ONCE upon a time lived a poor, little, crooked dwarf named "Ha'penny." When he was born he was so small that his nurse exclaimed, "Why, he is no bigger than a ha'penny!" and thus the nickname settled upon him, as ugly nicknames often do upon very worthy people. His father was not very kind to the unfortunate child, who, finding himself pitied and avoided by children of his own age, soon learned to go off to the woods alone, and to spend the days with birds and animals, over whom he had extraordinary power. The most beautiful birds of many-colored plumage would flutter away from their boughs in the forest to perch upon Ha'penny's finger, and take sugar from his lips; shy little brown squirrels would scamper down the trunks of the great trees to nestle against his cheek; bees buzzed around his head without offering to sting him; pretty striped snakes glided from under their stones and stumps at his call; while all horses, and cows, and dogs, and cats loved to rub against him, and let themselves be stroked and petted at his will. This friendship with the world of animals and insects was Ha'penny's greatest joy, and during the summer time, when he could live abroad, the little creature was happy enough, after his fashion. In winter he had to content himself with feeding the birds, and visiting the stables to hide in the hay of the horses' manger, where the grooms would find him, mouthing and chattering in an unknown tongue. They would often scold him, and put him out of the stable, for Ha'penny was no favorite with his father's people. His mother had died when Ha'penny was a little fellow of five, and when he reached the age of fifteen (although looking much younger) his father married a second wife, who proved a cruel step-mother.

"If that ugly, little, twisted fright were out of the way, I could really enjoy life," the unkind woman would say to herself; and she lost no opportunity to make Ha'penny's life a burden to him, by all sorts of petty tricks and persecutions.

He bore all in silence, creeping away to his attic bedroom, and lying for hours on the floor sobbing bitterly. His only comfort was in his pets, and a queer lot they were. Among them were a dog, who had had both fore-paws cut off by the mowing-machine, a chicken with a cork leg, a blind cat, a land-terrapin, a dozen white mice, a number of birds which he had rescued from freezing and starvation, some trained fleas, a squirrel that had lost its tail—everything that was maimed, or homeless, or unfortunate. These he treasured in a little empty chamber opening out of his, and no one but himself ever approached it. All the poor dumb creatures loved him, and would swarm around him when he opened the door; and, in return, he spent upon them all the passion of love he had never bestowed on any one of his own kind.

One day when Ha'penny had gone off to the woods to search for some ripe partridge-berries for his birds, the step-mother found her way to his hidden menagerie. One instant she looked about her, with disgust and fury in her face, and then calling her maids she gave them cruel orders. Ha'penny came in from his walk, opened the door of his treasure-house—and alas! what a sight met his eyes! In two corners of the room hung his pet dog and cat, his terrapin was crushed under a heavy piece of iron, his birds were dead, his chicken's head was cut off, his mice were drowned in a pail; not one living thing remained to greet him but the trained fleas, who had taken refuge in the rafters overhead after biting the wicked mistress and her maids until they capered about in their misery!

Ha'penny gave one glance at his beloved pets thus wantonly sacrificed, and fell upon the floor sobbing with helpless rage and despair. He lay there all day without being inquired for, and when night came he stole out to the orchard and buried his poor dead favorites under the light of the stars. He would not go back to the house, and, forgetful of cold, hunger, everything but his burning sense of wrong, he wandered away, away, into the forest. A few berries and a crust he had carried for the birds were his only food until the evening of the next day, when he came in sight of a queer little hut, half hidden from observation by the trees that grew over it. Starving and desperate, Ha'penny was gaining courage to knock at the door. All at once a little lattice window opened, and an old woman poked her head out saying:

At this Ha'penny pricked up his ears and licked his chaps like a hungry cur; and just then a number of handsome cats and dogs came running out of the woods and toward the cottage door, which the dame had by this time opened. As no animal ever avoided Ha'penny, these creatures all fawned upon him, refusing to go in; and the dame, perceiving the new-comer, asked him, with an angry air, what was his business.

"A little food and shelter, madam," said poor Ha'penny, the tears running down his cheeks.

"Begone, you rascal!" cried the angry woman; "I don't believe a word you say. I believe you are a spy sent here to tempt away my pets. See how they hang around you. You must be a magician, for in general they will have nothing to do with strangers. Get you gone, sorcerer!"

Ha'penny turned meekly away, but the dogs and cats followed him with every show of affection. Faint with hunger as he was, his legs tottered under him, and he soon fell to the ground. Then the cats and dogs surrounded him, licking his face and hands in spite of all their mistress's endeavors to coax them away.

The old woman's anger ceased when she found the grotesque-looking little stranger had really fainted from exhaustion. She lifted him in her arms and carried him in to the fire, and rubbed his cold limbs, putting spoonfuls of hot broth between his lips. By and by, when Ha'penny came to himself, he told her all his sad story, and when he reached the part about the killing of his pets, his heavy eyes flashed fire.

"She is a horrible wicked woman!" he exclaimed.

The dame answered by striking her staff on the floor. "See here, boy, if you are honest, you may stay here and mind my animals."

She took him into the next room, and there—what a funny spectacle! Twelve cats and twelve dogs lay upon cushions before the fire. The cushions were made of satin, and the covers were of velvet worked in gold. Twenty-four silver bowls stood in a row, and every cat or dog had its separate comb and brush, and bath-tub and towels, and sponge and soap, and perfume bottle, on a shelf. In the middle of the room played a fountain of rose-water, and at the windows hung pink silk curtains, which were drawn when the creatures went to sleep. All in this room was rich and costly, while the dame's own quarters were as plain as those of any other cottager. She was content to sleep in a big feather bed, to be covered by a clean patchwork quilt, to eat on a deal table off blue crockery, with a well-scoured pewter spoon. Ha'penny's eyes sparkled at the idea of waiting on the cats and dogs. He made friends with them at once. The dame gave him a clean bedroom under the roof, and every day after feeding and combing his charges he took them for a walk in the woods.

"So long as you wait on my darlings faithfully, and mind your own business," the dame said, "no trouble will come to you. But on no account ever go near the little closet in the peak of the roof. Should you do so, evil will happen, and your life may pay the forfeit."

Ha'penny suspected from this that his mistress was a witch; but it troubled him very little, as he was an honest lad and intended never to disobey her.

One day the dame brought home a new cat, a large, white Angora, a beauty to look at, with pink eyes and flowing hair, fine and silken as spun glass. From the moment of that cat's arrival the happy family was completely upset. Félisette, for so she was named, proved to be vain, selfish, and greedy; she fought for the best of everything, ate up her neighbor's bowl of milk as well as her own, and actually bit and spit at Ha'penny. Félisette soon became jealous of Ha'penny's affection for the others, and determined to do him an evil turn. One day the dame was going to the Witches' Sabbath, and said to Ha'penny, "Now mind and take especial care of my lovely darling, Félisette. If she gets into any trouble I shall hold you to answer for it, as I see the dear creature is not your favorite."

The dame went off riding on a broom-stick, and Félisette invented a thousand spiteful tricks to make the time pass unpleasantly to the others. At last she disappeared, and presently Ha'penny heard her crying pitifully upstairs. He rushed to see what was the matter, and discovered her with her tail caught in the door of the forbidden closet, up in the peak of the roof. She seemed about to die of the pain she was suffering, and, eager to set her free, the kind lad, without a moment's hesitation, lifted the latch while stroking Félisette's fur, when lo! as the door flew open, out came a skeleton hand, seizing poor Ha'penny in its grip! Up jumped Félisette, laughing heartily at the success of her trick, and ran away.

Ha'penny opens the magic closet.

Ha'penny found himself held close in the embrace of two skeleton arms. In vain he struggled; the dreadful clasp only grew closer. He knew that this was a trap the witch had set to catch any one visiting the forbidden closet, so he made up his mind to die when his mistress should return. While he was in this sad way, the oldest of the dogs came up and licked his hands. Tears were running from its eyes, and to Ha'penny's great surprise the dog spoke.

"My poor friend!" said the oldest of the dogs, "I am afraid your fate is sealed. Know, then, that there is but one chance left for you to escape the witch's power. In this closet she keeps the magic slippers and the magic staff. Wearing the slippers, you may run faster than the wind; holding the staff, you may discover all the hidden treasures of the earth."

"But how can I get free of this horrible trap?" said Ha'penny.

The oldest of the dogs looked around to see that no one was listening, and then whispered:

"You must know that we twelve dogs were once twelve princes, and the twelve cats were princesses—all of us having turn by turn fallen into the power of the witch. She is bound to treat us according to our rank, but there is no hope of ever regaining human shape, I fear. Still, we may be able to help you, who have been so good to us."

He gave a little short bark, and up the stairs came running all the dogs and cats, who wept when they saw the sad plight of their friend. Up on a high shelf over the skeleton's head were the magic staff and slippers, and the thing was to get them down without touching the skeleton, which held fast every living thing that touched it. One of the cats ran nimbly up the wall and let herself hang; the next cat hung to her tail, and so on till a bridge was made, over which the oldest of the dogs scrambled, and got the coveted treasures. He put the staff in Ha'penny's hand, and fitted the slippers on his feet. Ha'penny gave a kick, and struck the ground with his staff. Instantly the arms of the skeleton relaxed their grip, and he was free. He bade a fond farewell to his dear friends, promising to come back to help them whenever he could. He set out to run from the house, and speedily the slippers carried him off at such a tremendous rate of speed that he was faint for want of breath. Vainly he tried to stop, but no; on, on he went with a fearful rush. He heard the cries of the old witch, who pursued him on her broom-stick. On, on, went poor Ha'penny, more dead than alive, and now the witch seemed gaining on him. He could hear the gnashing of her teeth. He struck out with his staff, as he passed by a rock, and instantly the rock became a mountain as high as the moon. The witch took some time to clamber over this, and meantime Ha'penny got far ahead of her. Reaching a city, he dashed into the midst of a funeral procession that was going through the street, and hid himself under the pall of the coffin, kicking off the slippers as he did so. Immediately he could walk as other men do, and when the old witch arrived she saw nothing but the funeral creeping slowly along—no sign of Ha'penny, who, hidden under the pall, clasped his magic slippers to his breast, and held tight to his magic staff. The disappointed witch flew homeward and whipped the cats and dogs soundly—excepting Félisette, who, of course, had been the tell-tale on poor Ha'penny.

The funeral train reached the cemetery, and Ha'penny thought it his duty to cry as bitterly as the rest of the mourners; but after the coffin had been put in the grave, and as they were turning away, he asked a bystander whose funeral it was.

"The king's messenger, to be sure, you simpleton," said the man.

"Could I get the place?" asked Ha'penny.

"You, the king's messenger!" said the man, scornfully. "Why, he must be the swiftest runner in the country. Look at your cork-screw legs! Look at your hump-back and your big head! As well expect a snail to carry our king's messages."

Nothing daunted, Ha'penny went to the king's chamberlain, and proffered his request. The chamberlain laughed until his head nearly dropped off, and then called the first Goldstick-in-waiting, who called the second, and soon the whole court was roaring over the absurd request of this poor mannikin to be the king's messenger.

"All I ask is that you try me," said Ha'penny, stoutly holding his ground.

"Stop! An idea occurs to me," said the jolly chamberlain, holding his aching sides. "To-morrow we shall have a running-match between this champion and the swiftest runner of the kingdom. In truth, my lords, this will be sport worth having," and he looked around at the courtiers, who all set to laughing anew.

Next day the match was held in a lovely grassy field. On a green mound in the centre was pitched a white satin tent, under which sat the king and queen and their children. An immense crowd assembled. Two bands of music kept playing all the time; there were free Punch and Judy shows on the outskirts of the crowd, and booths where lemonade was given away, with peppermint sticks and molasses taffy, to all who asked for it. Banners waved, trumpets blew, and then the race began. Side by side with Ha'penny, little and insignificant and forlorn as he was, started the king's swiftest runner, a man of beautiful light form and splendid muscle. Once around the field they ran, the dwarf lagging; but on the second round Ha'penny settled his feet well in his magic slippers, when, see! like an arrow he sped past the athlete, and was in at the goal so easily that the spectators hardly had time to wink their astonished eyes! Hurrah! hurrah! A mighty cheer went up for the successful Ha'penny, and the king called him to receive the purse of gold, which was the prize. Ha'penny knelt at the king's feet, and again asked to be made his messenger.

"That shall you be, my mannikin!" said the pleased monarch. So Ha'penny had a gold chain round his neck, a fine velvet coat to wear every day, and a page to serve his meals. The king grew so fond of his new servant that the rest of the courtiers became jealous. Soon Ha'penny again had no friends but the animals around the palace. They, as usual, followed him everywhere, and caressed him fondly.

Once when the little dwarf was walking in the king's paddock, accompanied by a train of young deer who loved to be near him, he felt the staff in his hand give a loud thump on the ground. At the same time all the deer formed in a circle round the spot, seeming by their eyes to implore Ha'penny to remain there. At first he could not understand this, but at length occurred to him what the oldest of the dogs had said about hidden treasure. Ha'penny had no spade to dig with, but at once the deer went to work with their hoofs, and soon they had made a deep hole, at the bottom of which lay a large iron ring fastened to an iron door.

Ha'penny was not strong enough to pull this up; but the magic staff, when passed through the ring, lifted it easily. Below was a flight of steps, leading to a gallery. Ha'penny went down the steps, followed the windings of the gallery, and reached a second door. Touching this with the magic staff it yielded, and flying open disclosed to view a lovely garden, where roamed all sorts of strange shapes—men's and women's bodies bearing the heads of bears, lions, wolves, foxes, dogs, cows, horses, and cats. Instantly these creatures came flocking around Ha'penny, calling him their deliverer, and telling him that they too were victims of the witch, although by an accident she had only had time to change their heads before her spell expired. To this garden the witch was in the habit of coming once a week, to see how her victims were getting on, and to-day was the day of her visit. Ha'penny took the magic slippers from his pocket and put them on; and keeping firm hold of his trusty staff he hid behind a lilac-bush.

Soon, in came the witch, riding her broom-stick. Ha'penny had never before seen her in her true witch dress. It was a black, tight-fitting gown, made of scaly snake-skin, and she had a necklace of live coals. Around her high-peaked cap were twined two living serpents, and a toad formed her brooch. Under one arm she carried her familiar spirit, in the likeness of a black cat, with a single emerald eye. She wore a mantle, made of cobwebs and studded with large venomous red spiders. Oh! she was a terror to look upon, and no mistake! Ha'penny's teeth chattered with fear, and so would yours at sight of her! She rode sweeping her broom down the garden path, and instantly all the animals with human bodies came running to do her homage. She made them kneel before her, and, with the three-thonged whip of live snakes she carried, whipped them all cruelly, till they groaned and cried for mercy. Then, feeling tired, she lay down on a bank to sleep, guarded by her familiar, who kept watch with its single eye of flame; and on closely observing the horrid creature Ha'penny made no doubt that it was none other than his enemy, Félisette, in her rightful shape.

When the witch was fairly snoring, Ha'penny crept up behind, and summoning all his strength prepared to smite her with his staff. Suddenly the black cat spit and hunched her back. The serpents around the witch's hat began to writhe and uncoil. They knew an enemy was near.

Ha'penny saw that he must lose no time, so aiming a fierce blow at the witch's back, he broke her spinal column, just as you would break a stick of sugar-candy. Then the dying witch uttered a shrill command to her watchers, and instantly Félisette and the two serpents set upon the audacious Ha'penny. "This time you shall not escape me!" cried Félisette, spitting fire. The cat's breath was deadly poison, and the serpents' fangs no man might feel and live. Ha'penny struck, swift and sure, right into the middle of the cat's single eye, and pierced her brain. As Félisette fell dead beside the groaning witch, the serpents reared their full length from the ground, and prepared to strangle the dwarf. The good staff proved true, and cut them both in two with a single well-aimed blow. What was his horror to find the mangled remains of the snakes change into four living ones, stronger than the first. There was nothing for it but flight, and Ha'penny took to his heels. The magic slippers carried him on and away, so swiftly that nothing could catch him. He passed through the gallery and went out at the iron door, finding himself safe, but a little out of breath, in the paddock with the king's deer.

Ha'penny told nobody of this exciting adventure, but could not sleep for thinking of all the poor bewitched people down there in the underground garden in the power of those dreadful snakes. He now suspected that these two fighting serpents were of the multiplication variety. (This means that if they were cut in two they would become four, from four become eight, from eight sixteen, from sixteen thirty-two, and so on indefinitely; and this, we are told, is the very worst species of snake known to travellers!)

Ha'penny Watching the Witch in the Underground Garden.

Ha'penny got up early, went out again to the paddock, and found the deer in a great state of excitement and agitation. They seemed to be waiting for him to come, and led the way to the secret passage in the earth. Ha'penny went down, staff in hand, and easily passed through the first iron door. As he neared the second door, he heard a confused noise beyond it of cries and lamentations. He opened the door softly, and crept into the garden unobserved. There he saw the dying witch, who, as witches always require twenty-four hours to die in, was lying on the ground writhing horribly, groaning, and shrieking to her snakes to multiply, which they did until almost the whole garden was one seething, wriggling mass of the horrible creatures. The poor people in the garden had climbed up the trees, and were every moment expecting to fall to the ground poisoned by the breath of the serpents, which rose in a thick vapor.

In this terrible moment Ha'penny's heart almost failed him; but, mustering all his courage, he sprang upon the witch, and tore from her the mantle of cobwebs, to which he noticed she was clinging. Instantly the witch set up a shrill shriek.

"Give me back my mantle," she cried pitifully; "if I die with that around me, I can be sure of rest in the grave. If you take it away, I shall have to fly about like a bat forever."

"If you order the snakes to shrivel up and die, and restore all your victims to their natural shapes, I will give you the mantle," said Ha'penny firmly.

"Children, come home!" cried the witch, in a failing voice. Immediately the snakes began rolling and gliding into each other, and in a short while nothing was left but the two fiery serpents, who wreathed themselves quietly around the witch's hat again, as if nothing had occurred.

"Children, be dust!" she said again—this time in a weaker voice—and the snakes curled up and fell away, leaving behind them only two little shining skins.

"Be once more men and women, you accursed things!" she said spitefully, making a sign at the transformed beings who were now flocking around Ha'penny with delight and gratitude. As the witch spoke, the ugly deformities melted away, and in their place were seen the heads of handsome men and beautiful women, who wept for joy when they found themselves restored.

Ha'penny now threw the cobweb mantle over the witch, who, clutching it in her arms, gave one long shudder and expired. They made a grave for her then and there; and Ha'penny led his companions out of the magic garden, which they were glad to leave, into the long passage-way. There they showed him caverns filled with gold and silver, which it had been their business to dig out of the earth and to pack away for the witch. Ha'penny and his friends divided the spoil, although they told him it was all his by right. When they got up into the light of day once more, the bewitched people scattered in all directions to go to their various homes, and Ha'penny was again alone in the world, although now very rich. He persuaded the king to discharge him from the royal service, and his first thought was to journey to the cabin in the woods. This, by aid of the magic slippers, he did in very quick style, and there he found the twelve dogs and the twelve cats living as before. This distressed Ha'penny, as he had hoped that the breaking of the witch's spell would set them also free. "What did I tell you?" said the oldest of the dogs sadly. "We are doomed never to regain our shapes; but, now that Félisette has gone, we are comfortable here and don't repine. Only, there should be somebody to cook for us, and our hair has not been decently brushed for a week."

Ha'penny felt a sudden thrill of joy. Here, at last, was something to depend on him, something that he might live and care for. He warmed the water forthwith, and gave all the dogs and cats a bath apiece, and then he combed and brushed them nicely. He made the fire and heated their broth, and fetched fresh cream and white bread for their breakfast. Nothing was heard but little barks and purrs of enjoyment. Ha'penny waited till all were asleep on their cushions, and then he mounted the stairs and nailed up the skeleton cupboard, so that it might never again be opened. He could not take it quite away, you see, as every one must have a skeleton of some kind in his closet, and this was the only one he had. Ha'penny had never felt so happy and light-hearted as now. He had found friends, and might remain alone with them in peace.

So there he continued to live, and I am almost sure that if you would visit that forest, you might, even now, succeed in finding the cottage, the cats, and Ha'penny himself!

ACERTAIN king had a beautiful golden-haired daughter named Sybilla, whose suitors came from every country, though with small success, since the princess had vowed to remain single until one proving to be the mightiest hero of the world should appear.

At no great distance from her father's country lived a horrible giant, every hair of whose head could change, at will, into a fiery serpent. He had one eye, the size of a mill-wheel, and his teeth looked like rocks in a mighty cavern. His name was Furioso, and his strength was known to surpass that of an army of ordinary men. What was the dismay of Sybilla's father when this monster sent to request the lovely princess for his wife! The king turned pale, and walked up and down his palace floor all night, for he knew what it meant to refuse the request of Furioso, who, up to this time, had lived at peace with his neighbor's country. The queen-mother, hearing of the giant's offer, took to her royal bed in kicking hysterics. As to the proud little princess, she curled her pretty red lips scornfully and tossed her head. "I'd like to see him do it, the fright!" was what she said.

In a few days what the king feared had come to pass. The giant Furioso, on receiving the beautiful diplomatic letter the king's secretary had written him (after consultation with all the lords and lawyers of the realm), frowned, scratched his head, which instantly bristled all over with flaming serpents, and opening his mouth sent forth a blood-curdling yell of defiance that resounded in the farthest part of the king's dominions. Without a moment's delay he changed himself into a fearful hurricane, and swept over the country and the palace of the Princess Sybilla. Fences and iron gates, stone walls and marble palaces fell to the ground like card-houses. Forests were uprooted, suspension bridges snapped like cobwebs, villages entire rose up into the clouds and disappeared, with their inhabitants looking in astonishment out of the windows! Cows and horses, dogs and elephants were seen whirling about in the air like Japanese day-fireworks. The king and queen found the roof lifted from above their heads, and went sailing out the open space in their nightcaps. They met all the court blowing wildly about up there, and for some time it was like a mad dance without any bottom to it. Dizzy and terrified, the royal couple at last fell down to earth again, the queen lighting on the fat cook, so that she was not seriously injured—the king falling on a tennis net, which the force of the wind kept suspended like a hammock without any ropes.

Picking themselves up, the first thought of the royal couple was for their beloved princess. As fast as different members of the court and household fell down from the clouds, which they continued to do all the evening and night, the king sent them in search of the princess. Nobody remembered having seen Sybilla anywhere in the air, and her waiting-maid, who dropped somewhere about nine o'clock A.M., next day, wept as she told how she was combing the princess' golden hair with the ivory comb she still held in her hand, when the breeze came which separated them. One thing was certain, the princess had disappeared. When things settled down a little, and people began taking i017 their breath, a peasant turned up who reported seeing the princess flying along at a fearful rate of speed in the arms of a tall, white-haired man wrapped in a mantle, who hid his face as he passed. "It were just at that moment, your honors," said the peasant, overwhelmed by the questions that rained on him, "I were myself tooken, unexpected-like, and turned upside down by the wind; and when I cum to, there I were atop a haystack in Farmer Grimes' field, five miles from home as the crow flies, a-standing on my head."

The king and queen exchanged horrified glances.

Each remembered to have heard that one of the tricks of Giant Furioso, when he wished to be particularly wicked, was to change to the semblance of a venerable white-haired man. No doubt about it, the whole calamity to court and nation was the work of Furioso, and he had got the princess.

The distracted king set out at the head of his army to visit Furioso's castle. To his surprise, under the giant's name, upon a visiting card inserted above the speaking-trumpet at the gate, were pencilled these words: "Out of town till further notice." The windows were closed, and green shades hung behind them. No smoke came out of the chimneys, and the doors were chained. Evidently the giant had retired to some one of his retreats, where he could not be followed. The king and his army marched back again in gloomy silence.

For six months nothing was heard of the unfortunate Sybilla, till one day three young princes, travelling from a distant country in search of adventure, found a wounded carrier-pigeon on the road. Under its wing was a note, written in pale red ink, on a bit of torn linen cambric. The note gave them considerable trouble to read it, but, at last, the youngest prince, Myrtillo, who had always been the cleverest at school, managed to decipher these words:

"I write this with blood taken from my finger, on a fragment of my only pocket-handkerchief. I am the wretched Princess Sybilla, daughter of the King Rolando, and I pray any kind mortal who finds this to come to my aid, in the dungeon of Furioso, under the fifth mountain of the Impassable Range. Once in twenty-four hours this mountain cleaves asunder to let my oppressor take the air. Watch, and rescue me, in the name of humanity."

The Impassable Range was far away, but the princes journeyed thither without delay. They found the fifth mountain easily, and hid under the rocks at its base, to await developments. Exactly at sunrise a rumbling sound was heard, and the cliffs shook. The mountain split apart from summit to base, and between two yawning jaws of rock issued forth, first, a head covered with flaming serpents, then a frightful purple face, and lastly, the gigantic form of Furioso. Following him came the wails and shrieks of his captives within the mountain, to which Furioso paid no attention; he only turned his back and shouted:

The princes fancied that this last was the password, and when the giant had disappeared they tried to make the mountain open by repeating it; but in his excitement each one forgot how to pronounce the magic syllables. So there they stayed till sunset, when the giant came home from his hunting expedition. He had a pouch slung over his shoulder, and in it were crowded the new men, women, and children he had caught. The poor creatures were half dead with terror and rough treatment. The princes watched the giant, and listened with all their ears for the password. "Banbedrim!" thundered Furioso, and instantly the mountain yawned to let him and his miserable prisoners pass in, when it closed, as before.

The three princes laid each his hand on his sword, and swore to be avenged of the brutal treatment of their fellow-beings. Next morning when the giant issued forth, hurling the password at the mountain, then disappeared from sight, the oldest prince declared that he should be the first to enter the mountain, that his brothers should wait twenty-four hours for his reappearance, and that should he fail to come back the second brother might come to his assistance.

Bravely the young man sprang up the mountain-side, and called aloud the password. Instantly amid thunderings and lightnings the ground split at his feet and swallowed him from sight. They could see the tip of his bright sword held aloft, as he sank into the gloomy abyss.

Twenty-four hours passed, and the oldest prince failed to return. Then the second brother set forth, and he, too, vanished from sight. A long day and night of waiting had the youngest prince. Then he ascended the mountain where there was every reason to fear his brothers had found a horrible fate. Uttering the password, Myrtillo saw, through the opening earth at his feet, a pit whence came fire and smoke; and he plainly heard the cries for help of many human voices.

Myrtillo fell a great distance, landing on his feet in a desolate cavern. The smoke cleared away and he beheld a huge iron door before which were four trumpets—one of copper, one of silver, one of gold, and one of brass. Over them these words: "He who would enter here, choose between us four."

At the foot of the golden trumpet lay the mangled remains of his oldest brother, who had perished in trying to blow it. At the foot of the silver trumpet the corpse of the second prince had fallen; and now Myrtillo must choose between the two remaining trumpets! Without a moment's hesitation he put his lips to the copper trumpet, and gave a loud, clear blast. At once the iron door flew open, and he was in a hall surrounded by dungeons, through whose gratings he could see prisoners in every stage of misery. They called to him frantically, and hailed him as their deliverer. Alas! what could the poor prince do to save them. He looked about and saw a long tunnel, ending in a massive gate of stone and iron. As he gazed into the darkness of the tunnel something coiled up at the end of it seemed to stir, and a hideous snake darted toward him, opening a pair of jaws as wide as an ordinary fireplace, and sending out a flaming tongue. Myrtillo charged upon the beast, and after a desperate fight drove his sword down its throat, the point coming out at the back of the neck. As he stooped to free his sword the serpent gave a convulsive struggle and died. Myrtillo found a chain around its neck on which was fastened a golden key. He took the key and put it in the great key-hole of the iron door before him, and to his joy the door opened. There, in a dismal dungeon within, lay a beautiful maiden in chains. Myrtillo set her free, and found that she was the Princess Sybilla, whom the giant treated with especial cruelty because she persisted in refusing his love. She told him that the little pigeon was one of many kept for the serpent's food, and that she had hidden it, and helped it to fly out one day when the giant left her cell. "And now," said the princess, when Myrtillo had in turn told her his story, "let us be quick, and lose no time. In the court beyond my cell are two fountains. One of them contains the water of strength, the other the water of weakness. From the former fountain Furioso gains all his power. A little of its water sprinkled upon the dead recalls them to life, and we may save your poor brothers yet."

Myrtillo and the lady hastened to the fountains; but to their dismay a roaring noise and the groans of the wretched prisoners, who were chastised daily upon his return, announced the arrival of the giant. "Quick!" said the lady, pointing to the water of strength; "drink once of this, and you will be strong enough to change the fountains, putting each in the place of the other."

Myrtillo obeyed, and at once felt able to move a mountain at command. He seized the solid stone basins and changed them, and hardly had he done so when the giant came rushing in. "Where is that insolent whipper-snapper of a prince who has dared to kill my faithful serpent?" roared he.

"Here he is, at your service," said Myrtillo, stepping forth with a gallant bow, and holding his glittering sword in hand.

"Just wait till I quench my thirst," said the giant disdainfully, as he stooped down to what he supposed to be his fountain of strength, and drank a long, deep draught. Suddenly a strange trembling came over the monster's huge bulk. His face turned pale, his eyes stared, his jaw dropped, he sank to the ground.

"Why, this is the water of weakness my prisoners drink," he cried. "What trick have you been playing me, you scoundrel?"

Myrtillo again drank of the water of strength, and now he felt as if he could defy an army, single-handed. Swift as a lightning flash he descended upon the giant, and severed his wicked head from his body. The Princess Sybilla uttered a wild shriek of delight, which was heard and understood by all her fellow-captives, and the dungeons echoed with sobs and cries of joy. Myrtillo and the princess filled goblets with the water of strength, and hastened to sprinkle all the prisoners, who, paralyzed by their chains and wasted with hunger, could in many cases barely stir upon the ground where they lay. Soon, a host of strong men and women filled the main hall of the dungeon, and then Myrtillo had the joy of seeing his two brothers return to life under the action of the magic water, in which he bathed their limbs. As Myrtillo only had drank of the water of strength, he remained the strongest champion in the world; and when Sybilla was taken back to her father and mother, she told them that she had promised to take the Prince Myrtillo for her husband. From the giant's stronghold Myrtillo brought away gems and gold enough to enrich him for a lifetime, even after all the giant's victims had been sent home with a bag of gold apiece. His brothers found brides in two lovely fellow-sufferers they had led out of the giant's cavern to the light of day; and so all were satisfied, and in a short time the Giant Furioso was forgotten. No more hurricanes visited the kingdom of Sybilla's father, where things continued to jog along in the old-time peaceful fashion.

APOOR woman and her daughter, who were on the verge of starvation, saw a little green bud of a plant growing through their cottage floor. They watered it, and in a day or two it sent forth long shoots, and became a vine, fine and delicate to look at, but tough as an iron wire. The vine put forth leaves, soon covering the inner walls of the cottage. The tendrils waved longingly toward the sun, and so the mother and daughter set their lattice window open, when, lo! the vine escaped as if it had wings and grew quickly heavenward. Lovely flowers bloomed on it, in shape like morning-glories, and rare birds came to drink the honey of their chalices. The maiden leaned out of her window and looked up. Higher, higher climbed the vine, till it was lost in the blue sky above them. The girl was seized with a yearning desire to climb up and see what could be seen. Her mother gave her leave, and she set out. Up, up, she went, and the mother watched below till the clustering green and many-colored bells hid her child from sight. At last the girl reached a wonderful new country, and stepped off the vine upon a shining silver path, which she followed through a green meadow till she came to a house made of honey-comb that glittered, oh! so beautifully. The columns of the porch were sticks of lemon-candy, and there were little benches to rest yourself upon, made of maple-sugar and cushioned with gingerbread. Annette, for so the girl was called, ventured to open the door of the house and peep in. There she found more beautiful things than I can tell you of—toys and books and pictures—and all the furniture was made of cake with raisins in it, so that, if one sat down to read, one need only turn around and nibble a knob off the chair, or pick raisins out of the arm of the sofa. Annette played a little and read a story-book, then she fell asleep on a couch made of apple-dumplings. Suddenly in came three goats, who were the servants of the fairy to whom this house belonged. "Let us butt her to death," said the oldest goat. "Let us trample on her, and bite her," said the second goat. "Let her alone," said the third goat, who was a kind little fellow with golden horns. "If she holds her tongue, and if she don't find out the secret of the golden coffee-mill, our mistress will let her stay here and work for her."

Annette heard this while pretending to be asleep, and when the fairy came home, she jumped up and made a nice little courtesy, begging to be allowed to do the housework. "Well," said the fairy, after looking at her sharply, "I will try you; only don't undertake to grind my coffee for me, and don't gossip with the goats."

Annette lived there for six months, and learned to make all kinds of goodies; for the fairy was the queen's confectioner in that country. You might eat all you pleased, provided you didn't talk; and not a word spoke Annette, and not a word spoke the goats. Every day the fairy went into a pantry and there ground her coffee; and every day she carried two or three bags full of something heavy, and put them in her chariot, and drove off with them. The coffee-mill looked like any other one, and Annette wondered vainly what its secret was. At last curiosity overcame her, and she stole into the pantry and began to grind the mill. Down fell a stream of pure gold-dust, and it powdered Annette all over till she looked like a golden image. "How shall I get rid of this?" she said, trying to shake it off, but the gold dust stuck fast. She cried and sobbed, for she knew that now the fairy would certainly find her out. In came the friendly goat. "Cheer up," said he. "That was the way my horns came to be gilded, because I yielded to my curiosity about the mill, when I first came here to live. The fairy wanted to kill me, but she let me off when I vowed to serve her faithfully for seven years. The time is just up, and so I propose that we escape together. Take the magic mill under your arm and get upon my back, and we will go down to your world."

Annette joyfully obeyed the friendly goat, and carrying the coffee-mill they set off from the fairy's house. Unfortunately she did not know how to stop the mill from grinding, and it left a path of gold-dust behind them as they fled, which showed the way to the fairy. The fairy followed them, riding on a silver broom-stick; but the goat was swift as the wind, and Annette clung to his golden horns, and held the magic mill tight under her arm. By good luck they reached the opening, near which the vine was growing, and, just as the furious fairy got near enough to stretch out her long arm after them, down went Annette, goat, and coffee-mill, through a rift in the clouds, to a land where their enemy could not follow them. The faithful vine caught them as they fell, and held them up stoutly. When they had climbed down, and touched the earth in safety, Annette was astonished to see her goat turn into a handsome young prince, with curling golden locks and kind blue eyes.

"You have freed me from my enchantment, beautiful maiden," he said, kneeling upon the grass at her feet. "Long years ago I and my wicked brothers were captured by the fairy and became her slaves under the form of goats, as you saw. For fear that they may find out some way to follow us, we must cut down this vine, and then we shall be free forever from all dread of disturbance."

Annette's mother came running out, kissed her child, and listened with wonder to the tale of her adventures. All this while the mill had gone on grinding, and before they knew it the cottage floor was knee-deep in gold-dust. "We shall be smothered at this rate," cried the prince laughing, and he hastened to make a magic sign he had learned from the fairy. The mill ceased to flow, and then the prince took an axe and cut the beautiful vine at its root. Annette wept to see the lovely leaves and blossoms shrivel up, but in a short time they vanished entirely from sight. The prince married Annette, and every day the mill ground gold enough to pay all the expenses of their palace and servants and horses, and also the expenses of Annette's mother, who had a separate palace for herself over the way.

The country people, for years after the time when Annette and the prince came down the magic vine, showering gold-dust along their way, continued to talk about the wonderful rain of stars they had seen in the sky that moon-lit night.