Volume 2 — HEROES OF GREAT BRITAIN (continued 2)

Robin was no longer called Robin of Huntingdon, but Robin of Sherwood Forest. Very soon people shortened Sherwood into Hood, though some people say he was called Hood from the green hoods he and his men wore. How he came to have his name does not matter very much. People almost forgot that he was really an earl, and he became known, not only all over England, but in many far countries, as Robin Hood.

Robin was captain of the band of Merry Men. Next to him came Little John. He was called Little John because he was so tall, just as Midge the miller's son was called Much because he was so small.

Robin loved Little John best of all his friends. Little John loved Robin better than any one else in all the world. Yet the first time they met they fought and knocked each other about dreadfully.

It happened on a bright sunshiny day in early spring. All through the winter Robin and his men had had a very dull time. Nearly all their fun and adventures happened with people traveling through the forest. As there were no trains, people had to travel on horseback. In winter the roads were bad, and the weather so cold and wet, that most people stayed at home. So it was rather a quiet time for Robin and his men. They lived in great caves during the winter, and spent their time making stores of bows and arrows, and mending their boots and clothes.

This bright sunshiny morning Robin felt dull and restless, so he took his bow and arrows, and started off through the forest in search of adventure.

He wandered on for some time without meeting any one. Presently he came to a river. It was wide and deep, swollen by the winter rains. It was crossed by a very slender, shaky bridge, so narrow, that if two people tried to pass each other on it, one would certainly fall into the water.

Robin began to cross the bridge, before he noticed that a great, tall man, the very tallest man he had ever seen, was crossing too from the other side.

"Go back and wait until I have come over," he called out as soon as he noticed the stranger.

The stranger laughed, and called out in reply, "I have as good a right to the bridge as you. You can go back till I get across."

This made Robin very angry. He was so accustomed to being obeyed that he was very much astonished too. Between anger and astonishment he hardly knew what he did.

He drew an arrow from his quiver, and fitting it to his bow, called out again, "If you don't go back I'll shoot."

"If you do, I'll beat you till you are black and blue," replied the stranger.

"If I talk like an ass you talk like a coward," replied the stranger. "Do you call it fair to stand with your bow and arrow ready to shoot at me when I have only a stick to defend myself with? I tell you, you are a coward. You are afraid of the beating I would give you."

Robin was not a coward, and he was not afraid. So he threw his bow and arrows on the bank behind him.

"You are a big, boastful bully," he said. "Just wait there until I get a stick. I hope I may give you as good a beating as you deserve."

The stranger laughed. "I won't run away; don't be afraid," he said.

Robin Hood stepped to a thicket of trees and cut himself a good, thick oak stick. While he was doing this, he looked at the stranger, and saw that he was not only taller but much stronger than himself.

However, that did not frighten Robin in the least. He was rather glad of it indeed. The stranger had said he was a coward. He meant to prove to him that he was not.

Back he came with a fine big stick in his hand and a smile on his face. The idea of a real good fight had made his bad temper fly away, for, like King Richard, Robin Hood was rather fond of a fight.

"We will fight on the bridge," said he, "and whoever first falls into the river has lost the battle."

"All right," said the stranger. "Whatever you like. I'm not afraid."

Then they fell to, with right good will.

It was very difficult to fight standing on such a narrow bridge. They kept swaying backwards and forwards trying to keep their balance. With every stroke the bridge bent and trembled beneath them as if it would break. All the same they managed to give each other some tremendous blows. First Robin gave the stranger such a bang that his very bones seemed to ring.

"Aha!" said he, "I'll give you as good as I get," and crack he went at Robin's crown.

Bang, smash, crack, bang, they went at each other. Their blows fell fast and thick as if they had been threshing corn.

When Robin's blows came so fast and furious, the stranger felt he could not stand it much longer. Gathering all his strength, with one mighty blow he sent Robin backwards, right into the river. Head over heels he went, and disappeared under the water.

The stranger very nearly fell in after him. He was so astonished at Robin's sudden disappearance that he could not think for a minute or two where he had vanished to. He knelt down on the bridge, and stared into the water. "Hallo, my good man," he called. "Hallo, where are you?"

He thought he had drowned Robin, and he had not meant to do that. All the same he could not help laughing. Robin had looked so funny as he tumbled into the water.

"I'm here," called Robin, from far down the river. "I'm all right. I'm just swimming with the tide."

The current was very strong and had carried him down the river a good way. He was, however, gradually making for the bank. Soon he caught hold of the overhanging branches of a tree and pulled himself out. The stranger came running to help him too.

"You are not an easy man to beat or to drown either," he said with a laugh, as he helped Robin on to dry land again.

"Well," said Robin, laughing too, "I must own that you are a brave man and a good fighter. It was a fair fight, and you have won the battle. I don't want to quarrel with you any more. Will you shake hands and be friends with me?"

"With all my heart," said the stranger. "It is a long time since I have met any one who could use a stick as you can."

So they shook hands like the best of friends, and quite forgot that a few minutes before they had been banging and battering each other as hard as they could.

Then Robin put his bugle-horn to his mouth, and blew a loud, loud blast.

When the stranger saw all these fine men, dressed in green, and carrying bows and arrows, come running to Robin he was very much astonished. "O master dear, what has happened?" cried Will Stutely, the leader, as he ran up. "You have a great cut in your forehead, and you are soaked through and through," he added, laying his hand on Robin's arm.

"It is nothing," laughed Robin. "This young fellow and I have been having a fight. He cracked my crown and then tumbled me into the river."

When they heard that, Robin's men were very angry. "If he has tumbled our master into the river, we will tumble him in," said they; "we will see how he likes that." And they seized him, and would have dragged him to the water to drown him, but Robin called out, "Stop, stop! it was a fair fight. He is a brave man, and we are very good friends now."

Then turning to the stranger, Robin bowed politely to him, saying, "I beg you to forgive my men. They will not harm you now they know that you are my friend, for I am Robin Hood."

The stranger was very much astonished when he heard that he had actually been fighting with bold Robin Hood, of whom he had heard so many tales.

"If you will come and live with me and my Merry Men," went on Robin, "I will give you a suit of Lincoln green. I will teach you how to use bow and arrows as well as you use your good stick."

"I should like nothing better," replied the stranger. "My name is John Little, and I promise to serve you faithfully."

"John Little!" said Will Stutely laughing. "John Little! what a name for a man that height! John Little! why he is seven feet tall if he is an inch!"

Will laughed and laughed, till the tears ran down his face. He thought it was such a funny name for so big a man.

Robin laughed because Will laughed. Then John Little laughed because Robin laughed. Soon they were all laughing as hard as they could. The wind carried the sound of it away, till the folk in the villages round about said, "Hark! how Robin Hood and his Merry Men do laugh!"

"Well," said Robin at last, "I have heard it said, 'Laugh and grow fat,' but if we don't get some dinner soon I think we will all grow very lean. Come along, my little John, I'm sure you must be hungry too."

"Little John," said Will Stutely, "that's the very name for him. We must christen him again, and I will be his godfather."

Back to their forest home they all went, laughing and talking as merrily as possible, taking John Little along with them. Dinner was waiting for them when they arrived. The head cook was looking anxiously through the trees, saying, "I do wish Master Robin would come, or the roast venison will be too much cooked and the rabbits will be stewed to rags."

Just at that moment they appeared. The cook was struck dumb at the sight of the giant, stalking along beside Robin. "Where has master gotten that Maypole?" he said, laughing to himself, as he ran away to dish the dinner.

They had a very merry dinner. Robin found that John was not only a good fighter but that he had a wise head and a witty tongue. He was more and more delighted with his new companion.

But Will and the others had not forgotten that he was to be christened again. Seven of them came behind him, and in spite of all his kicking and struggling wrapped him up in a long, green cloak, pretending he was a baby.

It was a very noisy christening. The men all shouted and laughed. John Little laughed and screamed in turn, and kicked and struggled all the time.

"Hush, baby, hush," they said. But the seven-foot baby wouldn't hush.

Then Will stepped up beside him and began to speak.

They had some buckets of water ready. These they poured over poor Little John till he was as wet as Robin had been after he fell into the river. The men roared with laughter. Little John looked so funny as he rolled about on the grass, trying to get out of his long, wet, green robe. He looked just like a huge green caterpillar.

Robin laughed as much as any one. At last he said, "Now, Will, don't you think that is enough?"

"Not a bit," said Will. "You wouldn't let us duck him in the river when we had him there so we have brought the river to him."

At last all the buckets were empty, and the christening was over. Then all the men stood round in a ring and gave three cheers for Little John, Robin's new man.

After that they sang, danced and played the whole afternoon. Then when the sun sank and the long, cool shadows fell across the grass they all said "good night" and went off into their caves to sleep.

From that day Little John always lived with Robin. They became very, very great friends and Little John was next to Robin in command of the men.

III

ROBIN HOOD AND THE BUTCHER

The Sheriff of Nottingham hated Robin and would have been very glad if any one had killed him.

The Sheriff was a very unkind man. He treated the poor Saxons very badly. He often took away all their money, and their houses and left them to starve. Sometimes, for a very little fault, he would cut off their ears or fingers. The poor people used to go into the wood, and Robin would give them food and money. Sometimes they went home again, but very often they stayed with him, and became his men.

The Sheriff knew this, so he hated Robin all the more, and he was never so happy as when he had caught one of Robin's men and locked him up in prison.

But try how he might, he could not catch Robin. All the same Robin used to go to Nottingham very often, but he was always so well disguised that the Sheriff never knew him. So he always escaped.

The Sheriff was too much afraid of him to go into the forest to try to take him. He knew his men were no match for Robin's. Robin's men served him and fought for him because they loved him. The Sheriff's men only served him because they feared him.

One day Robin was walking through the forest when he met a butcher.

This butcher was riding gaily along to the market at Nottingham. He was dressed in a blue linen coat, with leather belt. On either side of his strong gray pony hung a basket full of meat.

In these days as there were no trains, everything had to be sent by road. The roads were so bad that even carts could not go along them very much, for the wheels stuck in the mud. Everything was carried on horseback, in sacks or baskets called panniers.

The butcher rode gaily along, whistling as he went. Suddenly Robin stepped from under the trees and stopped him.

"What have you there, my man?" he asked.

"Butcher's meat," replied the man. "Fine prime beef and mutton for Nottingham market. Do you want to buy some?"

"Yes, I do," said Robin. "I'll buy it all and your pony too. How much do you want for it? I should like to go to Nottingham and see what kind of a butcher I will make:"

So the butcher sold his pony and all his meat to Robin. Then Robin changed clothes with him. He put on the butcher's blue clothes and leather belt, and the butcher went off in Robin's suit of Lincoln green, feeling very grand indeed.

Then Robin mounted his pony and off he went to Nottingham to sell his meat at the market.

When he arrived he found the whole town in a bustle. In those days there were very few shops, so every one used to go to market to buy and sell. The country people brought butter and eggs and honey to sell. With the money they got they bought platters and mugs, pots and pans, or whatever they wanted, and took it back to the country with them.

All sorts of people came to buy: fine ladies and poor women, rich knights and gentlemen, and humble workers, every one pushing and crowding together. Robin found it quite difficult to drive his pony through the crowd to the corner of the market-place where the butchers had their stalls.

He got there at last, however, laid out his meat, and began to cry with the best of them.

"Prime meat, ladies. Come and buy. Cheapest meat in all the market, ladies. Come buy, come buy. Twopence a pound, ladies. Twopence a pound. Come buy. Come buy."

"What!" said every one, "beef at twopence a pound! I never heard of such a thing. Why it is generally tenpence."

You see Robin knew nothing at all about selling meat, as he never bought any. He and his men used to live on what they shot in the forest.

When it became known that there was a new butcher, who was selling his meat for twopence a pound, every one came crowding round his stall eager to buy. All the other butchers stood idle until Robin had no more beef and mutton left to sell.

As these butchers had nothing to do, they began to talk among themselves and say, "Who is this man? He has never been here before."

"Do you think he has stolen the meat?"

"Perhaps his father has just died and left him a business."

"Well, his money won't last long at this rate."

"The sooner he loses it all, the better for us. We will never be able to sell anything as long as he comes here giving away beef at twopence a pound."

"It is perfectly ridiculous," said one old man, who seemed to be the chief butcher. "These fifty years have I come and gone to Nottingham market, and I have never seen the like of it—never. He is ruining the trade, that's what he is doing."

They stood at their stalls sulky and cross, while all their customers crowded round Robin.

Shouts of laughter came from his corner, for he was not only selling beef and mutton, but making jokes about it all the time.

"I tell you what," said the old butcher, "it is no use standing here doing nothing. We had better go and talk to him, and find out, if we can, who he is. We must ask him to come and have dinner with us and the Sheriff in the town hall to-day." For on market days the butchers used to have dinner all together in the town hall, after market was over, and the sheriff used to come and have dinner with them.

"Thank you," said Robin, "I should like nothing better. I have had a busy morning and am very hungry and thirsty."

"Come along, then," said the butchers.

The old man led the way with Robin, and the others followed two by two.

As they walked along, the old butcher began asking Robin questions, to try and find out something about him.

"You have not been here before?" he said.

"Have I not?" replied Robin.

"I have not seen you, at least."

"Have you not?"

"You are new to the business?"

"Am I?"

"Well, you seem to be," said the old butcher, getting rather cross.

"Do I?" replied Robin, laughing.

At last they came to the town hall, and though they had talked all the time the old butcher had got nothing out of Robin, and was not a bit the wiser.

The Sheriff's house was close to the town hall, so as dinner was not quite ready all the butchers went to say "How do you do?" to the Sheriff's wife.

She received them very kindly, and was quite interested in Robin when she heard that he was the new butcher who had been selling such wonderfully cheap meat. Robin had such pleasant manners too, that she thought he was a very nice man indeed. She was quite sorry when the Sheriff came and took him away, saying dinner was ready.

"I hope to see you again, kind sir," she said when saying good-by. "Come to see me next time you have meat to sell."

"Thank you, lady, I will not forget your kindness," replied Robin, bowing low.

At dinner the Sheriff sat at one end of the table and the old butcher at the other. Robin, as the greatest stranger, had the place of honor on the Sheriff's right hand.

At first the dinner was very dull. All the butchers were sulky and cross, only Robin was merry. He could not help laughing to himself at the idea of dining with his great enemy the Sheriff of Nottingham. And not only dining with him, but sitting on his right hand, and being treated as an honored guest.

If the Sheriff had only known, poor Robin would very soon have been locked up in a dark dungeon, eating dry bread instead of apple-pie and custard and all the fine things they were having for dinner.

However, Robin was so merry, that very soon the butchers forgot to be cross and sulky. Before the end of dinner all were laughing till their sides ached.

Only the Sheriff was grave and thinking hard. He was a greedy old man, and he was saying to himself, "This silly young fellow evidently does not know the value of things. If he has any cattle I might buy them from him for very little. I could sell them again to the butchers for a good price. In that way I should make a lot of money."

After dinner he took Robin by the arm and led him aside.

"See here, young man," he said, "I like your looks. But you seem new to this business. Now, don't you trust these men," pointing to the butchers. "They are all as ready as can be to cheat you. You take my advice. If you have any cattle to sell, come to me. I'll give you a good price."

"Thank you," said Robin, "it is most kind of you."

The Sheriff nearly danced for joy when he heard that Robin had so many horned cattle for sale. He had quite made up his mind that it would be very easy to cheat this silly young fellow. Already he began to count the money he would make. He was such a greedy old man. But there was a wicked twinkle in Robin's eye.

"Now, young man, when can I see these horned beasts of yours?" asked the Sheriff. "I can't buy a pig in a poke, you know. I must see them first. And the land too, and the land too," he added, rubbing his hands, and jumping about in excitement.

"The sooner the better," said Robin. "I start for home to-morrow morning. If you like to ride with me I will show you the horned beasts and the land too."

"Capital, capital," said the Sheriff. "To-morrow morning then, after breakfast, I go with you. And see here, young man," he added, catching hold of Robin's coat-tails as he was going away, "you won't go and sell to any one else in the meantime? It is a bargain, isn't it?"

"Oh, certainly. I won't even speak of it to any one," replied Robin; and he went away, laughing heartily to himself.

That night the Sheriff went into his counting-house and counted out three hundred pounds in gold. He tied it up in three bags, one hundred pounds in each bag.

"It's a lot of money," he said to himself, "a lot of money. Still, I suppose, I must pay him something for his cattle. But it is a lot of money to part with," and he heaved a big sigh.

He put the gold underneath his pillow in case any one should steal it during the night. Then he went to bed and tried to sleep. But he was too excited; besides the gold under his pillow made it so hard and knobby that it was most uncomfortable.

At last the night passed, and in the morning.

The sun shone and the birds sang as they merrily rode along. When the Sheriff saw that they were taking the road to Sherwood Forest, he began to feel a little nervous.

"There is a bold, bad man in these woods," he said. "He is called Robin Hood. He robs people, he—do you think we will meet him?"

"I am quite sure we won't meet him," replied Robin with a laugh.

"Well, I hope not, I am sure," said the Sheriff. "I never dare to ride through the forest unless I have my soldiers with me. He is a bold, bad man."

Robin only laughed, and they rode on right into the forest.

"Look there," he cried, "look! What do you think of my horned beasts?"

"I think," said the Sheriff, in a trembling voice, "I think I should like to go back to Nottingham."

"What! and not buy any horned cattle? What is the matter with them? Are they not fine and fat? Are they not a beautiful color? Come, come, Sheriff, when you have brought the money for them too."

At the mention of money the Sheriff turned quite pale and clutched hold of his bags. "Young man," he said, "I don't like you at all. I tell you I want to go back to Nottingham. This isn't money I have in my bags, it is only pebble-stones."

"Good morning, Little John," said Robin.

"Good morning, Master Robin," he replied. "What orders have you for to-day?"

"Well, in the first place I hope you have something nice for dinner, because I have brought the Sheriff of Nottingham to dine with us," answered Robin.

"Yes," said Little John, "the cooks are busy already as we thought you might bring some one back with you. But we hardly expected so fine a guest as the Sheriff of Nottingham," he added, making a low bow to him. "I hope he intends to pay honestly."

For that was Robin Hood's way. He always gave a very fine dinner to these naughty men who had stolen money from poor people, and then he made them pay a great deal of money for it.

The Sheriff was very much afraid when he knew that he had really fallen into the hands of Robin Hood. He was angry too when he thought that he had actually had Robin in his own house the day before, and could so easily have caught and put him in prison, if he had only known.

They had a very fine dinner, and the Sheriff began to feel quite comfortable and to think he was going to get off easily, when Robin said, "Now, Master Sheriff, you must pay for your dinner."

"Oh! indeed I am a poor man," said the Sheriff, "I have no money."

"No money! What have you in your saddle-bags, then?" asked Robin.

"Only pebbles, nothing but pebbles, as I told you before," replied the frightened Sheriff.

"Little John, go and search the Sheriff's saddle-bags," said Robin.

Little John did as he was told, and counted out three hundred pounds upon the ground.

"Sheriff," said Robin sternly, "I shall keep all this money and divide it among my men. It is not half as much as you have stolen from them. If you had told me the truth about it, I might have given you some back. But I always punish people who tell lies. You have done so many evil deeds," he went on, "that you deserve to be hanged."

The poor Sheriff shook in his shoes.

"Hanged you should be," continued Robin, "but your good wife was kind to me yesterday. For her sake, I let you go. But if you are not kinder to my people I will not let you off so easily another time." And Robin called for the Sheriff's pony.

GUY OF WARWICK

ADAPTED BY H.E. MARSHALL

I

GUY'S EARLY ADVENTURES AND HIS FIGHT WITH THE DUN COW

Long ago England was divided into several kingdoms, each having a king. In a great battle the King of Northumbria was defeated and one of his lords, Gordian, lost all he owned. He and his wife Brunhilda journeyed forth to seek a new home and at last reached Warwick, where Gordian was made the steward of Lord Rohand.

Not long after Brunhilda and Gordian went to live in Warwick, their little son Guy was born. As he grew older he became a great favorite and was often invited to the castle.

Lord Rohand heard of Guy and asked him to a great dinner at Warwick Castle and afterwards to join in a tournament. To Guy was given a seat quite near the earl and opposite his lovely daughter Phyllis. She was the most beautiful lady in the kingdom and Guy longed to show her how well he could fight. Never did Guy fight so well; he conquered every one of the knights, and won the prize. Phyllis crowned him with roses and put the chain of gold around his neck.

After this Phyllis and Guy were much together and at last Guy said suddenly, "Phyllis, I love thee. I cannot help it." In great anger she sent him away. Guy grew very sad and Phyllis very lonely and at length she sent for Guy and said, "Go away and make thyself famous, then will I marry thee."

Guy rode gaily away and sailed over to Germany. There he heard of a great tournament. Whoever fought best was to marry the Emperor's daughter Blanche, which means white. Besides marrying the Princess, the bravest knight was to receive a pure white horse, two white hounds, and a white falcon. So it was called the White Tournament.

When Guy told the herald that he was the son of Lord Gordian he was admitted. All the lords and ladies looked at him scornfully because he wore plain black armor with nothing painted upon his shield. As he had not worn spurs, he was not yet a knight. Guy entered the lists and met and conquered Prince Philaner, the Emperor's son, Duke Otto, Duke Ranier, and Duke Louvain.

Guy took the prize offered with the exception of the hand of Blanche. "For my fair Phyllis alone I keep my love," he said.

Guy went back to England and heard that a terrible dun-colored cow had appeared in Warwickshire. It was twelve feet high and eighteen feet long. Its horns were thicker than an elephant's tusks curled and twisted. The King said that whoever would kill the Dun Cow should be made a knight and receive a great deal of land and money. Guy went out to meet him and after a fearful encounter was able to deal a deathblow with his battle-axe behind the beast's ear.

Then the King gave the new knight a pair of golden spurs, and Lady Phyllis fastened them on. In memory of Guy's deed one rib of the Dun Cow was hung up at the gate of Coventry and another in the Castle of Warwick.

II

TRAVELS AND DEEDS IN MANY LANDS

Guy next went to France, where he was wounded at a tournament. His enemy, Duke Otto, bribed fifteen villains to lie in wait, take him and cast him into prison. With the help of his friend Heraud, Guy was able to slay them all, but one of the traitor men smote Heraud so hard that he fell to the ground as if dead.

One day news was brought to Guy that Ledgwin of Louvain was shut up in his city of Arrascoun sore beset by the Emperor. Gathering his soldiers and knights together he set out to help his friend and was overjoyed to find Heraud in the guise of a pilgrim sitting by the roadside. Heraud had been nursed back to health by a kind hermit. At once he put on armor and rode forth with Guy to the city of Arrascoun to release Ledgwin. There was a great battle but the Almains who surrounded the city were defeated and the Emperor yielded and forgave Ledgwin.

While in Greece, Guy went out hunting and came upon a most wonderful sight, a conflict between a lion and a dragon. Just when the dragon was about to crush the lion Guy drew his sword, and setting spurs to his horse, sprang upon the dragon. The fight was then between the dragon and Guy. It seemed at first that the dragon would be the victor, but, like a flash, Guy leaped from his horse and plunged his sword deep into the brute's side. For a moment his speckled crest quivered, then all was still.

Guy thought he would have to kill the lion too, but as it came near it licked Guy's feet and fawned upon him, purring softly like a great pussy-cat. When Guy rode back the lion trotted after him and lived with him every day.

Guy had an enemy at court, Morgadour, who hated the brave knight and said, "I cannot kill thee, Guy of Warwick, but I will grieve thee. I will kill thy lion." This he did in secret. The King was angry when the deed was discovered and told Guy to meet him in combat, which he did, and slew Morgadour.

Laden with riches, Guy reached home again, this time to marry the beautiful Phyllis. There was a great and splendid wedding. For fifteen days the feasting and merriment lasted.

For some time Guy and Phyllis lived happily together. Then one sad day Earl Rohand died and Guy became Earl of Warwick.

As the new earl was one day thinking of his past life, it seemed to him that he had caused much bloodshed. Thereupon he decided to go to the Holy Land, and there, at the Sepulcher of our Lord, do penance for his sins. Phyllis begged him to stay; but Guy said, "I must go." So, dressed in pilgrim robes, with staff in hand he set out on his long journey.

One day as he walked he came upon an old man who was sad because the giant Ameraunt was keeping his daughter and fifteen sons in a strong castle. "I am Earl Jonas of Durras," he said, "and I seek Guy of Warwick to help me."

Guy said if the earl would give him meat and drink, weapons and armor, he would see what he could do.

A splendid coat of mail was brought with shield and sword. Guy called to the giant to come forth. "That will I," replied the giant, "and make short work with thee."

Ameraunt stalked forth and the fight began. All day it lasted before Guy with his sword cut the giant's head off.

Taking the keys of the castle, which lay on the ground, he immediately released Earl of Jonas's children and other noble knights and brave ladies.

Putting off his armor, he dressed himself once more in his pilgrim's robe, and with his staff in his hand set out again upon his journey.

III

HOW GUY FOUGHT WITH THE GIANT COLBRAND

For some time after Guy went away Phyllis was very sorrowful. She wept and mourned, and was so sad that she longed to die. At times she even thought of killing herself. She would draw out Guy's great sword, which he had left behind, and think how easy it would be to run it through her heart. But she remembered that the good fairies had promised to send her a little son, and so she made up her mind to live until he came. When the good fairies brought the baby she called him Reinbroun, and he was so pretty and so dear that Phyllis was comforted.

Then, because her lord was far away, and could not attend to his great lands nor to the ruling of his many servants, Phyllis did so for him. She ruled and ordered her household well; she made new roads and rebuilt bridges which had been broken down. She journeyed through all the land, seeing that wrong was made right and evildoers punished. She fed the poor, tended the sick, and comforted those in sorrow, and, besides all this, she built great churches and abbeys.

So year after year passed, but still Guy did not return. All day Phyllis was busy and had no time for grief, but when evening came she would go to pace up and down the path (which to this day is called "Fair Phyllis's Walk") where she and Guy had often walked together. Now as she wandered there alone, the hot, slow tears would come, and she would feel miserable and forsaken.

At last, after many years full of adventures and travel, Guy reached England once more. He was now an old man. His beard was long, his hair had grown white, and in the weather-beaten pilgrim none could recognize the gallant knight and earl, Guy of Warwick.

When Guy landed in England he found the whole country in sore dread. For Anlaf, King of Denmark, had invaded England with a great army. With fire and sword he had wasted the land, sparing neither tower nor town, man, woman, nor child, but destroying all that came in his path. Fight how they might, the English could not drive out the Danes.

Now they were in deep despair, for the enemy lay before the King's city of Winchester. With them was a terrible giant called Colbrand, and Anlaf had sent a message to King Athelstane, as the King who now reigned over all England was called, demanding that he should either find a champion to fight with Colbrand or deliver over his kingdom.

So the King had sent messengers north, south, east, and west, but in all the land no knight could be found who was brave enough to face the awful giant. And now within the great church of Winchester the King with his priests and people knelt, praying God to send a champion.

"Where, then, is Heraud?" asked Guy of the man who told this tale. "Where is Heraud, who never yet forsook man in need?"

"Alas! he has gone far beyond the seas," replied the man, "and so has Guy of Warwick. We know not where they are."

Then Guy took his staff and turned his steps toward Winchester. Coming there, he found the King sitting among his wise men. "I bid you," he was saying to them, "give me some counsel how I may defend my country against the Danes. Is there any knight among you who will fight this giant? Half my kingdom he shall have, and that gladly, if he conquer."

But all the wise men, knights and nobles, stood silent and looked upon the ground.

"Oh, we is me!" then cried the King, "that I rule over such cowards. To what have my English come that I may not find one knight among them bold enough to do battle for his King and country? Oh that Guy of Warwick were here!"

Then through the bright crowd of steel-clad nobles there came a tall old man, dressed in a worn, dark, pilgrim's robe, with bare feet and head, and a staff in his hand.

"My Lord King," he said, "I will fight for thee."

"Thou," said the King in astonishment, "thou seemest more fit to pray than to fight for us."

"Believe me, my Lord King," said Guy, for of course it was he, "this hand has often held a sword, and never yet have I been worsted in fight."

"Then since there is none other," said the King, "fight, and God strengthen thee."

Now Guy was very tall, and no armor could be found anywhere to fit him. "Send to the Countess of Warwick," said Guy at last. "Ask her to lend the earl's weapons and armor for the saving of England."

"That is well thought of," said the King.

So a swift messenger was sent to Warwick Castle, and he presently returned with Guy's armor. He at once put it on, and the people marveled that it should fit him so well, for none knew, or guessed, that the pilgrim was Guy himself.

Guy went then out to meet the giant, and all the people crowded to the walls of Winchester to watch their champion fight.

Colbrand came forth. He was so huge that no horse could carry him, and he wore a whole wagon-load of weapons. His armor was pitch-black except his shield, which was blood-red and had a white owl painted upon it. He was a fearsome sight to look upon, and as he strode along shaking his spear every one trembled for Guy.

It was a terrible and unequal fight. Tall though Guy was, he could reach no higher than the giant's shoulder with his spear, but yet he wounded him again and again.

"I have never fought with any like thee," cried Colbrand. "Yield, and I will ask King Anlaf to make thee a general in the Danish army. Castle and tower shalt thou have, and everything that thou canst desire, if thou but do as I counsel thee."

"Better death than that," replied Guy, and still fought on. At last, taking his battle-axe in both hands, he gave Colbrand such a blow that his sword dropped to the ground. As the giant reeled under the stroke, Guy raised his battle-axe once more.

Seeing their champion fall, the Danes fled to their ships. England was saved.

Then out of the city came all the people with the priests and King in great procession, and singing hymns of praise as they went, they led Guy back.

The King brought Guy to his palace and offered him splendid robes and great rewards, even to the half of the kingdom. But Guy would have none of them. "Give me my pilgrim's dress again," he said. And, in spite of all the King could say, he put off his fine armor and dressed himself again in his dark pilgrim's robe.

"Tell me at least thy name," said the King, "so that the minstrels may sing of thy great deeds, and that in years to come the people may remember and bless thee."

"Bless God, not me," replied Guy. "He it was gave me strength and power against the giant."

"Then if thou wilt not that the people know," said the King, "tell thy name to me alone."

"So be it," said Guy. "Walk with me half a mile out of the city, thou and I alone. Then will I tell thee my name."

So the King in his royal robes, and the pilgrim in his dull, dark gown, passed together out of the city gate. When they had gone half a mile, Guy stood still. "Sire," he said, "thou wouldst know my name. I am Guy of Warwick, thine own knight. Once thou didst love me well, now I am as thou dost see me."

At first the King could hardly believe that this poor man was really the great Earl of Warwick, but when he became sure of it he threw his arms round Guy and kissed him. "Dear friend, we have long mourned for thee as dead," he cried. "Now thou wilt come with me and help me to rule, and I will honor thee above all men."

But Guy would not go back. He made the King promise to tell no man who he was. This he did for the sake of the oath which he had sworn, that he would never again fight for glory but only for a righteous cause. Then once more they kissed, and each turned his own way, the King going sadly back to Winchester.

As he entered the gates the people crowded round him, eager to know who the pilgrim was. But King Athelstane held up his hand. "Peace," he said, "I indeed know, but I may not tell you. Go to your homes, thank God for your deliverance, and pray for him who overcame the giant."

IV

HOW AT LAST GUY WENT HOME

After Guy left the King, he journeyed on towards Warwick. And when he came to the town over which he was lord and master no one knew him. So he mixed with the poor men who came every morning to the castle gates to receive food from the countess.

Guy listened to what those round him said. He heard them praise and bless Phyllis, calling her the best woman that had ever lived, and his heart was glad.

Pale and trembling, Guy bent before his wife, to receive food from her hands. He was so changed that even she did not know him, but she felt very sorry for the poor man who seemed so thin and worn, so she spoke kindly to him and gave him more food than the others, and told him to come every day as long as he lived.

Guy thanked her, and turned slowly away. He remembered that a hermit lived in a cave not far off, and to him he went. But when he reached the cave he found it empty. The hermit had been dead many years.

Guy then made up his mind to live in the cave. Every morning he went to the castle to receive food from Phyllis. But he would only take the simplest things, often eating nothing but bread and drinking water from the spring which flowed near.

Every evening Guy could hear Phyllis as she paced to and fro, for her walk was not far from the hermit's cave. But still some strange enchantment, as it were, held him dumb, and although he still loved her, although he knew that she sorrowed and longed for him to return home, he could not say, "I am here."

At last one day Guy became very ill. He had no longer strength to go to the castle, so calling a passing countryman to him, he gave him a ring. It was the ring which Phyllis had given him, and which he had kept ever with him through all his pilgrimage. "Take this," he said to the countryman, "and carry it to Fair Phyllis, the Countess of Warwick."

But the countryman was afraid. "I have never spoken to a great lady, and I do not know how to address her," he said. "Besides she may be angry with me, and I shall get into trouble if I carry a ring to the earl's wife."

"Do not fear," said Guy, "the countess will not be angry; rather will she reward thee. Tell her to come hastily or I die."

So the countryman took the ring, and, coming to the countess fell upon his knees. "Lady," he said, "a pilgrim who lives yonder in the forest sends thee this ring."

Phyllis took the ring, and, as she looked at it, a strange light came into her eyes. Like one in a dream she passed her hand over her forehead. "It is mine own lord, Sir Guy," she cried, and fell senseless to the ground.

The countryman was much frightened, but her ladies ran to the countess and raised her, and soon she opened her eyes.

"Friend," she said to the countryman, "tell me where is he who gave thee this ring?"

"He is in the hermit's cave," replied the man, "and he bade me to say that thou must hasten ere he die."

Right glad was Phyllis at the thought of seeing Guy again, yet sorrowful lest she should find him dead. So, calling for her mule, she mounted and rode speedily towards the cave, the countryman running before to show the way.

And when they came to the cave Phyllis went in, and kneeling beside Guy, put her arms round him, crying bitterly. "Dear," he said, "weep not, for I go where sorrows end." Then

There was sorrow through all the land when it was known that Guy, the great hero, was dead. He was buried with much pomp and ceremony, the King and Queen, and all the greatest nobles of the land, coming to the funeral. And Phyllis, not caring to live longer, now that she knew that Guy was indeed dead, died too, and they were both buried in the same grave.

Then minstrels sang of Guy's valiant deeds, and of how he had slain giants and dragons, and of how he might have been an emperor and a king over many lands, and how he was ever a gentle and courteous knight.

If you ever go to Warwick you will see, in the castle there, Guy's sword and armor. Wise people will tell you that they never belonged to Guy, but to some other men who lived much later. Well, perhaps they are right.

Then, when you are at Warwick, you must go to Guy's Cliff, which is about a mile and a half away. There, in the chapel, is a statue of Guy, very old and broken.

You will also see there Fair Phyllis's Walk, the spring from which Guy used to drink, still called Guy's Well, and the cave where he lived as a hermit, and where he died.

Upon the walls of the cave is some writing. You will not be able to read it, for it is Saxon, but it means, "Cast out, Thou Christ, from Thy servant this burden."

Did Guy, I wonder, or some other, in days of loneliness and despair, carve these words?

If you ask why Guy did these things—why, when he was happy and had everything he could desire, he threw away that happiness, and wandered out into the world to endure hunger, and weariness, and suffering—or why, when at last he came back and found his beautiful wife waiting and longing for his return, he did not go to her and be happy again, I cannot tell you certainly. But perhaps it may be explained in this way. In those far-off days there was nothing for great men to do but fight. What they had they had won by the sword, and they kept it by the sword. So they went swaggering over the world, fighting and shedding blood, and the more men a knight killed, the more blood he shed, the greater was his fame. It was impossible for a man to live in the world and be at peace with his fellows. So when he desired peace he had to cut himself off from the world and all who lived in it, and go to live like a hermit in some lonely cave, or wander as a pilgrim in desolate places. And so it was with Guy.

WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT

ADAPTED BY ERNEST RHYS

In the reign of the famous King Edward III. there was a little boy called Dick Whittington, whose father and mother died when he was very young, so that he remembered nothing at all about them, and was left a ragged little fellow, running about a country village. As poor Dick was not old enough to work, he was very badly off; he got but little for his dinner, and sometimes nothing at all for his breakfast; for the people who lived in the village were very poor indeed, and could not spare him much more than the parings of potatoes, and now and then a hard crust of bread.

For all this Dick Whittington was a very sharp boy, and was always listening to what everybody talked about. On Sunday he was sure to get near the farmers, as they sat talking on the tombstones in the churchyard, before the parson came; and once a week you might see little Dick leaning against the sign-post of the village alehouse, where people stopped to drink as they came from the next market town; and when the barber's shop door was open, Dick listened to all the news that his customers told one another.

In this manner Dick heard a great many very strange things about the great city called London; for the foolish country people at that time thought that folks in London were all fine gentlemen and ladies; and that there was singing and music there all day long; and that the streets were all paved with gold.

One day a large wagon and eight horses, all with bells at their heads, drove through the village while Dick was standing by the sign-post. He thought that this wagon must be going to the fine town of London; so he took courage, and asked the wagoner to let him walk with him by the side of the wagon. As soon as the wagoner heard that poor Dick had no father or mother, and saw by his ragged clothes that he could not be worse off than he was, he told him he might go if he would, so they set off together.

I could never find out how little Dick contrived to get meat and drink on the road; nor how he could walk so far, for it was a long way; nor what he did at night for a place to lie down to sleep in. Perhaps some good-natured people in the towns that he passed through, when they saw he was a poor little ragged boy, gave him something to eat; and perhaps the wagoner let him get into the wagon at night, and take a nap upon one of the boxes or large parcels in the wagon.

Dick, however, got safe to London, and was in such a hurry to see the fine streets paved all over with gold, that I am afraid he did not even stay to thank the kind wagoner; but ran off as fast as his legs would carry him, through many of the streets, thinking every moment to come to those that were paved with gold; for Dick had seen a guinea three times in his own little village, and remembered what a deal of money it brought in change; so he thought he had nothing to do but to take up some little bits of the pavement, and should then have as much money as he could wish for.

Poor Dick ran till he was tired, and had quite forgot his friend the wagoner; but at last, finding it grow dark, and that every way he turned he saw nothing but dirt instead of gold, he sat down in a dark corner and cried himself to sleep.

Little Dick was all night in the streets; and next morning, being very hungry, he got up and walked about, and asked everybody he met to give him a halfpenny to keep him from starving; but nobody stayed to answer him, and only two or three gave him a halfpenny; so that the poor boy was soon quite weak and faint for the want of victuals.

At last a good-natured looking gentleman saw how hungry he looked. "Why don't you go to work, my lad?" said he to Dick. "That I would, but I do not know how to get any," answered Dick. "If you are willing, come along with me," said the gentleman, and took him to a hay-field, where Dick worked briskly, and lived merrily till the hay was made.

After this he found himself as badly off as before; and being almost starved again, he laid himself down at the door of Mr. Fitzwarren, a rich merchant. Here he was soon seen by the cook, who was an ill-tempered creature, and happened just then to be very busy preparing dinner for her master and mistress; so she called out to poor Dick: "What business have you there, you lazy rogue? there is nothing else but beggars; if you do not take yourself away, we will see how you will like a sousing of some dish-water; I have some here hot enough to make you jump."

Just at that time Mr. Fitzwarren himself came home to dinner; and when he saw a dirty ragged boy lying at the door, he said to him: "Why do you lie there, my boy? You seem old enough to work; I am afraid you are inclined to be lazy."

"No, indeed, sir," said Dick to him, "that is not the case, for I would work with all my heart, but I do not know anybody, and I believe I am very sick for the want of food."

"Poor fellow, get up; let me see what ails you."

Dick now tried to rise, but was obliged to lie down again, being too weak to stand, for he had not eaten any food for three days, and was no longer able to run about and beg a halfpenny of people in the street. So the kind merchant ordered him to be taken into the house, and have a good dinner given him, and be kept to do what dirty work he was able to do for the cook.

Little Dick would have lived very happy in this good family if it had not been for the ill-natured cook, who was finding fault and scolding him from morning to night, and besides, she was so fond of basting, that when she had no meat to baste, she would baste poor Dick's head and shoulders with a broom, or anything else that happened to fall in her way. At last her ill-usage of him was told to Alice, Mr. Fitzwarren's daughter, who told the cook she should be turned away if she did not treat him kinder.

The ill-humor of the cook was now a little amended; but besides this Dick had another hardship to get over. His bed stood in a garret, where there were so many holes in the floor and the walls that every night he was tormented with rats and mice. A gentleman having given Dick a penny for cleaning his shoes, he thought he would buy a cat with it. The next day he saw a girl with a cat, and asked her if she would let him have it for a penny. The girl said she would, and at the same time told him the cat was an excellent mouser.

Dick hid his cat in the garret, and always took care to carry a part of his dinner to her; and in a short time he had no more trouble with the rats and mice, but slept quite sound every night.

Soon after this, his master had a ship ready to sail; and as he thought it right that all his servants should have some chance for good fortune as well as himself, he called them all into the parlor and asked them what they would send out.

They all had something that they were willing to venture except poor Dick, who had neither money nor goods, and therefore could send nothing.

For this reason he did not come into the parlor with the rest; but Miss Alice guessed what was the matter, and ordered him to be called in. She then said she would lay down some money for him, from her own purse; but the father told her this would not do, for it must be something of his own.

When poor Dick heard this, he said he had nothing but a cat which he bought for a penny some time since of a little girl.

"Fetch your cat then, my good boy," said Mr. Fitzwarren, "and let her go."

Dick went upstairs and brought down poor puss, with tears in his eyes, and gave her to the captain; for he said he should now be kept awake again all night by the rats and mice.

All the company laughed at Dick's odd venture; and Miss Alice, who felt pity for the poor boy, gave him some money to buy another cat.

This, and many other marks of kindness shown him by Miss Alice made the ill-tempered cook jealous of poor Dick, and she began to use him more cruelly than ever, and always made game of him for sending his cat to sea. She asked him if he thought his cat would sell for as much money as would buy a stick to beat him.

At last poor Dick could not bear this usage any longer, and he thought he would run away from his place; so he packed up his few things, and started very early in the morning, on All-hallow's, which is the first of November. He walked as far as Holloway; and there sat down on a stone, which to this day is called Whittington's stone, and began to think to himself which road he should take as he went onwards.

While he was thinking what he should do, the bells of Bow Church, which at that time had only six, began to ring, and he fancied their sound seemed to say to him:

"Lord Mayor of London!" said he to himself. "Why, to be sure, I would put up with almost anything now, to be Lord Mayor of London, and ride in a fine coach, when I grow to be a man! Well, I will go back, and think nothing of the cuffing and scolding of the old cook, if I am to be Lord Mayor of London at last."

Dick went back, and was lucky enough to get into the house, and set about his work, before the old cook came downstairs.

The ship, with the cat on board, was a long time at sea; and was at last driven by the winds on a part of the coast of Barbary, where the only people were the Moors, that the English had never known before.

The people then came in great numbers to see the sailors, who were of different color to themselves, and treated them very civilly; and, when they became better acquainted, were very eager to buy the fine things that the ship was loaded with.

When the captain saw this, he sent patterns of the best things he had to the King of the country; who was so much pleased with them, that he sent for the captain to the palace. Here they were placed, as it is the custom of the country, on rich carpets marked with gold and silver flowers. The King and Queen were seated at the upper end of the room; and a number of dishes were brought in for dinner. They had not sat long, when a vast number of rats and mice rushed in, helping themselves from almost every dish. The captain wondered at this, and asked if these vermin were not very unpleasant.

"Oh, yes," said they, "very destructive; and the King would give half his treasure to be freed of them, for they not only destroy his dinner, as you see, but they assault him in his chamber and even in bed, so that he is obliged to be watched while he is sleeping for fear of them."

The captain jumped for joy; he remembered poor Whittington and his cat, and told the King he had a creature on board the ship that would despatch all these vermin immediately. The King's heart heaved so high at the joy which this news gave him that his turban dropped off his head. "Bring this creature to me," says he; "vermin are dreadful in a court, and if she will perform what you say, I will load your ship with gold and jewels in exchange for her." The captain, who knew his business, took this opportunity to set forth the merits of Mrs Puss. He told his majesty that it would be inconvenient to part with her, as, when she was gone, the rats and mice might destroy the goods in the ship—but to oblige his Majesty he would fetch her. "Run, run!" said the Queen; "I am impatient to see the dear creature."

Away went the captain to the ship, while another dinner was got ready. He put puss under his arm, and arrived at the place soon enough to see the table full of rats.

When the cat saw them, she did not wait for bidding, but jumped out of the captain's arms, and in a few minutes laid almost all the rats and mice dead at her feet. The rest of them in their fright scampered away to their holes.

The King and Queen were quite charmed to get so easily rid of such plagues, and desired that the creature who had done them so great a kindness might be brought to them for inspection. Upon which the captain called: "Pussy, pussy, pussy!" and she came to him. He then presented her to the queen, who started back, and was afraid to touch a creature who had made such a havoc among the rats and mice. However, when the captain stroked the cat and called: "Pussy, pussy," the Queen also touched her and cried "Putty, putty," for she had not learned English. He then put her down on the queen's lap, where she, purring, played with her Majesty's hand, and then sung herself to sleep.

The King, having seen the exploits of Mrs. Puss, and being informed that her kittens would stock the whole country, bargained with the captain for the whole ship's cargo, and then gave him ten times as much for the cat as all the rest amounted to.

The captain then took leave of the royal party, and set sail with a fair wind for England, and after a happy voyage arrived safe in London.

One morning Mr. Fitzwarren had just come to his counting-house and seated himself at the desk, when somebody came tap, tap, at the door. "Who's there?" said Mr. Fitzwarren. "A friend," answered the other; "I come to bring you good news of your ship Unicorn." The merchant, bustling up instantly, opened the door, and who should be seen waiting but the captain and factor, with a cabinet of jewels, and a bill of lading, for which the merchant lifted up his eyes and thanked heaven for sending him such a prosperous voyage.

They then told the story of the cat, and showed the rich present that the king and queen had sent for her to poor Dick. As soon as the merchant heard this, he called out to his servants,

Mr. Fitzwarren now showed himself to be a good man; for when some of his servants said so great a treasure was too much for Dick, he answered: "God forbid I should deprive him of the value of a single penny."

He then sent for Dick, who at that time was scouring pots for the cook, and was quite dirty.

Mr. Fitzwarren ordered a chair to be set for him, and so he began to think they were making game of him, at the same time begging them not to play tricks with a poor simple boy, but to let him go down again, if they pleased, to his work.

"Indeed, Mr. Whittington," said the merchant, "we are all quite in earnest with you, and I most heartily rejoice in the news these gentlemen have brought you; for the captain has sold your cat to the King of Barbary, and brought you in return for her more riches than I possess in the whole world; and I wish you may long enjoy them!"

Mr. Fitzwarren then told the men to open the great treasure they had brought with him; and said: "Mr. Whittington has nothing to do but to put it in some place of safety."

Poor Dick hardly knew how to behave himself for joy. He begged his master to take what part of it he pleased, since he owed it all to his kindness. "No, no," answered Mr. Fitzwarren, "this is all your own; and I have no doubt but you will use it well."

Dick next asked his mistress, and then Miss Alice, to accept a part of his good fortune; but they would not, and at the same time told him they felt great joy at his good success. But this poor fellow was too kind-hearted to keep it all to himself; so he made a present to the captain, the mate, and the rest of Mr. Fitzwarren's servants; and even to the ill-natured old cook.

After this Mr. Fitzwarren advised him to send for a proper tradesman and get himself dressed like a gentleman; and told him he was welcome to live in his house till he could provide himself with a better.

When Whittington's face was washed, his hair curled, his hat cocked, and he was dressed in a nice suit of clothes, he was as handsome and genteel as any young man who visited at Mr. Fitzwarren's; so that Miss Alice, who had once been so kind to him, and thought of him with pity, now looked upon him as fit to be her sweetheart; and the more so, no doubt, because Whittington was now always thinking what he could do to oblige her, and making her the prettiest presents that could be.

Mr. Fitzwarren soon saw their love for each other, and proposed to join them in marriage; and to this they both readily agreed. A day for the wedding was soon fixed; and they were attended to church by the Lord Mayor, the court aldermen, the sheriffs, and a great number of the richest merchants in London, whom they afterwards treated with a very rich feast.

History tells us that Mr. Whittington and his lady lived in great splendor, and were very happy. They had several children. He was Sheriff of London, also Mayor, and received the honor of knighthood by Henry V.

The figure of Sir Richard Whittington with his cat in his arms, carved in stone, was to be seen till the year 1780 over the archway of the old prison of Newgate, that stood across Newgate Street.

TOM HICKATHRIFT

ADAPTED BY ERNEST RHYS

Long before William the Conqueror, there dwelt a man in the Isle of Ely, named Thomas Hickathrift, a poor laboring man, but so strong that he was able to do in one day the ordinary work of two. He had an only son, whom he christened Thomas, after his own name. The old man put his son to good learning, but he would take none, for he was none of the wisest, but something soft, and had no docility at all in him. God calling this good man, the father, to his rest, his mother, being tender of him, kept him by her hard labor as well as she could; but this was no easy matter, for Tom would sit all day in the chimney-corner, instead of doing anything to help her, and although at the time we were speaking of he was only ten years old, he would eat more than four or five ordinary men, and was five feet and a half in height, and two feet and a half broad. His hand was more like a shoulder of mutton than a boy's hand, and he was altogether like a little monster; but yet his great strength was not known.

Tom's strength came to be known in this manner: his mother, it seems, as well as himself, for they lived in the days of merry old England, slept upon straw. Now, being a tidy old creature, she must every now and then have a new bed, and one day having been promised a bottle of straw by a neighboring farmer, after much begging she got her son to fetch it. Tom, however, made her borrow a cart-rope first, before he would budge a step, without saying what he wanted it for; but the poor woman, too glad to gain his help upon any terms, let him have it at once. Tom, swinging the rope round his shoulder went to the farmer's, and found him with two men threshing in a barn. Having told what he wanted, the farmer said he might take as much straw as he could carry. Tom at once took him at his word, and, placing the rope in a right position, rapidly made up a bundle containing at least a cartload, the men jeering at him all the while. Their merriment, however, did not last long, for Tom flung the enormous bundle over his shoulders, and walked away with it without any difficulty, and left them all gaping after him.

After this exploit Tom was no longer allowed to be idle. Every one tried to secure his services, and we are told many tales of his mighty strength. On one occasion, having been offered as great a bundle of fire wood as he could carry, he marched off with one of the largest trees in the forest. Tom was also extremely fond of attending fairs; and in cudgeling, wrestling, or throwing the hammer, there was no one who could compete with him. He thought nothing of flinging a huge hammer into the middle of a river a mile off, and, in fact, performed such extraordinary feats, that the folk began to have a fear of him.

At length a brewer at Lynn, who required a strong lusty fellow to carry his beer to the Marsh and to Wisbeach, after much persuasion, and promising him a new suit of clothes and as much as he liked to eat and drink, secured Tom for his business. The distance he daily traveled with the beer was upwards of twenty miles, for although there was a shorter cut through the Marsh, no one durst go that way for fear of a monstrous giant, who was lord of a portion of the district, and who killed or made slaves of every one he could lay his hands upon.

Now, in the course of time, Tom was thoroughly tired of going such a roundabout way, and without telling his plans to any one, he resolved to pass through the giant's domain, or lose his life in the attempt. This was a bold undertaking, but good living had so increased Tom's strength and courage, that venturesome as he was before, his hardiness was so much increased that he would have faced a still greater danger. He accordingly drove his cart in the forbidden direction, flinging the gates wide open, as if for the purpose of making his daring more plain to be seen.

At length he was espied by the giant, who was in a rage at his boldness, but consoled himself by thinking that Tom and the beer would soon become his prey. "Sir," said the monster, "who gave you permission to come this way? Do you not know how I make all stand in fear of me? and you, like an impudent rogue, must come and fling my gates open at your pleasure! Are you careless of your life? Do not you care what you do? But I will make you an example for all rogues under the sun! Dost thou not see how many thousand heads hang upon yonder tree—heads of those who have offended against my laws? But thy head shall hang higher than all the rest for an example!" But Tom made him answer: "You shall not find me to be one of them." "No!" said the giant, in astonishment and indignation; "and what a fool you must be if you come to fight with such a one as I am, and bring never a weapon to defend yourself!" Quoth Tom, "I have a weapon here that will make you know you are a traitorous rogue." This speech highly incensed the giant, who immediately ran to his cave for his club, intending to dash out Tom's brains at one blow. Tom was now much distressed for a weapon, as by some chance he had forgot one, and he began to reflect how very little his whip would help him against a monster twelve feet in height and six feet round the waist. But while the giant was gone for his club, Tom bethought himself, and turning his cart upside down, adroitly took out the axletree, which would serve him for a staff, and removing a wheel, fitted it to his arm instead of a shield—very good weapons indeed in time of trouble, and worthy of Tom's wit. When the monster returned with his club, he was amazed to see the weapons with which Tom had armed himself; but uttering a word of defiance, he bore down upon the poor fellow with such heavy strokes that it was as much as Tom could do to defend himself with his wheel. Tom, however, at length cut the giant such a blow with the axletree on the side of his head, that he nearly reeled over. "What!" said Tom, "have you drunk of my strong beer already?" This inquiry did not, as we may suppose, mollify the giant, who laid on his blows so sharply and heavily that Tom was obliged to defend himself. By-and-by, not making any impression on the wheel, the giant grew tired, and was obliged to ask Tom if he would let him drink a little, and then he would fight again. "No," said Tom, "my mother did not teach me that wit: who would be fool then?" The end may readily be imagined; Tom having beaten the giant, cut off his head, and entered the cave, which he found completely filled with gold and silver.

The news of this victory rapidly spread throughout the country, for the giant had been a common enemy to the people about. They made bonfires for joy, and showed their respect to Tom by every means in their power. A few days afterwards Tom took possession of the cave and all the giant's treasure. He pulled down the former, and built a magnificent house on the spot; but as for the land stolen by the giant, part of it he gave to the poor for their common, merely keeping enough for himself and his good old mother, Jane Hickathrift.

Tom was now a great man and a hero with all the country folk, so that when any one was in danger or difficulty, it was to Tom Hickathrift he must turn. It chanced that about this time many idle and rebellious persons drew themselves together in and about the Isle of Ely, and set themselves to defy the king and all his men.

By this time, you must know, Tom Hickathrift had secured to himself a trusty friend and comrade, almost his equal in strength and courage, for though he was but a tinker, yet he was a great and lusty one. Now the sheriff of the country came to Tom, under cover of night, full of fear and trembling, and begged his aid and protection against the rebels, "else," said he, "we be all dead men!" Tom, nothing loth, called his friend the tinker, and as soon as it was day, led by the sheriff, they went out armed with their clubs to the place where the rebels were gathered together. When they were got thither, Tom and the tinker marched up to the leaders of the band, and asked them why they were set upon breaking the king's peace. To this they answered loudly, "Our will is our law, and by that alone we will be governed!" "Nay," quoth Tom, "if it be so, these trusty clubs are our weapons, and by them alone you shall be chastised." These words were no sooner uttered than they madly rushed on the throng of men, bearing all before them, and laying twenty or thirty sprawling with every blow. The tinker struck off heads with such violence that they flew like balls for miles about, and when Tom had slain hundreds and so broken his trusty club, he laid hold of a lusty raw-boned miller and made use of him as a weapon till he had quite cleared the field.

If Tom Hickathrift had been a hero before, he was twice a hero now. When the king heard of it all, he sent for him to be knighted, and when he was Sir Thomas Hickathrift nothing would serve him but that he must be married to a great lady of the country.

So married he was, and a fine wedding they had of it. There was a great feast given, to which all the poor widows for miles round were invited, because of Tom's mother, and rich and poor feasted together. Among the poor widows who came was an old woman called Stumbelup, who with much ingratitude stole from the great table a silver tankard. But she had not got safe away before she was caught and the people were so enraged at her wickedness that they nearly hanged her. However, Sir Tom had her rescued, and commanded that she should be drawn on a wheelbarrow through the streets and lanes of Cambridge, holding a placard in her hand on which was written—