138 S915 Nl .EONDI 11 H- :stBla\ RIl W. fRICI kND ajorttcU lllttioctattg Sjihratg Sttfaca, ^etu ^atk BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE jAGE endowment fund THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 GR138 .8915" ""'""'"' """"' ""''miMmliiN^l.^n legends and fairy storie olin 3 1924 029 889 809 The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029889809 NORTH-WEST SLAV LEGENDS AND FAIRY STORIES. WORKS. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. s. a. " Segnihs Ieeitant," or Bight Primitive Folk-lore Stories from Kaeel Jaeomib Ebben'b " A Hundred Genuine Popular Slavonic Fairy Stories in the Original Dialects." Trans- lated and compared, with Illustrative Diagrams, Notes, Com- ments, Tables, and two Supplementary Essays. Cloth, gilt and silver ... 4 Seven. Poems. Bound in cloth 2 Two Mock Epics: "Hanuman," by Svatopluk (Czech), trans- lated from the 17th edition ; and " Tantum Religio, or Sir Blasius." Bound in cloth .. 2 6 Theee Essays on Italy 6 Down with the Hangman ! An Interesting Interview in the East Anglian Dialect 1 LONDON: B. FOEDEE, 28 STONECUTTER STREET, E.C. NORTHWEST SLAV LEGENDS ^' FAIRY STORIES A SEQUEL TO SEGNIUS IBBITANT Teanslated from Kaeel Jaeomie Eeben's "A Hundeed Genuine PopuLAB Slavonic Paiey Stoeies in the original dialects " BT W. W. STRICKLAND, B.A. LONDON EOBEET FOEDBE, 28 STONECUTTEE STEEET, E.G. 1897 5 INDEX, Little Shaveling (Otesanek) Earas and Setek The Yezinky The Wood- Woman Death the Godmother [Moravian] Pour Brothers The Lake of Karlovic The Devil and the Cobbler... Krd-Brother 3*he Golden Pea-hen The Golden Spinneress Are you Angry? We Three Brothers Janek and Hanka The Virgin Mary as Godmother The Golden Treasure The Tinkling Linden Little Red Riding Hood Short Stories ^bout Three Brothers " Stick, Bestir Thyself ! " ... The Conversation of the Animals About an Enchanted Castle S«/ant- Wit the Wolf ,4'ojish Stories Noodle-Doodleum ^/Ibout Prince Unexpectedly The Beggar The Spirit of the Buried One 1 5 9 12 18 21 25 28 32 34 37 43 46 49 50 54 58 62 65 69 73 77 77 79 81 88 95 105 108 Preface. The present volume of Slav folk-lore stories is a continuation of Segnius Irritant, and contains all the stories in Karel Erben's collection down to page 128 (edition 1865), with the exception of the eight previously translated and published in Segnius Irritant! I have called them North- West Slav folk-lore stories, the bulk of them being so, although the term as applied to the Polish legends is not quite accurate. It is hoped in due course of time to publish the group of South Slav, and finally that of East Slav, stories in two small volumes similar to the two already brought out. The whole of Karel Erben's collection of Panslavonic folk-lore stories will then be in an English dress, and found, if read attentively, strikingly to confirm the conclusions arrived at after an analysis of the first eight fairy stories in Segnius Irritant. Those, however, who do not wish to be wounded in their religious sentiments, and imagine them somehow to be of vital importance, can read the three later volumes without a suspicion how fatally their contents undermine the fabric of superstition and religious legend. A word as to the principles upon which the translations have been made. With the exception of one or two brief expressions, slightly modified out of deference to British prudery, they are as far as possible word-for-word translations, and nothing has been left out or altered intentionally. In cases, however, where in the originals the style has been elaborated and the form has thus become of importance as well as the substance, an attempt has been made to produce something more than a mere literal trans- lation. Again, where plays upon words occur, an equivalent rather than a word-for-word rendering has sometimes been sought for. Lastly, where rhymed tags or snatches of poetry occur in the originals, these have been translated literally or rendered in a freer versified form according as their intrinsic poetical merits or the importance of the rhymed forms to the story in which they occur, seemed to demand one or the other treatment. The stories are translations from many Slav languages, and, although folk-lore stories are not difficult to translate, and many of the Slav languages bear a close likeness to one another, a translator who cannot pretend to a profound and thorough know- ledge of all or perhaps any of them, cannot hope to have avoided many errors and inaccuracies. It may be said that in that case the translation should have been left to someone of greater com- petence ; but is there, I would ask, any one in England who possesses a thorough knowledge of that group of languages, a complete acquaintance with which is, next to knowledge of the Indian languages, far and away of the most vital importance to the British Empire in Asia ; and if such a being exists, would he deign to spend his time in translating popular legends and fairy stories, which, although Settembrini has declared that they contain more genuine historic truth than all the bulky volumes of artificial and official history put together, are generally regarded by the learned and scientific with disdain ? These two queries seem to justify the attempt that has been made ; and, therefore, all that remains to be said is, in conclusion, to request anyone into whose hands the translations may fall, and who possesses a special knowledge of the languages from which the stories have been translated, to make a note of the inaccuracies and to forward them to the editor (e/o G. Standring, 7 & 9 Finsbury Street, London, E.G.). All such corrections will be received with gratitude and deference, and be embodied in a second edition in the improbable event of the stories ever reaching that happy consummation. The Tbanslatoe. Klageufurt, January 25th, 1897. Little Shaveling (Otesanek). There was once a man and a woman ; they lived at the end of a village by a wood, in a cottage. They were poor ; the man was a day-labourer, and the woman spun for sale, and yet they were always saying, " If only we had a little baby ! " " Be thankful the Lord God has not given you one," said other people ; " why, as it is, you have not enough to eat." And they would say in return : " When we dined — our little baby would also dine — if only we had one." Once, early, this man was stubbing roots in the wood, and stubbed up a root — it looked exactly like a little baby : there was a little head, little neck, little hands, and little feet — it was only necessary to shape the little pate a bit with an axe, that it should be round and smooth, and to lop the rootlets into little hands and little feet, that they might look like toes and fingers, and there was a baby — all but the crying. The man takes this tree-root home and says to the woman, " Look ! there is what thou wantedst — a child, little Shaveling ! If thou wishest, thou canst bring it up." The woman swathed this little baby in swaddling clothes, dandled it on her arm, and sung to it : Hush-a-by, baby, Hush-a-by, Shaveling, When thou awakest I'll cook, thee, wee kuaveling, A nice little pot Of broth piping hot, So hush-a-by, Shaveling, Hush-a-by, baby. All at once the child began to stir in the swaddling clothes, screwed its head round and began to cry out : " Oh, mamma, I'm hungry ! " The woman did not know for happiness which way to skip first. She laid the child on the bed and ran to cook pap. When she had cooked it, little Shaveling devoured it all, and after- 2 Little Shaveling. ■wards again cried out: "Oh, mamma, I'm hungry!" "Wait, little baby, wait, I'll bring thee something directly." After this she ran to a neighbour's and brought a pitcher full of milk. Little Shaveling drank, or rather, gulped it down, and when he had drunk it all up, again cried out that he was hungry. The woman wondered at this and said : " What, child, hast thou not had enough yet ? " She went and got a loaf of bread on credit in the village, placed it on the table at home and then went out again, to put water on the fire for soup. Scarcely had she stalked out of the room, when little Shaveling, seeing the bread on the table, tumbled himself clear of the swaddling clothes, skipped on to the bench, and in a moment he had swallowed the quartern loaf and again cried out : " Oh, mamma, I am hungry! " Mamma came, intending to crumble the bread into the soup : looks about for the loaf — and gracious me ! there in the corner stood little Shaveling like a barrel, and rolled his two eyes at her. " The Lord God be with us, Shaveling ! perhaps you haven't eaten that quartern loaf ? " "I have eaten it, mamma — and I'll eat thee, too ! " He opened his great mouth, and before mamma ex- pected it she was in him. After a while tata came home, and, as- he stepped in at the door, Shaveling shouted : " Tata, I am hungry ! " Tata started, seeing before him a body like a stove ; it opened its- huge mouth and goggled its two eyes. And, recognising Shaveling, he said : " The devil take thee ! where's mamma ? " " I've eaten her ; and I'll eat thee, too ! " So saying, he opened his huge mouth, and in a twinkling had tata inside him.' But the more Shaveling devoured, the more he wanted to eat. In the cottage there was nothing left that would do for the purpose, and so he went to the village to look out for some one. He met a little girl ; she was drawing from the field a sledge full of clover. " Thou hadst need have eaten this too, I dare say, with such a big paunch as thine," said the little girl in astonishment. Shaveling replied : I've gobbled and gobbled Soup from a saucepan, Milk from a pitcher, Bread from the baker, Mamma — tata — And I'll eat thee on the top of them. He skipped up to her, and girl and sledge vanished in his paunch. After this he met a drover, bringing hay from the meadow. Shave- ling posted himself in the road, and the horses stood still. " Why canst thou not move out of the way, monster ? I'll come for thee ! " Little Shaveling. 3 exclaimed the drover, and flourished his whip. But ShaveUng did not pay the slightest attention to him, and began to repeat : I've gobbled and gobbled Soup from a saucepan. Milk from a pitcher, Bread from the baker. Mamma — tata — A little girl and clover, And I'll eat thee on the top of them. And before the drover expected it, he found himself, horses, cart and all in Shaveling's paunch. After this Shaveling went further. On the field there a swine herd pastured swine. Shaveling took a fancy to them and gobbled them all up, swine herd and all ; not a trace of them was left. After this he saw up above there a shepherd with a flock of sheep. Having also devoured the swine herd, he says to himself, " I can eat thee, shepherd, on the top of him." Off he went, and packed them all in, sheep, shepherd, dog Vorech and all. Then he again staggered on until he came to a field ; a certain old grand- mother was there hoeing greens. Shaveling did not long hesitate ; went and began to wring off the tops of the greens and to gulp them down. "Why art thou doing me this injury. Shaveling?" said the grandmother ; "I'm sure thou hast gobbled enough, thou oughtest to be glutted by this time." Shaveling made a grimace at her, and says : I've gobbled and gobbled Soup from a saucepan, Milk from a pitcher, ' Bread from the baker. Mamma — tata — A little girl and clover, A load of hay and a drover. Swine and swine herd. Sheep and shepherd. And I'll eat thee on the top of them. And he tried to gobble her up. But the grandmother was too quick for him, she struck Shaveling in the stomach with her hoe and ripped it open. Shaveling rolled upon the ground — he was dead. And then wasn't there a sight for you to see ! Out of the paunch first of all jumped the dog Vorech, and after him the shepherd, and after the shepherd hopped the sheep. Vorech collected them together, the shepherd piped and drove them home. After this, out of the paunch ran a herd of swine, after them out jumped the swine herd, cracked 4 Little Shaveling. his whip and hurried after the shepherd. Then out came horses dragging a cart full of hay ; the drover tugged the reins, swore and drove after the swine herd, also to the village. After the cart out drove the little girl with clover, and, after the little girl, out from the paunch skipped the man and woman, and carried home under their arm that loaf of bread they had got on credit. And after this, that man and woman were never heard to say : " If only we had a little. baby ! " Raras and Setek. I. In Bechary there was a peasant, they called him gossip Palicka. This man once went to Kopidlen marketing, and found a hen in a field under a pear-tree ; it was black, and soaked, shivered with cold, and scratched in the ground. Gossip Palicka took it under his cloak, and when he got home put it behind the kitchen stove to dry, and then let it out in the yard among the other chickensr In the night when everything was fast asleep, Palicka suddenly hears something racketing about the room, and directly after a shrill voice, half man's, half chicken's ; " Oh, Pantata, I've brought you potatoes ! " The master of the house leapt out of bed and ran into the room to find out what it was, and there he sees a fiery hen and three heaps of earth-apples ; the hen fluttered from heap to heap. " Fie, thou scandal ! " spat out the peasant, quite taken aback, slammed the door, and went to lie down again, but he could not sleep till morning from anxiety, now he knew what he had brought home with him. Well, in the morning, as soon as it was light, he threw out all those potatoes on to the dung-hill. The next night he again hears : " Oh, Pantata, I've brought you maize, corn, and barley ! " This time the peasant did not go to look what it was, but he shook with fear like an aspen-leaf, and prayed incessantly : " Deliver us from evil," and as soon as day began to dawn, he took a shovel and a brush and again threw out all that corn and swept out the room that not a single grain might remain there. He was worried to death, he did not know what help there was for it, and he also dreaded lest any of the neighbours should notice the matter. And indeed the neighbours did notice it ; they saw in the night something fly into Palicka's farm-house like a burning cork, but the farm-house did not take fire ; and in the day a female neighbour also observed that black hen among the chickens. Then in a jiffy the rumour was all over the village that gossip Palicka had sold ^ Raras and Setek. himself to the devil. A few of the more thoughtful ones shook their heads ; all their lives they had known him to be a God-fearing and respectable man, and determined to give him a word of warning. They came there, and he frankly related to them everything — both the "how" and the "what," and requested them to advise him what to do. "What counsel, eh?" says a young peasant, "why, kill this creature," and he himself, without more ado, seized a bit of fire-wood and struck at the hen with it. But at that moment the hen hopped on to his back and beat him as if with a cudgel, and at every blow exclaimed : " I'm Earas ! I'm Earas ! I'm Earas ! " After this some people counselled Palicka to throw up his farm and shift elsewhere, for Earas was sure to stay in that farm-house. The peasant caught at this idea at once, and tried to find a purchaser ; but no one would buy the farm-house with Earas in it. Palicka then again made up his mind that, come what might, he must get rid of Earas. He sold his corn, stock, and everything that was not indis- pensably necessary, bought another farm-house in another village, and began to shift. And when after this he was just driving off the last time with his wagon, and had loaded it with tubs, troughs, harrows, and other such implements, he went and himself set fire to his thatched farm-buildings — for it was in a lonely place, and the fire could not injure anyone. After this he cracked his whip and prepared to drive off ; but as he did so, looked round just once again at his farm-house to see how it caught fire, and says : "Burn then too, thou scandal ! after all, I shall still get something for the place." " Che-che-che " chuckled something behind him on the wao-on. Palicka peers round — there on a sickle sat that black hen, flapped its wings and began to pipe : Now we are bundling off, now we have said good-bye, Now we have said good-bye, now we are trundling off, Now we have said good-bye, now we are bundling off. Trundling off, bundling off, on the sly, you and I. Gossip Palicka stopped as if he had been stunned by a thunder- bolt. Now he didn't know what on earth to do. At length it occurred to him whether perhaps Earas would not hear reason and go away of his own accord, if he were well fattened. And so he bade his wife give the creature a plate of good milk, and three buns with it. Earas fared and behaved well, but showed no inclination to take his departure. One evening a farm-boy came home from the Haras and Setek. 7 field and sees on the steps those three buns which the peasant's wife had placed there for Earas. He was hungry, and so went and ate one. " Better that I should eat it than that nasty beast ! " he says to himself. But that moment there was Earas perched on his back and crying : One little bun — two little buns, Three little buns has Vasek eaten. And every time he said the word bun it gave him such a whack on the back that long afterwards the poor boy still had the scars. In the morning, when Palecka got up and went to awake the boy, he found him bruised all over, so that he could scarcely move. And when he learned all about it, he went to Earas and prayed him to take his departure, or else no farm-boy would stop in service on the place. " Che-che-che " chuckled Earas, and said : Take me to where you found me, then I never will trouble you again ! The peasant put on his cloak at once and took the hen back to the pear tree, under which he had found it, and after that Earas left hini in peace. II. In Libenia, in a sheep-fold, Earas also took up his abode, but there they called him Setek. He looked like a little ragamuffin, only that he had claws on his hands and feet ; and many merry pranks were recounted about him there. He liked to tease the dogs, cats, and turkeys, and also to the farm-boys and young girls never did a good turn, and everything they hid anywhere on the sly he always told about. Therefore the servants also looked upon him askance [lit. : had a dog's mouth for him], but they were afraid of doing anything to him lest he should avenge himself ; and, moreover, the shepherd ' would not let them meddle with him, for as long as Setek was at the sheep-fold none of the sheep ever died. In winter Setek generally sat by the kitchen stove* warming himself, and when a servant-girl brought scraps into the room to steep them in warm water, he always skipped off the hearthstone into the tub on to them, saying : " Whack on to the hogwash ! " But once he burnt himself badly. The servant-girl brought the tub as usual, but outside the door she had filled it with boiling water * A small square or oblong brick block, hollow to contain the fire, with a slab above forming a rude kitchen range. ' 8 Haras and Setek. and only strewed the scraps on the surface. " "Whack, on to the hogwash ! " says Setek, and hop — skip, but in a minute he was out of the tub again, squealing and writhing with pain, and the servants all laughed till the windows shook again. But Setek did not forgive that servant-girl. Once when she was climbing up the ladder to the granary, he twined her into the rungs in such a way that they were obliged to come to her assistance, and had enough to do to get her twined out of the ladder again. In summer the shepherd's farm-servants used to sleep on the granary floor. Once, at night, Setek went there too, climbed half- way up the ladder, and teased the dogs that lay under the trapdoor in the yard. He stuck out first one little foot, then the other, and all the time squeaked at them : One little foot — two little feet, Whioli will you catch me by ? The dogs howled, they might grow as angry as they liked. At last, after some time, the farm-boys began to be sulky, because he would not let them sleep in peace ; one of them got up, took a sheaf of straw and flung it at Setek, and with this sheaf knocked him down off the ladder. In a jiffy the dogs were on him, and gave him so rough a welcome that he scarcely escaped from their teeth. The farm-boy knew that vengeance would follow, and therefore kept on the look-out in Setek's presence, and avoided him from far ; but it was all of no avail. Once he was pasturing the sheep on a meadow at the communal lands, and sat on the meadow behind a hay-cock. All of a sudden a rustling begins above his head, and before he had come to himself he had the whole of the hay-cock entangled in his hair. The boy began to cry out, the mowers collected round him, but, do what they would, they could not unplait the hay from his hair : hair and hay were so cleverly twisted together. The poor boy had to go and have his head shaved smooth. And when after this he again drove sheep to the pasturage and passed under the wild pear-tree, to the communal lands domain, there on the top of it sat >■ Setek, winked maliciously, and jeered at him : " Holloa, bald pate 1 Holloa ! Ho ! " The Yezinky. Thebe was a poor orphan-boy ; he had neither father nor mother, and must go into service in order to keep ahve. He walked a long way and could not find a situation anywhere, until one day he came to a farm-house all by itself under a wood. On the threshold sat an old grandfather ; he had dark hollows in his head instead of eyes. The goats were bleating in the fold, and the grandfather said : "Poor little goats ! gladly would I lead you to the pasture, but I cannot, I am blind ; and I have no one to send with you." " Oh, grandfather, send me ! " broke in the boy, " I will pasture these little goats for you, and I will also gladly serve you." " Who, pray, art thou? And what is thy name? " And the boy told him every- thing, and that they call him Janecek. "Good, Janecek ! I will take thee; and first drive me forth these goats to the pasturage. But do not lead them to the hillock in the wood there : the Yezinky would come to thee, they would put thee to sleep and would then tear out thy eyes, just as they did to me." " Never fear, grand- father," answered Janecek, " my eyes the Yezinky will not tear out." After this he let the goats out of the fold and drove them to the pasture. The first and the second day he pastured them below the wood ; but the third day he said to himself : " Why should I be afraid of the Yezinky ? I will push on to where there is the best pasturage." Then he cut three green bramble-stems, stowed them in his hat, and drove the goats straight into the wood to that hillock. There the goats ran hither and thither over the pasture, and Janicek sat in the cool on a stone. He had not been seated long when all at once, where she came, there she came, there stood before him a beautiful girl all dressed in white, her hair, finely combed down her back, was black as a raven, and her eyes like sloes. " Greetings to thee, young shepherd ! " she says, " look what nice little apples grow in our garden ! Come here, I will give thee one, that thou mayest also know how good they are." And then she offered him a beautiful 10 The TezinTcy. rosy little apple. But Janecek knew if he were to take the little apple and eat it, that he would fall asleep, and then she would tear out his eyes ; and so he said : " I thank you finely, beautiful girl ! my master has in his garden an apple-tree ; on it grow yet more delicious little apples ; I have eaten more than enough of them ! " " Nu ! If thou dost not wish, I will not force thee," said the girl, and departed. Presently came another still more beautiful girl ; she held in her hand a lovely pink rose, and said : " Pleasant greetings ! young shepherd boy ! just look what a beautiful little rose I have gathered at the boundary ! and how deliciously it smells ! Smell it, too ! " "I thank you finely, beautiful girl ; my master has in his garden still finer little roses ; I have smelt enough and to spare ! " " Nu ! If thou dost not wish it, never mind ! " said the girl, thoroughly angry ; turned round and went away again. After a while came a third girl, the youngest and most beautiful of all. " Pleasant greetings I young shepherd boy." " I thank you finely, beautiful girl!" "Faith, thou art a. jolly boy," said the girl, "but thou wouldst have been still handsomer if thou hadst had thy nice hair finely combed ; come and I will comb it for thee." Jenecek said nothing ; but when the girl stepped up to him to comb him, he took the hat off his head, drew out of it one of the bramble-stems, and flick ! he had smitten her over her two hands with it. The girl began to cry out : "Oh! Help, help ! " and then to weep, and she could not stir from the spot. Janecek did not pay any heed to her tears, and bound her two hands with the bramble. Then those two other girls ran to the spot, and seeing their sister ensnared, began to implore Janecek if only he would unbind her and let her go. " Un- bind her yourself ! " said Janecek. " Oh ! we cannot ; we have such small soft hands, and we should prick ourselves ! " But when they saw that the boy would not have it otherwise, they went to their sister and tried to unbind the bramble. Hereupon Janecek skipped up to them, and flick ! flack I he had smitten them also with a bramble-stem, and had bound the two hands of both of them. " There, see ! I have you now, you wicked Yezinky, you who have torn out my master's two eyes." After this he ran home to his master and said : " Grandfather ! Come ! I have found someone who will give you your two eyes back again." And when they came to that hillock, he said to the first Yezinka : " Now, tell me, where are grandfather's two eyes ? If thou dost not tell me, mind, I will throw thee into the water 1 " The Yezinky. 11 The Yezinka excused herself, saying that she did not know, and Janecek prepared to throw her into the water which flowed there below the hillock. " Let me be, Janecek, let me be ! " entreated the Yezinka, " I will give thee the grandfather's two eyes." And she led him into a cavern, where there was a great heap of pairs of eyes, large and small, black, pink, blue, and green, and she chose him two out of this heap. But when Janecek fitted them in for grand- father, the poor old fellow began to bewail : " Alas ! alas ! they are not my eyes ; I see nothing but owls ! " Janecek grew very angry at this, seized the Yezinka and threw her into the water. After this he says to the next : "Tell me, thou, where are grandfather's two eyes ? " This girl also began to excuse herself and to say that she knew nothing about them, and when the boy threatened to throw her also into the water, she took him back into this cavern and chose him another pair of eyes. But grandfather again be- wailed : " Oh ! these are not my eyes ; I see nothing but wolves ! " And so the second Yezinka fared just as the first had done — and didn't the water close over her! " Tell me, thou, where are grand- father's two eyes?" said Janecek to the third and youngest Yezinka. This girl also led him to the heap in the cavern, and chose for him two eyes. But when they were fitted in, grandfather again com- plained that they were not his eyes, and says : " I see nothing but pike ! " Janecek, seeing that this third girl had also deceived him, was just going to drown her too, but she entreated him with tears : " Let me be, Janecek, let me be ! I will give thee grandfather's real pair of eyes." And she picked them out from under the whole heap. And when Janecek fitted them into the grandfather's eye- sockets, the old man exclaimed delightedly: "It is — it is my two eyes ! Praised be God ! Now I see again quite well ! " Afterwards Janecek and this old grandfather lived contentedly together : Janecek pastured the goats, and the grandfather made cheese at home, and then they ate it together. And the Yezinky from this day forth were never seen again upon the hillock. The Wood- Woman. Betuska was quite a little girl ; her mother was a widow, and had no means of her own except a dilapidated hut and two goats ; but in spite of this, Betuska was always merry. From spring to fall she used to pasture the goats at the birch copse. When she left the house her mother always used to put a small slice of bread in her wallet, and a spindle, bidding her at the same time be very indus- trious. As she had no distaff she wound the flax round her head. Betuska took the wallet, and singing merrily along the road, tripped after the two goats to the birch-copse. When they reached it the goats wandered over the pasture. Betuska sat under a tree ; with her left hand drew the fibres from her head, and with the right let go the spindle, until it regularly whizzed over the ground. And all the time she sung until the wood rang again ; and the poor goats browsed. When the sun pointed to midday she laid aside her spindle, called to the goats, and giving them a small bit of bread that they might not run away from her, skipped off to the wood for a few strawberries or other woodland fruit, according as it was the right season — that she might have some small dainties with her bread. When she had finished eating she sprang to her feet, crossed her arms, and sang and danced together. The little sun smiled at her through the trees, and the little goats, taking their ease in the grass, thought to themselves : "What a merry little shepherdess ours is ! " After her dance she again spun busily, and in the evening, when she drove home the goats, her mother never had to chide her for bringing her spindle home empty. Once when, according to her wont, just at midday, after her modest meal she is preparing for the dance — lo ! where she comes, there she comes — there stands before her a surpassingly lovely maiden. Bound her floats a white robe, fine as a spider's web, from head to waist roll rich golden tresses, and on her head she wears a garland of woodland flowerets. Betuska stood spell-bound. The maiden smiled upon her, and then says in a winning tone of voice : "My Betuska, dost thou love the dance?" When the maiden The Wood-Woman. 13 addressed her so sweetly, Betuska's fear left her, and she replied : " Oh, I could go on dancing the whole day ! " " Come, then, let us dance it out together ; I will teach thee." So said the maiden ; tucked up her skirts to her side, wound her arms round Betuska, and began to dance with her. As they flung themselves into the waltz there resounded above their heads such delicious music that Betuska's heart, too, danced with delight in her bosom. The musicians sat on the branches of the birch-trees, in black, ashen-grey, brown and shifting-coloured coats. It was a company of choice musicians that gathered at a sign from the lovely maiden : nightingales, larks, chaffinches, goldfinches, greenfinches, thrushes, blackbirds, and the highly artistic mocking-bird, the black-cap. Betuska's little cheeks glowed, her eyes shone, she forgot her task, she forgot the goats, and only gazed at her companion, who before her and around her spun and pirouetted in the most seductive curves and figures, and so wondrous lightly, that not a single blade of grass so much as swayed beneath the pressure of her fairy feet. On and on they danced from midday until evening, and Betuska's feet never paused nor ached the least. Then the lovely maiden slackened her pace, the music died away, and as she came so she vanished. Betuska looked round, the last rosy rays of sunset were disappearing behind the wood ; she clapped her two hands together above her head, and feeling the flax there still unspun, bethought her of the spindle lying in the grass also still unfilled. She took down the flax from 'her head and placed it with the spindle in the wallet, and, calling the goats, drove them home. She did not sing on the way, but bitterly reproached herself, that she had allowed the lovely maiden to beguile her, and she determined that, if ever it should happen to her again to see the maiden, she would not listen to her witcheries. The little goats, hearing no merry singing behind them, looked round to see if it was really their own little shepherdess who was walking behind them. And her mother, too, wondered and asked her little daughter if she were poorly that she did not sing. "Oh, no, little mother, I am not poorly, but my throat is quite parched from very singing, and that is why I do not sing now," said Betuska in excuse, and went to stow away the spindle and the unspun flax. Seeing that her mother was not going to wind off the yarn at once, she thought she would make up next day for to-day's shortcomings, and therefore did not breathe a word to her mother about the lovely maiden. 14 The Wood-Woman. Next day Betuska again drove the little goats to the birch-copse as usual, but this time she herself again sang merrily. Off she drove them to the birch-copse ; the little goats began to browse, and she, seating herself under the tree, began to spin busily and to sing the while, for the work went better with the singing to help it. The sjin pointed to midday. Betuska gave the little goats a mouth- ful of bread, ran off for strawberries, and retutning, began to dine and to converse with the goats. " Ah ! my dear little goats, to-day I dare not dance," she sighed, as, after her meal, she scraped together the crumbs out of her lap into her two hands and placed them on a stone, that the birds might carry them away. " And why darest thou not ? " broke in that winning voice, and the beautiful maiden stood before her, as if she had fallen from a cloud. Betuska was still more astonished than she had been before, and shut her eyes that she might not even see the maiden ; but when the maiden repeated the question to her a second time, she answered shyly : " Ah ! forgive me, beautiful maiden, I cannot dance with you to-day, for if I did, I should again not have spun the full measure of yarn, and mother would scold me. To-day, before the sun. sets, I must make up for what I neglected yesterday." " Come and dance all the same, ere the sun set, some help shalt thou get," said the maiden, tucked up her skirts, wound her arms round Betuska, the musicians sitting in the branches of the birch-trees struck up, and the dancers whirled round together. And still more seductively the maiden danced. Betuska could * not take her eyes off her, and forgot all about the goats and her spinning. At last the dancer paused, the music died away, the sun stood low in the west. Betuska clasped her hands above her head, where the unspun flax was wound, and burst into tears. The beautiful maiden stretched out her hand, whipped the flax off her head, wound it round the trunk of a slender birch-tree, seized the spindle and began to spin. The spindle regularly whizzed over the ground, you could see it growing visibly thicker, and before the sun had sunk below the wood, the yarn was all spun off on it, even that which Betuska had not finished spinning the day before. Giving the reelful into the girl's hands, the beautiful maiden addressed her in these words : " Wind it and grumble not — think of my words — wind it and grumble not." With these words she vanished as if the earth had collapsed beneath her feet. Betuska was well satisfied, and thought to herself on the way * Nechat in the text must be a misprint for ne-neohat. ^ The Wood-Woman. 15 home : "As she is so nice, I shall be ready to dance with her again, if she ever come again." Once more she sang so that the little goats paced merrily behind her. But her mother welcomed her home ill-pleased : wishing during the day to wind off the yarn she saw that the spindle was not full, and was therefore cross. " What wast thou doing yesterday, that thou didst not finish thy task?" said her mother, chidingly. " Forgive me, mother ; I over- danced a little," said Betuska, penitently, and showing her mother the spindle added : " To-day, on the contrary, it is over full." The mother said no more, went to milk the goats, and Betuska put by the spindle. She was on the point of telling her mother her ad- venture, but said to herself on second thoughts : " No, if she come but once again, then I will ask who she is, and I will tell mother." So she reflected and meantime held her tongue. The third morning, as usual, she drove the goats to the birch- copse : the goats began to browse, and Betuska sat herself under the tree and began to sing and spin. The sua pointed to midday ; Betuska put down her spindle in the grass, gave the goats a mouth- ful of bread, made a good collection of strawberries, finished her meal, and, giving the crumbs to the birds, said : " My little goats, to-day won't I dance you a dance ! " Up she sprang, crossed her arms, and wanted to try whether she could manage to dance as finely as the beautiful maiden, and lo ! there the maiden herself stood before her. "Together, together let us trip it," she said, smilingly, to Betuska, caught hold of her, and at the same moment the music burst forth above their heads, and the maidens with flying steps were whirling in the dance. Betuska forgot her spindle and the goats, and saw nothing but the beautiful maiden, whose body curved and flickered in all directions like a willow wand ; she heard nothing but the alluring music, which her feet skipped to of them- selves. On and on they danced from midday until even. Then the maiden paused and the music died away. Betuska looked round, the sun was behind the wood. With tears she clasped her hands above her head, and, turning to the half-filled spindle, bewailed the hard words she would get at home. " Give me thy wallet, I will compensate for to-day's shortcomings," said the beautiful maiden. Betuska handed her the wallet, and the maiden vanished for a moment and then handed back the wallet to Betuska, saying: " Don't peep yet, but when home you get," and lo ! 'twas as though a wind rolled her away. Betuska did not dare to look at once into 16 The Wood-Woman. the wallet, but when half-way home she could not resist it ; the wallet was so light, as if there was nothing inside it ; she must look to see if the maiden had played a trick upon her. And how she started, when she saw that the wallet was full — of what do you think ? — nothing but birch-leaves ! Then she gave way to an agonized flood of tears, reproaching herself for having been so credulous. Angrily she threw out the leaves in handfuls, and was just going to empty the wallet altogether, but then she reflected : it will do for the little goats to sleep on : and left some of the leaves in the wallet. She was almost afraid to go home. The poor goats again could hardly recognise their little shepherdess. Her mother awaited her on the threshold, full of anxiety. " Heavens, child ! What sort of reel of yarn was that you brought me home yester- day?" were her first words. " Why?" inquired Betuska anxiously. " When thou wast gone this morning, I began to wind; I wind and wind, and still the spindle keeps full. ' Sure some evil spirit has spun it ! ' I exclaimed, getting angry — and that instant yarn and spindle vanished together as if one had puffed them away. Tell me, then, what it means ? " Here Betuska confessed, and began to tell all about the beautiful maiden. " It was the wood-woman ! " exclaimed the mother, aghast ; " about midday and midnight the wood-women run their rigs ! Happy for thee that thou art not a little boy, or certainly thou wouldst not have escaped out of her arms alive. She would have gone on dancing with thee as long as there was breath in thy body, or she would have tickled thee to death. But with girls they have some compassion, and oftentimes even recompense them richly. To think of your not having told me ! If I had not grumbled I might have had the living-room full of yarn." Here Betuska bethought her of the wallet, and it occurred to he? that perhaps after all there might be something under those leaves. She took out from the top the spindle and the unspun flax, and — " Oh, look, mother ! " she exclaimed. The mother looked in and clapped her two hands. The birch-leaves were all turned to gold ! " The lady bade me : ' Don't peep in yet, but when honie you get,' and I did not obey her." " 'Tis fortunate that thou didst not empty out the whole walletful," observed her mother. In the morning she herself went to look at the spot where Betuska had thrown out the leaves in handfuls, but on the road lay only a few fresh birch-leaves. However, the wealth that Betuska broui^ht The Wood-Woman 17 home with her, even without this, was great enough. Her mother bought a farm, they had plenty of cattle, Betuska wore fine dresses, she need no longer pasture goats, and yet nothing ever afforded her so much delight as that dance with the wood-woman. Often she wandered off to the birch-copse — something seemed to draw her there — and she longed to see the beautiful maiden again, but she never more set eyes upon her. Death the God^nother. [MOEAVIAN.] Theee was a man of extreme poverty in the world, and his wife fell into labour and bore him a little boy. No one wished to stand sponsor for him, because he was so very poor. The father says to himself : " Dear God ! I am so poor that no one wishes to serve me in this matter. I will take the boy, will go, and whom I meet him I will ask to stand sponsor; and if I do not meet anyone per- haps the sacristan, anyhow, will serve me." He went and met Death, but he knew not what sort of personage it was. She was a pretty woman, like any other woman. He asked her to stand god- mother. She did not excuse herself, and immediately greeted him as godfather, took the boy in her arms and carried him to church. There the little fellow was duly baptised. As they went from church, godfather took godmother to an alehouse and wished to treat her to something as godmother of his child. But she said to him: "Godfather, none of this; come instead with me to my little dwelling." She took him with her to her sitting-room, and there all was very fine. After this she led him into immense cellars, and through these cellars they went in obscurity down into the under- world. There burn tapers : small, large, middle-sized — three sorts ; those that were not yet lighted were the largest of all. Godmother says to godfather : " Look, godfather; here I have the age of every man." Godfather looks at it all, finds there quite a small taper burning close to the ground, and asks her: "But, prythee, god- mother, whose then is that little taper close to the ground ? " She says to him: "That is yours! As any taper soever burns out, I must go for that man," He says to her : " Oh ! godmother, I pray you, just replace mine." She says to him : " Oh ! godfather, that I cannot do." Afterwards she went and lighted a large new candle for the little boy they had just baptised. Meanwhile, unperceived by godmother, godfather also took a large new candle, lighted it. Death the, Oodmother. 19 and stuck it up just where his own small taper was even now burn- ing out. Godmother looked round at him and said : " Oh 1 godfather, you ought not to have done so to me ; but since you have already added a new candle, added it is, and you have it. Come from this place out into the open air, and we will go to my good gossip, thy wife." She took a present, and went with godfather and the child to god- father's wife. She came and laid the little fellow on her good gossip's bed, and asked her how she felt and where it ailed her. God- father's wife complained, and godfather sent for some beer and tried to honour her as godmother in his cottage, that he might show her his gratitude and be grateful. They drank and feasted together. After this, says godmother to godfather : " Godfather, thou art so extremely poor that no one was willing to serve you in this matter except me ; but never mind, thou shalt keep me in remembrance ! I will go for well-to-do people and will make them ill, and you shall doctor and cure them. I will tell you all the remedies; I have them all, and everyone will gladly pay you well ; but only pay heed to this : him at whose head I stand give up all idea of saving." And so it was. Godfather went to the sick, when godmother afflicted hem, and saved every one of them. Thus all at once a first-rate physician was made out of him. A prince was on his death-bed, aye, was at the point of death ; all the same they sent for this doctor. He came, began to anoint him with ointments and to give him his powders — and saved him. When he had cured the prince they paid him well, they did not' even ask what his fees were. Again, a count was on his death-bed : and again they sent for this doctor. The doctor comes ; Death stands behind the couch at the head. The doctor exclaims : " Already it goes ill with him ; but we will see what can be done." He summoned the servants and ordered them to turn round the bed with the two feet of the sick towards Death, and he began to anoint the dying man with ointments and to put his powders into his mouth, and saved him. The count gave the doctor as much as he could carry away ; he did not think of asking what the fee was ; he was delighted to have been cured. When Death met the doctor, she said to him : "Oh! godfather, the next time you see me stand so, don't play me such a trick again. True, you have saved him, but yet it is only for a brief moment. I must, for all that, take him away to the place where he belongs." And so things went on with godfather for some years ; already he was very old. But at last life was a burden to him, and he himself 20 Death the Godmother. asked Death to take him. Death could not take him, because he had himself replaced his own candle with a new long one ; he must wait until it burns out. Once he was driving yet again to a sick man's, to cure him. He saved him. After this, Death presented herself and drove with him in his coach. She, began to tickle him and to sport with him, and smote him softly with a green branch below the neck ; he rolled into her lap, and slept away into an •eternity of dreamy slumber. Death laid him down in his coach and fled out of it. There they find the dead physician lying in his coach and drove him away home. All the town and parishes round mourned : " Alas for this doctor, what a good one he was ! Skilful "was he to save ; such a physician we shall not see again." His son survived him, but this son had none of his capacity. The son once went to church, and godmother met him. She enquired of him: " Dear son, how art thou?" He said to her: "At present, well enough. So long as I have what my little father saved ■up for me, it is well with me ; but afterwards, God knows how it will be with me." Godmother says : " Inu ! son of mine ! fear nothing. I am thy fontal mother; what thy little father had, I helped him to; and to thee, too, I will give subsistence. Thou shalt come to a physician for instruction, and thou shalt be more capable than he is himself; only behave finely." After this, she anointed him with ointment over the ears and took him to a physician. The doctor did not know whatever lady it might be, and what little son she was bringing to him for instruction. The lady bade her little son behave himself finely, and requested the physician to teach him v^ell and place him in a good position. After this, she took leave of him and departed. The physician and the boy went together to collect herbs, and to this pupil of his every herb declared what remedy it contained, and the pupil gathered it. The pupil's herbs were of service in every malady. The doctor said to his pupil: ^'Thou art cleverer than I am; for if anyone comes to me I never hit upon anything, and thou knowest the herbs against every sick- ness. Knowest thou what ? we will be partners ; I will hand over my medical papers to thee and will be thy assistant, and I wish to be with thee until death." The boy doctored and cured people successfully until his candle burnt out in limbo. Four Brothers. There was a certain gamekeeper and this man had four sons; these sons wished to try their fortune in the world. As they were all more than sixteen years of age they said to their father ; " We are going into the world, father, please give as money for the journey." The father gave each of them a hundred rix-dollars and a horse. They saddled their horses and rode into the mountains. In the mountains were four cross-roads, and in the middle of the cross- roads a beech-tree. At this beech they stopped, and the eldest brother said : " Brothers, here we will separate and each of us take a different road to seek our fortunes in the world. Into this beech each of us will stick his knife, and this day year we will again all collect here. These knives will be a sign to us : if any one of them be rusty, its owner will be dead, and he whose knife remains untar- nished, will be preserved alive." They separated and went each his own way, and when they reached each his proper place, they learnt a trade. One learnt to be a botcher, the next to be a thief, the third to be a stargazer, and the fourth to bfe a gamekeeper. When a year and a day had elapsed, they returned. The eldest came first to the beech, drew out his own knife, and looked at the remaining knives. Seeing that they were all untarnished, he was glad and said : " Thank God, we are all alive and well ! " He went home. When he came to his father, his father asked him: "What sort of trade hast thou learnt?" The son replied: "My httle father, with shame be it said, I am a botcher." The father: "Oh, really! a precious — a precious good- for-nothing trade hast thou learnt ! '\ The son : " But, little father, I am not a botcher like other botchers, but I am such a botcher that if anything be ever so spoiled, I have only to say let it be botched up and it is so at once." His father had a spoiled overcoat hanging on the clothes-peg and said, " Let him repair it." The son said, " Let it be repaired," and the coat was that moment as perfectly 22 Four Brothers. repaired as if it had been fresh from the calender, there was nothing the least to show that it had been botched. After this the father said no more. The next day the second son came to the beech-tree. He drew out his knife and looked at the two remaining knives ; the third was no longer there. Seeing that they were all untarnished he was glad and said : " Praise God, we are all alive and well. My eldest brother is already at home." He went home also. When he came to his father's, his father asked him : " "What kind of trade hast thou learnt?" The son repHed : " My dear Httle father, with shame be it said— I am a thief ! " The father said : " A precious fine trade thou hast taught thyself— oh ! for shame ! " The son says : " But, little father, I am no common thief ; but I am such a thief that as soon as I fix my thoughts upon anything, be it what it may, I have it at once in my reach." Just then a stag fled over a hillock, it was visible from the window ; the father says to him that he is to provide him with that stag. The son said at once : " Let that stag be here," and in a jiffy it was at their house. After this the father said no more. On the third day the third son came to the beech, drew out his own knife, looked at the other knife, and already two were there no longer. Seeing that they were both clean he, was glad and said : " Thank God ! we are all safe and sound ; my eldest two brothers are already at home." He went home, too. When he came to his father's, his father asked him what trade he had learnt ? The son replied : " Dear little father, with shame be it said — I am a stargazer." The father said to him : " That is a precious trade." The son said : " But, little father, I am such a stargazer that the instant I look at the firmament I see anything anywhere in the whole world." On the fourth day came the youngest son and drew out his knife — the other three were already gone — he was glad, and said : " My brothers are already all at home." He went home, too. When he came to his father's, his father inquired what trade he had learnt. His son replied that he was a gamekeeper. The father says : " Well, thou at least hast not disdained my trade, for that thou art worthy." The son says : "But, my dear little father, lam not such a gamekeeper as thou art, but such a one that, when the game is a bit bigger than myself, I say ' Let it be shot,' and immediately it is shot." A hare fled away over the hillock, it was visible from the window. The father says : " Shoot it, then ! " The youngest son spoke and the hare fell. The father says : " I do not see if it his fallen." The son who was a Bour Brothers. 23 stargazer looked at the firmament and said, " Yes, little father, it has fallen there behind the bush." The little father says : " Yes, it has fallen there, but how shall we get it ? " Brother thief says : " Let it be here," and immediately it was there. But it had fled through a thorny bush and was all rent. The father says : " The skin is all rent, who will buy it of us?" Brother botcher says, " Let it be mended," and in a jiffy it was mended. The father says: " Nu ! you will manage to live very well with your trades." They spent some time at home with their little father, and lived very well. Then a certain king lost a princess, and announced that he would give this daughter and the kingdom with her to whoever found her. The brothers said to themselves: "We will go there." The little father did not wish to let them go, but they went all the same, and gave out that they were the fellows to find this lost princess. The king at once sent his coach for them. When they came to the king's, they said that he had announced with a flourish of trumpets that he had lost a daughter, and that he who found her should have her and the kingdom with her. The king said that it was the simple truth, and asked them at once to tell him where his daughter was. The stargazer said that he could not say just then, but that when evening came, he could make out from the firmament where she tarried. At about eight and nine o'clock they went out and looked at the firmament. The stargazer said that she was held captive by a dragon ; that, as she went out walking, the dragon caught her, and that he had her still on an island beyond the black sea, that she had to stroke him there, two hours every day, and that during this the dragon had his head laid on her lap. As they ex- pected the day, they at once collected themselves and drove in a coach as far as that black sea. After this they seated themselves in a ship and sailed to that island, where the princess tarried. As they sailed up to the island, the princess was out walking there, the dragon was not at home ; but the princess managed to make a sign to them that they were in a bad way, for the dragon was even then flying straight home. Brother thief hastily shouted out: "Let the princess be here 1 " She was at once with them in the ship, but she shrieked that they were in a bad way and would all perish. They put out to sea in the ship at full speed, but that dragon, full of fury, roared and bellowed and reared itself above them. The stargazer says to the gamekeeper: "Brother, shoot him!" Brother gamekeeper said : " Let him be shot." The dragon was shot, but 24 I