by Howard Pyle
“I bade thee do naught but shut the door!” answered Dame Griggs.
“Ay; it’s easy enough to shut the door after the trouble’s come in!”
“Then turn it out again!”
“Turn un out! Odds bodkins, that’s woman’s wit! Dost’ee not see that there’s no turnin’ o’ un out? Na, na; there’s naught to do but to go out ourselves!”
Yes; there was nothing else to be done. Go they must, if they would be rid of the boggart. So one fine bright day in the blessed spring-time, they packed all of their belongings into a great wain, or cart, and set off to find a new home.
Oft they trudged, just as you see in the picture, the three little children seated high up in the wain, and the farmer and the dame plodding ahead.
“THE DEPARTURE”
“Farmer Griggs and the Wise Man.”
Now, as they came to the bottom of Shooter’s Hill, whom should they meet but their good neighbor and gossip, Jerry Jinks. “So, Georgie,” said he, “you’re leavin’ th’ ould house at last?”
“High, Jerry,” quoth Georgie. “We were forced tull it, neighbor, for that black boggart torments us so that there was no rest night or day for it. The poor bairns’ stomachs are empty, and the good dame’s nigh dead for it. So off we go, like th’ field-fares in the autumn — we’re flittin’, we’re flittin’!”
Now on the wain was a tall, upright churn; as soon as Georgie had ended his speech, the lid of the churn began to clipper-clapper, and who should speak out of it but the boggart himself. “Ay, Jerry!” said he, “we’re a flittin’, we’re a flittin’, man! Good-day to ye, neighbor, good-day to ye! Come and see us soon time!”
“High!” cried Georgie Griggs, “art thou there, thou black imp? Dang un! We’ll all go back tull th’ old house, for sure it’s better to bear trouble there than in a new place.”
So back they went again — boggart and all.
By this you may see, my dear, if you warm an imp by your fire, he will soon turn the whole house topsy-turvy. Likewise, one cannot get rid of a boggart by going from here to there, for it is sure to be in the cart with the household things.
But how did Georgie Griggs get rid of his boggart? That I will tell you.
He went to Father Grimes, the wise man, who lived on in a little house on the moor. “Father Grimes,” said he, “how shall I get rid of my boggart?”
Then Father Grimes told him to take this and that, and to do thus and so with them, and see what followed. So Farmer Griggs went to Hugh the tailor’s, and told him to make a pretty red coat and a neat pair of blue breeches. Then he went to William the hatter’s, and bade him to make a nice little velvet cap with a bell at the top of it. Then he went to Thomas the shoemaker’s, and bade him to make a fine little pair of shoes. So they all did as he told them, and after these things were made he took them home with him. He laid them on a warm spot on the hearth where the boggart used to come to sleep at night. Then he and his dame hid in the closet to see what would follow.
Presently came the boggart, whisking here and dancing there, though neither the farmer nor the dame could see him any more than though he had been a puff of wind.
“Heigh-ho!” cried the boggart, “these be fine things for sure.” So saying, he tried the hat upon his head, and it fitted exactly. Then he tried the coat on his shoulders, and it fitted like wax. Then he tried the breeches on his legs, and they fitted as though they grew there. Then he tried the shoes on his feet, and there never was such a fit. So he was clad in all his new clothes from top to toe, whereupon he began dancing until he made the ashes on the hearth spin around with him as though they had gone mad, and, as he danced, he sang:
“Cap for the head, alas poor head!
Coat for the back, alas poor back!
Breeks for the legs, alas poor legs!
Shoen for the feet, alas poor feet!
If these be mine, mine cannot be
The house of honest man, Georgie!”
So he went singing and dancing, and skipping and leaping, out of the house and away. As for Georgie Griggs and his dame, they never heard a squeak from him afterwards.
Thus it was that Farmer Griggs got rid of his boggart. All I can say is, that if I could get rid of mine as easily (for I have one in my own house), I would make him a suit of clothes of the finest silks and satins, and would hang a bell of pure silver on the point of his cap. But, alackaday! there are no more wise men left to us, like good Father Grimes, to tell one an easy way to get rid of one’s boggart.
“The Boggart Rejoices”
YE STORY OF A BLUE CHINA PLATE.
There was a Cochin Chinaman,
Whose name it was Ah-Lee
And the same was just as fine a man
As you could wish to see,
For he was rich and strong,
And his queue was extra long,
And he lived on rice and fish and chiccory.
Which he had a lovely daughter,
And her name was Mai-Ri-An,
And the youthful Wang who sought her
Hand was but a poor young man;
So her haughty father said,
“You shall never, never wed
Such a pauper as this penniless young man!”
So the daughter and her lover,
They eloped one summer day,
Which Ah-Lee he did discover,
And pursued without delay;
But the Goddess Loo, I’ve heard,
Changed each lover to a bird,
And from the bad Ah-Lee they flew away.
Ah me! Ah-Lee; the chance is,
That we all of us may know
Of unpleasant circumstances
We would like to stay, but oh!
The inevitable things
Will take unto them wings,
And will fly where we may never hope to go.
I would further like to state,
That the tale which I relate,
You can see on any plate
That was made in Cochin China years ago.
MORAL BLINDNESS
There was an old woman, as I’ve heard say,
Who owned but a single goose.
And the dame lived over toward Truxton way,
And the animal ran at loose.
It cackled up and it cackled down,
Disturbing the peace of all the town:
Gentle and simple, knight and clown,
From the dawn to the close of the day.
Another old woman, of not much note,
Lived over toward Truxton way,
Who owned a goat with a shaggy black coat,
As I’ve heard the neighbours say.
And it was the fear of one and all;
Butting the great, butting the small, —
No matter whom, — who happened to fall
In the way of this evil goat.
Said the first old woman, “This ugly goat
Should never thus run at loose.”
Said the second, “I wish they’d cut the throat
Of that noisy cackling goose.”
And so it happened when e’er that they
Would meet each other upon the way
They’d bicker and hicker the livelong day
In the key of a scolding note.
But all the neighbours, great and small,
Complained of both with grievous tone.
From which I gather that we all
See other’s faults and not our own.
H. PYLE
OVERCONFIDENCE
A peacock sat on ye garden wall
(See picture here to ye right),
An ye folk came crowding-great and small
For it chanced that none in ye town at all
Had ever seen such a sight
If you’d have been there perhaps you’d have heard
Ye folk talk thus, as they looked at ye bird:
“O crickety! — Law! —
O jimmeny me! —
I never yet saw!
—
Who ever did see
Such a beautiful sight in the world before,
Since ye animals marched from ye old ark door?
O! Look at ye spots
In his tail! And ye lots
Of green and of blue in his beautiful wings!
I’d give a new shilling to know if he sings!”
Ye peacock says, “Surely, they’ll greatly rejoice
To hear but a touch of my delicate voice.”
(Sings.)
“O dear! O dear! —
O stop it! — O do! —
We never did hear
Such a hullballoo!
’Tis worse than ye noise that ye carpenters make
When they sharpen their saws! — Now, for charity’s sake,
Give over this squalling,
And catermawalling!”
Cried all ye good people who chanced to be near;
Each thrusting a finger-tip into each ear.
You see ye poor dunce had attempted to shine
In a way that was out of his natural line.
H. Pyle
THE FORCE OF NEED
“Hey, Robin! ho, Robin!
Singing on the tree,
I will give you white bread,
If you will come to me.”
“Oh! the little breeze is singing
To the nodding dairies white,
And the tender grass is springing,
And the sun is warm and bright;
And my little mate is waiting
In the budding hedge for me;
So, on the whole, I’ll not accept
Your kindly courtesy.”
“Hey, Robin! ho, Robin!
Now the north winds blow
Wherefore do you come here,
In the ice and snow?”
“The wind is raw, the flowers are dead,
The frost is on the thorn,
So I’ll gladly take a crust of bread,
And come where it is warm.”
Oh, Children! little Children!
Have you ever chanced to see
One beg for crust that sneered at crumb
In bright prosperity?
HP
THE BIRD IN THE LINDEN TREE
Once there was a prince, and his name was John. One day his father said to him, “See, John; I am growing old, and after a while the time will come when I must go the way of everybody else. Now I would like to see you married before I leave you.”
“Very well,” said the Prince, for he always answered the King in seemly fashion; “and who shall it be?”
“Why not the Princess of the White Mountain?” said the old King.
“Why not, indeed?” said the young Prince, “only she is too short.”
“Why not the Princess of the Blue Mountain?” said the old King.
“Why not, indeed?” said the young Prince, “only she is too tall.”
“Why not the Princess of the Red Mountain?” said the old King.
“Why not, indeed?” said the young Prince, “only she is too dark.”
“Then whom will you have?” said the old King.
“That I do not know,” said the young Prince, “only this: that her brow shall be as white as milk, and her cheeks shall be as red as blood, and her eyes shall be as blue as the skies, and her hair shall be like spun gold.”
“Then go and find her!” said the old King, in a huff, for his temper was as short as chopped flax. “And don’t come back again till you’ve found her!” he bawled after the Prince as he went out to the door.
So the Prince went out into the wide world to find such a maiden as he spoke of — whose brow was as white as milk, whose cheeks were as red as blood, whose eyes were as blue as the skies, and whose hair was like spun gold — and he would have to travel a long distance to find such a one nowadays, would he not?
So off he went, tramp! tramp! tramp! till his shoes were dusty and his clothes were gray. Nothing was in his wallet but a lump of brown bread and a cold sausage, for he had gone out into the world in haste, as many a one has done before and since his day.
So he went along, tramp! tramp! tramp! and by-and-by he came to a place where three roads met, and there sat an old woman.
“Hui! hui! but I am hungry!” said the old woman.
Now the Prince was a good-hearted fellow, so he said to the old woman, “It is little I have, but such as it is you are welcome to it.” Thereupon he gave the old woman the lump of brown bread and the cold sausage that was in his wallet, and the old woman ate it up at a bite.
“Hui! hui! but I am cold!” said she.
“It is little that I have, but such as it is you are welcome to it,” said the Prince, and he gave the old woman the dusty coat off his back. After that he had nothing more to give her.
“Ye King, Prince John”
“One does not give something for nothing,” said the old woman, so she began fumbling about in her pocket until she found an old rusty key. And the best part of the key was, that whenever one looked through the ring of it, one saw everything just as it really was and not as it seemed to be.
Who would not give his dinner and the coat off his back for such a key?
After that the Prince stepped out again, right foot foremost, tramp! tramp! tramp! until evening had come, and he felt as hungry as one is like to do when one goes without one’s dinner. At last he came to a dark forest, and to a gray castle that stood just in the middle of it. This castle belonged to a great, ugly troll, though the Prince knew nothing of that.
“Now I shall have something to eat,” said he, and he opened the door of the castle and went in.
Only one person was within, and that was a maiden; but she was as black from head to foot as Fritz the charcoal burner. The Prince had never seen the like of her in all of his life before, so he drew the rusty key out of his pocket and took a peep at her through the ring of it, to see what manner of body she really was.
Then he saw that she was no longer black and ugly, but as beautiful as a ripe apple; for her forehead was as white as milk, her cheeks were as red as blood, her eyes were as blue as the skies, and her hair was like spun gold. Moreover, any one could see with half an eye that she was a real princess, for she wore a gold crown on her head, such as real princesses are never without.
“You are the one whom I seek,” said the Prince.
“Yes, I am the one you seek,” said she.
“And how can I free you from your enchantment?” said he.
“If you will abide here three nights, and will bear all that shall happen to you without a word, then I shall be free,” said she.
“Oh yes, I will do that,” said the Prince.
After that the black Princess set a good supper before him, and the Prince ate like three men.
By-and-by there was a huge noise, and the door opened and in came an ugly troll with a head as big as a bucket. He rolled his great saucer eyes around till he saw the Prince where he sat beside the fire.
“The Prince aids the Old Woman”
“Black cats and spotted toads!” bellowed he, “what are you doing here?”
But to this the Prince answered never a word.
“We shall see whether or no there is sound in you!” roared the troll. Thereupon he caught the Prince by the hair and dragged him out into the middle of the room. Then he snatched up a great cudgel and began beating the Prince as though he were a sack of barley-flour; but the Prince said never a word. At last the troll had to give over beating him, for the morning had come and the troll was afraid the sun would catch him; and if that were to happen, he would swell up and burst with a great noise. “We shall see whether you will come again!” said he, and then he left the Prince lying on the floor more dead than alive; and if anybody was sore in all of the world, the Prince was that man.
After the troll had left the house, the black Princess came and wept over the Prince; and when her tears fell on him, pain and bruise left him, and he was as whole as ever. When
he looked he saw that the black Princess’s feet were as white as silver.
The next night the troll came again, and with him two others. “Black cats and spotted toads!” bellowed he, “are you here again?” Then he caught the Prince by the hair and dragged him out into the middle of the floor, and all three of the trolls fell upon the Prince and beat him with clubs, as though he had been a sack of barley-flour. But the Prince bore this too without a word. At last the morning came, and they had to give over beating him. “We shall see if you will come again,” said the troll of the house.
After the trolls had gone, the black Princess came and wept over the Prince as she had done before, and when her tears fell on him he was made whole again. And now the hands of the black Princess were as white as silver.
“THE GREAT UGLY TROLL FINDS THE PRINCE BY THE FIRE”
The third night the troll of the house came, and brought with him six others. Then the same thing happened as before, and they beat the Prince with great cudgels as thick as my thumb. At last the morning came, and they went away bellowing and howling, for their enchantment had gone. As for the Prince, he lay upon the floor more dead than alive, for he could neither see nor hear anything that happened about him.
Then the Princess came for the third time and wept over him, and he was whole and sound again. As for the Princess, she stood before him, and now her brow was as white as milk, and her cheeks were as red as blood, and her eyes were as blue as the skies, and her hair was like spun gold. But the beautiful Princess had little or nothing upon her, so the Prince wrapped her in a ram’s skin that was in the troll’s house. Then he turned his toes the way he had come, and started away for home, taking her along with him.
So they went along and along till they had come so near to the King’s house that they could see the high roofs and the weathercocks over the crest of the next hill. There the Prince bade the Princess to wait for him till he went home and brought her a dress of real silver and gold, such as was fitting for her to wear. Then he left her, and the Princess sat down beside the roadside to wait until he should come again.