University of Virginia Library

BOHEMIAN STORIES.

THESE stories are translated from the language of
the Slavonic inhabitants of nearly three-fourths of
Bohemia, the `Czechs,' as the Poles write the word, or
`Chekhs,' if we adopt the nearest orthographical approximation
to it that the English alphabet allows us to make. This
nation had an early literary development, commencing before
the foundation of the University of Prague (Praha) by the
Emperor Charles IV. in 1348. For a long time after that
epoch the Bohemians could justly claim the title of the best
educated nation in Europe. They produced a prose writer
—Thomas of Stitny, whose first original work was published
in 1377—whose equal is not to be found in English literature
till the age of Queen Elizabeth. In the Thirty Years'
War (1620) the people and literature of Bohemia were
crushed for more than two centuries, the population being
reduced during that terrible war from over four millions to
eight hundred thousand.

The Bohemian language itself is a very remarkable one.
It possesses both accent and quantity independent of each
other, like Latin and Greek. Thus it is difficult for a
foreigner to read aloud or to speak, for, if he attends
carefully to the accent, he is liable to neglect quantity, and
if he attends to quantity, he is likely to slur over the proper

accentuation of words. It, as well as Polish, employs a
sibillated r, which in many words is difficult to pronounce.
It also writes semi-vowels, especially r, without a vowel; so
that many syllables appear as if there were no vowel in
them. But this it is sufficient to notice once for all, as it
causes no real difficulty in pronunciation.

The fairy-tales relating to the kindly or malevolent superhuman
inhabitants of the woods are peculiar and striking.
In No. 5 these imaginary beings are represented under the
latter, and in No. 6 under the former aspect.

Two waters, one of death and the other of life, are found
in the Bohemian stories, just as in the Russian ones—a
point wherein the Slavonic tales regularly differ from those
of Western Europe, which only acknowledge the water of
life. As Mr. Ralston remarks (`Songs of the Russian
People,' p. 97): `When the "dead water" is applied to
the wounds of a corpse, it heals them, but before the dead
body can be brought to life, it is necessary to sprinkle it
with the "living water."

I.—LONG, BROAD, AND SHARPSIGHT.

There was a king, who was already old, and had but one
son. Once upon a time he called this son to him, and said
to him, `My dear son! you know that old fruit falls to
make room for other fruit. My head is already ripening,
and maybe the sun will soon no longer shine upon it; but
before you bury me, I should like to see your wife, my
future daughter. My son, marry!' The prince said, `I
would gladly, father, do as you wish; but I have no bride,
and don't know any.' The old king put his hand into his
pocket, took out a golden key and showed it to his son,
with the words, `Go up into the tower, to the top story,

look round there, and then tell me which you fancy.' The
prince went without delay. Nobody within the memory of
man had been up there, or had ever heard what was up
there.

When he got up to the last story, he saw in the ceiling a
little iron door like a trap-door. It was closed. He opened
it with the golden key, lifted it, and went up above it.
There there was a large circular room. The ceiling was blue
like the sky on a clear night, and silver stars glittered on it;
the floor was a carpet of green silk, and around in the wall
were twelve high windows in golden frames, and in each
window on crystal glass was a damsel painted with the
colours of the rainbow, with a royal crown on her head, in
each window a different one in a different dress, each handsomer
than the other, and it was a wonder that the prince
did not let his eyes dwell upon them. When he had gazed
at them with astonishment, the damsels began to move as
if they were alive, looked down upon him, smiled, and did
everything but speak.

Now the prince observed that one of the twelve windows
was covered with a white curtain; he drew the curtain to
see what was behind it. There there was a damsel in a white
dress, girt with a silver girdle, with a crown of pearls on her
head; she was the most beautiful of all, but was sad and
pale, as if she had risen from the grave. The prince stood
long before the picture, as if he had made a discovery, and
as he thus gazed, his heart pained him, and he cried, `This
one will I have, and no other.' As he said the words the
damsel bowed her head, blushed like a rose, and that instant
all the pictures disappeared.

When he went down and related to his father what he
had seen and which damsel he had selected, the old king
became sad, bethought himself, and said, `You have done
ill, my son, in uncovering what was curtained over, and

have placed yourself in great danger on account of those
words. That damsel is in the power of a wicked wizard,
and kept captive in an iron castle; of all who have attempted
to set her free, not one has hitherto returned. But what's
done cannot be undone; the plighted word is a law. Go!
try your luck, and return home safe and sound!'

The prince took leave of his father, mounted his horse,
and rode away in search of his bride. It came to pass that
he rode through a vast forest, and through the forest he
rode on and on till he lost the road. And as he was
wandering with his horse in thickets and amongst rocks
and morasses, not knowing which way to turn, he heard
somebody shout behind him, `Hi! stop!' The prince
looked round, and saw a tall man hastening after him.
`Stop and take me with you, and take me into your service,
and you won't regret it!' `Who are you,' said the prince,
`and what can you do?' `My name is Long, and I can
extend myself. Do you see a bird's nest in that pine
yonder? I will bring you the nest down without having to
climb up.'

Long then began to extend himself; his body grew rapidly
till it was as tall as the pine; he then reached the nest, and
in a moment contracted himself again and gave it to the
prince. `You know your business well, but what's the use
of birds' nests to me, if you can't conduct me out of this
forest?' `Ahem! that's an easy matter,' said Long, and
began to extend himself till he was thrice as high as the
highest fir in the forest, looked round, and said: `Here on
this side we have the nearest way out of the forest.' He
then contracted himself, took the horse by the bridle, and
before the prince had any idea of it, they were beyond the
forest. Before them was a long and wide plain, and beyond
the plain tall gray rocks, like the walls of a large town, and
mountains overgrown with forest trees.

`Yonder, sir, goes my comrade!' said Long, and pointed
suddenly to the plain; `you should take him also into your
service; I believe he would serve you well.' `Shout to
him, and call him hither, that I may see what he is good
for.' `It is a little too far, sir,' said Long; `he would hardly
hear me, and it would take a long time before he came,
because he has a great deal to carry. I'll jump after him
instead.' Then Long again extended himself to such a
height that his head plunged into the clouds, made two or
three steps, took his comrade by the arm, and placed him
before the prince. He was a short, thick-set fellow, with a
paunch like a sixty-four gallon cask. `Who are you?'
demanded the prince, `and what can you do?' `My name,
sir, is Broad; I can widen myself.' `Give me a specimen.'
`Ride quick, sir, quick, back into the forest!' cried Broad,
as he began to blow himself out.

The prince didn't understand why he was to ride away;
but seeing that Long made all haste to get into the forest,
he spurred his horse, and rode full gallop after him. It was
high time that he did ride away, or else Broad would have
squashed him, horse and all, as his paunch rapidly grew in
all directions; it filled everything everywhere, just as if a
mountain had rolled up. Broad then ceased to blow himself
out, and took himself in again, raising such a wind that
the trees in the forest bowed and bent, and became what
he was at first. `You've played me a nice trick,' said the
prince, `but I shan't find such a fellow every day; come
with me.'

They proceeded further. When they approached the
rocks, they met a man who had his eyes bandaged with a
handkerchief. `Sir, this is our third comrade,' said Long,
`you ought to take him also into your service. I'm sure he
won't eat his victuals for naught.' `Who are you?' the
prince asked him, `and why are your eyes bandged? You

don't see your way!' `No, sir, quite the contrary! It is
just because I see too well that I am obliged to bandage
my eyes; I see with bandaged eyes just as well as others
with unbandaged eyes; and if I unbandage them I look
everything through and through, and when I gaze sharply
at anything, it catches fire and bursts into flame, and what
can't burn splits into pieces. For this reason my name is
Sharpsight.' He then turned to a rock opposite, removed
the bandage, and fixed his flaming eyes upon it; the rock
began to crackle, pieces flew on every side, and in a very
short time nothing of it remained but a heap of sand, on
which something glittered like fire. Sharpsight went to fetch
it, and brought it to the prince. It was pure gold.

`Heigho! you're a fellow that money can't purchase!'
said the prince. `He is a fool who wouldn't make use of
your services, and if you have such good sight, look and
tell me whether it is far to the iron castle, and what is now
going on there?' `If you rode by yourself, sir,' answered
Sharpsight, `maybe you wouldn't get there within a year;
but with us you'll arrive to-day—they're just getting supper
ready for us.' `And what is my bride doing?'

The prince cried, `Whoever is well disposed, help me to
set her free!' They all promised to help him. They
guided him among the gray rocks through the breach that
Sharpsight had made in them with his eyes, and further and
further on through rocks, through high mountains and deep
forests, and wherever there was any obstacle in the road,
forthwith it was removed by the three comrades. And
when the sun was declining towards the west, the mountains
began to become lower, the forests less dense, and the

rocks concealed themselves amongst the heath; and when
it was almost on the point of setting, the prince saw not far
before him an iron castle; and when it was actually setting,
he rode by an iron bridge to the gate, and as soon as it had
set, up rose the iron bridge of itself, the gate closed with a
single movement, and the prince and his companions were
captives in the iron castle.

When they had looked round in the court, the prince put
his horse up in the stable, where everything was ready for it,
and then they went into the castle. In the court, in the
stable, in the castle hall, and in the rooms, they saw in the
twilight many richly-dressed people, gentlemen and servants,
but not one of them stirred—they were all turned to stone.
They went through several rooms, and came into the
supper-room. This was brilliantly lighted up, and in the
midst was a table, and on it plenty of good meats and
drinks, and covers were laid for four persons. They waited
and waited, thinking that someone would come; but when
nobody came for a long time, they sat down and ate and
drank what the palate fancied.

When they had done eating, they looked about to find
where to sleep. Thereupon the door flew open unexpectedly
all at once, and into the room came the wizard; a bent old
man in a long black garb, with a bald head, a gray beard
down to his knees, and three iron hoops instead of a girdle.
By the hand he led a beautiful, very beautiful damsel,
dressed in white; she had a silver girdle round her waist,
and a crown of pearls on her head, but was pale and sad, as
if she had risen from the grave. The prince recognised her
at once, sprang forward, and went to meet her; but before
he could utter a word the wizard addressed him: `I know
for what you have come; you want to take the princess
away. Well, be it so! Take her, if you can keep her in
sight for three nights, so that she doesn't vanish from you.

If she vanishes, you will be turned into stone as well as your
three servants; like all who have come before you.' He
then motioned the princess to a seat and departed.

The prince could not take his eyes off the princess, so
beautiful was she. He began to talk to her, and asked her
all manner of questions, but she neither answered nor
smiled, nor looked at anyone any more than if she had
been of marble. He sat down by her, and determined
not to sleep all night long lest she should vanish from
him, and, to make surer, Long extended himself like a
strap, and wound himself round the whole room along the
wall; Broad posted himself in the doorway, swelled himself
up, and stopped it up so tight that not even a mouse could
have slipped through; while Sharpsight placed himself
against a pillar in the midst of the room on the look-out.
But after a time they all began to nod, fell asleep, and slept
the whole night, just as if the wizard had thrown them into
the water.

In the morning, when it began to dawn, the prince was
the first to wake, but—as if a knife had been thrust into his
heart—the princess was gone! He forthwith awoke his
servants, and asked what was to be done. `Never mind,
sir,' said Sharpsight, and looked sharply out through the
window, `I see her already. A hundred miles hence is a
forest, in the midst of the forest an old oak, and on the top
of the oak an acorn, and she is that acorn.' Long immediately
took him on his shoulders, extended himself, and went
ten miles at a step, while Sharpsight showed him the way.

No more time elapsed than would have been wanted to
move once round a cottage before they were back again,
and Long delivered the acorn to the prince. `Sir, let it
fall on the ground.' The prince let it fall, and that moment
the princess stood beside him. And when the sun began
to show itself beyond the mountains, the folding doors flew

open with a crash, and the wizard entered the room and
smiled spitefully; but when he saw the princess he frowned,
growled, and bang! one of the iron hoops which he wore
splintered and sprang off him. He then took the damsel
by the hand and led her away.

The whole day after the prince had nothing to do but
walk up and down the castle, and round about the castle,
and look at the wonderful things that were there. It
was everywhere as if life had been lost in a single moment.
In one hall he saw a prince, who held in both hands a
brandished sword, as if he intended to cleave somebody in
twain; but the blow never fell: he had been turned into
stone. In one chamber was a knight turned into stone,
just as if he had been fleeing from some one in terror, and,
stumbling on the threshold, had taken a downward direction,
but not fallen. Under the chimney sat a servant, who
held in one hand a piece of roast meat, and with the other
lifted a mouthful towards his mouth, which never reached
it; when it was just in front of his mouth, he had also been
turned to stone. Many others he saw there turned to
stone, each in the position in which he was when the wizard
said, `Be turned into stone.' He likewise saw many fine
horses turned to stone, and in the castle and round the castle
all was desolate and dead; there were trees, but without
leaves; there were meadows, but without grass; there was
a river, but it did not flow; nowhere was there even a singing
bird, or a flower, the offspring of the ground, or a white
fish in the water.

Morning, noon, and evening the prince and his companions
found good and abundant entertainment in the
castle; the viands came of themselves, the wine poured
itself out. After supper the folding doors opened again,
and the wizard brought in the princess for the prince to
guard. And although they all determined to exert themselves

with all their might not to fall asleep, yet it was of no
use, fall asleep again they did. And when the prince awoke
at dawn and saw the princess had vanished, he jumped up
and pulled Sharpsight by the arm, `Hey! get up, Sharpsight,
do you know where the princess is?' He rubbed his eyes,
looked, and said, `I see her. There's a mountain 200
miles off, and in the mountain a rock, and in the rock a
precious stone, and she's that precious stone. If Long
carries me thither, we shall obtain her.'

Long took him at once on his shoulders, extended himself,
and went twenty miles at a step. Sharpsight fixed his
flaming eyes on the mountain, the mountain crumbled, and
the rock in it split into a thousand pieces, and amongst
them glittered the precious stone. They took it up and
brought it to the prince, and when he let it fall on the
ground, the princess again stood there. When afterwards
the wizard came and saw her there, his eyes flashed with
spite, and bang! again an iron hoop cracked upon him and
flew off. He growled and led the princess out of the room.

That day all was again as it had been the day before.
After supper the wizard brought the princess in again, looked
the prince keenly in the face, and scornfully uttered the
words, `It will be seen who's a match for whom; whether
you are victorious or I,' and with that he departed. This
day they all exerted themselves still more to avoid going to
sleep. They wouldn't even sit down, they wanted to walk
about all night long, but all in vain; they were bewitched;
one fell asleep after the other as he walked, and the princess
vanished away from them.

In the morning the prince again awoke earliest, and when
he didn't see the princess, woke Sharpsight. `Hey! get up,
Sharpsight! look where the princess is!' Sharpsight looked
out for a long time. `Oh sir,' says he, `she is a long way
off, a long way off! Three hundred miles off is a black sea,

and in the midst of the sea a shell on the bottom, and in
the shell is a gold ring, and she's the ring. But never
mind! we shall obtain her, but to-day Long must take
Broad with him as well; we shall want him.' Long took
Sharpsight on one shoulder, and Broad on the other, and
went thirty miles at a step. When they came to the black
sea, Sharpsight showed him where he must reach into the
water for the shell. Long extended his hand as far as he
could, but could not reach the bottom.

`Wait, comrades! wait only a little and I'll help you,'
said Broad, and swelled himself out as far as his paunch
would stretch; he then lay down on the shore and drank.
In a very short time the water fell so low that Long easily
reached the bottom and took the shell out of the sea. Out
of it he extracted the ring, took his comrades on his
shoulders, and hastened back. But on the way he found it
a little difficult to run with Broad, who had half a sea of
water inside him, so he cast him from his shoulder on to the
ground in a wide valley. Thump he went like a sack let
fall from a tower, and in a moment the whole valley was
under water like a vast lake. Broad himself barely crawled
out of it.

Meanwhile the prince was in great trouble in the castle.
The dawn began to display itself over the mountains, and
his servants had not returned; the more brilliantly the rays
ascended, the greater was his anxiety; a deadly perspiration
came out upon his forehead. Soon the sun showed itself
in the east like a thin strip of flame—and then with a loud
crash the door flew open, and on the threshold stood the
wizard. He looked round the room, and seeing the
princess was not there, laughed a hateful laugh and entered
the room. But just at that moment, pop! the window flew
in pieces, the gold ring fell on the floor, and in an instant
there stood the princess again. Sharpsight, seeing what was

going on in the castle, and in what danger his master was,
told Long. Long made a step, and threw the ring through
the window into the room. The wizard roared with rage,
till the castle quaked, and then bang! went the third iron
hoop that was round his waist, and sprang off him; the
wizard turned into a raven, and flew out and away through
the shattered window.

Then, and not till then, did the beautiful damsel speak
and thank the prince for setting her free, and blushed like
a rose. In the castle and round the castle everything
became alive again at once. He who was holding in the hall
the outstretched sword, swung it into the air, which whistled
again, and then returned it to its sheath; he who was
stumbling on the threshold, fell on the ground, but immediately
got up again and felt his nose to see whether it was
still entire; he who was sitting under the chimney put the
piece of meat into his mouth and went on eating; and thus
everybody completed what he had begun doing, and at the
point where he had left off. In the stables the horses
merrily stamped and snorted, the trees round the castle
became green like periwinkles, the meadows were full of
variegated flowers, high in the air warbled the skylark, and
abundance of small fishes appeared in the clear river.
Everywhere was life, everywhere enjoyment.

Meanwhile a number of gentlemen assembled in the room
where the prince was, and all thanked him for their liberation.
But he said, `You have nothing to thank me for; if
it had not been for my trusty servants Long, Broad, and
Sharpsight, I too should have been what you were.' He
then immediately started on his way home to the old king,
his father, with his bride and servants. On the way they
met Broad and took him with them.

The old king wept for joy at the success of his son; he
had thought he would return no more. Soon afterwards

there was a grand wedding, the festivities of which lasted three
weeks; all the gentlemen that the prince had liberated were
invited. After the wedding Long, Broad, and Sharpsight
announced to the young king that they were going again
into the world to look for work. The young king tried to
persuade them to stay with him. `I will give you everything
you want, as long as you live,' said he; `you needn't
work at all.' But they didn't like such an idle life, took
leave of him, went away and have been ever since knocking
about somewhere or other in the world.

This story appears to me to be the perfection of `Natural
Science in Allegory.' It is not a mere `Natur-myth,' exhibiting
the contests, victories, and defeats of the forces
of Nature. In interpreting it we must distinguish between
the mere machinery and the essential actors. The king's son
does nothing himself, and the whole work is performed by
the three men, whom he takes into his service. I understand
by the king's son Man, who wishes to cultivate the earth,
who is the princess imprisoned by the enchanter, the drought.
She is released by the agency of the three phenomena
that usher in the rainy season, the rainbow (Long), the
cloud (Broad), and the lightning (Sharpsight). Man, by the aid
of these three phenomena, is enabled to cultivate the earth.
Such a story could only originate in a country of periodic
rains. The rapid recovery of vegetation and almost instantaneous
reappearance of fish in dried-up brooks in India
are well known. The common story of the Sleeping Beauty is
evidently a fragment from the myth which exhibits figuratively
the speedy wake up of all things when released from
the bondage of the drought.

It is possible also to consider the prince as the sun, who
cannot marry the drought-enslaved earth, until he has taken

into his service and obtained the aid of the same three
phenomena. Those who had previously attempted to set
the princess free would then be the suns immediately preceding
the rainy season, which had not had the aid of
Long, Broad, and Sharpsight.

II.—'THE THREE GOLDEN HAIRS OF GRANDFATHER
ALLKNOW.'

There was once upon a time a king who delighted in
hunting wild animals in forests. One day he chased a stag
to a great distance and lost his way. He was all alone;
night came on, and the king was only too glad to find a
cottage in a clearing. A charcoal-burner lived there. The
king asked him whether he would guide him out of the
forest to the road, promising to pay him well for it. `I
would gladly go with you,' said the charcoal-burner, `but,
you see, my wife is expecting; I cannot go away. And
whither would you go at this time of night? Lie down on
some hay on the garret floor, and to-morrow morning I will
be your guide.' Soon afterwards a baby boy was born to
the charcoal-burner. The king was lying on the floor and
couldn't sleep. At midnight he observed a kind of light in
the keeping-room below. He peeped through a chink in the
boarding and saw the charcoal-burner asleep, his wife lying
in a dead faint, and three old hags, all in white, standing by
the baby, each with a lighted taper in her hand. The first
said: `My gift to this boy is, that he shall come into great
dangers.' The second said: `My gift to him is, that he
shall escape from them all and live long.' And the third
said: `And I give him to wife the baby daughter who has
this day been born to that king who is lying upstairs on the
hay.' Thereupon the hags put out their tapers, and all was
still again. They were the Fates.

The king felt as if a sword had been thrust into his
breast. He didn't sleep till morning, thinking over what to
do, and how to do it, to prevent that coming to pass which
he had heard. When day dawned the child began to cry.
The charcoal-burner got up and saw that his wife had gone
to sleep for ever. `Oh, my poor little orphan!' whimpered
he; `what shall I do with you now?' `Give me the baby,'
said the king; `I'll take care that it shall be well with it, and
will give you so much money that you needn't burn charcoal
as long as you live.' The charcoal-burner was delighted
at this, and the king promised to send for the baby.
When he arrived at his palace they told him, with great joy,
that a beautiful baby-daughter had been born to him on such
and such a night. It was the very night on which he saw
the three Fates. The king frowned, called one of his
servants, and told him: `Go to such a place in the forest; a
charcoal-burner lives there in a cottage. Give him this
money, and he will give you a little child. Take the child
and drown it on your way back. If you don't drown it,
you shall drink water yourself.' The servant went, took the
baby and put it into a basket, and when he came to a narrow
foot-bridge, under which flowed a deep and broad river,
he threw the basket and all into the water. `Good-night,
uninvited son-in-law!' said the king, when the servant told
him what he had done.

The king thought that the baby was drowned, but it
wasn't. It floated in the water in the basket as if it had
been its cradle, and slept as if the river were singing to it, till
it floated down to a fisherman's cottage. The fisherman
was sitting by the bank mending his net. He saw something
floating down the river, jumped into his boat, and
went to catch it, and out of the water he drew the baby in
the basket. He carried it to his wife, and said: `You've
always wanted a little son, and here you have one. The

water has brought him to us.' The fisherman's wife was
delighted, and brought up the child as her own. They
named him `Floatling' (Plaváczek), because he had floated
to them on the water.

The river flowed on and years passed on, and from a boy
he became a handsome youth, the like of whom was not to
be found far and wide. One day in the summer it came to
pass that the king rode that way all alone. It was hot, and
he was thirsty, and beckoned to the fisherman to give him a
little fresh water. When Floatling brought it to him, the
king looked at him with astonishment. `You've a fine lad,
fisherman!' said he; `is he your son?' `He is and he
isn't,' replied the fisherman; `just twenty years ago he
floated, as a little baby, down the river in a basket, and we
brought him up.' A mist came before the king's eyes; he
became as pale as a whitewashed wall, perceiving that it was
the child he had ordered to be drowned. But he soon
recollected himself, sprang from his horse, and said: `I want
a messenger to my palace, and have nobody with me: can
this youth go thither for me?' `Your majesty has but to
command and the lad will go,' said the fisherman. The
king sat down and wrote a letter to his queen: `Cause this
young man whom I send you to be run through with a
sword at once; he is a dangerous enemy of mine. Let it
be done before I return. Such is my will.' He then folded
the letter, fastened and sealed it with his signet.

Floatling started at once with the letter. He had to go
through a great forest, but missed the road and lost his way.
He went from thicket to thicket till it began to grow dark.
Then he met an old hag, who said to him: `Whither are
you going, Floatling?' `I am going with a letter to the
king's palace, and have lost my way. Can't you tell me,
mother, how to get into the right road?' `Anyhow, you
won't get there to-day,' said the hag; `it's dark. Stay the

night with me. You won't be with a stranger. I am your
godmother.' The young man allowed himself to be persuaded,
and they hadn't gone many paces when they saw
before them a pretty little house, just as if it had grown all
at once out of the ground. In the night, when the lad was
asleep, the hag took the letter out of his pocket and put
another in its place, in which it was written thus: `Cause
this young man whom I send you to be married to our
daughter at once; he is my destined son-in-law. Let it be
done before I return. Such is my will.'

When the queen read the letter, she immediately ordered
arrangements to be made for the wedding, and neither she
nor the young princess could gaze enough at the bridegroom,
so delighted were they with him; and Floatling was similarly
delighted with his royal bride. Some days after, the king
came home, and when he found what had happened, he was
violently enraged at his queen for what she had done.
`Anyhow, you ordered me yourself to have him married to
our daughter before you returned,' answered the queen, and
gave him the letter. The king took the letter and looked
it through—writing, seal, paper, everything was his own. He
had his son-in-law called, and questioned him about what
had happened on his way to the palace.

Floatling related how he had started and had lost his way
in the forest, and stayed the night with his old godmother.
`What did she look like?' `So and so.' The king perceived
from his statement that it was the same person that
had, twenty years before, assigned his daughter to the charcoal-burner's
son. He thought and thought, and then he
said: `What's done can't be altered; still, you can't be my
son-in-law for nothing. If you want to have my daughter,
you must bring me for a dowry three golden hairs of Grandfather
Allknow.' He thought to himself that he should thus
be quit of his distasteful son-in-law.

Floatling took leave of his bride and went—which way,
and whither? I don't know; but, as a Fate was his godmother,
it was easy for him to find the right road. He went
far and wide, over hills and dales, over fords and rivers, till
he came to a black sea. There he saw a boat, and in it a
ferryman. `God bless you, old ferryman!' `God grant it,
young pilgrim! Whither are you travelling?' `To Grandfather
Allknow, for three golden hairs.' `Ho, ho! I have
long been waiting for such a messenger. For twenty years
I've been ferrying here, and nobody's come to set me free.
If you promise me to ask Grandfather Allknow when the
end of my work will be, I will ferry you over.' Floatling
promised, and the ferryman ferried him across.

After this he came to a great city, but it was decayed and
sad. In front of the city he met an old man, who had a
staff in his hand, and could scarcely crawl. `God bless
you, aged grandfather!' `God grant it, handsome youth!
Whither are you going?' `To Grandfather Allknow, for
three golden hairs.' `Ah! ah! we've long been waiting for
some such messenger; I must at once conduct you to our
lord the king.' When they got there the king said: `I hear
that you are going on an errand to Grandfather Allknow.
We had an apple-tree here that bore youth-producing apples.
If anybody ate one, though he were on the brink of the grave,
he got young again, and became like a young man. But for
the last twenty years our apple-tree has produced no fruit.
If you promise me to ask Grandfather Allknow whether
there is any help for us, I will requite you royally.' Floatling
promised, and the king dismissed him graciously.

After that he came again to another great city, which was
half ruined. Not far from the city a son was burying his
deceased father, and tears, like peas, were rolling down his
cheek. `God bless you, mournful grave-digger!' said
Floatling. `God grant it, good pilgrim! Whither are you

going?' `I am going to Grandfather Allknow, for three
golden hairs.' `To Grandfather Allknow? It's a pity you
didn't come sooner! But our king has long been waiting
for some such messenger; I must conduct you to him.'
When they got there, the king said: `I hear that you are
going on an errand to Grandfather Allknow. We had a
well here, out of which sprang living water; if anybody
drank it, even were he at the point of death, he would get
well at once; nay, were he already a corpse, if this water
were sprinkled upon him, he would immediately rise up and
walk. But for the last twenty years the water has ceased to
flow. If you promise me to ask Grandfather Allknow
whether there is any help for us, I will give you a royal
reward.' Floatling promised, and the king dismissed him
graciously.

After this he went far and wide through a black forest,
and in the midst of that forest espied a large green meadow,
full of beautiful flowers, and in it a golden palace. This was
Grandfather Allknow's palace; it glittered as if on fire.
Floatling went into the palace, but found nobody there but
an old hag sitting and spinning in a corner. `Welcome,
Floatling!' said she; `I am delighted to see you again.' It
was his godmother, at whose house he had spent the
night when he was carrying the letter. `What has brought
you here?' `The king would not allow me to be his son-inlaw
for nothing, so he sent me for three golden hairs of Grandfather
Allknow.' The hag smiled, and said: `Grandfather
Allknow is my son, the bright Sun; in the morning he is a
little lad, at noon a grown man, and in the evening an old
grandfather. I will provide you with the three golden hairs
from his golden head, that I too mayn't be your godmother
for nothing. But, my boy! you can't remain as you are.
My son is certainly a good soul, but when he comes home
hungry in the evening, it might easily happen that he might

roast and eat you for his supper. Yonder is an empty tub;
I will cover you over with it.' Floatling begged her also to
question Grandfather Allknow about the three things concerning
which he had promised on the road to bring answers.
`I will,' said the hag, `and do you give heed to what he
says.'

All at once a wind arose outside and in flew the Sun, an
old grandfather with a golden head, by the west window into
the room. `A smell, a smell of human flesh!' says he;
`have you anybody here, mother?' `Star of the day!
whom could I have here without your seeing him? But so
it is; you're all day long flying over God's world, and your
nose is filled with the scent of human flesh; so it's no wonder
that you still smell it when you come home in the evening.'
The old man said nothing in reply, and sat down to his
supper.

After supper he laid his golden head on the hag's lap and
began to slumber. As soon as she saw that he was sound
asleep, she pulled out a golden hair and threw it on the
ground. It rang like a harp-string. `What do you want,
mother?' said the old man. `Nothing, sonny, nothing! I
was asleep, and had a marvellous dream.' `What did you
dream about?' `I dreamt about a city, where they had a
spring of living water; when anybody was ill and drank of
it, he got well again; and if he died and was sprinkled with
this water, he came to life again. But for the last twenty
years the water has ceased to flow; is there any help that it
may flow again?' `Quite easy; there's a toad sitting on the
spring in the well that won't let the water flow. Let them
kill the toad and clean out the well; the water will flow as
before.' When the old man fell asleep again, the hag pulled
out a second golden hair and threw it on the ground. `What
ails you again, mother?' `Nothing, sonny, nothing; I was
asleep, and again had a marvellous dream. I dreamt of a

city where they had an apple-tree which bore youth-restoring
apples; when anybody grew old and ate one he became
young again. But for the last twenty years the apple-tree has
borne no fruit; is there any help?' `Quite easy; under
the tree there lies a snake that exhausts its powers; let them
kill the snake and transplant the apple-tree; it will bear
fruit as before.' The old man then fell asleep again, and
the hag pulled out a third golden hair. `Why won't you
let me sleep, mother?' said the old man crossly, and wanted
to get up. `Lie still, sonny, lie still! Don't be angry, I
didn't want to wake you. But a heavy sleep fell upon me,
and I had another marvellous dream. I dreamt of a ferryman
on a black sea; for twenty years he has been ferrying
across it, and no one has come to set him free. When will
his work have an end?' `He's the son of a stupid mother.
Let him give the oar into another person's hand and jump
ashore himself; the other will be ferryman in his stead.
But let me be quiet now; I must get up early to-morrow
and go to dry the tears which the king's daughter sheds
every night for her husband, the charcoal-burner's son,
whom the king has sent for three golden hairs of mine.'

In the morning a wind again arose outside, and on the lap
of its old mother awoke, instead of the old man, a beautiful
golden-haired child, the divine Sun, who bade farewell to his
mother and flew out by the east window. The hag turned
up the tub and said to Floatling: `There are the three
golden hairs for you, and you also know what Grandfather
Allknow has answered to those three things. Go; and goodbye!
You will see me no more; there is no need of it.'
Floatling thanked the hag gratefully, and departed.

When he came to the first city, the king asked him what
news he brought him. `Good news,' said Floatling. `Have
the well cleaned out, and kill the toad which sits on the
spring, and the water will flow again as aforetime.' The

king had this done without delay, and when he saw the water
bubbling up with a full stream, he presented Floatling with
twelve horses white as swans, and on them as much gold and
silver as they could carry.

When he came to the second city the king asked him again
what news he brought. `Good news!' said Floatling. Have
the apple-tree dug up; you will find a snake under the roots;
kill it; then plant the apple-tree again, and it will bear fruit
as aforetime.' The king had this done at once, and during
the night the apple-tree was clothed with bloom, just as if it
had been bestrewn with roses. The king was delighted,
and presented Floatling with twelve horses as black as
ravens, and on them as much riches as they could carry.

Floatling travelled on, and when he came to the black sea,
the ferryman asked him whether he had learnt when he would
be liberated. `I have,' said Floatling. `But ferry me over
first, and then I will tell you.' The ferryman objected, but
when he saw that there was nothing else to be done, he
ferried him over with his four-and-twenty horses. `Before
you ferry anybody over again,' said Floatling, `put the oar
into his hand and jump ashore, and he will be ferryman in
your stead.'

The king didn't believe his eyes when Floatling brought
him the three golden hairs of Grandfather Allknow; and
his daughter wept, not from sorrow, but from joy at his
return. `But where did you get these beautiful horses and
this great wealth?' asked the king. `I earned it,' said
Floatling; and related how he had helped one king again to
the youth-restoring apples, which make young people out of
old ones; and another to the living water, which makes sick
people well and dead people living. `Youth - restoring
apples! living water!' repeated the king quietly to himself.
`If I ate one I should become young again; and if I died I
should be restored to life by that water.' Without delay he

started on the road for the youth-restoring apples and the
living water—and hasn't returned yet.

Thus the charcoal-burner's son became the king's son-inlaw,
as the Fate decreed; and as for the king, maybe he is
still ferrying across the black sea.

This story is a variant of Grimm's `Giant with the Three
Golden Hairs.' But, whereas in Grimm there is nothing to
indicate who the giant is, or whether he has three golden
hairs and three only, in the Bohemian tale it is plain that
`Grandfather Allknow' is the Sun, and that the three
golden hairs are three sunbeams.

III.—GOLDENHAIR.

There was a king who was so clever that he understood all
animals, and knew what they said to each other. Hear how
he learnt it. Once upon a time there came to him a little
old woman, who brought him a snake in a basket, and told
him to have it cooked for him; if he dined off it, he would
understand what any animal in the air, on the earth, or in the
water said. The king liked the idea of understanding what
nobody else understood, paid the old woman well, and forthwith
ordered his servant to cook the fish for dinner. `But,'
said he, `be sure you don't take a morsel of it even on your
tongue, else you shall pay for it with your head.'

George, the servant, thought it odd that the king forbade
him so energetically to do this. `In my life I never saw
such a fish,' said he to himself; `it looks just like a snake!
And what sort of cook would that be who didn't take a taste
of what he was cooking?' When it was cooked, he took a
morsel on his tongue, and tasted it. Thereupon he heard
something buzzing round his ears: `Some for us, too!

some for us, too!' George looked round, and saw nothing
but some flies that were flying about in the kitchen. Again
somebody called with a hissing voice in the street outside:
`Where are you going? where are you going?' And shriller
voices answered: `To the miller's barley! to the miller's
barley!' George peeped through the window, and saw a
gander and a flock of geese. `Aha!' said he; `that's the
kind of fish it is.' Now he knew what it was. He hastily
thrust one more morsel into his mouth, and carried the snake
to the king as if nothing had happened.

After dinner the king ordered George to saddle the horses
and accompany him, as he wished to take a ride. The
king rode in front and George behind. As they were riding
over a green meadow, George's horse bounded and began to
neigh. `Ho! ho! brother. I feel so light that I should
like to jump over mountains!' `As for that,' said the other,
`I should like to jump about, too, but there's an old man on
my back; if I were to skip, he'd tumble on the ground like
a sack and break his neck.' `Let him break it—what
matter?' said George's horse; `instead of an old man you'll
carry a young one.' George laughed heartily at this conversation,
but so quietly that the king knew nothing about it.
But the king also understood perfectly well what the horses
were saying to each other, looked round, and seeing a smile
on George's face, asked him what he was laughing at.
`Nothing, your illustrious majesty,' said George in excuse;
`only something occurred to my mind.' Nevertheless, the
old king already suspected him, neither did he feel confidence
in the horses, so he turned and rode back home.

When they arrived at the palace, the king ordered George
to pour him out a glass of wine. `But your head for it,'
said he, `if you don't pour it full, or if you pour it so that it
runs over.' George took the decanter and poured. Just
then in flew two birds through the window; one was chasing

the other, and the one that was trying to get away carried
three golden hairs in its beak. `Give them to me!' said the
first; `they are mine.' `I shan't; they're mine; I took them
up.' `But I saw them fall, when the golden-haired maiden
was combing her hair. At any rate, give me two.' `Not
one!' Hereupon the other bird made a rush, and seized the
golden hairs. As they struggled for them on the wing, one
remained in each bird's beak, and the third golden hair fell
on the ground, where it rang again. At this moment George
looked round at it, and then poured the wine over. `You've
forfeited your life!' shouted the king; `but I'll deal mercifully
with you if you obtain the golden-haired maiden, and bring
her me to wife.'

What was George to do? If he wanted to save his life,
he must go in search of the maiden, though he did not know
where to look for her. He saddled his horse, and rode at
random. He came to a black forest, and there, under the
forest by the roadside, a bush was burning; some cowherd
had set it on fire. Under the bush was an ant-hill; sparks
were falling on it, and the ants were fleeing in all directions
with their little white eggs. `Help, George, help!'
cried they mournfully; `we're being burnt to death, as well
as our young ones in the eggs.' He got down from his horse
at once, cut away the bush, and put out the fire. `When
you are in trouble think of us, and we'll help you.'

He rode on through the forest, and came to a lofty pine.
On the top of this pine was a raven's nest, and below, on
the ground, were two young ravens crying and complaining:
`Our father and mother have flown away; we've got
to seek food for ourselves, and we poor little birds can't
fly yet. Help us, George, help us! Feed us, or we shall
die of hunger!' George did not stop long to consider, but
jumped down from his horse, and thrust his sword into
its side, that the young ravens might have something to

eat. `When you are in need think of us, and we'll help
you.'

After this, George had to go on on foot. He walked a
long, long way through the forest, and when he at last got
out of it, he saw before him a long and broad sea. On the
shore of this sea two fishermen were quarrelling. They
had caught a large golden fish in their net, and each
wanted to have it for himself. `The net is mine, and
mine's the fish.' The other replied: `Much good would
your net have been, if it hadn't been for my boat and my
help.' `If we catch such another fish again, it will be
yours.' `Not so; wait you for the next, and give me this.'
`I'll set you at one,' said George. `Sell me the fish—
I'll pay you well for it—and you divide the money between
you, share and share alike.' He gave them all the money
that the king had given him for his journey, leaving nothing
at all for himself. The fishermen were delighted, and
George let the fish go again into the sea. It splashed
merrily through the water, dived, and then, not far from
the shore, put out its head: `When you want me, George,
think of me, and I'll requite you.' It then disappeared.
`Where are you going?' the fishermen asked George.
`I'm going for the golden-haired maiden to be the bride of
the old king, my lord, and I don't even know where to look
for her.' `We can tell you all about her,' said the fishermen.
`It's Goldenhair, the king's daughter, of the
Crystal Palace, on the island yonder. Every day at dawn
she combs her golden hair, and the bright gleam therefrom
goes over sky and over sea. If you wish it, we'll take you
over to the island ourselves, as you set us at one again so
nicely. But take care to bring away the right maiden; there
are twelve maidens—the king's daughters—but only one has
golden hair.'

When George was on the island, he went into the Crystal

Palace to entreat the king to give the king, his lord, his
golden-haired daughter to wife. `I will,' said the king,
`but you must earn her; you must in three days perform
three tasks, which I shall impose upon you, each day
one. Meanwhile, you can rest till to-morrow.' Next
day, early, the king said to him: `My Goldenhair had
a necklace of costly pearls; the necklace broke, and
the pearls were scattered in the long grass in the green
meadow. You must collect all these pearls, without one
being wanting.' George went into the meadow; it was long
and broad; he knelt on the grass, and began to seek. He
sought and sought from morn to noon, but never saw a
pearl. `Ah! if my ants were here, they might help me.'
`Here we are to help you,' said the ants, running in every
direction, but always crowding round him. `What do you
want?' `I have to collect pearls in this meadow, but I
don't see one.' `Only wait a bit, we'll collect them for
you.' Before long they brought him a multitude of pearls
out of the grass, and he had nothing to do but string
them on the necklace. Afterwards, when he was going to
fasten up the necklace, one more ant limped up—it was
lame, its foot had been scorched when the fire was at the
ant-hill—and cried out: `Stop, George, don't fasten it up;
I'm bringing you one more pearl.'

When George brought the pearls to the king, the king
counted them over; not one was wanting. `You have
done your business well,' said he; `to-morrow I shall give
you another piece of work.' In the morning George came,
and the king said to him: `My Goldenhair was bathing
in the sea, and lost there a gold ring; you must find and
bring it.' George went to the sea, and walked sorrowfully
along the shore. The sea was clear, but so deep that he
couldn't even see the bottom, much less could he seek
and find the ring there. `Oh that my golden fish were

here; it might be able to help me.' Whereupon something
glittered in the sea, and up swam the golden fish
from the deep to the surface of the water: `Here I am to
help you; what do you want?' `I've got to find a gold
ring in the sea, and I can't even see the bottom.' `I
just met a pike which was carrying a gold ring in its
mouth. Only wait a bit, I'll bring it to you.' Ere long it
returned from the deep water, and brought him the pike,
ring and all.

The king commended George for doing his business
well, and then next morning laid upon him the third task:
`If you wish me to give your king my Goldenhair to wife,
you must bring her the waters of death and of life—she will
require them.' George did not know whither to betake
himself for these waters, and went at haphazard hither and
thither, whither his feet carried him, till he came to a black
forest: `Ah, if my young ravens were here, perhaps they
would help me.' Now there was a rustling over his
head, and two young ravens appeared above him: `Here
we are to help you; what do you wish?' `I've got to
bring the waters of death and of life, and I don't know
where to look for them.' `Oh, we know them well; only
wait a bit, we'll bring them to you.' After a short time
they each brought George a bottle-gourd full of water; in
the one gourd was the water of life, in the other the water
of death. George was delighted with his good fortune, and
hastened to the castle. At the edge of the forest he saw a
cobweb extending from one pine-tree to another; in the
midst of the cobweb sat a large spider sucking a fly.
George took the bottle with the water of death, sprinkled
the spider, and the spider dropped to the ground like a ripe
cherry—he was dead. He then sprinkled the fly with the
water of life out of the other bottle, and the fly began to
move, extricated itself from the cobweb, and off into the

air. `Lucky for you, George, that you've brought me to
life again,' it buzzed round his ears; `without me you'd
scarcely guess aright which of the twelve is Goldenhair.'

When the king saw that George had completed this matter
also, he said he would give him his golden-haired daughter.
`But,' said he, `you must select her yourself.' He then led
him into a great hall, in the midst of which was a round
table, and round the table sat twelve beautiful maidens, one
like the other; but each had on her head a long kerchief
reaching down to the ground, white as snow, so that it
couldn't be seen what manner of hair any of them had.
`Here are my daughters,' said the king; `if you guess
which of them is Goldenhair, you have won her, and can
take her away at once; but if you don't guess right, she is
not adjudged to you, you must depart without her.' George
was in the greatest anxiety; he didn't know what to do.
Whereupon something whispered into his ear: `Buzz!
buzz! go round the table, I'll tell you which is the one.' It
was the fly that George had restored to life with the water of
life. `It isn't this maiden—nor this—nor this; this is
Goldenhair!' `Give me this one of your daughters,' cried
George; `I have earned her for my lord.' `You have
guessed right,' said the king; and the maiden at once rose
from the table, threw off her kerchief, and her golden hair
flowed in streams from her head to the ground, and such a
brightness came from them, even as when the sun rises in
the morning, that George's eyes were dazzled.

Then the king gave his daughter all that was fitting for
her journey, and George took her away to be his lord's
bride. The old king's eyes sparkled, and he jumped for
joy, when he saw Goldenhair, and gave orders at once for
preparations to be made for the wedding. I intended to
have you hanged for your disobedience, that the ravens
might devour you,' said he to George; `but you have served

me so well, that I shall only have your head cut off with an
axe, and then I shall have you honourably buried.' When
George had been executed, Goldenhair begged the old king
to grant her the body of his dead servant, and the king
couldn't deny his golden-haired bride anything. She then
fitted George's head to his body, and sprinkled him with
the water of death, and the body and head grew together so
that no mark of the wound remained. Then she sprinkled
him with the water of life, and George rose up again, as if
he had been born anew, as fresh as a stag, and youth
beamed from his countenance. `Oh, how heavily I have
slept!' said George, and rubbed his eyes. `Yes, indeed,
you have slept heavily,' said Goldenhair; `and if it hadn't
been for me, you wouldn't have waked for ever and ever.'
When the old king saw that George had come to life again,
and that he was younger and handsomer than before, he
wanted to be made young again also. He gave orders at
once that his head should be cut off, and that he should be
sprinkled with the water. They cut his head off and
sprinkled him with the water of life, till they'd sprinkled it
all away; but his head wouldn't grow on to the body. Then,
and not till then, did they begin to sprinkle him with the
water of death, and in an instant the head grew on to the
body; but the king was dead all the same, because they
had no more of the water of life to bring him to life again.
And since the kingdom couldn't be without a king, and
they'd no one so intelligent as to understand all animals like
George, they made George king and Goldenhair queen.

This story is a variant, and a very beautiful variant, of
Grimm's `White Snake.' The two kinds of water, that of
death and that of life, appear here, showing that it is a true
Slavonic, and not a Teutonic story.

IV.—INTELLIGENCE AND LUCK.

Once upon a time Luck met Intelligence on a garden-seat.
`Make room for me!' said Luck. Intelligence was then as
yet inexperienced, and didn't know who ought to make room
for whom. He said: `Why should I make room for you?
you're no better than I am.' `He's the better man,'
answered Luck, `who performs most. See you there yon
peasant's son who's ploughing in the field? Enter into him,
and if he gets on better through you than through me, I'll
always submissively make way for you, whensoever and
wheresoever we meet.' Intelligence agreed, and entered at
once into the ploughboy's head. As soon as the ploughboy
felt that he had intelligence in his head, he began to think:
`Why must I follow the plough to the day of my death? I
can go somewhere else and make my fortune more easily.'
He left off ploughing, put up the plough, and drove home.
`Daddy,' says he, `I don't like this peasant's life; I'd rather
learn to be a gardener.' His father said: `What ails you,
Vanek? have you lost your wits?' However, he bethought
himself, and said: `Well, if you will, learn, and God be with
you! Your brother will be heir to the cottage after me.'
Vanek lost the cottage, but he didn't care for that, but went
and put himself apprentice to the king's gardener. For
every little that the gardener showed him, Vanek comprehended
ever so much more. Ere long he didn't even obey
the gardener's orders as to how he ought to do anything,
but did everything his own way. At first the gardener was
angry, but, seeing everything thus getting on better, he was
content. `I see that you've more intelligence than I,'
said he, and henceforth let Vanek garden as he thought fit.
In no long space of time Vanek made the garden so beautiful,
that the king took great delight in it, and frequently
walked in it with the queen and with his only daughter.

The princess was a very beautiful damsel, but ever since she
was twelve years old she had ceased speaking, and no one
ever heard a single word from her. The king was much
grieved, and caused proclamation to be made, that whoever
should bring it to pass that she should speak again,
should be her husband. Many young kings, princes and
other great lords announced themselves one after the other,
but all went away as they had come; no one succeeded in
causing her to speak. `Why shouldn't I too try my luck?'
thought Vanek; `who knows whether I mayn't succeed in
bringing her to answer when I ask her a question?' He at
once caused himself to be announced at the palace, and the
king and his councillors conducted him into the room where
the princess was. The king's daughter had a pretty little dog,
and was very fond of him because he was so clever, understanding
everything that she wanted. When Vanek went
into the room with the king and his councillors, he made as
if he didn't even see the princess, but turned to the dog and
said: `I have heard, doggie, that you are very clever, and I
come to you for advice. We are three companions in
travel, a sculptor, a tailor and myself. Once upon a time
we were going through a forest and were obliged to pass the
night in it. To be safe from wolves, we made a fire, and
agreed to keep watch one after the other. The sculptor
kept watch first, and for amusement to kill time took a log
and carved a damsel out of it. When it was finished he
woke the tailor to keep watch in his turn. The tailor,
seeing the wooden damsel, asked what it meant. "As you
see," said the sculptor, "I was weary, and didn't know what
to do with myself, so I carved a damsel out of a log; if you
find time hang heavy on your hands, you can dress her."
The tailor at once took out his scissors, needle and thread,
cut out the clothes, stitched away, and when they were
ready, dressed the damsel in them. He then called me to

come and keep watch. I, too, asked him what the meaning
of all this was. "As you see," said the tailor, "the sculptor
found time hang heavy on his hands and carved a damsel
out of a log, and I for the same reason clothed her; and if
you find time hanging on your hands, you can teach her to
speak." And by morning dawn I had actually taught her to
speak. But in the morning when my companions woke up,
each wanted to possess the damsel. The sculptor said, "I
made her;" the tailor, "I clothed her." I, too, maintained
my right. Tell me, therefore, doggie, to which of us the
damsel belongs?' The dog said nothing, but instead of the
dog the princess replied: `To whom can she belong but to
yourself? What's the good of the sculptor's damsel without
life? What's the good of the tailor's dressing without
speech? You gave her the best gift, life and speech, and
therefore she by right belongs to you.' `You have passed
your own sentence,' said Vanek; `I have given you speech
again and a new life, and you therefore by right belong to
me.' Then said one of the king's councillors: `His Royal
Grace will give you a plenteous reward for succeeding in
unloosing his daughter's tongue; but you cannot have her
to wife, as you are of mean lineage.' The king said: `You
are of mean lineage; I will give you a plenteous reward
instead of our daughter.' But Vanek wouldn't hear of any
other reward, and said: `The king promised without any
exception, that whoever caused his daughter to speak again
should be her husband. A king's word is a law; and if the
king wants others to observe his laws, he must first keep
them himself. Therefore the king must give me his
daughter.' `Seize and bind him!' shouted the councillor.
`Whoever says the king must do anything, offers an insult to
his Majesty, and is worthy of death. May it please your
Majesty to order this malefactor to be executed with the
sword?' The king said: `Let him be executed.' Vanek
was immediately bound and led to execution. When they
came to the place of execution Luck was there waiting for
him, and said secretly to Intelligence, `See how this man
has got on through you, till he has to lose his head! Make
way, and let me take your place!' As soon as Luck entered
Vanek, the executioner's sword broke against the scaffold,
just as if someone had snapped it; and before they
brought him another, up rode a trumpeter on horseback
from the city, galloping as swift as a bird, trumpeted
merrily, and waved a white flag, and after him came the
royal carriage for Vanek. This is what had happened: The
princess had told her father at home that Vanek had but
spoken the truth, and the king's word ought not to be
broken. If Vanek were of mean lineage the king could
easily make him a prince. The king said: `You're right;
let him be a prince!' The royal carriage was immediately
sent for Vanek, and the councillor who had irritated the
king against him was executed in his stead. Afterwards,
when Vanek and the princess were going together in a
carriage from the wedding, Intelligence happened to be
somewhere on the road, and seeing that he couldn't help
meeting Luck, bent his head and slipped on one side, just as
if cold water had been thrown upon him. And from that
time forth it is said that Intelligence has always given a wide
berth to Luck whenever he has had to meet him.

V.—THE JEZINKAS.

There was a poor orphan lad who had neither father
nor mother, and was compelled to go out to service to get
his living. He travelled a long way without being able to
obtain an engagement, till one day he came to a hovel all by
itself under a wood. On the threshold sat an old man, who

had dark caverns in his head instead of eyes. The goats
were bleating in the stall, and the old man said: `I wish
I could take you, poor goats, to pasture, but I can't, I am
blind; and I have nobody to send with you.' `Daddy, send
me,' answered the lad; `I will pasture your goats, and also
be glad to wait upon you.' `Who are you? and what is your
name?' The lad told him all, and that they called him
Johnny. `Well, Johnny, I will take you; but drive out the
goats for me to pasture first of all. But don't lead them to
yon hill in the forest; the Jezinkas will come to you, will put
you to sleep, and will then tear out your eyes, as they have
mine.' `Never fear, Daddy, answered Johnny;' the Jezinkas
won't tear out my eyes.' He then let the goats out of the
stall, and drove them to pasture. The first and second day
he pastured them under the forest, but the third day he said
to himself: `Why should I be afraid of the Jezinkas? I'll
drive them where there is better pasture.' He then broke off
three green shoots of bramble, put them into his hat, and
drove the goats straight on to the hill in the forest. There
the goats wandered about for pasture, and Johnny sat down
on a stone in the cool. He had not sat long, when all of a
sudden, how it came about he knew not, a beautiful damsel
stood before him, all dressed in white, with her hair—raven-black—prettily
dressed and flowing down her back, and eyes
like sloes. `God bless you, young goatherd!' said she.
`See what apples grow in our garden! Here's one for you;
I'll give it you, that you may know how good they are.'
She offered him a beautiful rosy apple. But Johnny knew
that if he took the apple and ate it he would fall asleep, and
she would afterwards tear out his eyes, so he said: `I am
much obliged to you, beautiful damsel! My master has an
apple-tree in his garden, on which still handsomer apples
grow; I have eaten my fill of them.' `Well, if you'd rather
not, I won't compel you,' said the damsel, and went away.
After a while came another, still prettier, damsel, with a
beautiful red rose in her hand, and said: `God bless you,
young goatherd! See what a beautiful rose I've just plucked
off the hedge. It smells so nice; smell it yourself.' `I am
much obliged to you, beautiful damsel. My master has still
handsomer roses in his garden; I have smelt my fill of
them.' `Well, then, if you won't, let it alone!' said the
damsel, quite enraged, turned round, and retired. After
a while, a third damsel, the youngest and prettiest of them
all, came up. `God bless you, young goatherd!' `Thank
you, beautiful damsel!' `Indeed, you're a fine lad,' said
the damsel, `but you'd be still handsomer if you had your
hair nicely combed and dressed. Come, I'll comb it for
you.' Johnny said nothing, but when the damsel came up
to him to comb his hair, he took his hat from his head,
drew out a bramble-shoot, and pop! struck her on both
hands. The damsel screamed `Help, help!' began to weep,
but was unable to move from the place. Johnny cared
naught for her weeping, and bound her hands together with
the bramble. Then up ran the other two damsels, and,
seeing their sister a captive, began to beg Johnny to unbind
her and let her go. `Unbind her yourselves,' said Johnny.
`Alas! we can't, we have tender hands, we should prick
ourselves.' But when they saw that the lad would not do
as they wished, they went to their sister and wanted to unfasten
the bramble. Thereupon Johnny leapt up, and pop!
pop! struck them too with a spray, and then bound both
their hands together. `See, I've got you, you wicked
Jezinkas! Why did you tear out my master's eyes?'
After this, he went home to his master, and said,
`Come, daddy, I've found somebody who will give you
your eyes again.' When they came to the hill, he said
to the first Jezinka, `Now tell me where the old man's
eyes are. If you don't tell me, I shall throw you at once
into the water.' The Jezinka made excuse that she didn't
know, and Johnny was going to throw her into the river,
which flowed hard by under the hill. `Don't, Johnny,
don't!' entreated the Jezinka, `and I'll give you the old
man's eyes.' She conducted him into a cavern, where was
a great heap of eyes, large and small, black, red, blue and
green, and took two out of the heap. But when Johnny
placed them in the old man's sockets, the poor man began
to cry: `Alas, alas! these are not my eyes. I see nothing
but owls.' Johnny became exasperated, seized the Jezinka,
and threw her into the water. He then said to the second:
`Tell me, you, where the old man's eyes are.' She, too,
began to make excuses that she didn't know; but when the
lad threatened to throw her, too, into the water, she led him
again to the cavern, and took out two other eyes. But the
old man cried again: `Alas! these are not my eyes. I see
nothing but wolves.' The same was done to the second
Jezinka as to the first; the water closed over her. `Tell
me, you, where the old man's eyes are,' said Johnny to the
third and youngest Jezinka. She, too, led him to the heap
in the cavern, and took out two eyes for him. But when
they were inserted, the old man cried out again that they
were not his eyes. `I see nothing but pike.' Johnny saw
that she, too, was cheating him, and was going to drown
her as well; but the Jezinka besought him with tears:
`Don't, Johnny, don't! I will give you the old man's
proper eyes.' She took them from under the whole heap.
And when Johnny inserted them into the old man's sockets,
he cried out joyfully: `These, these are my eyes! Praise
be to God! now I see well again!' Afterwards Johnny
and the old man lived together happily; Johnny pastured
the goats, and the old man made cheeses at home, and they
ate them together; but the Jezinka never showed herself
again on that hill.

VI.—THE WOOD-LADY.

Betty was a little girl; her mother was a widow, and had
no more of her property left than a dilapidated cottage and
two she-goats; but Betty was, nevertheless, always cheerful.
From spring to autumn she pastured the goats in the birch-wood.
Whenever she went from home, her mother always
gave her in a basket a slice of bread and a spindle, with the
injunction, `Let it be full.' As she had no distaff, she used
to twine the flax round her head. Betty took the basket,
and skipped off singing merrily after the goats to the birch-wood.
When she got there, the goats went after pasture,
and Betty sat under a tree, drew the fibres from her head
with her left hand, and let down the spindle with her right
so that it just hummed over the ground, and therewith she
sang till the wood echoed; the goats meanwhile pastured.
When the sun indicated mid-day, she put aside her spindle,
called the goats, and after giving them each a morsel of bread
that they mightn't stray from her, bounded into the wood
for a few strawberries or any other woodland fruit that might
happen to be just then in season, that she might have dessert
to her bread. When she had finished her meal, she sprang
up, folded her hands, danced and sang. The sun smiled
on her through the green foliage, and the goats, enjoying
themselves among the grass, thought: `What a merry shepherdess
we have!' After her dance, she spun again industriously,
and at even, when she drove the goats home, her
mother never scolded her for bringing back her spindle empty.

Once, when according to custom, exactly at mid-day, after
her scanty dinner, she was getting ready for a dance, all of
a sudden—where she came, there she came—a very beautiful
maiden stood before her. She had on a white dress as
fine as gossamer, golden-coloured hair flowed from her head
to her waist, and on her head she wore a garland of woodland

flowers. Betty was struck dumb with astonishment.
The maiden smiled at her, and said in an attractive voice,
`Betty, a e you fond of dancing?' When the maiden spoke
so prettily to her, Betty's terror quitted her, and she answered,
`Oh, I should like to dance all day long!' `Come, then,
let's dance together. I'll teach you!' So spoke the maiden,
tucked her dress up on one side, took Betty by the waist,
and began to dance with her. As they circled, such delightful
music sounded over their heads, that Betty's heart
skipped within her. The musicians sat on the branches of
the birches in black, ash-coloured, brown, and variegated
coats. It was a company of choice musicians that had
come together at the beck of the beautiful maiden—nightingales,
larks, linnets, goldfinches, greenfinches, thrushes,
blackbirds, and a very skilful mocking-bird. Betty's cheek
flamed, her eyes glittered, she forgot her task and her goats,
and only gazed at her partner, who twirled before and round
her with the most charming movements, and so lightly that
the grass didn't even bend beneath her delicate foot. They
danced from noon till eve, and Betty's feet were neither
wearied nor painful. Then the beautiful maiden stopped,
the music ceased, and as she came so she disappeared.
Betty looked about her; the sun was setting behind the
wood. She clapped her hands on the top of her head, and,
feeling the unspun flax, remembered that her spindle, which
was lying on the grass, was by no means full. She took the
flax down from her head, and put it with the spindle into
her basket, called the goats, and drove them home. She
did not sing on the way, but bitterly reproached herself for
letting the beautiful maiden delude her, and determined
that if the maiden should come to her again, she would
never listen to her any more. The goats, hearing no merry
song behind them, looked round to see whether their own
shepherdess was really following them. Her mother, too,
wondered, and asked her daughter whether she was ill, as
she didn't sing. `No, mother dear, I'm not ill; but my
throat is dry from very singing, and therefore I don't sing,'
said Betty in excuse, and went to put away the spindle and
the unspun flax. Knowing that her mother was not in the
habit of reeling up the yarn at once, she intended to make
up the next day what she had neglected to do the first day,
and therefore did not say a word to her mother about the
beautiful maiden.

The next day Betty again drove the goats as usual to the
birch-wood, and sang to herself again merrily. On arriving
at the birch-wood the goats began to pasture, and she sat
under the tree and began to spin industriously, singing to
herself all the time, for work comes better from the hand
while one sings. The sun indicated mid-day. Betty gave
each of the goats a morsel of bread, went off for strawberries,
and after returning began to eat her dinner and chatter with
the goats. `Ah, my little goats, I mustn't dance to-day,'
sighed she, when after dinner she collected the crumbs from
her lap in her hand and placed them on a stone that the
birds might take them away. `And why mustn't you?'
spoke a pleasing voice, and the beautiful maiden stood beside
her, as if she had dropped from the clouds. Betty was still
more frightened than the first time, and closed her eyes that
she might not even see the maiden; but when the maiden
repeated the question, she answered modestly: `Excuse me,
beautiful lady, I can't dance with you, because I should
again fail to perform my task of spinning, and my mother
would scold me. To-day, before the sun sets, I must make
up what I left undone yesterday.' `Only come and dance;
before the sun sets help will be found for you,' said the
maiden, tucked up her dress, took Betty round the waist,
the musicians sitting on the birch branches struck up, and
the two dancers began to whirl. The beautiful maiden

danced still more enchantingly. Betty couldn't take her
eyes off her, and forgot the goats and her task. At last the
dancer stopped, the music ceased, the sun was on the verge
of setting. Betty clapped her hand on the top of her head,
where the unspun flax was twined, and began to cry. The
beautiful maiden put her hand on her head, took off the
flax, twined it round the stem of a slender birch, seized the
spindle, and began to spin. The spindle just swung over
the surface of the ground, grew fuller before her eyes, and
before the sun set behind the wood all the yarn was spun,
as well as that which Betty had not finished the day before.
While giving the full spool into the girl's hand the beautiful
maiden said: `Reel, and grumble not—remember my
words, "Reel, and grumble not!" ' After these words she
vanished, as if the ground had sunk in beneath her. Betty
was content, and thought on her way, `If she is so good
and kind, I will dance with her again if she comes again.'
She sang again that the goats might step on merrily. But
her mother gave her no cheerful welcome. Wishing in the
course of the day to reel the yarn, she saw that the spindle
was not full, and was therefore out of humour. `What were
you doing yesterday that you didn't finish your task?' asked
her mother reprovingly. `Pardon, mother; I danced a little
too long,' said Betty humbly, and, showing her mother the
spindle, added: `To-day it is more than full to make up for
it.' Her mother said no more, but went to milk the goats,
and Betty put the spindle away. She wished to tell her
mother of her adventure, but bethought herself again, `No,
not unless she comes again, and then I will ask her what
kind of person she is, and will tell my mother.' So she
made up her mind and held her tongue.

The third morning, as usual, she drove the goats to the
birch-wood. The goats began to pasture; Betty sat under
the tree, and began to sing and spin. The sun indicated

mid-day. Betty laid her spindle on the grass, gave each of
the goats a morsel of bread, collected strawberries, ate her
dinner, and while giving the crumbs to the birds, said:
`My little goats, I will dance to you to-day!' She jumped
up, folded her hands, and was just going to try whether she
could manage to dance as prettily as the beautiful maiden,
when all at once she herself stood before her. `Let's go
together, together!' said she to Betty, seized her round the
waist, and at the same moment the music struck up over
their heads, and the maidens circled round with flying step.
Betty forgot her spindle and her goats, saw nothing but the
beautiful maiden, whose body bent in every direction like
a willow-wand, and thought of nothing but the delightful
music, in tune with which her feet bounded of their own
accord. They danced from mid-day till even. Then the
maiden stopped, and the music ceased. Betty looked
round; the sun was behind the wood. With tears she
clasped her hands on the top of her head, and turning in
search of the half-empty spindle, lamented about what her
mother would say to her. `Give me your basket,' said the
beautiful maiden. `I will make up to you for what you
have left undone to-day.' Betty handed her the basket,
and the maiden disappeared for a moment, and afterwards
handed Betty the basket again, saying, `Not now; look at it
at home,' and was gone, as if the wind had blown her away.
Betty was afraid to peep into the basket immediately, but
half-way home she couldn't restrain herself. The basket
was as light as if there was just nothing in it. She couldn't
help looking to see whether the maiden hadn't tricked her.
And how frightened she was when she saw that the basket
was full—of birch leaves! Then, and not till then, did she
begin to weep and lament that she had been so credulous.
In anger she threw out two handfuls of leaves, and was
going to shake the basket out; but then she bethought herself,
`I will use them as litter for the goats,' and left some
leaves in the basket. She was almost afraid to go home.
The goats again could hardly recognise their shepherdess.
Her mother was waiting for her on the threshold, full of
anxiety. `For Heaven's sake, girl! what sort of spool did
you bring me home yesterday?' were her first words. `Why?'
asked Betty anxiously. `When you went out in the morning,
I went to reel; I reeled and reeled, and the spool still
remained full. One skein, two, three skeins; the spool still
full. "What evil spirit has spun it?" said I in a temper;
and that instant the yarn vanished from the spindle, as if it
were spirited away. Tell me what the meaning of this is!'
Then Betty confessed, and began to tell about the beautiful
maiden. `That was a wood-lady!' cried her mother in
astonishment; `about mid-day and midnight the wood-ladies
hold their dances. Lucky that you are not a boy, or you
wouldn't have come out of her arms alive. She would have
danced with you as long as there was breath in your body,
or have tickled you to death. But they have compassion
on girls, and often give them rich presents. It's a pity that
you didn't tell me; if I hadn't spoken in a temper, I might
have had a room full of yarn.' Then Betty bethought herself
of the basket, and it occurred to her that perhaps, after
all, there might have been something under those leaves.
She took out the spindle and unspun flax from the top,
and looked once more, and, `See, mother!' she cried out.
Her mother looked and clapped her hands. The birch-leaves
were turned into gold! `She ordered me: "Don't
look now, but at home!" but I did not obey.' `Lucky that
you didn't empty out the whole basket,' thought her mother.

The next morning she went herself to look at the place
where Betty had thrown out the two handfuls of leaves, but
on the road there lay nothing but fresh birch-leaves. But
the riches that Betty had brought home were large enough.

Her mother bought a small estate; they had many cattle.
Betty had handsome clothes, and was not obliged to pasture
goats; but whatever she had, however cheerful and happy
she was, nothing ever gave her so great delight as the dance
with the wood-lady. She often went to the birch-wood; she
was attracted there. She hoped for the good fortune of
seeing the beautiful maiden; but she never set eyes on her
more.

VII.—GEORGE WITH THE GOAT.

There was a king who had a daughter who never could
be induced to laugh; she was always sad. So the king
proclaimed that she should be given to anyone who could
cause her to laugh. There was also a shepherd who had a
son named George. He said: `Daddy! I, too, will go to
see whether I can make her laugh. I want nothing from
you but the goat.' His father said, `Well, go.' The goat
was of such a nature that, when her master wished, she
detained everybody, and that person was obliged to stay by
her.

So he took the goat and went, and met a man who had a
foot on his shoulder. George said: `Why have you a foot
on your shoulder?' He replied: `If I take it off, I leap a
hundred miles.' `Whither are you going?' `I am going
in search of service, to see if anyone will take me.' `Well,
come with us.'

They went on, and again met a man who had a bandage
on his eyes. `Why have you a bandage on your eyes?'
He answered, `If I remove the bandage, I see a hundred
miles.' `Whither are you going?' `I am going in search
of service, if you will take me?' `Yes, I'll take you. Come
also with me.'

They went on a bit further, and met another fellow, who

had a bottle under his arm, and, instead of a stopper, held
his thumb in it. `Why do you hold your thumb there?'
`If I pull it out, I squirt a hundred miles, and besprinkle
everything that I choose. If you like, take me also into
your service; it may be to your advantage and ours too.'
George replied: `Well, come too!'

Afterwards they came to the town where the king lived,
and bought a silken riband for the goat. They came to
an inn, and orders had already been given there beforehand,
that when such people came, they were to give them what
they liked to eat and drink—the king would pay for all. So
they tied the goat with that very riband and placed it in
the innkeeper's room to be taken care of, and he put it in
the side room where his daughters slept. The innkeeper
had three maiden daughters, who were not yet asleep. So
Manka said: `Oh! if I, too, could have such a riband! I
will go and unfasten it from that goat.' The second, Dodla,
said: `Don't; he'll find it out in the morning.' But she
went notwithstanding. And when Manka did not return
for a long time, the third, Kate, said: `Go, fetch her.' So
Dodla went, and gave Manka a pat on the back. `Come,
leave it alone!' And now she too was unable to withdraw
herself from her. So Kate said: `Come, don't unfasten it!'
Kate went and gave Dodla a pat on the petticoat; and now
she, too, couldn't get away, but was obliged to stay by her.

In the morning George made haste and went for the
goat, and led the whole set away—Kate, Dodla, and Manka.
The innkeeper was still asleep. They went through the
village, and the judge looked out of a window and said,
`Fie, Kate! what's this? what's this?' He went and took
her by the hand, wishing to pull her away, but remained
also by her. After this, a cowherd drove some cows through
a narrow street, and the bull came rushing round; he stuck
fast, and George led him, too, in the procession.

Thus they afterwards came in front of the castle, and the
servants came out of doors; and when they saw such things,
they went and told the king. `O sire, we have such a
spectacle here; we have already had all manner of masquerades,
but this has never been here yet.' So they immediately
led the king's daughter to the square in front of the
castle, and she looked and laughed till the castle shook.

Now they asked him what sort of person he was. He
said that he was a shepherd's son, and was named George.
They said that it could not be done; for he was of mean
lineage, and they could not give him the damsel; but he
must accomplish something more for them. He said,
`What?' They replied that there was a spring yonder, a
hundred miles off; if he brought a goblet of water from it
in a minute, then he should obtain the damsel. So George
said to the man who had the foot on his shoulder: `You
said that if you took the foot down, you could jump a
hundred miles.' He replied: `I'll easily do that.' He took
the foot down, jumped, and was there. But after this there
was only a very little time to spare, and by then he ought
to have been back. So George said to the second: `You
said that if you removed the bandage from your eyes, you
could see a hundred miles. Peep and see what is going
on.' `Ah, sir! Goodness gracious! he's fallen asleep!'
`That will be a bad job,' said George; `the time will be up.
You, third man, you said if you pulled your thumb out, you
could squirt a hundred miles; be quick and squirt thither,
that he may get up. And you, look whether he is moving,
or what.' `Oh, sir! he's getting up now; he's knocking the
dust off; he's drawing the water.' He then gave a jump,
and was there exactly in time.

After this they said that he must perform one task more;
that yonder, in a rock, was a wild beast, a unicorn, of such
a nature that he destroyed a great many of their people; if

he cleared him out of the world he should obtain the damsel.
So he took his people and went into the forest. They came
to a firwood. There were three wild beasts, and three lairs
had been formed by wallowing as they lay. Two did
nothing; but the third destroyed people. So they took some
stones and some pine-cones in their pockets, and climbed up
into a tree; and when the beasts lay down, they dropped a
stone down upon that one which was the unicorn. He said
to the next: `Be quiet; don't butt me.' It said: `I'm not
doing anything to you.' Again they let a stone fall from
above upon the unicorn. `Be quiet! you've already done
it to me twice.' `Indeed, I'm doing nothing to you.' So they
attacked each other and fought together. The unicorn
wanted to pierce the second beast through; but it jumped
out of the way, and he rushed so violently after it, that he
struck his horn into a tree, and couldn't pull it out quickly.
So they sprang speedily down from the fir, and the other two
beasts ran away and escaped, but they cut off the head of
the third, the unicorn, took it up, and carried it to the castle.

Now those in the castle saw that George had again accomplished
that task. `What, prithee, shall we do? Perhaps
we must after all give him the damsel!' `No, sire,' said one
of the attendants, `that cannot be; he is too lowborn to
obtain a king's daughter! On the contrary, we must clear
him out of the world.' So the king ordered them to note
his words, what he should say. There was a hired female
servant there, and she said to him: `George, it will be evil
for you to-day; they're going to clear you out of the world.'
He answered: `Oh, I'm not afraid. When I was only just
twelve years old, I killed twelve of them at one blow!' But
this was the fact: when his mother was baking a flat-cake, a
dozen flies settled upon her, and he killed them all at a single
blow.

When they heard this, they said: `Nothing else will do

but we must shoot him.' So they drew up the soldiers, and
said they would hold a review in his honour, for they would
celebrate the wedding in the square before the castle. Then
they conducted him thither, and the soldiers were already
going to let fly at him. But George said to the man who
held his thumb in the bottle in place of a stopper: `You
said, if you pulled your thumb out, you could besprinkle
everything. Pull it out—quick!' `Oh, sir, I'll easily perform
that.' So he pulled out his thumb and gave them all
such a sprinkling, that they were all blind, and not one
could see.

So, when they perceived that nothing else was to be done,
they told him to go, for they would give him the damsel.
Then they gave him a handsome royal robe, and the wedding
took place. I, too, was at the wedding; they had music
there, sang, ate, and drank; there was meat, there were
cheesecakes, and baskets full of everything, and buckets full
of strong waters. To-day I went, yesterday I came; I
found an egg among the tree-stumps; I knocked it against
somebody's head, and gave him a bald place, and he's got
it still.

This story is related to Grimm's tale of the `Golden
Goose,' but it is much more rationally constructed, and
much more interesting. The man who jumps one hundred
miles appears to be the rainbow, the man with bandaged
eyes the lightning, and the man with the bottle the cloud.
The interpretation will be very similar to that of No. 1, but
the allegory is by no means so clear or so well constructed.
As to the nonsense at the end, it is a specimen of the
manner in which the narrators of stories frequently finish
them in all Slavonic languages.