LITTLE REDCAP
From Ireland
Sureand it was in old Ireland, some years ago, that Tom Coghlan returned one evening to his house, expecting to find the fire blazing, the potatoes boiling, and his wife and children as merry as grigs. But, instead, the fire was out, his wife was scolding, and the children were all crying from hunger.
Poor Tom was quite astonished to find matters going on so badly, for, though there was a plenty of potatoes in the house, there wasn’t a single stick of wood for the fire. Something had to be done. And Tom bethought himself of the great furze-bushes that grew around the ruins of the old fort on top of the near-by hill. So he snatched up his axe and away he went.
Before he reached the top of the hill the sun had gone down, and the moon had risen and was shedding her wavering, watery light on the ruins of the old fort. The breeze rustled the dark furze-bushes with an eerie sound, and Tom shivered with dread. But he braced up his heart, and, approaching the fort, raised his axe to cut down a big bush. Just then, near him, he heard the shriek of a small, shrill voice.
Tom, startled, let the axe fall from his grasp, and, looking up, saw perched on the furze-bush in front of him a little old man, not more than a foot and a half high. He wore a red cap. His face was the colour of a withered mushroom, while his sparkling eyes, twinkling like diamonds in the dark, illuminated his distorted face. His thin legs dangled from his fat, round body.
“Ho! Ho!” said the Little Redcap, “is that what you’re after, Tom Coghlan? What did me and mine ever do to you that you should cut down our bushes?”
“Why, then, nothing at all, your honour!” said Tom, recovering a bit from his fright, “nothing at all! Only the children were crying from hunger, and I thought I’d make bold to cut a bush or two to boil the potatoes, for we haven’t a stick in the house.”
“You mustn’t cut down these bushes, Tom!” said the Little Redcap. “But, as you are an honest man, I’ll buy them from you, though I have a better right to them than you have. So, if you’ll take my advice, carry this mill home with you, and let the bushes alone,” said the Little Redcap, holding out a tiny stone mill for grinding meal.
“Mill, indeed!” said Tom, looking with astonishment at the thing, which was so small that he could have put it with ease into his breechespocket. “Mill, indeed! And what good will a bit of a thing like that do me? Sure, it won’t boil the potatoes for the children!”
“What good will it do you?” said the Little Redcap. “I’ll tell you what good it will do you! It will make you and your family as fat and strong as so many stall-fed bullocks. And if it won’t boil the potatoes, it will do a great deal better, for you have only to grind it, and it will give you the greatest plenty of elegant meal. But if you ever sell any of the meal, that moment the mill will lose its power.”
“It’s a bargain,” said Tom. “So give me the mill, and you’re heartily welcome to the bushes.”
“There it is for you, Tom,” said the Little Redcap, throwing the mill down to him; “there it is for you, and much good may it do you! But remember you are not to sell the meal on any account.”
“Let me alone for that!” said Tom.
And then he made the best of his way home, where his wife was trying to comfort the children, wondering all the time what in the world was keeping Tom. And when she saw him return without so much as one stick of wood to boil the potatoes, her anger burst out. But Tom soon quieted her by placing the mill on the table and telling her how he had got it from the Little Redcap.
“We’ll try it directly,” said she. And they pulled the table into the middle of the floor, and commenced grinding away with the mill. Before long a stream of beautiful meal began pouring from it; and in a short time they had filled every dish and pail in the house. Tom’s wife was delighted, as you may believe, and the children managed the best they could for that night by eating plenty of raw meal.
Well, after that everything went very well with Tom and his family. The mill gave them all the meal they wanted, and they grew as fat and sleek as coach-horses. But one morning when Tom was away from home, his wife needed money. So she took a few pecks of the meal to town and sold it in the market.
And sorry enough she was, for that night, when Tom came home and began to grind the mill, not a speck of meal would come from it! He could not for the life of him find out the reason, for his wife was afraid to tell him about her selling the meal.
“Sure, and the little old fellow cheated me well!” thought Tom, as mad as a nest of hornets. So he put his axe under his arm, and away he went to the old fort, determined to punish the Little Redcap by cutting down his bushes. But scarcely had he lifted his axe, when the Little Redcap appeared, and mighty angry he was, too,that Tom should come cutting his bushes, after having made a fair bargain with him.
“You deceitful, little, ugly vagabond!” cried Tom, flourishing his axe, “to give me a mill that wasn’t worth a sixpence! If you don’t give me a good one for it, I’ll cut down every bush!”
“What a blusterer you are, Tom!” said the Little Redcap, “but you’d better be easy and let the bushes alone, or maybe you’ll pay for it! Deceive you, indeed! Didn’t I tell you that mill would lose its power if you sold any of the meal?”
“And sure and I didn’t, either,” said Tom.
“Well, it’s all one for that,” answered the Little Redcap, “for if you didn’t, your wife did. And as to giving you another mill, it’s out of the question. For the one I gave you was the only one in the fort. And a hard battle we had to get it away from another party of the Good People! But I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you, Tom; let the bushes alone, and I’ll make a doctor of you.”
“A doctor, indeed!” said Tom. “Maybe it’s a fool you’re making of me!”
But it was no such thing, for the Little Redcap gave Tom Coghlan a charm so that he could cure any sick person. And Tom took it home, and became a great man with a very full purse.He gave good schooling to his children. One of them he made a grand butter-merchant in the city of Cork, and the youngest son—being ever and always a well-spoken lad—he made a lawyer; and his two daughters married well.
And Tom is as happy as a man can be!