CHEKH MYTHS AND FOLK-TALES.

BOYISLAV, YOUNGEST OF TWELVE.

ONCE there was a king who groaned many a day; doctors came from far and near, but they could not cure him. At last his condition was such that one day all thought he must die. The following night he had a marvellous dream. It seemed to him that he was on Black Island, had freed three princesses, and straightway recovered. When he woke he felt a certain relief, but had almost forgotten the dream. The next night he had the same dream, and again on waking felt easier, but did not ascribe the relief to his dream. The third night he had no dream, but a vision, in which the three princesses appeared to him and said: “Free us, and thou wilt recover; if not, thou wilt die.” Then they vanished, and the terrified king felt such pain that he could barely wait till morning. He summoned his twelve sons in haste, and when he had told them of his vision he said in a sad voice: “But how can I, poor man, go on a long journey to Black Island, of which I have never even heard?”

“I will go instead of thee,” said Boyislav, the youngest son, with decision.

“We will all go,” said the others, looking angrily at Boyislav, whom they hated with all their hearts, because he was his father’s favorite.

“Ye cannot all leave me; and thou, Boyislav, surely not,” said the king, shaking his head. “Who would there be to reign in my place?”

“Let Boyislav stay at home,” said the eldest; “besides, he would be merely a hindrance to us on the road.”

“I a hindrance!” said Boyislav, flushing up with anger and pity. “Let me go, father; I will free the princesses alone.”

His brothers began to laugh at him and then to dispute as to who should go to Black Island. Since they could not decide, the king said: “I know that ye would all gladly serve me, but since some of you must stay at home, I will make six blank lots and six written ones; whoever draws a written one will go, whoever a blank will remain.”

The princes were satisfied and drew lots. They were angry when Boyislav drew a prize, and the king was sad; but he had given his word and could not withdraw it. That very day the princes set out and Boyislav with them. While on dry land they were prosperous; it was worse when they entered a boat and knew not whither to turn. Boyislav said that they ought to go north, but his brothers laughed at him. When they had sailed many weeks in one direction and another without finding Black Island, they were glad to follow his advice; and the third day they arrived at the place, but so terrible was it that no one dared to land save Boyislav. He took provisions and sprang on shore, telling his brothers to await his return. While light lasted he ran up and down on the island, but saw nothing except black rocks. He was forced to pass the night on a bare stone, but rose early, completely refreshed by sleep, and examined farther.

One day passed, and a second; the third day appeared, and still he found nothing. At last, in the evening, he came to a large stone, which seemed to him hewn out by men’s hands. He lifted with all his might, turned it over, and found a great dark opening, from which a pleasant odor arose. He went down without delay, and soon found himself in a glorious garden, in which were three golden castles at a great distance. He gazed with astonishment; though there were things there without number such as he had never seen before, still his attention was attracted first by three horses, which rushed around him three times in a wild gallop, and then vanished in the twinkle of an eye. Boyislav looked after them, and heard a voice saying: “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!”

He looked on every side, but could see no one. The voice cried out the second time: “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!”

Now he knew where the voice came from; but though he went in that direction and examined everything very carefully, he could see no one. Only after the voice had called much louder than the first and second time, “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!” did he see behind a rock a famished little horse, so poor that he could count all its ribs.

“What dost thou want of me?” asked Boyislav, not a little astonished that the horse knew him.

“’Tis thy wish to free the three princesses,” answered the horse; “then listen to what I advise: In the first castle thou wilt find the first princess, who will greet thee with kindness beyond measure, and offer thee food and drink. Eat with relish, but let not the princess eat with thee or kiss thee. Take what is left of the food when thou hast eaten, and go to the second castle; there the second princess will greet thee with still greater kindness, and offer food and drink. Eat with relish, but for no reason let her eat with thee or kiss thee. Take what is left after eating, and go to the third castle, where the third princess will give thee the most kindly reception of all, and place food and drink before thee; eat freely, but let not the princess eat with thee or kiss thee. Take what is left, and come here to me.”

“Is nothing more needed to gain their freedom?” asked Boyislav.

“Nothing,” answered the horse; “but thou must not speak a word all this time.”

“That is very easy,” thought Boyislav.

But the horse said with great emphasis: “Have a care; for to thee ’tis a question of life or death.”

Boyislav went with quick step to the first castle, where a princess of wonderful beauty ran forth toward him. “I welcome thee, Boyislav, youngest of twelve!” cried she, with glad voice. “How art thou here? Come to my chamber; let me give thee good cheer. What is thy father doing? How are thy brothers?”

Then she took his hand and seated him at the table, to which she brought the most savory food and drink, continually speaking of his home. But he gave no regard; and when she wished to eat with him, he thrust her aside without mercy. Then he seized what was left of the food and hurried away. The princess gave him the sweetest of names, and stretched her hands toward him, but he acted as if he neither saw her nor heard her.

At the second castle a still more beautiful princess ran toward him, greeted him with still greater gladness, led him into a chamber, seated him at a table, and brought the most savory food and drink, talking continually. She moved toward him, wishing to kiss him; but he thrust her aside very rudely, so that she fell to the floor. Before she could rise he had taken what was left of the food, and was gone.

He had barely reached the third castle when a princess ran out to meet him. She was far more beautiful than the other two, and wished to fall on his neck straightway. He was amazed at her beauty; but keeping in mind the words of the horse, he thrust her away. But still she led him into the castle, seated him at a table in the loftiest chamber, and entertained him with the best food and drink. Boyislav ate and drank heartily, but when the princess wished to eat, he pushed her aside so rudely that, after staggering a few steps, she fell to the floor. Then, quickly gathering the remnants of food, he ran off, though the princess called him with heart-rending voice.

When he came to the horse he spread on the rock the remnants of food, which the horse devoured eagerly. “What now?” asked Boyislav.

“Go for the three princesses, and bring them to thy brothers in the boat; they are free, for they are the horses which thou hast seen running around thee. A wicked sorceress enchanted them, so that twelve hours they were horses and twelve hours princesses. Then come for me, or thou wilt suffer.”

Boyislav did as the horse desired, and brought to his brothers the three princesses, who, with tearful eyes, thanked him for their liberation. Then he returned to the horse, which said, with sad voice: “Too bad! too bad!”

“What has happened?” asked Boyislav.

“Thou art unfortunate,” answered the horse; “thy departure from home was unfortunate, for know that thy brothers have gone.”

“Then I must perish here!” cried Boyislav.

“Now thou wilt not perish; but hadst thou gone on the boat thy death would be sure, for thy brothers had conspired to kill thee.”

“Oh, the thankless wretches!” cried Boyislav. “What shall I do now?”

“If thou wilt obey me,” said the horse, “thou wilt gain thy object in time. Go now to the garden of the first castle, and pluck four golden apples, but only four.”

Boyislav went, and for the first time noticed the beauty of the whole garden; he went back and forth, and would have soon forgotten the apples had he not heard the neighing of the horse. Now he saw the tree with golden apples, and plucked four. Since they were so beautiful, he wanted more, but the horse neighed so fiercely that the whole castle trembled; his arm, which was stretched to the apples, dropped of itself, and he returned to the horse, which said, “Now sit on me.”

Boyislav did so, and the horse bore him soon to the shore of the sea, and said, “Throw an apple in the sea.”

“But it is a pity to lose it!” said Boyislav.

“Throw it in!” repeated the horse, with stern voice; and Boyislav obeyed. That moment a road five hundred miles long rose out of the sea. The horse stepped on the road, and hurried along night and day. When the domes of a great city were seen in the distance, he said to Boyislav: “Now we are going to Red Island, to a king who has a very ugly daughter; but have no fear in the world of her. When she casts eyes on thee, say that thou art seeking a bride, but before choosing thou must consult thy father. Then the king will offer thee a present; take nothing but a piece of rope for my bridle.”

Boyislav promised obedience. When they came to Red Island, the road sank in the sea, and the horse hurried on. Boyislav left him on the meadow outside the city, and went straight to the king’s castle, where he was courteously received. “Where art thou going, noble prince?” asked the king.

“In search of a bride,” answered Boyislav; and the king led him to his daughter. She was so ugly that Boyislav was frightened.

“Does she not please thee?” asked the king.

“Oh, she pleases me,” said Boyislav,—“pleases me greatly; but first I must talk with my father.” The king smiled, and led his guest to the supper-chamber, where he was entertained in king’s fashion. Boyislav wished to go very soon, but the king took him first to his treasury, and offered him much gold and silver.

“Thanks to thy Grace!” answered Boyislav. “My father has great treasures also; but if thou wilt make me some present, give me a piece of rope to repair my horse’s bridle.”

“Oh, I will give thee a splendid bridle and saddle!” said the king.

But Boyislav answered: “I wish no rich outfit on the road; it is an enticement to robbers.”

The king tried to persuade him, but could not; then he had a rope brought which was very slender, but very long, so that Boyislav was hardly able to bear it away. After a kindly farewell to the king and the princess, he hastened outside the town, where the horse called from a distance: “Thou hast done well; now wind that rope round my body.”

Boyislav opened the bundle, and a whole hour passed before he could wind the rope around the horse. When he had finished, they hurried to the sea, where the horse said, “Throw a second apple in the sea.”

“But it would be an eternal pity!” said Boyislav.

“I tell thee to throw the second apple in the sea!” repeated the horse, with stern voice. Boyislav obeyed. That moment five hundred miles of road rose from the waves of the sea, along which the horse rushed like the wind, night and day. When the domes of a great city were visible in the distance, he said to Boyislav: “Now we are coming to Green Island, ruled by a king who has a daughter, not beautiful and not ugly; thou wilt say that thou art looking for a bride, but before choosing thou must consult thy father. When thou art taking leave, the king will offer all kinds of jewels as a gift; accept nothing, but ask for the cloth of the table from which thou hast eaten.”

Boyislav promised this. When they had come to Green Island, the road sank in the sea, and the horse hurried toward the city. The horse remained in a meadow outside the gates. Boyislav went to the palace, where he was welcomed by the king, and presented to the princess.

“What brought thee to me?” asked the king.

“I am in search of a bride,” answered Boyislav, looking at the princess, who seemed pleased at his words.

“And hast thou found one?” asked the king.

“Not yet,” replied Boyislav.

“Does my daughter not please thee?” The princess blushed.

“Oh, she pleases me greatly,” said Boyislav, “but first I must talk with my father.”

The king frowned at these words, and the princess was flushed with anger; but Boyislav changed not, and was so courteous that the king grew ashamed, and conducted him to the supper-chamber, where there was a small table covered with a poor-looking cloth, but upon which stood the choicest food and drink. Boyislav ate with relish. When he had finished, the king took him to his treasure-chamber, where he offered him the richest presents; but Boyislav said: “My father has many treasures, and I prefer to travel unburdened.” When the king insisted on his taking something as a keepsake, even if of the smallest value, Boyislav said: “Give me the cloth of the table on which I was entertained by thee.”

“Oh, I should be ashamed to give such a thing,” said the king. “I will give thee another very skilfully woven.”

“I want no other,” answered Boyislav, making ready to go.

“Then take it,” said the king, giving the cloth with evident reluctance.

Boyislav parted with him and the princess, and hastened to the horse, which called out from afar: “Thou hast done well; now sit on my back, we’ll fare farther.” Boyislav sprang on the horse, and he raced over Green Island till he came to the sea.

“Throw the third apple in the sea,” said the horse.

“But ’tis a pity forever to lose it,” said Boyislav.

“Throw the third apple in the sea, I say,” commanded the horse, sternly; and Boyislav obeyed.

That moment a road five hundred miles long rose from the waves of the sea. The horse ran like a flash, day and night, till they saw in the distance the domes of a great city.

“Now we are nearing White Island,” said the horse, “where a king reigns who has the most beautiful daughter under the sun. All the people on the island are asleep; for in the king’s palace a taper is burning which never burns out, and till some one quenches it they must all sleep. Go to the palace, look at the princess as much as may please thee, then take the taper, but be careful that it does not go out on a sudden; if it is quenched, run to me with all speed or thou wilt have trouble.”

Boyislav promised to obey faithfully. When they came to White Island the road sank in the sea. Boyislav, leaving his horse before the gates of the city, hastened to the palace. The most luxuriant trees were growing all over the island, and beautiful flowers were in bloom; the city was splendid, the palace of silver and gold, but nowhere was a living creature to be seen. Boyislav moved on carefully through the empty streets as if afraid of waking some person. When he entered the palace he was amazed at its matchless beauty, but all was as nothing in comparison with the beauty of the princess who was sleeping on a dark purple couch in the last chamber. She was clothed in a light garment, white as new-fallen snow, her dark hair fell on her white, slightly moving bosom, her lips were half open, her teeth shone like pearls, and her whole figure was so full of charm that Boyislav held his breath. With head inclined, with crossed hands, he looked at her long,—forgot the horse, the taper, and the whole world, not thinking whether he was living; he only felt that the princess was beautiful. When he had waited a long time he remembered the taper, looked around the room, saw it on the table, and saw on two couches the king and queen. He stepped quickly to the table to quench the taper and rouse the princess, when all at once he heard the horse neigh so fiercely that the palace trembled to its foundation; his hand dropped of itself, and he muttered: “Thanks to thee, oh horse! Had I quenched the taper all would have risen, and who knows what might have come to me?”

He took the taper quickly and turned away, but when passing through the door he could not refrain from looking at the princess again; she seemed still more beautiful. He put the taper on the table, knelt and kissed her hand; with that her face became ruddy as a rose, and around her mouth appeared a smile. He sprang up; and as dark night had come, he thought of his return, seized the taper quickly, looked at the princess, wrote on the table, “Boyislav, youngest of twelve,” and went from the palace, taking care that the taper should not be quenched. He reached the gate of the city, but there the taper was blown out by the wind. That moment was heard in the city a shout, which grew louder the longer it lasted; but the trusty steed appeared and bore him in a flash to the shore of the sea.

“Throw in the last apple,” said the horse.

Boyislav obeyed without a murmur. That moment there rose from the waves a road which reached to firm land, and as dawn was appearing they came to the shore. Then the road sank in the sea.

“Now come down,” said the horse; “let me rest, and do thou rest, too.”

The horse went to the green meadow, and Boyislav lay on the grass and mused on the princess of White Island. Since he was wearied greatly, he fell asleep, but thought of the princess so that he sighed from sorrow when the horse roused him and said, “Let us go.”

Boyislav mounted in silence. They travelled till they saw the domes of a great city. “What city is this?” inquired Boyislav.

“Seest not,” asked the horse, “that is thy birthplace?”

“Sure enough! Go quickly, dear horse, that I may embrace my father.”

“Hurry not,” said the horse; “for it would be better for thee not to go.”

“Why?” asked Boyislav with wonder.

“Because thy father has uttered sentence of death against thee.”

“I do not believe that,” replied Boyislav, shaking his head; and the horse was silent.

Boyislav’s heart beat with joy when he entered the gates of his native place, but his joy was short-lived. He had scarcely passed one street when people began to gather around him, till at last an officer of the king’s army seized the bridle of his horse, and ordered the people who were standing around to seize his arms. All rushed like hungry birds of prey on the terrified Boyislav.

“What art thou doing!” cried he, when at length he recovered himself. “Do ye not know that I am your prince?”

“Prince or not,” cried all, “we know thee well enough to know that to-morrow thou wilt dance in the air.” They took the unfortunate Boyislav to the castle, where, by command of the king, he was cast into a dark dungeon, and his horse, which they all laughed at, was shut up in a pen. The officer who brought Boyislav to the palace got a great reward, and went in high glee to the nearest inn to drink with his comrades.

Why was the king enraged with his favorite son? Because shameless lies had been told by his other sons. When Boyislav brought the three princesses of Black Island to the boat and returned for his horse, his brothers weighed anchor at once and sailed off. On the way they forced the unfortunate princesses to promise on oath to tell the king that they were the liberators, and to say that Boyislav on Black Island had attached himself to a worthless woman, and made sport of his old father.

Meanwhile they agreed to cast lots for the princesses. When the brothers declared their wish, the princesses said that they would not break their oaths, but could never be the wives of such men. The brothers paid small heed to this, for their hearts were hard. They were satisfied with having got rid of Boyislav. They ordered the oarsmen to press on. As a favorable wind blew without stopping, they soon arrived safely on firm land, where they hired horses and hurried to their native place.

The king, who had recovered as soon as the princesses on Black Island were freed, welcomed his sons and the princesses with tears in his eyes. But how he flushed up with anger when they told the story to which they had been forced by oath! He ordered the death of Boyislav at once, and offered a great reward for his capture. The wicked brothers rubbed their hands with glee, but the princesses withdrew to the chambers given them by the king, and passed their time in silent grief.

The king was astonished at this, and wished to know what prince they loved; he would give his blessing at once, and the proper income. But the princesses only shook their heads, and the king asked his sons the reason of the princesses’ sorrow. The young men evaded the question, saying that perhaps the princesses were homesick. At last they led the conversation to Boyislav. The king flushed up with anger, which was all his sons wanted, so as to avoid speaking of the princesses of Black Island, for they knew nothing about them.

And now, when Boyislav was in prison, they continued to excite the king to give an order forbidding any one to ask mercy for him under pain of death. “Why should I endanger my life?” thought every one; “the king of course knows why he puts his son to death.” Many pitied the prince, but only one man shed tears. He was an old warrior who had once commanded the king’s armies, and was retained as a friend of the king; he did not believe that Boyislav deserved death, and resolved to ask pardon for him. “Well,” thought he, “I shall not live till spring, and it is all the same whether I die a day earlier or later. I have been in danger of death times without number and have never been even wounded; perhaps I shall escape now.”

He went bravely to the king, who greeted him very kindly, as was his wont. “What dost thou wish?” asked he of the old man, who was silent.

“I ask mercy for Boyislav,” said he.

“How darest thou slight my order?” asked the king, angrily. “Knowest not thou art doomed to death?”

“I know,” answered the old man with dignity; “but I fear not death. I mean to say that thou art disgracing thyself by giving thy own blood to the hangman.”

The king was struck with these words, and walked up and down the room with bowed head.

“Who knows whether Boyislav is really guilty or not?” said the old man, “for the conduct of the princesses from Black Island is strange.”

“Thou art right, and I will not give him to the hangman; but still he must die. I shall have him confined with the lions. Let them tear him.”

The old man made further effort, but the king would not be persuaded. When night came Boyislav was taken secretly from prison and shut in with the lions. But the brothers were not satisfied yet; they told the king that Boyislav could easily escape, and advised him to wall up the doors. The king consented, and the next day the doors were walled up, there remaining only a small opening on the other side. This was fortunate, for otherwise Boyislav must have perished for want of air. He looked at the lions without fear; they did not harm him. Then he took out the taper and the tablecloth, which he kept in his bosom, lighted the taper, laid the cloth on the ground, and asked for the choicest food; it appeared. He fed the lions first, then ate and drank himself. The lions lay at his feet in thankfulness; he lay on them and fell asleep. When awake he played with the lions,—who in a few days were tame,—or thought of the princess on White Island. In this way his days passed quickly, and before he knew it a whole year had gone.

Meanwhile the princess of White Island travelled over the world with an army in search of her liberator; she had already visited many kings, but in no royal family had she found twelve sons. At last she came to the dominions of the old king and learned that he had twelve sons. Her heart jumped for joy, and she marched night and day till she appeared before the capital. Straightway she sent messengers to the king, asking him to send her that prince who had freed her and her whole kingdom.

The king called the five princes who went with Boyislav, and asked if they had been on White Island.

“Of course!” answered the truthless princes; and the eldest one shamelessly added that he had freed its princess.

“Then hurry to her,” said the king. He went.

“Where is the taper?” asked the princess when he came; but he knew nothing of it. Thereupon the princess became so angry that she drew her sword and cut off his head with a blow.

Again she sent the messenger with the announcement that if her liberator were not sent, she would turn the city into dust and ashes.

“I freed her,” said the second prince to the frightened king.

“Then go to her.”

When she asked the second prince about the taper, he could give no answer, and lost his life. The messenger returned to the king, and told him what had happened to the two princes; the three remaining ones were so terrified that they confessed the truth.

The old man, Boyislav’s savior, now said to the king, “I told thee Boyislav was innocent; thou wouldst not believe me. Now see how thou hast saved thy city from destruction, for the princess will surely carry out her threat unless Boyislav is delivered up.”

“But how can I deliver him up when he is dead?” asked the king.

“He is not dead,” replied the old man, joyfully, “for there is still a little opening in the lions’ den, and there is light there night and day.”

The king sprang up joyfully, hastened to the den, and had the walled-up doors opened. Boyislav looked on this carelessly; and when the king implored him with tenderness to come out, that he forgave him all, he shook his head saying: “I will not go, it is good enough for me here.”

“But the princess will destroy my city,” said the king.

“What princess?” asked Boyislav with curiosity.

“The princess from White Island.”

In silence, but with gladness in his eyes, Boyislav quenched the taper, folded the tablecloth, and taking both with him walked out. When he went with the messenger to the princess, his heart beat with anxiety so that he could not raise his eyes when he stood before her.

“Thou art the man!” exclaimed the princess, joyfully. But when Boyislav knew not what to answer, she said reproachfully: “Has the ardor with which thou didst kiss me grown cold?”

“It has not,” murmured Boyislav, wishing to kiss the golden hem of her robe.

The princess raised him up, and kissing him, said: “This is the earnest of our betrothal.”

Boyislav was glad to respond; and now all returned to the castle, where feasting began, which was to be closed by the wedding of the princess and Boyislav. All were rejoiced except the princesses of Black Island, who were as sad as ever. The three princes who had gone to Black Island were in deathly terror. Boyislav in the middle of the feast grew sad, and when asked the reason, he inquired: “Where is my trusty horse?”

No one could answer him, till at last one of the servants remembered that the horse had been shut up in a pen. To the great astonishment of all, Boyislav ran out to him, fell upon his neck, and shed tears of joy.

“Thou hast done well to come,” said the horse, sadly, “or I should have perished with hunger; for the cord brought from Red Island is eaten. Every span of it became a bundle of hay. But now thou hast attained thy object, and I am needed no longer; cut off my head.”

“I cut off thy head!” exclaimed Boyislav.

“Then thou dost not wish to free me,” said the horse, with chiding voice.

Boyislav drew his sword and cut off the horse’s head at one blow. The horse disappeared in an instant, but in his stead appeared a beautiful prince, who fell on Boyislav’s neck and shed tears of joy.

“What is this?” asked Boyislav, full of astonishment.

“Come to supper,” said the prince; “I will explain it all.” Both hurried to supper; scarcely were they at the door, when the youngest princess from Black Island fell into his arms, and the other two pressed his hands. When they had recovered from the first surprise, the prince said: “I am the only son of a powerful king, whose dominions are not far from Black Island. I would not marry the daughter of a queen who was a witch, and she enchanted me; and the princesses of Black Island—the youngest of whom is my bride—were turned into horses twelve hours of each day. Boyislav freed the princesses first, and now has freed me. The moment I regained my form, the spell was removed from Black Island.”

All were delighted with Boyislav; but the king was thoughtful, and seemed to ponder over important things. At last he summoned the three princes who went with Boyislav to Black Island, and gave command to throw them to the lions; the lions tore them to pieces in an instant.

Now came new festivities; and when all was finished, Boyislav went with his wife to White Island; and the liberated prince, with his wife and sisters, went to Black Island, where they celebrated at once their wedding and their liberation.

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THE TABLE, THE PACK, AND THE BAG.

BEFORE times long past, there lived in a little cottage an old father, with his three sons. The eldest son was called Martin; the second, Mihal; and the third, Yanek.

“Martin,” the father used to say often, as they were sitting in the evening at a bowl of skimmed milk, “I shall not be long alive; I feel it in my body. When I die, the cottage will come to thee; but do not cheat thy old mother and thy brothers.”

Martin always promised; but while the others were listening to their father, he looked sharply at the food, and picked out every piece of bread from the milk. Mihal saw this with astonishment; but Yanek was always grieved from his father’s talk, and did not even think of eating.

The father spoke the truth. In no long time he groaned his last; but when he saw his death-hour, he had all summoned for the parting. He reminded Martin again that he was never to let the cottage go out of his possession; and then turning to Yanek, whom he loved most, he said: “Yanichek, thou art simple, ’tis true; but what the Lord has kept from thee in wit, he has added in heart. Only be ever as kind as thou hast been, and obey thy brothers;” with that he coughed, and was no more.

Martin and Mihal gave themselves up to lamentation, but Yanek was silent; he stood by his father’s bedside as if without sense. Only after a long time did he go out, sit in the garden under a tree, and cry like a little child.

After the funeral, Martin and Mihal decided to go out in the world, and leave Yanek with his mother. “The world is wide,” said they; “there fortune may meet us quickly, while in this little cottage we should never come to anything as long as we lived.”

It was all one to Yanek; but his mother who was still in good strength, did not like to have Yanek lose his fortune, and talked with his brothers so long that they took him with them. This was not agreeable to Martin and Mihal, but they reverenced their mother, and obeyed her.

All three made ready; Martin and Mihal put food in bags for themselves, and went out into the world. On the road Yanek said to his brothers, “I shall be glad to see if that fortune meets us soon.”

“Thou mayest run to meet it,” snapped the brothers, “since thou hast nothing to carry.” They were angry that Yanek had taken nothing, while they must carry heavy bags on their backs.

They walked on a whole half-day; the sun was burning, and the brothers were tired and hungry. They sat down at the roadside under a tree, in the shade, took out provisions, and began to eat,—that is, Martin and Mihal; but Yanek sat by himself and began to cry, either because he remembered his father’s death or was hungry. His brothers ridiculed him and said: “See now, thou wilt not be so lazy another time, and then thou wilt not be hungry.”

Yanek brushed away his tears with his sleeve, and said: “Ye might have a little shame. Ye are going out into the world so as to be able to support your mother when ye go home; but now ye have taken from her everything!”

Such an answer the brothers did not expect from simple Yanek. They were silent; and after a while, as if moved from kindness, they asked Yanek to eat with them; but they did not do it from compassion or brotherly love, but to lessen their fault. When they had eaten, they rose and went on their way. In the evening they came to a cottage and asked for lodgings. The cottager took them under his roof, and asked them to sup. Martin thanked him with a certain boastfulness, saying that he had provisions enough of his own.

The man sat down to supper with his wife. Yanek sat with downcast face alone in a corner. The woman went to the kitchen, and when returning, saw that Yanek had nothing to eat. “Oh, little boy, come and eat with us!” said she kindly. Turning to Martin she asked if that was their servant.

“What servant!” said Martin. “He is our brother, but such a lazy fellow, he would not bring anything for himself.”

Yanek did not wish to go to the table, but consented at last. Martin squinted at the dish; and when he saw soup, he hated Yanek. Soup was his favorite dish, and now he must look on and see how Yanek enjoyed it, and must be satisfied with dry bread and a bit of cheese. Full of hatred he went to bed in the place which the cottager showed him, with his brothers. For a long time he lay awake, and when he fell asleep he saw in a dream, Yanek eating soup. In the morning the brothers rose before breakfast, because they wanted Yanek to have nothing to eat. Martin went through the nearest forest, hoping that they would find no house all day, and so Yanek would have no food.

The whole forenoon they walked through the thick forest, and Martin wished to eat his dinner; but the forest began to grow thin and soon they came to an open country. They looked for a road, went on a small hill, and then saw in the valley a great castle as high as ten houses placed one on the other. Yanek laughed, but Martin was not pleased: “We have lost the road,” said he; “we must go back.”

“But, foolish fellow,” said Mihal, who was tired, “we are going out in the world, what difference does it make; it is all the same whether we go one way or another.”

Without saying a word or looking at his brothers, Yanek went straight toward the castle. That started off Martin, and soon he caught up with Yanek. “Walk behind,” said he, “I’m the eldest; I must go ahead.”

They soon came to the castle, but did not see a living thing; they were greatly afraid. Martin wished to run away; but when he saw Yanek open the door, he followed him. They entered a splendid hall. How astonished were they! On the floor was a pile of copper money five ells high. Martin and Mihal, blinded by the glitter of the money, threw out their remaining provisions, filled their bags, and wanted to run away; but Yanek opened the next door, through which the brothers saw in another hall a still greater pile of money, but silver. They emptied their bags of the copper money with all speed, and filled them with silver. They had barely done this when Yanek opened a third door, and cried out with wonder,—a thing which he seldom did,—“Ai!” The brothers threw their bags on the floor, rushed to the door, but had to cover their eyes with their hands, for it was as bright as the sun in the next chamber. They saw this was gold. Still more quickly than before, they threw the silver out of their bags, and panting for breath, filled them with gold pieces.

“Now let us go,” cried Martin; “some one may come, and then we shall suffer.” They started from the castle as fast as they could. Yanek went too, and took as he was going only one piece of money from each heap, and in the third room the remnants of food which his brothers had thrown out. The brothers escaped with the money successfully, meeting no one. Yanek followed at his leisure, eating the provisions which his brothers had thrown away. When they came to the forest, the two brothers crawled into the thicket, threw their bags on the ground, and began to rest. Yanek also lay down after he had put the last bit of bread in his mouth. Here Martin remembered the provisions, but he had only ducats in his bag.

“Yanek,” said he, “run back to the castle and bring us from the first chamber the provisions which we forgot there.”

But Yanek answered bluntly, “I will not go.”

“Why not?” asked Martin in anger.

“Because they might catch me, and I should have to suffer instead of you; besides, there is no food there, for when you threw it away I picked it up and ate it.”

“Monster!” screamed Martin in rage, “I’ll teach thee to obey thy eldest brother. Mihal, give him here to me.”

Mihal did not wait to be spoken to twice. They took poor Yanek between them and put so many blows on him that he was soon lying as if dead on the ground; then they took their bags on their backs and hurried home through the woods.

“That lazy-bones!” growled Martin, “let him go wherever he likes; he will not dare to teach us again.” They got out of the forest quickly, and in the evening came to an inn where they refreshed themselves. Next morning they set out for home. In the neighboring town, where the king dwelt, they bought a house, brought their mother to it, and began to live like great lords.

Yanek, poor fellow, lay for a long time unconscious in the forest. At last he woke from his trance, rested his head against a tree, and fell to thinking of his condition. “Oh, cruel brothers, ye have left the forest! Who knows whether I shall find the way home? I am weak; I cannot walk far; I will go back to the castle, no matter what meets me; I will take money, too, and live like a lord.”

Many a one will wonder that Yanek changed all at once; but a beating has brought many a man to new ways. So Yanek made ready and went to the castle. In the castle there was not a living soul. Yanek took off his coat, tied the sleeves at the wrist, and began to rake gold into them. He had almost finished when he heard noises at a distance like bursts of thunder. These noises grew louder and louder till at last they were so loud that the castle trembled. All at once a voice as if a fifteen-year-old bull were bellowing, called, “Hu! hu! I smell the flesh of a man!” and before Yanek could gather his wits after the fright, he saw two giants standing at the door.

“Oh, worm of the earth, thou art the one who is stealing our treasures!” howled one of the giants. “Ha, thou wilt be a nice roast for supper,” added he, smacking his lips so that Yanek lost his senses. But the second giant whispered something in the ear of the first, who nodded, and said to Yanek: “Listen, worm of the earth, I grant thee life, but henceforth thou wilt watch our treasures when we are from home.”

Yanek wanted to kiss the giant’s hand, but he could barely reach to his knee. “Only watch well, worm of the earth,” said the giant, graciously; “but so that thou shouldst not be hungry, strike on this little table three times with thy fist and call, ‘Food for a king!’ and thou wilt have food to thy liking.”

Yanek promised everything, and from that time forth he led a very pleasant life,—he did nothing, no living soul ever came to the castle, the table was always obedient. But at last he grew tired of all this. “Watch your own treasures, lord giants,” said he one day when the giants had gone out; “and thou, my good little table, come!—we will go home.”

Yanek put the table on his back, stole away from the castle, and soon found himself in the forest. He strolled leisurely through the forest, and after no long time was in the open field. Here an old grandfather met him, and asked if he had not something to eat. “’Tis long since I have had a bit in my mouth,” lamented the grandfather.

“Then I will help thee,” said Yanek; “come with me to that tree over there.” They sat under the tree; Yanek put his table on the ground, and striking on it three times with his fist, said: “Food for a king!” The table was covered with the daintiest dishes.

The grandfather ate his fill, and said: “Indeed this is a very beautiful thing! But, my lad, if thou wouldst give me this little table, I would give thee something better in place of it. This pack has the virtue that at command an army will spring out of it as numerous as ever thou carest to wish.”

Yanek was greedy, but only from the time that he got a beating from his brothers; he took the pack, gave the grandfather the table, and they parted. But Yanek soon felt hungry; he was in the open field, and nowhere a house to be seen. Now he was angry at himself for having given away the table so frivolously; and besides he wished to know if what the grandfather said of the pack was true. He opened the pack and commanded “two hundred hussars to the field.” He had barely spoken when horses were neighing, arms rattling, and sooner than he could think, two hundred hussars stood in line before him. The officers saluted Yanek, and asked with respect what he wanted.

“About five thousand yards from here, under that tree, an old man took a table from me; ride after him, take the table, and bring it to me.”

He had barely finished speaking when the hussars rode off at a wild gallop, in no long time they returned, and their leader gave Yanek the table. Yanek opened his pack and said: “Two hundred hussars in here.” In a twinkle the hussars were in the pack, from the first man and horse to the last. “That is not a bad thing,” said Yanek to himself as he sat at the table, struck three times with his fist, and commanded, “Food for a king.”

When he had eaten to his content he took his table and his pack and went on. It was inclining toward evening, and Yanek had to look for a night’s lodging. But this made him small trouble; it was warm enough, he laid himself under a tree, put the pack under his head, held the table in his hand, and so fell asleep. Next morning he ate like a king and went on. This time he met a grandfather as he had the day before, and he too asked for food. Yanek commanded the table, and the grandfather ate his fill. “My lad,” said he, “here is a bag; give me thy table for it.”

“Oh, grandfather,” said Yanek, with a laugh, “nothing can come of that.”

“This is no laughing matter, my lad; the bag is worth getting, for it has this virtue,—that wherever and whenever thou hast the wish, thou canst call out of it as many castles as may please thee.”

Yanek fell to thinking, and then said with a smile, “Let it be so.”

The grandfather took the table, Yanek the bag; then they parted. But barely had the grandfather vanished from sight when Yanek opened the pack and commanded: “Three hundred Uhlans to the field!” Scarce had he spoken when three hundred Uhlans were standing in line before him. “Go now to the right on the road; at the ditch a man took my table: take that table and bring it to me.”

The Uhlans flashed away, and a man could scarcely have counted ten before Yanek had the table. Then he opened the pack and commanded: “Three hundred Uhlans this way!” and the Uhlans vanished in the pack. Yanek was beside himself with gladness when he took the table, the pack, and the bag, and continued his way.

In the evening he came to the capital town, and there he learned that his brothers had become great lords. He went before the town, tore his clothes purposely, then lay in the dust and rolled several times. He did this so that he might seem out and out ragged and poor. Then he went to his brothers and implored them to take pity on him. They would not even recognize him; but his mother fell on his neck and begged for him. The brothers gave way, and granted him lodging, but in the stable. Yanek was satisfied; he lay on the bed which was given him,—that is, a bundle of straw,—and waited till all were asleep. Then he sprang over the fence to the garden, opened the bag, and commanded: “One castle out of the bag!” and that moment there stood in the garden the most beautiful castle. Then he opened the pack and commanded: “Fifty infantry come out!” and fifty foot-soldiers stood before him.

“Ye,” said he to them, “will be all night on guard here in my castle; but when in the morning the cock crows the second time, rouse me.”

The warriors saluted and took their places on guard. Yanek took the table which he had secreted, as well as the pack and bag, and went into the castle. There he selected the most beautiful chamber, commanded the table, and supped. After supper he lay down and slept till the guards roused him. He rose, ate, and before any one was awake in the house of his brothers he commanded the warriors into the pack, the castle into the bag, then crawled over the fence, and lay on his straw in the stable. This he did night after night. But it was a wonder to his brothers how he was alive; for though they had two bags of ducats, they never gave him a morsel to eat. Therefore they pressed Yanek to tell them if he had gathered much coin in the castle; they thought he had money, but did not wish to show it before them.

“Simpleton! I was glad to get out of there alive; for that castle belongs to giants,” answered Yanek. “But I have something else, and it is better than your gold pieces.”

Then he brought the table, struck it three times with his fist, and said: “Food for a king!”

Martin and Mihal stood like apparitions, they could not believe their eyes; but when they began to eat they believed their tongues.

The story of the wonderful table was spread through the town, and soon came to the king. He was eager for the food of the table, and sent his chamberlain to Yanek to borrow the table for three days.

“Agreed,” said Yanek; “here it is. But if it is not returned to me at the end of three days I will declare war against the king.”

The chamberlain bowed, took the table, and told the king, with a smile, that Yanek would declare war against him unless the table was returned. The table pleased the king beyond measure, but still more the food; therefore he meditated how to deceive Yanek. He summoned all the joiners, carvers, and turners in the town, and ordered them to make exactly such a table as Yanek’s. They went to work, and before the third day had passed there were two tables, and the king himself could not tell which was the right one. Soon he made sure of it, and then he sent the counterfeit table by the chamberlain to Yanek.

Yanek struck the table three times with his fist and ordered: “Food for a king!” The table trembled, but nothing more. “Food for a king!” shouted Yanek, full of anger; but he soon discovered that the king had deceived him, and he pounded the table till he pounded it to pieces.

“Take this and carry it to the king,” said he to the chamberlain, “and tell him that I’ll smash down his castle to-morrow as I have broken this table!”

The chamberlain collected the fragments, took them to the king, and told him what Yanek had said. The king only smiled haughtily, and thought that he had finished with Yanek. In the night, however, he had wonderful dreams, and early next morning he ordered his army to be placed before the castle and be ready for battle.

Now Yanek came with his pack, counted the royal troops, and still once more asked the king to return his table; but the king only laughed. Then Yanek opened the pack and commanded: “A thousand times a thousand infantry out; a thousand times a thousand cavalry out.” From the pack there was the rush of an avalanche. Soon the whole country in front of the castle was filled with the finest of armies. The king and his troops were as if before a vision; but when Yanek raised his hand as a signal for attack, the king raised a white flag and went to Yanek.

“Thou seest,” said the king, almost imploringly, “I was mistaken; but I wish to correct my mistake. I will return the table, and besides I will give thee my daughter in marriage.”

“Then peace,” said Yanek. “But first bring thy princess; let me see her.”

The princess soon came with her ladies, raised her veil, and stood before Yanek.

“The wedding will be to-day!” ordered Yanek, and kissed the princess on the forehead. She was not angry; nay, it may be said she was glad. Then Yanek commanded: “A thousand times a thousand infantry in; a thousand times a thousand cavalry in,” and closed the pack.

The royal army withdrew to the fortress, and now quick preparations were made for the marriage. At midday Yanek and the princess belonged to each other. Then they feasted, and the table gave meat and drink till the evening.

When all were in bed Yanek went out to the king’s garden with his bag, opened it, and commanded: “Let the most beautiful castle that can be in the world come out of this bag!” And that was such a castle that Yanek himself was astonished.

Then he went to the old castle to the king, who had already prepared chambers to which he wished to conduct him and the princess; but Yanek answered that he had his own household, and the king had such faith in him that he believed. Yanek conducted his bride to the new castle, and she could not admire its splendor sufficiently.

In the morning people hurried to the king and told him that there was a new castle in the garden. The sun was just rising, and casting its rays on the castle, the castle was blazing with gold, silver, and precious stones. The king now respected Yanek still more, and gave him all that he could, even his kingdom.

So Yanek became king, and a great king who could give battle to the whole world. On the boundaries he put castles everywhere out of the bag, and from the pack he garrisoned them with troops. The table gave him the best of food; what more could he want?

He reigned long, and was a real father to his subjects. As a punishment to his brothers he did not let them come near him; but his mother he cared for so well that she reached a great age. In the most beautiful chamber of the castle, on a golden throne, were the pack and the bag, and near them the table.

When King Yanek died he was mourned by all; he left his children the mightiest kingdom on earth. His eldest son succeeded him; but accustomed to splendor and luxury, he did not govern the kingdom so well as his father. After his death it was still worse. The succeeding kings were ashamed of their peasant stock; and so that no man might discover the real foundation of their power and turn them into ridicule, they took the table, the pack, and the bag, and cast them into a dark, damp cellar.

And will ye ask what became of such a mighty kingdom? The table rotted, the bag rotted, the mice gnawed the pack; and then it was all over with that kingdom.

In after times, when he was in straits, the king ran to the cellar, struck on the table, looked for the pack and the bag. But the table fell to pieces at the first blow, of the pack there remained but a few little straps, and of the bag a few threads.

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THE KING OF THE TOADS.

MANY and many a year ago there was a cottage by the sea, and in this cottage lived a fisherman who caught fish in the sea. By the king’s command he was allowed to take fish, not when he liked, but only once a week, and that on Mondays. He was anxious, therefore, to catch many on that day. Fish, of course, are not so crafty as men, but still they know enough to see that there is no fun in being caught. What is to be done with them afterwards they don’t know; still, they must suspect that it can hardly be for their amusement. It is no wonder then that they did not crowd into the fisherman’s net.

The fisherman worked every Monday till the sweat streamed down his face; and this all the more, since, come what might, he was obliged to bring fish to the king’s kitchen each Monday. Once he worked the whole forenoon without catching even a white fish. “I will try once more,” thought the tired fisherman; “I will throw everything into the water, and jump around to frighten the fish, they are so stubborn.”

He threw the net deeply, and when he pulled it was very heavy. “Now there will be fish,” thought he, joyfully; but what was his astonishment when, instead of fish, he drew out a great copper kettle.

The kettle was so well fastened that the fisherman had to work long before he could take off the cover. But how he was frightened! Scarcely had he removed the cover when out of the kettle rushed black smoke, which grew thicker and thicker, till at last it changed to a fiery man.

“Thou hast helped me, and I will help thee,” said he to the terrified fisherman; “but in my own way I will destroy thee.”

The fisherman lost his head, but soon recovering said: “Oh, I don’t care, I am already tired of this world; still thou must do something for me, since I freed thee. I can’t understand how thou wert able to live in such a small place, and under the water too, and then change so quickly.”

“I’ll show thee in a moment,” said the fiery man; and he began to turn into black smoke, and in no long time he was packed into the kettle again.

“Dost see me?” inquired he of the fisherman.

“I see thee,” answered the fisherman, laughing; “I see thee, but thou’lt not see me any more.”

The cover was already on the kettle and fastened firmly. The fiery man by no means expected to find such cunning among people, and considering his condition in the kettle, began to beg of the fisherman: “Let me out and I will reward thee.”

“Swear that thou wilt never destroy me,” said the fisherman.

The spirit answered with a solemn voice, “I swear.”

The fisherman removed the cover, and black smoke rolled out, growing thicker and thicker, till at last it turned into a fiery man.

“Follow me,” said he to the fisherman; and the latter followed without thinking.

In a short time they came to a high cliff in which steps were cut in the stone. The fiery man bent to the earth, plucked an herb, and giving it to the fisherman said: “Keep this with thee always. Put thy foot on this step; immediately after thou wilt be on a high mountain, from which thou wilt see a great lake. In the lake is a wealth of fish, and thou hast the right to catch as many of them as may please thee, but only once a week, on Mondays. When thou hast the wish to come down, climb to the top, and soon thou wilt be at the bottom.”

Thereupon the fiery man vanished, but the fisherman went on the steps cut in the rock; in one moment a mighty wind caught him, and in a twinkle he was on a high mountain, from which he saw an altogether unknown country covered with dark forests, in the midst of which was a broad lake; only here and there was a grass-plot to be seen, there were neither hills nor the dwellings of men.

The fisherman went down from the mountain, and when he had reached the lake he found a boat with all the fishing-tackle, as if made ready for him. He went to work willingly, threw in the net, and drew out nothing; he threw it in a second time, drew out as much as before. “That fiery man has fooled me,” thought he, “but the third throw is always the best.” He cast his net again and drew out three fish; when he saw them in the net, he said bitterly: “Well, this is a wealth of fish! If it goes on in this way I’ll soon leave the place; besides, I don’t like travelling by wind.” But when he looked at the fish more carefully, and took them in his hand, he found that in all his life he had never seen anything like them. “These are not for me,” muttered he, “I must give them to the king; he will soon try them.” With that he left the boat, went to the mountain, and had barely touched the summit when a mighty wind seized him, and placed him on level land. He set out for home, and it was time; for his wife had already cooked the dinner and was waiting. As soon as he saw her before the door, he hurried his steps; and when she was in the cottage he began to run. And why did he run, because he feared her? Not at all. He cared nothing for her, as he said himself; but he loved domestic peace, and did everything his wife wanted, but always did it in such fashion that she might not know what he was doing; this was to preserve his own importance in her eyes. He went into the house slowly, and said at the door: “Well, my dear, I have caught a few fish to-day; but I had much trouble, or I should have been home long ago.”

“Time for thee,” snapped his wife; “if thou art late again I’ll eat alone, leave nothing, and thou wilt find out that I am not thy slave to wait and suffer hunger.”

“Oh well, things are not so bad to-day,” said the fisherman; “better come and see these wonderful fish.”

“They are just like any other fish,” cried the woman, “only they look a little different, that’s all.”

“And for that very reason thou wilt take them to the king. He will pay us well for them; we should not be able to use them.”

“Oh, thou couldst soon do away with them,” replied his wife, “but that’s why I’ll take them to the king; besides, we are up to our ears in fish.”

After dinner the fisherman’s wife hurried to the king with the fish. When she came to the palace, she asked the first man she met where the king was, but got as answer: “I don’t keep the king!” She went farther, making confusion everywhere until all the servants came together, but no one said anything to her. At last she reached the guard who stood before the king’s chamber; she wanted to go without ceremony to his Kingly Grace. The guard pushed her back sharply, but the fishwoman did not retreat so easily; she tried once more to break through the guards, but this time she was repulsed. One of the guards, as firm as a rock, and with as much hair on his face as a bear, caught her by the hand and pulled her so roughly that she almost fell to the floor. She screamed that they were killing her, and roused the whole palace; even the king came. She turned straight to him and cried out over the heads of the men: “Royal Grace, I am bringing fish, and these bears won’t let me in.”

The king, who was in good humor that day, beckoned her to come. “What kind of fish, and how many?” asked he when she approached.

“Royal Grace, only three, but so wonderful that I have not seen such as long as I live.” With that she took a fish from the basket and handed it to the king.

“Wonderful, indeed,” said the king, “but give them not to me, give them to my cook; and here is to thee for the road,” giving her a handful of goldpieces.

The fishwoman, when she saw so much money, fell at the king’s feet, and came near throwing him down; but he didn’t mind. Then she took the fish to the kitchen, and ran headlong home.

After she had gone the king went to the kitchen, looked at one of the fish, and said to the cook: “Thou must dress these fish in a special manner, and answer with thy head for the cooking.”

“Royal Grace, in what manner?” asked the cook, trembling with terror when he heard of his head; for though he was a great hero at cutting off heads, he trembled like an aspen when his own head was in question.

“That’s thy affair,” replied the king; “I will send my chamberlain to thee to look after the fish.”

The king went away, and presently the chamberlain appeared. The cook did not know how to prepare the fish, and lost his wits,—but that was his luck, for he did everything without knowing it, and altogether different from his wont. At last when they had the fish on the pan, and began to butter them, the whole palace trembled. Then followed a terrible shock; and before the cook or the chamberlain could think what it meant, they received each such a slap on the face from an invisible hand that they fell senseless to the floor. And while they were lying in such concord on the floor, they knew not that one of the fish stood on his tail in the pan, and said to the other two: “Will ye serve me or be food for the king?”

“Serve thee,” said both in one voice. With that all three of them vanished, and to this day no man knows whither they went.

The cook woke up from his involuntary slumber sooner than the chamberlain; he did not rise, however, but waited for the other. Then he rose, groaned heavily, complained, and both hurried to the fish; but they were gone. “The devil take the fish!” said the cook; “but what will the king say?”

It was no great joy for the chamberlain that the fish were gone; still he went to the king and told him of all that had happened in the kitchen.

“I cannot believe it,” said the king; “but if thou canst get more fish like these, thou wilt be forgiven this time. Now go to the fisherman and tell him to get other fish like these.”

The chamberlain hurried away with light heart, rejoiced at his easy escape. The fisherman said that he could catch fish only on Mondays. The chamberlain told this to the king; the king was very angry. But what could he gain by that?

There was joy in the fisherman’s cottage by reason of so much money, and the fisherman’s wife could hardly wait till Monday. She roused her husband early Monday morning, got him a holiday breakfast, and almost pushed him out of the house, so as to bring those strange fish with all speed. The fisherman obeyed, not his wife, however, but the king, and hastened to the cliff with the wonderful herb in his bosom. He had barely stood on the step, when he was carried to the mountain; and from there he rushed to the lake, where he found a boat waiting for him as before. The first and second time he caught nothing; but the third time he drew out three fish. “Now my wife will be glad,” thought he, and hurried up the mountain; from there he was taken to the valley in an instant, and ran home. His wife pulled the fish out of his hands, threw them into a basket, and ran to the king’s palace. The guard was ordered to let her pass; and she went straight to the king, who came out to meet her, and looking at the fish, to see if they were the same, gave her another handful of gold for her trouble. The fishwoman thanked him, took the fish to the kitchen, and went home leisurely, for she counted the money to see if there was the same as before; there was still more. Now there was joy in the cottage; and the fisherman was thankful in his heart to the fiery man, by whose action he had gained such peace in his household.

New orders were issued by the king to the cook, who was trembling with terror, thinking what would come of the fish. But the king, who did not believe even the chamberlain, sent his eldest son to watch both the chamberlain and the cook, lest they should eat the fish themselves. They all stood in great expectation around the pan in which the butter was melting under the fish; but as soon as they began to butter the fish, the castle was shaken more violently than before, a still louder shock followed, and the cook, chamberlain, and even the prince himself, received such slaps from an unseen hand that all three fell senseless to the floor. And while they were lying there, they did not know that one of the fish stood on its tail in the pan, and said to the other two: “Will ye be food for the king, or serve me?”

“Serve thee,” answered the two in one voice; then all three vanished in an instant, and to this day no man knows whither.

The cook came to his senses first; but seeing the chamberlain and the prince still on the floor, he stayed where he was. The chamberlain followed his example; at last the prince jumped up and roused both. For a while they acted as if they had lost their wits, then rose to their feet slowly, and complained. When they looked in the pan they found it empty. The prince told all carefully to his father. The king was raging, and threatened them all with death. At last he was pacified, and sent the prince to the fisherman. The prince gave the king’s order, but the fisherman said that he could catch those fish only on Mondays. When the king heard this he fell into a towering passion, though he knew himself that the fish could be caught only on Mondays. At last he grew calm, but resolved to be present next time they cooked these most wonderful fish.

On Monday the fisherman’s wife pushed her husband out of the house at the dawn of day. The fisherman came to the top of the mountain as before, then hastened to the lake, where on the third cast of the net he drew out three fish. He hurried to the top of the mountain; next moment he was in the valley, and ran home as fast as his breath would let him. His wife shortened the journey for him: she ran to meet him, and pulling the fish out of his hands, rushed off to the palace like a crazy woman. The king was waiting; and ran out the moment he saw her. When he looked at the fish he gave her two handfuls of gold. She took the fish to the kitchen, and hurried away. When she came to the field she sat down and counted the money ten times.

In the king’s kitchen the king, the prince, and the chamberlain watched the cook while he was preparing the fish. Because the king was present, great attention was paid to everything. This was done partly to make the king tired of being there; but he gave them to understand that he would wait till the fish were ready. After long preparation they got them on the pan; but as soon as the cook began to butter them the palace shook as in a tempest. Then came a shock as from a lightning-stroke, and in an instant all present received such slaps on the face that they fell senseless to the floor. While lying there without distinction of persons none of them knew, not even the king, that one of the fish stood on its tail in the pan and said to the other two: “Will ye serve me or be food for the king?”

“Serve thee!” answered both in one voice; and all three vanished.

After a long time the cook woke from his trance, and seeing the king prostrate, remained as he was. In like manner acted the chamberlain and the prince when they recovered. At last the king rose, walked around the pan quickly, saw no fish, wondered greatly, and went to his chambers in silence. When the king had gone, the prince, the chamberlain, and the cook sprang from the floor and shook themselves.

The king pondered long over these fish, weighed everything duly, and then sent for the fisherman. The fisherman came straightway; but how he wondered when he heard what had happened at the buttering of the fish! The king said: “Take me to that lake; I will examine everything carefully myself.” The fisherman of course consented. The king took his body-guard, and all moved toward the cliff, with the fisherman at the head. When they arrived there the fisherman gave the king some of the herb which he had received from the fiery man, took him by the hand, and stood on the stone step. In an instant a mighty wind seized them; the king and the fisherman flew through the air, but the body-guard stood, as if fallen from heaven. They waited long; but when nothing came of it, they returned to the palace, and told the terrified people what they had seen.

In due time the king with the fisherman appeared on the summit of the mountain, from whence he saw the whole country. Although there was no palace, nor even a cottage, still it pleased him greatly at first sight.

“There,” said the fisherman to the king, “is the lake where I catch the wonderful fish; I haven’t gone farther yet in any direction.”

“Very well,” said the king, “let us go down.”

On reaching the lake the king told the fisherman to catch the fish; but he went on himself to examine the place. The farther he went the thicker the grass, till at last he had hard work to get through; still he advanced till he came to a beautiful green meadow, having on one side the forest, and on the other the lake. Near the shore in a boat sat an old grandfather, whose head was as white as an apple-tree in blossom.

“Wilt thou row me over, grandfather?” asked the king.

“Why should I not, since that is what I am here for?”

The king took a seat in the boat. The old man rowed without hurrying; but the boat moved lightly over the smooth water, like a fly through the blue sky. When they reached the middle of the lake the old man turned to one side. Then the king saw a grand castle half hidden in the dark forest.

“Oh, what a beautiful castle! Who reigns there?” asked the king.

“Thou wilt learn if thou enter,” replied the old man. When they touched the shore he gave the king a green twig, and said: “Take this twig; it will be of use to thee. Good-by, for thou wilt not see me again.”

“But who will take me back?”

“No one. Thou wilt go back on dry land;” and turning aside, he disappeared.

The king went straight to the palace; and if he wondered at the words of the old man, he was still more astonished when he entered the principal gate and saw no living soul. Thoughtfully he ascended the broad steps, went through one chamber, then another, a third, and a fourth; but nowhere did he find a living creature. “This is some enchanted castle,” thought the king to himself. “Who knows how I shall escape? But I will see all, and then find the way home.” He examined the chambers further till he came to the last, and there in the middle of the room sat an old man, bent to the floor. “I said this was an enchanted castle,” thought the king; “here sits one man!”

The old man raised his head, and seeing the king, said: “Welcome; at last I see a human face!”

The king approached him and asked: “Who art thou, and what does this empty palace mean?”

“I am a king, but without subjects or power; another rules in my place,” answered the old man, bitterly.

“What is the cause of this?”

“The treason of my own wife.”

“And is there no rescue?”

“Well, the same as none; therefore be off at once, otherwise my wife will kill thee when she returns from the King of the Toads.”

“I am not afraid of a woman,” said the king. “I want to stand before her; we shall see if there is no escape.”

“If there were escape I should not be sitting here confined by the King of the Toads!”

“Who is this King of the Toads?”

“Listen; I will tell thee my whole sad story. The sun is yet high, and until it sets my wife will not return: Once I ruled over a powerful nation; around my palace was a great city, and near it a beautiful garden. All is changed into a dark forest and a lake. The fish in the lake are my former subjects. I was once happy, and the more so because I obtained as wife a beautiful and kind princess; but the King of the Toads got into the place where the lake now is, and he turned my wife’s heart from me. I remonstrated, begged, threatened my wife with death, but in vain. Every day she went to meet the King of the Toads, and listened to his wheedling speech. Once I came upon them in the summer-house, and heard with my own ears their whispering and kissing. At last the King of the Toads said: ‘I will find the nest of the magic bird, will take its eggs, and give them thee to eat; thou wilt become immortal and ever young; then we shall be altogether happy.’ ‘Deceitful serpent!’ I cried, springing from my hiding-place; and with a sharp sword I cut the King of the Toads in two. My wife fell upon him, weeping, and he grew together again. Looking at me with venomous eye he muttered words I could not understand, and that moment I felt my blood grow cold, and my veins stiffened so that I could not think of further struggle. I came home in misery and sat down on this chair to rest; but the King of the Toads froze me to my seat, and laid a spell upon the land. From that time I sit here, I know not how many years. My wife spends every day with her lover, and catches frogs for him out of the lake; in return, he promises her immortality and eternal youth. Now, thou canst see there is no aid for me; but escape thou before my wife kills thee.”

“I will not flee,” said the king, and drew his sword. “I’ll cut off her head,—the traitorous soul!”

“Foolish man,” said the old king; “the King of the Toads saves her, and will not let her be hurt.”

“Let him guard her; I must avenge thee,” answered the king, and sat on a chair waiting for the deceitful queen, paying no attention to the old man, who begged him by everything in the world to escape.

As the sun was going down the queen came, and was not a little astonished when she saw the stately knight with her husband. The king drew his sword and ran towards her, but the moment the sword touched her clothing it broke in two. It would have been bad for the king now, if he had not remembered the twig which the boatman gave him. He pulled it out quickly, and struck the queen three times. The third time he struck she dropped on a seat, and was unable to move an eye.

“Sit there, like thy husband,” said the king, mockingly, and counselled with the old man what to do further.

“It would be better,” said the old man, who gained courage when he saw his wife frozen to the chair, “to persuade the King of the Toads to free the kingdom and me from enchantment.”

“I will try,” answered the king; and going to the adjoining chamber, where the queen’s wardrobe was, he dressed in her garments and came back to the old man. “Now I will go to the King of the Toads and pretend to be his love, thy virtuous wife. Then I will beg him; and if he does not do what I want, I’ll freeze him with this twig, and stroke him with my sword till his heart softens.”

“But beg of him first,” said the old man.

The king made his way in silence to the King of the Toads; but as it was night he could not find him, and was obliged to call out. He changed his voice, which deceived the King of the Toads, who came quickly and wished to embrace him, thinking that he was the queen.

“No, my dear,” said the king; “first thou must do something to please me. What good is it for us to live together if my former husband is troubling me? Either kill him altogether or give him back his former condition, so that he may die; if thou wilt take the spell from him, he will fall to dust and ashes.”

“Let it be as thou wishest,” said he, drawing nearer.

But she moved away, and said: “I have one more favor to ask, but this concerns us alone. As soon as my former husband dies thou wilt take his place and we shall reign together, but what sort of a reign would it be if the whole country were enchanted; therefore give back its former shape to the kingdom, and I will marry thee before the world.”

“So let it be,” replied the King of the Toads, and embraced his supposed love, who refused no longer. Scarcely had he touched her when he was struck three times with the twig, in the dark night, and the King of the Toads was frozen to the earth.

“Serpent of hell!” cried the king with his powerful voice, “now I’ll enchant thee for the eternal ages;” and with that he drew out his sword and cut him into countless pieces, which he threw into the water. Frogs rushed from every side with a terrible croaking, and greedily swallowed the bits of the body of their destroyer.

They had barely devoured him when the water began to run out of the lake; and the king saw by the light of the moon which had risen over the mountain summit, how the tree-tops were rising quickly from the water, higher and higher till the water disappeared altogether, and in the place of the lake was a splendid park, in which were multitudes of people who, praising the king, hurried to the castle. The king joined them, but before reaching the castle he had to pass through a large city; and only after travelling many streets did he arrive there. All the chambers were lighted up, and full of people, so that with difficulty did he find the old man, who was standing in the last chamber, and preventing the people from hewing the queen to pieces; but the king drew his sword and cut off her head. “She deserved it,” said he to the old man, who dropped a few tears for his former wife.

Now universal rejoicings began, but the liberated king took no part in them. He called his deliverer and said: “My hours are numbered, I give the whole kingdom to thee; rule in my place.”

The new king thanked the old one kindly, and when he rose in the morning, he heard that the old king was dead.

Our king mounted a fiery steed, rode to the city, and announced to the people the death and last will of their former ruler. They grieved for a moment, then with shouts of gladness greeted the new king.

After the burial of the old monarch, his successor examined the kingdom; and as everything pleased him greatly, he decided to stay there. Therefore he went to his former palace, but the road was far longer than when he had travelled it with the fisherman. He was obliged to ride several weeks before arriving there. No one knew him, for several years had passed while he was in the enchanted kingdom. At last an old grandfather came, who said: “I am one of the body-guard who went with thee to the cliff where thou didst leave us. Take me, I beg, into thy service again, for all my comrades are dead; I am alone.”

The people believed quickly the grandfather’s words, gathered around the king and kissed the hem of his garment. The king sold his castle, put everything he could into wagons, and made ready for the road. Now he remembered the fisherman, asked how he was getting on, and when he had returned home.

“Only yesterday,” was the reply.

“Send for him,” commanded the king; and straightway the fisherman was there.

When the king asked about his adventures, the fisherman answered: “Royal Grace, I have no fish, and God alone knows what happened in that place. All at once the water disappeared under my boat and I was on dry land. I left everything and ran away; but trees began to grow under me, and so quickly that every second branches struck my face. Since it was in the night I might have lost my senses. In the morning I wondered when I saw instead of a forest an enormous city, with a great palace. I hurried from that magic country, thinking to see my cottage soon; but I travelled one day, I travelled two, a week, a month, and then a year—no sign of my cottage. I gave up for a time, and only yesterday I came home safely. My wife was dead; I am all alone now in this wide world.”

“Do not cry,” said the king; “thou hast me yet. Thou wilt stay with me.”

The fisherman answered with tears, and all started off on their journey. They arrived safely at the new kingdom; and all lived happily till they died.

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THE MOUSE-HOLE, AND THE UNDERGROUND KINGDOM.

BEFORE times long past there reigned a king somewhere, and he had three sons. When they had grown up, and were trained as befits princes, they came one day to their father and said: “Our kingly father, permit us to visit strange lands, since we know our own country well.”

“Yes, it is proper,” answered the king, wisely, “for royal princes to know more than any of my subjects; and I permit what ye ask, but on one condition. Ye are all of an age in which almost every man seeks the partner of his life; and as far as I know, ye also will do the same. I have no wish to tell you what princesses to fall in love with, but I ask this: Return before a year and a day, and bring me some gift—not costly, but valued—from your chosen ones.”

The princes were astonished that their father had guessed their thoughts so well, and agreed without thinking. Then they took their crossbows and went to the open field. The eldest son let the bow-string go, and the arrow flew to the east. The second let the string go, and the arrow flew to the west.

“And where am I to aim?” cried the youngest, whose name was Yarmil. That moment a mouse ran near him to its hole; he let the string go, and the arrow flew after the mouse.

“Oh, thoughtless fellow!” said the eldest prince in rebuke; “now thou must go to the mouse-hole.”

“It is settled,” answered Yarmil, and shrugged his shoulders.

They went home, prepared for the road, and next day started; the eldest to the east, the second to the west, and Yarmil to the mouse-hole. Up to that moment he had held it merely a jest; but how was he astonished when on nearing the place the earth opened so that he rode in conveniently, and sooner than he could think was in an open country, in the middle of which stood a white marble castle. Nowhere did he see a living soul; and he felt sure then that he would find no one in the castle; but scarcely had he entered the gate when a lady came forth to meet him who had not only garments, but face, hair, eyes, in short everything, white as newly fallen snow. She held by the bridle a mettlesome white steed, and without saying a word, indicated to Yarmil to descend from his own horse and sit on the white one; but he had barely mounted the white steed when it rose with him through the air, and without heeding the bit, went on till it brought him to the earth before a splendid castle. Yarmil marvelled, for the castle was so brilliant that he could not look at it, such was the glitter of gold and precious stones. Around about, wherever the eye could see, was a beautiful garden, in which the most luxuriant trees were growing, the most beautiful flowers were in bloom, and birds of every color were singing.

When he had recovered from the first surprise, Yarmil dismounted and wished to lead the steed to the castle; but it tore away, rose through the air, and vanished like a white dove in the clouds.

Full of expectation Yarmil entered the castle. He struck on the gate; no answer, but it opened of itself. He went in on broad marble steps to the door of the first chamber. Again he knocked; no answer, but the door opened. He entered, but how did he wonder again! There was such splendor that he exclaimed, “My father is by far the richest king, but this chamber alone is worth more than his kingdom.”

But if the first chamber was rich, the second was richer; and that splendor increased till he came to the eleventh, where there was a great crystal tub with golden hoops, into which, through a golden pipe, water still clearer than crystal was flowing. In the twelfth chamber were only four naked walls, an ordinary ceiling, and a common floor, but in the middle of the floor a diamond pan. When Yarmil examined more carefully, he saw written on it: “Whoever wishes to liberate me must carry me next to his body, and bathe me each day.”

Urged by curiosity Yarmil removed a diamond, then a golden, and finally, with great effort, a silver, cover. But how was he frightened when under it appeared a great ugly toad! He wished to escape, but at that moment such terror seized him that in spite of himself he took the toad out of the pan and put it in his bosom. The toad chilled him, but in a moment he was as happy as if he had liberated some one from death. Straightway he went to the eleventh chamber, took the toad from his bosom, and washed it carefully; but to his great affliction he saw that it was a toad, and the more he washed the uglier it grew. When he had grown tired he put it in his bosom again and went to the garden to cheer himself.

A sight of the trees and the flowers hitherto unnoticed, the odor of them, and the singing of the birds entertained him so that midday came before he knew it. He went back to the castle, and there, to his great surprise, saw in the first chamber a table covered with the most delicate dishes. He sat down with appetite, and when he had eaten to his content, and drunk of the wine which an unseen hand had placed before him in a golden goblet, he confessed that he had never tasted at his father’s table, or at the greatest festivals, such delicate dishes and such good wine.

Now he looked the room through with more care; the splendor did not charm him so much as at first, but the many musical instruments, writing implements, and beautiful books pleased him beyond measure, for he was skilled in every good art.

After the supper, which was as good as the dinner, he lay on a soft bed and slept soundly till morning; then he ate a good meal, which was on the table, and spent the time as he had the day before. He was annoyed at his lonely life, but he soon drove away trouble. He was grieved because the more the toad was washed the uglier it grew; still he washed it with care, and carried it in his bosom.

Now the year was nearing its end, when he had to return to his father with a gift from his bride. He walked like one deprived of reason through the castle and the garden; nothing could comfort him, but still he did not forget to bathe the toad each day, and with greater care. When the last day of the year had come, he knew not what to begin; but while walking through the room he saw on his writing-table a sheet of paper not there before. He seized it quickly; and on it was written in black letters:

Dear Yarmil,—I love thee unspeakably; but be thou patient, as I am patient. A gift for thy father thou hast in the pan; give it to him, but tarry not long at home. Put me back in the pan.

Yarmil hastened with joy to the twelfth chamber, took from the pan a rich casket set with diamonds, and put the toad in the pan; then he ran out quickly, mounted the white steed which was waiting, and which rose in the air and flew regardless of bit, till it stopped before the white castle; there the white lady gave Yarmil his horse, took the white steed, and led it away.

In a short time Yarmil came to the great gate, and when he had ridden through and looked, there was nothing behind but a mouse-hole. Putting spurs to his horse he rushed on at a gallop and came to the gate of his father’s castle almost at the same moment as his brothers, so that all three were able to appear together before their father, and say: “Here we are, according to thy command.”