 Section 0 of the Pink Fairy Book. All people in the world tell nursery tales to their children. The Japanese tell them, the Chinese, the Red Indians buy their campfires, the Eskimo and their dark, dirty winter huts, the caffers of South Africa tell them, and the modern Greeks, just as the old Egyptians did, when Moses had not been many years rescued out of the Bullrushes. The Germans, French, Spanish, Italians, Danes, Highlanders tell them also, and the stories are apt to be like each other everywhere. A child who has read the blue and red and yellow fairy books will find some old friends with new faces in the Pink Fairy Book, if he examines and compares. The Japanese tales will probably be new to the young student. The Tanuki is a creature whose acquaintance he may not have made before. He may remark that Anderson wants to point a moral, as well as to adorn a tale, that he is trying to make fun of the follies of mankind, as they exist in civilized countries. The Danish story of The Princess and the Chest need not be read to a very nervous child, as it rather borders on a ghost story. It has been altered and is really much more horrid in the language of the Danes, who, as history tells us, were not a nervous or timid people. I am quite sure that this story is not true. The other Danish and Swedish stories are not alarming. They are translated by Mr. W. A. Craigie. Those from the Sicilian through the German are translated like the African tales through the French, and the Catalan tales, and the Japanese stories the latter through the German, and an old French story by Mrs. Lang. Mrs. Alma Allene did the stories from Anderson, out of the German. Mr. Ford, as usual, has drawn the monsters and mermaids, the princes and the giants, and the beautiful princesses, who, the editor thinks, are if possible prettier than ever. Here then are fancies brought from all quarters. We see that black, white, and yellow peoples are fond of just the same kind of adventures. Courage, youth, beauty, kindness have many trials, but they always win the battle, while witches, giants, unfriendly, cruel people are on the losing hand. So it ought to be, and so on the whole it is, and will be. And that is all the moral of fairy tales. We cannot all be young, alas, and pretty, and strong, but nothing prevents us from being kind, and no kind man, woman, or beast, or bird ever comes to anything but good in these oldest fables of the world. So far all the tales are true, and no further. End of preface. Section 1 of the Pink Fairy Book. The Pink Fairy Book by Andrew Lang. The Cat's Elopement. From the Japanese Martian Unsaagan, Von David Browns, Leipzig, Wilhelm Friedrich. Once upon a time there lived a cat of marvelous beauty, with a skin as soft and shining as silk, and wise green eyes, that could see even in the dark. His name was gone, and he belonged to a music teacher, who was so found and proud of him that he would not have parted with him for anything in the world. Now not far from the music master's house there dwelt a lady who possessed a most lovely little pussycat called Coma. She was such a little deer altogether, and blinked her eyes so daintily, and ate her supper so tidily, and when she had finished she licked her pink nose so delicately with her little tongue, that her mistress was never tired of saying, Coma, Coma, what should I do without you? Well it happened one day that these two went out for an evening stroll, met under a cherry tree, and in one moment fell madly in love with each other. Gone had long felt that it was time for him to find a wife, for all the ladies in the neighborhood paid him so much attention that it made him quite shy. But he was not easy to please, and did not care about any of them. Now before he had time to think, Cupid had entangled him in his net, and he was filled with love towards Coma. She fully returned his passion, but, like a woman, she saw the difficulties in the way, and consulted sadly with Gone as to the means of overcoming them. Gone entreated his master to set matters right by buying Coma, but her mistress would not part from her. Then the music master was asked to sell Gone to the lady, but he declined to listen to any such suggestion, so everything remained as before. At length the love of the couple grew to such a pitch that they determined to please themselves, and to seek their fortunes together. So one moonlit night they stole away, and ventured out into an unknown world. All day long they marched bravely on through the sunshine, till they had left their homes far behind them. And towards the evening they found themselves in a large park. The wanderers by this time were very hot and tired, and the grass looked very soft and inviting. And the trees cast cool deep shadows, when suddenly an ogre appeared in this paradise, in the shape of a big, big dog. He came springing toward them, showing all his teeth, and Coma shrieked, and rushed up a cherry tree. Gone, however, stood his ground boldly, and prepared to give battle, for he felt that Coma's eyes were upon him, and that he must not run away. But alas, his courage would have availed him nothing had his enemy once touched him, for he was large and powerful and very fierce. From her perch in the tree Coma saw it all, and screamed with all her might, hoping that someone would hear and come to help. Luckily a servant of the princess to whom the park belonged was walking by, and he drove off the dog, and picking up the trembling gun in his arms carried him to his mistress. So poor little Coma was left alone, while Gone was born away full of trouble, not in the least knowing what to do. Even the attention paid to him by the princess, who was delighted with his beauty in pretty ways, did not console him. But there was no use in fighting against fate, and he could only wait and see what would turn up. The princess, Gone's new mistress, was so good and kind that everybody loved her, and she would have led a happy life had it not been for a serpent who had fallen in love with her, and was constantly annoying her by his presence. Her servants had orders to drive him away as often as he appeared, but as they were careless and the serpent very sly, it sometimes happened that he was able to slip past them and to frighten the princess by appearing before her. One day she was seated in her room, playing on her favorite musical instrument, when she felt something gliding up her sash, and saw the enemy making his way to kiss her cheek. She shrieked and threw herself backwards, and Gone, who had been curled up on a stool at her feet, understood her terror, and with one bound seized the snake by the neck. He gave him one bite and one shake and flung him on the ground, where he lay, never to worry the princess any more. Then she took Gone in her arms and praised and caressed him, and saw that he had the nicest bits to eat, and the softest mats to lie on, and he would have had nothing in the world to wish for if only he could have seen Coma again. Gone passed on, and one morning Gone lay before the house door, basking in the sun. He looked lazily at the world stretched out before him, and saw in the distance a big ruffian of a cat teasing and ill-treating quite a little one. He jumped up, full of rage, and chased away the big cat, and then turned to comfort the little one, when his heart nearly burst with joy to find that it was Coma. At first Coma did not know him again. He had grown so large and stately, but when it dawned upon her who it was, her happiness knew no bounds, and they rubbed their heads and their noses again and again, while their purring might have been heard a mile off. Pa and Pa they appeared before the princess, and hold her the story of their life and its sorrows. The princess wept for sympathy and promised that they should never more be parted, but should live with her to the end of their days. By and by the princess herself got married, and brought a prince to dwell in the palace in the park, and she told him all about her two cats, and how brave God had been, and how he had delivered her from her enemy, the serpent. And when the prince heard, he swore they should never leave them, but should go with the princess wherever she went. So it all fell out as the princess wished, and God and Coma had many children, and so had the princess, and they all played together, and were friends to the end of their lives. THE PINK FAIRY BOOK By Andrew Lang How The Dragon Was Tricked From Kiteshki and Abinashki Marchin Von J. G. Van Han Liebsig Incoman 1864 Once upon a time there lived a man who had two sons, but they did not get on at all well together, for the younger man was much handsomer than his elder brother, who was very jealous of him. When they grew older, things became worse and worse, and at last one day as they were walking through a wood, the elder youth seized hold of the other, tied him to a tree, and went on his way, hoping that the boy might starve to death. However, it happened that an old and humpback shepherd passed the tree with his flock, and, seeing the prisoner, he stopped and said to him, Tell me, my son, why are you tied to that tree? Because I was so crooked, answered the young man, but it is quite cured me, and now my back is as straight as can be. I wish you would bind me to a tree, exclaimed the shepherd, so that my back would get straight. With all the pleasure in life, replied the youth, if you will loosen these cores I will tie you up with them as firmly as I can. This was soon done, and then the young man drove off the sheep, leaving their real shepherd to repent of his folly. And before he had gone very far he met with a horse-boy and a driver of oxen, and he persuaded them to turn with him and seek for adventures. By these and many other tricks he soon became so celebrated that his fame reached the king's ears, and his majesty was filled with curiosity to see the man who had managed to outwit everybody. So he commanded his guards to capture the young man and bring him before him. And when the young man stood before the king, the king spoke to him and said, By your tricks and the pranks that you have played on other people, you have in the eye of the law forfeited your life, but on one condition I will spare you, and that is, if you will bring me the flying horse that belongs to the great dragon, fail in this, and you shall be hewn in a thousand pieces. Well, if that is all, said the youth, you shall soon have it. So he went out and made his way straight to the stable where the flying horse was tethered. He stretched his hand cautiously out to seize the bridle when the horse suddenly began to neigh as loud as he could. Now the room in which the dragon slept was just above the stable, and at the sound of the neighing he woke up and cried to the horse, What is the matter, my treasure? Is there anything hurting you? After waiting a while the young man tried again to lose the horse, but a second time it neighed so loudly that the dragon woke up in a hurry and called out to know why the horse was making such a noise. But when the same thing happened the third time, the dragon lost his temper, and went down into the stable and took a whip and gave the horse a good beating. This offended the horse and made him angry, and when the young man stretched out his hand to untie his head he made no further fuss, but suffered himself to be led quietly away. Once clear of the stable the young man sprang on his back and galloped off, calling over his shoulder, Hey dragon, dragon, if anyone asks you what is becoming of your horse, you can say that I've got him. But the king said, The flying horse is all very well, but I want something more. You must bring me the covering with the little bells that lies on the bed of the dragon, or I will have you hewn into a thousand pieces. Is that all? answered the youth. But that's easily done. And when night came he went away to the dragon's house and climbed up onto the roof. Then he opened a little window in the roof and let down the chain from which the kettle usually hung, and tried to hook the bed covering and to draw it up. But the little bells all began to ring, and the dragon woken said to his wife, Wife, you have pulled off all the bed clothes, and drew the covering toward him, pulling as he did so the young man into the room. Then the dragon flung himself on the youth and bound him fast with cords saying as he tied the last knot, Tomorrow when I go to church you must stay at home and kill him and cook him, and when I get back we will eat him together. So the following morning the dragoness took hold of the young man and reached down from the shelf a sharp knife with which to kill him. But as she untied the cords, the better to get hold of him, the prisoner caught her by the legs, threw her to the ground, seized her, and speedily cut her throat. As she had been about to do for him, and put her body in the oven. Then he snatched up the covering and carried it to the king. The king was seated on his throne when the youth appeared before him and spread out the covering with a deep bow. That is not enough, said his majesty. You must bring me the dragon himself, or I will have you hewn into a thousand pieces. It shall be done, answered the youth. But you must give me two years to manage it, for my beard must grow so that he may not know me. So be it, said the king. And the first thing the young man did when his beard was grown was to take the road to the dragon's house and on the way he met a beggar, whom he persuaded to change clothes with him, and in the beggar's garments he went fearlessly forth to the dragon. He found his enemy before his house very busily making a box and addressed him politely. Good morning, your worship. Have you a morsel of bread? You must wait, replied the dragon, till I have finished my box, and then I will see if I can find one. What will you do with the box when it is made, inquired the beggar? It is for the young man who killed my wife, and stole my flying horse and my bed covering, said the dragon. He deserves nothing better, answered the beggar. For it was an ill deed, still that box is too small for him, for he is a big man. You are wrong, said the dragon. The box is large enough even for me. Well, the rogue is nearly as tall as you, replied the beggar, and of course, if you can get in he can, but I am sure you would find it a tight fit. Oh, there is plenty of room, said the dragon, tucking himself carefully inside. But no sooner was he well in than the young man clapped on the lid and called out, Now press hard just to see if he will be able to get out. The dragon pressed as hard as he could, but the lid never moved. It is all right, he cried. Now you can open it. But instead of opening it, the young man drove in long nails to make it tighter still. Then he took the box on his back and brought it to the king. And when the king heard that the dragon was inside, he was so excited that he would not wait one moment, but broke the lock and lifted the lid just a little way to make sure he was really there. He was very careful not to leave enough space for the dragon to jump out, but, unluckily, there was just room for his great mouth, and with one snap the king vanished down his wide red jaws. Then the young man married the king's daughter and ruled over the land. But what he did with the dragon nobody knows. End of How The Dragon Was Tricked by Elliot Miller, www.voiceofe.com. The Pink Fairy Book by Andrew Lang, The Goblin and the Grocer, translated from the German of Hans Andersen. There was once a hardworking student who lived in an attic, and he had nothing in the world of his own. There was also a hardworking grocer who lived on the first floor, and he had the whole house for his own. The goblin belonged to him. For every Christmas Eve there was waiting for him at the grocers a dish of jam with a large lump of butter in the middle. The grocer could afford this, so the goblin stayed in the grocer's shop, and this teaches us a good deal. One evening the student came in by the back door to buy a candle and some cheese. He had no one to send, so he came himself. He got what he wanted, paid for it, and nodded a good evening to the grocer and his wife. She was a woman who could do more than not. She could talk. When the student had said good night, he suddenly stood still, reading the sheet of paper in which the cheese had been wrapped. It was a leaf torn out of an old book, a book of poetry. "'There's more of that over there,' said the grocer. I gave an old woman some coffee for the book. If you'd like to give me two pence, you can have the rest.' "'Yes,' said the student, give me the book instead of the cheese. I can eat my bread without cheese. It would be a shame to leave the book to be torn up. You are a clever and practical man, but about poetry you understand as much as that old tub over there.' And that sounded rude as far as the tub was concerned. But the grocer laughed, and so did the student. It was only said and fun. But the goblin was angry, that anyone should dare to say such a thing to a grocer who owned the house and sold the best butter. When it was night and the shop was shut, and everyone was in bed except the student, the goblin went upstairs and took the grocer's wife's tongue. She did not use it when she was asleep, and on whatever object in the room he put it on the thing began to speak, and spoke out its thoughts and feeling just as well as the lady to whom it belonged. But only one thing at a time could use it, and that was a good thing, or they would all have spoken together. The goblin laid the tongue on the tub, in which were the old newspapers. "'Is it true?' he asked. "'That you know nothing about poetry.' "'Certainly not,' answered the tub. "'Poetry is something that is in the papers, and is frequently cut out. I have a great deal more in me than the student has, and yet I am only a small tub in the grocer's shop.' And the goblin put the tongue on the coffee mill, and how it began to grind. He put it on the butter-cask, and on the till, and all were of the same opinion as the waste-paper tub, and one must believe the majority. "'Now I will tell the student,' and with these words he crept softly up the stairs to the attic where the student lived. There was a light burning, and the goblin peeped through the keyhole and saw that he was reading the torn book that he had bought in the shop. But how bright it was! Out of the book shot a streak of light which grew into a large leaf and spread its branches far above the student. Every leaf was alive, and every flower was a beautiful girl's head, some with dark and shining eyes, others with wonderful blue ones. Every fruit was a glittering star, and there was marvellous music in the student's room. The little goblin had never even dreamt of such a splendid sight, much less seen it. He stood on tiptoe gazing and gazing, till the candle in the attic was put out. The student had blown it out and had gone to bed, but the goblin remained standing outside listening to the music, which very softly and sweetly was now singing the student a lullaby. "'I have never seen anything like this,' said the goblin. "'I never expected this. I must stay with the student.' The little fellow thought it over, for he was a sensible goblin. Then he sighed. The student has no jam.' And on that he went down to the grocer again. And it was a good thing he did go back, for the tub had nearly worn out the tongue. It had read everything that was inside it, on one side, and was just going to turn itself round and read from the other side when the goblin came in and returned the tongue to its owner. But the whole shop, from the till down to the shavings, from that night changed their opinion of the tub. And they looked up to it, and they had such faith in it that they were under the impression that when the grocer read the art and drama critiques out of the paper in the evenings, it all came from the tub. But the goblin could no longer sit quietly listening to the wisdom and intellect downstairs. No, as soon as the light shone in the evening from the attic, it seemed to him, as though its beams were strong-roke, stragging him up. And he had to go and peep through the keyhole. There, he felt a sort of feeling we have looking at the great rolling sea in a storm, and he burst into tears. He could not himself say why he wept, but in spite of his tears he felt quite happy. How beautiful it must be to sit under that tree with a student. But that he could not do. He had to consent himself with the keyhole and be happy there. There he stood out on the cold landing, the autumn wind blowing through the cracks of the floor. It was cold, very cold, but he first found it out when the lights in the attic was put out and the music in the wood died away. Ah, then it froze him, and he crept down again to his warm corner where, there, it was comfortable and cozy. When Christmas came, and with it the jam with a large lump of butter, ah-ha, then the grocer was first with him. But in the middle of the night the goblin awoke, hearing a great noise and knocking against the shutters, people hammering from outside. The watchman was blowing his horn. A great fire had broken out. The whole town was in flames. Was it in the house, or was it at a neighbor's? Where was it? The alarm increased. The grocer's wife was so terrified that she took her gold earrings out of her ears and put them in her pocket in order to save something. The grocer seized his account books and then made her black silk dress. Everyone wanted to save his most valuable possession. So did the goblin, and in a few leaps he was up the stairs and in the student's room. He was standing quietly by the open window looking at the fire that was burning in the neighbor's house just opposite. The goblin seized the book lying on the table, put it in his red cap, and clasped it with both hands. The best treasure in the house was saved, and he climbed out on the roof with it, on to the chimney. There he sat, lighted up by the flames from the burning house opposite, both hands holding tightly on his red cap, in which lay the treasure, and now he knew what his heart really valued most, to whom he really belonged. But when the fire was put out and the goblin thought it over, then, I will divide myself between the two, he said, I cannot quite give up the grocer because of the jam. And it is just the same with us. We also cannot quite give up the grocer because of the jam. End of THE GOBLIN AND THE GROSTER Recording by Elliot Miller, www.voiceofe.com Section 4 of THE PINK FAIRY BOOK This LibraVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elliot Miller THE PINK FAIRY BOOK by Andrew Lang THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD FROM THE GERMAN OF GRIM A poor woodcutter lived with his wife and three daughters in a little hut on the borders of a great forest. One morning, as he was going to work, he said to his wife, Let our eldest daughter bring me my lunch into the wood, and so that she shall not lose her way, I will take a bag of millet with me, and sprinkle the seed on the path. When the sun had risen high over the forest, the girl set out with a basin of soup. But the fields and woods, barrows, the larks and finches, the blackbirds and greenfinches had picked up the millet long ago, and the girl could not find her way. She went on and on, till the sun set and night came on. The trees rustled in the darkness, the owls hooded, and she began to be very much frightened. Then she saw in the distance a light that twinkled between the trees. There must be people living yonder, she thought, who will take me in for the night, and she began walking toward it. Not long afterward she came to a house with lights in the windows. She knocked at the door, and a gruff voice called, Come in! The girl stepped into the dark entrance, and tapped at the door of the room. Just walk in, cried the voice, and when she opened the door, there sat an old gray-haired man at the table. His face was resting in his hands, and his white beard flowed over the table, almost down to the ground. By the stove lay three beasts, a hen, a cock, and a brindled cow. The girl told the man her story, and asked for a night's lodging. The man said, Pretty cock, pretty hen, and you pretty brindled cow, what do you say now? Dukes! answered the beast, and that must have meant, we are quite willing, for the old man went on, Here is abundance! Go into the back kitchen, and cook us a supper. The girl found plenty of everything in the kitchen, and cooked a good meal, but she did not think of the beast. She placed the full dishes on the table, sat down opposite the gray-haired man, and ate till her hunger was appeased. When she was satisfied she said, But now I am so tired, where is a bed in which I can sleep? The beast answered, You have eaten with him, you have drunk with him, of us you have not thought. Sleep then, as you walked. Then the old man said, Go upstairs, there you will find a bedroom. Shake the bed, and put clean sheets on, and go to sleep. The maiden went upstairs, and when she had made the bed she lay down. After some time the gray-haired man came, looked at her by the light of his candle, and shook his head, and when he saw that she was sound asleep he opened a trap door, and let her fall into the cellar. The woodcutter came home late in the evening, and reproached his wife for leaving him all day without food. No, I did not, she answered. The girl went off with your dinner. She must have lost her way, but will no doubt come back tomorrow. But at daybreak the woodcutter started off into the wood, and this time asked his second daughter to bring him food. I will take a bag of lentils, said he. They are larger than millet, and the girl will see them better and be sure to find her way. At midday the maiden took the food, but the lentils had all gone, as on the previous day the wood-birds had eaten them all. The maiden wandered about the wood till nightfall, when she came in the same way to the old man's house, and asked for food and a night's lodging. The man with the white hair again asked the beast, pretty cock, pretty hen, and you pretty-brendled cow. What do you say now? The beasts answered, Dooks! And everything happened as on the former day. The girl cooked a good meal, ate and drank with the old man, and did not trouble herself about the animals. And when she asked for a bed, they replied, You have eaten with him, you have drunk with him, of us you have not thought, now sleep as you walked. And when she was asleep the old man shook his head over her, and let her fall into the cellar. On the third morning the woodcutter said to his wife, Send our youngest child to-day with my dinner. She is always good and obedient, and will keep to the right path, and not wander away like her sisters, idle drones. But the mother said, Must I lose my dearest child, too? Do not fear, he answered. She is too clever and intelligent to lose her way. I will take plenty of peas with me and screw them along. They are even larger than lentils, and will show her the way. But when the maiden started off with a basket on her arm, the wood pigeons had eaten up the peas, and she did not know which way to go. She was much distressed, and thought constantly of her poor hungry father and her anxious mother. At last, when it grew dark, she saw the little light, and came to the house in the wood. She asked Piddley if she might stay there for the night, and the man with the white beard asked his beast again, Pretty cock, pretty hen, and you pretty-rindled cow, what do you say now? Dukes, they said, and the maiden stepped up to the stove where the animals were lying, and stroked the cock and the hen, and scratched the brindled cow between its horns. And when, at the bidding of the old man, she had prepared a good supper, and the dishes were standing on the table, she said, Shall I have plenty while the good beast have nothing? There is food to spare outside. I will attend to them first. Then she went out and touched barley, and strew it before the cock and hen, and brought the cow an armful of sweet smelling hay. Eat that, dear beast, she said, and when you are thirsty you shall have a good drink. Then she fetched a bowl of water, and the cock and hen flew on to the edge, put their beaks in, and then held up their heads as birds do when they drink, and the brindled cow also drank her fill. When the beast were satisfied the maiden sat down beside the old man at the table, and ate what was left for her. Soon the cock and hen began to tuck their heads under their wings, and the brindled cow blinked its eyes, so the maiden said, Shall we not go to rest now? Pretty cock, pretty hen, and you pretty brindled cow, what do you say now? The animal said, Dukes, you have eaten with us, you have drunk with us, you have tended us right, so we wish you good night. The maiden, therefore, went upstairs, made the bed, and put on clean sheets, and fell asleep. She slept peacefully till midnight, when there was such a noise in the house that she awoke. Everything trembled and shook. The animals sprang up and dashed themselves in terror against the wall. The beams swayed as if they would be torn from their foundations. It seemed as if the stairs were tumbling down. And then the roof fell in with a crash. Then all became still, and as no harm came to the maiden she lay down again and fell asleep. But when she awoke again in broad daylight, what a sight met her eyes. She was lying in a splendid room, furnished with royal splendor. The walls were covered with golden flowers on a green ground, the bed was of ivory and the counterpane of velvet. An honest stool nearby lay a pair of slippers studded with pearls. The maiden thought she must be dreaming, but in came three servants richly dressed, who asked what were her commands. Go, said the maiden, I will get up at once and cook the old man's supper for him. Then I will feed the pretty cock and hen in the brindled cow. But the door opened and in came a handsome young man, who said, I am a king's son, and was condemned by a wicked witch to live as an old man in this wood with no company but that of my three servants, who were transformed into a cock, a hen, and a brindled cow. The spell could only be broken by the arrival of a maiden who would show herself kind not only to men, but to beasts. You were that maiden. And last night at midnight we were freed. And this poor house was again transformed into my royal palace. As I stood there, the king's son told his three servants to go and fetch the maiden's parents to be present at the wedding feast. But where are my two sisters, asked the maid. I shut them up in the cellar, but in the morning they shall be led forth into the forest and shall serve a charcoal burner until they have improved, and will never again suffer poor animals to go hungry. End of The House in the Wood Recording by Elliot Miller, www.voiceofee.com Section 5 of The Pink Fairy Book. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elliot Miller. The Pink Fairy Book by Andrew Lang. Rache Matero and The Turtle. From the Japanese Marchin und Sagen von David Bronze, Lipsig, Wilhelm Friedrich. There was once a worthy old couple who lived on a coast and supported themselves by fishing. They had only one child, a son, who was their pride and joy, and for his sake they were ready to work hard all day long and never felt tired or discontented with their lock. This son's name was Rache Matero, which means in Japanese son of the island. And he was a fine, well-grown youth and a good fisherman, minding neither wind nor weather. Not the bravest sailor in the whole village dared venture so far out to sea as Rache Matero, and many a time the neighbors used to shake their heads and say to his parents, If your son goes on being so rash, one day he will try his luck once too often, and the waves will end by swallowing him up. But Rache Matero paid no heed to these remarks. And as he was really very clever in managing a boat, the old people were very seldom anxious about him. In beautiful bright morning, as he was hauling his well-filled nets into the boat, he saw lying among the fishes a tiny little turtle. He was delighted with his prize, and threw it into a wooden vessel to keep till he got home, when suddenly the turtle found its voice, and tremblingly begged for its life. After all, it said, What good can I do you? I am so young and small, and I would so gladly live a little longer, be merciful, and set me free, and I shall know how to prove my gratitude. Now Rache Matero was very good-natured, and besides he could never bear to say no, so he picked up the turtle and put it back into the sea. Years flew by, and every morning Rache Matero sailed his boat into the deep sea. But one day, as he was making for a little bay between some rocks, there arose a fierce whirlwind which shattered his boat to pieces, and she was sucked under by the waves. Rache Matero himself very nearly shared the same fate, but he was a powerful swimmer, and struggled hard to reach the shore. Then he saw a large turtle coming towards him, and above the howling of the storm he heard what it said, I am the turtle whose life you once saved. I will now pay my debt and show my gratitude. The land is still far distant, and without my help you will never get there. I am on my back, and I will take you where you will. Rache Matero did not wait to be asked twice, and thankfully accepted his friend's help. But scarcely was he seated firmly on the shell when the turtle proposed that they should not return to the shore at once, but go under the sea, and look at some of the wonders that lay hidden there. Rache Matero agreed willingly, and in another moment they were deep, deep down, with fathoms of blue water above their heads. Oh, how quickly they darted through the still warm sea. The young man held tight, and marveled where they were going and how long they were to travel. But for three days they rushed on, till at last the turtle stopped before a splendid palace, shining with gold and silver, crystal and precious stones, and decked here and there with branches of pale pink coral and glittering pearls. But if Rache Matero was astonished at the beauty of the outside, he was struck dumb at the sight of the hall within, which was lighted by the blaze of fishgales. Where have you brought me? He asked his guide in a low voice. To the palace of Ringu, the house of the sea-god, whose subjects we all are, answered the turtle. I am the first waiting maid of his daughter, the lovely Princess Otohimi, whom you will shortly see. Rache Matero was still so puzzled with the adventures that had befallen him that he waited in a dazed condition for what would happen next. But the turtle, who had talked so much of him to the princess that she had expressed a wish to see him, went at once to make known his arrival. And directly the princess beheld him in her heart was set on him, and she begged him to stay with her, and in return promised that he should never grow old, neither should his beauty fade. Is that not robot enough? She asked, smiling, looking all the while as fair as the sun itself. And the Rache Matero said, yes. So he stayed there. For how long? That he only knew later. His life passed by, and each hour seemed happier than the last, when one day there rushed over him a terrible longing to see his parents. He fought against it hard, knowing how it would grieve the princess. But it grew on him stronger and stronger. Till at length he became so sad that the princess inquired what was wrong. Then he told her of the longing he had to visit his old home, that he must see his parents once more. The princess was almost frozen with horror and implored him to stay with her, or something dreadful would be sure to happen. You will never come back, and we shall meet again no more, she moaned bitterly. But a Rache Matero stood firm and repeated, only this once will I leave you, and then I will return to your side forever. Sadly the princess shook her head, but she answered slowly. One way there is to bring you safely back, but I fear you will never agree to the conditions of the bargain. I will do anything that will bring me back to you, exclaimed Rache Matero, looking at her tenderly. But the princess was silent. She knew too well that when he left her side she would see his face no more. Then she took from a shelf a tiny golden box, and gave it to Rache Matero, praying him to keep it carefully, and above all things never to open it. If you can do this, she said as she bade him farewell, your friend the turtle will meet you at the shore, and will carry you back to me. A Rache Matero thanked her from his heart, and swore solemnly to do her bidding. He hid the box safely in his garments, seated himself on the back of the turtle, and vanished in the ocean path, waving his hand to the princess. Three days and three nights they swam through the sea, and at length Rache Matero arrived at the beach, which lay before his old home. The turtle bade him farewell, and was gone in a moment. Rache Matero drew near to the village with quick and joyful steps. He saw the smoke curling through the roof and the thatch where green plants had thickly sprouted. He heard the children shouting and calling, and from a window that he passed came the twang of the koto, and everything seemed to cry a welcome for his return. Yet suddenly he felt a pang in his heart as he wandered down the street. After all everything was changed. Neither man nor houses were those he once knew. Quickly he saw his old home. Yes, it was still there, but it had a strange look. Anxiously he knocked at the door, and asked the woman who opened it after his parents. But she did not know their names, and could give no news of them. Even more disturbed he rushed to the burying-ground, the only place that could tell him what he wished to know. Here at any rate he would find out what it all meant, and he was right. In a moment he stood before the grave of his parents, and the date written on the stone was almost exactly the date when they had lost their son, and he had forsaken them for the daughter of the sea. And so he found that since he had left his home three hundred years had passed by. Starting with horror at the discovery he turned back into the village street, hoping to meet someone who could tell him of the days of old. But when the man spoke he knew he was not dreaming, though he felt as if he had lost his senses. In despair he bethought of the box which was the gift of the princess. Perhaps after all this dreadful thing was not true. He might be the victim of some enchanter's spell, and in his hand lay the counter-charm. Most unconsciously he opened it, and a purple vapor came pouring out. He held the empty box in his hand, and as he looked he saw that the fresh hand of youth had grown suddenly shriveled, like the hand of an old, old man. He ran to the brook, which flowed in a clear stream down from the mountain, and saw himself reflected in a mirror. It was the face of a mummy which looked back at him. Wounded to death he crept back through the village, and no man knew the old, old man, to be the strong handsome youth who had run down the street an hour before. So he toiled wearily back till he reached the shore, and here he sat sadly on a rock, and called loudly on the turtle. But she never came back any more. But instead death came soon, and set him free. But before that happened the people who saw him sitting lonely on the shore had heard his story, and when their children were restless they used to tell them of the good son, who from love to his parents had given up for their sakes the splendor and wonders of the palace and the sea, and the most beautiful woman in the world besides. THE PINK FAIRY BOOK by Andrew Lange THE SLAYING OF THE TANUKI FROM THE JAPANISH KUMURIN UNSAGEN Near a big river in between two high mountains, a man and his wife lived in a cottage a long, long time ago. A dense forest lay all around the cottage, and there was hardly a path or a tree in the whole wood that was not familiar to the peasant from his boyhood. In one of his wanderings he had made friends with a hare, and many an hour the two passed together when the man was resting by the roadside eating his dinner. Now this strange friendship was observed by the tanuki, a wicked quarrelsome beast who hated the peasant, and was never tired of doing him an ill turn. Again and again he had crept to the hut, and finding some choice morsel put away for the little hare had either eaten it, if he thought it nice, or trampled it to pieces so that no one else should get it, and at last the peasant lost patience, and made up his mind he would have the tanuki's blood. So for many days the man lay hidden, waiting for the tanuki to come by, and when one morning he marched up the road thinking of nothing but the dinner he was going to steal, the peasant threw himself upon him and bound his forelegs tightly, so that he could not move. Then he dragged his enemy joyfully to the house, feeling that at length he had got the better of the mischievous beast, which had done him so many ill turns. "'He shall pay for them with his skin,' he said to his wife. "'We will first kill him and then cook him.' So saying he hanged the tanuki, head downwards to a beam, and went out together wood for a fire. Meanwhile the old woman was standing at the mortar pounding the rise that was to serve them for the week with a pestle that made her arms ache with its weight. Suddenly she heard something whining and weeping in the corner, and, stopping her work, she looked round to see what it was. That was all the rascal wanted, and he put on directly his most humble air, and begged the woman in his softest voice to loosen his bonds, which were hurting him sorely. He was filled with pity for him, but did not dare to set him free, as she knew that her husband would be very angry. The tanuki, however, did not despair, and seeing that her heart was softened, began his prayers anew. "'He only asked to have his bonds taken from him,' he said. He would give his word not to attempt to escape, and if he was once set free he could soon pound her rice for her. "'Then you can have a little rest,' he went on. "'For rice-pounding is very tiring work, and not at all fit for weak women!' These last words melted the good woman completely, and she unfastened the bonds that held him. Poor foolish creature! In one moment the tanuki had seized her, stripped off all her clothes, and popped her in the mortar. In a few minutes more she was pounded as fine as the rice, and not content with that the tanuki placed a pot on the hearth, and made ready to cook the peasant a dinner from the flesh of his own wife. When everything was complete he looked out of the door, and saw the old man coming from the forest carrying a large bundle of wood. Quick as lightning the tanuki not only put on the woman's clothes, but as he was a magician, assumed her form as well. Then he took the wood, kindled the fire, and very soon set a large dinner before the old man, who was very hungry, and had forgotten for the moment all about his enemy. But when the tanuki saw that he had eaten his fill and would be thinking about his prisoner, he hastily shook off the clothes behind a door, and took his own shape. Then he said to the peasant, You are a nice sort of person to seize animals and to talk of killing them. You are caught in your own net. It is your own wife that you have eaten, and if you want to find her bones you have only to look under the floor." With these words he turned and made for the forest. The old peasant grew cold with horror as he listened, and seemed frozen to the place where he stood. When he had recovered himself a little he collected the bones of his dead wife, buried them in the garden, and swore over the grave to be avenged on the tanuki. After everything was done he set himself down in his lonely cottage and wept bitterly, and the bitterest thought of all was that he would never be able to forget that he had eaten his own wife. While he was thus weeping and wailing his friend the hair passed by, and hearing the voice pricked up his ears and soon recognized the old man's voice. He wondered what had happened, and put his head at the door and asked if anything was the matter. With tears and groans the peasant told him the whole dreadful story, and the hair filled with anger and compassion comforted him as best he could, and promised to help him in his revenge. The false dave shall not go unpunished, said he. So the first thing he did was to search the house for materials to make an ointment, which he sprinkled plentifully with pepper and then put in his pocket. Next he took a hatchet, bade farewell to the old man, and departed to the forest. He bent his steps to the dwelling of the tanuki and knocked at the door. The tanuki, who had no cause to suspect the hair, was greatly pleased to see him, for he had noticed the hatchet at once and began to lay plots how to get a hold of it. To do this he thought he had better offered to accompany the hair, which was exactly what the hair wished and expected. For he knew all the tanukis cunning, and understood his little ways. So he accepted the rascals company with joy, and made himself very pleasant as they strolled along. When they were wandering in this manner through the forest the hair carelessly raised his hatchet in passing and cut down some thick vows that were hanging over the path. But at length, after cutting down a good big tree, which cost him many hard blows, he declared that it was too heavy for him to carry home, and he must just leave it where it was. This delighted the greedy tanuki, who said that they would be no weight for him, so they collected the large branches, which the hair bound tightly on his back. Then he trotted gaily to the house, the hair following after with his lighter bundle. By this time the hair had decided what he would do, and as soon as they arrived he quietly set on fire the wood on the back of the tanuki. The tanuki, who was busy with something else, observed nothing, and only called out to ask what was the meaning of the crackling that he heard. It's just the rattle of the stones which are rolling down the side of the mountain, the hair said, and the tanuki was content, and made no further remarks, never noticing that the noise really sprang from the burning bowels on his back, until his fur was in flames, and it was almost too late to put it out. Shrieking with pain he let fall the burning wood from his back, and stamped and howled with agony. But the hair comforted him and told him that he always carried with him an excellent plaster in case of need, which would bring him instant relief, and taking out his ointment he spread it on a leaf of bamboo, and laid it on the wound. No sooner did it touch him than the tanuki leapt yelling into the air, and the hair laughed, and ran to tell his friend the peasant what a trick he had played on their enemy. But the old man shook his head sadly, for he knew that the villain was only crushed for the moment, and that he would very shortly be revenging himself upon them. No, the only way to get any peace and quiet was to render the tanuki harmless forever. Long did the old man and the hair puzzle together how this was to be done, and at last they decided that they would make two boats, a small one of wood and a large one of clay. And they fell to work at once, and when the boats were ready and properly painted the hair went to the tanuki, who was still very ill, and invited him to a great fish-catching. The tanuki was still feeling angry with the hair about the trick he had played him, but he was weak and very hungry, so he gladly accepted the proposal and accompanied the hair to the bank of the river, where the two boats were moored, rocked by the waves. They both looked exactly alike, and the tanuki only saw that one was bigger than the other, and would hold more fish, so he sprang into the large one while the hair climbed into the one which was made of wood. They loosened their moorings and made for the middle of the stream, and when they were at some distance from the bank the hair took his oar and struck such a heavy blow at the other boat that it broke in two. The tanuki fell straight into the water and was held there by the hair till he was quite dead. Then he put the body in his boat and rode to land, and told the old man that his enemy was dead at last. And the old man rejoiced that his wife was avenged, and he took the hair into his house, and they lived together all their days in peace and quietness upon the mountain. There was once a merchant who was so rich that he could have paved the whole street, and perhaps even a little side street besides with silver. But he did not do that. He knew another way of spending his money. If he spent a shilling he got back a florin. Such an excellent merchant he was till he died. Now his son inherited all this money. He lived very merrily. He went every night to the theatre, made paper kites out of five pound notes, and played ducks and drakes with sovereigns instead of stones. In this way the money was likely to come soon to an end, and so it did. At last he had nothing left but four shillings, and he had no clothes except a pair of slippers and an old dressing-gown. His friends did not trouble themselves any more about him. They would not even walk down the street with him. But one of them, who was rather good-natured, sent him an old trunk with a message, pack up. That was all very well, but he had nothing to pack up, so he got into the trunk himself. It was an enchanted trunk. For as soon as the lock was pressed it could fly. He pressed it, and away he flew in it up the chimney, high into the clouds, further and further away. But whenever the bottom gave a little creek he wasn't terror at least the trunk should go to pieces. For then he would have turned a dreadful somersault. Just think of it. In this way he arrived at the land of the Turks. He hid the trunk in a wood under some dry leaves, and then walked into the town. He could do that quite well, for all the Turks were dressed just as he was in a dressing-gown and slippers. He met a nurse with a little child. "'Hello, ah, you Turkish nurse,' said he. "'What is that great castle there close to the town, the one with the window so high up?' "'The sultan's daughter lives there,' she replied. "'It is prophesied that she will be very unlucky in her husband, and so no one is allowed to see her except when the sultan and sultana are by.' "'Thank you,' said the merchant's son, and he went into the wood, sat himself in his trunk, flew on to the roof, and crept through the window into the princess' room. She was lying on the sofa asleep, and was so beautiful that the young merchant had to kiss her. Then she woke up and was very much frightened. But he said he was a Turkish god who would come through the air to see her, and that pleased her very much. They sat close to each other, and he told her a story about her eyes. They were beautiful dark lakes in which her thoughts swam about like mermaids, and her forehead was a snowy mountain, grand and shining. These were lovely stories. Then he asked the princess to marry him, and she said yes at once. "'But you must come here on Saturday,' she said. "'For then the sultan and the sultana are coming to tea with me. They will be indeed proud that I receive the God of the Turks. But mind you, have a really good story ready, for my parents liked them immensely. My mother liked something rather moral and high-flown, and my father liked something merry to make him laugh. "'Yes, I shall only bring a fairy story for my dowry,' said he, and so they parted. But the princess gave him a saber set with gold pieces which he could use.' Then he flew away, bought himself a new dressing-gown, and sat down in the wood and began to make up a story, for it had to be ready by Saturday, and that was no easy matter. When he had it ready, it was Saturday. The sultan, the sultana, and the whole court were at tea with the princess. He was most graciously received. "'Will you tell us a story,' said the sultana, one that is thoughtful and instructive.' "'But something that we can laugh at,' said the sultan. "'Oh, certainly,' he replied, and began. "'Now, listen attentively. There once was a box of matches which lay between that tinder-box and an old iron pot. And they told the story of their youth. "'We used to be on the green fir boughs. Every morning and evening we had diamond tea, which was the dew, and the whole day long we had sunshine, and the little birds used to tell us stories. We were very rich because the other trees only dressed in summer, but we had green dresses in summer and in winter. Then the wood-cutter came, and our family was split up. We have now the task of making light for the lowest people. That is why we grand-people are in the kitchen.' "'My fate was quite different,' said the iron pot, near which the matches lay. Since I came into the world, I have in many times scoured, and have cooked much. My only pleasure is to have a good chat with my companions when I am lying nice and clean in my place after dinner.' "'Now you are talking too fast,' spluttered the fire. "'Yes, let us decide who is the grandest,' said the matches. "'No, I don't like talking about myself,' said the pot. "'Let us arrange an evening's entertainment. I will tell the story of my life. On the Baltic by the Danish shore.' "'What a beautiful beginning,' said all the plates. That's a story that will please us all.' And the end was just as good as the beginning. All the plates clattered for joy. "'Now I will dance,' said the tongs. And she danced. Oh, how high she could kick! The old chair covered in the corner split when he saw her. The urn would have sung, but she said she had a cold. She could not sing unless she boiled. In the window was an old quill-pen. There was nothing remarkable about her except that she had been dipped too deeply into the ink. But she was very proud of that. "'If the urn will not sing,' said she, outside the door hangs a nightingale in a cage who will sing. "'I don't think it's proper,' said the kettle. That such a foreign purge should be heard. "'Oh, let us have some acting,' said everyone. Do let us!' Suddenly the door opened and the maid came in. Everyone was quite quiet. There was not a sound. But each part knew what he might have done and how grand he was. The maid took the matches and lit the fire with them. How they spluttered in flame, to be sure. Now everyone can see, they thought, that we are the grandest. How we sparkle! What a light!' But here they were burnt out. "'That was a delightful story,' said the sultana. I quite feel myself in the kitchen with the matches. Yes, now you shall marry our daughter.' "'Yes, indeed,' said the sultan. You shall marry our daughter on Monday.' And they treated the young man as one of the family. The wedding was arranged and the night before the whole town was illuminated. These skits and gingerbreads were thrown among the people. The street boys stood on tiptoe, crying, hurrahs and whistling through their fingers. It was all splendid. "'Now I must also give them a treat,' thought the merchant's son. And so he bought rockets, crackers, and all kinds of fireworks you can think of, put them in his trunk, and flew up with them into the air. Hurrr, how they fizzled and blazed. All the turks jumped so high that their slippers flew above their heads, such a splendid glitter they had never seen before. Now they could quite well understand that it was the God of the turks himself who was to marry the princess. As soon as the young merchant came down again into the wood with his trunk, he thought, "'Now I will just go into the town and see how the show is taken.' And it was quite natural that he should want to do this. Oh, what stories the people had to tell. Each one whom he asked had seen it differently, but they had all found it beautiful. "'I saw the Turkish God himself,' said one. He had eyes like glittering stars and a beard like foaming water. "'He flew away in a cloak of fire,' said another. They were splendid things that he heard, and the next day was to be his wedding day. Then he went back into the wood to sit in his trunk. But what had become of it? The trunk had been burnt. A spark of the fireworks had set at a light and the trunk was in ashes. He could no longer fly and could never reach his bride. She stood the whole day long on the roof and waited. Perhaps she is waiting there still. But he wandered through the world and told stories, though they are not so merry as the one he told about the matches. THE PINK FAIRY BOOK How astonishingly cold it is! My body is crackling all over," said the snowman. "'The wind is really cutting one's very life out. And how that fiery thing up there glares!' He meant the sun, which was just setting. It shan't make me blink, though, and I shall keep quite cool and collected.' Instead of eyes he had two large three-cornered pieces of slate in his head. His mouth consisted of an old rake, so that he had teeth as well. He was born amidst the shouts and laughter of the boys, and greeted by the jingling bells and crackling whips of the sledges. The sun went down to full moon-rose, large round, clear and beautiful, in the dark blue sky. "'There it is again on the other side,' said the snowman, by which he meant the sun was appearing again. "'I have become quite accustomed to its glaring. I hope it will hang there and shine, so that I may be able to see myself. I wish I knew, though, how one ought to see about changing one's position. I should very much like to move about. If I only could, I would glide up and down the ice there as I saw the boys doing. But somehow or other I don't know how to run.' "'Row-row,' barked the old-yard dog. He was rather hoarse and couldn't bark very well. His hoarseness came on when he was a house-dog, and used to lie in front of the stove.' "'The sun will soon teach you to run. I saw that last winter with your predecessor, and farther back still with his predecessors. They have all run away.' "'I don't understand you, my friend,' said the snowman. "'That thing up there is to teach me to run,' he meant the moon. "'Well, it certainly did run just now, for I saw it quite plainly over there. And now here it is on this side.' "'You know nothing at all about it,' said the yard dog. "'Why, you have only just been made. The thing you see there is the moon. The other thing you saw going down the other side was the sun. He will come up again to-morrow morning, and will soon teach you how to run away down the gutter. "'The weather is going to change. I feel it already by the pain in my left hind leg. The weather is certainly going to change.' "'I can't understand him,' said the snowman. "'But I have an idea that he is speaking of something unpleasant. That thing that glares so and then disappears, the sun, as he calls it, is not my friend. I know that by instinct.' "'Wow, wow,' barked the yard dog, and walked three times round himself, and then crept into his kennel to sleep. The weather really did change. Towards morning a dense, damp fog lay over the whole neighborhood. Later on came an icy wind, which sent the frost packing. But when the sun rose it was a glorious sight. The trees and shrubs were covered with rime, and looked like a wood of coral, and every branch was thick with long white blossoms. The most delicate twigs, which are lost among the foliage in summertime, came now into prominence, and it was like a spider's web of glistening white. The lady-birches waved in the wind, and when the sun shone everything glittered and sparkled as if it were sprinkled with diamond dust, and great diamonds were laying on the snowy carpet. "'Isn't it wonderful?' exclaimed a girl who was walking with a young man in the garden. They stopped near the snowman, and looked at the glistening trees. Summer cannot show a more beautiful sight,' she said with her eyes shining. "'And one can't get a fellow like this in summer, either,' said the young man, pointing to the snowman. "'He's a beauty!' The girl laughed and nodded to the snowman, and then they both danced away over the snow. "'Who were those two?' asked the snowman of the yard dog. "'You have been in this yard longer than I have. Do you know who they are?' "'Do I know them indeed?' answered the yard dog. "'She has often stroked me and has given me bones. I don't bite either of them.' "'But what are they?' asked the snowman. "'Lovers,' replied the yard dog. "'They will go into one kennel and gnaw the same bone.' "'Are they the same kind of beings that we are?' asked the snowman. "'They are our masters,' answered the yard dog. "'Really, people have only been in the world one day, no very little. That's the conclusion I have come to. Now I have age and wisdom. I know everyone in the house, and I can remember a time when I was not lying here in a cold kennel. Bow, wow!' "'The cold is splendid,' said the snowman. "'Tell me some more, but don't rattle your chain so. It makes me crack.' "'Bow, wow!' barked the yard dog. They used to say I was a pretty little fellow. Then I lay in a velvet-covered chair in my master's house. My mistress used to nurse me and kiss and fondle me, and call me her dear, sweet little Alice. But by and by I grew too big and was given to the housekeeper, and I went into the kitchen. You can see into it from where you are standing. You can look at the room in which I was master. For so I was when I was with the housekeeper. Of course it was a smaller place than upstairs, but it was more comfortable. For I wasn't chased about and teased by the children as I had been before. My food was just as good or even better. I had my own pillow, and there was a stove there which at this time of year is the most beautiful thing in the world. I used to creep right under that stove. Ah, me! I often dream of that stove still. Bow, wow!' "'Is a stove so beautiful?' asked the snowman. "'Is it anything like me?' "'It is just the opposite of you. It is cold black and has a long neck with a brass pipe. It eats firewood, so that fire spouts out of its mouth. Snowman has to keep close beside it quite underneath. It is the nicest of all. You can see it through the window from where you are standing.' And the snowman looked in that direction and saw a smooth, polished object with a brass pipe. The flicker from the fire reached him across the snow. The snowman felt wonderfully happy, and a feeling came over him which he could not express. But all those who are not snowmen know about it. "'Why did you leave her?' asked the snowman. He had a feeling that such a being must be a lady. "'How could you leave such a place?' "'I had to,' said the our dog. They turned me out of doors and chained me up here. I had bitten the youngest boy in the leg because he took away the bone I was gnawing—a bone for a bone, I thought. But they were very angry, and from that time I have been chained here. But I have lost my voice. Don't you hear how hoarse I am? Bow, wow! I can't speak like other dogs, bow, wow!' That was the end of happiness. The snowman, however, was not listening to him any more. He was looking into the room where the housekeeper lived, where the stove stood on its four iron legs, and seemed to be just the same size as the snowman. "'How something is crackling inside me,' he said. "'Shall I never be able to get in there? It is certainly a very innocent wish, and our innocent wishes ought to be fulfilled. I must get there and lean against the stove. I have to break the window first.' "'You will never get inside there,' said the yard-dog, and if you were to reach the stove you would disappear, bow, wow!' "'I am as good as gone already,' answered the snowman. I believe I am breaking up.' The whole day the snowman looked through the window. Towards dusk the room grew still more inviting. The stove gave out a mild light, not at all like the moon or even the sun. No as only a stove can shine when it has something to feed upon. When the door of the room was open it flared up. This was one of its peculiarities. It flickered quite red upon the snowman's white face. "'I can't stand it any longer,' he said. "'How beautiful it looks with its tongue stretched out like that!' It was a long night, but the snowman did not find it so. There he stood, wrapped in his pleasant thoughts, and they froze so that he cracked. The next morning the panes of the kitchen window were covered with ice, and the most beautiful ice-flowers that even a snowman could desire. Only they blotted out the stove. The window would not open. He couldn't see the stove which he thought was such a lovely lady. There was a crackling, a crackling inside him, and all around. There was just such a frost as the snowman would delight in. But this snowman was different. How could he feel happy? "'The weather is a bad illness for a snowman,' said the yard-dog. I also suffered from it, but I have got over it. Bow-wow!' he barked. "'The weather is going to change,' he added. "'The weather did change. There came a thaw. When this set in the snowman set off. He did not say anything, and he did not complain. And those are bad signs.' One morning he broke up altogether, and lo! where he had stood there remained a broomstick standing upright, round which the boys had built him. "'Ah! Now I understand why he looked the stove,' said the yard-dog. "'That is the raker they used to clean out the stove. The snowman had a stove raker in his body. That's what was the matter with him. And now it's all over with him, bow-wow!' And before long it was all over with the winter, too. "'Bow-wow!' barked the horse-yard-dog. But the young girl sang. "'Wood's your bright green garments done. Willows your woolly gloves put on. Lark and cuckoo daily sing. February has brought the spring. My heart joins in your song so sweet. Come out, dear son, the world to greet.' And no one thought of the snowman. End of The Snowman. Recording by Elliot Miller. www.voiceofe.com Section 9 of The Pink Fairy Book This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Elliot Miller. The Pink Fairy Book by Andrew Lang. The Shirt Collar. Translated from the German of Hans Anderson. There was once a fine gentleman whose entire worldly possessions consisted of a boot jack and a hair brush. But he had the most beautiful shirt collar in the world. And it's about this that we're going to hear a story. The Shirt Collar was so old that he began to think about marrying. And it happened one day that he and a garter came into the wash tub together. "'Halloa!' said the Shirt Collar. Never before have I seen anything so slim and delicate, so elegant and pretty. May I be permitted to ask your name?' "'I shall tell you,' said the garter. "'Where is the place of your abode?' asked the Shirt Collar. But the garter was of a bashful disposition, and did not think it proper to answer. "'Perhaps you are a girdle,' said the Shirt Collar. "'And under girdle, for I see that you are for use as well as for ornament, my pretty miss. "'You ought not to speak to me,' said the garter. "'I'm sure I haven't given you any encouragement.' "'When anyone is as beautiful as you,' said the Shirt Collar. "'Is not that encouragement enough?' "'Go away, don't come so close,' said the garter. "'You seem to be a gentleman. "'So I am, and a very fine one, too,' said the Shirt Collar. "'I possess a bootjack and a hairbrush.' "'That was not true. It was his master who owned these things. But he was a terrible boaster. "'Don't come so close,' said the garter. "'I'm not accustomed to such treatment.' "'What affection!' said the Shirt Collar. "'And then they were taken out of the wash-tub, starched and hung on a chair in the sun to dry, and then laid on the ironing-board. Then came the glowing iron. "'Mrs. Widow,' said the Shirt Collar. "'Dear Mrs. Widow, I am becoming another man. All my creases are coming out. You are burning a hole in me. Oh, stop, I implore you!' "'You rag!' said the iron, traveling proudly over the Shirt Collar, for I thought it was a steam engine and ought to be at the station drawing trucks. "'Rag!' it said. The Shirt Collar was rather frayed out at the edge, so the scissors came to cut off the threads. "'Oh!' said the Shirt Collar. "'You must be a dancer. How high you can kick! That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. No man can imitate you.' "'I know that,' said the scissors. "'You ought to be a duchess,' said the Shirt Collar. "'My worldly possessions consist of a fine gentleman, a boot-jack and a hair-brush. If only I had a ducky!' "'What he wants to marry me,' said the scissors, and she was so angry that she gave the collar a sharp snip, so that it had to be cast aside as good for nothing. "'Well, I shall have to propose to the hair-brush,' thought the Shirt Collar. "'It is really wonderful what fine hair you have, madam. Have you never thought of marrying?' "'Yes, that I have,' answered the hair-brush. "'I am engaged to the boot-jack.' "'Engaged!' exclaimed the Shirt Collar, and now there was no one he could marry, so he took to despising matrimony. Time passed, and the Shirt Collar came in a rag-bag to the paper mill. There was a large assortment of rags, the fine ones in one heap, and the coarse ones in another, as they should be. They had all much to tell, but no one more than the Shirt Collar, for he was a hopeless braggart. "'I have had a terrible number of love affairs,' he said. "'They give me no peace. I was such a fine gentleman, so stiff with starch. I had a boot-jack and a hair-brush, which I never used. "'You should just have seen me then. Never shall I forget my first love. She was a girdle, so delicate and soft and pretty. She threw herself into a wash-tub for my sake. Then there was a widow, who glowed with love for me, but I left her alone till she became black. Then there was the dancer, who inflicted the wound which has caused me to be here now. She was very violent. My own hair-brush was in love with me, and lost all her hair in consequence. Yes, I've experienced much in that line, but I grieve most of all for the garter. I mean the girdle, who threw herself into the wash-tub. I have much on my conscience. It is high time for me to become white paper.' And so he did. He became white paper, the very paper on which this story is printed, and that was because he had boasted so terribly about things which were not true. We should take this to heart, so that it may not happen to us, for we cannot indeed tell if we may not some day come to the rag-bag and be made into white paper, on which will be printed our whole history, even the most secret parts, so that we too go about the world relating it, like the shirt-collar. It was once a king and a queen who lived in a beautiful castle, and had a large and fair and rich and happy land to rule over. From the very first they loved each other greatly, and lived very happily together. But they had no heir. They had been married for seven years, but had neither son nor daughter. And that was a great grief to both of them. More than once it happened that when the king was in a bad temper he led it out on the poor queen, and said that here they were now getting old, and neither they nor the kingdom had an heir. And it was all her fault. This was hard to listen to, and she went and cried and vexed herself. Finally, the king said to her one day, This can't be born any longer. I go about childless, and it's your fault. I'm going on a journey, and I shall be away for a year. If you have a child when I come back again, all will be well, and I shall love you beyond all measure, and never more say an angry word to you. But if the nest is just as empty when I come home, then I must part with you. After the king had set out on his journey, the queen went about in her loneliness, and sorrowed and vexed herself more than ever. At last her maid said to her one day, I think that some help could be found if your majesty would seek it. Then she told about a wise old woman in the country, who had helped many in troubles of the same kind, and could no doubt help the queen as well, if she would send for her. The queen did so, and the wise woman came, and to her she confided her sorrow that she was childless, and the king and his kingdom had no heir. The wise woman knew help for this. Out in the king's garden, said she, under the great oak that stands on the left hand, just as one goes out from the castle, is a little bush, rather brown than green, with hairy leaves and long spikes. On that bush there are just at this moment three buds. If your majesty goes out there alone, fasting before sunrise, and takes the middle one of those three buds, and eats it, then in six months you will bring a princess into the world. As soon as she is born she must have a nurse, whom I shall provide, and this nurse must live with the child in a secluded part of the palace. No other person must visit the child. Neither the king nor the queen must see it until it is fourteen years old, for that would cause great sorrow and misfortune. The queen rewarded the old woman richly, and next morning, before the sun rose, she was down in the garden, found it once the little bush with the three buds, plucked the middle one, and ate it. It was sweet to taste, but afterwards was as bitter as gall. Six months after this she brought into the world a little girl. There was a nurse in readiness whom the wise woman had provided, and preparations were made for her living with the child, quite alone, in a secluded wing of the castle, looking out on the pleasure park. The queen did as the wise woman had told her, gave up the child immediately, and the nurse took it and lived with it there. When the king came home he heard that a daughter had been born to him. He was, of course, very pleased and happy, and wanted to see her at once. The queen had then to tell him this much of the story, that it had been foretold that it would cause great sorrow and misfortune if either he or she got a side of the child until it had completed its fourteenth year. This was a long time to wait. The king longed so much to get a side of his daughter, and the queen no less than he, but she knew that it was not like other children, for it could speak immediately after it was born, and was as wise as older folk. This the nurse had told her, for with her the queen had to talk now and again. But there was no one who had ever seen the princess. The queen had also seen what the wise woman could do, so she insisted strongly that her warning should be obeyed. The king often lost his patience and was determined to see his daughter, but the queen always put him off the idea. And so things went on until the very day before the princess completed her fourteenth year. The king and the queen were out in the garden then, and the king said, Now I can't and won't wait any longer. I must see my daughter at once. A few hours more or less can't make any difference. The queen begged him to have patience till the morning. When they had waited so long they would surely wait a single day more, but the king was quite unreasonable. No nonsense, said he. She is just as much mine as yours, and I will see her. And with that he went straight up to her room. He burst the door open and pushed aside the nurse, who tried to stop him, and there he saw his daughter. She was the loveliest young princess, red and white, like milk and blood, with clear blue eyes and golden hair, but right in the middle of her forehead there was a little tuft of brown hair. The princess went to meet her father, fell on his neck and kissed him. But with that she said, Oh father, father, what have you done now? Tomorrow I must die, and you must choose one of three things. Either the land must be smitten with the black pestilence, or you must have a long and bloody war, or you must as soon as I am dead lay me in a plain wooden chest and set it in the church and for a whole year place a sentinel beside it every night. The king was frightened indeed, and thought she was raving, but in order to please her he said, Well, of these three things I shall choose the last. If you die I shall lay you at once in a plain wooden chest and have it set in the church, and every night I shall place a sentinel beside it, but you shall not die, even if you are ill now. He immediately summoned all the best doctors in the country, and they came with all their prescriptions and their medicine bottles, but next day the princess was stiff and cold in death. All the doctors could certify to that, and they all put their names to this and appended their seals, and then they had done all they could. The king kept his promise, the princess's body was laying the same day in a plain wooden chest and set it in the chapel of the castle, and on that night and every night after it a sentinel was posted in the church to keep watch over the chest. The first morning when they came to let the sentinel out there was no sentinel there. They thought he had just got frightened and run away, and next evening a new one was posted in the church. In the morning he was also gone, so it went every night. When they came in the morning to let the sentinel out there was no one there, and it was impossible to discover which way he had gone if he had run away. And what should they run away for, every one of them, so that nothing more was overheard or seen of them, from the hour that they were set on guard beside the princess's chest? It became now a general belief that the princess ghost walked and ate up all those who were to guard her chest, and very soon there was no one left who would be placed in this duty. And the king's soldiers deserted the service before their turn came to be her bodyguard. The king then promised a large reward to the soldier who would volunteer for the post. This did for some time, as there were found a few reckless fellows who wished to earn this good payment, but they never got it, for in the morning they too had disappeared like the rest. So it had gone on for something like a whole year, every night a sentinel had been placed beside the chest, either by compulsion or of his own free will, but not a single one of the sentinels was to be seen either on the following day or any time thereafter. And so it had also gone with one, on the night before a certain day, when a merry young smith came wandering to the town where the king's castle stood. It was the capital of the country, and people of every king came to it to get work. The smith, whose name was Christian, had come for that same purpose. There was no work for him in the place he belonged to, and he wanted now to seek a place in the capital. There he entered in in where he sat down in the public room, and got something to eat. Some under-officers were sitting there, who were out to try to get someone enlisted to stand sentry. They had to go in this way, day after day, and hitherto they had always succeeded in finding one or other reckless fellow. But on this day they had, as yet, found no one. It was too well known how all the sentinels disappeared who were set on that post. And all that they had got hold of had refused with thanks. These sat down beside Christian and ordered drinks, and drank along with him. Now Christian was a merry fellow who liked good company. He could both drink and sing, and talk and boast as well, when he got a little drop in his head. He told these under-officers that he was one of the kind of folk who are never afraid of anything. Then he was just the kind of man they liked, said they, and he might easily earn a good penny, before he was a day older, for the king paid a hundred dollars to anyone who would stand a sentinel in the church all night beside his daughter's chest. Christian was not afraid of that. He wasn't afraid of anything. So they drank another bottle of wine on this, and Christian went with them up to the kernel, where he was put into uniform with musket, and all the rest, and then was shut up in the church to stand a sentinel that night. It was eight o'clock when he took up his post, and for the first hour he was quite proud of his courage. During the second hour he was well pleased with the large reward that he would get, but in the third hour, when it was getting near eleven, the effects of the wine passed off, and he began to get uncomfortable, for he had heard about this post, that no one had ever escaped alive from it, so far as was known. But neither did anyone know what had become of all the sentinels. The thought of this ran in his head so much, after the wine was out of it, that he searched about everywhere for a way of escape, and finally, at eleven o'clock, he found a little poster in the steeple which was not locked, and out of this he crept intending to run away. At the same moment as he put his foot outside the church door, he saw a standing before him a little man who said, Good evening, Christian, where are you going? With that he felt as if he were rooted to the spot and could not move. Nowhere, said he. Oh, yes, said the little man, you were just about to run away, but you have taken upon you to stand sentinel in the church to-night, and there you must stay. Christian said very humbly that he dared not, and therefore wanted to get away, and beg to be let go. No, said the little one, you must remain at your post, but I shall give you a piece of good advice. You shall go up into the pulpit and remain standing there. You need never mind what you see or hear. It will not be able to do you any harm. If you remain in your place until you hear the lid of the chest slam down again behind the dead, then all danger is passed, and you can go about the church wherever you please. The little man then pushed him in at the door again and locked it after him. Christian made haste to get up into the pulpit and stood there without noticing anything, until the clock struck twelve. Then the lid of the princess's chest sprang up, and out of it there came something like the princess, dressed as you see in the picture. It shrieked and howled. Sentry, where are you? Sentry, where are you? If you don't come, you shall get the most cruel death anyone has ever got. It went all around the church, and when it finally caught side of the smith up in the pulpit it came rushing thither and mounted the steps. But it could not get up the whole way, and for all that it stretched and strained it could not touch Christian, who meanwhile stood and trembled up in the pulpit. When the clock struck one the appearance had to go back into the chest again, and Christian heard the lid slam after it. After this there was dead silence in the church. He lay down where he was and fell asleep, and did not awake before it was bright daylight, and he heard steps outside, and the noise of the key being put into the lock. Then he came down from the pulpit and stood with his musket in front of the princess's chest. It was the colonel himself who came with the patrol, and he was not a little surprised when he found the recruit safe and sound. He wanted to have a report, but Christian would give him none, so he took him straight up to the king, and announced for the first time that there was the sentinel who had stood guard in the church overnight. The king immediately got out of bed, and laid the hundred dollars for him on the table, and then wanted to question him. Have you seen anything? said he. Have you seen my daughter? I have stood at my post, said the young Smith, and that is quite enough. I undertook nothing more. He was not sure whether he dared tell what he had seen and heard, and besides he was also a little conceited because he had done what no other man had been able to do, or had had courage for. The king professed to be quite satisfied, and asked him whether he would engage himself to stand on guard again the following night. No, thank you, said Christian. I will have no more of that. As you please, said the king, you have behaved like a brave fellow, and now you shall have your breakfast. You must be needing something to strengthen you after that turn. The king had breakfast late for him, and sat down at the table with him in person. He kept constantly filling his glass for him and praising him, and drinking his health. Christian needed no pressing, but did full justice to both food and drink, and not least to the latter. Finally he grew bold, and said that if the king would give him two hundred dollars for it, he was as mad to stand sentry next night as well. When this was arranged, Christian bade him good day, and went down among the guards, and then out into the town along with other soldiers and under officers. He had his pocketful of money, and treated them, and drank with them, and boasted and made game of the good for nothings who were afraid to stand on guard, because they were frightened that the dead princess would eat them. See whether she had eaten him. So the day passed in mirth and glee, but when eight o'clock came Christian was again shut up in the church, all alone. Before he had been there two hours he got tired of it, and thought only of getting away. He found a little door behind the altar which was not locked, and at ten o'clock he slipped out at it, and took to his heels and made for the beach. He got half way thither, and when all at once the same little man stood in front of him and said, Good evening, Christian, where are you going? I've left to go where I please, said the smith, but at the same time he noticed that he could not move a foot. No, you have undertaken to keep guard to-night as well, said the little man, and you must attend to that. He then took hold of him, and however unwilling he was, Christian had to go with him right back to the same little door that he had crept out at. When they got there the little man said to him, Go in front of the altar now, and take in your hand the book that is lying there. There you shall stay till you hear the lid of the chest slam down over the dead. In that way you will come to no harm. With that the little man shoved him in at the door and locked it. Christian then immediately went in front of the altar, and took the book in his hand and stood thus until the clock struck twelve, and the appearance sprang out of the chest. Century, where are you? Century, where are you? It shrieked, and then rushed to the pulpit, and right up into it. But there was no one there that night. Then it howled and shrieked again. My father has set no century in, war and pest this night begin. At the same moment it noticed the smith standing in front of the altar and came rushing towards him. Are you there? It screamed. Now I'll catch you. But it could not come up over the step in front of the altar, and there it continued to howl and scream and threaten until the clock struck one. When it had to go into the chest again and Christian heard the lid slam above it. That night, however, it had not the same appearance as on the previous one. It was less ugly. When all was quiet in the church the smith lay down before the altar and slept calmly till the following morning, when the colonel came to fetch him. He was taken up to the king again, and things went on as the day before. He got his money, but would give no explanation whether he had seen the king's daughter, and he would not take the post again, he said. And after he had got a good breakfast and tasted well of the king's wines, he undertook to go on guard again the third night. But he would not do it for less than half of the kingdom, he said, for it was a dangerous post, and the king had to agree and promise him this. The remainder of the day went like the previous one. He played the boastful soldier and the merry smith, and he had comrades and boon companions in plenty. At eight o'clock he had to put on his uniform again and was shut up in the church. He had not been there for an hour before he had come to his senses and thought, It's best to stop now while the game is going well. The third night he was sure would be the worst. He had been drunk when he promised it, and the half of the kingdom, the king should never have been in earnest about that. So he decided to leave. Without waiting so long as on the previous nights, in that way he would escape the little man who had watched him before. All the doors and posters were locked. But he finally thought of creeping up to a window and opening that, and as the clock struck nine, he crept out there. It was fairly high in the wall, but he got to the ground with no bones broken and started to run. He got down to the shore without meeting anyone, and there he got into a boat and pushed off from land. He laughed immensely to himself at the thought of how cleverly he had managed and how he had cheated the little man. Just then he heard a voice from the shore. Good evening, Christian, where are you going? He gave no answer. Tonight your legs will be too short, he thought, and pulled at the oars. But then he felt something lay a hold of the boat and drag it straight into shore, for all that he sat and struggled with the oars. The man then laid hold of him and said, You must remain at your post as you have promised. And whether he liked it or not, Christian had just to go back with him the whole way to the church. He could never get in at that window again, Christian said. It was far too high up. You must go in there, and you shall go in there, said the little man, and with that he lifted him up onto the window-sill. Then he said to him, Notice well now what you have to do. This evening you must stretch yourself out on the left hand side of her chest. The lid opens to the right, and she comes out to the left. When she has got out of the chest and passed over you, you must get into it and lie there, and in that a hurry, without her seeing you. There you must remain lying until day dawns, and whether she threatens you or intrigues you, you must not come out of it or give her any answer. Then she has no power over you, and both you and she are freed. The smith then had to go in at the window. Just as he came out and went and laid himself all his length on the left side of the princess's chest, close up to it, and there he lay stiff as a rock until the clock struck twelve. Then the lid sprang up to the right, and the princess came out, straight over him, and rushed round the church, howling and shrieking, SENTRY WHERE ARE YOU? SENTRY WHERE ARE YOU? She went towards the altar and right up to it, but there was no one there. Then she screamed again, My father has set no sentry in, war and pest will now begin. Then she went round the whole church, both up and down, sighing and weeping, My father has set no sentry in, war and pest will now begin. Then she went away again, and at the same moment the clock and the tower struck one. Then the smith heard in the church a soft music which grew louder and louder, and soon filled the whole building. He heard also a multitude of footsteps as if the church was being filled with people. He heard the priests go through the service in front of the altar, and there was singing more beautiful than he had ever heard before. Then he also heard the priests offer up a prayer of thanksgiving because the land had been freed from war and pestilence, and from all misfortune, and the king's daughter delivered from the evil one. Many voices joined in, and a hymn of praise was sung. Then he heard the priest again, and heard his own name and said of the princess. And thought that he was being wedded to her. The church was packed full, but he could see nothing. Then he heard again the many footsteps as old folk leaving the church, while the music sounded fainter and fainter, until it altogether died away. When it was silent the light of the day began to break in through the windows. The smith sprang up out of the chest and fell on his knees and thanked God. The church was empty, but up in front of the altar lay the princess, white and red like a human being, but sobbing and crying and shaking with cold in her white shroud. The smith took his sentry-coat and wrapped it round her. Then she dried her tears, and took his hand and thanked him, and said that he had now freed her from all the sorcery that had been in her from her birth, and which had come over her again when her father broke the command against seeing her until she had completed her fourteenth year. She said further that if he who had delivered her would take her in marriage, she would be his. If not, she would go into a nunnery, and he could marry no other as long as she lived, for he was wedded to her with the service of the dead which he had heard. She was now the most beautiful young princess that anyone could wish to see, and he was now lord of half the kingdom which had been promised him for standing on guard the third night. So they agreed they would have each other and love each other all their days. With the first sunbeam the watch came and opened the church. And not only was the colonel there, but the king in person, come to see what had happened to the sentinel. He found them both sitting hand in hand on the step in front of the altar, and immediately knew his daughter again, and took her in his arms, thanking God and her deliverer. He made no objections to what they had arranged, and so Christian the smith held his wedding with the princess, and got half the kingdom at once, and the whole of it when the king died. As for the other sentries, with so many doors and windows open, no doubt they had run away and gone into the Prussian service, and as for what Christian said he saw, he had been drinking more wine than was good for him. THE THREE BROTHERS TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF THE BROTHER'S GRIM There was once a man who had three sons, and no other possessions beyond the house in which he lived. Now the father loved his three sons equally, so that he could not make up his mind which of them should have the house after his death, because he did not wish to favor any one more than the others, and he did not want to sell the house because it had belonged to his family for generations, otherwise he could have divided the money equally amongst them. At last an idea struck him, and he said to his sons, You must all go out into the world, and look about you, and each learn a trade, and then when you return, whoever can produce the best masterpiece shall have the house. The sons were quite satisfied. The eldest wished to be a blacksmith, and the second a barber, and the third a fencing master. They appointed a time when they were to return home, and then they all set out. It so happened that each found a good master, where he learned all that was necessary for his trade in the best possible way. The blacksmith had to shoe the king's horses, and thought to himself, Without doubt the house will be yours. The barber shaved the best man in the kingdom, and he too made sure that the house would be his. The fencing master received many a blow, but he set his teeth and would not allow himself to be troubled by them, for he thought to himself, If you're afraid of a blow you will never get the house. When the appointed time had come the three brothers met once more, and they sat down and discussed the best opportunity of showing off their skill. Just then a hair came running across the field toward them. Look! said the barber, Here comes something in the nick of time. Seized basin and soap, made a lather whilst the hair was approaching, and then, as it ran it full tilt, shaved its mustaches without cutting it or injuring a single hair on its body. I like that very much indeed, said the father. Unless the others exert themselves to the utmost the house will be yours. Soon after they saw a man driving a carriage freeriously towards them. Now, father, you shall see what I can do, said the blacksmith, and he sprang after the carriage, tore off the four shoes of the horse as it was going at the top of its speed and shot it with four new ones without checking its pace. You are a clever fellow, said the father, and you know your trade as well as your brother. I really don't know to which of you I shall give the house. Then the third son said, Father, let me also show you something. And as it was beginning to rain he drew his sword and swung it in cross-cuts above his head so that not a drop fell on him. And the rain fell heavier and heavier till at last it was coming down like a water-spout, but he swung his sword faster and faster and kept as dry as if he were under cover. When the father saw this he was astonished and said, You have produced the greatest masterpiece. The house is yours. Both of the other brothers were quite satisfied and praised him too, and as they were so fond of each other they all three remained at home and plied their trades. And as they were so experienced and skillful they earned a great deal of money, so they lived happily together till they were quite old. And when one was taken ill and died the two others were so deeply grieved that they were also taken ill and died too. And so, because they had all been so clever and so fond of each other, they were all laid in one grave. End of THE THREE BROTHERS Recording by Elliot Miller www.voiceofee.com