Part 1

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THE CRYSTAL PALACE AND OTHER LEGENDS

Retold by

MARIE H. FRARY

and

CHARLES M. STEBBINS

With Illustrations by Herbert E. Martini

Stebbins and Company New York Publishers

Copyright, 1909 by Stebbins and Company

PREFACE

Legends have a fascination for all classes of people, but they possess a peculiar charm for children. They constitute, in fact, a form of literature particularly fitting to the mental world of the child. In them fact and fancy are happily blended. Around the bare facts of recorded or unrecorded history, are woven the poetic ideals of a romantic people.

Nothing could be more worth a child’s reading than a story of the past that conveys not only an idea of the everyday life of real people, but represents them also as striving after ideals in various forms of beauty.

No influence is greater than the moral force of beauty. In the present volume the purpose of the writers has been to present only such legends as reveal simplicity, strength, and beauty. These qualities make their inevitable appeal to the child fancy.

The subject matter of the book has been graded for children of eight or ten years. It is, therefore, well suited for use as a supplementary reader in the fourth or fifth grade.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PAGE

THE CRYSTAL PALACE 7

THE ANGEL PAGE 13

THE GNOME’S ROAD 21

THE LORELEI 26

THE SUNKEN CITY 31

THE BIRD OF PARADISE 39

THE BELL OF ATRI 48

THE POT OF HOT PORRIDGE 53

THE SILVER BELL 57

THE TWO BAKER BOYS 66

THE EMPEROR’S WOOING 70

THE MAGIC RING 76

CHARLEMAGNE’S GENEROSITY 83

THE SILVER BRIDGE 89

THE PET RAVEN 93

THE NIGHT OF THE STOLEN TREASURE 101

THE WATER SPRITES 106

THE GIANT MAIDEN 109

THE SWAN KNIGHT 113

THE CRYSTAL PALACE

Many, many years ago there lived in the village of Zurdorf, a queer little old woman. She was a very kind old lady and a good nurse. Often she was called upon to care for the boys and girls of the village.

They quite enjoyed being ill because she knew so many interesting stories. She told them of great knights and ladies, of castles and fairies, of the wood nymphs and the water sprites; but best of all was the story of old Father Rhine.

One night as she sat knitting, a knock came at the cottage door. She opened it and there stood a strange man, carrying a lantern of curious pattern. He did not speak, but motioned to her to follow him.

The night was dark, and the rain was pouring down in torrents. Great pools were found in the streets. Aunt Margot, as the children called the old lady, hesitated to follow the stranger. It was not, however, because she was afraid of the storm, but because the man was a stranger.

He motioned to her again. She saw that his face was kindly, and so decided to follow him. Down the dark street they passed, splashing through the deep pools of water.

Suddenly the water became deeper, and began to eddy about Margot’s ankles. She became frightened and was about to turn and flee.

“I can go no farther,” she shouted; “what manner of man art thou, and whither wouldst thou lead me?”

The old man did not answer, but caught Margot in his arms and plunged into the river Rhine. It had risen from its banks, and its eddying waters had frightened Margot.

Down, down, through cold green waters they sank. It seemed to Margot as if she were going down forever. She closed her eyes and ceased to struggle.

At last they seemed to have passed out of the water, and Margot opened her eyes. She found herself in a wonderful crystal palace. Precious stones glittered all about her. The ornaments were of silver and gold. As soon as she had recovered from her wonder, she was led into an immense chamber. Here on a bed of crystal, with silken coverings, lay a beautiful golden haired nymph, who was ill.

“I have brought you here,” said the old man, “to care for my beautiful wife. Nurse her tenderly back to health, and you shall never regret it.”

The lovely nymph was so good to look upon that old Margot took great delight in caring for her. She tended her so gently and so faithfully that the golden haired lady improved rapidly. She was soon quite well.

In soft whispers she told the old nurse that her husband was a mighty water spirit. Mortals called him Father Rhine. She had lived on the earth and was the only daughter of the Lord of Rheidt.

One day when she was at a village dance, there appeared before her a strange man. He was clad in foamy green. He asked her to tread a measure with him. Round and round they whirled until they reached the water edge. Suddenly he plunged with her into the stream, and brought her to the crystal palace, where he made her his happy wife.

“And now, kind nurse, we must soon part,” said the beautiful lady. “When Father Rhine offers to reward you, accept from him only your usual fee, no matter how much he urges you to take more. He loves honesty, but loathes greed.”

Just then Father Rhine appeared. Seeing his beloved wife quite well again, the river god beckoned to the nurse to follow him. He led her through many halls of the great castle. Finally they came to his treasure chamber. Here all around lay great heaps of gold, silver, and precious stones.

The water god was very grateful to the good nurse for saving his wife; so he bade her help herself. The old woman gazed upon the jewels longingly. How well she could use them to help the poor! She remembered, however, what the beautiful golden haired lady had told her. So she selected only a small fee such as she always received. The mysterious man urged her to take more, but she firmly refused.

Then the great water god took her by the hand and led her through a long dark corridor. Suddenly she found herself again in the cold water of the Rhine. Slowly he rose with her through the dark flood. Up and up they went until she found herself, dripping but safe, on the shore near her own house. As he beckoned adieu to her, Father Rhine flung a whole handful of gold into her lap. Then he plunged into the river again and was gone.

Ever since that time the little people of the village have loved to hear of the wonders of the crystal palace beneath the flood. So the good nurse tells it over and over again. And she never forgets to show the handful of gold which, she says, is the same Father Rhine gave her.

THE ANGEL PAGE

A handsome lad once sought a brave and noble knight, asking leave to serve him as page. The knight was greatly charmed by the graceful manners of the young lad, and was pleased with his unusual request. He granted the lad’s prayer, and never once did he have cause to regret it.

The little page did every duty with great cheerfulness and skill. He was so devoted to his master that he was able to foresee almost every wish. It was not long before he had won his master’s love, and the two became constant comrades.

The years passed swiftly by. The knight had never before been so happy, and never so successful. Everything seemed to turn out just as he wished it. Nothing had gone wrong since the day that the little page had entered his gate.

One day as the two were riding along the banks of the Rhine, they noticed a band of robbers coming toward them. These men had often sought to harm the good knight. The band was so large that it was easy to see that the brave knight could make no headway against them. There seemed to be no way of escape.

“Would to God,” cried the brave man, “that you were safe within my castle walls, my faithful little page! We are lost, my lad, but we must sell our lives as dearly as possible. Let us die like heroes. Do you get behind me, my page, and, if possible, I bid you flee.”

“My dear master,” replied the little page, “follow me. I will show you a way to escape. Follow me.”

The page put spurs to his horse and galloped along the river bank. Suddenly he turned the unwilling steed directly into the rushing stream.

“Rash boy, come back!” called the knight, dashing forward with the hope of overtaking the daring page. “Better die fighting bravely than perish miserably in the river. Come back, my page, come back!”

“Have no fear, my dear master, but follow me,” still cried the little page.

The sound of his voice rose so confidently above the noise of the wind and waves that the knight obeyed, hardly knowing what he was doing. A few minutes later the horses had found a firm footing in the river. Guided by the faithful little page, the knight safely forded the stream. He reached the farther shore just as his enemies came down to the water’s edge.

The angry robbers urged their steeds into the deep water, but no trace of ford could be found and they were forced to give up the pursuit.

The knight’s love for the little page was greatly increased after this, and the little page, too, seemed to love his master more and more. He was only happy when in his master’s presence or when doing some errand for him.

A short time after this happy escape from death the knight’s beautiful wife became suddenly ill. The knight loved her as he loved his own life, and was in great sorrow for fear that she might die.

Many wise doctors were called to her bedside, but they could do nothing. They declared that there was only one thing that would cure her--the milk of a lioness. That could not be obtained because there were no lions in the country.

The rumor of this strange remedy spread rapidly through the castle. It came to the ears of the faithful little page. He at once sprang to his feet and rushed out of the hall. An hour later, before any change had taken place in the lady’s condition, the page returned to the castle.

He went directly to the bedside of his mistress and sat down, flushed and panting. But in his hand he bore a cup full of the milk of a lioness, which was given to the patient at once. In a few moments the color crept back into the lady’s pale cheeks. A new light came into her eyes and she sank into a sweet sleep. When she awoke she was fully cured. All her strength had come back, and she was very happy.

Then the good knight went to seek the little page. He poured out to him his thanks. He could not say enough to express what he felt for his faithful servant. He wished to know all about it.

“Tell me, my sweet, faithful page,” he urged, “how you were able to get this remedy, which all my wealth could not procure.”

“My noble master,” replied the page, “I knew that a lioness was lying with her cubs in an Arabian den, and so I--”

“Arabia!” exclaimed the knight, interrupting the page, “Arabia! Did you find your way there and back in one short hour?”

“Yes, my dear master,” replied the little page, “that is the truth.” And he fixed his beautiful, truthful eyes on his master’s pale, wondering face.

“My lad, who are you then?” suddenly asked the knight, a nameless fear gnawing at his heart. “Who are you? Speak; tell me everything.”

“Master, my noble master, ask not who I am nor whence I came,” cried the little page, sinking down at the knight’s feet, and raising his beseeching hands. “Do not ask me. Let me remain by your side, my good master. Remember that no harm has come to you since I have been in your service.”

“My page, stop this pleading and tell me what I ask. Who are you?” continued the knight, paying no attention to the little page’s beseeching look.

“A spirit, O my master, a spirit of light, who for you and yours left a home in the realms above. But now I must leave you, my master. Farewell; farewell.”

“Lad, lad, my sweet lad, leave me not. Stay with me still,” cried the knight. “Ask what reward you please, but do not forsake me. Remain, my faithful little page, for I cannot live without you.”

“You have asked me what I am and whence I came, and have mentioned a reward. The charm, my dear master, is broken, and now I must leave you. In return for the things that I have done for you so cheerfully and so lovingly, I ask you to place a silver bell in the midst of the forest. Its tinkling sound may guide many weary travelers and help them to find their way home. Dedicate the bell to God and to his angelic host, O master; and now receive my last farewell.”

The little page suddenly vanished. No one saw him leave the hall nor pass through the castle gates, and no trace of him was ever found. The angel page had faded from mortal sight and returned to his home above. He had gone back to live with spirits as good and faithful and pure as himself.

The knight at once had the silver bell placed in the forest. But he could not forget his faithful page. He sought for him everywhere, and when at evening the silver tones of the little bell rang out in the quiet air they seemed to him like the words of an angel, and filled his heart with restless desire.

The noble knight seemed to lose all interest in life. His strength began to fail; his step grew slow and feeble; and one day when the shades of night were falling and the first tinkle of the little bell came to his ear, he softly murmured “My page, my faithful little page”; and he went to live with the spirit he had learned to love so well.

THE GNOME’S ROAD

On the high hill above the Rhine still stand the ruins of an old Castle. Here Kuno Von Sayne once lived. Kuno was a very proud young man for he was a member of a very noble family.

He had fallen in love with the beautiful daughter of the surly old Lord of Faulkenstein. At last he succeeded in winning the love of the maiden, but of her father he had great fear.

After many months of hoping and fearing, he decided to go to the old Lord and ask for his daughter’s hand. One beautiful morning he set out on his mission, to the Castle of Faulkenstein. This Castle was perched far up on the heights that rose above a small river.

It was a long journey, and he had almost lost his courage when he reached the place. However, he went at once into the presence of the Lord of Faulkenstein and boldly made known his wish.

The grim, old Lord looked at him long and closely, then in tones that were terrible to poor Kuno spoke.

“I will,” he said, “consider the matter if you will promise to do one thing for me.”

Without waiting to find out what he was to do, Kuno eagerly consented.

“Then,” said the Lord of Faulkenstein, “you may wed my daughter on condition that you build a convenient road over the jagged rock to the village. You are to ride up that road on your war horse before sunrise to-morrow morning.”

Poor Kuno was speechless. Nothing was to be said, for he knew how impossible was the task. Many months of hard labor would scarcely accomplish the great work.

Sadly he made his way down the rocks again. He had not been able to catch even a glimpse of the fair Irmangarde, his beloved, so he sat down upon a rock in the valley and began to reproach himself for his stupidity.

Suddenly he was aroused from his thoughts by a small voice calling to him.

“Kuno, Kuno Von Sayne,” it said.

He looked up and there before him stood the King of the Gnomes.

“Despair not,” said the kindly little man. “Myself and my subjects will gladly help so good a knight; so away to the inn where you left your steed. Before sunrise to-morrow morning the road shall be ready.”

At this the King of the Gnomes waved his hand. A great mist rose and covered the hill and valley with its dense vapor. Thousands of dwarf-like creatures now sprang out of the ground on all sides. They began using axes, hammers, and spades with great good will. All night long Kuno Von Sayne heard the crashing of great forest trees, and the breaking of stones. Now and then he heard a loud rumble like thunder; there was a continual clatter and crashing throughout the whole night. At dawn he came from his room, and was greeted by the inn-keeper.

“A great storm must have raged over the valley last night,” said the latter. “I was kept awake all the night by the noise.”

Kuno did not pause to listen to the man’s tales, but loudly called for his horse. He mounted and rode rapidly away to the foot of the mountain. Far above him loomed the Castle of Faulkenstein. How Kuno’s heart leaped with joy. There, indeed, was a road leading up to the Castle. True to his promise, the King of the Gnomes had built a broad, convenient road through the forest and over the rocks. Kuno galloped boldly up, exchanging smiles with the kindly dwarfs who peered at him from behind every rock and tree. From the ramparts of the Castle, stepped the beautiful Irmangarde.

Kuno dashed over the arched bridge the dwarfs were just finishing and greeted her gaily. The dwarfs raised a glad shout of triumph. The Knight of Faulkenstein was awakened by the shout. He looked out, and there, stretching far out from the Castle, saw the newly built road. He thought he must still be dreaming, and rubbed his eyes again and again.

When, however, he saw the beaming face of Irmangarde and Kuno, he knew that he had been outwitted. So as the first sunbeams fell upon the Castle, lighting up the gladdened heart and blushing cheeks of the maiden, Kuno claimed her as his bride. The Lord of Faulkenstein was proud to accept a man who could do such wonderful things as Kuno had accomplished during the night.

THE LORELEI

Count Ludwig was the only son of the Prince Palatine. He lived with his father in the castle at Stahleck. The young count had heard many marvelous tales of the beautiful Lorelei and he determined to go in search of her.

One evening he stole from his father’s castle to sail down the Rhine. He hoped to catch a glimpse of the Siren Lorelei. The stars were twinkling softly overhead, and the bark slowly drifted down the river. Darker and darker grew the waters as the bed of the Rhine grew narrower. But the young count did not notice this. His eyes were fixed on the rocks far above, where he hoped to see the beautiful nymph.

Suddenly he saw a shimmer of white drapery and golden hair. At the same time he heard the faint, sweet sound of an alluring song. As he drew nearer, the melody became more distinct. The moonbeams fell upon the maiden and seemed to make her even more beautiful. She bent over the rocky ledge and beckoned him to draw nearer.

The count and boatman were spellbound by the vision above them, and they paid no heed to the vessel. Suddenly the boat struck against the rocks and went to pieces. The men struggled against the swift current, and all escaped except the young count. Him the Lorelei took down to her magic palace below the river to be her lover forever. Many different stories about the young count’s fate were related by the men who escaped.

The Prince Palatine was deeply grieved over his only son’s death. He blamed the beautiful Lorelei and longed for revenge. Finally he sent for one of his greatest warriors.

“You are to capture this wicked creature who has caused so much woe,” he said. “Take a band of armed men and post them at once all around the rock, so that the nymph cannot escape.”

The great warrior did as he was commanded. At the head of a band of armed men he climbed noiselessly up the moonlit cliff and presented himself before the charming Lorelei. There she sat, as usual, combing her golden hair and crooning her matchless song. The men hemmed her in on all sides. They left no mode of escape except by the steep descent to the river.

“We command you to surrender,” said the captain of the band.

The nymph made no reply, but gracefully waved her white hands. The grim old warriors suddenly felt as if rooted to the spot. They could neither move nor speak.

There they stood motionless with dilated eyes fixed upon the Lorelei. They saw her remove all of her jewels and drop them one by one into the Rhine beneath her feet. Then she whirled about in a mystic spell, chanting her magic tunes. They could understand nothing of it except now and then a word about white-maned steeds and pearl shell chariots.

When the song and dance were ended, the waters of the Rhine began to seethe and bubble. Higher and higher they rose, until they reached the top of the cliff.

The petrified warriors felt the cold tide surge about their feet. Suddenly they saw a great white-crested wave rolling rapidly toward them. In its green depths they beheld a chariot drawn by white-maned steeds. Into this car the Lorelei sprang and quickly vanished over the edge of the cliff into the river.

In a few moments the angry waters had sunk to their usual level. The brave warriors discovered that they could move once more. They rubbed their eyes and looked about them. No trace of the sudden rise except the water drops along the face of the cliff could be seen. These shone in the moonlight like diamonds.

The Lorelei has never since then appeared on the cliff. But boatmen have often heard the faint sweet echo of her alluring song, wafted toward them on the summer breeze at midnight. It is said that she remains in her beautiful palace and gardens below the green Rhine, enjoying the companionship of her earthly lover.

THE SUNKEN CITY

There was once, we are told, a fine tract of land where now roll the waves of the Zuyder Zee. On the very spot where now the fishermen anchor their boats and fish, there stood a beautiful city. It was protected from the sea by great dykes.

The name of the city was Stavoren, and the people who lived there were very wealthy. Some of them were so wealthy that they laid their great halls with floors of gold and silver. But in spite of their wealth they were selfish, thoughtless, and hard hearted. For the poor people they cared nothing.

The richest person among them was a maiden lady. She had palaces, farms, ships and counting-houses--everything that one could desire. But she thought of nothing except how she might increase her store. With this in mind she one day summoned the captain of her largest vessel.

When he came she bade him sail away to procure a cargo of the most precious things of earth, and to return within the year. Not knowing exactly what she wished, the captain questioned her, but she simply repeated her order and sent him away at once.

The captain set sail from Stavoren without knowing where he was going. After leaving the harbor he called his officers together and asked their advice. Each had a different opinion as to what were the most precious things of earth.

The captain was plunged into greater doubt than ever. He thought over the question for many long hours, smoking his pipe and scratching his head. At last he said to himself that nothing could be more precious than wheat, which is the staff of life.

Accordingly he purchased a cargo of grain, and returned happily to his native town, arriving long before the year had passed. The haughty lady had in the meantime told all her friends that her vessel had gone in search of the most precious thing of earth. She would not tell her closest friend what that most precious thing might be. So everybody was very curious.