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Post by dreamy on Jun 6, 2005 9:02:47 GMT 10
The lad lay down at the side of the king’s daughter, and. he said to her, "If I sleep before the beast comes, rouse me." "What is rousing for thee?" "Rousing for me is to put the ear-ring that is in thine ear in mine." He had not well fallen asleep when the king’s daughter cried, "Rouse! rouse!" but wake he would not; but she took the ear-ring out of her ear, and she put it in the ear of the lad. At once he woke, and to meet the beast he went, but there was Tloopersteich and Tiaperstich, rawceil s’tawcell, spluttering, splashing, raving, and roaring on the beast! They kept on thus for a long time, and about the mouth of night, he cut another head off the beast. He put it on the withy, and he leaped on the black horse, and he betook himself to the herding. The king’s daughter went home with the heads. The General met her, and took the heads from her, and he said to her, that she must tell that it was he who took the head off the beast this time also. "Who else took the head off the beast but thou?" said she. They reached the king’s house with the heads. Then there was joy and gladness. If the king was hopeful the first night, he was now sure that this great hero would save his daughter, and there was no question at all but that the other head would be off the beast on the morrow.
About the same time on the morrow the two went away. The officer hid himself as he usually did. The king’s daughter betook herself to the bank of the loch. The hero of the black horse came, and he lay at her side. She woke the lad, and put another ear-ring in his other ear; and at the beast he went. But if rawceil and toiceil, roaring and raving, were on the beast on the days that were passed, this day she was horrible. But no matter, he took the third head off the beast; and if he did, it was not without a struggle. He drew it through the withy, and she went home with the heads. When they reached the king’s house, all were full of smiles, and the General was to marry the king’s daughter the next day. The wedding was going on, and every one about the castle longing till the priest should come. But when the priest came, she would marry but the one who could take the heads off the withy without cutting the withy. "Who should take the heads off the withy but the man that put the heads on?" said the king.
The General tried them, but he could not loose them; and at last there was no one about the house but had tried to take the heads off the withy, but they could not. The king asked if there were any one else about the house that would try to take the heads off the withy? They said that the herd had not tried them yet. Word went for the herd; and he was not long throwing them hither and thither. "But stop a bit, my lad," said the king’s daughter; "the man that took the heads off the beast, he has my ring and my two ear-rings." The herd put his hand in his pocket, and he threw them on the board. "Thou art my man," said the king’s daughter. The king was not so pleased when he saw that it was a herd who was to marry his daughter, but he ordered that he should be put in a better dress; but his daughter spoke, and she said that he had a dress as fine as any that ever was in his castle; and thus it happened. The herd put on the giant’s golden dress, and they married that same night.
They were now married, and everything going on well. They were one day sauntering by the side of the loch, and there came a beast more wonderfully terrible than the other, and takes him away to the loch without fear, or asking. The king’s daughter was now mournful, tearful, blind-sorrowful for her married man; she was always with her eye on the loch. An old smith met her, and she told how it had befallen her married mate. The smith advised her to spread everything that was finer than another in the very same place where the beast took away her man; and so she did. The beast put up her nose, and she said, "Fine is thy jewellery, king’s daughter." "Finer than that is the jewel that thou tookest from me," said she. "Give me one sight of my man, and thou shalt get any one thing of all these thou seest." The beast brought him up. "Deliver him to me, and thou shalt get all thou seest," said she. The beast did as she said. She threw him alive and whole on the bank of the loch.
A short time after this, when they were walking at the side of the loch, the same beast took away the king’s daughter. Sorrowful was each one that was in the town on this night. Her man was mournful, tearful, wandering down and up about the banks of the loch, by day and night. The old smith met him. The smith told him that there was no way of killing the Uile Bheist but the one way, and this is it—" In the island that is in the midst of the loch is Eillid Chaisfhion—the white-footed hind, of the slenderest legs, and the swiftest step, and though she should be caught, there would spring a hoodie out of her, and though the hoodie should be caught, there would spring a trout out of her, but there is an egg in the mouth of the trout, and the soul of the beast is in the egg, and if the egg breaks, the beast is dead."
Now there was no way of getting to this island, for the beast would sink each boat and raft that would go on the loch. He thought he would try to leap the strait with the black horse, and even so he did. The black horse leaped the strait, and the black dog with one bound after him. He saw the Eillid, and he let the black dog after her, but when the black dog would be on one side of the island, the Eillid would be on the other side. "Oh! good were now the great dog of the carcase of flesh here!" No sooner spoke he the word than the generous dog was at his side; and after the Eillid he took, and the worthies were not long in bringing her to earth. But he no sooner caught her than a hoodie sprang out of her. "Tis now were good the falcon grey, of sharpest eye and swiftest wing!" No sooner said he this than the falcon was after the hoodie, and she was not long putting her to earth; and as the hoodie fell on the bank of the loch, out of her jumps the trout. "Oh, that thou wert by me now, oh otter!" No sooner said than the otter was at his side, and out on the loch she leaped, and brings the trout from the midst of the loch; but no sooner was the otter on shore with the trout than the egg came from his mouth. He sprang and he put his foot on it. ‘Twas then the beast let out a roar, and she said, "Break not the egg, and thou gettest all thou askest." "Deliver to me my wife!" In the wink of an eye she was by his side. When he got hold of her hand in both his hands he let his foot down on the egg, and the beast died.
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Post by dreamy on Jun 6, 2005 9:03:23 GMT 10
The beast was dead now, and now was the sight to be seen. She was horrible to look upon. The three heads were off her doubtless, but if they were, there were heads under and heads over head on her, and eyes, and five hundred feet. But no matter, they left her there, and they went home, and there was delight and smiling in the king’s house that night. And till now he had not told the king how he killed the giants. The king put great honour on him, and he was a great man with the king.
Himself and his wife were walking one day, when he noticed a little castle beside the loch in a wood; he asked his wife who was dwelling in it? She said that no one would be going near that castle, for that no one had yet come back to tell the tale who had gone there.
"The matter must not be so," said he; "this very night I will see who is dwelling in it." "Go not, go not," said she; "there never went man to this castle that returned." "Be that as it pleases," says he. He went; he betakes himself to the castle. When he reached the door, a little flattering crone met him, standing in the door. "All hail and good luck to thee, fisher’s son; ‘tis I myself am pleased to see thee; great is the honour for this kingdom, thy like to be come into it—thy coming in is fame for this little bothy; go in first; honour to the gentles; go on, and take breath." In he went, but as he was going up, she drew the Slachdan druidhach on him, on the back of his head, and at once—there he fell.
On this night there was woe in the king’s castle, and on the morrow there was a wail in the fisher’s house. The tree is seen withering, and the fisher’s middle son said that his brother was dead, and he made a vow and oath that he would go, and that he would know where the corpse of his brother was lying. He put saddle on a black horse, and rode after his black dog (for the three sons of the fisher had a black horse and a black dog); and without going hither or thither he followed on his brother’s step till he reached the king’s house.
This one was so like his elder brother, that the king’s daughter thought it was her own man. He stayed in the castle. They told him how it befell his brother; and to the little castle of the crone go he must—happen hard or soft as it might. To the castle he went; and just as befell the eldest brother, so in each way it befell the middle son, and with one blow of the Slachdan druidhach the crone felled him stretched beside his brother.
On seeing the second tree withering, the fisher’s youngest son said that now his two brothers were dead, and that he must know what death had come on them. On the black horse he went, and he followed the dog as his brothers did, and he hit the king’s house before he stopped. ‘Twas the king who was pleased to see him; but to the black castle (for that was its name) they would not let him go. But to the castle he must go; and so he reached the castle.—" All hail and good luck to thyself, fisher’s son; ‘tis I am pleased to see thee; go in and take breath," said the crone. "In before me, thou crone; I don’t like flattery out of doors; go in and let’s hear thy speech." In went the crone, and when her back was to him he drew his sword and whips her head off; but the sword flew out of his hand. And swift the crone gripped her head with both hands, and puts it on her neck as it was before. The dog sprung on the crone, and she struck the generous dog with the club of magic; and there he lay. But this went not to make the youth more sluggish. To grips with the crone he goes; he got a hold of the Slachdan druidhach, and with one blow on the top of the head, she was on earth in the wink of an eye. He went forward, up a little, and he sees his two brothers lying side by side. He gave a blow to each one with the Slachdan druidhach, and on foot they were, and there was the spoil! Gold and silver, and each thing more precious than another, in the crone’s castle, They came back to the king’s house, and then there was rejoicing! The king was growing old. The eldest son of the fisherman was crowned king, and the pair of brothers stayed a day and a year in the king’s house, and then the two went on their journey home, with the gold and silver of the crone, and each other grand thing which the king gave them; and if they have not died since then, they are alive to this very day.
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Post by smudger on Jun 9, 2005 3:10:24 GMT 10
Dreamy you have put in Folk stories which are enjoyable to read , a couple i knew from my school days .
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Post by dreamy on Jun 9, 2005 3:43:06 GMT 10
So you can still remember times long ago...your school time, I mean ;D...sorry, jk, was a bit nasty, eh? I will add some more because I just love Folktales. They are an important part of cultural heritage, I think.
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Post by dreamy on Jun 9, 2005 17:46:35 GMT 10
Peerieful and the Princess
There was once a King and a Queen who lived in Rousay. The King died and the unfortunate Queen was forced to move to a small house with her three daughters. There they kept a cow and carefully tended a kail (cabbage) yard. It so happened that one morning the eldest daughter noticed that some of the kail from their yard was missing. After informing her mother of this fact, she announced that she would take a blanket out into the yard that night and there await the thief. The queen agreed that this was the best course of action so when darkness fell the girl retired to a corner of the yard, wrapped herself in the warm blanket and waited. Before too long a very large giant stepped into the yard, began cutting the kail and throwing it into the cubbie strapped to his back. The princess was astounded by this sight but nonetheless stepped out and confronted the thieving behemoth. "Why are you taking my mother's kail?" she asked, hands planted firmly on her hips. The giant barely glanced at the girl. "Quiet or I'll take you too!" he snorted before continuing to cut. Before long his cubbie was soon almost filled with kail. "I asked you a question thief!" shouted the girl. "Why are you taking my mother's kail?" The giant snorted again and then, taking the princess by an arm and a leg, threw her over his shoulder into the cubby along with the kail. Then he strode away home with a full basket of kail and a princess. When he arrived home, the giant emptied the kail out onto the floor and out with it fell a bedraggled and bemused girl. Before she had a chance to complain the giant leaned forwards and stared her in the eye. "Here is the work you must do," he said. "You must milk the cow and thereafter put her to the hill called Bloodfield. Then you must take wool, wash it, tease it, card and comb it and then spin it to make me some cloth! Fail to do this and it will be the worse for you my lady!" Whether if was from pure fear or some giant magic I do not know, but when the giant left his house the girl did exactly as she had been bidden. She milked the old cow and led her up the track to the hill of Bloodfield. Then, returning to the giant's hall and feeling a little hungry, she put a pot over the fire and made herself some porridge. As she sat down to eat a bowl, she was amazed to find herself surrounded by a horde of little yellow-headed folk, each one crying out for her to give them some. The princess sneered at the little-folk and said: "Little for one and less for two; never a grain do I have for you." The little folk disappeared and the princess eagerly ate her porridge. Then, when she went to work the wool she found that she could not do it. No matter how hard she tried she could not carry out the giant's task. When the giant returned home he was roused to fury when he discovered that the girl had not carried out his instructions. Roaring with anger, he picked her up and starting from her head, travelling down her back and over her feet, he skinned her and threw her up in the rafters among the hens. Now, back in the Queen's meagre household, all were wondering what calamity had befallen the eldest daughter. It was once again decided that a daughter should watch over the kail yard that night so with her blanket and a small lamp, the next daughter settled down beside the peat stack. To cut a long story short, the same thing happened to the second daughter - the giant strode into the yard and began helping himself to the green kail before throwing the watching daughter into his cubby and heading off home with her. At the giant's hall, the second girl was also instructed to milk the cow, which she did, but once again before preparing the wool she sat down to a bowl of porridge. The little folk appeared yet again, begging a mouthful of porridge, but the unkind daughter would let them have none of her precious meal. As a result she soon discovered that by some magical means she was unable to work the wool. The giant was furious when he returned and picking the girl up tore a strip of skin from her crown right over her head and down her back. With a snarl he hurled her into the rafters beside her sister where the two of them lay, unable to speak or come down. Thus we have a queen with but one daughter - the youngest. This young girl informed her mother that she would take watch that night to see what had befallen her sisters. The queen was reluctant to permit this at first but soon gave in to her daughter's pleas. Night fell. The youngest daughter was well wrapped in her blanket when the giant arrived with his empty cubby and a large knife.
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Post by dreamy on Jun 9, 2005 17:48:00 GMT 10
"Good evening," she said politely. "Now tell me why are you stealing my mother's kail?" The giant ignored her at first so she calmly repeated her question. "Silence." the giant snapped, then, once he had filled his cubby snatched her up by a leg and an arm, hurled her in beside the kail. Some time later, when he had returned to his hall, he released the girl and instructed her in the same manner he had instructed her sisters. The young girl listed carefully to his instruction and nodded meekly. The giant grunted and left the house again. So the youngest sister set to work. She milked the old cow, thereafter leading her up to the rich grasses on the high hills. Returning to the house, hunger gnawed at her stomach, so she decided to make some porridge to warm her belly. No sooner had she spooned the porridge into her bowl than the little yellow-headed folk appeared in droves, each one begging for a sup of her gruel. The young princess smiled at the little folk and told them they could have some but only if they brought something in which to spoon the porridge. Off they scampered, chattering all the while, but were soon back around her feet again, some with broken bowls, others with stones. Some brought one thing, others took another. But in the end they all had some of her porridge. When they had finished eating all but one disappeared. The one remaining was a little, yellow-headed boy who asked the princess whether she had any work. The princess smiled sweetly. "I have plenty of work my little friend, but alas I cannot pay you for it." The little yellow-headed boy simply shrugged. "No matter. All I ask in payment is that you tell me my name." The princess thought that this would surely be an easy enough task and handed the wool over to the little boy. With a giggle the little boy disappeared out the door with the bale of wool. By now dark was falling outside and the girl was disturbed by a loud knock on the main door. Opening the door she was confronted by an old woman. "Pardon the intrusion, young mistress." said the old woman, "but I seek lodgings for the night and wonder if you would be so kind to put up an old, weary wife?" "Would that I could," said the girl, "but this hall is not my own and I can therefore offer nothing in the way of lodging. But here, take this for your journey." She handed the old woman a piece of bread and cheese. The old woman thanked her for her kindness and made to turn to seek shelter elsewhere. "Before you step into the night. Do you have any news of the islands?" said the young girl, anxious to hear how her dear mother fared. "None my dear. No news save that the night looks to be cold." With that the old woman left. Now, outside the giant's hall, a short distance up the hillside there was a knowe. The old woman chanced upon this knowe and settling down within its shelter found it to be very warm and reasonably comfortable. As she settled down for the night, drawing her shawl about her bony shoulders, she heard a voice from within singing merrily: "Tease, Teasers, Tease Card, Carders, Card Spin, Spinners, Spin, for Peerie-fool, Peerie-fool is my name." Looking up, the old woman saw light shining from a crack in the knowe and peering through the hole saw a great many little-folk working feverishly. Some were washing wool, whilst others teased and carded. At the very back of the glistening chamber sat a row of spinners, their spinning-wheels whirring frantically. Running around and between the workers was the little yellow haired boy, all the while singing his merry song. Now the old woman thought that this news might be worth a night's lodging so hastily headed back down the hill in the direction of the giant's hall. She rapped eagerly at the great door and when the princess opened it spilled out a version of the events she had witnessed up the hill. The princess clapped her hands for joy and led the old woman to a warm, dry outhouse where she might spend the night. Then she returned to the hall, all the while repeating the name "Peerie-fool" over and over again.
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Post by dreamy on Jun 9, 2005 17:48:39 GMT 10
The next morning dawned cool and bright. The young girl had just finished stoking the fire when the little yellow-haired boy appeared with all the cloth that had been spun from the wool. "Why thank you for that work my friend.." said the Princess. "You have truly made some beautiful cloth." "Ah, but not so fast" said the little boy, hopping and dancing with glee. "First you must tell me my name!!" The princess feigned a look surprise and then worry. "All right," she said, pretending to be deep in thought. "Your name is 'Tooriebeuy'!" "No" shrieked the little boy, leaping for joy. "Then your name is 'Bobopow'" she ventured… "No..no...no" he yelled, dancing in ecstatic circles on the floor.. "So is your name 'Peerie-fool'?" asked the princess, grinning. Peerie-fool howled in anger before throwing down the cloth and disappearing out the door, the girl's laughter ringing in his ears. On his way home the giant met a great many of these little yellow-headed folk, some of whom had their eyes hanging out on their cheeks, others with their tongues lolling out on their breast. "What is the matter with you folk?" the giant asked. "I shall tell thee what is the matter with me and my kin," said one of the little folk. "We are needing sleep for we've been working so hard at making such fine cloth. The giant laughed heartily, immediately realising how the young princess had got the better of the peedie-folk. "I have a good wife at home" he said to himself. "And if she is safe when I return, never again will she have to do a day's work." As we already know, the girl was perfectly safe, and when the giant arrived home she presented him with many rolls of beautiful cloth. The giant was overjoyed and treated the young princess very kindly. On the next day that the giant ventured out of the house, the young princess found her two sisters in their place in the rafters, amongst the hens. Pulling them down she managed to put the skin on their backs again, and with a few fine stitches they were as good as new. Then instructing her eldest sister, to climb into a caisie, she filled the basket with as much of the giant's finery as she could then topped it up with freshly scythed grass. When the giant returned home, the princess explained to him that she was concerned about her ppor mother and asked if he would take the caisie of grass by the door to her. That way she could at least feed her cow. The giant still pleased with the quantity of cloth the girl had obtained agreed and set off with the caisie on his back. When he returned, she asked him how her mother fared to which the giant replied "fine". "Well that is good although I will send her one more load of grass. It is plainly obvious that the grass in this part of the island is far superior to the short, yellow grass by mother's byre." she said. "As you wish." said the giant. "When will you have this load ready for me?" "Early the morn. But as I will be going up the hill when the sun rises I will leave the filled caisie by the door." The giant looked at the yard upon yard of fine material that lay stacked by the window and agreed without question. The next day, the young princess hid her other sister deep within the caisie before climbing in herself and making sure they were both covered her with freshly shorn grass. When giant awoke from his noisy slumber, he saw the caisie standing by the doorway and remembering the young girl's request the previous evening swung it onto his shoulders and set off. When the giant arrived at the queen's house, he asked where the grass should be dumped. The queen pointed to a spot by the window. Unknown the giant, the queen and her eldest daughter had boiled a quantity of water which they threw over him when he approached the window, killing him instantly. The two sisters tumbled from the caisie and were joyfully reunited with their mother and eldest sister.
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Post by roper on Jun 10, 2005 4:27:35 GMT 10
Dreamy, I just love the tales you tell. Thank you so much for taking the time to post these. Thanks
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Post by dreamy on Jun 10, 2005 21:42:10 GMT 10
The Blacksmith's Wife of Yarrowfoot
SOME years back, the blacksmith of Yarrowfoot had for apprentices two brothers, both steady lads, and, when bound to him, fine healthy fellows. After a few months, however, the younger of the two began to grow pale and lean, lose his appetite, and show other marks of declining health. His brother, much concerned, often questioned him as to what ailed him, but to no purpose. At last, however, the poor lad burst into an agony of tears, and confessed that he was quite worn-out, and should soon be brought to the grave through the ill-usage of his mistress, who was in truth a witch, though none suspected it. "Every night," he sobbed out, "she comes to my bedside, puts a magic bridle on me, and changes me into a horse. Then, seated on my back, she urges me on for many a mile to the wild moors, where she and I know not what other vile creatures hold their hideous feasts. There she keeps me all night, and at early morning I carry her home. She takes off my bridle, and there I am, but so weary I can ill stand. And thus I pass my nights while you are soundly sleeping."
The elder brother at once declared he would take his chance of a night among the witches, so he put the younger one in his own place next the wall, and lay awake himself till the usual time of the witch-woman’s arrival. She came, bridle in hand, and flinging it over the elder brother’s head, up sprang a fine hunting horse. The lady leaped on his back, and started for the trysting-place, which on this occasion, as it chanced, was the cellar of a neighbouring laird.
While she and the rest of the vile crew were regaling themselves with claret and sack, the hunter, who was left in a spare stall of the stable, rubbed and rubbed his head against the wall till he loosened the bridle, and finally got it off on which he recovered his human form. Holding the bridle firmly in his hand, he concealed himself at the back of the stall till his mistress came within reach, when in an instant he flung the magic bridle over her head, and, behold, a fine grey mare! He mounted her and dashed off, riding through hedge and ditch, till, looking down, he perceived she had lost a shoe from one of her forefeet. He took her to the first smithy that was open, had the shoe replaced, and a new one put on the other forefoot, and then rode her up and down a ploughed field till she was nearly worn out. At last he took her home, and pulled the bridle off just in time for her to creep into bed before her husband awoke, and got up for his day’s work.
The honest blacksmith arose, little thinking what had been going on all night; but his wife complained of being very ill, almost dying, and begged him to send for a doctor. He accordingly aroused his apprentices; the elder one went out, and soon returned with one whom he had chanced to meet already abroad. The doctor wished to feel his patient’s pulse, but she resolutely hid her hands, and refused to show them. The village Esculapius was perplexed; but the husband, impatient at her obstinacy, pulled off the bedclothes, and found, to his horror, that horseshoes were tightly nailed to both hands! On further examination, her sides appeared galled with kicks, the same that the apprentice had given her during his ride up and down the ploughed field.
The brothers now came forward, and related all that had passed. On the following day the witch was tried by the magistrates of Selkirk, and condemned to be burned to death on a stone at the Bullsheugh, a sentence which was promptly carried into effect. It is added that the younger apprentice was at last restored to health by eating butter made from the milk of cows fed in kirkyards, a sovereign remedy for consumption brought on through being witchridden.
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Post by dreamy on Jun 15, 2005 4:30:33 GMT 10
The Seal-Catcher's Adventures
THERE was once upon a time a man who lived upon the northern coasts, not far from "Taigh Jan Crot Callow" (John-o'-Groat's House), and he gained his livelihood by catching and killing fish, of all sizes and denominations. He had a particular liking for the killing of those wonderful beasts, half dog and half-fish, called "Roane," or seals, no doubt because he got a long price for their skins, which are not less curious than they are valuable. The truth is, that the most of these animals are neither dogs nor cods, but downright fairies, as this narration will show. It happened one day, as this notable fisher had returned from the prosecution of his calling, that he was called upon by a man who seemed a great stranger, and who said he had been despatched for him by a person who wished to contract for a quantity of seal-skins, and that the fisher must accompany him (the stranger) immediately to see the person who wished to contract for the skins, as it was necessary that he should be served that evening. Happy in the prospect of making a good bargain, and never suspecting any duplicity, he instantly complied. They both mounted a steed belonging to the stranger, and took the road with such velocity that,, although the direction of the wind was towards their backs, yet the fleetness of their movement made it appear as if it had been in their faces. On reaching a stupendous precipice which overhung the sea, his guide told him they had now reached their destination.
"Where is the person you spoke of?" inquired the astonished seal-killer.
"You shall see that presently," replied the guide.
With that they immediately alighted, and, without allowing the seal-killer much time to indulge the frightful suspicions that began to pervade his mind, the stranger seized him with irresistible force, and plunged headlong with him into the sea. After sinking down, down, nobody knows how far, they at length reached a door, which, being open, led them into a range of apartments, filled with inhabitants--not people, but seals, who could nevertheless speak and feel like human folk; and how much was the seal-killer surprised to find that he himself had been unconsciously transformed into the like image. If it were not so, he would probably have died from the want of breath. The nature of the poor fisher's thoughts may be more easily conceived than described.
Looking at the nature of the quarters into which he had landed, all hopes of escape from them appeared wholly chimerical, whilst the degree of comfort and length of life which the barren scene promised him were far from being flattering. The "Roane," who all seemed in very low spirits, appeared to feel for him, and endeavoured to soothe the distress which he evinced by the amplest assurances of personal safety. Involved in sad meditation on his evil f ate, he was quickly roused from his stupor by his guide's producing a huge gully or joctaleg, 1 the object of which he supposed was to put an end to all his earthly cares. Forlorn as was his situation, however, he did not wish to be killed; and, apprehending instant destruction, he fell down, and earnestly implored for mercy. The poor generous animals did not mean him any harm, however much his former conduct deserved it, and he was accordingly desired to pacify himself, and. cease his cries.
"Did you ever see that knife before?" said the stranger to the fisher.
The latter instantly recognised his own knife, which he had that day stuck into a seal, and with which it had escaped, and acknowledged it was formerly his own, for what would be the use of denying it?
"Well," rejoined the guide, "the apparent seal which made away with it is my father, who has lain dangerously ill ever since, and no means can stay his fleeting breath without your aid. I have been obliged to resort to the artifice I have practised to bring you hither, and I trust that my filial duty to my father will readily excuse me."
Having said this, he led into another apartment the trembling seal-killer, who expected every minute to be punished for his own ill-treatment of the father. There he found the identical seal with which he had had the encounter in the morning, suffering most grievously from a tremendous cut in its hind-quarter. The seal-killer was then desired, with his hand, to cicatrise the wound, upon doing which it immediately healed, and the seal arose from its bed in perfect health. Upon this the scene changed from mourning to rejoicing--all was mirth and glee. Very different, however, were the feelings of the unfortunate seal-catcher, who expected no doubt to be metamorphosed into a seal for the remainder of his life. However, his late guide accosting him, said--
"Now, sir, you are at liberty to return to your wife and family, to whom I am about to conduct you; but it. is on this express condition, to which you must bind yourself by a solemn oath--that you will never maim or kill a seal in all your life-time hereafter."
To this condition, hard as it was, he joyfully acceded; and- the oath being administered in all due form, he bade his new acquaintance most heartily and sincerely a long farewell. Taking hold of his guide, they issued from the place, and swam up till they regained the surface of the sea, and, landing at the said stupendous pinnacle, they found their former steed ready for a second canter. The guide breathed upon the fisher, and they became like men. They mounted their horse, and fleet as had been their course towards the precipice, their return from it was doubly swift; and the honest seal-killer was laid down at his own door-cheek, where his guide made him such a present as would have almost reconciled him to another similar expedition--such as rendered his loss of profession, in so far as regarded the seals, a far less intolerable hardship than he had at first considered it.
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Post by dreamy on Jun 20, 2005 16:45:13 GMT 10
The Black Bull of Norroway
In Norroway, long ago, there lived a lady, and she had three daughters. The eldest of them said to her mother: "Mother, bake me an bannock [oatcake], and roast me a portion, for I'm going away to seek my fortune."
Her mother did so, while her daughter went to an old fortune-teller and asked her what she should do. The fortune-teller told her to look out of the back door to see what she could see.
She saw nothing the first day, and she saw nothing the second day. But on the third day she looked out again and saw a coach and six coming along the road. She ran in and told the fortune-teller.
"Well," said the old wife, "that's for you."
So she stepped into the coach, and off she went.
The second daughter then said to her mother:
"Mother, bake me an bannock, and roast me a portion, for I'm going away to seek my fortune."
Her mother did so, and away she went to the old fortune-teller, just as her sister had done. The fortune-teller told her to look out of the back door to see what she could see. She saw nothing the first day, and she saw nothing the second day, but on the third day she looked out and saw a coach and four coming along the road.
"That's for you," said the old wife. The lass was taken into the coach and off they went. Then the third daughter went to her mother, and said:
"Mother, bake me an bannock, and roast me a portion, for I'm going away to seek my fortune."
Her mother did so, and away she went to the old fortune-teller, who told her to look out of the back door to see what she could see.
She saw nothing the first day, and she saw nothing the second day. But on the third day she looked again, and came back and told the old wife she could see nothing but a great Black Bull coming roaring along the road.
"Well," said the old wife, "that's for you."
When she heard this the poor lass was almost out of her mind with grief and terror. But she was lifted up, set on the Black Bull's back, and away they went.
Long they travelled, and on they travelled, till the lass grew faint with hunger.
"Eat out of my right ear," said the Black Bull, "drink out of my left ear, and set aside your leavings."
She did as he said, and was refreshed.
Long they travelled, and hard they travelled, till they came in sight of a castle.
"That is where we must be this night," said the Bull, "for my brother lives there."
Soon they reached the castle. Servants lifted the lass off the Bull's back, took her in, and sent him into a field for the night.
In the morning, when they brought the Bull to the castle, they took the lass into a fine room and gave her an apple. They told her not to break it open till she was in the greatest danger a mortal could be in, then it would help her.
Again she was lifted on to the Bull's back, and after they had ridden far, and far, and farther than I can tell, they came in sight of another castle, farther away than the last.
"That is where we must be this night," said the Bull, "for my second brother lives there."
Soon they reached the castle. Servants lifted her down, took her in, and sent the Bull to a field for the night.
In the morning, the lass was taken into a fine rich room and given a pear. They told her not to break open the pear until she was in the greatest difficulty a mortal could be in, and then it would help her.
Once more she was lifted up and set on the Bull's back, and away they went. Long they rode, and hard they rode, till they came in sight of the grandest castle they had yet seen.
"That is where we must be tonight," said the Bull, "for my youngest brother lives there."
They were there directly. Servants lifted her down, took her in and sent the Bull to a field for the night.
In the morning the lass was taken into the finest room of all, and given a plum. She was told not to break it open until she was in the greatest danger a mortal could be in, and then it would help her. After that, she was set on the Bull's back, and away they went.
Long they rode, and on they rode, till they came to a dark and ugly glen. There they stopped and she alighted. At that moment she noticed a pin sticking in the hide of the Bull. She pulled it out and at once the Bull changed into the most handsome young knight she had ever seen. He thanked her for breaking his cruel enchantment.
"But alas," said he, "you must stick the pin back into my skin, for before I can be finally released from this cruel spell, I must go and fight the devil. While I'm away, you must sit here on this stone and never move either your hands or your feet till I return. If everything about you changes to blue, I'll have won and this spell will be broken for ever, but if everything turns red, the devil will have conquered me and we'll never meet again."
So the maiden did as the knight had told her, and stuck the pin into his skin. At once he changed back into the Black Bull and galloped off. She sat on the stone, and by and by everything around her turned blue. Overcome with joy, she lifted one foot and crossed it over the other.
The Black Bull returned and looked for the lass, but he could not find her.
Long she sat, and wept, until she was wearied. At last she got up and sadly went away, not knowing where she was going. On she wandered till she came to a great hill of glass that she tried to climb, but could not. Round the bottom of the hill she went, looking for a path over the hill, till at last she came to a smithy. The blacksmith promised, if she would serve him for seven years, to make her a pair of iron shoes, and with these she would be able to climb over the glass mountain.
At the end of seven years she was given the iron shoes. She climbed the glass hill, and came to an old washerwoman's cottage. The washerwoman told of a gallant young knight who had given her some blood stained shirts to be washed. He said that she who washed his shirts clean would be his bride.
The old wife had washed and washed until she was tired, and then she had et her daughter to it. They had both washed, and washed, and washed, in hope of winning the young knight: but do what they might, they had not been able to take out a single stain.
So they set the stranger lass to work and, as soon as she began, the stains came out, leaving the shirts clean and white. But the old wife told the knight that her daughter had washed the shirts.
So the young knight and the washer-woman's daughter were to be married. The stranger lass was distracted by the thought of it, for she had recognized the knight at once. It was he she had known as the Black Bull. Then she remembered her apple, and breaking it open, she found it full of precious gold and precious jewelry, the richest she had ever seen.
"All these," she said to the washer-woman's daughter, "I will give you, if you put off your marriage for one day, and allow me to go into his room alone tonight.'
The daughter agreed but told her mother, who prepared a sleeping draught and gave it to the knight. He drank it, and slept until the next morning. All night long the poor lass wept and sang at his bedside:
"Seven long years I served for you, The glassy hill I climbed for you, The blood-stained shirts I washed for you, Will you not waken and turn to me?" But the knight did not waken, and next day she did not know what to do. Then she remembered the pear, so she broke it, and she found it filled with jewelry richer than before. With these she bargained with the washerwoman's daughter to be a second night in the young knight's room. But the old wife gave him another sleeping draught, and he slept till morning. He did not hear the lass as she sat by his side all night and sang:
"Seven long years I served for you, The glassy hill I climbed for you, The blood-stained shirts I washed for you, Will you not waken and turn to me?" Still he slept, and she nearly lost hope. But that day, when he was out hunting, someone asked him what sad singing and moaning it was they had heard all night in his room. He had not heard a sound himself, but he made up his mind to keep awake this night. The poor lass, between hope and despair, broke open her plum and it held the richest jewels of the three. She bargained with the washerwoman's daughter as before, and the old wife took the sleeping draught to the knight. But this time he said he wouldn't drink it without sweetening. While she went to fetch the honey, he poured out the drink, and then pretended he had already drunk it.
That night, when everyone was in bed, the young lass went to the knight's room and sat by his bed and sang:
"Seven long years I served for you, The glassy hill I climbed for you, The blood-stained shirts I washed for you, Will you not waken and turn to me?" The knight heard and turned to her. She told him all that had happened to her, and he told her all that had happened to him. After the washerwoman and her daughter had been punished, the knight and the lass were married and lived happily ever after.
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Post by dreamy on Jun 20, 2005 16:46:56 GMT 10
The Story of the White Pet
THERE was a farmer before now who had a White Pet, and when Christmas was drawing near, he thought that he would kill the White Pet. The White Pet heard that, and he thought he would run away; and that is what he did.
He had not gone far when a bull met him. Said the bull to him, "All hail! White Pet, where art thou going?" "I," said the White Pet, "am going to seek my fortune; they were going to kill me for Christmas, and I thought I had better run away." "It is better for me," said the bull, "to go with thee, for they were going to do the very same with me."
"I am willing," said the White Pet; "the larger the party the better the fun."
They went forward till they fell in with a dog.
"All hail! White Pet," said the dog. "All hail! thou dog." "Where art thou going?" said the dog.
"I am running away, for 1 heard that they were threatening to kill me for Christmas."
"They were going to do the very same to me," said the dog, "and I will go with you." "Come, then," said the White Pet.
They went then, till a cat joined them. "All hail! White Pet," said the cat "All hail! oh cat."
"Where art thou going?" said the cat. "I am going to seek my fortune," said the White Pet, "because they were going to kill me at Christmas."
"They were talking about killing me too," said the cat, "and I had better go with you."
"Come on then," said the White Pet.
Then they went forward till a cock met them. "All I hail! White Pet," said the cock. "All hail to thyself! oh cock," said the White Pet "Where," said the cock, "art thou going?" "I," said the White Pet, "am going away, for they were threatening my death at Christmas."
"They were going to kill me at the very same time," said the cock, "and I will go with you."
"Come, then," said the White Pet.
They went forward till they fell in with a goose. "All hail ! White Pet," said the goose. "All hail to thyself! oh goose," said the White Pet "Where art thou going?" said the goose.
"I," said the White Pet, "am running away, because they were going to kill me at Christmas."
"They were going to do that to me too," said the goose, "and I will go with you."
The party went forward till the night was drawing on them, and they saw a little light far away; and though far off, they were not long getting there. When they reached the house, they said to each other that they would look in at the window to see who was in the house, and they saw thieves counting money; and the White Pet said, "Let every one of us call his own call. I will call my own call; and let the bull call his own call; let the dog call his own call; and the cat her own call; and the cock his own call; and the goose his own call." With that they gave out one shout—GAIRE!
When the thieves heard the shouting that was without, they thought the mischief was there; and they fled out, and they went to a wood that was near them. When the White Pet and his company saw that the house was empty, they went in and they got the money that the thieves had been counting, and they divided it amongst themselves; and then they thought that they would settle to rest. Said the White Pet, "Where wilt thou sleep to-night, oh bull?" "I will sleep," said the bull, "behind the door where I used" (to be). "Where wilt thou sleep thyself, White Pet?" "I will sleep," said the White Pet, "in the middle of the floor where I used" (to be). "Where wilt thou sleep, oh dog?" said the White Pet. "I will sleep beside the fire where I used" (to be), said the dog. "Where wilt thou sleep, oh cat?" "I will sleep," said the cat, "in the candle press, where I like to be." "Where wilt thou sleep, oh cock?" said the White Pet "I," said the cock, "will sleep on the rafters where I used" (to be). "Where wilt thou sleep, oh goose?" "I will sleep," said the goose, "on the midden (dung-heap), where I was accustomed to be."
They were not long settled to rest, when one of the thieves returned to look in to see if he could perceive if any one at all was in the house. All things were still, and he went on forward to the candle press for a candle, that he might kindle to make him a light; but when he put his hand in the box the cat thrust her claws into his hand, but he took a candle with him, and he tried to light it. Then the dog got up, and he stuck his tail into a pot of water that was beside the fire; he shook his tail and put out the candle. Then the thief thought that the mischief was in the house, and he fled; but when he was passing the White Pet, he gave him a blow; before he got past the bull, he gave him a kick; and the cock began to crow; and when he went out, the goose began to belabour him with his wings about the shanks.
He went to the wood where his comrades were, as fast as was in his legs. They asked him how it had gone with him. "It went," said he, "but middling; when I went to the candle press, there was a man in it who thrust ten knives into my hand; and when I went to the fireside to light the candle, there was a big black man lying there, who was sprinkling water on it to put it out; and when I tried to go out, there was a big man in the middle of the floor, who gave me a shove; and another man behind the door who pushed me out; and there was a little brat on the loft calling out CUIR-ANEES-AN-SHAW-AY-S-FONI-MI-HAYN.DA --Send him up here and I’ll do for him; and there was a shoemaker out on the midden, belabouring me about the shanks with his apron."
When the thieves heard that, they did not return to seek their lot of money; and the White Pet and his comrades got it to themselves; and it kept them peaceably as long as they lived.
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