THE FOOLISH WOMAN.1

THE FOOLISH WOMAN.1There was once a couple well-to-do in the world, who had one only daughter.The son of a neighbour came to ask her in marriage, and as the father thought he would do, the father asked him to dinner, and sent the daughter down into the cellar to draw the wine.‘If I am married,’ said the girl to herself, and began to cry as she drew the wine, ‘I shall have a child, and the child will be a boy, and the boy will be called Petrillo, and by-and-by he will die, and I shall be left to lament him, and to cry all day long “Petrillo! Petrillo! where are you!”’ and she went on crying, and the wine went on running over.Then the mother went down to see what kept her solong, and she repeated the story all over to her, and the mother answered, ‘Right you are, my girl!’ and she, too, began to cry, and the wine was all the time running over.Then the father went down, and they repeated the story to him, and he, too, said, ‘Right you are!’ and he, too, began to cry, and the wine all the time went on running all over the floor.Then the young man also goes down to see what is the matter, and stops the wine running, and makes them all come up.‘But,’ he says, ‘I’ll not marry the girl till I have wandered over the world and found other three as simple as you.’ He dines with them, and sets out on his search.The first night he goes to bed in an inn, and in the morning he hears in the room next him such lamenting and complaining that he goes in to see what is the matter. A man is sitting by the side of the bed lamenting because he cannot get his stockings on.The young man says, ‘Take hold of one side this way, and the other side that way, and pull them up.’‘Ah, to be sure!’ cries the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the benefit he has done him.‘There’s one of my three simpletons, at all events,’ says the young man, and journeys on.The next day, at the inn where he spends the night, he hears a noisebru, bru! goes in to see, and finds a man fruitlessly trying to put walnuts into a sack by sticking a fork into them.‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both his hands and so pour them in.‘Ah, to be sure!’ answers the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the favour he has done him.‘There is my second simpleton,’ says the young man, and goes further.The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what he meets the third day; but it is something equally stupid, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he had promised.When they had been married some time, he goes out for two or three days to shoot.‘I’ll come with you,’ says the wife.‘Well, it’s not quite the thing,’ answered he; ‘but perhaps it’s better than leaving you at home; but mind you pull the door after you.’‘Oh yes, of course,’ answers the simple wife, and pulls it so effectually that she lifts it off its hinges and carries it along with her.When they had gone some way he looks back and sees her carrying the door.‘What on earth are you bringing the door along for!’ he cries.‘You told me to pull it after me,’ answers she.‘Of course, I only meant you to pull it to, to make the house secure,’ he says.‘If merely pulling it to, made the house secure, how much securer it must be when I pull it all this way!’ answers she.He finds it useless to reason with her, and they go on. At night they climb up into a tree to sleep, the woman still carrying the door with her. A band of robbers come and count their gains under the tree; the woman from sheer weariness, and though she believes it will rouse the robbers to come and kill them, drops the door upon them. They take it for an earthquake and run away. The man and his wife then gather up the money, and are rich for the rest of their lives.2[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out theBildstocklein(the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.]1‘La Donna Mattarella.’‘Matto’ is simply ‘mad,’ with the diminutive ‘ella’ it comes to mean ‘slightly mad,’ ‘simple.’↑THE BOOBY.1They say there was once a widow woman who had a very simple son. Whatever she set him to do he muddled in some way or other.‘What am I to do?’ said the poor mother to a neighbour one day. ‘The boy eats and drinks, and has to be clothed; what am I to do if I am to make no profit of him?’‘You have kept him at home long enough;’ answered the neighbour. ‘Try sending him out, now; maybe that will answer better.’The mother took the advice, and the next time she had got a piece of linen spun she called her boy, and said to him:‘If I send you out to sell this piece of linen, do you think you can manage to do it without committing any folly?’‘Yes, mama,’ answered the booby.‘You always say “yes mama,” but you do contrive to muddle everything all the same,’ replied the mother. ‘Now, listen attentively to all I say. Walk straight along the road without turning to right or left; don’t take less than such and such a price for it. Don’t have anything to say to women who chatter; whether you sell it to anyone you meet by the way, or carry it into the market, offer it only to some quiet sort of body whom you may see standing apart, and not gossiping and prating, for such as they will persuade you to take some sort of a price that won’t suit me at all.’The booby promised to follow these directions very exactly, and started on his way.On he walked, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, thus passing the turnings which led to the villages, to one or other of which he ought to have gone. But hismother had only meant that he was not to turn off the pathway and lose himself.Presently he met the wife of the syndic of the next town, who was driving out with her maids, but had got out to walk a little stretch of the way, as the day was fine. The syndic’s wife was talking cheerfully with her maids, and when one of them caught sight of the simpleton, she said to her mistress:‘Here is the simple son of the poor widow by the brook.’‘What are you going to do, my good lad?’ said the syndic’s wife kindly.‘Not going to tell you, because you were chattering and gossiping,’ replied the booby boorishly, and tried to pass on.The syndic’s wife forgave his boorishness, and added:‘I see your mother has sent you to sell this piece of linen. I will buy it of you, and that will save you walking further; put it in the carriage, and I’ll give you so much for it.’Though she had offered him twice as much as his mother had told him to get for it, he would only answer:‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were chattering and gossiping.’Nor could they prevail on him to stop a moment longer.Further along he came to a statue by the roadside.‘Here’s one who stands apart and doesn’t chatter,’ said the booby to himself. ‘This is the one to sell the linen to.’ Then aloud to the statue, ‘Will you buy my linen, good friend?’ Then to himself. ‘She doesn’t speak, so it’s all right.’ Then to the statue, ‘The price is so-and-so; have the money ready against I come back, as I have to go on and buy some yarn for mother.’On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Some one passing by meanwhile, and seeing the linen lie there had picked it up and walked off with it.Finding it gone, the booby said to himself, ‘It’s all right,she’s taken it.’ Then to the statue, ‘Where’s the money I told you to have ready against I came back?’ As the statue remained silent, the booby began to get uneasy. ‘My mother will be finely angry if I go back without the linen or the money,’ he said to himself. Then to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money directly I’ll hit you on the head.’The booby was as good as his word; lifting his thick rough walking-stick, he gave the statue such a blow that he knocked the head off.But the statue was hollow, and filled with gold coin.‘That’s where you keep your money, is it?’ said the booby, ‘all right, I can pay myself.’ So he filled his pockets with money and went back to his mother.‘Look, mama! here’s the price of the piece of linen.’‘All right!’ said the mother out loud; but to herself she said, ‘where can I ever hide all this lot of money? I have got no place to hide it but in this earthen jar, and if he knows how much it is worth, he will be letting out the secret to other people, and I shall be robbed.’So she put the money in the earthen jar, and said to the boy:‘They’ve cheated you in making you think that was coin; it’s nothing but a lot of rusty nails;2but never mind, you’ll know better next time.’ And she went out to her work.While she was gone out to her work there came by an old rag-merchant.‘Ho! here, rag-merchant!’ said the booby, who had acquired a taste for trading. ‘What will you give me for this lot of rusty nails?’ and he showed him the jar full of gold coin.The rag-merchant saw that he had to do with an idiot, so he said:‘Well, old nails are not worth very much; but as I’m a good-natured old chap, I’ll give you twelve pauls forthem,’ because he knew he must offer enough to seem a prize to the idiot.‘You may have them at that,’ said the booby. And the rag-merchant poured the coin out into his sack, and gave the fool the twelve pauls.‘Look mama, look! I’ve sold that lot of old rusty worthless nails for twelve pauls. Isn’t that a good bargain?’‘Sold them for twelve pauls!’ cried the widow, tearing her hair, ‘Why, it was a fortune all in gold coin.’‘Can’t help it, mama,’ replied the booby; ‘you told me they were rusty nails.’Another day she told him to shut the door of the cottage; but as he went to do it he lifted the door off its hinges. His mother called after him in an angry voice, which so frightened him that he ran away, carrying the door on his back.As he went along, some one to tease him, said, ‘Where did you steal that door?’ which frightened him still more, and he climbed up in a tree with it to hide it.At night there came a band of robbers under the tree, and counted out all their gains in large bags of money. The booby was so frightened at the sight of so many fierce-looking robbers, that he began to tremble and let go of the door.The door fell with a bang in the midst of the robbers, who thinking it must be that the police were upon them, decamped, leaving all their money behind.The booby came down from the tree and carried the money home to his mother, and they became so rich that she was able to appoint a servant to attend to him, and keep him from doing any more mischief.[After the boys, the girls come in for their share of hardjokes; here is one who figures both as a daughter and a wife. Grimm has the same, with a slight variation, as ‘Rumpelstilzchen,’ p. 219, and the Italian-Tirol Tales give it as ‘Tarandandò;’ the incident on which these two hinge of a supernatural being giving his help on condition of the person he favours remembering his name, is of frequent occurrence. I have met it in two German-Tirolese stories, ‘The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness,’ and in ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories,’ and in a local tradition told me at Salzburg, which I have given in ‘Traditions of Tirol,’ No. XVI. in ‘Monthly Packet,’ each time the sprite gets a new name; in this one it was ‘Hahnenzuckerl.’ The supernatural helper delivering the girl from future as well as present labour occurs in the Spanish equivalent, ‘What Ana saw in the Sunbeam,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ but in favour of a good, instead of a lazy or greedy girl; and so with the girl in the Norse tale of ‘The Three Aunts.’ ‘Die faule Spinnerin,’ Grimm, p. 495, helps herself to the same end without supernatural aid.]1‘Il Tonto.’↑2‘Chiodacci;’ ‘chiodi,’ nails; ‘chiodacci,’ old rusty nails.↑THE GLUTTONOUS GIRL.1There was a poor woman who went out to work by the day. She had one idle, good-for-nothing daughter, who would never do any work, and cared for nothing but eating, always taking the best of everything for herself, and not caring how her mother fared.One day the mother, when she went out to her work, left the girl some beans to cook for dinner, and some pieces of bacon-rind2to stew along with them. When the pieces of bacon-rind were nicely done, she took them out andatethem herself, and then found a pair of dirty old shoe-soles, which she pared in slices, and put them into the stew for her mother.When the poor mother came home, not only were there no pieces of bacon which she could eat, but the beans themselves were rendered so nasty by the shoe-solesthat she could not eat them either. Determined to give her daughter a good lesson, once for all, on this occasion, she took her outside her cottage door, and beat her well with a stick.Just as she was administering this chastisement, a farmer3came by.‘What are you beating this pretty lass for?’ asked the man.‘Because shewillwork so hard at her household duties that she works on Sundays and holidays the same as common days,’ answered the mother, who, bad as her daughter was, yet had not the heart to give her a bad character.‘That is the first time I ever heard of a mother beating her child for doing too much work; the general complaint is that they do too little. Will you let me have her for a wife? I should like such a wife as that.’‘Impossible!’ replied the mother, in order to enhance her daughter’s value; ‘she does all the work of the house, I can’t spare her; what shall I do without her?’‘I must give you something to make up for the loss,’ replied the merchant; ‘but such a notable wife as this I have long been in search of, and I must not miss the chance.’‘But I cannot spare such a notable daughter, either,’ persisted the mother.‘What do you say if I give you five hundred scudi?’‘If I let her go, it is not because of the five hundred scudi,’ said the mother; ‘it is because you seem a husband, who will really appreciate her; though I don’t say five hundred scudi will not be a help to a poor lone widow.’‘Let it be agreed then. I am going now to the fair; when I come back let the girl be ready, and I’ll take her back with me.’Accordingly, when the farmer returned from the fair, he fetched the girl away.When he got home his mother came out to ask how his affairs had prospered at the fair.‘Middling well, at the fair,’ replied the man; ‘but, by the way, I found a treasure, and I have brought her home to make her my wife. She is so hardworking that she can’t be kept from working, even on Sundays.’‘She doesn’t look as if there was much work in her,’ observed the mother dryly; ‘but if you’re satisfied that’s enough.’All went well enough the first week, because she was not expected to do much just at first, but at the end of that time the husband had to go to a distant fair which would keep him absent three weeks. Before he went he took his new wife up into the store-room, and said, ‘Here are provisions of all sorts, and you will have all you like to eat and drink; and here is a quantity of hemp, which you can amuse yourself with spinning and weaving if you want more employment than merely keeping the place in order.’Then he gave her a set of rooms to herself, next the store-chamber, that there might be no cause of quarrel with the mother-in-law, who, he knew, was inclined to be jealous of her, and said good-bye.Left to herself, she did no more work than she could help; all the nice things she found she cooked and ate, and that was all the work she did. As to the hemp, she never touched it; nor did she even clean up the place, or attempt to put it tidy.When the husband had been gone a fortnight, the mother-in-law came up to see how she was going on, and when she saw the hemp untouched, and the place in disorder, she said, ‘So this is how you go on when your husband is away!’‘You mind your affairs, and I’ll mind mine,’4answered the wife, and the mother-in-law went away offended.Nevertheless, it was true that in eight days the husband would be back, and might expect to see somethingdone, so she took up a lot of hemp and began trying to spin it; but, as she had no idea of how to do it, she went on in the most absurd way imaginable with it.As she stood on the top of the outside staircase, twisting it this way and that, there passed three deformed fairies. One was lame, and one squinted,5and one had her head all on one side, because she had a fish-bone stuck in her throat.The three fairies called out to ask what she was doing, and when she said ‘spinning,’ the one who squinted laughed so much that her eyes came quite right, and the one who had a bone stuck in her throat laughed so much that the bone came out, and her head became straight again like other people’s, and when the lame one saw the others laughing so much, she ran so fast to see what it was that her lameness was cured.Then the three fairies said:‘Since she has cured us of our ailments, we must go in and do her a good turn.’So they went in and took the hemp and span it, and wove it, and did as much in the six remaining days as any human being could have done in twenty years; moreover, they cleaned up everything, and made everything look spick-and-span new.Then they gave her a bag of walnuts, saying, ‘in half an hour your husband will be home; go to bed and put this bag of walnuts under your back. When he comes in say you have worked so hard that all your bones are out of joint; then move the bag of walnuts and they will make a noise,c-r-r-r-r, and he will think it is your bones which are loosened, and will say you must never work again.’When the husband came home his mother went out to meet him, saying—‘I told you I did not think there was much work in your “treasure.” When you go up you’ll see what a finemess the place is all in; and as to the hemp, you had better have left it locked up, for a fine mess she has made of that.’But the husband went up and found the place all in shining order, and so much hemp spun and woven as could scarcely be got through in twenty years. But the wife was laid up in bed.When the husband came near the bed she moved the bag of walnuts and they wentc-r-r-r-r.‘You have done a lot of work indeed!’ said the husband.‘Yes,’ replied the wife; ‘but I have put all my bones out of joint; only hear how they rumble!’ and she moved the walnuts again, and they wentc-r-r-r-r. ‘It will be sometime before I am about again.’‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ said the husband; ‘only think of such a treasure of a wife being laid up by such marvellous diligence.’And to his mother he said: ‘A mother-in-law has never a good word for her daughter-in-law; what you told me was all pure invention.’But to the wife he said: ‘Mind I will never have you do any work again as long as you live.’So from that day forth she had no work to do, but ate and drank and amused herself from morning till night.1‘La Ragazza Golosa;’‘goloso’ means, in particular, greedy of nice things.↑2‘Codiche di presciúto.’↑3‘Mercante di Campagna.’See Note 2, p. 154.↑4‘Voi pensate a voi ed io penso a me!’ ‘Pensare’ is much used in Rome in the sense of ‘to attend to,’ ‘to provide for.’↑5‘Guèrcia,’ see Note 3 to ‘The Two Friars;’ in this case squinting seems intended.↑2THE GREEDY DAUGHTER.1There was a mother who had a daughter so greedy that she did not know what to do with her. Everything in the house she would eat up. When the poor mother came home from work there was nothing left.But the girl had a godfather-wolf.2The wolf had a frying-pan, and the girl’s mother was too poor to possess such an article; whenever she wanted to fry anything she sent her daughter to the wolf to borrow his frying-pan, and he always sent a nice omelette in it by way of not sending it empty. But the girl was so greedy and so selfish that she not only always ate the omelette by the way, but when she took the frying-pan back she filled it with all manner of nasty things.At last the wolf got hurt at this way of going on, and he came to the house to inquire into the matter.Godfather-wolf met the mother on the step of the door, returning from work.‘How do you like my omelettes?’ asked the wolf.‘I am sure they would be good if made by our godfather-wolf,’ replied the poor woman; ‘but I never had the honour of tasting them.’‘Never tasted them! Why, how many times have you sent to borrow my frying-pan?’‘I am ashamed to say how many times; a great many, certainly.’‘And every time I sent you an omelette in it.’‘Never one reached me.’‘Then that hussey of a girl must have eaten them by the way.’The poor mother, anxious to screen her daughter, burst into all manner of excuses, but the wolf now saw how it all was. To make sure, however, he added: ‘Theomelettes would have been better had the frying-pan not always been full of such nasty things. I did my best always to clean it, but it was not easy.’‘Oh, godfather-wolf, you are joking! I always cleaned it, inside and out, as bright as silver, every time before I sent it back!’The wolf now knew all, and he said no more to the mother; but the next day, when she was out, he came back.When the girl saw him coming she was so frightened and self-convicted that she ran under the bed to hide herself.But to the wolf it was as easy to go under a bed as anywhere else; so under he went, and he dragged her out and devoured her. And that was the end of the Greedy Daughter.[In the Italian-Tirolese tales is one very similar to this, called ‘Catarinetta.’After the faults of the young, the sins of the old have their share of mocking. In the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 46–50, is a miser story, but, for a wonder, not the least trace of similarity.In Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr,’ vol. i. pp. 169–71, is a very quaint miser story, bringing in also an instance of wolf-transformation, which is said to have happened ‘in Italy,’ to a certain Herr v. Schotenberg, on August 14, 1798. He had seized a poor peasant’s only cow for a debt, and when, in punishment, all his own cows were struck dead, he accused the peasant’s wife of bewitching them, and threatened to have her burnt. The peasant’s wife answered that it was the judgment of God, not hers; and upon that he turned to the crucifix in the farmyard, saying: ‘Oh, you did it, did you? then you may go and eat the carrionyou have made, with the dogs.’ Then he took out his pistol, shot an arm off the crucifix, and flung it on to the heap of dead cows, saying, ‘Now one piece of carrion lies with the rest!’ ‘Albeit it was only a wooden image,’ says the account, ‘yet it was of God in Heaven that he spoke, who punished him on the spot by turning him into a dog.’ The portrait which accompanies the story is quaint, too, having a human face, with wolfish, erect ears, and the rest of the body like a dog. He wore at the time a fur cloak, of pale yellow with black spots, and that is how the dog’s fur appeared; and he had to eat carrion all his life, and follow his good wife about, wherever she went.]1‘La Figlia Ghiotta.’‘Ghiotta’ and ‘golosa’ have much the same meaning.↑2‘Compare-lupo’ (lit. had a wolf for godfather); ‘compare’ for ‘compadre,’ godfather, gossip. Lycanthropy had an important place in the mediæval as in the earlier mythologies; witches were often accused of turning people into wolves by the use of their ointments. Our ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is connected with it, and several in the German and Tirolese Stories, but it is too wide a subject to enter upon here.↑THE OLD MISER.1They say there was once an old man who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He had cellars and cellars, where all the floors were strewn with gold; but the house was all tumbling down, because he would not spend a penny in repairing it; and for all food he took nothing all day but a crust of bread and a glass of water.He was always afraid lest some one should come to rob him of his wealth, so he seldom so much as spoke to anyone.One day, however, a busy, talkative neighbour would have her say out with him, and among other things she said: ‘How can you go on living in that ugly old house all alone now? Why don’t you take a wife?’‘A wife!’ replied the old miser; ‘how canItake a wife? How am I to afford to keep a wife, I should like to know?’‘Nonsense!’ persisted the loquacious neighbour; ‘you’ve got plenty of money, you know. And how much better you’d be if you had a wife. Do you mean to tell me, now, you wouldn’t be much better off with one? Now answer me fairly.’‘Well, if I must speak the truth, as you are so urgent for an answer,’ replied the old miser, ‘I don’t mean to say I haven’t often thought I should like a wife; but I am waiting till I find one who can live upon air.’2‘Well, maybe there might be such an one even as you say,’ returned the busy neighbour; ‘though she might not be easy to find.’ And she said no more for that day.She went, however, to a young woman who lived opposite, and said: ‘If you want a rich husband I will find you one.’‘To be sure I should like a rich husband,’ replied the young woman; ‘who would not?’‘Very well, then,’ continued the neighbour; ‘I will tell you what to do. You have only, every day at dinner-time, to stand at the window and suck in the air, and move your lips as if you were eating. But eat nothing; take nothing into your mouth but air. The old miser who lives opposite wants a wife who can live on air; and if he thinks you can do this he will marry you. And when you are once installed it’ll be odd if you don’t find means, in the midst of so much money, to lay hold of enough to get a dinner every day without working for it.’The young woman thanked her friend for the advice, and next day, when the bells rang at noon, she threw open the window and stood sucking in the air, and then moving her lips as if she was eating. This she did several days.At last the old miser came across under the window, and said to her: ‘What are you doing at the window there?’‘Don’t you see it’s dinner-time, and I’m taking my dinner? Don’t interrupt me!’ replied the young neighbour.‘But, excuse me,3I don’t see you are eating anything, though your lips move.’‘O! I live upon air; I take nothing but air,’ replied the young woman; and she went on with her mock munching.‘You live upon air, do you? Then you’re just the wife I’m looking for. Will you come down and marry me?’As this was just what she wanted she did not keep him waiting, and soon they were married and she was installed in the miser’s house.But it was not so easy to get at the money as she had thought. At first the miser would not let her go near his cellars; but as he spent so much time down there she said she could not be deprived of his company for so long, she must come down too.All the time she was down with him the miser held both her hands in his, as if he was full of affection for her; but in reality it was to make sure she did not touch any of his money.She, however, bought some pitch, and put it on the soles of her shoes, and as she walked about in the gold plenty of it stuck to her shoes; and when she came up again she took the gold off her shoes, and sent her maid to thetrattoria4for the most delicious dinners. Shut up in a room apart they fared sumptuously—she and her maid. But every day at midday she let the miser see her taking her fancied dinner of air.This went on for long, because the miser had so much gold that he never missed the few pieces that stuck to her shoes every day.But at last there came a Carneval Thursday,5when the maid had brought home an extra fine dinner; and as they were an extra length of time over this extra number of dishes and glasses, the old miser, always suspicious, began to guess there must be something wrong; and to find it out he instituted a scrutiny into every room in the crazy house. Thus he came at last to the room where his wife and her maid were dining sumptuously.‘This is how you live on air, is it?’ he roared, red with fury.‘Oh, but on Carneval Thursday,’ replied the wife, ‘one may have a little extra indulgence!’‘Will you tell me you have not had a private dinner every day?’ shouted the excited miser.‘If I have,’ replied the wife, not liking to tell a direct falsehood, ‘how do you know it is not with my own money? Tell me, have you missed any of yours?’The miser was only the more angry at her way of putting the question, because he could not say he had actually missed the money; yet he was convinced it was his money she had been spending.‘How do I know it is not your money, do you ask?’ he thundered; ‘because if you had had any money of your own you would never have come to live here, you would not have married me.’But weak as he was with his bread and water diet, the excitement was too much for him. As he said these words a convulsion seized him, and he fell down dead.Thus all his riches came into possession of the wife.1‘Il Vecchio Avaro.’(The Avaricious Old Man.)↑2‘Che campasse d’aria,’ who should subsist on air.↑3‘Abbi pazienza,’ have patience; equivalent to ‘please,’ ‘pray excuse me,’ &c.↑4‘Trattoria,’ an eating-house, but one where, as a rule, dinners are sent out.↑5‘Giovedi grasso,’ Thursday in Carneval week, a day of a little extra feasting.↑THE MISERLY OLD WOMAN.1There was an old woman who had three sons, and from her stinginess she could not bear that anyone should have anything to eat. One day the eldest son came to her and said he must take a wife.‘If you must, you must,’ replied the miserly mother. ‘But mind she is one who brings a great dowry, eats little, and can work all day long.’The eldest son went his way and told the girl he was going to marry his mother’s hard terms. As the girl loved him very much, she made no objection, and he married her, and brought her home.2The first morning the mother-in-law came before it was light, and knocked at the door, and bid the bride get up and come down to her work.‘It is very hard for you,’ said the young husband.‘Ah, well! I promised to submit to it before we married,’ she replied. ‘I won’t break my promise.’So she got up and went down and helped her mother-in-law to do the work of the house. By twelve o’clock she was very hungry; but the miserly mother-in-law only took out an apple and a halfpenny roll, and gave her half of each for all her food. She took it without a murmur; and so she went on every day, working hard, and eating little, and making no complaint.By-and-by the second son came and told his mother that he was going to take a wife. The mother made the same conditions, and the wife submitted to them with equally good grace.Then the third son came and said he too must take a wife. To him the old woman made the same terms; but he could not find a wife who would submit to them for his sake. The girl he wanted to marry, however, was very lively and spirited, and she said at last—‘Never mind the conditions; let’s marry, and we’ll get through the future somehow.’Then they married. When her son brought home this wife, and the old woman found she had no dowry, she was in a great fury; but it was too late to help it.The first morning, when she knocked at their door to wake her, she called out—‘Who’s there?’ though she knew well enough.The mother-in-law answered, ‘Time to get up!’‘Oibo!’ exclaimed the young wife. ‘Don’t imagineI’m going to get up in the middle of the night like this! I shall get up when I please, and not before.’ Then she turned to her husband, and said, ‘Just for her bothering me like this I shan’t get up till twelve o’clock.’ Neither did she.The house was now filled with the old woman’s lamentations. ‘This woman upsets everything! This woman will be the ruin of us all!’ she kept exclaiming. But the third wife paid no heed, and dressed herself up smart, and amused herself, and did no work at all.When supper-time came the old woman took out her apple and her halfpenny loaf, and cut them in four quarters, serving a bit all round.‘What’s that?’ said the third wife, stooping to look at it, as if she could not make it out, and without taking it in her hand.‘It’s your supper,’ replied the mother-in-law.‘My supper! do you think I’ve come to my second childhood, to be helped to driblets like that!’ and she filliped it to the other end of the room.Then she went to her husband and said—‘I’ll tell you what we must do; we must have false keys made, and get into the store-closet3and take what we want.’Though the mother-in-law was so miserly, there was good provision of everything in the store-closet; and so with the false keys she took flour and lard and ham, and they had plenty of everything. One day she had made a delicious cake of curdled sheep’s milk,4and she gave a woman a halfpenny to take it to the baker’s to bake, saying—‘Make haste, and bring it back, that we may get through eating it while the old woman is at mass.’She was not quick enough, however, and the mother-in-law came in just about the same time that the cake came back from the baker’s. The third son’s wife to hideit from her caught it up and put it under her petticoats, but it burned her ankles, so that she was obliged to bring it out. Then the mother-in-law understood what had been going on, and went into such a fury, the house could not hold her.Then the third son’s wife sent the same woman to the chemist, saying, ‘get me three pauls of quicksilver.’ And she took the quicksilver, when the mother-in-law was asleep, and put it into her mouth and ears, so that she could not storm or scold any more. But after a time she died of vexation; and then they opened wide the store-room, and lived very comfortably.[Here may follow a couple of stories of mixed folly and craft.]1‘La Vecchia Avara.’This story was told in emulation of the last, otherwise it is hardly worth reproducing. The only merit of the story consisted in the liveliness of the pantomime with which the words of the third wife were rendered. To the poor, however, such a story is a treasure, as it tells of the condign punishment of an oppressor; and there are few of them who have not some experience of what it is to be trampled on.↑2According to the local custom prevailing among all classes, of married sons and daughters continuing to live in the same house with their parents.↑3‘Dispensa,’ store-room.↑4‘Pizza,’ a cake; ‘ricotta,’ curds of sheep’s milk.↑

THE FOOLISH WOMAN.1There was once a couple well-to-do in the world, who had one only daughter.The son of a neighbour came to ask her in marriage, and as the father thought he would do, the father asked him to dinner, and sent the daughter down into the cellar to draw the wine.‘If I am married,’ said the girl to herself, and began to cry as she drew the wine, ‘I shall have a child, and the child will be a boy, and the boy will be called Petrillo, and by-and-by he will die, and I shall be left to lament him, and to cry all day long “Petrillo! Petrillo! where are you!”’ and she went on crying, and the wine went on running over.Then the mother went down to see what kept her solong, and she repeated the story all over to her, and the mother answered, ‘Right you are, my girl!’ and she, too, began to cry, and the wine was all the time running over.Then the father went down, and they repeated the story to him, and he, too, said, ‘Right you are!’ and he, too, began to cry, and the wine all the time went on running all over the floor.Then the young man also goes down to see what is the matter, and stops the wine running, and makes them all come up.‘But,’ he says, ‘I’ll not marry the girl till I have wandered over the world and found other three as simple as you.’ He dines with them, and sets out on his search.The first night he goes to bed in an inn, and in the morning he hears in the room next him such lamenting and complaining that he goes in to see what is the matter. A man is sitting by the side of the bed lamenting because he cannot get his stockings on.The young man says, ‘Take hold of one side this way, and the other side that way, and pull them up.’‘Ah, to be sure!’ cries the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the benefit he has done him.‘There’s one of my three simpletons, at all events,’ says the young man, and journeys on.The next day, at the inn where he spends the night, he hears a noisebru, bru! goes in to see, and finds a man fruitlessly trying to put walnuts into a sack by sticking a fork into them.‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both his hands and so pour them in.‘Ah, to be sure!’ answers the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the favour he has done him.‘There is my second simpleton,’ says the young man, and goes further.The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what he meets the third day; but it is something equally stupid, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he had promised.When they had been married some time, he goes out for two or three days to shoot.‘I’ll come with you,’ says the wife.‘Well, it’s not quite the thing,’ answered he; ‘but perhaps it’s better than leaving you at home; but mind you pull the door after you.’‘Oh yes, of course,’ answers the simple wife, and pulls it so effectually that she lifts it off its hinges and carries it along with her.When they had gone some way he looks back and sees her carrying the door.‘What on earth are you bringing the door along for!’ he cries.‘You told me to pull it after me,’ answers she.‘Of course, I only meant you to pull it to, to make the house secure,’ he says.‘If merely pulling it to, made the house secure, how much securer it must be when I pull it all this way!’ answers she.He finds it useless to reason with her, and they go on. At night they climb up into a tree to sleep, the woman still carrying the door with her. A band of robbers come and count their gains under the tree; the woman from sheer weariness, and though she believes it will rouse the robbers to come and kill them, drops the door upon them. They take it for an earthquake and run away. The man and his wife then gather up the money, and are rich for the rest of their lives.2[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out theBildstocklein(the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.]1‘La Donna Mattarella.’‘Matto’ is simply ‘mad,’ with the diminutive ‘ella’ it comes to mean ‘slightly mad,’ ‘simple.’↑THE BOOBY.1They say there was once a widow woman who had a very simple son. Whatever she set him to do he muddled in some way or other.‘What am I to do?’ said the poor mother to a neighbour one day. ‘The boy eats and drinks, and has to be clothed; what am I to do if I am to make no profit of him?’‘You have kept him at home long enough;’ answered the neighbour. ‘Try sending him out, now; maybe that will answer better.’The mother took the advice, and the next time she had got a piece of linen spun she called her boy, and said to him:‘If I send you out to sell this piece of linen, do you think you can manage to do it without committing any folly?’‘Yes, mama,’ answered the booby.‘You always say “yes mama,” but you do contrive to muddle everything all the same,’ replied the mother. ‘Now, listen attentively to all I say. Walk straight along the road without turning to right or left; don’t take less than such and such a price for it. Don’t have anything to say to women who chatter; whether you sell it to anyone you meet by the way, or carry it into the market, offer it only to some quiet sort of body whom you may see standing apart, and not gossiping and prating, for such as they will persuade you to take some sort of a price that won’t suit me at all.’The booby promised to follow these directions very exactly, and started on his way.On he walked, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, thus passing the turnings which led to the villages, to one or other of which he ought to have gone. But hismother had only meant that he was not to turn off the pathway and lose himself.Presently he met the wife of the syndic of the next town, who was driving out with her maids, but had got out to walk a little stretch of the way, as the day was fine. The syndic’s wife was talking cheerfully with her maids, and when one of them caught sight of the simpleton, she said to her mistress:‘Here is the simple son of the poor widow by the brook.’‘What are you going to do, my good lad?’ said the syndic’s wife kindly.‘Not going to tell you, because you were chattering and gossiping,’ replied the booby boorishly, and tried to pass on.The syndic’s wife forgave his boorishness, and added:‘I see your mother has sent you to sell this piece of linen. I will buy it of you, and that will save you walking further; put it in the carriage, and I’ll give you so much for it.’Though she had offered him twice as much as his mother had told him to get for it, he would only answer:‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were chattering and gossiping.’Nor could they prevail on him to stop a moment longer.Further along he came to a statue by the roadside.‘Here’s one who stands apart and doesn’t chatter,’ said the booby to himself. ‘This is the one to sell the linen to.’ Then aloud to the statue, ‘Will you buy my linen, good friend?’ Then to himself. ‘She doesn’t speak, so it’s all right.’ Then to the statue, ‘The price is so-and-so; have the money ready against I come back, as I have to go on and buy some yarn for mother.’On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Some one passing by meanwhile, and seeing the linen lie there had picked it up and walked off with it.Finding it gone, the booby said to himself, ‘It’s all right,she’s taken it.’ Then to the statue, ‘Where’s the money I told you to have ready against I came back?’ As the statue remained silent, the booby began to get uneasy. ‘My mother will be finely angry if I go back without the linen or the money,’ he said to himself. Then to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money directly I’ll hit you on the head.’The booby was as good as his word; lifting his thick rough walking-stick, he gave the statue such a blow that he knocked the head off.But the statue was hollow, and filled with gold coin.‘That’s where you keep your money, is it?’ said the booby, ‘all right, I can pay myself.’ So he filled his pockets with money and went back to his mother.‘Look, mama! here’s the price of the piece of linen.’‘All right!’ said the mother out loud; but to herself she said, ‘where can I ever hide all this lot of money? I have got no place to hide it but in this earthen jar, and if he knows how much it is worth, he will be letting out the secret to other people, and I shall be robbed.’So she put the money in the earthen jar, and said to the boy:‘They’ve cheated you in making you think that was coin; it’s nothing but a lot of rusty nails;2but never mind, you’ll know better next time.’ And she went out to her work.While she was gone out to her work there came by an old rag-merchant.‘Ho! here, rag-merchant!’ said the booby, who had acquired a taste for trading. ‘What will you give me for this lot of rusty nails?’ and he showed him the jar full of gold coin.The rag-merchant saw that he had to do with an idiot, so he said:‘Well, old nails are not worth very much; but as I’m a good-natured old chap, I’ll give you twelve pauls forthem,’ because he knew he must offer enough to seem a prize to the idiot.‘You may have them at that,’ said the booby. And the rag-merchant poured the coin out into his sack, and gave the fool the twelve pauls.‘Look mama, look! I’ve sold that lot of old rusty worthless nails for twelve pauls. Isn’t that a good bargain?’‘Sold them for twelve pauls!’ cried the widow, tearing her hair, ‘Why, it was a fortune all in gold coin.’‘Can’t help it, mama,’ replied the booby; ‘you told me they were rusty nails.’Another day she told him to shut the door of the cottage; but as he went to do it he lifted the door off its hinges. His mother called after him in an angry voice, which so frightened him that he ran away, carrying the door on his back.As he went along, some one to tease him, said, ‘Where did you steal that door?’ which frightened him still more, and he climbed up in a tree with it to hide it.At night there came a band of robbers under the tree, and counted out all their gains in large bags of money. The booby was so frightened at the sight of so many fierce-looking robbers, that he began to tremble and let go of the door.The door fell with a bang in the midst of the robbers, who thinking it must be that the police were upon them, decamped, leaving all their money behind.The booby came down from the tree and carried the money home to his mother, and they became so rich that she was able to appoint a servant to attend to him, and keep him from doing any more mischief.[After the boys, the girls come in for their share of hardjokes; here is one who figures both as a daughter and a wife. Grimm has the same, with a slight variation, as ‘Rumpelstilzchen,’ p. 219, and the Italian-Tirol Tales give it as ‘Tarandandò;’ the incident on which these two hinge of a supernatural being giving his help on condition of the person he favours remembering his name, is of frequent occurrence. I have met it in two German-Tirolese stories, ‘The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness,’ and in ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories,’ and in a local tradition told me at Salzburg, which I have given in ‘Traditions of Tirol,’ No. XVI. in ‘Monthly Packet,’ each time the sprite gets a new name; in this one it was ‘Hahnenzuckerl.’ The supernatural helper delivering the girl from future as well as present labour occurs in the Spanish equivalent, ‘What Ana saw in the Sunbeam,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ but in favour of a good, instead of a lazy or greedy girl; and so with the girl in the Norse tale of ‘The Three Aunts.’ ‘Die faule Spinnerin,’ Grimm, p. 495, helps herself to the same end without supernatural aid.]1‘Il Tonto.’↑2‘Chiodacci;’ ‘chiodi,’ nails; ‘chiodacci,’ old rusty nails.↑THE GLUTTONOUS GIRL.1There was a poor woman who went out to work by the day. She had one idle, good-for-nothing daughter, who would never do any work, and cared for nothing but eating, always taking the best of everything for herself, and not caring how her mother fared.One day the mother, when she went out to her work, left the girl some beans to cook for dinner, and some pieces of bacon-rind2to stew along with them. When the pieces of bacon-rind were nicely done, she took them out andatethem herself, and then found a pair of dirty old shoe-soles, which she pared in slices, and put them into the stew for her mother.When the poor mother came home, not only were there no pieces of bacon which she could eat, but the beans themselves were rendered so nasty by the shoe-solesthat she could not eat them either. Determined to give her daughter a good lesson, once for all, on this occasion, she took her outside her cottage door, and beat her well with a stick.Just as she was administering this chastisement, a farmer3came by.‘What are you beating this pretty lass for?’ asked the man.‘Because shewillwork so hard at her household duties that she works on Sundays and holidays the same as common days,’ answered the mother, who, bad as her daughter was, yet had not the heart to give her a bad character.‘That is the first time I ever heard of a mother beating her child for doing too much work; the general complaint is that they do too little. Will you let me have her for a wife? I should like such a wife as that.’‘Impossible!’ replied the mother, in order to enhance her daughter’s value; ‘she does all the work of the house, I can’t spare her; what shall I do without her?’‘I must give you something to make up for the loss,’ replied the merchant; ‘but such a notable wife as this I have long been in search of, and I must not miss the chance.’‘But I cannot spare such a notable daughter, either,’ persisted the mother.‘What do you say if I give you five hundred scudi?’‘If I let her go, it is not because of the five hundred scudi,’ said the mother; ‘it is because you seem a husband, who will really appreciate her; though I don’t say five hundred scudi will not be a help to a poor lone widow.’‘Let it be agreed then. I am going now to the fair; when I come back let the girl be ready, and I’ll take her back with me.’Accordingly, when the farmer returned from the fair, he fetched the girl away.When he got home his mother came out to ask how his affairs had prospered at the fair.‘Middling well, at the fair,’ replied the man; ‘but, by the way, I found a treasure, and I have brought her home to make her my wife. She is so hardworking that she can’t be kept from working, even on Sundays.’‘She doesn’t look as if there was much work in her,’ observed the mother dryly; ‘but if you’re satisfied that’s enough.’All went well enough the first week, because she was not expected to do much just at first, but at the end of that time the husband had to go to a distant fair which would keep him absent three weeks. Before he went he took his new wife up into the store-room, and said, ‘Here are provisions of all sorts, and you will have all you like to eat and drink; and here is a quantity of hemp, which you can amuse yourself with spinning and weaving if you want more employment than merely keeping the place in order.’Then he gave her a set of rooms to herself, next the store-chamber, that there might be no cause of quarrel with the mother-in-law, who, he knew, was inclined to be jealous of her, and said good-bye.Left to herself, she did no more work than she could help; all the nice things she found she cooked and ate, and that was all the work she did. As to the hemp, she never touched it; nor did she even clean up the place, or attempt to put it tidy.When the husband had been gone a fortnight, the mother-in-law came up to see how she was going on, and when she saw the hemp untouched, and the place in disorder, she said, ‘So this is how you go on when your husband is away!’‘You mind your affairs, and I’ll mind mine,’4answered the wife, and the mother-in-law went away offended.Nevertheless, it was true that in eight days the husband would be back, and might expect to see somethingdone, so she took up a lot of hemp and began trying to spin it; but, as she had no idea of how to do it, she went on in the most absurd way imaginable with it.As she stood on the top of the outside staircase, twisting it this way and that, there passed three deformed fairies. One was lame, and one squinted,5and one had her head all on one side, because she had a fish-bone stuck in her throat.The three fairies called out to ask what she was doing, and when she said ‘spinning,’ the one who squinted laughed so much that her eyes came quite right, and the one who had a bone stuck in her throat laughed so much that the bone came out, and her head became straight again like other people’s, and when the lame one saw the others laughing so much, she ran so fast to see what it was that her lameness was cured.Then the three fairies said:‘Since she has cured us of our ailments, we must go in and do her a good turn.’So they went in and took the hemp and span it, and wove it, and did as much in the six remaining days as any human being could have done in twenty years; moreover, they cleaned up everything, and made everything look spick-and-span new.Then they gave her a bag of walnuts, saying, ‘in half an hour your husband will be home; go to bed and put this bag of walnuts under your back. When he comes in say you have worked so hard that all your bones are out of joint; then move the bag of walnuts and they will make a noise,c-r-r-r-r, and he will think it is your bones which are loosened, and will say you must never work again.’When the husband came home his mother went out to meet him, saying—‘I told you I did not think there was much work in your “treasure.” When you go up you’ll see what a finemess the place is all in; and as to the hemp, you had better have left it locked up, for a fine mess she has made of that.’But the husband went up and found the place all in shining order, and so much hemp spun and woven as could scarcely be got through in twenty years. But the wife was laid up in bed.When the husband came near the bed she moved the bag of walnuts and they wentc-r-r-r-r.‘You have done a lot of work indeed!’ said the husband.‘Yes,’ replied the wife; ‘but I have put all my bones out of joint; only hear how they rumble!’ and she moved the walnuts again, and they wentc-r-r-r-r. ‘It will be sometime before I am about again.’‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ said the husband; ‘only think of such a treasure of a wife being laid up by such marvellous diligence.’And to his mother he said: ‘A mother-in-law has never a good word for her daughter-in-law; what you told me was all pure invention.’But to the wife he said: ‘Mind I will never have you do any work again as long as you live.’So from that day forth she had no work to do, but ate and drank and amused herself from morning till night.1‘La Ragazza Golosa;’‘goloso’ means, in particular, greedy of nice things.↑2‘Codiche di presciúto.’↑3‘Mercante di Campagna.’See Note 2, p. 154.↑4‘Voi pensate a voi ed io penso a me!’ ‘Pensare’ is much used in Rome in the sense of ‘to attend to,’ ‘to provide for.’↑5‘Guèrcia,’ see Note 3 to ‘The Two Friars;’ in this case squinting seems intended.↑2THE GREEDY DAUGHTER.1There was a mother who had a daughter so greedy that she did not know what to do with her. Everything in the house she would eat up. When the poor mother came home from work there was nothing left.But the girl had a godfather-wolf.2The wolf had a frying-pan, and the girl’s mother was too poor to possess such an article; whenever she wanted to fry anything she sent her daughter to the wolf to borrow his frying-pan, and he always sent a nice omelette in it by way of not sending it empty. But the girl was so greedy and so selfish that she not only always ate the omelette by the way, but when she took the frying-pan back she filled it with all manner of nasty things.At last the wolf got hurt at this way of going on, and he came to the house to inquire into the matter.Godfather-wolf met the mother on the step of the door, returning from work.‘How do you like my omelettes?’ asked the wolf.‘I am sure they would be good if made by our godfather-wolf,’ replied the poor woman; ‘but I never had the honour of tasting them.’‘Never tasted them! Why, how many times have you sent to borrow my frying-pan?’‘I am ashamed to say how many times; a great many, certainly.’‘And every time I sent you an omelette in it.’‘Never one reached me.’‘Then that hussey of a girl must have eaten them by the way.’The poor mother, anxious to screen her daughter, burst into all manner of excuses, but the wolf now saw how it all was. To make sure, however, he added: ‘Theomelettes would have been better had the frying-pan not always been full of such nasty things. I did my best always to clean it, but it was not easy.’‘Oh, godfather-wolf, you are joking! I always cleaned it, inside and out, as bright as silver, every time before I sent it back!’The wolf now knew all, and he said no more to the mother; but the next day, when she was out, he came back.When the girl saw him coming she was so frightened and self-convicted that she ran under the bed to hide herself.But to the wolf it was as easy to go under a bed as anywhere else; so under he went, and he dragged her out and devoured her. And that was the end of the Greedy Daughter.[In the Italian-Tirolese tales is one very similar to this, called ‘Catarinetta.’After the faults of the young, the sins of the old have their share of mocking. In the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 46–50, is a miser story, but, for a wonder, not the least trace of similarity.In Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr,’ vol. i. pp. 169–71, is a very quaint miser story, bringing in also an instance of wolf-transformation, which is said to have happened ‘in Italy,’ to a certain Herr v. Schotenberg, on August 14, 1798. He had seized a poor peasant’s only cow for a debt, and when, in punishment, all his own cows were struck dead, he accused the peasant’s wife of bewitching them, and threatened to have her burnt. The peasant’s wife answered that it was the judgment of God, not hers; and upon that he turned to the crucifix in the farmyard, saying: ‘Oh, you did it, did you? then you may go and eat the carrionyou have made, with the dogs.’ Then he took out his pistol, shot an arm off the crucifix, and flung it on to the heap of dead cows, saying, ‘Now one piece of carrion lies with the rest!’ ‘Albeit it was only a wooden image,’ says the account, ‘yet it was of God in Heaven that he spoke, who punished him on the spot by turning him into a dog.’ The portrait which accompanies the story is quaint, too, having a human face, with wolfish, erect ears, and the rest of the body like a dog. He wore at the time a fur cloak, of pale yellow with black spots, and that is how the dog’s fur appeared; and he had to eat carrion all his life, and follow his good wife about, wherever she went.]1‘La Figlia Ghiotta.’‘Ghiotta’ and ‘golosa’ have much the same meaning.↑2‘Compare-lupo’ (lit. had a wolf for godfather); ‘compare’ for ‘compadre,’ godfather, gossip. Lycanthropy had an important place in the mediæval as in the earlier mythologies; witches were often accused of turning people into wolves by the use of their ointments. Our ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is connected with it, and several in the German and Tirolese Stories, but it is too wide a subject to enter upon here.↑THE OLD MISER.1They say there was once an old man who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He had cellars and cellars, where all the floors were strewn with gold; but the house was all tumbling down, because he would not spend a penny in repairing it; and for all food he took nothing all day but a crust of bread and a glass of water.He was always afraid lest some one should come to rob him of his wealth, so he seldom so much as spoke to anyone.One day, however, a busy, talkative neighbour would have her say out with him, and among other things she said: ‘How can you go on living in that ugly old house all alone now? Why don’t you take a wife?’‘A wife!’ replied the old miser; ‘how canItake a wife? How am I to afford to keep a wife, I should like to know?’‘Nonsense!’ persisted the loquacious neighbour; ‘you’ve got plenty of money, you know. And how much better you’d be if you had a wife. Do you mean to tell me, now, you wouldn’t be much better off with one? Now answer me fairly.’‘Well, if I must speak the truth, as you are so urgent for an answer,’ replied the old miser, ‘I don’t mean to say I haven’t often thought I should like a wife; but I am waiting till I find one who can live upon air.’2‘Well, maybe there might be such an one even as you say,’ returned the busy neighbour; ‘though she might not be easy to find.’ And she said no more for that day.She went, however, to a young woman who lived opposite, and said: ‘If you want a rich husband I will find you one.’‘To be sure I should like a rich husband,’ replied the young woman; ‘who would not?’‘Very well, then,’ continued the neighbour; ‘I will tell you what to do. You have only, every day at dinner-time, to stand at the window and suck in the air, and move your lips as if you were eating. But eat nothing; take nothing into your mouth but air. The old miser who lives opposite wants a wife who can live on air; and if he thinks you can do this he will marry you. And when you are once installed it’ll be odd if you don’t find means, in the midst of so much money, to lay hold of enough to get a dinner every day without working for it.’The young woman thanked her friend for the advice, and next day, when the bells rang at noon, she threw open the window and stood sucking in the air, and then moving her lips as if she was eating. This she did several days.At last the old miser came across under the window, and said to her: ‘What are you doing at the window there?’‘Don’t you see it’s dinner-time, and I’m taking my dinner? Don’t interrupt me!’ replied the young neighbour.‘But, excuse me,3I don’t see you are eating anything, though your lips move.’‘O! I live upon air; I take nothing but air,’ replied the young woman; and she went on with her mock munching.‘You live upon air, do you? Then you’re just the wife I’m looking for. Will you come down and marry me?’As this was just what she wanted she did not keep him waiting, and soon they were married and she was installed in the miser’s house.But it was not so easy to get at the money as she had thought. At first the miser would not let her go near his cellars; but as he spent so much time down there she said she could not be deprived of his company for so long, she must come down too.All the time she was down with him the miser held both her hands in his, as if he was full of affection for her; but in reality it was to make sure she did not touch any of his money.She, however, bought some pitch, and put it on the soles of her shoes, and as she walked about in the gold plenty of it stuck to her shoes; and when she came up again she took the gold off her shoes, and sent her maid to thetrattoria4for the most delicious dinners. Shut up in a room apart they fared sumptuously—she and her maid. But every day at midday she let the miser see her taking her fancied dinner of air.This went on for long, because the miser had so much gold that he never missed the few pieces that stuck to her shoes every day.But at last there came a Carneval Thursday,5when the maid had brought home an extra fine dinner; and as they were an extra length of time over this extra number of dishes and glasses, the old miser, always suspicious, began to guess there must be something wrong; and to find it out he instituted a scrutiny into every room in the crazy house. Thus he came at last to the room where his wife and her maid were dining sumptuously.‘This is how you live on air, is it?’ he roared, red with fury.‘Oh, but on Carneval Thursday,’ replied the wife, ‘one may have a little extra indulgence!’‘Will you tell me you have not had a private dinner every day?’ shouted the excited miser.‘If I have,’ replied the wife, not liking to tell a direct falsehood, ‘how do you know it is not with my own money? Tell me, have you missed any of yours?’The miser was only the more angry at her way of putting the question, because he could not say he had actually missed the money; yet he was convinced it was his money she had been spending.‘How do I know it is not your money, do you ask?’ he thundered; ‘because if you had had any money of your own you would never have come to live here, you would not have married me.’But weak as he was with his bread and water diet, the excitement was too much for him. As he said these words a convulsion seized him, and he fell down dead.Thus all his riches came into possession of the wife.1‘Il Vecchio Avaro.’(The Avaricious Old Man.)↑2‘Che campasse d’aria,’ who should subsist on air.↑3‘Abbi pazienza,’ have patience; equivalent to ‘please,’ ‘pray excuse me,’ &c.↑4‘Trattoria,’ an eating-house, but one where, as a rule, dinners are sent out.↑5‘Giovedi grasso,’ Thursday in Carneval week, a day of a little extra feasting.↑THE MISERLY OLD WOMAN.1There was an old woman who had three sons, and from her stinginess she could not bear that anyone should have anything to eat. One day the eldest son came to her and said he must take a wife.‘If you must, you must,’ replied the miserly mother. ‘But mind she is one who brings a great dowry, eats little, and can work all day long.’The eldest son went his way and told the girl he was going to marry his mother’s hard terms. As the girl loved him very much, she made no objection, and he married her, and brought her home.2The first morning the mother-in-law came before it was light, and knocked at the door, and bid the bride get up and come down to her work.‘It is very hard for you,’ said the young husband.‘Ah, well! I promised to submit to it before we married,’ she replied. ‘I won’t break my promise.’So she got up and went down and helped her mother-in-law to do the work of the house. By twelve o’clock she was very hungry; but the miserly mother-in-law only took out an apple and a halfpenny roll, and gave her half of each for all her food. She took it without a murmur; and so she went on every day, working hard, and eating little, and making no complaint.By-and-by the second son came and told his mother that he was going to take a wife. The mother made the same conditions, and the wife submitted to them with equally good grace.Then the third son came and said he too must take a wife. To him the old woman made the same terms; but he could not find a wife who would submit to them for his sake. The girl he wanted to marry, however, was very lively and spirited, and she said at last—‘Never mind the conditions; let’s marry, and we’ll get through the future somehow.’Then they married. When her son brought home this wife, and the old woman found she had no dowry, she was in a great fury; but it was too late to help it.The first morning, when she knocked at their door to wake her, she called out—‘Who’s there?’ though she knew well enough.The mother-in-law answered, ‘Time to get up!’‘Oibo!’ exclaimed the young wife. ‘Don’t imagineI’m going to get up in the middle of the night like this! I shall get up when I please, and not before.’ Then she turned to her husband, and said, ‘Just for her bothering me like this I shan’t get up till twelve o’clock.’ Neither did she.The house was now filled with the old woman’s lamentations. ‘This woman upsets everything! This woman will be the ruin of us all!’ she kept exclaiming. But the third wife paid no heed, and dressed herself up smart, and amused herself, and did no work at all.When supper-time came the old woman took out her apple and her halfpenny loaf, and cut them in four quarters, serving a bit all round.‘What’s that?’ said the third wife, stooping to look at it, as if she could not make it out, and without taking it in her hand.‘It’s your supper,’ replied the mother-in-law.‘My supper! do you think I’ve come to my second childhood, to be helped to driblets like that!’ and she filliped it to the other end of the room.Then she went to her husband and said—‘I’ll tell you what we must do; we must have false keys made, and get into the store-closet3and take what we want.’Though the mother-in-law was so miserly, there was good provision of everything in the store-closet; and so with the false keys she took flour and lard and ham, and they had plenty of everything. One day she had made a delicious cake of curdled sheep’s milk,4and she gave a woman a halfpenny to take it to the baker’s to bake, saying—‘Make haste, and bring it back, that we may get through eating it while the old woman is at mass.’She was not quick enough, however, and the mother-in-law came in just about the same time that the cake came back from the baker’s. The third son’s wife to hideit from her caught it up and put it under her petticoats, but it burned her ankles, so that she was obliged to bring it out. Then the mother-in-law understood what had been going on, and went into such a fury, the house could not hold her.Then the third son’s wife sent the same woman to the chemist, saying, ‘get me three pauls of quicksilver.’ And she took the quicksilver, when the mother-in-law was asleep, and put it into her mouth and ears, so that she could not storm or scold any more. But after a time she died of vexation; and then they opened wide the store-room, and lived very comfortably.[Here may follow a couple of stories of mixed folly and craft.]1‘La Vecchia Avara.’This story was told in emulation of the last, otherwise it is hardly worth reproducing. The only merit of the story consisted in the liveliness of the pantomime with which the words of the third wife were rendered. To the poor, however, such a story is a treasure, as it tells of the condign punishment of an oppressor; and there are few of them who have not some experience of what it is to be trampled on.↑2According to the local custom prevailing among all classes, of married sons and daughters continuing to live in the same house with their parents.↑3‘Dispensa,’ store-room.↑4‘Pizza,’ a cake; ‘ricotta,’ curds of sheep’s milk.↑

THE FOOLISH WOMAN.1There was once a couple well-to-do in the world, who had one only daughter.The son of a neighbour came to ask her in marriage, and as the father thought he would do, the father asked him to dinner, and sent the daughter down into the cellar to draw the wine.‘If I am married,’ said the girl to herself, and began to cry as she drew the wine, ‘I shall have a child, and the child will be a boy, and the boy will be called Petrillo, and by-and-by he will die, and I shall be left to lament him, and to cry all day long “Petrillo! Petrillo! where are you!”’ and she went on crying, and the wine went on running over.Then the mother went down to see what kept her solong, and she repeated the story all over to her, and the mother answered, ‘Right you are, my girl!’ and she, too, began to cry, and the wine was all the time running over.Then the father went down, and they repeated the story to him, and he, too, said, ‘Right you are!’ and he, too, began to cry, and the wine all the time went on running all over the floor.Then the young man also goes down to see what is the matter, and stops the wine running, and makes them all come up.‘But,’ he says, ‘I’ll not marry the girl till I have wandered over the world and found other three as simple as you.’ He dines with them, and sets out on his search.The first night he goes to bed in an inn, and in the morning he hears in the room next him such lamenting and complaining that he goes in to see what is the matter. A man is sitting by the side of the bed lamenting because he cannot get his stockings on.The young man says, ‘Take hold of one side this way, and the other side that way, and pull them up.’‘Ah, to be sure!’ cries the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the benefit he has done him.‘There’s one of my three simpletons, at all events,’ says the young man, and journeys on.The next day, at the inn where he spends the night, he hears a noisebru, bru! goes in to see, and finds a man fruitlessly trying to put walnuts into a sack by sticking a fork into them.‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both his hands and so pour them in.‘Ah, to be sure!’ answers the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the favour he has done him.‘There is my second simpleton,’ says the young man, and goes further.The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what he meets the third day; but it is something equally stupid, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he had promised.When they had been married some time, he goes out for two or three days to shoot.‘I’ll come with you,’ says the wife.‘Well, it’s not quite the thing,’ answered he; ‘but perhaps it’s better than leaving you at home; but mind you pull the door after you.’‘Oh yes, of course,’ answers the simple wife, and pulls it so effectually that she lifts it off its hinges and carries it along with her.When they had gone some way he looks back and sees her carrying the door.‘What on earth are you bringing the door along for!’ he cries.‘You told me to pull it after me,’ answers she.‘Of course, I only meant you to pull it to, to make the house secure,’ he says.‘If merely pulling it to, made the house secure, how much securer it must be when I pull it all this way!’ answers she.He finds it useless to reason with her, and they go on. At night they climb up into a tree to sleep, the woman still carrying the door with her. A band of robbers come and count their gains under the tree; the woman from sheer weariness, and though she believes it will rouse the robbers to come and kill them, drops the door upon them. They take it for an earthquake and run away. The man and his wife then gather up the money, and are rich for the rest of their lives.2[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out theBildstocklein(the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.]1‘La Donna Mattarella.’‘Matto’ is simply ‘mad,’ with the diminutive ‘ella’ it comes to mean ‘slightly mad,’ ‘simple.’↑

THE FOOLISH WOMAN.1

There was once a couple well-to-do in the world, who had one only daughter.The son of a neighbour came to ask her in marriage, and as the father thought he would do, the father asked him to dinner, and sent the daughter down into the cellar to draw the wine.‘If I am married,’ said the girl to herself, and began to cry as she drew the wine, ‘I shall have a child, and the child will be a boy, and the boy will be called Petrillo, and by-and-by he will die, and I shall be left to lament him, and to cry all day long “Petrillo! Petrillo! where are you!”’ and she went on crying, and the wine went on running over.Then the mother went down to see what kept her solong, and she repeated the story all over to her, and the mother answered, ‘Right you are, my girl!’ and she, too, began to cry, and the wine was all the time running over.Then the father went down, and they repeated the story to him, and he, too, said, ‘Right you are!’ and he, too, began to cry, and the wine all the time went on running all over the floor.Then the young man also goes down to see what is the matter, and stops the wine running, and makes them all come up.‘But,’ he says, ‘I’ll not marry the girl till I have wandered over the world and found other three as simple as you.’ He dines with them, and sets out on his search.The first night he goes to bed in an inn, and in the morning he hears in the room next him such lamenting and complaining that he goes in to see what is the matter. A man is sitting by the side of the bed lamenting because he cannot get his stockings on.The young man says, ‘Take hold of one side this way, and the other side that way, and pull them up.’‘Ah, to be sure!’ cries the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the benefit he has done him.‘There’s one of my three simpletons, at all events,’ says the young man, and journeys on.The next day, at the inn where he spends the night, he hears a noisebru, bru! goes in to see, and finds a man fruitlessly trying to put walnuts into a sack by sticking a fork into them.‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both his hands and so pour them in.‘Ah, to be sure!’ answers the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the favour he has done him.‘There is my second simpleton,’ says the young man, and goes further.The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what he meets the third day; but it is something equally stupid, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he had promised.When they had been married some time, he goes out for two or three days to shoot.‘I’ll come with you,’ says the wife.‘Well, it’s not quite the thing,’ answered he; ‘but perhaps it’s better than leaving you at home; but mind you pull the door after you.’‘Oh yes, of course,’ answers the simple wife, and pulls it so effectually that she lifts it off its hinges and carries it along with her.When they had gone some way he looks back and sees her carrying the door.‘What on earth are you bringing the door along for!’ he cries.‘You told me to pull it after me,’ answers she.‘Of course, I only meant you to pull it to, to make the house secure,’ he says.‘If merely pulling it to, made the house secure, how much securer it must be when I pull it all this way!’ answers she.He finds it useless to reason with her, and they go on. At night they climb up into a tree to sleep, the woman still carrying the door with her. A band of robbers come and count their gains under the tree; the woman from sheer weariness, and though she believes it will rouse the robbers to come and kill them, drops the door upon them. They take it for an earthquake and run away. The man and his wife then gather up the money, and are rich for the rest of their lives.2[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out theBildstocklein(the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.]

There was once a couple well-to-do in the world, who had one only daughter.

The son of a neighbour came to ask her in marriage, and as the father thought he would do, the father asked him to dinner, and sent the daughter down into the cellar to draw the wine.

‘If I am married,’ said the girl to herself, and began to cry as she drew the wine, ‘I shall have a child, and the child will be a boy, and the boy will be called Petrillo, and by-and-by he will die, and I shall be left to lament him, and to cry all day long “Petrillo! Petrillo! where are you!”’ and she went on crying, and the wine went on running over.

Then the mother went down to see what kept her solong, and she repeated the story all over to her, and the mother answered, ‘Right you are, my girl!’ and she, too, began to cry, and the wine was all the time running over.

Then the father went down, and they repeated the story to him, and he, too, said, ‘Right you are!’ and he, too, began to cry, and the wine all the time went on running all over the floor.

Then the young man also goes down to see what is the matter, and stops the wine running, and makes them all come up.

‘But,’ he says, ‘I’ll not marry the girl till I have wandered over the world and found other three as simple as you.’ He dines with them, and sets out on his search.

The first night he goes to bed in an inn, and in the morning he hears in the room next him such lamenting and complaining that he goes in to see what is the matter. A man is sitting by the side of the bed lamenting because he cannot get his stockings on.

The young man says, ‘Take hold of one side this way, and the other side that way, and pull them up.’

‘Ah, to be sure!’ cries the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the benefit he has done him.

‘There’s one of my three simpletons, at all events,’ says the young man, and journeys on.

The next day, at the inn where he spends the night, he hears a noisebru, bru! goes in to see, and finds a man fruitlessly trying to put walnuts into a sack by sticking a fork into them.

‘You’ll never do it that way,’ says the young man; and he shows him how to scoop them up with both his hands and so pour them in.

‘Ah, to be sure!’ answers the man, and gives him a hundred scudi for the favour he has done him.

‘There is my second simpleton,’ says the young man, and goes further.

The third day——Ah! I can’t remember what he meets the third day; but it is something equally stupid, and he gets another hundred scudi, and goes back and marries the girl as he had promised.

When they had been married some time, he goes out for two or three days to shoot.

‘I’ll come with you,’ says the wife.

‘Well, it’s not quite the thing,’ answered he; ‘but perhaps it’s better than leaving you at home; but mind you pull the door after you.’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ answers the simple wife, and pulls it so effectually that she lifts it off its hinges and carries it along with her.

When they had gone some way he looks back and sees her carrying the door.

‘What on earth are you bringing the door along for!’ he cries.

‘You told me to pull it after me,’ answers she.

‘Of course, I only meant you to pull it to, to make the house secure,’ he says.

‘If merely pulling it to, made the house secure, how much securer it must be when I pull it all this way!’ answers she.

He finds it useless to reason with her, and they go on. At night they climb up into a tree to sleep, the woman still carrying the door with her. A band of robbers come and count their gains under the tree; the woman from sheer weariness, and though she believes it will rouse the robbers to come and kill them, drops the door upon them. They take it for an earthquake and run away. The man and his wife then gather up the money, and are rich for the rest of their lives.

2[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out theBildstocklein(the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.]

2

[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out theBildstocklein(the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.]

[A version from Sinigaglia was very like the last. It only took up the story, however, after the husband and wife are married. The first silly thing the wife does is the feat of the ‘brocoli strascinati,’ as in ‘La Sposa Cece,’ No. 2. Some variety is always thrown in in the way of telling. This wife was represented as having a very sweet voice, and saying, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ in the gentlest and tenderest way in the world, to everything her husband tells her, though she mismanages everything so. After the brocoli affair he tells her to cook some beans for dinner. ‘Si, si, marito mio,’ she says in her sweet tone, but takes four beans only and boils them in a pot of water. When he comes in and asks if the beans are done, she says, ‘Si, si, marito mio!’ She says she has cooked two beans apiece, but one has boiled away, so she will only take one for her share.

He finds it impossible to live with her, and goes away, but she in her simplicity says if he goes away she will go with him! When he finds he can’t prevent this he tells her to pull the door after her, and the story has the same ending as the last.

After tales of simple wives come similar tales of simple boys. Compare ‘Russian Folktales,’ pp. 10 and 49. An analogous incident to the selling of the linen to a statue in the following is told of a grown-up peasant in Grimm’s ‘Der gute Handel,’ p. 30, which story is not unlike one called ‘How the poorest became the richest’ I have given from the German-Tirolese province of Vorarlberg at the end of ‘Household Stories from the Land of Höfer,’ a close counterpart of which I have met in a Roman periodical, told as collected at Modena. The Italian-Tirolese counterpart bears the name of ‘Turlulù,’ and resembles the Roman very closely. There is a place in German Tirol where they not only tell the story, but point out theBildstocklein(the wayside image), to which the simple boy sold his linen; I cannot recall the place now, though I remember having occasion to mention it in ‘Traditions of Tirol’ in the ‘Monthly Packet.’ In the German there is also ‘Der gescheidte Hans,’ which is somewhat different in structure; but Scheible, ‘Schaltjahr,’ i. 493, gives a story which contains both ways of telling.]

1‘La Donna Mattarella.’‘Matto’ is simply ‘mad,’ with the diminutive ‘ella’ it comes to mean ‘slightly mad,’ ‘simple.’↑

1‘La Donna Mattarella.’‘Matto’ is simply ‘mad,’ with the diminutive ‘ella’ it comes to mean ‘slightly mad,’ ‘simple.’↑

THE BOOBY.1They say there was once a widow woman who had a very simple son. Whatever she set him to do he muddled in some way or other.‘What am I to do?’ said the poor mother to a neighbour one day. ‘The boy eats and drinks, and has to be clothed; what am I to do if I am to make no profit of him?’‘You have kept him at home long enough;’ answered the neighbour. ‘Try sending him out, now; maybe that will answer better.’The mother took the advice, and the next time she had got a piece of linen spun she called her boy, and said to him:‘If I send you out to sell this piece of linen, do you think you can manage to do it without committing any folly?’‘Yes, mama,’ answered the booby.‘You always say “yes mama,” but you do contrive to muddle everything all the same,’ replied the mother. ‘Now, listen attentively to all I say. Walk straight along the road without turning to right or left; don’t take less than such and such a price for it. Don’t have anything to say to women who chatter; whether you sell it to anyone you meet by the way, or carry it into the market, offer it only to some quiet sort of body whom you may see standing apart, and not gossiping and prating, for such as they will persuade you to take some sort of a price that won’t suit me at all.’The booby promised to follow these directions very exactly, and started on his way.On he walked, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, thus passing the turnings which led to the villages, to one or other of which he ought to have gone. But hismother had only meant that he was not to turn off the pathway and lose himself.Presently he met the wife of the syndic of the next town, who was driving out with her maids, but had got out to walk a little stretch of the way, as the day was fine. The syndic’s wife was talking cheerfully with her maids, and when one of them caught sight of the simpleton, she said to her mistress:‘Here is the simple son of the poor widow by the brook.’‘What are you going to do, my good lad?’ said the syndic’s wife kindly.‘Not going to tell you, because you were chattering and gossiping,’ replied the booby boorishly, and tried to pass on.The syndic’s wife forgave his boorishness, and added:‘I see your mother has sent you to sell this piece of linen. I will buy it of you, and that will save you walking further; put it in the carriage, and I’ll give you so much for it.’Though she had offered him twice as much as his mother had told him to get for it, he would only answer:‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were chattering and gossiping.’Nor could they prevail on him to stop a moment longer.Further along he came to a statue by the roadside.‘Here’s one who stands apart and doesn’t chatter,’ said the booby to himself. ‘This is the one to sell the linen to.’ Then aloud to the statue, ‘Will you buy my linen, good friend?’ Then to himself. ‘She doesn’t speak, so it’s all right.’ Then to the statue, ‘The price is so-and-so; have the money ready against I come back, as I have to go on and buy some yarn for mother.’On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Some one passing by meanwhile, and seeing the linen lie there had picked it up and walked off with it.Finding it gone, the booby said to himself, ‘It’s all right,she’s taken it.’ Then to the statue, ‘Where’s the money I told you to have ready against I came back?’ As the statue remained silent, the booby began to get uneasy. ‘My mother will be finely angry if I go back without the linen or the money,’ he said to himself. Then to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money directly I’ll hit you on the head.’The booby was as good as his word; lifting his thick rough walking-stick, he gave the statue such a blow that he knocked the head off.But the statue was hollow, and filled with gold coin.‘That’s where you keep your money, is it?’ said the booby, ‘all right, I can pay myself.’ So he filled his pockets with money and went back to his mother.‘Look, mama! here’s the price of the piece of linen.’‘All right!’ said the mother out loud; but to herself she said, ‘where can I ever hide all this lot of money? I have got no place to hide it but in this earthen jar, and if he knows how much it is worth, he will be letting out the secret to other people, and I shall be robbed.’So she put the money in the earthen jar, and said to the boy:‘They’ve cheated you in making you think that was coin; it’s nothing but a lot of rusty nails;2but never mind, you’ll know better next time.’ And she went out to her work.While she was gone out to her work there came by an old rag-merchant.‘Ho! here, rag-merchant!’ said the booby, who had acquired a taste for trading. ‘What will you give me for this lot of rusty nails?’ and he showed him the jar full of gold coin.The rag-merchant saw that he had to do with an idiot, so he said:‘Well, old nails are not worth very much; but as I’m a good-natured old chap, I’ll give you twelve pauls forthem,’ because he knew he must offer enough to seem a prize to the idiot.‘You may have them at that,’ said the booby. And the rag-merchant poured the coin out into his sack, and gave the fool the twelve pauls.‘Look mama, look! I’ve sold that lot of old rusty worthless nails for twelve pauls. Isn’t that a good bargain?’‘Sold them for twelve pauls!’ cried the widow, tearing her hair, ‘Why, it was a fortune all in gold coin.’‘Can’t help it, mama,’ replied the booby; ‘you told me they were rusty nails.’Another day she told him to shut the door of the cottage; but as he went to do it he lifted the door off its hinges. His mother called after him in an angry voice, which so frightened him that he ran away, carrying the door on his back.As he went along, some one to tease him, said, ‘Where did you steal that door?’ which frightened him still more, and he climbed up in a tree with it to hide it.At night there came a band of robbers under the tree, and counted out all their gains in large bags of money. The booby was so frightened at the sight of so many fierce-looking robbers, that he began to tremble and let go of the door.The door fell with a bang in the midst of the robbers, who thinking it must be that the police were upon them, decamped, leaving all their money behind.The booby came down from the tree and carried the money home to his mother, and they became so rich that she was able to appoint a servant to attend to him, and keep him from doing any more mischief.[After the boys, the girls come in for their share of hardjokes; here is one who figures both as a daughter and a wife. Grimm has the same, with a slight variation, as ‘Rumpelstilzchen,’ p. 219, and the Italian-Tirol Tales give it as ‘Tarandandò;’ the incident on which these two hinge of a supernatural being giving his help on condition of the person he favours remembering his name, is of frequent occurrence. I have met it in two German-Tirolese stories, ‘The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness,’ and in ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories,’ and in a local tradition told me at Salzburg, which I have given in ‘Traditions of Tirol,’ No. XVI. in ‘Monthly Packet,’ each time the sprite gets a new name; in this one it was ‘Hahnenzuckerl.’ The supernatural helper delivering the girl from future as well as present labour occurs in the Spanish equivalent, ‘What Ana saw in the Sunbeam,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ but in favour of a good, instead of a lazy or greedy girl; and so with the girl in the Norse tale of ‘The Three Aunts.’ ‘Die faule Spinnerin,’ Grimm, p. 495, helps herself to the same end without supernatural aid.]1‘Il Tonto.’↑2‘Chiodacci;’ ‘chiodi,’ nails; ‘chiodacci,’ old rusty nails.↑

THE BOOBY.1

They say there was once a widow woman who had a very simple son. Whatever she set him to do he muddled in some way or other.‘What am I to do?’ said the poor mother to a neighbour one day. ‘The boy eats and drinks, and has to be clothed; what am I to do if I am to make no profit of him?’‘You have kept him at home long enough;’ answered the neighbour. ‘Try sending him out, now; maybe that will answer better.’The mother took the advice, and the next time she had got a piece of linen spun she called her boy, and said to him:‘If I send you out to sell this piece of linen, do you think you can manage to do it without committing any folly?’‘Yes, mama,’ answered the booby.‘You always say “yes mama,” but you do contrive to muddle everything all the same,’ replied the mother. ‘Now, listen attentively to all I say. Walk straight along the road without turning to right or left; don’t take less than such and such a price for it. Don’t have anything to say to women who chatter; whether you sell it to anyone you meet by the way, or carry it into the market, offer it only to some quiet sort of body whom you may see standing apart, and not gossiping and prating, for such as they will persuade you to take some sort of a price that won’t suit me at all.’The booby promised to follow these directions very exactly, and started on his way.On he walked, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, thus passing the turnings which led to the villages, to one or other of which he ought to have gone. But hismother had only meant that he was not to turn off the pathway and lose himself.Presently he met the wife of the syndic of the next town, who was driving out with her maids, but had got out to walk a little stretch of the way, as the day was fine. The syndic’s wife was talking cheerfully with her maids, and when one of them caught sight of the simpleton, she said to her mistress:‘Here is the simple son of the poor widow by the brook.’‘What are you going to do, my good lad?’ said the syndic’s wife kindly.‘Not going to tell you, because you were chattering and gossiping,’ replied the booby boorishly, and tried to pass on.The syndic’s wife forgave his boorishness, and added:‘I see your mother has sent you to sell this piece of linen. I will buy it of you, and that will save you walking further; put it in the carriage, and I’ll give you so much for it.’Though she had offered him twice as much as his mother had told him to get for it, he would only answer:‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were chattering and gossiping.’Nor could they prevail on him to stop a moment longer.Further along he came to a statue by the roadside.‘Here’s one who stands apart and doesn’t chatter,’ said the booby to himself. ‘This is the one to sell the linen to.’ Then aloud to the statue, ‘Will you buy my linen, good friend?’ Then to himself. ‘She doesn’t speak, so it’s all right.’ Then to the statue, ‘The price is so-and-so; have the money ready against I come back, as I have to go on and buy some yarn for mother.’On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Some one passing by meanwhile, and seeing the linen lie there had picked it up and walked off with it.Finding it gone, the booby said to himself, ‘It’s all right,she’s taken it.’ Then to the statue, ‘Where’s the money I told you to have ready against I came back?’ As the statue remained silent, the booby began to get uneasy. ‘My mother will be finely angry if I go back without the linen or the money,’ he said to himself. Then to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money directly I’ll hit you on the head.’The booby was as good as his word; lifting his thick rough walking-stick, he gave the statue such a blow that he knocked the head off.But the statue was hollow, and filled with gold coin.‘That’s where you keep your money, is it?’ said the booby, ‘all right, I can pay myself.’ So he filled his pockets with money and went back to his mother.‘Look, mama! here’s the price of the piece of linen.’‘All right!’ said the mother out loud; but to herself she said, ‘where can I ever hide all this lot of money? I have got no place to hide it but in this earthen jar, and if he knows how much it is worth, he will be letting out the secret to other people, and I shall be robbed.’So she put the money in the earthen jar, and said to the boy:‘They’ve cheated you in making you think that was coin; it’s nothing but a lot of rusty nails;2but never mind, you’ll know better next time.’ And she went out to her work.While she was gone out to her work there came by an old rag-merchant.‘Ho! here, rag-merchant!’ said the booby, who had acquired a taste for trading. ‘What will you give me for this lot of rusty nails?’ and he showed him the jar full of gold coin.The rag-merchant saw that he had to do with an idiot, so he said:‘Well, old nails are not worth very much; but as I’m a good-natured old chap, I’ll give you twelve pauls forthem,’ because he knew he must offer enough to seem a prize to the idiot.‘You may have them at that,’ said the booby. And the rag-merchant poured the coin out into his sack, and gave the fool the twelve pauls.‘Look mama, look! I’ve sold that lot of old rusty worthless nails for twelve pauls. Isn’t that a good bargain?’‘Sold them for twelve pauls!’ cried the widow, tearing her hair, ‘Why, it was a fortune all in gold coin.’‘Can’t help it, mama,’ replied the booby; ‘you told me they were rusty nails.’Another day she told him to shut the door of the cottage; but as he went to do it he lifted the door off its hinges. His mother called after him in an angry voice, which so frightened him that he ran away, carrying the door on his back.As he went along, some one to tease him, said, ‘Where did you steal that door?’ which frightened him still more, and he climbed up in a tree with it to hide it.At night there came a band of robbers under the tree, and counted out all their gains in large bags of money. The booby was so frightened at the sight of so many fierce-looking robbers, that he began to tremble and let go of the door.The door fell with a bang in the midst of the robbers, who thinking it must be that the police were upon them, decamped, leaving all their money behind.The booby came down from the tree and carried the money home to his mother, and they became so rich that she was able to appoint a servant to attend to him, and keep him from doing any more mischief.[After the boys, the girls come in for their share of hardjokes; here is one who figures both as a daughter and a wife. Grimm has the same, with a slight variation, as ‘Rumpelstilzchen,’ p. 219, and the Italian-Tirol Tales give it as ‘Tarandandò;’ the incident on which these two hinge of a supernatural being giving his help on condition of the person he favours remembering his name, is of frequent occurrence. I have met it in two German-Tirolese stories, ‘The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness,’ and in ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories,’ and in a local tradition told me at Salzburg, which I have given in ‘Traditions of Tirol,’ No. XVI. in ‘Monthly Packet,’ each time the sprite gets a new name; in this one it was ‘Hahnenzuckerl.’ The supernatural helper delivering the girl from future as well as present labour occurs in the Spanish equivalent, ‘What Ana saw in the Sunbeam,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ but in favour of a good, instead of a lazy or greedy girl; and so with the girl in the Norse tale of ‘The Three Aunts.’ ‘Die faule Spinnerin,’ Grimm, p. 495, helps herself to the same end without supernatural aid.]

They say there was once a widow woman who had a very simple son. Whatever she set him to do he muddled in some way or other.

‘What am I to do?’ said the poor mother to a neighbour one day. ‘The boy eats and drinks, and has to be clothed; what am I to do if I am to make no profit of him?’

‘You have kept him at home long enough;’ answered the neighbour. ‘Try sending him out, now; maybe that will answer better.’

The mother took the advice, and the next time she had got a piece of linen spun she called her boy, and said to him:

‘If I send you out to sell this piece of linen, do you think you can manage to do it without committing any folly?’

‘Yes, mama,’ answered the booby.

‘You always say “yes mama,” but you do contrive to muddle everything all the same,’ replied the mother. ‘Now, listen attentively to all I say. Walk straight along the road without turning to right or left; don’t take less than such and such a price for it. Don’t have anything to say to women who chatter; whether you sell it to anyone you meet by the way, or carry it into the market, offer it only to some quiet sort of body whom you may see standing apart, and not gossiping and prating, for such as they will persuade you to take some sort of a price that won’t suit me at all.’

The booby promised to follow these directions very exactly, and started on his way.

On he walked, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, thus passing the turnings which led to the villages, to one or other of which he ought to have gone. But hismother had only meant that he was not to turn off the pathway and lose himself.

Presently he met the wife of the syndic of the next town, who was driving out with her maids, but had got out to walk a little stretch of the way, as the day was fine. The syndic’s wife was talking cheerfully with her maids, and when one of them caught sight of the simpleton, she said to her mistress:

‘Here is the simple son of the poor widow by the brook.’

‘What are you going to do, my good lad?’ said the syndic’s wife kindly.

‘Not going to tell you, because you were chattering and gossiping,’ replied the booby boorishly, and tried to pass on.

The syndic’s wife forgave his boorishness, and added:

‘I see your mother has sent you to sell this piece of linen. I will buy it of you, and that will save you walking further; put it in the carriage, and I’ll give you so much for it.’

Though she had offered him twice as much as his mother had told him to get for it, he would only answer:

‘Can’t sell it to you, because you were chattering and gossiping.’

Nor could they prevail on him to stop a moment longer.

Further along he came to a statue by the roadside.

‘Here’s one who stands apart and doesn’t chatter,’ said the booby to himself. ‘This is the one to sell the linen to.’ Then aloud to the statue, ‘Will you buy my linen, good friend?’ Then to himself. ‘She doesn’t speak, so it’s all right.’ Then to the statue, ‘The price is so-and-so; have the money ready against I come back, as I have to go on and buy some yarn for mother.’

On he went and bought the yarn, and then came back to the statue. Some one passing by meanwhile, and seeing the linen lie there had picked it up and walked off with it.

Finding it gone, the booby said to himself, ‘It’s all right,she’s taken it.’ Then to the statue, ‘Where’s the money I told you to have ready against I came back?’ As the statue remained silent, the booby began to get uneasy. ‘My mother will be finely angry if I go back without the linen or the money,’ he said to himself. Then to the statue, ‘If you don’t give me the money directly I’ll hit you on the head.’

The booby was as good as his word; lifting his thick rough walking-stick, he gave the statue such a blow that he knocked the head off.

But the statue was hollow, and filled with gold coin.

‘That’s where you keep your money, is it?’ said the booby, ‘all right, I can pay myself.’ So he filled his pockets with money and went back to his mother.

‘Look, mama! here’s the price of the piece of linen.’

‘All right!’ said the mother out loud; but to herself she said, ‘where can I ever hide all this lot of money? I have got no place to hide it but in this earthen jar, and if he knows how much it is worth, he will be letting out the secret to other people, and I shall be robbed.’

So she put the money in the earthen jar, and said to the boy:

‘They’ve cheated you in making you think that was coin; it’s nothing but a lot of rusty nails;2but never mind, you’ll know better next time.’ And she went out to her work.

While she was gone out to her work there came by an old rag-merchant.

‘Ho! here, rag-merchant!’ said the booby, who had acquired a taste for trading. ‘What will you give me for this lot of rusty nails?’ and he showed him the jar full of gold coin.

The rag-merchant saw that he had to do with an idiot, so he said:

‘Well, old nails are not worth very much; but as I’m a good-natured old chap, I’ll give you twelve pauls forthem,’ because he knew he must offer enough to seem a prize to the idiot.

‘You may have them at that,’ said the booby. And the rag-merchant poured the coin out into his sack, and gave the fool the twelve pauls.

‘Look mama, look! I’ve sold that lot of old rusty worthless nails for twelve pauls. Isn’t that a good bargain?’

‘Sold them for twelve pauls!’ cried the widow, tearing her hair, ‘Why, it was a fortune all in gold coin.’

‘Can’t help it, mama,’ replied the booby; ‘you told me they were rusty nails.’

Another day she told him to shut the door of the cottage; but as he went to do it he lifted the door off its hinges. His mother called after him in an angry voice, which so frightened him that he ran away, carrying the door on his back.

As he went along, some one to tease him, said, ‘Where did you steal that door?’ which frightened him still more, and he climbed up in a tree with it to hide it.

At night there came a band of robbers under the tree, and counted out all their gains in large bags of money. The booby was so frightened at the sight of so many fierce-looking robbers, that he began to tremble and let go of the door.

The door fell with a bang in the midst of the robbers, who thinking it must be that the police were upon them, decamped, leaving all their money behind.

The booby came down from the tree and carried the money home to his mother, and they became so rich that she was able to appoint a servant to attend to him, and keep him from doing any more mischief.

[After the boys, the girls come in for their share of hardjokes; here is one who figures both as a daughter and a wife. Grimm has the same, with a slight variation, as ‘Rumpelstilzchen,’ p. 219, and the Italian-Tirol Tales give it as ‘Tarandandò;’ the incident on which these two hinge of a supernatural being giving his help on condition of the person he favours remembering his name, is of frequent occurrence. I have met it in two German-Tirolese stories, ‘The Wilder Jäger and the Baroness,’ and in ‘Klein-Else’ in ‘Household Stories,’ and in a local tradition told me at Salzburg, which I have given in ‘Traditions of Tirol,’ No. XVI. in ‘Monthly Packet,’ each time the sprite gets a new name; in this one it was ‘Hahnenzuckerl.’ The supernatural helper delivering the girl from future as well as present labour occurs in the Spanish equivalent, ‘What Ana saw in the Sunbeam,’ in ‘Patrañas,’ but in favour of a good, instead of a lazy or greedy girl; and so with the girl in the Norse tale of ‘The Three Aunts.’ ‘Die faule Spinnerin,’ Grimm, p. 495, helps herself to the same end without supernatural aid.]

1‘Il Tonto.’↑2‘Chiodacci;’ ‘chiodi,’ nails; ‘chiodacci,’ old rusty nails.↑

1‘Il Tonto.’↑

2‘Chiodacci;’ ‘chiodi,’ nails; ‘chiodacci,’ old rusty nails.↑

THE GLUTTONOUS GIRL.1There was a poor woman who went out to work by the day. She had one idle, good-for-nothing daughter, who would never do any work, and cared for nothing but eating, always taking the best of everything for herself, and not caring how her mother fared.One day the mother, when she went out to her work, left the girl some beans to cook for dinner, and some pieces of bacon-rind2to stew along with them. When the pieces of bacon-rind were nicely done, she took them out andatethem herself, and then found a pair of dirty old shoe-soles, which she pared in slices, and put them into the stew for her mother.When the poor mother came home, not only were there no pieces of bacon which she could eat, but the beans themselves were rendered so nasty by the shoe-solesthat she could not eat them either. Determined to give her daughter a good lesson, once for all, on this occasion, she took her outside her cottage door, and beat her well with a stick.Just as she was administering this chastisement, a farmer3came by.‘What are you beating this pretty lass for?’ asked the man.‘Because shewillwork so hard at her household duties that she works on Sundays and holidays the same as common days,’ answered the mother, who, bad as her daughter was, yet had not the heart to give her a bad character.‘That is the first time I ever heard of a mother beating her child for doing too much work; the general complaint is that they do too little. Will you let me have her for a wife? I should like such a wife as that.’‘Impossible!’ replied the mother, in order to enhance her daughter’s value; ‘she does all the work of the house, I can’t spare her; what shall I do without her?’‘I must give you something to make up for the loss,’ replied the merchant; ‘but such a notable wife as this I have long been in search of, and I must not miss the chance.’‘But I cannot spare such a notable daughter, either,’ persisted the mother.‘What do you say if I give you five hundred scudi?’‘If I let her go, it is not because of the five hundred scudi,’ said the mother; ‘it is because you seem a husband, who will really appreciate her; though I don’t say five hundred scudi will not be a help to a poor lone widow.’‘Let it be agreed then. I am going now to the fair; when I come back let the girl be ready, and I’ll take her back with me.’Accordingly, when the farmer returned from the fair, he fetched the girl away.When he got home his mother came out to ask how his affairs had prospered at the fair.‘Middling well, at the fair,’ replied the man; ‘but, by the way, I found a treasure, and I have brought her home to make her my wife. She is so hardworking that she can’t be kept from working, even on Sundays.’‘She doesn’t look as if there was much work in her,’ observed the mother dryly; ‘but if you’re satisfied that’s enough.’All went well enough the first week, because she was not expected to do much just at first, but at the end of that time the husband had to go to a distant fair which would keep him absent three weeks. Before he went he took his new wife up into the store-room, and said, ‘Here are provisions of all sorts, and you will have all you like to eat and drink; and here is a quantity of hemp, which you can amuse yourself with spinning and weaving if you want more employment than merely keeping the place in order.’Then he gave her a set of rooms to herself, next the store-chamber, that there might be no cause of quarrel with the mother-in-law, who, he knew, was inclined to be jealous of her, and said good-bye.Left to herself, she did no more work than she could help; all the nice things she found she cooked and ate, and that was all the work she did. As to the hemp, she never touched it; nor did she even clean up the place, or attempt to put it tidy.When the husband had been gone a fortnight, the mother-in-law came up to see how she was going on, and when she saw the hemp untouched, and the place in disorder, she said, ‘So this is how you go on when your husband is away!’‘You mind your affairs, and I’ll mind mine,’4answered the wife, and the mother-in-law went away offended.Nevertheless, it was true that in eight days the husband would be back, and might expect to see somethingdone, so she took up a lot of hemp and began trying to spin it; but, as she had no idea of how to do it, she went on in the most absurd way imaginable with it.As she stood on the top of the outside staircase, twisting it this way and that, there passed three deformed fairies. One was lame, and one squinted,5and one had her head all on one side, because she had a fish-bone stuck in her throat.The three fairies called out to ask what she was doing, and when she said ‘spinning,’ the one who squinted laughed so much that her eyes came quite right, and the one who had a bone stuck in her throat laughed so much that the bone came out, and her head became straight again like other people’s, and when the lame one saw the others laughing so much, she ran so fast to see what it was that her lameness was cured.Then the three fairies said:‘Since she has cured us of our ailments, we must go in and do her a good turn.’So they went in and took the hemp and span it, and wove it, and did as much in the six remaining days as any human being could have done in twenty years; moreover, they cleaned up everything, and made everything look spick-and-span new.Then they gave her a bag of walnuts, saying, ‘in half an hour your husband will be home; go to bed and put this bag of walnuts under your back. When he comes in say you have worked so hard that all your bones are out of joint; then move the bag of walnuts and they will make a noise,c-r-r-r-r, and he will think it is your bones which are loosened, and will say you must never work again.’When the husband came home his mother went out to meet him, saying—‘I told you I did not think there was much work in your “treasure.” When you go up you’ll see what a finemess the place is all in; and as to the hemp, you had better have left it locked up, for a fine mess she has made of that.’But the husband went up and found the place all in shining order, and so much hemp spun and woven as could scarcely be got through in twenty years. But the wife was laid up in bed.When the husband came near the bed she moved the bag of walnuts and they wentc-r-r-r-r.‘You have done a lot of work indeed!’ said the husband.‘Yes,’ replied the wife; ‘but I have put all my bones out of joint; only hear how they rumble!’ and she moved the walnuts again, and they wentc-r-r-r-r. ‘It will be sometime before I am about again.’‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ said the husband; ‘only think of such a treasure of a wife being laid up by such marvellous diligence.’And to his mother he said: ‘A mother-in-law has never a good word for her daughter-in-law; what you told me was all pure invention.’But to the wife he said: ‘Mind I will never have you do any work again as long as you live.’So from that day forth she had no work to do, but ate and drank and amused herself from morning till night.1‘La Ragazza Golosa;’‘goloso’ means, in particular, greedy of nice things.↑2‘Codiche di presciúto.’↑3‘Mercante di Campagna.’See Note 2, p. 154.↑4‘Voi pensate a voi ed io penso a me!’ ‘Pensare’ is much used in Rome in the sense of ‘to attend to,’ ‘to provide for.’↑5‘Guèrcia,’ see Note 3 to ‘The Two Friars;’ in this case squinting seems intended.↑

THE GLUTTONOUS GIRL.1

There was a poor woman who went out to work by the day. She had one idle, good-for-nothing daughter, who would never do any work, and cared for nothing but eating, always taking the best of everything for herself, and not caring how her mother fared.One day the mother, when she went out to her work, left the girl some beans to cook for dinner, and some pieces of bacon-rind2to stew along with them. When the pieces of bacon-rind were nicely done, she took them out andatethem herself, and then found a pair of dirty old shoe-soles, which she pared in slices, and put them into the stew for her mother.When the poor mother came home, not only were there no pieces of bacon which she could eat, but the beans themselves were rendered so nasty by the shoe-solesthat she could not eat them either. Determined to give her daughter a good lesson, once for all, on this occasion, she took her outside her cottage door, and beat her well with a stick.Just as she was administering this chastisement, a farmer3came by.‘What are you beating this pretty lass for?’ asked the man.‘Because shewillwork so hard at her household duties that she works on Sundays and holidays the same as common days,’ answered the mother, who, bad as her daughter was, yet had not the heart to give her a bad character.‘That is the first time I ever heard of a mother beating her child for doing too much work; the general complaint is that they do too little. Will you let me have her for a wife? I should like such a wife as that.’‘Impossible!’ replied the mother, in order to enhance her daughter’s value; ‘she does all the work of the house, I can’t spare her; what shall I do without her?’‘I must give you something to make up for the loss,’ replied the merchant; ‘but such a notable wife as this I have long been in search of, and I must not miss the chance.’‘But I cannot spare such a notable daughter, either,’ persisted the mother.‘What do you say if I give you five hundred scudi?’‘If I let her go, it is not because of the five hundred scudi,’ said the mother; ‘it is because you seem a husband, who will really appreciate her; though I don’t say five hundred scudi will not be a help to a poor lone widow.’‘Let it be agreed then. I am going now to the fair; when I come back let the girl be ready, and I’ll take her back with me.’Accordingly, when the farmer returned from the fair, he fetched the girl away.When he got home his mother came out to ask how his affairs had prospered at the fair.‘Middling well, at the fair,’ replied the man; ‘but, by the way, I found a treasure, and I have brought her home to make her my wife. She is so hardworking that she can’t be kept from working, even on Sundays.’‘She doesn’t look as if there was much work in her,’ observed the mother dryly; ‘but if you’re satisfied that’s enough.’All went well enough the first week, because she was not expected to do much just at first, but at the end of that time the husband had to go to a distant fair which would keep him absent three weeks. Before he went he took his new wife up into the store-room, and said, ‘Here are provisions of all sorts, and you will have all you like to eat and drink; and here is a quantity of hemp, which you can amuse yourself with spinning and weaving if you want more employment than merely keeping the place in order.’Then he gave her a set of rooms to herself, next the store-chamber, that there might be no cause of quarrel with the mother-in-law, who, he knew, was inclined to be jealous of her, and said good-bye.Left to herself, she did no more work than she could help; all the nice things she found she cooked and ate, and that was all the work she did. As to the hemp, she never touched it; nor did she even clean up the place, or attempt to put it tidy.When the husband had been gone a fortnight, the mother-in-law came up to see how she was going on, and when she saw the hemp untouched, and the place in disorder, she said, ‘So this is how you go on when your husband is away!’‘You mind your affairs, and I’ll mind mine,’4answered the wife, and the mother-in-law went away offended.Nevertheless, it was true that in eight days the husband would be back, and might expect to see somethingdone, so she took up a lot of hemp and began trying to spin it; but, as she had no idea of how to do it, she went on in the most absurd way imaginable with it.As she stood on the top of the outside staircase, twisting it this way and that, there passed three deformed fairies. One was lame, and one squinted,5and one had her head all on one side, because she had a fish-bone stuck in her throat.The three fairies called out to ask what she was doing, and when she said ‘spinning,’ the one who squinted laughed so much that her eyes came quite right, and the one who had a bone stuck in her throat laughed so much that the bone came out, and her head became straight again like other people’s, and when the lame one saw the others laughing so much, she ran so fast to see what it was that her lameness was cured.Then the three fairies said:‘Since she has cured us of our ailments, we must go in and do her a good turn.’So they went in and took the hemp and span it, and wove it, and did as much in the six remaining days as any human being could have done in twenty years; moreover, they cleaned up everything, and made everything look spick-and-span new.Then they gave her a bag of walnuts, saying, ‘in half an hour your husband will be home; go to bed and put this bag of walnuts under your back. When he comes in say you have worked so hard that all your bones are out of joint; then move the bag of walnuts and they will make a noise,c-r-r-r-r, and he will think it is your bones which are loosened, and will say you must never work again.’When the husband came home his mother went out to meet him, saying—‘I told you I did not think there was much work in your “treasure.” When you go up you’ll see what a finemess the place is all in; and as to the hemp, you had better have left it locked up, for a fine mess she has made of that.’But the husband went up and found the place all in shining order, and so much hemp spun and woven as could scarcely be got through in twenty years. But the wife was laid up in bed.When the husband came near the bed she moved the bag of walnuts and they wentc-r-r-r-r.‘You have done a lot of work indeed!’ said the husband.‘Yes,’ replied the wife; ‘but I have put all my bones out of joint; only hear how they rumble!’ and she moved the walnuts again, and they wentc-r-r-r-r. ‘It will be sometime before I am about again.’‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ said the husband; ‘only think of such a treasure of a wife being laid up by such marvellous diligence.’And to his mother he said: ‘A mother-in-law has never a good word for her daughter-in-law; what you told me was all pure invention.’But to the wife he said: ‘Mind I will never have you do any work again as long as you live.’So from that day forth she had no work to do, but ate and drank and amused herself from morning till night.

There was a poor woman who went out to work by the day. She had one idle, good-for-nothing daughter, who would never do any work, and cared for nothing but eating, always taking the best of everything for herself, and not caring how her mother fared.

One day the mother, when she went out to her work, left the girl some beans to cook for dinner, and some pieces of bacon-rind2to stew along with them. When the pieces of bacon-rind were nicely done, she took them out andatethem herself, and then found a pair of dirty old shoe-soles, which she pared in slices, and put them into the stew for her mother.

When the poor mother came home, not only were there no pieces of bacon which she could eat, but the beans themselves were rendered so nasty by the shoe-solesthat she could not eat them either. Determined to give her daughter a good lesson, once for all, on this occasion, she took her outside her cottage door, and beat her well with a stick.

Just as she was administering this chastisement, a farmer3came by.

‘What are you beating this pretty lass for?’ asked the man.

‘Because shewillwork so hard at her household duties that she works on Sundays and holidays the same as common days,’ answered the mother, who, bad as her daughter was, yet had not the heart to give her a bad character.

‘That is the first time I ever heard of a mother beating her child for doing too much work; the general complaint is that they do too little. Will you let me have her for a wife? I should like such a wife as that.’

‘Impossible!’ replied the mother, in order to enhance her daughter’s value; ‘she does all the work of the house, I can’t spare her; what shall I do without her?’

‘I must give you something to make up for the loss,’ replied the merchant; ‘but such a notable wife as this I have long been in search of, and I must not miss the chance.’

‘But I cannot spare such a notable daughter, either,’ persisted the mother.

‘What do you say if I give you five hundred scudi?’

‘If I let her go, it is not because of the five hundred scudi,’ said the mother; ‘it is because you seem a husband, who will really appreciate her; though I don’t say five hundred scudi will not be a help to a poor lone widow.’

‘Let it be agreed then. I am going now to the fair; when I come back let the girl be ready, and I’ll take her back with me.’

Accordingly, when the farmer returned from the fair, he fetched the girl away.

When he got home his mother came out to ask how his affairs had prospered at the fair.

‘Middling well, at the fair,’ replied the man; ‘but, by the way, I found a treasure, and I have brought her home to make her my wife. She is so hardworking that she can’t be kept from working, even on Sundays.’

‘She doesn’t look as if there was much work in her,’ observed the mother dryly; ‘but if you’re satisfied that’s enough.’

All went well enough the first week, because she was not expected to do much just at first, but at the end of that time the husband had to go to a distant fair which would keep him absent three weeks. Before he went he took his new wife up into the store-room, and said, ‘Here are provisions of all sorts, and you will have all you like to eat and drink; and here is a quantity of hemp, which you can amuse yourself with spinning and weaving if you want more employment than merely keeping the place in order.’

Then he gave her a set of rooms to herself, next the store-chamber, that there might be no cause of quarrel with the mother-in-law, who, he knew, was inclined to be jealous of her, and said good-bye.

Left to herself, she did no more work than she could help; all the nice things she found she cooked and ate, and that was all the work she did. As to the hemp, she never touched it; nor did she even clean up the place, or attempt to put it tidy.

When the husband had been gone a fortnight, the mother-in-law came up to see how she was going on, and when she saw the hemp untouched, and the place in disorder, she said, ‘So this is how you go on when your husband is away!’

‘You mind your affairs, and I’ll mind mine,’4answered the wife, and the mother-in-law went away offended.

Nevertheless, it was true that in eight days the husband would be back, and might expect to see somethingdone, so she took up a lot of hemp and began trying to spin it; but, as she had no idea of how to do it, she went on in the most absurd way imaginable with it.

As she stood on the top of the outside staircase, twisting it this way and that, there passed three deformed fairies. One was lame, and one squinted,5and one had her head all on one side, because she had a fish-bone stuck in her throat.

The three fairies called out to ask what she was doing, and when she said ‘spinning,’ the one who squinted laughed so much that her eyes came quite right, and the one who had a bone stuck in her throat laughed so much that the bone came out, and her head became straight again like other people’s, and when the lame one saw the others laughing so much, she ran so fast to see what it was that her lameness was cured.

Then the three fairies said:

‘Since she has cured us of our ailments, we must go in and do her a good turn.’

So they went in and took the hemp and span it, and wove it, and did as much in the six remaining days as any human being could have done in twenty years; moreover, they cleaned up everything, and made everything look spick-and-span new.

Then they gave her a bag of walnuts, saying, ‘in half an hour your husband will be home; go to bed and put this bag of walnuts under your back. When he comes in say you have worked so hard that all your bones are out of joint; then move the bag of walnuts and they will make a noise,c-r-r-r-r, and he will think it is your bones which are loosened, and will say you must never work again.’

When the husband came home his mother went out to meet him, saying—

‘I told you I did not think there was much work in your “treasure.” When you go up you’ll see what a finemess the place is all in; and as to the hemp, you had better have left it locked up, for a fine mess she has made of that.’

But the husband went up and found the place all in shining order, and so much hemp spun and woven as could scarcely be got through in twenty years. But the wife was laid up in bed.

When the husband came near the bed she moved the bag of walnuts and they wentc-r-r-r-r.

‘You have done a lot of work indeed!’ said the husband.

‘Yes,’ replied the wife; ‘but I have put all my bones out of joint; only hear how they rumble!’ and she moved the walnuts again, and they wentc-r-r-r-r. ‘It will be sometime before I am about again.’

‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ said the husband; ‘only think of such a treasure of a wife being laid up by such marvellous diligence.’

And to his mother he said: ‘A mother-in-law has never a good word for her daughter-in-law; what you told me was all pure invention.’

But to the wife he said: ‘Mind I will never have you do any work again as long as you live.’

So from that day forth she had no work to do, but ate and drank and amused herself from morning till night.

1‘La Ragazza Golosa;’‘goloso’ means, in particular, greedy of nice things.↑2‘Codiche di presciúto.’↑3‘Mercante di Campagna.’See Note 2, p. 154.↑4‘Voi pensate a voi ed io penso a me!’ ‘Pensare’ is much used in Rome in the sense of ‘to attend to,’ ‘to provide for.’↑5‘Guèrcia,’ see Note 3 to ‘The Two Friars;’ in this case squinting seems intended.↑

1‘La Ragazza Golosa;’‘goloso’ means, in particular, greedy of nice things.↑

2‘Codiche di presciúto.’↑

3‘Mercante di Campagna.’See Note 2, p. 154.↑

4‘Voi pensate a voi ed io penso a me!’ ‘Pensare’ is much used in Rome in the sense of ‘to attend to,’ ‘to provide for.’↑

5‘Guèrcia,’ see Note 3 to ‘The Two Friars;’ in this case squinting seems intended.↑

2THE GREEDY DAUGHTER.1There was a mother who had a daughter so greedy that she did not know what to do with her. Everything in the house she would eat up. When the poor mother came home from work there was nothing left.But the girl had a godfather-wolf.2The wolf had a frying-pan, and the girl’s mother was too poor to possess such an article; whenever she wanted to fry anything she sent her daughter to the wolf to borrow his frying-pan, and he always sent a nice omelette in it by way of not sending it empty. But the girl was so greedy and so selfish that she not only always ate the omelette by the way, but when she took the frying-pan back she filled it with all manner of nasty things.At last the wolf got hurt at this way of going on, and he came to the house to inquire into the matter.Godfather-wolf met the mother on the step of the door, returning from work.‘How do you like my omelettes?’ asked the wolf.‘I am sure they would be good if made by our godfather-wolf,’ replied the poor woman; ‘but I never had the honour of tasting them.’‘Never tasted them! Why, how many times have you sent to borrow my frying-pan?’‘I am ashamed to say how many times; a great many, certainly.’‘And every time I sent you an omelette in it.’‘Never one reached me.’‘Then that hussey of a girl must have eaten them by the way.’The poor mother, anxious to screen her daughter, burst into all manner of excuses, but the wolf now saw how it all was. To make sure, however, he added: ‘Theomelettes would have been better had the frying-pan not always been full of such nasty things. I did my best always to clean it, but it was not easy.’‘Oh, godfather-wolf, you are joking! I always cleaned it, inside and out, as bright as silver, every time before I sent it back!’The wolf now knew all, and he said no more to the mother; but the next day, when she was out, he came back.When the girl saw him coming she was so frightened and self-convicted that she ran under the bed to hide herself.But to the wolf it was as easy to go under a bed as anywhere else; so under he went, and he dragged her out and devoured her. And that was the end of the Greedy Daughter.[In the Italian-Tirolese tales is one very similar to this, called ‘Catarinetta.’After the faults of the young, the sins of the old have their share of mocking. In the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 46–50, is a miser story, but, for a wonder, not the least trace of similarity.In Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr,’ vol. i. pp. 169–71, is a very quaint miser story, bringing in also an instance of wolf-transformation, which is said to have happened ‘in Italy,’ to a certain Herr v. Schotenberg, on August 14, 1798. He had seized a poor peasant’s only cow for a debt, and when, in punishment, all his own cows were struck dead, he accused the peasant’s wife of bewitching them, and threatened to have her burnt. The peasant’s wife answered that it was the judgment of God, not hers; and upon that he turned to the crucifix in the farmyard, saying: ‘Oh, you did it, did you? then you may go and eat the carrionyou have made, with the dogs.’ Then he took out his pistol, shot an arm off the crucifix, and flung it on to the heap of dead cows, saying, ‘Now one piece of carrion lies with the rest!’ ‘Albeit it was only a wooden image,’ says the account, ‘yet it was of God in Heaven that he spoke, who punished him on the spot by turning him into a dog.’ The portrait which accompanies the story is quaint, too, having a human face, with wolfish, erect ears, and the rest of the body like a dog. He wore at the time a fur cloak, of pale yellow with black spots, and that is how the dog’s fur appeared; and he had to eat carrion all his life, and follow his good wife about, wherever she went.]1‘La Figlia Ghiotta.’‘Ghiotta’ and ‘golosa’ have much the same meaning.↑2‘Compare-lupo’ (lit. had a wolf for godfather); ‘compare’ for ‘compadre,’ godfather, gossip. Lycanthropy had an important place in the mediæval as in the earlier mythologies; witches were often accused of turning people into wolves by the use of their ointments. Our ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is connected with it, and several in the German and Tirolese Stories, but it is too wide a subject to enter upon here.↑

2THE GREEDY DAUGHTER.1

There was a mother who had a daughter so greedy that she did not know what to do with her. Everything in the house she would eat up. When the poor mother came home from work there was nothing left.But the girl had a godfather-wolf.2The wolf had a frying-pan, and the girl’s mother was too poor to possess such an article; whenever she wanted to fry anything she sent her daughter to the wolf to borrow his frying-pan, and he always sent a nice omelette in it by way of not sending it empty. But the girl was so greedy and so selfish that she not only always ate the omelette by the way, but when she took the frying-pan back she filled it with all manner of nasty things.At last the wolf got hurt at this way of going on, and he came to the house to inquire into the matter.Godfather-wolf met the mother on the step of the door, returning from work.‘How do you like my omelettes?’ asked the wolf.‘I am sure they would be good if made by our godfather-wolf,’ replied the poor woman; ‘but I never had the honour of tasting them.’‘Never tasted them! Why, how many times have you sent to borrow my frying-pan?’‘I am ashamed to say how many times; a great many, certainly.’‘And every time I sent you an omelette in it.’‘Never one reached me.’‘Then that hussey of a girl must have eaten them by the way.’The poor mother, anxious to screen her daughter, burst into all manner of excuses, but the wolf now saw how it all was. To make sure, however, he added: ‘Theomelettes would have been better had the frying-pan not always been full of such nasty things. I did my best always to clean it, but it was not easy.’‘Oh, godfather-wolf, you are joking! I always cleaned it, inside and out, as bright as silver, every time before I sent it back!’The wolf now knew all, and he said no more to the mother; but the next day, when she was out, he came back.When the girl saw him coming she was so frightened and self-convicted that she ran under the bed to hide herself.But to the wolf it was as easy to go under a bed as anywhere else; so under he went, and he dragged her out and devoured her. And that was the end of the Greedy Daughter.[In the Italian-Tirolese tales is one very similar to this, called ‘Catarinetta.’After the faults of the young, the sins of the old have their share of mocking. In the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 46–50, is a miser story, but, for a wonder, not the least trace of similarity.In Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr,’ vol. i. pp. 169–71, is a very quaint miser story, bringing in also an instance of wolf-transformation, which is said to have happened ‘in Italy,’ to a certain Herr v. Schotenberg, on August 14, 1798. He had seized a poor peasant’s only cow for a debt, and when, in punishment, all his own cows were struck dead, he accused the peasant’s wife of bewitching them, and threatened to have her burnt. The peasant’s wife answered that it was the judgment of God, not hers; and upon that he turned to the crucifix in the farmyard, saying: ‘Oh, you did it, did you? then you may go and eat the carrionyou have made, with the dogs.’ Then he took out his pistol, shot an arm off the crucifix, and flung it on to the heap of dead cows, saying, ‘Now one piece of carrion lies with the rest!’ ‘Albeit it was only a wooden image,’ says the account, ‘yet it was of God in Heaven that he spoke, who punished him on the spot by turning him into a dog.’ The portrait which accompanies the story is quaint, too, having a human face, with wolfish, erect ears, and the rest of the body like a dog. He wore at the time a fur cloak, of pale yellow with black spots, and that is how the dog’s fur appeared; and he had to eat carrion all his life, and follow his good wife about, wherever she went.]

There was a mother who had a daughter so greedy that she did not know what to do with her. Everything in the house she would eat up. When the poor mother came home from work there was nothing left.

But the girl had a godfather-wolf.2The wolf had a frying-pan, and the girl’s mother was too poor to possess such an article; whenever she wanted to fry anything she sent her daughter to the wolf to borrow his frying-pan, and he always sent a nice omelette in it by way of not sending it empty. But the girl was so greedy and so selfish that she not only always ate the omelette by the way, but when she took the frying-pan back she filled it with all manner of nasty things.

At last the wolf got hurt at this way of going on, and he came to the house to inquire into the matter.

Godfather-wolf met the mother on the step of the door, returning from work.

‘How do you like my omelettes?’ asked the wolf.

‘I am sure they would be good if made by our godfather-wolf,’ replied the poor woman; ‘but I never had the honour of tasting them.’

‘Never tasted them! Why, how many times have you sent to borrow my frying-pan?’

‘I am ashamed to say how many times; a great many, certainly.’

‘And every time I sent you an omelette in it.’

‘Never one reached me.’

‘Then that hussey of a girl must have eaten them by the way.’

The poor mother, anxious to screen her daughter, burst into all manner of excuses, but the wolf now saw how it all was. To make sure, however, he added: ‘Theomelettes would have been better had the frying-pan not always been full of such nasty things. I did my best always to clean it, but it was not easy.’

‘Oh, godfather-wolf, you are joking! I always cleaned it, inside and out, as bright as silver, every time before I sent it back!’

The wolf now knew all, and he said no more to the mother; but the next day, when she was out, he came back.

When the girl saw him coming she was so frightened and self-convicted that she ran under the bed to hide herself.

But to the wolf it was as easy to go under a bed as anywhere else; so under he went, and he dragged her out and devoured her. And that was the end of the Greedy Daughter.

[In the Italian-Tirolese tales is one very similar to this, called ‘Catarinetta.’

After the faults of the young, the sins of the old have their share of mocking. In the ‘Russian Folk Tales,’ pp. 46–50, is a miser story, but, for a wonder, not the least trace of similarity.

In Scheible’s ‘Schaltjahr,’ vol. i. pp. 169–71, is a very quaint miser story, bringing in also an instance of wolf-transformation, which is said to have happened ‘in Italy,’ to a certain Herr v. Schotenberg, on August 14, 1798. He had seized a poor peasant’s only cow for a debt, and when, in punishment, all his own cows were struck dead, he accused the peasant’s wife of bewitching them, and threatened to have her burnt. The peasant’s wife answered that it was the judgment of God, not hers; and upon that he turned to the crucifix in the farmyard, saying: ‘Oh, you did it, did you? then you may go and eat the carrionyou have made, with the dogs.’ Then he took out his pistol, shot an arm off the crucifix, and flung it on to the heap of dead cows, saying, ‘Now one piece of carrion lies with the rest!’ ‘Albeit it was only a wooden image,’ says the account, ‘yet it was of God in Heaven that he spoke, who punished him on the spot by turning him into a dog.’ The portrait which accompanies the story is quaint, too, having a human face, with wolfish, erect ears, and the rest of the body like a dog. He wore at the time a fur cloak, of pale yellow with black spots, and that is how the dog’s fur appeared; and he had to eat carrion all his life, and follow his good wife about, wherever she went.]

1‘La Figlia Ghiotta.’‘Ghiotta’ and ‘golosa’ have much the same meaning.↑2‘Compare-lupo’ (lit. had a wolf for godfather); ‘compare’ for ‘compadre,’ godfather, gossip. Lycanthropy had an important place in the mediæval as in the earlier mythologies; witches were often accused of turning people into wolves by the use of their ointments. Our ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is connected with it, and several in the German and Tirolese Stories, but it is too wide a subject to enter upon here.↑

1‘La Figlia Ghiotta.’‘Ghiotta’ and ‘golosa’ have much the same meaning.↑

2‘Compare-lupo’ (lit. had a wolf for godfather); ‘compare’ for ‘compadre,’ godfather, gossip. Lycanthropy had an important place in the mediæval as in the earlier mythologies; witches were often accused of turning people into wolves by the use of their ointments. Our ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ is connected with it, and several in the German and Tirolese Stories, but it is too wide a subject to enter upon here.↑

THE OLD MISER.1They say there was once an old man who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He had cellars and cellars, where all the floors were strewn with gold; but the house was all tumbling down, because he would not spend a penny in repairing it; and for all food he took nothing all day but a crust of bread and a glass of water.He was always afraid lest some one should come to rob him of his wealth, so he seldom so much as spoke to anyone.One day, however, a busy, talkative neighbour would have her say out with him, and among other things she said: ‘How can you go on living in that ugly old house all alone now? Why don’t you take a wife?’‘A wife!’ replied the old miser; ‘how canItake a wife? How am I to afford to keep a wife, I should like to know?’‘Nonsense!’ persisted the loquacious neighbour; ‘you’ve got plenty of money, you know. And how much better you’d be if you had a wife. Do you mean to tell me, now, you wouldn’t be much better off with one? Now answer me fairly.’‘Well, if I must speak the truth, as you are so urgent for an answer,’ replied the old miser, ‘I don’t mean to say I haven’t often thought I should like a wife; but I am waiting till I find one who can live upon air.’2‘Well, maybe there might be such an one even as you say,’ returned the busy neighbour; ‘though she might not be easy to find.’ And she said no more for that day.She went, however, to a young woman who lived opposite, and said: ‘If you want a rich husband I will find you one.’‘To be sure I should like a rich husband,’ replied the young woman; ‘who would not?’‘Very well, then,’ continued the neighbour; ‘I will tell you what to do. You have only, every day at dinner-time, to stand at the window and suck in the air, and move your lips as if you were eating. But eat nothing; take nothing into your mouth but air. The old miser who lives opposite wants a wife who can live on air; and if he thinks you can do this he will marry you. And when you are once installed it’ll be odd if you don’t find means, in the midst of so much money, to lay hold of enough to get a dinner every day without working for it.’The young woman thanked her friend for the advice, and next day, when the bells rang at noon, she threw open the window and stood sucking in the air, and then moving her lips as if she was eating. This she did several days.At last the old miser came across under the window, and said to her: ‘What are you doing at the window there?’‘Don’t you see it’s dinner-time, and I’m taking my dinner? Don’t interrupt me!’ replied the young neighbour.‘But, excuse me,3I don’t see you are eating anything, though your lips move.’‘O! I live upon air; I take nothing but air,’ replied the young woman; and she went on with her mock munching.‘You live upon air, do you? Then you’re just the wife I’m looking for. Will you come down and marry me?’As this was just what she wanted she did not keep him waiting, and soon they were married and she was installed in the miser’s house.But it was not so easy to get at the money as she had thought. At first the miser would not let her go near his cellars; but as he spent so much time down there she said she could not be deprived of his company for so long, she must come down too.All the time she was down with him the miser held both her hands in his, as if he was full of affection for her; but in reality it was to make sure she did not touch any of his money.She, however, bought some pitch, and put it on the soles of her shoes, and as she walked about in the gold plenty of it stuck to her shoes; and when she came up again she took the gold off her shoes, and sent her maid to thetrattoria4for the most delicious dinners. Shut up in a room apart they fared sumptuously—she and her maid. But every day at midday she let the miser see her taking her fancied dinner of air.This went on for long, because the miser had so much gold that he never missed the few pieces that stuck to her shoes every day.But at last there came a Carneval Thursday,5when the maid had brought home an extra fine dinner; and as they were an extra length of time over this extra number of dishes and glasses, the old miser, always suspicious, began to guess there must be something wrong; and to find it out he instituted a scrutiny into every room in the crazy house. Thus he came at last to the room where his wife and her maid were dining sumptuously.‘This is how you live on air, is it?’ he roared, red with fury.‘Oh, but on Carneval Thursday,’ replied the wife, ‘one may have a little extra indulgence!’‘Will you tell me you have not had a private dinner every day?’ shouted the excited miser.‘If I have,’ replied the wife, not liking to tell a direct falsehood, ‘how do you know it is not with my own money? Tell me, have you missed any of yours?’The miser was only the more angry at her way of putting the question, because he could not say he had actually missed the money; yet he was convinced it was his money she had been spending.‘How do I know it is not your money, do you ask?’ he thundered; ‘because if you had had any money of your own you would never have come to live here, you would not have married me.’But weak as he was with his bread and water diet, the excitement was too much for him. As he said these words a convulsion seized him, and he fell down dead.Thus all his riches came into possession of the wife.1‘Il Vecchio Avaro.’(The Avaricious Old Man.)↑2‘Che campasse d’aria,’ who should subsist on air.↑3‘Abbi pazienza,’ have patience; equivalent to ‘please,’ ‘pray excuse me,’ &c.↑4‘Trattoria,’ an eating-house, but one where, as a rule, dinners are sent out.↑5‘Giovedi grasso,’ Thursday in Carneval week, a day of a little extra feasting.↑

THE OLD MISER.1

They say there was once an old man who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He had cellars and cellars, where all the floors were strewn with gold; but the house was all tumbling down, because he would not spend a penny in repairing it; and for all food he took nothing all day but a crust of bread and a glass of water.He was always afraid lest some one should come to rob him of his wealth, so he seldom so much as spoke to anyone.One day, however, a busy, talkative neighbour would have her say out with him, and among other things she said: ‘How can you go on living in that ugly old house all alone now? Why don’t you take a wife?’‘A wife!’ replied the old miser; ‘how canItake a wife? How am I to afford to keep a wife, I should like to know?’‘Nonsense!’ persisted the loquacious neighbour; ‘you’ve got plenty of money, you know. And how much better you’d be if you had a wife. Do you mean to tell me, now, you wouldn’t be much better off with one? Now answer me fairly.’‘Well, if I must speak the truth, as you are so urgent for an answer,’ replied the old miser, ‘I don’t mean to say I haven’t often thought I should like a wife; but I am waiting till I find one who can live upon air.’2‘Well, maybe there might be such an one even as you say,’ returned the busy neighbour; ‘though she might not be easy to find.’ And she said no more for that day.She went, however, to a young woman who lived opposite, and said: ‘If you want a rich husband I will find you one.’‘To be sure I should like a rich husband,’ replied the young woman; ‘who would not?’‘Very well, then,’ continued the neighbour; ‘I will tell you what to do. You have only, every day at dinner-time, to stand at the window and suck in the air, and move your lips as if you were eating. But eat nothing; take nothing into your mouth but air. The old miser who lives opposite wants a wife who can live on air; and if he thinks you can do this he will marry you. And when you are once installed it’ll be odd if you don’t find means, in the midst of so much money, to lay hold of enough to get a dinner every day without working for it.’The young woman thanked her friend for the advice, and next day, when the bells rang at noon, she threw open the window and stood sucking in the air, and then moving her lips as if she was eating. This she did several days.At last the old miser came across under the window, and said to her: ‘What are you doing at the window there?’‘Don’t you see it’s dinner-time, and I’m taking my dinner? Don’t interrupt me!’ replied the young neighbour.‘But, excuse me,3I don’t see you are eating anything, though your lips move.’‘O! I live upon air; I take nothing but air,’ replied the young woman; and she went on with her mock munching.‘You live upon air, do you? Then you’re just the wife I’m looking for. Will you come down and marry me?’As this was just what she wanted she did not keep him waiting, and soon they were married and she was installed in the miser’s house.But it was not so easy to get at the money as she had thought. At first the miser would not let her go near his cellars; but as he spent so much time down there she said she could not be deprived of his company for so long, she must come down too.All the time she was down with him the miser held both her hands in his, as if he was full of affection for her; but in reality it was to make sure she did not touch any of his money.She, however, bought some pitch, and put it on the soles of her shoes, and as she walked about in the gold plenty of it stuck to her shoes; and when she came up again she took the gold off her shoes, and sent her maid to thetrattoria4for the most delicious dinners. Shut up in a room apart they fared sumptuously—she and her maid. But every day at midday she let the miser see her taking her fancied dinner of air.This went on for long, because the miser had so much gold that he never missed the few pieces that stuck to her shoes every day.But at last there came a Carneval Thursday,5when the maid had brought home an extra fine dinner; and as they were an extra length of time over this extra number of dishes and glasses, the old miser, always suspicious, began to guess there must be something wrong; and to find it out he instituted a scrutiny into every room in the crazy house. Thus he came at last to the room where his wife and her maid were dining sumptuously.‘This is how you live on air, is it?’ he roared, red with fury.‘Oh, but on Carneval Thursday,’ replied the wife, ‘one may have a little extra indulgence!’‘Will you tell me you have not had a private dinner every day?’ shouted the excited miser.‘If I have,’ replied the wife, not liking to tell a direct falsehood, ‘how do you know it is not with my own money? Tell me, have you missed any of yours?’The miser was only the more angry at her way of putting the question, because he could not say he had actually missed the money; yet he was convinced it was his money she had been spending.‘How do I know it is not your money, do you ask?’ he thundered; ‘because if you had had any money of your own you would never have come to live here, you would not have married me.’But weak as he was with his bread and water diet, the excitement was too much for him. As he said these words a convulsion seized him, and he fell down dead.Thus all his riches came into possession of the wife.

They say there was once an old man who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. He had cellars and cellars, where all the floors were strewn with gold; but the house was all tumbling down, because he would not spend a penny in repairing it; and for all food he took nothing all day but a crust of bread and a glass of water.

He was always afraid lest some one should come to rob him of his wealth, so he seldom so much as spoke to anyone.

One day, however, a busy, talkative neighbour would have her say out with him, and among other things she said: ‘How can you go on living in that ugly old house all alone now? Why don’t you take a wife?’

‘A wife!’ replied the old miser; ‘how canItake a wife? How am I to afford to keep a wife, I should like to know?’

‘Nonsense!’ persisted the loquacious neighbour; ‘you’ve got plenty of money, you know. And how much better you’d be if you had a wife. Do you mean to tell me, now, you wouldn’t be much better off with one? Now answer me fairly.’

‘Well, if I must speak the truth, as you are so urgent for an answer,’ replied the old miser, ‘I don’t mean to say I haven’t often thought I should like a wife; but I am waiting till I find one who can live upon air.’2

‘Well, maybe there might be such an one even as you say,’ returned the busy neighbour; ‘though she might not be easy to find.’ And she said no more for that day.

She went, however, to a young woman who lived opposite, and said: ‘If you want a rich husband I will find you one.’

‘To be sure I should like a rich husband,’ replied the young woman; ‘who would not?’

‘Very well, then,’ continued the neighbour; ‘I will tell you what to do. You have only, every day at dinner-time, to stand at the window and suck in the air, and move your lips as if you were eating. But eat nothing; take nothing into your mouth but air. The old miser who lives opposite wants a wife who can live on air; and if he thinks you can do this he will marry you. And when you are once installed it’ll be odd if you don’t find means, in the midst of so much money, to lay hold of enough to get a dinner every day without working for it.’

The young woman thanked her friend for the advice, and next day, when the bells rang at noon, she threw open the window and stood sucking in the air, and then moving her lips as if she was eating. This she did several days.

At last the old miser came across under the window, and said to her: ‘What are you doing at the window there?’

‘Don’t you see it’s dinner-time, and I’m taking my dinner? Don’t interrupt me!’ replied the young neighbour.

‘But, excuse me,3I don’t see you are eating anything, though your lips move.’

‘O! I live upon air; I take nothing but air,’ replied the young woman; and she went on with her mock munching.

‘You live upon air, do you? Then you’re just the wife I’m looking for. Will you come down and marry me?’

As this was just what she wanted she did not keep him waiting, and soon they were married and she was installed in the miser’s house.

But it was not so easy to get at the money as she had thought. At first the miser would not let her go near his cellars; but as he spent so much time down there she said she could not be deprived of his company for so long, she must come down too.

All the time she was down with him the miser held both her hands in his, as if he was full of affection for her; but in reality it was to make sure she did not touch any of his money.

She, however, bought some pitch, and put it on the soles of her shoes, and as she walked about in the gold plenty of it stuck to her shoes; and when she came up again she took the gold off her shoes, and sent her maid to thetrattoria4for the most delicious dinners. Shut up in a room apart they fared sumptuously—she and her maid. But every day at midday she let the miser see her taking her fancied dinner of air.

This went on for long, because the miser had so much gold that he never missed the few pieces that stuck to her shoes every day.

But at last there came a Carneval Thursday,5when the maid had brought home an extra fine dinner; and as they were an extra length of time over this extra number of dishes and glasses, the old miser, always suspicious, began to guess there must be something wrong; and to find it out he instituted a scrutiny into every room in the crazy house. Thus he came at last to the room where his wife and her maid were dining sumptuously.

‘This is how you live on air, is it?’ he roared, red with fury.

‘Oh, but on Carneval Thursday,’ replied the wife, ‘one may have a little extra indulgence!’

‘Will you tell me you have not had a private dinner every day?’ shouted the excited miser.

‘If I have,’ replied the wife, not liking to tell a direct falsehood, ‘how do you know it is not with my own money? Tell me, have you missed any of yours?’

The miser was only the more angry at her way of putting the question, because he could not say he had actually missed the money; yet he was convinced it was his money she had been spending.

‘How do I know it is not your money, do you ask?’ he thundered; ‘because if you had had any money of your own you would never have come to live here, you would not have married me.’

But weak as he was with his bread and water diet, the excitement was too much for him. As he said these words a convulsion seized him, and he fell down dead.

Thus all his riches came into possession of the wife.

1‘Il Vecchio Avaro.’(The Avaricious Old Man.)↑2‘Che campasse d’aria,’ who should subsist on air.↑3‘Abbi pazienza,’ have patience; equivalent to ‘please,’ ‘pray excuse me,’ &c.↑4‘Trattoria,’ an eating-house, but one where, as a rule, dinners are sent out.↑5‘Giovedi grasso,’ Thursday in Carneval week, a day of a little extra feasting.↑

1‘Il Vecchio Avaro.’(The Avaricious Old Man.)↑

2‘Che campasse d’aria,’ who should subsist on air.↑

3‘Abbi pazienza,’ have patience; equivalent to ‘please,’ ‘pray excuse me,’ &c.↑

4‘Trattoria,’ an eating-house, but one where, as a rule, dinners are sent out.↑

5‘Giovedi grasso,’ Thursday in Carneval week, a day of a little extra feasting.↑

THE MISERLY OLD WOMAN.1There was an old woman who had three sons, and from her stinginess she could not bear that anyone should have anything to eat. One day the eldest son came to her and said he must take a wife.‘If you must, you must,’ replied the miserly mother. ‘But mind she is one who brings a great dowry, eats little, and can work all day long.’The eldest son went his way and told the girl he was going to marry his mother’s hard terms. As the girl loved him very much, she made no objection, and he married her, and brought her home.2The first morning the mother-in-law came before it was light, and knocked at the door, and bid the bride get up and come down to her work.‘It is very hard for you,’ said the young husband.‘Ah, well! I promised to submit to it before we married,’ she replied. ‘I won’t break my promise.’So she got up and went down and helped her mother-in-law to do the work of the house. By twelve o’clock she was very hungry; but the miserly mother-in-law only took out an apple and a halfpenny roll, and gave her half of each for all her food. She took it without a murmur; and so she went on every day, working hard, and eating little, and making no complaint.By-and-by the second son came and told his mother that he was going to take a wife. The mother made the same conditions, and the wife submitted to them with equally good grace.Then the third son came and said he too must take a wife. To him the old woman made the same terms; but he could not find a wife who would submit to them for his sake. The girl he wanted to marry, however, was very lively and spirited, and she said at last—‘Never mind the conditions; let’s marry, and we’ll get through the future somehow.’Then they married. When her son brought home this wife, and the old woman found she had no dowry, she was in a great fury; but it was too late to help it.The first morning, when she knocked at their door to wake her, she called out—‘Who’s there?’ though she knew well enough.The mother-in-law answered, ‘Time to get up!’‘Oibo!’ exclaimed the young wife. ‘Don’t imagineI’m going to get up in the middle of the night like this! I shall get up when I please, and not before.’ Then she turned to her husband, and said, ‘Just for her bothering me like this I shan’t get up till twelve o’clock.’ Neither did she.The house was now filled with the old woman’s lamentations. ‘This woman upsets everything! This woman will be the ruin of us all!’ she kept exclaiming. But the third wife paid no heed, and dressed herself up smart, and amused herself, and did no work at all.When supper-time came the old woman took out her apple and her halfpenny loaf, and cut them in four quarters, serving a bit all round.‘What’s that?’ said the third wife, stooping to look at it, as if she could not make it out, and without taking it in her hand.‘It’s your supper,’ replied the mother-in-law.‘My supper! do you think I’ve come to my second childhood, to be helped to driblets like that!’ and she filliped it to the other end of the room.Then she went to her husband and said—‘I’ll tell you what we must do; we must have false keys made, and get into the store-closet3and take what we want.’Though the mother-in-law was so miserly, there was good provision of everything in the store-closet; and so with the false keys she took flour and lard and ham, and they had plenty of everything. One day she had made a delicious cake of curdled sheep’s milk,4and she gave a woman a halfpenny to take it to the baker’s to bake, saying—‘Make haste, and bring it back, that we may get through eating it while the old woman is at mass.’She was not quick enough, however, and the mother-in-law came in just about the same time that the cake came back from the baker’s. The third son’s wife to hideit from her caught it up and put it under her petticoats, but it burned her ankles, so that she was obliged to bring it out. Then the mother-in-law understood what had been going on, and went into such a fury, the house could not hold her.Then the third son’s wife sent the same woman to the chemist, saying, ‘get me three pauls of quicksilver.’ And she took the quicksilver, when the mother-in-law was asleep, and put it into her mouth and ears, so that she could not storm or scold any more. But after a time she died of vexation; and then they opened wide the store-room, and lived very comfortably.[Here may follow a couple of stories of mixed folly and craft.]1‘La Vecchia Avara.’This story was told in emulation of the last, otherwise it is hardly worth reproducing. The only merit of the story consisted in the liveliness of the pantomime with which the words of the third wife were rendered. To the poor, however, such a story is a treasure, as it tells of the condign punishment of an oppressor; and there are few of them who have not some experience of what it is to be trampled on.↑2According to the local custom prevailing among all classes, of married sons and daughters continuing to live in the same house with their parents.↑3‘Dispensa,’ store-room.↑4‘Pizza,’ a cake; ‘ricotta,’ curds of sheep’s milk.↑

THE MISERLY OLD WOMAN.1

There was an old woman who had three sons, and from her stinginess she could not bear that anyone should have anything to eat. One day the eldest son came to her and said he must take a wife.‘If you must, you must,’ replied the miserly mother. ‘But mind she is one who brings a great dowry, eats little, and can work all day long.’The eldest son went his way and told the girl he was going to marry his mother’s hard terms. As the girl loved him very much, she made no objection, and he married her, and brought her home.2The first morning the mother-in-law came before it was light, and knocked at the door, and bid the bride get up and come down to her work.‘It is very hard for you,’ said the young husband.‘Ah, well! I promised to submit to it before we married,’ she replied. ‘I won’t break my promise.’So she got up and went down and helped her mother-in-law to do the work of the house. By twelve o’clock she was very hungry; but the miserly mother-in-law only took out an apple and a halfpenny roll, and gave her half of each for all her food. She took it without a murmur; and so she went on every day, working hard, and eating little, and making no complaint.By-and-by the second son came and told his mother that he was going to take a wife. The mother made the same conditions, and the wife submitted to them with equally good grace.Then the third son came and said he too must take a wife. To him the old woman made the same terms; but he could not find a wife who would submit to them for his sake. The girl he wanted to marry, however, was very lively and spirited, and she said at last—‘Never mind the conditions; let’s marry, and we’ll get through the future somehow.’Then they married. When her son brought home this wife, and the old woman found she had no dowry, she was in a great fury; but it was too late to help it.The first morning, when she knocked at their door to wake her, she called out—‘Who’s there?’ though she knew well enough.The mother-in-law answered, ‘Time to get up!’‘Oibo!’ exclaimed the young wife. ‘Don’t imagineI’m going to get up in the middle of the night like this! I shall get up when I please, and not before.’ Then she turned to her husband, and said, ‘Just for her bothering me like this I shan’t get up till twelve o’clock.’ Neither did she.The house was now filled with the old woman’s lamentations. ‘This woman upsets everything! This woman will be the ruin of us all!’ she kept exclaiming. But the third wife paid no heed, and dressed herself up smart, and amused herself, and did no work at all.When supper-time came the old woman took out her apple and her halfpenny loaf, and cut them in four quarters, serving a bit all round.‘What’s that?’ said the third wife, stooping to look at it, as if she could not make it out, and without taking it in her hand.‘It’s your supper,’ replied the mother-in-law.‘My supper! do you think I’ve come to my second childhood, to be helped to driblets like that!’ and she filliped it to the other end of the room.Then she went to her husband and said—‘I’ll tell you what we must do; we must have false keys made, and get into the store-closet3and take what we want.’Though the mother-in-law was so miserly, there was good provision of everything in the store-closet; and so with the false keys she took flour and lard and ham, and they had plenty of everything. One day she had made a delicious cake of curdled sheep’s milk,4and she gave a woman a halfpenny to take it to the baker’s to bake, saying—‘Make haste, and bring it back, that we may get through eating it while the old woman is at mass.’She was not quick enough, however, and the mother-in-law came in just about the same time that the cake came back from the baker’s. The third son’s wife to hideit from her caught it up and put it under her petticoats, but it burned her ankles, so that she was obliged to bring it out. Then the mother-in-law understood what had been going on, and went into such a fury, the house could not hold her.Then the third son’s wife sent the same woman to the chemist, saying, ‘get me three pauls of quicksilver.’ And she took the quicksilver, when the mother-in-law was asleep, and put it into her mouth and ears, so that she could not storm or scold any more. But after a time she died of vexation; and then they opened wide the store-room, and lived very comfortably.[Here may follow a couple of stories of mixed folly and craft.]

There was an old woman who had three sons, and from her stinginess she could not bear that anyone should have anything to eat. One day the eldest son came to her and said he must take a wife.

‘If you must, you must,’ replied the miserly mother. ‘But mind she is one who brings a great dowry, eats little, and can work all day long.’

The eldest son went his way and told the girl he was going to marry his mother’s hard terms. As the girl loved him very much, she made no objection, and he married her, and brought her home.2

The first morning the mother-in-law came before it was light, and knocked at the door, and bid the bride get up and come down to her work.

‘It is very hard for you,’ said the young husband.

‘Ah, well! I promised to submit to it before we married,’ she replied. ‘I won’t break my promise.’

So she got up and went down and helped her mother-in-law to do the work of the house. By twelve o’clock she was very hungry; but the miserly mother-in-law only took out an apple and a halfpenny roll, and gave her half of each for all her food. She took it without a murmur; and so she went on every day, working hard, and eating little, and making no complaint.

By-and-by the second son came and told his mother that he was going to take a wife. The mother made the same conditions, and the wife submitted to them with equally good grace.

Then the third son came and said he too must take a wife. To him the old woman made the same terms; but he could not find a wife who would submit to them for his sake. The girl he wanted to marry, however, was very lively and spirited, and she said at last—

‘Never mind the conditions; let’s marry, and we’ll get through the future somehow.’

Then they married. When her son brought home this wife, and the old woman found she had no dowry, she was in a great fury; but it was too late to help it.

The first morning, when she knocked at their door to wake her, she called out—

‘Who’s there?’ though she knew well enough.

The mother-in-law answered, ‘Time to get up!’

‘Oibo!’ exclaimed the young wife. ‘Don’t imagineI’m going to get up in the middle of the night like this! I shall get up when I please, and not before.’ Then she turned to her husband, and said, ‘Just for her bothering me like this I shan’t get up till twelve o’clock.’ Neither did she.

The house was now filled with the old woman’s lamentations. ‘This woman upsets everything! This woman will be the ruin of us all!’ she kept exclaiming. But the third wife paid no heed, and dressed herself up smart, and amused herself, and did no work at all.

When supper-time came the old woman took out her apple and her halfpenny loaf, and cut them in four quarters, serving a bit all round.

‘What’s that?’ said the third wife, stooping to look at it, as if she could not make it out, and without taking it in her hand.

‘It’s your supper,’ replied the mother-in-law.

‘My supper! do you think I’ve come to my second childhood, to be helped to driblets like that!’ and she filliped it to the other end of the room.

Then she went to her husband and said—

‘I’ll tell you what we must do; we must have false keys made, and get into the store-closet3and take what we want.’

Though the mother-in-law was so miserly, there was good provision of everything in the store-closet; and so with the false keys she took flour and lard and ham, and they had plenty of everything. One day she had made a delicious cake of curdled sheep’s milk,4and she gave a woman a halfpenny to take it to the baker’s to bake, saying—

‘Make haste, and bring it back, that we may get through eating it while the old woman is at mass.’

She was not quick enough, however, and the mother-in-law came in just about the same time that the cake came back from the baker’s. The third son’s wife to hideit from her caught it up and put it under her petticoats, but it burned her ankles, so that she was obliged to bring it out. Then the mother-in-law understood what had been going on, and went into such a fury, the house could not hold her.

Then the third son’s wife sent the same woman to the chemist, saying, ‘get me three pauls of quicksilver.’ And she took the quicksilver, when the mother-in-law was asleep, and put it into her mouth and ears, so that she could not storm or scold any more. But after a time she died of vexation; and then they opened wide the store-room, and lived very comfortably.

[Here may follow a couple of stories of mixed folly and craft.]

1‘La Vecchia Avara.’This story was told in emulation of the last, otherwise it is hardly worth reproducing. The only merit of the story consisted in the liveliness of the pantomime with which the words of the third wife were rendered. To the poor, however, such a story is a treasure, as it tells of the condign punishment of an oppressor; and there are few of them who have not some experience of what it is to be trampled on.↑2According to the local custom prevailing among all classes, of married sons and daughters continuing to live in the same house with their parents.↑3‘Dispensa,’ store-room.↑4‘Pizza,’ a cake; ‘ricotta,’ curds of sheep’s milk.↑

1‘La Vecchia Avara.’This story was told in emulation of the last, otherwise it is hardly worth reproducing. The only merit of the story consisted in the liveliness of the pantomime with which the words of the third wife were rendered. To the poor, however, such a story is a treasure, as it tells of the condign punishment of an oppressor; and there are few of them who have not some experience of what it is to be trampled on.↑

2According to the local custom prevailing among all classes, of married sons and daughters continuing to live in the same house with their parents.↑

3‘Dispensa,’ store-room.↑

4‘Pizza,’ a cake; ‘ricotta,’ curds of sheep’s milk.↑

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