-t. 
 
V,^'VERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00022094109 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 From the Library of 
 
 Elizabeth Morton Johnston 
 Patterson 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/grannyswonderfulObrow 
 
%^ %. 
 
 GRANNY'S WWmRFUL 
 CHAIR AND ITS' TALES 
 
 4 <^ 
 
 OF FAIRY TIME§^^; 
 
 BY 
 
 FRANCES BROWNE 
 
 INTRODUCED AND ILLUSTRATED 
 
 By KATHARINE PYLE 
 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 E. P. BUTTON & CO., Inc. 
 
 •4' 
 
The Preface and all the Illustrations in this Volume 
 
 Copyright, 1916, by 
 
 E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 First Printing, November, 1916 
 Second Printing, July, 19 18 
 
 Third Printing, September, 1922 
 
 New Edition, October, 1925 
 
 Second Printing, February, 1926 
 
 Third Printing, June, 1926 
 
 Fourth Printing, February, 1929 
 
 Printed in the United States of America 
 
789358 t^il b2)%l^\ 
 
 PREFACE TO NEW EDITION 
 
 Years and years ago there lived, in a certain 
 town a poor old blind woman. All her friends 
 and neighbours pitied her because she was poor 
 and blind. 
 
 But if they had only known it there was no need 
 for pity. They might well have envied her instead, 
 for this old woman had the gift of magic, and be- 
 cause of her magic her blind eyes could see farther 
 and clearer than any other pair of eyes in all the 
 town. She could see hidden things ; the things of 
 fairyland, and of the world beyond this. 
 
 As to her being poor, that mattered little to her. 
 Why should she care for money or lands, or fine 
 coaches to ride in, when all she had to do was to 
 wish it, and away she could go into fairyland. 
 There she could wander at will over shining mead- 
 ows, through shadowy forests, and by softly-flow- 
 ing streams, and never weary with the travelling 
 
iv Preface 
 
 however far she went. Or she could enter great 
 palaces and see about her everjrthing that was 
 magnificent, and know that all of it belonged to her 
 for as long as she cared to stay there. And the 
 best of it all was that these fairy riches would never 
 waste away; the gold would never tarnish, nor 
 could the years dim the sight of her enchanted 
 eyes. 
 
 The old woman never hoarded away what she 
 possessed. She was always ready to share her 
 magic with others, and the children used to come 
 to her as they might to a fairy godmother. They 
 quickly learned to know what a wonder-worker 
 she was. Then, if they were good little children, 
 she would take them by the hand and lead them 
 away with her into the enchanted lands. They 
 had no need for shoes to their feet nor hats for their 
 heads, and however far away they went their 
 mothers had only to call to them and the old woman 
 could have them back home again in a twinkling. 
 
 Do you wish you could have known that old 
 blind woman, and have gone with her into fairy- 
 land? 
 
Preface v 
 
 Years and years ago it was that she spun her 
 magic, but the magic is not all gone yet. 
 
 Open the covers of this book and let your 
 thoughts step inside as though through an open 
 door. Now open your mind's eyes and look about 
 you. 
 
 Why here sits the very old woman herself. 
 With blind but seeing eyes she spins her shining 
 threads as of old from a mrgic distaff that is 
 always full. 
 
 If you like she will take yor. hj the hand and 
 lead you away into the enchanted country whither 
 she led other little children years ago when your 
 parents and your grandparents were yoimg. There 
 you will find the same people they foimd, and see 
 the same sights they saw. 
 
 The wonderful carved chair they followed over 
 hill and dale still moves as fast as ever on its 
 magic rollers. The cushion is still in it, and the 
 velvet cover has neither worn nor faded. 
 
 Little Snowflower is not a day older for all the 
 years that have passed by since then. The 
 Princess Greedalind, alas ! has not grown one whit 
 
vi Preface 
 
 gentler or less selfish. She still sits there on her 
 throne like an ugly toad bedecked with jewels, 
 demanding everything, and quarrelling with every- 
 one who will not give her what she wants. 
 
 Merrymiiid and Fairyfoot, Childe Charity and 
 the old Shepherd who piped his sheep into wolves 
 and back again at will ; they are all there in that 
 enchanted country of the book. 
 
 And it is not fields and forests and castles only 
 that the old woman can show you. She can take 
 you down tmder the depths of the ocean, too, if 
 you like. 
 
 Then all is still and strange and muSed by 
 the deep waters overhead. Out from a hidden 
 cave steps the merman trailing his heavy, fishy feet. 
 His garments rustle lilie the rustle of snakes 
 twisting upon each other, and his hands and arms 
 are crusted with rings and bracelets. His daugh- 
 ters are beautiful, but their eyes are pale and green, 
 and they have but little more warmth or feeling 
 than the fishes that move about them. Such a 
 wealth of treasures as the merman has stored 
 away in his coral caves if you care to look. But 
 
Preface vii 
 
 they are only to look at and not to touch or you will 
 be in his power for ever. ^ v^ 
 
 All the sights of earth and sea, and many other 
 wonders, too, the old blind woman can show you. 
 
 And now she has laid aside her distaff and she 
 holds out her hand to you. Are you ready? 
 Do you care to go ? Then take hold of her fingers 
 and let us be off into the world of magic and en- 
 chanted things. 
 
 Katharine Pyle. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The writer of " Granny's Wonderful Chair " 
 was a poet, and blind. That she was a poet the 
 story tells on every page, but of her blindness it 
 tells not a word. From beginning to end it is filled 
 with pictures; each little tale has its own pictur- 
 esque setting, its own vividly realised scenery. 
 Her power of visualisation would be easy to under- 
 stand had she become blind in the later years of 
 her Hfe, when the beauties of the physical world 
 were impressed on her mind ; but Frances Browne 
 was blind from infancy. The pictures she gives 
 us in her stories were created, in darkness, from 
 material which came to her only through the words 
 of others. In her work are no blurred lines or 
 
X Preface 
 
 uncertainties, her drawing is done with a firm and 
 vigorous hand. It would seem that the complete- 
 ness of her calamity created, within her, that ser- 
 enity of spirit which contrives the greatest triumphs 
 in Life and in Art. Her endeavour was to reaKse 
 the world independently of her own personal emo- 
 tion and needs. She, who, out of her darkness and 
 poverty, might have touched us so surely with her 
 longing for her birthright of light, for her share of 
 the world's good things, gives help and encourage- 
 ment to the more fortunate. 
 
 In reading the very few details of her life we feel 
 the stimulation as of watching one who, in a desper- 
 ate fight, wins against great odds. 
 
 The odds against Frances Browne were heavy. 
 She was bom at Stranorlar, a moimtain village in 
 Donegal, on January i6, 1816. Her great-grand- 
 father was a man of considerable property, which 
 he squandered ; and the yoimger generation would 
 seem to have inherited nothing from its ancestor 
 but his irresponsibility. Frances Browne's father 
 was the village post-master, and she, the seventh 
 in a family of twelve children, learning privation 
 
Preface xi 
 
 -and endurance from the cradle. But no soil is the 
 wrong one for genius. Whether or not hers would 
 have developed more richly in more generous sur- 
 - roimdings, it is difficult to say. The strong mind 
 that could, in blindness and poverty, secure its own 
 education, and win its way to the company of the 
 best, the thoroughly equipped and well tended, 
 gained a victory which genius alone made possible. 
 
 She was one of the elect, had no creative achieve- 
 ment crowned her triimiph. 
 
 She tells us how she herself learned by heart 
 the lessons which her brothers and sisters said 
 aloud every evening, in readiness for the next day's 
 school; and how she bribed them to read to her by 
 doing their share of the household work. 
 
 When the usual bribe failed, she invented stories 
 for them, and, in return for these, books were read 
 to her which, while they seemed dull and uninter- 
 esting enough to the readers, built up for the eager 
 listener those enchanted steps by which she was 
 to climb into her intellectual kingdom. 
 
 Her habit was to say these lessons aloud at 
 night, when every one else was asleep, to impress 
 
xii Preface 
 
 untiringly upon her memory the knowledge for 
 which she persistently fought through the day. 
 
 There were no book-shops at Stranorlar, or with- 
 in three counties of it, and had there been one, 
 Frances Browne had no pennies for the luxury of 
 books. But she had friends, and from those who 
 were richer than herself in possession, she bor- 
 rowed her tools. From the village teacher she 
 learned French, in exchange for those lessons in 
 grammar and geography which her brothers and 
 sisters had given away to her, in return for ntmiber- 
 less wipings and scrubbings in the kitchen. 
 Scott's novels marked an era in her mental life;, 
 and of Pope's Iliad — which she heard read when 
 she was about fifteen — she says, " It was like the 
 discovery of a new world, and effected a total 
 change in my ideas and thoughts on the subject of 
 poetry. There was at the time a considerable MS. 
 of my own production in existence, which of course 
 I regarded with some partiaUty; but Homer had 
 awakened me, and ia a fit of sovereign contempt 
 I committed the whole to the flames. After 
 Homer's, the work that produced the greatest im- 
 
Preface xiii 
 
 pression on my mind was Byron's 'Childe Harold.' 
 The one had induced me to bum my first MS., the 
 other made me resolve against verse-maldng in 
 future." 
 
 Her first poem was written at the age of seven, 
 but after this resolve of her fifteenth year, she 
 wrote no more for nearly ten years. Then, in 1840, 
 when she was four and twenty, a volume of Irish 
 Songs was read to her, and her own music re- 
 awakened. She wrote a poem called " The Songs 
 of our Land." It was published in the "Irish 
 Penny Journal," and can be foimd still in DuflFy's 
 " Ballad Poetry of Ireland." After this her poems 
 grew apace : she wrote lyrics for the "Athenaeum," 
 "Hood's Magazine," and "Lady Blessington's 
 Keepsake." Her work was much appreciated, and 
 her poems were reprinted in many of the contem- 
 porary journals. 
 
 She pubUshed a complete volume of poems in 
 1844, and a second volume iu 1848, which she called 
 "L3rrics and Miscellaneous Poems." 
 
 The first use to which she put her literary earn- 
 ings was the education of a sister, to be her reader 
 
xiv Preface 
 
 and amanuensis. In Frances Browne's life each 
 step was in the direction of her goal. From its 
 beginning to its end the strong mind pressed un- 
 hesitatingly forward to its complete development, 
 seeking the inner light more steadfastly for the 
 absence of external vision. 
 
 Her income was a pension of i^20, from the Royal 
 Bounty Fund; and with this, for all security, she 
 set out, in 1847, with her sister to Edinburgh, de- 
 termined to make her own way in the literary world. 
 At leaving her native land she says: 
 
 ** I go as one that comes no more, yet go without regret ; 
 The summers other memories store 'twere summer to 
 
 forget; 
 I go without one parting word, one grasp of parting hand, 
 As to the wide air goes the bird — yet fare thee well, my 
 
 land!" 
 
 She quickly made friends ia Edinburgh, won by 
 her genius and character, in the circle which in- 
 cluded Christopher North. Her industry was 
 amazing : she wrote essays, reviews, leaders, lyrics, 
 stories — indeed, she wrote anything she was asked 
 to write, and under the pressure of her work her 
 
Preface XT 
 
 prose strengthened and developed. But all her 
 energy cotdd not make her rich. " The waters of 
 my lot," she says, "were often troubled, though not 
 by angels." Her own health interfered with her 
 work, and, from the beginning, she, out of her own 
 poverty, tried to relieve that of her mother. 
 
 In 1852 she moved to London, and here, by the 
 gift of Xioo from the Marquis of Lansdowne, she 
 was for the time released from the pressure oi 
 daily necessity. She concentrated on a more im- 
 portant work than she had yet attempted, and 
 wrote a novel which she called " My Share of the 
 World." 
 
 It is written in the form of an autobiography of 
 ^ one Frederick Favoursham, a youthful struggler 
 " through journalism and tutorship, who wins noth- 
 ing better, in the end, than a lonely possession of 
 vast estates. But one realises fully, in this story, 
 the strength of a mind whose endeavour is to 
 probe the heart of things, and whose firm incisive 
 expression translates precisely what the mind 
 discovers. 
 
 There are in this work, and it is natural it should 
 
xvi Preface 
 
 be so, one or two touches of self-revelation; the 
 only ones, I think, which she, in all her writing, 
 permitted herself. She makes her hero say of his 
 mother — " Well I remember her old blue gown, her 
 hands hard with rough work, her still girlish figure 
 and small pale face, from which the bloom and the 
 prettiness had gone so early; but the hard hand 
 had, in its kindly pressure, the only genuine love 
 I ever knew; the pale face looks yet on my sleep 
 with a blessing, and the old gown has turned, in 
 my dreams, to the radiant robe of an angel." 
 
 And the delicate sensitive character of Lucy, the 
 heroine, reads like the expression of the writer's 
 own personality: into it she has put a touch of 
 romance. In all her work there is never a word of 
 personal complaint, but the words she puts into the 
 mouth of her hero, when Lucy commits suicide, 
 must have been bom of her own suffering : " When 
 the burden outgrows the strength so far that moral 
 as well as physical energies begin to fail, and there 
 is no door but death's, that will welcome our weari- 
 ness, what remains but to creep into that quiet 
 shelter? I think it had come to that with Lucy. 
 
Preface xvii 
 
 Her days were threatened by a calamity, the most 
 terrible in the list of human ills, which the wise 
 Manetho, the last of the Egyptians, with his brave 
 Pagan heart and large philosophy, thought good 
 and sufficient warrant for a man^s resigning his 
 place on the earth." 
 
 Among other mental qualities, she had, for the 
 fortification of her spirit, a sense of humour. In 
 this same book she writes of "a little man of that 
 peculiar figure which looks as if a not very well 
 filled sack had somehow got legs "; and comment- 
 mg"on a little difficulty of her heroes making, shi 
 says, " It is rather an awkward business to meet a 
 family at breakfast whose only son one has kicked 
 overnight." 
 
 And how elastic and untarnished must that 
 nature have been which, after years of continuous 
 struggle for bare subsistence, could put her money- 
 wise people on to paper and quietly say of them 
 that, " To keep a daily watch over passing pence 
 did not disturb the Fentons — it was a mental 
 exercise suited to their capacities. " The turning 
 of that sentence was surely an exquisite pleasure 
 
xviii Preface 
 
 to its author. And " My Share of the World " is 
 fxiU of cleverly-tumed sentences — " Hartley cared 
 for nobody, and I believe the corollary of the 
 miller's song was verified in his favour." 
 
 But we must not linger longer over her novel, its 
 pages are full of passages which tell of the vigorous 
 quality of her mind. 
 
 Frances Browne's poetry is as impersonal as her 
 prose. She belonged to the first order of artists, if 
 there be distinction in our gratitude. The material 
 with which she tried to deal was Life — apart from 
 herself — a perhaps bigger, and, certainly, a harder 
 piece of work than the subjective expression of a 
 single personality. 
 
 The subjects of her poems are in many lands 
 and periods. The most ambitious — " The Star of 
 Atteghei" — is a tale of Circassia, another is of a 
 twelfth-century monk and the philosopher's stone, 
 another of an Arab ; and another is of that Cyprus 
 tree which is said to have been planted at the birth 
 of Christ, and to spare which Napoleon deviated 
 from his course when he ordered the making of the 
 road over the Simplon. 
 
Preface xix 
 
 " Why came it not, when o*er my life 
 
 A cloud of darkness hung, 
 When years were lost in fruitless strife, 
 
 But still my heart was young? 
 How hath the shower forgot the Spring, 
 And fallen on Autumn's withering? " 
 
 These lines are from a poem called " The Un- 
 known Crown. " The messenger who came to tell 
 Tasso the laureate crown had been decreed him, 
 foimd him d3dng in a convent. 
 
 Then she has verses on Boston, on Protestant 
 Union in New England, on the Abolition of Slavery 
 in the United States, on the Parliament grant for 
 the improvement of the Shannon. Her mind com- 
 pelled externals to its use. 
 
 A love of nature was in her soul, a perception of 
 
 the beauty of the world. She, with her poet's 
 
 spirit, saw all the green and leafy places of the 
 
 earth, all its flowery ways — ^while they, may be, 
 
 were trodden heedlessly by those about her with 
 
 their gift of sight. 
 
 " Sing on by fane and forest old 
 By tombs and cottage eaves. 
 And tell the waste of coming flowers 
 The woods of coming leaves ; — 
 
XX Preface 
 
 The same sweet song that o'er the birth 
 
 Of earliest blossoms rang, 
 And caught its music from the hymn 
 
 The stars of morning sang. " 
 
 (" The Birds of Spring. ") 
 
 " Ye early minstrels of the earth, 
 
 Whose mighty voices woke 
 
 The echoes of its infant woods, 
 
 Ere yet the tempest spoke ; 
 How is it that ye waken still 
 
 The young heart's happy dreams. 
 And shed your light on darkened days 
 O bright and blessed steams? " 
 
 (" Streams.") 
 
 " Words — words of hope! — oh! long believed, 
 
 As oracles of old, 
 When stars of promise have deceived, 
 
 And beacon-fires grown cold ! 
 Though still, upon time's stormy steeps. 
 
 Such sounds are faint and few, 
 Yet oft from cold and stranger lips 
 
 Hath fallen that blessed dew, — 
 That, like the rock-kept rain, remained 
 When many a sweeter fount was drained." 
 
 (" Words.") 
 
 Many and many such verses there are which 
 might be quoted, but her work for children is wait- 
 
 II 
 
Preface xxi 
 
 ing. — For them she wrote many stories, and in their 
 employ her imagination travelled into many lands. 
 The most popular was " Granny's Wonderful 
 Chair," published in 1856. It was at once a fav- 
 
 j ourite, and quickly out of print, and, strangely 
 enough, was not reprinted until 1880. Then new 
 editions were issued in 1881, '82, '83, '84, '87, and 
 '89. In 1887, Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett pub- 
 lished it, with a preface, under the title " Stories 
 from the Lost Fairy Book," re-told by the child 
 
 ' who read them. "The Lost Fairy Book" was 
 
 j ' " Granny's Wonderful Chair." 
 
 ' One has not far to read to discover the secret of 
 its popularity with children. It is full of word- 
 pictures, of picturesque settings. Her power of 
 visualisation is shown in these fairy-tales more, 
 perhaps, than in any other of her writings. Truly, 
 she was fortunate in having the Irish fairies to lead 
 her into their gossamer-strewn ways, to touch her 
 fancy with their magic, and put upon her the gla- 
 mour of their land. When the stories are of them 
 she is, perhaps, at her best; but each story in the 
 book makes a complete picture, each has enough 
 
xxii Preface 
 
 and no more of colour and scene. And the littl^ 
 pictures are kept in their places, pinned down to 
 reality, by delightful touches of humour. Of the 
 wonderful chair. Dame Frostj^ace says in the begin- 
 xiing of the story, " It was made by a ginning fairy 
 who lived in the forest when I was yoimg, and she 
 gave it to me because she knew nobody would keep 
 what they got hold of better." 
 
 How did a writer who never saw a coach, or a 
 palace, or the picture of a coach or a palace, tell 
 of the palace and the people and the multitudes, 
 of the roasting and boiling, of the spiced ale, and 
 the dancing? 
 
 Whence came her vision of the old woman who 
 weaved her own hair into grey cloth at a crazy 
 loom; of the fortified city in the plain, with corn- 
 fields and villages; of floors of ebony and ceilings 
 of silver; of swallows that built in the eaves while 
 the daisies grew thick at the door? 
 
 Had her descriptions been borrowed, the wonder 
 of them would cease. But her words are her own, 
 and they are used sparingly, as by one who sees too 
 vividly what she is describing to add one unneces- 
 
 mw 
 
Preface xxiii 
 
 sary or indistinct touch. She seems as much at 
 home under the sea, among hills of marble and 
 rocks of spa, as with the shepherds on the moorland 
 or when she tells of the spring, and the budding of 
 the topmost boughs. 
 
 The enrichment of little Snowflower, by the 
 King's gifts, links these stories together as artis- 
 tically as the telling of the princess's raiment in 
 that beautiful book, "A Digit of the Moon"; and 
 right glad we are when the poorly clad little girl 
 takes her place among the grand courtiers, and is 
 led away to happiness by the Prince. 
 
 Frances Browne's Hst of contributions to chil- 
 dren's literature is a long one. In reading these 
 books one is surprised by the size of her imagina- 
 tive territory; by the diversity of the knowledge 
 she acquired. 
 
 One, "The Exile's Trust," is a story of the 
 French Revolution, in which Charlotte Corday is 
 introduced ; and in it are descriptions of the scenery 
 of Lower Normandy; another, "The First of the 
 African Diamonds," is a tale of the Dutch and the 
 banks of the Orange River. Then, in " The Yoimg 
 
xxiv Preface 
 
 Foresters," she conducts her young heroes to 
 Archangel, to see the fine frost and clear sky, the 
 long winter nights, and long summer days, to ad- 
 venture with wolves in the forest, and with pirates 
 by sea. 
 
 In " The Dangerous Guest " she is in the time of 
 the Young Pretender, and in " The Eriksons," 
 " The Clever Boy," and *' Our Uncle the Traveller," 
 she wanders far and wide. 
 
 In reviewing her subjects one realises afresh the 
 richness of the world she created within her own 
 darkness. 
 
 A wonderful law of Exchange keeps safe the pre- 
 cious things of Life, and it operates by strange and 
 unexpected means. In this instance it was most 
 beautifully maintained; for Frances Browne, the 
 iron of calamity was transmuted to gold. 
 
 Thus it has been, and thus it shall be ; so long as 
 the world shall last, circumstance shall not conquer 
 a strong and beautiful spirit. 
 
 D. R. 
 
Biblio^rapHx xxv 
 
 The following are the works of Frances Browne : 
 
 The Star of Atteghei; The Vision of Schwartz, and other 
 Poems, 1844; Lyrics and Miscellaneous Poems, 1848; The 
 Ericksons ; The Clever Boy, or Consider One Another, 1852 ; 
 Pictures and Songs of Home, 1856; Granny's Wonderful 
 Chair, and its Tales of Fairy Times: illustrated by Kenny 
 Meadows, 1857; illustrated by Mr. Seymour Lucas, 1891, 
 1900 ; with an introduction by F. Hodgson Burnett, entitled, 
 The Story of the Lost Fairy Book, 1904; Our Uncle the 
 Traveller's Stories, 1859; The Young Foresters; The Or- 
 phans of Elfholm (Magnet Stories, i860, etc., coll. ed, 
 1864); My Share of the World: an Autobiography, 3 vols., 
 1861 ; The Castleford Case, 3 vols., 1862 ; The Hidden Sin, 
 1866; The Exile's Trust: a Tale of the French Revolution, 
 and other Stories, 1869; My Nearest Neighbour, and other 
 Stories, 1875 ; The Foundling of the Fens : a Story of a Flood 
 1886: The Dangerous Guest: a Story of 1745, 1886; The 
 First of the African Diamonds, 1887. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 (Chapter 
 
 I. — Introductory 
 
 n. — ^The Christmas Cuckoo 
 
 in.— The Lords of the White and Grey 
 Castles . 
 
 IV.— The Greedy Shepherd . 
 v.— The Story of Fairyfoot 
 VI.— The Story of Childe Charity 
 Vn.— Sour and Civil 
 Vni. — ^The Story of Merrymind 
 IX. — ^Prince Wisewit' ".etum 
 
 Pags 
 
 3 
 19 
 
 57 
 85 
 
 lOI 
 
 127 
 147 
 177 
 203 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Page 
 
 Granny's Wonderful Chair Frontispiece 
 
 Princess Greedalind {Half Title) i 
 
 Spare Talking to the Cuckoo {Half Title) 17 
 
 " A royal messenger was sent to Spare " 33 
 
 " A Dwarf named Spy stole the doublet and ran off 
 
 to his Mother in the wood " 41 
 
 The Old Gray Woman {Half Title) 55 
 
 " Thinking they must have gone to the forest, the 
 
 children went in search of them " 63 
 
 Lady Greensleeves Talks with the Raven 69 
 
 The Shepherd and the Wolf {Half Title) 83 
 
 ** Thousands of sheep were feeding while an old 
 
 mans at in the midst of them playing on his pipe " 92 
 
 Fairyf oot and the Fairy {Half Title) 99 
 
 " All the little people cried * Welcome * " no 
 
 Childe Charity with her Dog {Half Title) 125 
 
 The Mermaid on the Rock {Half Title) 145 
 
 xyjy 
 
yyy Illustrations 
 
 Page 
 
 " With one bound they leaped into his boat. . . his 
 
 boat went down miles deep in the sea " 154 
 
 " The Merman showed Civil the Chamber of Gold 
 
 and the Chamber of Jewels " 159 
 
 Dame Dreary (Half Title) 175 
 
 Merrymind and his Burden 185 
 
 Prince Wisewit's Return {Half Title) 201 
 
6tannt'8 
 
 mHonbcrful 
 
 Chniv 
 
 (g) E. P. D. & Co. 
 
[Granny's Wonderful Chair 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 In an old time, long ago, when the fairies were 
 in the world, there lived a little girl so uncommonly 
 fair and pleasant of look, that they called her 
 Snowflower. This girl was good as well as prp^y:. 
 No one had ever seen her frown or heard her say. a 
 cross word, and young and old were glad when they 
 saw her coming. 
 
 Snowflower had no relation in the world but 
 a very old grandmother, called Dame Frostyface; 
 people did not like her quite so well as her grand- 
 daughter, for she was cross enough at times, but 
 always kind to Snowflower; and they lived together 
 in a little cottage built of peat, and thatched with 
 reeds, on the edge of a great forest; tall trees 
 
4 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 sheltered its back from the north wind; the mid- 
 day Sim made its front warm and cheerful; swal- 
 lows built in the eaves; daisies grew thick at the 
 door; but there were none in all that country 
 poorer than Snowflower and her grandmother. 
 A cat and two hens were all their live-stock : their 
 bed was dry grass, and the only good piece of furni- 
 ture in the cottage was a great arm-chair with 
 wheels on its feet, a black velvet cushion, and 
 many curious carvings of flowers and fawns on its 
 dark oaken back. 
 
 On that chair Dame Frostyface sat spinning 
 from morning till night to maintain herself and 
 her granddaughter, while Snowflower gathered 
 sticks for firing, looked after the hens and the cat, 
 and did whatever else her grandmother bade her. 
 There was nobody in the shire could spin such 
 fine yam as Dame Frostyface, but she spun very 
 slowly. Her wheel was as old as herself, and far 
 the more worn; indeed, the wonder was that it did 
 not fall to pieces. So the dame's earnings were 
 anall, and their living meagre. Snowflower, how- 
 ever, felt no want of good dumers or fine clothes. 
 
Introductory 5 
 
 Every evening, v^hen the fire was heaped with the 
 sticks she had gathered till it blazed and crackled 
 up the cottage chimney, Dame Frostyface set aside 
 her wheel, and told her a new story. Often did 
 the little girl wonder where her grandmother had 
 gathered so many stories, but she soon learned 
 that. One sunny morning, at the time of the 
 swallows coming, the dame rose up, put on the 
 grey hood and mantle in which she carried her 
 yam to the fairs, and said, " My child, I am going 
 a long journey to visit an aunt of mine, who lives 
 far in the north country. I cannot take you with 
 me, because my aunt is the crossest woman alive, 
 and never liked young people: but the hens will 
 lay eggs for you; there is barley-meal in the barrel; 
 and, as you have been a good girl, 1*11 tell you 
 what to do when you feel lonely. Lay your head 
 gently down on the cushion of the arm-chair, and 
 I say, "Chair of my grandmother, tell me a story." 
 tit was made by a cunning fairy, who lived in the 
 [forest when I was young, and she gave it to me 
 [because she knew nobody could keep what they 
 got hold of better. Remember, you must never 
 
 t. i^a ruGiic Library, I'^ewarK, im. i. 
 
6 Granny's W^onderful CKair 
 
 ask a story more than once in the day ; and if there 
 be any occasion to travel, you have only to seat 
 yourself in it, and say, " Chair of my grandmother, 
 take me such a way.'* It will carry you wherever 
 you wish; but mind to oil the wheels before you 
 set out, for I have sat on it these forty years in 
 that same corner. " 
 
 Having said this. Dame Frostyface set forth to 
 see her aunt in the north country. Snowflower 
 gathered firing and looked after the hens and cat 
 as usual. She baked herself a cake or two of the 
 barley-meal ; but when the evening fell the cottage 
 looked lonely. Then Snowflower remembered her 
 grandmother's words, and, laying her head gently 
 down, she said, " Chair of my grandmother, tell 
 me a story. " 
 
 Scarce were the words spoken, when a clear 
 voice from under the velvet cushion began to 
 tell a new and most wonderful tale, which surprised 
 Snowflower so much that she forgot to be fright- 
 ened. After that the good girl was lonely no more. 
 Every morning she baked a barley cake, and every 
 evening the chair told her a new story; but she 
 
Introductory 
 
 couU never find out who owned the voice, though 
 Snowflower showed her gratitude by polishing up 
 the oaken back, and dusting the velvet cushion, 
 till the chair looked as good as new. The swallows 
 came and built in the eaves, the daisies grew 
 thicker than ever at the door; but great misfor- 
 [tunes fell upon Snowflower. Notwithstanding all 
 her care, she forgot to clip the hens* wings, and 
 ; they flew away one morning to visit their friends, 
 [the pheasants, who lived far in the forest; the cat 
 followed them to see its relations; the barley-meal 
 [was eaten up, except a couple of handfuls; and 
 Snowflower had often strained her eyes in hopes of 
 I seeing the grey mantle, but there was no appear- 
 [ance of Dame Frostyface. 
 
 " My grandmother stays long, " said Snow- 
 flower to herself; " and by and by there will be 
 nothing to eat. If I could get to her, perhaps she 
 would advise me what to do; and this is a good 
 occasion for travelling." 
 
 Next day, at sunrise, Snowflower oiled the 
 chair's wheels, baked a cake out of the last of the 
 meal, took it in her lap by way of provision for 
 
8 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 the journey, seated herself, and said, " Chair of 
 my grandmother, take me the way she went." 
 
 Presently the chair gave a creak, and began 
 to move out of the cottage, and into the forest the 
 very way Dame Frostjrface had taken, where it 
 rolled along at a rate of a coach and six. Snow- 
 flower was amazed at this style of travelling, but 
 the chair never stopped nor stayed the whole sum- 
 mer day, till as the sun was setting they came upon 
 an open space, where a hundred men were hewing 
 down the tall trees with their axes, a hundred more 
 were cleaving them for firewood, and twenty wag- 
 goners, with horses and waggons, were carrying 
 the wood away. " Oh! chair of my grandmother, 
 stop! " said Snowflower, for she was tired, and 
 also wished to know what this might mean. The 
 chair immediately stood still, and Snowflower, 
 seeing an old woodcutter, who looked civil, stepped 
 up to him, and said, " Good father, tell me why 
 you cut all this wood ? " 
 
 " What ignorant country girl are you ? " replied 
 the man, " not to have heard of the great feast 
 which our sovereign. King Winwealth, means to 
 
Introductory 9 
 
 give on the birthday of his only daughter, the 
 Princess Greedalind. It will last seven days. 
 Everybody will be feasted, and this wood is to 
 roast the oxen and the sheep, the geese and the 
 turkeys, amongst whom there is a great lamenta- 
 tion throughout the land." 
 
 When Snowfiower heard that she could not 
 help wishing to see, and perhaps share in, such 
 a noble feast, after living so long on barley cakes; 
 so, seating herself, she said, " Chair of my grand- 
 mother, take me quickly to the palace of King 
 Winwealth." 
 
 The words were hardly spoken, when off the 
 chair started through the trees and out of the 
 forest, to the great amazement of the woodcutters^ 
 who, never having seen such a sight before, 
 threw down their axes, left their waggons, and 
 followed Snowfiower to the gates of a great and 
 splendid city, fortified with strong walls and high 
 towers, and standiag in the midst of a wide plain 
 covered with cornfields, orchards, and villages. 
 
 It was the richest city in all the land ; merchants 
 [from every quarter came there to buy and sell, 
 
10 Granny s Wonderful CHair 
 
 and there was a saying that people had only to live 
 seven years in it to make their fortunes. Rich 
 as they were, however, Snowflower thought she 
 had never seen so many discontented, covetous 
 faces as looked out from the great shops, grand 
 houses, and fine coaches, when her chair rattled 
 along the streets ; indeed, the citizens did not stand 
 high in repute for either good-nature or honesty; 
 but it had not been so when King ¥/inwealth was 
 young, and he and his brother. Prince Wisewit, 
 governed the land together— Wisewit was a won- 
 derful prince for knowledge and prudence. He 
 knew the whole art of government, the tempers of 
 men, and the powers of the stars ; moreover, he was 
 a great magician, and it was said of him that he 
 could never die or grow old. In his time there was 
 neither discontent nor sickness in the city — 
 strangers were hospitably entertained without 
 price or questions. Lawsuits there were none, 
 and no one locked his door at night. The fairies 
 used to come there at May-day and Michaelmas, 
 for they were Prince Wisewit's friends — all but 
 one, called Fortunetta, a shortsighted but very 
 
Introd\ictory ii 
 
 cunning fairy, who hated everybody wiser than 
 herself, and the prince especially, because she 
 could neiver deceive him. 
 
 y There was peace and pleasure for niany a year 
 in King Winwealth's city, till one day at midsum- 
 mer Prince Wisewit went alone to the forest, in 
 search of a strange herb for his garden, but he 
 never came back ; and though the king, with all his 
 guards, searched far and near, no news was ever 
 heard of him. When his brother was gone. King 
 Winwealth grew lonely in his great palace, so he 
 married a certain princess, called Wantall, and 
 brought her home to be his queen. This princess 
 was neither handsome nor agreeable. People 
 thought she must have gained the king's love by 
 enchantment, for her whole dowry was a desert is- 
 land, with a huge pit in it that never could be filled, 
 and her disposition was so covetous, that the more 
 she got the greedier she grew. In process of time 
 the king and queen had an only daughter, who was 
 to be the heiress of all their dominions. Her name 
 was the Princess Greedalind, and the whole city 
 were making preparations to celebrate her birth- 
 
12 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 day — ^not that they cared much for the princess, 
 who was remarkably like her mother both m looks 
 and temper, but being King Winwealth's only 
 daughter, people came from far and near to the 
 festival, and among them strangers and fairies 
 who had not been there since the day of Prince 
 Wisewit. 
 
 There was surprising bustle about the palace, 
 a most noble building, so spacious that it had a 
 room for every day in the year. All the floors were 
 of ebony, and all the ceilings of silver, and there 
 was such a supply of golden dishes used by the 
 household, that five himdred armed men kept 
 guard night and day lest any of them shoxxld be 
 stolen. When these guards saw Snowflower and 
 her chair, they ran one after the other to tell the 
 king, for the like had never been seen nor heard 
 of in his dominions, and the whole coxirt crowded 
 out to see the Httle maiden and her chair that 
 came of itself. 
 
 When Snowflower saw the lords and ladies in 
 their embroidered robes and splendid jewels she 
 began to feel ashamed of her own bare feet and 
 
Introductory 13 
 
 linen gown; but at le'ngth taking courage, she 
 answered all their questions, and told them every- 
 thing about her wonderful chair. The queen and 
 the princess cared for nothing that was not gilt. 
 The courtiers had learned the same fashion, and 
 all turned away in high disdain except the old king, 
 who, thinking the chair might amuse him some- 
 times when he got out of spirits, allowed Snow- 
 flower to stay and feast with the scullion in his 
 worst kitchen. The poor little girl was glad of any 
 quarters, though nobody made her welcome — even 
 the servants despised her bare feet and linen gown. 
 They would give her chair ho room but in a dusty 
 comer behind the back door, where Snowflower 
 was told she might sleep at night, and eat up the 
 scraps the cook threw away. 
 
 That very day the feast began; it was fine to see 
 the multitudes of coaches and people on foot and 
 on horseback who crowded to the palace, and filled 
 every room according to their rank. Never had 
 Snowflower seen such roasting and boiling. There 
 was wine for the lords and spiced ale for the com- 
 mon people, music and dancing of all kinds, and 
 
14 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 the best of gay dresses ; but with all the good cheer 
 there seemed little merriment, and a deal of ill- 
 humour in the palace. 
 
 Some of the guests thought they should have 
 been feasted in grander rooms ; others were vexed 
 to see many finer than themselves. All the ser- 
 vants were dissatisfied because they did not get 
 presents. There was somebody caught every hour 
 stealing the cups, and a multitude of people were 
 always at the gates clamouring for goods and lands, 
 which Queen Wantall had taken from them. The 
 guards continually drove them away, but they 
 came back again, and could be heard plainly in 
 the highest banquet hall: so it was not wonderful 
 that the old king's spirits got xmcommonly low 
 that evening after supper. His favourite page, 
 who always stood behind him, perceiving this, 
 reminded his majesty of the little girl and her 
 chair. 
 
 " It is a good thought, " said King Winwealth. 
 " I have not heard a story this many a year. Bring 
 the child and the chair instantly ! " 
 
 The favotirite page sent a messenger to the first 
 
Introductory 13 
 
 kitchen, who told the master-cook, the master- 
 cook told the kitchen-maid, the kitchen-maid told 
 the chief-scullion, the chief-scullion told the dust- 
 boy, and he told Snowflower to wash her face, rub 
 up her chair-^ and go to the highest banquet hall, for 
 the great King Winwealth wished to hear a story. 
 
 Nobody offered to help her, but when Snow- 
 flower had made herself as smart as she could with 
 soap and water, and rubbed the chair till it looked 
 as if dust had never fallen on it, she seated herself, 
 and said : — " Chair of my grandmother, take me 
 to the highest banquet hall. " 
 
 Instantly the chair marched in a grave and 
 courtly fashion out of the kitchen, up the grand 
 staircase, and into the highest hall. The chief 
 lords and ladies of the land were entertained there^ 
 besides many fairies and notable people from dis- 
 tant countries. There had never been such com- 
 pany in the palace since the time of Prince Wisewit; 
 nobody wore less than embroidered satin. King 
 "Winwealth sat on his ivory throne in a robe of 
 purple velvet, stiff with flowers of gold ; the queen 
 sat by his side in a robe of silver cloth, clasped with 
 
l6 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 pearls ; but the Princess Greedalind was finer stillj 
 the feast being in her honour. She wore a robe 
 of cloth of gold clasped with diamonds; two 
 waiting-ladies in white satin stood, one on either 
 side, to hold her fan and handkerchief; and two 
 pages, in gold-lace livery, stood behind her chair. 
 With all that Princess Greedalind looked ugly and 
 spiteful; she and her mother were angry to see a 
 barefooted girl and an old chair allowed to enter 
 the banquet hall. 
 
 The supper-table was still covered with golden 
 dishes, and the best of good things, but no one 
 offered Snowflower a morsel : so, having made an 
 humble courtesy to the king, the queen, the prin- 
 cess, and the good company, most of whom scarcely 
 noticed her, the poor little girl sat down upon the 
 carpet, laid her head on the velvet cushion, as she 
 used to do in the old cottage, and said: — " Chair 
 of my grandmotherj tell me a story. " 
 
 Everybody was astonished, even to the angry 
 queen and the spiteful princess, when a clear 
 voice from under the cushion, said: — " Listen to 
 the story of the Christmas Cuckoo ! " 
 
Zbc Christmas 
 Cuckoo 
 
 © E. P. D. & Co 
 
CHAPTER n 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS CUCKOO 
 
 " Once upon a time there stood in the midst 
 of a bleak moor, in the north country, a certain 
 village; all its inhabitants were poor, for their 
 fields were barren, and they had Httle trade, but 
 the poorest of them all were two brothers called 
 Scrub and Spare, who followed the cobbler's craft, 
 and had but one stall between them. It was a hut 
 built of clay and wattles. The door was low and 
 always open, for there was no window. The roof 
 did not entirely keep out the rain, and the only 
 thing comfortable about it was a wide hearth, for 
 which the brothers could never find wood enough 
 to make a sufficient fire. There they worked in 
 most brotherly friendship, though with little 
 encouragement. 
 
 " The people of that village were not extravagant 
 
 19 
 
20 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 in shoes, and better cobblers than Scrub and Spare 
 might be found. Spiteful people said there were 
 no shoes so bad that they would not be worse for 
 their mending. Nevertheless Scrub and Spare 
 managed to live between their own trade, a small 
 barley field, and a cottage garden, till one unlucky 
 day when a new cobbler arrived in the village. 
 He had lived in the capital city of the kingdom, 
 and, by his own account, cobbled for the queen and 
 the princesses. His awls were sharp, his lasts were 
 new ; he set up his stall in a neat cottage with two 
 windows. The villagers soon found out that one 
 patch of his would wear two of the brothers\ In 
 short, all the mending left Scrub and Spare, and 
 went to the new cobbler. The season had been 
 wet and cold, their barley did not ripen well, and 
 the cabbages never half closed in the garden. So 
 the brothers were poor that winter, and when 
 Christmas came they had nothing to feast on but a 
 barley loaf, a piece of rusty bacon, and some small 
 beer of their own brewing. Worse than that, the 
 snow was very deep, and they could get no firewood. 
 Their hut stood at the end of the village, beyond it 
 
TKe CKristmas CixcKoo 2i 
 
 spread the bleak moor, now all white and silent; 
 but that moor had once been a forest, great roots 
 of old trees were still to be foimd in it, loosened 
 from the soil and laid bare by the winds and rains — ■ 
 one of these, a rough, gnarled log, lay hard by their 
 door, the half of it above the snow, and Spare said 
 to his brother 
 
 " * Shall we sit here cold on Christmas while the 
 great root lies yonder? Let us chop it up for 
 firewood, the work wiU make us warm.' 
 
 " * No, said Scrub ; * it's not right to chop wood 
 on Christmas ; besides, that root is too hard to be 
 broken with any hatchet.' 
 
 " * Hard or not we must have a fire,' replied 
 Spare. * Come, brother, help me in with it. Poor 
 as we are, there is nobody in the village will have 
 such a jrule log as ours.' 
 
 " Scrub liked a little grandeur, and in hopes 
 of having a fine yale log, both brothers strained and 
 strove with all their might till, between pulling and 
 pushing, the great old root was safe on the hearth, 
 and beginning to crackle and blaze with the red 
 embers. In high glee, the cobblers sat down to 
 
22 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 their beer and bacon. The door was shut, for 
 there was nothing but cold moonlight and snow 
 outside ; but the hut, strewn with fir boughs, and 
 ornamented with holly, looked cheerful as the 
 ruddy blaze flared up and rejoiced their hearts. 
 
 " * Long life and good forttme to ourselves 
 brother ! ' said Spare. ' I hope you will drink that 
 toast, and may we never have a worse fire on 
 Christmas — ^but what is that ? ' 
 
 " Spare set down the drinking-horn, and the 
 brothers listened astonished, for out of the blazing 
 root they heard, * Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! * as plain as 
 ever the spring-bird's voice came over the moor on 
 a May morning. 
 
 " * It is something bad, ' said Scrub, terribly 
 frightened. 
 
 " * May be not,' said Spare; and out of the deep 
 hole at the side which the fire had not reached 
 flew a large grey cuckoo, and lit on the table before 
 them. Much as the cobblers had been surprised 
 
 they were still more so when it said 
 
 . * ' Good gentlemen, what season is this ? ' 
 
 " * It's Christmas,' said Spare. 
 
XKe CKristmas CucKoo 23 
 
 " * Then a merry Christmas to you ! ' said the 
 cuckoo. * I went to sleep in the hollow of that 
 old root one evening last summer, and never woke 
 till the heat of your fire made me think it was sum- 
 mer again; but now since you have burned my 
 lodging, let me stay in your hut till the spring comes 
 round — I only want a hole to sleep in, and when I 
 go on my travels next summer be assured I will 
 bring you some present for your trouble.' 
 
 " * Stay, and welcome,* said Spare, while 
 Scrub sat wondering if it were something bad or 
 not ; * I'll make you a good warm hole in the thatch. 
 But you must be hungry after that long sleep? — 
 here is a slice of barley bread. Come help us to 
 keep Christmas! 
 
 " The cuckoo ate up the slice, drank water 
 from the brown jug, for he would take no beer, 
 and flew into a snug hole which Spare scooped 
 for him in the thatch of the hut. 
 
 " Scrub said he was afraid it wouldn't be lucky; 
 but as it slept on, and the days passed he forgot his 
 fears. So the snow melted, the heavy rains came, 
 the cold grew less, the days lengthened, and one 
 
24 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 sunny morning the brothers were awoke by the 
 cuckoo shouting its own cry to let them know the 
 spring had come. 
 
 " * Now I'm going on my travels/ said the 
 bird, * over the world to tell men of the spring. 
 There is no country where trees bud or flowers 
 bloom, that I will not cry in before the year goes 
 roimd. Give me another slice of barley bread to 
 keep me on my journey, and tell me what present 
 I shall bring you at the twelve-month's end.' 
 
 " Scrub would have been angry with his brother 
 for cutting so large a slice, their store of barley- 
 meal being low; but his mind was occupied with 
 what present would be most prudent to ask: at 
 length a lucky thought struck him. 
 
 " * Good master cuckoo,' said he, * if a great 
 traveller who sees all the world like you, could 
 know of any place where diamonds or pearls were 
 to be found, one of a tolerable size brought in 
 your beak would help such poor men as my brother 
 and I to provide something better than barley bread 
 for your next entertainment.' 
 
 " * I know nothing of diamonds or pearls,* 
 
TKe CKristmas CucKoo 25 
 
 said the cuckoo ; * they are in the hearts of rocks 
 and the sand of rivers. My knowledge is only of 
 that which grows on the earth. But there are two 
 trees hard by the well that lies at the world's end 
 — one of them is called the golden tree, for its 
 leaves are all of beaten gold: every winter they 
 fall into the well with a sound like scattered coin, 
 and I know not what becomes of them. As for 
 the other, it is always green like a laurel. Some 
 call it the wise, and some the merry tree. Its 
 leaves never fall, but they that get one of them 
 keep a blithe heart in spite of all misfortunes, and 
 can make themselves as merry in a hut as in a 
 palace.* 
 
 " * Good master cuckoo, bring me a leaf off that 
 tree I ' cried Spare. 
 
 " * Now, brother, don't be a fool! ' said Scrub! 
 * think of the leaves of beaten gold ! Dear master 
 I cuckoo, bring me one of them ! ' 
 
 " Before another word could be spoken, the 
 
 I cuckoo had flown out of the open door, and was 
 
 ! shouting its spring cry over moor and meadow. 
 
 The brothers were poorer than ever that year; 
 
26 Granny's W^onderfxil CKair 
 
 nobody would send them a single shoe to mend. 
 The new cobbler said, in scorn, they should come 
 to be his apprentices ; and Scrub and Spare would 
 have left the village but for their barley field, 
 their cabbage garden, and a certain maid called 
 Fairfeather, whom both the cobblers had courted 
 for seven years without even knowing which she 
 meant to favour. 
 
 " Sometimes Fairfeather seemed inclined to 
 Scrub, sometimes she smiled on Spare; but the 
 brothers never disputed for that. They sowed 
 their barley, planted their cabbage, and now that 
 their trade was gone, worked in the rich villagers* 
 fields to make out a scanty living. So the seasons 
 came and passed: spring, summer, harvest, and 
 winter followed each other as they have done from 
 the beginning. At the end of the latter, Scrub 
 and Spare had grown so poor and ragged that 
 Fairfeather thought them beneath her notice. 
 Old neighbours forgot to invite them to wedding 
 feasts or merrymaking; and they thought the 
 cuckoo had forgotten them too, when at day- 
 break, on the first of April, they heard a hard 
 
THe CKristmas CucKoo 27 
 
 beak knocking at their door, and a voice 
 crying 
 
 " * Cuckoo ! cuckoo ! Let me in with my pre- 
 sents.' 
 
 " Spare ran to open the door, and in came the 
 cuckoo, carrying on one side of his bill a golden 
 leaf larger than that of any tree in the north 
 country; and in the other, one like that of the 
 common laurel, only it had a fresher green. 
 
 " * Here, ' it said, giving the gold to Scrub and 
 the green to Spare, * it is a long carriage from the 
 world*s end. Give me a slice of barley bread, 
 for I must tell the north country that the spring 
 has come.' 
 
 " Scrub did not grudge the thickness of that 
 slice, though it was cut from their last loaf. So 
 much gold had never been in the cobbler's hands 
 before, and he could not help exulting over his 
 brother. 
 
 " * See the wisdom of my choice ! ' he said, 
 holding up the large leaf of gold. * As for yours, as 
 good might be plucked from any hedge. I wonder 
 a sensible bird would carry the like so far.' 
 
28 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 " * Good master cobbler,' cried the cuckoo, 
 finishing the slice, * your conclusions are more 
 hasty than courteous. If your brother be dis- 
 appointed this time, I go on the same journey every 
 year, and for your hospitable entertainment will 
 think it no trouble to bring each of you whichever 
 leaf you desire.' 
 
 " * Darling cuckoo ! ' cried Scrub, * bring me a 
 golden one ' ; and Spare, looking up from the green 
 leaf on which he gazed as though it were a crown- 
 jewel, said 
 
 " * Be sure to bring me one from the merry 
 tree,' and away flew the cuckoo. 
 
 " * This is the Feast of All Fools, and it ought 
 to be your birthday,' said Scrub. * Did ever man 
 fling away such an opportunity of getting rich! 
 Much good your merry leaves will do in the midst 
 of rags and poverty ! ' So he went on, but Spare 
 laughed at him, and answered with quaint old 
 proverbs concerning the cares that come with gold, 
 till Scrub, at length getting angry, vowed his 
 brother was not fit to live with a respectable man; 
 and taking his lasts, his awls, and his golden 
 
TKe CKristmas CucKoo 29 
 
 I leaf, he left the wattle hut, and went to tell the 
 
 i villagers. 
 
 "They were astonished at the folly of Spare 
 
 1 and charmed with Scrub's good sense, particularly 
 
 j when he showed them the golden leaf, and told 
 that the cuckoo would bring him one every spring. 
 The new cobbler immediately took him into part- 
 nership; the greatest people sent him their shoes 
 
 I to mend ; Fairf eather smiled graciously upon him, 
 and in the course of that summer they were 
 married, with a grand wedding feast, at which the 
 
 I whole village danced, except Spare, who was not 
 invited, because the bride could not bear his low- 
 
 1 mindedness, and his brother thought him a dis- 
 
 I, grace to the family. 
 
 ! " Indeed, all who heard the story concluded 
 
 1 that Spare must be mad, and nobody would 
 associate with him but a lame tinker, a beggar 
 boy, and a poor woman reputed to be a witch be- 
 cause she was old and ugly. As for Scrub, he 
 established himself with Fairf eather in a cottage 
 close by that of the new cobbler, and quite as fine. 
 There he mended shoes to everybody's satis- 
 
 tir.-l 
 
30 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 faction, had a scarlet coat for holidays, and a fat 
 goose for dinner every wedding-day. Fairf eather, 
 too, had a crimson gown and fine blue ribands; 
 but neither she nor Scrub were content, for to 
 buy this grandeur the golden leaf had to be broken 
 and parted with piece by piece, so the last morsel 
 was gone before the cuckoo came with another. 
 
 " Spare lived on in the old hut, and worked in 
 the cabbage garden. (Scrub had got the barley 
 field because he was the eldest.) Every day his 
 coat grew more ragged, and the hut more weather- 
 beaten ; but people remarked that he never looked 
 sad nor sour; and the wonder was, that from the |fi 
 time they began to keep his company, the tinker 
 grew kinder to the poor ass with which he travelled 
 the coimtry, the beggar-boy kept out of mischief, 
 aaid the old woman was never cross to her cat or 
 angry with the children. 
 
 " Every first of April the cuckoo came tapping 
 at their doors with the gnldo^i le^J to Scrub and 
 the green to Spare. Fairf eather would have enter- 
 tained him nobly with wheaten bread and honey, ' 
 for she had some notion of persuading him to bring 
 
TKe CHristmas CucKoo 31 
 
 ttwo gold leaves instead of one; but the cuckoo 
 [flew away to eat barley bread with Spare, saying 
 the was not fit company for fine people, and liked 
 tthe old hurt where he slept so snugly from Christ- 
 tmas till Spring. 
 
 " Scrub spent the golden leaves, and Spare 
 fekept the merry ones; and I know not how many 
 fyears passed in this manner, when a certain great 
 llord, who owned that village came to the neigh- 
 ibourhood. His castle stood on the moor. It was 
 iancient and strong, with high towers and a deep 
 cmoat. All the cotmtry, as far as one could see 
 from the highest turret, belonged to its lord; but 
 :he had not been there for twenty years, and would 
 :not have come then, only he was melancholy. 
 IThe cause of his grief was that he had been prime- 
 s-minister at court, and in high favour, till son .ebody 
 told the crown-prince that he had spoken dis- 
 respectfully concerning the turrji"'* uu of his 
 royal highnesses toes, and the kin^ that he did 
 mot lay on taxes enough, wheroon the north country 
 lord was turned out of office, and banished to his 
 own estate. There he lived for some weeks in 
 
32 Granny's "Wonderful CHair 
 
 very bad temper. The servants said nothing 
 would please him, and the villagers put on their 
 worst clothes lest he should raise their rents; 
 but one day in the harvest time his lordship 
 chanced to meet Spare gathering watercresses 
 at a meadow stream, and fell into talk with the 
 cobbler. 
 
 " How it was nobody could tell, but from the 
 hour of that discourse the great lord cast away his 
 melancholy : he forgot his lost office and his court 
 enemies, the king's taxes and the crown-prince's 
 toes, and went about with a noble train htmting, 
 fishing, and making merry in his hall, where all 
 travellers were entertained and all the poor were 
 welcome. This strange story spread through the 
 north country, and great company came to the 
 cobbler's hut — rich men who had lost their money, 
 poor men who had lost their friends, beauties who 
 had grown old, wits who had gone out of fashion^ 
 all came to talk with Spare, and whatever their 
 troubles had been, all went home merry. The rich 
 gave him presents, the poor gave him thanks. 
 Spare's coat ceased to be ragged, he had bacon 
 
A ROYAL MESSENGER WAS SENT TO SPARE 
 
 33 
 
34 Granny's W^onderfvil CKair 
 
 with his cabbage, and the villagers began to think 
 there was some sense in him. 
 
 " By this time his fame had reached the capital 
 city, and even the court. There were a great 
 many discontented people there besides the king, 
 who had lately fallen into ill-humour because a 
 neighbouring princess, with seven islands for her 
 dowry, would not marry his eldest son. So a 
 royal messenger was sent to Spare, with a velvet 
 mantle, a diamond ring, and a command that he 
 should repair to court immediately. 
 
 " ' To-morrow is the first of April, ^ said Spare, 
 * and I will go with you two hovirs after sunrise.' 
 
 " The messenger lodged all night at the castle, 
 and the cuckoo came at sunrise' with the merry 
 leaf. 
 
 " * Court is a fine place,' he said when the 
 cobbler told him he was going ; * but I cannot come 
 there, they would lay snares and catch me; so be 
 careful of the leaves I have brought you, and give 
 me a farewell slice of barley bread.' 
 
 " Spare v/as sorry to part with the cuckoo, little 
 as he had of his company ; but he gave him a slice 
 
THe CHristmas CucKoo 35 
 
 which would have broken Scrub's heart in former 
 times, it was so thick and large ; and having sewed 
 up the leaves in the lining of his leathern doublet, 
 he set out with the messenger on his way to court. 
 
 " His coming caused great surprise there. 
 Everybody wondered what the king could see in 
 such a common-looking man; but scarce had his 
 majesty conversed with him half an hour, "vhen 
 the princess and her seven island were forgotten, 
 and orders given that a feast for all comers should 
 be spread in the banquet haU. The princess of the 
 blood, the great lords and ladies, ministers of state, 
 and judges of the land, after that discoursed with 
 Spare, and the more they talked the lighter grew 
 their hearts, so that such changes had never been 
 seen at court. The lords forgot their spites and 
 the ladies their envies, the princes and ministers 
 made friends among themselves, and the judges 
 showed no favour. 
 
 " As for Spare, he had a chamber assigned him 
 in the palace, and a seat at the king's table ; one 
 sent him rich robes and another costly jewels ; but 
 in the midst of all his grandeur he still wore the 
 
36 Granny's ^V^onderful CKair 
 
 leathern doublet, which the palace servants thought 
 remarkably mean. One day the king's attention 
 being drawn to it by the chief page, his majesty 
 inquired why Spare didn't give it to a beggar ? But 
 the cobbler answered: 
 
 " * High and mighty monarch, this doublet 
 was with me before silk and velvet came — I find 
 it easier to wear than the court cut; moreover, it 
 serves to keep me humble, by recalling the days 
 when it was my holiday garment.' 
 
 " The king thought this a wise speech, and 
 commanded that no one should find fault with the 
 leathern doublet. So things went, till tidings of 
 his brother's good fortune reached Scrub in the 
 moorland cottage on another first of April, when 
 the cuckoo came with two golden leaves, because 
 he had none to carry for Spare. 
 
 "*Thmk of that!' said Fairfeather. * Here 
 we are spending our lives in this humdnmi place, 
 and Spare making his fortune at court with two or 
 three paltry green leaves! What would they say 
 to our golden ones ? Let us pack up and make our 
 way to the king's palace; I'm sure he will maka 
 
XKe Christmas CucKoo 37 
 
 you a lord and me a lady of honour, not to speak of 
 all the fine clothes and presents we shall have.* 
 
 " Scrub thought this excellent reasoning, and 
 their packing up began : but it was soon found that 
 the cottage contained few things fit for carrying to 
 court. Fairf eather could not think of her wooden 
 bowls, spoons, and trenchers being seen there. 
 Scrub considered his lasts and awls better left 
 behind, as without them, he concluded, no one 
 would suspect him of being a cobbler. So putting 
 on their holiday clothes, Fairfeather took her 
 looking-glass and Scrub his drinking-horn, which 
 happened to have a very thin rim of silver, and 
 each carrying a golden leaf carefully wrapped up 
 that none might see it till they reached the palace, 
 the pair set out in great expectation. 
 
 " How far Scrub and Fairfeather journeyed I 
 cannot say, but when the sun was high and warm 
 at noon, they came into a wood both tired and 
 hungry. 
 
 " * If I had known it was so far to court,' said 
 Scrub, * I would have brought the end of that barley 
 loaf which we left in the cupboard.* 
 
38 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 " * Husband,' said Fairfeather, * you shouldn't 
 have such mean thoughts; how could one eat 
 barley bread on the way to a palace ? Let us rest 
 ourselves under this tree, and look at our golden 
 leaves to see if they are safe.' In looking at the 
 leaves, and talking of their fine prospects, Scrub 
 and Fairfeather did not perceive that a very thin 
 old woman had slipped from behind the tree, with a 
 long staff in her hand and a great wallet by her 
 side. 
 
 " * Noble lord and lady,' she said, * for I know 
 ye are such by your voices, though my eyes are 
 dim and my hearing none of the sharpest, will ye 
 condescend to tell me where I may find some water 
 to mix a bottle of mead which I carry in my wallet, 
 because it is too strong for me ? ' 
 
 " As the old woman spoke, she pulled out ^a 
 large wooden bottle such as shepherds used in the 
 ancient times, corked with leaves rolled together, 
 and having a small wooden cup hanging from its 
 handle. 
 
 " * Perhaps ye will do me the favour to taste,' 
 she said. * It is only made of the best honey. I 
 
*' THe CHristmas CucKoo 
 
 39 
 
 have also cream cheese, and a wheaten loaf here, 
 if such honourable persons as you would eat the 
 like.' 
 
 " Scrub and Fairfeather became very conde- 
 scending after this speech. They were now sure 
 that there must be some appearance of nobility 
 about them; besides, they were very hungry, and 
 having hastily wrapped up the golden leaves, they 
 assxired the old woman they were not at all proud, 
 notwithstanding the lands and castles they had left 
 behind them in the north country, and would will- 
 ingly help to lighten the wallet. The old woman 
 could scarcely be persuaded to sit down for pure 
 humility, but at length she did, and before the 
 wallet was half empty, Scrub and Fairfeather 
 firmly believed that there must be something re- 
 markably noble-looking about them. This was 
 not entirely owing to her ingenious discourse. The 
 old woman was a wood-witch ; her name was But- 
 tertongue; and all her time was spent in making 
 mead, which, being boiled with curious herbs and 
 spells, had the power of making all who drank 
 it fall asleep and dream with their eyes open. 
 
40 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 She had two dwarfs of sons; one was named Spy, 
 and the other Pounce. Wherever their mother 
 went they were not far behind; and whoever 
 tasted her mead was sure to be robbed by the 
 dwarfs. 
 
 ' " Scrub and Fairfeather sat leaning against 
 the old tree. The cobbler had a Itimp of cheese 
 in his hand; his wife held fast a hunch of bread. 
 Their eyes and mouths were both open, but they 
 were dreaming of great grandeur at court, when 
 the old woman raised her shrill voice : 
 
 " * What ho, my sons ! come here and carry 
 home the harvest.* 
 
 " No sooner had she spoken, than the two little 
 dwarfs darted out of the neighbouring thicket. 
 - " * Idle boys ! ' cried the mother, * what have 
 ye done to-day to help our living ? * 
 
 " * I have been to the city,* said Spy, * and 
 could see nothing. These are hard times for us — 
 everybody minds their business so contentedly 
 since that cobbler came; but here is a leathern 
 doublet which his page threw out of the window; 
 it's of no use, but I brought it to let you see I was 
 
DWARF NAMED SPY STOLE THE DOUBLET AND RAN OFF TO HIS MOTHER 
 IN THE WOOD 
 
 4-1 
 
42 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 not idle/ And he tossed down Spare's doublet, 
 with the merry leaves in it, which he had carried 
 like a bundle on his little back. 
 
 " To explain how Spy came by it, I must tell you 
 that the forest was not far from the great city where 
 Spare lived in such high esteem. All things had 
 gone well with the cobbler till the king thought that 
 it was quite unbecoming to see such a worthy man 
 without a servant. His majesty, therefore, to let 
 all men understand his royal favour toward Spare, 
 appointed one of his own pages to wait upon him. 
 The name of this youth was Tinseltoes, and, 
 though he was the seventh of the king's pages, 
 nobody in all the court had grander notions. 
 Nothing could please him that had not gold or 
 silver about it, and his grandmother feared he 
 would hang himself for being appointed page to a 
 cobbler. As for Spare, if anything could have 
 troubled him, this token of his majesty's kindness 
 would have done it. 
 
 " The honest man had been so used to serve 
 himself that the page was always in the way, but 
 his merry leaves came to his assistance; and, to 
 
THe CHristmas CucKoo 43 
 
 the great surprise of his grandmother, Tinseltoes 
 took wonderfully to the new service. Some said 
 it was because Spare gave him nothing to do but 
 play at bowls all day on the palace-green. Yet 
 one thing grieved the heart of Tinseltoes, and that 
 was his master^s leathern doublet, but for it he 
 was persuaded people would never remember that 
 Spare had been a cobbler, and the page took a 
 deal of pains to let him see how unfashionable it 
 was at court; but Spare answered Tinseltoes as he 
 had done the king, and at last, finding nothing 
 better would do, the page got up one fine morning 
 earlier than his master, and tossed the leathern 
 doublet out of the back window into a certain lane 
 where Spy found it, and brought it to his mother. 
 
 " * That nasty thing ! ' said the old woman ; 
 * where is the good in it ? ' 
 
 " By tliis time. Pounce had taken everjrthing 
 of value from Scrub and Fairfeather — the looking- 
 glass, the silver-rimmed horn, the husband's 
 scarlet coat, the wife's gay mantle, and, above all, 
 the golden leaves, which so rejoiced old Butter- 
 tongue and her sons, that they threw the leathern 
 
44 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 doublet over the sleeping cobbler for a jest, and 
 went off to their hut in the heart of the forest. 
 
 " The sun was going down when Scrub and 
 Fairfeather awoke from dreaming that they had 
 been made a lord and a lady, and sat clothed in 
 silk and velvet, feasting with the king in his palace- 
 hall. It was a great disappointment to find their 
 golden leaves and all their best things gone. 
 Scrub tore his hair, and vowed to take the old 
 woman's life, while Fairfeather lamented sore; 
 but Scrub, feeling cold for want of his coat, put on 
 the leathern doublet without asking or caring 
 whence it came. 
 
 " Scarcely was it buttoned on when a change 
 came over him; he addressed such merry dis- 
 course to Fairfeather, that, instead of lamentations, 
 she made the wood ring with laughter. Both 
 busied themselves in getting up a hut of boughs, in 
 which Scrub kindled a fire with a flint and steel, 
 which, together with his pipe, he had brought 
 unknown to Fairfeather, who had told him the like 
 was never heard of at court. Then they found a 
 pheasant's nest at the root of an old oak, made a 
 
TKe CKristmas C\icKoo 45 
 
 meal of roasted eggs, and went to sleep on a heap 
 of long green grass which they had gathered, with 
 nightingales singing all night long in the old trees 
 about them. So it happened that Scrub and Fair- 
 ^feather stayed day after day in the forest, making 
 their hut larger and more comfortable against the 
 winter, living on wild birds' eggs and berries, and 
 never thinking of their lost golden leaves, or their 
 ijourney to court. 
 
 " In the meantime Spare had got up and missed 
 his doublet. Tinseltoes, of course, said he knew 
 jnothing about it. The whole palace was searched, 
 and every servant questioned, till all the court 
 wondered why such a fuss was made about an old 
 leathern doublet. That very day things came 
 back to their old fashion. Quarrels began among 
 the lords, and jealousies among the ladies. The 
 king said his subjects did not pay him half enough 
 taxes, the queen wanted more jewels, the servants 
 took to their old bickerings and got up some new 
 ones. Spare found himself getting wonderfully 
 IduU, and very much out of place : nobles began to 
 lask what business a cobbler had at the king's 
 
46 Granny's W^onderfxil CHair 
 
 table, and his majesty ordered the palace chron- 
 icles to be searched for a precedent. The cobbler 
 was too wise to tell all he had lost with that doublet, 
 but being by this time somewhat familiar with 
 court customs, he proclaimed a reward of fifty 
 gold pieces to any who would bring him news con- 
 cerning it. 
 
 " Scarcely was this made known in the city, 
 when the gates and outer courts of the palace 
 were filled by men, women, and children, some 
 bringing leathern doublets of every cut and colour; 
 some with tales of what they had heard and seen 
 in their walks about the neighbourhood; and so 
 much news concerning all sorts of great people 
 came out of these stories, that lords and ladies ran 
 to the king with complaints of Spare as a speaker of 
 slander; and his majesty, being now satisfied 
 that there was no example in all the palace records i I 
 of such a retainer, issued a decree banishing the 
 cobbler for ever from court, and confiscating all 
 his goods in favour of Tinseltoes. 
 
 " That royal edict was scarcely published before 
 the page was in full possession of his rich chamber, 
 
THe CKristmas CucKoo 47 
 
 his costly garments, and all the presents the cour- 
 tiers had given him ; while Spare, having no longer 
 the fifty pieces of gold to give, was glad to make his 
 escape out of the back window, for fear of the 
 iiobles, who vowed to be revenged on him, and the 
 crowd, who were prepared to stone him for cheat- 
 ing them about his doublet. 
 
 " The window from which Spare let himself 
 idown with a strong rope, was that from which 
 iTinseltoes had tossed the doublet, and as the 
 cobbler came down late in the twilight, a poor 
 swoodman, with a heavy load of fagots, stopped and 
 stared at him in great astonishment. 
 ' " * What's the matter, friend ? ' said Spare. 
 Did you never see a man coming down from a 
 back window before ? * 
 
 " ' Why,' said the woodman, * the last morning 
 [ passed here a leathern doublet came out of that 
 (7ery window, and I'll be bound you are the owner 
 Df it.' 
 
 " * That I am, friend,' said the cobbler. * Can 
 s^ou tell me which way that doublet went ? ' 
 itJ ( " * As I walked on,' said the woodman, a 
 
48 Granny's "Wonderful CHair 
 
 dwarf, called Spy, bundled it up and ran off to his 
 mother in the forest.* 
 
 " * Honest friend,' said Spare, taking off the 
 last of his fine clothes (a grass-green mantle 
 edged with gold), * I'll give you this if you will 
 follow the dwarf, and bring me back my doublet.' 
 
 " * It would not be good to carry fagots in,' said 
 the woodman. ' But if you want back your doublet, 
 the road to the forest lies at the end of this lane,' 
 and he trudged away. 
 
 " Determined to find his doublet, and sure that 
 neither crowd nor courtiers could catch him in the 
 forest. Spare went on his way, and was soon among 
 the tall trees; but neither hut nor dwarf could he 
 see. Moreover, the night came on ; the wood was 
 dark and tangled, but here and there the moon 
 shone through its alleys, the great owls flitted 
 about, and the nightingales sang. So he went on, 
 hoping to find some place of shelter. At last the 
 red light of a fire, gleaming through a thicket, led 
 him to the door of a low hut. It stood half open, 
 as if there was nothing to fear, and within he saw 
 his brother Scrub snoring loudly on a bed of grass, 
 
TKe CKristmas CucKoo 49 
 
 at the foot of which lay his own leathern doublet; 
 while Fairfeather, in a kirtle made of plaited 
 rushes, sat roasting pheasants' eggs by the fire. 
 
 " * Good-evening, mistress,' said Spare, stepping 
 in. 
 
 " The blaze shone on him, but so changed was 
 her brother-in-law with his court-life, that Fair- 
 feather did not know him, and she answered far 
 more courteously than was her wont. 
 
 " * Good-evening, master. Whence come ye 
 so late? but speak low, for my good man has sorely 
 tired himself cleaving wood, and is taking a sleep, 
 as you see, before supper.' 
 
 " * A good rest to him,' said Spare, perceiving 
 he was not known. * I come from the court for a 
 day's hunting, and have lost my way in the forest.' 
 
 " * Sit down and have a share of our supper,' 
 said Fairfeather, * I will put some more eggs in the 
 ashes; and tell me the news of court — I used to 
 think of it long ago when I was young and foolish.' 
 
 " * Did you never go there ? ' said the cobbler. 
 * So fair a dame as you would mal^e the ladies 
 marvel.' 
 
50 Granny's ^Wonderful CHair 
 
 " * You are pleased to flatter,' said Fairfeather; 
 * but my husband has a brother there, and we left 
 our moorland village to try our fortune also. An 
 old woman enticed us with fair w^ords and strong 
 drink at the entrance of this forest, where we fell 
 asleep and dreamt of great things; but when we 
 woke, everything had been robbed from us — my 
 looking-glass, my scarlet cloak, my husband's 
 Sunday coat; and, in place of all, the robbers left 
 him that old leathern doublet, which he has worn 
 ever since, and never was so merry in all his life, 
 though we live in this poor hut.' 
 
 " * It is a shabby doublet, that,' said Spare, 
 taking up the garment, and seeing that it was his 
 own, for the merry leaves were still sewed in its 
 lining. * It would be good for hunting in, however 
 — ^your husband would be glad to part with it, I 
 dare say, in exchange for this handsome cloak ' ; 
 and he pulled off the green mantle and buttoned 
 on the doublet, much to Fairfeather's delight, 
 who ran and shook Scrub, crying: 
 
 " * Husband ! husband ! rise and see what a good 
 bargain I have made.' 
 
THe CHristmas CucKoo 51 
 
 " Scrub gave one closing snore, and muttered 
 something about the root being hard; but he 
 rubbed his eyes, gazed up at his brother, and said : 
 
 " * Spare, is that really you ? How did you like 
 the court, and have you made your fortune ? ' 
 
 " * That I have, brother,' said Spare, * in getting 
 back my own good leathern doublet. Come, let 
 us eat eggs, and rest ourselves here this night. 
 In the morning we will return to our own old hut, 
 at the end of the moorland village where the Christ- 
 mas Cuckoo will come and bring us leaves.' 
 
 " Scrub and Fairfeather agreed. So in the 
 morning they all returned, and found the old 
 hut little the worse for wear and weather. The 
 neighbomrs came about them to ask the news of 
 court, and see if they had made their fortune. 
 Everybody was astonished to find the three poorer 
 than ever, but somehow they liked to go back to 
 the hut. Spare brought out the lasts and awls he 
 had hidden in a comer; Scrub and he began their 
 old trade, and the whole north cotmtry found out 
 that there never were such cobblers. 
 
 " They mended the shoes of lords and ladies 
 
52 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 as well as the common people; everybody was 
 satisfied. Their custom increased from day to 
 day, and all that were disappointed, discontented, 
 or imlucky, came to the hut as in old times, before 
 Spare went to court. 
 
 " The rich brought them presents, the poor 
 did them service. The hut itself changed, no one 
 knew how. Flowering honeysuckle grew over its 
 roof; red and white roses grew thick about its 
 door. Moreover, the Christmas Cuckoo always 
 came on the first of April, bringing three leaves of 
 the merry tree — for Scrub and Fairfeather would 
 have no more golden ones. So it was with them 
 when I last heard the news of the north coimtry. " 
 
 " What a stmmier-house that hut would make 
 for me, mamma! " said the Princess Greedalind. 
 
 " We must have it brought here bodily, said 
 Queen Wantall; but the chair was silent, and a lady 
 and two noble squires, clad in russet-coloured satin 
 and yellow buskins, the like of which had never 
 been seen at that court, rose up and said: 
 
 " That's our story. " 
 
THe CHristxnas C\icKoo 53 
 
 " I have not heard such a tale, " said King 
 Winwealth, " since my brother Wisewit went from 
 me, and was lost in the forest. Redheels, the 
 seventh of my pages, go and bring this little maid 
 a pair of scarlet shoes with golden buckles." 
 
 The seventh page immediately brought from 
 the royal store a pair of scarlet satin shoes with 
 buckles of gold. Snowfiower never had seen the 
 like before, and joyfully thanking the king, she 
 dropped a courtesy, seated herself and said: 
 " Chair of my grandmother, take me to the worst 
 kitchen." Immediately the chair marched away 
 as it came, to the admiration of that noble company. 
 
 The little girl v/as allowed to sleep on some 
 straw at the kitchen fire that night. Next day 
 they gave her ale with the scraps the cook threw 
 away. The feast went on with great music and 
 splendour, and the people clamoured without; but 
 in the evening King Winwealth again fell into low 
 spirits, and the royal command was told to Snow- 
 flower by the chief-scullion, that she and her chair 
 should go to the highest banquet hall, for his 
 majesty wished to hear another story. 
 
54 
 
 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 When Snowflower had washed her face, and 
 dusted her chair, she went up seated as before, 
 only that she had on the scarlet shoes. Queen 
 Wantall and her daughter looked more spiteful 
 than ever, but some of the company graciously 
 noticed Snowflower's courtesy, and were pleased 
 when she laid down her head, saying, " Chair of 
 my grandmother, tell me a story. " 
 
 " Listen," said the clear voice from imder the 
 cushion, " to the story of Lady Greensleeves." 
 
Zhc Xorbs of the Mbite anb 
 
 @ E. P. D. & Co. 
 
CHAPTER m 
 
 THE LORDS OF THE WHITE AND GSEY CASTLES 
 
 " Once upon a time there lived two noble lords 
 in the east country. Their lands lay between a 
 broad river and an old oak forest, whose size was 
 so great that no man knew it. In the midst of his 
 land each lord had a stately castle ; one was built 
 of the white freestone, the other of the grey granite. 
 So the one was called Lord of the White Castle, 
 and the other Lord of the Grey. 
 
 " There were no lords like them in all the east 
 country for nobleness and bounty. Their tenants 
 lived in peace and plenty; all strangers were hos- 
 pitably entertained at their castles; and every 
 autumn they sent men with axes into the forest to 
 hew down the great trees, and chop them up into 
 firewood for the poor. Neither hedge nor ditch 
 divided their lands, but these lords never disputed. 
 
 57 
 
58 Granny's W^onderfxil CKair 
 
 They had been friends from their youth. Their 
 ladies had died long ago, but the Lord of the Grey 
 Castle had a little son, and the Lord of the White, 
 a little daughter; and when they feasted in each 
 other's halls it was their custom to say, * When 
 our children grow up they will marry, and have our 
 castles and our lands, and keep our friendship in 
 memory.* 
 
 *' So the lords and their little children, and ten- 
 ants, lived happily till one Michaelmas night, as 
 they were all feasting in the hall of the White 
 Castle, there came a traveller to the gate, who was 
 welcomed and feasted as usual. He had seen 
 many strange sights and countries, and, Hke most 
 people, he liked to tell his travels. The lords were 
 delighted with his tales, as they sat round the fire 
 drinking wine after supper, and at length the Lord 
 of the White Castle, who was very curious, said : 
 
 " * Good stranger, what was the greatest 
 wonder you ever saw in all your travels ? ' 
 
 *' * The most wonderful sight that ever I saw,' 
 replied the traveller, * was at the end of yonder 
 forest, where in an ancient wooden house there sits 
 
TKe Lords of tHe Castles 59 
 
 an old woman weaving her own hair into grey 
 cloth on an old crazy loom. When she wants more 
 yam she cuts off her own grey hair, and it grows 
 so quickly that though I saw it cut in the morning, 
 it was out of the door before noon. She told me 
 it was her purpose to sell the cloth, but none of all 
 who came that way had yet bought any, she asked 
 so great a price ; and, only the way is so long and 
 dangerous through that wide forest full of boars 
 and wolves, some rich lord like you might buy it 
 for a mantle.' 
 
 " All who heard this story were astonished ; 
 but when the traveller had gone on his way the 
 Lord of the White Castle could neither eat nor 
 sleep for wishing to see the old woman that wove 
 her own hair. At length he made up his mind to 
 explore the forest in search of her ancient house, 
 and told the Lord of the Grey Castle his intention. 
 Being a prudent man, this lord replied that travel- 
 ler's tales were not always to be trusted, and 
 earnestly advised him against undertaking such a 
 long and dangerous journey, for few that went far 
 into that forest ever returned. However, when 
 
6o Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 the curious lord would go in spite of all, he vowed 
 to bear him company for friendship's sake, and 
 they agreed to set out privately, lest the other 
 lords of the land might laugh at them. The Lord 
 of the White Castle had a steward who had served 
 him many years, and his name was Reckoning 
 Robin. To him he said: 
 
 " * I am going on a long journey with my friend. 
 Be careful of my goods, deal justly with my tenants, 
 and above all things be kind to my little daughter 
 Loveleaves till my return ' ; and the steward 
 answered : 
 - >* * Be sure, my lord, I will.* 
 
 " The Lord of the Grey Castle also had a steward 
 who had served him many years, and his name was 
 Wary Will. To him he said : 
 
 " * I am going on a journey with my friend. Be 
 careful of my goods, deal justly with my tenants, 
 and above all things be kind to my little son Wood- 
 wender till my return ' ; and his steward answered 
 him: 
 
 " * Be sure, my lord, I will.' 
 
 " So these lords kissed their children while 
 
TTKe Lords of tKe Castles 6l 
 
 they slept, and set out each with his staff and 
 mantle before sunrise through the old oak forest. 
 The children missed their fathers, the tenants 
 missed their lords. None but the stewards could 
 tell what had become of them ; but seven "months 
 wore away, and they did not come back. The 
 lords had thought their stewards faithful, be- 
 cause they served so well under their eyes; but 
 instead of that, both were proud and crafty, and 
 thinking that some evil had happened to their 
 masters, they set themselves to be lords in their 
 room. 
 
 " Reckoning Robin had a son called Hardhold, 
 and Wary "Will, a daughter called Drypenny. 
 There was not a sulkier girl or boy in the coimtry, 
 but their fathers resolved to make a young lord and 
 lady of them ; so they took the silk clothes which 
 "Woodwender and Loveleaves used to wear, to 
 dress them, clothing the lord's children in frieze 
 and canvas. Their garden flowers and ivory toys 
 were given to Hardhold and Dr3rpenny ; and at last 
 the stewards' children sat at the chief tables, and 
 slept in the best chambers, while Woodwender 
 
62 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 and Loveleaves were sent to herd the swine and 
 sleep on straw in the granary. 
 
 " The poor children had no one to take their 
 part. Every morning at sunrise they were sent 
 out — each with a barley loaf and a bottle of sour 
 milk, which was to serve them for breakfast, 
 dinner, and supper — to watch a great herd of 
 swine on a wide unfenced pasture hard by the 
 forest. The grass was scanty, and the swine were 
 continually straying into the wood in search ot 
 acorns ; the children knew that if they were lost the 
 wicked stewards would punish them, and between 
 gathering and keeping their herds in order, they 
 were readier to sleep on the granary straw at night 
 than ever they had been within their own silken 
 curtains. Still Woodwender and Loveleaves 
 helped and comforted each other, saying their 
 fathers would come back, or God would send them 
 some friends: so, in spite of swine-herding and 
 hard living, they looked blithe and handsome as 
 ever; while Hardhold and Drsrpenny grew crosser 
 and uglier every day, notwithstanding their fine 
 clothes and the best of all things. 
 
TKe Lords of tKe Castles 63 
 
 " The crafty stewards did not like this. They 
 thought their children ought to look genteel, and 
 Woodwender and Loveleaves like young swine- 
 herds ; so they sent them to a wilder pasture, still 
 nearer the forest, and gave them two great black 
 hogs, more unruly than all the rest, to keep. One 
 of these hogs belonged to Hardhold, and the other 
 to Drypenny. Every evening when they came 
 home the stewards' children used to come down 
 and feed them, and it was their delight to reckon 
 up what price they would bring when properly 
 fattened. 
 
 " One sultry day, about midsummer, Wood- 
 wender and Loveleaves sat down in the shadow 
 of a mossy rock : the swine grazed about them more 
 quietly than usual, and they plaited rushes and 
 talked to each other, till, as the sun was sloping 
 down the sky, "Woodwender saw that the two great 
 hogs were missing. Thinking they must have 
 gone to the forest, the poor children ran to search 
 for them. They heard the thrush singing and the 
 wood-doves calling ; they saw the squirrels leaping 
 from bough to bough, and the great deer bounding 
 
64 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 by ; but though they searched for hours, no trace of 
 the favourite hogs could be seen. Loveleaves and 
 Woodwender durst not go home without them. 
 Deeper and deeper they ran into the forest, search- 
 ing and calling, but all in vain ; and when the woods 
 began to darken with the fall of evening, the chil- 
 dren feared they had lost their way. 
 
 " It was known that they never feared the forest, 
 nor all the boars and wolves that were in it; 
 but being weary, they wished for some place of 
 shelter, and took a green path through the trees, 
 thinking it might lead to the dwelling of some 
 hermit or forester. A fairer way Woodwender 
 and Loveleaves had never walked. The grass 
 was soft and mossy, a hedge of wild roses and 
 honeysuckle grew on either side, and the red light 
 of sunset streamed through the tall trees above. 
 On they wer^t, and it led them straight to a great 
 open dell, covered with the loveliest flowers, 
 bordered with banks of wild strawberries, and all 
 overshadowed by one enormous oak, whose like 
 had never been seen in grove or forest. Its 
 branches were as large as full-grown trees. Its 
 
THe Lords of tKe Castles 65 
 
 trunk was wider than a country church, and its 
 height like that of a castle. There were mossy 
 seats at its great root, and when the tired children 
 had gathered as many strawberries as they cared 
 for, they sat down on one, hard by a small spring 
 that bubbled up as clear as crystal. The huge 
 oak was covered with thick ivy, in which thousands 
 of birds had their nests. Woodwender and Love- 
 leaves watched them flying home from all parts 
 of the forest, and at last they saw a lady coming 
 by the same path which led them to the dell. She 
 wore a gown of russet colour ; her yellow hair was 
 braided and bound with a crimson fillet. In her 
 right hand she carried a holly branch; but the 
 most remarkable part of her attire was a pair of 
 long sleeves, as green as the very grass. 
 
 " * Who are you ? * she said, ' that sit so late 
 beside my well ? ' and the children told her their 
 story, how they had first lost the hogs, then their 
 way, and were afraid to go home to the wicked 
 stewards. 
 
 " * Well,* said the lady, * ye are the fairest 
 swineherds that ever came this way. Choose 
 
66 Granny's W^onderfvil CKair 
 
 whether ye will go home and keep hogs for Hard- 
 hold and Drypenny, or live in the free forest with 
 me.* 
 
 " * We will stay with you,' said the children, 
 * for we like not keeping swine. Besides, our 
 fathers went through this forest, and we may 
 meet them some day coming home.' 
 
 " While they spoke, the lady slipped her holly 
 branch through the ivy, as if it had been a key — 
 presently a door opened in the oak, and there was a 
 fair house. The windows were of rock crystal, 
 but they could not be seen from without. The 
 walls and floor were covered with thick green moss, 
 as soft as velvet. There were low seats and a 
 round table, vessels of carved wood, a hearth 
 inlaid with curious stones, an oven, and a store 
 chamber for provisions against the winter. When 
 they stepped in, the lady said : 
 
 " * A hundred years have I lived here, and my 
 name is Lady Greensleeves. No friend or servant 
 have I had except my dwarf Comer, who comes 
 to me at the end of harvest with his handmill, his 
 pannier, and his axe: with these he grinds the 
 
XKe Lords of tHe Castles 67 
 
 nuts, and gathers the berries, and cleaves the 
 'firewood, and blithely we live all the winter. 
 IBut Comer loves the frost and fears the sun, and 
 jwhen the topmost boughs begin to bud, he returns 
 tto his country far in the north, so I am lonely in 
 Ithe summer time.' 
 
 " By this discourse the children saw how wel- 
 (come they were. Lady Greensleeves gave them 
 (deer's milk and cakes of nut-flour, and soft green 
 I moss to sleep on ; and they forgot all their troubles, 
 Ithe wicked stewards, and the straying swine. 
 I Early in the morning a troop of does came to be 
 ) milked, fairies brought flowers, and birds brought 
 I berries, to show Lady Greensleeves what had 
 I bloomed and ripened. She taught the children 
 j to make cheese of the does' milk, and wine of the 
 f wood-berries. She showed them the stores of 
 1 honey which wild bees had made, and left in hol- 
 i low trees, the rarest plants of the forest, and the 
 1 herbs that made all its creatures tame. 
 
 " All that summer Woodwender and Loveleaves 
 ] lived with her in the great oak-tree, free from toil 
 I and care ; and the children would have been happy 
 
68 Granny's W^onderful CKair 
 
 but they could hear no tidings of their fathers. At 
 last the leaves began to fade, and the flowers to 
 fall ; Lady Greensleeves said that Comer was com- 
 ing; and one moonlight night she heaped sticks 
 on the fire, and set her door open, when Wood- 
 wender and Loveleaves were going to sleep, saying 
 she expected some old friends to tell her the news 
 of the forest. 
 
 " Loveleaves was not quite so curious as her 
 father, the Lord of the White Castle : but she kept 
 awake to see what would happen, and terribly 
 frightened the little girl was when in walked a 
 great brown bear. 
 
 " * Good-evening, lady,' said the bear. 
 
 " * Good-evening, bear,' said Lady Green- 
 sleeves. * What is the news in your neighbour- 
 hood ? ' 
 
 " * Not much,' said the bear; * only the fawns 
 are growing very cimning — one can't catch above 
 three in a day.' 
 
 " * That's bad news,' said Lady Greensleeves; 
 and immediately in walked a great wildcat. 
 
 " * Good- evening, lady,' said the cat. 
 
LADY GREENSLEEVES TALKS WITH THE RAVEN 
 
 69 
 
70 Granny's "Wonderfvil CKair 
 
 " * Good-evening, cat,' said Lady Greensleeves. 
 * What is the news in your neighbourhood ? ' 
 
 " * Not much,' said the cat; * only the birds are 
 growing very plentiful — it is not worth one's 
 while to catch them.' 
 
 " * That's good news,' said Lady Greensleeves; 
 and in flew a great black raven. 
 
 " * Good-evening, lady, ' said the raven. 
 
 " * Good-evening, raven,' said Lady Green- 
 sleeves. * What is the news in your neighbour- 
 hood ? * 
 
 " * Not much,' said the raven; * only in a hun- 
 dred years or so we shall be very genteel and pri- 
 vate — the trees will be so thick.' 
 
 " * How is that ? ' said Lady Greensleeves. 
 
 " * Oh! ' said the raven, ^ have you not heard 
 how the king of the forest fairies laid a spell on. 
 two noble lords, who were travelling through his 
 dominions to see the old woman that weaves her 
 own hair ? They had thinned his oaks every year 
 cutting firewood for the poor : so the king met them 
 in the likeness of a hunter, and asked theni to 
 drink out of his oaken goblet, because the day was 
 
XKe Lords of tKe Castles 71 
 
 warm; and v/hen the two lords drank, they forgot 
 their lands and their tenants, their castles and 
 their children, and minded nothing in all this 
 world but the planting of acorns, which they do 
 day and night, by the power of the spell, in the 
 heart of the forest, and will never cease till some 
 one makes them pause in their work before the 
 sun sets, and then the spell will be broken.' 
 i " * Ah! * said Lady Greensleeves, * he is a great 
 prince, that king of the forest fairies; and there is 
 worse work in the world than planting acorns.' 
 I " Soon after, the bear, the cat, and the raven 
 bade Lady Greensleeves good-night. She closed 
 the door, put out the light, and went to sleep on the 
 soft moss as usual. 
 
 " In the morning Loveleaves told Woodwender 
 ; , what she had heard, and they went to Lady Green- 
 sleeves where she milked the does and said : 
 
 *^ ' We heard what the raven told last night, 
 and we know the two lords are our fathers: tell 
 us how the spell may be broken ! ' 
 
 " * I fear the king of the forest fairies,' said 
 Lady Greensleeves, ' because I live here alone, 
 
72 Granny's W^onderful CKair 
 
 and have no friend but my dwarf Comer; but I 
 will tell you what you may do. At the end of the 
 path which leads from this dell turn your faces 
 to the north, and you will find a narrow way 
 sprinkled over with black feathers — keep that 
 path, no matter how it winds, and it will lead you 
 straight to the ravens' neighbourhood, where you 
 will find your fathers planting acorns under the 
 forest trees. Watch till the sun is near setting, 
 and tell them the most wonderful things you know 
 to make them forget their work; but be sure to 
 tell nothing but truth, and drink nothing but run- 
 ning water, or you will fall into the power of the 
 fairy king.' 
 
 " The children thanked her for this good counsel. 
 She packed up cakes and cheese for them in a bag 
 of woven grass, and they soon found the narrow 
 way sprinkled over with black feathers. It was 
 very long, and woimd through the thick trees in so 
 many circles that the children were often weary, 
 and sat down to rest. When the night came, they 
 found a mossy hollow in the tnxnk of an old tree, 
 where they laid themselves down, and slept all the 
 
THe Lords of tHe Castles 73 
 
 summer night — ^for Woodwender and Loveleaves 
 never feared the forest. So they went, eating their 
 cakes and cheese when they were hungry, drink- 
 ing from the running stream, and sleeping in the 
 hollow trees, till on the evening of the seventh day 
 they came into the ravens' neighbourhood. The 
 tall trees were laden with nests and black with 
 ravens. There was nothing to be heard but con- 
 tinual cawing; and in a great opening where the 
 oaks grew thinnest, the children saw their own 
 fathers busy planting acorns. Each lord had on 
 the velvet mantle in which he left his castle, but 
 it was worn to rags with rough work in the forest. 
 Their hair and beards had grown long; their hands 
 were soiled with earth; each had an old wooden 
 spade, and on all sides lay heaps of acorns. The 
 children called them by their names, and ran to 
 kiss them, each saying: — * Dear father, come back 
 to your castle and your people ! ' but the lords 
 replied: 
 
 " * We know of no castles and no people. There 
 is nothing in all this world but oak-trees and 
 acorns.' 
 
74 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 " Woodwender and Loveleaves told them of all 
 their former state in vain — nothing would make 
 them pause for a minute : so the poor children first 
 sat down and cried, and then slept on the cold 
 grass, for the sxm set, and the lords worked on. 
 When they awoke it was broad day ; Woodwender 
 cheered up his friend, saying : — ' We are hungry, 
 and there are still two cakes in the bag, let us share 
 one of them — who knows but something may 
 happen ? ' 
 
 " So they divided the cake, and ran to the lords, 
 saying: * Dear fathers, eat with us' ; but the lords 
 said: 
 
 " * There is no use for meat or drink. Let 
 us plant our acorns/ 
 
 " Loveleaves and Woodwender sat down, and 
 ate that cake in great sorrow. When they had 
 finished, both went to a stream hard by, and began 
 to drink the clear water with a large acorn shell; 
 and as they drank there came through the oaks a 
 gay young hunter, his mantle was green as the 
 grass; about his neck there hung a crystal bugle, 
 and in his hand he carried a huge oaken goblet, 
 
THe Lords of tKe Castles 75 
 
 carved with flowers and leaves, and rimmed with 
 crystal. Up to the brim it was filled with milk, 
 on which the rich cream floated ; and as the hunter 
 came near, he said: * Fair children, leave that 
 muddy water, and come and drink with me' ; 
 but Woodwender and Loveleaves answered: 
 
 " * Thanks, good hunter; but we have promised 
 to drink nothing but running water/ Still the 
 hunter came nearer with his goblet, saying: 
 
 " * The water is foul: it may do for swineherds 
 and woodcutters, but not for such fair children as 
 you. Tell me, are you not the children of mighty 
 kings? Were you not reared in palaces ? ' But 
 the boy and girl answered him: 
 
 " * No : we were reared in castles, and are the 
 children of yonder lords; tell us how the spell 
 that is upon them may be broken! ' and immedi- 
 ately the hunter turned from them with an angry 
 look, poured out the milk upon the ground, and 
 went away with his empty goblet. 
 
 " Loveleaves and Woodwender were sorry to 
 see the rich cream spilled, but they remembered 
 Lady Greensleeves' warning, and seeing they 
 
76 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 could do no better, each got a withered branch and 
 began to help the lords, scratching up the ground 
 with the sharp end, and planting acorns ; but their 
 fathers took no notice of them, nor all that they 
 could say ; and when the sun grew warm at noon, 
 they went again to drink at the running stream. 
 Then there came through the oaks another hunter, 
 older than the first, and clothed in yellow; about 
 his neck there himg a silver bugle, and in his 
 hand he carried an oaken goblet, carved with leaves 
 and fruit, rimmed with silver, and filled with mead 
 to the brim. This hunter also asked them to drink, 
 told them the stream was full of frogs, and asked 
 them if they were not a young prince and princess 
 dwelling in the woods for their pleasure? but when 
 Woodwender and Loveleaves answered as before : 
 — * We have promised to drink only running water, 
 and are the children of yonder lords : tell us how 
 the spell may be broken ! * — he turned from them 
 with an angry look, poured out the mead, and 
 went his way. 
 
 " All that afternoon the children worked beside 
 their fathers, planting acorns with the withered 
 
TKe Lords of tHe Castles 77 
 
 branches ; but the lords would mind neither them 
 nor their words. And when the evening drew near 
 they were very hungry; so the children divided 
 their last cake, and when no persuasion would 
 make the lords eat with them, they went to the 
 banks of the stream, and began to eat and drink, 
 though their hearts were heavy. 
 
 " The sun was getting low, and the ravens were 
 coming home to their nests in the high trees ; but 
 one, that seemed old and weary, alighted near 
 them to drink at the stream. As they ate the raven 
 lingered, and picked up the small crumbs that 
 fell. 
 
 " * Friend, * said Loveleaves, * this raven is 
 surely hungry ; let us give it a little bit, though it is 
 our last cake.* 
 
 " Woodwender agreed, and each gave a bit to 
 the raven ; but its great bill finished the morsels in 
 a moment, and hopping nearer, it looked them in 
 the face by turns. 
 
 " * The poor raven is still hungry,' said Wood- 
 wender, and he gave it another bit. When that 
 was gobbled, it came to Loveleaves, who gave it a 
 
78 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 bit too, and so on till the raven had eaten the whole 
 of their last cake. 
 
 " * Well,' said Woodwender, * at least, we can 
 have a drink.' But as they stooped to the water, 
 there came through the oaks another hunter, older 
 than the last, and clothed in scarlet; about his 
 neck there hung a golden bugle, and in his hand 
 he carried a huge oaken goblet, carved with ears 
 of corn and clusters of grapes, rimmed with gold, 
 and filled to the brim with wine. He also said : 
 
 " * Leave this muddy water, and drink with me. 
 It is full of toads, and not fit for such fair children. 
 Surely ye are from fairyland, and were reared in 
 its queen's palace ! ' But the children said: 
 
 " * We will drink nothing but this water, and 
 yonder lords are our fathers : tell us how the spell 
 may be broken ! ' And the hunter turned from 
 them with an angry look, poured out the wine on the 
 grass, and went his way. When he was gone, the 
 old raven looked up into their faces, and said : 
 
 " * I have eaten your last cake, and I will tell 
 you how the spell may be broken. Yonder is the 
 Sim, going down behind yon western trees. Be- 
 
THe Lords of tKe Castles 79 
 
 fore it sets, go to the lords, and tell them how 
 their stewards used you, and made you herd hogs 
 for Hardhold and Drypenny. When you see them 
 listening, catch up their wooden spades, and keep 
 them if you can till the sun goes down.' 
 
 " Woodwender and Loveleaves thanked the 
 raven, and where it flew they never stopped to see, 
 but running to the lords began to tell as they were 
 bidden. At first the lords would not listen, but as 
 the children related how they had been made to 
 sleep on straw, how they had been sent to herd 
 hogs in the wild pasture, and what trouble they 
 had with the unruly swine, the acorn planting grew 
 slower, and at last they dropped their spades. 
 Then Woodwender, catching up his father's spade, 
 ran to the stream and threw it in. Loveleaves did 
 the same for the Lord of the White Castle. That 
 moment the sun disappeared behind the western 
 oaks, and the lords stood up, looking, like men 
 just awoke, on the forest, on the sky, and on their 
 children. 
 
 " So this strange story has ended, for Wood- 
 wender and Loveleaves went home rejoicing with 
 
8o Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 their fathers. Each lord returned to his castle, 
 and all their tenants made merry. The fine toys 
 and the silk clothes, the flower-gardens and the 
 best chambers, were taken from Hardhold and 
 Dr3rpenny, for the lords' children got them again ; 
 and the wicked stewards, with their cross boy and 
 girl, were sent to herd swine, and live in huts in the 
 wild pasture, which everybody said became them 
 better. The Lord of the White Castle never 
 again wished to see the old woman that wove her 
 own hair, and the Lord of the Grey Castle con- 
 tinued to be his friend. As for Woodwender and 
 Loveleaves, they met with no more misfortunes, 
 but grew up, and were married, and inherited the 
 two castles and the broad lands of their fathers. 
 Nor did they forget the lonely Lady Greensleeves, 
 for it was known in the east country that she and 
 her dwarf Comer always came to feast with them in 
 the Christmas time, and at midsummer they always 
 went to Hve with her in the great oak in the forest." 
 
 ** Oh ! mamma, if we had that oak ! " said the 
 Princess Greedalind. 
 
THe Lords of tHe Castles 8i 
 
 "Where does it grow?" said Queen Wantall; 
 but the chair was silent, and a noble lord and lady, 
 clad in green velvet, flowered with gold, rose up 
 and said: 
 
 " That^s our story." 
 
 " Excepting the tale of yesterday," said King 
 Winwealth, " I have not heard such a story since 
 my brother Wisewit went from me, and was lost 
 in the forest. Gaygarters, the sixth of my pages, 
 go and bring this maiden a pair of white silk hose 
 with golden clocks on them." 
 
 Queen Wantall and Princess Greedalind at this 
 looked crosser than ever; but Gaygarters brought 
 the white silk hose, and Snowflower, having 
 dropped her courtesy, and taken her seat, was 
 carried once more to the kitchen, where they gave 
 her a mattress that night, and next day she got the 
 ends of choice dishes. 
 
 The feast, the music, and the dancing went on, 
 so did the envies within and the clamours without 
 the palace. In the evening King Winwealth fell 
 again into low spirits after supper, and a message 
 coming down from the banquet hall, the kitchen- 
 
82 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 maid t^ld Snowflower to prepare herself, and go up 
 with her grandmother's chair, for his majesty 
 wished to hear another story. Having washed her 
 face and combed her hair, put on her scarlet shoes, 
 and her gold-clocked hose, Snowflower went up 
 as before, seated in her grandmother's chair; 
 and after courtesying as usual to the king, the 
 queen, the princess, and the noble company, the 
 little girl laid down her head, saying — " Chair of 
 my grandmother, tell me a story " ; and a clear 
 voice from under the cushion said: 
 
 " Listen to the story of the Greedy Shepherd." 
 
tTbe 6reeb^ Sbepberb 
 
 

CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE GREEDY SHEPHERD 
 
 " Once Upon a time there lived in the south 
 country two brothers, whose business it was to 
 keep sheep on a great grassy plain, which was 
 bounded on the one side by a forest, and on the 
 other by a chain of high hills. No one lived on that 
 plain but shepherds, who dwelt in low cottages 
 thatched with heath, and watched their sheep so 
 carefully that no lamb was ever lost, nor had one of 
 the shepherds ever travelled beyond the foot of the 
 hills and the skirts of the forest. 
 
 " There were none among them more careful 
 than these two brothers, one of whom was called 
 Clutch, and the other Kind. Though brethren 
 bom, two men of distant countries could not be 
 more unlike in disposition. Clutch thought of 
 nothing in this world but how to catch and keep 
 
 85 
 
86 Granny's 'Wonderful CHair 
 
 some profit for himself, while Kind would have 
 shared his last morsel with a hungry dog. This 
 covetous mind made Clutch keep all his father's 
 sheep when the old man was dead and gone, 
 because he was the eldest brother, allowing Kind 
 nothing but the place of a servant to help him in 
 looking after them. Kind wouldn't quarrel with 
 his brother for the sake of the sheep, so he helped 
 him to keep them, and Clutch had all his own way. 
 This made him agreeable. For some time the 
 brothers lived peaceably in their father's cottage, 
 which stood low and lonely under the shadow of 
 a great sycamore-tree, and kept their flock with 
 pipe and crook on the grassy plain, till new troubles 
 arose through Clutch's covetousness. 
 
 " On that plain there was neither town, nor 
 city, nor market-place, where people might sell or 
 buy, but the shepherds cared little for trade. The 
 wool of their flocks made them clothes ; their milk 
 gave them butter and cheese. At feast times 
 every family killed a lamb or so ; their fields yielded 
 them wheat for bread. The forest supplied them 
 with firewood for winter; and every midsimimer, 
 
TKe Greedy SKetDHerd 87 
 
 which is the sheep-shearing time, traders from a 
 certain far-off city came through it by an ancient 
 way to purchase all the wool the shepherds could 
 spare, and give them in exchange either goods 
 or money. 
 
 "One midsummer it so happened that these 
 traders praised the wool of Clutch's flock above 
 all they found on the plain, and gave him the 
 highest price for it. That was an unlucky happen- 
 ing for the sheep : from thenceforth Clutch thought 
 he could never get enough wool off them. At the 
 shearing time nobody clipped so close, and, in spite 
 of all Kind could do or say, he left the poor sheep 
 as bare as if they had been shaven; and as soon 
 as the wool grew long enough to keep them warm, 
 he was ready with the shears again — no matter 
 how chilly might be the days, or how near the 
 winter. Kind didn't like these doings, and many 
 a debate they caused between him and his brother. 
 Clutch always tried to persuade him that close clip- 
 ping was good for the sheep, and Kind always 
 strove to make him think he had got all the wool — 
 so they were never done with disputes. Still 
 
88 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 Clutch sold the wool, and stored up his profits, 
 and one midsummer after another passed. The 
 shepherds began to think him a rich man, and 
 close clipping might have become the fashion, but 
 for a strange thing which happened to his flock. 
 
 " The wool had grown well that sununer. He 
 had taken two crops off them, and was thinking 
 of a third, — though the misty mornings of autumn 
 were come, and the cold evenings made the shep- 
 herds put on their winter cloaks, — ^when first the 
 lambs, and then the ewes, began to stray away; 
 and search as the brothers would, none of them 
 was ever found again. Clutch blamed Kind with 
 being careless, and watched with all his might. 
 Kind knew it was not his fault, but he looked 
 sharper than ever. Still the straying went on. 
 The flocks grew smaller every day, and all the 
 brothers could find out was, that the closest clipped 
 were the first to go ; and, count the flock when they 
 might, some were sure to be missed at the folding. 
 
 " Kind grew tired of watching, and Clutch lost 
 his sleep with vexation. The other shepherds, 
 over whom he had boasted of his wool and his 
 
TKe Greedy SKepKerd 89 
 
 profits, were not sorry to see pride having a fall. 
 Most of them pitied Kind, but all of them agreed 
 that they had marvellous ill luck, and kept as far 
 from them as they could for fear of sharing it. 
 Still the flock melted away as the months wore on. 
 Storms and cold weather never stopped them from 
 straying, and when the spring came back nothing 
 remained with Clutch and Kind but three old ewes, 
 the quietest and lamest of their whole flock. They 
 were watching these ewes one evening in the 
 primrose time, when Clutch, who had never kept 
 his eyes off them that day, said : 
 
 " * Brother, there is wool to be had on their 
 backs.* 
 
 " * It is too little to keep them warm,' said Kind. 
 * The east wind still blows sometimes ' ; but Clutch 
 was off to the cottage for the bag and shears. 
 
 " Kind was grieved to see his brother so covetous 
 and to divert his mind he looked up at the great 
 hills; it was a sort of comfort to him, ever since 
 their losses began, to look at them evening and 
 morning. Now their far-off heights were growing 
 crimson with the setting sun, but as he looked, 
 
QO Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 three creatures like sheep scoured up a cleft in one 
 of them as fleet as any deer; and when Kind 
 turned, he saw his brother coming with the bag and 
 shears, but not a single ewe was to be seen. 
 Clutch's first question was, what had become of 
 them; and when Kind told him what he saw, the 
 eldest brother scolded him with might and main 
 for ever lifting his eyes off them : 
 
 " * Much good the hills and the sunset do us,* 
 said he, * now that we have not a single sheep. 
 The other shepherds will hardly give us room 
 among them at shearing time or harvest; but 
 for my part, I'll not stay on this plain to be de- 
 spised for poverty. If you like to come with me, 
 and be guided by my advice, we shall get service 
 somewhere. I have heard my father say that 
 there were great shepherds living in old times 
 beyond the hills ; let us go and see if they will take 
 us for sheep-boys.' 
 
 " Kind would rather have stayed and tilled 
 his father's wheat-field, hard by the cottage; but 
 since his elder brother would go, he resolved to 
 bear him company. Accordingly, next morning 
 
TKe Greedy SKepKerd 91 
 
 Clutch took his bag and shears, Kind took his 
 crook and pipe, and away they went over the plain 
 and up the hills. All who saw them thought that 
 they had lost their senses, for no shepherd had 
 gone there for a hundred years, and nothing was 
 to be seen but wide moorlands, full of rugged rocks, 
 and sloping up, it seemed, to the very sky. Kind 
 persuaded his brother to take the direction the 
 sheep had taken, but the ground was so rough 
 and steep that after two hours' climbing they 
 would gladly have turned back, if it had not been 
 that their sheep were gone, and the shepherds 
 would laugh at them. 
 
 " By noon they came to the stony cleft, up which 
 the three old ewes had scoured like deer ; but both 
 were tired, and sat down to rest. Their feet were 
 sore, and their hearts were heavy ; but as they sat 
 there, there came a sound of music down the hills, 
 as if a thousand shepherds had been playing on 
 their tops. Clutch and Kind had never heard such 
 music before. As they listened, the soreness 
 passed from their feet, and the heaviness from 
 their hearts; and getting up, they followed the 
 
92 Granny's ^STonderful CKair 
 
 sound up the cleft, and over a wide heathy covered 
 with purple bloom; till at sunset, they came to the 
 hill-top, and saw a broad pasture, where violets 
 grew thick among the grass, and thousands of 
 snow-white sheep were feeding, while an old man 
 sat in the midst of them, playing on his pipe. He 
 wore a long coat, the colour of the holly leaves; 
 his hair hung to his waist, and his beard to his 
 knees ; but both were as white as snow, and he had 
 the countenance of one who had led a quiet life, 
 and known no cares nor losses. 
 
 " * Good father,* said Kind, for his eldest 
 brother hung back and was afraid, * tell us what 
 land is this, and where can we find service ; for my 
 brother and I are shepherds, and can well keep 
 flocks from straying, though we have lost our 
 own.' 
 
 " * These are the hill pastures,' said the old 
 
 /r 
 
 man, * and I am the ancient shepherd. My flocks 
 never stray, but I have employment for you. 
 Which of you can shear best ? ' 
 
 " * Good father, ' said Clutch, taking courage, * I 
 am the closest shearer in all the plain country; 
 
'4 
 
 (^E.P.D.& Co. 
 
 THOUSANDS OF SHEEP WERE FEEDING, WHILE AN OLD MAN SAT IN THE MIDST 
 OF THEM PLAYING ON HIS PIPE. 
 
XKe Greedy SHepKerd 93 
 
 you would not find as much wool as would 
 make a thread on a sheep when I have done 
 with it.' 
 
 " * You are the man for my business,' replied 
 the old shepherd. * When the moon rises, I will 
 call the flock you have to shear. Till then sit 
 down and rest, and take your supper out of my 
 wallet.' 
 
 " Clutch and Kind gladly sat down by him among 
 the violets, and opening a leathern bag which himg 
 by his side, the old man gave them cakes and 
 cheese, and a horn cup to drink from a stream hard 
 by. The brothers felt fit for any work after that 
 meal ; and Clutch rejoiced in his own mind at the 
 chance he had got for showing his skill with the 
 shears. * Kind will see how useful it is to cut 
 close, ' he thought to himself; but they sat with the 
 old man, telling him the news of the plain, till 
 the sun went down and the moon rose, and all the 
 snow-white sheep gathered and laid themselves 
 down behind him. Then he took his pipe and 
 played a merry tune, when immediately there was 
 heard a great howling, and up the hills came a 
 
94 Granny's W^onderful CKair 
 
 troop of shaggy wolves, with hair so long that their 
 eyes could scarcely be seen. Clutch would have 
 fled for fear, but the wolves stopped, and the old 
 man said to him: 
 
 " * Rise, and shear — this flock of mine have 
 too much wool on them/ 
 
 " Clutch had never shorn wolves before, yet 
 he couldn't think of losing the good service, and 
 went forward with a stout heart; but the first of 
 the wolves showed its teeth, and all the rest raised 
 such a howl the moment he came near them, 
 that Clutch was glad to throw down his shears, 
 and nm behind the old man for safety. 
 
 " * Good father,' cried he, * I will shear sheep, 
 but not wolves.' 
 
 " * They must be shorn,' said the old man, * or 
 you go back to the plains, and them after you; but 
 whichever of you can shear them will get the whole 
 flocke' 
 
 " On hearing this, Clutch began to exclaim on 
 his hard fortime, and his brother who had brought 
 him there to be hunted and devoured by wolves; 
 but Kind, thinking that things could be no worse, 
 
THe Greedy SKepKerd 95 
 
 caught up the shears he had thrown away in his 
 fright, and went boldly up to the nearest wolf. 
 To his great surprise the wild creature seemed to 
 know him, and stood quietly to be shorn, while the 
 rest of the flock gathered round as if waiting their 
 turn. Kind clipped neatly, but not too close, as 
 he had wished his brother to do with the sheep, 
 and heaped up the hair on one side. When he 
 had done with one, another came forward, and 
 Kind went on shearing by the bright moonlight 
 till the whole flock were shorn. Then the old 
 man said: 
 
 " * Ye have done well, take the wool and the 
 flock for your wages, return with them to the plain, 
 and if you please, take this Httle-worth brother of 
 yours for a boy to keep them.' 
 
 ** Kind did not much like keeping wolves, but 
 before he could make answer, they had all changed 
 into the very sheep which had strayed away so 
 strangely. All of them had grown fatter and 
 thicker of fleece, and the hair he had cut off lay by 
 his side, a heap of wool so fine and soft that its like 
 had never been seen on the plain. 
 
96 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 " Clutch gathered it up in his empty bag, and 
 glad was he to go back to the plain with his brother; 
 for the old man sent them away with their flock, 
 saying no man must see the dawn of day on that 
 pasture but himself, for it was the ground of the 
 fairies. So Clutch and Kind went home with great 
 gladness. All the shepherds came to hear their 
 wonderful story, and ever after liked to keep near 
 them because they had such good luck. They 
 keep the sheep together till this day, but Clutch 
 has grown less greedy, and Kind alone uses the 
 shears." 
 
 With these words the voice ceased, and two 
 shepherds, clad in grass-green and crowned with 
 garlands, rose up, and said: 
 
 " That's our story. " 
 
 " Mamma," said Princess Greedalind, '* what 
 a lovely playgroimd that violet pasture would 
 make for me ! " 
 
 " What wool could be had off all those snow- 
 white sheep!" said Queen Wantall: but King 
 Winwealth said: 
 
THe Greedy SKepKerd f>7 
 
 " Excepting yesterday's tale, and the one that 
 went before it, I have not heard such a story as 
 that since my brother Wisewit went from me, and 
 was lost in the forest. Spangledhose, the fifth 
 of my pages, rise, and bring this maiden a white 
 satin gown." 
 
 Snowflower took the white satin gown, thanked 
 the king, courtesied to the good company, and 
 went down on her chair to the best kitchen. 
 That night they gave her a new blanket, and next 
 day she had a cold pie for dinner. The music, 
 the feast, and the spite continued within the palace; 
 so did the clamours without; and his majesty, 
 falling into low spirits, as usual, after supper, one 
 of the under cooks told Snowflower that a message 
 had come down from the highest banquet hall for 
 her to go up with her grandmother's chair, and 
 tell another story. Snowflower accordingly dressed 
 herself in the red shoes, the gold-clocked hose, 
 and the white satin gown. All the company 
 were glad to see her and her chair coming, ex- 
 cept the queen and the Princess Greedalind ; and 
 when the little girl had made her courtesy and 
 
98 
 
 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 laid down her head saying, " Chair of my grand- 
 mother, tell me a story," the same clear voice 
 said: 
 
 " Listen to the story of Fairyfoot." 
 
Stores of J^air^foot 
 
ji 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE STORY OF FAIRYFOOT 
 
 " Once upon a time there stood far away in the 
 west country a town called Stumpinghame. It 
 contained seven windmills, a royal palace, a 
 market place, and a prison, with every other con- 
 venience befitting the capital of a kingdom. A 
 capital city was Stumpinghame, and its inhabitants 
 thought it the only one in the world. It stood in 
 the midst of a great plain, which for three leagues 
 round its walls was covered with com, flax, and 
 orchards. Beyond that lay a great circle of pas- 
 ture land, seven leagues in breadth, and it was 
 bounded on all sides by a forest so thick and old 
 that no man in Sttmipinghame knew its extent; 
 and the opinion of the learned was, that it reached 
 to the end of the world. 
 
 " There were strong reasons for this opinion. 
 
 lOI 
 
II 
 
 102 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 First, that forest was known to be inhabited time 
 out of mind by the fairies, and no hunter cared to 
 go beyond its borders — so all the west country 
 believed it to be solidly full of old trees to the heart. 
 Secondly, the people of Stumpinghame were no 
 travellers — ^man, woman, and child had feet so 
 large and heavy that it was by no means conven- 
 ient to carry them far. Whether it was the nature 
 of the place or the people, I cannot tell, but great 
 feet had been the fashion there time immemorial, 
 and the higher the family the larger were they. 
 It was, therefore, the aim of everybody above 
 the degree of shepherds, and such-like rustics, to 
 swell out and enlarge their feet by way of gentility; 
 and so successful were they in these undertakings 
 that, on a pinch, respectable people's slippers 
 would have served for panniers. 
 
 " Stumpinghame had a king of its own, and his 
 name was Stiff step; his family was very ancient 
 and large-footed. His subjects called him Lord 
 of the World, and he made a speech to them every 
 year concerning the grandeur of his mighty em- 
 pire. His queen, Hammerheel, was the greatest 
 
TKe Story of Fairyfoot 103 
 
 beauty in Stmnpinghame. Her majesty's shoe 
 was not much less than a fishing-boat; their six 
 children promised to be quite as handsome, and 
 all went well with them till the birth of their 
 seventh son. 
 
 " For a long time nobody about the palace could 
 understand what was the matter — the ladies-in- 
 waiting looked so astonished, and the king so 
 vexed; but at last it was whispered through the 
 city that the queen's seventh child had been born 
 with such miserably small feet that they resembled 
 nothing ever seen or heard of in Stumpinghame, 
 except the feet of the fairies. 
 
 " The chronicles furnished no example of such 
 an aflaiiction ever before happening in the royal 
 family. The common people thought it portended 
 some great calamity to the city; the learned men 
 began to write books about it ; and all the relations 
 of the king and queen assembled at the palace to 
 mourn with them over their singular misfortune. 
 The whole court and most of the citizens helped 
 in this mourning, but when it had lasted seven 
 days they all found out it was of no use. So the 
 
 ^ PUBLL 1^0 ^^ ^ i 
 
 ^-"^ll 
 
104 Granny's Wonderful OHair 
 
 relations went to their homes, and the people took 
 to their work. If the learned men*s books were 
 written, nobody ever read them; and to cheer up 
 the queen's spirits, the young prince was sent 
 privately out to the pasture lands, to be nursed 
 among the shepherds. 
 
 "The chief man there was called Fleecefold, 
 and his wife's name was Rough Ruddy. They 
 lived in a snug cottage with their son Blackthorn 
 and their daughter Brownberry, and were thought 
 great people, because they kept the king's sheep. 
 Moreover, Fleecefold's family were known to be 
 ancient; and Rough Ruddy boasted that she had 
 the largest feet in all the pastures. The shepherds 
 held them in high respect, and it grew still higher 
 when the news spread that the king's seventh son 
 had been sent to their cottage. People came from 
 all quarters to see the young prince, and great 
 were the lamentations over his misfortime in 
 having such small feet. 
 
 " The king and queen had given him fourteen 
 names, beginning with Augustus — such being the 
 fashion in that royal family; but the honest coun- 
 
TKe Story of Fairyfoot 105 
 
 try people could not remember so many ; besides, 
 his feet were the most remarkable thing about the 
 child, so with one accord they called him Fairy- 
 IJ foot. At first it was feared this might be high- 
 treason, but when no notice was taken by the king 
 or his ministers, the shepherds concluded it was 
 no harm, and the boy never had another name 
 throughout the pastures. At court it was not 
 
 (thought polite to speak of him at all. They did 
 not keep his birthday, and he was never sent for 
 at Christmas, because the queen and her ladies 
 could not bear the sight. Once a year the under- 
 most scullion was sent to see how he did, with a 
 bundle of his next brother's cast-off clothes ; and, 
 as the king grew old and cross, it was said he had 
 thoughts of disowning him. 
 
 " So Fairyfoot grew in Fleecefold's cottage. 
 Perhaps the country air made him fair and rosy — 
 for all agreed that he would have been a handsome 
 boy but for his small feet, with which nevertheless 
 he learned to walk, and in time to run and to jump, 
 thereby amazing everybody, for such doings were 
 not known among the children of Stumpingbame. 
 
lo6 Granny's W^onderful CHair 
 
 The news of court, however, travelled to the 
 shepherds, and Fairyfoot was despised among 
 them. The old people thought him tmlucky; 
 the children refused to play with him. Fleece- 
 fold was ashamed to have him in his cottage, but 
 he durst not disobey the king's orders. Moreover, 
 Blackthorn wore most of the clothes brought by 
 the scullion. At last, Rough Ruddy found out 
 that the sight of such horrid jimiping would make 
 her children vulgar; and, as soon as he was old 
 enough, she sent Fairyfoot every day to watch 
 some sickly sheep that grazed on a wild, weedy 
 pasture, hard by the forest. 
 
 *' Poor Fairyfoot was often lonely and sorrow- 
 ful; many a time he wished his feet would grow 
 larger, or that people wouldn't notice them so 
 much; and all the comfort he had was running 
 and jumping by himself in the wild pasture, and 
 thinking that none of the shepherds' children 
 could do the like, for all their pride of their great 
 feet. 
 
 " Tired of this sport, he was lying in the shadow 
 />f SL mossy rock one warm summer's noon, with 
 
The Story of Fairyfoot 107 
 
 the sheep feeding around, when a robin, pursued 
 by a great hawk, flew into the old velvet cap which 
 lay on the ground beside him. Fair3rfoot covered 
 it up, and the hawk, frightened by his shout, flew 
 away. 
 
 " * Now you may go, poor robin! ' he said, open- 
 ing the cap : but instead of the bird, out sprang a 
 little man dressed in russet-brown, and looking 
 as if he were an hundred years old. Fairyfoot 
 could not speak for astonishment, but the little 
 man said : 
 
 " * Thank you for your shelter, and be sure I 
 will do as much for you. Call on me if you are 
 ever in trouble, my name is Robin Goodf ellow ' ; 
 and darting off, he was out of sight in an instant. 
 For days the boy wondered who that little man 
 could be, but he told nobody, for the little man's 
 feet were as small as his own, and it was clear he 
 would be no favourite in Stumpinghame. Fairy- 
 foot kept the story to himself, and at last midsum- 
 i mer came. That evening was a feast among the 
 shepherds. There were bonfires on the hills, 
 and fun in the villages. But Fairyfoot sat alone 
 
 , 
 
io8 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 beside his sheepfold, for the children of his village 
 had refused to let him dance with them about the 
 bonfire, and he had gone there to bewail the size 
 of his feet, which came between him and so many 
 good things. Fairyfoot had never felt so lonely 
 in all his life, and remembering the little man, he 
 plucked up spirit, and cried: 
 
 " * Ho ! Robin Goodf ellow ! ' 
 
 " * Here I am,* said a shrill voice at his elbow; 
 and there stood the little man himself. 
 
 " * I am very lonely, and no one will play with 
 me, because my feet are not large enough,* said 
 Fauyfoot. 
 
 " * Come then and play with us,' said the little 
 man. * We lead the merriest lives in the world, 
 and care for nobody's feet; but all companies 
 have their own manners, and there are two things 
 you must mind among us : first, do as you see the 
 rest doing ; and secondly, never speak of anything 
 you may hear or see, for we and the people of this 
 country have had no friendship ever since large 
 feet came in fashion.' 
 
 " * I will do that, and anything more you like,* 
 
I 
 
 THe Story of Fairyfoot 109 
 
 said Fauyf oot ; and the little man taking his hand, 
 led him over the pasture into the forest, and along 
 a mossy path among old trees wreathed with ivy 
 (he never knew how far), till they heard the 
 sound of music, and came upon a meadow where 
 the moon shone as bright as day, and all the 
 flowers of the year — snowdrops, violets, primroses, 
 and cowslips — bloomed together in the thick 
 grass. There were a crowd of little men and 
 women, some clad in russet colour, but far more 
 in green, dancing round a Httle well as clear as 
 crystal. And imder great rose-trees which grew 
 here and there in the meadow, companies were 
 sitting round low tables covered with cups of 
 milk, dishes of honey, and carved wooden flagons 
 filled with clear red wine. The little man led 
 Fairyfoot up to the nearest table, banded him one 
 of the flagons, and said : 
 
 " * Drink to the good company! ' 
 
 " Wine was not very common among the shep- 
 herds of Stumpinghame, and the boy had never 
 tasted such drink as that before ; for scarcely had 
 it gone down, when he forgot all his troubles — 
 
no Granny's 'Wonderful CKair 
 
 how Blackthorn and Brownberry wore his clothes, 
 how Rough Ruddy sent him to keep the sickly 
 sheep, and the children would not dance with him; 
 in short, he forgot the whole misfortime of his 
 feet, and it seemed to his mind that he was a king's 
 son, and all was well with him. All the little 
 people about the well cried: 
 
 "* Welcome! welcome!' and every one said; 
 — * Come and dance with me ! ' So Fairjrfoot 
 was as happy as a prince, and drank milk and ate 
 honey till the moon was low in the sky, and then 
 the little man took him by the hand, and never 
 stopped nor stayed till he was at his own bed of 
 straw in the cottage comer. 
 
 " Next morning Fairyfoot was not tired for all 
 his dancing. Nobody in the cottage had missed 
 him, and he went out with the sheep as usual; 
 but every night all that summer, when the shep- 
 herds were safe in bed, the Uttle man came and 
 took him away to dance in the forest. Now he 
 did not care to play with the shepherds' children, 
 nor grieve that his father and mother had for- 
 gotten him, but watched the sheep all day singing 
 
 \i 
 
' ' '-■- jai^'ia*iPj^<^^^!KgS=^ ^MiiJ;ij<^^ ■m m 
 
 y 
 
 C)E.P.D.&Co. " " "^ ~ -"' 
 
 ALL THE LITTLE PEOPLE CRIED, "WELCOME, WELCOME,". 
 
 WITH ME." 
 
 "COME DANCE 
 

TKe Story of Fairy foot iii 
 
 to himself or plaiting rushes; and when the sun 
 went down, Fairyfoot's heart rejoiced at the 
 thought of meeting that merry company. 
 
 " The wonder was that he was never tired nor 
 sleepy, as people are apt to be who dance all 
 night; but before the summer was ended Fairyfoot 
 found out the reason. One night, when the moon 
 was full, and the last of the ripe com rustling in 
 the fields, Robin Goodfellow came for him as 
 usual, and away they went to the flowery green. 
 The fun there was high, and Robin was in haste. 
 So he only pointed to the carved cup from which 
 Fair3rfoot every night drank the clear red wine. 
 
 " * I am not thirsty, and there is no use losing 
 time,' thought the boy to himself, and he joined 
 the dance; but never in all his life did Fairyfoot 
 find such hard work as to keep pace with the 
 company. Their feet seemed to move like light- 
 ning; the swallows did not fly so fast or turn so 
 quickly. Fairyfoot did his best, for he never gave 
 in easily, but at length, his breath and strength 
 being spent, the boy was glad to steal away, and 
 sit down behind a mossy oak, where his eyes 
 
I 
 112 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 closed for very weariness. When he awoke the 
 dance was nearly over, but two little ladies clad 
 in green talked close beside him. 
 
 " * What a beautiful boy!* said one of them. 
 * He is worthy to be a king's son. Only see 
 what handsome feet he has ! ' 
 
 " * Yes,' said the other, with a laugh that 
 sounded spiteful ; * they are just like the feet 
 Princess Maybloom had before she washed them 
 in the Growing Well. Her father has sent far and 
 wide throughout the whole coimtry searching for $ 
 doctor to make them small again, but nothing il 
 this world can do it except the water of the Fair 
 Fountain, and none but I and the nightingales 
 know where it is.' 
 
 " * One would not care to let the like be known,' 
 said the first little lady : * there would come such 
 crowds of these great coarse creatures of mankind, 
 nobody would have peace for leagues roxmd. But 
 you will surely send word to the sweet princess ! — 
 she was so kind to our birds and butterflies, and 
 danced so like one of ourselves ! ' 
 
 " * Not I, indeed ! ' said the spiteful fairy. 
 
TKe Story of Fairy foot 113 
 
 * Her old skinflint of a father cut down the cedar 
 which I loved best in the whole forest, and made 
 a chest of it to hold his money in; besides, I 
 never liked the princess — everybody praised her 
 so. But come, we shall be too late for the last 
 dance.' " 
 
 When they were gone, Fairyfoot could sleep 
 no more with astonishment. He did not wonder 
 at the fairies admiring his feet, because their own 
 were much the same; but it amazed him that 
 Princess Maybloom's father should be troubled 
 at hers growing large. Moreover, he wished to 
 see that same princess and her country, since 
 there were really other places in the world than 
 Stumpinghame. 
 
 " When Robin Goodfellow came to take him 
 home as usual he durst not let him know that he 
 had overheard anything; but never was the boy so 
 unwilling to get up as on that morning, and all day 
 he was so weary that in the afternoon Fairjrfoot 
 fell asleep, with his head on a clump of rushes. 
 It was seldom that any one thought of looking 
 after him and the sickly sheep ; but it so happened 
 
114 Granny's W^onderful CKair 
 
 that towards evening the old shepherd, Fleecefold, 
 thought he would see how things went on in the 
 pastures. The shepherd had a bad temper and a 
 thick staff, and no sooner did he catch sight of 
 Fairjrfoot sleeping, and his flock straying away, 
 than shouting all the ill names he could remember, 
 in a voice which woke up the boy, he ran after him 
 as fast as his great feet would allow ; while Fairy- 
 foot, seeing no other shelter from his fury, fled 
 into the forest, and never stopped nor stayed till 
 he reached the banks of a little stream. 
 
 " Thinking it might lead him to the fairies' 
 dancing-ground, he followed that stream for 
 many an hour, but it woimd away into the heart 
 of the forebt, flowing through dells, falling over 
 mossy rocks, and at last leading Fair3rfoot, when 
 he was tired and the night had fallen, to a grove 
 of great rose-trees, with the moon shining on it as 
 bright as day, and thousands of nightingales sing- 
 ing in the branches. In the midst of that grove 
 was a clear spring, bordered with banks of lilies, 
 and Fairyfoot sat down by it to rest himself and 
 listen. The singing was so sweet he could have 
 
THe Story of Fairyfoot 115 
 
 listened for ever, but as he sat the nightingales 
 left off their songs, and began to talk together 
 in the silence of the night: 
 
 " * What boy is that,' said one on a branch 
 above him, * who sits so lonely by the Fair Foun- 
 tain ? He cannot have come from Stumpinghame 
 with such small and handsome feet.' 
 
 " * No, I'll warrant you,' said another, * he 
 has come from the west country. How in the 
 world did he find the way ? ' 
 
 " * How simple you are ! ' said a third nightin- 
 gale. * What had he to do but follow the ground- 
 ivy which grows over height and hollow, bank and 
 bush, from the lowest gate of the king's kitchen- 
 garden to the root of this rose-tree ?- He looks 
 a wise boy, and I hope he will keep the secret, 
 or we shall have all the west country here, dabbling 
 in our fountain, and leaving us no rest to either talk 
 or sing.' 
 
 " Fairyfoot sat in great astonishment at this 
 discourse, but by and by, when the talk ceased 
 and the songs began, he thought it might be as 
 well for him to follow the ground-ivy, and see the 
 
Ii6 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 Princess Maybloom, not to speak of getting rid of 
 Rough Ruddy, the sickly sheep, and the crusty old 
 shepherd. It was a long journey ; but he went on, 
 eating wild berries by day, sleeping in the hollows 
 of old trees by night, and never losing sight of the 
 ground-ivy, which led him over height and hollow, 
 bank and bush, out of the forest, and along a noble 
 high road, with fields and villages on every side, 
 to a great city, and a low old-fashioned gate of the 
 king*s kitchen-garden, which was thought too 
 mean for the scullions, and had not been opened 
 for seven years. 
 
 " There was no use knocking — the gate was 
 overgrown with tall weeds and moss; so, being 
 an active boy, he climbed over, and walked through 
 the garden, till a white fawn came frisking by, and 
 he heard a soft voice saying sorrowfully: 
 
 " * Come back, come back, my fawn ! I cannot 
 run and play with you now, my feet have grown 
 so heavy ' ; and looking round he saw the loveliest 
 young princess in the world, dressed in snow- 
 white, and wearing a wreath of roses on her golden 
 hair; but walking slowly, as the great people did in 
 
TKe Story of Fairyfoot 117 
 
 Stumpinghame, for her feet were as large as the 
 best of them. 
 
 " After her came six young ladies, dressed in 
 white and walking slowly, for they could not go 
 before the princess; but Fairyfoot was amazed 
 to see that their feet were as small as his own. 
 At once he guessed that this must be the Princess 
 Maybloom, and made her an humble bow, saying : 
 
 " * Royal princess, I have heard of your trouble 
 because your feet have grown large : in my coim- 
 try that's all the fashion. For seven years past 
 I have been wondering what would make mine 
 grow, to no purpose ; but I know of a certain foun- 
 tain that will make yours smaller and finer than 
 ever they were, if the king, your father, gives you 
 leave to come with me, accompanied by two of your 
 maids that are the least given to talking, and the 
 most prudent officer in all his household; for it 
 would grievously offend the fairies and the nightin- 
 gales to m\ke that fountain known.' 
 
 " When the princess heard that, she danced 
 for joy in spite of her large feet, and she and her 
 six maids brought Fairyfoot before the king and 
 
Ii8 Granny's W^onderful CHair 
 
 queen, where they sat in their palace hall, with all 
 the courtiers paying their morning compliments. 
 The lords were very much astonished to see a 
 ragged, bare-footed boy brought in among them, 
 and the ladies thought Princess Maybioom must 
 have gone mad; but Fairyfoot, making an humble 
 reverence, told his message to the king and 
 queen, and offered to set out with the princess that 
 very day. At first the king would not believe 
 that there could be any use in his offer, because 
 so many great physicians had failed to give any 
 relief. The courtiers laughed Fairyfoot to scorn, 
 the pages wanted to turn him out for an impudent 
 impostor, and the prime-minister said he ought to 
 be put to death for high-treason. 
 
 *' Fairyfoot wished himself safe in the forest 
 again, or even keeping the sickly sheep; but the 
 queen, being a prudent woman, said: 
 
 ** * I pray your majesty to notice what fine fert 
 v-xS boy has. There may be some truth in Jiis 
 story. For the sake of our only daughter, I ^^ill 
 choose two maids who talk the least of all ur 
 train, and my chamberlain, who is the most dis- 
 
TKe Story of Fairyfoot 119 
 
 creet officer in our household. Let them go with 
 the princess: who knows but our sorrow may be 
 lessened ? ' 
 
 " After some persuasion the king consented, 
 though all his councillors advised the contrary. 
 So the two silent maids, the discreet chamberlain, 
 and her fawn, which would not stay behind, were 
 sent with Princess Maybloom, and they all set 
 out after dinner. Fairyfoot had hard work guiding 
 them along the track of the ground-ivy. The 
 maids and the chamberlain did not like the 
 brambles and rough roots of the forest — they 
 thought it hard to eat berries and sleep in hollow 
 trees ; but the princess went on with good courage, 
 and at last they reached the grove of rose-trees, 
 and the spring bordered with lilies. 
 
 " The chamberlain washed — and though his hair 
 had been grey, and his face wrinkled, the young 
 r ourtiers envied his beauty for years after. The 
 maids washed — and from that day they wL-c; 
 esteemed the fairest in all the palace. Lastly, the 
 pre icess washed also — it could make her no fairer, 
 but the moment her feet touched the water 
 
120 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 they grew less, and when she had washed and 
 dried them three times, they were as small and 
 finely shaped as Fairyf oot's own. There was great 
 joy among them, but the boy said sorrowfully : 
 
 " * Oh! if there had been a well in the world 
 to make my feet large, my father and mother 
 would not have cast me off, nor sent me to live 
 among the shepherds.' 
 
 " * Cheer up your heart,' said the Princess 
 Maybloom ; ' if you want large feet, there is a well 
 in this forest that will do it. Last simmier time, 
 I came with my father and his foresters to see a 
 great cedar cut down, of which he meant to make 
 a money chest. While they were busy with the ce- 
 dar, I saw a bramble branch covered with berries. 
 Some were ripe and some were green, but it was 
 the longest bramble that ever grew; for the sake 
 of the berries, I went on and on to its root, which 
 grew hard by a muddy-looking well, with banks 
 of dark green moss, in the deepest part of the for- 
 est. The day was warm and dry, and my feet 
 were sore with the rough ground, so I took off my 
 scarlet shoes, and washed my feet in the well; but 
 
 II 
 
TKe Story of Fairyfoot 121 
 
 as I washed they grew larger every minute, and 
 nothing could ever make them less again. I have 
 seen the bramble this day; it is not far off, and 
 as you have shown me the Fair Fountain, I will 
 show you the Growing Well.* 
 
 " Up rose Fairyfoot and Princess Maybloom, 
 and went together till they found the bramble, and 
 came to where its root grew, hard by the muddy- 
 looking well, with banks of dark green moss in the 
 deepest dell of the forest. Fairjrfoot sat down to 
 wash, but at that minute he heard a sound of music, 
 and knew it was the fairies going to their dancing 
 ground. 
 
 " * If my feet grow large,' said the boy to him- 
 self, * how shall I dance with them ? * So, rising 
 quickly, he took the Princess Maybloom by the 
 hand. The fawn followed them; the maids and 
 the chamberlain followed it, and all followed the 
 music through the forest. At last they came to 
 the flowery green. Robin Goodfellow welcomed 
 the company for Fairyfoot's sake, and gave every 
 one a drink of the fairies' wine. So they danced 
 there from sunset till the grey morning, and nobody 
 
122 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 was tired ; but before the lark sang, Robin Good- 
 fellow took them all safe home, as he used to 
 take Fairyfoot. 
 
 " There was great joy that day in the palace be- 
 cause Princess Maybloom's feet were made small 
 again. The king gave fi'airvf ^ ' • of fine 
 
 clothes and rich jewc ... ^ his 
 
 wonderful story, he and the queen asked him to 
 live with them and be their son. In process of 
 time Fairyfoot and Princess Maybloom were 
 married, and still live happily. When they go to 
 visit at Stumpinghame, they always wash their 
 feet in the Growing Well, lest the royal family 
 might think them a disgrace, but when they come 
 back, they make haste to the Fair Fountain; and 
 the fairies and the nightingales are great friends 
 to them, as well as the maids and the chamberlain, 
 because they have told nobody about it, and there 
 is peace and quiet yet in the grove of rose-trees." 
 
 Here the voice out of the cushion ceased, and 
 two that wore crowns of gold, and were clothe! in 
 cloth of silver, rose up, and said ; 
 
TKe Story of Fairy foot 123 
 
 " That's our story." 
 
 " Mamma," said Princess Greedalind, " if we 
 could find out that Fair Fountain, and keep it 
 all to ourselves ! " 
 
 " Yes, my daughter, and the Growing Well to 
 wash our money in," replied Queen "Wantall: 
 but King Winwealth said: '^i 
 
 " Excepting yesterday's tale, and the two that 
 went before it, I have not heard such a story since 
 my brother Wisewit went from me, and was lost 
 in the forest. Silverspurs, the fourth of my pages, 
 go and bring this maiden a pearl necklace." 
 
 Snowfiower received the necklace accordingly, 
 gave her thanks, made her courtesy, and went 
 down on her grandmother's chair to the servants' 
 hall. That night they gave her a down pillow, 
 and next day she dined on a roast chicken. The 
 feasting within and the clamour without went on 
 as the days before: King V/inwealth fell into his 
 accustomed low spirits after supper, and sent down 
 a message for Snowfiower, which was told her by 
 the master-cook. So the little girl went up in her 
 grandmother's chair, with red shoes, the clocked 
 
124 Granny's "Wonderful CHair 
 
 hose, the white satin gown, and the pearl neck- 
 lace on. All the company welcomed her with 
 joyful looks, and no sooner had she made her 
 courtesy, and laid down her head, saying : — ^" Chair 
 of my grandmother, tell me a story," than the 
 clear voice from under the cushion said: 
 " Listen to the story of Childe Charity." 
 
Zhc Stor^ of Cbilbe Cbaritiz 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE STORY OF CHILDE CHARITY 
 
 " Once upon a time, there lived in the west 
 : country a little girl who had neither father nor 
 [mother ; they both died when she was very young, 
 sand left their daughter to the care of her uncle, who 
 iwas the richest farmer in all that coimtry. He 
 [had houses and lands, flocks and herds, many 
 iservants to work about his house and fields, a wife 
 mho had brought him a great dowry, and two fair 
 ^daughters. All their neighbours, being poor, 
 looked up to the family — insomuch that they imag- 
 ined themselves great people. The father and 
 mother were as proud as peacocks ; the daughters 
 thought themselves the greatest beauties in the 
 ^orld, and not one of the family would speak 
 Civilly to anybody they thought low. 
 
 " Now it happened that though she was their 
 
 127 
 
128 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 near relation, they had this opinion of the orphan] 
 girl, partly because she had no fortune, and partly] 
 because of ht ". humble, kindly disposition. It 
 was said that the more needy and despised any 
 creature was, the more ready was she to befriend 
 it : on which account the people of the west country 
 called her Childe Charity, and if she had any other 
 name, I never heard it. Childe Charity was 
 thought very mean in that proud house. Her 
 uncle would not own her for his niece ; her cousins 
 would not keep her company; and her aunt sent 
 her to work in the dairy, and to sleep in the back 
 garret, where they kept all sorts of lumber and dry 
 herbs for the winter. All the servants learned 
 the same tune, and Childe Charity had more work 
 than rest among them. All the day she scoured 
 pails, scrubbed dishes, and washed crockery ware; 
 but every night she slept in the back garret as 
 sound as a princess could in her palace chamber. 
 
 " Her uncle's house was large and white, and 
 stood among green meadows by a river's side. 
 In front it had a porch covered with a vine ; behind, 
 it had a farmyard and high granaries. Within, 
 
THe Story of CHilde CKarity 129 
 
 there were two parlours for the rich, and two 
 kitchens for the poor, which the neighbours 
 thought wonderfully grand; and one day in the 
 harvest season, when this rich farmer's com had 
 been all cut down and housed, he condescended so 
 far as to invite them to a harvest supper. The west 
 country people came in their holiday clothes and 
 best behaviour. Such heaps of cakes and cheese, 
 such baskets of apples and barrels of ale, had 
 never been at feast before ; and they were making 
 merry in kitchen and parlour, when a poor old 
 Ij woman came to the backdoor, begging for broken 
 P victuals and a night's lodging. Her clothes were 
 coarse and ragged; her hair was scanty and grey^ 
 p her back was bent; her teeth were gone. She had 
 J a squinting eye, a clubbed foot, and crooked 
 fingers. In short, she was the poorest and ugliest 
 old woman that ever came begging. The first 
 Vho saw her was the kitchen-maid, and she or- 
 dered her to be gone for an ugly witch. The next 
 was the herd-boy, and he threw her a bone over 
 his shoulder; but Childe Charity, hearing the 
 noise, came out from her seat at the foot of the 
 
130 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 lowest table, and asked the old woman to take her ? 
 share of the supper, and sleep that night in her bed 
 in the back garret. The old woman sat down 
 without a word of thanks. AU the company 
 laughed at Childe Charity for giving her bed and 
 her supper to a beggar. Her proud cousins said 
 it was just like her mean spirit, but Childe Charity , 
 did not mind them. She scraped the pots for her ^ 
 supper that night and slept on a sack among the 
 lumber, while the old woman rested in her warm 
 bed ; and next morning, before the little girl awoke, 
 she was up and gone, without so much as saying 
 thank you, or good-morning. 
 
 " That day all the servants were sick after the 
 feast, and mostly cross too — so you may judge 
 how civil they were; when, at supper time, who 
 should come to the backdoor but the old woman, 
 again asking for broken victuals and a nigl.fs | 
 lodging. No one would listen to her or give her a 
 morsel, till Childe Charity rose from her seat at 
 the foot of the lowest table, and kindly asked her 
 to take her supper, and sleep in her bed in the back 
 garret. Again the old woman sat down without a 
 
The Story of Childe Charity 131 
 
 iword. Childe Charity scraped the pots for her 
 isupper, and slept on the sack. In the morning the 
 old woman was gone; but for six nights after, as 
 [sure as the supper was spread, there was she at the 
 I backdoor, and the little girl regularly asked her in. 
 " Childe Charity's aunt said she would let her 
 [get enough of beggars. Her cousins made con- 
 ttinual game of what they called her genteel visitor. 
 ^; Sometimes the old woman said, * Child, why don't 
 ]you make this bed softer ? and why are your 
 I blankets so thin ? ' but she never gave her a word 
 lof thanks nor a civil good-morning. At last, on 
 (the ninth night from her first coming, when Childe 
 (Charity was getting used to scraping the pots and 
 I sleeping on the sack, her accustomed knock came 
 j to the door, and there she stood with an ugly ashy- 
 i coloured dog, so stupid-looking and climisy that 
 i no herd-boy would keep him. 
 ' '* * Good-evening, my little girl,' she said when 
 I Childe Charity opened the door. * I will not have 
 ;your supper and bed to-night — I am going on a 
 ^ long journey to see a friend ; but here is a dog of 
 I mine, whom nobody in all the west country will 
 
132 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 keep for me. He is a little cross, and not very 
 handsome; but I leave him to your care till the 
 shortest day in all the year. Then you and I will 
 count for his keeping.* 
 
 " When the old woman had said the last word, 
 she set off with such speed that Childe Charity 
 lost sight of her in a minute. The ugly dog began 
 to fawn upon her, but he snarled at everybody else. 
 The servants said he was a disgrace to the house. 
 The proud cousins wanted him drowned, and it was 
 with great trouble that Childe Charity got leave 
 to keep him in an old ruined cow-house. Ugly 
 and cross as the dog was, he fawned on her, and 
 the old woman had left him to her care. So the 
 little girl gave him part of all her meals, and when 
 the hard frost came, took him privately to her own 
 back garret, because the cow-house was damp and 
 cold in the long nights. The dog lay quietly on 
 some straw in a corner. Childe Charity slept 
 soundly, but every morning the servants would say 
 to her : 
 
 " * What great Ught and fine talking was that 
 in your back garret ? ' 
 
The Story of Childe Charity 133 
 
 " * There was no light but the moon shining 
 in through the shutterless window, and no talk 
 that I heard,' said Childe Charity, and she thought 
 they must have been dreaming; but night after 
 night, when any of them awoke in the dark and 
 silent hour that comes before the morning, they 
 saw a Ught brighter and clearer than the Christmas 
 fire, and heard voices like those of lords and ladies 
 in the back garret. 
 
 " Partly from fear, and partly from laziness, 
 none of the servants would rise to see what might 
 be there; till at length, when the winter nights 
 were at the longest, the little parlour-maid, who 
 did least work and got most favour, because 
 she gathered news for her mistress, crept out of 
 bed when all the rest were sleeping, and set her- 
 self to watch at a crevice of the door. She saw 
 the dog lying quietly in the corner, Childe Charity 
 sleeping soundly in her bed, and the moon shining 
 through the shutterless window ; but an hoxxr be- 
 fore daybreak there came a glare of lights, and 
 a sound of far-off bugles. The window opened, 
 and in marched a troop of little men clothed in 
 
134 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 crimson and gold, and bearing every man a torch^ 
 till the room looked bright as day. They marched 
 up with great reverence to the dog, where he lay 
 on the straw, and the most richly clothed among 
 them said: 
 
 " * Royal prince, we have prepared the ban- 
 quet hall. What will your highness please that 
 we do next ? ' 
 
 " * Ye have done v/ell,^ said the dog. * Now 
 prepare the feast, and see that all things be in our 
 first fashion : for the princess and I mean to bring 
 a stranger who never feasted in our halls before.' 
 
 *' * Your highness's commands shall be obeyed,* 
 said the little man, making another reverence ; and 
 he and his company passed out of the window. 
 By and by there was another glare of lights, and 
 a sound like far-off flutes. The window opened, 
 and there came in a company of little ladies clad 
 in rose-coloured velvet, and carrying each a crystal 
 lamp. They also walked with great reverence 
 up to the dog, and the gayest among them said: 
 
 " * Royal prince, we have prepared the tapestry. 
 What will your highness please that we do next ? * 
 
THe Story of CHilde CKarity 135 
 
 " * Ye have done well,* said the dog. * Now 
 prepare the robes, and let all thmgs be in our 
 first fashion: for the princess and I will bring with 
 us a stranger who never feasted in our halls 
 before.' 
 ^ " * Your highnesses commands shall be obeyed,' 
 said the little lady, making a low courtesy; and 
 she and her company passed out through the 
 window, which closed quietly behind them. The 
 dog stretched himself out upon the straw, the 
 little girl turned in her sleep, and the moon shone 
 in on the back garret. The parlour-maid was so 
 much amazed, and so eager to tell this great story 
 to her mistress, that she could not close her eyes 
 that night, and was up before cock-crow; but 
 when she told it, her mistress called her a silly 
 wench to have such foolish dreams, and scolded 
 her so that the parlour-maid durst not mention 
 what she had seen to the servants. Nevertheless 
 Childe Charity's aunt thought there might be 
 something in it worth knowing; so next night, 
 when all the house were asleep, she crept out of 
 bed, and set herself to watch a' the back garret 
 
136 Granny's "Wonderful CHair 
 
 door. There she saw exactly what the maid told 
 her — the little men with the torches, and the Httle 
 ladies with the crystal lamps, come in making 
 great reverence to the dog, and the same words 
 pass, only he said to the one, * Now prepare the 
 presents,' and to the other, * Prepare the jewels ' ; 
 and when they were gone the dog stretched him- 
 self on the straw, Childe Charity turned in her 
 sleep, and the moon shone in on the back garret. 
 " The mistress could not close her eyes any 
 more than the maid from eagerness to tell the 
 story. She woke up Childe Charity's rich uncle 
 before cock-crow ; but when he heard it, he laughed 
 at her for a foolish woman, and advised her not 
 to repeat the like before the neighbours, lest they 
 should think she had lost her senses. The mis- 
 tress could say no more, and the day passed; but 
 that night the master thought he would like to see 
 what went on in the back garret: so when all the 
 house were asleep he slipped out of bed, and set 
 himself to watch at the crevice in the door. The 
 same thing happened again that the maid and the 
 mistress saw : the little men in crimson with their 
 
TKe Story of CKilde CKarity 137 
 
 torches, and the little ladies in rose-coloured 
 velvet with their lamps, came in at the window, and 
 made an humble reverence to the ugly dog, the 
 one saying, * Royal prince, we have prepared the 
 presents,* and the other, * Royal prince, we have 
 prepared the jewels * ; and the dog said to them 
 all, * Ye have done well. To-morrow come and 
 meet me and the princess with horses and chariots, 
 and let all things be in our first fashion: for we 
 will bring a stranger from this house who has 
 never travelled with us, nor feasted in our halls 
 before.* 
 
 " The little men and the little ladies said, * Your 
 highness's commands shall be obeyed.* When 
 they had gone out through the window the ugly 
 dog stretched himself out on the straw, ChUde 
 Charity turned in her sleep, and the moon shone 
 in on the back garret. 
 
 " The master could not close his eyes any more 
 than the maid or the mistress, for thinking of this 
 strange sight. He remembered to have heard his 
 grandfather say, that somewhere near his meadows 
 there lay a path leading to the fairies* country, 
 
138 Granny's Wonderfiil CKair 
 
 and the haymakers used to see it shining through 
 the grey siunmer morning as the fairy bands went 
 home. Nobody had heard or seen the like for 
 many years; but the master concluded that the 
 doings in his back garret must be a fairy business, 
 and the ugly dog a person of great account. His 
 chief wonder was, however, what visitor the fairies 
 intended to take from his house ; and after thinking 
 the matter over he was sure it must be one of his 
 daughters — they were so handsome, and had such 
 fine clothes. 
 
 " Accordingly, Childe Charity's rich uncle made 
 it his first business that morning to get ready a 
 breakfast of roast mutton for the ugly dog, and 
 carry it to him in the old cow-house; but not a 
 morsel would the dog taste. On the contrary, 
 he snarled at the master, and would have bitten 
 him if he had not run away with his mutton. 
 
 " * The fairies have strange ways,' said the 
 master to himself; but he called his daughters 
 privately, bidding them dress themselves in their 
 best, for he could not say which of them might 
 be called into great company before nightfall. 
 
TKe Story of CKilde CHarity 139 
 
 Childe Charity's proud cousins, hearing this, put 
 on the richest of><heir silks and laces, and strutted 
 like peacocks fromliitchen to parlour all day, wait- 
 ing for the call their'^ther spoke of, while the 
 little girl scoured and Isi^bbed in the dairy. 
 They were in very bad hum^rf when night fell, 
 and nobody had come ; but just afei^e family were 
 sitting down to supper the ugly dog bfeg$n to bark, 
 and the old woman's knock was heard at the 
 backdoor. Childe Charity opened it, and was 
 going to ofifer her bed and supper as usual, when 
 the old woman said : 
 
 " * This is the shortest day in all the year, and 
 I am going home to hold a feast after my travels. 
 I see you have taken good care of my dog, and 
 now if you will come with me to my house, he and 
 I will do our best to entertain you. Here is our 
 company.' 
 
 " As the old woman spoke there was a sound 
 of far-off flutes and bugles, then a glare of lights ; 
 and a great company, clad so grandly that they 
 shone with gold and jewels, came in open chariots, 
 covered with gilding and drawn by snow-white 
 
140 Granny's "Wonderful CHair 
 
 horses. The first and finest of the chariots was 
 empty. The old woman led Childe Charity to it 
 by the hand, and the ugly dog jumped in before her. 
 The proud cousins, in all their finery, had by this 
 time come to the door, but nobody wanted them ; 
 and no sooner was the old woman and her dog 
 within the chariot than a marvellous change passed 
 over them, for the ugly old woman turned at once 
 to a beautiful young princess, with long yellow 
 curls and a robe of green and gold, while the ugly 
 dog at her side started up a fair young prince, with 
 nut-brown hair and a robe of purple and silver. 
 
 " * We are,' said they, as the chariots drove on, 
 and the little girl sat astonished, * a prince and 
 princess of Fairyland, and there was a wager 
 between us whether or not there were good people 
 still to be found in these false and greedy times. 
 One said Yes, and the other said No; and I have 
 lost,* said the prince, * and must pay the feast 
 and presents.' 
 
 " Childe Charity never heard any more of that 
 story. Some of the farmer's household, who were 
 looking after them through the moonlight night, 
 
 ] 
 
The Story of CKilde CKarity 141 
 
 said the chariots had gone one way across the 
 meadows, some said they had gone another, and 
 till this day they cannot agree upon the direction. 
 But Childe Charity went with that noble company 
 into a country such as she had never seen — for 
 primroses covered all the ground, and the light 
 was always like that of a summer evening. 
 They took her to a royal palace, where there was 
 nothing but feasting and dancing for seven days. 
 She had robes of pale green velvet to wear, and 
 slept in a chamber inlaid with ivory. When the 
 feast was done, the prince and princess gave her 
 such heaps of gold and jewels that she could not 
 carry them, but they gave her a chariot to go home 
 in, drawn by six white horses ; and on the seventh 
 night, which happened to be Christmas time, when 
 the farmer's family had settled in their own minds 
 that she would never come back, and were sitting 
 down to supper, they heard the sound of her coach- 
 man's bugle, and saw her alight with all the jewels 
 and gold at the very backdoor where she had 
 brought in the ugly old woman. The fairy chariot 
 drove away, and never came back to that farm- 
 
142 Granny's 'Wonderful CKair 
 
 house after. But Childe Charity scrubbed and 
 scoured no more, for she grew a great lady, even 
 in the eyes of her proud cousins." 
 
 Here the voice out of the cushion ceased, and 
 one, with a fair face and a robe of pale green velvet, 
 rose from among the company, and said : 
 
 " That's my story." 
 
 " Mamma," said Princess Greedalind, " if 
 we had some of those fine chariots ! " 
 
 " Yes, my daughter," answered Queen Want- 
 all, " and the gold and jewels too! " But King 
 Winwealth said: 
 
 " Excepting yesterday's story, and the three 
 that went before it, I have not heard such a tale 
 since my brother Wisewit went from me, and was 
 lost in the forest. Highjinks, the third of my 
 pages, go and bring this maiden a crimson velvet 
 hat. " 
 
 Snowflower took the hat and thanked the king, 
 made her courtesy, and went down on her grand-, 
 mother's chair to the housekeeper's parlour. 
 Her blanket was covered with a patchwork quilt 
 
THe Story of CKilde CKarity 143 
 
 that night; next day she had roast turkey and meat 
 for dinner. But the feast went on in the palace 
 hall with the usual spites and envies ; the clamour 
 and complaints at the gate were still heard above 
 all the music; and King Winwealth fell into his 
 wonted low spirits as soon as the supper was over. 
 As usual, a message came down from the banquet 
 hall, and the chief-butler told Snowflower that 
 she and her chair were wanted to tell King Win- 
 wealth a story. So she went up with all the pre- 
 sents on, even to the crimson hat, made her 
 courtesy to the good company, and had scarcely 
 said, " Chair of my grandmother, tell me a story," 
 when the voice from under the cushion said: 
 " Listen to the story of Sour and Civil." 
 
Sour anb Civil 
 
 Q E. P. D. & Co 
 
CHAPTER Vn 
 
 SOUR AKD CIVIL 
 
 " Once upon a time there stood upon the sea- 
 coast of the west country a certain hamlet of low 
 cottages, where no one lived but fishennen. All 
 round it was a broad beach of snow-white sand, 
 where nothing was to be seen but gulls and cor- 
 morants, and long tangled seaweeds cast up by 
 the tide that came and went night and day, sum- 
 mer and winter. There was no harbour nor port 
 on all that shore. Ships passed by at a distance, 
 with their white sails set, and on the land-side 
 there lay wide grassy downs, where peasants lived 
 and shepherds fed their flocks. The fishermen 
 thought themselves as well off as any people in 
 that country. Their families never wanted for 
 plenty of herrings and mackerel; and what they 
 had to spare the landsmen bought from them at 
 
 147 
 
148 Granny's "Wonderful CHair 
 
 certain village markets on the downs, giving them 
 in exchange butter, cheese, and com. 
 
 " The two best fishermen in that village were 
 the sons of two old widows, who had no other 
 children, and happened to be near neighbours. 
 Their family names were short, for they called the 
 one Sour, and the other Civil. There was no 
 relationship between them that ever I heard of; 
 but they had only one boat, and always fished 
 together, though their names expressed the differ- 
 ence of their humours — for Civil never used a hard 
 word where a soft one would do, and when Sour 
 was not snarling at somebody, he was sure to be 
 grumbling at everything. 
 
 " Nevertheless they agreed wonderfully, and 
 were lucky fishers. Both were strong, active, and 
 of good courage. On winter's night or summer's 
 morning they would steer out to sea far beyond 
 the boats of their neighbours, and never came 
 home without some fish to cook and some to spare. 
 Their mothers were proud of them, each in her own 
 fashion — for the saying held good, * Like mother, 
 like son.' Dame Civil thought the whole world 
 
Sour and Civil 149 
 
 didn't hold a better than her son; and her boy 
 was the only creature at whom Dame Sour didn't 
 scold and frown. The hamlet was divided in 
 opinion concerning the young fishermen. Some 
 thought Civil the best; some said, without Sour 
 he would catch nothing. So things went on, till 
 one day about the fall of winter, when mists were 
 gathering darkly on sea and sky, and the air was 
 chill and frosty, all the boatmen of the hamlet went 
 out to fish, and so did Sour and Civil. 
 
 " That day they had not their usual luck. Cast 
 their net where they would, not a single fish came 
 in. Their neighbours caught boatfuls, and went 
 home, Sour said, laughing at them. But when the 
 sea was growing crimson with the sxmset their nets 
 were empty, and they were tired. Civil himself 
 did not like to go home without fish — it would 
 damage the high repute they had gained in the 
 village. Besides, the sea was calm and the even- 
 ing fair, and, as a last attempt, they steered still 
 farther out, and cast their nets beside a rock 
 which rose rough and grey above the water, and 
 was called the Merman's Seat — from an old report 
 
150 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 that the fishermen's fathers had seen the mermen^ 
 or sea-people, sittmg there on moonlight nights. 
 Nobody believed that rumour now, but the vil- 
 lagers did not like to fish there. The water was 
 said to be deep beyond measure, and sudden 
 squalls were apt to trouble it; but Sour and Civil 
 were right glad to see by the moving of their lines 
 that there was something in their net, and gladder 
 still when they found it so heavy that all their 
 strength was required to draw it up. Scarcely 
 had they landed it on the Merman's Seat, when 
 their joy was changed to disappointment, for be- 
 sides a few starved mackerel, the net contained 
 nothing but a monstrous ugly fish as long as 
 Civil (who was taller than Sour), with a huge 
 snout, a long beard, and a skin covered with 
 prickles. 
 
 " * Such a horrid ugly creatxire ! * said Sour, 
 as they shook it out of the net on the rough rock, 
 and gathered up the mackerel. * We needn't fish 
 here any more. How they will mock us in the 
 village for staying out so late, and bringing home 
 so Uttle ! ' 
 
Sour and Civil 151 
 
 " * Let us try again,' said Civil, as he set his 
 creel of mackerel in the boat. 
 
 " * Not another cast will I make to-night ' ; and 
 what more Sour would have said, was cut short 
 by the great fish, for, looking round at them, it 
 spoke out: 
 
 " * I suppose you don't think me worth taking 
 home in yom: dirty boat ; but I can tell you that if 
 you were down in my country, neither of you would 
 be thought fit to keep me company.' 
 
 " Sour and Civil were terribly astonished to 
 hear the fish speak. The first could not think of 
 a cross word to say, but Civil made answer in his 
 accustomed manner. 
 
 " * Indeed, my lord, we beg your pardon, but 
 our boat is too light to carry such a fish as you.' 
 
 ** * You do well to call me lord,' said the fish, 
 * for so I am, though it was hard to expect you 
 could have known my quality in this dress. How- 
 ever, help me off the rock, for I must go home ; and 
 for your civility I will give you my daughter in 
 marriage, if you will come and see me this day 
 twelvemonth.' 
 
152 Granny's "Wonderful CHair 
 
 *' Civil helped the great fish off the rock as 
 respectfully as his fear would allow him. Sour 
 was so terrified at the whole transaction, that he 
 said not a word till they got safe home ; but from 
 that day forward, when he wanted to put Civil 
 down, it was his custom to tell him and his mother 
 that he would get no wife but the ugly fish's 
 daughter. 
 
 " Old Dame Sour heard this story from her son, 
 and told it over the whole village. Some people 
 wondered, but the most part laughed at it as a 
 good joke; and Civil and his mother were never 
 known to be angry but on that occasion. Dame 
 Civil advised her son never to fish with Sour again ; 
 and as the boat happened to be his. Civil got an old 
 skiff which one of the fishermen was going to 
 break up for firewood, and cobbled it up for him- 
 self. 
 
 " In that skiff he went to sea alone all the winter, 
 and all the summer; but though Civil was brave 
 and skilful, he could catch little, because his boat 
 was bad — and everybody but his mother began to 
 think him of no value. Sour having the good boat 
 
Sour and Civil 153 
 
 got a new comrade, and had the praise of being 
 the best fisherman. 
 
 " Poor Civil's heart was getting low as the sum- 
 mer wore away. The fish had grown scarce on that 
 coast, and the fishermen had to steer farther out 
 to sea. One evening when he had toiled all day 
 and caught nothing, Civil thought he would go 
 farther too, and try his fortune beside the Mer- 
 man's rock. The sea was cahn, and the evening 
 fair; Civil did not remember that it was the very 
 day on which his troubles began by the great fish 
 talking to him twelve months before. As he 
 neared the rock the sun was setting, and much 
 astonished was the fisherman to see upon it three 
 fair ladies, with sea-green gowns and strings of 
 great pearls wound round their long fair hair ; two 
 of them were waving their hands to him. They 
 were the tallest and stateliest ladies he had ever 
 seen; but Civil could perceive as he came nearer 
 that there was no colour in their cheeks, that their 
 hair had a strange bluish shade, like that of deep 
 sea-water, and there was a fiery light in their eyes 
 that frightened him. The third, who was less of 
 
154 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 stature, did not notice him at all, but kept her eyes 
 fixed on the setting sun. Though her look was 
 mournful. Civil could see that there was a faint 
 rosy bloom on her cheek — that her hair was a 
 golden yellow, and her eyes were mild and clear 
 like those of his mother. 
 
 " * Welcome! welcome! noble fisherman! ' cried 
 the two ladies. * Our father has sent us for you 
 to visit him,' and with one bound they leaped into 
 his boat, bringing with them the smaller lady, who 
 said: 
 
 " * Oh! bright sun and brave sky that I see so 
 seldom ! * But Civil heard no more, for his boat 
 went down miles deep in the sea, and he thought 
 himself drowning ; but one lady had caught him by 
 the right arm, and the other by the left, and pulled 
 him into the mouth of a rocky cave, where there 
 was no water. On they went, still down and down, 
 as if on a steep hill-side. The cave was very long, 
 but it grew wider as they came to the bottom. 
 Then Civil saw a faint light, and walked out with 
 his fair company into the country of the sea-people. 
 In that land there grew neither grass nor flowers, 
 
(C) E. P. D. & Co. 
 
 WITH ONE BOUND THEY LEAPED INTO HIS BOAT. . 
 
 MILES DEEP IN THE SEA. 
 
 . HIS BOAT WENT DOWN 
 
Sour and Civil 155 
 
 bushes nor trees, but the ground was covered with 
 bright-coloured shells and pebbles. There were 
 hills of marble, and rocks of spar; and over all a 
 cold blue sky with no sun, but a light clear and 
 silvery as that of the harvest moon. The fisher- 
 man could see no smoking chimneys, but there 
 were grottoes in the sparry rocks, and halls in the 
 marble hills, where lived the sea-people — with 
 whom, as old stories say, fishermen and mariners 
 used to meet on lonely capes and headlands in the 
 simple times of the world. 
 
 " Forth they came in all directions to see the 
 stranger. Mermen with long white beards, and 
 mermaids such as walk with the fishermen, all 
 clad in sea-green, and decorated with strings of 
 pearls; but every one with the same colourless 
 face, and the same wild light in their eyes. The 
 mermaids led Civil up one of the marble hills to a 
 great cavern with halls and chambers like a palace. 
 Their floors were of alabaster, their walls of por- 
 phyry, and their ceilings inlaid with coral. Thou- 
 sands of crystal lamps lit the palace. There were 
 seats and tables hewn out of shining spar, and a 
 
156 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 great company sat feasting ; but what most amazed 
 Civil was the quantity of cups, flagons, and goblets, 
 made of gold and silver, of such different shapes 
 and patterns that they seemed to have been 
 gathered from all the countries in the world. In 
 the chief hall there sat a merman on a stately 
 chair, with more jewels than all the rest about him. 
 Before him the mermaids brought Civil, saying: 
 
 " * Father, here is our guest.' 
 
 " * Welcome, noble fisherman ! ' cried the mer- 
 man, in a voice which Civil remembered with 
 terror, for it was that of the great ugly fish; * wel- 
 come to our halls! Sit down and feast with us, 
 and then choose which of my daughters you will 
 have for a bride.* 
 
 " Civil had never felt himself so thoroughly 
 frightened in all his life. How was he to get 
 home to his mother ? and what would the old dame 
 think when the dark night came without bringing 
 him home ? There was no use in talking — Civil 
 had wisdom enough to see that : he therefore tried 
 to take things quietly; and, having thanked the 
 merman for his invitation, took the seat assigned 
 
I 
 
 Sour and Civil 157 
 
 him on his right hand. Civil was hungry with the 
 long day at sea, but there was no want of fare on 
 that table : meats and wines, such as he had never 
 tasted, were set before him in the richest of golden 
 dishes; but, hungry as he was, the fisherman per- 
 ceived that everything there had the taste and 
 smell of the sea. 
 
 " If the fisherman had been the lord of lands 
 and castles he would not have been treated with 
 more respect. The two mermaids sat by him — 
 one filled his plate, another filled his goblet; but 
 the third only looked at him in a stealthy, warning 
 way when nobody perceived her. Civil soon 
 finished his share of the feast, and then the mer- 
 man showed him all the splendours of his cavern. 
 The halls were full of company, some feasting, 
 some dancing, and some playing all manner of 
 games, and in every hall was the same abundance 
 of gold and silver vessels; but Civil was most 
 astonished when the merman brought him to a 
 marble chamber full of heaps of precious stones. 
 There were diamonds there whose value the 
 fisherman knew not — ^pearls larger than ever a 
 
158 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 diver had gathered — emeralds, sapphires, and 
 rubbies, that would have made the jewellers of- 
 the world wonder ; the merman then said : 
 " * This is my eldest daughter's dowry.* 
 "'Good luck attend her!' said Civil. * It 
 is the dowry of a queen.' But the merman led him 
 on to another chamber; it was filled with heaps 
 of gold coin, which seemed gathered from all 
 times and nations. The images and inscriptions 
 of all the kings that ever reigned were there ; and 
 the merman said: 
 
 " * This is my second daughter's dowry.' 
 "*Good luck attend her!' said Civil. * It 
 is a dowry for a princess.' 
 
 " * So you may say,' replied the merman. * But 
 make up your mind which of the maidens you 
 will marry, for the third has no portion at all, 
 because she is not my daughter; but only, as you 
 may see, a poor silly girl taken into my family 
 for charity.' 
 
 " * Truly, my lord,' said Civil, whose mind was 
 already made up, * both your daughters are too rich 
 and far too noble for me; therefore I choose the 
 
THE MERMAN AGAIN SHOWED CIVIL THE CHAMBER OF GOLD AND 
 THE CHAMBER OF JEWELS 
 
 E. P. D. & CO. 
 
 159 
 
l6o Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 third. Her poverty will best become my estate 
 of a poor fisherman.' 
 
 " * If you choose her/ said the merman, * you 
 must wait long for a wedding. I cannot allow an in- 
 ferior girl to be married before my own daughters.' 
 And he said a great deal more to persuade him; 
 but Civil would not change his mind, and they 
 returned to the hall. 
 
 " There was no more attention for the fisherman, 
 but everybody watched him well. Turn where he 
 would, master or guest had their eyes upon him, 
 though he made them the best speeches he could 
 remember, and praised all their splendours. One 
 thing, however, was strange — there was no end to 
 the fun and the feasting; nobody seemed tired, 
 and nobody thought of sleep. When Civil's very 
 eyes closed with weariness, and he slept on one of 
 the marble benches — no matter how many hours — 
 there were the company feasting and dancing 
 away ; there were the thousand lamps within, and 
 the cold moonlight withouto Civil wished himself 
 back with his mother, his net, and his cobbled 
 skiff. Fishing would have been easier than those 
 
Sour and Civil l6l 
 
 everlasting feasts; but there was nothing else 
 among the sea-people — ^no night of rest, no working 
 day. 
 
 " Civil knew not how time went on, till, waking 
 up from a long sleep, he saw, for the first time, 
 that the feast was over, and the company gone. 
 The lamps still burned, and the tables, with all 
 their riches, stood in the empty halls; but there 
 was no face to be seen, so sound to be heard, only 
 a low voice singiug beside the outer door; and 
 there, sitting all alone, he foimd the mild-eyed 
 maiden. 
 
 " * Fair lady,' said Civil, * tell me what means 
 this quietness, and where are all the merry 
 company ? ' 
 
 " * You are a man of the land,' said the lady, 
 * and know not the sea-people. They never sleep 
 but once a year, and that is at Christmas time. ' 
 Then they go into the deep caverns, where there 
 is always darkness, and sleep till the new year 
 comes.' 
 
 " * It is a strange fashion,' said Civil ; * but all 
 folks have their way. Fair lady, as you and I are 
 
i62 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 to be good friends, tell me, whence come all the 
 wines and meats, and gold and silver vessels, 
 seeing there are neither cornfields nor flocks here, 
 worlnnen nor artificers ? * 
 
 " * The sea-people are heirs of the sea,' replied 
 the maiden ; * to them come all the stores and 
 riches that are lost in it. I know not the ways by 
 which they come ; but the lord of these halls keeps 
 the keys of seven gates, where they go out and in ; 
 but one of the gates, which has not been open for 
 thrice seven years, leads to a path under the sea, 
 by which, I heard the merman say in his cups, one 
 might reach the land. Good fisherman, if by chance 
 you gain his favour, and ever open that gate, 
 let me heai you company; for I was bom where 
 the sun shines and the grass grows, though my 
 country and my parents are unknown to me. All 
 I remember is sailing in a great ship, when a storm 
 arose, and it was wrecked, and not one soul es- 
 caped drowning but me. I was then a little child, 
 and a brave sailor had bound me to a floating 
 plank before he was washed away. Here the 
 sea-people came round me like great fishes, and 
 
Sour and Civil 163 
 
 1 went down with them to this rich and weary 
 country. Sometimes, as a great favour, they take 
 me up with them to see the sun ; but that is seldom, 
 for they never Hke to part with one who has seen 
 their country; and, fisherman, if you ever leave 
 them, remember to take nothing with you that 
 belongs to them, for if it were but a shell or a 
 pebble, that will give them power over you and 
 yours.' 
 
 " * Thanks for your news, fair lady,* said Civil. 
 
 * A lord's daughter, doubtless, you must have been, 
 while I am but a poor fisherman ; yet, as we have 
 fallen into the same misfortune, let us be friends, 
 and it may be we shall find means to get back to 
 the sxmshine together.' 
 
 " * You are a man of good manners,' said the 
 lady, * therefore, I accept your friendship ; but my 
 fear is that we shall never see the sunshine again.' 
 
 " * Fair speeches brought me here,' said Civil, 
 
 * and fair speeches may help me back; but be 
 sure I will not go without you.' 
 
 " This promise cheered the lady's heart, and 
 she and Civil spent that Christmas time seeing 
 
164 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 the wonders of the sea country. They wandered 
 through caves like that of the great merman. 
 The unfinished feast was spread in every hall; 
 the tables were covered with most costly vessels ; 
 and heaps of jewels lay on the floors of unlocked 
 chambers. But for the lady's warning, Civil 
 would fain have put away some of them for his 
 mother. 
 
 " The poor woman was sad of heart by this 
 time, believing her son to be drowned. On the 
 first night when he did not come home, she had 
 gone down to the sea and watched till morning. 
 Then the fishermen steered out again, and Sour 
 having found his skiff floating about, brought it 
 home, saying, the foolish young man was doubt- 
 less lost ; but what better could be expected when 
 he had no discreet person to take care of him ? 
 
 " This grieved Dame Civil sore. She never 
 expected to see her son again; but, feeling lonely 
 in her cottage at the evening hour when he used to 
 come home, the good woman accustomed herself 
 to go down at simset and sit beside the sea. That 
 winter happened to be mild on the coast of the 
 
Sour and Civil 165 
 
 west country, and one evening when the Christmas 
 time was near, and the rest of the village preparing 
 to make merry. Dame Civil sat, as usual, on the 
 sands. The tide was ebbing and the sun going 
 down, when from the eastward came a lady clad 
 in black, mounted on a black palfrey, and followed 
 by a squire in the same sad clothing; as the lady 
 came near, she said : 
 
 " * Woe is me for my daughter, and for all that 
 have lost by the sea ! * 
 
 " * You say well, noble lady,' said Dame Civil. 
 * Woe is me also for my son, for I have none beside 
 him.' 
 
 " When the lady heard that, she alighted from 
 her palfrey, and sat down by the fisherman's 
 mother, saying: 
 
 " * Listen to my story. I was the widow of a 
 great lord in the heart of the east country. He 
 left me a fair castle, and an only daughter, who 
 was the joy of my heart. Her name was Faith 
 Feignless ; but, while she was yet a child, a great 
 fortime-teller told me that my daughter would 
 many a fisherman. I thought this would be a 
 
l66 Granny's "Wonderful CKair 
 
 great disgrace to my noble family, and, therefore, 
 sent my daughter with her nurse in a good ship, 
 bound for a certain city where my relations live, 
 intending to follow myself as soon as I could get 
 my lands and castles sold. But the ship was 
 wrecked, and my daughter drowned; and 1 have 
 wandered over the world with my good Squire 
 Trusty, mourning on every shore with those who 
 have lost friends by the sea. Some with whom 
 I have mourned grew to forget their sorrow, and 
 would lament with me no more ; others being sour 
 and selfish, mocked me, saying, my grief was 
 nothing to them; but you have good manners, and 
 I will remain with you, however humble be your 
 dwelling. My squire carries gold enough to pay 
 all our charges.' So the mourning lady and her 
 good Squire Trusty went home with Dame Civil, 
 and she was no longer lonely in her sorrow, for 
 when the dame said : 
 
 " * Oh! if my son were alive, I should never 
 let him go to sea in a cobbled skiff ! * the lady 
 answered : 
 
 " * Oh! if my daughter were but living, I should 
 
f So\ir and Civil 167 
 
 never think it a disgrace though she married a 
 fisherman ! * 
 
 " The Christmas passed as it always does in 
 the west country — shepherds made merry on the 
 downs, and fishermen on the shore ; but when the 
 merrymakings and ringing of bells were over in all 
 the land, the sea-people woke up to their continual 
 feasts and dances. Like one that had forgotten 
 all that was past, the merman again showed Civil 
 the chamber of gold and the chamber of jewels, 
 advising him to choose between his two daughters; 
 but the fisherman still answered that the ladies 
 were too noble, and far too rich for him. Yet as 
 he looked at the glittering heap, Civil could not 
 help recollecting the poverty of the west country, 
 and the thought slipped out : 
 
 " * How happy my old neighbours would be to 
 find themselves here ! ' 
 
 " * Say you so? * said the merman, who always 
 wanted visitors. 
 
 " * Yes,' said Civil, * I have neighbours up yonder 
 in the west country whom it would be hard to send 
 home again if they got sight of half this wealth ' ; 
 
i68 Granny*s Wonderful CHair 
 
 and the honest fisherman thought of Dame Sour 
 and her son. 
 
 " The merman was greatly delighted with these 
 speeches — he thought there was a probabiHty of 
 getting many land-people down, and by and by 
 said to Civil : 
 
 " * Suppose you took up a few jewels, and went 
 up to tell your poor neighbours how welcome we 
 might make them ? ' 
 
 " The prospect of getting back to his country 
 rejoiced Civil' s heart, but he had promised not 
 to go without the lady, and therefore, answered 
 prudently what was indeed true : 
 
 " * Many thanks, my lord, for choosing such a 
 humble man as I am to bear your message; but 
 the people of the west country never believe any- 
 thing without two witnesses at the least; yet if 
 the poor maid whom I have chosen could be per- 
 mitted to accompany me, I think they would believe 
 us both.* 
 
 " The merman said nothing in reply, but his 
 people, who had heard Civil's speech, talked it 
 over among themselves till they grew sure that 
 
Sour and Civil 169 
 
 the whole west country would come down, if 
 tiiey only had news of the riches, and petitioned 
 their lord to send up Civil and the poor maid by 
 way of letting them know. 
 
 " As it seemed for the public good, the great 
 merman consented; but, being determined to 
 have them back, he gathered out of his treasure 
 chamber some of the largest pearls and diamonds 
 that lay convenient, and said : 
 
 " * Take these as a present from me, to let the 
 west country people see what I can do for my 
 visitors.' 
 
 " Civil and the lady took the presents, saying : 
 
 " * Oh, my lord, you are too generous. We 
 want nothing but the pleasure of telling of your 
 marvellous riches up yonder.* 
 
 " * Tell everybody to come down, and they will 
 get the Uke,* said the merman; * and follow my 
 eldest daughter, for she carries the key of the 
 land gate.* 
 
 " Civil and the lady followed the mermaid 
 through a winding gallery, which led from the chief 
 banquet hall far into the marble hill. All was 
 
170 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 dark, and they had neither lamp nor torch, but at 
 the end of the gallery they came to a great stone 
 gate, which creaked like thunder on its hinges. 
 Beyond that there was a narrow cave, sloping up 
 and up like a steep hill-side. Civil and the lady 
 thought they would never reach the top; but at 
 last they saw a gleam of daylight, then a strip of 
 blue sky, and the mermaid bade them stoop and 
 creep through v/hat seemed a crevice in the ground, 
 and both stood up on the broad sea-beach as the 
 day was breaking and the tide ebbing fast away. 
 
 " * Good time:", to you among your west country 
 people,' said the i lermaid. * Tell any of them that 
 would like to "ome down to visit us, that they 
 must come here n idway between the high and 
 low water-mark, when the tide is going out at 
 i..: ming or evening. Call thrice on the sea-people 
 and we will show them the way.' 
 
 " Before they could make answer, she had sunk 
 down from their sight, and there was no track 
 or passage there, but all was covered by the loose 
 sand and sea-shells. 
 
 " * Now,' said the lady to Civil, * we have seen 
 
Sour and Civil 171 
 
 the heavens once more, and we will not go back. 
 Cast in the merman's present quickly before the sun 
 rises' ; and taking the bag of pearls and diamonds, 
 she flung it as far as she could into the sea. 
 
 " Civil never was so unwilUng to part with 
 anything as that bag, but he thought it better to 
 follow a good example, and tossed his into the sea 
 also. They thought they heard a long moan 
 come up from the waters ; - but Civil saw his 
 mother's chimney beginning to smoke, and with 
 the fair lady in her sea-green gown he hastened to 
 the good dame's cottage. 
 
 " The whole village were wok up that morning 
 with cries of ' Welcome back, my son I ' ' Welcome 
 back, my daughter!' for the 7doumful lady knew 
 it was her lost daughter. Faith Feignless, whom the 
 fisherman had brought back, and all the neighbo 
 assembled to hear their story. When it was told, 
 everybody praised Civil for the prudence he had 
 shown in his difficulties, except Sour and his 
 mother; they did nothing but rail upon him for 
 losing such great chances of making himself and 
 the whole country rich. At last, when they heard 
 
172 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 over and over again of the merman's treasures, 
 neither mother nor son would consent to stay any 
 longer in the west country, and as nobody per- 
 suaded them, and they would not take Civil*s 
 direction, Sour got out his boat and steered away 
 with his mother toward the Merman's Rock. 
 From that voyage they never came back to the 
 hamlet. Some say they went down and lived 
 among the sea-people; others say — I know not 
 how they learned it — that Sour and his mother 
 grumbled and growled so much that even the sea- 
 people grew weary of them, and turned them and 
 their boat out on the open sea. What part of the 
 world they chose to land on nobody is certain; 
 by all accounts they have been seen everjrwhere, 
 and I should not be surprised if they were in this 
 good company. As for Civil, he married Faith 
 Feignless, and became a great lord." 
 
 Here the voice ceased, and two that were clad 
 in sea-green silk, with coronets of pearls, rose up, 
 and said : 
 
 " That's our story." 
 
So\ir and Civil 173 
 
 " Oh, mamma, if we could get down to that 
 country!" said Princess Greedalind. 
 
 " And bring all the treasures back with us ! " 
 answered Queen Wantall. 
 
 " Except the tale of yesterday, and the four 
 that went before it, I have not heard such a story 
 since my brother Wisewit went from me, and 
 was lost in the forest," said King Winwealth. 
 " Readyrein, the second of my pages, rise, and 
 bring this maiden a purple velvet mantle." 
 . The mantle was brought, and Snowflower having 
 thanked the king, went down upon her grand- 
 mother's chair; but that night the Httle girl went 
 no farther than the lowest banquet hall, where she 
 was bidden to stay and share the feast, and sleep 
 hard by in a wainscot chamber. That she was well 
 entertained there is no doubt, for King Winwealth 
 had been heard to say that it was not clear to him 
 how he could have got through the seven days' 
 feast without her grandmother's chair and its 
 stories; but next day being the last of the seven, 
 things were gayer than ever in the palace. The 
 music had never been so merry, the dishes so rich, 
 
174 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 or the wines so rare; neither had the clamours at 
 the gate ever been so loud, nor the disputes and 
 envies so many in the halls. 
 
 Perhaps it was these doings that brought the 
 low spirits earUer than usual on King Winwealth, 
 for after dinner his majesty fell into them so 
 deeply that a message came down from the highest 
 banquet hall, and the cupbearer told Snowfiower 
 to go up with her chair, for King Winwealth wished 
 to hear another story. 
 
 Now the little girl put on all her finery, from the 
 red shoes to the purple mantle, and went up with 
 her chair, looking so like a princess that the whole 
 company rose to welcome her. But having made 
 her courtesy, and laid down her head, saying, 
 " Chair of my grandmother, tell me a story," 
 the clear voice from under the cushion answered : 
 
 " Listen to the Story of Merrymind." 
 
Zhc Stoti2 of 
 flDetr^minb 
 
 I E. P. D. & Co. 
 
 ©RH^i^Yc 
 
CHAPTER Vm 
 
 THE STORY OF MERRYMIND 
 
 " Once upon a time there lived in the north 
 country a certain poor man and his wife, who had 
 two corn-fields, three cows, five sheep, and thirteen 
 children. Twelve of these children were called 
 by names common in the north country — Hard- 
 head, Stiffneck, Tightfingers, and the like; but 
 when the thirteenth came to be named, either the 
 poor man and his wife could remember no other 
 name, or something in the child's look made them 
 think it proper, for they called him Merrjrmind, 
 which the neighbours thought a strange name, and 
 very much above their station; however, as they 
 showed no other signs of pride, the neighbours 
 let that pass. Their thirteen children grew taller 
 and stronger every year, and they had hard work 
 to keep them in bread ; but when the youngest was 
 
 12 177 
 
178 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 old enough to look after his father's sheep, there 
 happened the great fair, to which everybody in 
 the north country went, because it came only once 
 in seven years, and was held on midsummer-day, 
 —not in any town or village, but on a green plain, 
 lying between a broad river and a high hill, where 
 it was said the fairies used to dance in old and 
 merry times. 
 
 " Merchants and dealers of all sorts crowded 
 to that fair from far and near. There was nothing 
 known in the north country that could not be 
 bought or sold in it, and neither old nor yoimg were 
 willing to go home without a fairing. The poor 
 man who owned this large family could afford them 
 little to spend in such ways; but as the fair hap- 
 pened only once in seven years, he would not 
 show a poor spirit. Therefore, calling them about 
 him, he opened the leathern bag in which his 
 savings were stored, and gave every one of the 
 thirteen a silver penny. 
 
 " The boys and girls had never before owned so 
 much pocket-money; and, wondering what they 
 should buy, they dressed themselves in their holi- 
 
TKe Story of Merrymind 179 
 
 day clothes, and set out with their father and 
 mother to the fair. When they came near the 
 ground that midsummer morning, the stalls, 
 heaped up with all manner of merchandise, from 
 ginger-bread upwards, the tents for fun and feast- 
 ing, the puppet-shows, the rope-dancers, and the 
 crowd of neighbours and strangers, all in their best 
 attire, made those simple people think their north 
 country fair the finest sight in the world. The day 
 wore away in seeing wonders, and in chatting with 
 old friends. It was surprising how far silver 
 pennies went in those days; but before evening 
 twelve of the thirteen had got fairly rid of their 
 money. One bought a pair of brass buckles, 
 another a crimson riband, a third green garters; 
 the father bought a tobacco-pipe, the mother a 
 horn snuffbox — in short, all had provided them- 
 selves with fairings except Menymind. 
 
 " The cause of the silver penny remaining in his 
 pocket was that he had set his heart upon a fiddle ; 
 and fiddles enough there were in the fair — small 
 and large, plain and painted; he looked at and 
 priced the most of them, but there was not one 
 
i8o Granny's Wonderful CV-air 
 
 that came within the compass of a silver penny. 
 His father and mother warned him to make haste 
 with his purchase, for they must all go home at 
 sunset, because the way was long. 
 
 " The sun was getting low and red upon the hill; 
 the fair was growing thin, for many dealers had 
 packed up their stalls and departed ; but there was 
 a mossy hollow in the great hill-side, to which the 
 outsldrts of the fair had reached, and Merrymind 
 thought he would see what might be there. The 
 first thing v/as a stall of fiddles, kept by a young 
 merchant from a far country, who had many 
 customers, his goods being fine and new; but 
 hard by sat a little grey-haired man, at whom 
 everybody had laughed that day, because he had 
 nothing on his stall but one old dingy fiddle, 
 and all its strings were broken. Nevertheless, 
 the little man sat as stately, and cried, * Fid- 
 dles to sell I ' as if he had the best stall in the 
 fair. 
 
 " * Buy a fiddle, my young master ? ' he said, 
 as Merrymind came forward. * You shall have 
 it cheap ; I ask but a silver penny for it ; and if the 
 
THe Story of Merrymind i8i 
 
 Strings were mended, its like woiUd not be in the 
 north country.* 
 
 " Merrymind thought this a great bargain. He 
 was a handy boy, and could mend the strings while 
 watching his father's sheep. So down went the 
 silver penny on the little man's stall, and up went 
 the fiddle under Menymind's arm. 
 
 " * Now, my young master,' said the little man, 
 *you see that we merchants have a deal to look 
 after, and if you help me to bundle up my stall, 
 I will tell you a wonderful piece of news about that 
 fiddle.' 
 
 •* Merrymind was good-natured and fond of 
 news, so he helped him to tie up the loose boards 
 and sticks that composed his stall with an old 
 rope, and when they were hoisted on his back like 
 a fagot, the little man said : 
 
 "'About that fiddle, my young master: it 
 is certain the strings can never be mended, nor 
 made new, except by threads from the night- 
 spinners, which, if you get, it will be a good penny- 
 worth ' ; and up the hill he ran like a greyhound. 
 
 " Merrjrmind thought that was queer news, 
 
i82 Granny's ^STonderful CKair 
 
 but being given to hope the best, he believed the 
 little man was only jesting, and made haste to 
 join the rest of the family, who were soon on their 
 way home. When they got there every one 
 showed his bargain, and Merrjrmind showed his 
 fiddle ; but his brothers and sisters laughed at him 
 for buying such a thing when he had never learned 
 to play. His sisters asked him what music he 
 could bring out of broken strings; and his father 
 said : 
 
 " * Thou hast shown little prudence in laying 
 out thy first penny, from which token I fear thou 
 wilt never have many to lay out.' 
 
 *' In short, everybody threw scorn on Merry- 
 mind's bargain except his mother. She, good 
 woman, said if he laid out one penny ill, he might 
 lay out the next better; and who knew but his 
 fiddle would be of use some day ? To make her 
 words good, Merrymind fell to repairing the 
 strings — he spent all his time, both night and day, 
 upon them; but, true to the little man's parting 
 words, no mending would stand, and no string 
 would hold on that fiddle. Merrymind tried 
 
THe Story of Merrymind 183 
 
 everything, and wearied himself to no purpose. At 
 last he thought of inquiring after people who spun 
 at night; and this seemed such a good joke to the 
 north country people, that they wanted no other 
 till the next fair. 
 
 *' In the meantime Merrymind lost credit at 
 home and abroad. Everybody believed in his 
 father's prophecy; his brothers and sisters valued 
 him no more than a herd-boy; the neighbours 
 thought he must turn out a scapegrace. Still the 
 boy would not part with his fiddle. It was his 
 silver pennyworth, and he had a strong hope of 
 mending the strings for all that had come and 
 gone; but since nobody at home cared for him 
 except his mother, and as she had twelve other 
 children, he resolved to leave the scorn behind 
 him, and go to seek his fortune. 
 
 " The family were not very sorry to hear of 
 that intention, being in a manner ashamed of him ; 
 besides, they could spare one out of thirteen. 
 His father gave him a barley cake, and his mother 
 her blessing. All his brothers and sisters wished 
 him well. Most of the neighbours hoped that no 
 
184 Granny's Wonderful OHair 
 
 harm would happen to him; and Merrymind set 
 out one summer morning with the broken-stringed 
 fiddle imder his arm. 
 
 " There were no highways then in the north 
 country — people took whatever path pleased them 
 best; so Merrymind went over the fair ground and 
 up the hill, hoping to meet the little man, and 
 learn something of the night-spinners. The hill 
 was covered with heather to the top, and he went 
 up without meeting any one. On the other side 
 it was steep and rocky, and after a hard scramble 
 down, he came to a narrow glen all overgrown with 
 wild furze and brambles. Merrjmiind had never 
 met with briars so sharp, but he was not the boy 
 to turn back readily, and pressed on in spite of 
 torn clothes and scratched hands, till he came to 
 the end of the glen, where two paths met; one of 
 them wound through a pine-wood, he knew not 
 how far, but it seemed green and pleasant. The 
 other was a rough, stony way leading to a wide 
 valley surrounded by high hills, and overhimg 
 by a dull, thick mist, though it was yet early in 
 the summer evening. 
 
(C) Li. F. D. & Co. 
 
 MERRYMIND AND HIS BURDEN. 
 
TKe Story of Merrymind 185 
 
 ,!* Merrjmiind was weary with his long joixrney, 
 and stood thinking of what path to choose, when, 
 by the way of the valley, there came an old man 
 as tall and large as any three men of the north 
 country. His white hair and beard hung like 
 tangled flax about him; his clothes were made of 
 sackcloth; and on his back he carried a heavy 
 burden of dust heaped high in a great pannier. 
 
 " * Listen to me, you lazy vagabond ! * he said, 
 coming near to Merrymind : * If you take the 
 way through the wood I know not what will 
 happen to you; but if you choose this path you 
 must help me with my pannier, and I can tell you 
 it's no trifle.' 
 
 " * "Well, father,' said Merrymind, * you seem 
 tired, and I am younger than you, though not 
 quite so tall; so, if you please, I will choose this 
 way, and help you along with the pannier.' 
 
 " Scarce had he spoken when the huge man 
 caught hold of him, firmly bound one side of the 
 pannier to his shoulders with the same strong rope 
 that fastened it on his own back, and never ceased 
 scolding and calling him names as they marched 
 
i86 Granny's W^onderfxil CKair 
 
 over the stony ground together. It was a rough 
 way and a heavy burden, and Merrymind wished 
 himself a thousand times out of the old man's 
 company, but there was no getting off; and at 
 length, in hopes of beguiling the way, and putting 
 him in better himiour, he began to sing an old 
 Thyme which his mother had taught him. By this 
 time they had entered the valley, and the night 
 had fallen very dark and cold. The old man 
 ceased scolding, and by a feeble glimmer of the 
 moonlight, which now began to shine, Merrymind 
 saw that they were close by a deserted cottage, 
 for its door stood open to the night winds. Here 
 the old man paused, and loosed the rope from his 
 own and Merrymind's shoulders. 
 
 ** ' For seven times seven years,' he said, * have 
 I carried this pannier, and no one ever sang while 
 helping me before. Night releases all men, so 
 I release you. Where will you sleep — by my 
 kitchen fire, or in that cold cottage ? ' 
 
 " Merrymind thought he had got quite enough 
 of the old man's society, and therefore answered : 
 
 " * The cottage, good father, if you please.' 
 
TKe Story of Merry mind 187 
 
 " * A sound sleep to you, then ! * said the old 
 man, and he went off with his pannier. 
 
 " Menymind stepped into the deserted cottage. 
 The moon was shining through door and window, 
 for the mist was gone, and the night looked clear 
 as day ; but in all the valley he could hear no sound, 
 nor was there any trace of inhabitants in the cot- 
 tage. The hearth looked as if there had not been 
 a fire there for years. A single article of furni- 
 ture was not to be seen ; but Menymind was sore 
 weary, and, laying himself down in a corner, with 
 his fiddle close by, he fell fast asleep. 
 
 " The floor was hard, and his clothes were thin, 
 but all through his sleep there came a sweet sound 
 of singing voices and spinning-wheels, and Merry- 
 mind thought he must have been dreaming when 
 he opened his eyes next morning on the bare and 
 solitary house. The beautiful night was gone, 
 and the heavy mist had come back. There was no 
 blue sky, no bright sun to be seen. The light was 
 cold and grey, like that of mid-winter ; but Merry- 
 mind ate the half of his barley cake, drank from a 
 stream hard by, and went out to see the valley. 
 
i88 Granny's W^onderful CKair 
 
 " It was full of inhabitants, and they were all 
 busy in houses, in fields, in mills, and in forges. 
 The men hammered and delved; the women 
 scrubbed and scoured ; the very children were hard 
 at work; but Merr3miind could hear neither talk 
 nor laughter among them. Every face looked 
 careworn and cheerless, and every word was 
 something about work or gain. 
 
 " Merrjmiind thought this unreasonable, for 
 everybody there appeared rich. The women 
 scrubbed in silk, the men delved in scarlet. Crim- 
 son curtains, marble floors, and shelves of silver 
 tankards were to be seen in every house ; but their 
 owners took neither ease nor pleasure in them, 
 and every one laboured as it were for life. 
 
 " The birds of that valley did not sing — they 
 were too busy pecking and building. The cats 
 did not lie by the fire — they were all on the watch 
 for mice. The dogs went out after hares on their 
 own account. The cattle and sheep grazed as if 
 they were never to get another mouthful ; and the 
 herdsmen were all splitting wood or making 
 baskets. 
 
TKe Story of Merrymind 189 
 
 " In the midst of the valley there stood a stately 
 castle, but instead of park and gardens, brew- 
 houses and washing-greens lay round it. The 
 gates stood open, and Menymind ventured in. 
 The courtyard was full of coopers. They were 
 churning in the banquet hall. They were making 
 cheese on the dais, and spinning and weaving in 
 all its principal chambers. In the highest tower 
 of that busy castle, at a window from which she 
 could see the whole valley, there sat a noble lady. 
 Her dress was rich, but of a dingy drab colour. 
 Her hair was iron-grey; her look was sour and 
 gloomy. Roimd her sat twelve maidens of the 
 same aspect, spinning on ancient distaffs, and 
 the lady spun as hard as they, but all the yarn they 
 made was jet black. 
 
 " No one in or out of the castle would reply 
 to Merrymind's salutations, nor answer him any 
 questions. The rich men pulled out their purses, 
 saying, * Come and work for wages ! * The poor 
 men said, * We have no time to talk ! ' A cripple 
 by the wayside wouldn't answer him, he was so 
 busy begging; and a child by a cottage door said 
 
ipo Granny's 'Wonderful CKair 
 
 it must go to work. All day Merrymind wandered 
 about with his broken-stringed fiddle, and all day 
 he saw the great old man marching round and 
 round the valley with his heavy burden of dust. 
 
 " * It is the dreariest valley that ever I beheld I ' 
 he said to himself. ' And no place to mend my 
 fiddle in ; but one would not like to go away without 
 knowing what has come over the people, or if they 
 have always worked so hard and heavily.^ 
 
 "By this time the night again came on; he 
 knew it by the clearing mist and the rising moon. 
 The people began to hurry home in all directions. 
 Silence came over house and field; and near the 
 deserted cottage Merrymind met the old man. 
 
 " * Good father,* he said, * I pray you tell me 
 what sport or pastime have the people of this 
 valley ? ' 
 
 " ' Sport and pastime ! * cried the old man, 
 in great wrath. * Where did you hear of the like? 
 We work by day and sleep by night. There is no 
 sport in Dame Dreary's land ! ' and, with a hearty 
 scolding for his idleness and levity, he left Merry> . 
 mind to sleep once more in the cottage. 
 
 I 
 
THe Story of Merrymind 191 
 
 "That night the boy did not sleep so sound; 
 though too drowsy to open his eyes, he was sure 
 there had been singing and spinning near him all 
 night; and, resolving to find out what this meant 
 before he left the valley, Merrymind ate the other 
 half of his barley cake, drank again from the 
 stream, and went out to see the country. 
 
 " The same heavy mist shut out sim and sky; 
 the same hard work went forward wherever he 
 turned his eyes; and the great old man with the 
 dust-pannier strode on his accustomed round. 
 Merrymind could find no one to answer a single 
 question; rich and poor wanted him to work still 
 more earnestly than the day before; and fearing 
 that some of them might press him into service, 
 he wandered away to the farthest end of the valley. 
 
 " There, there was no work, for the land lay 
 bare and lonely, and was bounded by grey crags, 
 as high and steep as any castle-wall. There was 
 no passage or outlet, but through a great iron gate 
 secured with a heavy padlock : close by it stood a 
 white tent, and in the door a tall soldier, with one 
 arm, stood smoking a long pipe. He was the first 
 
192 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 idle man Merrymind had seen in the valley, and 
 his face looked to him like that of a friend; so 
 coming up with his best bow, the boy said: 
 
 " * Honourable master soldier, please to tell 
 me what country is this, and why do the people 
 work so hard ? ' 
 
 " * Are you a stranger in this place, that youi 
 ask such questions ? ' answered the soldier. 
 
 " * Yes,' said Merrymiad; *I came but the 
 evening before yesterday.' 
 
 " * Then I am sorry for you, for here you must 
 remain. My orders are to let everybody in and 
 nobody out; and the giant with the dust-pannier 
 guards the other entrance night and day,' said 
 the soldier. 
 
 " * That is bad news,' said Merrymind; * but 
 since I am here, please to tell me why were such 
 laws made, and what is the story of this valley ? * 
 
 " ' Hold my pipe, and I will tell you,' said the 
 soldier, * for nobody else will take the time. This 
 valley belongs to the lady of yonder castle, whom, 
 for seven times seven years, men have called Dame 
 Dreary. She had another name in her youth— 
 
The Story of Merrymind 193 
 
 they called her Lady Littlecare; and then the 
 valley was the fairest spot m all the north country. 
 The sun shone brightest there ; the summers lin- 
 gered longest. Fairies danced on the hill-tops; 
 singing-birds sat on all the trees. Strongarm, 
 the last of the giants, kept the pine-forest, and 
 hewed yule logs out of it, when he was not sleeping 
 in the sim. Two fair maidens, clothed in white, 
 with silver wheels on their shoulders, came by 
 night, and spun golden threads by the hearth of 
 every cottage. The people wore homespun, and 
 drank out of horn; but they had merry times. 
 There were May-games, harvest-homes, and 
 Christmas cheer among them. Shepherds piped 
 on the hill-sides, reapers sang in the fields, and 
 laughter came with the red firelight out of every 
 house in the evening. All that was changed, 
 nobody knows how, for the old folks who remem- 
 bered it are dead. Some say it was because of a 
 magic ring which fell from the lady's finger; some 
 because of a spring in the castle-court which went 
 dry. However it was, the lady turned Dame 
 Dreary. Hard work and hard times overspread 
 13 
 
194 Granny's W^onderful CKair 
 
 the valley. The mist came down; the fairies 
 departed ; the giant Strongarm grew old, and took 
 up a burden of dust; and the night-spinners were 
 seen no more in any man's dwelling. They say 
 it will be so tni Dame Dreary lays down her distaff, 
 and dances; but all the fiddlers of the north 
 country have tried their merriest tunes to no 
 purpose. The king is a wise prince and a great 
 warrior. He has filled two treasure-houses, and 
 conquered all his enemies; but he cannot change 
 the order of Dame Dreary's land. I cannot tell 
 you what great rewards he offered to any who 
 could do it; but when no good came of his offers, 
 the king feared that similar fashions might spread 
 among his people, and therefore made a law that 
 whomsoever entered should not leave it. His 
 majesty took me captive in war, and placed me 
 here to keep the gate, and save his subjects trouble. 
 If I had not brought my pipe with me, I should have 
 been working as hard as any of them by this time, 
 with my one arm. Young master, if you take my 
 advice you will learn to smoke.' 
 
 " * If my fiddle were mended it would be better,* 
 
THe Story of Merry mind 195 
 
 said Merrymind ; and he sat talking with the soldier 
 till the mist began to clear and the moon to rise, 
 and then went home to sleep in the deserted 
 cottage. 
 
 " It was late when he came near it, and the 
 moonlight night looked lovely beside the misty 
 day. Merrymind thought it was a good time for 
 trying to get out of the valley. There was no foot 
 abroad, and no appearance of the giant; but as 
 Menymind drew near to where the two paths met, 
 there was he fast asleep beside a fire of pine 
 cones, with his pannier at his head, and a heap of 
 stones close by him. * Is that your kitchen-fire ? ' 
 thought the boy to himself, and he tried to steal 
 past; but Strongarm started up, and pursued him 
 with stones, and calling him bad names, half-way 
 back to the cottage. 
 
 " Merrymind was glad to run the whole way 
 for fear of him. The door was still open, and the 
 moon was shining in; but by the fireless hearth 
 there sat two fair maidens, all in white spinning 
 on silver wheels, and singing together a blithe 
 and pleasant time like the larks on May-morning. 
 
196 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 Merrjonind could have listened all night, but 
 suddenly he bethought him that these must be the 
 night-spinners, whose threads would mend his 
 fiddle; so, stepping with reverence and good 
 ■courage, he said: 
 
 " * Honourable ladies, I pray you give a poor boy 
 a thread to mend his fiddle-strings.' 
 
 " * For seven times seven years,* said the fair 
 maidens, * have we spun by night in this deserted 
 cottage, and no mortal has seen or spoken to us. 
 Go and gather sticks through all the valley to 
 make a fire for us on this cold hearth, and each of 
 us will give you a thread for your pains.* 
 
 " Merrymind took his broken fiddle with him, 
 and went through all the valley gathering sticks 
 by the moonlight; but so careful were the people 
 of Dame Dreary's land, that scarce a stick could be 
 found, and the moon was gone, and the misty day 
 had come before he was able to come back with a 
 small fagot. The cottage door was still open ; the 
 fair maidens and their silver wheels were gone; 
 but on the floor where they sat lay two long threads 
 of gold. 
 
THe Story of Merrymind 197 
 
 " Merrymind first heaped up his fagot on the 
 hearth, to be ready against their coming at night, 
 and next took up the golden threads to mend his 
 fiddle. Then he learned the truth of the Httle 
 man^s saying at the fair, for no sooner were the 
 strings fastened with those golden threads than 
 they became firm. The old dingy fiddle too began 
 to shine and glisten, and at length it was golden 
 also. This sight made Merrjrmind so joyful, that, 
 unlearned as he was in music, the boy tried to play. 
 Scarce had his bow touched the strings when 
 they began to play of themselves the same blithe 
 and pleasant time which the night-spinners sang 
 together. 
 
 " * Some of the workers will stop for the sake 
 of this tune,* said Merrymind, and he went out 
 along the valley with his fiddle. The music filled 
 the air; the busy people heard it; and never was 
 such a day seen in Dame Dreary's land. The men 
 paused in their delving; the women stopped their 
 scrubbing; the little children dropped their work; 
 and every one stood still in their places while 
 Merrymind and his fiddle passed on. When he 
 
iqS Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 came to the castle, the coopers cast down their 
 tools m the court; the churning and cheese-making 
 ceased in the banquet hall ; the looms and spinning- 
 wheels stopped in the principal chambers; and 
 Dame Dreary's distaff stood still in her hand. 
 
 " Menymind played through the halls and up 
 the tower-stairs. As he came near, the dame cast 
 down her distaff, and danced with all her might. 
 All her maidens did the like; and as they danced 
 she grew young again — the sourness passed from 
 her looks, and the greyness from her hair. They 
 brought her the dress of white and cherry-colour 
 she used to wear in her youth, and she was no 
 longer Dame Dreary, but the Lady Littlecare, with 
 golden hair, and laughing eyes, and cheeks like 
 summer roses. 
 
 " Then a sound of merrymaking came up from 
 the whole valley. The heavy mist rolled away 
 over the hills ; the sun shone out ; the blue sky was 
 seen; a clear spring gushed up in the castle-court; 
 a white falcon came from the east with a golden 
 ring, and put it on the lady's finger. After that 
 Strongarm broke the rope, tossed the pannier of 
 
XKe Story of Merrymind 199 
 
 dust from his shoulder, and lay down to sleep in 
 the sun. That night the fairies danced on the 
 hill-tops; and the night-spinners, with their silver 
 wheels, were seen by every hearth, and no more 
 in the deserted cottage. Everybody praised Merry- 
 mind and his fiddle ; and when news of his wonder- 
 ful playing came to the king's ears, he commanded 
 the iron gate to be taken away ; he made the captive 
 soldier a free man; and promoted Merrymind to 
 be his first fiddler, which under that wise monarch 
 was the highest post in his kingdom. 
 
 "As soon as Merrymind's family and neighbours 
 heard of the high preferment his fiddle had gained 
 for him, they thought music must be a good thing, 
 and man, woman, and child took to fiddling. It is 
 said that none of them ever learned to play a single 
 ttme except Merr3rmind's mother, on whom her 
 son bestowed great presents." 
 
 Here the voice ceased, and one clothed in green 
 and russet-coloured velvet rose up with a golden 
 fiddle in his hand, and said : 
 
 " That's my story." 
 
200 Granny's Wonderful OHair 
 
 " Excepting yesterday's tale, and the five that 
 went before it, said King Winwealth, " I have not 
 heard such a story as that since my brother Wise- 
 wit went from me, and was lost in the forest. 
 Fairfortime, the first of my pages, go and bring 
 this maiden a golden girdle. And since her grand- 
 mother's chair can tell such stories, she shall go no 
 more into low company, but feast with us in our 
 chief banquet hall, and sleep in one of the best 
 chambers of the palace ! " 
 
prince TKHisewit's IReturn 
 
 E. P. D. 6- Co. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 PRINCE WISEWIT'S RETURN 
 
 Snowflower was delighted at the promise of 
 feasting with those noble lords and ladies, whose 
 wonderful stories she had heard from the chair. 
 Her courtesy was twice as low as usual, and she 
 thanked King Wiuwealth from the bottom of her 
 heart. All the company were glad to make room 
 for her, and when her golden girdle was put on, 
 little Snowflower looked as fine as the best of them. 
 
 " Mamma," whispered the Princess Greedalind, 
 while she looked ready to cry for spite, " only see 
 that low little girl who came here in a coarse frock 
 and barefooted, what finery and favour she has 
 gained by her story-telling chair! All the court 
 are praising her and overlooking me, though 
 the feast was made in honour of my birthday. 
 Mamma, I must have that chair from her. What 
 
 ao3 
 
204 Granny*s Wonderful CHair 
 
 business has a common little girl with anything so 
 amusing ? " 
 
 " So you shall, my daughter," said Queen Want- 
 all — for by this time she saw that King Winwealth 
 had, according to custom, fallen asleep on his 
 throne. So calling two of her pages, Screw and 
 Hardhands, she ordered them to bring the chair 
 from the other end of the hall where Snowflower 
 sat, and directly made it a present to Princess 
 Greedalind. 
 
 Nobody in that court ever thought of disputing 
 Queen Wantall's commands, and poor Snowflower 
 sat down to cry in a corner ; while Princess Greed- 
 alind, putting on what she thought a very grand 
 air, laid down her head on the cushion, saying: 
 
 " Chair of my grandmother, tell me a story." 
 
 " Where did you get a grandmother ? " cried 
 the clear voice from under the cushion; and up 
 went the chair with such force as to throw Princess 
 Greedalind off on the floor, where she lay scream- 
 ing, a good deal more angry than hurt. 
 
 All the courtiers tried in vain to comfort her. 
 But Queen Wantall, whose temper was stiU worse, 
 
 I 
 
Prince Wise-wit's IVet\irn 205 
 
 vowed that she would punish the impudent thing, 
 and sent for Sturdy, her chief woodman, to chop 
 it up with his axe. 
 
 At the first stroke the cushion was cut open, and, 
 to the astonishment of everybody, a bird, whose 
 snow-white feathers were tipped with purple, 
 darted out and flew away through an open window. 
 
 " Catch it ! catch it ! " cried the queen and the 
 princess; and all but King Winwealth, who still 
 slept on his throne, rushed out after the bird. It 
 flew over the palace garden and into a wild com- 
 mon, where houses had been before Queen Want- 
 all pulled them down to search for a gold mine, 
 which her majesty never found, though three deep 
 pits were dug to come at it. To make the place 
 look smart at the feast time these pits had been 
 covered over with loose boughs and turf. All the 
 rest of the company remembered this but Queen 
 Wantall and Princess Greedalind. They were 
 nearest to the bird, and poor Snowflower, by 
 running hard, came close behind them, but Fair- 
 fortune, the king*s first page, drew her back by the 
 purple mantle, when, coming to the covered pit, 
 
2o6 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 boughs and turf gave way, and down went the 
 queen and the princess. 
 
 Everybody looked for the bird, but it was no- 
 where to be seen; but on the common where they 
 saw it alight, there stood a fair and royal prince, 
 clad in a robe of purple and a crown of changing 
 colours, for sometimes it seemed of gold and some- 
 times of forest leaves. 
 
 Most of the courtiers stood not knowing what 
 to think, but all the fairy people and all the lords 
 and ladies of the chair's stories, knew him, and 
 cried, "Welcome to Prince Wisewit!" 
 
 King Winwealth heard that sound where he 
 slept, and came out glad of heart to welcome back 
 his brother. When the lord high chamberlain and 
 her own pages came out with ropes and lanthoms 
 to search for Queen Wantall and Princess Greed- 
 alind, they found them safe and well at the bottom 
 of the pit, having fallen on a heap of loose sand. 
 The pit was of great depth, but some daylight 
 shone down, and whatever were the yellow grains 
 they saw glittering among the sand, the queen and 
 the princess believed it was full of gold. 
 
Prince Wise-wit's Return 207 
 
 They called the miners false knaves, lazy rogues, 
 and a score of bad names beside, for leaving so 
 much wealth behind them, and utterly refused to 
 come out of the pit; saying, that since Prince 
 Wisewit was come, they could find no pleasure in 
 the palace, but would stay there and dig for gold, 
 and buy the world with it for themselves. King 
 Winwealth thought the plan was a good one for 
 keeping peace in his palace. He commanded 
 shovels and picks to be lowered to the queen and 
 the princess. The two pages, Screw and Hard- 
 hands, went down to help them, in hopes of halving 
 the profits, and there they stayed, digging for 
 gold. Some of the courtiers said they would find 
 it; others believed they never could; and the gold 
 was not found when this story was written. 
 
 As for Prince Wisewit, he went home with the 
 rest of the company, leading Snowflower by the 
 hand, and telling them all how he had been turned 
 into a bird by the cunning fairy Fortunetta, who 
 found him off his guard in the forest; how she had 
 shut him up under the cushion of that curious 
 chair, and given it to old Dame Frostyface; and 
 
2o8 Granny's Wonderful CHair 
 
 how all his comfort had been in little Snowflowet, 
 to whom he told so many stories. 
 
 King Winwealth was so rejoiced to find his 
 brother again, that he commanded another feast 
 to be held for seven days. All that time the gates 
 of the palace stood open ; all comers were welcome, 
 all complaints heard. The houses and lands 
 which Queen Wantall had taken away were re- 
 stored to their rightful owners. Everybody got 
 what they most wanted. There were no more 
 clamours without, nor discontents within the 
 palace; and on the seventh day of the feast who 
 should arrive but Dame Frostyface, in her grey 
 hood and mantle. 
 
 Snowflower was right glad to see her grand- 
 mother — so were the king and prince, for they had 
 known the dame in her youth. They kept the 
 feast for seven days more ; and when it was ended 
 everything was right in the kingdom. King Win- 
 wealth and Prince Wisewit reigned once more 
 together ; and because Snowflower was the best girl 
 in all that country, they chose her to be their 
 heiress, instead of Princess Greedalind. From 
 
Prince Wise'wit's Return 209 
 
 that day forward she wore white velvet and satin ; 
 
 she had seven pages, and lived in the grandest 
 
 part of the palace. Dame Frostjrface, too, was 
 
 made a great lady. They put a new velvet cushion 
 
 on her chair, and she sat in a gown of grey cloth, 
 
 edged with gold, spinning on an ivory wheel 
 
 in a fine painted parlour. Prince Wisewit built a 
 
 great simuner-house covered with vines and roses, 
 
 on the spot where her old cottage stood. He also 
 
 made a highway through the forest, that all good 
 
 people might come and go there at their leisure; 
 
 and the cunning fairy Fortunetta, finding that her 
 
 reign was over in those parts, set off on a journey 
 
 round the worldj and did not return in the time 
 
 of this story. Good boys and girls, who may 
 
 > chance to read it, that time is long ago. Great 
 
 t wars, work, and learning, have passed over the 
 
 ] world since then, and altered all its fashions. 
 
 - Kings make no seven-day feasts for all comers 
 
 now. Queens and princesses, however greedy, 
 
 do not mine for gold. Chairs tell no tales. Wells 
 
 ' work no wonders ; and there are no such doings on 
 
 i hills and forests, for the fairies dance no more. 
 
210 Granny's Wonderful CKair 
 
 Some say it was the hum of schools — some think 
 it was the din of factories that frightened them; 
 but nobody has been known to have seen them 
 for many a year, except, it is said, one Hans Chris- 
 tian Andersen, in Denmark, whose tales of the 
 fairies are so good that they must have been heard 
 from themselves. 
 
 It is certain that no living man knows the sub- 
 sequent history of King Winwealth's country, nor 
 what became of all the notable characters who lived 
 and visited at his palace. Yet there are people who 
 believe that the monarch still falls asleep on his 
 throne, and into low spirits after supper; that 
 Queen Wantall and Princess Greedalind have 
 found the gold, and begun to buy; that Dame 
 Frostyface yet spins — they cannot tell where; 
 that Snowflower may still be seen at the new year's 
 time in her dress of white velvet, looking out for 
 the early spring; that Prince Wisewit has somehow 
 fallen under a stronger spell and a thicker cushion, 
 that he still tells stories to Snowflower and her 
 friends, and when both cushion and spell are 
 broken by another stroke of Sturdy's hatchet — 
 
Prince Wise'wit's R.etum 
 
 211 
 
 which they expect will happen some time — the 
 prince will make all things right again, and bring 
 back the fairy times to the world. 
 
 TEE END 
 
 Free Public library, Newark, N. J. 
 
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