“Now,” said the Fish, “here you are, and yon’s the stair; climb up, if you can, but hold on fast. I’ll warrant you find the stair easier at home than by such a way; ’t was ne’er meant for lassies’ feet to travel;” and off he splashed through the water.
So she clomb and she clomb and she clomb, but ne’er a step higher did she get: the light was before her and around her, and the water behind her, and the more she struggled the more she was forced down into the dark and the cold, and the more she clomb the deeper she fell.
But she clomb and she clomb, till she got dizzy in the light and shivered with the cold, and dazed with the fear; but still she clomb, till at last, quite dazed and silly-like, she let clean go, and sank down—down—down.
And bang she came on to the hard boards, and found herself sitting, weeping and wailing, by the bedside at home all alone.
News!
MR. G. Ha! Steward, how are you, my old boy? How do things go on at home?
STEWARD. Bad enough, your honour; the magpie’s dead!
MR. G. Poor mag! so he’s gone. How came he to die?
STEWARD. Over-ate himself, Sir.
MR. G. Did he indeed? a greedy dog. Why, what did he get that he liked so well?
STEWARD. Horseflesh; he died of eating horseflesh.
MR. G. How came he to get so much horseflesh?
STEWARD. All your father’s horses, Sir.
MR. G. What! are they dead too?
STEWARD. Ay, Sir; they died of over-work.
MR. G. And why were they over-worked?
STEWARD. To carry water, Sir.
MR. G. To carry water, and what were they carrying water for?
STEWARD. Sure, Sir, to put out the fire.
MR. G. Fire! what fire?
STEWARD. Your father’s house is burned down to the ground.
MR. G. My father’s house burnt down! and how came it to be on fire?
STEWARD. I think, Sir, it must have been the torches.
MR G. Torches! what torches?
STEWARD. At your mother’s funeral.
MR. G. My mother dead?
STEWARD. Ay, poor lady, she never looked up after it.
MR. G. After what?
STEWARD. The loss of your father.
MR. G. My father gone too?
STEWARD. Yes, poor gentleman, he took to his bed as soon as he heard of it.
MR. G. Heard of what?
STEWARD. The bad news, an’ it please your honour.
MR. G. What? more miseries, more bad news!
STEWARD. Yes, Sir, your bank has failed, your credit is lost and you’re not worth a shilling in the world. I make bold, Sir, to come and wait on you about it; for I thought you would like to hear the news.
Puddock, Mousie, and Ratton
There lived a Puddock in a well,
And a merry Mousie in a mill.
Puddock he would a-wooing rid
Sword and pistol by his side.
Puddock came to the Mousie’s inn,
“Mistress Mousie, are you within?”
MOUSIE.
“Yes, kind Sir, I am within,
Softly do I sit and spin.”
PUDDOCK.
“Madam, I am come to woo,
Marriage I must have of you.”
MOUSIE.
“Marriage I will grant you none
Till Uncle Ratton he comes home.”
PUDDOCK.
“See, Uncle Ratton’s now come in
Then go and bask the bride within.”
Who is it that sits next the wall
But Lady Mousie both slim and small?
Who is it that sits next the bride
But Lord Puddock with yellow side?
But soon came Duckie and with her Sir Drake;
Duckie takes Puddock and makes him squeak.
Then came in the old carl cat
With a fiddle on his back:
“Do ye any music lack?”
Puddock he swam down the brook,
Sir Drake he catched him in his fluke.
The cat he pulled Lord Ratton down,
The kittens they did claw his crown.
But Lady Mousie, so slim and small,
Crept into a hole beneath the wall;
“Squeak,” quoth she, “I’m out of it all.”
The Little Bull-Calf
Centuries of years ago, when almost all this part of the country was wilderness, there was a little boy, who lived in a poor bit of property and his father gave him a little bull-calf, and with it he gave him everything he wanted for it.
But soon after his father died, and his mother got married again to a man that turned out to be a very vicious step-father, who couldn’t abide the little boy. So at last the step-father said: “If you bring that bull-calf into this house, I’ll kill it.” What a villain he was, wasn’t he?
Now this little boy used to go out and feed his bull-calf every day with barley bread, and when he did so this time, an old man came up to him—we can guess who that was, eh?—and said to him: “You and your bull-calf had better go away and seek your fortune.”
So he went on and he went on and he went on, as far as I could tell you till to-morrow night, and he went up to a farmhouse and begged a crust of bread, and when he got back he broke it in two and gave half of it to the bull-calf. And he went to another house and begged a bit of cheese crud, and when he went back he wanted to give half of it to the bull-calf. “No,” says the bull-calf, “I’m going across the field, into the wild-wood wilderness country, where there’ll be tigers, leopards, wolves, monkeys, and a fiery dragon, and I’ll kill them all except the fiery dragon, and he’ll kill me.”
The little boy did cry, and said: “Oh, no, my little bull-calf; I hope he won’t kill you.”
“Yes, he will,” said the little bull-calf, “so you climb up that tree, so that no one can come nigh you but the monkeys, and if they come the cheese crud will save you. And when I’m killed, the dragon will go away for a bit, then you must come down the tree and skin me, and take out my bladder and blow it out, and it will kill everything you hit with it. So when the fiery dragon comes back, you hit it with my bladder and cut its tongue out.”
(We know there were fiery dragons in those days, like George and his dragon in the legend; but, there! it’s not the same world nowadays. The world is turned topsy-turvy since then, like as if you’d turn it over with a spade!)
Of course, he did all the little bull-calf told him. He climbed up the tree, and the monkeys climbed up the tree after him. But he held the cheese crud in his hand, and said: “I’ll squeeze your heart like the flint-stone.” So the monkey cocked his eye as much as to say: “If you can squeeze a flint-stone to make the juice come out of it, you can squeeze me.” But he didn’t say anything, for a monkey’s cunning, but down he went. And all the while the little bull-calf was fighting all the wild beasts on the ground, and the little lad was clapping his hands up the tree, and calling out: “Go in, my little bull-calf! Well fought, little bull-calf!” And he mastered everything except the fiery dragon, but the fiery dragon killed the little bull-calf.
But the lad waited and waited till he saw the dragon go away, then he came down and skinned the little bull-calf, and took out its bladder and went after the dragon. And as he went on, what should he see but a king’s daughter, staked down by the hair of her head, for she had been put there for the dragon to destroy her.
So he went up and untied her hair, but she said: “My time has come for the dragon to destroy me; go away, you can do no good.” But he said: “No! I can master it, and I won’t go”; and for all her begging and praying he would stop.
And soon he heard it coming, roaring and raging from afar off, and at last it came near, spitting fire, and with a tongue like a great spear, and you could hear it roaring for miles, and it was making for the place where the king’s daughter was staked down. But when it came up to them, the lad just hit it on the head with the bladder and the dragon fell down dead, but before it died, it bit off the little boy’s forefinger.
Then the lad cut out the dragon’s tongue and said to the king’s daughter: “I’ve done all I can, I must leave you.” And sorry she was he had to go, and before he went she tied a diamond ring in his hair, and said good-bye to him.
By-and-by, who should come along but the old king, lamenting and weeping, expecting to see nothing of his daughter but the prints of the place where she had been. But he was surprised to find her there alive and safe, and he said: “How came you to be saved?” So she told him how she had been saved, and he took her home to his castle again.
Well, he put it into all the papers to find out who saved his daughter, and who had the dragon’s tongue and the princess’s diamond ring, and was without his forefinger. Whoever could show these signs should marry his daughter and have his kingdom after his death. Well, any number of gentlemen came from all parts of England, with forefingers cut off, and with diamond rings and all kinds of tongues, wild beasts’ tongues and foreign tongues. But they couldn’t show any dragons’ tongues, so they were turned away.
At last the little boy turned up, looking very ragged and desolated like, and the king’s daughter cast her eye on him, till her father grew very angry and ordered them to turn the little beggar boy away. “Father,” says she; “I know something of that boy.”
Well, still the fine gentlemen came, bringing up their dragons’ tongues that weren’t dragons’ tongues, and at last the little boy came up, dressed a little better. So the old king says: “I see you’ve got an eye on that boy. If it has to be him it must be him.” But all the others were fit to kill him, and cried out: “Pooh, pooh, turn that boy out, it can’t be him.” But the king said: “Now, my boy, let’s see what you have to show.” Well, he showed the diamond ring with her name on it, and the fiery dragon’s tongue. How the others were thunderstruck when he showed his proofs! But the king told him: “You shall have my daughter and my estate.”
So he married the princess, and afterwards got the king’s estate. Then his step-father came and wanted to own him, but the young king didn’t know such a man.
The Wee, Wee Mannie
Once upon a time, when all big folks were wee ones and all lies were true, there was a wee, wee Mannie that had a big, big Coo. And out he went to milk her of a morning, and said—
“Hold still, my Coo, my hinny,
Hold still, my hinny, my Coo,
And ye shall have for your dinner
What but a milk white doo.”
But the big, big Coo wouldn’t hold still. “Hout!” said the wee, wee Mannie—
“Hold still, my Coo, my dearie,
And fill my bucket wi’ milk,
And if ye ’ll be no contrairy
I’ll gi’e ye a gown o’ silk.”
But the big, big Coo wouldn’t hold still. “Look at that, now!” said the wee, wee Mannie—
“What’s a wee, wee mannie to do,
Wi’ such a big contrairy Coo?”
So off he went to his mother at the house. “Mother,” said he, “Coo won’t stand still, and wee, wee Mannie can’t milk big, big Coo.”
“Hout!” says his mother, “take stick and beat Coo.”
So off he went to get a stick from the tree, and said—
“Break, stick, break,
And I’ll gi’e ye a cake.”
But the stick wouldn’t break, so back he went to the house. “Mother,” says he, “Coo won’t hold still, stick won’t break, wee, wee Mannie can’t beat big, big Coo.”
“Hout!” says his mother, “go to the Butcher and bid him kill Coo.”
So off he went to the Butcher, and said—
“Butcher, kill the big, big Coo,
She’ll gi’e us no more milk noo.”
But the Butcher wouldn’t kill the Coo without a silver penny, so back the Mannie went to the house. “Mother,” says he, “Coo won’t hold still, stick won’t break, Butcher won’t kill without a silver penny, and wee, wee Mannie can’t milk big, big Coo.”
“Well,” said his mother, “go to the Coo and tell her there’s a weary, weary lady with long yellow hair weeping for a cup o’ milk.”
So off he went and told the Coo, but she wouldn’t hold still, so back he went and told his mother.
“Well,” said she, “tell the Coo there’s a fine, fine laddie from the wars sitting by the weary, weary lady with golden hair, and she weeping for a sup o’ milk.”
So off he went and told the Coo, but she wouldn’t hold still, so back he went and told his mother.
“Well,” said his mother, “tell the big, big Coo there’s a sharp, sharp sword at the belt of the fine, fine laddie from the wars who sits beside the weary, weary lady with the golden hair, and she weeping for a sup o’ milk.”
And he told the big, big Coo, but she wouldn’t hold still.
Then said his mother, “Run quick and tell her that her head’s going to be cut off by the sharp, sharp sword in the hands of the fine, fine laddie, if she doesn’t give the sup o’ milk the weary, weary lady weeps for.”
And wee, wee Mannie went off and told the big, big Coo.
And when Coo saw the glint of the sharp, sharp sword in the hand of the fine, fine laddie come from the wars, and the weary, weary lady weeping for a sup o’ milk, she reckoned she’d better hold still; so wee, wee Mannie milked big, big Coo, and the weary, weary lady with the golden hair hushed her weeping and got her sup o’ milk, and the fine, fine laddie new come from the wars put by his sharp, sharp sword, and all went well that didn’t go ill.