 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, AUTHOR UNNOWN There was once a merchant who had been very rich at one time, but who, having had heavy losses, was compelled to retire to a little cottage in the country where he lived with his three daughters. The two elder ones were very much discontented at their poverty and were always grumbling and making complaints. But the youngest one, who was called Beauty, and who was as amiable as she was handsome, tried all she could to comfort her father and make his home happy. Once when he was going on a journey to try and mend his affairs, he called them around him and asked them what he should bring them when he returned. The two elder ones wanted each a number of nice presents, but Beauty, kissing him sweetly, said she would be content with a rose. So when the merchant was on his way back, he came to an elegant garden of which the gate stood open, and thinking of Beauty's rose he went in and plucking a beautiful one prepared to proceed on his journey. As he turned to go, he saw a hideous beast coming toward him, armed with a sword. This terrible creature reproached him for stealing his flowers, of which he was very choice, and threatened to kill him on the spot. The merchant begged for his life, and said that he had only taken a single one to please his daughter Beauty. On this the beast said gruffly, Well, I will let you off if you will bring one of your daughters here in your place, but she must come here willingly, and meanwhile you may stay and rest in my palace until tomorrow. But as you well may believe, the poor father did not feel much like eating or sleeping, although everything was done for his comfort, and in the morning the beast sent him home upon a beautiful horse. And though the birds sang around him and the sun shone brightly and all nature was smiling on his path, the heart of the poor merchant was heavy when he thought of his beloved daughters. When he came near his home his children came forth to meet him, but seeing the sadness of his face and his eyes filled with tears, they asked him the cause of his trouble. Giving the rose to Beauty he told her all. The two elder sisters laid all the blame upon Beauty, who cried bitterly and said that as she was the cause of her father's misfortune, she alone must suffer for it, and was quite willing to go. So Beauty got ready for the journey at once. The father, who meant to return to the beast himself after embracing his children, tried to dissuade her but in vain, and so the two set out together for the beast's palace, much to the secret joy of the envious sisters. When they arrived at the palace the doors opened of themselves, sweet music was heard, and they found an elegant supper prepared. As soon as they had refreshed themselves the beast entered and said in a mild tone, Beauty, did you come here willingly to take the place of your father? Yes, sir, she answered in a sweet but trembling voice. So much the better for you, replied the beast. Your father can stay here tonight, but he must go home in the morning. The beast then retired, giving Beauty so kind a look as he went out that she felt quite encouraged. The next morning when her father left her she cheered his heart by telling him that she thought she could soften the beast's heart and induce him to spare her life. After he was gone she entered an elegant room, on the door of which was written in letters of gold, Beauty's room. Lying on the table was a portrait of herself said in gold and diamonds, and on the wall these words, Beauty is queen here, all things will obey her. Her meals were served to the sound of music, and at supper time, the beast, after knocking timidly, would walk in and talk so amably that she soon lost all fear of him, and once, when he failed to come, felt quite disappointed. At last one night he said to her, Am I so very ugly? Yes indeed you are, said Beauty, but you are so kind and generous that I do not mind your looks. Will you marry me then, dear Beauty, said the poor beast, with a look of such eager intrigue in his eyes that Beauty's heart melted within her, and she was upon the point of saying yes. But happening to look towards him, at that moment her courage failed her, and turning away her head she replied softly, Oh, do not ask me. The beast then bade her good night, with a sad voice, and went away sighing as if his heart would break. The palace was full of rooms containing the most beautiful objects. In one room she saw a numerous troop of monkeys of all sizes and colors. They came to meet her, making her very low bowels, and treating her with the greatest respect. Beauty was much pleased with them, and asked them to show her about the palace. Instantly two tall and graceful apes in rich dresses placed themselves with great gravity, one on each side of her, while two sprightly little monkeys held up her train as pages. And from this time forth they waited upon her wherever she went, with all the attention and respect that officers of a royal palace are accustomed to pay to the greatest queens and princesses. In fact Beauty was the queen of this splendid palace. She had only to wish for anything to have it, and she would have been quite contented if she could have had some company, for except at supper time she was always alone. Then the beast would come in and behave so agreeably that she liked him more and more. And when he would say to her, Dear Beauty, will you marry me? In his soft and tender way, she could hardly find it in her heart to refuse him. Now although Beauty had everything that heart could wish, she could not forget her father and sisters. At last one evening she begged so hard to go home for a visit that the beast consented to her wish, on her promising not to stay more than two months. He then gave her a ring, telling her to place it on her dressing table when she wished either to go or return, and showed her a wardrobe filled with the most elegant clothes as well as a quantity of splendid presents for her father and sisters. The poor beast was more sad than ever after he had given his consent to her absence. It seemed to him as if he could not look at her enough, nor must her courage to leave her. She tried to cheer him, saying, Be of good heart, Beauty will soon return. But nothing seemed to comfort him, and he went sadly away. Beauty felt very badly when she saw how much the poor beast suffered. She tried, however, to dismiss him from her thoughts and to think only of the joy of seeing her dear father and sisters on the morrow. Before retiring to rest, she took good care to place the ring upon the table, and great was her joy on awaking the next morning to find herself in her father's house with the clothes and gifts from the palace at her bedside. At first she hardly knew where she was, for everything looked strange to her. But soon she heard the voice of her father, and rushing out of the room through her loving arms around his neck. Beauty then related all the kindness and delicacy of the beast toward her, and in return discovered that he had been as liberal to her father and sisters. He had given them the large and handsome house in which they now lived, with an income sufficient to keep them in comfort. For a long time Beauty was happy with her father and sisters, but she soon discovered that her sisters were jealous of her, and envied her the fine dresses and jewels the beast had given her. She often thought tenderly of the poor beast, alone in his palace, and as the two months were now over she resolved to return to him as she had promised. But her father could not bear to lose her again, and coaxed her to stay with him a few days longer, which she at last consented to do with many misgivings when she thought of her broken promise to the lonely beast. At last on the night before she intended to return she dreamed that she saw the unhappy beast lying dead on the ground in the palace garden. She awoke, all trembling with terror and remorse, and leaving a note on the table for her dear father placed the ring within her bosom, and wished herself back again in the palace. As soon as daylight appeared she called her attendance and searched the palace from top to bottom. But the beast was nowhere to be found. She then ran to the garden, and there, in the very spot that she had seen in her dream, lay the poor beast, gasping and senseless upon the ground, and seeming to be in the agonies of death. At this pitiful sight beauty clasped her hands, fell upon her knees, and reproached herself bitterly for having caused his death. Alas, poor beast, she said, I am the cause of this. How can I ever forgive myself for my unkindness to you, who were so good and generous to me and mine, and never even reproached me for my cruelty? She then ran to a fountain for cold water, which she sprinkled over him, her tears, meanwhile falling fast upon his hideous face. In a few moments the beast opened his eyes, and said, Now that I see you once more, I shall die contented. No, no, she cried, you shall not die, you shall live, and beauty will be your faithful wife. The moment she uttered these words, a dazzling light shone around. The palace was brilliantly lighted up, and the air was filled with delicious music. In place of the terrible and dying beast, she saw a young and handsome prince who knelt at her feet, and told her that he had been condemned to wear the form of a frightful beast until a beautiful girl should love him in spite of his ugliness. At the same moment the apes and the monkeys, who had been in attendance upon her, were transformed into elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen who ranged themselves at a respectful distance and performed their duties as gentlemen and maids of honor. The grateful prince now claimed beauty for his wife, and she who had loved him, even under the form of the beast, was now tenfold more in love with him as he appeared in his rightful form. So the very next day beauty and the prince were married with great splendor and lived happily together forever after. THE ELEPHANT'S BALL AND BIRDS, WITH THE BALLS AND THEIR FEASTS, CAUSED MUCH CONVERSATION AMONG ALL THE BEASTS. THE ELEPHANT, FAMOUS FOR SENSE, AS FOR SIZE, AT SUCH ENTERTAINMENTS, EXPRESSED MUCH SURPRISE. SAYS HE, SHALL THESE IMPUTANT TRIBES OF THE AIR TO BREAK OUR SOFT SLUMBERS, THUS WANTONLY DARE? SHALL THESE PETTY CREATURES, US BEASTS FAR BELOW, EXCEED US IN CONSEQUENCE, FASHION, AND SHOW. FORBIDDET TRUE DIGNITY, HONOR, AND PRIDE, A GRAND RURAL FET I WILL SHORTLY PROVIDE. THAT FOR POMP, TASTE, AND SPLENDER, SHALL FAR LEAVE BEHIND, ALL FORMER ATTEMPS OF A SIMILAR KIND. THE BUFFALO, BISON, ELK, ANTOLOPE, PARED. ALL HEARD WHAT HE SPOKE, WITH DUE MARKS OF REGARD. A number of messengers quickly sent to the beasts far and near to make known his intent. The place he designed for the scene of his plan was a valley remote from the dwellings of man, well guarded with mountains, embellished with trees, and furnished with rivers that flowed to the seas. Here first came the lion so gallant and strong, well known by his mane that is shaggy and long. The jackal, his slave, followed close in his rear, resolved the good things with his master to share. The leopard came next, a gay sight to the eye, with his coat spotted over like stars in the sky. The tiger, his system of slaughter, declined at once a good supper and pleasure to find. The bulky rhinoceros came with his bride, well armed with his horn and his coat of mail hide. Then came the hyena, whose cries authors say oft lead the fond traveller out of his way, whom quickly he seizes and renders his prey. The wolf hastened hither that ruffian so bold, who kills the poor sheep when they stray from the fold. The bear, having slept the long winter away, arrived from the north to be merry and gay. The panther ferocious, the lynx of quick sight, the preacher and glutton came hither that night. The camel, so often with birthings oppressed, was glad for a while from his labour to rest. The sloth, when invited, got up with much pain. Just groaned out, ah, no, and then laid down again. The fox, near the hen roost, no longer kept watch, but hide to the feast better vians to catch. The monkey, so cunning and full of his sport, to show all his talents, came to this resort. The dog and gremalkan, from service released, expected good snacks at the end of the feast. The first at the gate, as a sentinel stood, the last kept the rats and the mice from the food. The crowd of strange quadrupeds seen at the ball, twer tedious and needless to mention them all. To shorten the story, suffice it to say, some scores, nay, some hundreds attended that day. But most of the tame and domestical kind, for fear of some stratagem, tarried behind. Do caution is prudent. But laws had been made. No beast on that night should another invade. Before we go farther, to his proper to state, each female was asked to attend with her mate. Of these many came to this fet of renown, but some were prevented by causes well known. Now soul had retired to the ocean to sleep. The guests had arrived, their gay vigils to keep. Their hall was a lawn of sufficient extent, well skirted with trees, the rude winds to prevent. The thick woven branches, deep curtains displayed, and heaven's high arch, a grand canopy made. Some thousands of lamps, fixed to poplars were seen, that shone most resplendent, red, yellow, and green. When forms, introductions, and such were gone through, was quickly resolved, the gay dance to pursue. The musical band, on a terrace appearing, performed many tunes that enchanted the hearing. The ape, on the hot boy, much science displayed. The monkey, the fiddle, delightfully played. The orang-a-tang touched the harp with great skill. The ass beat the drum, with effect and good will, and the squirrel kept ringing his merry bells still. The elephant, stately, majestic, and tall, with cousin Rhinoceros, opened the ball. With dignified mane, the two partners advanced, and the de la cour minuet gracefully danced. The lion and unicorn beasts of great fame, with much admiration, accomplished the same. The tiger and leopard, an active young pair, performed a brisk jig, with an excellent air. Next Bruin stood up, with a good-natured smile, and capered a hornpipe in singular style, with the staff in his paws and direct all the while. The fox, wolf, and panther, their humours to please, danced three-handed reels with much spirit and ease. A few tried coutillions, and such liked French fancies, but most of them joined in John Bull's country dances. Some beasts were not used to these violent motions, and some were too old or too grave in their notions. Of these a great many diverted their hours with wist, blue, backgammon, quadril, or all fours. Much time being spent in these pleasing diversions, a motion was made to remit their exertions, for supper was waiting, which, on this occasion, was managed with skill and exact regulation. The bosom of earth a firm table supplied. The cloth was green grass, with gay florets bedied. The various utensils by nature were cast, and suited completely this antique repast. The generous host had provided great plenty to suit various palettes of every dainty. Some scores of fat oxen were roasted in tire, for those whose keen stomachs plain beef might require. Profusion of veal, nice lamb, and good mutton, to tickle the taste of each more refined glutton. Abundance of fish, game, and poultry, for those whose epicure palettes such niceties chose. Right fruits and rich sweet meats were served in great store, of which much remained when the banquet was o'er. For as to mild foods of the vegetative kind, few guests at the table to these were inclined. Rare hap for such persons as traveled that way by chance or design, on the following day, on wine and strong spirits few chose to regale, as most were accustomed to Adam's old ale. When supper was ended, and each happy guest had freely partaken of what he loved best, of toasts and of sentiments various were given, as health to our host, and the land that we live in. The former was drank with hazzaz three times three, which echo repeated with rapturously. Now mirth and good humor pervaded the throng, and each was requested to furnish a song, which many complied with, but such as denied some whimsical laughable story supplied. The lion, Britannia rule, sung mighty well, the tiger, in English roast beef, did excel, while others made all the wide valley to ring with Nile's glorious battle, and God saved the king. In such good amusements the evening they passed, till Aurora appeared to the eastward at last, when, back to their homes, they returned one and all. Well pleased with the sports at the elephants' ball. End of poem. Read for LibriVox in Modesto, California, summer 2008. Ferry's Album with Rhymes of Ferryland. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. Ferry's Album with Rhymes of Ferryland by an anonymous author. Contents. Ferry's Album. The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. Ferry's Friends. Peace and War. And Ferry's Dream. This is Ferry's Album. This is Ferry, bright as spring, loving every living thing, with a love so sweet and true, that all creatures love her too. This is Ferry, bright as spring, in Ferry's Album. This is Ferry, wondrous wise, sunshine laughing in her eyes, who will prattle on for hours to the brooks and trees and flowers, to the birds and butterflies, to all creatures neath the skies. Understanding all they say, in a curious sort of way, this is Ferry, wondrous wise, in Ferry's Album. This is Ferry, fanciful, never moping, never dull, for her mind is amply stored with an overflowing horde of the tales of fairy times. And of quaint old nursery rhymes, so that she can always find good companions when inclined. This is Ferry, fanciful, in Ferry's Album. The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe. This is a rhyme of ancient time. Of a certain old woman who lived in a shoe, and had so many children, she didn't know what to do. Ferry knows her, and says, It's true. This is the shoe, and this is the dame, without a name, who lived in the shoe. These are the children, quite a score, perhaps one less, perhaps one more, who worried the dame, without a name, who lived in the shoe. This is the broth, so weak and thin, with never a bit of bread therein, made for the children quite a score, perhaps one less, perhaps one more, who worried the dame, without a name, who lived in the shoe. This is the bed within the shoe, that the children got in, two by two, urged by the children, with never a bit of bread therein, made for the children quite a score, perhaps one less, perhaps one more, who worried the dame, without a name, who lived in the shoe. That the children got in, two by two, urged by the stick, so long and thick, that followed the broth, so weak and thin, with never a bit of bread therein, made for the children quite a score, perhaps one less, perhaps one more, who worried the dame, without a name, who lived in the shoe. And this is the end of a tale that is true, of a wonderful bed and a wonderful shoe, that the children got in, two by two, urged by the stick, so long and thick, that followed the broth, so weak and thin, with never a bit of bread therein, made for the children quite a score, perhaps one less, perhaps one more, who worried the dame, without a name, who lived in the shoe. Ferry's friends. These are some of Ferry's friends. This is little Miss Bo Peep. She who often lost her sheep, went home weeping sore and found all her flock there safe and sound. This is little Miss Bo Peep. One of Ferry's friends. This is Jack and this is Jill, who went forth their pale to fill, and came tumbling down the hill. Ferry says they do it still, this strange couple, Jack and Jill. And there, Ferry's friends. This is lazy young boy blue. All in all he had to do, often Ferry and Bo Peep found him lying fast asleep, heedless of his cows and sheep. This is lazy young boy blue. One of Ferry's friends. This is wonderful Dame Hubbard, named that always rhymes with Hubbard, ever going out to buy something for her dog, so sly, who would oft her patients try. This is wonderful Dame Hubbard, one of Ferry's friends. This is Master Simple Simon. Every day he meets a pieman. Every day, so runs the tail, he will try to catch a whale, fishing in his mother's pale. This is Master Simple Simon, one of Ferry's friends. This is Puss in Boots, so clever, in all dangers ready ever. In his labours, failing never. Puss in Boots, who has a name noted on the rolls of fame. This is Puss in Boots, so clever, one of Ferry's friends. This is giant killing Jack, with his bugle on his back, with his sword so keen and bright, ready ever foes to smite. This is giant killing Jack, one of Ferry's friends. This too is that other Jack, he who fearless of attack, dared the magic stock to climb, facing giants many a time. This is Master Beanstock, Jack, one of Ferry's friends. This is just a little gnome, one of those that make their home in the mines beneath the ground where the precious gold is found. This is just a little gnome, one of Ferry's friends. This is Master Johnny Horner, sitting crying in a corner. Many stop and ask him why, and to all he makes reply, "'Cause no plums are in the pie!' This is Selfish Johnny Horner, worst of Ferry's friends. This is Cinderella Sweet, with her slippers on her feet. Cinderella at the ball, Cinderella loved by all. This is Cinderella Sweet, best of Ferry's friends. This is where the story ends, of Miss Ferry's many friends. Others, Ferry's gnomes and elves, you can think of for yourselves. This is where the story ends, of Ferry's friends. Peace and War Ferry, when she was not dreaming, Ferry, when she was not scheming wondrous tales of gnome and elf, often drew pictures for herself, fanciful as they could be. Two are here for you to see. This is peace, a little maiden who has gleaned all through the day, going home with arms well laden, when the sunlight fades away. This is war, a baby brother threatened by a wasp that stings, being ready soon to smother that fierce yellow thing with wings. Ferry's Dream Ferry fell asleep one day with her album in her hand, and she dreamt she lost her way on the edge of Ferryland. Here she met a little man, quaintly dressed with cap and bells. Read, he said, Miss, if you can, all the words the signpost tells. Though your album you may fill with our portraits, understand hundreds more await you still, here in wondrous Ferryland. End of Ferry's Album Read by Denny Sayers in Modesto, California for LibriVox. The Farmer's Boy The Farmer's Boy Written by an anonymous author and illustrated by R. Caldecott, available at Gutenberg.org. When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's horses. With a G-woe here and a G-woe there, and here a G, and there a G, and everywhere a G. Since I'm a pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the arrow? When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's lambs. With a bar-bar here and a bar-bar there, and here a bar, and there a bar, and everywhere a bar. With a G-woe here and a G-woe there, here a G, there a G, everywhere a G. Since I'm a pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the arrow? When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's hens. With a chuck-chuck here and a chuck-chuck there, and here a chuck, and there a chuck, and everywhere a chuck. With a bar-bar here and a bar-bar there, here a bar, there a bar, everywhere a bar. With a G-woe here and a G-woe there, and here a G, and there a G, and everywhere a G. Since I'm a pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the arrow? When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's pigs. With a grunt-grunt here and a grunt-grunt there, and here a grunt, and there a grunt, and everywhere a grunt. With a chuck-chuck here and a chuck-chuck there, here a chuck, there a chuck, everywhere a chuck. With a bar-bar here and a bar-bar there, and here a bar, and there a bar, and everywhere a bar. With a G-woe here and a G-woe there, here a G, there a G, everywhere a G. Since I'm a pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the arrow? When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's ducks. With a quack-quack here and a quack-quack there, and here a quack, and there a quack, and everywhere a quack. With a grunt-grunt here and a grunt-grunt there, here a grunt, there a grunt, everywhere a grunt. With a chuck-chuck here and a chuck-chuck there, and here a chuck, and there a chuck, and everywhere a chuck. With a bar-bar here and a bar-bar there, here a bar, there a bar, everywhere a bar. The G woe here, and the G woe there, and here a G, and there a G, and everywhere a G. Says I, my pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the arrow? When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's dogs. With a bow-bow here, and a bow-wow there, and here a bow, and there a wow, and everywhere a wow. With a quack-quack here, and a quack-quack there, here a quack. With a grunt-grunt here, and a grunt-grunt there, and here a grunt, and there a grunt, and everywhere a grunt. With a chuck-chuck here, and a chuck-chuck there, here a chuck, there a chuck, everywhere a chuck. With a bow-bow here, and a bow-bow there, and here a bow, and there a bow, and everywhere a bow. With a G-woe here, and a G-woe there, here a G, there a G, everywhere a bow, and everywhere a bow. G. Everywhere a G. Says I, my pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the arrow? When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's children. With a shouting here and a pouting there, and here a shout, and there a pout, and everywhere a shout. With a bow-wow here and a bow-wow there, here a bow, and there a wow, and everywhere a wow. With a quack-quack here and a quack-quack there, and here a quack, and there a quack, and everywhere a quack. With a grunt-grunt here and a grunt-grunt there, here a grunt, there a grunt, and everywhere a grunt. With a chuck-chuck here and a chuck-chuck there, and here a chuck, and there a chuck, and everywhere a chuck. With a ba-ba here and a ba-ba there, here a ba, and there a ba, and everywhere a ba. a G-woe here and a G-woe there, and here a G, and there a G, and everywhere a G. Says I, my pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the arrow?" When I was a farmer, a farmer's boy, I used to keep my master's turkeys. With a gobble-gobble here and a gobble-gobble there, and here a gobble, and there a gobble, and everywhere a gobble. With a shout-teen here and a pout-teen there. Here a shout, and there a pout, and everywhere a shout. With a bow-bow here and a bow-wow there, and here a bow, and there a wow, and everywhere a wow. With a quack-quack here and a quack-quack there, here a quack, and there a quack, and everywhere a quack. With a grunt-grunt here and a grunt-grunt there, and here a grunt, and there a grunt, and everywhere a grunt. With a chuck-chuck here and a chuck-chuck there, here a chuck, there a chuck, there a chuck, and everywhere a chuck, with a ba-ba here and a ba-ba there and here a ba, and there a ba, and everywhere a ba, with a g-wo here and a g-wo there, here a g, and there a g, and everywhere a g. Says I, my pretty lass, will you come to the banks of the air-row? The Feast of Lantons This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Feast of Lantons from Books for the Burns, edited by W.T. Stead. Wang Chi watches a game of chess. Wang Chi was only a poor man, but he had a wife and children to love, and they made him so happy that he would not have changed places with the Emperor himself. He worked in the fields all day, and at night his wife always had a bowl of rice ready for his supper, and sometimes, for a treat, she made him some bean soup, or gave him a little dish of fried pork. But they could not afford pork very often, he generally had to be content with rice. One morning, as he was setting off to his work, his wife sent Han Chong, his son, running after him, to ask him to bring home some firewood. I shall have to go up into the mountain for it at noon, he said. Go and bring me my axe, Han Chong. Han Chong ran for his father's axe, and Housin Co, his little sister, came out of the cottage with him. Remember, it is the Feast of Lantons to-night, Father," she said. Don't fall asleep up on the mountain. We want you to come back and light them for us." She had a lantern in the shape of a fish, painted red and black and yellow, and Han Chong had got a big round one, all bright crimson, to carry in the procession. And besides that there were two large lanterns to be hung outside the cottage door, as soon as it grew dark. Wang Qi was not likely to forget the Feast of Lantons, for the children had talked of nothing else for a month, and he promised to come home as early as he could. At noon-tide, when his fellow labourers gave up working and sat down to rest and eat, Wang Qi took his axe and went up the mountain slope to find a small tree that he might cut down for fuel. He walked a long way, and at last saw one growing at the mouth of a cave. This will be just the thing, he said to himself. But before striking the first blow, he peeped into the cave to see if it were empty. To his surprise, two old men with long white beards were sitting inside playing chess, as quietly as mice, with their eyes fixed on the chessboard. Wang Qi knew something of chess, and he stepped in and watched them for a few minutes. As soon as they looked up, I can ask them if I may chop down a tree, he said to himself. But they did not look up, and by and by Wang Qi got so interested in the game, that he put down his axe and sat on the floor to watch it better. The two old men sat cross-legged on the ground, and the chessboard rested on a slab, like a stone table, between them. On one corner of the slab lay a heap of small brown objects, which Wang Qi took at first to be date-stones. But after a time, the chess players ate one each, and put one in Wang Qi's mouth, and he found it was not a date-stone at all. It was a delicious kind of sweet meat, the like of which he had never tasted before, and the strangest thing about it was that it took his hunger and thirst away. He had been both hungry and thirsty when he came into the cave, as he had not waited to have his midday meal with the other field-workers, but now he felt quite comforted and refreshed. He sat there some time longer, and noticed, as the old men frowned over the chessboard, their beards grew longer and longer, until they swept the floor of the cave, and even found their way out of the door. I hope my beard will never grow as quickly, said Wang Qi, as he rose and took up his axe again. Then one of the old men spoke for the first time. Our beards have not grown quickly, young man. How long is it since you came here? About half an hour, I dare say, replied Wang Qi. But as he spoke, the axe crumbled to dust beneath his fingers. And the second chess player laughed, and pointed to the little brown sweet-meats on the table. Half an hour, or half a century, a half a thousand years, are a light to him who tastes of these. Go down into your village, and see what has happened since you left it. The sad consequences So Wang Qi went down as quickly as he could from the mountain. So Wang Qi went down as quickly as he could from the mountain, and found the fields where he had worked covered with houses, and a busy town where his own little village had been. In vain he looked for his house, his wife, and his children. There were strange faces everywhere. And although when evening came the Feast of Lanterns was being held once more, there was no hosin coat carrying her red and yellow fish, or han chung with his flaming red ball. At last he found a woman, a very, very old woman, who told him that when she was a tiny girl, she remembered her grandmother saying how, when she was a tiny girl, a poor young man had been spirited away by the genie of the mountains on the day of the Feast of Lanterns, leaving his wife and little children with only a few handfuls of rice in the house. Moreover, if you wait while the procession passes, you will see two children dressed to represent han chung and hosin coat, and their mother carrying the empty rice-bowl between them, for this is done every year to remind people to take care of the widow and fatherless, she said. So Wang Qi waited in the street, and in a little while the procession came to an end, and the last three figures in it were a boy and girl dressed like his own two children, walking on either side of a young woman carrying a rice-bowl, but she was not like his wife in anything but her dress, and the children were not at all like han chung and hosin coat, and poor Wang Qi's heart was very heavy as he walked away out of the town. He slept out on the mountain, and early in the morning found his way back to the cave where the two old men were playing chess. At first they said they could do nothing for him, and told him to go away and not disturb them. But Wang Qi would not go, and they soon found the only way to get rid of him was to give him some really good advice. You must go to the white hair of the moon, and ask him for a bottle of the elixir of life. If you drink that, you will live for ever, said one of them. But I don't want to live for ever, objected Wang Qi. I wish to go back and live in the days when my wife and children were here. Ah, well, for that you must mix the elixir of life with some water out of the Sky Dragon's mouth. And where is the Sky Dragon to be found? inquired Wang Qi. In the sky, of course, you really ask very stupid questions. He lives in a cloud cave, and when he comes out of it he breathes fire, and sometimes water. If he is breathing fire you will be burned up, but if it is only water you will easily be able to catch some in a bottle. What else do you want? For Wang Qi is still lingered at the mouth of the cave. I want a pair of wings to fly with and a bottle to catch the water in, he replied boldly. So they gave him a little bottle, and before he had time to say thank you, a white crane came sailing past and lighted on the ground close to the cave. The crane will take you wherever you like, said the old men. Go now and leave us in peace. Wang Qi visits the fire dragon. Wang Qi sat on the white crane's back and was taken up and up and up through the sky to the cloud cave where the Sky Dragon lived. And the dragon had the head of a camel, the horns of a deer, the eyes of a rabbit, the ears of a cow, and the claws of a hawk. Besides this he had whiskers and a beard, and in his beard was a bright pearl. All these things show that he was a real genuine dragon, and if you ever meet a dragon who is not exactly like this you will know he is only a make-believe one. Wang Qi felt rather frightened when he perceived the cave in the distance, and if he did not been for the thought of seeing his wife again, and his little boy and girl he would have been glad to turn back. While he was far away the cloud cave looked like a dark hole in the midst of a soft white woolly mass, such as one sees in the sky on an April day. But as he came nearer he found the cloud was as hard as a rock and covered with a kind of dry white grass. When he got there he sat down on a tuft of grass near the cave and considered what he should do next. The first thing was, of course, to bring the dragon out, and the next to make him breathe water instead of fire. I have it! cried Wang Qi at last, and he nodded his head so many times that the white crane expected to see it fall off. He struck a light and set the grass on fire, and it was so dry that the flames spread all around the entrance to the cave, and made such a smoke and crackling that the sky dragon put his head out to see what was the matter. Ho ho! cried the dragon, when he saw what Wang Qi had done. I can soon put this to rights! And he breathed once, and the water came from his nose and mouth in three streams. But this was not enough to put the fire out. Then he breathed twice, and the water came out in three mighty rivers. And Wang Qi, who had taken care to fill his bottle when the first stream began to flow, sailed away on the white crane's back as fast as he could to escape being drowned. The rivers poured over the cloud rock, until there was not a spark left alight, and rushed down through the sky into the sea below. Fortunately, the sea lay right underneath the dragon's cave, or he would have done great mischief. As it was, the people on the coast looked out across the water toward Japan, and saw three inky black clouds stretching from the sky into the sea. My word! There is a fine rainstorm out at sea, they said to each other. But of course it was nothing of the kind. It was only the sky dragon putting out the fire Wang Qi had kindled. Wang Qi visits the white hair of the moon. Meanwhile Wang Qi was on his way to the moon, and when he got there he went straight to the hut where the hair of the moon lived, and knocked at the door. The hair was busy pounding the drugs which make up the elixir of life, but he left his work and opened the door, and invited Wang Qi to come in. He was not ugly like the dragon. His fur was quite white and soft and glossy, and he had lovely gentle brown eyes. The hair of the moon lives a thousand years, as you know, and when he is five hundred years old he changes his colour from brown to white, and becomes, if possible, better tempered, and nicer than he was before. As soon as he heard what Wang Qi wanted, he opened two windows at the back of the hut, and told him to look through each of them in turn. Tell me what you see, said the hair, going back to the table where he was pounding the drugs. I can see a great many houses and people, said Wang Qi, and streets. Why, this is the town I was in yesterday, the one which has taken the place of my old village. Wang Qi stared, and grew more and more puzzled. Here he was, up in the moon, and yet he could have thrown a stone into the busy street of the Chinese town below his window. How does it come here? He stammered at last. Oh, that is my secret, replied the wise old hair. I know how to do a great many things which would surprise you. But the question is, do you want to go back there? Wang Qi shook his head, then closed the window. It is the window of the present, and look through the other, which is the window of the past. Wang Qi obeyed, and through this window he saw his own dear little village, and his wife, and Han Chong and Hosein Ko jumping about her as she hung up the colored lanterns outside the door. Father won't be in time to light them for us after all Han Chong was saying. Wang Qi turned, and looked eagerly at the white hair. Let me go to them. I have got a bottle of water from the Sky Dragon's mouse, and that's all right, said the white hair. Give it to me. He opened the bottle, and mixed the contents carefully with a few drops of the elixir of life, which was clear as crystal, and of which each drop shone like a diamond as he poured it in. Now drink this, he said to Wang Qi, and it will give you the power of living once more in the past, as you desire. Wang Qi held out his hand, and drank every drop. The moment he had done so the window grew larger, and he saw some steps leading from it down into the village street. Thanking the hair he rushed through it, and ran towards his own house, arriving in time to take from his wife's hand the taper with which she was about to light the red and yellow lanterns which swung over the door. What has kept you so long, Father? Where have you been? asked Han Chong, while Little Hoseen Coe wondered why he kissed and embraced them all so eagerly. But Wang Qi did not tell them his adventures just then. Only when darkness fell, and the Feast of Lanterns began, he took part in it with a merry heart. End of The Feast of Lanterns. Recording by Ruth Golding The Fox and the Grapes by Jean de la Fontaine. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Fox and the Grapes by Jean de la Fontaine. Rosie and Ripe and Ready to Box. The Grapes hang high, or the Hungry Fox. He pricks up his ears and his eye he cocks. Ripe and Rosie yet so high. He gazes at them with a greedy eye, and knows he must eat and drink, or die. When the jump proves to be beyond his power, who, says the Fox, let the pigs devour fruit of that sort. Those grapes are sour. End of The Fox and the Grapes. Recording by Logan McCammon The Little Gingerbread Man. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Dennis Sayers The Little Gingerbread Man by George Haven Putnam. One day the cook went into the kitchen to make some gingerbread. She took some flour and water, and treacle and ginger, and mixed them all well together. And she put in some more water to make it thin, and then some more flour to make it thick, and a little salt and some spice, and then she rolled it out into a beautiful smooth dark yellow dough. Then she took the square tins and cut out some square cakes for the little boys, and with some round tins, she cut out some round cakes for the little girls, and then she said, I'm going to make a little gingerbread man for a little Bobby. So she took a nice round lump of dough for his body, and a smaller lump for his head, which she pulled out a little for the neck. Two other lumps were stuck on beneath for the legs, and were pulled out into proper shape, with feet and toes all complete, and two still smaller pieces were made into arms with dear little hands and fingers. But the nicest work was done on the head, for the top was frizzed up into a pretty sugary hat. On either side was made a dear little ear, and in front, after the nose had been carefully molded, a beautiful mouth was made out of a big raisin, and two bright little eyes with burnt almonds and caraway seeds. Then the gingerbread man was finished, ready for baking, and a very jolly little man he was. In fact, he looked so sly that the cook was afraid he was plotting some mischief, and when the batter was ready for the oven, she put in the square cakes, and she put in the round cakes, and then she put in the little gingerbread man in a far back corner, where he couldn't get away in a hurry. Cook goes up to sweep the parlor. Then she went up to sweep the parlor, and she swept, and she swept, till the clock struck twelve. When she dropped her broom in a hurry, and exclaiming, "'Locks, the gingerbread will be all baked to a sender!' she ran down into the kitchen, and threw open the oven door. And the square cakes were all done, nice and hard and brown, and the round cakes were all done, nice and hard and brown, and the gingerbread man was all done too, nice and hard and brown.' And he was standing up in his corner, with his little caraway seed eyes sparkling, and his raisin mouth bubbling over with mischief, while he waited for the oven door to be opened. The instant the door was opened, with a hop, skip, and a jump, he went right over the square cakes, and the round cakes, and over the cook's arm, and before she could say, Jack Robinson. He was running across the kitchen floor, as fast as his little legs would carry him, towards the back door, which was standing wide open, and through which he could see the garden path. The gingerbread man escapes. The old cook turned round as fast as she could, which wasn't very fast, for she was rather a heavy woman, and she had been quite taken by surprise. And she saw, lying right across the doorway, fast asleep in the sun, old Mouser, the cat. Mouser! Mouser! she cried. Stop, the gingerbread man! I want him for a little bobby. When the cook first called, Mouser thought it was only someone calling in her dreams, and simply rolled over lazily, and the cook called again. Mouser! Mouser! and the old cat sprang up with the jump, but just as she turned round to ask the cook what all the noise was about, the little gingerbread man cleverly jumped under her tail, and in an instant was trotting down the garden walk. Mouser turned in a hurry, and ran after, although she was still rather too sleepy to know what it was as she was trying to catch. And after the cat came the cook, lumbering along rather heavily, but also making pretty good speed. Now at the bottom of the walk, lying fast asleep in the sun against the warm stones of the garden wall, was Towser, the dog. And the cook called out, Towser! Towser! Stop, the gingerbread man! I want him for little Bobby! And when Towser first heard her calling, he thought it was someone speaking in his dreams, and he only turned over on his side with another snore, and then the cook called him again. Towser! Towser! Stop him! Stop him! Then the dog woke up in good earnest, and jumped up on his feet to see what it was that he should stop. But just as the dog jumped up, the little gingerbread man, who had been watching for the chance, quietly slipped between his legs, and climbed up on the top of the stone wall, so that Towser saw nothing but the cat running towards him down the walk, and behind the cat, the cook. Now, quite out of breath, cook takes a tumble. He thought at once that the cat must have stolen something, and that it was the cat the cook wanted him to stop. Now, if there was anything that Towser liked, it was going after the cat, and he jumped up the walk so fiercely that the poor cat did not have time to stop herself or to get out of his way, and they came together with a great fizzing and barking and meowing and howling and scratching and biting, as if a couple of Catherine wheels had gone off in the wrong way, and had got mixed up with one another. But the old cook had been running so hard that she was not able to stop herself any better than the cat had done, and she fell right on top of the mixed up dog and cat, so that all three rolled over on the walk in a heap together, and the cat scratched whichever came nearest, whether it was a piece of the dog or of the cook, and the dog bit at whatever came nearest, whether it was a piece of the cat or of the cook, so that the poor cook was badly pummeled on both sides. Meanwhile, the gingerbread man had climbed up on the garden wall and stood on the top with his hands in his pockets, looking at the scrimmage and laughing till the tears ran down from his little caraway seed eyes, and his raisin mouth was bubbling all over with fun. After a little while, the cat managed to pull herself out from under the cook and the dog, and a very cast down and crumpled up looking cat she was. She had had enough of hunting gingerbread men, and she crept back to the kitchen to repair damages. The dog, who was very cross because his face had been badly scratched, let go of the cook, and at last, catching sight of the gingerbread man, made a bolt for the garden wall. The cook picked herself up, and although her face was also badly scratched and her dress was torn, she was determined to see the end of the chase, and she followed after the dog, though this time more slowly. When the gingerbread man saw the dog coming, he jumped down on the farther side of the wall and began running across the field. Now, in the middle of the field was a tree, and at the foot of the tree was lying Jaco the monkey. He wasn't asleep. Monkeys never are. And when he saw the little man running across the field and heard the cook calling, Jaco, Jaco, stop the gingerbread man. He at once gave one big jump. But he jumped so fast and so far that he went right over the gingerbread man. And as luck would have it, he came down on the back of Towser, the dog who had just scrambled over the wall and whom he had not noticed before. Towser was naturally taken by surprise. But he turned his head around and promptly bit off the end of the monkey's tail. And Jaco quickly jumped off again, chattering his indignation. The monkey catches the gingerbread man. Meanwhile, the gingerbread man had got to the bottom of the tree and was saying to himself, Now, I know the dog can't climb a tree. And I don't believe the old cook can climb a tree. And as for the monkey, I'm not sure for I've never seen a monkey before. But I am going up. So he pulled himself up hand over hand until he had got to the topmost branch. But the monkey had jumped with one spring onto the lowest branch. And in an instant, he also was at the top of the tree. The gingerbread man crawled out to the further most end of the branch and hung by one hand. But the monkey swung himself under the branch and stretching out his long arm, he pulled the gingerbread man in. Then he held him up and looked at him so hungrily that the little raisin mouth began to pucker down at the corners and the caraway seed eyes filled with tears. And then what do you think happened? Why, little Bobby himself came running up. He had been taking his noon day nap upstairs. And in his dreams, it seemed as if he kept hearing people call, Little Bobby, Little Bobby, until finally he jumped up with a start and was so sure that someone was calling him that he ran downstairs without even waiting to put on his shoes. Bobby thought he heard someone calling. As he came down, he could see through the window in the field beyond the garden, the cook and the dog and the monkey, and could even hear the barking of Towser and the chattering of Jaco. He scampered down the walk with his little bare feet pattering against the warm gravel, climbed over the wall, and in a few seconds arrived under the tree, just as Jaco was holding up the poor little gingerbread man. Drop it, Jaco, cried Bobby, and drop it, Jaco did, for he always had to mind Bobby. He dropped it so straight that the gingerbread man fell right into Bobby's uplifted pinafore. Then Bobby held him up and looked at him, and the little raisin mouth puckered down lower than ever, and the tears ran right out of the caraway seed eyes. But Bobby was too hungry to mine gingerbread tears, and he gave one big bite and swallowed down both legs and a piece of the body. Oh, said the gingerbread man, I'm one third gone. Bobby gave a second bite and swallowed the rest of the body and the arms. Oh, said the gingerbread man, I'm two thirds gone. Bobby gave a third bite and gulped down the head. Oh, said the gingerbread man, I'm all gone. And so he was. And that is the end of the story. End of the little gingerbread man. Little Red Riding Hood from the Book of Fables and Folk Stories by Horace E. Scudder. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Rhonda Fetterman. Little Red Riding Hood by Horace E. Scudder. Once upon a time there lived in a certain village, a little girl. Her mother was very fond of her and her grandmother loved her even more. This good old woman made for her a red cloak, which suited the child so well that ever after she was called Little Red Riding Hood. One day her mother made some cakes and said to Little Red Riding Hood, Go my dear and see how grandmother does, for I hear that she has been very ill. Carry her a cake in a little pot of butter. Little Red Riding Hood set out at once to go to her grandmother, who lived in another village. As she was going through the wood, she met a large wolf. He had a very great mind to eat her up, but he dared not, for there were some woodchoppers nearby. So he asked her, Where are you going, little girl? The poor child did not know that it was dangerous to stop and talk with the wolf, and she said, I am going to see my grandmother and carry her a cake and a little pot of butter from my mother. Does she live far off? asked the wolf. Oh yes, it is beyond that nil at the first house in the village. Well, said the wolf, I will go and see her too. I will go this way. Do you go that? And we will see who will be there soonest. At this the wolf began to run as fast as he could, taking the nearest way, and Little Red Riding Hood went by the farthest. She stopped often to chase a butterfly or pluck a flower, and so she was a good while on the way. The wolf was soon at the old woman's house and knocked at the door. Tap, tap. Who is there? Your grandchild, Little Red Riding Hood, replied the wolf, changing his voice. I have brought you a cake and a pot of butter from mother. The good grandmother who was ill in bed called out. Pull the string and the latch will go up. The wolf pulled the string and the latch went up. The door opened and he jumped in and fell upon the old woman and ate her up in less than no time, for he had not tasted food for three days. He then shut the door and got into the grandmother's bed. By and by Little Red Riding Hood came and knocked at the door. Tap, tap. Who is there? Little Red Riding Hood heard the big voice of the wolf and at first she was afraid. Then she thought her grandmother must have a bad cold. So she answered. Little Red Riding Hood, I have brought you a cake and a pot of butter from mother. The wolf softened his voice as much as he could and called out. Pull the string and the latch will go up. Little Red Riding Hood pulled the string and the latch went up and the door opened. The wolf was hiding under the bed clothes and called out in a muffled voice. Put the cake and the pot of butter on the shelf and come to bed. Little Red Riding Hood made ready for bed. Then she looked with wonder at her grandmother, who had changed so much. And she said, Grandmother, what great arms you have. The better to hug you, my dear. Grandmother, what great ears you have. The better to hear you, my dear. Grandmother, what great eyes you have. The better to see you, my dear. Grandmother, what great teeth you have. The better to eat you. And at this the wicked wolf sprang up and fell upon poor Little Red Riding Hood and ate her all up. End of Little Red Riding Hood, Recording by Rhonda Fetterman Rapunzel from Grimm's Household Hells by Margaret Hunt. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Rhonda Fetterman Rapunzel by Margaret Hunt There were once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a child. At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs. It was, however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the garden when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful rampion, Rapunzel. And it looked so fresh and green that she longed for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she quite pined away and looked pale and miserable. Then her husband was alarmed and asked, What aleth thee, dear wife? Ah, she replied, If I can't get some of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our house, to eat I shall die. The man who loved her thought, sooner than let thy wife die bring her some of the rampion thyself, let it cost thee what it will. In the twilight of the evening he clambered down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a handful of rampion and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a salad of it and ate it with much relish. She, however, liked it so much, so very much, that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any rest, her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of evening, therefore he let himself down again. But when he had clambered down the wall, he was terribly afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing before him. How canst thou dare, she said with an angry look, to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief, thou shalt suffer for it? Ah, answered he, let mercy take the place of justice. I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window and felt such a longing for it, that she would have died if she had not got some to eat. Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened and said to him, If the case be as thou sayest, I will allow thee to take away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt. Only I make one condition. Thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into the world. It shall be well treated, and I will care for it, like a mother. The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the woman was brought to bed the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her. Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she was twelve years old the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath it and cried, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair to me. Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair fell twenty-ells down, and the enchantress climbed up by it. After a year or two it came to pass that the king's son rode through the forest and went by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The king's son wanted to climb up to her, and he looked for the door of the tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart that every day he went out into the forest and listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair. Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed up to her. If that is the latter by which one mounts, I will for once try my fortune, said he. And the next day when it began to grow dark he went to the tower and cried. Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair. Immediately the hair fell down and the king's son climbed up. At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes had never yet beheld came to her. But the king's son began to talk to her quite like a friend and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, he will love me more than Old Dame Gothel does. And she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said, I will willingly go away with thee, but I do not know how to get down. Bring with thee a skein of silk every time that thou comest, and I will weave a ladder with it. And when that is ready, I will descend, and thou will take me on thy horse. They agreed that until that time he should come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day. The enchantress remarked, nothing of this, until once Rapunzel said to her, Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so much heavier for me to draw up than the young king's son. He is with me in a moment. Ah, thou wicked child, cried the enchantress, what do I hear thee say? I thought I had separated thee from all the world, and yet thou hast deceived me. In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's beautiful tresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great grief and misery. On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress in the evening fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to the hook of the window, and when the king's son came and cried, Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down thy hair. She let the hair down. The king's son ascended, but he did not find his dearest Rapunzel above, but the enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venomous looks. Ah, ha! she cried mockingly. Thou wouldst fetch thy dearest, but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest. The cat has got it, and will scratch out thy eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to thee. Thou wilt never see her more. The king's son was beside himself with pain, and in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries, and then he wandered about the forest. He ate nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weep over the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for some years, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with the twins to which he had given birth, a boy and a girl, lived in wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him, that he went towards it. And when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wedded his eyes, and they grew clear again, and he could see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contented. End of Rapunzel. Now it happened that he had to go and speak to the king, and in order to make himself appear important, he said to him, I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold. The king said to the miller, That is an art which pleases me well. If your daughter is as clever as you say, bring her tomorrow to my palace, and I will try what she can do. And when the girl was brought to him, he took her into a room which was quite full of straw, gave her a spinning wheel and a reel, and said, Now set to work, and if by tomorrow morning early you have not spun this straw into gold during the night, you must die. Thereupon he himself locked up the room, and left her in it alone. So there sat the poor miller's daughter, and for her life could not tell what to do. She had no idea how straw could be spun into gold, and she grew more and more miserable, until at last she began to weep. But all at once the door opened, and in came a little man, and said, Good evening, Mistress Miller, why are you crying so much? Why are you crying so? Alas, answered the girl, I have to spin straw into gold, and I do not know how to do it. What will you give me? said the mannequin, if I do it for you. My necklace, said the girl. The little man took the necklace, seated himself in front of the wheel, and whir, whir, whir, three turns, and the wheel was full. Then he put on another, and whir, whir, whir, three times round, and the second was full too. And so it went on until the morning, when all the straw was spun, and all the wheels were full of gold. By daybreak the king was already there, and when he saw the gold he was astonished and delighted. But his heart became only more greedy. He had the Miller's daughter taken into another room full of straw, which was much larger, and commanded her to spin that also in one night if she valued her life. The girl knew not how to help herself, and was crying. When the door opened again, and the little man appeared and said, What will you give me if I spin that straw into gold for you? The ring on my finger, answered the girl. The little man took the ring, again began to turn the wheel, and by morning had spun all the straw into glittering gold. The king rejoiced beyond measure at the site, but still he had not gold enough. And he had the Miller's daughter taken into a still larger room full of straw, and said, You must spin this too, in the course of this night. But if you succeed, you shall be my wife, even if she be a Miller's daughter, thought he. I could not find a richer wife in the whole world. When the girl was alone the mannequin came again for the third time and said, What will you give me if I spin the straw for you this time also? I have nothing left that I could give, answered the girl. Then promise me, if you should become queen, to give me your first child. Who knows whether that will ever happen, thought the Miller's daughter, and not knowing how else to help herself in this straight. She promised the mannequin what he wanted, and for that he once more spun the straw into gold. And when the king came in the morning and found all as he had wished, he took her in marriage, and the pretty Miller's daughter became a queen. A year after she had a beautiful child, and she never gave a thought to the mannequin. But suddenly he came into her room and said, Now give me what you promised. The queen was horror struck, and offered the mannequin all the riches of the kingdom if he would leave her child. But the mannequin said, No, something that is living is dearer to me than all the treasures in the world. Then the queen began to weep and cry, so that the mannequin pitied her. I will give you three days time, said he. If by that time you find out my name, then shall you keep your child. So the queen thought the whole night of all the names that she had ever heard, and she sent a messenger over the country to inquire, far and wide, for any other names that there might be. When the mannequin came the next day, she began with Casper, Melchior, Balthazar, and said all the names she knew one after another. But to every one the little man said, That is not my name. On the second day she had inquiries made into the neighborhood as to the names of the people there, and she repeated to the mannequin the most uncommon and curious. Perhaps your name is short ribs, or sheep shanks, or lace leg, but he always answered, That is not my name. On the third day the messenger came back again and said, I have not been able to find a single new name, but as I came to a high mountain at the end of the forest, where the fox and the hare bid each other good night, there I saw a little house, and before the house a fire was burning, and round about the fire, quite a ridiculous little man was jumping. He hopped upon one leg and shouted, Today I bake, tomorrow brew, the next day I'll have the young queen's child. Ha! glad am I that no one knew, that rumple still skin, I am styled. You may imagine how glad the queen was when she heard the name, and when soon afterwards the little man came in and asked, Now mistress, what is my name? At first she said, Is your name Conrad? No. Is your name Harry? No. Perhaps your name is rumple still skin. The devil has told you that, the devil has told you that, cried the little man, and in his anger he plunged his right foot so deep into the earth that his whole leg went in, and then in rage he pulled at his left leg so hard, with both hands, that he tore himself into end of rumple still skin.