Informational Site NetworkInformational Site Network
Privacy
 
Home - Stories - Categories - Books - Search

Featured Stories

The Little Robber Girl
The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Categories

A FAIRY-TALE

Aesop

ALPHABET RHYMES

AMERICAN INDIAN STORIES

AMUSING ALPHABETS

Animal Sketches And Stories

ANIMAL STORIES

ARBOR DAY

BIRD DAY

Blondine Bonne Biche and Beau Minon

Bohemian Story

BRER RABBIT and HIS NEIGHBORS

CATS

CHINESE MOTHER-GOOSE RHYMES

CHRISTMAS DAY

COLUMBUS DAY

CUSTOM RHYMES

Didactic Stories

Everyday Verses

EVIL SPIRITS

FABLES

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

GERMAN

Good Little Henry

HALLOWEEN

Happy Days

INDEPENDENCE DAY

JAPANESE AND OTHER ORIENTAL TALES]

Jean De La Fontaine

King Alexander's Adventures

KINGS AND WARRIORS

LABOR DAY

LAND AND WATER FAIRIES

Lessons From Nature

LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY

LITTLE STORIES that GROW BIG

Love Lyrics

Lyrics

MAY DAY

MEMORIAL DAY

Modern

MODERN FABLES

MODERN FAIRY TALES

MOTHER GOOSE CONTINUED

MOTHER GOOSE JINGLES

MOTHER GOOSE SONGS AND STORIES

MOTHERS' DAY

Myths And Legends

NATURE SONGS

NEGLECT THE FIRE

NUMBER RHYMES

NURSERY GAMES

NURSERY-SONGS.

NURSEY STORIES

OLD-FASHIONED STORIES

ON POPULAR EDUCATION

OURSON

Perseus

PLACES AND FAMILIES

Poems Of Nature

Polish Story

Popular

PROVERB RHYMES

RESURRECTION DAY (EASTER)

RHYMES CONCERNING "MOTHER"

RIDDLE RHYMES

RIDING SONGS for FATHER'S KNEE

ROMANCES OF THE MIDDLE AGES

SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY

Selections From The Bible

Servian Story

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

SUPERSITITIONS

THANKSGIVING DAY

The Argonauts

THE CANDLE

THE DAYS OF THE WEEK

THE DECEMBRISTS

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

Theseus

Traditional

UNCLES AND AUNTS AND OTHER RELATIVES

VERSES ABOUT FAIRIES

WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY

WHAT MEN LIVE BY

WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSO

Whippety-stourie

from The Scottish Fairy Book





I am going to tell you a story about a poor young widow woman, who lived
in a house called Kittlerumpit, though whereabouts in Scotland the house
of Kittlerumpit stood nobody knows.

Some folk think that it stood in the neighbourhood of the Debateable
Land, which, as all the world knows, was on the Borders, where the old
Border Reivers were constantly coming and going; the Scotch stealing
from the English, and the English from the Scotch. Be that as it may,
the widowed Mistress of Kittlerumpit was sorely to be pitied.

For she had lost her husband, and no one quite knew what had become of
him. He had gone to a fair one day, and had never come back again, and
although everybody believed that he was dead, no one knew how he died.

Some people said that he had been persuaded to enlist, and had been
killed in the wars; others, that he had been taken away to serve as a
sailor by the press-gang, and had been drowned at sea.

At any rate, his poor young wife was sorely to be pitied, for she was
left with a little baby-boy to bring up, and, as times were bad, she had
not much to live on.

But she loved her baby dearly, and worked all day amongst her cows, and
pigs, and hens, in order to earn enough money to buy food and clothes
for both herself and him.

Now, on the morning of which I am speaking, she rose very early and went

out to feed her pigs, for rent-day was coming on, and she intended to
take one of them, a great, big, fat creature, to the market that very
day, as she thought that the price that it would fetch would go a long
way towards paying her rent.

And because she thought so, her heart was light, and she hummed a little
song to herself as she crossed the yard with her bucket on one arm and
her baby-boy on the other.

But the song was quickly changed into a cry of despair when she reached
the pig-stye, for there lay her cherished pig on its back, with its legs
in the air and its eyes shut, just as if it were going to breathe its
last breath.

"What shall I do? What shall I do?" cried the poor woman, sitting down
on a big stone and clasping her boy to her breast, heedless of the fact
that she had dropped her bucket, and that the pig's-meat was running
out, and that the hens were eating it.

"First I lost my husband, and now I am going to lose my finest pig. The
pig that I hoped would fetch a deal of money."

Now I must explain to you that the house of Kittlerumpit stood on a
hillside, with a great fir wood behind it, and the ground sloping down
steeply in front.

And as the poor young thing, after having a good cry to herself, was
drying her eyes, she chanced to look down the hill, and who should she
see coming up it but an Old Woman, who looked like a lady born.

She was dressed all in green, with a white apron, and she wore a black
velvet hood on her head, and a steeple-crowned beaver hat over that,
something like those, as I have heard tell, that the women wear in
Wales. She walked very slowly, leaning on a long staff, and she gave a
bit hirple now and then, as if she were lame.

As she drew near, the young widow felt it was becoming to rise and
curtsey to the Gentlewoman, for such she saw her to be.

"Madam," she said, with a sob in her voice, "I bid you welcome to the
house of Kittlerumpit, although you find its Mistress one of the most
unfortunate women in the world."

"Hout-tout," answered the old Lady, in such a harsh voice that the young
woman started, and grasped her baby tighter in her arms. "Ye have little
need to say that. Ye have lost your husband, I grant ye, but there were
waur losses at Shirra-Muir. And now your pig is like to die--I could,
maybe, remedy that. But I must first hear how much ye wad gie me if I
cured him."

"Anything that your Ladyship's Madam likes to ask," replied the widow,
too much delighted at having the animal's life saved to think that she
was making rather a rash promise.

"Very good," said the old Dame, and without wasting any more words she
walked straight into the pig-sty.

She stood and looked at the dying creature for some minutes, rocking to
and fro and muttering to herself in words which the widow could not
understand; at least, she could only understand four of them, and they
sounded something like this:

"Pitter-patter,
Haly water."

Then she put her hand into her pocket and drew out a tiny bottle with a
liquid that looked like oil in it. She took the cork out, and dropped
one of her long lady-like fingers into it; then she touched the pig on
the snout and on his ears, and on the tip of his curly tail.

No sooner had she done so than up the beast jumped, and, with a grunt of
contentment, ran off to its trough to look for its breakfast.

A joyful woman was the Mistress of Kittlerumpit when she saw it do this,
for she felt that her rent was safe; and in her relief and gratitude she
would have kissed the hem of the strange Lady's green gown, if she
would have allowed it, but she would not.

"No, no," said she, and her voice sounded harsher than ever. "Let us
have no fine meanderings, but let us stick to our bargain. I have done
my part, and mended the pig; now ye must do yours, and give me what I
like to ask--your son."

Then the poor widow gave a piteous cry, for she knew now what she had
not guessed before--that the Green-clad Lady was a Fairy, and a Wicked
Fairy too, else had she not asked such a terrible thing.

It was too late now, however, to pray, and beseech, and beg for mercy;
the Fairy stood her ground, hard and cruel.

"Ye promised me what I liked to ask, and I have asked your son; and your
son I will have," she replied, "so it is useless making such a din about
it. But one thing I may tell you, for I know well that the knowledge
will not help you. By the laws of Fairy-land, I cannot take the bairn
till the third day after this, and if by that time you have found out my
name I cannot take him even then. But ye will not be able to find it
out, of that I am certain. So I will call back for the boy in three
days."

And with that she disappeared round the back of the pig-sty, and the
poor mother fell down in a dead faint beside the stone.

All that day, and all the next, she did nothing but sit in her kitchen
and cry, and hug her baby tighter in her arms; but on the day before
that on which the Fairy said that she was coming back, she felt as if
she must get a little breath of fresh air, so she went for a walk in the
fir wood behind the house.

Now in this fir wood there was an old quarry hole, in the bottom of
which was a bonnie spring well, the water of which was always sweet and
pure. The young widow was walking near this quarry hole, when, to her
astonishment, she heard the whirr of a spinning-wheel and the sound of a
voice lilting a song. At first she could not think where the sound came
from; then, remembering the quarry, she laid down her child at a tree
root, and crept noiselessly through the bushes on her hands and knees to
the edge of the hole and peeped over.

She could hardly believe her eyes! For there, far below her, at the
bottom of the quarry, beside the spring well, sat the cruel Fairy,
dressed in her green frock and tall felt hat, spinning away as fast as
she could at a tiny spinning-wheel.

And what should she be singing but--

"Little kens our guid dame at hame,
Whippety-Stourie is my name."

The widow woman almost cried aloud for joy, for now she had learned the
Fairy's secret, and her child was safe. But she dare not, in case the
wicked old Dame heard her and threw some other spell over her.

So she crept softly back to the place where she had left her child;
then, catching him up in her arms, she ran through the wood to her
house, laughing, and singing, and tossing him in the air in such a state
of delight that, if anyone had met her, they would have been in danger
of thinking that she was mad.

Now this young woman had been a merry-hearted maiden, and would have
been merry-hearted still, if, since her marriage, she had not had so
much trouble that it had made her grow old and sober-minded before her
time; and she began to think what fun it would be to tease the Fairy for
a few minutes before she let her know that she had found out her name.

So next day, at the appointed time, she went out with her boy in her
arms, and seated herself on the big stone where she had sat before; and
when she saw the old Dame coming up the hill, she crumpled up her nice
clean cap, and screwed up her face, and pretended to be in great
distress and to be crying bitterly.

The Fairy took no notice of this, however, but came close up to her, and
said, in her harsh, merciless voice, "Good wife of Kittlerumpit, ye ken
the reason of my coming; give me the bairn."

Then the young mother pretended to be in sorer distress than ever, and
fell on her knees before the wicked old woman and begged for mercy.

"Oh, sweet Madam Mistress," she cried, "spare me my bairn, and take, an'
thou wilt, the pig instead."

"We have no need of bacon where I come from," answered the Fairy coldly;
"so give me the laddie and let me begone--I have no time to waste in
this wise."

"Oh, dear Lady mine," pleaded the Goodwife, "if thou wilt not have the
pig, wilt thou not spare my poor bairn and take me myself?"

The Fairy stepped back a little, as if in astonishment. "Art thou mad,
woman," she cried contemptuously, "that thou proposest such a thing? Who
in all the world would care to take a plain-looking, red-eyed, dowdy
wife like thee with them?"

Now the young Mistress of Kittlerumpit knew that she was no beauty, and
the knowledge had never vexed her; but something in the Fairy's tone
made her feel so angry that she could contain herself no longer.

"In troth, fair Madam, I might have had the wit to know that the like of
me is not fit to tie the shoe-string of the High and Mighty Princess,
WHIPPETY-STOURIE!"

If there had been a charge of gunpowder buried in the ground, and if it
had suddenly exploded beneath her feet, the Wicked Fairy could not have
jumped higher into air.

And when she came down again she simply turned round and ran down the
brae, shrieking with rage and disappointment, for all the world, as an
old book says, "like an owl chased by witches."





Next: The Red-etin

Previous: Gold-tree And Silver-tree



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK



Viewed: 1203