A FAIR PRISONER

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A FAIR PRISONER

Flowers

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Fairy Tales from Flower Land

"The sweetest flowerThat decks the golden breast of May."

—Langhorne.

SOME four or five hundred years ago there stood upon the banks of the River Tweed, in Great Britain, a grand and stately castle.

It was enclosed by high walls, and its gates were guarded day and night by soldiers, for these were warlike times, and an enemy might be lurking near, watching his opportunity to make a raid upon the owner's property.

At one corner of the castle was a high tower, in the topmost chamber of which was imprisoned a beautiful maiden, the only daughter of the chieftain who owned the castle.

And not far away stood another grand old castle, the lord of which was her father's greatest enemy, whose only son had dared to ask the maiden's hand in marriage.

Very terrible to see was the chieftain's anger when his child confessed her love for the son of his enemy; and since she would not give him up, or listen to the words of other suitors, he shut her up in the turret-chamber, where she could hold no communication with the outer world.

Day after day this stern father climbed the steep staircase and bid the maiden renounce her love. But the poor girl remained faithful, and continued a prisoner.

Shut up in the turret-chamber

And what of her lover? Had he deserted her? No indeed; he thought of her day and night, and was busy forming plans for her escape.

In the disguise of a peddler he came to offer his wares for sale at the castle, and by means of rich gifts he bribed the maid who waited upon his betrothed to convey to her a stout silken cord, by which she should descend from the turret-window.

In the disguise of a peddler

There he would await her, with horses, outside the castle walls, and together they would ride to the nearest church and be wedded without delay.

At last the appointed day came. In the gathering twilight the maiden saw her lover's signal, and fastening the cord to the bars of the window she began the perilous descent.

She fell into the court yard below

But, alas, for the hopes of the youthful pair! Making too great haste to accomplish her descent, her trembling hands missed their hold of the ropes and she fell, bruised, bleeding, and dying, into the courtyard below. Then in the words of an old song:

"Love in pity to the deed,And her loving luckless speed,Twined her to this plant we callNow the 'Flower of the Wall.'"

And ever since, upon old walls, and in the nooks and crannies of ruined buildings, the golden wallflowers have bloomed, filling the air with fragrance as they tell their story of faithful love.

The fair prisoner.

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THE UNGRATEFUL TRAVELER

Flowers

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Fairy Tales from Flower Land

"That blue and bright-eyed flow'ret of the brook,Hope's gentle gem, the sweet forget-me-not."

—Coleridge.

ONCE a weary traveler, wandering alone on the steep side of a bare and desolate mountain, came unexpectedly upon a tiny stream of water trickling down between the rocks.

Following its course down the mountain side, he entered a wooded glen, where the banks of the stream were covered with green grass, among which he suddenly espied the sweet blue blossoms of a tiny flower.

The sweet blossoms of a tiny flower

For many days his path had lain across a rough and rugged country, where no blade of grass or star-like blossom greeted his coming, so now he eagerly gathered a handful of the pale blue flowers and tied them for safety to the handle of his staff. Then as he turned to continue his way he saw before him a great doorway in the rock, which opened to him of its own accord.

A great doorway in the rock

Entering, he found himself in a magnificent home, where around him on every side lay heaps of treasure—gold, silver, and rich raiment—while fairy voices bid him help himself.

Hastily throwing aside his staff, and with it the "luck-flowers" which he had gathered, he filled his pockets with jewels, and taking as much treasure as he could carry in his arms he turned to retrace steps. As he did so, a sweet voice sounded in his ear, crying, "Forget-me-not! Forget-me-not!"

But the ungrateful traveler paid no attention t the cry, and as he left the home the great door closed behind him with a crash.

Once more upon the bleak mountain side

Instantly he found himself once more upon the bleak mountain side. The treasure which he had so greedily collected vanished from his grasp. Not even his staff remained to him, for he had left it behind with the "luck-flowers."

Then full of grief and disappointment, he continued his journey across the lonely mountain; but though he sought it far and near he never again found the precious "luck-flower," without which he could not gain an entrance to the fairy cave.

Thus was his ingratitude punished; and the sweet forget-me-not growing by the river-side contains a lesson for all who gather it, bidding them ever remember the "Great Giver of all Good Gifts."

An angel

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THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM

Flowers

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Fairy Tales from Flower Land

"Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine."

—Longfellow.

AA GOOD and holy man sat down to rest one evening beneath the shade of the palm-tree in a far Eastern country, far away from home and friends.

The sun was sinking in the west, the air was hot and sultry, and all around him grew strange and wondrous plants and flowers.

It was a beautiful land, but the stranger's heart was sad within him. He had traveled far in order to carry the story of "Jesus and His love" into heathen lands, but here, among the followers of the "false prophet," none would listen to his tale. Even now as he sat beneath the palm-tree, the spires of the Mohammedan mosques gleamed white in the distance, and he could hear the voices of the priests as they chanted their evensong.

He could hear the voices of the priests

"How ever can I serve my Master in such a land as this!" exclaimed the holy man.

"All around me seems to brood the spell of an unholy influence; even the very flowers have taken part in heathen rites and ceremonies.

"Help me, Lord, for I am very weak," and the stranger bowed his head in prayer.

'The Star of Bethlehem' men call it

Just then a thrill of hope and joy passed through his sinking heart, for there in the green grass at his feet were the familiar star-like blossoms of a tiny plant.

"The Star of Bethlehem" men call it, because of its resemblance to the bright messenger from heaven which, years ago, led the shepherds of Bethlehem to the birthplace of the infant Saviour.

The bright messenger from heaven

And many and many times had the traveler gathered its pure white blossoms beside his own cottage door, and now, as he saw it growing contentedly beneath the shadow of those pagan plants, his soul was filled with fresh courage. Here in a strange land the little flower told the story of the Saviour's birth, and its presence seemed to shed a ray of light and hope around.

Cheered and strengthened, the holy man went on his way, ready once more to fulfil his labor of love, and to proclaim the good tidings of salvation to all who would hear.

The holy man

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THE ANGEL'S GIFT

Flowers

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Fairy Tales from Flower Land

"Rose! thou art the sweetest flowerThat ever drank the amber shower."

—Moore.

MORE than a thousand years ago, in the city of Bethlehem, a gentle maiden was accused by her enemies of wicked deeds, for which she was condemned to die. But the maiden was innocent; and as she was led out to be burned, she prayed to God to prove her innocence.

Then she was tied to the stake, and the faggots around her were set on fire, but to the astonishment of the bystanders they would not burn, and as the flames died out the stake to which the innocent maid was fastened became a tree, bearing red and white roses.

They were the first roses ever seen on earth, said the people, and never before had such lovely flowers been seen.

It is said that not long after the angel who takes care of the flowers in God's beautiful garden, sprinkling them with dew in the early morn, fell asleep one warm summer day beneath the shade of a rose tree.

Awaking refreshed, she turned to the tree, saying, "My beautiful child, how can I reward thee for the cool shelter of thy sweet-scented branches?"

And the rose replied, "They call me the most beautiful of flowers. Make me, I pray thee, even more lovely still, if it be in thy power to do so."

Then she was tied to the stake

Then the angel covered her with a coat of soft green moss, wherein she might hide her blushing face from the gaze of the passers-by.

"Make me more lovely still"

Now the rose is beloved by all the birds, especially by the nightingale, the sweetest singer of them all. So great is his love that though

" . . . rich the spotWith every flower this earth has got,What is it to the nightingaleIf there his darling rose is not?"

It is said that when King Solomon, the wisest of kings, was reigning, the birds of the air came to him one day and told him that they could not sleep at night because of the weeping of the nightingale.

The birds of the air came to him

"But why do you weep?" inquired the King of the nightingale.

And the bird replied, "Once I was dumb, but the rose taught me to sing, and now I cannot bear to see her rudely handled and her petals crushed beneath the foot of man."

And indeed the fragrant rose is worthy of our love, for it is among the most beautiful of our Heavenly Father's gifts to us.

A rose

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THE HOLY HAY

Flowers

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Fairy Tales from Flower Land

"Little deeds of kindness,Little words of love,Make our earth an EdenLike the heaven above."

—Dr. Brewer.

ALMOST two thousand years ago the infant Jesus was laid to sleep in the manger of the inn at Bethlehem.

His bed was of fresh, sweet hay, among which were some fragments of a little plant which had grown all unnoticed among the grass.

In wonder the tiny weed listened to the song of the angels as they sang "the sweetest carol ever heard"; in wonder it saw the precious gifts offered by the wise men and heard the praises of the shepherds who had found their Saviour.

A crown around the baby head

"There must be something I can do," whispered the little flower to itself, and presently the pretty pink blossoms opened and gently twined themselves into a crown around the baby head.

His bed was of fresh, sweet hay

Some travelers standing near exclaimed "'Tis Holy Hay," and ever since the pretty blossoms have borne the name of "Saint-foin;" and ever as they reappear, year by year, in the fields and meadows they remind the little ones of that land that even they can do something "to please the King of Heaven."

The child Jesus

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THE SEARCH FOR GOLD

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Fairy Tales from Flower Land

"The Marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,And with him rises weeping."

—Shakespeare.

ABOUT four hundred years ago travelers returning to Europe brought back wondrous tales of rich gold mines in the country of Mexico, and after a while the people of Spain sent an army to fight the Mexicans and rob them of their riches.

When the Spanish army reached the City of Mexico, which stood in the midst of a great plain, they were struck with wonder at the beauty and grandeur of all they saw.

They were struck with wonder

Gold seemed to be everywhere. Gold, gold, gold! But not content with taking what they could get, these cruel soldiers fell upon the Mexican nobles and put hundreds of them to death for the sake of the rich jewels they wore.

After this there was a great battle, and the Mexican King was taken prisoner and shut up in his own palace.

But the brave people of the country were so enraged by the cruelties of their Spanish conquerors that they would not submit. Battle after battle was fought, and the people were hunted down like wild beasts.

Hunted down like wild beasts

At last the King was taken out of his prison and placed in front of the Spanish army, and there in the fierce heat of the fight he was slain.

Soon after the Mexicans fled, leaving thousands of brave men dead upon the battlefield. Their royal standard of pure gold was captured and Mexico was conquered. Then the Spaniards returned home, leaving only a small army to guard the city.

The Spaniards called them Marigolds

In the following summer the vast plain surrounding the capital, upon which the last great battle had been fought, was covered with a wealth of golden blossoms.

Then the Mexicans said, "It is the 'Death-flower.' It has sprung from the blood of our brothers slain in battle by the cruel Spaniards."

But the Spaniards called them Marigolds, or "Mary's gold," because they said the mother of Jesus had given them the victory.

A girl on the moon.

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THE FLOWER FAIRIES

Flowers

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Fairy Tales from Flower Land

"Never tread beneath your feetFlowers fair and flowers sweet;Touch us tenderly with careFlowers sweet and flowers fair."

ONE bright sunny morning little Mae went out into the fields to gather a bunch of flowers for her mother. She went happily along, and soon came to a meadow gay with yellow buttercups.

She picked a handful and then ran on, for she could see, just over the next wall, the red blossoms of a field of poppies.

Some of these she gathered and put among her buttercups; but she did not stay long in this field, for she knew that a little farther on there was a stream, beside which grew the pretty blue forget-me-nots of which her mother was so fond.

So Mae gathered a big bunch of these, and now held in her hand buttercups, poppies, and forget-me-nots.

But after a while she began to get tired, so she sat down on the bank to rest, and presently she heard a soft little voice say: "Do you like butter?"

Mae looked quickly around, and saw before her a pretty little lady, with a crown of gold upon her head and dressed all in yellow.

She was very much surprised, but being a polite little girl, replied: "Yes, thank you; and will you please tell me your name?"

"Certainly," said the little lady. "My name is Fairy Yellow, and I am Queen of the buttercups and daffodils, and all the yellow flowers; here come my sisters, Fairy Red and Fairy Blue."

And there they were, two more little ladies, one dressed in red and the other in blue.

"Good morning," said Mae.

"Good morning," said Fairy Red. "I live among the poppies, and all the red flowers belong to me; poppies, and roses, and the holly-berries, and many more besides."

Then Fairy Blue said, "I am mistress of the bluebells, and hare-bells, and forget-me-nots, and all the sweet blue flowers."

"I think you are all very pretty," said Mae, "and I shall always think of you when I look at the flowers; but now I must go home; so good-bye."

"But we are going with you," said the fairies, and to Mae's astonishment each crept into a flower and nestled down comfortably; Fairy Yellow in a buttercup, Fairy Red in a poppy, and Fairy Blue in a forget-me-not.

So Mae gathered up her flowers and set off home, and all the way the fairies sang to her the sweetest songs.

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An entirely new collection of Fairy Tales from various countries, carefully edited for young people

Profusely Illustrated, Fifty Cents, Each

A Book of East Indian Fairy Tales

East Indian Fairy Tales are the oldest in existence; some in this book are more than two thousand years old.