ALL HALLOWE’EN

SHADOW MARCH

Used by special permission of Charles Scribner and Sons.

TWINKLING FEET’S HALLOWE’EN

One Hallowe’en a band of merry pixies were dancing round and round a bright green ring in the meadow. In the center stood the Little Fiddler, playing his gayest music, and keeping time with his head and one tiny foot. The faster he played, the merrier the little creatures danced. What sport it was to twirl and twist in time with the fairy music, which the jolly little elf brought out from his tiny instrument. No wonder the pixies laughed until their sides ached. And so, indeed, did their little musician. Sometimes he was obliged to stop playing for a few seconds in order to catch his breath.

Now there was one pixie named Twinkling Feet who was the best dancer in the ring, and he could cut such queer little capers that his companions fairly shrieked with laughter when they looked at him. Suddenly he thought what sport it would be to play a trick on all the little dancers. Very slyly he tripped his partner, and the two fell down in the grass, dragging with them one pixie after another until all in the circle were sprawling on the ground. There they lay for several seconds, a wriggling mass of green coats and red caps. It was some time before they could pick themselves up. Many of them laughed heartily at the mishap, but a few were so badly bruised that they were obliged to slip away and bathe their shins in the evening dew.

“Who tripped first in the ring?”

“Who made us fall on our stumjackets?”

“Who spoiled our Hallowe’en dance?” asked one little pixie after another.

“Twinkling Feet and I fell first,” said the best dancer’s partner. “I don’t know what made us tangle our feet, do you?” he asked, laughing and turning to his companion.

But Twinkling Feet’s little brown face was so drawn and sober that his partner asked quickly, “Why, what is the matter with you?”

“I don’t know,” said the little elf.

“Why, do look at him,” cried another pixie.

“Does anything hurt you?” asked several little creatures together.

“I feel very queer,” said Twinkling Feet.

“Have you what mortals call ‘pain?’” asked his partner.

“I don’t know what that is, but I feel very, very queer. Please ask the Little Fiddler if he knows what is the matter with me.”

The group of pixies that had gathered around Twinkling Feet moved away in order to let the elfin musician come close to the queer-looking pixie. The little Fiddler gazed steadily at him, shook his white head, and said slowly, “A frightful thing has happened. Twinkling Feet has lost his laugh!”

“Lost his laugh!” shrieked all the other little elfs.

“He has lost his laugh!” repeated the Fiddler Pixie.

“Lost my laugh,” moaned Twinkling Feet. “Oh, please tell me what to do.”

“There is nothing to do but go and search for it. You can not dance in a pixie ring without your laugh, and mark what I say, you must find it before midnight.”

“But what if I can’t find it?” cried the frightened elf.

“Then you’ll be a pixie without a laugh—that is all,” declared the Little Fiddler.

At these awful words every pixie’s face grew sober. They looked at each other very solemnly and said, “A pixie without a laugh! How terrible!”

Then one after another they cried out. “Search for it, Twinkling Feet. Perhaps you’ll find it before midnight. Start now. Think how sad it will be if you are never able to dance in the ring again.”

“Where shall I go, Fiddler Pixie?” asked Twinkling Feet.

“Well, you might ask Jack-o’-Lantern,” said the musician. “He’s been flitting about in the meadow all the evening. See, there he goes over by the brook.”

Away ran the little pixie as fast as his legs could carry him. It was no easy matter to come close enough to Jack-o’-Lantern to make him hear. Twinkling Feet was almost ready to give up the chase when the little man stopped, poked his head out of his lantern, and called, “Do you wish to speak to me?”

“Don’t you know me?” cried the pixie. “I’m Twinkling Feet.”

“Why, what has happened to you?” asked Jack. “You’re the queerest looking chap I ever saw.”

“I’ve lost my laugh. Please tell me, Jack-o’-Lantern, have you seen it?”

“Lost your laugh!” repeated the lantern man, looking very serious. “No wonder I didn’t know you. I’m very sorry to say I’ve seen nothing of your laugh.”

“Do you know anyone who could help me, Jack?” asked Twinkling Feet. “Oh do help me find it.”

“Well, let me see. You might ask Jolly Little Witch. Her eyes are very sharp. She’s in the ragweed meadow, looking for a good riding stalk. As soon as she finds one I’m going to light her to the village where she will make plenty of merriment at the children’s party. It’s Hallowe’en, you know. Come, jump into my lantern, and I’ll take you to her.”

Twinkling Feet hopped into the little lantern, and away they went to the ragweed field. When they drew near the Jolly Little Witch called out, “I’ve found a good ragweed stalk, Jack, but I’ve lost my goggles. Come, perhaps you can help me find them. I can’t go to the village without my goggles. Why, who is that in the lantern with you?”

“A pixie who wants to ask you something,” said Jack-o’-Lantern, opening the door to let Twinkling Feet out. Then the lantern man hurried away to search for the witch’s goggles.

“Please, Jolly Little Witch, I’ve lost my laugh,” said Twinkling Feet.

“Lost your laugh! and on Hallowe’en! Well, no wonder I didn’t know you. You’re the queerest looking pixie I ever saw. Tell me how you happened to lose your laugh?”

But Twinkling Feet did not answer her question. He said meekly, “Have you seen it?”

“No, my little fellow. I’m sorry to say I’ve not seen your laugh,” said the Jolly Little Witch.

“A pixie can’t dance without his laugh,” sighed Twinkling Feet.

“No, of course he can’t. Dear, dear! How sorry I am for you,” said the little witch, shaking her head.

“And if a pixie loses anything on Hallowe’en, he must find it before midnight or give it up forever.”

“I could have helped you on any other night, but you see I always spend Hallowe’en in the village with the children. I shall be late to-night if I don’t find those goggles.” And again she began to search for them.

The pixie looked at her for a moment. Then he asked, “Do the children laugh a good deal on Hallowe’en?”

“Why, my little man, it’s the time in all the year when they laugh most. To-night there is to be a witch’s party. I shall secretly join the children, and play all sorts of tricks for their amusement. What a nuisance it is that I’ve lost those goggles.”

“I’ll help you search for them, Jolly Little Witch,” said the pixie. “I suppose I must give up my laugh, for I don’t know anyone else to ask about it. Please tell me what your goggles look like.”

“They are two round glass windows, which I wear over my eyes when I ride through the air,” said the little Witch.

Away started the pixie to search for them. He looked carefully around every ragweed stalk in the meadow, but he could see nothing which looked like “two round glass windows.”

“Perhaps one cannot find anything which has been lost on Hallowe’en,” he said to himself.

Slowly he walked back to the place where he had left the Jolly Little Witch. When he reached her he stared sharply at something on top of her head.

“Please tell me more about your goggles,” said Twinkling Feet. “Are they like the two glass windows across the front of your hat?”

“Across the front of my hat!” exclaimed the witch, putting her hands up to find out what the little elf meant. Then she burst out laughing, and said, “Well, well! What strange things do happen on Hallowe’en! Come, Jack-o’-Lantern! Come! The pixie has found my goggles. They were on top of my head all the time!”

And turning to Twinkling Feet she said, “You shall go with us to the village, and see the merriment if you like. I’m sure Jack will carry you in his lantern.”

“Of course I will,” said the lantern man. “And while you are playing tricks at the children’s party, I’ll carry him anywhere he wishes to go. It is a long while before midnight.”

“I want to see the children, and hear them laugh,” said Twinkling Feet.

The Jolly Little Witch pulled her goggles down on her nose, and mounted her ragweed stalk. The pixie hopped into the lantern, and away through the air the three sailed.

When they drew near the village, the little Witch lowered herself to the ground.

“Meet me here before the party is over, Jack-o’-Lantern,” she said. “I shall leave before the children take off their masks. In the meantime, let Twinkling Feet see the fun the children will have on the way to the party.”

Away she ran up the village street to a corner where she joined a group of jolly little boys and girls on their way to the party. They wore black dresses, high, pointed hats with narrow brims, and funny little masks. Not a word did anyone speak, but the sound of their merry laughter reached Twinkling Feet’s ears.

He slipped out of the lantern, and ran toward the group of children as fast as he could go. Before he reached them, however, the tiniest bit of a creature, turning somersaults faster than anyone could count, came bounding to him. It climbed up the pixie’s little body, and disappeared into his mouth. Twinkling Feet burst into the merriest laugh, and ran back to Jack-o’-Lantern, crying out, “I’ve found it! I’ve found my laugh! My dear little laugh! Oh, how happy I am! Jack-o’-Lantern, please take me back to the pixie ring. I’ve found my dear little laugh!”

He hopped into the little man’s lantern, and away over the fields they flew. As they drew near the green ring where the pixies were still dancing, the delighted elf called out, “I’ve found my laugh! I’ve found my dear little laugh!”

“Welcome back, Twinkling Feet,” answered the dancers.

He hopped out of the lantern, and joined the other merry pixies. When they stopped dancing for a little while, the Fiddler Pixie slipped up to the Twinkling Feet, and whispered slyly, “Always watch your laugh carefully while you are dancing.”

—Cornish Legend, Adapted.

JACK-O’-LANTERN

THE ELFIN KNIGHT

The autumn wind blew sharp and shrill around the turrets of a grey stone castle. But indoors the fire crackled merrily in my lady’s bower where an old nurse was telling a tale of Elfland to Janet, the fairest of Scotch maidens.

When the story was finished, Janet’s merry laugh echoed through the halls. The old nurse nodded her head earnestly and said, “’Tis well known, my lassie, that the people of Elfland revel in the hills and hollows of Scotland. Come close, and I’ll tell you a secret.”

Janet leaned forward, and the old woman whispered, “An Elfin Knight, named Tam Lin, haunts the moorland on the border of your father’s estate. No maiden dares venture near the enchanted place, for if she should fall under the spell of this Elfin Knight she would be obliged to give him a precious jewel for a ransom.”

“One glimpse of the Elfin Knight would be worth the rarest gem I have,” laughed Janet. “How I wish I could see him!”

“Hush-sh!” said her nurse tremblingly. “Nay, nay, my lady! Mortals should have nothing to do with the people of Elfland. By all means shun the moorland at this time of the year, for to-morrow is Hallowe’en—the night when the fairies ride abroad.”

But the next morning Janet bound her golden braids about her head, kilted up her green kirtle, and tripped lightly to the enchanted moorland. When she came near she saw lovely flowers blooming as gaily as if it were mid-summer time. She stooped to gather some of the roses when suddenly she heard the faintest silvery music. She glanced around, and there, riding toward her, was the handsomest knight she had ever seen. His milk-white steed, which sped along lighter than the wind, was shod in silver shoes, and from the bridle hung tiny silver bells.

When the knight came near, he sprang lightly from his horse and said, “Fair Janet, tell me why you pluck roses in Elfland?”

The maiden’s heart beat very fast, and the flowers dropped from her hands, but she answered proudly, “I came to see Tam Lin, the Elfin Knight.”

“He stands before you,” said the knight. “Have you come to free him from Elfland?”

At these words Janet’s courage failed, for she feared he might cast a spell over her. But when the knight saw how she trembled, he said, “Have no fear, Lady Janet, and you shall hear my story. I am the son of noble parents. One day, when I was a lad of nine years, I went hunting with my father. Now it chanced that we became separated from each other, and ill-luck attended me. My good horse stumbled, and threw me to the ground where I lay stunned by the fall. There the Fairy Queen found me, and carried me off to yonder green hill. And while it is pleasant enough in fairyland, yet I long to live among mortals again.”

“Then why do you not ride away to your home?” asked Janet.

“Ah, that I can not do unless some fair maiden is brave enough to help me. In three ways she must prove her courage. First she must will to meet me here in the enchanted moorland. That you have done,” declared the knight. Then he stopped, and looked pleadingly at Janet. All her fear vanished, and she asked, “In what other ways must the maiden show her courage?”

“She must banish all fear of him. That, too, you have done,” said the knight.

“Tell me the third way, Tam Lin, for I believe I am the maid to free you.”

“Only my true love can prove her courage in the third way, fair Janet.”

And the maiden answered, “I am thy true love, Tam Lin.”

“Then heed what I say, brave lady. To-night is Hallowe’en. At the midnight hour, the Fairy Queen and all her knights will ride abroad. If you dare win your true love, you must wait at Milescross until the Fairy Queen and her Elfin Knights pass. I shall be in her train.”

“But how shall I know you among so many knights, Tam Lin?” then asked Lady Janet.

“I shall ride in the third group of followers. Let the first and second companies of the Fairy Queen pass, and look for me in the third. There will be only three knights in this last company; one will ride on a black horse, one on a brown, and the third on a milk-white steed,” said the knight, pointing to his horse. “My right hand will be gloved, Janet,” he continued, “but my left hand will hang bare at my side. By these signs you will know me.”

“I shall know you without fail,” nodded Janet.

“Wait, calmly, until I am near you, then spring forward and seize me. When the fairies see you holding me they will change my form into many shapes. Do not fear, but hold me fast in your arms. At last I shall take my human form. If you have courage enough to do this, you will free your true love from the power of the fairies.”

“I have courage enough to do all that you say,” declared Janet. Then they sealed this promise with a kiss, and parted.

Gloomy was the night, and eerie was the way to Milescross. But Janet threw her green mantle about her shoulders, and sped to the enchanted moorland. All the way she said to herself over and over, “On this Hallowe’en at midnight I shall free my true love, Tam Lin, from Elfland.”

At Milescross she hid herself and waited. How the wind from the sea moaned across the moorland! Presently she heard a merry tinkling sound of far-off music, and in the distance she saw a twinkling light dancing forward. Janet could hear her heart beat, but there she stood, undaunted. The Fairy Queen and her train were riding forth. In the lead of her first merry company of knights and maids of honour rode the beautiful queen, whose jeweled girdle and crown flashed in the darkness. The second group passed quickly, and now came three knights in a third group. One rode on a black horse, one on a brown, and there came the milk-white steed last of all. Janet could see that one hand of the rider was gloved, and one hung bare at his side. Then up leaped the maiden. Quickly she seized the bridle of the milk-white steed, pulled the rider from his horse, and threw her green mantle around him. There was a clamour among the Elfin Knights, and the Fairy Queen cried out, “Tam Lin! Tam Lin! Some mortal has hold of Tam Lin, the bonniest knight in my company!”

Then the strangest things happened. Instead of Tam Lin, Janet held in her arms a bearded lion, which struggled mightily to get away. But she remembered the knight’s warning. “Hold me fast, and fear me not.”

The next moment she held a fire-breathing dragon, which almost slipped from her, but she tightened her grasp, and thought of Tam Lin’s words. The dragon changed to a burning bush, and the flames leaped up on all sides, but Janet stood still and felt no harm. Then in her arms she held a branching tree, filled with blossoms. And at last Tam Lin, her own true love, stood there.

When the Fairy Queen saw that none of her enchantments could frighten Janet, she cried out angrily, “The maiden has won a stately bridegroom who was my bonniest knight. Alas! Tam Lin is lost to Elfland.”

On into the darkness rode the fairy train. Tam Lin and Lady Janet hastened back to the grey stone castle. There, in a short time, a wedding feast was prepared, and Tam Lin, who was really a Scottish Earl, and Lady Janet, the bravest maid in Scotland, were married.

—Old Ballad Retold.

THE COURTEOUS PRINCE

Once upon a time a bonnie Prince fell in love with a lassie who was nobly born, but was not his equal in rank. The king was sorely vexed, because his son looked with favour on this maiden, and his majesty determined to part the lovers. He sent the high chancellor of the court to an old witch for advice. After thinking the matter over for nine days, the old woman muttered the following answer:

“I’m not quite sure what the old hag means,” said the king. “But if she’ll get this maiden out of the Prince’s sight, I can arrange for his marriage with some one of his own rank.”

In a few days the lassie disappeared, and the Prince could find no trace of her. He was very sad, indeed, and declared if he could not marry his own true love he would remain single all his life.

It happened one fine day near the end of October that the young Prince and a party of nobles went hunting. The hounds were soon on the track of a fine deer, which was so wily and fleet of foot that the nobles, one by one, lost track of the quarry, and dropped out of the chase. The young Prince, who was a famous rider, continued the hunt alone. Miles and miles over the low hills he galloped until at last in the depths of a wooded glen the exhausted deer was brought to bay by the hounds, and dispatched by the Prince.

Not until after the prize was won did the royal hunter realize how dusky it was in the glen, and how threatening the evening sky looked. He felt sure he was too far from the palace to retrace his journey; besides, he had lost all trace of direction. He threw the quarry over his steed’s back, whistled to his hounds, and rode slowly down the wooded valley, wondering where he could lodge for the night.

“Little sign of hospitality in this lonely place,” he mused. “Perhaps I’d better make the best of it, and find shelter in one of the rocky hollows.”

On he rode in the gathering darkness. A turn in the valley brought him to a stretch of moorland, and a little distance away he saw the dark outline of an old, deserted hunting hall.

“A cheerless looking inn,” thought the Prince. “No doubt one will have to play host as well as guest here. However, I have my trusty hounds and noble steed for company, and the quarry will furnish a good meal for all of us.”

He leaped from his horse and walked up to the old ruin. With very little effort he broke open the door. The creaking of its rusty hinges made strange echoings throughout the hall. The Prince led his horse into one of the small rooms, then with his hounds he went into the large dining hall, where he lit a fire on the great hearth, and proceeded to cook some venison for supper.

While he was waiting for the meat on the spit to roast, he listened to the rising wind, which moaned about the gloomy old ruin, and rattled the doors and windows unceasingly. The good steed, in the adjoining room, pawed the floor restlessly, and every few moments the hounds stretched their heads straight up into the air, and whined in a most uncanny way.

As he mused before the fire, the Prince thought, “This is All Hallowe’en, the night when ghosts and witches hold their revels. Nevertheless, I’d rather be in this deserted hall than on the storm-swept moorland.”

He took the roasted meat from the fire, and prepared to eat his supper. Suddenly a fierce blast of wind burst open a large door at the far end of the hall, and into the room stalked a tall, ghostly woman. Her lank figure was clothed in grey garments, which trailed for yards on the floor. Her long, grey hair hung loose down her back. By the light of the flickering fire the Prince could see her hollow eyes and wan features. He was a brave man, but this ghostly creature filled him with dread and horror. The hounds dropped their bones of venison, and crept close to their master, who was unable to utter a word.

Slowly down the hall the grey ghost glided to the Prince, and pointing a long, bony finger at him, she asked in a hollow voice, “Art thou a courteous knight?”

In a trembling voice the Prince answered, “I will serve thee. What dost thou wish?”

“Go ye to the moorland, and pluck enough heather to make a bed in the turret-room for me,” said the phantom-like figure.

It was a strange request to make, but the Prince was relieved to have any excuse to get out of her sight. He sprang quickly to his feet, and hurried out to face the stormy night in search of heather. He plucked as much as he could carry in his plaid, and returned to the hall where the ghostly visitor was waiting for him. She led the way down the room, and up a half-ruined staircase to the turret-room. Here the Prince spread a heather bed for her, and covered it with his plaid. When it was finished she pointed to the door, and dismissed him.

“May you sleep well,” said the Prince courteously. Then, cold and weary, he descended to the hall, and lay down to sleep in front of the dying embers of the fire.

When he awakened the bright sun was shining in the windows.

The Prince lost no time in making ready to depart, for he remembered quite well the ghostly visitor of the past night.

“No doubt she departed before the crowing of the cock,” he said. “I wonder if she left my bonnie plaid in the turret room. The autumn air is keen and biting. I’ll go and see.”

He ran quickly up the ruined staircase. To his surprise when he reached the top, the door of the chamber opened, and there before him stood his lost sweetheart.

“How camest thou here?” gasped the Prince. “And where is the grey ghost.”

“Last night I was the grey ghost,” she said.

“And thou wilt change thy form again to-night?” he asked in horror.

“Never again,” said the maiden. “In order to part us a wicked witch threw a spell over me—a spell which changed me into the awful shape thou sawest last night. But thou hast broken her wicked charm.”

“Tell me how,” said the Prince, whose face was beaming with happiness.

“The witch’s charm could not be broken until some knight should serve me, even though my form was horrible. By thy courtesy thou hast broken the spell,” said the maiden.

So the Prince and his true love rode away, and were happily married, and when the king heard of his son’s adventure in the hunting hall he said, “Now I know what that old witch meant by her prophecy.”

Scotch legend.

JACK-O’-LANTERN SONG