Fairy books of Andrew Lang

by Andrew Lang

  'But there are streaks in the north-western sky, and Prince was eating grass this evening,' said the old man.

  'Surely he has not eaten my garlic,' exclaimed the old woman.

  'No; but there will be rough weather by to-morrow at sunset,' rejoined Matte.

  'Listen to me,' said his wife, 'we will set only one net close to the shore, and then we shall be able to finish up our half-filled cask, which will spoil if it stands open so long.'

  The old man allowed himself to be talked over, and so they rowed out with the net. When they reached the deepest part of the water, she began to hum the words of the magic rhyme, altering the words to suit the longings of her heart:

  Oh, Ahti, with the long, long beard,

  Who dwellest in the deep blue sea,

  Finest treasures have I heard,

  And glittering fish belong to thee.

  The richest pearls beyond compare

  Are stored up in thy realm below,

  And Ocean's cows so sleek and fair

  Feed on the grass in thy green meadow.

  King of the waters, far and near,

  I ask not of thy golden store,

  I wish not jewels of pearl to wear,

  Nor silver either, ask I for,

  But one is odd and even is two,

  So give me a cow, sea-king so bold,

  And in return I'll give to you

  A slice of the moon, and the sun's gold.

  'What's that you're humming?' asked the old man.

  'Oh, only the words of an old rhyme that keeps running in my head,' answered the old woman; and she raised her voice and went on:

  Oh, Ahti, with the long, long beard,

  Who dwellest in the deep blue sea,

  A thousand cows are in thy herd,

  I pray thee give one unto me.

  'That's a stupid sort of song,' said Matte. 'What else should one beg of the sea-king but fish? But such songs are not for Sunday.'

  His wife pretended not to hear him, and sang and sang the same tune all the time they were on the water. Matte heard nothing more as he sat and rowed the heavy boat, while thinking of his cracked pipe and the fine tobacco. Then they returned to the island, and soon after went to bed.

  But neither Matte nor Maie could sleep a wink; the one thought of how he had profaned Sunday, and the other of Ahti's cow.

  About midnight the fisherman sat up, and said to his wife:

  'Dost thou hear anything?'

  'No,' said she.

  'I think the twirling of the weathercock on the roof bodes ill,' said he; 'we shall have a storm.'

  'Oh, it is nothing but your fancy,' said his wife.

  Matte lay down, but soon rose again.

  'The weathercock is squeaking now,' said he.

  'Just fancy! Go to sleep,' said his wife; and the old man tried to.

  For the third time he jumped out of bed.

  'Ho! how the weathercock is roaring at the pitch of its voice, as if it had a fire inside it! We are going to have a tempest, and must bring in the net.'

  Both rose. The summer night was as dark as if it had been October, the weathercock creaked, and the storm was raging in every direction. As they went out the sea lay around them as white as snow, and the spray was dashing right over the fisher-hut. In all his life Matte had never remembered such a night. To launch the boat and put to sea to rescue the net was a thing not to be thought of. The fisherman and his wife stood aghast on the doorstep, holding on fast by the doorpost, while the foam splashed over their faces.

  'Did I not tell thee that there is no luck in Sunday fishing?' said Matte sulkily; and his wife was so frightened that she never even once thought of Ahti's cows.

  As there was nothing to be done, they went in. Their eyes were heavy for lack of slumber, and they slept as soundly as if there had not been such a thing as an angry sea roaring furiously around their lonely dwelling. When they awoke, the sun was high in the heavens, the tempest had ceased, and only the swell of the sea rose in silvery heavings against the red rock.

  'What can that be?' said the old woman, as she peeped out of the door.

  'It looks like a big seal,' said Matte.

  'As sure as I live, it's a cow!' exclaimed Maie. And certainly it was a cow, a fine red cow, fat and flourishing, and looking as if it had been fed all its days on spinach. It wandered peacefully up and down the shore, and never so much as even looked at the poor little tufts of grass, as if it despised such fare.

  Matte could not believe his eyes. But a cow she seemed, and a cow she was found to be; and when the old woman began to milk her, every pitcher and pan, even to the baler, was soon filled with the most delicious milk.

  The old man troubled his head in vain as to how she came there, and sallied forth to seek for his lost net. He had not proceeded far when he found it cast up on the shore, and so full of fish that not a mesh was visible.

  'It is all very fine to possess a cow,' said Matte, as he cleaned the fish; 'but what are we going to feed her on?'

  'We shall find some means,' said his wife; and the cow found the means herself. She went out and cropped the seaweed which grew in great abundance near the shore, and always kept in good condition. Every one, Prince alone excepted, thought she was a clever beast; but Prince barked at her, for he had now got a rival.

  From that day the red rock overflowed with milk and junkets, and every net was filled with fish. Matte and Maie grew fat on this fine living, and daily became richer. She churned quantities of butter, and he hired two men to help him in his fishing. The sea lay before him like a big fish tank, out of which he hauled as many as he required; and the cow continued to fend for herself. In autumn, when Matte and Maie went ashore, the cow went to sea, and in spring, when they returned to the rock, there she stood awaiting them.

  'We shall require a better house,' said Maie the following summer; 'the old one is too small for ourselves and the men.'

  'Yes,' said Matte. So he built a large cottage, with a real lock to the door, and a store-house for fish as well; and he and his men caught such quantities of fish that they sent tons of salmon, herring, and cod to Russia and Sweden.

  'I am quite overworked with so many folk,' said Maie; 'a girl to help me would not come amiss.'

  'Get one, then,' said her husband; and so they hired a girl.

  Then Maie said: 'We have too little milk for all these folk. Now that I have a servant, with the same amount of trouble she could look after three cows.'

  'All right, then,' said her husband, somewhat provoked, 'you can sing a song to the fairies.'

  This annoyed Maie, but nevertheless she rowed out to sea on Sunday night and sang as before:

  Oh, Ahti, with the long, long beard,

  Who dwellest in the deep blue sea,

  A thousand cows are in thy herd,

  I pray thee give three unto me.

  The following morning, instead of one, three cows stood on the island, and they all ate seaweed and fended for themselves like the first one.

  'Art thou satisfied now?' said Matte to his wife.

  'I should be quite satisfied,' said his wife, 'if only I had two servants to help, and if I had some finer clothes. Don't you know that I am addressed as Madam?'

  'Well, well,' said her husband. So Maie got several servants, and clothes fit for a great lady.

  'Everything would now be perfect if only we had a little better dwelling for summer. You might build us a two-story house, and fetch soil to make a garden. Then you might make a little arbour up there to let us have a sea-view; and we might have a fiddler to fiddle to us of an evening, and a little steamer to take us to church in stormy weather.'

  'Anything more?' asked Matte; but he did everything that his wife wished. The rock Ahtola became so grand and Maie so great that all the sea-urchins and herring were lost in wonderment. Even Prince was fed on beefsteaks and cream scones till at last he was as round as a butter jar.

  'Are you satisfied now?' asked Matte.

  'I shou
ld be quite satisfied,' said Maie, 'if only I had thirty cows. At least that number is required for such a household.'

  'Go to the fairies,' said Matte.

  His wife set out in the new steamer and sang to the sea-king. Next morning thirty cows stood on the shore, all finding food for themselves.

  'Know'st thou, good man, that we are far too cramped on this wretched rock, and where am I to find room for so many cows?'

  'There is nothing to be done but to pump out the sea.'

  'Rubbish!' said his wife. 'Who can pump out the sea?'

  'Try with thy new steamer, there is a pump in it.'

  Maie knew well that her husband was only making fun of her, but still her mind was set upon the same subject. 'I never could pump the sea out,' thought she, 'but perhaps I might fill it up, if I were to make a big dam. I might heap up sand and stones, and make our island as big again.'

  Maie loaded her boat with stones and went out to sea. The fiddler was with her, and fiddled so finely that Ahti and Wellamos and all the sea's daughters rose to the surface of the water to listen to the music.

  'What is that shining so brightly in the waves?' asked Maie.

  'That is sea foam glinting in the sunshine,' answered the fiddler.

  'Throw out the stones,' said Maie.

  The people in the boat began to throw out the stones, splash, splash, right and left, into the foam. One stone hit the nose of Wellamos's chief lady-in-waiting, another scratched the sea queen herself on the cheek, a third plumped close to Ahti's head and tore off half of the sea-king's beard; then there was a commotion in the sea, the waves bubbled and bubbled like boiling water in a pot.

  'Whence comes this gust of wind?' said Maie; and as she spoke the sea opened and swallowed up the steamer. Maie sank to the bottom like a stone, but, stretching out her arms and legs, she rose to the surface, where she found the fiddler's fiddle, and used it as a float. At the same moment she saw close beside her the terrible head of Ahti, and he had only half a beard!

  'Why did you throw stones at me?' roared the sea-king.

  'Oh, your majesty, it was a mistake! Put some bear's grease on your beard and that will soon make it grow again.'

  'Dame, did I not give you all you asked for-nay, even more?'

  'Truly, truly, your majesty. Many thanks for the cows.'

  'Well, where is the gold from the sun and the silver from the moon that you promised me?'

  'Ah, your majesty, they have been scattered day and night upon the sea, except when the sky was overcast,' slyly answered Maie.

  'I'll teach you!' roared the sea-king; and with that he gave the fiddle such a 'puff' that it sent the old woman up like a sky-rocket on to her island. There Prince lay, as famished as ever, gnawing the carcase of a crow. There sat Matte in his ragged grey jacket, quite alone, on the steps of the old hut, mending a net.

  'Heavens, mother,' said he, 'where are you coming from at such a whirlwind pace, and what makes you in such a dripping condition?'

  Maie looked around her amazed, and said, 'Where is our two-story house?'

  'What house?' asked her husband.

  'Our big house, and the flower garden, and the men and the maids, and the thirty beautiful cows, and the steamer, and everything else?'

  'You are talking nonsense, mother,' said he. 'The students have quite turned your head, for you sang silly songs last evening while we were rowing, and then you could not sleep till early morning. We had stormy weather during the night, and when it was past I did not wish to waken you, so rowed out alone to rescue the net.'

  'But I've seen Ahti,' rejoined Maie.

  'You've been lying in bed, dreaming foolish fancies, mother, and then in your sleep you walked into the water.'

  'But there is the fiddle,' said Maie.

  'A fine fiddle! It is only an old stick. No, no, old woman, another time we will be more careful. Good luck never attends fishing on a Sunday.'

  From Z. Topelius.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [2] Kalevala is a collection of old Finnish songs about gods and heroes.

  THE RASPBERRY WORM

  'Phew!' cried Lisa.

  'Ugh!' cried Aina.

  'What now?' cried the big sister.

  'A worm!' cried Lisa.

  'On the raspberry!' cried Aina.

  'Kill it!' cried Otto.

  'What a fuss over a poor little worm!' said the big sister scornfully.

  'Yes, when we had cleaned the raspberries so carefully,' said Lisa.

  'It crept out from that very large one,' put in Aina.

  'And supposing some one had eaten the raspberry,' said Lisa.

  'Then they would have eaten the worm, too,' said Aina.

  'Well, what harm?' said Otto.

  'Eat a worm!' cried Lisa.

  'And kill him with one bite!' murmured Aina.

  'Just think of it!' said Otto laughing.

  'Now it is crawling on the table,' cried Aina again.

  'Blow it away!' said the big sister.

  'Tramp on it!' laughed Otto.

  But Lisa took a raspberry leaf, swept the worm carefully on to the leaf and carried it out into the yard. Then Aina noticed that a sparrow sitting on the fence was just getting ready to pounce on the poor little worm, so she took up the leaf, carried it out into the wood and hid it under a raspberry bush where the greedy sparrow could not find it. Yes, and what more is there to tell about a raspberry worm? Who would give three straws for such a miserable little thing? Yes, but who would not like to live in such a pretty home as it lives in; in such a fresh fragrant dark-red cottage, far away in the quiet wood among flowers and green leaves!

  Now it was just dinner time, so they all had a dinner of raspberries and cream. 'Be careful with the sugar, Otto,' said the big sister; but Otto's plate was like a snowdrift in winter, with just a little red under the snow.

  Soon after dinner the big sister said: 'Now we have eaten up the raspberries and we have none left to make preserve for the winter; it would be fine if we could get two baskets full of berries, then we could clean them this evening, and to-morrow we could cook them in the big preserving pan, and then we should have raspberry jam to eat on our bread!'

  'Come, let us go to the wood and pick,' said Lisa.

  'Yes, let us,' said Aina. 'You take the yellow basket and I will take the green one.'

  'Don't get lost, and come back safely in the evening,' said the big sister.

  'Greetings to the raspberry worm,' said Otto, mockingly. 'Next time I meet him I shall do him the honour of eating him up.'

  So Aina and Lisa went off to the wood. Ah! how delightful it was there, how beautiful! It was certainly tiresome sometimes climbing over the fallen trees, and getting caught in the branches, and waging war with the juniper bushes and the midges, but what did that matter? The girls climbed well in their short dresses, and soon they were deep in the wood.

  There were plenty of bilberries and elder berries, but no raspberries. They wandered on and on, and at last they came… No, it could not be true!… they came to a large raspberry wood. The wood had been on fire once, and now raspberry bushes had grown up, and there were raspberry bushes and raspberry bushes as far as the eye could see. Every bush was weighed to the ground with the largest, dark red, ripe raspberries, such a wealth of berries as two little berry pickers had never found before!

  Lisa picked, Aina picked. Lisa ate, Aina ate, and in a little while their baskets were full.

  'Now, we shall go home,' said Aina. 'No, let us gather a few more,' said Lisa. So they put the baskets down on the ground and began to fill their pinafores, and it was not long before their pinafores were full, too.

  'Now we shall go home,' said Lisa. 'Yes, now we shall go home,' said Aina. Both girls took a basket in one hand and held up her apron in the other and then turned to go home. But that was easier said than done. They had never been so far in the great wood before, they could not find any road nor path, and soon the girls noticed that they had lost their way.

 
The worst of it was that the shadows of the trees were becoming so long in the evening sunlight, the birds were beginning to fly home, and the day was closing in. At last the sun went down behind the pine tops, and it was cool and dusky in the great wood.

  The girls became anxious but went steadily on, expecting that the wood would soon end, and that they would see the smoke from the chimneys of their home.

  After they had wandered on for a long time it began to grow dark. At last they reached a great plain overgrown with bushes, and when they looked around them, they saw, as much as they could in the darkness, that they were among the same beautiful raspberry bushes from which they had picked their baskets and their aprons full. Then they were so tired that they sat down on a stone and began to cry.

  'I am so hungry,' said Lisa.

  'Yes,' said Aina, 'if we had only two good meat sandwiches now.'

  As she said that, she felt something in her hand, and when she looked down, she saw a large sandwich of bread and chicken, and at the same time Lisa said: 'How very queer! I have a sandwich in my hand.'

  'And I, too,' said Aina. 'Will you dare to eat it?'

  'Of course I will,' said Lisa. 'Ah, if we only had a good glass of milk now!'

  Just as she said that she felt a large glass of milk between her fingers, and at the same time Aina cried out, 'Lisa! Lisa! I have a glass of milk in my hand! Isn't it queer?'

  The girls, however, were very hungry, so they ate and drank with a good appetite. When they had finished Aina yawned, stretched out her arms and said: 'Oh, if only we had a nice soft bed to sleep on now!'

  Scarcely had she spoken before she felt a nice soft bed by her side, and there beside Lisa was one too. This seemed to the girls more and more wonderful, but tired and sleepy as they were, they thought no more about it, but crept into the little beds, drew the coverlets over their heads and were soon asleep.

  When they awoke the sun was high in the heavens, the wood was beautiful in the summer morning, and the birds were flying about in the branches and the tree tops.

  At first the girls were filled with wonder when they saw that they had slept in the wood among the raspberry bushes. They looked at each other, they looked at their beds, which were of the finest flax covered over with leaves and moss. At last Lisa said: 'Are you awake, Aina?'