springs, and heel-springs as they went, and, after giving three hearty and vociferous cheers in a grand chorus at the bottom of the garden, went capering away for their holiday.The cat spat at their vanishing heels, sat down on his tail in the chimney-corner, and was very glum indeed.Just then the cook looked in from the pantry. “Hullo!” he said gruffly. “Come, hurry up the coffee!” That was the way he always gave his orders.“‘hullo!’ he said gruffly.‘come, hurry up the coffee!’”The black cat’s whiskers bristled. He turned to the mill with a fierce frown, his long tail going to and fro like that of a tiger in its lair; for Sooty Will had a temper like hot gunpowder, that was apt to go offsizz,whizz,bang! and no one to save the pieces. Yet, at least while the cook was by, he turned the mill furiously, as if with a right good-will.Meantime, out in the city a glorious day came on. The sun went buzzing up the pink-and-yellow sky with a sound like that of a walking-doll’s works, or of a big Dutch clock behind a door; banners waved from the castled heights, and bugles sang from every tower; the city gates rang with the cheers of the enthusiastic crowd. Up from cellars, down from lofts, off work-benches, and out at the doors of their masters’ shops, dodging the thwacks of their masters’ straps, “pop-popping” like corks from the necks of so many bottles, came apprentices, shop-boys, knaves and scullions, crying: “God save the King! Hurrah! Hurrah! Masters and work may go to Rome; our tasks shall wait on our own sweet wills; ’t is holiday when the King comes home. God save the King! Hurrah!”Then came the procession. There were first three regiments of trumpeters, all blowing different tunes; then fifteen regiments of mounted infantry on coal-black horses, forty squadrons of green-and-blue dragoons, and a thousand drummersand fifers in scarlet and blue and gold, making a thundering din with their rootle-te-tootle-te-tootle-te-rootle; and pretty well up to the front in the ranks was the King himself, bowing and smiling to the populace, with his hand on his breast; and after him the army, all in shining armor, just enough pounded to be picturesque, miles on miles of splendid men, all bearing the trophies of glorious war, and armed with lances and bows and arrows, falchions, morgensterns, martels-de-fer, and other choice implements of justifiable homicide, and the reverse, such as hautboys and sackbuts and accordions and dudelsacks and Scotch bagpipes—a glorious sight!a part of the grand processionAnd, as has been said before, the city gates rang with the cheers of the crowd, crimson banners waved over the city’s pinnacled summits, and bugles blew, trumpets brayed, and drums beat until it seemed that wild uproar and rich display had reached its high millennium.The black cat turned the coffee-mill. “My oh! my oh!” he said. "It certainly is not fair that those bench-legged turnspits with feet like so much leather should see the King marching home in his glory, while I, who go shod, as it were, in velvet, should hear only the sound through the scullery windows. It is not fair. It is no doubt true that “The cat may mew, and the dog shall have his day,” but I have as much right to my day as he; and has it not been said from immemorial time that ‘A cat may look at a king’? Indeed it has, quite as much as that the dog may have his day. I will not stand it; it is not fair. A cat may look at a king; and if any cat may look at a king, why, I am the cat who may. There are no other cats in the world; I am the only one. Poh! the cook may shout till his breath gives out, he cannot frighten me; for once I am going to have my fling!”So he forthwith swallowed the coffee-mill, box, handle, drawer-knobs, coffee-well, and all, and was off to see the King.So far, so good. But, ah! the sad and undeniable truth, that brightest joys too soon must end! Triumphs cannot last forever, even in a land of legends. There comes a reckoning.When the procession was past and gone, as all processions pass and go, vanishing down the shores of forgetfulness; when barons, marquises, dukes, and dons were gone, with their pennants and banners; when the last lancers had gone prancing past and were lost to sight down the circuitous avenue, Sooty Will, with drooping tail, stood by the palace gate, dejected. He was sour and silent and glum. Indeed, who would not be, with a coffee-mill on his conscience? To own up to the entire truth, the cat was feeling decidedly unwell; when suddenly the cook popped his head in at the scullery entry, crying, “How now, hownow, you vagabonds! The war is done, but the breakfast is not. Hurry up, scurry up, scamper and trot! The cakes are all cooked and are piping hot! Then why is the coffee so slow?” The King was in the dining-hall, in dressing-gown and slippers, irately calling for his breakfast!“he forthwith swallowed the coffee-mill”The shamefaced, guilty cat ran hastily down the scullery stairs and hid under the refrigerator, with such a deep inward sensation of remorse that he dared not look the kind cook in the face. It now really seemed to him as if everything had gone wrong with the world, especially his own insides. This any one will readily believe who has ever swallowed a coffee-mill. He began to weep copiously.“and was off to see the king”The cook came into the kitchen. “Where is the coffee?” he said; then, catching sight of the secluded cat, he stooped, crying, “Where is the coffee?”“the cat was feeling decidedly unwell”The cat sobbed audibly. “Some one must have come into the kitchen while I ran out to look at the King!” he gasped, for there seemed to him no way out of the scrape but by telling a plausible untruth. “Some one must have come into the kitchen and stolen it!” And with that, choking upon the handle of the mill, which projected into his throat, he burst into inarticulate sobs.“it seemed as if everything had gone wrong”The cook, who was, in truth, a very kind-hearted man, sought to reassure the poor cat. “There; it is unfortunate, very; but do not weep; thieves thrive in kings’ houses!” he said, and, stooping, he began to stroke the drooping cat’s back to show that he held the weeping creature blameless.Sooty Will’s heart leaped into his throat.“‘where is the coffee?’ said the cook”“Oh, oh!” he half gasped, “oh, oh! If he rubs his great hand down my back he will feel the corners of the coffee-mill through my ribs as sure as fate! Oh, oh! I am a gone cat!” And with that, in an agony of apprehension lest his guilt and his falsehood be thus presently detected, he humped up his back as high in the air as he could, so that the corners of the mill might not make bumps in his sides and that the mill might thus remain undiscovered.But, alas! he forgot that coffee-mills turn. As he humped up his back to cover his guilt, the coffee-millinside rolled over, and, as it rolled, began to grind—rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr!“Oh, oh! you have swallowed the mill!” cried the cook.“out stepped the genius that lived under the great ovens”“No, no,” cried the cat; “I was only thinking aloud.”At that out stepped the Genius that Lived under the Great Ovens, and, with his finger pointed at the cat, said in a frightful voice, husky with wood-ashes: “Miserable and pusillanimous beast! By telling a falsehood to cover a wrong you have only made bad matters worse. For betraying man’s kindness to cover your shame, a curse shall be upon you and all your kind until the end of the world. Whenever men stroke you in kindness, remembrance of your guilt shall make you hump up your back with shame, as you did to avoid being found out; and in order that the reason for this curse shall never be forgotten, whenever man is kind to a cat the sound of the grinding of a coffee-mill inside shall perpetually remind him of your guilt and shame!”With that the Genius vanished in a cloud of smoke.And it was even as he said. From that day Sooty Will could never abide having his back stroked without humping it up to conceal the mill within him; and never did he hump up his back but the coffee-mill began slowly to grind,rr-rr-rr-rr!inside him; so that, even in the prime of life, before his declining days had come, being seized upon by a great remorse for these things which might never be amended, he retired to a home for aged and reputable cats, and there, so far as the records reveal, lived the remainder of his days in charity and repentance.But the curse has come down even to the present day, as the Genius that Lived under the Great Ovens said, and still maintains, though cats have probably forgotten the facts, and so, when stroked, hump up their backs and purr as if these actions were a matter of pride instead of being a blot upon their family record.“he retired to a home foraged and reputable cats”Stories From ScandinaviaTHE GREEDY CATOnce on a time there was a man who had a Cat, and she was so awfully big, and such a beast to eat, he couldn’t keep her any longer. So she was to go down to the river with a stone round her neck, but before she started she was to have a meal of meat. So the goody set before her a bowl of porridge and a little trough of fat. That the creature crammed into her, and ran off and jumped through the window. Outside stood the goodman by the barn-door threshing.“Good day, goodman,” said the Cat.“Good day, pussy,” said the goodman; “have you had any food to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge and a trough of fat—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took the goodman and gobbled him up.When she had done that, she went into the byre, and there sat the goody milking.“Good day, goody,” said the Cat.“Good day, pussy,” said the goody; “are you here, and have you eaten up your food yet?”“Oh, I’ve eaten a little to-day, but I’m ’most fasting,” said pussy; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took the goody and gobbled her up.“Good day, you cow at the manger,” said the Cat to Daisy the cow.“Good day, pussy,” said the bell-cow; “have you had any food to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “I’ve only had a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took the cow and gobbled her up.Then off she set into the home-field, and there stood a man picking up leaves.“Good day, you leaf-picker in the field,” said the Cat.“Good day, pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?” said the leaf-picker.“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and Daisy the cow—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the leaf-picker and gobbled him up.Then she came to a heap of stones, and there stood a stoat and peeped out.“Good day, Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the stoat and gobbled him up.When she had gone a bit farther, she came to a hazel-brake, and there sat a squirrel gathering nuts.“Good day, Sir Squirrel of the Brake,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the squirrel and gobbled him up.When she had gone a little farther, she saw Reynard the fox, who was prowling about by the woodside.“Good day, Reynard Slyboots,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took Reynard andgobbled him up.When she had gone a little farther she met Long Ears, the hare.“Good day, Mr. Hopper the hare,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the hare and gobbled him up.When she had gone a bit farther she met a wolf.“Good day, you Greedy Graylegs,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare—and now I think of it, I may as well take you, too.” So she took and gobbled up Graylegs, too.So she went on into the wood, and when she had gone far and farther than far, o’er hill and dale, she met a bear-cub.“Good day, you bare-breeched bear,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy,” said the bear-cub; “have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf—and, now I think of it, I may as well take you, too.” And so she took the bear-cub and gobbled him up.When the Cat had gone a bit farther, she met a she-bear, who was tearing away at a stump till the splinters flew, so angry was she at having lost her cub.“Good day, you Mrs. Bruin,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took Mrs. Bruin and gobbled her up, too.When the Cat got still farther on, she met Baron Bruin himself.“Good day, you Baron Bruin,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy,” said Bruin; “have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took Bruin and ate him up, too.So the Cat went on and on, and farther than far, till she came to the abodes of men again, and there she met a bridal train on the road.“Good day, you bridal train on the king’s highway,” said she.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she rushed at them, and gobbled up both the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train, with the cook and the fiddler, and the horses and all.When she had gone still farther, she came to a church, and there she met a funeral.“Good day, you funeral train,” said she.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train—and, now, I don’t mind if I take you, too,” and so she fell on the funeral train and gobbled up both the body and the bearers.Now when the Cat had got the body in her, she was taken up to the sky, and when she had gone a long, long way, she met the moon.“Good day, Mrs. Moon,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare,and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train, and the funeral train—and, now I think of it, I don’t mind if I take you, too,” and so she seized hold of the moon, and gobbled her up, both new and full.“‘that we’ll fight about,’ said the billy goat”So the Cat went a long way still, and then she met the sun.“Good day, you sun in heaven.”“Good day, Mrs. Pussy,” said the sun; “have you had anything to eat to-day?”“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train, and the funeral train, and the moon—and, now I think of it, I don’t mind if I take you, too,” and so she rushed at the sun in heaven and gobbled him up.So the Cat went far and farther than far, till she came to a bridge, and on it she met a big billy-goat.“Good day, you Billy-goat on Broad-bridge,” said the Cat.“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?” said the billy-goat.“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting; I’ve only had a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody in the byre, and Daisy the cow at the manger, and the leaf-picker in the home-field, and Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap, and Sir Squirrel of the Brake, and Reynard Slyboots, and Mr. Hopper the hare, and Greedy Graylegs the wolf, and Bare-breech the bear-cub, and Mrs. Bruin, and Baron Bruin, and a bridal train on the king’s highway, and a funeral at the church, and Lady Moon in the sky, and Lord Sun in heaven—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.”“That we’ll fight about,” said the billy-goat, and butted at the Cat till she fell right over the bridge into the river, and there she burst.So they all crept out one after the other, and went about their business, and were just as good as ever, all that the Cat had gobbled up. The goodman of the house, and the goody in the byre, and Daisy the cow at the manger, and the leaf-picker in the home-field, and Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap, and Sir Squirrel of the Brake, and Reynard Slyboots, and Mr. Hopper the hare, and Greedy Graylegs the wolf, and Bare-breech the bear-cub, and Mrs. Bruin, and Baron Bruin, and the bridal train on the highway, and the funeral train at the church, and Lady Moon in the sky, and Lord Sun in heaven.GUDBRAND ON THE HILLSIDEThere was once upon a time a man whose name was Gudbrand. He had a farm which lay far away up on the side of a hill, and therefore they called him Gudbrand on the hillside.He and his wife lived so happily together, and agreed so well, that whatever the man did the wife thought it so well done that no one could do it better. No matter what he did, she thought it was always the right thing.They lived on their own farm, and had a hundred dollars at the bottom of their chest and two cows in their cow-shed. One day the woman said to Gudbrand:“I think we ought to go to town with one of the cows and sell it, so that we may have some ready money by us. We are pretty well off, and ought to have a few shillings in our pocket like other people. The hundred dollars in the chest we mustn’t touch, but I can’t see what we want with more than one cow, and it will be much better for us, as I shall have only one to look after instead of the two I have now to mind and feed.”Yes, Gudbrand thought, that was well and sensibly spoken. He took the cow at once and went to town to sell it; but when he got there no one would buy the cow.“Ah, well!” thought Gudbrand, “I may as well take the cow home again. I know I have both stall and food for it, and the way home is no longer than it was here.” So he strolled homeward again with the cow.When he had got a bit on the way he met a man who had a horse to sell, and Gudbrand thought it was better to have a horse than a cow, and so he changed the cow for the horse.When he had gone a bit farther he met a man who was driving a fat pig before him, and then he thought it would be better to have a fat pig than a horse, and so he changed with the man.He now went a bit farther, and then he met a man with a goat, and so he thought it was surely better to have a goat than a pig, and changed with the man who had the goat.Then he went a long way, till he met a man who had a sheep. He changed with him, for hethought it was always better to have a sheep than a goat.When he had got a bit farther he met a man with a goose, and so he changed the sheep for the goose. And when he had gone a long, long way he met a man with a cock. He changed the goose with him, for he thought this wise: “It is surely better to have a cock than a goose.”He walked on till late in the day, when he began to feel hungry. So he sold the cock for sixpence and bought some food for himself. “For it is always better to keep body and soul together than to have a cock,” thought Gudbrand.He then set off again homeward till he came to his neighbor’s farm, and there he went in.“How did you get on in town?” asked the people.“Oh, only so-so,” said the man. “I can’t boast of my luck, nor can I grumble at it either.” And then he told them how it had gone with him from first to last.“Well, you’ll have a fine reception when you get home to your wife,” said the man. “Heaven help you! I should not like to be in your place.”“I think I might have fared much worse,” said Gudbrand; “but whether I have fared well or ill, I have such a kind wife that she never says anything, no matter what I do.”“Aye, so you say; but you won’t get me to believe it,” said the neighbor.“Shall we have a wager on it?” said Gudbrand. “I have a hundred dollars in my chest at home. Will you lay the same?”So they made the wager and Gudbrand remained there till the evening, when it began to get dark, and then they went together to the farm.The neighbor was to remain outside the door and listen while Gudbrand went in to his wife.“Good evening!” said Gudbrand when he came in.“Good evening!” said the wife. “Heaven be praised you are back again.”“Yes, here I am!” said the man. And then the wife asked him how he had got on in town.“Oh, so-so,” answered Gudbrand. “Not much to brag of. When I came to town no one would buy the cow, so I changed it for a horse.”“Oh, I’m so glad of that,” said the woman. “We are pretty well off and we ought to drive to church like other people, and when we can afford to keep a horse I don’t see why we should not have one. Run out, children, and put the horse in the stable.”“Well, I haven’t got the horse, after all,” said Gudbrand; “for when I had got a bit on the way I changed it for a pig.”“Dear me!” cried the woman, “that’s the very thing I should have done myself. I’m so glad of that, for now we can have some bacon in the house and something to offer people when they come to see us. What do we want with a horse? People would only say we had become so grand that we could no longer walk to church. Run out, children, and let the pig in.”“But I haven’t got the pig either,” said Gudbrand, “for when I had got a bit farther on the road I changed it into a milch goat.”“Dear! dear! how well you manage everything!” cried the wife. “When I really come to think of it, what do I want with the pig? People would only say: ‘Over yonder they eat up everything they have.’ No, now I have a goat I can have both milk and cheese and keep the goat into the bargain. Let in the goat, children.”“But I haven’t got the goat either,” said Gudbrand. “When I got a bit on the way I changed the goat and got a fine sheep for it.”“Well!” returned the woman, “you do everything just as I should wish it—just as if I had been there myself. What do we want with a goat? I should have to climb up hill and down dale to get it home at night. No, when I have a sheep I can have wool and clothes in the house and food as well. Run out, children, and let in the sheep.”“But I haven’t got the sheep any longer,” said Gudbrand, “for when I had got a bit on the way I changed it for a goose.”“Well, thank you for that!” said the woman; “and many thanks, too! What do I want with a sheep? I have neither wheel nor spindle, and I do not care either to toil and drudge making clothes; we can buy clothes now as before. Now I can have goose-fat, which I have so long been wishing for, and some feathers to stuff that little pillow of mine. Run, children, and let in the goose.”“Well, I haven’t got the goose either,” said Gudbrand. “When I had got a bit farther on the way I changed it for a cock.”“Well, I don’t know how you can think of it all!” cried the woman. “It’s just as if I had done it all myself. A cock! Why, it’s just the same as if you’d bought an eight-day clock, for every morning the cock will crow at four, so we can be up in good time. What do we want with a goose? I can’t make goose-fat and I can easily fill my pillow with some soft grass. Run, children, and let in the cock.”“But I haven’t the cock either,” said Gudbrand; “for when I had got a bit farther I becameso terribly hungry I had to sell the cock for sixpence and get some food to keep body and soul together.”“Heaven be praised you did that!” cried the woman. “Whatever you do, you always do the very thing I could have wished. Besides, what did we want with the cock? We are our own masters and can lie as long as we like in the mornings. Heaven be praised! As long as I have got you back again, who manage everything so well, I shall neither want cock, nor goose, nor pig, nor cows.”Gudbrand then opened the door. “Have I won the hundred dollars now?” he asked. And the neighbor was obliged to confess that he had.PORK AND HONEYAt dawn the other day, when Bruin came tramping over the bog with a fat pig, Reynard sat up on a stone by the moorside.“Good day, grandsire,” said the fox. “What’s that so nice that you have there?”“Pork,” said Bruin.“Well, I have got a dainty bit, too,” said Reynard.“What is that?” asked the bear.“The biggest wild bee’s comb I ever saw in my life,” said Reynard.“Indeed, you don’t say so,” said Bruin, who grinned and licked his lips, he thought it would be so nice to taste a little honey. At last he said: “Shall we swap our fare?”“Nay, nay!” said Reynard, “I can’t do that.”The end was that they made a bet, and agreed to name three trees. If the fox could say them off faster than the bear, he was to have leave to take one bite of the bacon; but if the bear could say them faster, he was to have leave to take one sup out of the comb. Greedy Bruin thought he was sure to sup out all the honey at one breath.“Well,” said Reynard, “it’s all fair and right, no doubt, but all I say is, if I win, you shall be bound to tear off the bristles where I am to bite.”“Of course,” said Bruin, “I’ll help you, as you can’t help yourself.”So they were to begin and name the trees.“Fir, Scotch Fir, Spruce,” growled out Bruin, for he was gruff in his tongue, that he was. But for all that he only named two trees, for fir and Scotch fir are both the same.“Ash,Aspen,Oak,” screamed Reynard, so that the wood rang again.So he had won the wager, and down he ran and took the heart out of the pig at one bit, and was just running off with it. But Bruin was angry because Reynard had taken the best bit out of the whole pig, and so he laid hold of his tail and held him fast.“Stop a bit, stop a bit,” he said, and was wild with rage.“Never mind,” said the fox, “it’s all right; let me go, grandsire, and I’ll give you a taste of my honey.”When Bruin heard that, he let go his hold, and away went Reynard after the honey.“Here, on this honeycomb,” said Reynard, “lies a leaf, and under this leaf is a hole, and that hole you are to suck.”As he said this he held up the comb under the bear’s nose, took off the leaf, jumped up on a stone, and began to gibber and laugh, for there was neither honey nor honeycomb, but a wasp’s nest, as big as a man’s head, full of wasps, and out swarmed the wasps and settled on Bruin’s head, and stung him in his eyes and ears, and mouth and snout. And he had such hard work to rid himself of them that he had no time to think of Reynard.And that’s why, ever since that day, Bruin is so afraid of wasps.HOW REYNARD OUTWITTED BRUINOnce on a time there was a bear, who sat on a hillside in the sun and slept. Just then Reynard came slouching by and caught sight of him.“There you sit taking your ease, grandsire,” said the fox. “Now, see if I don’t play you a trick.” So he went and caught three field-mice and laid them on a stump close under Bruin’s nose, and then he bawled out into his ear, “Bo! Bruin, here’s Peter the Hunter, just behind this stump”; and as he bawled this out he ran off through the wood as fast as ever he could.Bruin woke up with a start, and when he saw the three little mice, he was as mad as a March hare, and was going to lift up his paw and crush them, for he thought it was they who had bellowed in his ear.But just as he lifted it he caught sight of Reynard’s tail among the bushes by the woodside,and away he set after him, so that the underwood crackled as he went, and, to tell the truth, Bruin was so close upon Reynard that he caught hold of his off hind foot just as he was crawling into an earth under a pine-root. So there was Reynard in a pinch; but for all that he had his wits about him, for he screeched out, “Slip the pine-root and catch Reynard’s foot,” and so the silly bear let his foot slip and laid hold of the root instead. But by that time Reynard was safe inside the earth, and called out:“I cheated you that time, too, didn’t I, grandsire?”“Out of sight isn’t out of mind,” growled Bruin down the earth, and was wild with rage.THE COCK AND THE CRESTED HENThere was once a Cock who had a whole farmyard of hens to look after and manage; and among them was a tiny little Crested Hen. She thought she was altogether too grand to be in company with the other hens, for they looked so old and shabby; she wanted to go out and strut about all by herself, so that people could see how fine she was, and admire her pretty crest and beautiful plumage.So one day when all the hens were strutting about on the dust-heap and showing themselves off, and picking and clucking, as they were wont to do, this desire seized her, and she began to cry:“Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, over the fence! cluck, cluck, cluck, over the fence!” and wanted to get away.The Cock stretched his neck and shook his comb and feathers, and cried:“Go not there!” And all the old hens cackled:“Go-go-go-go not there!”But she set off for all that; and was not a little proud when she got away, and could go about pluming and showing herself off quite alone.Just then a hawk began to fly round in a circle above her, and all of a sudden he swooped down upon her. The Cock, as he stood on top of the dust-heap, stretching his neck and peering first with one eye and then with the other, had long noticed him, and cried with all his might:“Come, come, come and help! Come, come, come and help!” till the people came running to see what was the matter. They frightened the hawk so that he let go the Hen, and had to be satisfied with her tuft and her finest feathers, which he had plucked from her. And then, you may be sure, she lost no time in running-home; she stretched her neck, and tripped along, crying:“See, see, see, see how I look! See, see, see, see how I look!”The Cock came up to her in his dignified way, drooped one of his wings, and said:“Didn’t I tell you?”From that time the Hen did not consider herself too good to be in the company of the old hens on the dust-heap.“didn’t i tell you?” said the cockTHE OLD WOMAN AND THE TRAMPThere was once a tramp who went plodding his way through a forest. The distance between the houses was so great that he had little hope of finding a shelter before the night set in. But all of a sudden he saw some lights between the trees. He then discovered a cottage, where there was a fire burning on the hearth. How nice it would be to roast one’s self before that fire, and to get a bite of something, he thought; and so he dragged himself toward the cottage.Just then an old woman came toward him.“Good evening, and well met!” said the tramp.“Good evening,” said the woman. “Where do you come from?”“South of the sun, and east of the moon,” said the tramp; “and now I am on the way home again, for I have been all over the world with the exception of this parish,” he said.“You must be a great traveler, then,” said the woman. “What may be your business here?”“Oh, I want a shelter for the night,” he said.“I thought as much,” said the woman; “but you may as well get away from here at once, for my husband is not at home, and my place is not an inn,” she said.“My good woman,” said the tramp, “you must not be so cross and hard-hearted, for we are both human beings, and should help one another, as it is written.”“Help one another?” said the woman, “help? Did you ever hear such a thing? Who’ll help me, do you think? I haven’t got a morsel in the house! No, you’ll have to look for quarterselsewhere,” she said.But the tramp was like the rest of his kind; he did not consider himself beaten at the first rebuff. Although the old woman grumbled and complained as much as she could, he was just as persistent as ever, and went on begging and praying like a starved dog, until at last she gave in, and he got permission to lie on the floor for the night.That was very kind, he thought, and he thanked her for it.“Better on the floor without sleep, than suffer cold in the forest deep,” he said; for he was a merry fellow, this tramp, and was always ready with a rhyme.When he came into the room he could see that the woman was not so badly off as she had pretended; but she was a greedy and stingy woman of the worst sort, and was always complaining and grumbling.He now made himself very agreeable, of course, and asked her in his most insinuating manner for something to eat.“Where am I to get it from?” said the woman. “I haven’t tasted a morsel myself the whole day.”But the tramp was a cunning fellow, he was.“Poor old granny, you must be starving,” he said. “Well, well, I suppose I shall have to ask you to have something with me, then?”“Have something with you!” said the woman. “You don’t look as if you could ask any one to have anything! What have you got to offer one, I should like to know?”“He who far and wide does roam sees many things not known at home; and he who many things has seen has wits about him and senses keen,” said the tramp. “Better dead than lose one’s head! Lend me a pot, granny!”The old woman now became very inquisitive, as you may guess, and so she let him have a pot.He filled it with water and put it on the fire, and then he blew with all his might till the fire was burning fiercely all round it. Then he took a four-inch nail from his pocket, turned it three times in his hand, and put it into the pot.The woman stared with all her might.“What’s this going to be?” she asked.“Nail broth,” said the tramp, and began to stir the water with the porridge-stick.“Nail broth?” asked the woman.“Yes, nail broth,” said the tramp.The old woman had seen and heard a good deal in her time, but that anybody could have made broth with a nail, well, she had never heard the like before.“That’s something for poor people to know,” she said, “and I should like to learn how to make it.”“That which is not worth having will always go a-begging,” said the tramp, but if she wanted to learn how to make it she had only to watch him, he said, and went on stirring the broth.The old woman squatted on the ground, her hands clasping her knees, and her eyes following his hand as he stirred the broth.“This generally makes good broth,” he said; “but this time it will very likely be rather thin, for I have been making broth the whole week with the same nail. If one only had a handful of sifted oatmeal to put in, that would make it all right,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about,” and so he stirred the broth again.“Well, I think I have a scrap of flour somewhere,” said the old woman, and went out to fetch some, and it was both good and fine.The tramp began putting the flour into the broth, and went on stirring, while the woman sat staring now at him and then at the pot until her eyes nearly burst their sockets.“This broth would be good enough for company,” he said, putting in one handful of flour after another. “If I had only a bit of salted beef and few potatoes to put in, it would be fit for gentlefolks, however particular they might be,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about.”When the old woman really began to think it over, she thought she had some potatoes, and perhaps a bit of beef as well; and these she gave the tramp, who went on stirring, while she sat and stared as hard as ever.“This will be grand enough for the best in the land,” he said.“Well, I never!” said the woman; “and just fancy—all with a nail!”He was really a wonderful man, that tramp! He could do more than drink a sup and turn the tankard up, he could.“If one had only a little barley and a drop of milk, we could ask the king himself to have some of it,” he said; “for this is what he has every blessed evening—that I know, for I have been in service under the king’s cook,” he said.“Dear me! Ask the king to have some! Well, I never!” exclaimed the woman, slapping her knees. She was quite awestruck at the tramp and his grand connections.“But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about,” said the tramp.And then she remembered she had a little barley; and as for milk, well, she wasn’t quite out of that, she said. And then she went to fetchboth the one and the other.The tramp went on stirring, and the woman sat staring, one moment at him and the next at the pot.Then all at once the tramp took out the nail.“Now it’s ready, and now we’ll have a real good feast,” he said. “But to this kind of soup the king and the queen always take a dram or two, and one sandwich at least. And then they always have a cloth on the table when they eat,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about.”But by this time the old woman herself had begun to feel quite grand and fine, I can tell you; and if that was all that was wanted to make it just as the king had it, she thought it would be nice to have it exactly the same way for once, and play at being king and queen with the tramp. She went straight to a cupboard and brought out the brandy bottle, dram glasses, butter and cheese, smoked beef and veal, until at last the table looked as if it were decked out for company.Never in her life had the old woman had such a grand feast, and never had she tasted such broth, and just fancy, made only with a nail!She was in such a good and merry humor at having learned such an economical way of making broth that she did not know how to make enough of the tramp who had taught her such a useful thing.So they ate and drank, and drank and ate, until they became both tired and sleepy.The tramp was now going to lie down on the floor. But that would never do, thought the old woman; no, that was impossible. “Such a grand person must have a bed to lie in,” she said.He did not need much pressing. “It’s just like the sweet Christmas time,” he said, “and a nicer woman I never came across. Ah, well! Happy are they who meet with such good people,” said he; and he lay down on the bed and went asleep.And next morning, when he woke, the first thing he got was a good breakfast.When he was going, the old woman gave him a bright dollar piece.“And thanks, many thanks, for what you have taught me,” she said. “Now I shall live in comfort, since I have learned how to make broth with a nail.”“Well, it isn’t very difficult if one only has something good to add to it,” said the tramp as he went his way.The woman stood at the door staring after him.“Such people don’t grow on every bush,” she said.THE OLD WOMAN AND THE FISHThere was once upon a time an old woman who lived in a miserable cottage on the brow of a hill overlooking the town. Her husband had been dead for many years, and her children were in service round about the parish, so she felt rather lonely and dreary by herself, and otherwise she was not particularly well off either.But when it has been ordained that one shall live, one cannot think of one’s funeral; and so one has to take the world as it is, and still be satisfied; and that was about all the old woman could console herself with. But that the road up which she had to carry the pails from the well should be so heavy; and that the axe should have such a blunt and rusty edge, so that it was only with the greatest difficulty that she could cut the little firewood she had; and that the stuff she was weaving was not sufficient—all this grieved her greatly, and caused her to complain from time to time.So one day, when she had pulled the bucket up from the well, she happened to find a small pike in the bucket, which did not at all displease her.“Such fish does not come into my pot every day,” she said; and now she could have a really grand dish, she thought. But the fish that she had got this time was no fool; it had the gift of speech, that it had.“Let me go!” said the fish.The old woman began to stare, you may be sure. Such a fish she had never before seen in this world.“Are you so much better than other fish, then?” she said, “and too good to be eaten?”“Wise is he who does not eat all he gets hold of,” said the fish; “only let me go, and you shall not remain without reward for your trouble.”“I like a fish in the bucket better than all those frisking about free and frolicsome in the lakes,” said the old woman. “And what one can catch with one hand, one can also carry to one’s mouth,” she said.“That may be,” said the fish; “but if you do as I tell you, you shall have three wishes.”“Wish in one fist, and pour water in the other, and you’ll soon see which you will get filled first,” said the woman. “Promises are well enough, but keeping them is better, and I sha’n’tbelieve much in you till I have got you in the pot,” she said.“You should mind that tongue of yours,” said the fish, “and listen to my words. Wish for three things, and then you’ll see what will happen,” he said.Well, the old woman knew well enough what she wanted to wish, and there might not be so much danger in trying how far the fish would keep his word, she thought.She then began thinking of the heavy hill up from the well.“I would wish that the pails could go of themselves to the well and home again,” she said.“So they shall,” said the fish.Then she thought of the axe, and how blunt it was.“I would wish that whatever I strike shall break right off,” she said.“So it shall,” said the fish.And then she remembered that the stuff she was weaving was not long enough.“I would wish that whatever I pull shall become long,” she said.“That it shall,” said the fish. “And now, let me down into the well again.”Yes, that she would, and all at once the pails began to shamble up the hill.“Dear me, did you ever see anything like it?” The old woman became so glad and pleased that she slapped herself across the knees.Crack, crack! it sounded; and then both her legs fell off, and she was left sitting on the top of the lid over the well.Now came a change. She began to cry and wail, and the tears started from her eyes, whereupon she began blowing her nose with her apron, and as she tugged at her nose it grew so long, so long, that it was terrible to see.That is what she got for her wishes! Well, there she sat, and there she no doubt still sits, on the lid of the well. And if you want to know what it is to have a long nose, you had better go there and ask her, for she can tell you all about it, she can.THE LAD AND THE FOXThere was once upon a time a little lad, who was on his way to church, and when he came to a clearing in the forest he caught sight of a fox that was lying on the top of a big stone so fast asleep that he did not know the lad had seen him.“If I catch that fox,” said the lad, “and sell the skin, I shall get money for it, and with that money I shall buy some rye, and that rye I shall sow in father’s corn-field at home. When the people who are on their way to church pass by my field of rye they’ll say: ‘Oh, what splendid rye that lad has got!’ Then I shall say to them: ‘I say, keep away from my rye!’ But they won’t heed me. Then I shall shout to them: ‘I say, keep away from my rye!’ But still they won’t take any notice of me. Then I shall scream with all my might: ‘Keep away from my rye!’ and then they’ll listen to me.”But the lad screamed so loudly that the fox woke up and made off at once for the forest, so that the lad did not even get as much as a handful of his hair.No; it’s best always to take what you can reach, for of undone deeds you should never screech, as the saying goes.ADVENTURES OF ASHPOTNorwegian children are just as fond of fairy stories as are any other children, and they are lucky in having a great number, for that famous story-teller, Hans Christian Andersen, was a Dane, and as the Danish language is very like the Norwegian, his stories were probably known in Norway long before they were known in England. But the Norwegians have plenty of other stories of their own, and they love to sit by the fire of burning logs or round the stove in the long winter evenings and listen to them. Of course, they know all about people like Cinderella and Jack the Giant-Killer, but their favorite hero is called by the name of Ashpot, who is sometimes a kind of boy Cinderella and sometimes a Jack the Giant-Killer.The following are two stories which the little yellow-haired Norse children never fail to delight in:Once upon a time there was a man who had been out cutting wood, and when he came home he found that he had left his coat behind, so he told his little daughter to go and fetch it. The child started off, but before she reached the wood darkness came on, and suddenly a great big hill-giantswooped down upon her.“Please, Mr. Giant,” said she, trembling all over, “don’t take me away to-night, as father wants his coat; but to-morrow night, if you will come when I go to thestabburto fetch the bread, I will go away with you quietly.”So the giant agreed, and the next night, when she went to fetch the bread, he came and carried her off. As soon as it was found that she was missing, her father sent her eldest brother to look for her, but he came back without finding her. The second brother was also sent, but with no better result. At last the father turned to his youngest son, who was the drudge of the house, and said: “Now, Ashpot, you go and see if you can find your sister.”So away went Ashpot, and no sooner had he reached the wood than he met a bear.“Friend bear,” said Ashpot, “will you help me?”“Willingly,” answered the bear. “Get up on my back.”And Ashpot mounted the bear’s back and rode off. Presently they met a wolf.“Friend wolf,” said Ashpot, “will you do some work for me?”“Willingly,” answered the wolf.“Then jump up behind,” said Ashpot, and the three went on deeper into the wood.They next met a fox, and then a hare, both of whom were enlisted into Ashpot’s service, and, mounted on the back of the bear, were swiftly carried off to the giant’s abode.“Good day, Mr. Giant!” said they.“Scratch my back!” roared the giant, who lay stretched in front of the fire warming himself.The hare immediately climbed up and began to scratch as desired; but the giant knocked him over, and down he fell on to the hearthstone, breaking off his forelegs, since which time all hares have had short forelegs.The fox next clambered up to scratch the giant’s back, but he was served like the hare. Then the wolf’s turn came, but the giant said that he was no better at scratching than the others.“Youscratch me!” shouted the giant, turning impatiently to the bear.“All right,” answered Bruin; “I know all about scratching,” and he forthwith dug his claws into the giant’s back and ripped it into a thousand pieces.Then all the beasts danced on the dead body of the monster, and Ashpot recovered his sister and took her home, carrying off, at the same time, all the giant’s gold and silver. The bear and the wolf burst into the cattle-sheds and devoured all the cows and sheep, the fox feasted in the hen-roost, while the hare had the free run of the oatfield. So every one was satisfied.The other story is also about Ashpot, whose two elder brothers still treated him very badly, and eventually turned him out of his home. Poor Ashpot wandered away up into the mountains, where he met a huge giant. At first he was terribly afraid, but after a little while he told the giant what had happened to him, and asked him if he could find a job for him.“You are just the very man I want,” said the giant. “Come along with me.”The first work to be done was to make a fire to brew some ale, so they went off together to the forest to cut firewood. The giant carried a club in place of an axe, and when they came to a large birch-tree he asked Ashpot whether he would like to club the tree down or climb up and hold the top of it. The boy thought that the latter would suit him best, and he soon got up to the topmost branches and held on to them. But the giant gave the tree such a blow with his club as to knock it right out of the ground, sending Ashpot flying across the meadows into a marsh. Luckily he landed on soft ground, and was none the worse for his adventure; and they soon managed to get the tree home, when they set to work to make a fire.But the wood was green, and would not burn, so the giant began to blow. At the first puff Ashpot found himself flying up to the ceiling as if he had been a feather, but he managed to catch hold of a piece of birch-bark among the rafters, and on reaching the ground again he told the giant that he had been up to get something to make the fire burn.The fire was soon burning splendidly, and the giant commenced to brew the ale, drinking it off as fast as it was made. Ashpot watched him getting gradually stupid, and heard him mutter to himself, “To-night I will kill him,” so he began to think of a plan to outwit his master. When he went to bed he placed the giant’s cream-whisk, with which the giant used to beat his cream, between the sheets as a dummy, while Ashpot himself crept under the bedstead, where he was safely hidden.In the middle of the night, just as he had expected, he heard the giant come into his room, and then there was a tremendous whack as the giant brought his club down on to the bed. Next morning the boy came out of his room as if nothing had happened, and his master was very much surprised to find him still alive.“Hullo!” said the giant. “Didn’t you feel anythingin the night?”“I did feel something,” said Ashpot; “but I thought that it was only a sausage-peg that had fallen on the bed, so I went to sleep again.”The giant was more astonished than ever, and went off to consult his sister, who lived in a neighboring mountain, and was about ten times his size. At length it was settled that the giantess should set her cooking-pot on the fire, and that Ashpot should be sent to see her, when she was to tip him into the caldron and boil him. In the course of the day the giant sent the boy off with a message to his sister, and when he reached the giantess’s dwelling he found her busy cooking. But he soon saw through her design, and he took out of his pocket a nut with a hole in it.“Look here,” he said, showing the nut to the ogress, “you think you can do everything. I will tell you one thing that you can’t do: you can’t make yourself so small as to be able to creep into the hole in this nut.”“Rubbish!” replied the giantess. “Of course I can!”And in a moment she became as small as a fly, and crept into the nut, whereupon Ashpot hurled it into the fire, and that was the end of the giantess.The boy was so delighted that he returned to his old tyrant the giant and told him what had happened to his sister. This set the big man thinking again as to how he was to rid himself of this sharp-witted little nuisance. He did not understand boys, and he was afraid of Ashpot’s tricks, so he offered him as much gold and silver as he could carry if he would go away and never return. Ashpot, however, replied that the amount he could carry would not be worth having, and that he could not think of going unless he got as much as the giant could carry.The giant, glad to get rid of him at any cost, agreed, and, loading himself with gold and silver and precious stones, he set out with the boy toward his home. When they reached the outskirts of the farms they saw a herd of cattle, and the giant began to tremble.“What sort of beasts are these?” he asked.“They are my father’s cows,” replied Ashpot, “and you had better put down your burden and run back to your mountain, or they may bite you.”The giant was only too happy to get away, so, depositing his load, which was as big as a small hill, he made off, and left the boy to carry his treasure home by himself.So enormous was the amount of the valuables that it was six years before Ashpot succeeded in removing everything from the field where the giant had set it down; but he and all his relations were rich people for the rest of their lives.
How Cats Came to Purr
BY JOHN BENNETT
A Boy having a Pet Cat which he Wished to Feed, Said to Her, “Come, Cat, Drink this Dish of Cream; it will Keep your Fur as Soft as Silk, and Make you Purr like a Coffee-Mill.”
He had no sooner said this than the Cat, with a Great Glare of her Green Eyes, bristled her Tail like a Gun-Swab and went over the Back Fence, head first—pop!—as Mad as a Wet Hen.
And this is how she came to do so:
The story is an old one—very, very old. It may be Persian; it may be not: that is of very little moment. It is so old that if all the nine lives of all the cats that have ever lived in the world were set up together in a line, the other end of it would just reach back to the time when this occurred.
“the cat that ground the coffee in the king’s kitchen”
And this is the story:
Many, many years ago, in a country which was quite as far from anywhere else as the entire distance thither and back, there was a huge cat that ground the coffee in the King’s kitchen, and otherwise assisted with the meals.
This cat was, in truth, the actual and very father of all subsequent cats, and his name was Sooty Will, for his hair was as black as a night in a coal-hole. He was ninety years old, and his mustaches were like whisk-brooms. But the most singular thing about him was that in all his life he had never once purred nor humped up his back, although his master often stroked him. The fact was that he never had learned to purr, nor had any reason, so far as he knew, for humping up his back. And being the father of all the cats, there was no one to tell him how. It remained for him to acquire a reason, and from his example to devise a habit which cats have followed from that time forth, and no doubt will forever follow.
The King of the country had long been at war with one of his neighbors, but one morning he sent back a messenger to say that he had beaten his foeman at last, and that he was coming home for an early breakfast as hungry as three bears. “Have batter-cakes and coffee,” he directed, “hot, and plenty of ’em!”
At that the turnspits capered and yelped with glee, for batter-cakes and coffee are not cooked upon spits, and so they were free to sally forth into the city streets and watch the King’s homecoming in a grand parade.
But the cat sat down on his tail in the corner and looked cross. “Scat!” said he, with an angry caterwaul. “It is not fair that you should go and that I should not.”
“Oh, yes, it is,” said the gleeful turnspits; “turn and turn about is fair play: you saw the rat that was killed in the parlor.”
“Turn about fair play, indeed!” cried the cat. “Then all of you get to your spits; I am sure that is turn about!”
“Nay,” said the turnspits, wagging their tailsand laughing. “That is over and over again, which is not fair play. ’Tis the coffee-mill that is turn and turn about. So turn about to your mill, Sooty Will; we are off to see the King!”
“turning hand-springs, head-springs, and heel-springs as they went”
With that they pranced out into the court-yard, turning hand-springs, head-springs, and heel-springs as they went, and, after giving three hearty and vociferous cheers in a grand chorus at the bottom of the garden, went capering away for their holiday.
The cat spat at their vanishing heels, sat down on his tail in the chimney-corner, and was very glum indeed.
Just then the cook looked in from the pantry. “Hullo!” he said gruffly. “Come, hurry up the coffee!” That was the way he always gave his orders.
“‘hullo!’ he said gruffly.‘come, hurry up the coffee!’”
The black cat’s whiskers bristled. He turned to the mill with a fierce frown, his long tail going to and fro like that of a tiger in its lair; for Sooty Will had a temper like hot gunpowder, that was apt to go offsizz,whizz,bang! and no one to save the pieces. Yet, at least while the cook was by, he turned the mill furiously, as if with a right good-will.
Meantime, out in the city a glorious day came on. The sun went buzzing up the pink-and-yellow sky with a sound like that of a walking-doll’s works, or of a big Dutch clock behind a door; banners waved from the castled heights, and bugles sang from every tower; the city gates rang with the cheers of the enthusiastic crowd. Up from cellars, down from lofts, off work-benches, and out at the doors of their masters’ shops, dodging the thwacks of their masters’ straps, “pop-popping” like corks from the necks of so many bottles, came apprentices, shop-boys, knaves and scullions, crying: “God save the King! Hurrah! Hurrah! Masters and work may go to Rome; our tasks shall wait on our own sweet wills; ’t is holiday when the King comes home. God save the King! Hurrah!”
Then came the procession. There were first three regiments of trumpeters, all blowing different tunes; then fifteen regiments of mounted infantry on coal-black horses, forty squadrons of green-and-blue dragoons, and a thousand drummersand fifers in scarlet and blue and gold, making a thundering din with their rootle-te-tootle-te-tootle-te-rootle; and pretty well up to the front in the ranks was the King himself, bowing and smiling to the populace, with his hand on his breast; and after him the army, all in shining armor, just enough pounded to be picturesque, miles on miles of splendid men, all bearing the trophies of glorious war, and armed with lances and bows and arrows, falchions, morgensterns, martels-de-fer, and other choice implements of justifiable homicide, and the reverse, such as hautboys and sackbuts and accordions and dudelsacks and Scotch bagpipes—a glorious sight!
a part of the grand procession
And, as has been said before, the city gates rang with the cheers of the crowd, crimson banners waved over the city’s pinnacled summits, and bugles blew, trumpets brayed, and drums beat until it seemed that wild uproar and rich display had reached its high millennium.
The black cat turned the coffee-mill. “My oh! my oh!” he said. "It certainly is not fair that those bench-legged turnspits with feet like so much leather should see the King marching home in his glory, while I, who go shod, as it were, in velvet, should hear only the sound through the scullery windows. It is not fair. It is no doubt true that “The cat may mew, and the dog shall have his day,” but I have as much right to my day as he; and has it not been said from immemorial time that ‘A cat may look at a king’? Indeed it has, quite as much as that the dog may have his day. I will not stand it; it is not fair. A cat may look at a king; and if any cat may look at a king, why, I am the cat who may. There are no other cats in the world; I am the only one. Poh! the cook may shout till his breath gives out, he cannot frighten me; for once I am going to have my fling!”
So he forthwith swallowed the coffee-mill, box, handle, drawer-knobs, coffee-well, and all, and was off to see the King.
So far, so good. But, ah! the sad and undeniable truth, that brightest joys too soon must end! Triumphs cannot last forever, even in a land of legends. There comes a reckoning.
When the procession was past and gone, as all processions pass and go, vanishing down the shores of forgetfulness; when barons, marquises, dukes, and dons were gone, with their pennants and banners; when the last lancers had gone prancing past and were lost to sight down the circuitous avenue, Sooty Will, with drooping tail, stood by the palace gate, dejected. He was sour and silent and glum. Indeed, who would not be, with a coffee-mill on his conscience? To own up to the entire truth, the cat was feeling decidedly unwell; when suddenly the cook popped his head in at the scullery entry, crying, “How now, hownow, you vagabonds! The war is done, but the breakfast is not. Hurry up, scurry up, scamper and trot! The cakes are all cooked and are piping hot! Then why is the coffee so slow?” The King was in the dining-hall, in dressing-gown and slippers, irately calling for his breakfast!
“he forthwith swallowed the coffee-mill”
The shamefaced, guilty cat ran hastily down the scullery stairs and hid under the refrigerator, with such a deep inward sensation of remorse that he dared not look the kind cook in the face. It now really seemed to him as if everything had gone wrong with the world, especially his own insides. This any one will readily believe who has ever swallowed a coffee-mill. He began to weep copiously.
“and was off to see the king”
The cook came into the kitchen. “Where is the coffee?” he said; then, catching sight of the secluded cat, he stooped, crying, “Where is the coffee?”
“the cat was feeling decidedly unwell”
The cat sobbed audibly. “Some one must have come into the kitchen while I ran out to look at the King!” he gasped, for there seemed to him no way out of the scrape but by telling a plausible untruth. “Some one must have come into the kitchen and stolen it!” And with that, choking upon the handle of the mill, which projected into his throat, he burst into inarticulate sobs.
“it seemed as if everything had gone wrong”
The cook, who was, in truth, a very kind-hearted man, sought to reassure the poor cat. “There; it is unfortunate, very; but do not weep; thieves thrive in kings’ houses!” he said, and, stooping, he began to stroke the drooping cat’s back to show that he held the weeping creature blameless.
Sooty Will’s heart leaped into his throat.
“‘where is the coffee?’ said the cook”
“Oh, oh!” he half gasped, “oh, oh! If he rubs his great hand down my back he will feel the corners of the coffee-mill through my ribs as sure as fate! Oh, oh! I am a gone cat!” And with that, in an agony of apprehension lest his guilt and his falsehood be thus presently detected, he humped up his back as high in the air as he could, so that the corners of the mill might not make bumps in his sides and that the mill might thus remain undiscovered.
But, alas! he forgot that coffee-mills turn. As he humped up his back to cover his guilt, the coffee-millinside rolled over, and, as it rolled, began to grind—rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr-rr!
“Oh, oh! you have swallowed the mill!” cried the cook.
“out stepped the genius that lived under the great ovens”
“No, no,” cried the cat; “I was only thinking aloud.”
At that out stepped the Genius that Lived under the Great Ovens, and, with his finger pointed at the cat, said in a frightful voice, husky with wood-ashes: “Miserable and pusillanimous beast! By telling a falsehood to cover a wrong you have only made bad matters worse. For betraying man’s kindness to cover your shame, a curse shall be upon you and all your kind until the end of the world. Whenever men stroke you in kindness, remembrance of your guilt shall make you hump up your back with shame, as you did to avoid being found out; and in order that the reason for this curse shall never be forgotten, whenever man is kind to a cat the sound of the grinding of a coffee-mill inside shall perpetually remind him of your guilt and shame!”
With that the Genius vanished in a cloud of smoke.
And it was even as he said. From that day Sooty Will could never abide having his back stroked without humping it up to conceal the mill within him; and never did he hump up his back but the coffee-mill began slowly to grind,rr-rr-rr-rr!inside him; so that, even in the prime of life, before his declining days had come, being seized upon by a great remorse for these things which might never be amended, he retired to a home for aged and reputable cats, and there, so far as the records reveal, lived the remainder of his days in charity and repentance.
But the curse has come down even to the present day, as the Genius that Lived under the Great Ovens said, and still maintains, though cats have probably forgotten the facts, and so, when stroked, hump up their backs and purr as if these actions were a matter of pride instead of being a blot upon their family record.
“he retired to a home foraged and reputable cats”
Stories From Scandinavia
Once on a time there was a man who had a Cat, and she was so awfully big, and such a beast to eat, he couldn’t keep her any longer. So she was to go down to the river with a stone round her neck, but before she started she was to have a meal of meat. So the goody set before her a bowl of porridge and a little trough of fat. That the creature crammed into her, and ran off and jumped through the window. Outside stood the goodman by the barn-door threshing.
“Good day, goodman,” said the Cat.
“Good day, pussy,” said the goodman; “have you had any food to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge and a trough of fat—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took the goodman and gobbled him up.
When she had done that, she went into the byre, and there sat the goody milking.
“Good day, goody,” said the Cat.
“Good day, pussy,” said the goody; “are you here, and have you eaten up your food yet?”
“Oh, I’ve eaten a little to-day, but I’m ’most fasting,” said pussy; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took the goody and gobbled her up.
“Good day, you cow at the manger,” said the Cat to Daisy the cow.
“Good day, pussy,” said the bell-cow; “have you had any food to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “I’ve only had a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took the cow and gobbled her up.
Then off she set into the home-field, and there stood a man picking up leaves.
“Good day, you leaf-picker in the field,” said the Cat.
“Good day, pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?” said the leaf-picker.
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and Daisy the cow—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the leaf-picker and gobbled him up.
Then she came to a heap of stones, and there stood a stoat and peeped out.
“Good day, Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the stoat and gobbled him up.
When she had gone a bit farther, she came to a hazel-brake, and there sat a squirrel gathering nuts.
“Good day, Sir Squirrel of the Brake,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the squirrel and gobbled him up.
When she had gone a little farther, she saw Reynard the fox, who was prowling about by the woodside.
“Good day, Reynard Slyboots,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took Reynard andgobbled him up.
When she had gone a little farther she met Long Ears, the hare.
“Good day, Mr. Hopper the hare,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.” So she took the hare and gobbled him up.
When she had gone a bit farther she met a wolf.
“Good day, you Greedy Graylegs,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare—and now I think of it, I may as well take you, too.” So she took and gobbled up Graylegs, too.
So she went on into the wood, and when she had gone far and farther than far, o’er hill and dale, she met a bear-cub.
“Good day, you bare-breeched bear,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy,” said the bear-cub; “have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf—and, now I think of it, I may as well take you, too.” And so she took the bear-cub and gobbled him up.
When the Cat had gone a bit farther, she met a she-bear, who was tearing away at a stump till the splinters flew, so angry was she at having lost her cub.
“Good day, you Mrs. Bruin,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took Mrs. Bruin and gobbled her up, too.
When the Cat got still farther on, she met Baron Bruin himself.
“Good day, you Baron Bruin,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy,” said Bruin; “have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she took Bruin and ate him up, too.
So the Cat went on and on, and farther than far, till she came to the abodes of men again, and there she met a bridal train on the road.
“Good day, you bridal train on the king’s highway,” said she.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too,” and so she rushed at them, and gobbled up both the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train, with the cook and the fiddler, and the horses and all.
When she had gone still farther, she came to a church, and there she met a funeral.
“Good day, you funeral train,” said she.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train—and, now, I don’t mind if I take you, too,” and so she fell on the funeral train and gobbled up both the body and the bearers.
Now when the Cat had got the body in her, she was taken up to the sky, and when she had gone a long, long way, she met the moon.
“Good day, Mrs. Moon,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare,and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train, and the funeral train—and, now I think of it, I don’t mind if I take you, too,” and so she seized hold of the moon, and gobbled her up, both new and full.
“‘that we’ll fight about,’ said the billy goat”
So the Cat went a long way still, and then she met the sun.
“Good day, you sun in heaven.”
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy,” said the sun; “have you had anything to eat to-day?”
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting,” said the Cat; “it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom, and the whole train, and the funeral train, and the moon—and, now I think of it, I don’t mind if I take you, too,” and so she rushed at the sun in heaven and gobbled him up.
So the Cat went far and farther than far, till she came to a bridge, and on it she met a big billy-goat.
“Good day, you Billy-goat on Broad-bridge,” said the Cat.
“Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?” said the billy-goat.
“Oh, I’ve had a little, but I’m ’most fasting; I’ve only had a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody in the byre, and Daisy the cow at the manger, and the leaf-picker in the home-field, and Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap, and Sir Squirrel of the Brake, and Reynard Slyboots, and Mr. Hopper the hare, and Greedy Graylegs the wolf, and Bare-breech the bear-cub, and Mrs. Bruin, and Baron Bruin, and a bridal train on the king’s highway, and a funeral at the church, and Lady Moon in the sky, and Lord Sun in heaven—and, now I think of it, I’ll take you, too.”
“That we’ll fight about,” said the billy-goat, and butted at the Cat till she fell right over the bridge into the river, and there she burst.
So they all crept out one after the other, and went about their business, and were just as good as ever, all that the Cat had gobbled up. The goodman of the house, and the goody in the byre, and Daisy the cow at the manger, and the leaf-picker in the home-field, and Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap, and Sir Squirrel of the Brake, and Reynard Slyboots, and Mr. Hopper the hare, and Greedy Graylegs the wolf, and Bare-breech the bear-cub, and Mrs. Bruin, and Baron Bruin, and the bridal train on the highway, and the funeral train at the church, and Lady Moon in the sky, and Lord Sun in heaven.
There was once upon a time a man whose name was Gudbrand. He had a farm which lay far away up on the side of a hill, and therefore they called him Gudbrand on the hillside.
He and his wife lived so happily together, and agreed so well, that whatever the man did the wife thought it so well done that no one could do it better. No matter what he did, she thought it was always the right thing.
They lived on their own farm, and had a hundred dollars at the bottom of their chest and two cows in their cow-shed. One day the woman said to Gudbrand:
“I think we ought to go to town with one of the cows and sell it, so that we may have some ready money by us. We are pretty well off, and ought to have a few shillings in our pocket like other people. The hundred dollars in the chest we mustn’t touch, but I can’t see what we want with more than one cow, and it will be much better for us, as I shall have only one to look after instead of the two I have now to mind and feed.”
Yes, Gudbrand thought, that was well and sensibly spoken. He took the cow at once and went to town to sell it; but when he got there no one would buy the cow.
“Ah, well!” thought Gudbrand, “I may as well take the cow home again. I know I have both stall and food for it, and the way home is no longer than it was here.” So he strolled homeward again with the cow.
When he had got a bit on the way he met a man who had a horse to sell, and Gudbrand thought it was better to have a horse than a cow, and so he changed the cow for the horse.
When he had gone a bit farther he met a man who was driving a fat pig before him, and then he thought it would be better to have a fat pig than a horse, and so he changed with the man.
He now went a bit farther, and then he met a man with a goat, and so he thought it was surely better to have a goat than a pig, and changed with the man who had the goat.
Then he went a long way, till he met a man who had a sheep. He changed with him, for hethought it was always better to have a sheep than a goat.
When he had got a bit farther he met a man with a goose, and so he changed the sheep for the goose. And when he had gone a long, long way he met a man with a cock. He changed the goose with him, for he thought this wise: “It is surely better to have a cock than a goose.”
He walked on till late in the day, when he began to feel hungry. So he sold the cock for sixpence and bought some food for himself. “For it is always better to keep body and soul together than to have a cock,” thought Gudbrand.
He then set off again homeward till he came to his neighbor’s farm, and there he went in.
“How did you get on in town?” asked the people.
“Oh, only so-so,” said the man. “I can’t boast of my luck, nor can I grumble at it either.” And then he told them how it had gone with him from first to last.
“Well, you’ll have a fine reception when you get home to your wife,” said the man. “Heaven help you! I should not like to be in your place.”
“I think I might have fared much worse,” said Gudbrand; “but whether I have fared well or ill, I have such a kind wife that she never says anything, no matter what I do.”
“Aye, so you say; but you won’t get me to believe it,” said the neighbor.
“Shall we have a wager on it?” said Gudbrand. “I have a hundred dollars in my chest at home. Will you lay the same?”
So they made the wager and Gudbrand remained there till the evening, when it began to get dark, and then they went together to the farm.
The neighbor was to remain outside the door and listen while Gudbrand went in to his wife.
“Good evening!” said Gudbrand when he came in.
“Good evening!” said the wife. “Heaven be praised you are back again.”
“Yes, here I am!” said the man. And then the wife asked him how he had got on in town.
“Oh, so-so,” answered Gudbrand. “Not much to brag of. When I came to town no one would buy the cow, so I changed it for a horse.”
“Oh, I’m so glad of that,” said the woman. “We are pretty well off and we ought to drive to church like other people, and when we can afford to keep a horse I don’t see why we should not have one. Run out, children, and put the horse in the stable.”
“Well, I haven’t got the horse, after all,” said Gudbrand; “for when I had got a bit on the way I changed it for a pig.”
“Dear me!” cried the woman, “that’s the very thing I should have done myself. I’m so glad of that, for now we can have some bacon in the house and something to offer people when they come to see us. What do we want with a horse? People would only say we had become so grand that we could no longer walk to church. Run out, children, and let the pig in.”
“But I haven’t got the pig either,” said Gudbrand, “for when I had got a bit farther on the road I changed it into a milch goat.”
“Dear! dear! how well you manage everything!” cried the wife. “When I really come to think of it, what do I want with the pig? People would only say: ‘Over yonder they eat up everything they have.’ No, now I have a goat I can have both milk and cheese and keep the goat into the bargain. Let in the goat, children.”
“But I haven’t got the goat either,” said Gudbrand. “When I got a bit on the way I changed the goat and got a fine sheep for it.”
“Well!” returned the woman, “you do everything just as I should wish it—just as if I had been there myself. What do we want with a goat? I should have to climb up hill and down dale to get it home at night. No, when I have a sheep I can have wool and clothes in the house and food as well. Run out, children, and let in the sheep.”
“But I haven’t got the sheep any longer,” said Gudbrand, “for when I had got a bit on the way I changed it for a goose.”
“Well, thank you for that!” said the woman; “and many thanks, too! What do I want with a sheep? I have neither wheel nor spindle, and I do not care either to toil and drudge making clothes; we can buy clothes now as before. Now I can have goose-fat, which I have so long been wishing for, and some feathers to stuff that little pillow of mine. Run, children, and let in the goose.”
“Well, I haven’t got the goose either,” said Gudbrand. “When I had got a bit farther on the way I changed it for a cock.”
“Well, I don’t know how you can think of it all!” cried the woman. “It’s just as if I had done it all myself. A cock! Why, it’s just the same as if you’d bought an eight-day clock, for every morning the cock will crow at four, so we can be up in good time. What do we want with a goose? I can’t make goose-fat and I can easily fill my pillow with some soft grass. Run, children, and let in the cock.”
“But I haven’t the cock either,” said Gudbrand; “for when I had got a bit farther I becameso terribly hungry I had to sell the cock for sixpence and get some food to keep body and soul together.”
“Heaven be praised you did that!” cried the woman. “Whatever you do, you always do the very thing I could have wished. Besides, what did we want with the cock? We are our own masters and can lie as long as we like in the mornings. Heaven be praised! As long as I have got you back again, who manage everything so well, I shall neither want cock, nor goose, nor pig, nor cows.”
Gudbrand then opened the door. “Have I won the hundred dollars now?” he asked. And the neighbor was obliged to confess that he had.
At dawn the other day, when Bruin came tramping over the bog with a fat pig, Reynard sat up on a stone by the moorside.
“Good day, grandsire,” said the fox. “What’s that so nice that you have there?”
“Pork,” said Bruin.
“Well, I have got a dainty bit, too,” said Reynard.
“What is that?” asked the bear.
“The biggest wild bee’s comb I ever saw in my life,” said Reynard.
“Indeed, you don’t say so,” said Bruin, who grinned and licked his lips, he thought it would be so nice to taste a little honey. At last he said: “Shall we swap our fare?”
“Nay, nay!” said Reynard, “I can’t do that.”
The end was that they made a bet, and agreed to name three trees. If the fox could say them off faster than the bear, he was to have leave to take one bite of the bacon; but if the bear could say them faster, he was to have leave to take one sup out of the comb. Greedy Bruin thought he was sure to sup out all the honey at one breath.
“Well,” said Reynard, “it’s all fair and right, no doubt, but all I say is, if I win, you shall be bound to tear off the bristles where I am to bite.”
“Of course,” said Bruin, “I’ll help you, as you can’t help yourself.”
So they were to begin and name the trees.
“Fir, Scotch Fir, Spruce,” growled out Bruin, for he was gruff in his tongue, that he was. But for all that he only named two trees, for fir and Scotch fir are both the same.
“Ash,Aspen,Oak,” screamed Reynard, so that the wood rang again.
So he had won the wager, and down he ran and took the heart out of the pig at one bit, and was just running off with it. But Bruin was angry because Reynard had taken the best bit out of the whole pig, and so he laid hold of his tail and held him fast.
“Stop a bit, stop a bit,” he said, and was wild with rage.
“Never mind,” said the fox, “it’s all right; let me go, grandsire, and I’ll give you a taste of my honey.”
When Bruin heard that, he let go his hold, and away went Reynard after the honey.
“Here, on this honeycomb,” said Reynard, “lies a leaf, and under this leaf is a hole, and that hole you are to suck.”
As he said this he held up the comb under the bear’s nose, took off the leaf, jumped up on a stone, and began to gibber and laugh, for there was neither honey nor honeycomb, but a wasp’s nest, as big as a man’s head, full of wasps, and out swarmed the wasps and settled on Bruin’s head, and stung him in his eyes and ears, and mouth and snout. And he had such hard work to rid himself of them that he had no time to think of Reynard.
And that’s why, ever since that day, Bruin is so afraid of wasps.
Once on a time there was a bear, who sat on a hillside in the sun and slept. Just then Reynard came slouching by and caught sight of him.
“There you sit taking your ease, grandsire,” said the fox. “Now, see if I don’t play you a trick.” So he went and caught three field-mice and laid them on a stump close under Bruin’s nose, and then he bawled out into his ear, “Bo! Bruin, here’s Peter the Hunter, just behind this stump”; and as he bawled this out he ran off through the wood as fast as ever he could.
Bruin woke up with a start, and when he saw the three little mice, he was as mad as a March hare, and was going to lift up his paw and crush them, for he thought it was they who had bellowed in his ear.
But just as he lifted it he caught sight of Reynard’s tail among the bushes by the woodside,and away he set after him, so that the underwood crackled as he went, and, to tell the truth, Bruin was so close upon Reynard that he caught hold of his off hind foot just as he was crawling into an earth under a pine-root. So there was Reynard in a pinch; but for all that he had his wits about him, for he screeched out, “Slip the pine-root and catch Reynard’s foot,” and so the silly bear let his foot slip and laid hold of the root instead. But by that time Reynard was safe inside the earth, and called out:
“I cheated you that time, too, didn’t I, grandsire?”
“Out of sight isn’t out of mind,” growled Bruin down the earth, and was wild with rage.
There was once a Cock who had a whole farmyard of hens to look after and manage; and among them was a tiny little Crested Hen. She thought she was altogether too grand to be in company with the other hens, for they looked so old and shabby; she wanted to go out and strut about all by herself, so that people could see how fine she was, and admire her pretty crest and beautiful plumage.
So one day when all the hens were strutting about on the dust-heap and showing themselves off, and picking and clucking, as they were wont to do, this desire seized her, and she began to cry:
“Cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck, over the fence! cluck, cluck, cluck, over the fence!” and wanted to get away.
The Cock stretched his neck and shook his comb and feathers, and cried:
“Go not there!” And all the old hens cackled:
“Go-go-go-go not there!”
But she set off for all that; and was not a little proud when she got away, and could go about pluming and showing herself off quite alone.
Just then a hawk began to fly round in a circle above her, and all of a sudden he swooped down upon her. The Cock, as he stood on top of the dust-heap, stretching his neck and peering first with one eye and then with the other, had long noticed him, and cried with all his might:
“Come, come, come and help! Come, come, come and help!” till the people came running to see what was the matter. They frightened the hawk so that he let go the Hen, and had to be satisfied with her tuft and her finest feathers, which he had plucked from her. And then, you may be sure, she lost no time in running-home; she stretched her neck, and tripped along, crying:
“See, see, see, see how I look! See, see, see, see how I look!”
The Cock came up to her in his dignified way, drooped one of his wings, and said:
“Didn’t I tell you?”
From that time the Hen did not consider herself too good to be in the company of the old hens on the dust-heap.
“didn’t i tell you?” said the cock
There was once a tramp who went plodding his way through a forest. The distance between the houses was so great that he had little hope of finding a shelter before the night set in. But all of a sudden he saw some lights between the trees. He then discovered a cottage, where there was a fire burning on the hearth. How nice it would be to roast one’s self before that fire, and to get a bite of something, he thought; and so he dragged himself toward the cottage.
Just then an old woman came toward him.
“Good evening, and well met!” said the tramp.
“Good evening,” said the woman. “Where do you come from?”
“South of the sun, and east of the moon,” said the tramp; “and now I am on the way home again, for I have been all over the world with the exception of this parish,” he said.
“You must be a great traveler, then,” said the woman. “What may be your business here?”
“Oh, I want a shelter for the night,” he said.
“I thought as much,” said the woman; “but you may as well get away from here at once, for my husband is not at home, and my place is not an inn,” she said.
“My good woman,” said the tramp, “you must not be so cross and hard-hearted, for we are both human beings, and should help one another, as it is written.”
“Help one another?” said the woman, “help? Did you ever hear such a thing? Who’ll help me, do you think? I haven’t got a morsel in the house! No, you’ll have to look for quarterselsewhere,” she said.
But the tramp was like the rest of his kind; he did not consider himself beaten at the first rebuff. Although the old woman grumbled and complained as much as she could, he was just as persistent as ever, and went on begging and praying like a starved dog, until at last she gave in, and he got permission to lie on the floor for the night.
That was very kind, he thought, and he thanked her for it.
“Better on the floor without sleep, than suffer cold in the forest deep,” he said; for he was a merry fellow, this tramp, and was always ready with a rhyme.
When he came into the room he could see that the woman was not so badly off as she had pretended; but she was a greedy and stingy woman of the worst sort, and was always complaining and grumbling.
He now made himself very agreeable, of course, and asked her in his most insinuating manner for something to eat.
“Where am I to get it from?” said the woman. “I haven’t tasted a morsel myself the whole day.”
But the tramp was a cunning fellow, he was.
“Poor old granny, you must be starving,” he said. “Well, well, I suppose I shall have to ask you to have something with me, then?”
“Have something with you!” said the woman. “You don’t look as if you could ask any one to have anything! What have you got to offer one, I should like to know?”
“He who far and wide does roam sees many things not known at home; and he who many things has seen has wits about him and senses keen,” said the tramp. “Better dead than lose one’s head! Lend me a pot, granny!”
The old woman now became very inquisitive, as you may guess, and so she let him have a pot.
He filled it with water and put it on the fire, and then he blew with all his might till the fire was burning fiercely all round it. Then he took a four-inch nail from his pocket, turned it three times in his hand, and put it into the pot.
The woman stared with all her might.
“What’s this going to be?” she asked.
“Nail broth,” said the tramp, and began to stir the water with the porridge-stick.
“Nail broth?” asked the woman.
“Yes, nail broth,” said the tramp.
The old woman had seen and heard a good deal in her time, but that anybody could have made broth with a nail, well, she had never heard the like before.
“That’s something for poor people to know,” she said, “and I should like to learn how to make it.”
“That which is not worth having will always go a-begging,” said the tramp, but if she wanted to learn how to make it she had only to watch him, he said, and went on stirring the broth.
The old woman squatted on the ground, her hands clasping her knees, and her eyes following his hand as he stirred the broth.
“This generally makes good broth,” he said; “but this time it will very likely be rather thin, for I have been making broth the whole week with the same nail. If one only had a handful of sifted oatmeal to put in, that would make it all right,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about,” and so he stirred the broth again.
“Well, I think I have a scrap of flour somewhere,” said the old woman, and went out to fetch some, and it was both good and fine.
The tramp began putting the flour into the broth, and went on stirring, while the woman sat staring now at him and then at the pot until her eyes nearly burst their sockets.
“This broth would be good enough for company,” he said, putting in one handful of flour after another. “If I had only a bit of salted beef and few potatoes to put in, it would be fit for gentlefolks, however particular they might be,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about.”
When the old woman really began to think it over, she thought she had some potatoes, and perhaps a bit of beef as well; and these she gave the tramp, who went on stirring, while she sat and stared as hard as ever.
“This will be grand enough for the best in the land,” he said.
“Well, I never!” said the woman; “and just fancy—all with a nail!”
He was really a wonderful man, that tramp! He could do more than drink a sup and turn the tankard up, he could.
“If one had only a little barley and a drop of milk, we could ask the king himself to have some of it,” he said; “for this is what he has every blessed evening—that I know, for I have been in service under the king’s cook,” he said.
“Dear me! Ask the king to have some! Well, I never!” exclaimed the woman, slapping her knees. She was quite awestruck at the tramp and his grand connections.
“But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about,” said the tramp.
And then she remembered she had a little barley; and as for milk, well, she wasn’t quite out of that, she said. And then she went to fetchboth the one and the other.
The tramp went on stirring, and the woman sat staring, one moment at him and the next at the pot.
Then all at once the tramp took out the nail.
“Now it’s ready, and now we’ll have a real good feast,” he said. “But to this kind of soup the king and the queen always take a dram or two, and one sandwich at least. And then they always have a cloth on the table when they eat,” he said. “But what one has to go without, it’s no use thinking more about.”
But by this time the old woman herself had begun to feel quite grand and fine, I can tell you; and if that was all that was wanted to make it just as the king had it, she thought it would be nice to have it exactly the same way for once, and play at being king and queen with the tramp. She went straight to a cupboard and brought out the brandy bottle, dram glasses, butter and cheese, smoked beef and veal, until at last the table looked as if it were decked out for company.
Never in her life had the old woman had such a grand feast, and never had she tasted such broth, and just fancy, made only with a nail!
She was in such a good and merry humor at having learned such an economical way of making broth that she did not know how to make enough of the tramp who had taught her such a useful thing.
So they ate and drank, and drank and ate, until they became both tired and sleepy.
The tramp was now going to lie down on the floor. But that would never do, thought the old woman; no, that was impossible. “Such a grand person must have a bed to lie in,” she said.
He did not need much pressing. “It’s just like the sweet Christmas time,” he said, “and a nicer woman I never came across. Ah, well! Happy are they who meet with such good people,” said he; and he lay down on the bed and went asleep.
And next morning, when he woke, the first thing he got was a good breakfast.
When he was going, the old woman gave him a bright dollar piece.
“And thanks, many thanks, for what you have taught me,” she said. “Now I shall live in comfort, since I have learned how to make broth with a nail.”
“Well, it isn’t very difficult if one only has something good to add to it,” said the tramp as he went his way.
The woman stood at the door staring after him.
“Such people don’t grow on every bush,” she said.
There was once upon a time an old woman who lived in a miserable cottage on the brow of a hill overlooking the town. Her husband had been dead for many years, and her children were in service round about the parish, so she felt rather lonely and dreary by herself, and otherwise she was not particularly well off either.
But when it has been ordained that one shall live, one cannot think of one’s funeral; and so one has to take the world as it is, and still be satisfied; and that was about all the old woman could console herself with. But that the road up which she had to carry the pails from the well should be so heavy; and that the axe should have such a blunt and rusty edge, so that it was only with the greatest difficulty that she could cut the little firewood she had; and that the stuff she was weaving was not sufficient—all this grieved her greatly, and caused her to complain from time to time.
So one day, when she had pulled the bucket up from the well, she happened to find a small pike in the bucket, which did not at all displease her.
“Such fish does not come into my pot every day,” she said; and now she could have a really grand dish, she thought. But the fish that she had got this time was no fool; it had the gift of speech, that it had.
“Let me go!” said the fish.
The old woman began to stare, you may be sure. Such a fish she had never before seen in this world.
“Are you so much better than other fish, then?” she said, “and too good to be eaten?”
“Wise is he who does not eat all he gets hold of,” said the fish; “only let me go, and you shall not remain without reward for your trouble.”
“I like a fish in the bucket better than all those frisking about free and frolicsome in the lakes,” said the old woman. “And what one can catch with one hand, one can also carry to one’s mouth,” she said.
“That may be,” said the fish; “but if you do as I tell you, you shall have three wishes.”
“Wish in one fist, and pour water in the other, and you’ll soon see which you will get filled first,” said the woman. “Promises are well enough, but keeping them is better, and I sha’n’tbelieve much in you till I have got you in the pot,” she said.
“You should mind that tongue of yours,” said the fish, “and listen to my words. Wish for three things, and then you’ll see what will happen,” he said.
Well, the old woman knew well enough what she wanted to wish, and there might not be so much danger in trying how far the fish would keep his word, she thought.
She then began thinking of the heavy hill up from the well.
“I would wish that the pails could go of themselves to the well and home again,” she said.
“So they shall,” said the fish.
Then she thought of the axe, and how blunt it was.
“I would wish that whatever I strike shall break right off,” she said.
“So it shall,” said the fish.
And then she remembered that the stuff she was weaving was not long enough.
“I would wish that whatever I pull shall become long,” she said.
“That it shall,” said the fish. “And now, let me down into the well again.”
Yes, that she would, and all at once the pails began to shamble up the hill.
“Dear me, did you ever see anything like it?” The old woman became so glad and pleased that she slapped herself across the knees.
Crack, crack! it sounded; and then both her legs fell off, and she was left sitting on the top of the lid over the well.
Now came a change. She began to cry and wail, and the tears started from her eyes, whereupon she began blowing her nose with her apron, and as she tugged at her nose it grew so long, so long, that it was terrible to see.
That is what she got for her wishes! Well, there she sat, and there she no doubt still sits, on the lid of the well. And if you want to know what it is to have a long nose, you had better go there and ask her, for she can tell you all about it, she can.
There was once upon a time a little lad, who was on his way to church, and when he came to a clearing in the forest he caught sight of a fox that was lying on the top of a big stone so fast asleep that he did not know the lad had seen him.
“If I catch that fox,” said the lad, “and sell the skin, I shall get money for it, and with that money I shall buy some rye, and that rye I shall sow in father’s corn-field at home. When the people who are on their way to church pass by my field of rye they’ll say: ‘Oh, what splendid rye that lad has got!’ Then I shall say to them: ‘I say, keep away from my rye!’ But they won’t heed me. Then I shall shout to them: ‘I say, keep away from my rye!’ But still they won’t take any notice of me. Then I shall scream with all my might: ‘Keep away from my rye!’ and then they’ll listen to me.”
But the lad screamed so loudly that the fox woke up and made off at once for the forest, so that the lad did not even get as much as a handful of his hair.
No; it’s best always to take what you can reach, for of undone deeds you should never screech, as the saying goes.
Norwegian children are just as fond of fairy stories as are any other children, and they are lucky in having a great number, for that famous story-teller, Hans Christian Andersen, was a Dane, and as the Danish language is very like the Norwegian, his stories were probably known in Norway long before they were known in England. But the Norwegians have plenty of other stories of their own, and they love to sit by the fire of burning logs or round the stove in the long winter evenings and listen to them. Of course, they know all about people like Cinderella and Jack the Giant-Killer, but their favorite hero is called by the name of Ashpot, who is sometimes a kind of boy Cinderella and sometimes a Jack the Giant-Killer.
The following are two stories which the little yellow-haired Norse children never fail to delight in:
Once upon a time there was a man who had been out cutting wood, and when he came home he found that he had left his coat behind, so he told his little daughter to go and fetch it. The child started off, but before she reached the wood darkness came on, and suddenly a great big hill-giantswooped down upon her.
“Please, Mr. Giant,” said she, trembling all over, “don’t take me away to-night, as father wants his coat; but to-morrow night, if you will come when I go to thestabburto fetch the bread, I will go away with you quietly.”
So the giant agreed, and the next night, when she went to fetch the bread, he came and carried her off. As soon as it was found that she was missing, her father sent her eldest brother to look for her, but he came back without finding her. The second brother was also sent, but with no better result. At last the father turned to his youngest son, who was the drudge of the house, and said: “Now, Ashpot, you go and see if you can find your sister.”
So away went Ashpot, and no sooner had he reached the wood than he met a bear.
“Friend bear,” said Ashpot, “will you help me?”
“Willingly,” answered the bear. “Get up on my back.”
And Ashpot mounted the bear’s back and rode off. Presently they met a wolf.
“Friend wolf,” said Ashpot, “will you do some work for me?”
“Willingly,” answered the wolf.
“Then jump up behind,” said Ashpot, and the three went on deeper into the wood.
They next met a fox, and then a hare, both of whom were enlisted into Ashpot’s service, and, mounted on the back of the bear, were swiftly carried off to the giant’s abode.
“Good day, Mr. Giant!” said they.
“Scratch my back!” roared the giant, who lay stretched in front of the fire warming himself.
The hare immediately climbed up and began to scratch as desired; but the giant knocked him over, and down he fell on to the hearthstone, breaking off his forelegs, since which time all hares have had short forelegs.
The fox next clambered up to scratch the giant’s back, but he was served like the hare. Then the wolf’s turn came, but the giant said that he was no better at scratching than the others.
“Youscratch me!” shouted the giant, turning impatiently to the bear.
“All right,” answered Bruin; “I know all about scratching,” and he forthwith dug his claws into the giant’s back and ripped it into a thousand pieces.
Then all the beasts danced on the dead body of the monster, and Ashpot recovered his sister and took her home, carrying off, at the same time, all the giant’s gold and silver. The bear and the wolf burst into the cattle-sheds and devoured all the cows and sheep, the fox feasted in the hen-roost, while the hare had the free run of the oatfield. So every one was satisfied.
The other story is also about Ashpot, whose two elder brothers still treated him very badly, and eventually turned him out of his home. Poor Ashpot wandered away up into the mountains, where he met a huge giant. At first he was terribly afraid, but after a little while he told the giant what had happened to him, and asked him if he could find a job for him.
“You are just the very man I want,” said the giant. “Come along with me.”
The first work to be done was to make a fire to brew some ale, so they went off together to the forest to cut firewood. The giant carried a club in place of an axe, and when they came to a large birch-tree he asked Ashpot whether he would like to club the tree down or climb up and hold the top of it. The boy thought that the latter would suit him best, and he soon got up to the topmost branches and held on to them. But the giant gave the tree such a blow with his club as to knock it right out of the ground, sending Ashpot flying across the meadows into a marsh. Luckily he landed on soft ground, and was none the worse for his adventure; and they soon managed to get the tree home, when they set to work to make a fire.
But the wood was green, and would not burn, so the giant began to blow. At the first puff Ashpot found himself flying up to the ceiling as if he had been a feather, but he managed to catch hold of a piece of birch-bark among the rafters, and on reaching the ground again he told the giant that he had been up to get something to make the fire burn.
The fire was soon burning splendidly, and the giant commenced to brew the ale, drinking it off as fast as it was made. Ashpot watched him getting gradually stupid, and heard him mutter to himself, “To-night I will kill him,” so he began to think of a plan to outwit his master. When he went to bed he placed the giant’s cream-whisk, with which the giant used to beat his cream, between the sheets as a dummy, while Ashpot himself crept under the bedstead, where he was safely hidden.
In the middle of the night, just as he had expected, he heard the giant come into his room, and then there was a tremendous whack as the giant brought his club down on to the bed. Next morning the boy came out of his room as if nothing had happened, and his master was very much surprised to find him still alive.
“Hullo!” said the giant. “Didn’t you feel anythingin the night?”
“I did feel something,” said Ashpot; “but I thought that it was only a sausage-peg that had fallen on the bed, so I went to sleep again.”
The giant was more astonished than ever, and went off to consult his sister, who lived in a neighboring mountain, and was about ten times his size. At length it was settled that the giantess should set her cooking-pot on the fire, and that Ashpot should be sent to see her, when she was to tip him into the caldron and boil him. In the course of the day the giant sent the boy off with a message to his sister, and when he reached the giantess’s dwelling he found her busy cooking. But he soon saw through her design, and he took out of his pocket a nut with a hole in it.
“Look here,” he said, showing the nut to the ogress, “you think you can do everything. I will tell you one thing that you can’t do: you can’t make yourself so small as to be able to creep into the hole in this nut.”
“Rubbish!” replied the giantess. “Of course I can!”
And in a moment she became as small as a fly, and crept into the nut, whereupon Ashpot hurled it into the fire, and that was the end of the giantess.
The boy was so delighted that he returned to his old tyrant the giant and told him what had happened to his sister. This set the big man thinking again as to how he was to rid himself of this sharp-witted little nuisance. He did not understand boys, and he was afraid of Ashpot’s tricks, so he offered him as much gold and silver as he could carry if he would go away and never return. Ashpot, however, replied that the amount he could carry would not be worth having, and that he could not think of going unless he got as much as the giant could carry.
The giant, glad to get rid of him at any cost, agreed, and, loading himself with gold and silver and precious stones, he set out with the boy toward his home. When they reached the outskirts of the farms they saw a herd of cattle, and the giant began to tremble.
“What sort of beasts are these?” he asked.
“They are my father’s cows,” replied Ashpot, “and you had better put down your burden and run back to your mountain, or they may bite you.”
The giant was only too happy to get away, so, depositing his load, which was as big as a small hill, he made off, and left the boy to carry his treasure home by himself.
So enormous was the amount of the valuables that it was six years before Ashpot succeeded in removing everything from the field where the giant had set it down; but he and all his relations were rich people for the rest of their lives.