The Project Gutenberg eBook, Bluebeard, by Clifton Johnson, Illustrated by Harry L. Smith

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at

Title: Bluebeard

Author: Clifton Johnson

Release Date: September 17, 2011 [eBook #37464]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8



E-text prepared by Roger Frank
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team









The Babes in the Wood

The Brave Tin Soldier

The Fox and the Little Red Hen

Golden Hair and the Three Bears



Puss in Boots

Jack and the Beanstalk

Little Red Riding-Hood

The Story of Chicken-Licken



Tom Thumb

The Pied Piper

The Sleeping Beauty

St. George and the Dragon

Other books will be added to

the series from time to time.


Bluebeard’s Wife and the Forbidden Room (Page 16)
Bluebeard’s Wife and the Forbidden Room (Page 16)




















Copyright, 1920,


All Rights Reserved


Printed in the U. S. A.



The books in this series of Bedtime Wonder Tales are made up of favorite stories from the folklore of all nations. Such stories are particularly enjoyed by children from four to twelve years of age. As here told they are free from the savagery, distressing details, and excessive pathos which mar many of the tales in the form that they have come down to us from a barbaric past. But there has been no sacrifice of the simplicity and humor and sweetness that give them perennial charm.

The sources of the stories in this volume are as follows: Page 11, France; 24, Grimm; 36, England; 49, Hindustan; 58, Italy; 78, Germany; 90, Scotland; 103, Japan; 118, Ireland; 127, American Negro.



IIThe Blood-Stained Key17
IIIA Goblin in a Bottle24
IVA Scholar’s Fortune32
VYallery Brown36
VIA Troublesome Helper43
VIIThe Little Jackal49
VIIIThe Blind Ogre58
IXSeven Doves64
XTime and His Mother71
XIBlockhead Hans78
XIIThe Rival Suitors85
XIIICunning Tom90
XIVA Miser’s Hired Man96
XVThe Boy in a Peach103
XVIA Warrior’s Helpers108
XVIIThe Island of Demons113
XVIIIAndrew Coffey118
XIXCareless Mr. Buzzard127



Bluebeard’s Wife and the Forbidden RoomFrontispiece
The Goblin Threatens the Scholar28
The Alligator Goes to the Jackal’s House54
Appealing to the Mother of Time72
Blockhead Hans and the Dead Crow82
The Monkey and the Warrior110



Once upon a time—but it was a long while ago; so long, indeed, that the oldest oaks in our forests were not yet acorns on the bough—there was a man who lived in a splendid house and had dishes of gold and silver, chairs and sofas covered with flowered satin, and curtains of the richest silk. But, alas! this man was so unlucky as to have a blue beard, which made him look so frightfully ugly that the first impulse of every woman and girl he met was to run away from him.

In the same vicinity lived a lady of quality who had two beautiful daughters, and he 12 wished to marry one of them. He was even willing to let the lady decide which of the two it should be.

Neither of the daughters, however, would have him, and the lady sighed to think of her children’s obstinacy in refusing to become the mistress of such a magnificent mansion. But they were not able to make up their minds to marry a man with a blue beard. Their aversion was increased by the fact that he already had had several wives, and no one knew surely what had become of them, though many were the excuses he made to account for their disappearance.

At length Bluebeard, in order to cure the dislike of the lady’s daughters, invited them and their mother and some young friends to spend a whole week at his house. They came, and nothing was thought of but feasting, dancing, and music, and parties for hunting and fishing. 13

The guests were loaded with costly gifts and were so delightfully entertained that before many days had passed, Fatima, the younger of the two sisters, began to imagine that the beard, which she had thought was dreadfully ugly was not so very blue after all. By the end of the week the kindness of her host had made such an impression that she concluded it would be a pity to refuse to become his wife on account of the trifling circumstance of his having a blue beard.

So they were married shortly afterward, and at first everything went well. A month passed, and one morning Bluebeard told Fatima that he must go on a journey which would take him away for at least six weeks. He kissed her affectionately, gave her the keys of the whole mansion, and bade her amuse herself in any manner that she pleased while he was gone. 14

“But, my dear,” he added, in concluding, “I would have you notice among the keys the small one of polished steel. It unlocks the little room at the end of the long corridor. Go where you will and do what you choose, except in the matter of that one room, which I forbid your entering.”

Fatima promised faithfully to obey his orders, and she watched him get into his carriage while she stood at the door of the mansion waving her hand to him as he drove away.

Lest she should be lonesome during her husband’s absence, she invited numerous guests to keep her company. Most of them had not dared to venture into the house while Bluebeard was there, but now they came without any urging or delay, eager to see its splendors.

They ran about upstairs and downstairs, peeping into the closets and wardrobes, admiring the 15 rooms, and exclaiming over the beauties of the tapestries, sofas, cabinets, and tables, and of the mirrors in which they could see themselves from head to foot. With one consent they praised what they saw, and envied the good fortune of their friend, the mistress of all this magnificence.

She went around unlocking the doors for their convenience until the only door that remained untouched was that of the obscure room at the end of the long corridor. She wondered why she had been forbidden to enter that room. What was there in it? Even if she did go in, her husband need never know that she had done so.

The more she thought about it the more curious she became. Finally she left her guests and hurried along the dark narrow passage that led to the forbidden room. At the door she hesitated, recalling her husband’s command, and fearful of his anger; 16 but the temptation was too strong, and she tremblingly opened the door.

The window shutters were closed and the light was so dim that at first she could see nothing. However, her eyes gradually became used to the dusk and she discovered that on the floor lay the bodies of all the wives Bluebeard had married.

Fatima uttered a cry of horror, her strength left her, and she thought she would die from fear. The key of the room fell from her hand, but she picked it up, hastily retreated to the corridor, and locked the door.

Yet she could not forget what she had seen, and when she returned to her guests her mind was too disturbed for her to attend to their comfort, or to attempt to entertain them. One by one they bade their hostess good-by and went home, until no one was left with her but her sister Anne.


After all the guests had gone, Fatima noticed a spot of blood on the key of the fatal room. She tried to wipe it off, but the spot remained. Then she washed the key with soap and scoured it with sand, but her efforts were in vain, for it was a magic key, and only Bluebeard himself had the power to remove the stain. At last she decided not to put it with the other keys, but to hide it, hoping her husband would not miss it.

Bluebeard returned unexpectedly that very evening. He said a horseman had met him on the road and told him that the business which had taken him from home had been satisfactorily settled so there was no need of his making the long journey. 18

Fatima tried to welcome her husband with every appearance of pleasure, but all the time she was dreading the moment when he should ask for the keys. This he did not do until the following morning. Then she gave them to him with such a blanched face and shaking hand that he easily guessed what had happened.

“Why have you not brought me the key of the little room?” he asked sternly.

“I must have left it on my table upstairs,” she faltered.

“Bring it to me at once,” Bluebeard said, and she was forced to go and make a pretence of searching for it.

When she dared delay no longer, she went to her husband and surrendered the key. He immediately demanded the cause of the stain on it, and she hesitated, at a loss what reply to make.

“But why need I ask?” he shouted. “I 19 know the meaning of it right well. You have disobeyed my commands and have been into the room I ordered you not to enter. So you shall go in again, madam, but you will never return. You shall take your place among the ladies you saw there.”

Fatima fell on her knees at his feet weeping and begging for mercy, but the cruel man had a heart like a stone, and he told her to prepare for death.

“Since I must die,” she said, “at least grant me a little time to say my prayers.”

“I will give you ten minutes, but not one moment more,” Bluebeard responded.

Poor Fatima hastened to a little turret chamber whither her sister had fled in terror and grief. “Sister Anne!” she cried, “go up to the top of the tower and see if our two brothers are coming. They promised to visit me today. If they should be in sight beckon them to come quickly.” 20

So the sister climbed the narrow staircase that led to the top of the tower. No sooner did she finish the ascent than Fatima called from below, “Anne, Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?”

Anne replied sadly, “I see nothing but the sun shining and the grass growing tall and green.”

Several times Fatima put the same question and each time she received the same answer.

Meanwhile Bluebeard was waiting with a scimitar in one hand and his watch in the other. At length he shouted in a fierce voice: “The ten minutes are almost gone! Make an end to your prayers!”

“Anne, Sister Anne!” Fatima called softly, “look again. Is there no one on the road?”

“I see a cloud of dust rising in the distance,” Anne answered. 21

“Perchance it is made by our brothers,” Fatima said.

“Alas! no, my dear sister,” Anne responded. “The dust has been raised by a flock of sheep.”

“Fatima!” Bluebeard roared, “I command you to come down.”

“One moment—just one moment more!” the wretched wife sobbed.

Then she called, “Anne, Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?”

“I see two horsemen riding in this direction,” Anne replied, “but they are a great way off.”

“They must be our brothers,” Fatima said. “Heaven be praised! Oh, sign to them to hasten!”

By this time the enraged Bluebeard was howling so loud for his wife to come down that his voice shook the whole mansion. Fatima dared delay no longer, and she descended to 22 the great hall, threw herself at her wicked husband’s feet, and once more begged him to spare her life.

“Silence!” Bluebeard cried. “Your entreaties are wasted! You shall die!”

He seized her by the hair and raised his scimitar to strike. At that moment a loud knocking was heard at the gates, and Bluebeard paused with a look of alarm.

Anne had run down to let the brothers in, and they hurried to the hall, flung open the door, and appeared with swords ready drawn in their hands. They rushed at Bluebeard, and one rescued his sister from her husband’s grasp while the other gave the wretch a sword-thrust that put an end to his life.

So the wicked Bluebeard perished, and Fatima became mistress of all his riches. Part of her wealth she bestowed on her sister, Anne, and part on her two brothers. 23 The rest she retained herself, and presently she married a man whose kind treatment helped her to forget her unfortunate experience with Bluebeard.


Once upon a time there was a poor woodcutter who worked from daylight to dark, and as he spent little he saved some money. He had an only son, and one day he said to him: “This money which I have earned by the sweat of my brow shall be spent on your education. Go to school and learn something useful that you may be able to support me in my old age when my limbs become so stiff that I am obliged to sit at home.”

The son went away to a great school and was very industrious and made excellent progress. He had been at the school a long time, but had not learned all that was to be learned when his father’s store of money 25 was exhausted, and he was obliged to come home.

“I can give you no more,” his father said sadly, “for in these dear times I am scarcely able to earn my daily bread.”

“Make yourself easy as to that, my good father,” the son responded. “I will suit myself to the times.”

When the father was about to go to the forest to chop, the son said, “I will go with you and help.”

“Ah! but you have never been used to such hard work,” the father objected. “You must not attempt it. Besides, I have only one ax and no money to buy another.”

“Go and ask your neighbor to lend you an ax till I have earned enough to buy one for myself,” the son said.

So the father borrowed an ax, and he and the scholar went together to the forest, where the young man helped with the work 26 and was very lively and merry. About noon, when the sun stood right over their heads, the father sat down to rest for a while and eat his dinner.

The scholar, however, took his share of bread and said: “I am not tired. I will go a little deeper into the forest and look for birds’ nests.”

“Oh, you silly fellow!” his father exclaimed, “why do you want to run about? You will get so weary you will not be able to raise your arm. Keep quiet a bit and sit down here with me.”

But the young man would not do that. He went off among the trees eating his bread and peeping about among the bushes for nests. To and fro he wandered until he came to an immense hollow oak tree. The tree was certainly hundreds of years old, and five men taking hold of hands could not have reached around it. 27

The scholar had stopped to look at this great tree thinking that many a bird’s nest must be built within its hollow trunk when he fancied he heard a voice. He listened and there came to his ears a half-smothered cry of “Let me out!”

He looked around, but could see no one. Indeed, it seemed to him that the voice came from the ground. So he called, “Where are you?”

The voice replied, “Here I am among the roots of the oak tree. Let me out! Let me out!”

The scholar therefore began to search at the foot of the tree where the roots spread. Finally in a little hollow, he found a glass bottle. He picked it up and held it so he could look through toward the light. Then he perceived a thing inside shaped like a frog which kept jumping up and down.

“Let me out! Let me out!” the thing 28 cried again; and the scholar, not suspecting any evil, drew the stopper from the bottle.

Immediately the little creature sprang forth, and it grew and grew until in a few moments it stood before the scholar a frightful goblin half as tall as the oak tree. “Do you know what your reward is for letting me out of that glass bottle?” the goblin cried with a voice of thunder.

“No,” the scholar answered without fear, “how should I?”

“Then I will tell you that I must break your neck,” the goblin announced.

“You should have told me that before,” the scholar said, “and you would have stayed where you were. But my head will remain on my shoulders in spite of you, for there are several people’s opinions to be asked yet about this matter.”

The Goblin Threatens The Scholar
The Goblin Threatens The Scholar

“Keep your people out of my way,” the goblin snarled. “I was shut up in that bottle for a punishment, and I have been kept there for such a length of time that I long ago vowed I would kill whoever let me out for not coming to release me sooner. So I shall break your neck.”

“Softly, softly!” the scholar responded, “that is quicker said than done. I don’t know whether to believe your word or not. You told me you were in that bottle. But how could such a giant as you are get into so small a space? Prove that you spoke the truth by retiring into the bottle, and afterward do what you please with me.”

Full of pride, the goblin boasted, “I can easily furnish you the proof you ask”; and he shrank and shrank until he was as small as before. Then he crept back into the bottle.

Instantly the scholar replaced the stopper, and put the bottle once more where it had been among the oak roots. He picked 30 up his ax and was about to go back to his father when the goblin cried lamentably: “Oh, let me out! Do let me out.”

“No, not a second time,” the scholar said. “I shall not give you a chance to take my life again in a hurry, after I have got you safe.”

“Free me,” the goblin pleaded, “and I will give you wealth that will last you your life-time.”

“No, no, you will only deceive me!” the scholar declared.

“You are disregarding your own best interests,” the goblin said. “Instead of harming you I will reward you richly.”

“Well, I will hazard letting him out,” the scholar thought, “for he may after all keep his word.”

Then he addressed the goblin, saying: “I will release you. See to it that you do as you have promised.” 31

So he removed the stopper and the goblin jumped out and soon became as big as before. “Now you shall have your reward,” the monster said, and he reached the scholar a little piece of rag. “Apply that to a wound, and the wound will at once heal,” he explained; “or touch it to iron and the iron will change to silver.”

“I will try it,” the scholar responded, and he went to the oak tree and slashed off a piece of bark with his ax. Then he touched the place with the rag, and immediately the wound closed up as if the bark had never been gashed at all.

“That is quite satisfactory,” the scholar said. “Now we can separate.”

“I thank you for releasing me,” the goblin remarked as he turned away.

“And I thank you heartily for your present,” the scholar said.


After parting from the goblin, the young man went back to his father, who asked:

“Where have you been roaming so long? You have neglected your work. I was quite certain you would do nothing of this kind well.”

“Be contented,” was the son’s response, “I will make up the lost time. Watch me while I cut down this tree at one blow.”

He rubbed his ax with the magic rag, and gave the tree a powerful blow, but because the ax-head had been changed into silver the edge turned over.

“Ah, Father!” the son exclaimed, “do you see how poor an ax you have given me?”

“What have you done?” the father cried. 33 “That ax was borrowed, and you have ruined it. I must pay for it, but I know not how I shall do so.”

“Don’t be troubled,” the son said. “I will soon pay for the ax.”

“Why, you simpleton! how will you do that?” his father retorted. “You have nothing but what I give you. Some student nonsense is stuck in your head. Of wood-cutting you know nothing.”

“Well, Father,” the son said, “I can work no more today now that my ax is spoiled. Let us make a holiday of the few hours that remain before sunset.”

“Eh, what?” his father cried, “do you think I can keep my hands in my pockets as you do? You can go home, but I must keep on with the chopping.”

“No,” the son objected, “you must come, too, for this is the first time I have been in the forest, and I do not know the way out.” 34

At last he persuaded his father to accompany him. After they reached home the son took the damaged ax to a goldsmith in a neighboring town. “This ax-head is silver,” the scholar told him. “I want to sell it.”

The goldsmith tested it to make sure of the quality of the metal, weighed it, and said, “Your ax is worth one hundred dollars, but I have not so much money in the shop.”

“Give me what you have,” the scholar requested, “and I will trust you for the rest.”

So the goldsmith gave him eighty dollars, and the scholar tramped back home. “Father,” he said, “I have some money now. Do you know what we will have to pay our neighbor to make good the loss of his ax?”

“Yes,” the father answered, “the ax was nearly new, and it cost him a dollar.”

“Then give him two dollars,” the son said. “He will have no regrets when he gets 35 double payment. Here are fifty dollars. Pay our neighbor and keep the rest for yourself. You shall live at your ease in future and never want again.”

“My goodness!” the man exclaimed, “where did you get this money?”

The son told everything that had happened. He now could easily procure all the money he pleased, and the first use he made of his wealth was to return to school and learn as much as he could. Afterward, because he could heal all wounds with his rag, he became the most celebrated surgeon in the world.


Once upon a time there was a lad about eighteen years old named Tom Tiver who had hired out to work for a farmer. One beautiful Sunday night in July he was walking across a field. The weather was warm and still, and the air was full of little sounds as if the trees and grasses were softly chattering to themselves.

But all at once there came from on ahead the most pitiful wailings that ever he had heard—a sobbing as of a child spent with fear and nearly heartbroken. Soon the sound changed to a moan, and then rose again in a long whimpering wailing that made Tom sick to hark to it. He began to look everywhere for the poor creature. 37

“It must be Sally Barton’s child,” he thought. “She was always a flighty thing and never looks after it properly. Like as not she’s flaunting about the lanes, and has clean forgot the baby.”

He looked and looked, yet he could see nought. Meanwhile the whimpering got louder and stronger and there seemed to be words of some sort mingled with the sobs. Tom harkened with all his ears, and heard the unhappy creature saying: “Oh! the stone, the great big stone! Oh! the stone on top!”

He wondered where the stone might be, and he looked until he found, close to a hedge, a great flat stone almost buried in the earth and hidden in the matted grass and weeds. Down he fell on his knees and listened again. Clearer than ever, but tired with crying came the little sobbing voice, “Oh! oh! the stone, the stone on top!” 38

Tom was scared, and he disliked to meddle with the thing, but he could not withstand the whimpering baby, and he tore like mad at the earth around the stone till he got his fingers under it and felt it loosening. Then a puff of warm air came out of the damp earth and the tangle of grass and growing things, and he tipped the stone back out of the way.

Underneath where it had been was a cavity, and there lay a tiny thing on its back blinking up at the moon and at him. It was no bigger than a year old baby, but it had a great mass of hair and a heavy beard, and the hair and the beard were so long and so twisted round and round the creature’s body that Tom could not see its clothes. The hair was yellow and silky like a child’s, but the face of the thing was as old as if it had not been young and smooth for hundreds of years. There were just wrinkles 39 and two bright black eyes set in a lot of shining yellow hair; and the skin was the color of fresh-turned earth in the spring—brown as brown could be—and its bare hands and feet were as brown as its face. The crying had stopped, but the tears were standing on its cheeks, and the tiny creature looked dazed in the moonshine and the night air.

When its eyes got used to the moonlight it looked boldly up in Tom’s face and said: “Tom, you are a good lad.”

The coolness with which it spoke was astonishing, and its voice was high and piping like the twittering of a little bird. Tom touched his hat, and tried to think what he ought to say.

“Hoots!” the thing exclaimed, “you needn’t be afraid of me. You have done me a good turn, and I’ll do as much for you.”

Tom couldn’t speak yet, but he thought, “Lord! for sure it’s a bogle!” 40

The creature seemed to know what passed in Tom’s mind, for it instantly said: “I’m no bogle, but you’d better not ask what I am. Anyhow, I am a good friend of yours.”

Tom’s knees smote together with terror. Certainly an ordinary body couldn’t have known what he had been thinking, but the thing looked so kind and spoke so fair, that he made bold to say in a quavering voice, “Might I be asking to know your honor’s name?”

“H’m!” the creature said, pulling its beard, “as for that, you may call me Yallery Brown. That’s the way I look as you plainly see, and ’twill do for a name as well as any other. I am your friend, Yallery Brown, my lad.”

“Thank you, master,” Tom responded meekly.

“And now,” it said, “I’m in a hurry to-night. So tell me without delay what I can 41 do for you. Would you like a wife? I can give you the finest lass in the town. Would you like riches? I can give you as much gold as you can carry. Or would you have me help you with your work? Only say the word.”

Tom scratched his head. “I have no hankering for a wife,” he said. “Wives are bothersome bodies, and I have women folk at home who will mend my clothes. Gold is worth having, but if you could lighten my work that would suit me best of all. I can’t abide work, and I’ll thank—”

“Stop!” Yallery Brown cried, as quick as lightning, “I’ll help you and welcome, but if ever you thank me you’ll never see me more. Remember that! I’ll have no thanks”; and it stamped its tiny feet on the ground and looked as wicked as a raging bull. “Harken! you great lump!” it went on, calming down a bit. “If ever you need 42 help, or get into trouble, call on me. Just say, ‘Yallery Brown, come from the earth, I want you!’ and I’ll be with you at once; and now, good night.”

So saying, it picked a dandelion puff and blew the winged seeds all up into Tom’s eyes and ears. When Tom could see again Yallery Brown was gone, and he would have thought he had been dreaming, were it not for the stone on end and the hole at his feet.


Tom went home and to bed, and by morning he had nearly forgotten all about what had happened the previous evening. But when he went to start the day’s work, there was none to do. The horses had been fed, the stables cleaned, and everything put in its proper place, and he had nothing to do but stand around with his hands in his pockets.

So it was from morn till night, and so it was on the days that followed. All Tom’s work was done by Yallery Brown, and better done than Tom himself could do it. No matter how much the master gave Tom to do, he could sit down at his ease while the work did itself. The hoe, or broom, or whatever it was would get into motion with 44 no visible hand put to it and would finish the task in no time.

Yallery Brown kept out of sight during the day, but in the gray twilight, after the sun had gone down, Tom often saw the tiny creature hopping around like a Will-of-the-Wisp without a lantern.

At first Tom found it mighty fine to be relieved of his work. He had naught to do and good pay for it; but by and by things began to go wrong. His work continued to be done, but the work of the other lads was all undone. If his buckets were filled theirs were upset; if his tools were sharpened theirs were blunted and spoiled; if his horses were made as clean as daisies, theirs were splashed with muck, and so on.

Day in and day out it was the same. Naturally the lads began to have hard feelings toward Tom, and they would not speak to him or go near him, and they carried tales 45 to the master. So things went from bad to worse.

Tom could not work even if he wished to; the spade would not stay in his hand, the scythe escaped from his grip, and the plow ran away from him. More than once he tried his best to do his tasks so that Yallery Brown would leave him and his fellow laborers alone. But he couldn’t, and he was compelled to sit by and look on and have the cold shoulder turned on him while the uncanny thing was meddling with the others and working for him.

At last matters got so bad that the master would keep Tom no longer, and if he had not discharged him the other lads would have left. They swore they would not stay on the same farm with him. Tom felt badly, for it was a good place; and he was very angry with Yallery Brown who had got him into such trouble. 46

So he shook his fist in the air and shouted as loud as he could, “Yallery Brown, come from the earth, you scamp, I want you!”

Hardly had the words left his lips when he felt something tweaking his leg behind, and he was pinched so hard that he jumped with the smart of it. He looked down and there was Yallery Brown with his shining hair and wrinkled face, and wicked glinting black eyes.

Tom was in a fine rage, and he would have liked to kick the ugly creature, but he restrained himself and said, “Look here, master, I’ll thank you to leave me alone after this. Do you hear? I want none of your help, and I’ll have nothing more to do with you.”

The horrid thing broke into a screeching laugh, and pointed its brown finger at Tom. “Ho, ho, Tom!” it said, “you have thanked me, my lad, and I told you not to do so.” 47

“But I don’t want your help,” Tom yelled. “I only want never to see you again, and to have nothing more to do with you. Now go.”

The thing only laughed and screeched and mocked as long as Tom went on berating it, but as soon as his breath gave out it said with a grin: “Tom, my lad, I’ll tell you something. Truly, I’ll never help you again, and even if you call me you will not see me after today. But I never agreed to let you alone, and that I shall not do, my lad. I was where I could do no harm under that stone, Tom, and you let me out. If you had been wise I would have been your friend and worked for you, but I am your friend no longer, and in the future when everything goes crooked you can know that it is Yallery Brown’s doing. Mark my words, will you?”

Then it began to sing and curse and call 48 down misfortunes on him, and it danced round Tom with its yellow hair and beard all flying and a savage scowl on its wrinkled bit of a face. Tom could only stand there shaking all over and staring down at the gruesome thing until at last it rose in the air and floated away on the wind over a wall out of sight with a parting shriek of cunning laughter.

In the days and weeks and years that followed Tom worked here and he worked there, and turned his hand to this and to that, but whatever he did always went wrong. There was no end to Yallery Brown’s spite even until Tom’s life ended.


Once upon a time a little jackal lived near the bank of a great river. Every day he went down to the water to catch the crabs that were there.

Not far away, in the same river, dwelt a cruel alligator. He saw the little jackal come down to the water every day, and he thought, “What a nice tender morsel that little jackal would make if I could only catch him!”

One day the alligator hid in the mud, where the water was shallow near shore. Only the tip of his nose stuck out, and that looked very much like the back of a crab.

Soon the little jackal came running along the bank of the river seeking his usual food. 50 When he saw the end of the alligator’s nose he thought he had found a fine big crab, and he put in his paw to scoop it out of the mud.

The moment he did that, snap! the teeth of the alligator came together, and the jackal was caught by the paw. He was terribly frightened, for he knew the alligator intended to pull him into the river and eat him.

However, he began to laugh, though the alligator’s teeth hurt him sadly. “Oh, you stupid old alligator!” he said. “You thought you would catch my paw, and instead caught a bulrush root that I stuck down in the water to tickle your nose. Ha, ha! you silly, silly alligator.”

“Well, well,” the alligator thought, “I am very much disappointed. I certainly supposed I had caught that little jackal. But it seems I have nipped nothing except a bulrush root. There is no use of holding 51 on to that.” So he opened his mouth.

Then the little jackal snatched out his paw. “O stupid one!” he cried, “you really had caught me, and now you have let me go. Ha, ha! ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! You’ll never catch me again.” So saying, off he ran up the bank and into the jungle.

The alligator was furiously angry. “I was tricked by the little rascal that time,” he said, “but if I get hold of him again he will not escape so easily.”

Once more the alligator hid in the mud and waited. But the little jackal came no more to the river. He was afraid, and he stayed in the woods living on figs that he gathered under a wild fig tree.

Day after day passed and it became plain to the alligator that the little jackal was avoiding the river. So early one morning he crawled out of the water and dragged himself to the wild fig tree. There he gathered together 52 a great heap of figs and hid under them.

Shortly afterward the jackal came running to the fig tree, licking his lips, for he was very hungry. At sight of the great heap of figs he was delighted. “Now I will not have the trouble of picking up the figs scattered about on the ground,” he said. “Somebody has piled them up all ready for me. How nice!”

But when he went nearer he became suspicious, and thought, “It looks as though something might be hidden under those figs.”

Then he cried out: “What is the matter here? Usually, when I come to the fig tree, all the figs that are any good roll about in the wind. Those figs in the pile lie so still that I doubt if they are fit to eat. I will have to go to some other place to get good figs.” 53

The jackal’s words made the alligator fear that he had failed again, and he thought: “This little jackal is very particular. I will just shake myself and make the figs roll about a trifle. Then he will come near enough for me to grab him.”

So the alligator shook himself, and away rolled the figs in all directions.

“Oh, you stupid old alligator!” the jackal shouted; “if you had stayed still you might have caught me. Ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! Thank you for shaking yourself and letting me know you were there!” Then away he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

The alligator gnashed his teeth with rage. “Never mind! I will catch this little jackal yet,” he declared, and he hid in the tall grass beside the path that led to the fig tree.

He waited there for several days, but he 54 saw nothing of his intended victim. The jackal was afraid to come to the fig tree any more. He stayed in the jungle and fed on such roots and berries as he could find there, but found so little that he grew thin and miserable.

One morning the alligator made his way to the jackal’s house while the jackal was away. He squeezed in through the narrow doorway and hid under the heap of dead leaves that was the jackal’s bed.

Toward evening the little jackal came running home. He was very hungry, for he had found scarcely anything to eat all day, and he was very tired too. Just as he was about to go in and lie down on his bed he noticed that the sides of the doorway were scraped and broken as if some big animal had forced its way through.

The Alligator Goes to the Jackal’s House
The Alligator Goes to the Jackal’s House

The little jackal was terribly frightened. He thought, “Is it possible that the wicked alligator has come to hunt for me here in my own house and is waiting inside to catch me?”

Then he called loudly: “What is the matter, house of mine? Every day when I come home you say, ‘All is well, little jackal,’ but today you say nothing, and I am afraid to come in.”

Of course the house did not really speak to him, but he wanted to find out if the alligator was there, and the alligator believed his words. The stupid creature thought, “I shall have to speak just as the house would speak or this tiresome little jackal will not come in.”

He made his voice as small and soft as he could, and said, “All is well, little jackal.”

Then the jackal knew that the alligator was in his house, and he was more scared than ever. However, he contrived to respond in a cheerful 56 voice: “All right, little house! I will come in as soon as I have been to the brook for a drink of water.”

When the alligator heard these words he was filled with joy. He lay quite still under the leaves thinking: “Now I will have that little jackal at last. This time he shall not escape me.”

But while he waited, the jackal gathered together a great heap of dead wood and brush and piled it against the door of the house. When it was big enough, the jackal set fire to the heap. It blazed up with a great noise, and the wicked alligator was burned to death.

Then the little jackal danced about singing:

    “The alligator’s dead, and I am glad!
    Oh, ring-a-ting-a-ting; oh, ring-a-ting-ting!
    The alligator’s dead, and I am glad!”


After that the little jackal went wherever he pleased in safety, and he ate so many figs and so many crabs that he became as fat as fat could be.


In Italy dwelt a woman named Janella who had eight children. Seven of them were sons, but the youngest was a daughter.

After the sons grew up they went off to see the world. They went on and on until they came to a wood in which dwelt an ogre. This ogre had been blinded by a woman while he lay asleep, and ever since then he had been such an enemy to womankind that he devoured all whom he could catch.

When the youths arrived at the ogre’s house, tired out with walking, and faint with hunger, they begged him, for pity’s sake, to give them something to eat.

The ogre replied that if they would serve him he would supply them with food. 59 They would have nothing else to do but watch over his safety, each in turn, a day at a time.

This seemed a very satisfactory arrangement to them, and they consented to remain in the service of the ogre. So he let them have all the lower part of the house to live in.

After the brothers had been gone from home a long time, and no tidings of them were received, Channa, their sister, dressed for a journey and went to seek them. On and on she walked, asking at every place she came to whether any one had seen her seven brothers. Finally she got news at an inn of where they were, and away she went to the ogre’s house in the wood.

There she made herself known to her brothers and was received with great joy. After the greetings were over the youths told her to stay quietly in their part of the 60 house so the ogre would not be aware of her presence. They also cautioned her to give a portion of whatever she had to eat to a cat which lived there. Otherwise the cat would do her harm.

Channa heeded their advice and got along very well. She shared her food with the cat, always doing it fairly to the last morsel, and saying, “This for me—this for thee.”

But one day when the ogre sent the brothers out to do some hunting they left Channa a little basket of peas to cook. While shelling the peas, she found a hazel nut among them, and as ill-luck would have it she ate the nut, forgetting to give half to the cat. The latter, out of spite, ran to the hearth and put out the fire.

Then Channa left the room and went upstairs to the blind ogre’s part of the house. She asked him for a few coals, and when he heard a woman’s voice he said: “Welcome, 61 madam! Just you wait a while.” Afterward he began to sharpen his teeth with a whetstone.

She saw that she had made a mistake in not obeying her brother’s orders, and she ran back to the room below. There she bolted the door and placed against it stools, tables, chests, and in fact everything she could move.

As soon as the ogre had put an edge on his teeth he groped his way to the door and found it fastened. So he proceeded to kick it to break it open. The seven brothers came home while he was making all this disturbance, and the ogre accused them of treachery.

Things might have gone badly had it not been for the cleverness of Grazio, the eldest, who said to the ogre: “She has fortified herself so securely inside that you cannot get at her. Come, I will take you to a 62 place where we can seize her without her being able to defend herself.”

Then they led the ogre by the hand to the edge of a deep pit, where they gave him a push that sent him headlong to the bottom. After that they got shovels and covered him with earth.

By and by they returned to the house and Channa unfastened the door. They told her to be more careful in future, and to beware of plucking any grass or other plant that might grow on the spot where the ogre was buried, or they would be changed into doves.

“Heaven keep me from bringing such a misfortune on you!” Channa exclaimed.

They took possession of all the ogre’s goods, made themselves masters of the whole house, and lived very comfortably and merrily there until spring. Then it happened one morning when the brothers had gone 63 off on some errand, that a poor pilgrim came to the ogre’s wood. He was looking up at an ape perched in a pine tree when the creature threw a heavy cone at him. This struck him on the head so hard that the poor fellow set up a loud cry.

Channa heard the noise and ran to where he was sitting on the ground hanging on to his bruised head. She took pity on him and plucked a tuft of rosemary which was growing on the ogre’s grave near by. Then she hurried to the house and made a plaster of it with bread and salt. In a few minutes she rejoined the pilgrim and bound the plaster on his head. After that she had him go with her to the house where she gave him some breakfast. When he finished eating she sent him on his way.


Scarcely had the pilgrim gone when seven doves came flying into the room, and said: “Behold your brothers turned to birds and made companions of snipes, woodpeckers, jays, owls, rooks, starlings, blackbirds, tom-tits, larks, kingfishers, wrens, and sparrows. We shall be persecuted by hawks, and hunters will try to shoot us. Ah! why did you pluck that accursed rosemary and bring such a calamity on us? Doves we must remain for the rest of our lives unless you find the Mother of Time. She can tell you how to get us out of our trouble.”

Channa was greatly distressed over what she had done, and said she would start at once searching for the Mother of Time. 65 She urged them to make the ogre’s house their home until she returned.

Away she went and journeyed on and on until she came to the seashore, where the waves were banging against the rocks. A huge whale came to the surface close at hand, looked at her, and asked, “What are you seeking, my pretty maiden?”

She replied, “I am seeking the Mother of Time.”

“Hear then what you must do,” the whale said. “Go along the shore, and when you come to a river, follow it up to its source. There you will meet some one who will show you the way. But do me one kindness. After you have found the old woman, ask her how I can swim about safely without so often knocking on the rocks and being thrown up on the sands.”

“I will gladly do that for you,” Channa said. 66

Then she thanked the whale and walked on along the shore. At length she came to a river and followed it up to its source in a beautiful open country of meadows starred with flowers. There she met a mouse who said to her, “Where are you going all alone, my pretty maiden?”

“I am seeking the Mother of Time,” Channa replied.

“You have a long way to go,” the mouse commented. “But do not lose heart. Go to yonder mountain, and you will obtain more news to help you in your search. And when you find the Mother of Time, will you do me one favor? Ask her what we mice can do to get rid of the tyranny of the cats.”

Channa promised to do this for the mouse, and trudged off toward the mountain. When she got to it she sat down on a stone to rest. Some ants were busy close by, and one of them addressed Channa, saying, 67 “Who are you and whither are you going?”

She answered, “I am an unhappy girl who is seeking the Mother of Time.”

“Then keep on over the mountain to a large plain, and there you will get more news,” the ant said. “After you find the old woman please ask her how the ants can live longer. We store up a great deal of food, and this seems to me a folly while our lives are so short.”

“Be at ease,” Channa responded. “You can be sure that I will do your errand.”

Then she toiled on over the mountain to the great plain, where a wide-spreading old oak tree called to her as she was passing. “Whither are you going so sad, my little lady?” it said. “Come and rest in my shade.”

She thanked the old oak, but begged to be excused from stopping because she was going in haste to find the Mother of Time. 68

“You are not far from her dwelling,” the oak announced. “Before you have finished another day’s journey you will get to a high mountain on the summit of which is the home of her whom you seek. If you have as much kindness as beauty you will oblige me by asking her why it is that my fruit which used to be relished by strong men is now only made the food of hogs.”

“It will be a pleasure to do you such a service,” Channa affirmed, and departed.

The next day she arrived at the foot of a mountain which had its summit far up among the clouds. There she found an old man, wearied and wayworn, who had lain down on some hay. The moment he saw Channa he knew her, for he was the pilgrim to whom she had ministered. When she told him what she was seeking he responded that at last he could make some return for her kindness. 69

“My pretty maiden,” he said, “I would have you know that on the top of this mountain you will find a castle which was built so long ago that no one knows when it was built. The walls are cracked, the foundations are crumbling, the doors are worm-eaten, the furniture is worn out, and, in short, everything is gone to wrack and ruin.

“When you are almost to the castle, hide until Time goes out. After he has gone, enter, and you will find an old, old woman, whose face is covered with deep wrinkles, and whose eyebrows are so shaggy she will not be able to see you. She is seated on a clock which is fastened to the wall.

“Go in quickly and take off the weights that keep the machinery of the clock in motion. Then ask the old woman to answer your questions. She will instantly call her son to come and destroy you, but because you have stopped the clock by taking the 70 weights he cannot move. Therefore she will be obliged to tell you what you want to know.”


When the pilgrim finished speaking, Channa climbed the mountain and arrived in the vicinity of the castle quite out of breath. There she waited till Time came out. He was an old man with a long beard, he wore a cloak and carried a scythe, and he had large wings that bore him swiftly out of sight.

Channa now entered the castle, and though she gave a start of fright when she saw the strange old woman, she hastened to seize the weights of the clock and tell what she wanted.

The old woman at once called loudly to her son, but Channa said, “You will not see your son while I hold these clock-weights.” 72

Thereupon the old woman began to coax Channa, saying: “Let go of them, my dear. Do not stop my son’s course. No one has ever done that before. Let go of the weights, and may Heaven reward you.”

“You are wasting your breath,” Channa responded. “You must say something better than that if you would have me quit my hold.”

“Well then,” the old woman said, “hide behind the door, and when Time comes home I will make him tell me all you wish to know. As soon as he goes out again you can depart.”

Channa let go the weights and hid behind the door. Presently Time came flying in, and his mother repeated to him the maiden’s questions.

Appealing to the Mother of Time
Appealing to the Mother of Time

In reply he said: “The oak tree will be honored as it was of yore when men find the treasure that is buried among its roots. The mice will never be safe from the cat unless they tie a bell to her neck to warn them when she is coming. The ants will live a hundred years if they will dispense with flying, for when an ant is going to die it puts on wings. The whale should make friends with the sea-mouse, who will serve as a guide so that the monster will never go astray. The doves will resume their former shape when they fly and alight on the column of riches.”

So saying, Time went forth to run his accustomed race. Then Channa bade the old woman farewell and descended the mountain. She arrived at the foot just as the seven doves arrived there. Her long absence had made them anxious, and they had come to look for her. They alighted on the horn of a dead ox, and at once they changed to the handsome youths they had been formerly. 74

While they were marveling at this transformation Channa greeted them and told them what Time had said. Then they understood that the horn, as the symbol of plenty, was what he called the column of wealth.

Now they all started on the return journey, taking the same road by which Channa had come. When they arrived at the old oak and she informed the tree of what Time had said, the oak begged them to take away the treasure from its roots. So the seven brothers borrowed tools in a neighboring village and dug till they unearthed a great heap of gold money. This they divided into eight parts and shared it between themselves and their sister.

After according to the oak tree the honor it so much desired they again tramped along the homeward road, and when they became weary lay down to sleep under a hedge. 75 Presently they were seen there by a band of robbers who tied them hand and foot, and carried off their money.

They bewailed the loss of their wealth which had so soon slipped through their fingers, and they were anxious lest they should perish of starvation or be devoured by wild beasts. As they were lamenting their unhappy lot the mouse whom Channa had met appeared. She told it what Time had said about getting rid of the tyranny of the cats, and the grateful mouse nibbled the cords with which they were bound till it set them free.

Somewhat farther on they encountered the ant which listened eagerly while Channa repeated Time’s advice. Then it asked her why she was so pale and downcast.

So she related how the robbers had tricked them.

“Cheer up,” the ant said. “Now I can 76 requite the kindness you have done me. I know where those robbers hide their plunder. Follow me.”

The ant guided them to a group of tumble-down houses and showed them a pit which the brothers entered. There they found the money which had been stolen from them, and off they went with it to the seashore. The whale came to speak with them, and was rejoiced to learn what Time had said.

While they were talking with the whale, they saw the robbers coming, armed to the teeth.

“Alas, alas!” they cried, “now we are lost.”

“Fear not,” the whale said. “I can save you. Get on my back and I will carry you to a place of safety.”

Channa and her brothers climbed on the whale who carried them to within sight of Naples. There it left them on the shore and 77 they returned to their old home safe and sound and rich. Thereafter they enjoyed a happy life, in accord with the old saying, “Do all the good you can and make no fuss about it.”


Far away in the country was an old mansion in which dwelt a squire well along in years and his two sons. These sons thought themselves exceedingly clever. Indeed, they were convinced that had they known only half of what they did know, it would have been quite enough.

Both wanted to marry the king’s daughter. She had proclaimed that she would have for her husband the man who knew best how to choose his words, and they were confident that one or the other of them was certain to win her.

Only a week was allowed to prepare for the wooing, but that was plenty long enough for the two brothers. One knew the whole 79 Latin dictionary by heart. He also knew three years’ issue of the daily paper of the town so he could repeat backward or forward as you pleased all that had appeared in it.

The other had studied the laws of corporation and thought he could speak with wisdom and authority on matters of state. Besides, he was very expert with his fingers and could embroider roses and other flowers or figures in a manner that gave his friends great pleasure.

The old father gave each of the sons a fine horse. He presented a black horse to the one who knew the dictionary and the daily paper by heart, and the other, who was so clever at corporation law, received a milk-white steed. Just before they started, the young men oiled the corners of their mouths that they might be able to speak more fluently. 80

The squire had a third son, but nobody thought him worth counting. He was not learned as his brothers were and was generally called “Blockhead Hans.” While the servants stood in the courtyard watching the two clever youths mount their horses Hans chanced to appear.

“Well, well!” he said, “where are you off to? You are in your Sunday-best clothes.”

“We are going to the royal court to woo the princess,” they replied. “Haven’t you heard what has been proclaimed throughout all the countryside?”

They told him about it, and Hans shouted, “Hurrah! I’ll go too.” The brothers laughed at him and rode off.

“Dear father,” Blockhead Hans said, “I must have a horse. Perhaps I can win the princess. If she will have me, she will. If she won’t have me, she won’t.”

“Stop that nonsense!” the old man ordered. “I will 81 not give you a horse. You can’t speak wisely. You don’t know how to choose your words. But your brothers—ah! they are very different lads.”

“All right,” Hans said, “I have a goat. If you won’t give me a horse, the goat will have to serve instead. He can carry me.”

So he put a bridle on his goat, got on its back, dug his heels into its sides and went clattering down the road like a hurricane. Hoppitty hop! What a ride!

“Here I come!” Blockhead Hans shouted, and he sang so that the echoes were roused near and far.

Once he stopped and picked up a dead crow. Presently he overtook his brothers as they rode slowly along on their fine horses. They were not speaking, but were turning over in their minds all the clever things they intended to say, for everything had to be thought out. 82

“Hello!” Blockhead Hans bawled, “here I am. Just see what I found on the road.” And he proudly held up the dead crow for them to look at.

“You foolish lad,” his brothers said, “what are you going to do with it?”

“I shall give it to the princess,” he answered.

“Do so, certainly!” they said, laughing loudly and riding on.

Blockhead Hans thought he would continue the journey in their company, but he saw an old wooden shoe by the roadside. Such a prize was not to be neglected, and he got off his goat and picked it up. Then he cantered along the highway till he came up behind his brothers.

“Slap, bang! here I am!” he shouted. “See what I have just found? Such things are not to be picked up every day on the road!”

Blockhead Hans and the Dead Crow
Blockhead Hans and the Dead Crow

The brothers turned round to learn what in the world he could have found.

“Simpleton!” they said, “that cracked old shoe is absolutely worthless. Are you going to take that to the princess?”

“Of course I shall,” Blockhead Hans replied, and the brothers laughed and rode along.

But the lad on the goat soon brought them to a standstill by hopping off his goat and shouting: “Hurrah! Here’s the best treasure of all!”

“What have you found now?” the brothers asked.

“Oh! something more for the princess,” he said. “How pleased she will be!”

“Why, that is pure mud, straight from the ditch!” the brothers exclaimed.

“Of course it is!” Blockhead Hans responded. “There never was any better mud. See how it runs through my fingers.” 84

So saying, he filled his coat pocket with it. The brothers did not enjoy these interruptions or his company, and they rode off with such speed that they were hidden in a cloud of dust raised by their horses’ hoofs. They reached the gate of the royal city a good hour before Blockhead Hans did.


Each suitor for the hand of the princess was numbered as he arrived and had to wait his turn. They waited as patiently as they could, standing in line closely guarded to prevent the jealous rivals from getting into a fight with one another.

A crowd of people had gathered in the throne room at the palace to look on while the princess received her suitors, and as each suitor came in all the fine phrases he had prepared passed out of his mind. Then the princess would say: “It doesn’t matter. Away with him!”

At last the brother who knew the dictionary by heart appeared, but he did not know it any longer. The floor creaked, and the 86 ceiling was made of glass mirrors so that he saw himself standing on his head. At one of the windows were three reporters and an editor, and each of them was writing down what was said to publish it in the paper that was sold at the street corners for a penny. All this was fearful. You couldn’t blame him for feeling nervous.

“It is very hot in here, isn’t it?” was the only thing that the brother who knew the dictionary could think of to say.

“Of course it is,” the princess responded. “We are roasting young chickens for dinner today.”

The youth cleared his throat. “Ahem!” There he stood like an idiot. He was not prepared for such remarks from the princess. How nice it would be to make a witty response! But he could think of nothing appropriate, and all he did was to clear his throat again. “Ahem!” 87

“It doesn’t matter,” the princess said. “Take him out.” And out he had to go.

Now the other brother entered. “How hot it is here!” he said.

The princess looked as if she thought him tiresome as she responded: “Of course. We are roasting young chickens today.”

“Where do you—um?” the youth stammered, and the reporters wrote down, “Where do you—um?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the princess said. “Take him out.”

After a while Blockhead Hans had his turn. He rode his goat right into the room and exclaimed, “Dear me, how awfully hot it is here!”

The princess looked at him and his goat with more interest than she showed in most of her suitors and said: “Of course! We are roasting young chickens today.”

“That’s good,” Blockhead Hans commented; “and will 88 you let me roast a crow with them?”

“Gladly,” the princess responded; “but have you anything to roast it in? I have neither pot nor saucepan to spare.”

“That’s all right,” Blockhead Hans told her. “Here is a dish that will serve my purpose.” And he showed her the wooden shoe and laid the crow in it.

The princess laughed and said, “If you are going to prepare a dinner you ought at least to have some soup to go with your crow.”

“Very true,” he agreed, “and I have it in my pocket.” Then he showed her the mud he was carrying.

“I like you,” the princess declared. “You can answer when you are spoken to. You have something to say. So I will marry you. But do you know that every word we speak is being recorded and will be 89 in the paper tomorrow. Over by the window not far from where we are you can see three reporters and an old editor. None of them understands much and the editor doesn’t understand anything.”

At these words the reporters giggled, and each dropped a blot of ink on the floor.

“Ah! those are great people,” Blockhead Hans remarked. “I will give the editor something to write about.”

Then he took a handful of mud from his pocket and threw it smack in the great man’s face.

“That was neatly done!” the princess said—“much better, in fact, than I could have done it myself.”

She and Blockhead Hans were married, and presently he became king and wore a crown and sat on the throne. At any rate so the newspaper said, but of course you can’t believe all you see in the papers.


Once there was a bad boy named Tom, and the older he grew, the wiser and slyer he thought himself. Many were the tricks he played until no one liked him or trusted him.

One day he asked his grandmother for some money. She had plenty, but she would not give him any. So that evening Tom went to the pasture and caught the old woman’s black cow. He took the cow to a deserted house which stood at a distance from any other, and there he kept her two or three days, giving her food and water at night when nobody would see him going and coming.

Tom made his grandmother believe that 91 some one had stolen the cow. This was a great grief to her. At last she told the lad to buy her another cow at a fair in a neighboring town, and she gave him three pounds with which to make the purchase.

He promised to get one as near like the other as possible and went off with the money. Then he took a piece of chalk, ground it into powder, steeped it in a little water and rubbed it in spots and patches over the head and body of the cow he had hidden.

Early the next morning he took her to an inn near the fair and spent the day in pleasure. Toward evening he drove the cow home before him, and as soon as he got to his grandmother’s the cow began to bellow.

The old woman ran out rejoicing for she thought her own black cow had been found, but when she saw the spots and patches of white she sighed and exclaimed, “Alas, 92 you’ll never be the kindly brute my Black Lady was, though you bellow exactly like her.”

“’Tis a mercy you know not what the cow says,” Tom remarked to himself, “or all would be wrong with me.”

The old woman put her cow to pasture the following morning, but there came on a heavy shower of rain, which washed away the chalk. So the old woman’s Black Lady came home at night and the new cow went away with the shower and was never heard of afterward.

But Tom’s father had some suspicions, and he looked closely at the cow’s face and found some of the chalk still remaining. Then he gave Tom a hearty beating and turned him out of the house.

Tom traveled about from place to place, and by hook or by crook contrived to make a living till he reached the size and years 93 of a man. He was always planning ways to get hold of other people’s money, for he did not like to exert himself to earn what he needed.

Once he met a party of reapers seeking work. At once he hired the whole company of about thirty and agreed to give them a week’s reaping at ten pence a day, which was two pence higher than any had gotten that year. This made the poor reapers think he was a very honest, generous, and genteel master.

Tom took them to an inn and gave them a hearty breakfast. “Now,” he said, “there are so many of you together, it’s quite possible that while most are honest men, some may be rogues. You will have to sleep nights together in a barn, and your best plan is to give what money you have to me to keep safe for you. I’ll mark down each sum in a book opposite the name of the man 94 whose it is, and you shall have it all when I pay you your wages.”

“Oh! very well, there’s my money, and there’s mine, and here’s mine,” they said.

Some gave him five, six, seven, and eight shillings, all they had earned through the harvest. Tom now went with them out of the village to a field of standing grain, remote from any house, and set the men at work. Then he left, telling them he was going to order dinner for them, but in reality he set off at top speed to get as far away from them as possible, lest, when they found out his trick, they should follow and overtake him.

Soon the farmer to whom the grain belonged saw the reapers in his field and came to ask what they were about. “Stop!” he cried, “I have given you no orders to reap this grain, and besides it is not ripe.”

At first they persisted in keeping on with 95 the work, but finally the farmer convinced them that they had been fooled, and the reapers went away sorely lamenting their misfortune.


Tom escaped, but it was a rough life he led, and he was always in fear of punishment for his many misdeeds. At last he concluded he had had enough of depending on his wits for a livelihood and decided he would go to work.

So he hired himself to an old miser of a farmer with whom he continued several years. On the whole he made a good servant, and though he sometimes played tricks on those about him, it was his habit to make good any damage he did.

His master was a miser, as I have said, and he and his help ate supper with no other light than that of the fire, for he would not furnish candles. Tom did not like this, and 97 one night he thrust his spoon into the middle of the soup dish where the soup was hottest and clapped a spoonful into his master’s mouth.

“You rascal!” his master cried, “my mouth is all burned.”

“Then why do you keep the house so dark?” Tom asked. “I can’t half see, and what wonder is it if I missed the way to my own mouth and got the spoon in your mouth, instead?”

After that they always had a candle on the table at supper, for his master would feed no more in the dark while Tom was present.

One day a butcher came and bought a fine fat calf from Tom’s master. He tied its legs, took it on the horse’s back in front of him, and off he went.

“Master,” Tom said, “what do you say to playing a joke on that fellow? With your 98 leave I’ll get that calf away from him before he has gone two miles, and he won’t know what has become of it either.”

“You can try,” the master said, “but I don’t believe you can do it.”

So Tom went into the house, got a pretty shoe with a silver buckle to it that belonged to the servant maid and ran across a field till he got ahead of the butcher. He threw the shoe into the middle of the highway and hid behind a hedge. The butcher came riding along with the calf before him.

“Hey!” he said, “there’s a fine lady’s shoe. If it wasn’t that this calf makes it a great trouble to get off and on I’d alight and pick the shoe up. But after all what is the use of one shoe without its neighbor?”

On he rode and let it lie. Tom then slipped out from behind the hedge, secured the shoe, and ran across the fields till he again got before the butcher. He threw the 99 shoe into the middle of the road and once more crouched behind the hedge and waited.

Along came the butcher, and saw the shoe. “Now,” he said, “I can have a pair of good shoes for the lifting. I’ll take them home and put my old woman in a good humor for once.”

Down he got, lifted off the calf, tied his horse to the hedge, and ran back, thinking to get the other shoe. While he was gone Tom picked up the calf and the shoe and tramped off home.

The butcher did not find the shoe he went back to get, and when he returned to his horse the other shoe was gone and so was his calf. “No doubt the calf has broken the rope that was about its feet,” he said, “and has run into the fields.”

So he spent a long time searching for it amongst the hedges and ditches. Finally 100 he returned to Tom’s master and told him a long story of how he had lost the calf by means of a pair of shoes, which he believed the devil himself must have dropped in the roadway and had picked up later and the calf too.

“I suppose I ought to be thankful,” he said in concluding, “that I have my old horse left to carry me home so that I don’t have to walk.”

“Wouldn’t you like to buy another calf?” Tom asked.

“Why, yes,” the butcher responded, “if you have one to sell.”

Tom then brought from the barn the very calf that the butcher had lost, but as Tom had made a fine white face on it with chalk and water, the butcher did not recognize it. So the sale was made, its legs were tied and it was hoisted onto the horse in front of the butcher. As soon as he was gone, Tom told 101 his master he believed he could get the calf again.

“Oh, no!” the farmer said, “you’ve fooled him once and he’ll be on the lookout for mischief now. But you can try if you want to.”

Away ran Tom through the fields until he got ahead of the butcher near where he had taken the calf from him. There he hid behind the hedges and as the butcher was passing he put his hand on his mouth and cried, “Baw, baw!” like a calf.

When the butcher heard this he stopped his horse. “There’s the calf I lost,” he said.

Down he got, lifted the calf from his horse to the ground, and scrambled hastily through the hedge, thinking he would lay his hands on the lost calf in a few moments. But as he went through one part of the hedge, Tom went through another, got the 102 calf on his back and hurried through the fields home.

The poor butcher spent his time in vain running hither and thither seeking his calf. At last he returned to his horse, and when he found his other calf gone he concluded the place was bewitched.

“Oh, misfortunate day!” he cried, “what shall I do now? and what’ll Joan say when I get home, for my money’s gone, and the two calves are gone, and I can’t buy her the shawl I promised to get.”

Back he went to the farmer lamenting his loss. But the farmer thought the joke had been carried far enough now. He told him what had happened and gave him his calf and the second payment of money. So the butcher went off well satisfied, for he had had a good deal of fun for his trouble, had he not?


It was the beginning of summer. On the bank of a river in Japan an old woman kneeled washing clothes. She took the clothes from a basket beside her and washed them in the water, which was so clear that you could plainly see the stones at the bottom and the dartings of the little minnows.

Presently there came floating down the stream a big round delicious-looking peach.

“Well,” the woman said, “I am sixty years old, and never before have I seen so large and handsome a peach. It must be fine to eat.”

She looked about for a stick with which to reach the peach, but saw none. For a moment she was perplexed. Then she 104 clapped her hands, and nodded her head while she sang these words:

    “Far waters are bitter, near waters are sweet—
    Leave the bitter, come to the sweet.”

She sang the words three times, whereupon, strange to say, the peach rolled over and over in the water till it came to the shore in front of her.

“How delighted my old man will be!” she thought as she picked it up.

Then she packed the clothes she had been washing into the basket and hurried home. Soon she saw her husband returning from the mountain where he had been cutting grass. She ran to meet him and showed him the peach.

“Dear me!” the old man said, “it is wonderful. Where did you buy it?”

“Buy it? I did not buy it,” she replied. 105 Then she told him how she got it from the river.

“I feel hungry,” the old man affirmed. “Let us eat the peach at once.”

They went to the house and got a knife. But just as the old man was about to cut the peach he heard a child’s clear voice say, “Good sir, wait!”

Instantly the peach split in two halves, and out danced a little boy less than six inches high. This was so unexpected that the man and woman nearly fainted with astonishment and fright.

“Do not be afraid,” the boy said. “You have often lamented that you have no child, and I have been sent to be your son.”

The old couple were very much pleased, and they did all they could to show how welcome he was to their home. Peach-boy was the name they gave him. The years passed, and he grew to be a man remarkable for his 106 beauty, his courage, and, above all, for his great strength.

One day he came to the old man and old woman and said: “Father, your kindness has been higher than the mountain on which you cut grass; and Mother, yours has been deeper than the river in which you wash clothes. How can I thank you?”

“Do not thank us,” the old man replied. “The time will come when we cannot work, and then we shall be dependent on you.”

“But as things are,” Peach-boy said, “I am so greatly indebted to you that I hesitate to make a request that is in my mind.”

“What is it?” they questioned.

“It is that you allow me to go away for a short time,” he answered.

“Go away? Where to?” they asked.

“I would have you know,” he said, “that north of the mainland of Japan is an island inhabited by demons, who kill our people 107 and steal our treasure. I want to destroy them and bring back all their stolen riches. For this purpose I wish to leave you.”

The old man was at first speechless with astonishment, but as he considered the matter he was convinced that Peach-boy was not mortal in his origin and therefore was probably safe from injury.

So he said: “You wish to go, and I will not stop you. Indeed, as those demons are the enemies of Japan, the sooner you destroy them and save your country from their depredations the better.”

Preparations for Peach-boy’s journey began at once. The old woman made him some dumplings and got his clothes ready. When the time came for him to start, the old couple saw him off with tears in their eyes.

“Take care of yourself. May you return victorious,” they said.


Peach-boy walked steadily and rapidly along the highway from early morning until midday, when he sat down to eat his dinner. Just as he took out one of the dumplings, a big savage dog appeared.

“Wow! wow!” the dog barked. “You have come into my territory without leave. If you do not at once give me your dinner I will devour you.”

Peach-boy smiled scornfully. “I am on my way to fight the enemies of Japan,” he said. “Don’t try to stop me or I will slay you.”

“I did not know the purpose of your journey,” the dog responded, cowering and putting his tail between 109 his legs. “I humbly beg your pardon for my rude conduct. Please allow me to accompany and help you.”

“You are welcome to go with me,” Peach-boy said.

“But I am very hungry,” the dog told him. “Will you please give me something to eat?”

“Here is a dumpling for you,” was Peach-boy’s response.

When the dog had eaten the dumpling they hurried on. They crossed many mountains and valleys, and one day a monkey sprang down from a tree in front of them and asked, “Where are you going so fast?”

“We are going to fight the enemies of Japan,” Peach-boy answered.

“Then pray allow me to go with you,” the monkey said.

The dog came angrily forward. “Of 110 what use would you be?” he snarled. “I alone accompany this great warrior.”

Monkeys and dogs never can be friends, and of course this speech made the monkey very angry.

“You think a great deal of yourself!” he screeched, and he approached the dog ready to assail him with his teeth and nails.

But Peach-boy stepped between them, saying: “Stop! Do not be so hasty, you two. Stand back, dog. This monkey is not a bad fellow, and I intend to enrol him as one of my vassals.”

Then he gave the monkey half a dumpling to eat. Presently the three went on along the highway. But it was no easy matter to keep the peace between the dog and the monkey. So at last Peach-boy had the monkey march ahead of him with his standard, and the dog follow behind him carrying his sword.

The Monkey and the Warrior
The Monkey and the Warrior

At length they entered a wilderness, and a wonderful bird sprang up from the ground as if to assail them. The bird’s head plumage was of the deepest crimson and his body was clothed with a feather robe in five colors.

The dog dashed at the bird to seize and devour him, but Peach-boy sprang forward and prevented this. Then he said: “Bird, do you wish to interrupt my journey? If so, the dog shall bite off your head. But if you submit to me you can be one of my company and help fight the enemies of Japan.”

The bird instantly bowed in front of Peach-boy, saying, “I am a humble bird called the pheasant. It would be an honor to accompany you on such an expedition.”

“Does this low fellow go with us?” the dog growled disdainfully.

“That is no business of yours,” Peach-boy said; “and I give you three animals 112 warning that if any quarreling starts among you I will send you all back that very moment. In war a good position is better than good luck, but union is better than either good luck or good position. There can be no squabbling among ourselves if we are to win.”

The three animals listened respectfully and promised implicit obedience. Then the pheasant ate a half dumpling that Peach-boy gave him, and the four went on together.


At last Peach-boy and his companions came to the sea. They looked off across the water in the direction which he told them the island lay whose demon inhabitants he and they were to destroy, and saw nothing but waves. The dog, the monkey, and the pheasant are all creatures that live on dry land, and though the steepest cliff and deepest valley could not frighten them, yet when they saw that endless stretch of rolling waves, they stood speechless and fearful.

Peach-boy observed this and said in a loud voice: “My vassals, why do you tremble? Does the ocean frighten you? It would have been better to have come alone than to have picked up such companions. 114 But now I will dismiss you. Return!”

They were much pained at hearing these reproaches, and they clung to him beseeching him not to send them away. Apparently they were plucking up courage, and he consented to retain them.

He had them help prepare a boat, and they set sail with the first favorable wind. The shore behind them was soon lost to sight, and for a while the animals were very unhappy. But they gradually became accustomed to the motion and presently stood on deck eagerly looking ahead to see the island as soon as it came into view. When they wearied of that they began to show their accomplishments. The dog sat up and begged, the monkey played tricks, and the pheasant sang a song.

Their performances greatly amused Peach-boy, and before he knew it the island was close at hand. On it he could see numerous flags 115 fluttering above what seemed to be an impregnable fortress. This fortress had a heavy gate of iron, and inside were many closely-crowded houses, all of which had iron roofs.

Peach-boy turned to the pheasant and said: “You have wings. Fly to the fortress and find out what those island demons are doing.”

The pheasant promptly obeyed his orders and found the demons, some of them red, some black, some blue, assembled on the iron roofs of their houses. “Listen, you island demons!” the pheasant cried. “A mighty warrior is coming with an army to destroy you. If you wish to save your lives, yield at once.”

“You vain pheasant!” the demons laughed, “it is you who will be destroyed—not us.”

So saying, they shook their horns at him, 116 girded up their garments of tiger-skin, and seized their weapons. But that did not scare the pheasant. He swooped down and with one peck took off the head of a red demon.

Then began a fierce battle, and soon the gate burst open, and Peach-boy with the dog and monkey rushed in raging like lions. The demons, who thought that they only had to do with one bird, were much alarmed, yet they fought bravely, and even their children joined in the fray. The sound of their yells as it mingled with the sound of the waves beating on the shore was truly terrible.

In the end they got the worst of it. Some fell from the roofs of their houses, the walls of the fortress, and the wild cliffs, and some were killed by the irresistible onslaughts of Peach-boy, and of the dog, the monkey, and the pheasant.

When, at last, only the head demon remained alive, he threw away his weapons, 117 and knelt in submission before Peach-boy with the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Great warrior,” he said, “spare my life! From today I shall reform. Spare me!”

Peach-boy laughed scornfully. “You villain!” he cried, “for many years you have persecuted and killed innocent people; and now that your own life is in danger you beg for mercy and promise to reform. You deserve no mercy, and shall receive none.”

So the head demon shared the fate of the rest of his tribe, and Peach-boy and his comrades loaded their boat with the hoarded island treasures. There were coral and tortoise and pearls, not to speak of magic hats and coats that made their wearers invisible.

All these things they carried away, and great was the joy of the old man and old woman when they saw Peach-boy return victorious. After that he and they lived happily to the end of their days.


My grandfather, Andrew Coffey, was known to every one in the region about his home as a quiet decent man. He was fond of rambling and riding, and was familiar with every hill and dale, bog and pasture, field and covert in that part of the country.

Then fancy his surprise, while riding only a few miles from home, one evening, to find himself in a vicinity that he did not recognize at all. His good horse was constantly stumbling against some tree or into some bog-hole that by rights ought not to be there. To make matters worse, a cold March wind was blowing, and rain began to pelt down. 119

Soon he was gladdened by the sight of a light among the trees in the distance, and when he drew near he found a cabin, though for the life of him he couldn’t think how it came there. However, after tying his horse, in he walked. A fire was blazing on the hearth, and near it was a comfortable chair. But not a soul was there in the room.

He sat down and got a little warm and cheered after his drenching, but all the while he was wondering and wondering. He was still puzzling over his experiences when he heard a voice.

“Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!” it said.

Good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? Look around as he might, he could find no one indoors or out. To add to his other worries, his horse was gone. Again he heard the voice.

Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! tell 120 me a story,” it said, and it spoke louder than before.

What a thing to ask for! It was bad enough not to be left in peace seated by the fire drying oneself, without being bothered for a story. A third time the voice spoke, and louder than ever.

Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! tell me a story or it will be the worse for you,” it said.

My poor grandfather was so dumb-founded that he could only stand and stare. For a fourth time the voice spoke.

“ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!” it shouted, “I told you it would be the worse for you.”

Then a man bounced out from a cupboard that Andrew Coffey had not noticed before. He was in a towering rage, and he carried as fine a blackthorn club as was ever used to crack a man’s head. When my grandfather clapped eyes 121 on him he knew him for Patrick Rooney who had gone overboard one day in a sudden storm while fishing on the sea long years ago.

Andrew Coffey did not stop to visit, but took to his heels and got out of the house as quickly as he could. He ran and he ran taking little thought of where he went till at last he ran against a tree. Then he sat down to rest.

But he had been there only a few moments when he heard voices. One said, “the vagabond is heavy.”

Another said, “Steady now, lads.”

A third said, “I’ve lugged him as far as I care to.”

A fourth said, “We’ll stop when we get to the big tree yonder.”

That happened to be the tree under which Andrew Coffey was sitting. “Better see than be seen,” he thought. Then he swung 122 himself up by a branch and was soon snugly hidden away in the tree.

The rain and wind had ceased and there was light enough for Andrew Coffey to see four men carrying a long box. They brought it under the tree, set it down, and opened it. Then, what should they take out but Patrick Rooney? Never a word did he say, and he was as pale as new-fallen snow.

The men gathered brushwood and soon had a fire burning. Then they stuck two stakes into the ground on each side of the fire, laid a pole across on the tops of them, and on to the pole they slung Patrick Rooney.

“He’s all fixed now,” one said, “but who’s to take care of the fire while we’re away?”

With that Patrick opened his lips. “Andrew Coffey,” he said.

Then the four men, each speaking the name once, called out, “Andrew Coffey! 123 Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!”

“Gentlemen, I’d be glad to oblige you,” Andrew Coffey said, “but I know nothing about this sort of roasting.”

“You’d better come down, Andrew Coffey,” Patrick said.

It was the second time he spoke, and Andrew Coffey decided he would come down. The four men went off, and he was left alone with Patrick. He sat down by the fire and kept it even, and all the while Patrick looked at him.

Poor Andrew Coffey couldn’t understand the situation at all, and he stared at Patrick and at the fire, and thought of the cabin in the wood till he felt quite dazed.

“Ah, you’re burning me!” Patrick said, very short and sharp.

“I beg your pardon,” my grandfather said, and hastened to fix the fire. 124

He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that something was wrong. Hadn’t everybody, near and far, said that Patrick had fallen overboard?

Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! you’re burning me!” Patrick exclaimed.

My grandfather was sorry enough, and he vowed he wouldn’t do so again.

“You’d better not,” Patrick grumbled, and he gave him a cock of his eye, and a grin of his teeth that sent a shiver down Andrew Coffey’s back. It certainly was odd that Andrew Coffey should be there in a thick wood that he had never set eyes on before, roasting Patrick Rooney. You can’t wonder that my grandfather thought and thought and forgot the fire.

“Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! I’ll punish you for the way you’re neglecting me!” Patrick Rooney cried.

He was unslinging himself from the pole 125 now, and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened. My grandfather got up in haste and ran off into the gloomy wood. He stumbled over stones, the brambles tore his clothes, the branches beat his face.

Presently he saw a light and was glad. A minute later he was kneeling by a hearth-side, dazed and bedraggled. The flames leaped and crackled, and he was beginning to get warm and feel a little easy in his mind when he heard a voice shouting, “Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!”

It’s hard for a man to jump after going through all my grandfather had, but jump he did. When he looked around, where should he find himself but in the very cabin in which he had first met Patrick.

“Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! tell me a story,” the voice said.

“Is it a story you want?” my grandfather said, as bold as could be, for he was tired of 126 being frightened. “Well then, here’s one.”

And he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to last that night. The tale was long and he was weary. He must have fallen asleep, for when he awoke he lay on a hillside under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side.


Mr. Turkey Buzzard doesn’t have any sense. You watch him and you will see that what I have said is true.

When the rain pours down he sits on the fence and hunches up his shoulders and draws in his neck and tries to hide his head. There he sits looking so pitiful that you are real sorry for him.

“Never mind,” he says to himself, “when this rain is over I’m going to build a house right off. I’m not going to let the rain pelt me this way again.”

But after the clouds were gone, and a fresh breeze blew, and the sun shone, what did Mr. Turkey Buzzard do? He sat on top of a dead pine tree where the sun could warm 128 him, and he stretched out his wings, and he turned round and round so the wind could dry his feathers. Then he laughed to himself and said: “The rain is over. It isn’t going to rain any more, there’s no use of my building a house now.”

Mr. Turkey Buzzard is certainly a very careless man. When it is raining he can’t build a house, and when it isn’t raining he doesn’t need one.

If you have enjoyed these stories you will want to read the other books in the series.




******* This file should be named 37464-h.txt or *******

This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.



To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at

Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works

1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United

1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at

1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or

1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (,
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
     License.  You must require such a user to return or
     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
     Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
     of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.


1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.

of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal

defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER

1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at

Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email  Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at

For additional contact information:
     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
     Chief Executive and Director

Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit:

Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
compressed (zipped), HTML and others.

Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over
the old filename and etext number.  The replaced older file is renamed.
VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving
new filenames and etext numbers.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000,
are filed in directories based on their release date.  If you want to
download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular
search system you may utilize the following addresses and just
download by the etext year.

    (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99,
     98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90)

EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
identical to the filename).  The path to the file is made up of single
digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename.  For
example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at:

or filename 24689 would be found at:

An alternative method of locating eBooks: