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Romeo and Juliet in the Marches! A sad, true tale of star-crossed lovers!
It was illegal for a cross-border marriage to take place without the Warden's permission. Archie Graham, a bonny Scottish lad, ...Romeo and Juliet in the Marches! A sad, true tale of star-crossed lovers!
It was illegal for a cross-border marriage to take place without the Warden's permission. Archie Graham, a bonny Scottish lad, did not ask the Warden for permission to marry his sweetheart Mary Fenwick, an English girl from near Haltwhistle. With a child on the way they decided to marry and they left England to live in Scotland, near Archie's relatives. Sometimes they managed to visit Mary's parents by night.
Soon after the baby was born, the Warden got to hear about Archie and Mary. They were arrested and taken back to Haltwhistle where they were tried and hanged in the market place. Mary's parents took over the upbringing of her son.
The incident took place in 1587 not long after the imprisoned Mary Queen of Scots, a Catholic, was executed by Queen Elizabeth I of England, a Protestant. Tensions in the Borders were running high.
The Story of Archie and Mary
We all know what death is around here. We've had our fair share of raiding and killing. We give as good as we get; we have to, to survive. This vast open country is harsh; it frightens me sometimes, wondering where the next raid is coming from and if my cattle will be stolen. Although my bastle is well defended and my kinsmen help when the raids come, you can never really sleep soundly in your beds at night, you're always waiting for the worst to happen.
The Border's rotten. My dad told me about battles like Flodden, about the thousands of English and Scots who slaughtered each other, while he and his kin stripped the dead on the battlefield afterwards. He told me he didn't give a damn about English and Scots, and that what matters is the name you had as a borderer. It's the same still: the people who matter most are the ones who stick by you. We get robbed from all sides, Scots from over the border sometimes but just as often by Englishmen, like the Charltons from the North Tyne, or the Robsons. You soon find out who your friends are. Nobody really keeps proper control, not the Earls, not the ones in the big castles or the Wardens who are supposed to keep order. They look after themselves. But they lay down the law, and we have to suffer for breaking their so-called rules.
Our Mary broke those rules. She was my only surviving child, but now the Wardens have hanged her. For what? Not blackmail, murder or reiving - but no. Love. What did she do? I'll tell you...
Archie Graham was a young Scot. A lad we knew well. Outstanding - especially as he had this mop of red hair. Always larking about. A frequent visitor to our village, bringing cattle along the drove road south. A strong, well-armed lad, good to have on your side in a fight. But you should have seen his face when he looked at our Mary!
Mary was a real looker; golden hair and incredibly dark eyes. I'd spend a lot of my time keeping an eye on her whenever the young lads came round. But those two managed to give me the slip, and in the end I gave up wasting my energy. Perhaps I should have kept a tighter rein on her, but there's so much work to do looking after the beasts on the upland pastures and looking after the beans and onions in the garden, that it was impossible.
Of course I was worried. She was a Fenwick and English, and he was a Scottish Graham. Not that it mattered to us round here. As I've said, we respect the family groups more than we do the differences between English and Scots. But I did know the law and the law said that cross border marriages should not happen. The inevitable happened. My lass and Archie couldn't live without each other. When Mary realised that a bairn was on the way she told me everything. She told me that she and Archie would be married, that they would not have it any other way, and that she wanted him and the child more than anything else in the world.
What could I do? I scraped what little money I had together, and gave it to them with my blessing. It was nice to think of myself as a grandad, as all our other children had died before they were five. The two of them went off over the border to live near Archie's family. I just hoped that they would get away with it, that we were too insignificant for the Wardens to bother with, but I was wrong.Hanging of Archie
Time passed. They came to see me sometimes at night, so I kept in touch with them. They were so happy. We should have known better. The blow fell shortly after the baby was born. The warden's guards arrested them in Scotland, dragged them off to court, and accused them of getting married without the Warden's permission. They were sentenced to be hanged and me and my wife were forced to watch, there in the market place at Haltwhistle. I had to watch their bodies twitch, still suspended by the rope, long after they were dropped.
And what about the bairn? In my old age I have dreamed of a grandchild. I have made a little basket of thatched reeds. I have begun to make toys. I will look after him. He is all I have left.
Edward Fenwick of Haltwhistle, 1587(Grandfather of Mary Fenwick)
It was illegal for a cross-border marriage to take place without the Warden's permission. Archie Graham, a bonny Scottish lad, ...Romeo and Juliet in the Marches! A sad, true tale of star-crossed lovers!
It was illegal for a cross-border marriage to take place without the Warden's permission. Archie Graham, a bonny Scottish lad, did not ask the Warden for permission to marry his sweetheart Mary Fenwick, an English girl from near Haltwhistle. With a child on the way they decided to marry and they left England to live in Scotland, near Archie's relatives. Sometimes they managed to visit Mary's parents by night.
Soon after the baby was born, the Warden got to hear about Archie and Mary. They were arrested and taken back to Haltwhistle where they were tried and hanged in the market place. Mary's parents took over the upbringing of her son.
The incident took place in 1587 not long after the imprisoned Mary Queen of Scots, a Catholic, was executed by Queen Elizabeth I of England, a Protestant. Tensions in the Borders were running high.
The Story of Archie and Mary
We all know what death is around here. We've had our fair share of raiding and killing. We give as good as we get; we have to, to survive. This vast open country is harsh; it frightens me sometimes, wondering where the next raid is coming from and if my cattle will be stolen. Although my bastle is well defended and my kinsmen help when the raids come, you can never really sleep soundly in your beds at night, you're always waiting for the worst to happen.
The Border's rotten. My dad told me about battles like Flodden, about the thousands of English and Scots who slaughtered each other, while he and his kin stripped the dead on the battlefield afterwards. He told me he didn't give a damn about English and Scots, and that what matters is the name you had as a borderer. It's the same still: the people who matter most are the ones who stick by you. We get robbed from all sides, Scots from over the border sometimes but just as often by Englishmen, like the Charltons from the North Tyne, or the Robsons. You soon find out who your friends are. Nobody really keeps proper control, not the Earls, not the ones in the big castles or the Wardens who are supposed to keep order. They look after themselves. But they lay down the law, and we have to suffer for breaking their so-called rules.
Our Mary broke those rules. She was my only surviving child, but now the Wardens have hanged her. For what? Not blackmail, murder or reiving - but no. Love. What did she do? I'll tell you...
Archie Graham was a young Scot. A lad we knew well. Outstanding - especially as he had this mop of red hair. Always larking about. A frequent visitor to our village, bringing cattle along the drove road south. A strong, well-armed lad, good to have on your side in a fight. But you should have seen his face when he looked at our Mary!
Mary was a real looker; golden hair and incredibly dark eyes. I'd spend a lot of my time keeping an eye on her whenever the young lads came round. But those two managed to give me the slip, and in the end I gave up wasting my energy. Perhaps I should have kept a tighter rein on her, but there's so much work to do looking after the beasts on the upland pastures and looking after the beans and onions in the garden, that it was impossible.
Of course I was worried. She was a Fenwick and English, and he was a Scottish Graham. Not that it mattered to us round here. As I've said, we respect the family groups more than we do the differences between English and Scots. But I did know the law and the law said that cross border marriages should not happen. The inevitable happened. My lass and Archie couldn't live without each other. When Mary realised that a bairn was on the way she told me everything. She told me that she and Archie would be married, that they would not have it any other way, and that she wanted him and the child more than anything else in the world.
What could I do? I scraped what little money I had together, and gave it to them with my blessing. It was nice to think of myself as a grandad, as all our other children had died before they were five. The two of them went off over the border to live near Archie's family. I just hoped that they would get away with it, that we were too insignificant for the Wardens to bother with, but I was wrong.Hanging of Archie
Time passed. They came to see me sometimes at night, so I kept in touch with them. They were so happy. We should have known better. The blow fell shortly after the baby was born. The warden's guards arrested them in Scotland, dragged them off to court, and accused them of getting married without the Warden's permission. They were sentenced to be hanged and me and my wife were forced to watch, there in the market place at Haltwhistle. I had to watch their bodies twitch, still suspended by the rope, long after they were dropped.
And what about the bairn? In my old age I have dreamed of a grandchild. I have made a little basket of thatched reeds. I have begun to make toys. I will look after him. He is all I have left.
Edward Fenwick of Haltwhistle, 1587(Grandfather of Mary Fenwick)
- August 26, 2015 2:56 pm
- ·
Glenna Davidson Brock likes this.
Marilyn Sloper
How sad. That warden was so wrong to have done this. Hope he knows real terror when he stands before God.
- August 27, 2015
- ·
- Like
The Linton Worm
From
The Battle Abbey Roll: with some account of the Norman lineages Vol. 1
By Catherine Lucy Wilhelmina Powlett Cleveland, Battle Abbey
Published by J. Murray, 1889
"His grandson further o...The Linton Worm
From
The Battle Abbey Roll: with some account of the Norman lineages Vol. 1
By Catherine Lucy Wilhelmina Powlett Cleveland, Battle Abbey
Published by J. Murray, 1889
"His grandson further obtained in 1174 the barony of Linton in Roxburghshire. According to an old MS. in the Advocate's Library, quoted by Sir Walter Scott, " he was made by King William (the lion) his principal falconer, and got from that king the lands and baronie of Linton, in Teviotdale, for an extraordinaire and valiant action, which, according to the manuscript of the family of Drum, was thus: In the parochen of Lintoun there happened to breede a monster, in forme of a serpent or worme : in length, three Scots yards, and somewhat bigger than an ordinarie man's leg, with a head more proportionable to its length than greatnesse. It had its den in a hollow piece of ground, a mile S.E. from Lintoun church : it destroyed both men and beasts that came in its way. Several attempts were made to destroy it, by shooting of arrows, and throwing of darts, none daring to approach so near as to make use of a sword or lance. John Somerville* undertakes to kill it, and being well mounted, and attended with a stoute servant, he cam, before the sun-rising, before the dragon's den, having prepared some long, small, and hard peats " (bog-turf dried for fuel) " bedabbled with pitch, rosett, and brimstone, fixed with a small wire upon a wheel, at the point of his lance; these, being touched with fire, would instantly break out into flames; and, there being a breath of'air, that served to his purpose, about the sun-rising the worme appeared with her head and some part of her body without the den: whereupon his servant set fire to the peats upon the wheel at the top of the lance, and John Somerville, advancing with a full gallop, thrust the same with the wheel, and a great part of the lance, directly into the serpent's mouth, which wente down its throat into the belly, and was left there, the lance breaking by the re-bounding of the horse, and giving a deadly wound to the dragon ; for which action he was knighted by King William; and his effigies was cut in ston in the posture he performed this actione, and placed above the principal church door of Lintoun, where it is yet to be seen, with his name and sirname; and the place where this monster was killed is at this day called the Wormes Glen. And further to perpetuate this actione, the barons of Lintoun, Cowthally, and Drum, did always carry for crest a wheel, and thereon a dragon." The rude piece of sculpture that commemorates the exploit is still in its place; and a falcon on the knight's arm probably denotes his office of falconer...
* The champion's name was in reality William"
It has been suggested in other, more modern, sources that perhaps there may be a grain of truth in the tale of the Linton Worm. Some nobles kept private menageries and it may be that the worm was in fact an escapee from one such menagerie and could have been a python or other large exotic snake. Other sources also state that the charter of the barony dates to 1203 instead of 1174.
From
The Battle Abbey Roll: with some account of the Norman lineages Vol. 1
By Catherine Lucy Wilhelmina Powlett Cleveland, Battle Abbey
Published by J. Murray, 1889
"His grandson further o...The Linton Worm
From
The Battle Abbey Roll: with some account of the Norman lineages Vol. 1
By Catherine Lucy Wilhelmina Powlett Cleveland, Battle Abbey
Published by J. Murray, 1889
"His grandson further obtained in 1174 the barony of Linton in Roxburghshire. According to an old MS. in the Advocate's Library, quoted by Sir Walter Scott, " he was made by King William (the lion) his principal falconer, and got from that king the lands and baronie of Linton, in Teviotdale, for an extraordinaire and valiant action, which, according to the manuscript of the family of Drum, was thus: In the parochen of Lintoun there happened to breede a monster, in forme of a serpent or worme : in length, three Scots yards, and somewhat bigger than an ordinarie man's leg, with a head more proportionable to its length than greatnesse. It had its den in a hollow piece of ground, a mile S.E. from Lintoun church : it destroyed both men and beasts that came in its way. Several attempts were made to destroy it, by shooting of arrows, and throwing of darts, none daring to approach so near as to make use of a sword or lance. John Somerville* undertakes to kill it, and being well mounted, and attended with a stoute servant, he cam, before the sun-rising, before the dragon's den, having prepared some long, small, and hard peats " (bog-turf dried for fuel) " bedabbled with pitch, rosett, and brimstone, fixed with a small wire upon a wheel, at the point of his lance; these, being touched with fire, would instantly break out into flames; and, there being a breath of'air, that served to his purpose, about the sun-rising the worme appeared with her head and some part of her body without the den: whereupon his servant set fire to the peats upon the wheel at the top of the lance, and John Somerville, advancing with a full gallop, thrust the same with the wheel, and a great part of the lance, directly into the serpent's mouth, which wente down its throat into the belly, and was left there, the lance breaking by the re-bounding of the horse, and giving a deadly wound to the dragon ; for which action he was knighted by King William; and his effigies was cut in ston in the posture he performed this actione, and placed above the principal church door of Lintoun, where it is yet to be seen, with his name and sirname; and the place where this monster was killed is at this day called the Wormes Glen. And further to perpetuate this actione, the barons of Lintoun, Cowthally, and Drum, did always carry for crest a wheel, and thereon a dragon." The rude piece of sculpture that commemorates the exploit is still in its place; and a falcon on the knight's arm probably denotes his office of falconer...
* The champion's name was in reality William"
It has been suggested in other, more modern, sources that perhaps there may be a grain of truth in the tale of the Linton Worm. Some nobles kept private menageries and it may be that the worm was in fact an escapee from one such menagerie and could have been a python or other large exotic snake. Other sources also state that the charter of the barony dates to 1203 instead of 1174.
Marilyn Sloper likes this.
The odd tale of Alexander Jones...
ALEXANDER JONES.
"JEAN, sit a wee bit east," requested the town-clerk, between the puffs of his pipe, as he sat on the corner of the bench before his fire one chilly e...The odd tale of Alexander Jones...
ALEXANDER JONES.
"JEAN, sit a wee bit east," requested the town-clerk, between the puffs of his pipe, as he sat on the corner of the bench before his fire one chilly evening. "You're taking ower muckle room, and mair than your share o' the settle."
But Jean, his wife, had just got her knitting into a nasty tangle, and was not in the best of humours, so declined to move one inch, or to attend to what her husband was saying.
"Jean," said her husband again, "sit a wee bit east; it's no decent to sit sae selfish. Sit a bit east, d'ye hear?" and the town-clerk gave his wife a rude shove to her end of the bench.
"Wha' d'ye mean by that? and wha' d'ye mean by east?" cried his wife. "There's nae sic thing as east to begin with, and--"
"Nae sic thing as east?" shouted the town-clerk. "Will ye no' believe the sun himself?" and then in a loud voice he declaimed that, as the sun went round the earth every day, and was always rising every moment somewhere in the east, which thing he hoped no one was fool enough to deny, everywhere was the east, all over the place; and if there was anything ridiculous, it was to talk about west. If everywhere was east, there was nowhere where west could be. So he hoped his wife would not make a goose of herself, and talk nonsense.
But then his wife got up and said he did not look at it in the right way at all. On the contrary, the sun was all the day setting somewhere in the west, which thing she hoped no one was fool enough to contradict; and as he was always setting somewhere, and doing it every moment, everywhere was west, and if everywhere was west, there was no room for east to be anywhere. So she trusted her husband would not make an ass of himself, and mention east again.
But he shook his head, just like a dog that has been bitten behind the ear, and was going to reply, when she kilted her petticoats, and ran round the room in one direction to show how it was done, crying, "West, west, west!"
This made the town-clerk very angry, and he got tip also, and hitched his trousers, and ran round the table in the opposite direction, yelling out, "East, east, east!" to show how he thought it was done.
Yet it only ended by their getting very giddy, and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt very much, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing, namely, that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So they went to the grocer, who had a good-sized house up the street, and told him all about the thing, with the ins and outs of the question; and the grocer and the grocer's wife, and the grocer's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister, and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done. It only ended in their getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner all the time, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing, that the question. was of too deep importance to rest there. So the whole lot went to the innkeeper, who had a much larger house than the grocer, down the street, and told him all about the thing, with the ins and outs of the matter; and the innkeeper, and the innkeeper's wife, and the innkeeper's maiden a-Lint by marriage on the mother's side, and the innkeeper's wife's youngest married sister, and the innkeeper's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done. And it only ended by their all getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat all the time quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing., that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So the whole lot went to the chief magistrate, who had the very largest house in the burgh, in the middle of the street by the market-place, and they told him all about the thing, and the ins and outs of the matter; and the magistrate, and the magistrate's wife, and the magistrate's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the magistrate's wife's youngest married sister, and the magistrate's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested in the matter, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the magistrate's table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done; and it only ended by their all getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing, that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So the magistrate called a meeting of the whole populace in the town-hall.
And when the populace came to the town-hall, the chief magistrate told them all about it, and the ins and outs of the matter; and the populace, and the populace's wife, and the populace's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the populace's wife's youngest married sister, and the populace's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another.
And they all wanted then to run round a table to explain how each thought it was done; but here a difficulty arose, for, alas! there was no table in the town-hall to run round, and what then were they to do? Yet they were not going to be balked for a trifle like that, not they? So they requested the chief magistrate to stand in the middle, and let them all run round him in the direction it pleased them.
But the chief magistrate objected strongly, for he said it would make him worse than giddy to see some folk going one way round him and some going the other; indeed, it would be certain to make him sick. So he suggested instead that Alexander Jones should be placed in the middle. Yes, why could they not run round him? Better make use of him, he was so stupid, and said nothing; besides, the chief magistrate wanted to run round with the best of them himself, and why should he be cut out more than any one else?
"No, no," cried they all. "Alexander Jones is too small, and would be certain to be trod upon." It would not do at all, and the chief magistrate must really do what he was asked. Hadn't they, only the other day, given him an imitation gold badge to wear on his stom-----well, never mind--and he must do something for them in return, or they'd take it away, that they would.
So the poor man had to give in, but he insisted upon having his eyes bandaged, and also on having a good chair to sit in, otherwise he knew he would be sick; of that he felt certain.
Then they bandaged his eyes with an old dishclout they got from somewhere; for a handkerchief would not go round his face, he had such a very big nose; and, having seated him in a chair, they all ran round him in a circle, some this way, some another; but they all only got very giddy and banged each other's heads, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or to the solving of the difficulty; and, worse than all, just at the end, when they could run no longer, and were quite out of breath, Eliza M'Diarmed, the fat widow who kept the confectionery-shop fell plump against the chief magistrate, and sent him and his chair flying all along the floor.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Then the chief magistrate pulled the bandage off his eyes in a towering passion, and said something must and should be settled there and then. No, he would stand it no longer. He threatened, also, if they did not agree, he would put a tax on buttons; which was rather clever of him, for you see, both sexes would feel that tax equally, and he, inasmuch as his robes were all fastened by a buckle at his neck, and a jewelled girdle round his stom----well, never mind--it would not affect him at all.
At this the town-clerk rose, and said they must, in that case, devise some other way of discovering the answer to this terrible riddle, and he proposed to call in from the street Peter the road-man, for he was up and about at all hours, late and early, and would know more than most about the sun's movements; only, if they asked him, they must ask also his one-eyed sister, Jessica--she, you must know, took in the chief magistrate's washing, and so was a person of importance in the burgh--for Peter would certainly decline to come in unless she came with him.
Now this was, indeed, most provoking for me. Because, you see, there was not another square inch of room left in the town-hall for another person, and two people would have to go out to let Peter the road-man and his sister Jessica come in.
So they turned me out for one, as being a stranger from the country, only asked there in courtesy; and Alexander Jones for the other, because he was so stupid, and said nothing.
Thus, you see, I never knew what decision the meeting came to, though I am certain it did come to some, as next morning people's clothes were still worn as usual, and buttons were at the same price in the shops as before.
And, though disappointed greatly for my own sake, I am still more for yours, my friends, who I must say have listened to this long story most patiently.
But why was Alexander Jones so stupid as to sit still in the corner and say nothing?
Oh! hush, hush now! how silly you are! Why, how on earth could he do anything else?
Alexander Jones was the town-clerk's TOM CAT.
ALEXANDER JONES.
"JEAN, sit a wee bit east," requested the town-clerk, between the puffs of his pipe, as he sat on the corner of the bench before his fire one chilly e...The odd tale of Alexander Jones...
ALEXANDER JONES.
"JEAN, sit a wee bit east," requested the town-clerk, between the puffs of his pipe, as he sat on the corner of the bench before his fire one chilly evening. "You're taking ower muckle room, and mair than your share o' the settle."
But Jean, his wife, had just got her knitting into a nasty tangle, and was not in the best of humours, so declined to move one inch, or to attend to what her husband was saying.
"Jean," said her husband again, "sit a wee bit east; it's no decent to sit sae selfish. Sit a bit east, d'ye hear?" and the town-clerk gave his wife a rude shove to her end of the bench.
"Wha' d'ye mean by that? and wha' d'ye mean by east?" cried his wife. "There's nae sic thing as east to begin with, and--"
"Nae sic thing as east?" shouted the town-clerk. "Will ye no' believe the sun himself?" and then in a loud voice he declaimed that, as the sun went round the earth every day, and was always rising every moment somewhere in the east, which thing he hoped no one was fool enough to deny, everywhere was the east, all over the place; and if there was anything ridiculous, it was to talk about west. If everywhere was east, there was nowhere where west could be. So he hoped his wife would not make a goose of herself, and talk nonsense.
But then his wife got up and said he did not look at it in the right way at all. On the contrary, the sun was all the day setting somewhere in the west, which thing she hoped no one was fool enough to contradict; and as he was always setting somewhere, and doing it every moment, everywhere was west, and if everywhere was west, there was no room for east to be anywhere. So she trusted her husband would not make an ass of himself, and mention east again.
But he shook his head, just like a dog that has been bitten behind the ear, and was going to reply, when she kilted her petticoats, and ran round the room in one direction to show how it was done, crying, "West, west, west!"
This made the town-clerk very angry, and he got tip also, and hitched his trousers, and ran round the table in the opposite direction, yelling out, "East, east, east!" to show how he thought it was done.
Yet it only ended by their getting very giddy, and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt very much, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing, namely, that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So they went to the grocer, who had a good-sized house up the street, and told him all about the thing, with the ins and outs of the question; and the grocer and the grocer's wife, and the grocer's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister, and the grocer's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done. It only ended in their getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner all the time, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing, that the question. was of too deep importance to rest there. So the whole lot went to the innkeeper, who had a much larger house than the grocer, down the street, and told him all about the thing, with the ins and outs of the matter; and the innkeeper, and the innkeeper's wife, and the innkeeper's maiden a-Lint by marriage on the mother's side, and the innkeeper's wife's youngest married sister, and the innkeeper's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done. And it only ended by their all getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat all the time quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing., that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So the whole lot went to the chief magistrate, who had the very largest house in the burgh, in the middle of the street by the market-place, and they told him all about the thing, and the ins and outs of the matter; and the magistrate, and the magistrate's wife, and the magistrate's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the magistrate's wife's youngest married sister, and the magistrate's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested in the matter, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another, and they ran round the magistrate's table, some this way and some that, to explain how in their opinion it was done; and it only ended by their all getting very giddy and banging their heads together, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or the solving of the difficulty, you may be sure.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Still, they agreed in one thing, that the question was of too deep importance to rest there. So the magistrate called a meeting of the whole populace in the town-hall.
And when the populace came to the town-hall, the chief magistrate told them all about it, and the ins and outs of the matter; and the populace, and the populace's wife, and the populace's maiden aunt by marriage on the mother's side, and the populace's wife's youngest married sister, and the populace's wife's youngest married sister's little girl, were all naturally much interested, to say the least. But one took one view, and another took another.
And they all wanted then to run round a table to explain how each thought it was done; but here a difficulty arose, for, alas! there was no table in the town-hall to run round, and what then were they to do? Yet they were not going to be balked for a trifle like that, not they? So they requested the chief magistrate to stand in the middle, and let them all run round him in the direction it pleased them.
But the chief magistrate objected strongly, for he said it would make him worse than giddy to see some folk going one way round him and some going the other; indeed, it would be certain to make him sick. So he suggested instead that Alexander Jones should be placed in the middle. Yes, why could they not run round him? Better make use of him, he was so stupid, and said nothing; besides, the chief magistrate wanted to run round with the best of them himself, and why should he be cut out more than any one else?
"No, no," cried they all. "Alexander Jones is too small, and would be certain to be trod upon." It would not do at all, and the chief magistrate must really do what he was asked. Hadn't they, only the other day, given him an imitation gold badge to wear on his stom-----well, never mind--and he must do something for them in return, or they'd take it away, that they would.
So the poor man had to give in, but he insisted upon having his eyes bandaged, and also on having a good chair to sit in, otherwise he knew he would be sick; of that he felt certain.
Then they bandaged his eyes with an old dishclout they got from somewhere; for a handkerchief would not go round his face, he had such a very big nose; and, having seated him in a chair, they all ran round him in a circle, some this way, some another; but they all only got very giddy and banged each other's heads, a thing which hurt, and did not conduce to good-temper or to the solving of the difficulty; and, worse than all, just at the end, when they could run no longer, and were quite out of breath, Eliza M'Diarmed, the fat widow who kept the confectionery-shop fell plump against the chief magistrate, and sent him and his chair flying all along the floor.
But Alexander Jones sat quiet in the corner, and said nothing.
Then the chief magistrate pulled the bandage off his eyes in a towering passion, and said something must and should be settled there and then. No, he would stand it no longer. He threatened, also, if they did not agree, he would put a tax on buttons; which was rather clever of him, for you see, both sexes would feel that tax equally, and he, inasmuch as his robes were all fastened by a buckle at his neck, and a jewelled girdle round his stom----well, never mind--it would not affect him at all.
At this the town-clerk rose, and said they must, in that case, devise some other way of discovering the answer to this terrible riddle, and he proposed to call in from the street Peter the road-man, for he was up and about at all hours, late and early, and would know more than most about the sun's movements; only, if they asked him, they must ask also his one-eyed sister, Jessica--she, you must know, took in the chief magistrate's washing, and so was a person of importance in the burgh--for Peter would certainly decline to come in unless she came with him.
Now this was, indeed, most provoking for me. Because, you see, there was not another square inch of room left in the town-hall for another person, and two people would have to go out to let Peter the road-man and his sister Jessica come in.
So they turned me out for one, as being a stranger from the country, only asked there in courtesy; and Alexander Jones for the other, because he was so stupid, and said nothing.
Thus, you see, I never knew what decision the meeting came to, though I am certain it did come to some, as next morning people's clothes were still worn as usual, and buttons were at the same price in the shops as before.
And, though disappointed greatly for my own sake, I am still more for yours, my friends, who I must say have listened to this long story most patiently.
But why was Alexander Jones so stupid as to sit still in the corner and say nothing?
Oh! hush, hush now! how silly you are! Why, how on earth could he do anything else?
Alexander Jones was the town-clerk's TOM CAT.
Marilyn Sloper likes this.
Marilyn Sloper
I had to, Stirling. I see a rock, I've gotta turn it over to find out what's underneath. Might be bugs, might be a gold coin. Gotta find out. 
The Gille Dubh
In Scottish folklore the Ghillie Dhu or Gille Dubh is a faerie, a guardian spirit of the trees. He is kind to children, but generally wild and shy. Said to be dark haired, he is describe...The Gille Dubh
In Scottish folklore the Ghillie Dhu or Gille Dubh is a faerie, a guardian spirit of the trees. He is kind to children, but generally wild and shy. Said to be dark haired, he is described as clothed in leaves and moss (similar to a Green Man in England and Wales). He especially likes birch trees, and is most active at night. In lore, this solitary spirit is said to reside primarily near Gairloch and Loch a Druing.
It is also a term used in song, including "code-songs" in which it was used to symbolize the Stuart heir, probably deriving from the time when the future Charles II, son of the executed Charles I, was in exile following the English Civil War. Charles was dark-hued, with black hair, and so was given the code-name "Gille Dubh." The term was later extended to mean his younger brother, ( James VII and II), after he was exiled following the rebellion that put his daughter Mary and her husband William of Orange on the throne.
Gille Dubh translates from Scottish Gaelic as "dark haired lad".
In Scottish folklore the Ghillie Dhu or Gille Dubh is a faerie, a guardian spirit of the trees. He is kind to children, but generally wild and shy. Said to be dark haired, he is describe...The Gille Dubh
In Scottish folklore the Ghillie Dhu or Gille Dubh is a faerie, a guardian spirit of the trees. He is kind to children, but generally wild and shy. Said to be dark haired, he is described as clothed in leaves and moss (similar to a Green Man in England and Wales). He especially likes birch trees, and is most active at night. In lore, this solitary spirit is said to reside primarily near Gairloch and Loch a Druing.
It is also a term used in song, including "code-songs" in which it was used to symbolize the Stuart heir, probably deriving from the time when the future Charles II, son of the executed Charles I, was in exile following the English Civil War. Charles was dark-hued, with black hair, and so was given the code-name "Gille Dubh." The term was later extended to mean his younger brother, ( James VII and II), after he was exiled following the rebellion that put his daughter Mary and her husband William of Orange on the throne.
Gille Dubh translates from Scottish Gaelic as "dark haired lad".
Marilyn Sloper likes this.
Mary Stewart, Queen of Scotland (1542 - 1587)
"In my end is my Beginning"
- Mary Queen of Scots
How many of us wonder in our secret hearts just what our lives are meant to be, what impact our pre...Mary Stewart, Queen of Scotland (1542 - 1587)
"In my end is my Beginning"
- Mary Queen of Scots
How many of us wonder in our secret hearts just what our lives are meant to be, what impact our presence and passing may have on the balance of the world both as it is now and as it may become?
Mary Stewart had nineteen long years to ponder these questions, and possessed both the courage and the will to determine for herself the outcome of her personal tragedy and make her mark in our hearts and in the lives of many generations of Scots and Englishmen.
Born to rule, raised in luxury at the French court, Queen of Scotland, Queen Dowager of France, second in line to the English throne, in her darkest nightmares Mary could not have imagined what her life would become when she set sail from France in 1561 at the age of eighteen to rejoin her people and begin her personal rule of Scotland.
Well-educated, beautiful, charming, religiously tolerant of her Protestant subjects, and loyal and caring with high- and low-born alike -- none of these talents and qualities were adequate for holding her throne against the greed and ambition of the Scottish nobles. The very qualities so often admired in the Scots -- independence, courage, clan loyalty -- worked against a strong monarchy in Scotland. These powerful lords were only interested in self-aggrandizement and extending their own lands and power base. Constantly changing loyalties and pacts amongst them brought Mary to grief over and over again. The duplicity of Elizabeth I, Mary's cousin and Queen of England, further undermined Mary's authority.
After a remarkable series of catastrophes, including Mary's ill-received marriage to Lord Darnley (father of James VI), the murder of Mary's servant Riccio, Darnley's subsequent murder at Kirk o' Field, her abduction and brief marriage to James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell -- all with in a three-year period! -- Mary made the most unfortunate decision of her short reign. Pursued by rebels, Mary chose to flee to England, rather than attempt an escape to France.
Putting herself into Elizabeth's hands seems well-nigh impossible to understand, for Elizabeth's primary concern throughout her reign was to secure the kingdom to herself and ensure a Protestant England. Once on English soil, Mary never left again. She was imprisoned in various homes and castles for the next nineteen years -- and eventually executed (illegally) on charges of treason soon after her 44th birthday.
In reflecting on Mary Queen of Scots' life and person, we are overwhelmed at the unfairness and injustice she suffered, losing her kingdom to the pettiness of those less fit to rule. Her son, Jame VI (James I of England, surname Stuart from his father Darnley), torn from her at age 10 months, was raised to despise her and her Catholic faith -- he never lifted a finger to help her and did not grieve at her death. Elizabeth's motives are at least clear, as Mary was a definite threat to her throne, but the underhanded and cruel way in which Mary was often treated is inexcusable.
Many readers become bored with Mary's later life, preferring the excitement and romance of her youthful escapades. But half of Mary's life was led in captivity and the maturity and insight she gained during these years produced her immortal legacy. While always loyal to the Roman Catholic church, Mary had not been excessively devout when young.
However, her years in prison deepened her faith. Knowing she would soon be put to death, Mary determined to die with all the dignity of a Queen (a birthright no one could take from her) and as a martyr to the Catholic faith. In this endeavor, she richly succeeded and future generations revered her devotion to the cause of Christ and put to shame her oppressors.
Elizabeth I died barren, "The Virgin Queen". She lies in a tomb at Westminster Abbey with her sister, Mary Tudor, also barren. Mary Queen of Scots lies in the Abbey surrounded by generation after generation, babies, children, and adults, of the Stuart line. Her blood flows through the centuries and in the veins of the current Elizabeth II.
"In my end is my Beginning" was embroidered by Mary herself on the royal dais of state under which she sat throughout her years of captivity.
"In my end is my Beginning"
- Mary Queen of Scots
How many of us wonder in our secret hearts just what our lives are meant to be, what impact our pre...Mary Stewart, Queen of Scotland (1542 - 1587)
"In my end is my Beginning"
- Mary Queen of Scots
How many of us wonder in our secret hearts just what our lives are meant to be, what impact our presence and passing may have on the balance of the world both as it is now and as it may become?
Mary Stewart had nineteen long years to ponder these questions, and possessed both the courage and the will to determine for herself the outcome of her personal tragedy and make her mark in our hearts and in the lives of many generations of Scots and Englishmen.
Born to rule, raised in luxury at the French court, Queen of Scotland, Queen Dowager of France, second in line to the English throne, in her darkest nightmares Mary could not have imagined what her life would become when she set sail from France in 1561 at the age of eighteen to rejoin her people and begin her personal rule of Scotland.
Well-educated, beautiful, charming, religiously tolerant of her Protestant subjects, and loyal and caring with high- and low-born alike -- none of these talents and qualities were adequate for holding her throne against the greed and ambition of the Scottish nobles. The very qualities so often admired in the Scots -- independence, courage, clan loyalty -- worked against a strong monarchy in Scotland. These powerful lords were only interested in self-aggrandizement and extending their own lands and power base. Constantly changing loyalties and pacts amongst them brought Mary to grief over and over again. The duplicity of Elizabeth I, Mary's cousin and Queen of England, further undermined Mary's authority.
After a remarkable series of catastrophes, including Mary's ill-received marriage to Lord Darnley (father of James VI), the murder of Mary's servant Riccio, Darnley's subsequent murder at Kirk o' Field, her abduction and brief marriage to James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell -- all with in a three-year period! -- Mary made the most unfortunate decision of her short reign. Pursued by rebels, Mary chose to flee to England, rather than attempt an escape to France.
Putting herself into Elizabeth's hands seems well-nigh impossible to understand, for Elizabeth's primary concern throughout her reign was to secure the kingdom to herself and ensure a Protestant England. Once on English soil, Mary never left again. She was imprisoned in various homes and castles for the next nineteen years -- and eventually executed (illegally) on charges of treason soon after her 44th birthday.
In reflecting on Mary Queen of Scots' life and person, we are overwhelmed at the unfairness and injustice she suffered, losing her kingdom to the pettiness of those less fit to rule. Her son, Jame VI (James I of England, surname Stuart from his father Darnley), torn from her at age 10 months, was raised to despise her and her Catholic faith -- he never lifted a finger to help her and did not grieve at her death. Elizabeth's motives are at least clear, as Mary was a definite threat to her throne, but the underhanded and cruel way in which Mary was often treated is inexcusable.
Many readers become bored with Mary's later life, preferring the excitement and romance of her youthful escapades. But half of Mary's life was led in captivity and the maturity and insight she gained during these years produced her immortal legacy. While always loyal to the Roman Catholic church, Mary had not been excessively devout when young.
However, her years in prison deepened her faith. Knowing she would soon be put to death, Mary determined to die with all the dignity of a Queen (a birthright no one could take from her) and as a martyr to the Catholic faith. In this endeavor, she richly succeeded and future generations revered her devotion to the cause of Christ and put to shame her oppressors.
Elizabeth I died barren, "The Virgin Queen". She lies in a tomb at Westminster Abbey with her sister, Mary Tudor, also barren. Mary Queen of Scots lies in the Abbey surrounded by generation after generation, babies, children, and adults, of the Stuart line. Her blood flows through the centuries and in the veins of the current Elizabeth II.
"In my end is my Beginning" was embroidered by Mary herself on the royal dais of state under which she sat throughout her years of captivity.
Marilyn Sloper
Unbelievable. My heart broke for Mary while reading this. She tried so hard to do the right things for the right reasons, only to have family members work against and betray her.
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Unfortunately, every family has some "bad seed". Those are members who prefer to lie, make trouble, cause divisions an...Unbelievable. My heart broke for Mary while reading this. She tried so hard to do the right things for the right reasons, only to have family members work against and betray her.
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Unfortunately, every family has some "bad seed". Those are members who prefer to lie, make trouble, cause divisions and stir up strife/enmity simply because they can. It makes them feel powerful for a time.
.
They ignore that one day they will have to stand before God in the next life and explain why they did/said what they did; Why they chose to persecute people who never harmed them.
.
It should be interesting to hear their feeble defenses.
.
Unfortunately, every family has some "bad seed". Those are members who prefer to lie, make trouble, cause divisions an...Unbelievable. My heart broke for Mary while reading this. She tried so hard to do the right things for the right reasons, only to have family members work against and betray her.
.
Unfortunately, every family has some "bad seed". Those are members who prefer to lie, make trouble, cause divisions and stir up strife/enmity simply because they can. It makes them feel powerful for a time.
.
They ignore that one day they will have to stand before God in the next life and explain why they did/said what they did; Why they chose to persecute people who never harmed them.
.
It should be interesting to hear their feeble defenses.
The Banshee
It is told that dogs can see the spirit messenger of death coming nigh in the darkness. When they catch sight of it they begin to howl. People who hear dogs howling at night fear that someo...The Banshee
It is told that dogs can see the spirit messenger of death coming nigh in the darkness. When they catch sight of it they begin to howl. People who hear dogs howling at night fear that someone they know will meet with a fatal accident or die suddenly while asleep.
The Banshee is dreaded by dogs. She is a fairy woman who washes white sheets in a ford by night when someone near at hand is about to die. It is said she has the power to appear during day-time in the form of a black dog, or a raven, or a hoodie-crow.
The following is a Highland poem about the Banshee, who is supposed to sing a mournful song while she washes the death-clothes of one who is doomed to meet with a sudden and unexpected death:--
Knee-deep she waded in the pool--
The Banshee robed in green--
Singing her song the whole night long,
She washed the linen clean;
The linen that must wrap the dead
She beetled on a stone;
She washed with dripping hands, blood-red,
Low singing all alone:
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
Twas Fergus More rode o'er the hill,
Come back from foreign wars;
His horse's feet were clattering sweet
Below the pitiless stars;
And in his heart he would repeat:
"O never again I'll roam;
All weary is the going forth,
But sweet the coming home."
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
He saw the blaze upon his heart
Bright-gleaming down the glen;
O, he was fain for home again!--
He'd parted with his men.
"Tis many a weary day," he'd sigh,
"Since I did leave her side;
I'll never more leave Scotland's shore
And Una Ban, my bride."
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
With thought of Una's tender love
Soft tears his eyes did blind,
When up there crept and swiftly leapt
A man who stabbed behind.
"Tis you," he cried, "who stole my bride.
This night shall be your last." . . .
As Fergus fell, the warm, red tide
Of life came ebbing fast.
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
It is told that dogs can see the spirit messenger of death coming nigh in the darkness. When they catch sight of it they begin to howl. People who hear dogs howling at night fear that someo...The Banshee
It is told that dogs can see the spirit messenger of death coming nigh in the darkness. When they catch sight of it they begin to howl. People who hear dogs howling at night fear that someone they know will meet with a fatal accident or die suddenly while asleep.
The Banshee is dreaded by dogs. She is a fairy woman who washes white sheets in a ford by night when someone near at hand is about to die. It is said she has the power to appear during day-time in the form of a black dog, or a raven, or a hoodie-crow.
The following is a Highland poem about the Banshee, who is supposed to sing a mournful song while she washes the death-clothes of one who is doomed to meet with a sudden and unexpected death:--
Knee-deep she waded in the pool--
The Banshee robed in green--
Singing her song the whole night long,
She washed the linen clean;
The linen that must wrap the dead
She beetled on a stone;
She washed with dripping hands, blood-red,
Low singing all alone:
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
Twas Fergus More rode o'er the hill,
Come back from foreign wars;
His horse's feet were clattering sweet
Below the pitiless stars;
And in his heart he would repeat:
"O never again I'll roam;
All weary is the going forth,
But sweet the coming home."
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
He saw the blaze upon his heart
Bright-gleaming down the glen;
O, he was fain for home again!--
He'd parted with his men.
"Tis many a weary day," he'd sigh,
"Since I did leave her side;
I'll never more leave Scotland's shore
And Una Ban, my bride."
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
With thought of Una's tender love
Soft tears his eyes did blind,
When up there crept and swiftly leapt
A man who stabbed behind.
"Tis you," he cried, "who stole my bride.
This night shall be your last." . . .
As Fergus fell, the warm, red tide
Of life came ebbing fast.
The Banshee I with second sight,
Singing in the cold starlight;
I wash the death-clothes pure and while,
For Fergus More must die to-night.
Marilyn Sloper likes this.
Marilyn Sloper
Powerful poem. Banshees don't seem to be evil; they seem, to me, to be more like messengers come to give warning to him/her who has ears to hear and learn.
Redcaps
A Red Cap or Redcap, also known as a powrie or dunter, is a type of malevolent murderous dwarf, goblin, elf or fairy found in Border Folklore. They inhabit ruined castles found along the border...Redcaps
A Red Cap or Redcap, also known as a powrie or dunter, is a type of malevolent murderous dwarf, goblin, elf or fairy found in Border Folklore. They inhabit ruined castles found along the border between England and Scotland. Redcaps are said to murder travelers who stray into their homes and dye their hats with their victims' blood (from which they get their name). It is said, redcaps must kill regularly, for if the blood staining their hats dries out, they die. Redcaps are very fast in spite of the heavy iron pikes they wield and the iron-shod boots they wear. Outrunning the buck-toothed faeries is supposedly impossible; the only way to escape one is to quote a passage from the Bible. They lose a tooth on hearing it, which they leave behind.
The most infamous redcap of all was Robin Redcap. As the familiar of Lord William de Soulis, Robin wreaked much harm and ruin in the lands of his master's dwelling, Hermitage Castle. Men were murdered, women cruelly abused, and dark arts were practised. So much infamy and blasphemy was said to have been committed at Hermitage Castle that the great stone keep was thought to be sinking under a great weight of sin, as though the very ground wanted to hide it from the sight of God.
Yet Soulis, for all the evil he wrought, met a very horrible end: he was taken to the Nine Stane Rigg, a circle of stones hard by the castle, and there he was wrapped in lead and boiled to death in a great cauldron.
The boiling to death end of Lord Soulis by his infuriated vassals is only Scottish folklore. In reality William De Soulis was imprisoned in Dumbarton castle and died there, following his confessed complicity in the conspiracy against Robert the Bruce in 1320.
A Red Cap or Redcap, also known as a powrie or dunter, is a type of malevolent murderous dwarf, goblin, elf or fairy found in Border Folklore. They inhabit ruined castles found along the border...Redcaps
A Red Cap or Redcap, also known as a powrie or dunter, is a type of malevolent murderous dwarf, goblin, elf or fairy found in Border Folklore. They inhabit ruined castles found along the border between England and Scotland. Redcaps are said to murder travelers who stray into their homes and dye their hats with their victims' blood (from which they get their name). It is said, redcaps must kill regularly, for if the blood staining their hats dries out, they die. Redcaps are very fast in spite of the heavy iron pikes they wield and the iron-shod boots they wear. Outrunning the buck-toothed faeries is supposedly impossible; the only way to escape one is to quote a passage from the Bible. They lose a tooth on hearing it, which they leave behind.
The most infamous redcap of all was Robin Redcap. As the familiar of Lord William de Soulis, Robin wreaked much harm and ruin in the lands of his master's dwelling, Hermitage Castle. Men were murdered, women cruelly abused, and dark arts were practised. So much infamy and blasphemy was said to have been committed at Hermitage Castle that the great stone keep was thought to be sinking under a great weight of sin, as though the very ground wanted to hide it from the sight of God.
Yet Soulis, for all the evil he wrought, met a very horrible end: he was taken to the Nine Stane Rigg, a circle of stones hard by the castle, and there he was wrapped in lead and boiled to death in a great cauldron.
The boiling to death end of Lord Soulis by his infuriated vassals is only Scottish folklore. In reality William De Soulis was imprisoned in Dumbarton castle and died there, following his confessed complicity in the conspiracy against Robert the Bruce in 1320.
Prince Iain
Once upon a time there was a King and a Queen, and they had one son. But the Queen died, and the King married another wife. The name of the first Queen's son was Iain. He was handsome and a...Prince Iain
Once upon a time there was a King and a Queen, and they had one son. But the Queen died, and the King married another wife. The name of the first Queen's son was Iain. He was handsome and a good hunter. No bird could escape his arrow, and he could bring venison home any day he went out hunting.
But one day he was unlucky for the first time. He saw no deer, and when he shot an arrow at a Blue Falcon, he knocked a feather out of her wing. Putting the feather into his bag, he went home.
"What did you kill today?" said his stepmother.
Iain took the Blue Falcon's feather from his bag and gave it to her.
"I'm putting a spell on you," said his stepmother. "The water will run into your shoes and out again, and your feet will be cold and wet with brown bog water, till you bring me the bird this feather is from."
"I'm putting a spell on you," said Prince Iain to the Queen, his stepmother. "Till I come back, you will stand with one foot on that house, and your other foot on that castle and suffer every tempest and every wind that blows."
Prince Iain went off as fast as he could, leaving his step mother with one foot on the house and her other foot on the castle. (She was much colder than he was with his wet feet.) Prince Iain walked all day over waste land, looking for the Blue Falcon. As night fell, the little birds flew off to roost in the trees and bushes. When it was dark, Iain sheltered under a briar bush, when who should pass but Gillie Martin the Fox.
"No wonder you're down in the mouth, Prince Iain," said he. "You've come on a bad night. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
So they lit a fire and roasted the scraps of mutton. After their scanty supper, they slept side by side under the briar bush till morning.
"Prince Iain," said the Fox, "the Blue Falcon you're looking for belongs to the Big Giant with Five Heads. I'll show you where his house is, and my advice to you is this, become his servant. Tell him you can feed birds and swine, or look after cows, goats and sheep. Be quick to do everything he asks you, and be very good to his birds. In time he may trust you to feed his Blue Falcon. When this happens, be very kind to the bird and when the Giant is not at home, carry her off. But, take care that not one feather touches anything in the Giant's house. If this happens, you'll be in trouble."
"I'll be careful," said Prince Iain.
He went to the Giant's house and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?" shouted the Giant.
"It's me," said Iain. "I've come to see if you need a servant."
"What are you good at?" asked the Giant.
"I can feed birds and swine. I can feed and milk a cow, or goats or sheep."
"It's a lad like you I want," said the Giant, coming out of his house.
They came to an agreement about Iain's wages, and the lad began to feed the Giant's birds and animals. He was kind to the hens and the ducks. The Giant saw how well Iain was doing, and compared his food now with what it had been before Iain came. The hens and the ducks tasted better, and the Giant said he would rather have one now than two he had had before.
"This lad's so good, I think I can trust him to feed my Blue Falcon," said the Giant. So he gave Iain the Blue Falcon to look after, and the lad took great care of the bird, such care that the Giant thought Iain could be trusted to look after the Blue Falcon when its master was away from home.
So the Giant left his house one day in Iain's care. "Now's my chance," said Iain. He seized the Falcon and opened the door, but when the Falcon saw the daylight she spread her wings to fly, and one feather of one wing touched the doorpost. The doorpost screamed, and the Giant came running home. He took the Blue Falcon from Iain.
"I'll not give you my Falcon," said the Giant, "unless you bring me the White Sword of Light from the Big Women of Jura."
Prince Iain had to leave the Giant's house at once, and he wandered through the waste land. As it was growing dark, Gillie Martin the Fox met him.
"You're down in the mouth," said the Fox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. This is another bad night like the last. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
They lit a fire and cooked the mutton in the white flame of the dripping fat. After supper they went to sleep on the ground until morning.
"We'll go to the edge of the ocean," said Gillie Martin. So Iain went with the Fox to the shore.
"I'll shape-shift myself into a boat," said the Fox. "Go on board and I'll take you over to Jura. Go to the Seven Big Women of Jura and be their servant. When they ask you what you can do, say you're good at polishing steel and iron, gold and silver. Take care you do everything well, till they trust you with the White Sword of Light. When you have a chance, run off with it, but take care the sheath does not touch anything in the house, or you'll be in trouble."
Gillie Martin the Fox changed into a boat, and Iain went on board. When the boat reached land to the north of Jura, Iain jumped ashore and went off to take service with the Seven Big Women of Jura. He reached their house and knocked on the door.
"What are you looking for?" they asked him.
"I'm looking for work," said Iain. "I can polish gold and silver, steel and iron."
"We need a lad like you," they said.
They agreed about his wages, and for six weeks Iain worked very hard. The Big Women were watching him.
"This is the best lad we've had," they said. "Now we may trust him with the White Sword of Light."
They gave him the White Sword of Light to look after, and he took great care of it, till one day the Big Women were out of the house. Iain thought this was his chance. He put the White Sword of Light into its sheath and put it over his shoulder, but going out of the door the sheath touched the lintel of the door, and the lintel screamed. The Seven Big Women came running home and took the Sword from him.
"We'll not give you our White Sword of Light, unless you give us in return the Yellow Filly of the King of Erin."
Iain went to the shore of the ocean, where Gillie Martin met him.
"You're down in the mouth, Iain," said the Pox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. This is another bad night like the last. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
They lit a fire, cooked the mutton and satisfied their hunger.
"I'll shape shift myself and become a barque," said Gillie Martin the Fox. "Go aboard and I'll take you to Erin. When we reach Erin, go to the house of the King and ask service as a stable lad. When he asks what you can do, tell him you can groom and feed horses, polish the silverwork and the steel work on their harness. Be willing to do everything necessary and keep the horses and their harness in good order, till the King trusts you with the Yellow Filly. This will give you a chance to run away with her. But take care when you're leading her out that no bit of her, except her shoes, touches anything within the stable gate, or there'll be trouble."
Everything happened as the Fox said, till they reached the King's house.
"Where are you going?" asked the gate keeper.
"To see if the King has need of a stable lad," said Iain.
So he was taken to the King, who said: "What are you looking for here?"
"I came to see if you needed a stable lad."
"What can you do?"
"I can groom and feed the horses, polish the silver-work and the steel work on their harness."
So the King gave him the job at good wages. Soon the King noticed that his horses had never looked so well, so he gave Iain the Yellow Filly to care for. The Yellow Filly improved so much in appearance and speed that she could leave the wind behind her and overtake the wind ahead.
One day the King went out hunting, leaving the Yellow Filly in her stable. Iain saw that this was his chance, so he saddled and bridled her and took her out of the stable. But at the gate the Yellow Filly flicked her tail and touched the gate post. The gate post screamed, and the King came galloping back from the hunt.
"I'll not give you the Yellow Filly, unless you fetch me the daughter of the King of France," he said. So Iain went down to the seashore, where he met Gillie Martin.
"You're down in the mouth," said the Pox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. But I'll turn myself into a ship and take you to Prance in no time."
The Fox changed himself into a ship, and Iain went on board. Soon they came to France, where the ship ran herself aground on a rock. Then Iain climbed down on to the shore and walked up to the King's house.
"Where have you come from, and what are you doing here?" asked the King of France.
"A great storm came on, and we lost our captain at sea. Our ship is aground on a rock, and I don't know if we'll get her off again," said Iain.
The King and Queen and their family went down to the shore to see the ship. As they were looking at it, wonderful music sounded on board, and the King of France's daughter went with Iain on board to find out where the music came from. But the music was always in another part of the ship, till at last it came from the upper deck. The Princess and Iain climbed to the upper deck to find that the ship was, by that time, far out at sea, out of sight of land.
"That's a bad trick you played on me," said the Princess. "Where are you taking me?"
"To Erin," said Iain, "to give you to the King of Erin in return for the Yellow Filly, which I'll give to the Seven Big Women of Jura in return for their Sword of Light, which I'll give to the Giant with the Five Heads in return for his Blue Falcon, which I'll take home to my stepmother so that she'll free me from her spells. But you'll be safe with the King of Erin, who wishes to make you his wife."
"I'd rather be your wife," said the King of France's daughter.
When the ship came to the shores of Erin, Gillie Martin changed himself into a woman as beautiful as the King of France's daughter.
"Leave the King of France's daughter here till we come back," said the Fox. "I'll go with you to the King of Erin, and give him enough of a wife!" So the Fox, in the form of a beautiful young woman, took Iain's arm. The King of Erin came to meet them, and gave Iain the Yellow Filly with a golden saddle on her back, and a silver bridle. Iain galloped back to the King of France's daughter who was still waiting by the seashore.
Meanwhile, the King of Erin and his new wife went to bed. But in the night, Gillie Martin changed back from a beautiful young woman and became the Fox again. He tore the flesh from the King, from his neck to his waist. Then the Fox ran down to the shore where Iain and the Princess of France were waiting.
"Leave the Princess and the Yellow Filly here," said the Fox. "I'll go with you to the Seven Big Women of Jura, and give them enough of fillies!"
Then the Fox changed himself into a yellow filly. Iain saddled him with a golden saddle, and bridled him with a silver bridle, and rode on the filly's back to the Seven Big Women of Jura, who gave him the White Sword of Light in exchange for the filly. Iain took the golden saddle and the silver bridle off the yellow filly, and carried them, with the White Sword of Light, back to the shore. Here the Princess of France was waiting with the real Yellow Filly.
Meanwhile the Seven Big Women of Jura, very eager to ride on the back of the Yellow Filly, put a saddle on the Fox's back. The first Big Woman climbed into the saddle. The second Big Woman climbed on to the back of the first Big Woman; and the third Big Woman climbed on to the back of the second Big Woman; and the fourth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the third Big Woman; and the fifth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the fourth Big Woman; and the sixth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the fifth Big Woman; and the seventh Big Woman climbed on to the back of the sixth Big Woman.
The first Big Woman hit the filly with a stick. The filly ran backward and forward with the Seven Big Women of Jura on her back. Then she ran across moors, and then she ran up a mountain to the very top. She stopped with her forefeet on the edge of a cliff, kicked up her hind legs, and threw the Seven Big Women of Jura over the cliff. Then the filly changed back into the Fox, and ran laughing down to the seashore where Iain and the Princess of France, and the real Yellow Filly, and the White Sword of Light, were all waiting for him.
Gillie Martin the Fox became a boat and Iain helped the Princess of France into the boat, with the Yellow Filly, and carried the Sword of Light on board. Then the boat took them across the water to the mainland, where it changed back into Gillie Martin the Fox.
"Leave the Princess here," said the Fox, "and the Yellow Filly, and the Sword of Light. I'll change into a white sword, which you will give to the Giant with Five Heads. In return he'll give you the Blue Falcon. I'll see that he has enough of swords!"
When the Giant with Five Heads saw Iain coming with the sword, he thought it was the White Sword of Light, and he put the Blue Falcon into a basket and gave it to Iain, who carried the Blue Falcon back to the seashore where he had left the Princess waiting with the Yellow Filly and the real Sword of Light.
Meanwhile, the Giant with the Five Heads began fencing with the white sword, and swinging it round his head. Suddenly the sword bent itself and, before the Giant realized what was happening, he cut off his own heads, all five of them. Then the sword changed back into Gillie Martin the Fox, who ran down to the seashore where he had left Iain and the Princess.
"Now, listen carefully," he said to Iain. "Put the gold saddle on the Yellow Filly, and the silver bridle. Let the Princess of France, with the Blue Falcon in its basket, sit behind you on the back of the Yellow Filly. You, Iain, will hold the White Sword of Light with the back of the blade against your nose, and the edge of the sword toward your stepmother, the Queen. If you make any mistake, your stepmother will change you into a stick of firewood. But do as I tell you, with the sword held exactly as I have said. When she tries to bewitch you she will fall down as a bundle of sticks."
Iain was specially careful this time, and did exactly as Gillie Martin the Fox told him. He held the Sword of Light with the back of its blade against his nose, and the edge of the sword towards his stepmother, the Queen, and when she fell down as a bundle of firewood, Prince Iain burned her to wood ash.
Now he had the best wife in Scotland; and the Yellow Filly, that could leave one wind behind her and catch the wind in front; and the Blue Falcon which kept him supplied with plenty of game; and the White Sword of Light to defend him from his enemies.
"You're welcome," said Prince Iain to Gillie Martin the Fox, "to hunt over my ground, and take any beast you want. I'll forbid my servants to fire a single arrow at you, no matter what you do, even if you take a lamb from my flocks."
"Keep your herd of sheep!" said the Fox. "There's plenty of sheep in Scotland without troubling you!"
With that, Gillie Martin the Fox blessed Prince Iain and his Princess, wished them well and went on his way.
Once upon a time there was a King and a Queen, and they had one son. But the Queen died, and the King married another wife. The name of the first Queen's son was Iain. He was handsome and a...Prince Iain
Once upon a time there was a King and a Queen, and they had one son. But the Queen died, and the King married another wife. The name of the first Queen's son was Iain. He was handsome and a good hunter. No bird could escape his arrow, and he could bring venison home any day he went out hunting.
But one day he was unlucky for the first time. He saw no deer, and when he shot an arrow at a Blue Falcon, he knocked a feather out of her wing. Putting the feather into his bag, he went home.
"What did you kill today?" said his stepmother.
Iain took the Blue Falcon's feather from his bag and gave it to her.
"I'm putting a spell on you," said his stepmother. "The water will run into your shoes and out again, and your feet will be cold and wet with brown bog water, till you bring me the bird this feather is from."
"I'm putting a spell on you," said Prince Iain to the Queen, his stepmother. "Till I come back, you will stand with one foot on that house, and your other foot on that castle and suffer every tempest and every wind that blows."
Prince Iain went off as fast as he could, leaving his step mother with one foot on the house and her other foot on the castle. (She was much colder than he was with his wet feet.) Prince Iain walked all day over waste land, looking for the Blue Falcon. As night fell, the little birds flew off to roost in the trees and bushes. When it was dark, Iain sheltered under a briar bush, when who should pass but Gillie Martin the Fox.
"No wonder you're down in the mouth, Prince Iain," said he. "You've come on a bad night. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
So they lit a fire and roasted the scraps of mutton. After their scanty supper, they slept side by side under the briar bush till morning.
"Prince Iain," said the Fox, "the Blue Falcon you're looking for belongs to the Big Giant with Five Heads. I'll show you where his house is, and my advice to you is this, become his servant. Tell him you can feed birds and swine, or look after cows, goats and sheep. Be quick to do everything he asks you, and be very good to his birds. In time he may trust you to feed his Blue Falcon. When this happens, be very kind to the bird and when the Giant is not at home, carry her off. But, take care that not one feather touches anything in the Giant's house. If this happens, you'll be in trouble."
"I'll be careful," said Prince Iain.
He went to the Giant's house and knocked on the door.
"Who's there?" shouted the Giant.
"It's me," said Iain. "I've come to see if you need a servant."
"What are you good at?" asked the Giant.
"I can feed birds and swine. I can feed and milk a cow, or goats or sheep."
"It's a lad like you I want," said the Giant, coming out of his house.
They came to an agreement about Iain's wages, and the lad began to feed the Giant's birds and animals. He was kind to the hens and the ducks. The Giant saw how well Iain was doing, and compared his food now with what it had been before Iain came. The hens and the ducks tasted better, and the Giant said he would rather have one now than two he had had before.
"This lad's so good, I think I can trust him to feed my Blue Falcon," said the Giant. So he gave Iain the Blue Falcon to look after, and the lad took great care of the bird, such care that the Giant thought Iain could be trusted to look after the Blue Falcon when its master was away from home.
So the Giant left his house one day in Iain's care. "Now's my chance," said Iain. He seized the Falcon and opened the door, but when the Falcon saw the daylight she spread her wings to fly, and one feather of one wing touched the doorpost. The doorpost screamed, and the Giant came running home. He took the Blue Falcon from Iain.
"I'll not give you my Falcon," said the Giant, "unless you bring me the White Sword of Light from the Big Women of Jura."
Prince Iain had to leave the Giant's house at once, and he wandered through the waste land. As it was growing dark, Gillie Martin the Fox met him.
"You're down in the mouth," said the Fox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. This is another bad night like the last. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
They lit a fire and cooked the mutton in the white flame of the dripping fat. After supper they went to sleep on the ground until morning.
"We'll go to the edge of the ocean," said Gillie Martin. So Iain went with the Fox to the shore.
"I'll shape-shift myself into a boat," said the Fox. "Go on board and I'll take you over to Jura. Go to the Seven Big Women of Jura and be their servant. When they ask you what you can do, say you're good at polishing steel and iron, gold and silver. Take care you do everything well, till they trust you with the White Sword of Light. When you have a chance, run off with it, but take care the sheath does not touch anything in the house, or you'll be in trouble."
Gillie Martin the Fox changed into a boat, and Iain went on board. When the boat reached land to the north of Jura, Iain jumped ashore and went off to take service with the Seven Big Women of Jura. He reached their house and knocked on the door.
"What are you looking for?" they asked him.
"I'm looking for work," said Iain. "I can polish gold and silver, steel and iron."
"We need a lad like you," they said.
They agreed about his wages, and for six weeks Iain worked very hard. The Big Women were watching him.
"This is the best lad we've had," they said. "Now we may trust him with the White Sword of Light."
They gave him the White Sword of Light to look after, and he took great care of it, till one day the Big Women were out of the house. Iain thought this was his chance. He put the White Sword of Light into its sheath and put it over his shoulder, but going out of the door the sheath touched the lintel of the door, and the lintel screamed. The Seven Big Women came running home and took the Sword from him.
"We'll not give you our White Sword of Light, unless you give us in return the Yellow Filly of the King of Erin."
Iain went to the shore of the ocean, where Gillie Martin met him.
"You're down in the mouth, Iain," said the Pox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. This is another bad night like the last. All I've got to eat is a sheep's leg and cheek. We'll have to do with that."
They lit a fire, cooked the mutton and satisfied their hunger.
"I'll shape shift myself and become a barque," said Gillie Martin the Fox. "Go aboard and I'll take you to Erin. When we reach Erin, go to the house of the King and ask service as a stable lad. When he asks what you can do, tell him you can groom and feed horses, polish the silverwork and the steel work on their harness. Be willing to do everything necessary and keep the horses and their harness in good order, till the King trusts you with the Yellow Filly. This will give you a chance to run away with her. But take care when you're leading her out that no bit of her, except her shoes, touches anything within the stable gate, or there'll be trouble."
Everything happened as the Fox said, till they reached the King's house.
"Where are you going?" asked the gate keeper.
"To see if the King has need of a stable lad," said Iain.
So he was taken to the King, who said: "What are you looking for here?"
"I came to see if you needed a stable lad."
"What can you do?"
"I can groom and feed the horses, polish the silver-work and the steel work on their harness."
So the King gave him the job at good wages. Soon the King noticed that his horses had never looked so well, so he gave Iain the Yellow Filly to care for. The Yellow Filly improved so much in appearance and speed that she could leave the wind behind her and overtake the wind ahead.
One day the King went out hunting, leaving the Yellow Filly in her stable. Iain saw that this was his chance, so he saddled and bridled her and took her out of the stable. But at the gate the Yellow Filly flicked her tail and touched the gate post. The gate post screamed, and the King came galloping back from the hunt.
"I'll not give you the Yellow Filly, unless you fetch me the daughter of the King of France," he said. So Iain went down to the seashore, where he met Gillie Martin.
"You're down in the mouth," said the Pox, "because you'll not do as I tell you. But I'll turn myself into a ship and take you to Prance in no time."
The Fox changed himself into a ship, and Iain went on board. Soon they came to France, where the ship ran herself aground on a rock. Then Iain climbed down on to the shore and walked up to the King's house.
"Where have you come from, and what are you doing here?" asked the King of France.
"A great storm came on, and we lost our captain at sea. Our ship is aground on a rock, and I don't know if we'll get her off again," said Iain.
The King and Queen and their family went down to the shore to see the ship. As they were looking at it, wonderful music sounded on board, and the King of France's daughter went with Iain on board to find out where the music came from. But the music was always in another part of the ship, till at last it came from the upper deck. The Princess and Iain climbed to the upper deck to find that the ship was, by that time, far out at sea, out of sight of land.
"That's a bad trick you played on me," said the Princess. "Where are you taking me?"
"To Erin," said Iain, "to give you to the King of Erin in return for the Yellow Filly, which I'll give to the Seven Big Women of Jura in return for their Sword of Light, which I'll give to the Giant with the Five Heads in return for his Blue Falcon, which I'll take home to my stepmother so that she'll free me from her spells. But you'll be safe with the King of Erin, who wishes to make you his wife."
"I'd rather be your wife," said the King of France's daughter.
When the ship came to the shores of Erin, Gillie Martin changed himself into a woman as beautiful as the King of France's daughter.
"Leave the King of France's daughter here till we come back," said the Fox. "I'll go with you to the King of Erin, and give him enough of a wife!" So the Fox, in the form of a beautiful young woman, took Iain's arm. The King of Erin came to meet them, and gave Iain the Yellow Filly with a golden saddle on her back, and a silver bridle. Iain galloped back to the King of France's daughter who was still waiting by the seashore.
Meanwhile, the King of Erin and his new wife went to bed. But in the night, Gillie Martin changed back from a beautiful young woman and became the Fox again. He tore the flesh from the King, from his neck to his waist. Then the Fox ran down to the shore where Iain and the Princess of France were waiting.
"Leave the Princess and the Yellow Filly here," said the Fox. "I'll go with you to the Seven Big Women of Jura, and give them enough of fillies!"
Then the Fox changed himself into a yellow filly. Iain saddled him with a golden saddle, and bridled him with a silver bridle, and rode on the filly's back to the Seven Big Women of Jura, who gave him the White Sword of Light in exchange for the filly. Iain took the golden saddle and the silver bridle off the yellow filly, and carried them, with the White Sword of Light, back to the shore. Here the Princess of France was waiting with the real Yellow Filly.
Meanwhile the Seven Big Women of Jura, very eager to ride on the back of the Yellow Filly, put a saddle on the Fox's back. The first Big Woman climbed into the saddle. The second Big Woman climbed on to the back of the first Big Woman; and the third Big Woman climbed on to the back of the second Big Woman; and the fourth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the third Big Woman; and the fifth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the fourth Big Woman; and the sixth Big Woman climbed on to the back of the fifth Big Woman; and the seventh Big Woman climbed on to the back of the sixth Big Woman.
The first Big Woman hit the filly with a stick. The filly ran backward and forward with the Seven Big Women of Jura on her back. Then she ran across moors, and then she ran up a mountain to the very top. She stopped with her forefeet on the edge of a cliff, kicked up her hind legs, and threw the Seven Big Women of Jura over the cliff. Then the filly changed back into the Fox, and ran laughing down to the seashore where Iain and the Princess of France, and the real Yellow Filly, and the White Sword of Light, were all waiting for him.
Gillie Martin the Fox became a boat and Iain helped the Princess of France into the boat, with the Yellow Filly, and carried the Sword of Light on board. Then the boat took them across the water to the mainland, where it changed back into Gillie Martin the Fox.
"Leave the Princess here," said the Fox, "and the Yellow Filly, and the Sword of Light. I'll change into a white sword, which you will give to the Giant with Five Heads. In return he'll give you the Blue Falcon. I'll see that he has enough of swords!"
When the Giant with Five Heads saw Iain coming with the sword, he thought it was the White Sword of Light, and he put the Blue Falcon into a basket and gave it to Iain, who carried the Blue Falcon back to the seashore where he had left the Princess waiting with the Yellow Filly and the real Sword of Light.
Meanwhile, the Giant with the Five Heads began fencing with the white sword, and swinging it round his head. Suddenly the sword bent itself and, before the Giant realized what was happening, he cut off his own heads, all five of them. Then the sword changed back into Gillie Martin the Fox, who ran down to the seashore where he had left Iain and the Princess.
"Now, listen carefully," he said to Iain. "Put the gold saddle on the Yellow Filly, and the silver bridle. Let the Princess of France, with the Blue Falcon in its basket, sit behind you on the back of the Yellow Filly. You, Iain, will hold the White Sword of Light with the back of the blade against your nose, and the edge of the sword toward your stepmother, the Queen. If you make any mistake, your stepmother will change you into a stick of firewood. But do as I tell you, with the sword held exactly as I have said. When she tries to bewitch you she will fall down as a bundle of sticks."
Iain was specially careful this time, and did exactly as Gillie Martin the Fox told him. He held the Sword of Light with the back of its blade against his nose, and the edge of the sword towards his stepmother, the Queen, and when she fell down as a bundle of firewood, Prince Iain burned her to wood ash.
Now he had the best wife in Scotland; and the Yellow Filly, that could leave one wind behind her and catch the wind in front; and the Blue Falcon which kept him supplied with plenty of game; and the White Sword of Light to defend him from his enemies.
"You're welcome," said Prince Iain to Gillie Martin the Fox, "to hunt over my ground, and take any beast you want. I'll forbid my servants to fire a single arrow at you, no matter what you do, even if you take a lamb from my flocks."
"Keep your herd of sheep!" said the Fox. "There's plenty of sheep in Scotland without troubling you!"
With that, Gillie Martin the Fox blessed Prince Iain and his Princess, wished them well and went on his way.
Marilyn Sloper likes this.
Marilyn Sloper
This story reminded me of Aesops' Fables and other types of faery-tales I read when a child. At first glance, the moral of this tale seems to be "follow directions!".
But then, if Iain had, he never would have obtained everything he received at the end of the story.
But then, if Iain had, he never would have obtained everything he received at the end of the story.
From Tales From Scottish Ballads, by Elizabeth W. Grierson
THE LOCHMABEN HARPER
"Oh, heard ye of a silly harper,
Wha lang lived in Lochmaben town,
How he did gang to fair England,
To st...From Tales From Scottish Ballads, by Elizabeth W. Grierson
THE LOCHMABEN HARPER
"Oh, heard ye of a silly harper,
Wha lang lived in Lochmaben town,
How he did gang to fair England,
To steal King Henry's wanton brown?"
Once upon a time, there was an old man in Lochmaben, who made his
livelihood by going round the country playing on his harp. He was very
old, and very blind, and there was such a simple air about him, that
people were inclined to think that he had not all his wits, and they
always called him "The silly Lochmaben Harper."
Now Lochmaben is in Dumfriesshire, not very far from the English border,
and the old man sometimes took his harp and made long journeys into
England, playing at all the houses that he passed on the road.
Once when he returned from one of these journeys, he told everyone how
he had seen the English King, King Henry, who happened to be living at
that time at a castle in the north of England, and although he thought
the King a very fine-looking man indeed, he thought far more of a frisky
brown horse which his Majesty had been riding, and he had made up his
mind that some day it should be his.
All the people laughed loudly when they heard this, and looked at one
another and tapped their foreheads, and said, "Poor old man, his brain
is a little touched; he grows sillier, and sillier;" but the Harper only
smiled to himself, and went home to his cottage, where his wife was busy
making porridge for his supper.
"Wife," he said, setting down his harp in the corner of the room, "I am
going to steal the King of England's brown horse."
"Are you?" said his wife, and then she went on stirring the porridge.
She knew her husband better than the neighbours did, and she knew that
when he said a thing, he generally managed to do it.
The old man sat looking into the fire for a long time, and at last he
said, "I will need a horse with a foal, to help me: if I can find that,
I can do it."
"Tush!" said his wife, as she lifted the pan from the fire and poured
the boiling porridge carefully into two bowls; "if that is all that thou
needest, the brown horse is thine. Hast forgotten the old gray mare thou
left at home in the stable? Whilst thou wert gone, she bore a fine gray
foal."
"Ah!" said the old Harper, his eyes kindling. "Is she fond of her foal?"
"Fond of it, say you? I warrant bolts and bars would not keep her from
it. Ride thou away on the old mare, and I will keep the foal at home;
and I promise thee she will bring home the brown horse as straight as a
die, without thy aid, if thou desire it."
"Thou art a clever woman, Janet: thou thinkest of everything," said her
husband proudly, as she handed him his bowlful of porridge, and then sat
down to sup her own at the other side of the fire, chuckling to herself,
partly at her husband's words of praise, and partly at the simplicity of
the neighbours, who called him a silly old harper.
Next morning the old man went into the stable, and, taking a halter from
the wall, he hid it in his stocking; then he led out his old gray mare,
who neighed and whinnied in distress at having to leave her little foal
behind her. Indeed he had some difficulty in getting her to start, for
when he had mounted her, and turned her head along the Carlisle road,
she backed, and reared, and sidled, and made such a fuss, that quite a
crowd collected round her, crying, "Come and see the silly Harper of
Lochmaben start to bring home the King of England's brown horse."
At last the Harper got the mare to start, and he rode, and he rode,
playing on his harp all the time, until he came to the castle where the
King of England was. And, as luck would have it, who should come to the
gate, just as he arrived, but King Henry himself. Now his Majesty loved
music, and the old man really played very well, so he asked him to come
into the great hall of the castle, and let all the company hear him
play.
At this invitation the Harper jumped joyously down from his horse, as if
to make haste to go in, and then he hesitated.
"Nay, but if it please your Majesty," he said humbly, "my old nag is
footsore and weary: mayhap there is a stall in your Majesty's stable
where she might rest the night."
Now the King loved all animals, and it pleased him that the old man
should be so mindful of his beast; and seeing one of the stablemen in
the distance, he turned his head and cried carelessly, "Here, sirrah!
Take this old man's nag, and put it in a stall in the stable where my
own brown horse stands, and see to it that it has a good supper of oats
and a comfortable litter of hay."
Then he led the Harper into the hall where all his nobles were, and I
need not tell you that the old man played his very best. He struck up
such a merry tune that before long everybody began to dance, and the
very servants came creeping to the door to listen. The cooks left their
pans, and the chambermaids their dusters, the butlers their pantries;
and, best of all, the stablemen came from the stables without
remembering to lock the doors.
After a time, when they had all grown weary of dancing, the clever old
man began to play such soft, soothing, quiet music, that everyone began
to nod, and at last fell fast asleep.
He played on for a time, till he was certain that no one was left awake,
then he laid down his harp, and slipped off his shoes, and stole
silently down the broad staircase, smiling to himself as he did so.
With noiseless footsteps he crept to the stable door, which, as he
expected, he found unlocked, and entered, and for one moment he stood
looking about him in wonder, for it was the most splendid stable he had
ever seen, with thirty horses standing side by side, in one long row.
They were all beautiful horses, but the finest of all, was King Henry's
favourite brown horse, which he always rode himself.
The old Harper knew it at once, and, quick as thought, he loosed it,
and, drawing the halter which he had brought with him out of his
stocking, he slipped it over its head.
Then he loosed his own old gray mare, and tied the end of the halter to
her tail, so that, wherever she went, the brown horse was bound to
follow. He chuckled to himself as he led the two animals out of the
stable and across the courtyard, to the great wrought-iron gate, and
when he had opened this, he let the gray mare go, giving her a good
smack on the ribs as he did so. And the old gray mare, remembering her
little foal shut up in the stable at home, took off at the gallop,
straight across country, over hedges, and ditches, and walls, and
fences, pulling the King's brown horse after her at such a rate that he
had never even a chance to bite her tail, as he had thought of doing at
first, when he was angry at being tied to it.
Although the mare was old, she was very fleet of foot, and before the
day broke she was standing with her companion before her master's
cottage at Lochmaben. Her stable door was locked, so she began to neigh
with all her might, and at last the noise awoke the Harper's wife.
Now the old couple had a little servant girl who slept in the attic, and
the old woman called to her sharply, "Get up at once, thou lazy wench!
dost thou not hear thy master and his mare at the door?"
The girl did as she was bid, and, dressing herself hastily, went to the
door and looked through the keyhole to see if it were really her master.
She saw no one there save the gray mare and a strange brown horse.
"Oh mistress, mistress, get up," she cried in astonishment, running into
the kitchen. "What do you think has happened? The gray mare has gotten a
brown foal."
"Hold thy clavers!" retorted the old woman; "methinks thou art blinded
by the moonlight, if thou knowest not the difference between a
full-grown horse and a two-months'-old foal. Go and look out again and
bring me word if 'tis not a brown horse which the mare has brought with
her."
The girl ran to the door, and presently came back to say that she had
been mistaken, and that it was a brown horse, and that all the
neighbours were peeping out of their windows to see what the noise was
about.
The old woman laughed as she rose and dressed herself, and went out with
the girl to help her to tie up the two horses.
"'Tis the silly old Harper of Lochmaben they call him," she said to
herself, "but I wonder how many of them would have had the wit to gain a
new horse so easily?"
Meanwhile at the English castle the Harper had stolen silently back to
the hall after he had let the horses loose, and, taking up his harp
again, he harped softly until the morning broke, and the sleeping men
round him began to awake.
The King and his nobles called loudly for breakfast, and the servants
crept hastily away, afraid lest it might come to be known that they had
left their work the evening before to listen to the stranger's music.
The cooks went back to their pans, and the chambermaids to their
dusters, and the stablemen and grooms trooped out of doors to look after
the horses; but presently they all came rushing back again,
helter-skelter, with pale faces, for the stable door had been left open,
and the King's favourite brown horse had been stolen, as well as the
Harper's old gray mare. For a long time no one dare tell the King, but
at last the head stableman ventured upstairs and broke the news to the
Master-of-the-Horse, and the Master-of-the-Horse told the Lord
Chamberlain, and the Lord Chamberlain told the King.
At first his Majesty was very angry, and threatened to dismiss all the
grooms, but his attention was soon diverted by the cunning old Harper,
who threw down his harp, and pretended to be in great distress.
"I am ruined, I am ruined!" he exclaimed, "for I lost the gray mare's
foal just before I left Scotland, and I looked to the price of it for
the rent, and now the old gray mare herself is gone, and how am I to
travel about and earn my daily bread without her?"
Now the King was very kind-hearted, and he was sorry for the poor old
man, for he believed every word of his story, so he clapped him on the
back, and bade him play some more of his wonderful music, and promised
to make up to him for his losses.
Then the wicked old Harper rejoiced, for he knew that his trick had
succeeded, and he picked up his harp again, and played so beautifully
that the King forgot all about the loss of his favourite horse.
All that day the Harper played to him, and on the morrow, when he would
set out for home, in spite of all his entreaties that he would stay
longer, he made his treasurer give him three times the value of his old
gray mare, in solid gold, because he said that, if his servants had
locked the stable door, the mare would not have been stolen, and,
besides that, he gave him the price of the foal, which the wicked old
man had said that he had lost. "For," said the King, "'tis a pity that
such a marvellous harper should lack the money to pay his rent."
Then the cunning old Harper went home in triumph to Lochmaben, and the
good King never knew till the end of his life how terribly he had been
cheated.
THE LOCHMABEN HARPER
"Oh, heard ye of a silly harper,
Wha lang lived in Lochmaben town,
How he did gang to fair England,
To st...From Tales From Scottish Ballads, by Elizabeth W. Grierson
THE LOCHMABEN HARPER
"Oh, heard ye of a silly harper,
Wha lang lived in Lochmaben town,
How he did gang to fair England,
To steal King Henry's wanton brown?"
Once upon a time, there was an old man in Lochmaben, who made his
livelihood by going round the country playing on his harp. He was very
old, and very blind, and there was such a simple air about him, that
people were inclined to think that he had not all his wits, and they
always called him "The silly Lochmaben Harper."
Now Lochmaben is in Dumfriesshire, not very far from the English border,
and the old man sometimes took his harp and made long journeys into
England, playing at all the houses that he passed on the road.
Once when he returned from one of these journeys, he told everyone how
he had seen the English King, King Henry, who happened to be living at
that time at a castle in the north of England, and although he thought
the King a very fine-looking man indeed, he thought far more of a frisky
brown horse which his Majesty had been riding, and he had made up his
mind that some day it should be his.
All the people laughed loudly when they heard this, and looked at one
another and tapped their foreheads, and said, "Poor old man, his brain
is a little touched; he grows sillier, and sillier;" but the Harper only
smiled to himself, and went home to his cottage, where his wife was busy
making porridge for his supper.
"Wife," he said, setting down his harp in the corner of the room, "I am
going to steal the King of England's brown horse."
"Are you?" said his wife, and then she went on stirring the porridge.
She knew her husband better than the neighbours did, and she knew that
when he said a thing, he generally managed to do it.
The old man sat looking into the fire for a long time, and at last he
said, "I will need a horse with a foal, to help me: if I can find that,
I can do it."
"Tush!" said his wife, as she lifted the pan from the fire and poured
the boiling porridge carefully into two bowls; "if that is all that thou
needest, the brown horse is thine. Hast forgotten the old gray mare thou
left at home in the stable? Whilst thou wert gone, she bore a fine gray
foal."
"Ah!" said the old Harper, his eyes kindling. "Is she fond of her foal?"
"Fond of it, say you? I warrant bolts and bars would not keep her from
it. Ride thou away on the old mare, and I will keep the foal at home;
and I promise thee she will bring home the brown horse as straight as a
die, without thy aid, if thou desire it."
"Thou art a clever woman, Janet: thou thinkest of everything," said her
husband proudly, as she handed him his bowlful of porridge, and then sat
down to sup her own at the other side of the fire, chuckling to herself,
partly at her husband's words of praise, and partly at the simplicity of
the neighbours, who called him a silly old harper.
Next morning the old man went into the stable, and, taking a halter from
the wall, he hid it in his stocking; then he led out his old gray mare,
who neighed and whinnied in distress at having to leave her little foal
behind her. Indeed he had some difficulty in getting her to start, for
when he had mounted her, and turned her head along the Carlisle road,
she backed, and reared, and sidled, and made such a fuss, that quite a
crowd collected round her, crying, "Come and see the silly Harper of
Lochmaben start to bring home the King of England's brown horse."
At last the Harper got the mare to start, and he rode, and he rode,
playing on his harp all the time, until he came to the castle where the
King of England was. And, as luck would have it, who should come to the
gate, just as he arrived, but King Henry himself. Now his Majesty loved
music, and the old man really played very well, so he asked him to come
into the great hall of the castle, and let all the company hear him
play.
At this invitation the Harper jumped joyously down from his horse, as if
to make haste to go in, and then he hesitated.
"Nay, but if it please your Majesty," he said humbly, "my old nag is
footsore and weary: mayhap there is a stall in your Majesty's stable
where she might rest the night."
Now the King loved all animals, and it pleased him that the old man
should be so mindful of his beast; and seeing one of the stablemen in
the distance, he turned his head and cried carelessly, "Here, sirrah!
Take this old man's nag, and put it in a stall in the stable where my
own brown horse stands, and see to it that it has a good supper of oats
and a comfortable litter of hay."
Then he led the Harper into the hall where all his nobles were, and I
need not tell you that the old man played his very best. He struck up
such a merry tune that before long everybody began to dance, and the
very servants came creeping to the door to listen. The cooks left their
pans, and the chambermaids their dusters, the butlers their pantries;
and, best of all, the stablemen came from the stables without
remembering to lock the doors.
After a time, when they had all grown weary of dancing, the clever old
man began to play such soft, soothing, quiet music, that everyone began
to nod, and at last fell fast asleep.
He played on for a time, till he was certain that no one was left awake,
then he laid down his harp, and slipped off his shoes, and stole
silently down the broad staircase, smiling to himself as he did so.
With noiseless footsteps he crept to the stable door, which, as he
expected, he found unlocked, and entered, and for one moment he stood
looking about him in wonder, for it was the most splendid stable he had
ever seen, with thirty horses standing side by side, in one long row.
They were all beautiful horses, but the finest of all, was King Henry's
favourite brown horse, which he always rode himself.
The old Harper knew it at once, and, quick as thought, he loosed it,
and, drawing the halter which he had brought with him out of his
stocking, he slipped it over its head.
Then he loosed his own old gray mare, and tied the end of the halter to
her tail, so that, wherever she went, the brown horse was bound to
follow. He chuckled to himself as he led the two animals out of the
stable and across the courtyard, to the great wrought-iron gate, and
when he had opened this, he let the gray mare go, giving her a good
smack on the ribs as he did so. And the old gray mare, remembering her
little foal shut up in the stable at home, took off at the gallop,
straight across country, over hedges, and ditches, and walls, and
fences, pulling the King's brown horse after her at such a rate that he
had never even a chance to bite her tail, as he had thought of doing at
first, when he was angry at being tied to it.
Although the mare was old, she was very fleet of foot, and before the
day broke she was standing with her companion before her master's
cottage at Lochmaben. Her stable door was locked, so she began to neigh
with all her might, and at last the noise awoke the Harper's wife.
Now the old couple had a little servant girl who slept in the attic, and
the old woman called to her sharply, "Get up at once, thou lazy wench!
dost thou not hear thy master and his mare at the door?"
The girl did as she was bid, and, dressing herself hastily, went to the
door and looked through the keyhole to see if it were really her master.
She saw no one there save the gray mare and a strange brown horse.
"Oh mistress, mistress, get up," she cried in astonishment, running into
the kitchen. "What do you think has happened? The gray mare has gotten a
brown foal."
"Hold thy clavers!" retorted the old woman; "methinks thou art blinded
by the moonlight, if thou knowest not the difference between a
full-grown horse and a two-months'-old foal. Go and look out again and
bring me word if 'tis not a brown horse which the mare has brought with
her."
The girl ran to the door, and presently came back to say that she had
been mistaken, and that it was a brown horse, and that all the
neighbours were peeping out of their windows to see what the noise was
about.
The old woman laughed as she rose and dressed herself, and went out with
the girl to help her to tie up the two horses.
"'Tis the silly old Harper of Lochmaben they call him," she said to
herself, "but I wonder how many of them would have had the wit to gain a
new horse so easily?"
Meanwhile at the English castle the Harper had stolen silently back to
the hall after he had let the horses loose, and, taking up his harp
again, he harped softly until the morning broke, and the sleeping men
round him began to awake.
The King and his nobles called loudly for breakfast, and the servants
crept hastily away, afraid lest it might come to be known that they had
left their work the evening before to listen to the stranger's music.
The cooks went back to their pans, and the chambermaids to their
dusters, and the stablemen and grooms trooped out of doors to look after
the horses; but presently they all came rushing back again,
helter-skelter, with pale faces, for the stable door had been left open,
and the King's favourite brown horse had been stolen, as well as the
Harper's old gray mare. For a long time no one dare tell the King, but
at last the head stableman ventured upstairs and broke the news to the
Master-of-the-Horse, and the Master-of-the-Horse told the Lord
Chamberlain, and the Lord Chamberlain told the King.
At first his Majesty was very angry, and threatened to dismiss all the
grooms, but his attention was soon diverted by the cunning old Harper,
who threw down his harp, and pretended to be in great distress.
"I am ruined, I am ruined!" he exclaimed, "for I lost the gray mare's
foal just before I left Scotland, and I looked to the price of it for
the rent, and now the old gray mare herself is gone, and how am I to
travel about and earn my daily bread without her?"
Now the King was very kind-hearted, and he was sorry for the poor old
man, for he believed every word of his story, so he clapped him on the
back, and bade him play some more of his wonderful music, and promised
to make up to him for his losses.
Then the wicked old Harper rejoiced, for he knew that his trick had
succeeded, and he picked up his harp again, and played so beautifully
that the King forgot all about the loss of his favourite horse.
All that day the Harper played to him, and on the morrow, when he would
set out for home, in spite of all his entreaties that he would stay
longer, he made his treasurer give him three times the value of his old
gray mare, in solid gold, because he said that, if his servants had
locked the stable door, the mare would not have been stolen, and,
besides that, he gave him the price of the foal, which the wicked old
man had said that he had lost. "For," said the King, "'tis a pity that
such a marvellous harper should lack the money to pay his rent."
Then the cunning old Harper went home in triumph to Lochmaben, and the
good King never knew till the end of his life how terribly he had been
cheated.
Daoine Shie
DAOINE SHIE, OR THE MEN OF PEACE.
They are, though not absolutely malevolent, believed to be a peevish,
repining, and envious race, who enjoy, in the subterranean recesses, a
kind of shadowy s...Daoine Shie
DAOINE SHIE, OR THE MEN OF PEACE.
They are, though not absolutely malevolent, believed to be a peevish,
repining, and envious race, who enjoy, in the subterranean recesses, a
kind of shadowy splendour. The Highlanders are at all times unwilling to
speak of them, but especially on Friday, when their influence is supposed
to be particularly extensive. As they are supposed to be invisibly
present, they are at all times to be spoken of with respect. The fairies
of Scotland are represented as a diminutive race of beings, of a mixed or
rather dubious nature, capricious in their dispositions, and mischievous
in their resentment. They inhabit the interior of green hills, chiefly
those of a conical form, in Gaelic termed _Sighan_, on which they lead
their dances by moonlight, impressing upon the surface the marks of
circles, which sometimes appear yellow and blasted, sometimes of a deep
green hue, and within which it is dangerous to sleep, or to be found
after sunset. The removal of those large portions of turf, which
thunderbolts sometimes scoop out of the ground with singular regularity,
is also ascribed to their agency. Cattle which are suddenly seized with
the cramp, or some similar disorder, are said to be elf-shot, and the
approved cure is to chafe the parts affected with a blue bonnet, which,
it may be readily believed, often restores the circulation. The
triangular flints frequently found in Scotland, with which the ancient
inhabitants probably barbed their shafts, are supposed to be the weapons
of fairy resentment, and are termed elf arrowheads. The rude brazen
battle-axes of the ancients, commonly called "celts," are also ascribed
to their manufacture. But, like the Gothic duergar, their skill is not
confined to the fabrication of arms; for they are heard sedulously
hammering in linns, precipices, and rocky or cavernous situations, where,
like the dwarfs of the mines mentioned by George Agricola, they busy
themselves in imitating the actions and the various employments of men.
The Brook of Beaumont, for example, which passes in its course by
numerous linns and caverns, is notorious for being haunted by the
fairies; and the perforated and rounded stones which are formed by
trituration in its channels are termed by the vulgar fairy cups and
dishes. A beautiful reason is assigned by Fletcher for the fays
frequenting streams and fountains. He tells us of
"A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks
The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds
By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes
Their stolen children, so to make them free
From dying flesh and dull mortality."
It is sometimes accounted unlucky to pass such places without performing
some ceremony to avert the displeasure of the elves. There is upon the
top of Minchmuir, a mountain in Peeblesshire, a spring called the Cheese
Well, because, anciently, those who passed that way were wont to throw
into it a piece of cheese as an offering to the fairies, to whom it was
consecrated.
Like the _feld elfen_ of the Saxons, the usual dress of the fairies is
green; though, on the moors, they have been sometimes observed in heath-
brown, or in weeds dyed with the stone-raw or lichen. They often ride in
invisible procession, when their presence is discovered by the shrill
ringing of their bridles. On these occasions they sometimes borrow
mortal steeds, and when such are found at morning, panting and fatigued
in their stalls, with their manes and tails dishevelled and entangled,
the grooms, I presume, often find this a convenient excuse for their
situation, as the common belief of the elves quaffing the choicest
liquors in the cellars of the rich might occasionally cloak the
delinquencies of an unfaithful butler.
The fairies, besides their equestrian processions, are addicted, it would
seem, to the pleasures of the chase. A young sailor, travelling by night
from Douglas, in the Isle of Man, to visit his sister residing in Kirk
Merlugh, heard a noise of horses, the holloa of a huntsman, and the sound
of a horn. Immediately afterwards, thirteen horsemen, dressed in green,
and gallantly mounted, swept past him. Jack was so much delighted with
the sport that he followed them, and enjoyed the sound of the horn for
some miles, and it was not till he arrived at his sister's house that he
learned the danger which he had incurred. I must not omit to mention
that these little personages are expert jockeys, and scorn to ride the
little Manx ponies, though apparently well suited to their size. The
exercise, therefore, falls heavily upon the English and Irish horses
brought into the Isle of Man. Mr. Waldron was assured by a gentleman of
Ballafletcher that he had lost three or four capital hunters by these
nocturnal excursions. From the same author we learn that the fairies
sometimes take more legitimate modes of procuring horses. A person of
the utmost integrity informed him that, having occasion to sell a horse,
he was accosted among the mountains by a little gentleman plainly
dressed, who priced his horse, cheapened him, and, after some chaffering,
finally purchased him. No sooner had the buyer mounted and paid the
price than he sank through the earth, horse and man, to the astonishment
and terror of the seller, who, experienced, however, no inconvenience
from dealing with so extraordinary a purchaser.
DAOINE SHIE, OR THE MEN OF PEACE.
They are, though not absolutely malevolent, believed to be a peevish,
repining, and envious race, who enjoy, in the subterranean recesses, a
kind of shadowy s...Daoine Shie
DAOINE SHIE, OR THE MEN OF PEACE.
They are, though not absolutely malevolent, believed to be a peevish,
repining, and envious race, who enjoy, in the subterranean recesses, a
kind of shadowy splendour. The Highlanders are at all times unwilling to
speak of them, but especially on Friday, when their influence is supposed
to be particularly extensive. As they are supposed to be invisibly
present, they are at all times to be spoken of with respect. The fairies
of Scotland are represented as a diminutive race of beings, of a mixed or
rather dubious nature, capricious in their dispositions, and mischievous
in their resentment. They inhabit the interior of green hills, chiefly
those of a conical form, in Gaelic termed _Sighan_, on which they lead
their dances by moonlight, impressing upon the surface the marks of
circles, which sometimes appear yellow and blasted, sometimes of a deep
green hue, and within which it is dangerous to sleep, or to be found
after sunset. The removal of those large portions of turf, which
thunderbolts sometimes scoop out of the ground with singular regularity,
is also ascribed to their agency. Cattle which are suddenly seized with
the cramp, or some similar disorder, are said to be elf-shot, and the
approved cure is to chafe the parts affected with a blue bonnet, which,
it may be readily believed, often restores the circulation. The
triangular flints frequently found in Scotland, with which the ancient
inhabitants probably barbed their shafts, are supposed to be the weapons
of fairy resentment, and are termed elf arrowheads. The rude brazen
battle-axes of the ancients, commonly called "celts," are also ascribed
to their manufacture. But, like the Gothic duergar, their skill is not
confined to the fabrication of arms; for they are heard sedulously
hammering in linns, precipices, and rocky or cavernous situations, where,
like the dwarfs of the mines mentioned by George Agricola, they busy
themselves in imitating the actions and the various employments of men.
The Brook of Beaumont, for example, which passes in its course by
numerous linns and caverns, is notorious for being haunted by the
fairies; and the perforated and rounded stones which are formed by
trituration in its channels are termed by the vulgar fairy cups and
dishes. A beautiful reason is assigned by Fletcher for the fays
frequenting streams and fountains. He tells us of
"A virtuous well, about whose flowery banks
The nimble-footed fairies dance their rounds
By the pale moonshine, dipping oftentimes
Their stolen children, so to make them free
From dying flesh and dull mortality."
It is sometimes accounted unlucky to pass such places without performing
some ceremony to avert the displeasure of the elves. There is upon the
top of Minchmuir, a mountain in Peeblesshire, a spring called the Cheese
Well, because, anciently, those who passed that way were wont to throw
into it a piece of cheese as an offering to the fairies, to whom it was
consecrated.
Like the _feld elfen_ of the Saxons, the usual dress of the fairies is
green; though, on the moors, they have been sometimes observed in heath-
brown, or in weeds dyed with the stone-raw or lichen. They often ride in
invisible procession, when their presence is discovered by the shrill
ringing of their bridles. On these occasions they sometimes borrow
mortal steeds, and when such are found at morning, panting and fatigued
in their stalls, with their manes and tails dishevelled and entangled,
the grooms, I presume, often find this a convenient excuse for their
situation, as the common belief of the elves quaffing the choicest
liquors in the cellars of the rich might occasionally cloak the
delinquencies of an unfaithful butler.
The fairies, besides their equestrian processions, are addicted, it would
seem, to the pleasures of the chase. A young sailor, travelling by night
from Douglas, in the Isle of Man, to visit his sister residing in Kirk
Merlugh, heard a noise of horses, the holloa of a huntsman, and the sound
of a horn. Immediately afterwards, thirteen horsemen, dressed in green,
and gallantly mounted, swept past him. Jack was so much delighted with
the sport that he followed them, and enjoyed the sound of the horn for
some miles, and it was not till he arrived at his sister's house that he
learned the danger which he had incurred. I must not omit to mention
that these little personages are expert jockeys, and scorn to ride the
little Manx ponies, though apparently well suited to their size. The
exercise, therefore, falls heavily upon the English and Irish horses
brought into the Isle of Man. Mr. Waldron was assured by a gentleman of
Ballafletcher that he had lost three or four capital hunters by these
nocturnal excursions. From the same author we learn that the fairies
sometimes take more legitimate modes of procuring horses. A person of
the utmost integrity informed him that, having occasion to sell a horse,
he was accosted among the mountains by a little gentleman plainly
dressed, who priced his horse, cheapened him, and, after some chaffering,
finally purchased him. No sooner had the buyer mounted and paid the
price than he sank through the earth, horse and man, to the astonishment
and terror of the seller, who, experienced, however, no inconvenience
from dealing with so extraordinary a purchaser.
