THE NINE YOUNG OGRESSESTHE NINE YOUNG OGRESSESHappily for Dimple, who was a tender and sympathetic soul, she knew nothing of the pangs that rent the spirit of her ancient foe. Our hero and heroine had been set down by the obliging fairy-bird at some little distance from their native village. There, after giving her their thanks, they at once offered to set their captive free without conditions. The fairy-bird, overjoyed at her good fortune, insisted upon singing for them a whole day, and a pile of precious gems then lay heaped at Dimple's feet, far surpassing in value those in the king's own treasury. Dimple and Jim were now rolling in wealth and, being also in possession of the magic salve which cures all maladies, felt reasonably secure of a prosperous future. Bidding the fairy good-by, they proceeded on foot toward the neighboring town, carrying their treasures in some old potato sacks begged from a roadside hut.Jim sold a few of the stones, and with the proceeds purchased magnificent garments for Dimple and himself;then, hiring a train of servants to attend them, the two travellers returned to their own village, seated upon cushions of pale blue velvet in a crystal chariot drawn by six milk-white horses, with gold and silver harness.At the approach of this splendid procession, all the people of the neighborhood came flocking from their houses to see the grand prince and princess, who had done them so much honor. To their astonishment,the chariot stopped directly in front of the miller's cottage, and out sprang the beautiful princess, trailing her silks and satins along the garden path, and, with a scream of delight, throwing her fair arms around the poor old dusty miller, who sat mournfully upon his deserted door-stone, rapt in thought. In a voice that all recognized, Dimple cried:"Father, don't you know me? I am your loving child."Next to be astonished was Jim's mother, a lone widow, who sat at her spinning-wheel as usual, thinking of the boy she had lost so many months before. When Jim appeared before her in all his bravery, the poor old thing nearly went into hysterics of delight—she had not hesitated for one moment in recognizing the face that had never left her thoughts.Directly afterward, all the villagers were requested to proceed in a body to the church, where a splendid wedding was held. Everyone agreed that Dimple made the prettiest bride that had ever stepped from the old church porch, and no one could dispute the fact that Jim was the proudest of bridegrooms.The newly married pair built a superb palace in a park near their native village, and also two smallerpalaces for Jim's mother and Dimple's father. A large share of their wealth was spent in beautifying the homes of their friends; and, in time, the hamlet came to be known as the "Happy Valley," so prosperous and fertile had it grown. No sickness came near these fortunate villagers; and none of them ever died—thanks to the free use made by Dimple of her inexhaustible ointment.At last reports, neither Jim nor Dimple had confided to anyone the true story of their life in the giant's castle. When people expressed curiosity as to the source of such wonderful wealth, Jim always roguishly said that Dimple had made it all by good cooking. This report, getting abroad, had the effect of inducing the girls of that country, far and wide, to go into their kitchens and learn all they could of the most useful of arts; which, perhaps, had as much as Dimple's magic salve to do with the health and contentment of the inhabitants of Happy Valley!MISS PEGGY AND THE FROG.(An old nursery tale told from memory.)OONCEthere lived a widow, whose only child was a pretty girl named Peggy. Peggy loved to play by the water-side with her young companions, and one day a large frog hopped out of the water and sat gazing at her with a loving smile."What a queer frog!" cried Peggy."Iama queer frog," he remarked, to her surprise. "Go back, Miss Peggy, and tell your mother that I want to marry you."Peggy ran to fetch her mother to see the talking frog. When the mother came, the frog dived downinto the water and brought up in his mouth a rich gold chain and a jewelled ring."This will I give the mother, and much beside," he said, laying the chain at the mother's feet; "and this ring with many like it is for my bride, if Peggy will marry me.""Say yes, Peggy," whispered the mother, who was a covetous woman. "Of course you can't marry a frog, but you may get the gold and jewels all the same."Peggy burst out crying, but her mother nudged and poked her in the side till she said "yes," in a very sobbing voice.The frog bowed politely, laid the gold chain and the ring at their feet, dived down, and immediately brought up gold cups and silver dishes, with many rare jewels set into them. Peggy's mother gasped for joy as he heaped all these riches on the grassy bank. She ran up to the house, and found a basket which would hold them. While she was gone, the frog said nothing, but stood looking at Peggy and sighing from time to time. Peggy sat under a tree, and cried and sobbed. At last the frog spoke:"Don't forget your bridegroom, Miss Peggy. Thisday year I shall come to fetch you," and he hopped into the water with a splash.Peggy's mother sold one of the cups for a large sum of money, and furnished their house all new. She bought gay clothes for herself and Peggy, and went to church quite regularly, since she had so much finery to show. Peggy forgot all about her promise to the frog, and the year passed by rapidly.On the appointed day, however, the widow and Peggy were sitting at the table when they heard a knock at the door. They peeped out, and saw, to their dismay, the frog, dressed in a green and gold suit, and carrying a jewelled sword. Peggy gave a scream, and ran and hid in the cupboard, while the mother tripped to the door, and bade her strange guest good morning."I am sorry, but Peggy is from home to-day," she said."Oh! never mind. I will come in and wait awhile," answered the frog; and in he hopped cheerfully, and took a seat at the table. Peggy's mother was too angry to offer him food, but the frog helped himself and ate out of Peggy's plate. He stayed and he stayed, and all the time Peggy crouched in the cupboard, cramped and hungry. He stayed till night came; and at last poorPeggy, falling asleep, burst open the cupboard door, and tumbled out upon the floor.The frog ran to pick her up, before her mother could get there."You are a little late, my dear," he said politely. "But I can see very well in the dark, so we may set out at once, for my palace in the pond."In vain did the widow beg and plead. The frog would not give Peggy up, until the poor girl herself went down on her knees and implored him to let her off for another year. At length he promised to go, if she would be ready to marry him that day year. Peggy said "yes," and off went her suitor, after having laid a purse of gold in the widow's lap."It might have been worse, Peggy, so cheer up," said the woman, clapping the purse in her pocket. "A year is a long time, and perhaps he will forget you."Vain hope! That day year, Peggy was spinning beside her mother, when the frog knocked at the door. This time, he was dressed in blue and silver, and his hat had a waving plume; but he looked more hideous than before.Peggy gave a jump, and ran up the garret stairs, and thence out upon the roof of the cottage, whereshe clung to the chimney in despair. The mother opened the door, and said she was sorry Peggy was from home. The frog replied that he did not mind, but would wait for Miss Peggy to return.He sat in Peggy's chair; and this time he would not eat, but only sighed and sighed. Presently it began to rain and hail, and thunder and lighten dreadfully; and poor Peggy on the roof was frightened out of her life. She crept into the chimney, and soon a greatclap of thunder sent her flying down into the room where her frog-lover sat."You have an odd way of coming into the house, my dear," the frog said; "but I don't mind, if you are ready to go now. It rains hard, but I am used to water, and you must become so; so come along."He offered her his arm, but Peggy cried and implored to be let off. She went down on her knees to him, and at last he went away, giving her another purse and another year of freedom.Next year, the widow and Peggy barred and double-locked their doors. The frog appeared, dressed in white and gold, but it was of no use for him to knock and call. No answer came, and he went off sadly. Peggy and her mother rejoiced at getting rid of the persistent suitor, and sat down to supper merrily, without, however, unlocking their door.Presently, they heard a noise, and looking out saw a great army of frogs coming up the hill, The frogs formed themselves into a column and, aiming for the window, jumped through the glass, and landed on the floor. They seized Peggy, and very gently carried her out of the door and down the hill. Peggy fainted, and knew nothing till they stopped on the edge of the pond.The widow came running down the hill just in time to see the frogs plunge into the water with her child.Peggy sank—down, down—until she reached a beautiful grotto, where, on a throne of coral and shells, sat her frog-lover. He looked at her reproachfully, and said:"If you had not three times deceived me, Peggy, I should not have carried you off in this way. Now that you are here, try to be resigned to me, and say that you will be my wife.""Never, never," screamed Peggy; "you are so horrible to look at with your goggle eyes."The goggle eyes filled with tears as Peggy spoke, and the frog shook his head mournfully."I see that it is of no use," he said sorrowfully, and ordered Peggy to be taken to a beautiful sea-garden, where she lived and amused herself for a long time, gradually forgetting all about her home on land. Every evening the frog came and talked to Peggy through a wall of white coral; and in time, she grew so fond of listening to his voice, that if he was a minute late she would cry for him to come.Once when it was rather dark, the frog asked Peggy if she could bear to look at him again. Peggy saidyes, and he appeared before her. Somehow he did not seem so ugly as before, and when, in a trembling voice, he invited her to sit upon his knee, she at once did so. Instantly his leg broke with a loud snap; and, as poor Peggy sprang to her feet in great remorse, she beheld, instead of her frog suitor, a beautiful young prince, holding out his arms to her!The prince told her he had been bewitched by a frog godmother, who condemned him to remain in that horrid shape until a young girl could be found who would either consent to marry him or sit upon his knee. Peggy was very glad to have such an ending of her adventure. So they were married at once, and were then very happy. When they went back for a wedding visit to Peggy's mother, they found she had taken all the gold and silver and moved away to a distant country; and they never saw the wicked woman more.THE LEPERHAUN:A Legend of the Emerald Isle.OONCEupon a time, by the glimmer of the nursery-fire, a little girl sat listening to the tales told by her buxom Irish nurse. The details of most of these—notably of one very thrilling legend of the Banshee, who has ever since seemed to float upon the wind that blows after nightfall—have passed from memory; but the good old story of Molly Jones and the Leperhaun remains, and, as best I can, I reproduce it here.In a comfortable farm-house upon the outskirts of a small village in Ireland, lived a farmer with his six sons. He was a prosperous man, and, besides having better cows, pigs, and potatoes than any other man in the county, was said to keep a tidy bit of money laid away in bank. Only one maid-servant did the work of thehouse, and she had lived there for many a year. At last she died, and the farmer looked about him for a girl to take her place. The wages were high, and a strapping lass named Mary Jones made up her mind that she was the right person for the situation. The farmer liked her looks, and engaged her on the spot."Now, Molly, lass," said the master, when he had finished taking her around the house, and showing her how neat and convenient everything was; "you see what you've got to do, and that's the end of it. Nobody in this house, who works well, has ever cause to want for encouragement, forthere's hands to help them that aren't too curious! The main thing you'd better guard against is takin' notes and askin' questions."Molly protested that she was innocent of the inheritance of Mother Eve; and the farmer went on with his directions."On the first night of every month the family goes early to bed, and it will be your business to see that the hearth is well swept, and fresh turf laid upon the fire, and to collect around it all the worn or broken shoes about the house. The last thing before you leave the room, be sure to set before the fire a nice bowl of mealy potatoes bursting from their jackets, a couple of herringsbroiled to a turn, and a jug of sweet buttermilk—and, whatever you do, never forget the salt!"Molly, though burning with curiosity, courtesied, and said nothing. All went well till the first night of the coming month. "When the family was retiring, the farmer whispered:"Remember, Molly! Be abed and asleep before the clock strikes twelve; anddon't forget the salt."Molly tidied her kitchen, swept the hearth, arranged around it all the worn and broken shoes in the house, her own Sunday pair included; and, after setting a nice little meal, covered with a white cloth, near the fire, wound up the clock and went to bed. Next morning what was her surprise to find not only all the boots and shoes neatly mended, but the empty jug and platter washed and restored to their places, while a beautiful fire was blazing merrily! She dared not ask any questions of the farmer or his sons, and no one appeared in the least surprised by what had occurred. That month her work went so easily that Molly thought it child's play. Her bread was baked brown and light, her potatoes were a triumph, her churning was done sooner than anybody's in the place, and her linen was hung out to dry by sunrise on Monday mornings. Fora month or two Molly never failed to set her kitchen in order, as before, for the mysterious guest. But one night she was in a hurry, and forgot the salt. Next morning the boots were mended, but the fire was scattered on the hearth, ashes lay all about her neat kitchen, and the dishes were left unwashed. This excited Molly's curiosity anew and, when the next time came, she did everything as usual, but, instead of goingto bed, hid behind the kitchen clock. Punctually as the clock struck twelve, out popped from behind a big stone in the chimney-place a queer little dwarf dressed all in red. Apparently he suspected something, for he sniffed and peered into the darkness of the kitchen. Molly held her breath through fear, and the dwarf proceeded to blow up the fire and warm himself before sitting down to supper. Then, uncovering his cup and platter, and finding that all was to his taste, he smacked his lips, and made an excellent repast. When it was over, he whipped out of his bag some shoemaker's tools, and went to work to patch and mend the shoes, with twinkling fingers. In an hour's time all was finished and, after putting the room to rights, the dwarf took his leave.Molly told nobody that she had seen the veritable Leperhaun, the famous shoemaking fairy; but the next month she happened to be in an ill humor and hungry; so, without stopping to think of the consequences, she ate his supper herself—leaving upon the platter only a heap of potato-skins and the bones of the well-picked herrings.That night, while all the world was asleep, in came the Leperhaun and, finding the trick that had been played on him, flew into a terrible rage, scattered theboots and shoes over the floor, broke the crockery and, seizing a broom, swept all the ashes out upon the kitchen floor. Molly, who was watching, ran up to the garret and, jumping into bed, pulled the clothes over her head in a cold perspiration with terror. But hark! on the steps outside came the pit-pat of little feet. In rushed the offended house-fairy. He seized Molly by the hair of her head, and dragged her down the stairs, and over the flags of the yard, saying,"Molly Jones! Molly Jones!Potato-skins and herring-bones!I'll break your bones upon the stones,Molly Jones, oh! Molly Jones!"In vain Molly cried for mercy. The farmer and his sons were fast asleep, and not a soul heard her. All night long the Leperhaun dragged her about; and when the cock crowed he vanished, leaving her bruised and sore upon the threshold of the door. More dead than alive, Molly crawled up to her bed, where she lay black and blue for many a day.The farmer, suspecting what lesson had been taught her, said nothing; and we may be sure that, when the next time came for the visit of the Leperhaun, the little red dwarf had no fault to find with Molly.ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES[The stories here following are, it is hoped, so rendered, from metrical romances of the Middle Ages, as to be adapted to the taste and understanding of youthful readers.]THE TRIALS OF SIR ISUMBRAS.(From Ellis' Abridgment of the MS. in Caius College.)OONCEupon a time there lived a knight so handsome, so rich, and so valiant that all eyes were turned upon him. His name was Isumbras, and fortune had given him everything that the heart of man could wish for. He had a splendid castle, surrounded by vast forests, where every day he went hunting or hawking; and so generous he was with his wealth that the poor flocked to him from every quarter and never went away empty-handed.Sir Isumbras had a beautiful wife and three lovelysons to share the blessings of his lot; but one thing he had not, and that was an humble spirit. He forgot to own the Giver of good things, and took it as a matter of course that his life should flow on in ease and luxury.One day when mounted on his favorite steed, surrounded by his dogs, and having his hawk on fist, Sir Isumbras cast up his eyes to the sky, and there saw an angel, who reproached him with his pride, announcing that Heaven had in store for him a speedy punishment.Sir Isumbras fell to his knees in prayer; but hardly had the angel vanished from his sight when, on remounting his horse, the noble creature fell dead beneath him; the hawk dropped lifeless from his fist; and the faithful hounds expired in agonies at his feet. Hastening on foot to his castle, he was met by a servant, who informed him his horses and oxen had been suddenly struck dead by lightning, and that his fowls had all been stung to death by adders. Next came forward a page, who told him the castle was burned to the ground, many of his servants had perished, and that his wife and children had taken refuge, half naked, in a thorn-bush close at hand. Sir Isumbras hastened to the aid of his beloved family, stripping himself of his scarlet mantle and his surcoat to clothethem. He embraced them fondly, and thanked heaven that, though all the rest of his treasures were taken, these remained. He then proposed to his wife that, as a sign of repentance for their sins, they should all go on foot to the holy city, Jerusalem, begging their bread from land to land. He cut with his knife upon his bare shoulder the pilgrim's sign of the cross, and then the afflicted family set forth on their travels.Long they journeyed, eating crusts when they couldbeg them, or berries from wayside bushes, until, faint and weary, they reached a broad but shallow stream. Taking his eldest son in his arms, Sir Isumbras bore him across the river, and placed him beneath a bush of broom-plant, bidding him play with the blossoms until his father's return. Scarcely had the knight left his son, when an enormous lion burst from a neighboring thicket and bore away the child. In like manner the second son became the prey of a fierce leopard; and the poor mother, who saw them so cruelly torn from her sight, fainted away, with her baby on her breast. Sir Isumbras bowed to the will of God; and when his wife revived they journeyed on to the shore of the Greek sea. Here they stood, and, through eyes that were full of tears, saw a great fleet of three hundred ships coming toward them. This was the navy of a famous heathen king, and no sooner had he landed than the travellers, who had not touched bread or meat for seven days, hastened to implore his charity. The king soon observed the robust limbs and tall stature of the husband; and perceived he was a knight in disguise, and that the wife, whose beauty was as "bright as blossoms upon tree," was, in spite of her ragged clothes, a lady of high degree. So, affecting to treat the poorcouple with respect, he offered them gold and treasure if the knight would renounce Christianity and consent to fight under the Saracen banners. This offer was at once declined, and the angry king made up his mind to revenge himself by carrying away the knight's wife. So, upon an order to the attendants, a purse of gold was pressed into the knight's hand, his infant son was put into his arms, he was hurried ashore, cruelly beaten by the king's servants, and, when he recovered himself, saw a heathen ship, with his wife on board, set sail for Africa.Sir Isumbras clasped his only remaining treasure to his heart, and followed the vessel with his eyes until it vanished from sight. Night found him still there, until father and babe fell asleep upon the bare ground, too weary to keep awake. Sir Isumbras had laid the fatal present of the heathen king, the purse of gold, in the scarlet mantle which he wrapped around his child. Scarcely had the next day's sun risen upon the earth, when an eagle, attracted by the red cloth, darted down, carrying off mantle, child, and purse in his talons.The poor knight was at last in utter despair. He fell on his knees, and offered what remained of his life to the God he had offended. Just then he heard thenoise of a blacksmith's forge, and saw, not far off, some men at work. They took pity on him and fed him. He entered their service, and bound himself for seven long years to learn their trade. During this time he forged a complete suit of armor for himself, being determined at the first opportunity to take up arms against the Saracens, whose king had not only done him such a cruel wrong, but was oppressing God's people.At length his opportunity came. The Christian army was to fight the Saracens on a field not far from the forge. Sir Isumbras buckled on his awkward armor and, mounting a horse that had been used by the smith to carry coals, proceeded to the field of battle.His heart beat with wild joy when he saw the foe before him. Uttering a fervent prayer, he dashed into the thick of the combat, attracting all eyes at first by his sorry steed and rough armor, and again by the splendid skill and courage of his charge. Early in the action his horse was killed under him, and the Christian chiefs made haste to present him another one, also a suit of armor more worthy of the heroic soldier he had proved himself to be. All that day the battle raged.By nightfall Sir Isumbras, single-handed, had killedthe heathen king and many of his followers. But he was himself sorely wounded, and when brought for reward before the Christian king, and asked his name, could hardly falter out, "I am a smith's man, sire." The king swore a great oath to make a knight of this valiant "smith's man"; and, with all honor and tenderness, Sir Isumbras was carried into a nunnery, where the good sisters nursed him until he recovered from his many wounds.Sir Isumbras was not satisfied to remain quiet long, though he had slain the heathen king. He went to the Holy Land, and for seven years wandered about a pilgrim, as before, sleeping upon the ground by night, and vainly seeking tidings of his wife by day. Once, during this time, when he was starving upon the banks of a stream, there appeared to him a cheering visitor.And as he sat, about midnight,There came angel fair and bright,And brought him bread and wine.He said, "Palmer, well thou be!The King of Heaven greeteth well thee;Forgiven is sin thine."Very soon after this miraculous event Sir Isumbras found his wife, who had dwelt, holy and charitable, in asecluded castle, where she had been shut up by the Saracen king. She welcomed him with rapture, and together they shed many tears over their lost children. They lived together for some years, until Sir Isumbras was again summoned to do battle with the Saracens, who had determined at all cost to kill him. The fight was again hot and long, and just when Sir Isumbras was about to be overpowered by numbers of the enemy, three new champions appeared in the field, declaring themselves on the side of the Christians. These were three splendid knights, the first mounted upon a lion, the second upon a leopard, and the third upon an eagle. The Saracen cavalry, terror-stricken at sight of them, dispersed in all directions. But flight was in vain; three and twenty thousand unbelievers were soon laid dead upon the plain by the lion, leopard, and eagle, fighting with tireless fury, and driving all before them, until the entire heathen army was utterly put to rout. Then, coming back to Sir Isumbras, the three champions knelt before him, announcing themselves his long lost sons, mercifully protected and befriended by the savage creatures by whom they had been carried off. Sir Isumbras embraced his valiant sons, and led them to their mother. The Christian king enrichedthe entire family, restoring them to their former rank. And now wealth, titles, honors, and all that he had lost, came back to Sir Isumbras, and the remainder of his days was spent in blessed peace."They lived and died in good intent;Unto heaven their souls went,When that they dead were.Jesu Christ, heaven's king,Give us, aye, his blessing,And shield us from care!"BISCLAVERET.(From one of Marie's Lays.)OONCEupon a time there lived in Brittany a baron who was handsome, wise, courteous, and brave. Although admired and beloved by his neighbors, he remained single until late in life, when he fell desperately in love with a young lady, who did not hesitate long in accepting the offer of so distinguished a suitor for her hand. They were married, and the bride returned from her honeymoon to take up her abode in her husband's fine castle.For a little while all went well, until the lady discovered that her husband was regularly absent from home during three days of every week. Overwhelmed with curiosity to know where he went, and how he was occupied during this time, she used every means in her power to coax the secret from him."Do not ask me," said her kind lord; "rest assured that I have good reasons for my conduct. If you know what takes me from you, it will only be to hate and scorn your husband, and to ruin the happiness of our life."The lady persisted, going from coaxings to prayers and tears. At last the poor baron gave way, and confided to her that, owing to a cruel spell cast on him at birth, he was during half the week a Bisclaveret, or Man-Wolf, taking on the body of a wolf, but keeping his own feelings and intelligence as a man. Upon hearing this dreadful story, the lady fainted away. Henceforth, although her husband was more loving than ever, she was filled with horror and loathing of him; and soon she secretly resolved to destroy the monster and enjoy his wealth.By watching his movements she ascertained that when the baron became a wolf he left his clothing in a deserted chapel on the edge of a certain wood; and she formed a plan to seize and hide the garments. So long as the Bisclaveret was without his man's clothes, he was condemned to remain a brute.Accordingly, when, after his melancholy ramble through the woods, the Bisclaveret went one night toresume his clothes, they were gone; and, in agony of spirit, he knew that he was betrayed by his wife. He took himself off to the forest, and was there lost to human sight.Meanwhile the wicked wife, announcing that her husband had died while on a journey to some foreign land, enjoyed his wealth and his castle. A year later,the king went hunting in the forest, and, after a stout chase, had nearly run down the unhappy Bisclaveret, when that persecuted beast, bounding from his thicket, fawned upon the king's feet, shedding real tears and uttering almost human cries for mercy. The king, struck with compassion, ordered his dogs to be whipped off, and had the strange animal conveyed with care to his palace. Bisclaveret soon became the royal favorite. He slept on a couch of soft furs, ate from a golden dish, and returned with gratitude the caresses of all who noticed him.His gentleness and sagacity won for the man-wolf the right to roam wherever he desired to go, unchained. One day the king gave a splendid entertainment, towhich were invited all the lords and ladies of the land. Among them, dressed in silks and satins, and sparkling with jewels, came the false wife. No sooner did Bisclaveret espy her chatting with the king's guests, than, to the surprise of all present, the usually mild creature rose up, growling horribly and, springing upon the lady, bit off her nose. Bisclaveret was seized, and would have been speedily killed, but that he again fawned upon the king's feet, moaning and weeping as though he longed to speak. The king ordered him to be put into a cage, and consulted with the oldest and wisest man in his kingdom, as to what could be the meaning of the wolf's sudden fury toward this lady."Brittany is a land of wonders, sire," said the aged man. "The lady who was attacked is as well known for a bad name as your favorite animal is for a good one. Who knows what became of her late husband, the baron? Perhaps this poor brute was beloved by that gentleman, and has some secret wrong to avenge. At any rate, you should at once shut the lady in prison until she is made to tell allsheknows about the matter. Mayhap it is more than we suspect."The king followed his counsellor's advice; and, when the lady found herself likely to be kept a prisoner, shepreferred speech to silence. With tears of professed penitence, she confessed all, and the king lost no time in sending for the clothes of the late baron, and placing them in the cage of Bisclaveret. At first the animal seemed indifferent, and surveyed them listlessly. "Leave him to himself, sire," said the wise man. "Above all, set him at liberty in a chamber suitable to his rank. Then we shall see a wonderful change, I promise you."This was done, and in the morning the king ran impatiently to the chamber of Bisclaveret. There, on the bed, dressed in his clothes and sleeping sweetly, lay the baron. When his royal master entered, the sleeper woke and, bending his knee before his sovereign, poured forth his joy and gratitude.As for the wicked wife, her estates were taken from her and restored to her husband, while she herself was sent into perpetual banishment. Most people would think she had been sufficiently punished by the loss of her nose, which never grew again!ROSWAL AND LILIAN.(From a Scottish Romance of the XVIth Century.)TTHERElived once, at Naples, a king and queen whose only son, Roswal, was a paragon of beauty and of valor. The boy, who was as generous as the day was long, did not at all resemble his father, for the king was harsh and cruel, and slow to forgive his enemies.In the prison of the king's palace were confined three noblemen, who, having been suspected of plotting against the crown, were doomed to be imprisoned for life, and had the most cruel treatment lavished upon them every day. Roswal could not bear to hear their groans and sighs arising from the dungeon, and one day conceived the bold project of taking the prison keys from under the king's pillow while he slept, andsetting the three poor sufferers at liberty. This was done, and Roswal restored the keys to their place without having been detected.When it was found that the prisoners had escaped, the king grew furiously angry. In vain the head jailor and his assistants declared their innocence in the matter. Their lives would have been instantly sacrificed to the king's wrath, had not Roswal boldly come forward and confessed that he alone had freed the prisoners.At first, the king vowed that Roswal should die for having defied him; but the prayers of the queen, and perhaps the cool bravery of his son in confronting him, moved him to relent. He decided to change Roswal's sentence to banishment for life to a distant court, where he was to be placed at the service of the King of Bealm, with recommendation to make a soldier of the lad, henceforth a stranger to his home.Roswal set out on his journey to the court of Bealm, attended only by the high-steward, an envious and ambitious man, who hated the prince and would gladly have done him evil.The king, at parting with his son, had given him a letter of introduction to the King of Bealm; andthe fond mother had come secretly to press all the gold and jewels she had, a fortune in themselves, upon her beloved Roswal. Except for parting with his mother, Roswal did not feel very sorry to set out thus from home. He longed to see what marvels the wide world contained, and the memory of the three brave men he had loosed from their vile bondage cheered him in spite of his father's anger.The high-steward was full of projects of his own; and one night, when they had stopped to rest by the side of a rushing torrent, and Roswal had plunged into the crystal stream, as he loved to do, the wicked steward seized him unawares, held him under water till he was half strangled, and spared his life only on condition that Roswal would pledge himself to give up all the money and jewels, his letter, his horse and sword, and furthermore swear never to reveal the affair to mortal man or woman. Roswal, seeing that he could not help himself, submitted, and the false steward, laughing maliciously, put spurs to his horse, leading Roswal's steed behind him, and soon disappeared from view with all the treasures.Roswal found himself alone at nightfall in the forest, as hungry as a hawk, and very much at a loss where tofind food and shelter. He wandered along till he saw a little brown hut, under the branches of a wide-spreading oak-tree. Here, in the door, sat an old woman knitting, and Roswal's youth and beauty soon won his way into her affections. She led him into her house, gave him a good meal of brown bread, eggs, honey and milk, and a bed of clean straw. Roswal slept as sweetly as ever he had done on his golden bedstead and his pillow of down at home. Next day, he offered to work for the old woman, and set to cutting up wood and binding fagots cheerfully. For several months he lived thus, until the chamberlain of the King of Bealm chanced to pass that way. Taking a fancy to the handsome youth, he carried him off to court, where Roswal was appointed cup-bearer to the king's lovely daughter. His duties were light, and the princess was kind; so Roswal had little to complain of, until one day he heard it announced that Prince Roswal, of Naples, was about to wait upon the King of Bealm and demand his daughter's hand in marriage.Roswal pricked up his ears at this, and immediately suspected the supposed Prince of Naples to be none other than his late travelling companion, the wicked steward; though, when he heard the princess say to hermaidens that this Prince Roswal was remarkably pushing, considering that he had only recently presented a letter of introduction to them, and that, for her part,she could not see what her papa found to fancy in the young man, Roswal rejoiced. He was delighted to find that the princess did not care for the impostor. Then he remembered his oath, never to reveal what the steward had done to him, and his spirits fell again.In a day or two, the King of Bealm announced to his daughter that he had accepted the offer of the King of Naples' son, and that preparations for their marriage would immediately begin. The princess was very unhappy, for she had taken a great dislike to the pretended prince. Roswal met his late servant face to face at one of the bridal feasts, and the eyes of the steward fell before his scornful gaze. But he knew that he was safe in trusting Roswal's honor not to tellthe secret, and so carried on his impudent pretence.A tournament, lasting three days, was announced in honor of the wedding, which was soon to come off. Roswal found the Princess Lilian in tears about that time and, while endeavoring to console her, let her know, without intending it, that he, too, had fallen in love with her. This made the pretty princess so happy, that she confessed to Roswal she had loved him secretly ever since he was chosen to be her cup-bearer. She was sure he was of noble birth from his manners and appearance; and she urged him to admit that he was as worthy of her rank as of her love.Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.Roswal was never so sorely tempted to reveal himself! He restrained the impulse to confess by a strong effort, and, alone and melancholy, wandered out into the forest—longing for an opportunity to enter the lists of the tournament and prove his knightly skill before the king and princess; and while he sat musing thus, there approached him a knight leading a magnificent white war-horse, on whose saddle was suspended a suit of splendid armor."Prince," said the strange knight, bowing low before him, "put on this armor, and mount this steed.The tournament has begun, and thou wilt be in time to prove thy prowess. I await here thy return."Roswal said he had led his hounds to the forest, intending to hunt a deer; and so the knight offered to hunt in his absence and keep the game for him. How his heart beat with joy and pride when he found himself once more mounted on a noble steed, and clad in knightly armor! Thanking the stranger fervently, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped off.Entering the barriers, Roswal overset all who opposed him, and then, with a tremendous rush, charged at full speed upon the false prince, who was riding up and down with a great show in the presence of his lady. The steward recoiled in terror; but the unknown knight as suddenly checked his horse, turned around, saluted the company with the utmost grace, and vanished, as he had come, like a meteor.The company applauded, and the old King of Bealm cried out that he would give an earldom to find out who was the unknown knight.That evening, while all the palace was ringing with accounts of the brave stranger, Roswal came home from the forest, laden with venison and followed by his hounds.The Princess Lilian called him to her side, and told him of the events of the day. It was evident that she wished to inspire Roswal with a desire to break a lance in her behalf; but he appeared to be indifferent, and she ended in a burst of tears.Next day, when Roswal went again with his hounds to the forest, a second knight, leading a silver-gray war-horse laden with armor, appeared and repeated the kind offer of the day before. Roswal again entered the lists, and found the steward impudently advancing to meet him. Roswal unhorsed half a dozen of the bravest riders, then, with all possible ease, sent the steward to the ground with such a terrible crash, that the miserable impostor lay as if dead for some time. The unknown knight glanced up at the Princess Lilian, and saw a look in her face as if she suspected him. Then, quickly retiring from the ring, Roswal reappeared as before, at evening, with the spoils of the day of hunting. Lilian, who was ready to declare that none other than her handsome young lover could have been the stranger knight, was much perplexed when she found Roswal quietly at home engaged in his usual occupations.On the third day, Roswal was mounted and equippedin a similar manner. He had a bay horse, a red shield, green armor, and a golden helmet. He cast down all of the other competitors, broke two of the steward's ribs, threw a gold ring into the lap of his lady-love, and rode away like a flash. Returning to the wood, he was met by all three of his friends, the knights who had helped him. They revealed themselves, and Roswal found to his delight that they were the three noblemen he had released from his father's dungeon. They told him they were well aware of all he had suffered for their sakes, and were prepared to befriend him still farther.Next day had been fixed upon for the wedding, and all the court was called together in a magnificent hall, to see their king bestow their princess' hand upon the Prince of Naples. Pale and tearful, for she had cried all night, appeared the princess. She was dressed in white satin, with a silver train, carried by ten little pages in blue, and on her head she wore a diadem of immense diamonds. The bridegroom, who had been patched up by the doctors, sat, anything but cheerful, in a golden chair beside the king. Behind a group of court ladies and gentlemen stood Roswal, handsomer than any one present, and looking everyinch a prince, though he wore a plain brown velvet suit, with a gold chain round his neck, the livery of Princess Lilian's household. Suddenly visitors were announced, and in came three richly clad strangers, scattering money among the servants, which made it an easy matter for them to move along.The king received them courteously, for he recognized three noblemen of the kingdom of Naples he had known long before."You will be glad to salute your prince," the king said, when he had greeted them, "and to be present at his nuptials."The noblemen refused to notice the steward, whose knees knocked together with fear, for he saw he was on the brink of exposure. The three strangers looked about them and, espying Roswal, ran up to him, fell on their knees and kissed his hand, hailing him as the true Prince of Naples. The steward, in terror, dropped upon his knees before Roswal and confessed all, drawing from his pocket the casket containing the queen's jewels, which he had been about to present to his bride. Roswal would have dealt gently with the contemptible wretch, but the angry old King of Bealm declared that he and his daughter should not be madesport of, and the offender live to tell it. So the steward was hanged forthwith, and Roswal, owning his love for Lilian, was made happy by promise of her hand—he had already won her heart, as you know.That same day arrived news of the death of the King of Naples, and the recall of Roswal to the throne. He was married to Lilian; and it is certain that no one who had befriended him in his days of poverty was ever forgotten by King Roswal. The good old woman in the forest was enriched, the three noblemen were restored to their estates and fortunes, and Roswal's mother was made happy by a speedy reunion with her son.
THE NINE YOUNG OGRESSESTHE NINE YOUNG OGRESSESHappily for Dimple, who was a tender and sympathetic soul, she knew nothing of the pangs that rent the spirit of her ancient foe. Our hero and heroine had been set down by the obliging fairy-bird at some little distance from their native village. There, after giving her their thanks, they at once offered to set their captive free without conditions. The fairy-bird, overjoyed at her good fortune, insisted upon singing for them a whole day, and a pile of precious gems then lay heaped at Dimple's feet, far surpassing in value those in the king's own treasury. Dimple and Jim were now rolling in wealth and, being also in possession of the magic salve which cures all maladies, felt reasonably secure of a prosperous future. Bidding the fairy good-by, they proceeded on foot toward the neighboring town, carrying their treasures in some old potato sacks begged from a roadside hut.Jim sold a few of the stones, and with the proceeds purchased magnificent garments for Dimple and himself;then, hiring a train of servants to attend them, the two travellers returned to their own village, seated upon cushions of pale blue velvet in a crystal chariot drawn by six milk-white horses, with gold and silver harness.At the approach of this splendid procession, all the people of the neighborhood came flocking from their houses to see the grand prince and princess, who had done them so much honor. To their astonishment,the chariot stopped directly in front of the miller's cottage, and out sprang the beautiful princess, trailing her silks and satins along the garden path, and, with a scream of delight, throwing her fair arms around the poor old dusty miller, who sat mournfully upon his deserted door-stone, rapt in thought. In a voice that all recognized, Dimple cried:"Father, don't you know me? I am your loving child."Next to be astonished was Jim's mother, a lone widow, who sat at her spinning-wheel as usual, thinking of the boy she had lost so many months before. When Jim appeared before her in all his bravery, the poor old thing nearly went into hysterics of delight—she had not hesitated for one moment in recognizing the face that had never left her thoughts.Directly afterward, all the villagers were requested to proceed in a body to the church, where a splendid wedding was held. Everyone agreed that Dimple made the prettiest bride that had ever stepped from the old church porch, and no one could dispute the fact that Jim was the proudest of bridegrooms.The newly married pair built a superb palace in a park near their native village, and also two smallerpalaces for Jim's mother and Dimple's father. A large share of their wealth was spent in beautifying the homes of their friends; and, in time, the hamlet came to be known as the "Happy Valley," so prosperous and fertile had it grown. No sickness came near these fortunate villagers; and none of them ever died—thanks to the free use made by Dimple of her inexhaustible ointment.At last reports, neither Jim nor Dimple had confided to anyone the true story of their life in the giant's castle. When people expressed curiosity as to the source of such wonderful wealth, Jim always roguishly said that Dimple had made it all by good cooking. This report, getting abroad, had the effect of inducing the girls of that country, far and wide, to go into their kitchens and learn all they could of the most useful of arts; which, perhaps, had as much as Dimple's magic salve to do with the health and contentment of the inhabitants of Happy Valley!MISS PEGGY AND THE FROG.(An old nursery tale told from memory.)OONCEthere lived a widow, whose only child was a pretty girl named Peggy. Peggy loved to play by the water-side with her young companions, and one day a large frog hopped out of the water and sat gazing at her with a loving smile."What a queer frog!" cried Peggy."Iama queer frog," he remarked, to her surprise. "Go back, Miss Peggy, and tell your mother that I want to marry you."Peggy ran to fetch her mother to see the talking frog. When the mother came, the frog dived downinto the water and brought up in his mouth a rich gold chain and a jewelled ring."This will I give the mother, and much beside," he said, laying the chain at the mother's feet; "and this ring with many like it is for my bride, if Peggy will marry me.""Say yes, Peggy," whispered the mother, who was a covetous woman. "Of course you can't marry a frog, but you may get the gold and jewels all the same."Peggy burst out crying, but her mother nudged and poked her in the side till she said "yes," in a very sobbing voice.The frog bowed politely, laid the gold chain and the ring at their feet, dived down, and immediately brought up gold cups and silver dishes, with many rare jewels set into them. Peggy's mother gasped for joy as he heaped all these riches on the grassy bank. She ran up to the house, and found a basket which would hold them. While she was gone, the frog said nothing, but stood looking at Peggy and sighing from time to time. Peggy sat under a tree, and cried and sobbed. At last the frog spoke:"Don't forget your bridegroom, Miss Peggy. Thisday year I shall come to fetch you," and he hopped into the water with a splash.Peggy's mother sold one of the cups for a large sum of money, and furnished their house all new. She bought gay clothes for herself and Peggy, and went to church quite regularly, since she had so much finery to show. Peggy forgot all about her promise to the frog, and the year passed by rapidly.On the appointed day, however, the widow and Peggy were sitting at the table when they heard a knock at the door. They peeped out, and saw, to their dismay, the frog, dressed in a green and gold suit, and carrying a jewelled sword. Peggy gave a scream, and ran and hid in the cupboard, while the mother tripped to the door, and bade her strange guest good morning."I am sorry, but Peggy is from home to-day," she said."Oh! never mind. I will come in and wait awhile," answered the frog; and in he hopped cheerfully, and took a seat at the table. Peggy's mother was too angry to offer him food, but the frog helped himself and ate out of Peggy's plate. He stayed and he stayed, and all the time Peggy crouched in the cupboard, cramped and hungry. He stayed till night came; and at last poorPeggy, falling asleep, burst open the cupboard door, and tumbled out upon the floor.The frog ran to pick her up, before her mother could get there."You are a little late, my dear," he said politely. "But I can see very well in the dark, so we may set out at once, for my palace in the pond."In vain did the widow beg and plead. The frog would not give Peggy up, until the poor girl herself went down on her knees and implored him to let her off for another year. At length he promised to go, if she would be ready to marry him that day year. Peggy said "yes," and off went her suitor, after having laid a purse of gold in the widow's lap."It might have been worse, Peggy, so cheer up," said the woman, clapping the purse in her pocket. "A year is a long time, and perhaps he will forget you."Vain hope! That day year, Peggy was spinning beside her mother, when the frog knocked at the door. This time, he was dressed in blue and silver, and his hat had a waving plume; but he looked more hideous than before.Peggy gave a jump, and ran up the garret stairs, and thence out upon the roof of the cottage, whereshe clung to the chimney in despair. The mother opened the door, and said she was sorry Peggy was from home. The frog replied that he did not mind, but would wait for Miss Peggy to return.He sat in Peggy's chair; and this time he would not eat, but only sighed and sighed. Presently it began to rain and hail, and thunder and lighten dreadfully; and poor Peggy on the roof was frightened out of her life. She crept into the chimney, and soon a greatclap of thunder sent her flying down into the room where her frog-lover sat."You have an odd way of coming into the house, my dear," the frog said; "but I don't mind, if you are ready to go now. It rains hard, but I am used to water, and you must become so; so come along."He offered her his arm, but Peggy cried and implored to be let off. She went down on her knees to him, and at last he went away, giving her another purse and another year of freedom.Next year, the widow and Peggy barred and double-locked their doors. The frog appeared, dressed in white and gold, but it was of no use for him to knock and call. No answer came, and he went off sadly. Peggy and her mother rejoiced at getting rid of the persistent suitor, and sat down to supper merrily, without, however, unlocking their door.Presently, they heard a noise, and looking out saw a great army of frogs coming up the hill, The frogs formed themselves into a column and, aiming for the window, jumped through the glass, and landed on the floor. They seized Peggy, and very gently carried her out of the door and down the hill. Peggy fainted, and knew nothing till they stopped on the edge of the pond.The widow came running down the hill just in time to see the frogs plunge into the water with her child.Peggy sank—down, down—until she reached a beautiful grotto, where, on a throne of coral and shells, sat her frog-lover. He looked at her reproachfully, and said:"If you had not three times deceived me, Peggy, I should not have carried you off in this way. Now that you are here, try to be resigned to me, and say that you will be my wife.""Never, never," screamed Peggy; "you are so horrible to look at with your goggle eyes."The goggle eyes filled with tears as Peggy spoke, and the frog shook his head mournfully."I see that it is of no use," he said sorrowfully, and ordered Peggy to be taken to a beautiful sea-garden, where she lived and amused herself for a long time, gradually forgetting all about her home on land. Every evening the frog came and talked to Peggy through a wall of white coral; and in time, she grew so fond of listening to his voice, that if he was a minute late she would cry for him to come.Once when it was rather dark, the frog asked Peggy if she could bear to look at him again. Peggy saidyes, and he appeared before her. Somehow he did not seem so ugly as before, and when, in a trembling voice, he invited her to sit upon his knee, she at once did so. Instantly his leg broke with a loud snap; and, as poor Peggy sprang to her feet in great remorse, she beheld, instead of her frog suitor, a beautiful young prince, holding out his arms to her!The prince told her he had been bewitched by a frog godmother, who condemned him to remain in that horrid shape until a young girl could be found who would either consent to marry him or sit upon his knee. Peggy was very glad to have such an ending of her adventure. So they were married at once, and were then very happy. When they went back for a wedding visit to Peggy's mother, they found she had taken all the gold and silver and moved away to a distant country; and they never saw the wicked woman more.THE LEPERHAUN:A Legend of the Emerald Isle.OONCEupon a time, by the glimmer of the nursery-fire, a little girl sat listening to the tales told by her buxom Irish nurse. The details of most of these—notably of one very thrilling legend of the Banshee, who has ever since seemed to float upon the wind that blows after nightfall—have passed from memory; but the good old story of Molly Jones and the Leperhaun remains, and, as best I can, I reproduce it here.In a comfortable farm-house upon the outskirts of a small village in Ireland, lived a farmer with his six sons. He was a prosperous man, and, besides having better cows, pigs, and potatoes than any other man in the county, was said to keep a tidy bit of money laid away in bank. Only one maid-servant did the work of thehouse, and she had lived there for many a year. At last she died, and the farmer looked about him for a girl to take her place. The wages were high, and a strapping lass named Mary Jones made up her mind that she was the right person for the situation. The farmer liked her looks, and engaged her on the spot."Now, Molly, lass," said the master, when he had finished taking her around the house, and showing her how neat and convenient everything was; "you see what you've got to do, and that's the end of it. Nobody in this house, who works well, has ever cause to want for encouragement, forthere's hands to help them that aren't too curious! The main thing you'd better guard against is takin' notes and askin' questions."Molly protested that she was innocent of the inheritance of Mother Eve; and the farmer went on with his directions."On the first night of every month the family goes early to bed, and it will be your business to see that the hearth is well swept, and fresh turf laid upon the fire, and to collect around it all the worn or broken shoes about the house. The last thing before you leave the room, be sure to set before the fire a nice bowl of mealy potatoes bursting from their jackets, a couple of herringsbroiled to a turn, and a jug of sweet buttermilk—and, whatever you do, never forget the salt!"Molly, though burning with curiosity, courtesied, and said nothing. All went well till the first night of the coming month. "When the family was retiring, the farmer whispered:"Remember, Molly! Be abed and asleep before the clock strikes twelve; anddon't forget the salt."Molly tidied her kitchen, swept the hearth, arranged around it all the worn and broken shoes in the house, her own Sunday pair included; and, after setting a nice little meal, covered with a white cloth, near the fire, wound up the clock and went to bed. Next morning what was her surprise to find not only all the boots and shoes neatly mended, but the empty jug and platter washed and restored to their places, while a beautiful fire was blazing merrily! She dared not ask any questions of the farmer or his sons, and no one appeared in the least surprised by what had occurred. That month her work went so easily that Molly thought it child's play. Her bread was baked brown and light, her potatoes were a triumph, her churning was done sooner than anybody's in the place, and her linen was hung out to dry by sunrise on Monday mornings. Fora month or two Molly never failed to set her kitchen in order, as before, for the mysterious guest. But one night she was in a hurry, and forgot the salt. Next morning the boots were mended, but the fire was scattered on the hearth, ashes lay all about her neat kitchen, and the dishes were left unwashed. This excited Molly's curiosity anew and, when the next time came, she did everything as usual, but, instead of goingto bed, hid behind the kitchen clock. Punctually as the clock struck twelve, out popped from behind a big stone in the chimney-place a queer little dwarf dressed all in red. Apparently he suspected something, for he sniffed and peered into the darkness of the kitchen. Molly held her breath through fear, and the dwarf proceeded to blow up the fire and warm himself before sitting down to supper. Then, uncovering his cup and platter, and finding that all was to his taste, he smacked his lips, and made an excellent repast. When it was over, he whipped out of his bag some shoemaker's tools, and went to work to patch and mend the shoes, with twinkling fingers. In an hour's time all was finished and, after putting the room to rights, the dwarf took his leave.Molly told nobody that she had seen the veritable Leperhaun, the famous shoemaking fairy; but the next month she happened to be in an ill humor and hungry; so, without stopping to think of the consequences, she ate his supper herself—leaving upon the platter only a heap of potato-skins and the bones of the well-picked herrings.That night, while all the world was asleep, in came the Leperhaun and, finding the trick that had been played on him, flew into a terrible rage, scattered theboots and shoes over the floor, broke the crockery and, seizing a broom, swept all the ashes out upon the kitchen floor. Molly, who was watching, ran up to the garret and, jumping into bed, pulled the clothes over her head in a cold perspiration with terror. But hark! on the steps outside came the pit-pat of little feet. In rushed the offended house-fairy. He seized Molly by the hair of her head, and dragged her down the stairs, and over the flags of the yard, saying,"Molly Jones! Molly Jones!Potato-skins and herring-bones!I'll break your bones upon the stones,Molly Jones, oh! Molly Jones!"In vain Molly cried for mercy. The farmer and his sons were fast asleep, and not a soul heard her. All night long the Leperhaun dragged her about; and when the cock crowed he vanished, leaving her bruised and sore upon the threshold of the door. More dead than alive, Molly crawled up to her bed, where she lay black and blue for many a day.The farmer, suspecting what lesson had been taught her, said nothing; and we may be sure that, when the next time came for the visit of the Leperhaun, the little red dwarf had no fault to find with Molly.ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES[The stories here following are, it is hoped, so rendered, from metrical romances of the Middle Ages, as to be adapted to the taste and understanding of youthful readers.]THE TRIALS OF SIR ISUMBRAS.(From Ellis' Abridgment of the MS. in Caius College.)OONCEupon a time there lived a knight so handsome, so rich, and so valiant that all eyes were turned upon him. His name was Isumbras, and fortune had given him everything that the heart of man could wish for. He had a splendid castle, surrounded by vast forests, where every day he went hunting or hawking; and so generous he was with his wealth that the poor flocked to him from every quarter and never went away empty-handed.Sir Isumbras had a beautiful wife and three lovelysons to share the blessings of his lot; but one thing he had not, and that was an humble spirit. He forgot to own the Giver of good things, and took it as a matter of course that his life should flow on in ease and luxury.One day when mounted on his favorite steed, surrounded by his dogs, and having his hawk on fist, Sir Isumbras cast up his eyes to the sky, and there saw an angel, who reproached him with his pride, announcing that Heaven had in store for him a speedy punishment.Sir Isumbras fell to his knees in prayer; but hardly had the angel vanished from his sight when, on remounting his horse, the noble creature fell dead beneath him; the hawk dropped lifeless from his fist; and the faithful hounds expired in agonies at his feet. Hastening on foot to his castle, he was met by a servant, who informed him his horses and oxen had been suddenly struck dead by lightning, and that his fowls had all been stung to death by adders. Next came forward a page, who told him the castle was burned to the ground, many of his servants had perished, and that his wife and children had taken refuge, half naked, in a thorn-bush close at hand. Sir Isumbras hastened to the aid of his beloved family, stripping himself of his scarlet mantle and his surcoat to clothethem. He embraced them fondly, and thanked heaven that, though all the rest of his treasures were taken, these remained. He then proposed to his wife that, as a sign of repentance for their sins, they should all go on foot to the holy city, Jerusalem, begging their bread from land to land. He cut with his knife upon his bare shoulder the pilgrim's sign of the cross, and then the afflicted family set forth on their travels.Long they journeyed, eating crusts when they couldbeg them, or berries from wayside bushes, until, faint and weary, they reached a broad but shallow stream. Taking his eldest son in his arms, Sir Isumbras bore him across the river, and placed him beneath a bush of broom-plant, bidding him play with the blossoms until his father's return. Scarcely had the knight left his son, when an enormous lion burst from a neighboring thicket and bore away the child. In like manner the second son became the prey of a fierce leopard; and the poor mother, who saw them so cruelly torn from her sight, fainted away, with her baby on her breast. Sir Isumbras bowed to the will of God; and when his wife revived they journeyed on to the shore of the Greek sea. Here they stood, and, through eyes that were full of tears, saw a great fleet of three hundred ships coming toward them. This was the navy of a famous heathen king, and no sooner had he landed than the travellers, who had not touched bread or meat for seven days, hastened to implore his charity. The king soon observed the robust limbs and tall stature of the husband; and perceived he was a knight in disguise, and that the wife, whose beauty was as "bright as blossoms upon tree," was, in spite of her ragged clothes, a lady of high degree. So, affecting to treat the poorcouple with respect, he offered them gold and treasure if the knight would renounce Christianity and consent to fight under the Saracen banners. This offer was at once declined, and the angry king made up his mind to revenge himself by carrying away the knight's wife. So, upon an order to the attendants, a purse of gold was pressed into the knight's hand, his infant son was put into his arms, he was hurried ashore, cruelly beaten by the king's servants, and, when he recovered himself, saw a heathen ship, with his wife on board, set sail for Africa.Sir Isumbras clasped his only remaining treasure to his heart, and followed the vessel with his eyes until it vanished from sight. Night found him still there, until father and babe fell asleep upon the bare ground, too weary to keep awake. Sir Isumbras had laid the fatal present of the heathen king, the purse of gold, in the scarlet mantle which he wrapped around his child. Scarcely had the next day's sun risen upon the earth, when an eagle, attracted by the red cloth, darted down, carrying off mantle, child, and purse in his talons.The poor knight was at last in utter despair. He fell on his knees, and offered what remained of his life to the God he had offended. Just then he heard thenoise of a blacksmith's forge, and saw, not far off, some men at work. They took pity on him and fed him. He entered their service, and bound himself for seven long years to learn their trade. During this time he forged a complete suit of armor for himself, being determined at the first opportunity to take up arms against the Saracens, whose king had not only done him such a cruel wrong, but was oppressing God's people.At length his opportunity came. The Christian army was to fight the Saracens on a field not far from the forge. Sir Isumbras buckled on his awkward armor and, mounting a horse that had been used by the smith to carry coals, proceeded to the field of battle.His heart beat with wild joy when he saw the foe before him. Uttering a fervent prayer, he dashed into the thick of the combat, attracting all eyes at first by his sorry steed and rough armor, and again by the splendid skill and courage of his charge. Early in the action his horse was killed under him, and the Christian chiefs made haste to present him another one, also a suit of armor more worthy of the heroic soldier he had proved himself to be. All that day the battle raged.By nightfall Sir Isumbras, single-handed, had killedthe heathen king and many of his followers. But he was himself sorely wounded, and when brought for reward before the Christian king, and asked his name, could hardly falter out, "I am a smith's man, sire." The king swore a great oath to make a knight of this valiant "smith's man"; and, with all honor and tenderness, Sir Isumbras was carried into a nunnery, where the good sisters nursed him until he recovered from his many wounds.Sir Isumbras was not satisfied to remain quiet long, though he had slain the heathen king. He went to the Holy Land, and for seven years wandered about a pilgrim, as before, sleeping upon the ground by night, and vainly seeking tidings of his wife by day. Once, during this time, when he was starving upon the banks of a stream, there appeared to him a cheering visitor.And as he sat, about midnight,There came angel fair and bright,And brought him bread and wine.He said, "Palmer, well thou be!The King of Heaven greeteth well thee;Forgiven is sin thine."Very soon after this miraculous event Sir Isumbras found his wife, who had dwelt, holy and charitable, in asecluded castle, where she had been shut up by the Saracen king. She welcomed him with rapture, and together they shed many tears over their lost children. They lived together for some years, until Sir Isumbras was again summoned to do battle with the Saracens, who had determined at all cost to kill him. The fight was again hot and long, and just when Sir Isumbras was about to be overpowered by numbers of the enemy, three new champions appeared in the field, declaring themselves on the side of the Christians. These were three splendid knights, the first mounted upon a lion, the second upon a leopard, and the third upon an eagle. The Saracen cavalry, terror-stricken at sight of them, dispersed in all directions. But flight was in vain; three and twenty thousand unbelievers were soon laid dead upon the plain by the lion, leopard, and eagle, fighting with tireless fury, and driving all before them, until the entire heathen army was utterly put to rout. Then, coming back to Sir Isumbras, the three champions knelt before him, announcing themselves his long lost sons, mercifully protected and befriended by the savage creatures by whom they had been carried off. Sir Isumbras embraced his valiant sons, and led them to their mother. The Christian king enrichedthe entire family, restoring them to their former rank. And now wealth, titles, honors, and all that he had lost, came back to Sir Isumbras, and the remainder of his days was spent in blessed peace."They lived and died in good intent;Unto heaven their souls went,When that they dead were.Jesu Christ, heaven's king,Give us, aye, his blessing,And shield us from care!"BISCLAVERET.(From one of Marie's Lays.)OONCEupon a time there lived in Brittany a baron who was handsome, wise, courteous, and brave. Although admired and beloved by his neighbors, he remained single until late in life, when he fell desperately in love with a young lady, who did not hesitate long in accepting the offer of so distinguished a suitor for her hand. They were married, and the bride returned from her honeymoon to take up her abode in her husband's fine castle.For a little while all went well, until the lady discovered that her husband was regularly absent from home during three days of every week. Overwhelmed with curiosity to know where he went, and how he was occupied during this time, she used every means in her power to coax the secret from him."Do not ask me," said her kind lord; "rest assured that I have good reasons for my conduct. If you know what takes me from you, it will only be to hate and scorn your husband, and to ruin the happiness of our life."The lady persisted, going from coaxings to prayers and tears. At last the poor baron gave way, and confided to her that, owing to a cruel spell cast on him at birth, he was during half the week a Bisclaveret, or Man-Wolf, taking on the body of a wolf, but keeping his own feelings and intelligence as a man. Upon hearing this dreadful story, the lady fainted away. Henceforth, although her husband was more loving than ever, she was filled with horror and loathing of him; and soon she secretly resolved to destroy the monster and enjoy his wealth.By watching his movements she ascertained that when the baron became a wolf he left his clothing in a deserted chapel on the edge of a certain wood; and she formed a plan to seize and hide the garments. So long as the Bisclaveret was without his man's clothes, he was condemned to remain a brute.Accordingly, when, after his melancholy ramble through the woods, the Bisclaveret went one night toresume his clothes, they were gone; and, in agony of spirit, he knew that he was betrayed by his wife. He took himself off to the forest, and was there lost to human sight.Meanwhile the wicked wife, announcing that her husband had died while on a journey to some foreign land, enjoyed his wealth and his castle. A year later,the king went hunting in the forest, and, after a stout chase, had nearly run down the unhappy Bisclaveret, when that persecuted beast, bounding from his thicket, fawned upon the king's feet, shedding real tears and uttering almost human cries for mercy. The king, struck with compassion, ordered his dogs to be whipped off, and had the strange animal conveyed with care to his palace. Bisclaveret soon became the royal favorite. He slept on a couch of soft furs, ate from a golden dish, and returned with gratitude the caresses of all who noticed him.His gentleness and sagacity won for the man-wolf the right to roam wherever he desired to go, unchained. One day the king gave a splendid entertainment, towhich were invited all the lords and ladies of the land. Among them, dressed in silks and satins, and sparkling with jewels, came the false wife. No sooner did Bisclaveret espy her chatting with the king's guests, than, to the surprise of all present, the usually mild creature rose up, growling horribly and, springing upon the lady, bit off her nose. Bisclaveret was seized, and would have been speedily killed, but that he again fawned upon the king's feet, moaning and weeping as though he longed to speak. The king ordered him to be put into a cage, and consulted with the oldest and wisest man in his kingdom, as to what could be the meaning of the wolf's sudden fury toward this lady."Brittany is a land of wonders, sire," said the aged man. "The lady who was attacked is as well known for a bad name as your favorite animal is for a good one. Who knows what became of her late husband, the baron? Perhaps this poor brute was beloved by that gentleman, and has some secret wrong to avenge. At any rate, you should at once shut the lady in prison until she is made to tell allsheknows about the matter. Mayhap it is more than we suspect."The king followed his counsellor's advice; and, when the lady found herself likely to be kept a prisoner, shepreferred speech to silence. With tears of professed penitence, she confessed all, and the king lost no time in sending for the clothes of the late baron, and placing them in the cage of Bisclaveret. At first the animal seemed indifferent, and surveyed them listlessly. "Leave him to himself, sire," said the wise man. "Above all, set him at liberty in a chamber suitable to his rank. Then we shall see a wonderful change, I promise you."This was done, and in the morning the king ran impatiently to the chamber of Bisclaveret. There, on the bed, dressed in his clothes and sleeping sweetly, lay the baron. When his royal master entered, the sleeper woke and, bending his knee before his sovereign, poured forth his joy and gratitude.As for the wicked wife, her estates were taken from her and restored to her husband, while she herself was sent into perpetual banishment. Most people would think she had been sufficiently punished by the loss of her nose, which never grew again!ROSWAL AND LILIAN.(From a Scottish Romance of the XVIth Century.)TTHERElived once, at Naples, a king and queen whose only son, Roswal, was a paragon of beauty and of valor. The boy, who was as generous as the day was long, did not at all resemble his father, for the king was harsh and cruel, and slow to forgive his enemies.In the prison of the king's palace were confined three noblemen, who, having been suspected of plotting against the crown, were doomed to be imprisoned for life, and had the most cruel treatment lavished upon them every day. Roswal could not bear to hear their groans and sighs arising from the dungeon, and one day conceived the bold project of taking the prison keys from under the king's pillow while he slept, andsetting the three poor sufferers at liberty. This was done, and Roswal restored the keys to their place without having been detected.When it was found that the prisoners had escaped, the king grew furiously angry. In vain the head jailor and his assistants declared their innocence in the matter. Their lives would have been instantly sacrificed to the king's wrath, had not Roswal boldly come forward and confessed that he alone had freed the prisoners.At first, the king vowed that Roswal should die for having defied him; but the prayers of the queen, and perhaps the cool bravery of his son in confronting him, moved him to relent. He decided to change Roswal's sentence to banishment for life to a distant court, where he was to be placed at the service of the King of Bealm, with recommendation to make a soldier of the lad, henceforth a stranger to his home.Roswal set out on his journey to the court of Bealm, attended only by the high-steward, an envious and ambitious man, who hated the prince and would gladly have done him evil.The king, at parting with his son, had given him a letter of introduction to the King of Bealm; andthe fond mother had come secretly to press all the gold and jewels she had, a fortune in themselves, upon her beloved Roswal. Except for parting with his mother, Roswal did not feel very sorry to set out thus from home. He longed to see what marvels the wide world contained, and the memory of the three brave men he had loosed from their vile bondage cheered him in spite of his father's anger.The high-steward was full of projects of his own; and one night, when they had stopped to rest by the side of a rushing torrent, and Roswal had plunged into the crystal stream, as he loved to do, the wicked steward seized him unawares, held him under water till he was half strangled, and spared his life only on condition that Roswal would pledge himself to give up all the money and jewels, his letter, his horse and sword, and furthermore swear never to reveal the affair to mortal man or woman. Roswal, seeing that he could not help himself, submitted, and the false steward, laughing maliciously, put spurs to his horse, leading Roswal's steed behind him, and soon disappeared from view with all the treasures.Roswal found himself alone at nightfall in the forest, as hungry as a hawk, and very much at a loss where tofind food and shelter. He wandered along till he saw a little brown hut, under the branches of a wide-spreading oak-tree. Here, in the door, sat an old woman knitting, and Roswal's youth and beauty soon won his way into her affections. She led him into her house, gave him a good meal of brown bread, eggs, honey and milk, and a bed of clean straw. Roswal slept as sweetly as ever he had done on his golden bedstead and his pillow of down at home. Next day, he offered to work for the old woman, and set to cutting up wood and binding fagots cheerfully. For several months he lived thus, until the chamberlain of the King of Bealm chanced to pass that way. Taking a fancy to the handsome youth, he carried him off to court, where Roswal was appointed cup-bearer to the king's lovely daughter. His duties were light, and the princess was kind; so Roswal had little to complain of, until one day he heard it announced that Prince Roswal, of Naples, was about to wait upon the King of Bealm and demand his daughter's hand in marriage.Roswal pricked up his ears at this, and immediately suspected the supposed Prince of Naples to be none other than his late travelling companion, the wicked steward; though, when he heard the princess say to hermaidens that this Prince Roswal was remarkably pushing, considering that he had only recently presented a letter of introduction to them, and that, for her part,she could not see what her papa found to fancy in the young man, Roswal rejoiced. He was delighted to find that the princess did not care for the impostor. Then he remembered his oath, never to reveal what the steward had done to him, and his spirits fell again.In a day or two, the King of Bealm announced to his daughter that he had accepted the offer of the King of Naples' son, and that preparations for their marriage would immediately begin. The princess was very unhappy, for she had taken a great dislike to the pretended prince. Roswal met his late servant face to face at one of the bridal feasts, and the eyes of the steward fell before his scornful gaze. But he knew that he was safe in trusting Roswal's honor not to tellthe secret, and so carried on his impudent pretence.A tournament, lasting three days, was announced in honor of the wedding, which was soon to come off. Roswal found the Princess Lilian in tears about that time and, while endeavoring to console her, let her know, without intending it, that he, too, had fallen in love with her. This made the pretty princess so happy, that she confessed to Roswal she had loved him secretly ever since he was chosen to be her cup-bearer. She was sure he was of noble birth from his manners and appearance; and she urged him to admit that he was as worthy of her rank as of her love.Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.Roswal was never so sorely tempted to reveal himself! He restrained the impulse to confess by a strong effort, and, alone and melancholy, wandered out into the forest—longing for an opportunity to enter the lists of the tournament and prove his knightly skill before the king and princess; and while he sat musing thus, there approached him a knight leading a magnificent white war-horse, on whose saddle was suspended a suit of splendid armor."Prince," said the strange knight, bowing low before him, "put on this armor, and mount this steed.The tournament has begun, and thou wilt be in time to prove thy prowess. I await here thy return."Roswal said he had led his hounds to the forest, intending to hunt a deer; and so the knight offered to hunt in his absence and keep the game for him. How his heart beat with joy and pride when he found himself once more mounted on a noble steed, and clad in knightly armor! Thanking the stranger fervently, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped off.Entering the barriers, Roswal overset all who opposed him, and then, with a tremendous rush, charged at full speed upon the false prince, who was riding up and down with a great show in the presence of his lady. The steward recoiled in terror; but the unknown knight as suddenly checked his horse, turned around, saluted the company with the utmost grace, and vanished, as he had come, like a meteor.The company applauded, and the old King of Bealm cried out that he would give an earldom to find out who was the unknown knight.That evening, while all the palace was ringing with accounts of the brave stranger, Roswal came home from the forest, laden with venison and followed by his hounds.The Princess Lilian called him to her side, and told him of the events of the day. It was evident that she wished to inspire Roswal with a desire to break a lance in her behalf; but he appeared to be indifferent, and she ended in a burst of tears.Next day, when Roswal went again with his hounds to the forest, a second knight, leading a silver-gray war-horse laden with armor, appeared and repeated the kind offer of the day before. Roswal again entered the lists, and found the steward impudently advancing to meet him. Roswal unhorsed half a dozen of the bravest riders, then, with all possible ease, sent the steward to the ground with such a terrible crash, that the miserable impostor lay as if dead for some time. The unknown knight glanced up at the Princess Lilian, and saw a look in her face as if she suspected him. Then, quickly retiring from the ring, Roswal reappeared as before, at evening, with the spoils of the day of hunting. Lilian, who was ready to declare that none other than her handsome young lover could have been the stranger knight, was much perplexed when she found Roswal quietly at home engaged in his usual occupations.On the third day, Roswal was mounted and equippedin a similar manner. He had a bay horse, a red shield, green armor, and a golden helmet. He cast down all of the other competitors, broke two of the steward's ribs, threw a gold ring into the lap of his lady-love, and rode away like a flash. Returning to the wood, he was met by all three of his friends, the knights who had helped him. They revealed themselves, and Roswal found to his delight that they were the three noblemen he had released from his father's dungeon. They told him they were well aware of all he had suffered for their sakes, and were prepared to befriend him still farther.Next day had been fixed upon for the wedding, and all the court was called together in a magnificent hall, to see their king bestow their princess' hand upon the Prince of Naples. Pale and tearful, for she had cried all night, appeared the princess. She was dressed in white satin, with a silver train, carried by ten little pages in blue, and on her head she wore a diadem of immense diamonds. The bridegroom, who had been patched up by the doctors, sat, anything but cheerful, in a golden chair beside the king. Behind a group of court ladies and gentlemen stood Roswal, handsomer than any one present, and looking everyinch a prince, though he wore a plain brown velvet suit, with a gold chain round his neck, the livery of Princess Lilian's household. Suddenly visitors were announced, and in came three richly clad strangers, scattering money among the servants, which made it an easy matter for them to move along.The king received them courteously, for he recognized three noblemen of the kingdom of Naples he had known long before."You will be glad to salute your prince," the king said, when he had greeted them, "and to be present at his nuptials."The noblemen refused to notice the steward, whose knees knocked together with fear, for he saw he was on the brink of exposure. The three strangers looked about them and, espying Roswal, ran up to him, fell on their knees and kissed his hand, hailing him as the true Prince of Naples. The steward, in terror, dropped upon his knees before Roswal and confessed all, drawing from his pocket the casket containing the queen's jewels, which he had been about to present to his bride. Roswal would have dealt gently with the contemptible wretch, but the angry old King of Bealm declared that he and his daughter should not be madesport of, and the offender live to tell it. So the steward was hanged forthwith, and Roswal, owning his love for Lilian, was made happy by promise of her hand—he had already won her heart, as you know.That same day arrived news of the death of the King of Naples, and the recall of Roswal to the throne. He was married to Lilian; and it is certain that no one who had befriended him in his days of poverty was ever forgotten by King Roswal. The good old woman in the forest was enriched, the three noblemen were restored to their estates and fortunes, and Roswal's mother was made happy by a speedy reunion with her son.
THE NINE YOUNG OGRESSESTHE NINE YOUNG OGRESSES
THE NINE YOUNG OGRESSES
Happily for Dimple, who was a tender and sympathetic soul, she knew nothing of the pangs that rent the spirit of her ancient foe. Our hero and heroine had been set down by the obliging fairy-bird at some little distance from their native village. There, after giving her their thanks, they at once offered to set their captive free without conditions. The fairy-bird, overjoyed at her good fortune, insisted upon singing for them a whole day, and a pile of precious gems then lay heaped at Dimple's feet, far surpassing in value those in the king's own treasury. Dimple and Jim were now rolling in wealth and, being also in possession of the magic salve which cures all maladies, felt reasonably secure of a prosperous future. Bidding the fairy good-by, they proceeded on foot toward the neighboring town, carrying their treasures in some old potato sacks begged from a roadside hut.
Jim sold a few of the stones, and with the proceeds purchased magnificent garments for Dimple and himself;then, hiring a train of servants to attend them, the two travellers returned to their own village, seated upon cushions of pale blue velvet in a crystal chariot drawn by six milk-white horses, with gold and silver harness.
At the approach of this splendid procession, all the people of the neighborhood came flocking from their houses to see the grand prince and princess, who had done them so much honor. To their astonishment,the chariot stopped directly in front of the miller's cottage, and out sprang the beautiful princess, trailing her silks and satins along the garden path, and, with a scream of delight, throwing her fair arms around the poor old dusty miller, who sat mournfully upon his deserted door-stone, rapt in thought. In a voice that all recognized, Dimple cried:
"Father, don't you know me? I am your loving child."
Next to be astonished was Jim's mother, a lone widow, who sat at her spinning-wheel as usual, thinking of the boy she had lost so many months before. When Jim appeared before her in all his bravery, the poor old thing nearly went into hysterics of delight—she had not hesitated for one moment in recognizing the face that had never left her thoughts.
Directly afterward, all the villagers were requested to proceed in a body to the church, where a splendid wedding was held. Everyone agreed that Dimple made the prettiest bride that had ever stepped from the old church porch, and no one could dispute the fact that Jim was the proudest of bridegrooms.
The newly married pair built a superb palace in a park near their native village, and also two smallerpalaces for Jim's mother and Dimple's father. A large share of their wealth was spent in beautifying the homes of their friends; and, in time, the hamlet came to be known as the "Happy Valley," so prosperous and fertile had it grown. No sickness came near these fortunate villagers; and none of them ever died—thanks to the free use made by Dimple of her inexhaustible ointment.
At last reports, neither Jim nor Dimple had confided to anyone the true story of their life in the giant's castle. When people expressed curiosity as to the source of such wonderful wealth, Jim always roguishly said that Dimple had made it all by good cooking. This report, getting abroad, had the effect of inducing the girls of that country, far and wide, to go into their kitchens and learn all they could of the most useful of arts; which, perhaps, had as much as Dimple's magic salve to do with the health and contentment of the inhabitants of Happy Valley!
(An old nursery tale told from memory.)
ONCEthere lived a widow, whose only child was a pretty girl named Peggy. Peggy loved to play by the water-side with her young companions, and one day a large frog hopped out of the water and sat gazing at her with a loving smile.
"What a queer frog!" cried Peggy.
"Iama queer frog," he remarked, to her surprise. "Go back, Miss Peggy, and tell your mother that I want to marry you."
Peggy ran to fetch her mother to see the talking frog. When the mother came, the frog dived downinto the water and brought up in his mouth a rich gold chain and a jewelled ring.
"This will I give the mother, and much beside," he said, laying the chain at the mother's feet; "and this ring with many like it is for my bride, if Peggy will marry me."
"Say yes, Peggy," whispered the mother, who was a covetous woman. "Of course you can't marry a frog, but you may get the gold and jewels all the same."
Peggy burst out crying, but her mother nudged and poked her in the side till she said "yes," in a very sobbing voice.
The frog bowed politely, laid the gold chain and the ring at their feet, dived down, and immediately brought up gold cups and silver dishes, with many rare jewels set into them. Peggy's mother gasped for joy as he heaped all these riches on the grassy bank. She ran up to the house, and found a basket which would hold them. While she was gone, the frog said nothing, but stood looking at Peggy and sighing from time to time. Peggy sat under a tree, and cried and sobbed. At last the frog spoke:
"Don't forget your bridegroom, Miss Peggy. Thisday year I shall come to fetch you," and he hopped into the water with a splash.
Peggy's mother sold one of the cups for a large sum of money, and furnished their house all new. She bought gay clothes for herself and Peggy, and went to church quite regularly, since she had so much finery to show. Peggy forgot all about her promise to the frog, and the year passed by rapidly.
On the appointed day, however, the widow and Peggy were sitting at the table when they heard a knock at the door. They peeped out, and saw, to their dismay, the frog, dressed in a green and gold suit, and carrying a jewelled sword. Peggy gave a scream, and ran and hid in the cupboard, while the mother tripped to the door, and bade her strange guest good morning.
"I am sorry, but Peggy is from home to-day," she said.
"Oh! never mind. I will come in and wait awhile," answered the frog; and in he hopped cheerfully, and took a seat at the table. Peggy's mother was too angry to offer him food, but the frog helped himself and ate out of Peggy's plate. He stayed and he stayed, and all the time Peggy crouched in the cupboard, cramped and hungry. He stayed till night came; and at last poorPeggy, falling asleep, burst open the cupboard door, and tumbled out upon the floor.
The frog ran to pick her up, before her mother could get there.
"You are a little late, my dear," he said politely. "But I can see very well in the dark, so we may set out at once, for my palace in the pond."
In vain did the widow beg and plead. The frog would not give Peggy up, until the poor girl herself went down on her knees and implored him to let her off for another year. At length he promised to go, if she would be ready to marry him that day year. Peggy said "yes," and off went her suitor, after having laid a purse of gold in the widow's lap.
"It might have been worse, Peggy, so cheer up," said the woman, clapping the purse in her pocket. "A year is a long time, and perhaps he will forget you."
Vain hope! That day year, Peggy was spinning beside her mother, when the frog knocked at the door. This time, he was dressed in blue and silver, and his hat had a waving plume; but he looked more hideous than before.
Peggy gave a jump, and ran up the garret stairs, and thence out upon the roof of the cottage, whereshe clung to the chimney in despair. The mother opened the door, and said she was sorry Peggy was from home. The frog replied that he did not mind, but would wait for Miss Peggy to return.
He sat in Peggy's chair; and this time he would not eat, but only sighed and sighed. Presently it began to rain and hail, and thunder and lighten dreadfully; and poor Peggy on the roof was frightened out of her life. She crept into the chimney, and soon a greatclap of thunder sent her flying down into the room where her frog-lover sat.
"You have an odd way of coming into the house, my dear," the frog said; "but I don't mind, if you are ready to go now. It rains hard, but I am used to water, and you must become so; so come along."
He offered her his arm, but Peggy cried and implored to be let off. She went down on her knees to him, and at last he went away, giving her another purse and another year of freedom.
Next year, the widow and Peggy barred and double-locked their doors. The frog appeared, dressed in white and gold, but it was of no use for him to knock and call. No answer came, and he went off sadly. Peggy and her mother rejoiced at getting rid of the persistent suitor, and sat down to supper merrily, without, however, unlocking their door.
Presently, they heard a noise, and looking out saw a great army of frogs coming up the hill, The frogs formed themselves into a column and, aiming for the window, jumped through the glass, and landed on the floor. They seized Peggy, and very gently carried her out of the door and down the hill. Peggy fainted, and knew nothing till they stopped on the edge of the pond.The widow came running down the hill just in time to see the frogs plunge into the water with her child.
Peggy sank—down, down—until she reached a beautiful grotto, where, on a throne of coral and shells, sat her frog-lover. He looked at her reproachfully, and said:
"If you had not three times deceived me, Peggy, I should not have carried you off in this way. Now that you are here, try to be resigned to me, and say that you will be my wife."
"Never, never," screamed Peggy; "you are so horrible to look at with your goggle eyes."
The goggle eyes filled with tears as Peggy spoke, and the frog shook his head mournfully.
"I see that it is of no use," he said sorrowfully, and ordered Peggy to be taken to a beautiful sea-garden, where she lived and amused herself for a long time, gradually forgetting all about her home on land. Every evening the frog came and talked to Peggy through a wall of white coral; and in time, she grew so fond of listening to his voice, that if he was a minute late she would cry for him to come.
Once when it was rather dark, the frog asked Peggy if she could bear to look at him again. Peggy saidyes, and he appeared before her. Somehow he did not seem so ugly as before, and when, in a trembling voice, he invited her to sit upon his knee, she at once did so. Instantly his leg broke with a loud snap; and, as poor Peggy sprang to her feet in great remorse, she beheld, instead of her frog suitor, a beautiful young prince, holding out his arms to her!
The prince told her he had been bewitched by a frog godmother, who condemned him to remain in that horrid shape until a young girl could be found who would either consent to marry him or sit upon his knee. Peggy was very glad to have such an ending of her adventure. So they were married at once, and were then very happy. When they went back for a wedding visit to Peggy's mother, they found she had taken all the gold and silver and moved away to a distant country; and they never saw the wicked woman more.
ONCEupon a time, by the glimmer of the nursery-fire, a little girl sat listening to the tales told by her buxom Irish nurse. The details of most of these—notably of one very thrilling legend of the Banshee, who has ever since seemed to float upon the wind that blows after nightfall—have passed from memory; but the good old story of Molly Jones and the Leperhaun remains, and, as best I can, I reproduce it here.
In a comfortable farm-house upon the outskirts of a small village in Ireland, lived a farmer with his six sons. He was a prosperous man, and, besides having better cows, pigs, and potatoes than any other man in the county, was said to keep a tidy bit of money laid away in bank. Only one maid-servant did the work of thehouse, and she had lived there for many a year. At last she died, and the farmer looked about him for a girl to take her place. The wages were high, and a strapping lass named Mary Jones made up her mind that she was the right person for the situation. The farmer liked her looks, and engaged her on the spot.
"Now, Molly, lass," said the master, when he had finished taking her around the house, and showing her how neat and convenient everything was; "you see what you've got to do, and that's the end of it. Nobody in this house, who works well, has ever cause to want for encouragement, forthere's hands to help them that aren't too curious! The main thing you'd better guard against is takin' notes and askin' questions."
Molly protested that she was innocent of the inheritance of Mother Eve; and the farmer went on with his directions.
"On the first night of every month the family goes early to bed, and it will be your business to see that the hearth is well swept, and fresh turf laid upon the fire, and to collect around it all the worn or broken shoes about the house. The last thing before you leave the room, be sure to set before the fire a nice bowl of mealy potatoes bursting from their jackets, a couple of herringsbroiled to a turn, and a jug of sweet buttermilk—and, whatever you do, never forget the salt!"
Molly, though burning with curiosity, courtesied, and said nothing. All went well till the first night of the coming month. "When the family was retiring, the farmer whispered:
"Remember, Molly! Be abed and asleep before the clock strikes twelve; anddon't forget the salt."
Molly tidied her kitchen, swept the hearth, arranged around it all the worn and broken shoes in the house, her own Sunday pair included; and, after setting a nice little meal, covered with a white cloth, near the fire, wound up the clock and went to bed. Next morning what was her surprise to find not only all the boots and shoes neatly mended, but the empty jug and platter washed and restored to their places, while a beautiful fire was blazing merrily! She dared not ask any questions of the farmer or his sons, and no one appeared in the least surprised by what had occurred. That month her work went so easily that Molly thought it child's play. Her bread was baked brown and light, her potatoes were a triumph, her churning was done sooner than anybody's in the place, and her linen was hung out to dry by sunrise on Monday mornings. Fora month or two Molly never failed to set her kitchen in order, as before, for the mysterious guest. But one night she was in a hurry, and forgot the salt. Next morning the boots were mended, but the fire was scattered on the hearth, ashes lay all about her neat kitchen, and the dishes were left unwashed. This excited Molly's curiosity anew and, when the next time came, she did everything as usual, but, instead of goingto bed, hid behind the kitchen clock. Punctually as the clock struck twelve, out popped from behind a big stone in the chimney-place a queer little dwarf dressed all in red. Apparently he suspected something, for he sniffed and peered into the darkness of the kitchen. Molly held her breath through fear, and the dwarf proceeded to blow up the fire and warm himself before sitting down to supper. Then, uncovering his cup and platter, and finding that all was to his taste, he smacked his lips, and made an excellent repast. When it was over, he whipped out of his bag some shoemaker's tools, and went to work to patch and mend the shoes, with twinkling fingers. In an hour's time all was finished and, after putting the room to rights, the dwarf took his leave.
Molly told nobody that she had seen the veritable Leperhaun, the famous shoemaking fairy; but the next month she happened to be in an ill humor and hungry; so, without stopping to think of the consequences, she ate his supper herself—leaving upon the platter only a heap of potato-skins and the bones of the well-picked herrings.
That night, while all the world was asleep, in came the Leperhaun and, finding the trick that had been played on him, flew into a terrible rage, scattered theboots and shoes over the floor, broke the crockery and, seizing a broom, swept all the ashes out upon the kitchen floor. Molly, who was watching, ran up to the garret and, jumping into bed, pulled the clothes over her head in a cold perspiration with terror. But hark! on the steps outside came the pit-pat of little feet. In rushed the offended house-fairy. He seized Molly by the hair of her head, and dragged her down the stairs, and over the flags of the yard, saying,
"Molly Jones! Molly Jones!Potato-skins and herring-bones!I'll break your bones upon the stones,Molly Jones, oh! Molly Jones!"
"Molly Jones! Molly Jones!Potato-skins and herring-bones!I'll break your bones upon the stones,Molly Jones, oh! Molly Jones!"
In vain Molly cried for mercy. The farmer and his sons were fast asleep, and not a soul heard her. All night long the Leperhaun dragged her about; and when the cock crowed he vanished, leaving her bruised and sore upon the threshold of the door. More dead than alive, Molly crawled up to her bed, where she lay black and blue for many a day.
The farmer, suspecting what lesson had been taught her, said nothing; and we may be sure that, when the next time came for the visit of the Leperhaun, the little red dwarf had no fault to find with Molly.
[The stories here following are, it is hoped, so rendered, from metrical romances of the Middle Ages, as to be adapted to the taste and understanding of youthful readers.]
(From Ellis' Abridgment of the MS. in Caius College.)
ONCEupon a time there lived a knight so handsome, so rich, and so valiant that all eyes were turned upon him. His name was Isumbras, and fortune had given him everything that the heart of man could wish for. He had a splendid castle, surrounded by vast forests, where every day he went hunting or hawking; and so generous he was with his wealth that the poor flocked to him from every quarter and never went away empty-handed.
Sir Isumbras had a beautiful wife and three lovelysons to share the blessings of his lot; but one thing he had not, and that was an humble spirit. He forgot to own the Giver of good things, and took it as a matter of course that his life should flow on in ease and luxury.
One day when mounted on his favorite steed, surrounded by his dogs, and having his hawk on fist, Sir Isumbras cast up his eyes to the sky, and there saw an angel, who reproached him with his pride, announcing that Heaven had in store for him a speedy punishment.
Sir Isumbras fell to his knees in prayer; but hardly had the angel vanished from his sight when, on remounting his horse, the noble creature fell dead beneath him; the hawk dropped lifeless from his fist; and the faithful hounds expired in agonies at his feet. Hastening on foot to his castle, he was met by a servant, who informed him his horses and oxen had been suddenly struck dead by lightning, and that his fowls had all been stung to death by adders. Next came forward a page, who told him the castle was burned to the ground, many of his servants had perished, and that his wife and children had taken refuge, half naked, in a thorn-bush close at hand. Sir Isumbras hastened to the aid of his beloved family, stripping himself of his scarlet mantle and his surcoat to clothethem. He embraced them fondly, and thanked heaven that, though all the rest of his treasures were taken, these remained. He then proposed to his wife that, as a sign of repentance for their sins, they should all go on foot to the holy city, Jerusalem, begging their bread from land to land. He cut with his knife upon his bare shoulder the pilgrim's sign of the cross, and then the afflicted family set forth on their travels.
Long they journeyed, eating crusts when they couldbeg them, or berries from wayside bushes, until, faint and weary, they reached a broad but shallow stream. Taking his eldest son in his arms, Sir Isumbras bore him across the river, and placed him beneath a bush of broom-plant, bidding him play with the blossoms until his father's return. Scarcely had the knight left his son, when an enormous lion burst from a neighboring thicket and bore away the child. In like manner the second son became the prey of a fierce leopard; and the poor mother, who saw them so cruelly torn from her sight, fainted away, with her baby on her breast. Sir Isumbras bowed to the will of God; and when his wife revived they journeyed on to the shore of the Greek sea. Here they stood, and, through eyes that were full of tears, saw a great fleet of three hundred ships coming toward them. This was the navy of a famous heathen king, and no sooner had he landed than the travellers, who had not touched bread or meat for seven days, hastened to implore his charity. The king soon observed the robust limbs and tall stature of the husband; and perceived he was a knight in disguise, and that the wife, whose beauty was as "bright as blossoms upon tree," was, in spite of her ragged clothes, a lady of high degree. So, affecting to treat the poorcouple with respect, he offered them gold and treasure if the knight would renounce Christianity and consent to fight under the Saracen banners. This offer was at once declined, and the angry king made up his mind to revenge himself by carrying away the knight's wife. So, upon an order to the attendants, a purse of gold was pressed into the knight's hand, his infant son was put into his arms, he was hurried ashore, cruelly beaten by the king's servants, and, when he recovered himself, saw a heathen ship, with his wife on board, set sail for Africa.
Sir Isumbras clasped his only remaining treasure to his heart, and followed the vessel with his eyes until it vanished from sight. Night found him still there, until father and babe fell asleep upon the bare ground, too weary to keep awake. Sir Isumbras had laid the fatal present of the heathen king, the purse of gold, in the scarlet mantle which he wrapped around his child. Scarcely had the next day's sun risen upon the earth, when an eagle, attracted by the red cloth, darted down, carrying off mantle, child, and purse in his talons.
The poor knight was at last in utter despair. He fell on his knees, and offered what remained of his life to the God he had offended. Just then he heard thenoise of a blacksmith's forge, and saw, not far off, some men at work. They took pity on him and fed him. He entered their service, and bound himself for seven long years to learn their trade. During this time he forged a complete suit of armor for himself, being determined at the first opportunity to take up arms against the Saracens, whose king had not only done him such a cruel wrong, but was oppressing God's people.
At length his opportunity came. The Christian army was to fight the Saracens on a field not far from the forge. Sir Isumbras buckled on his awkward armor and, mounting a horse that had been used by the smith to carry coals, proceeded to the field of battle.
His heart beat with wild joy when he saw the foe before him. Uttering a fervent prayer, he dashed into the thick of the combat, attracting all eyes at first by his sorry steed and rough armor, and again by the splendid skill and courage of his charge. Early in the action his horse was killed under him, and the Christian chiefs made haste to present him another one, also a suit of armor more worthy of the heroic soldier he had proved himself to be. All that day the battle raged.
By nightfall Sir Isumbras, single-handed, had killedthe heathen king and many of his followers. But he was himself sorely wounded, and when brought for reward before the Christian king, and asked his name, could hardly falter out, "I am a smith's man, sire." The king swore a great oath to make a knight of this valiant "smith's man"; and, with all honor and tenderness, Sir Isumbras was carried into a nunnery, where the good sisters nursed him until he recovered from his many wounds.
Sir Isumbras was not satisfied to remain quiet long, though he had slain the heathen king. He went to the Holy Land, and for seven years wandered about a pilgrim, as before, sleeping upon the ground by night, and vainly seeking tidings of his wife by day. Once, during this time, when he was starving upon the banks of a stream, there appeared to him a cheering visitor.
And as he sat, about midnight,There came angel fair and bright,And brought him bread and wine.He said, "Palmer, well thou be!The King of Heaven greeteth well thee;Forgiven is sin thine."
And as he sat, about midnight,There came angel fair and bright,And brought him bread and wine.He said, "Palmer, well thou be!The King of Heaven greeteth well thee;Forgiven is sin thine."
Very soon after this miraculous event Sir Isumbras found his wife, who had dwelt, holy and charitable, in asecluded castle, where she had been shut up by the Saracen king. She welcomed him with rapture, and together they shed many tears over their lost children. They lived together for some years, until Sir Isumbras was again summoned to do battle with the Saracens, who had determined at all cost to kill him. The fight was again hot and long, and just when Sir Isumbras was about to be overpowered by numbers of the enemy, three new champions appeared in the field, declaring themselves on the side of the Christians. These were three splendid knights, the first mounted upon a lion, the second upon a leopard, and the third upon an eagle. The Saracen cavalry, terror-stricken at sight of them, dispersed in all directions. But flight was in vain; three and twenty thousand unbelievers were soon laid dead upon the plain by the lion, leopard, and eagle, fighting with tireless fury, and driving all before them, until the entire heathen army was utterly put to rout. Then, coming back to Sir Isumbras, the three champions knelt before him, announcing themselves his long lost sons, mercifully protected and befriended by the savage creatures by whom they had been carried off. Sir Isumbras embraced his valiant sons, and led them to their mother. The Christian king enrichedthe entire family, restoring them to their former rank. And now wealth, titles, honors, and all that he had lost, came back to Sir Isumbras, and the remainder of his days was spent in blessed peace.
"They lived and died in good intent;Unto heaven their souls went,When that they dead were.Jesu Christ, heaven's king,Give us, aye, his blessing,And shield us from care!"
"They lived and died in good intent;Unto heaven their souls went,When that they dead were.Jesu Christ, heaven's king,Give us, aye, his blessing,And shield us from care!"
(From one of Marie's Lays.)
ONCEupon a time there lived in Brittany a baron who was handsome, wise, courteous, and brave. Although admired and beloved by his neighbors, he remained single until late in life, when he fell desperately in love with a young lady, who did not hesitate long in accepting the offer of so distinguished a suitor for her hand. They were married, and the bride returned from her honeymoon to take up her abode in her husband's fine castle.
For a little while all went well, until the lady discovered that her husband was regularly absent from home during three days of every week. Overwhelmed with curiosity to know where he went, and how he was occupied during this time, she used every means in her power to coax the secret from him.
"Do not ask me," said her kind lord; "rest assured that I have good reasons for my conduct. If you know what takes me from you, it will only be to hate and scorn your husband, and to ruin the happiness of our life."
The lady persisted, going from coaxings to prayers and tears. At last the poor baron gave way, and confided to her that, owing to a cruel spell cast on him at birth, he was during half the week a Bisclaveret, or Man-Wolf, taking on the body of a wolf, but keeping his own feelings and intelligence as a man. Upon hearing this dreadful story, the lady fainted away. Henceforth, although her husband was more loving than ever, she was filled with horror and loathing of him; and soon she secretly resolved to destroy the monster and enjoy his wealth.
By watching his movements she ascertained that when the baron became a wolf he left his clothing in a deserted chapel on the edge of a certain wood; and she formed a plan to seize and hide the garments. So long as the Bisclaveret was without his man's clothes, he was condemned to remain a brute.
Accordingly, when, after his melancholy ramble through the woods, the Bisclaveret went one night toresume his clothes, they were gone; and, in agony of spirit, he knew that he was betrayed by his wife. He took himself off to the forest, and was there lost to human sight.
Meanwhile the wicked wife, announcing that her husband had died while on a journey to some foreign land, enjoyed his wealth and his castle. A year later,the king went hunting in the forest, and, after a stout chase, had nearly run down the unhappy Bisclaveret, when that persecuted beast, bounding from his thicket, fawned upon the king's feet, shedding real tears and uttering almost human cries for mercy. The king, struck with compassion, ordered his dogs to be whipped off, and had the strange animal conveyed with care to his palace. Bisclaveret soon became the royal favorite. He slept on a couch of soft furs, ate from a golden dish, and returned with gratitude the caresses of all who noticed him.
His gentleness and sagacity won for the man-wolf the right to roam wherever he desired to go, unchained. One day the king gave a splendid entertainment, towhich were invited all the lords and ladies of the land. Among them, dressed in silks and satins, and sparkling with jewels, came the false wife. No sooner did Bisclaveret espy her chatting with the king's guests, than, to the surprise of all present, the usually mild creature rose up, growling horribly and, springing upon the lady, bit off her nose. Bisclaveret was seized, and would have been speedily killed, but that he again fawned upon the king's feet, moaning and weeping as though he longed to speak. The king ordered him to be put into a cage, and consulted with the oldest and wisest man in his kingdom, as to what could be the meaning of the wolf's sudden fury toward this lady.
"Brittany is a land of wonders, sire," said the aged man. "The lady who was attacked is as well known for a bad name as your favorite animal is for a good one. Who knows what became of her late husband, the baron? Perhaps this poor brute was beloved by that gentleman, and has some secret wrong to avenge. At any rate, you should at once shut the lady in prison until she is made to tell allsheknows about the matter. Mayhap it is more than we suspect."
The king followed his counsellor's advice; and, when the lady found herself likely to be kept a prisoner, shepreferred speech to silence. With tears of professed penitence, she confessed all, and the king lost no time in sending for the clothes of the late baron, and placing them in the cage of Bisclaveret. At first the animal seemed indifferent, and surveyed them listlessly. "Leave him to himself, sire," said the wise man. "Above all, set him at liberty in a chamber suitable to his rank. Then we shall see a wonderful change, I promise you."
This was done, and in the morning the king ran impatiently to the chamber of Bisclaveret. There, on the bed, dressed in his clothes and sleeping sweetly, lay the baron. When his royal master entered, the sleeper woke and, bending his knee before his sovereign, poured forth his joy and gratitude.
As for the wicked wife, her estates were taken from her and restored to her husband, while she herself was sent into perpetual banishment. Most people would think she had been sufficiently punished by the loss of her nose, which never grew again!
(From a Scottish Romance of the XVIth Century.)
THERElived once, at Naples, a king and queen whose only son, Roswal, was a paragon of beauty and of valor. The boy, who was as generous as the day was long, did not at all resemble his father, for the king was harsh and cruel, and slow to forgive his enemies.
In the prison of the king's palace were confined three noblemen, who, having been suspected of plotting against the crown, were doomed to be imprisoned for life, and had the most cruel treatment lavished upon them every day. Roswal could not bear to hear their groans and sighs arising from the dungeon, and one day conceived the bold project of taking the prison keys from under the king's pillow while he slept, andsetting the three poor sufferers at liberty. This was done, and Roswal restored the keys to their place without having been detected.
When it was found that the prisoners had escaped, the king grew furiously angry. In vain the head jailor and his assistants declared their innocence in the matter. Their lives would have been instantly sacrificed to the king's wrath, had not Roswal boldly come forward and confessed that he alone had freed the prisoners.
At first, the king vowed that Roswal should die for having defied him; but the prayers of the queen, and perhaps the cool bravery of his son in confronting him, moved him to relent. He decided to change Roswal's sentence to banishment for life to a distant court, where he was to be placed at the service of the King of Bealm, with recommendation to make a soldier of the lad, henceforth a stranger to his home.
Roswal set out on his journey to the court of Bealm, attended only by the high-steward, an envious and ambitious man, who hated the prince and would gladly have done him evil.
The king, at parting with his son, had given him a letter of introduction to the King of Bealm; andthe fond mother had come secretly to press all the gold and jewels she had, a fortune in themselves, upon her beloved Roswal. Except for parting with his mother, Roswal did not feel very sorry to set out thus from home. He longed to see what marvels the wide world contained, and the memory of the three brave men he had loosed from their vile bondage cheered him in spite of his father's anger.
The high-steward was full of projects of his own; and one night, when they had stopped to rest by the side of a rushing torrent, and Roswal had plunged into the crystal stream, as he loved to do, the wicked steward seized him unawares, held him under water till he was half strangled, and spared his life only on condition that Roswal would pledge himself to give up all the money and jewels, his letter, his horse and sword, and furthermore swear never to reveal the affair to mortal man or woman. Roswal, seeing that he could not help himself, submitted, and the false steward, laughing maliciously, put spurs to his horse, leading Roswal's steed behind him, and soon disappeared from view with all the treasures.
Roswal found himself alone at nightfall in the forest, as hungry as a hawk, and very much at a loss where tofind food and shelter. He wandered along till he saw a little brown hut, under the branches of a wide-spreading oak-tree. Here, in the door, sat an old woman knitting, and Roswal's youth and beauty soon won his way into her affections. She led him into her house, gave him a good meal of brown bread, eggs, honey and milk, and a bed of clean straw. Roswal slept as sweetly as ever he had done on his golden bedstead and his pillow of down at home. Next day, he offered to work for the old woman, and set to cutting up wood and binding fagots cheerfully. For several months he lived thus, until the chamberlain of the King of Bealm chanced to pass that way. Taking a fancy to the handsome youth, he carried him off to court, where Roswal was appointed cup-bearer to the king's lovely daughter. His duties were light, and the princess was kind; so Roswal had little to complain of, until one day he heard it announced that Prince Roswal, of Naples, was about to wait upon the King of Bealm and demand his daughter's hand in marriage.
Roswal pricked up his ears at this, and immediately suspected the supposed Prince of Naples to be none other than his late travelling companion, the wicked steward; though, when he heard the princess say to hermaidens that this Prince Roswal was remarkably pushing, considering that he had only recently presented a letter of introduction to them, and that, for her part,she could not see what her papa found to fancy in the young man, Roswal rejoiced. He was delighted to find that the princess did not care for the impostor. Then he remembered his oath, never to reveal what the steward had done to him, and his spirits fell again.
In a day or two, the King of Bealm announced to his daughter that he had accepted the offer of the King of Naples' son, and that preparations for their marriage would immediately begin. The princess was very unhappy, for she had taken a great dislike to the pretended prince. Roswal met his late servant face to face at one of the bridal feasts, and the eyes of the steward fell before his scornful gaze. But he knew that he was safe in trusting Roswal's honor not to tellthe secret, and so carried on his impudent pretence.
A tournament, lasting three days, was announced in honor of the wedding, which was soon to come off. Roswal found the Princess Lilian in tears about that time and, while endeavoring to console her, let her know, without intending it, that he, too, had fallen in love with her. This made the pretty princess so happy, that she confessed to Roswal she had loved him secretly ever since he was chosen to be her cup-bearer. She was sure he was of noble birth from his manners and appearance; and she urged him to admit that he was as worthy of her rank as of her love.
Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.
Tournament in honor of the Princess of Bealm.
Roswal was never so sorely tempted to reveal himself! He restrained the impulse to confess by a strong effort, and, alone and melancholy, wandered out into the forest—longing for an opportunity to enter the lists of the tournament and prove his knightly skill before the king and princess; and while he sat musing thus, there approached him a knight leading a magnificent white war-horse, on whose saddle was suspended a suit of splendid armor.
"Prince," said the strange knight, bowing low before him, "put on this armor, and mount this steed.The tournament has begun, and thou wilt be in time to prove thy prowess. I await here thy return."
Roswal said he had led his hounds to the forest, intending to hunt a deer; and so the knight offered to hunt in his absence and keep the game for him. How his heart beat with joy and pride when he found himself once more mounted on a noble steed, and clad in knightly armor! Thanking the stranger fervently, he put spurs to his horse, and galloped off.
Entering the barriers, Roswal overset all who opposed him, and then, with a tremendous rush, charged at full speed upon the false prince, who was riding up and down with a great show in the presence of his lady. The steward recoiled in terror; but the unknown knight as suddenly checked his horse, turned around, saluted the company with the utmost grace, and vanished, as he had come, like a meteor.
The company applauded, and the old King of Bealm cried out that he would give an earldom to find out who was the unknown knight.
That evening, while all the palace was ringing with accounts of the brave stranger, Roswal came home from the forest, laden with venison and followed by his hounds.
The Princess Lilian called him to her side, and told him of the events of the day. It was evident that she wished to inspire Roswal with a desire to break a lance in her behalf; but he appeared to be indifferent, and she ended in a burst of tears.
Next day, when Roswal went again with his hounds to the forest, a second knight, leading a silver-gray war-horse laden with armor, appeared and repeated the kind offer of the day before. Roswal again entered the lists, and found the steward impudently advancing to meet him. Roswal unhorsed half a dozen of the bravest riders, then, with all possible ease, sent the steward to the ground with such a terrible crash, that the miserable impostor lay as if dead for some time. The unknown knight glanced up at the Princess Lilian, and saw a look in her face as if she suspected him. Then, quickly retiring from the ring, Roswal reappeared as before, at evening, with the spoils of the day of hunting. Lilian, who was ready to declare that none other than her handsome young lover could have been the stranger knight, was much perplexed when she found Roswal quietly at home engaged in his usual occupations.
On the third day, Roswal was mounted and equippedin a similar manner. He had a bay horse, a red shield, green armor, and a golden helmet. He cast down all of the other competitors, broke two of the steward's ribs, threw a gold ring into the lap of his lady-love, and rode away like a flash. Returning to the wood, he was met by all three of his friends, the knights who had helped him. They revealed themselves, and Roswal found to his delight that they were the three noblemen he had released from his father's dungeon. They told him they were well aware of all he had suffered for their sakes, and were prepared to befriend him still farther.
Next day had been fixed upon for the wedding, and all the court was called together in a magnificent hall, to see their king bestow their princess' hand upon the Prince of Naples. Pale and tearful, for she had cried all night, appeared the princess. She was dressed in white satin, with a silver train, carried by ten little pages in blue, and on her head she wore a diadem of immense diamonds. The bridegroom, who had been patched up by the doctors, sat, anything but cheerful, in a golden chair beside the king. Behind a group of court ladies and gentlemen stood Roswal, handsomer than any one present, and looking everyinch a prince, though he wore a plain brown velvet suit, with a gold chain round his neck, the livery of Princess Lilian's household. Suddenly visitors were announced, and in came three richly clad strangers, scattering money among the servants, which made it an easy matter for them to move along.
The king received them courteously, for he recognized three noblemen of the kingdom of Naples he had known long before.
"You will be glad to salute your prince," the king said, when he had greeted them, "and to be present at his nuptials."
The noblemen refused to notice the steward, whose knees knocked together with fear, for he saw he was on the brink of exposure. The three strangers looked about them and, espying Roswal, ran up to him, fell on their knees and kissed his hand, hailing him as the true Prince of Naples. The steward, in terror, dropped upon his knees before Roswal and confessed all, drawing from his pocket the casket containing the queen's jewels, which he had been about to present to his bride. Roswal would have dealt gently with the contemptible wretch, but the angry old King of Bealm declared that he and his daughter should not be madesport of, and the offender live to tell it. So the steward was hanged forthwith, and Roswal, owning his love for Lilian, was made happy by promise of her hand—he had already won her heart, as you know.
That same day arrived news of the death of the King of Naples, and the recall of Roswal to the throne. He was married to Lilian; and it is certain that no one who had befriended him in his days of poverty was ever forgotten by King Roswal. The good old woman in the forest was enriched, the three noblemen were restored to their estates and fortunes, and Roswal's mother was made happy by a speedy reunion with her son.