The Little Robber Girl
The Boy Who Cried Wolf
AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES
Animal Sketches And Stories
Blondine Bonne Biche and Beau Minon
BRER RABBIT and HIS NEIGHBORS
CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE RHYMES
FABLES FOR CHILDREN
FABLES FROM INDIA
FATHER PLAYS AND MOTHER PLAYS
FIRST STORIES FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
For Classes Ii. And Iii.
For Classes Iv. And V.
For Kindergarten And Class I.
FUN FOR VERY LITTLE FOLK
Good Little Henry
JAPANESE AND OTHER ORIENTAL TALES]
Jean De La Fontaine
King Alexander's Adventures
KINGS AND WARRIORS
LAND AND WATER FAIRIES
Lessons From Nature
LITTLE STORIES that GROW BIG
MODERN FAIRY TALES
MOTHER GOOSE CONTINUED
MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES
MOTHER GOOSE SONGS AND STORIES
Myths And Legends
NEGLECT THE FIRE
ON POPULAR EDUCATION
PLACES AND FAMILIES
Poems Of Nature
RESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)
RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"
RIDING SONGS for FATHER'S KNEE
ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES
SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY
Selections From The Bible
SLEEPY-TIME SONGS AND STORIES
Some Children's Poets
Songs Of Life
STORIES BY FAVORITE AMERICAN WRITERS
STORIES FOR CHILDREN
STORIES for LITTLE BOYS
STORIES FROM BOTANY
STORIES FROM GREAT BRITAIN
STORIES FROM IRELAND
STORIES FROM PHYSICS
STORIES FROM SCANDINAVIA
STORIES FROM ZOOLOGY
STORIES _for_ LITTLE GIRLS
THE DAYS OF THE WEEK
The King Of The Golden River; Or, The Black Brothers
The Little Grey Mouse
THE OLD FAIRY TALES
The Princess Rosette
THE THREE HERMITS
THE TWO OLD MEN
UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES
VERSES ABOUT FAIRIES
WHAT MEN LIVE BY
WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO
The Fairies And The Fiddler
from The Old-fashioned Fairy Book
In the pretty little village of Hayfield, not far from the borders of a
thick forest, lived a good-natured, idle fellow, named Simon, who
supported his wife and two children by trapping or shooting in winter,
and by fishing or doing odd jobs of harvest work in summer. Simon could
play upon the fiddle in a way to make the tears come into your eyes; or
if he chose to be merry, his tunes would set every foot in motion, as
the wind starts the leaves upon an aspen tree. This accomplishment
caused him to be much in demand among the young people of the village,
who dropped many a bit of silver into his worn old hat; and at all the
weddings and barn-dances, Simon might be seen with a huge bunch of
flowers in his buttonhole, and his fiddle under his arm, footing it in
the procession. Then, too, Simon was the best man in the village to
coax stories from, especially the old-time gossip about the little folk
in green, for whom in former days Hayfield had been famous. Simon knew
how the fairies dressed, what they ate and drank, how they punished
saucy human beings who offended them; and could point out the smooth
rings of short fine grass where they had held their midnight revels.
That the fairies really had haunted Hayfield and its surrounding woods,
nobody in the village doubted. They had heard too many things to prove
it from their grandparents, whose parents were said to have lived on the
best of terms with the little people--setting pans of cream by the
hearth-stone at night for them to skim--leaving, when the holidays came
around, a cheese and bag of nuts in a hollow tree at the entrance of the
wood--and getting all sorts of kind offices from the fairies back again.
Although it had now been a long time since any one could testify to
having actually seen a fairy (as it was well known that the band were
frightened out of Hayfield when the first stage-coach, with its noise
and clatter, took to dashing along the village street), many people
believed the men in green to be still lurking in the neighborhood. What
else could account for the trouble some of the good wives had with
their butter and their bees? What could it be but fairy thumps and
pinches that kept the lazy folk from sleeping soundly, when their houses
were not to rights before they went to bed. And what could explain the
silver penny often found in the shoe of a tidy housekeeper, when up she
jumped at break of day to set her maids to work? For fairies never show
by day, and it is only when the people of a house are fast asleep and
snoring, that they glide in by key-holes, through cracks and broken
panes of glass, and swarm over the rooms, spying out everything amiss,
and leaving tracks on the dust of shelves or tables, scattering the
ashes of an unswept hearth, and bewitching the inside of a dirty iron
pot, so that it never more may cook sweet porridge!
Of all the villagers, as I have said, Simon alone professed to have any
recent acquaintance with the little folk, and the wonder was how they,
who were known to be sworn enemies to idleness, could keep him in their
Simon's house was a poor little cottage on the outskirts of the town.
His wife, once a pretty, rosy lass, had taken to drink, and the husband
and children led a dog's life within doors. Consequently, their one
pleasure was to roam the woods and fields, and the children were growing
up brown and barefoot as two young gypsies. They were a boy named
Timothy and a girl named Bess, of whom Simon was very proud, their fresh
young faces making a strong contrast with his wizened visage, crossed
with a hundred lines, and topped with a sunburned mop of hair. As they
grew old enough to understand, their father instructed them in all the
arts of woodcraft. There was no tree or plant for which he had not a
name or a virtue. The habits of all birds and fishes and animals were as
familiar to him as their haunts. In this way, the vast green forest,
with its great tree-boles and twisted boughs, its verdant moss-carpet
and hidden streams, became to them an enchanted world, through which the
children strayed like a sylvan king and queen. A sad change it was to
come back to the dirt and confusion of their miserable home, where the
mother received them either with grudging welcome if they brought
berries or a string of brook trout, or with blows and drunken curses if
they came empty-handed. As his wife's intemperance increased, Simon
stayed less and less at home, and the children dreaded lest some day
their poor father would be driven to desert them altogether. So they
resolved to keep a close watch on his movements, and to follow him
should he go away.
One night the harvest moon was riding her glorious way across the
heavens, and the little village of Hayfield lay steeped in silver light.
Not a lamp or a taper glimmered in the hamlet, and every one of the
brown thatched cottages was buried in profound repose. Not even a
watch-dog barked; and the forest-leaves yielded to the universal spell,
and ceased to rustle.
There had been held a harvest-home that day, and Simon had been hard at
work with his fiddle, playing jigs and reels for the dance in the
squire's great barn. Between every dance, he had quenched his thirst at
the cider-barrel, or quaffed the big brown mug of beer they kept
brimming at his side. Naturally, Simon's brain was a little the worse
for such free potations; and when the last strains of the "Wind that
Shakes the Barley" had died upon his fiddle-strings, and all the gay
company had gone their homeward way, Simon with his pocket full of
silver pennies staggered out into the field, and lay down under a
haystack to take his well-earned rest.
There, just before midnight, his two children, who had come in search of
him, found their father peacefully sleeping, his fiddle on his breast.
Not wishing to disturb him, the children decided to have their own
night's sleep in the same fragrant nest of hay; and curling up at some
little distance from the slumbering fiddler, they whispered together for
a while, and then were about to drop asleep. Just as their eyes were
closing they heard an odd sound, as of hundreds of little pattering
feet, and out from the shadow of the wood came into the unbroken argent
of the field a long train of little men, women, and children, dressed
magnificently in cobweb gauze and green, bespangled with glittering
gems, and wearing each a tiny crimson cap with a golden bell upon its
peak. The two children were broad awake in a moment, for they knew that
these were the fairies they had so longed to see, all dressed in holiday
costume, and proceeding to their famous midsummer festival. The
procession wavered like a gleaming snake across the field, and, when
passing near the haystack, came to a halt. To the children's surprise,
two queer little old men, holding carved ivory wands, came straight up,
and tapped the sleeping fiddler across the bridge of his nose.
"Nay, I will play no more for you, you light-of-head and light-of-heel,"
said sleepy Simon, believing himself to be still perched upon the barrel
that served as the fiddler's throne.
"Aye, but play you shall, at his Majesty's command," said the little old
man, thumping him more sharply. "Isn't that part of your bargain with
us, if we allow the trout to haunt your brook, and the hares to run into
your traps? Come, mortal! Up with you and follow. Here's the bandage to
blindfold your eyes, as usual; and remember that, if you peep, you are
our prisoner for life."
By this time thoroughly awakened, Simon stumbled upon his feet, and
stood making abject bows before the angry little fairy chamberlains. He
let his eyes be bound with a green silk ribbon, and leading-strings were
passed around his waist. At the blast of a golden trumpet, the
procession moved forward with a sound of tripping feet and whirring
gauzy wings and tinkling bells most lovely to the ear.
Last of all came Simon, in fairy leading-strings, and the two children,
unable to resist the impulse, followed noiselessly.
Their way led again into the forest, through the dense underwood, to a
smooth circle of velvet sward, set around with hundreds of little
mushrooms, on which the fairies took their seats. In the centre was a
hammock of silver cobweb, swinging by jewelled chains from the crossed
stems of two tall white lilies, under a bower of maiden-hair ferns.
Sweet blue violets were sprinkled in the grass, making a path where the
king and queen of the fairies marched to take their places on the
cobweb-throne. Dew was handed around in acorn-cups, of which the fairy
guests sipped daintily, followed by bark trays containing every variety
of fairy refreshment. There were delicate fried butterflies,
marrow-bones of a field-mouse, snail soup served in nutshells, and wild
strawberries in baskets made of moss.
When the banquet was at an end, the chamberlains gave notice to Simon,
who had been bound with ropes made of plaited grass to the trunk of a
wide-spreading oak; the fiddle struck up a tune, and at once the dance
began. Such a mad and merry dance the wondering children had never seen
before! Old and young joined hands and trod a circle, then, breaking the
chain, formed into a hundred fantastic figures; and at each touch of a
light footstep, the earth opened to give birth to a flower, until the
entire fairy ring was enamelled with fragrant blossoms. Fast flew the
fiddle-bow, but faster flew the tiny feet; and when the mirth was at its
height, Simon who, as we know, had taken a drop too much, was suddenly
inspired to tear the bandage from his eyes, and crying, "It's my turn
now," capered right into the middle of the magic ring.
The honest fellow had meant no harm, but his offence was a mortal one!
Instantly, he was surrounded by a swarm of the furious little men in
green, who, without waiting for an excuse, stabbed out both his eyes,
and taking away his fiddle and bow, bound his arms behind his back.
Again the procession--this time sad and silent--was formed, and the king
striking the nearest tree with his wand, it flew open; the whole party,
leading Simon behind them, entered the aperture, and before the children
knew where to turn, it had closed upon their father.
And now, in what a distressing condition were the unhappy Timothy and
Bess! Not knowing what better to do, they sat down at the foot of the
great oak-tree which had swallowed up their father, and from sheer
weariness fell asleep. When morning came, and the birds piped upon the
boughs, the children awoke and looked in wonder about them. All was
dewy, green, and fragrant in the deep woods, but no sign remained of the
fairy revel, except a fine fringe of newly sprung grass, growing in a
circle where their ring had been.
The bark of the great oak tree was unbroken, and above stretched a broad
canopy of dark-green leaves, which whispered in the morning breeze, but
told no tales of what the children longed to know. Hunger drove them to
retrace their steps homeward; and when they reached the cottage, their
mother was so cross at her husband's failure to fetch her the usual
stock of silver pennies earned at the harvest-home, that she beat them
both soundly, and gave them but a dry crust apiece for breakfast.
Still the children hoped their father might return; and, not knowing to
whom to confide their wonderful tale, they kept silence. When it was
found Simon had disappeared in earnest, all the wise heads in Hayfield
decided that he had run away to escape from his good wife's tongue, an
act of independence which had the bad effect of making more than one
married man in the village unduly restless.
A month passed, and the two children were again wandering in the forest
trying to find a few berries to appease their hunger (for things at home
were now worse than before), when they fancied they heard a child crying
close at hand. They searched everywhere, and at length the sound was
renewed, seeming to come from a thicket of tall ferns. Falling on their
knees, the children worked their way under the bushes and through the
brakes, until they came in view of a lovely chubby elf sitting forlorn
upon a mushroom on a hillock of soft green moss, beneath a screen of
ferns and wild flowers, and letting fall a flood of tears from his big
blue eyes. He wore no clothing, if we may except a pair of drooping
wings, and in his hand he held a stalk of snowy lilies.
"Who are you, dear little one, and how came you here?" they asked.
"I am a fairy," the tiny creature sobbed. "Last night was the monthly
revel, and we sported till the moon set. But I saw these lilies growing
over in yonder swamp, and I wanted them so; and as I ran, they seemed to
run too. I had such hard work to gather them; when at last I succeeded,
my red cap dropped off; and without it I am as helpless as a mere
mortal. While searching for the cap, which I have not found, a cock in
the village crowed, and the fairies all fled away and left me. The door
of the mound is closed, and for a whole long month there is no hope of
my getting in again. Oh! I wish I could find my cap."
"If we help you to find the cap, will you stop crying?" said the
The shivering sprite wiped his eyes and promised that he would weep no
more. The girl wrapped him in her apron, and then all three of them set
out in search of the missing treasure. At last Timothy saw in the water
around some reeds a red object which a bull-frog was opening his mouth
to swallow; and, wading into the stream, he was able to rescue the magic
cap, dry it in the sun, and restore it to its happy little owner.
"And now," said the smiling elf, who appeared to have suddenly grown old
and wise, "as for a whole long month I am without a home, what do you
say to taking me to yours? You will never regret it, that I promise
The children told their new friend what a poor place their home was, but
the elf smiled and shook his head as if he knew what he was about. He
bade the children lead him to their cottage, and once across the
threshold of the wretched place, where the drunken mother was sleeping
heavily on a pallet of straw in the loft above, the elf took his perch
upon the mantel-shelf.
"Next, since I am obliged to live with mortals, let me see what the
magic cap can do."
He put on the cap and immediately disappeared from the children's sight.
When night came, Timothy fell asleep, but Bess watched; and at midnight
she saw her new friend appear upon the hearth, conducting a perfect
army of little workmen and workwomen. He waved his cap thrice around his
head, and at once little carpenters set to building up the
cottage-walls, little whitewashers made the ceilings wholesome, little
painters covered all the woodwork with a coat of yellow. By sunrise what
a change! The broken bricks of the floor were transformed into pretty
blue and white tiles, lattice windows took the place of their old and
dim ones, the pots and pans were scoured until they shone, roses looked
in at the outer door, where rows of larkspur and of gillyflower, of
bachelor's-button and "Love-in-a-mist" were growing on either side of a
neat flagged walk to the garden gate. Instead of Timothy's old straw
mattress, the boy lay on a clean white bed; and his sister, who had kept
awake all night in utter wonderment, falling asleep at dawn, because her
eyes refused to stay open any longer, found him shaking her arm, and
begging her to come and share in the nice hot breakfast that--wonder of
wonders!--their mother, sober, and clean, and smiling, had made ready at
It was a day of marvels! The mother seemed to have entirely forgotten
her past degraded life, and was once more the brisk and rosy woman
Simon had fallen in love with. A dozen times a day she paused in her
spinning, or weaving, or baking, to run to the gate and wonder when dear
father would come back. Timothy worked in the garden, Bess sewed and
helped her mother, not daring to tell what she alone knew of the magic
change. That night Bess slept, and Timothy kept watch. At midnight the
fairy appeared upon the hearth, leading a dozen little bakers in white
caps and aprons.
"Now make ready fifty loaves of your best white bread, that the goodwife
may sell them on the morrow!" the fairy ordered; and at once the tiny
men set to work mixing and kneading and baking, and at daybreak there
were fifty of the sweetest white loaves money could buy. The fame of
Simon's widow soon spread through the village, and every one was eager
to see the wonderful reform worked in her, no less than in her cottage.
Her bread was bought up as fast as she could furnish it, and next night
Bess watched while Timothy slept. Then Bess saw the fairy appear at
midnight, followed by a swarm of bees like a cloud.
"Make fifty pounds of your clearest honey, that the goodwife may sell it
on the morrow."
The bees flew out of the door, and next morning the hives were found
overflowing with luscious honey that smelt like a bed of clover all
Next night came the bakers, and next night again the bees. Money flowed
into the widow's purse as rapidly as it had once flowed out. Now was
there lacking but one thing to complete their happiness, and that was
the return of Simon to his family. Bess and Timothy together planned
what they should do, and when the month had passed away, and the night
of the full moon had come once more, neither went to bed, but both hid,
watching for the coming of the sprite. Exactly at twelve o'clock, their
kind little friend made his appearance, and summoning cooks and bees,
ordered them to keep up their service on alternate nights, until the
dame's coffers should be full to last a lifetime. Seeing him about to
take leave, out rushed Timothy and Bess, threw themselves on their knees
before the fairy, and, thanking him a thousand times over for his
goodness, begged for one more act of grace--their father's release and
restoration to his family. The fairy looked graver than they had ever
seen him, and his brows puckered in a frown.
"Your father has committed an offence we never pardon," he said, after
a short silence. "He has been punished according to our laws, and must
abide by the sentence, which is imprisonment for life."
The children burst into tears at this, and cried so that the fairy
sneezed several times.
"I believe I am taking cold in all this dampness," he said, shivering
slightly. "Come, dry up that deluge, and say good-by to me. The utmost I
can do is to look up your father when I get back again, and tell him you
are well and happy. I suppose you do not know that for some years past
he has been attending our holiday frolics as musician, since our own
best player broke his arm. Simon was under oath never to look at us, or
to betray us, and this was the first time he transgressed. But our laws
are very strict, and I am afraid to bid you even hope to see him again.
One thing I may tell you. The king's chief counsellor has a mantle of
red, worked with a device of six golden birds flying into a serpent's
open jaws. If you should ever find that mantle, walk boldly to the
oak-tree in the forest, knock three times, and cry, 'The King's Chief
Counsellor!' Then you may be able to secure your father's freedom, but
not else. And now, good-by to you."
The good elf vanished, and Timothy and Bess spent more time than ever in
the forest. They had now taken their mother into the secret, for she,
poor woman, had become as gentle and loving as she had before been hard
and cruel. The one desire of the entire family was to get possession of
the chief counsellor's mantle, but nothing seemed more unlikely.
A year passed, and Timothy had gone out to look at his rabbit-trap
without particularly thinking of what it might contain, when a
tremendous bustle inside attracted his attention. Cautiously he lifted
the door, and up sprang an angry little man in green, having a long
white beard, and a hump upon his back, who vanished from sight as
quickly as he had appeared. Timothy lamented the loss of such unusual
game, and then espied at the bottom of the trap nothing less than a tiny
cloak of red, embroidered with six golden birds flying into a serpent's
He made a joyful dive after the little garment, but, strange to say, it
stuck tight to the fingers of his right hand, dragging after it the
trap. Timothy shook it and pulled at it in vain; there it was, and not
to be dislodged.
He ran home and called Bess to his assistance. The little girl came
out, and no sooner had she touched her brother than she stuck fast to
him. The mother flew to the rescue, and became fastened to her daughter;
and there they all were, in a long string, not knowing whether to laugh
or cry at their strange predicament. The only thing was to make a
pilgrimage to the oak-tree in the forest. Timothy's dog followed them,
and rubbed against his master's coat. He, too, stuck fast, and so did
Bessy's cat. Everybody they passed upon the way was attracted to the
queer family party, and before long a little army of curious people were
compelled to walk along in the direction of the forest.
Timothy did not know the secret of the little cloak, which had power to
attract everything to it, drawing even people's thoughts out of their
hearts, as a magnet draws the needle. Only in fairy-land could the
objects so attracted be set free.
When they reached the oak-tree in the forest, Timothy struck upon it
three times and called with a bold voice, though not without a trembling
of the legs, for the king's chief counsellor. The bark of the great tree
cleft slowly open, and out came the same old white-bearded fairy he had
captured in the rabbit-trap. Bowing with mock humility, the old fellow
asked what his visitors would be pleased to have.
"I demand my father, and also to be rid of this wretched little rag,"
said Timothy hotly.
"Step inside, step inside," said the elf with a malicious smile, for he
knew that, once within, he might get the audacious mortals in his power,
and force them to work his gold mines.
"Not a step will I go inside until I see my father," said Timothy
"Then here may you abide!" cried the old man, turning white with rage.
Timothy put one hand within the tree, holding the magic mantle at
"I demand my father," he cried in a loud voice.
The power of the mantle did not fail, for, rising from the darkness
within, came poor blind Simon, stretching his arms toward his child, but
holding tight his fiddle. At the moment Timothy's hand had come inside
the fairy kingdom, the spell of enchantment was broken, and all of the
strangely linked people were set free. Simon's wife and children threw
their arms around him, and welcomed his return, while his neighbors
shook his hand in warm congratulation. As for the old fairy, he fairly
danced with rage. With the mantle in Timothy's possession, half the
chief counsellor's power and reputation for wisdom would pass away. He
offered rich bribes of gold and jewels, he threatened, he howled, he
grinned, he hurled curses on their heads, but Timothy was firm.
"Then name your price, you wretch!" cried the angry fairy.
"It is that you shall restore my father's eye-sight," said Timothy.
This went very hard with the wicked old elf, who had been congratulating
himself that Simon would bear away at least one mark of fairy vengeance.
But he had met his match in Timothy, and there was no escape for the
chief counsellor, who, diving down into the cavern beneath the hollow
tree, reappeared fetching a box of magic ointment, which, rubbed upon
Simon's eyes, made them better than ever.
When Simon saw not only the light of day, but his two dear children, and
his wife looking as he had known her in her blooming youth, he uttered a
cry of delight.
Then, to relieve his feelings, he struck up the old "Wind that Shakes
the Barley," when, behold, not only all the people there assembled, but
a score of little green folk, who had been in hiding, enjoying the
discomfiture of the cross old counsellor, began to foot it on the
greensward. Simon himself danced, and the old counsellor, sorely against
his will, was forced to skip until his legs ached, for Timothy still
held the mantle in his hand.
At last, when all were out of breath, the elf received his mantle. With
a storm of angry words, he disappeared from sight. Immediately the sky
darkened, a cold wind blew, and a shower of hail-stones fell upon our
friends, sending them scampering and laughing away from the region where
the fairy's spite prevailed.
Under the spell of the kind little sprite who had been their guest, the
cottage was never approached by any unkind visitors. Simon fiddled and
grew fat, his wife remained as sweet as fresh cream to the last day of
her life, and their children came to be the pride of all the village.
So far as I have heard, that is the last visit Hayfield has had from the
little men in green.
Next: Ethelinda Or The Ice King's Bride
Previous: Juliet Or The Little White Mouse