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From Rootabaga Stories by Carl Sandburg
Gimme the Ax lived in a house where everything is the same as it always was.
“The chimney sits on top of the house and lets the smoke out,” said Gimme the Ax. “The doorknobs open the doors. The windows are always either open or shut. We are always either upstairs or downstairs in this house. Everything is the same as it always was.”
So he decided to let his children name themselves.
“The first words they speak as soon as they learn to make words shall be their names,” he said. “They shall name themselves.”
When the first boy came to the house of Gimme the Ax, he was named Please Gimme. When the first girl came she was named Ax Me No Questions.
And both of the children had the shadows of valleys by night in their eyes and the lights of early morning, when the sun is coming up, on their foreheads.
And the hair on top of their heads was a dark wild grass. And they loved to turn the doorknobs, open the doors, and run out to have the wind comb their hair and touch their eyes and put its six soft fingers on their foreheads.
And then because no more boys came and no more girls came, Gimme the Ax said to himself, “My first boy is my last and my last girl is my first and they picked their names themselves.”
Please Gimme grew up and his ears got longer. Ax Me No Questions grew up and her ears got longer. And they kept on living in the house where everything is the same as it always was. They learned to say just as their father said, “The chimney sits on top of the house and lets the smoke out, the doorknobs open the doors, the windows are always either open or shut, we are always either upstairs or downstairs—everything is the same as it always was.”
After a while they began asking each other in the cool of the evening after they had eggs for breakfast in the morning, “Who’s who? How much? And what’s the answer?”
“It is too much to be too long anywhere,” said the tough old man, Gimme the Ax.
And Please Gimme and Ax Me No Questions, the tough son and the tough daughter of Gimme the Ax, answered their father, “It is too much to be too long anywhere.”
So they sold everything they had, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, everything except their ragbags and a few extras.
When their neighbors saw them selling everything they had, the different neighbors said, “They are going to Kansas, to Kokomo, to Canada, to Kankakee, to Kalamazoo, to Kamchatka, to the Chattahoochee.”
One little sniffer with his eyes half shut and a mitten on his nose, laughed in his hat five ways and said, “They are going to the moon and when they get there they will find everything is the same as it always was.”
All the spot cash money he got for selling everything, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, Gimme the Ax put in a ragbag and slung on his back like a rag picker going home.
Then he took Please Gimme, his oldest and youngest and only son, and Ax Me No Questions, his oldest and youngest and only daughter, and went to the railroad station.
The ticket agent was sitting at the window selling railroad tickets the same as always.
He opened the ragbag and took out all the spot cash money
“Do you wish a ticket to go away and come back or do you wish a ticket to go away and never come back?” the ticket agent asked wiping sleep out of his eyes.
“We wish a ticket to ride where the railroad tracks run off into the sky and never come back—send us far as the railroad rails go and then forty ways farther yet,” was the reply of Gimme the Ax.
“So far? So early? So soon?” asked the ticket agent wiping more sleep out his eyes. “Then I will give you a new ticket. It blew in. It is a long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.”
Gimme the Ax thanked the ticket agent once, thanked the ticket agent twice, and then instead of thanking the ticket agent three times he opened the ragbag and took out all the spot cash money he got for selling everything, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, and paid the spot cash money to the ticket agent.
Before he put it in his pocket he looked once, twice, three times at the long yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.
Then with Please Gimme and Ax Me No Questions he got on the railroad train, showed the conductor his ticket and they started to ride to where the railroad tracks run off into the blue sky and then forty ways farther yet.
The train ran on and on. It came to the place where the railroad tracks run off into the blue sky. And it ran on and on chick chick-a-chick chick-a-chick chick-a-chick.
Sometimes the engineer hooted and tooted the whistle. Sometimes the fireman rang the bell. Sometimes the open-and-shut of the steam hog’s nose choked and spit pfisty-pfoost, pfisty-pfoost, pfisty-pfoost. But no matter what happened to the whistle and the bell and the steam hog, the train ran on and on to where the railroad tracks run off into the blue sky. And then it ran on and on more and more.
Sometimes Gimme the Ax looked in his pocket, put his fingers in and took out the long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.
“Not even the Kings of Egypt with all their climbing camels, and all their speedy, spotted, lucky lizards, ever had a ride like this,” he said to his children.
Then something happened. They met another train running on the same track. One train was going one way. The other was going the other way. They met. They passed each other.
“What was it—what happened?” the children asked their father.
“One train went over, the other train went under,” he answered. “This is the Over and Under country. Nobody gets out of the way of anybody else. They either go over or under.”
Next they came to the country of the balloon pickers. Hanging down from the sky strung on strings so fine the eye could not see them at first, was the balloon crop of that summer. The sky was thick with balloons. Red, blue, yellow balloons, white, purple and orange balloons—peach, watermelon and potato balloons—rye loaf and wheat loaf balloons—link sausage and pork chop balloons—they floated and filled the sky.
The balloon pickers were walking on high stilts picking balloons. Each picker had his own stilts, long or short. For picking balloons near the ground he had short stilts. If he wanted to pick far and high he walked on a far and high pair of stilts.
Baby pickers on baby stilts were picking baby balloons. When they fell off the stilts the handful of balloons they were holding kept them in the air till they got their feet into the stilts again.
“Who is that away up there in the sky climbing like a bird in the morning?” Ax Me No Questions asked her father.
“He was singing too happy,” replied the father. “The songs came out of his neck and made him so light the balloons pulled him off his stilts.”
“Will he ever come down again back to his own people?”
“Yes, his heart will get heavy when his songs are all gone. Then he will drop down to his stilts again.”
The train was running on and on. The engineer hooted and tooted the whistle when he felt like it. The fireman rang the bell when he felt that way. And sometimes the open-and-shut of the steam hog had to go pfisty-pfoost, pfisty-pfoost.
“Next is the country where the circus clowns come from,” said Gimme the Ax to his son and daughter. “Keep your eyes open.”
They did keep their eyes open. They saw cities with ovens, long and short ovens, fat stubby ovens, lean lank ovens, all for baking either long or short clowns, or fat and stubby or lean and lank clowns.
After each clown was baked in the oven it was taken out into the sunshine and put up to stand like a big white doll with a red mouth leaning against the fence.
Two men came along to each baked clown standing still like a doll. One man threw a bucket of white fire over it. The second man pumped a wind pump with a living red wind through the red mouth.
The clown rubbed his eyes, opened his mouth, twisted his neck, wiggled his ears, wriggled his toes, jumped away from the fence and began turning handsprings, cartwheels, somersaults and flipflops in the sawdust ring near the fence.
“The next we come to is the Rootabaga Country where the big city is the Village of Liver-and-Onions,” said Gimme the Ax, looking again in his pocket to be sure he had the long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.
The train ran on and on till it stopped running straight and began running in zigzags like one letter Z put next to another Z and the next and the next.
The tracks and the rails and the ties and the spikes under the train all stopped being straight and changed to zigzags like one letter Z and another letter Z put next after the other.
“It seems like we go half way and then back up,” said Ax Me No Questions.
“Look out of the window and see if the pigs have bibs on,” said Gimme the Ax. “If the pigs are wearing bibs then this is the Rootabaga country.”
And they looked out of the zigzagging windows of the zigzagging cars and the first pigs they saw had bibs on. And the next pigs and the next pigs they saw all had bibs on.
The checker pigs had checker bibs on, the striped pigs had striped bibs on. And the polka dot pigs had polka dot bibs on.
“Who fixes it for the pigs to have bibs on?” Please Gimme asked his father.
“The fathers and mothers fix it,” answered Gimme the Ax. “The checker pigs have checker fathers and mothers. The striped pigs have striped fathers and mothers. And the polka dot pigs have polka dot fathers and mothers.”
And the train went zigzagging on and on running on the tracks and the rails and the spikes and the ties which were all zigzag like the letter Z and the letter Z.
And after a while the train zigzagged on into the Village of Liver-and-Onions, known as the biggest city in the big, big Rootabaga country.
And so if you are going to the Rootabaga country you will know when you get there because the railroad tracks change from straight to zigzag, the pigs have bibs on and it is the fathers and mothers who fix it.
And if you start to go to that country remember first you must sell everything you have, pigs, pastures, pepper pickers, pitchforks, put the spot cash money in a ragbag and go to the railroad station and ask the ticket agent for a long slick yellow leather slab ticket with a blue spanch across it.
And you mustn’t be surprised if the ticket agent wipes sleep from his eyes and asks, “So far? So early? So soon?”
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From Rootabaga Stories by Carl Sandburg
ISBN: 9788835814825
URL/DownLoad Link: https://bit.ly/2SaM749
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KEYWORDS/TAGS: Rootabaga stories, Carl Sandburg, inspire, intellectual freedom, curiosity, children’s stories, children’s books, Rootabaga land, American Midwest, Rootabaga country, fantastic names, fantastic creatures, Broom Can Handle It, Hot Dog the Tiger, Wind Blue Boy, Axe me no questions, Please Gimme, Fantasy stories, create the impossible, Potato Face, Blind Man, old minstrel, Village, Liver-and-Onions, post office, silliest village, village of Rootabaga, accordion, corner, unseeing eyes, lesson, never restrict, child’s imagination, unfettered minds, rules and conventions, innovations, leaps, technology, Spink, Skabootch, Zigzag Railroad, Pigs, Bibs, Circus Clown, Cream Puffs, Rusty Rats, Diamond Rabbit. Gold, Spring, Poker Face, Baboon, Toboggan-to-the-Moon, Dream, Gold Buckskin, Whincher, Blixie Bimber, Power, Jason Squiff, Popcorn Hat, Popcorn Mittens, Popcorn Shoes, Rags Habakuk, Blue Rats, Spot Cash Money, Deep Doom, Dark Doorways, Wedding Procession, Rag Doll, Broom Handle, Hat Ashes, Shovel, Snoo Foo, Jugs, Molasses, Secret Ambitions, Bimbo, Snip, Wind, Winding, Skyscrapers, Skyscrapers Child, Dollar Watch, Jack Rabbits, Wooden Indian, Shaghorn Buffalo, Dear Eyes , White Horse Girl, Blue Wind Boy, Six Girls, Balloons, Gray Man, Horseback, Hagglyhoagly, Guitar, Mittens, Slipper, Moon, Sand Flat Shadows, Corn Fairies, Blue Foxes, Flongboos, Medicine Hat,
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE SUN 8 illustrated fairy stories for children. The stories in this volume by Evelyn Sharp are original stories, not retellings of fairy stories from the mists of time like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty etc.
They are:
The Weird Witch Of The Willow-Herb
The Magician’s Tea-Party
The Hundredth Princess
Somebody Else’s Prince
The Tears Of Princess Prunella
The Palace On The Floor
The Lady Daffodilia
The Kite That Went To The Moon
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Evelyn Jane Sharp (1869–1955) was a key figure in two major British women’s suffrage societies, the militant Women’s Social and Political Union and the United Suffragists and an established author. She helped found the United Suffragists and became editor of Votes for Women during the First World War. She was twice imprisoned and became a tax resister. An established author who had published in The Yellow Book, she was especially well known for her children’s fiction, namely, All the Way to Fairyland (1898) and The Other Side of the Sun (1900). REVIEW
Miss Sharp has wit, wisdom, and imagination for her initial equipment, but she possesses also what is rarer far—the accent and the point of view. For instance, she would never introduce a bicycle into this old-fashioned country. She knows perfectly well that if there should be any occasion for hurry—which is rarely the case in Fairyland—naturally you take a rocking-horse.—The Academy, Literature Review, London.
10% of the net sale will be donated to charities by the publisher.
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Get the book via StreetLib at https://store.streetlib.com/en/evelyn-sharp/the-other-side-of-the-sun-8-illustrated-original-fairy-stories/
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A fantastic tale of the demon-haunted forests of 13th C. Germany. In the Dale of the Dragon, or Der Tal des Drachen, lives a young man named Jerome, the hero of our story. In the surrounding forest lives the witch Martha and her twin ravens which speak of Satan, who even makes an appearance to tempt Jerome to the dark side of life.
But what is a haunted forest if it doesn’t have robber barons and outlaws, and what would our story be without Agnes the maiden, who is, of course, in distress. Who is the mysterious Saint of the Dragon’s Dale – a powerful, mysterious figure with a dark secret. Will he ride in to save the day, or will he be too late.
To find the answers to these, and any other questions you may have, download this little book and find out for yourself.
Format: ebook – Kindle.Mobi, ePub, PDF
Download link: https://folklore-fairy-tales-myths-legends-and-other-stories.stores.streetlib.com/en/william-s-davis/the-saint-of-the-dragons-dale-medieval-action-and-adventure/
Herein are 25 famous stories from The Greek, German, English, Spanish Scandinavian, Danish, French, Russian, Bohemian, Italian and other sources. These stories are further brought to life by 24 full colour plates
The myths and legends gathered here have appealed and will continue to appeal to every age. Nowhere in the realm of fiction are there stories to compare with those which took form centuries ago when the human race was in its childhood—stories so intimately connected with the life and history and religion of the great peoples of antiquity that they have become an integral part of our own civilization. These are a heritage of wealth to every child that is born into the world. Myths and legends like:
Prometheus The Friend Of Man, The Labors Of Hercules, The Gorgon’s Head, The Golden Fleece, The Cyclops, The Sack Of Troy, Beowulf And Grendel, The Good King Arthur and many, many more.
This volume is sure to keep you and your young ones enchanted for hours, if not because of the content, then because of their quality.
Format: eBook – Mobi/Kindle, ePub, PDF
ISSN: 2397-9607 Issue 39
In Issue 39 of the Baba Indaba Children’s Stories, Baba Indaba narrates the Norse legend of the wolves Skoll (repulsion) and Hati (hatred) and how, and why, they each chase the moon and the sun across the sky ensuring night follows day.
It is believed that folklore and tales are believed to have originated in India and made their way overland along the Silk and Spice routes and through Central Asia before arriving in Europe. Even so, this does not cover all folklore from all four corners of the world. Indeed folklore, legends and myths from Africa, Australia, Polynesia, and some from Asia too, are altogether quite different and seem to have originated on the whole from separate reservoirs of lore, legend and culture.
This book also has an educational component with “Where in the World – Look it Up” section, where young readers are challenged to look up a place on a map somewhere in the world. The place, town or city is relevant to the story, on map. HINT – use Google maps.
Baba Indaba is a fictitious Zulu storyteller who narrates children’s stories from around the world. Baba Indaba translates as “Father of Stories”.
FOLLOW THIS LINK: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Anon_E_Mouse_THE_WOLVES_SK%C3%96LL_AND_HATI_A_Norse_Leg?id=qGKdDAAAQBAJ
The Wolves Skoll and Hati – Cover
ISSN: 2397-9607 – Issue 11
In issue 11 of the Baba Indaba children’s Stories, Baba Indaba narrates the Chinese tale of the Porcelain Pagoda and how the Emperor wanted his magicians to build him a bridge to the moon. You’ll have to read the story to find out if they did…..?
This book also has an educational section with a “Where in the World – Look it Up” section, where young readers are challenged to look up a place on a map somewhere in the world. The place, town or city is relevant to the story, on map. HINT – use Google maps.
The Moon that Shone on the Porcelain Pagoda – Cover
Baba Indaba is a fictitious Zulu storyteller who narrates children’s stories from around the world. Baba Indaba translates as “Father of Stories”.
In far bygone days, there was a widow who had three daughters. The girls lived in a tiny house in the forest.
A tiger was also in the forest and watched out for the girls, hoping to hunt them down.
One day, the mother said to the girls, Ill go out to look for food. Dont go out and dont let anyone in. Then she set off.
The tiger saw the mother leave. An hour later, the tiger went to the house and knocked on the door. One of the girls, Ma Gyi, went to the door and asked,
Who is it?
This is me, your mother, replied the tiger.
May I see your eyes? Why are your eyes so red? enquired Ma Gyi.
I was worried about you and cried on the way home, answered the tiger.
May I see your hands? Why are your hands so big and dirty?
The tiger replied, I helped with planting on a farm and so my hands became dirty.
The girls unwisely opened the door and then ran away and climbed a tree while the tiger chased them.
The tiger asked, How can I climb up?
Ma Gyi gave a tricky response, Pour oil onto the tree.
The tiger went back to the house, brought some oil and poured it onto the tree. However, it could not climb up the tree as it was so slippery.
Then Ma Gyis sister, Ma Nge shouted, Chop the tree down with an axe.
The tiger got an axe and started to chop the tree down. The girls were very fearful and cried out to the Lord of the Sky to save them.
The Lord of the Sky sent down a basket and a rope and the girls went up into the sky. The tiger made the same request and climbed into another basket going up into the sky. However, the rope was old and finally broke and the tiger fell to the ground and died.
The girls became as fairies of the Sun, Moon and Stars.
—–
From FOLKLORE and FAIRY TALES from BURMA – 21 folk and fairy tales from ancient Myanmar
ISBN 9781909302856
URL: http://abelapublishing.com/burmese
55% of the net profit from the sale of this book will be donated to the Phaung Daw Oo Monastic Education High School, Mandalay to assist with teaching materials.
An Excerpt from “Wonder Tales from Baltic Wizards”
THE stars shine down!
The Northern Lights flash over the sky,
and the Milky Way glows white!
Listen to the song of the Wizard
of the Crystal-Lighted Cavern!
AH! BEAUTIFUL was Linda the lovely daughter of Uko. She showed all the skypaths to the little birds, when they came flocking home in the springtime or flew away in autumn. She cared as gently and tenderly for the little birds, as a mother cares for her children. And just as a flower bespangled with a thousand drops of dew shines and smiles in the morning sunshine, so Linda shone while caring for her little winged ones.
Thus it was no wonder that all the world loved Linda. Every youth wished her for his bride, and crowds of suitors came to woo her.
In a handsome coach with six brown horses, the Pole Star drove up, and brought ten gifts. But Linda sent him away, with hurried words:
“You always have to stay in the same place. You cannot move about,” said she.
Then came the Moon in a silver coach drawn by ten brown horses. He brought her twenty gifts. But Linda refused the Moon, saying:
“You change your looks too often. You run in your same old way. You do not suit me.
Hardly had the Moon driven sorrowfully off, before the Sun drove up. In a golden coach with twenty red-gold horses, he rattled up to the door. He brought thirty presents with him. But all his pomp, shining splendor, and fine gifts did not help him. Linda said:
“I do not want you. You are like the Moon. Day after day you run in the same street.”
So the Sun went away sorrowful.
Then at midnight, in a diamond coach drawn by a thousand white horses, came the Northern Lights. His coming was so magnificent, that Linda ran to the door to meet him. A whole coach-load of gold, silver, pearls and jewelled ornaments, the servants of the Northern Lights carried into the house and his gifts pleased her, and she let him woo her.
“You do not always travel in the same course,” said Linda. “You flash where you will, and stop when you please. Each time you appear robed in new beauty and richness, and wear each time a different garment. And each time you ride about in a new coach with new horses. You are the true bridegroom!”
Then they celebrated their betrothal. But the Sun, Moon, and Pole Star looked sadly on. They envied the Northern Lights his happiness.
The Northern Lights could not stay long in the bride’s house, for he had to hurry back to the sky. When he said farewell, he promised to return soon for the wedding, and to drive Linda back with him to his home in the North. Meanwhile, they were to prepare Linda’s bridal garments.
Linda made her bridal robes, and waited and waited. One day followed the other, but the bridegroom did not come to hold the joyous wedding with his beloved. The winter passed, and the lovely spring adorned the earth with fresh beauty, while Linda waited in vain for her bridegroom. Nothing was seen of him!
Then she began to grieve bitterly and lament, and to sorrow day and night. She put on her bridal robes and white veil, and set the wreath on her head, and sat down in a meadow by a river. From her thousand tears little brooks ran into the valleys. In her deep heart-felt sorrow she thought only of her bridegroom.
The little birds flew tenderly about her head, brushing her with their soft wings, to comfort her. But she did not see them, nor did she take care of them anymore. So the little birds wandered about, flying here, flying there, for they did not know what to do or where to go.
Uko, Linda’s father, heard of her sorrow and how the little birds were untended. He ordered his Winds to fetch his daughter to him, to rescue her from such deep grief. And while Linda was sitting alone in the meadow weeping and lamenting, the Winds sank softly down beside her, and gently lifting her, bore her up and away. They laid her down in the blue sky.
And there is Linda now, dwelling in a sky-tent. Her white bridal veil spreads round her. And if you look up at the Milky Way, you will see Linda in her bridal robes. There she is, showing the way to little birds who wander.
Linda is happy! In winter she gazes towards the North. She waves her hand at the Northern Lights flashing nearer and nearer, then he again asks her to be his bride.
But though he flashes very close to Linda, heart to heart, he cannot carry her off. She must stay forever in the sky, robed in white, and must spread out her veil to make the Milky Way.
From: Wonder Tales of Baltic Wizards [1928]
ISBN: 9781907256585
URL: http://abelapublishing.com/wonder-tales-from-baltic-wizards
Wonder Tales from Baltic Wizards – Cover
This story is FREE, so LOVE IT, SAVE IT, SHARE IT with Friends and Family
THE stars shine down!
The Northern Lights flash over the sky,
and the Milky Way glows white!
Listen to the song of the Wizard
of the Crystal-Lighted Cavern!
AH! BEAUTIFUL was Linda the lovely daughter of Uko. She showed all the skypaths to the little birds, when they came flocking home in the springtime or flew away in autumn. She cared as gently and tenderly for the little birds, as a mother cares for her children. And just as a flower bespangled with a thousand drops of dew shines and smiles in the morning sunshine, so Linda shone while caring for her little winged ones.
Thus it was no wonder that all the world loved Linda. Every youth wished her for his bride, and crowds of suitors came to woo her.
In a handsome coach with six brown horses, the Pole Star drove up, and brought ten gifts. But Linda sent him away, with hurried words:
“You always have to stay in the same place. You cannot move about,” said she.
Then came the Moon in a silver coach drawn by ten brown horses. He brought her twenty gifts. But Linda refused the Moon, saying:
“You change your looks too often. You run in your same old way. You do not suit me.
Hardly had the Moon driven sorrowfully off, before the Sun drove up. In a golden coach with twenty red-gold horses, he rattled up to the door. He brought thirty presents with him. But all his pomp, shining splendor, and fine gifts did not help him. Linda said:
“I do not want you. You are like the Moon. Day after day you run in the same street.”
So the Sun went away sorrowful.
Then at midnight, in a diamond coach drawn by a thousand white horses, came the Northern Lights. His coming was so magnificent, that Linda ran to the door to meet him. A whole coach-load of gold, silver, pearls and jewelled ornaments, the servants of the Northern Lights carried into the house and his gifts pleased her, and she let him woo her.
“You do not always travel in the same course,” said Linda. “You flash where you will, and stop when you please. Each time you appear robed in new beauty and richness, and wear each time a different garment. And each time you ride about in a new coach with new horses. You are the true bridegroom!”
Then they celebrated their betrothal. But the Sun, Moon, and Pole Star looked sadly on. They envied the Northern Lights his happiness.
The Northern Lights could not stay long in the bride’s house, for he had to hurry back to the sky. When he said farewell, he promised to return soon for the wedding, and to drive Linda back with him to his home in the North. Meanwhile, they were to prepare Linda’s bridal garments.
Linda made her bridal robes, and waited and waited. One day followed the other, but the bridegroom did not come to hold the joyous wedding with his beloved. The winter passed, and the lovely spring adorned the earth with fresh beauty, while Linda waited in vain for her bridegroom. Nothing was seen of him!
Then she began to grieve bitterly and lament, and to sorrow day and night. She put on her bridal robes and white veil, and set the wreath on her head, and sat down in a meadow by a river. From her thousand tears little brooks ran into the valleys. In her deep heart-felt sorrow she thought only of her bridegroom.
The little birds flew tenderly about her head, brushing her with their soft wings, to comfort her. But she did not see them, nor did she take care of them anymore. So the little birds wandered about, flying here, flying there, for they did not know what to do or where to go.
Uko, Linda’s father, heard of her sorrow and how the little birds were untended. He ordered his Winds to fetch his daughter to him, to rescue her from such deep grief. And while Linda was sitting alone in the meadow weeping and lamenting, the Winds sank softly down beside her, and gently lifting her, bore her up and away. They laid her down in the blue sky.
And there is Linda now, dwelling in a sky-tent. Her white bridal veil spreads round her. And if you look up at the Milky Way, you will see Linda in her bridal robes. There she is, showing the way to little birds who wander.
Linda is happy! In winter she gazes towards the North. She waves her hand at the Northern Lights flashing nearer and nearer, then he again asks her to be his bride.
But though he flashes very close to Linda, heart to heart, he cannot carry her off. She must stay forever in the sky, robed in white, and must spread out her veil to make the Milky Way.
————————-
From WONDER TALES FROM BALTIC WIZARDS
ISBN: 978-1-907256-58-5
URLs
Paperback: http://abelapublishing.com/wonder-tales-from-baltic-wizards_p23332702.htm
eBook: http://abelapublishing.com/wonder-tales-from-baltic-wizards-ebook_p24838120.htm
THE mid-autumn moon was shining on the high pagoda that stood outside the Red Bird Gate, the southern entrance to Chin-ling,1 China. Wing Ling (Peaceful Forest), a wide-awake boy, had just this
moment remarked that he hoped the moon would shine bright enough to drop down money for heaps of moon-cakes. He and his brother, Li Sun (Pear-tree, Son-of-Li), were sitting on the lowest of the four wide steps leading to the broad, octagonal base of the Porcelain Pagoda. “Liu li t’a” was its real name, that is, Vitreous-substance-of-liquid-gems-pagoda. Early in the fifteenth century, the emperor, Yung-lo (Eternal Joy), had the pagoda erected as a token of gratitude to his mother, the Heart-of-kindness-showing, Ever-gracious Em-press. The people of Chin-ling sometimes called it “The Temple of Gratitude,” but to Wing Ling and Li Sun it was always the Porcelain Pagoda, because of the coloured slabs of glazed porcelain–green, yellow, and red–which covered the brick-work.
Wing Ling and his brother had often seen the pagoda in the daytime when it looked gay and airy, especially when glittering sunshine fell upon the painted balconies, the delicately carved balustrades and porcelain slabs. Only once a year, were the boys allowed to see it at night–the night of the moon-festival. When the mid-autumn moon was biggest and roundest, a festival, all the moon’s own, was celebrated by everyone, and, on this night of nights, Chinese children had the fun of eating delectable moon-cakes if the moon showered down money enough to buy the cakes. Li Sun said now that he noticed the moon was shining brighter than usual and probably the brightness would make a bigger moon-shower! The two boys, seated on the pagoda step, were easily unobserved, for men, women, and children in holiday dress were coming and going in such throngs that no one paid any attention to them. The moon–the splendid, round moon with the rabbit at its lower edge–was the only important thing tonight.
Moonlight and lantern light were vying with each other in illuminating the Porcelain Pagoda. By moonlight, the slender, octagonal building, mounting story by story far toward the sky, looked mysterious, fantastic, unreal. As if moonlight were not enough, a hundred and forty lights were gleaming from top to bottom of the pagoda. The seventy-two windows, eight in each story, were now ablaze with lantern light. As if gayety and mystery and lights were not enough, two hundred little bells, some of brass, some of porcelain, were softly tinkling in the slight breeze. For, from the golden ball and pine-apple that crowned the metal spire, chains of bells hung down to the angles of the highest roof, and more bells hung from all the corners and edges of the nine roofs. Tonight, the melody of the bells was like the melody the Great River–the Yangtze River–makes at its source where it flows, in rippling beauty, over golden sands.
“Li Sun,” abruptly said Wing Ling, “do you know this Porcelain Pagoda never throws any shadow toward the west?
The priests say so, and they must know, because they have charge of the pagoda and they protect all the images of the idols and saints–two thousand of them–here in the pagoda. And the priests know all about . . .”
The priests say so, and they must know, because they have charge of the pagoda and they protect all the images of the idols and saints–two thousand of them–here in the pagoda. And the priests know all about . . .”
“I know it’s time for the moon-cakes to be eaten,” interrupted Li Sun.
“I’ll tell the moon-tale first,” said Wing Ling, “or perhaps there’ll not be any moon-cakes.” Yet, as he spoke, the rascal knew that luscious moon-cakes were, this minute, in the large, inner pocket of his sleeveless jacket, and in Li Sun’s pocket, too. Moon-cakes with glistening, round, sticky places on them! Moon-cakes that had on them little, sugar rabbits! Moon-cakes that had a bulging sugar toad! No wonder Li Sun thought it time to eat the moon-cakes! No wonder Wing Ling felt happy at the mere thought of them!
“Tell the tale, then,” said Li Sun, cheerfully laying aside his great hunger, because he knew that his older brother who liked so much to talk wouldn’t eat till the story was told.
“Here it is,” began Wing Ling, as he and Li Sun wriggled themselves back into the corner of the step to be out of the way of people’s feet. “Once the Emperor, Ming Wong, was walking in the moonlight–moonlight just like this; and he was on a terrace . . . “
“Tell the tale, then,” said Li Sun, cheerfully laying aside his great hunger, because he knew that his older brother who liked so much to talk wouldn’t eat till the story was told.
“Here it is,” began Wing Ling, as he and Li Sun wriggled themselves back into the corner of the step to be out of the way of people’s feet. “Once the Emperor, Ming Wong, was walking in the moonlight–moonlight just like this; and he was on a terrace . . . “
“The Feng Huang terrace? Where the three phoenix birds sang, one springtime, so wonderfully all the other birds came to listen?” asked Li Sun eagerly.
“I forget. Perhaps it was that terrace–perhaps another. He was walking up and down, and his courtiers were with him . . .”
“How many courtiers?” broke in Li Sun.
“I forget. Perhaps it was that terrace–perhaps another. He was walking up and down, and his courtiers were with him . . .”
“How many courtiers?” broke in Li Sun.
“Interrupt me not, O Small-Devil,” said Wing Ling, “or I stop telling the tale. The Emperor, with his flute in his hand, was walking up and down, when he asked one of his courtiers this question, ‘Of what is the moon made, Noble-Servant?’
“The courtier said to the courtier standing nearest him, ‘His Highness, the Emperor, asks of what the moon is made.’
“The second courtier quickly turned to another courtier, saying, ‘His Highness, the Emperor, asks of what the moon is made.’ The third courtier asked a fourth courtier; the fourth asked a fifth; the fifth, a sixth; the sixth, a seventh; and the seventh courtier ran as fast as the men ran who were sent by the Great Ch’in to find the dragon. I tell you, Li Sun, they ran fast! The seventh courtier ran, like the red fire, to catch up with a magician walking toward the city wall, and he did catch up with him, and seized the magician’s garment. Out of breath he was, after that run, but he panted these words, ‘The Emperor, His Royal Highness . . . would know . . . of what . . . the moon is made.’ Without a word, the magician turned at once and ran back all the way to the terrace where the Emperor was still walking, still looking at the moon. Prostrating himself on the ground before the Emperor’s feet, the magician said, ‘Would His Highness, the Emperor, like to visit the moon and see of what it is made?’
‘Let it be so!’ replied the Emperor.
“The magician instantly threw his staff into the air toward the moon, and, lo, a rainbow bridge from earth to moon! As soon as the Emperor and the magician had stepped upon the bridge it rose beyond reach of the astonished courtiers and became like a wisp of cloud.
“The Emperor and his guide walked as easily as anything right along the rainbow bridge toward the moon, and I tell you, Li Sun, the moon shone amazingly bright, the nearer they went. When they stepped from the bridge to the surface of the moon, the Emperor noticed that most of the golden shining came from the thick groves of cassia trees–yes, Li Sun, the moonlight came straight from the cassia trees which were in full flowering. At the foot of a tall cassia, near the end of the bridge, crouched a little, white jade hare.
‘Who is he?’ asked the Emperor.
‘That is He-who-pounds-drugs-for-the-Genii,’ answered the magician. ‘He uses the cinnamon bark for the drugs. On clear nights in mid-autumn you can see him from the earth.’
“The Emperor and the magician then walked along the broad avenues of the pale yellow cassia trees and saw, on either side, radiant palaces, sparkling towers and twinkling streams. Fair ladies, in rainbow-coloured robes, came out to meet them, and, after bowing and smiling and saying welcoming words, passed on their way. Strange flowers, that looked far away though they were near at hand, covered the fields with silver-white or golden bloom. Snowy-white birds, with eyes like stars, flew in and out the golden cassia branches. Ah, it was a great glory, there, on the moon, Li Sun! And it’s the same moon that shines down here tonight on this pagoda. But there’s more to the story.”
“The Emperor and the magician then walked along the broad avenues of the pale yellow cassia trees and saw, on either side, radiant palaces, sparkling towers and twinkling streams. Fair ladies, in rainbow-coloured robes, came out to meet them, and, after bowing and smiling and saying welcoming words, passed on their way. Strange flowers, that looked far away though they were near at hand, covered the fields with silver-white or golden bloom. Snowy-white birds, with eyes like stars, flew in and out the golden cassia branches. Ah, it was a great glory, there, on the moon, Li Sun! And it’s the same moon that shines down here tonight on this pagoda. But there’s more to the story.”
“Tell it,” said Li Sun, sleepily.”The magician said to the Emperor,” went on Wing Ling, ‘Do you see that frog?’
‘Yes,’ said the Emperor.
“Then the magician told him this story: Once the Pearl-of-Heaven, the Moon, was about to be swallowed by a dragon, when an Archer Lord shot arrows into the sky, and so saved the moon from destruction. The Archer Lord was rewarded by a gift of a pill which would make him live forever. But, afterwards, his wife stole the magic pill and fled to the moon. That didn’t help her any, for, as soon as she stepped upon the – grass of the moon, she was turned into a frog. Here in the moon she still lives. Are you awake, Li Sun?” suddenly asked Wing Ling.
“By the Moon-Toad, Heng-O, I am! Go on!” answered Li Sun, briskly.
“Hear now the ending,” said Wing Ling. “When the Emperor and the magician left the moon and were coming down the rainbow bridge, the Emperor spoke not a single word, but he played on his flute. As he played, lovely strains fell to earth. Then he took coins, from the pouch on his girdle, and threw them from the bridge, and the money dropped at the feet of children. Wasn’t that fine, Li Sun?–Don’t you wish . . .?”
But just then a man and a woman, dressed in brightest of embroidered silk robes, bent over the two boys, who jumped to their feet as the man’s words carne like a swift stream pelting down a steep mountainside.
“O wicked boy, Wing Ling!” exclaimed the man. “O abominable urchin, Li Sun! Why, oh, why, have you been hiding from your honourable parents all this long time? What have you been doing? Where have you been? We have walked hour after hour searching for you. We have called on metal, wood, water, fire, earth. We have earnestly petitioned them all to direct us to the greatly-desired-place-of-hiding of our disobedient and much-to-be-despised sons. We have begged them, implored them, to lead us to that hiding-place wherever it might be–whether on the bank of the Great River or in some spot in our pride-of-the-heart city of Chin-ling, our wide city that lies between the dragon’s paws. ’Tis well I propitiated the deities by my worthy contribution toward the expense of the wonder-of-darkness lights on this pagoda. For, as the streams of light, from the cassia branches in the moon, fell upon this lantern-lighted pagoda–this Vitreous-substance-of-liquid-gems-pagoda–and as we saw the pagoda lights that illumine the thirty-three heavens, that detect the good and evil among men, that ward off human miseries, we quickened our steps hither, and lo, in this Temple-of-Gratitude pagoda, here we find you! We find you at last–our always-cherished, always-beloved sons!”
The father paused, breathless; and the mother said to the boys quietly, “Sons, have you eaten your moon-cakes yet?”
The father paused, breathless; and the mother said to the boys quietly, “Sons, have you eaten your moon-cakes yet?”
Late in the evening, the moon still shone down upon the city of Chin-ling. The light from the waving branches of the cassia trees in the moon streamed upon the Porcelain Pagoda, while the bells of the tower tinkled in the breeze from the Heaven-High Mountains. The moonlight shone, also, on the silent avenue, bordered with statues, outside the T’ai’ping Gate. It shone on the wall that meandered for miles around Chin-ling, and on the throngs of people strolling homeward through the Red Bird Gate; and it shone on the home of Wing Ling (Peaceful Forest) and Li Sun (Pear-tree, Son of Li).
As the boys were going to bed, the little jade hare looked down at the glistening earth. Li Sun, looking up at the moon, said to his brother, “Wing Ling, I can see the white-jade hare tonight–I see him pounding the moon-drugs!”
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Footnotes
1 Now Nanking or Nanjing, Jiangsu, China – 298km WNW of ShanghaiURL: http://www.abelapublishing.com/tower-legends_p23332696.htm
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Footnotes
1 Now Nanking or Nanjing, Jiangsu, China – 298km WNW of ShanghaiURL: http://www.abelapublishing.com/tower-legends_p23332696.htm
Folklore and Fairytales - Free Stories for Children 