At a spot not far distant from the mouse hole, he took to performing fictitious acts of penance, and the mice, as they ran to and fro, saw him standing there with pious mien. So they cried out to him from a distance, “Uncle, what are you doing?”

The cat replied, “As in my youth I have perpetrated many vicious actions, I am now doing penance in order to make up for them.”

The mice fancied that he had given up his sinful life, and there grew up within them confidence nourished by faith.

Now as they returned into their hole every day after making their rounds, the cat always seized on and devoured the mouse which came last. Seeing that the troop was constantly dwindling, the chief thought, “There must be some cause for the fact that my mice are diminishing in number, and this cat is thriving apace.”

So he began t observe the cat closely. And when he saw that the cat was fat and well covered with hair, he thought, “There is no doubt that this cat has killed the mice. Therefore must I bring the matter to the light of day.”

Now as he kept careful watch from a hiding place, he saw how the cat ate up the mouse which went last. Then from afar off he pronounced this verse:

As the uncle’s body waxes bigger,
but my troop on the contrary becomes smaller,
and as he who eats roots and berries
will not become fat and well covered with hair,
this is not a genuine penance,
but one performed only for the sake of gain.
Because the number of the mice diminished,
have you, O Agnija, thrived.

Little Peter agreed; so he bought himself a fine horse and a load of butter and cheese, and set off to the town. With the money he got for his goods he bought brandy and other drinks, and as soon as he arrived home, he threw a great feast, inviting all of his relatives and acquaintances. They in turn invited him for drinking and merrymaking. Thus he lived in fun and frolic so long as his money lasted. But when his last farthing was spent, and Little Peter found himself sitting high and dry, he went back home again to his old mother, and there he had nothing but one calf. When spring came he turned out the calf and let it graze on Big Peter’s meadow. But this made Big Peter angry, and he struck the calf, killing it. Little Peter skinned the calf, and hung the hide up in the bathroom until it was thoroughly dry; then he rolled it up, stuffed it into a sack, and went about the area trying to sell it; but wherever he went, people only laughed at him, saying that they had no need of smoked calfskin. After walking a long way, he came to a farm, where he asked for a night’s lodging.

“No,” said the old woman of the house, “I can’t give you lodging, for my husband is at the hut in the upper pasture, and I’m alone in the house. You will have to ask for shelter at the next farm; but if they won’t take you in, you may come back, because you can’t spend the night out of doors.”

As Peter passed by the living-room window, he saw that there was a priest in there, whom the woman was entertaining. She was serving him ale and brandy, and a large bowl of custard. But just as the priest had sat down to eat and drink, the husband came back home. The woman heard him in the hallway, and she was not slow; she put the bowl of custard under the fireplace mantel, the ale and brandy into the cellar, and as for the priest, she locked him inside a large chest that was there. Little Peter was standing outside the whole time and saw everything. As soon as the husband had entered, Little Peter went to the door and asked if he might have a night’s lodging.

“Yes,” said the man, “you can stay here,” and he asked Little Peter to sit down at the table and eat. Little Peter sat down, taking his calfskin with him, which he laid under his feet.

When they had sat a while, Little Peter began to step on the skin.

“What are you saying now? Can’t you be quiet?” said Little Peter.

“Who are you talking to?” asked the man.

“Oh,” answered Little Peter, “it’s only the fortuneteller that I have here in my calfskin.”

“And what does she foretell?” asked the man.

“Why, she says that there is a bowl of custard under the fireplace mantel,” said Little Peter.

“Her prediction is wrong,” answered the man. “We haven’t had custard in this house for a year and a day.”

But Peter asked him to take a look; he did so and found the custard. So they proceeded to enjoy it, but just as they were eating, Peter stepped on the calfskin again.

“Hush!” he said, “can’t you hold your mouth?”

“What is the fortuneteller saying now?” asked the man.

“Oh, she says there is probably some ale and brandy just under the cellar door,” answered Peter.

“Well, if she never predicted wrong in her life, she’s predicting wrong now,” said the man. “Ale and brandy! We have never had such things in the house!”

“Just take a look,” said Peter. The man did so, and there, sure enough, he found the drinks, and was very pleased indeed.

“How much did you pay for that fortuneteller?” said the man, “for I must have her, whatever you ask for her.”

“I inherited her from my father, and never thought that she was worth much,” answered Peter. “Of course, I am not eager to part with her, but you may have her nonetheless, if you’ll give me that old chest in the living room.”

“The chest is locked and the key is lost,” cried the old woman.

“Then I’ll take it without the key,” said Peter, and he and the man quickly struck the bargain.

Peter got a rope instead of the key. The man helped him load the chest onto his back, and off he stumbled with it. After he had walked a while, he came to a bridge. Beneath the bridge ran a raging stream, foaming, gurgling, and roaring until the bridge shook.

“That brandy, that brandy!” said Peter. Now I can tell that I’ve had too much. Why should I be dragging this chest about? If I hadn’t been drunk and crazy, I would not have traded my fortuneteller for it. But now this chest is going into the river, and quickly!”

And with that he began to untie the rope.

“Au! Au! For God’s sake save me. It is the priest that you have in the chest,” screamed someone from inside.

“That must be the devil himself,” said Peter, “and he wants to make me believe he has become a priest; but whether he claims to be a priest or a sexton, into the river he goes!”

“Oh, no! Oh no! I am in truth the parish priest. I was visiting the woman for her soul’s health, but her husband is rough and wild, so she had to hide me in the chest. I have a silver watch and a gold watch with me. You can have them both, and eight hundred dollars beside, if you will only let me out,” cried the priest.

“Oh, no!” said Peter. “Is it really your reverence after all?” With that he picked up a stone, and knocked the lid of the chest into pieces. The priest got out and ran home to his parsonage quickly and lightly, for he no longer had his watches and money to weigh him down.

Then Little Peter went home and said to Big Peter, “Today at the market there was a good price for calfskins.”

“What did you get for your shabby one?” asked Big Peter.

“Shabby as it was, I got eight hundred dollars for it, but those from larger and fatter calves were bringing twice as much,” said Little Peter, and showed his money.

“It is good that you told me this,” answered Big Peter. He then slaughtered all his cows and calves, and set off to town with their skins and hides. When he arrived at the market, and the tanners asked what he wanted for his hides, Big Peter said “eight hundred dollars for the small ones, and more for the big ones.” But they all laughed at him and made fun of him, and said he should not have come there, that he could get a better bargain at the madhouse. Thus he soon found out that Little Peter had tricked him.

But when he got home again he was not very gentle; he swore and cursed, threatening to strike Little Peter dead that very night. Little Peter stood and listened to all this. After he had gone to bed with his mother, and the night had worn on a little, he asked her to change sides with him, saying that he was cold and that it would be warmer next to the wall. Yes, she did that, and a little later Big Peter came with an ax in his hand, crept up to the bedside, and with one blow chopped off his mother’s head.

The next morning, Little Peter went into Big Peter’s room.

“Heaven help you,” he said. “You have chopped our mother’s head off. The sheriff will not be pleased to hear that you are paying mother’s pension in this way.”

Then Big Peter became terribly frightened, and he begged Little Peter, for God’s sake, to say nothing about what he knew. If he would only keep still, he should have eight hundred dollars.

Well, Little Peter swept up the money; set his mother’s head on her body again; put her on a sled, and pulled her to market. There he set her up with an apple basket on each arm, and an apple in each hand. By and by a skipper came walking along; he thought she was a market woman, and asked if she had apples to sell, and how many he might have for a penny. But the old woman did not answer. So the skipper asked again. No! She said nothing.

“How many may I have for a penny?” he cried the third time, but the old woman sat there, as though she neither saw nor heard him. Then the skipper flew into a rage and slapped her, causing her head to roll across the marketplace. At that moment, Little Peter came running. Weeping and wailing, and threatened to make trouble for the skipper, for having killed his old mother.

“Dear friend, keep still about what you know,” said the skipper, “and I’ll give you eight hundred dollars,” and thus they made a deal.

When Little Peter got home again, he said to Big Peter, “Old women were bringing a good price at the market today; I got eight hundred dollars for our mother,” and he showed him the money.

“It is good that I came to know this,” said Big Peter. He had an old mother-in-law, and he killed her, and then set forth to sell her. But when people heard how he was trying to sell dead bodies, they wanted to hand him over to the sheriff, and it was all he could do to escape.

When Big Peter arrived home again, he was so angry with Little Peter, that he threatened to strike him dead there and then, without mercy.

“Yes, indeed” said Little Peter, “we must all go this way, and between today and tomorrow there is only the night. But if I must set off now, I’ve only one thing to ask; put me into that sack that’s hanging over there, and carry me to the river.”

Big Peter had nothing against that; he stuffed him into the sack, and set off. But he hadn’t gone far before it came into his mind that he had forgotten something which he had to go back and fetch; meanwhile, he set the sack down by the side of the road. Just then came a man driving a big flock of fine sheep,
To the Kingdom of Heaven, to Paradise.
To the Kingdom of Heaven, to Paradise!
cried out Little Peter from inside the sack, and he kept mumbling and muttering the same words over and over.

“May I not go with you?” asked the man with the sheep.

“Of course you may,” said Little Peter. “Just untie the sack, and trade places with me, and you’ll get there enough. I can wait until next time. But you must keep on calling out what I was saying, or you’ll not go to the right place.”

Then the man untied the sack, and took Little Peter’s place. Peter tied the sack up again, and the man began to cry out,
To the Kingdom of Heaven, to Paradise.
To the Kingdom of Heaven, to Paradise!
and repeated the saying over and over again.

After Peter got him positioned in the sack, he wasn’t slow; off he went with the flock of sheep, making a broad turn. Meantime, Big Peter, returned, took the sack on his shoulders, and carried it to the river, and all the while he went, the shepherd sat inside crying:
To the Kingdom of Heaven, to Paradise!

“Yes, indeed! Now try now to find the way for yourself,” said Big Peter, and with that he tossed him out into the stream.

When Big Peter had done that, and was going back home, he met his brother, who was driving the flock of sheep before him. Big Peter could hardly believe his eyes, and asked how Little Peter had gotten out of the river, and where he had found the fine flock of sheep.

“That was an act of brotherly love that you did for me when you threw me into the river,” answered Little Peter. I sank right down to the bottom like a stone, and there I saw flocks of sheep, believe me. Down there they go about by the thousands; each flock is finer than the others. And just see what splendid wool they have!”

That is good of you to tell me that, said Big Peter. Then he ran home to his wife; made her come with him to the river; crept into a sack, and asked her to quickly tie it up, and throw him over the bridge.

“I’m going after a flock of sheep,” he said. “If I stay too long, it’s because I can’t manage the flock by myself; then you’ll have to jump in and help me.”

“Well, don’t stay too long,” said his wife, “for I am looking forward to those sheep.”

She stood there and waited a while, but then she thought that her husband couldn’t gather the flock together, and so she jumped in after him.

Now Little Peter was rid of them all, and he inherited their farm and fields, and horses and tools too; and besides, he had money enough to buy cattle as well.

At last the mice could stand it n longer, and they determined to take to their holes and stay there.

“That’s awkward,” said the cat to herself. “The only thing to do is to coax them out by a trick.” So she considered a while, and then climbed up the wall and let herself hang down by her hind legs from a peg, and pretended to be dead.

By and by a mouse peeped out and saw the cat hanging there. “Aha!” it cried, “You’re very clever, madam, no doubt. But you may turn yourself into a bag of meal hanging there, if you like, yet you won’t catch us coming anywhere near you.”

It stayed away for some weeks from its usual haunts, and, returning, lay down in front of a mouse and rat warren, with a rosary round its neck; then, with its eyes closed, fell to purring loudly. Soon a mouse peeped out of a hole, but, seeing the cat, hastily returned.

“Why do you flee?” said pussy gently. “Instead of showing pleasure at the return of an old neighbor from the pilgrimage, you run away as soon as you see him. Come and visit me, fear nothing.”

Surprised at hearing itself thus addressed, the mouse again ventured to the door of its hole and said, “How can you expect me to visit you? Are you not the enemy of my race? Should I accept your invitation you would surely seize and devour me as you did my parents and so many others of my kindred.”

“Alas!” sighed the cat, “your reproaches are just. I have been a great sinner, and have earned abuse and enmity. But I am truly penitent. As you see from this rosary round my neck, I now devote myself to prayer, meditation, and the recital of holy books, the whole of which I have learnt by heart, and was just beginning to repeat when you happened to look out of your hole. Besides this, I have visited the Holy Places, so am a Hajji [pilgrim] as well as a Hâfiz [one who knows the whole Koran by heart]. Go, my injured but nevertheless generous and forgiving friend, make my change of life and sentiments known to the rest of your people and bid them no longer shun my society, seeing that I am become a recluse. Whilst you are absent I shall resume my recitations. Purr, purr, purr.”

Much surprised at the news he had just heard, the mouse made it known to the rest of the tribe. They were at first incredulous; but at last after one and another had ventured to peep from the mouth of its hole and had beheld the whiskered ascetic with the rosary round his neck apparently oblivious of earthly things, and steadily repeating his purr, purr, purr, which they supposed to be the contents of holy books, they thought that there might be some truth in the matter, and they convened a meeting of mice and rats to discuss it.

After much debate it was judged right to test the reality of the cat’s conversion, but to be prudent at the same time; and so a large and experienced rat was sent out to reconnoiter. Being a wary veteran, he kept well out of the cat’s reach, though he saluted him respectfully from a distance. The cat allowed the rat to prowl about unmolested for a long time in the hope that other rats and mice would come out, when his prey would be easy to catch and plentiful. But no others came, and at last the pangs of hunger made him resolve to wait no longer.

The rat, however, was on the alert and darted off the instant he noticed, from a slight movement of the cat’s muscles, that the pretended saint was about to kill him.

“Why do you go away so abruptly?” mewed the cat. “Are you tired of hearing me repeat scripture, or do you doubt the correctness of my recitation?”

“Neither,” answered the rat as he peeped from the hole in which he had taken refuge.

“Neither,” answered the rat as he peeped from the hole in which he had taken refuge. “I am convinced that, however much you may have learnt by rote, you have neither unlearnt nor eschewed your habits of pouncing upon us.”

The rat, who was very poor, fell in love with one of the king’s servant girls, but was unable to give her any presents, as he had no money.

At last he thought of the king’s store, so in the nighttime, being quite small, he had little difficulty, having made a hole in the roof, in getting into the store. He then stole corn and native pears, and presented them to his sweetheart.

At the end of the month, when the cat had to render her account of the things in the store to the king, it was found that a lot of corn and native pears were missing. The king was very angry at this, and asked the cat for an explanation. But the cat could not account for the loss, until one of her friends told her that the rat had been stealing the corn and giving it to the girl.

When the cat told the king, he called the girl before him and had her flogged. The rat he handed over to the cat to deal with, and dismissed them both from his service. The cat was so angry at this that she killed and ate the rat, and ever since that time whenever a cat sees a rat she kills and eats it.

So the merchant went away, and in due time arrived at the place where the tradesman of whom he had heard the bad news was living. But instead of obtaining money, as he hoped, he was kicked and beaten so violently that it seems a great wonder he came away without losing his life. Of course he had now nothing to do but return, so he mounted his horse and turned homeward. Towards evening he unfortunately lost his way, and when it became quite dark he knew no better than to ride in the direction of a light which was shining from a distance. At length he reached a beautiful little palace, but although it was lighted, there seemed to be no one at home.

After a while he found a shelter and food for his horse — pure oats, and nothing else. The animal might well dance for joy, for both man and beast were well-nigh exhausted from the long ride. When the horse had been provided for, the master stepped into the palace. There a light was burning, and a table was laid for one person, but no one was to be seen. As the merchant was tired, he sat down without invitation, and ate a hearty supper. A fine bed was there, too, and when he had eaten enough he stretched himself among the pillows and enjoyed a good night’s rest.

The next morning everything appeared as on the evening before. The horse was well supplied, and as breakfast was ready on the table, the merchant seated himself, doing justice to the good meal. At he was now ready to leave, he thought it might be well to look over the premises, and glancing into the garden he perceived some exquisite flowers. He went down, intending to carry some of them home with him as a present for Beauty; but no sooner had he touched them than a horse came running towards him as fast as it could trot, saying, “You thoughtless man; I was good to you last night, I gave you shelter and provisions, and now you would even take with you the most beautiful flowers in my garden.”

The merchant immediately begged pardon, saying that he had intended the flowers as a gift for Beauty, his daughter.

“Have you several daughters?” asked the horse.

“Yes, I have three, and Beauty is the youngest one,” he replied.

“Now you must promise me,” said the horse, “that you will give me the daughter whose name is Beauty; if you refuse, I will take your life.”

Well, the merchant did not wish to lose his life, so he promised to bring his daughter to the palace, whereupon the horse disappeared among the trees, and the man rode home.

As soon as he reached his house, the two older daughters came out and asked him for the fine things which they were expecting. But Beauty came and bid him welcome. He produced the flowers and gave them to her, saying, “These are for you, but they cost your life,” and he then told her how he had been obliged to make the fatal promise to the horse, in order to save his life.

Beauty at once said, “I am willing to follow you, father, and am always glad to help you.” They started on their journey, and soon arrived at the palace.

As before, no one was to be seen, but the merchant found food for his horses and a good stable The table was also laid for two persons, and there were two beds. Having done justice to the supper, father and daughter retired and slept soundly. When they awoke the next morning, they found breakfast ready for both, ate heartily, and having exchanged many loving and tender words, they separated, the father riding away. We will let him proceed, and see what occurred at the palace.

Shortly before dinnertime the horse arrived. He came into the room and said, “Welcome, Beauty!” She did not feel very glad, and had all she could do in keeping her tears back. “You shall do nothing but walk around in these rooms and in the garden,” continued the horse. “Your meals are provided for. I shall come home every day at noon; at other times you must not expect me.”

Time passed, and Beauty felt so lonely that she often longed for noon, when the horse came home, and she could talk with him. She gradually came to look at him more and more kindly; but one thing caused her great distress, namely, that she had no news from her father. One day she mentioned this to the horse.

“Yes,” said he, “I understand that very well. In the large room you will find a mirror in which you can see all that you are thinking of.”

She was happy to learn this, and went straight into the room where the mirror was hanging. As soon as she thought of her father, her old home was visible in the glass, and she noticed how he was sitting in his chair with a sorrowful expression upon his countenance, while his two daughters were singing and dancing. Beauty felt sorry over this state of affairs, and the next day she told the horse what she had seen.

“Your father is sorry, I suppose,” said the horse, ” because he has lost you. He will soon feel better, however.”

But on the next day, when Beauty consulted the mirror, her father looked pale and ill, like one who is deadly sick; both of her sisters were dressed for a ball, and neither of them seemed to care for the weak man. Beauty burst into tears, and when the horse came home, asking what ailed her, she told him of the bad state of affairs, wishing that he would allow her to return and nurse her poor father during his illness.

“If you will promise to come back,” said the horse, “you may return and stay for three days; but under no condition must you break your word.”

Beauty told him she would come back in three days.

“Tonight,” resumed the horse, “before going to bed, you must place the mirror under your pillow, saying, ‘I wish to be home tomorrow.’ Then your wish will be fulfilled. When you desire to return, you must do likewise.”

The next morning, when Beauty awoke, she was at her old home. Her father became so glad to see her again that he at once felt a great deal better. She cared so well for him that the next day he was able to be up, and on the third day he was almost well. As he wished her to stay with him a few days longer, she complied, thinking that no harm would come from it. On the third day after, however, when she looked into the mirror, she saw the horse stretched on the ground in front of the bench which was her favorite seat in the garden. She now felt that it would be impossible for her to remain longer, hence in the evening, before going to bed, she placed the mirror under her pillow, saying: “I wish to be at the palace tomorrow morning.”

She promptly awoke in the palace the following morning, and hurrying into the garden she found the horse so very sick that he could not stand on his legs. Beauty knelt down and asked him to forgive her for staying away longer than she had promised. The horse asked her if she could not persuade herself to stay with him all her life, but she answered that it would seem very singular to live with a horse all her lifetime. The poor animal now sighed so deeply that she took pity on him and said, fearing that he might die then and there, that she would always stay with him and never leave him.

As soon as she had made this promise, the horse vanished, and a beautiful young prince stood before her. He seized her hand and asked whether she was not sorry for the promise she had made. No, she said, she would rather stay with him now than when he was in the shape of a horse. He now told her that both he and the whole land had been enchanted by his wicked stepmother, who had converted him into a horse, and told him that only when a beautiful young girl would promise to stay with him, in his altered shape, would the enchantment be over. He wanted to marry Beauty, and live in the palace which belonged to him.

So they sent for her father to take up his residence with them, and now the marriage was performed and celebrated in a splendid manner. They lived long and happily together, the prince and his Beauty.

The oldest one said, “I would like pearls and precious stones.”

“You can buy a sky-blue dress for me,” said the middle one.

But the youngest one said, “Nothing in the world would be dearer to me than a grape.”

Once at the market, the merchant saw as many pearls and precious stones as he could possibly want. And he soon purchased a sky-blue dress as well. But as for a grape, he could not find one anywhere at the market. This saddened him greatly, because he loved his youngest daughter most of all.

Buried thus in his thoughts, he was making his way toward home when a little dwarf stepped before him. He asked, “Why are you so sad?”

“Oh,” answered the merchant, “I was supposed to bring home a grape for my youngest daughter, but I was not able to find one anywhere at the market.”

The dwarf said, “Just take a few steps into that meadow down there, and you will come to a large vineyard. A white bear will be there. He will growl fiercely when you approach, but don’t let that frighten you. You’ll get a grape after all.”

So the merchant went down into the meadow, and it happened just as the dwarf had said. A white bear was keeping guard at the vineyard, and he growled at the merchant when he was still a long way off.

“What do you want here?”

“Be so good,” said the merchant, “and let me take a grape for my youngest daughter, just a single one.”

“You cannot have one,” said the bear, “unless you promise to give me that which will first greet you upon your arrival home.”

The merchant did not think long about this before accepting the bear’s terms. Then he was permitted to take a grape, and he happily made his way toward home.

Upon his arrival home, the youngest daughter ran out to meet him, for she — more than anyone else — had missed him, and she could hardly wait to see him. Seeing the grape in his hand, she threw her arms around his neck and could scarcely contain herself for joy.

But the father was overcome with sorrow, and he could not tell anyone why. Every day he expected the white bear to come and demand from him his dearest child.

When exactly one year had passed since he taken the grape from the vineyard, the bear did indeed trot up, confronted the merchant, and said, “Now give me that which first greeted you upon your arrival home, or I’ll eat you.”

The merchant had not lost all of his senses, and he said, “Take my dog. He jumped right out the door when he saw me coming.”

But the bear began to growl loudly and said, “He is not the right one. If you don’t keep your promise, I’ll eat you.”

Then the merchant said, “So just take the apple tree in front of the house. That was the first thing that I met.”

But the bear growled even stronger and said, “That is not the right one. If you don’t keep your promise immediately, I’ll eat you.”

Nothing more would help. The merchant had to surrender his youngest daughter. When she came out, a coach drove up. The bear led her inside, sat down next to her, and away they went.

After a while the coach stopped in the courtyard of a castle, and the bear led the daughter into the castle and welcomed her. This was his home, he said, and from now on she would be his wife. He gave her everything that her heart could desire, so that with time it no longer occurred to her that her husband was a bear. There were just two things that seemed strange to her: Why did the bear insist on having no lights at nighttime, and why did he always feel so cold?

After she had been with him for some time he asked her, “Do you know how long you have been here?”

“No,” she said, “I haven’t been thinking about time at all.”

“All the better,” said the bear. “It’s been exactly one year. Get ready for a journey, for we must visit your father once again.”

She did so with great joy, and after arriving at her father’s she told him all about her life in the castle. Afterward, when she was taking leave from him, he secretly gave her some matches that the bear was not supposed to see. But the bear did see them, and he growled angrily, “Stop that, or I’ll eat you.”

Then he took his wife back to the castle, and they lived there together as before.

Some time later the bear said, “Do you know how long you have been here?”

“No,” she said, “I don’t notice the time.”

“All the better,” said the bear. “You have been here exactly two years. Get ready for a journey. It is time for us to visit your father once again.”

She did it once again, and everything happened as the first time. But when she visited her father the third time, the bear failed to see that her father secretly gave her some matches. After arriving back at the castle, she could hardly wait for night to come when the bear was sleeping next to her in bed. Silently she struck a light and was startled with amazement and joy, for next to her was lying a handsome youth with a golden crown on his head.

He smiled at her and said, “Many thanks for redeeming me. You were the wife of an enchanted prince. Now we can celebrate our wedding properly, for now I am the king of this land.” With that the entire castle came alive. Servants and attendants came from all sides, wishing good luck to the king and the queen.

One time, when the world was young and men and women were ill because an evil spirit possessed them, there lived a man and his wife who were very poor. A devil came and took possession of each of them and made them both sick. As they were not rich they couldn’t invite a holy lama to read prayers for them, so invited a lay-brother in his stead.

After a while this man who was reading began to get very hungry. It was the custom to give the priests the best of food, but this man and his wife had no butter nor meat nor fine things to eat. They had no horses, nor yak and only one goat. So the reader began to think to himself that if they would kill this goat he’d have plenty to eat, as it was really pretty fat.

The man who owned the house was bald headed and now he came up and sat on the roof near where the man was reading. He really sat down in front of him and heard the man mumbling his prayers, “Om mani padme hum. Om mani padme hum,” he was reading, and read right on in the same tone, “The god says if a man is bald headed and will take the skin of a goat and put it on his head he will have hair.”

The old man sat and heard him read this over several times and finally decided it was there in the book of prayers; so he killed the goat.

They all had some good eating for a while, and the old man put the skin on his head, wore it and wore it for days and days and kept feeling his head, but not a single hair would come. He finally concluded that the man had lied to him out of the book, and besides, he thought, “If I wear this too long, I fear all the skin will be worn off my head and there will be nothing but bone.”

So he asked the man about it, whether he hadn’t lied to him, and he said, “O, no, but if a man would have what the gods say come true, he must pray a great deal himself.” Thus he got around his lies and had goat to eat as well.

Many years ago, the wife of the farmer at Kintraw fell ill and died, leaving two or three young children. The Sunday after the funeral the farmer and his servants went to church, leaving the children at home in charge of the eldest, a girl of about ten years of age. On the farmer’s return the children told him their mother had been to see them, and had combed their hair and dressed them. As they still persisted in their statement after being remonstrated with, they were punished for telling what was not true.

The following Sunday the same thing occurred again. The father now told the children, if their mother came again, they were in inquire of her why she came. Next Sunday, when she reappeared, the eldest child put her father’s question to her, when the mother told them she had been carried off by the “Good People” (Daione Sìth), and could only get away for an hour or two on Sundays, and should her coffin be opened it would be found to contain only a withered leaf.

The farmer, much perplexed, went to the minister for advice, who scoffed at the idea of any supernatural connection with the children’s story, ridiculed the existence of “Good People,” and would not allow the coffin to be opened. The matter was therefore allowed to rest. But, some little time after, the minister, who had gone to Lochgilphead for the day, was found lying dead near the Fairies’ Hill, a victim, many people thought, to the indignation of the Fairy world he had laughed at.

The following day their number was added to by the coming of a young, courageous and newly married man from Kinnar, in Lummelund. When they related to him their adventure of the night before, he made fun of their being afraid to take a beautiful woman by the hand, and boasted that if he had been present he would not have neglected to grasp the proffered hand.

That evening when they laid themselves down in the same room, the late arrival with them, the door opened again, and a plump, white woman’s arm, with a most beautiful hand, reached in over the sleepers.

The young man arose from his bed, approached the door and seized the outstretched hand, impelled, perhaps, more by the fear of his comrades scoffing at his boasted bravery, than by any desire for a closer acquaintance with the strange visitor.

Immediately his comrades witnessed him drawn noiselessly out through the door, which closed softly after him. They thought he would return soon, but when morning approached and he did not appear, they set out in search of him. Far and near the search was pursued, but without success. His disappearance was complete.

Three years passed and nothing had been heard of the missing man. His young wife, who had mourned him all this time as dead, was finally persuaded to marry another. On the evening of the wedding day, while the mirth was at its highest, a stranger entered the cottage. Upon closer observation some of the guests thought they recognized the bride’s former husband.

The utmost surprise and commotion followed.

In answer to the inquiries of those present as to where he came from and where he had been, he related that it was a sea nymph whose hand he had taken that night when he left the fisherman’s hut; and that he was dragged by her down into the sea. In her pearly halls he forgot his wife, parents, and all that was loved by him until the morning of that day, when the sea nymph exclaimed, “There will be a dusting out in Kinnar this evening.”

Then his senses immediately returned, and, with anxiety, he asked, “Then it is my wife who is to be the bride?”

The sea nymph replied in the affirmative.

At his urgent request, she allowed him to come up to see his wife as a bride, stipulating that when he arrived at the house he should not enter. When he came and saw her adorned with garland and crown he could, nevertheless, not resist the desire to enter. Then came a tempest and took away half the roof of the house, whereupon the man fell sick and three days later died.