Part 12
Accordingly the bride led her husband the next day to the flowery knoll, and bade him look through the self-bored stone. Great was his surprise to behold Habetrot dancing and jumping over her rock, singing all the time this ditty to her sisterhood, while they kept time with their spindles:--
"We who live in dreary den, Are both rank and foul to see? Hidden from the glorious sun, That teems the fair earth's canopie: Ever must our evenings lone Be spent on the colludie stone.
"Cheerless is the evening grey When Causleen hath died away, But ever bright and ever fair Are they who breathe this evening air, And lean upon the self-bored stone Unseen by all but me alone."
The song ended, Scantlie Mab asked Habetrot what she meant by the last line, "Unseen by all but we alone."
"There is one," replied Habetrot, "whom I bid to come here at this hour, and he has heard my song through the self-bored stone." So saying she rose, opened another door, which was concealed by the roots of an old tree, and invited the pair to come in and see her family.
The laird was astonished at the weird-looking company, as he well might be, and inquired of one after another the cause of their strange lips. In a different tone of voice, and with a different twist of the mouth, each answered that it was occasioned by spinning. At least they tried to say so, but one grunted out "Nakasind," and another "Owkasaänd," while a third murmured "O-a-a-send." All, however, made the bridegroom understand what was the cause of their ugliness; while Habetrot slily hinted that if his wife were allowed to spin, her pretty lips would grow out of shape too, and her pretty face get an ugsome look. So before he left the cave he vowed that his little wife should never touch a spinning-wheel, and he kept his word. She used to wander in the meadows by his side, or ride behind him over the hills, but all the flax grown on his land was sent to old Habetrot to be converted into yarn.
Old Mother Wiggle-Waggle
The fox and his wife they had a great strife, They never ate mustard in all their whole life; They ate their meat without fork or knife And loved to be picking a bone, e-ho!
The fox went out, one still, clear night, And he prayed the moon to give him light, For he'd a long way to travel that night, Before he got back to his den-o!
The fox when he came to yonder stile, He lifted his lugs and he listened a while! "Oh, ho!" said the fox, "it's but a short mile From this unto yonder wee town, e-ho!"
And first he arrived at a farmer's yard, Where the ducks and the geese declared it was hard, That their nerves should be shaken and their rest should be marred By the visits of Mister Fox-o!
The fox when he came to the farmer's gate, Who should he see but the farmer's drake; "I love you well for your master's sake, And long to be picking your bones, e-ho!"
The grey goose she ran round the hay-stack, "Oh, ho!" said the fox, "you are very fat; You'll grease my beard and ride on my back From this into yonder wee town, e-ho!"
Then he took the grey goose by her sleeve, And said: "Madam Grey Goose, by your leave I'll take you away without reprieve, And carry you back to my den-o!"
And he seized the black duck by the neck, And slung him all across his back, The black duck cried out "quack, quack, quack," With his legs all dangling down-o!
Old Mother Wiggle-Waggle hopped out of bed, Out of the window she popped her old head; "Oh! husband, oh! husband, the grey goose is gone, And the fox is off to his den, oh!"
Then the old man got up in his red cap, And swore he would catch the fox in a trap; But the fox was too cunning, and gave him the slip, And ran through the town, the town, oh!
When he got to the top of the hill, He blew his trumpet both loud and shrill, For joy that he was safe and sound Through the town, oh!
But at last he arrived at his home again, To his dear little foxes, eight, nine, ten, Says he "You're in luck, here's a fine fat duck With his legs all dangling down-o!"
So he sat down together with his hungry wife, And they did very well without fork or knife, They never ate a better duck in all their life, And the little ones picked the bones-o!
Catskin
Well, there was once a gentleman who had fine lands and houses, and he very much wanted to have a son to be heir to them. So when his wife brought him a daughter, bonny as bonny could be, he cared nought for her, and said, "Let me never see her face."
So she grew up a bonny girl, though her father never set eyes on her till she was fifteen years old and was ready to be married. But her father said, "Let her marry the first that comes for her." And when this was known, who should be first but a nasty rough old man. So she didn't know what to do, and went to the henwife and asked her advice. The henwife said, "Say you will not take him unless they give you a coat of silver cloth." Well, they gave her a coat of silver cloth, but she wouldn't take him for all that, but went again to the henwife, who said, "Say you will not take him unless they give you a coat of beaten gold." Well, they gave her a coat of beaten gold, but still she would not take him, but went to the henwife, who said, "Say you will not take him unless they give you a coat made of the feathers of all the birds of the air." So they sent a man with a great heap of pease; and the man cried to all the birds of the air, "Each bird take a pea, and put down a feather." So each bird took a pea and put down one of its feathers: and they took all the feathers and made a coat of them and gave it to her; but still she would not, but asked the henwife once again, who said, "Say they must first make you a coat of catskin." So they made her a coat of catskin; and she put it on, and tied up her other coats, and ran away into the woods.
So she went along and went along and went along, till she came to the end of the wood, and saw a fine castle. So there she hid her fine dresses, and went up to the castle gates, and asked for work. The lady of the castle saw her, and told her, "I'm sorry I have no better place, but if you like you may be our scullion." So down she went into the kitchen, and they called her Catskin, because of her dress. But the cook was very cruel to her and led her a sad life.
Well, it happened soon after that the young lord of the castle was coming home, and there was to be a grand ball in honour of the occasion. And when they were speaking about it among the servants, "Dear me, Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "how much I should like to go."
"What! you dirty impudent slut," said the cook, "you go among all the fine lords and ladies with your filthy catskin? a fine figure you'd cut!" and with that she took a basin of water and dashed it into Catskin's face. But she only briskly shook her ears, and said nothing.
When the day of the ball arrived, Catskin slipped out of the house and went to the edge of the forest where she had hidden her dresses. So she bathed herself in a crystal waterfall, and then put on her coat of silver cloth, and hastened away to the ball. As soon as she entered all were overcome by her beauty and grace, while the young lord at once lost his heart to her. He asked her to be his partner for the first dance, and he would dance with none other the live-long night.
When it came to parting time, the young lord said, "Pray tell me, fair maid, where you live." But Catskin curtsied and said:
"Kind sir, if the truth I must tell, At the sign of the 'Basin of Water' I dwell."
Then she flew from the castle and donned her catskin robe again, and slipped into the scullery again, unbeknown to the cook.
The young lord went the very next day to his mother, the lady of the castle, and declared he would wed none other but the lady of the silver dress, and would never rest till he had found her. So another ball was soon arranged for in hope that the beautiful maid would appear again. So Catskin said to the cook, "Oh, how I should like to go!" Whereupon the cook screamed out in a rage, "What, you, you dirty impudent slut! you would cut a fine figure among all the fine lords and ladies." And with that she up with a ladle and broke it across Catskin's back. But she only shook her ears, and ran off to the forest, where she first of all bathed, and then put on her coat of beaten gold, and off she went to the ball-room.
As soon as she entered all eyes were upon her; and the young lord soon recognised her as the lady of the "Basin of Water," and claimed her hand for the first dance, and did not leave her till the last. When that came, he again asked her where she lived. But all that she would say was:
"Kind sir, if the truth I must tell, At the sign of the 'Broken Ladle' I dwell."
and with that she curtsied, and flew from the ball, off with her golden robe, on with her catskin, and into the scullery without the cook's knowing.
Next day when the young lord could not find where was the sign of the "Basin of Water," or of the "Broken Ladle," he begged his mother to have another grand ball, so that he might meet the beautiful maid once more.
All happened as before. Catskin told the cook how much she would like to go to the ball, the cook called her "a dirty slut," and broke the skimmer across her head. But she only shook her ears, and went off to the forest, where she first bathed in the crystal spring, and then donned her coat of feathers, and so off to the ball-room.
When she entered every one was surprised at so beautiful a face and form dressed in so rich and rare a dress; but the young lord soon recognised his beautiful sweetheart, and would dance with none but her the whole evening. When the ball came to an end, he pressed her to tell him where she lived, but all she would answer was:
"Kind sir, if the truth I must tell, At the sign of the 'Broken Skimmer' I dwell;"
and with that she curtsied, and was off to the forest. But this time the young lord followed her, and watched her change her fine dress of feathers for her catskin dress, and then he knew her for his own scullery-maid.
Next day he went to his mother, the lady of the castle, and told her that he wished to marry the scullery-maid, Catskin. "Never," said the lady, and rushed from the room. Well, the young lord was so grieved at that, that he took to his bed and was very ill. The doctor tried to cure him, but he would not take any medicine unless from the hands of Catskin. So the doctor went to the lady of the castle, and told her her son would die if she did not consent to his marriage with Catskin. So she had to give way, and summoned Catskin to her. But she put on her coat of beaten gold, and went to the lady, who soon was glad to wed her son to so beautiful a maid.
Well, so they were married, and after a time a dear little son came to them, and grew up a bonny lad; and one day, when he was four years old, a beggar woman came to the door, so Lady Catskin gave some money to the little lord and told him to go and give it to the beggar woman. So he went and gave it, but put it into the hand of the woman's child, who leant forward and kissed the little lord. Now the wicked old cook--why hadn't she been sent away?--was looking on, so she said, "Only see how beggars' brats take to one another." This insult went to Catskin's heart, so she went to her husband, the young lord, and told him all about her father, and begged he would go and find out what had become of her parents. So they set out in the lord's grand coach, and travelled through the forest till they came to Catskin's father's house, and put up at an inn near, where Catskin stopped, while her husband went to see if her father would own her.
Now her father had never had any other child, and his wife had died; so he was all alone in the world and sate moping and miserable. When the young lord came in he hardly looked up, till he saw a chair close up to him, and asked him: "Pray, sir, had you not once a young daughter whom you would never see or own?"
The old gentleman said: "It is true; I am a hardened sinner. But I would give all my worldly goods if I could but see her once before I die." Then the young lord told him what had happened to Catskin, and took him to the inn, and brought his father-in-law to his own castle, where they lived happy ever afterwards.
Stupid's Cries
There was once a little boy, and his mother sent him to buy a sheep's head and pluck; afraid he should forget it, the lad kept saying all the way along:
"Sheep's head and pluck! Sheep's head and pluck!"
Trudging along, he came to a stile; but in getting over he fell and hurt himself, and beginning to blubber, forgot what he was sent for. So he stood a little while to consider: at last he thought he recollected it, and began to repeat:
"Liver and lights and gall and all! Liver and lights and gall and all!"
Away he went again, and came to where a man had a pain in his liver, bawling out:
"Liver and lights and gall and all! Liver and lights and gall and all!"
Whereon the man laid hold of him and beat him, bidding him say:
"Pray God send no more! Pray God send no more!"
The youngster strode along, uttering these words, till he reached a field where a hind was sowing wheat:
"Pray God send no more! Pray God send no more!"
This was all his cry. So the sower began to thrash him, and charged him to repeat:
"Pray God send plenty more! Pray God send plenty more!"
Off the child scampered with these words in his mouth till he reached a churchyard and met a funeral, but he went on with his:
"Pray God send plenty more! Pray God send plenty more!"
The chief mourner seized and punished him, and bade him repeat:
"Pray God send the soul to heaven! Pray God send the soul to heaven!"
Away went the boy, and met a dog and a cat going to be hung, but his cry rang out:
"Pray God send the soul to heaven! Pray God send the soul to heaven!"
The good folk nearly were furious, seized and struck him, charging him to say:
"A dog and a cat agoing to be hung! A dog and a cat agoing to be hung!"
This the poor fellow did, till he overtook a man and a woman going to be married. "Oh! oh!" he shouted:
"A dog and a cat agoing to be hung! A dog and a cat agoing to be hung!"
The man was enraged, as we may well think, gave him many a thump, and ordered him to repeat:
"I wish you much joy! I wish you much joy!"
This he did, jogging along, till he came to two labourers who had fallen into a ditch. The lad kept bawling out:
"I wish you much joy! I wish you much joy!"
This vexed one of the folk so sorely that he used all his strength, scrambled out, beat the crier, and told him to say.
"The one is out, I wish the other was! The one is out, I wish the other was!"
On went young 'un till he found a fellow with only one eye; but he kept up his song:
"The one is out, I wish the other was! The one is out, I wish the other was!"
This was too much for Master One-eye, who grabbed him and chastised him, bidding him call:
"The one side gives good light, I wish the other did! The one side gives good light, I wish the other did!"
So he did, to be sure, till he came to a house, one side of which was on fire. The people here thought it was he who had set the place a-blazing, and straightway put him in prison. The end was, the judge put on his black cap, and condemned him to die.
The Lambton Worm
A wild young fellow was the heir of Lambton, the fine estate and hall by the side of the swift-flowing Wear. Not a Mass would he hear in Brugeford Chapel of a Sunday, but a-fishing he would go. And if he did not haul in anything, his curses could be heard by the folk as they went by to Brugeford.
Well, one Sunday morning he was fishing as usual, and not a salmon had risen to him, his basket was bare of roach or dace. And the worse his luck, the worse grew his language, till the passers-by were horrified at his words as they went to listen to the Mass-priest.
At last young Lambton felt a mighty tug at his line. "At last," quoth he, "a bite worth having!" and he pulled and he pulled, till what should appear above the water but a head like an elf's, with nine holes on each side of its mouth. But still he pulled till he had got the thing to land, when it turned out to be a Worm of hideous shape. If he had cursed before, his curses were enough to raise the hair on your head.
"What ails thee, my son?" said a voice by his side, "and what hast thou caught, that thou shouldst stain the Lord's Day with such foul language?"
Looking round, young Lambton saw a strange old man standing by him.
"Why, truly," he said, "I think I have caught the devil himself. Look you and see if you know him."
But the stranger shook his head, and said, "It bodes no good to thee or thine to bring such a monster to shore. Yet cast him not back into the Wear; thou has caught him, and thou must keep him," and with that away he turned, and was seen no more.
The young heir of Lambton took up the gruesome thing, and, taking it off his hook, cast it into a well close by, and ever since that day that well has gone by the name of the Worm Well.
For some time nothing more was seen or heard of the Worm, till one day it had outgrown the size of the well, and came forth full-grown. So it came forth from the well and betook itself to the Wear. And all day long it would lie coiled round a rock in the middle of the stream, while at night it came forth from the river and harried the country side. It sucked the cows' milk, devoured the lambs, worried the cattle, and frightened all the women and girls of the district, and then it would retire for the rest of the night to the hill, still called the Worm Hill, on the north side of the Wear, about a mile and a half from Lambton Hall.
This terrible visitation brought young Lambton, of Lambton Hall, to his senses. He took upon himself the vows of the Cross, and departed for the Holy Land, in the hope that the scourge he had brought upon his district would disappear. But the grisly Worm took no heed, except that it crossed the river and came right up to Lambton Hall itself where the old lord lived on all alone, his only son having gone to the Holy Land. What to do? The Worm was coming closer and closer to the Hall; women were shrieking, men were gathering weapons, dogs were barking and horses neighing with terror. At last the steward called out to the dairy maids, "Bring all your milk hither," and when they did so, and had brought all the milk that the nine kye of the byre had yielded, he poured it all into the long stone trough in front of the Hall.
The Worm drew nearer and nearer, till at last it came up to the trough. But when it sniffed the milk, it turned aside to the trough and swallowed all the milk up, and then slowly turned round and crossed the river Wear, and coiled its bulk three times round the Worm Hill for the night.
Henceforth the Worm would cross the river every day, and woe betide the Hall if the trough contained the milk of less than nine kye. The Worm would hiss, and would rave, and lash its tail round the trees of the park, and in its fury it would uproot the stoutest oaks and the loftiest firs. So it went on for seven years. Many tried to destroy the Worm, but all had failed, and many a knight had lost his life in fighting with the monster, which slowly crushed the life out of all that came near it.
At last the Childe of Lambton came home to his father's Hall, after seven long years spent in meditation and repentance on holy soil. Sad and desolate he found his folk: the lands untilled, the farms deserted, half the trees of the park uprooted, for none would stay to tend the nine kye that the monster needed for his food each day.
The Childe sought his father, and begged his forgiveness for the curse he had brought on the Hall.
"Thy sin is pardoned," said his father; "but go thou to the Wise Woman of Brugeford, and find if aught can free us from this monster."
To the Wise Woman went the Childe, and asked her advice.
"'T is thy fault, O Childe, for which we suffer," she said; "be it thine to release us."
"I would give my life," said the Childe.