POPULAR RHYMES AND NURSERY TALES.

LATELY PUBLISHED,

Royal 18mo, with 38 Designs by W. B. SCOTT,

Director of the School of Design, Newcastle-on-Tyne,

bound in illuminated cloth, 4s. 6d.

THE NURSERY RHYMES OF ENGLAND,

COLLECTED CHIEFLY FROM ORAL TRADITION.

BY JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL, ESQ.

FOURTH EDITION.

POPULAR RHYMES

AND

NURSERY TALES:

A SEQUEL TO THE

Nursery Rhymes of England.

BY

JAMES ORCHARD HALLIWELL, ESQ.

LONDON: JOHN RUSSELL SMITH,

4, OLD COMPTON STREET, SOHO SQUARE.

MDCCCXLIX.

C. AND J. ADLARD, PRINTERS, BARTHOLOMEW CLOSE.

Tales of my Nursery! shall that still loved spot,

That window corner, ever be forgot,

Where through the woodbine when with upward ray

Gleam'd the last shadow of departing day,

Still did I sit, and with unwearied eye,

Read while I wept, and scarcely paused to sigh!

In that gay drawer, with fairy fictions stored,

When some new tale was added to my hoard,

While o'er each page my eager glance was flung,

'Twas but to learn what female fate was sung;

If no sad maid the castle shut from light,

I heeded not the giant and the knight.

Sweet Cinderella, even before the ball,

How did I love thee—ashes, rags, and all!

What bliss I deem'd it to have stood beside,

On every virgin when thy shoe was tried!

How long'd to see thy shape the slipper suit!

But, dearer than the slipper, loved the foot.

—ANON.

Contents

• [PREFACE.]
• [I.—NURSERY ANTIQUITIES.]
• [II.—FIRESIDE NURSERY STORIES.]
• [III.—GAME-RHYMES.]
• [IV.—ALPHABET RHYMES.]
• [V.—RIDDLE-RHYMES.]
• [VI.—NATURE-SONGS.]
• [VII.—PROVERB-RHYMES.]
• [VIII.—PLACES AND FAMILIES.]
• [IX.—SUPERSTITION-RHYMES.]
• [X.—CUSTOM-RHYMES.]
• [XI.—NURSERY-SONGS.]
• [CONCLUSION.]

[PREFACE.]

It were greatly to be desired that the instructors of our children could be persuaded how much is lost by rejecting the venerable relics of nursery traditional literature, and substituting in their place the present cold, unimaginative,—I had almost said, unnatural,—prosaic good-boy stories. "In the latter case," observes Sir Walter Scott, "their minds are, as it were, put into the stocks, like their feet at the dancing-school, and the moral always consists in good conduct being crowned with success. Truth is, I would not give one tear shed over Little Red Riding Hood for all the benefit to be derived from a hundred histories of Jemmy Goodchild. I think the selfish tendencies will be soon enough acquired in this arithmetical age; and that, to make the higher class of character, our own wild fictions—like our own simple music—will have more effect in awakening the fancy and elevating the disposition, than the colder and more elaborate compositions of modern authors and composers."

Deeply impressed with this truth, and firmly convinced of the "imagination-nourishing" power of the wild and fanciful lore of the old nursery, I have spared no labour in collecting the fragments which have been traditionally preserved in our provinces. The object is not so much to present to the reader a few literary trifles, though even their curiosity and value in several important discussions must not be despised, as to rescue in order to restore; a solemn recompense due from literature for having driven them away; and to recall the memory to early associations, in the hope that they who love such recollections will not suffer the objects of them to disappear with the present generation.

In arranging the materials gathered for this little volume, I have followed, in some respects, the plan adopted by Mr. Robert Chambers, in his elegant work, the Popular Rhymes of Scotland; but our vernacular anthology will be found to contain so much which does not occur in any shape in that of the sister country, that the two collections have not as much similarity as might have been expected. Together, they will eventually contain nearly all that is worth preserving of what may be called the natural literature of Great Britain. Mr. Chambers, indeed, may be said to have already exhausted the subject for his own land in the last edition of his interesting publication, but no systematic attempt has yet been made in the same direction for this country; and although the curiosity and extent of the relics I have been enabled to collect have far exceeded my expectations, I am fully aware how much more can yet be accomplished. An additional number of foreign synonymes could also no doubt be collected; though perhaps more easily by foreigners, for Continental works which contain notices of traditional literature are procured with difficulty in England. The following pages, however, contain sufficient of these to exhibit the striking similarities between rhymes prevalent over England, and others which exist in the North of Europe.

The collection of Nursery Tales is not as extensive as could have been wished, but the difficulty of procuring the brief traditional stories which were current some century since, now for the most part only recollected in obscure districts, is so great, that no apology is necessary for the apparent deficiency of that section. The few which have been obtained are of considerable curiosity and interest; and I would venture to suggest to all readers of these pages the great obligation they would confer by the communication of any additions. Stories of this kind are undoubtedly to be obtained from oral tradition, and perhaps some of literary importance may yet be recovered.

The compiler's best thanks are due to Captain Henry Smith for the very interesting communication of rhymes current in the Isle of Wight; to Mr. George Stephens for several curious fragments, and valuable references to Swedish songs; and to many kind correspondents who have furnished me with rhymes current in the various districts in which they reside. It is only by a large provincial correspondence that a collection of this kind can be rendered complete, and the minutest information on any of our popular tales or rhymes, forwarded to the address given below, would be most thankfully and carefully acknowledged.

BRIXTON HILL, SURREY;

April, 1849.

April, 1849.

POPULAR RHYMES

AND

NURSERY TALES.

[I.—NURSERY ANTIQUITIES.]

Although the names of Scott and Grimm may be enumerated amongst the writers who have acknowledged the ethnological and philosophic value of traditional nursery literature, it is difficult to impress on the public mind the importance of a subject apparently in the last degree trifling and insignificant, or to induce an opinion that the jingles and simple narratives of a garrulous nurse can possess a worth beyond the circle of their own immediate influence.

But they who despise the humbler sources of literary illustration must be content to be told, and hereafter to learn, that traces of the simplest stories and most absurd superstitions are often more effectual in proving the affinity of different races, and determining other literary questions, than a host of grander and more imposing monuments. The history of fiction is continually efficacious in discussions of this kind, and the identities of puerile sayings frequently answer a similar purpose. Both, indeed, are of high value. The humble chap-book is found to be descended not only from medieval romance, but also not unfrequently from the more ancient mythology, whilst some of our simplest nursery-rhymes are chanted to this day by the children of Germany, Denmark, and Sweden, a fact strikingly exhibiting their great antiquity and remote origin.

The subject, however curious and interesting, is far too diffuse to be investigated at any length in a work like the present; and, indeed, the materials are for the most part so scattered and difficult of access, that it would require the research of many years to accomplish the task satisfactorily. I shall, then, content myself with indicating a few of the most striking analogies between the rhymes of foreign countries and those of our own, for this portion of the inquiry has been scarcely alluded to by my predecessors. With regard to the tales, a few notices of their antiquity will be found in the prefaces or notes to the stories themselves, and few readers will require to be informed that Whittington's cat realized his price in India, and that Arlotto related the story long before the Lord Mayor was born; that Jack the Giant-killer is founded on an Edda; or that the slipper of Cinderella finds a parallel in the history of the celebrated Rhodope. To enter into these discussions would be merely to repeat an oft-told tale, and I prefer offering a few notes which will be found to possess a little more novelty.

Of the many who must recollect the nursery jingles of their youth, how few in number are those who have suspected their immense age, or that they were ever more than unmeaning nonsense; far less that their creation belongs to a period before that at which the authentic records of our history commence. Yet there is no exaggeration in such a statement. We find the same trifles which erewhile lulled or amused the English infant, are current in slightly varied forms throughout the North of Europe; we know that they have been sung in the northern countries for centuries, and that there has been no modern outlet for their dissemination across the German Ocean. The most natural inference is to adopt the theory of a Teutonic origin, and thus give to every genuine child-rhyme, found current in England and Sweden, an immense antiquity. There is nothing improbable in the supposition, for the preservation of the relics of primitive literature often bears an inverse ratio to their importance. Thus, for example, a well-known English nursery rhyme tells us,—

There was an old man,

And he had a calf,

And that's half;

He took him out of the stall,

And put him on the wall,

And that's all.

A composition apparently of little interest or curiosity; but Arwidsson, unacquainted with the English rhyme, produces the following as current in Sweden, Svenska Fornsånger, iii. 488, which bears far too striking a similarity to the above to have had a different origin,—

Gubben och gumman hade en kalf,

Och nu är visan half!

Och begge så körde de halfven i vall,

Och nu är visan all!

We could not, perhaps, select a better instance of this kind of similarity in nepial songs as current throughout the great northern states of Europe than the pretty stanza on the ladybird. Variations of this familiar song belong to the vernacular literature of England, Germany, Denmark, and Sweden. The version at present current in the North of England is as follows:

Lady-cow, lady-cow, fly thy way home,

Thy house is on fire, thy children all gone;

All but one that ligs under a stone,

Fly thee home, lady-cow, ere it be gone! [1]

These lines are said by children, when they throw the beautiful little insect into the air, to make it take flight. Two Scottish variations are given by Mr. Chambers, p. 170. In Germany it is called the Virgin Mary's chafer, Marienwürmchen, or the May-chafer, Maikäferchen, or the gold-bird, Guldvogel. In Sweden, gold-hen, gold-cow, or the Virgin Mary's maid. In Denmark, our Lord's hen, or our Lady's hen. We may first mention the German song translated by Taylor as frequently alluded to by writers on this subject. The second verse is the only one preserved in England.

Lady-bird! lady-bird! pretty one! stay!

Come sit on my finger, so happy and gay;

With me shall no mischief betide thee;

No harm would I do thee, no foeman is near,

I only would gaze on thy beauties so dear,

Those beautiful winglets beside thee.

Lady-bird! lady-bird! fly away home;

Thy house is a-fire, thy children will roam!

List! list! to their cry and bewailing!

The pitiless spider is weaving their doom,

Then, lady-bird! lady-bird! fly away home!

Hark! hark! to thy children's bewailing.

Fly back again, back again, lady-bird dear!

Thy neighbours will merrily welcome thee here;

With them shall no perils attend thee!

They'll guard thee so safely from danger or care,

They'll gaze on thy beautiful winglets so fair,

And comfort, and love, and befriend thee!

In Des Knaben Wunderhorn, Arnim und Brentano, 1808, iii. 82, 83, 90, we have three German songs relating to the lady-bird. The first two of these are here given:

Der Guldvogel.

Guldvogel, flieg aus,

Flieg auf die Stangen,

Käsebrode langen;

Mir eins, dir eins,

Alle gute G'sellen eins.

"Gold-bird, get thee gone, fly to thy perch, bring cheese-cakes, one for me, one for thee, and one for all good people."

Maikäferchen, Maikäferchen, fliege weg!

Dein Häusgen brennt,

Dein Mütterchen flennt,

Dein Vater sitzt auf der Schwelle,

Flieg in Himmel aus der Hölle.

"May-bird, May-bird, fly away. Thy house burns, thy mother weeps, thy father stays at his threshold, fly from hell into heaven!"—The third is not so similar to our version. Another German one is given in Kuhn und Schwark, Norddeutsche Sagen, 1848, p. 375:

Maikäferchen, fliege,

Dein Vater ist im Kriege,

Dein Mutter ist in Pommerland,

Pommerland ist abgebrannt!

Maikäferchen, fliege.

"May-bird, fly. Thy father is in the war, thy mother is in Pomerania, Pomerania is burnt! May-bird, fly."—See, also, Erk und Irmer, Die Deutschen Volkslieder, Berlin, 1839, iv. 7, Das Maikäferlied. For the two pretty Swedish songs which follow I am indebted to the MS. of Mr. Stephens. The first is common in the southern parts of that country, the other in the northern.

Guld-höna, guld-ko!

Flyg öster, flyg vester,

Dit du flyger der bor din älskade!

"Gold-hen, gold-cow! fly east, fly west, you will fly where your sweetheart is."

Jungfru Marias Nyckelpiga!

Flyg öster, flyg vester,

Flyg dit der min käresta bor! [2]

"Fly, our holy Virgin's bower-maid! fly east, fly west, fly where my loved-one dwelleth." In Denmark they sing (Thiele, iii. 134):

Fly, fly, our Lord's own hen!

To-morrow the weather fair will be,

And eke the next day too. [3]

Accumulative tales are of very high antiquity. The original of "the House that Jack Built" is well known to be an old Hebrew hymn in Sepher Haggadah. It is also found in Danish, but in a somewhat shorter form; (See Thiele, Danske Folkesagn, II. iii. 146, Der har du det Huus som Jacob bygde;) and the English version is probably very old, as may be inferred from the mention of "the priest all shaven and shorn." A version of the old woman and her sixpence occurs in the same collection, II. iv. 161, Konen och Grisen Fick, the old wife and her piggy Fick,—"There was once upon a time an old woman who had a little pig hight Fick, who would never go home late in the evening. So the old woman said to her stick:

'Stick, beat Fick, I say!

Piggie will not go home to-day!'"

This chant-tale is also common in Sweden. One copy has been printed by N. Lilja in his Violen en Samling Jullekar, Barnsånger och Sagor, i. 20, Gossen och Geten Näppa, the boy and the goat Neppa,—"There was once a yeoman who had a goat called Neppa, but Neppa would never go home from the field. The yeoman was therefore forced to promise his daughter in marriage to whoever could get Neppa home. Many tried their fortune in vain, but at last a sharp boy offered to ward the goat. All the next day he followed Neppa, and when evening came, he said, 'Now will we homeward go?' but Neppa answered, 'Pluck me a tuft or so,'" &c. The story is conducted in an exactly similar manner in which the dénoûement is brought about in the English tale. [4]

The well-known song of "There was a lady lov'd a swine," is found in an unpublished play of the time of Charles I. in the Bodleian Library, MS. Bodl. 30:

There was a lady lov'd a hogge;

Hony, quoth shee,

Woo't thou lie with me to-night?

Ugh, quoth hee.

A similar song is current in Sweden, as we learn from Arwidsson, Svenska Fornsånger, iii. 482, who gives a version in which an old woman, who had no children, took a little foal, which she called Longshanks, and rocked and nursed it as if it had been her own child: [5]

Gumman ville vagga

Och inga barn hade hon;

Då tog hon in

Fölungen sin,

Och lade den i vaggan sin.

Vyssa, vyssa, långskånken min,

Långa ben bar du;

Lefver du till sommaren,

Blir du lik far din.

Another paradoxical song-tale, respecting the old woman who went to market, and had her petticoats cut off at her knees "by a pedlar whose name was Stout," is found in some shape or other in most countries in Europe. A Norwegian version is given by Asbjörnsen og Moe, Norske Folkeeventyr, 1843, and, if I recollect rightly, it is also found in Grimm.

The riddle-rhyme of "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall" is, in one form or other, a favorite throughout Europe. A curious Danish version is given by Thiele, iii. 148:

Lille Trille

Laae paa Hylde;

Lille Trille

Faldt ned af Hylde.

Ingen Mand

I hele Land

Lille Trille curere kan.

Which may be thus translated:

Little Trille

Lay on a shelf:

Little Trille

Thence pitch'd himself:

Not all the men

In our land, I ken,

Can put Little Trille right again.

And Mr. Stephens has preserved two copies in his MS. Swedish collections. The first is from the province of Upland:

Thille Lille

Satt på take';

Thille Lille

Trilla' ner;

Ingen läkare i hela verlden

Thille Lille laga kan.

Thille Lille

On the roof-tree sat;

Thille Lille

Down fell flat;

Never a leech the world can show

That Thille Lille can heal, I trow.

Another from the province of Småland:

Lille Bulle

Trilla' ner å skulle;

Ingen man i detta lan'

Lille Bulle laga kan.

Down on the shed

Lille Bulle rolled;

Never a man in all this land

Lille Bulle helpen can.

It will now only be necessary to refer to the similarities pointed out in other parts of this work, to convince the reader that, at all events, a very fair case is made out for the truth of the positions we have contended for, if, indeed, sufficient evidence of their absolute truth is not adduced. They who are accustomed to researches of this kind, are too well aware of the facility with which the most plausible theories are frequently nullified by subsequent discovery; but there appears in the present case to be numerous conditions insoluble by any other supposition than that of a common origin, and we are therefore fully justified in adopting it as proved.

Turning to the nursery rhymes of our own country, it will tend materially to strengthen the results to which we have arrived, if we succeed in proving their antiquity in this island. We shall be enabled to do so satisfactorily, and to show that they are not the modern nonsense some folks may pronounce them to be. They illustrate the history and manners of the people for centuries. Here, for instance, is a relic in the form of a nursery rhyme, but in reality part of a political song, referring to the rebellious times of Richard the Second. [6]

My father he died, I cannot tell how,

But he left me six horses to drive out my plough!

With a wimmy lo! wommy lo! Jack Straw, blazey-boys!

Wimmy lo! wommy lo! wob, wob, wob!

An infant of the nineteenth century recalling our recollection to Jack Straw and his "blazey-boys!" Far better this than teaching history with notes "suited to the capacity of the youngest." Another refers to Joanna of Castile, who visited the court of Henry the Seventh in 1506:

I had a little nut-tree, nothing would it bear

But a golden nutmeg and a silver pear;

The King of Spain's daughter came to visit me,

And all for the sake of my little nut-tree.

We have distinct evidence that the well-known rhyme, [7]

The King of France went up the hill,

With twenty thousand men:

The King of France came down the hill,

And ne'er went up again—

was composed before 1588, It occurs in an old tract called Pigges Corantoe, 1642, where it is entitled "Old Tarlton's Song," referring to Tarlton the jester, who died in 1588. The following one belongs to the seventeenth century:

As I was going by Charing Cross,

I saw a black man upon a black horse;

They told me it was King Charles the First;

Oh dear, my heart was ready to burst!

Political nursery-rhymes, or rather political rhymes of a jingling character, which, losing their original application, are preserved only in the nursery, were probably common in the seventeenth century. The two just quoted have evidently an historical application. The manuscript miscellanies of the time of James I. and Charles I. contain several copies of literal rhymes not very unlike "A, B, C, tumble-down D." In the reign of Charles II. political pasquinades constantly partook of the genuine nursery character. We may select the following example, of course put into the mouth of that sovereign, preserved in MS. Douce 357, f. 124, in the Bodleian Library:

See-saw, sack-a-day;

Monmouth is a pretie boy,

Richmond is another,

Grafton is my onely joy,

And why should I these three destroy

To please a pious brother?

"What is the rhyme for porringer?" was written on occasion of the marriage of Mary, the daughter of James Duke of York, afterwards James II., with the young Prince of Orange: and the following alludes to William III. and George Prince of Denmark:

William and Mary, George and Anne,

Four such children had never a man:

They put their father to flight and shame,

And call'd their brother a shocking bad name.

Another nursery song on King William is not yet obsolete, but its application is not generally known. My authority is the title of it in MS. Harl. 7316:

As I walk'd by myself,

And talked to myself,

Myself said unto me,

Look to thyself,

Take care of thyself,

For nobody cares for thee.

I answer'd myself,

And said to myself

In the self-same repartee,

Look to thyself,

Or not look to thyself,

The self-same thing will be.

To this class of rhymes I may add the following on Dr. Sacheverel, which was obtained from oral tradition:

Doctor Sacheverel

Did very well,

But Jacky Dawbin

Gave him a warning.

When there are no allusions to guide us, it is only by accident that we can hope to test the history and antiquity of these kind of scraps, but we have no doubt whatever that many of them are centuries old. The following has been traced to the time of Henry VI., a singular doggerel, the joke of which consists in saying it so quickly that it cannot be told whether it is English or gibberish:

In fir tar is,

In oak none is,

In mud eel is,

In clay none is,

Goat eat ivy,

Mare eat oats.

"Multiplication is vexation," a painful reality to schoolboys, was found a few years ago in a manuscript dated 1570; and the memorial lines, "Thirty days hath September," occur in the Return from Parnassus, an old play printed in 1606. Our own reminiscences of such matters, and those of Shakespeare, may thus have been identical! "To market, to market, to buy a plum-bun," is partially quoted in Florio's New World of Words, 1611, in v. 'Abómba.' The old song of the "Carrion Crow sat on an Oak," was discovered by me in MS. Sloane 1489, of the time of Charles I., but under a different form:

Hic, hoc, the carrion crow,

For I have shot something too low:

I have quite missed my mark,

And shot the poor sow to the heart;

Wife, bring treacle in a spoon,

Or else the poor sow's heart will down.

"Sing a song of sixpence" is quoted by Beaumont and Fletcher. "Buz, quoth the blue fly," which is printed in the nursery halfpenny books, belongs to Ben Jonson's Masque of Oberon; the old ditty of "Three Blind Mice" is found in the curious music book entitled Deuteromelia, or the Second Part of Musicke's Melodie, 1609; and the song, "When I was a little girl, I wash'd my mammy's dishes," is given by Aubrey in MS. Lansd. 231. "A swarm of bees in May," is quoted by Miege, 1687. And so on of others, fragments of old catches and popular songs being constantly traced in the apparently unmeaning rhymes of the nursery.

Most of us have heard in time past the school address to a story-teller:

Liar, liar, lick dish,

Turn about the candlestick.

Not very important lines, one would imagine, but they explain a passage in Chettle's play of the Tragedy of Hoffman, or a Revenge for a Father, 4to. Lond, 1631, which would be partially inexplicable without such assistance:

Lor. By heaven! it seemes hee did, but all was vaine;

The flinty rockes had cut his tender scull,

And the rough water wash't away his braine.

Luc. Lyer, lyer, licke dish!

The intention of the last speaker is sufficiently intelligible, but a future editor, anxious to investigate his author minutely, might search in vain for an explanation of licke dish. Another instance [8] of the antiquity of children's rhymes I met with lately at Stratford-on-Avon, in a MS. of the seventeenth century, in the collection of the late Captain James Saunders, where, amongst common-place memoranda on more serious subjects, written about the year 1630, occurred a version of one of our most favorite nursery songs:

I had a little bonny nagg,

His name was Dapple Gray;

And he would bring me to an ale-house

A mile out of my way.

"Three children sliding on the ice" is founded on a metrical tale published at the end of a translation of Ovid de Arte Amandi, 1662. [9] The lines,

There was an old woman

Liv'd under a hill,

And if she ben't gone,

She lives there still—

form part of an old catch, printed in the Academy of Complements, ed. 1714, p. 108. The same volume (p. 140) contains the original words to another catch, which has been corrupted in its passage to the nursery:

There was an old man had three sons,

Had three sons, had three sons;

There was an old man had three sons,

Jeffery, James, and Jack.

Jeffery was hang'd and James was drown'd,

And Jack was lost, that he could not be found,

And the old man fell into a swoon,

For want of a cup of sack!

It is not improbable that Shakespeare, who has alluded so much and so intricately to the vernacular rural literature of his day, has more notices of nursery-rhymes and tales than research has hitherto elicited. I am only acquainted with one reference to the former, "Pillicock sat on Pillicock hill," which is quoted by Edgar in King Lear, iii. 4, and is found in Gammer Gurton's Garland, and in most modern collections of English nursery-rhymes. The secret meaning is not very delicate, nor is it necessary to enter into any explanation on the subject. It may, however, be worthy of remark, that the term pillicock is found in a manuscript (Harl. 913) in the British Museum of the thirteenth century.

English children accompanied their amusements with trivial verses from a very early period, but as it is only by accident that any allusions to them have been made, it is difficult to sustain the fact by many examples. The Nomenclator or Remembrancer of Adrianus Junius, translated by Higins, and edited by Fleming, 8vo. 1585, contains a few notices of this kind; p. 298, "βασιλινδα, the playe called one penie, one penie, come after me; χυτρινδα, the play called selling of peares, or how many plums for a penie; p. 299, χοινοφιλινδα, a kinde of playe called

Clowt, clowt,

To beare about,

or my hen hath layd; ιποστρακισμος, a kind of sport or play with an oister shell or a stone throwne into the water, and making circles yer it sinke, &c.; it is called,

A ducke and a drake,

And a halfe penie cake."

This last notice is particularly curious, for similar verses are used by boys at the present day at the game of water-skimming. The amusement itself is very ancient, and a description of it may be seen in Minucius Felix, Lugd. Bat. 1652, p. 3. There cannot be a doubt but that many of the inexplicable nonsense-rhymes of our nursery belonged to antique recreations, but it is very seldom their original application can be recovered. The well-known doggerel respecting the tailor of Bicester may be mentioned as a remarkable instance of this, for it is one of the most common nursery-rhymes of the present day, and Aubrey, MS. Lansd. 231, writing in the latter part of the seventeenth century, preserved it as part of the formula of a game called leap-candle. "The young girls in and about Oxford have a sport called Leap-Candle, for which they set a candle in the middle of the room in a candlestick, and then draw up their coats into the form of breaches, and dance over the candle back and forth, with these words:

The tailor of Biciter,

He has but one eye,

He cannot cut a pair of green galagaskins,

If he were to die.

This sport in other parts is called Dancing the Candle Rush." It may be necessary to observe that galagaskins were wide loose trousers.

The rhyme of Jack Horner has been stated to be a satire on the Puritanical aversion to Christmas pies and suchlike abominations. It forms part of a metrical chap-book history, founded on the same story as the Friar and the Boy, entitled "The Pleasant History of Jack Horner, containing his witty tricks, and pleasant pranks, which he played from his youth to his riper years: right pleasant and delightful for winter and summer's recreation," embellished with frightful woodcuts, which have not much connexion with the tale. The pleasant history commences as follows:

Jack Horner was a pretty lad,

Near London he did dwell,

His father's heart he made full glad,

His mother lov'd him well.

While little Jack was sweet and young,

If he by chance should cry,

His mother pretty sonnets sung,

With a lul-la-ba-by,

With such a dainty curious tone,

As Jack sat on her knee,

So that, e'er he could go alone,

He sung as well as she.

A pretty boy of curious wit,

All people spoke his praise,

And in the corner would he sit

In Christmas holydays.

When friends they did together meet,

To pass away the time—

Why, little Jack, he sure would eat

His Christmas pie in rhyme.

And said, Jack Horner, in the corner,

Eats good Christmas pie,

And with his thumbs pulls out the plumbs,

And said, Good boy am I!

Here we have an important discovery! Who before suspected that the nursery-rhyme was written by Jack Horner himself?

Few children's rhymes are more common than those relating to Jack Sprat and his wife, "Jack Sprat could eat no fat," &c.; but it is little thought they have been current for two centuries. Such, however, is the fact, and when Howell published his collection of Proverbs in 1659, p. 20, the story related to no less exalted a personage than an archdeacon:

Archdeacon Pratt would eat no fatt,

His wife would eat no lean;

'Twixt Archdeacon Pratt and Joan his wife,

The meat was eat up clean.

On the same page of this collection we find the commencement of the rigmarole, "A man of words and not of deeds," which in the next century was converted into a burlesque song on the battle of Culloden! [10]

Double Dee Double Day,

Set a garden full of seeds;

When the seeds began to grow,

It's like a garden full of snow.

When the snow began to melt,

Like a ship without a belt.

When the ship began to sail,

Like a bird without a tail.

When the bird began to fly,

Like an eagle in the sky.

When the sky began to roar,

Like a lion at the door.

When the door began to crack,

Like a stick laid o'er my back.

When my back began to smart,

Like a penknife in my heart.

When my heart began to bleed,

Like a needleful of thread.

When the thread began to rot,

Like a turnip in the pot.

When the pot began to boil,

Like a bottle full of oil.

When the oil began to settle,

Like our Geordies bloody battle.

The earliest copy of the saying, "A man of words and not of deeds," I have hitherto met with, occurs in MS. Harl. 1927, of the time of James I. Another version, written towards the close of the seventeenth century, but unfitted for publication, is preserved on the last leaf of MS. Harl. 6580.

Many of the metrical nonsense-riddles of the nursery are of considerable antiquity. A collection of conundrums formed early in the seventeenth century by Randle Holmes, the Chester antiquary, and now preserved in MS. Harl. 1962, contains several which have been traditionally remembered up to the present day. Thus we find versions of "Little Nancy Etticoat in a white petticoat," "Two legs sat upon three legs," "As round as an apple," and others. [11]

During the latter portion of the seventeenth century numerous songs and games were introduced which were long remembered in the English nursery. "Questions and Commands" was a common game, played under various systems of representation. One boy would enact king, and the subjects would give burlesque answers, e. g.:

K. King I am!

S. I am your man.

K. What service will you do?

S. The best and worst, and all I can!

A clever writer in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1738, says this was played during the Commonwealth in ridicule of sovereignty! He humorously adds, continually quoting games then current: "During all Oliver's time, the chief diversion was, 'The parson hath lost his fuddling-cap,' which needs no explanation. At the Restoration succeeded love-games, as 'I love my love with an A,' a 'Flower and a lady,' and 'I am a lusty wooer;' changed in the latter end of this reign, as well as all King James II.'s, to 'I am come to torment you.' At the Revolution, when all people recovered their liberty, the children played promiscuously at what game they liked best. The most favorite one, however, was 'Puss in the corner.'" The same writer also mentions the game of "I am a Spanish merchant."

The following nursery-rhyme is quoted in Parkin's Reply to Dr. Stukeley's second number of the Origines Roystonianæ, 4to. 1748, p. 6, but I am not aware that it is still current:—

Peter White will ne'er go right,

And would you know the reason why?

He follows his nose where'er he goes,

And that stands all awry.

The tale of "Old Mother Hubbard" is undoubtedly of some antiquity, were we merely to judge of the rhyme of laughing to coffin in the third verse. [12] "There was an old woman toss'd up in a blanket" is supposed to be the original song of "Lilliburlero, or Old Woman, whither so high?" the tune to which was published in 1678. [13] "Come, drink old ale with me," a nursery catch, with an improper meaning now lost, is found in MS. Harl. 7332, of the seventeenth century. "Round about, round about, magotty-pie," is probably as old, magot-pie being an obsolete term for a magpie. For a similar reason, the antiquity of "Here am I, little Jumping Joan," may be inferred. Jumping Joan was the Cant term for a lady of little reputation. [14] The well-known riddle, "As I was going to St. Ives," occurs in MS. Harl. 7316, of the early part of the last century; and the following extract from Poor Robin's Almanack for 1693, may furnish us with the original of the celebrated ballad on Tom of Islington, though the latter buried his troublesome wife on Sunday: "How one saw a lady on the Saturday, married her on the Sunday, she was brought to bed on the Monday, the child christened on the Tuesday, it died on the Wednesday, was buried on the Thursday, the bride's portion was paid on the Friday, and the bridegroom ran clear away on the Saturday!"

The antiquity of a rhyme is not unfrequently determined by the use of an obsolete expression. Thus it may be safely concluded that the common nursery address to the white moth is no modern composition, from the use of the term dustipoll, a very old nickname for a miller, which has long fallen into disuse:

Millery, millery, dustipoll,

How many sacks have you stole?

Four and twenty and a peck:

Hang the miller up by his neck!

The expression is used by Robin Goodfellow in the old play of Grim, the Collier of Croydon, first printed in 1662, but written considerably before that period:

Now, miller, miller, dustipole,

I'll clapper-claw your jobbernole! [15]

A very curious ballad, written about the year 1720, in the possession of Mr. Crofton Croker, establishes the antiquity of the rhymes of "Jack-a-Dandy," "Boys and girls come out to play," "Tom Tidler's on the Friar's ground," "London bridge is broken down," "Who comes here, a grenadier," and "See, saw, sacradown," besides mentioning others we have before alluded to. The ballad is entitled, "Namby Pamby, or a Panegyric on the New Versification, addressed to A. F., Esq."

Nanty Panty, Jack-a-Dandy,

Stole a piece of sugar-candy,

From the grocer's shoppy shop,

And away did hoppy hop.

In the course of the ballad, the writer thus introduces the titles of the nursery rhymes,—

Namby Pamby's double mild,

Once a man, and twice a child;

To his hanging sleeves restor'd,

Now he fools it like a lord;

Now he pumps his little wits

All by little tiny bits.

Now, methinks, I hear him say,

Boys and girls, come out to play,

Moon do's shine as bright as day:

Now my Namby Pamby's [16] found

Sitting on the Friar's ground,

Picking silver, picking gold,—

Namby Pamby's never old:

Bally-cally they begin,

Namby Pamby still keeps in.

Namby Pamby is no clown—

London Bridge is broken down;

Now he courts the gay ladee,

Dancing o'er the Lady Lee:

Now he sings of Lickspit Liar,

Burning in the brimstone fire;

Lyar, lyar, Lickspit, lick,

Turn about the candlestick.

Now he sings of Jacky Horner,

Sitting in the chimney corner,

Eating of a Christmas pie,

Putting in his thumb, oh! fie!

Putting in, oh! fie, his thumb,

Pulling out, oh! strange, a plumb!

Now he acts the grenadier,

Calling for a pot of beer:

Where's his money? He's forgot—

Get him gone, a drunken sot!

Now on cock-horse does he ride,

And anon on timber stride,

Se and saw, and sack'ry down,

London is a gallant town!

This ballad is a very important illustration of the history of these puerile rhymes, for it establishes the fact that some we might aptly consider modern are at least more than a century old; and who would have thought such nonsense as,

Who comes here?

A grenadier!

What do you want?

A pot of beer!

Where's your money?

I've forgot!

Get you gone,

You drunken sot!

could have descended in all its purity for several generations, even although it really may have a deep meaning and an unexceptionable moral?

Having thus, I trust, shown that the nursery has an archæology, the study of which may eventually lead to important results, the jingles and songs of our childhood are defended from the imputation of exclusive frivolity. We may hope that, henceforth, those who have the opportunity will not consider it a derogatory task to add to these memorials. But they must hasten to the rescue. The antiquities of the people are rapidly disappearing before the spread of education; and before many years have elapsed, they will be lost, or recorded only in the collections of the antiquary, perhaps requiring evidence that they ever existed. This is the latest period at which there is a chance of our arresting their disappearance. If, unfortunately, the most valuable relics of this kind are wholly lost, many, doubtlessly, remain in the remote districts sufficiently curious to reward the collector; and it is to be hoped they will not be allowed to share the fate of Wade and his boat Guingelot.

[II.—FIRESIDE NURSERY STORIES.]

• [TEENY-TINY.]
• [THE STORY OF MR. VINEGAR.]
• [THE STORY OF CHICKEN-LICKEN.]
• [THE MISER AND HIS WIFE.]
• [THE THREE QUESTIONS.]
• [THE CAT AND THE MOUSE.]
• [THE PRINCESS OF CANTERBURY.]
• [LAZY JACK.]
• [THE THREE HEADS OF THE WELL.]
• [THE MAIDEN AND THE FROG.]
• [THE STORY OF MR. FOX.]
• [THE OXFORD STUDENT.]
• [JACK HORNBY.]
• [MALLY DIXON AND KNURRE-MURRE.]
• [THE BULL OF NORROWAY.]
• [PUSS IN BOOTS.]
• [JACK AND THE GIANTS.]
• [TOM HICKATHRIFT.]
• [TOM THUMB.]

The efforts of modern romance are so greatly superior to the best fictions of a former age, that old wives' tales are not so readily tolerated as they were in times past. We question whether any one in these days, save a very grave antiquary, could read two chapters of the Morte Arthure without a yawn. Let us, then, turn to that simpler class of narratives which bears the same relation to novels that rural ballads do to the poem; and ascertain whether the wild interest which, in the primitive tales erewhile taught by nurse, first awakened our imagination, can be so reflected as to render their resuscitation agreeable. We rely a good deal for the success of the experiment on the power of association; for though these inventions may, in their character, be suited to the dawn of intellect, they not infrequently bear the impress of creative fancy, and their imperceptible influence over the mind does not always evaporate at a later age.

Few persons, indeed, there are, even amongst those who affect to be insignificantly touched by the imagination, who can be recalled to the stories and carols that charmed them in their childhood wholly without emotion. An affectation of indifference in such matters is, of course, not unusual, for most thoughts springing from early associations, and those on which so many minds love to dwell, may not be indiscriminately divulged. It is impossible they should be generally appreciated or understood. Most of us, however, are liable to be occasionally touched by allusions breathing of happy days, bearing our memories downward to behold the shadows of joys that have long passed away like a dream. They now serve only "to mellow our occasions," like that "old and antique song" which relieved the passion of the Duke Orsino.

[TEENY-TINY.]

[This simple tale seldom fails to rivet the attention of children, especially if well told. The last two words should be said loudly with a start. It was obtained from oral tradition, and has not, I believe, been printed.]

Once upon a time there was a teeny-tiny woman lived in a teeny-tiny house in a teeny-tiny village. Now, one day this teeny-tiny woman put on her teeny-tiny bonnet, and went out of her teeny-tiny house to take a teeny-tiny walk. And when this teeny-tiny woman had gone a teeny-tiny way, she came to a teeny-tiny gate; so the teeny-tiny woman opened the teeny-tiny gate, and went into a teeny-tiny churchyard. And when this teeny-tiny woman had got into the teeny-tiny churchyard, she saw a teeny-tiny bone on a teeny-tiny grave, and the teeny-tiny woman said to her teeny-tiny self, "This teeny-tiny bone will make me some teeny-tiny soup for my teeny-tiny supper." So the teeny-tiny woman put the teeny-tiny bone into her teeny-tiny pocket, and went home to her teeny-tiny house.

Now when the teeny-tiny woman got home to her teeny-tiny house, she was a teeny-tiny tired; so she went up her teeny-tiny stairs to her teeny-tiny bed, and put the teeny-tiny bone into a teeny-tiny cupboard. And when this teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep a teeny-tiny time, she was awakened by a teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard, which said, "Give me my bone!" And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny frightened, so she hid her teeny-tiny head under the teeny-tiny clothes, and went to sleep again. And when she had been to sleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny voice again cried out from the teeny-tiny cupboard a teeny-tiny louder, "Give me my bone!" This made the teeny-tiny woman a teeny-tiny more frightened, so she hid her teeny-tiny head a teeny-tiny further under the teeny-tiny clothes. And when the teeny-tiny woman had been to sleep again a teeny-tiny time, the teeny-tiny voice from the teeny-tiny cupboard said again a teeny-tiny louder, "Give me my bone!" And this teeny-tiny woman was a teeny-tiny bit more frightened, but she put her teeny-tiny head out of the teeny-tiny clothes, and said in her loudest teeny-tiny voice, "Take it!"

[THE STORY OF MR. VINEGAR.]

[This story was obtained from oral tradition in the West of England. It is undoubtedly a variation of the "Hans im Glück" of Grimm, which is current in Germany.]

Mr. and Mrs. Vinegar lived in a vinegar bottle. Now one day, when Mr. Vinegar was from home, Mrs. Vinegar, who was a very good housewife, was busily sweeping her house, when an unlucky thump of the broom brought the whole house clitter-clatter, clitter-clatter, about her ears. In a paroxysm of grief she rushed forth to meet her husband. On seeing him she exclaimed, "Oh, Mr. Vinegar, Mr. Vinegar, we are ruined, we are ruined: I have knocked the house down, and it is all to pieces!" Mr. Vinegar then said, "My dear, let us see what can be done. Here is the door; I will take it on my back, and we will go forth to seek our fortune." They walked all that day, and at nightfall entered a thick forest. They were both excessively tired, and Mr. Vinegar said, "My love, I will climb up into a tree, drag up the door, and you shall follow." He accordingly did so, and they both stretched their weary limbs on the door, and fell fast asleep. In the middle of the night Mr. Vinegar was disturbed by the sound of voices beneath, and to his inexpressible dismay perceived that a party of thieves were met to divide their booty. "Here, Jack," said one, "here's five pounds for you; here, Bill, here's ten pounds for you; here, Bob, here's three pounds for you." Mr. Vinegar could listen no longer; his terror was so intense that he trembled most violently, and shook down the door on their heads. Away scampered the thieves, but Mr. Vinegar dared not quit his retreat till broad daylight. He then scrambled out of the tree, and went to lift up the door. What did he behold but a number of golden guineas! "Come down, Mrs. Vinegar," he cried, "come down, I say; our fortune's made, our fortune's made! come down, I say." Mrs. Vinegar got down as fast as she could, and saw the money with equal delight. "Now, my dear," said she, "I'll tell you what you shall do. There is a fair at the neighbouring town; you shall take these forty guineas and buy a cow. I can make butter and cheese, which you shall sell at market, and we shall then be able to live very comfortably." Mr. Vinegar joyfully assents, takes the money, and goes off to the fair. When he arrived, he walked up and down, and at length saw a beautiful red cow. It was an excellent milker, and perfect in every respect. Oh! thought Mr. Vinegar, if I had but that cow I should be the happiest man alive; so he offers the forty guineas for the cow, and the owner declaring that, as he was a friend, he'd oblige him, the bargain was made. Proud of his purchase, he drove the cow backwards and forwards to show it. By-and-by he saw a man playing the bagpipes, Tweedle dum, tweedle dee; the children followed him about, and he appeared to be pocketing money on all sides. Well, thought Mr. Vinegar, if I had but that beautiful instrument I should be the happiest man alive—my fortune would be made. So he went up to the man, "Friend," says he, "what a beautiful instrument that is, and what a deal of money you must make." "Why, yes," said the man, "I make a great deal of money, to be sure, and it is a wonderful instrument." "Oh!" cried Mr. Vinegar, "how I should like to possess it!" "Well," said the man, "as you are a friend, I don't much mind parting with it; you shall have it for that red cow." "Done," said the delighted Mr. Vinegar; so the beautiful red cow was given for the bagpipes. He walked up and down with his purchase, but in vain he attempted to play a tune, and instead of pocketing pence, the boys followed him hooting, laughing, and pelting. Poor Mr. Vinegar, his fingers grew very cold, and, heartily ashamed and mortified, he was leaving the town, when he met a man with a fine thick pair of gloves. "Oh, my fingers are so very cold," said Mr. Vinegar to himself; "if I had but those beautiful gloves I should be the happiest man alive." He went up to the man, and said to him, "Friend, you seem to have a capital pair of gloves there." "Yes, truly," cried the man; "and my hands are as warm as possible this cold November day." "Well," said Mr. Vinegar, "I should like to have them." "What will you give?" said the man; "as you are a friend, I don't much mind letting you have them for those bagpipes." "Done," cried Mr. Vinegar. He put on the gloves, and felt perfectly happy as he trudged homewards. At last he grew very tired, when he saw a man coming towards him with a good stout stick in his hand. "Oh," said Mr. Vinegar, "that I had but that stick! I should then be the happiest man alive." He accosted the man—"Friend! what a rare good stick you have got." "Yes," said the man, "I have used it for many a long mile, and a good friend it has been, but if you have a fancy for it, as you are a friend, I don't mind giving it to you for that pair of gloves." Mr. Vinegar's hands were so warm, and his legs so tired, that he gladly exchanged. As he drew near to the wood where he had left his wife, he heard a parrot on a tree calling out his name—"Mr. Vinegar, you foolish man, you blockhead, you simpleton; you went to the fair, and laid out all your money in buying a cow; not content with that, you changed it for bagpipes, on which you could not play, and which were not worth one tenth of the money. You fool, you—you had no sooner got the bagpipes than you changed them for the gloves, which were not worth one quarter of the money; and when you had got the gloves, you changed them for a poor miserable stick; and now for your forty guineas, cow, bagpipes, and gloves, you have nothing to show but that poor miserable stick, which you might have cut in any hedge." On this the bird laughed immoderately, and Mr. Vinegar, falling into a violent rage, threw the stick at its head. The stick lodged in the tree, and he returned to his wife without money, cow, bagpipes, gloves, or stick, and she instantly gave him such a sound cudgelling that she almost broke every bone in his skin.

[THE STORY OF CHICKEN-LICKEN.]

[A shorter and very different version of this is given by Mr. Chambers, p. 211.]

As Chicken-licken went one day to the wood, an acorn fell upon her poor bald pate, and she thought the sky had fallen. So she said she would go and tell the king that the sky had fallen. So chicken-licken turned back, and met Hen-len. "Well, hen-len, where are you going?" And hen-len said, "I'm going to the wood for some meat." And chicken-licken said, "Oh! hen-len, don't go, for I was going, and the sky fell upon my poor bald pate, and I'm going to tell the king." So hen-len turned back with chicken-licken, and met Cock-lock. "Oh! cock-lock, where are you going?" And cock-lock said, "I'm going to the wood for some meat." Then hen-len said, "Oh! cock-lock, don't go, for I was going, and I met chicken-licken, and chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on her poor bald pate, and we are going to tell the king."

So cock-lock turned back, and met Duck-luck. "Well, duck-luck, where are you going?" And duck-luck said, "I'm going to the wood for some meat." Then cock-lock said, "Oh! duck-luck, don't go, for I was going, and I met hen-len, and hen-len met chicken-licken, and chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on her poor bald pate, and we are going to tell the king."

So duck-luck turned back, and met Drake-lake. "Well, drake-lake, where are you going?" And drake-lake said, "I'm going to the wood for some meat." Then duck-luck said, "Oh! drake-lake, don't go, for I was going, and I met cock-lock, and cock-lock met hen-len, and hen-len met chicken-licken, and chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on her poor bald pate, and we are going to tell the king."

So drake-lake turned back, and met Goose-loose. "Well, goose-loose, where are you going?" And goose-loose said, "I'm going to the wood for some meat." Then drake-lake said, "Oh! goose-loose, don't go, for I was going, and I met duck-luck, and duck-luck met cock-lock, and cock-lock met hen-len, and hen-len met chicken-licken, and chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on her poor bald pate, and we are going to tell the king."

So goose-loose turned back, and met Gander-lander. "Well, gander-lander, where are you going?" And gander-lander said, "I'm going to the wood for some meat." Then goose-loose said, "Oh! gander-lander, don't go, for I was going, and I met drake-lake, and drake-lake met duck-luck, and duck-luck met cock-lock, and cock-lock met hen-len, and hen-len met chicken-licken, and chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on her poor bald pate, and we are going to tell the king."

So gander-lander turned back, and met Turkey-lurkey. "Well, turkey-lurkey, where are you going?" And turkey-lurkey said, "I'm going to the wood for some meat." Then gander-lander said, "Oh! turkey-lurkey, don't go, for I was going, and I met goose-loose, and goose-loose met drake-lake, and drake-lake met duck-luck, and duck-luck met cock-lock, and cock-lock met hen-len, and hen-len met chicken-licken, and chicken-licken had been at the wood, and the sky had fallen on her poor bald pate, and we are going to tell the king."

So turkey-lurkey turned back, and walked with gander-lander, goose-loose, drake-lake, duck-luck, cock-lock, hen-len, and chicken-licken. And as they were going along, they met Fox-lox. And fox-lox said, "Where are you going, my pretty maids?" And they said, "Chicken-licken went to the wood, and the sky fell upon her poor bald pate, and we are going to tell the king." And fox-lox said, "Come along with me, and I will show you the way." But fox-lox took them into the fox's hole, and he and his young ones soon ate up poor chicken-licken, hen-len, cock-lock, duck-luck, drake-lake, goose-loose, gander-lander, and turkey-lurkey, and they never saw the king, to tell him that the sky had fallen!

[THE MISER AND HIS WIFE.]

["Let us cast away nothing," says Mr. Gifford, "for we know not what use we may have for it." So will every one admit whose reading has been sufficiently extensive to enable him to judge of the value of the simplest traditional tales. The present illustrates a passage in Ben Jonson in a very remarkable manner,—

——Say we are robb'd,

If any come to borrow a spoon or so;

I will not have Good Fortune or God's Blessing

Let in, while I am busy.]

Once upon a time there was an old miser, who lived with his wife near a great town, and used to put by every bit of money he could lay his hands on. His wife was a simple woman, and they lived together without quarrelling, but she was obliged to put up with very hard fare. Now, sometimes, when there was a sixpence she thought might be spared for a comfortable dinner or supper, she used to ask the miser for it, but he would say, "No, wife, it must be put by for Good Fortune." It was the same with every penny he could get hold of, and notwithstanding all she could say, almost every coin that came into the house was put by "for Good Fortune."

The miser said this so often, that some of his neighbours heard him, and one of them thought of a trick by which he might get the money. So the first day that the old chuff was away from home, he dressed himself like a wayfaring man, and knocked at the door. "Who are you?" said the wife. He answered, "I am Good Fortune, and I am come for the money which your husband has laid by for me." So this simple woman, not suspecting any trickery, readily gave it to him, and, when her good man came home, told him very pleasantly that Good Fortune had called for the money which had been kept so long for him.

[THE THREE QUESTIONS.]

There lived formerly in the county of Cumberland a nobleman who had three sons, two of whom were comely and clever youths, but the other a natural fool, named Jack, who was generally dressed in a party-coloured coat, and a steeple-crowned hat with a tassel, as became his condition. Now the King of the East Angles had a beautiful daughter, who was distinguished by her great ingenuity and wit, and he issued a decree that whoever should answer three questions put to him by the princess should have her in marriage, and be heir to the crown at his decease. Shortly after this decree was published, news of it reached the ears of the nobleman's sons, and the two clever ones determined to have a trial, but they were sadly at a loss to prevent their idiot brother from going with them. They could not, by any means, get rid of him, and were compelled at length to let Jack accompany them. They had not gone far, before Jack shrieked with laughter, saying, "I've found an egg." "Put it in your pocket," said the brothers. A little while afterwards, he burst out into another fit of laughter on finding a crooked hazel stick, which he also put in his pocket: and a third time, he again laughed extravagantly because he found a nut. That also was put with his other treasures.

When they arrived at the palace, they were immediately admitted on mentioning the nature of their business, and were ushered into a room where the princess and her suite were sitting. Jack, who never stood on ceremony, bawled out, "What a troop of fair ladies we've got here!" "Yes," said the princess, "we are fair ladies, for we carry fire in our bosoms." "Do you," said Jack, "then roast me an egg," pulling out the egg from his pocket. "How will you get it out again?" said the princess. "With a crooked stick," replied Jack, producing the hazel. "Where did that come from?" said the princess. "From a nut," answered Jack, pulling out the nut from his pocket. And thus the "fool of the family," having been the first to answer the questions of the princess, was married to her the next day, and ultimately succeeded to the throne.

[THE CAT AND THE MOUSE.]

[This tale has been traced back fifty years, but it is probably considerably older.]

The cat and the mouse

Play'd in the malt-house:

The cat bit the mouse's tail off. Pray, puss, give me my tail. No, says the cat, I'll not give you your tail, till you go to the cow, and fetch me some milk:

First she leapt, and then she ran,

Till she came to the cow, and thus began,—

Pray, Cow, give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again. No, said the cow, I will give you no milk, till you go to the farmer and get me some hay.

First she leapt, and then she ran,

Till she came to the farmer, and thus began,—

Pray, Farmer, give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again. No, says the farmer, I'll give you no hay, till you go to the butcher and fetch me some meat.

First she leapt, and then she ran,

Till she came to the butcher, and thus began,—

Pray, Butcher, give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again. No, says the butcher, I'll give you no meat, till you go to the baker and fetch me some bread.

First she leapt, and then she ran,

Till she came to the baker, and thus began,—

Pray, Baker, give me bread, that I may give butcher bread, that butcher may give me meat, that I may give farmer meat, that farmer may give me hay, that I may give cow hay, that cow may give me milk, that I may give cat milk, that cat may give me my own tail again.

Yes, says the baker, I'll give you some bread,

But if you eat my meal, I'll cut off your head.

Then the baker gave mouse bread, and mouse gave butcher bread, and butcher gave mouse meat, and mouse gave farmer meat, and farmer gave mouse hay, and mouse gave cow hay, and cow gave mouse milk, and mouse gave cat milk, and cat gave mouse her own tail again!

[THE PRINCESS OF CANTERBURY.]

In days of yore, when this country was governed by several sovereigns, amongst them was the King of Canterbury, who had an only daughter, wise, fair, and beautiful. She was unmarried, and according to a custom not unusual in those days, of assigning an arbitrary action for the present of a lady's hand, the king issued a proclamation that whoever would watch one night with his daughter, and neither sleep nor doze, should have her the next day in marriage; but if he did either, he should lose his head. Many knights attempted to fulfil the condition, and, having failed in the attempt, forfeited their lives.

Now it happened that a young shepherd, grazing his flock near the road, said to his master, "Zur, [17] I zee many gentlemen ride to the court at Canterbury, but I ne'er zee 'em return again." "O, shepherd," said his master, "I know not how you should, for they attempt to watch with the king's daughter, according to the decree, and not performing it, they are all beheaded." "Well," said the shepherd, "I'll try my vorton; zo now vor a king's daughter, or a headless shepherd!" And taking his bottle and bag, he trudged to the court. In his way thither, he was obliged to cross a river, and pulling off his shoes and stockings, while he was passing over he observed several pretty fish bobbing against his feet; so he caught some, and put them into his pocket. When he reached the palace, he knocked at the gate loudly with his crook, and having mentioned the object of his visit, he was immediately conducted to a hall, where the king's daughter sat ready prepared to receive her lovers. He was placed in a luxurious chair, and rich wines and spices were set before him, and all sorts of delicate meats. The shepherd, unused to such fare, eat and drank plentifully, so that he was nearly dozing before midnight. "O shepherd," said the lady, "I have caught you napping!" "Noa, sweet ally, I was busy a-feeshing." "A-fishing!" said the princess in the utmost astonishment: "Nay, shepherd, there is no fish-pond in the hall." "No matter vor that, I have been feeshing in my pocket, and have just caught one." "Oh me!" said she, "let me see it." The shepherd slily drew the fish out of his pocket, and pretending to have caught it, showed it her, and she declared it was the finest she ever saw. About half an hour afterwards, she said, "Shepherd, do you think you could get me one more?" He replied, "Mayhap I may, when I have baited my hook;" and after a little while he brought out another, which was finer than the first, and the princess was so delighted that she gave him leave to go to sleep, and promised to excuse him to her father.

In the morning the princess told the king, to his great astonishment, that the shepherd must not be beheaded, for he had been fishing in the hall all night; but when he heard how the shepherd had caught such beautiful fish out of his pocket, he asked him to catch one in his own. The shepherd readily undertook the task, and bidding the king lie down, he pretended to fish in his pocket, having another fish concealed ready in his hand, and giving him a sly prick with a needle, he held up the fish, and showed it to the king. His majesty did not much relish the operation, but he assented to the marvel of it, and the princess and shepherd were united the same day, and lived for many years in happiness and prosperity.

[LAZY JACK.]

[From oral tradition in Yorkshire.]

Once upon a time there was a boy whose name was Jack, and he lived with his mother on a dreary common. They were very poor, and the old woman got her living by spinning, but Jack was so lazy that he would do nothing but bask in the sun in the hot weather, and sit by the corner of the hearth in the winter time. His mother could not persuade him to do anything for her, and was obliged at last to tell him that if he did not begin to work for his porridge, she would turn him out to get his living as he could.

This threat at length roused Jack, and he went out and hired himself for the day to a neighbouring farmer for a penny; but as he was coming home, never having had any money in his possession before, he lost it in passing over a brook. "You stupid boy," said his mother, "you should have put it in your pocket." "I'll do so another time," replied Jack.

The next day Jack went out again, and hired himself to a cowkeeper, who gave him a jar of milk for his day's work. Jack took the jar and put it into the large pocket of his jacket, spilling it all, long before he got home. "Dear me!" said the old woman; "you should have carried it on your head." "I'll do so another time," replied Jack.

The following day Jack hired himself again to a farmer, who agreed to give him a cream cheese for his services. In the evening, Jack took the cheese, and went home with it on his head. By the time he got home the cheese was completely spoilt, part of it being lost, and part matted with his hair. "You stupid lout," said his mother, "you should have carried it very carefully in your hands." "I'll do so another time," replied Jack.

The day after this Jack again went out, and hired himself to a baker, who would give him nothing for his work but a large tom-cat. Jack took the cat, and began carrying it very carefully in his hands, but in a short time Pussy scratched him so much that he was compelled to let it go. When he got home, his mother said to him, "You silly fellow, you should have tied it with a string, and dragged it along after you." "I'll do so another time," said Jack.

The next day Jack hired himself to a butcher, who rewarded his labours by the handsome present of a shoulder of mutton. Jack took the mutton, tied it to a string, and trailed it along after him in the dirt, so that by the time he had got home the meat was completely spoilt. His mother was this time quite out of patience with him, for the next day was Sunday, and she was obliged to content herself with cabbage for her dinner. "You ninnyhammer," said she to her son, "you should have carried it on your shoulder." "I'll do so another time," replied Jack.

On the Monday Jack went once more, and hired himself to a cattle-keeper, who gave him a donkey for his trouble. Although Jack was very strong, he found some difficulty in hoisting the donkey on his shoulders, but at last he accomplished it, and began walking slowly home with his prize. Now it happened that in the course of his journey there lived a rich man with his only daughter, a beautiful girl, but unfortunately deaf and dumb; she had never laughed in her life, and the doctors said she would never recover till somebody made her laugh. [18] Many tried without success, and at last the father, in despair, offered her in marriage to the first man who could make her laugh. This young lady happened to be looking out of the window when Jack was passing with the donkey on his shoulders, the legs sticking up in the air, and the sight was so comical and strange, that she burst out into a great fit of laughter, and immediately recovered her speech and hearing. Her father was overjoyed, and fulfilled his promise by marrying her to Jack, who was thus made a rich gentleman. They lived in a large house, and Jack's mother lived with them in great happiness until she died.

[THE THREE HEADS OF THE WELL.]

[This story is abridged from the old chap-book of the Three Kings of Colchester. The incident of the heads rising out of the well is very similar to one introduced in Peele's Old Wives Tale, 1595, and the verse is also of a similar character.]

Long before Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, there reigned in the eastern part of England a king who kept his court at Colchester. He was witty, strong, and valiant, by which means he subdued his enemies abroad, and secured peace among his subjects at home. Nevertheless, in the midst of his glory, his queen died, leaving behind her an only daughter, about fifteen years of age. This lady, from her courtly carriage, beauty, and affability, was the wonder of all that knew her; but, as covetousness is said to be the root of all evil, so it happened in this instance. The king hearing of a lady who had likewise an only daughter, for the sake of her riches had a mind to marry; though she was old, ugly, hook-nosed, and humpbacked, yet all this could not deter him from marrying her. Her daughter, also, was a yellow dowdy, full of envy and ill-nature; and, in short, was much of the same mould as her mother. This signified nothing, for in a few weeks the king, attended by the nobility and gentry, brought his intended bride to his palace, where the marriage rites were performed. They had not been long in the court before they set the king against his own beautiful daughter, which was done by false reports and accusations. The young princess, having lost her father's love, grew weary of the court, and one day meeting with her father in the garden, she desired him, with tears in her eyes, to give her a small subsistence, and she would go and seek her fortune; to which the king consented, and ordered her mother-in-law to make up a small sum according to her discretion. She went to the queen, who gave her a canvass bag of brown bread and hard cheese, with a bottle of beer; though this was but a very pitiful dowry for a king's daughter. She took it, returned thanks, and proceeded on her journey, passing through groves, woods, and valleys, till at length she saw an old man sitting on a stone at the mouth of a cave, who said, "Good morrow, fair maiden, whither away so fast?" "Aged father," says she, "I am going to seek my fortune." "What has thou in thy bag and bottle?" "In my bag I have got bread and cheese, and in my bottle good small beer; will you please to partake of either?" "Yes," said he, "with all my heart." With that the lady pulled out her provisions, and bid him eat and welcome. He did so, and gave her many thanks, saying thus: "There is a thick thorny hedge before you, which will appear impassable, but take this wand in your hand, strike three times, and say, 'Pray, hedge, let me come through,' and it will open immediately; then, a little further, you will, find a well; sit down on the brink of it, and there will come up three golden heads, which will speak: pray do whatever they require." Promising she would follow his directions, she took her leave of him. Arriving at the hedge, and pursuing the old man's directions, it divided, and gave her a passage; then, going to the well, she had no sooner sat down than a golden head came up singing—

Wash me, and comb me,

And lay me down softly,

And lay me on a bank to dry,

That I may look pretty,

When somebody comes by.

"Yes," said she, and putting forth her hand, with a silver comb performed the office, placing it upon a primrose bank. Then came up a second and a third head, making the same request, which she complied with. She then pulled out her provisions and ate her dinner. Then said the heads one to another, "What shall we do for this lady who hath used us so kindly?" The first said, "I will cause such addition to her beauty as shall charm the most powerful prince in the world." The second said, "I will endow her with such perfume, both in body and breath, as shall far exceed the sweetest flowers." The third said, "My gift shall be none of the least, for, as she is a king's daughter, I'll make her so fortunate that she shall become queen to the greatest prince that reigns." This done, at their request she let them down into the well again, and so proceeded on her journey. She had not travelled long before she saw a king hunting in the park with his nobles; she would have avoided him, but the king having caught a sight of her, approached, and what with her beauty and perfumed breath, was so powerfully smitten, that he was not able to subdue his passion, but commenced his courtship immediately, and was so successful that he gained her love, and, conducting her to his palace, he caused her to be clothed in the most magnificent manner.

This being ended, and the king finding that she was the king of Colchester's daughter, ordered some chariots to be got ready, that he might pay the king a visit. The chariot in which the king and queen rode was adorned with rich ornamental gems of gold. The king, her father, was at first astonished that his daughter had been so fortunate as she was, till the young king made him sensible of all that happened. Great was the joy at court amongst all, with the exception of the queen and her club-footed daughter, who were ready to burst with malice, and envied her happiness; and the greater was their madness because she was now above them all. Great rejoicings, with feasting and dancing, continued many days. Then at length, with the dowry her father gave her they returned home.

The deformed daughter perceiving that her sister had been so happy in seeking her fortune, would needs do the same; so disclosing her mind to her mother, all preparations were made, and she was furnished not only with rich apparel, but sweetmeats, sugar, almonds, &c., in great quantities, and a large bottle of Malaga sack. Thus provided, she went the same road as her sister, and coming near the cave, the old man said, "Young woman, whither so fast?" "What is that to you," said she. "Then," said he, "what have you in your bag and bottle?" She answered, "Good things, which you shall not be troubled with." "Won't you give me some?" said he. "No, not a bit, nor a drop, unless it would choke you." The old man frowned, saying, "Evil fortune attend thee." Going on, she came to the hedge, through which she espied a gap, and thought to pass through it, but, going in, the hedge closed, and the thorns run into her flesh, so that it was with great difficulty that she got out. Being now in a painful condition, she searched for water to wash herself, and, looking round, she saw the well; she sat down on the brink of it, and one of the heads came up, saying, "Wash me, comb me, and lay me down softly, &c." but she banged it with her bottle, saying, "Take this for your washing." So the second and third heads came up, and met with no better treatment than the first; whereupon the heads consulted among themselves what evils to plague her with for such usage. The first said, "Let her be struck with leprosy in her face." The second, "Let an additional smell be added to her breath." The third bestowed on her a husband, though but a poor country cobler. This done, she goes on till she came to a town, and it being market day, the people looked at her, and seeing such an evil face fled out of her sight, all but a poor cobler (who not long before had mended the shoes of an old hermit, who having no money, gave him a box of ointment for the cure of the leprosy, and a bottle of spirits for a stinking breath). Now the cobler having a mind to do an act of charity, was induced to go up to her and ask her who she was. "I am," said she, "the king of Colchester's daughter-in-law." "Well," said the cobler, "if I restore you to your natural complexion, and make a sound cure both in face and breath, will you in reward take me for a husband?" "Yes, friend," replied she, "with all my heart." With this the cobler applied the remedies, and they worked the effect in a few weeks, and then they were married, and after a few days they set forward for the court at Colchester. When the queen understood she had married a poor cobler, she fell into distraction, and hanged herself for vexation. The death of the queen was not a source of sorrow to the king, who had only married her for her fortune, and bore her no affection; and shortly afterwards he gave the cobler a hundred pounds to take the daughter to a remote part of the kingdom, where he lived many years mending shoes, while his wife assisted the housekeeping by spinning, and selling the results of her labours at the country market.

[THE MAIDEN AND THE FROG.]

[This tale of the frog-lover is known in every part of Germany, and is alluded to by several old writers of that country. It is the tale "Der Froschkönig, oder der Eiserne Heinrich," in Grimm. "These enchanted frogs," says Sir W. Scott, "have migrated from afar, and we suspect that they were originally crocodiles; we trace them in a tale forming part of a series of stories entitled the Relations of Ssidi Kur, extant amongst the Calmuck Tartars." Mr. Chambers has given a Scotch version of the tale, under the title of "The well o' the warld's end," in his Popular Rhymes, p. 236. The rhymes in the copy given above were obtained from the North of England, without, however, any reference to the story to which they evidently belong. The application, however, is so obvious to any one acquainted with the German and Scotch tale, that the framework I have ventured to give them cannot be considered incongruous; although I need not add how very desirable it would be to procure the traditional tale as related by the English peasantry. Perhaps some of our readers may be enabled to supply it.]

Many years ago there lived on the brow of a mountain, in the North of England, an old woman and her daughter. They were very poor, and obliged to work very hard for their living, and the old woman's temper was not very good, so that the maiden, who was very beautiful, led but an ill life with her. The girl, indeed, was compelled to do the hardest work, for her mother got their principal means of subsistence by travelling to places in the neighbourhood with small articles for sale, and when she came home in the afternoon she was not able to do much more work. Nearly the whole domestic labour of the cottage devolved therefore on the daughter, the most wearisome part of which consisted in the necessity of fetching all the water they required from a well on the other side of the hill, there being no river or spring near their own cottage.

It happened one morning that the daughter had the misfortune, in going to the well, to break the only pitcher they possessed, and having no other utensil she could use for the purpose, she was obliged to go home without bringing any water. When her mother returned, she was unfortunately troubled with excessive thirst, and the girl, though trembling for the consequences of her misfortune, told her exactly the circumstance that had occurred. The old woman was furiously angry, and so far from making any allowances for her daughter, pointed to a sieve which happened to be on the table, and told her to go at once to the well and bring her some water in that, or never venture to appear again in her sight.

The young maiden, frightened almost out of her wits by her mother's fury, speedily took the sieve, and though she considered the task a hopeless one to accomplish, almost unconsciously hastened to the well. When she arrived there, beginning to reflect on the painful situation in which she was placed, and the utter impossibility of her obtaining a living by herself, she threw herself down on the brink of the well in an agony of despair. Whilst she was in this condition, a large frog came up to the top of the water, and asked her for what she was crying so bitterly. She was somewhat surprised at this, but not being the least frightened, told him the whole story, and that she was crying because she could not carry away water in the sieve. "Is that all?" said the frog; "cheer up, my hinny! for if you will only let me sleep with you for two nights, and then chop off my head, I will tell you how to do it." The maiden thought the frog could not be in earnest, but she was too impatient to consider much about it, and at once made the required promise. The frog then instructed her in the following words,—

Stop with fog (moss),

And daub with clay;

And that will carry

The water away.

Having said this, he dived immediately under the water, and the girl, having followed his advice, got the sieve full of water, and returned home with it, not thinking much of her promise to the frog. By the time she reached home the old woman's wrath was appeased, but as they were eating their frugal supper very quietly, what should they hear but the splashing and croaking of a frog near the door, and shortly afterwards the daughter recognised the voice of the frog of the well saying,—

Open the door, my hinny, my heart,

Open the door, my own darling;

Remember the words you spoke to me,

In the meadow by the well-spring.

She was now dreadfully frightened, and hurriedly explained the matter to her mother, who was also so much alarmed at the circumstance, that she dared not refuse admittance to the frog, who, when the door was opened, leapt into the room, exclaiming:

Go wi' me to bed, my hinny, my heart,

Go wi' me to bed, my own darling;

Remember the words you spoke to me,

In the meadow by the well-spring.

This command was also obeyed, although, as may be readily supposed, she did not much relish such a bedfellow. The next day, the frog was very quiet, and evidently enjoyed the fare they placed before him,—the purest milk and the finest bread they could procure. In fact, neither the old woman nor her daughter spared any pains to render the frog comfortable. That night, immediately supper was finished, the frog again exclaimed:

Go wi' me to bed, my hinny, my heart,

Go wi' me to bed, my own darling;

Remember the words you spoke to me,

In the meadow by the well-spring.

She again allowed the frog to share her couch, and in the morning, as soon as she was dressed, he jumped towards her, saying:

Chop off my head, my hinny, my heart,

Chop off my head, my own darling;

Remember the words you spoke to me,

In the meadow by the well-spring.

The maiden had no sooner accomplished this last request, than in the stead of the frog there stood by her side the handsomest prince in the world, who had long been transformed by a magician, and who could never have recovered his natural shape until a beautiful virgin had consented, of her own accord, to make him her bedfellow for two nights. The joy of all parties was complete; the girl and the prince were shortly afterwards married, and lived for many years in the enjoyment of every happiness.

[THE STORY OF MR. FOX.]

[A simple, but very curious tale, of considerable antiquity. It is alluded to by Shakespeare, and was contributed to the variorum edition by Blakeway. Part of this story will recall to the reader's memory the enchanted chamber of Britomart.]

Once upon a time there was a young lady called Lady Mary, who had two brothers. One summer they all three went to a country seat of theirs which they had not before visited. Among the other gentry in the neighbourhood who came to see them was a Mr. Fox, a bachelor, with whom they, particularly the young lady, were much pleased. He used often to dine with them, and frequently invited Lady Mary to come and see his house. One day, when her brothers were absent elsewhere, and she had nothing better to do, she determined to go thither, and accordingly set out unattended. When she arrived at the house and knocked at the door, no one answered. At length she opened it and went in, and over the portal of the door was written:

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold.

She advanced, and found the same inscription over the staircase; again at the entrance of a gallery; and lastly, at the door of a chamber, with the addition of a line:

Be bold, be bold, but not too bold,

Lest that your heart's blood should run cold!

She opened it, and what was her terror and astonishment to find the floor covered with bones and blood. She retreated in haste, and coming down stairs, she saw from a window Mr. Fox advancing towards the house with a drawn sword in one hand, while with the other he dragged along a young lady by the hair of her head. Lady Mary had just time to slip down, and hide herself under the stairs, before Mr. Fox and his victim arrived at the foot of them. As he pulled the young lady upstairs, she caught hold of one of the bannisters with her hand, on which was a rich bracelet. Mr. Fox cut it off with his sword: the hand and bracelet fell into Lady Mary's lap, who then contrived to escape unobserved, and got safe home to her brothers' house.

A few days afterwards, Mr. Fox came to dine with them as usual. After dinner, the guests began to amuse each other with extraordinary anecdotes, and Lady Mary said she would relate to them a remarkable dream she had lately had. I dreamt, said she, that as you, Mr. Fox, had often invited me to your house, I would go there one morning. When I came to the house, I knocked at the door, but no one answered. When I opened the door, over the hall I saw written, "Be bold, be bold, but not too bold." But, said she, turning to Mr. Fox, and smiling, "It is not so, nor it was not so." Then she pursued the rest of the story, concluding at every turn with, "It is not so, nor it was not so," till she came to the discovery of the room full of bones, when Mr. Fox took up the burden of the tale, and said:

It is not so, nor it was not so,

And God forbid it should be so!

which he continued to repeat at every subsequent turn of the dreadful story, till she came to the circumstance of his cutting off the young lady's hand, when, upon his saying, as usual,

It is not so, nor it was not so,

And God forbid it should be so!

Lady Mary retorts by saying,

But it is so, and it was so,

And here the hand I have to show!

at the same moment producing the hand and bracelet from her lap. Whereupon the guests drew their swords, and instantly cut Mr. Fox into a thousand pieces.

[THE OXFORD STUDENT.]

[Obtained in Oxfordshire from tradition.]

Many years ago there lived at the University of Oxford a young student, who, having seduced the daughter of a tradesman, sought to conceal his crime by committing the more heinous one of murder. With this view, he made an appointment to meet her one evening in a secluded field. She was at the rendezvous considerably before the time agreed upon for their meeting, and hid herself in a tree. The student arrived on the spot shortly afterwards, but what was the astonishment of the girl to observe that he commenced digging a grave. Her fears and suspicions were aroused, and she did not leave her place of concealment till the student, despairing of her arrival, returned to his college. The next day, when she was at the door of her father's house, he passed and saluted her as usual. She returned his greeting by repeating the following lines:

One moonshiny night, as I sat high,

Waiting for one to come by,

The boughs did bend; my heart did ache

To see what hole the fox did make.

Astounded by her unexpected knowledge of his base design, in a moment of fury he stabbed her to the heart. This murder occasioned a violent conflict between the tradespeople and the students, the latter taking part with the murderer, and so fierce was the skirmish, that Brewer's Lane, it is said, ran down with blood. The place of appointment was adjoining the Divinity Walk, which was in time past far more secluded than at the present day, and she is said to have been buried in the grave made for her by her paramour.

According to another version of the tale, the name of the student was Fox, and a fellow-student went with him to assist in digging the grave. The verses in this account differ somewhat from the above.

As I went out in a moonlight night,

I set my back against the moon,

I looked for one, and saw two come:

The boughs did bend, the leaves did shake,

I saw the hole the Fox did make.

[JACK HORNBY.]

[This little tale was most likely copied from the commencement of the original edition of Jack the Giant-killer, where similar incidents are related of that renowned hero.]

In the reign of King Arthur there lived near the Land's End, in Cornwall, a wealthy farmer, who had an only son, commonly called Jack Hornby. He was of a brisk and ready wit, and he was never known to be outwitted in any transaction.

One day, when he was no more than seven years of age, his father sent him into the field to look after his oxen. While he was attending to them, the lord of the manor came across the field, and as Jack was known to be a clever boy, he began asking him questions. His first was, "How many commandments are there?" Jack told him there were nine. The lord corrected him, saying there were ten. "Nay," quoth Jack, "you are wrong there: it is true there were ten, but you broke one of them when you stole my father's cow for your rent." The lord of the manor was so struck by this answer, that he promised to return the poor man's cow.

"Now," quoth Jack, "it is my turn to ask a question. Can you tell me how many sticks go to build a crow's nest?" "Yes," said he, "there are as many go as are sufficient for the size of the nest." "Oh!" quoth Jack, "you are out again; there are none go, for they are all carried!"

Jack Hornby was never more troubled with questions by the lord of the manor.

[MALLY DIXON AND KNURRE-MURRE.]

Stories of fairies appearing in the shape of cats are common in the North of England. Mr. Longstaffe relates that a farmer of Staindrop, in Durham, was one night crossing a bridge, when a cat jumped out, stood before him, and looking him full in the face, said:

Johnny Reed! Johnny Reed! Tell Madam Momfort That Mally Dixon's dead.

The farmer returned home, and in mickle wonder recited this awfu' stanza to his wife, when up started their black cat, saying, "Is she?" and disappeared for ever. It was supposed she was a fairy in disguise, who thus went to attend a sister's funeral, for in the North fairies do die, and green shady spots are pointed out by the country folks as the cemeteries of the tiny people. An analogous story is found in the people-literature of Denmark. Near a town called Lyng is the hill of Brondhoë, inhabited by the trold-folk, or imps. Amongst these trolds was an old sickly devil, peevish and ill-tempered, because he was married to a young wife. This unhappy trold often set the rest by the ears, so they nicknamed him Knurre-Murre, or Rumble-Grumble. Now it came to pass, that Knurre-Murre discovered that his young wife was inclined to honour him with a supplemental pair of horns; and the object of his jealousy, to avoid his vengeance, was compelled to fly for his life from the cavern, and take refuge, in the shape of a tortoise-shell cat, in the house of Goodman Platt, who harboured him with much hospitality, let him lie on the great wicker chair, and fed him twice a day with bread and milk out of a red earthenware pipkin. One evening the goodman came home, at a late hour, full of wonderment. "Goody," exclaimed he to his wife, "as I was passing by Brondhoë, there came out a trold, who spake to me, saying,

Hör du Plat,

Süg til din cat

At Knurre-Murre er död.

Hear thou, Platt,

Say to thy cat

That Knurre-Murre is dead."

The tortoise-shell cat was lying on the great wicker chair, and eating his supper of bread and milk out of the red earthenware pipkin, when the goodman came in; but as soon as the message was delivered, he jumped bolt upright upon his two hind legs, for all the world like a Christian, and kicking the red earthenware pipkin and the rest of the bread and milk before him, he whisked through the cottage door, mewing, "What! is Knurre-Murre dead? then I may go home again!" [19]

[THE BULL OF NORROWAY.]

[This is a modern version, taken down from recitation, of the very old tale of the Black Bull of Norroway, mentioned in the Complaynt of Scotland, 1548. It is here taken, by the author's kind permission, from the Popular Rhymes of Scotland, by Mr. Robert Chambers, the most delightful book of the kind ever published.]

To wilder measures next they turn:

The black black bull of Norroway!

Sudden the tapers cease to burn,

The minstrels cease to play!

Once upon a time there lived a king who had three daughters; the two eldest were proud and ugly, but the youngest was the gentlest and most beautiful creature ever seen, and the pride not only of her father and mother, but of all in the land. As it fell out, the three princesses were talking one night of whom they would marry. "I will have no one lower than a king," said the eldest princess; the second would take a prince, or a great duke even. "Pho, pho," said the youngest, laughing, "you are both so proud; now, I would be content with the Red Bull o' Norroway." Well, they thought no more of the matter till the next morning, when, as they sat at breakfast, they heard the most dreadful bellowing at the door, and what should it be but the Red Bull come for his bride. You may be sure they were all terribly frightened at this, for the Red Bull was one of the most horrible creatures ever seen in the world. And the king and queen did not know how to save their daughter. At last they determined to send him off with the old henwife. So they put her on his back, and away he went with her till he came to a great black forest, when, throwing her down, he returned, roaring louder and more frightfully than ever. They then sent, one by one, all the servants, then the two eldest princesses; but not one of them met with any better treatment than the old henwife, and at last they were forced to send their youngest and favorite child.

On travelled the lady and the bull through many dreadful forests and lonely wastes, till they came at last to a noble castle, where a large company was assembled. The lord of the castle pressed them to stay, though much he wondered at the lovely princess and her strange companion. When they went in among the company, the princess espied a pin sticking in the bull's hide, which she pulled out, and, to the surprise of all, there appeared not a frightful wild beast, but one of the most beautiful princes ever beheld. You may believe how delighted the princess was to see him fall at her feet, and thank her for breaking his cruel enchantment. There were great rejoicings in the castle at this; but, alas! at that moment he suddenly disappeared, and though every place was sought, he was nowhere to be found. The princess, however, determined to seek through all the world for him, and many weary ways she went, but nothing could she hear of her lover. Travelling once through a dark wood, she lost her way, and as night was coming on, she thought she must now certainly die of cold and hunger; but seeing a light through the trees, she went on till she came to a little hut, where an old woman lived, who took her in, and gave her both food and shelter. In the morning, the old wifie gave her three nuts, that she was not to break till her heart was "like to break, and owre again like to break;" so, showing her the way, she bade God speed her, and the princess once more set out on her wearisome journey.

She had not gone far till a company of lords and ladies rode past her, all talking merrily of the fine doings they expected at the Duke o' Norroway's wedding. Then she came up to a number of people carrying all sorts of fine things, and they, too, were going to the duke's wedding. At last she came to a castle, where nothing was to be seen but cooks and bakers, some running one way, and some another, and all so busy that they did not know what to do first. Whilst she was looking at all this, she heard a noise of hunters behind her, and some one cried out, "Make way for the Duke o' Norroway!" and who should ride past but the prince and a beautiful lady! You may be sure her heart was now "like to break, and owre again like to break," at this sad sight; so she broke one of the nuts, and out came a wee wifie carding. The princess then went into the castle, and asked to see the lady, who no sooner saw the wee wifie so hard at work, than she offered the princess anything in her castle for it. "I will give it to you," said she, "only on condition that you put off for one day your marriage with the Duke o' Norroway, and that I may go into his room alone to-night." So anxious was the lady for the nut, that she consented. And when dark night was come, and the duke fast asleep, the princess was put alone into his chamber. Sitting down by his bedside, she began singing:

Far hae I sought ye, near am I brought to ye;

Dear Duke of Norroway, will ye no turn and speak to me?

Though she sang this over and over again, the duke never wakened, and in the morning the princess had to leave him, without his knowing she had ever been there. She then broke the second nut, and out came a wee wifie spinning, which so delighted the lady, that she readily agreed to put off her marriage another day for it; but the princess came no better speed the second night than the first, and, almost in despair, she broke the last nut, which contained a wee wifie reeling; and on the same condition as before, the lady got possession of it. When the duke was dressing in the morning, his man asked him what the strange singing and moaning that had been heard in his room for two nights meant. "I heard nothing," said the duke; "it could only have been your fancy." "Take no sleeping-draught to night, and be sure to lay aside your pillow of heaviness," said the man, "and you also will hear what for two nights has kept me awake." The duke did so, and the princess coming in, sat down sighing at his bedside, thinking this the last time she might ever see him. The duke started up when he heard the voice of his dearly-loved princess; and with many endearing expressions of surprise and joy, explained to her that he had long been in the power of an enchantress, whose spells over him were now happily ended by their once again meeting. The princess, happy to be the instrument of his second deliverance, consented to marry him, and the enchantress, who fled that country, afraid of the duke's anger, has never since been heard of. All was hurry and preparation in the castle, and the marriage which now took place at once ended the adventures of the Red Bull o' Norroway and the wanderings of the king's daughter.

[PUSS IN BOOTS.]

[One of the tales of Perrault, 1697. The plot was taken from the first novel of the eleventh night of Straparola. Its moral is that talents are equivalent to fortune. We have inserted this in our collection, although generally remembered, as a specimen of the simple tales founded by Perrault on older stories, and which soon became popular in this country. The others, as Blue Beard, and Little Riding Hood, are vanishing from the nursery, but are so universally known that reprints of them would be superfluous.]

There was a miller, who left no more estate to his three sons than his mill, his ass, and his cat. The partition was soon made, neither scrivener nor attorney being sent for. They would soon have eaten up all the patrimony. The eldest had the mill, the second the ass, and the youngest nothing but the cat.

The poor young fellow was quite downcast at so poor a lot. "My brothers," said he, "may get their living handsomely enough by joining their stocks together, but for my part, when I have eaten up my cat, and made me a muff of his skin, I must die with hunger." The cat, who heard all this, yet made as if he did not, said to him, with a grave and serious air, "Do not thus afflict yourself, my good master; you have nothing else to do but give me a bag, and get a pair of boots made for me, that I may scamper through the dirt and the brambles, and you shall see that you have not so bad a portion as you imagine." Though he did not build very much upon what the cat said, he had however often seen him play a great many cunning tricks to catch rats and mice: as when he used to hang by the heels, or hide himself in the meal, and make as if he were dead; so that he did not altogether despair of his affording him some help in his miserable condition. When the cat had what he asked for, he booted himself very gallantly; and putting the bag about his neck, held the strings of it in his two fore paws, and went into a warren where there was a great abundance of rabbits. He put bran and sow-thistles into the bag, and stretching himself out at length, as if he had been dead, he waited for some young rabbits not yet acquainted with the deceits of the world, to come and rummage his bag for what he had put into it.

Scarce was he laid down, but he had what he wanted; a rash and foolish young rabbit jumped into his bag, and Monsieur Puss immediately drawing the strings close, took and killed him without pity. Proud of his prey, he went with it into the palace, and asked to speak with his majesty. He was shown upstairs into the king's apartment, and, making a low reverence, said to him, "I have brought you, Sire, a rabbit of the warren, which my noble lord, the Marquis of Carabas (for that was the title which Puss was pleased to give his master), has commanded me to present to your majesty from him." "Tell thy master," said the king, "that I thank him, and he does me a great deal of pleasure."