• This and the twelve following are from Otmar, Volcks-Sagen (Traditions of the
Harz), Bremen, 1800.

This and the following are from Kuhn und Schwartz, Norddeutsche Sagen, &c.,
Leipsig, 1848.

This and the three following traditions are from Müllenhoff, ut sup.

THE

BIRTH OF THE POPULAR TALE.

THERE was a time when there were no Popular Tales, and a sad time it was for children; for in their youthful paradise the most beautiful butterfly was wanting. At this time there were also two children of a king, who played together in their father's splendid garden. This garden was full of the choicest flowers; its walks were laid with stones of various colours and gold sand, which vied in brilliancy with the sparkling dew-drops on the flower-beds. In the garden were many cool grottoes, with plashing springs, fountains towering to the sky, beautiful marble statues, luxurious seats. In the basins swam gold and silver fish; the most splendid birds fluttered in golden aviaries, while others of the feathery tribe hopped and flew about at full liberty, warbling with sweet voices their delightful melodies. But the two royal children saw these things daily, and were weary of the brilliancy of the stones, the fragrance of the flowers, the fountains and the fishes, which were all so mute, and of the birds, whose song they did not understand. They sat silent together, and were sad; they had everything a child could wish for, kind parents, the most costly playthings, the finest clothes, the daintiest food, and liberty to play every day in the garden: they were sad, although they knew not why, and knew not what it was they longed for.

One day, when the queen, their mother, a beautiful stately dame, with a mild benevolent countenance, approached them, she was grieved to see them so sorrowful; for they only looked at her with a mournful smile, instead of running to her full of boisterous mirth. It afflicted her to know that her children were not happy, as children should and can be, because they yet know no care, and the heaven of childhood is usually a cloudless one.

Seating herself by her children, a boy and a girl, the queen threw one of her full white arms round each of them, and said to them, in a gentle maternal voice, "My dear children, what is it you desire?"

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We don't know, dear mother," answered the boy. "We are so melancholy," said the girl.

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'But in the garden all is so beautiful, and you have everything to give you pleasure. Do you then feel no pleasure?" asked the queen; and the tears stood in her eyes, from which a soul full of goodness beamed.

"What we have does not afford us pleasure enough," answered the girl. "We wish for something, and know not what," added the boy.

The mother was silent and troubled, and thought within herself what children could possibly desire to afford them more delight than a splendid garden, fine clothes, abundance of playthings, and dainty food; but her thoughts busied themselves to no purpose.

Oh, that I were only a child again!" said she to herself with a soft sigh," then, perhaps, I might discover what makes children joyful. To comprehend the wishes of a child one must be a child oneself; but I have journeyed too far from the land of childhood, where golden birds fly among the trees of that paradise; birds without feet; because, being never weary, they have no need of earthly rest. Oh, would such a bird but come hither, and bring to my dear children that which would make them happy!

While the queen was thus wishing, a gloriously beautiful bird was seen floating above her head in the blue heaven, from which there issued a brilliancy like flames of gold or the radiation of a precious gem. It hovered lower and lower, and the queen and the children beheld it. The latter exclaimed only, "Ah! ah!" Their astonishment did not allow them to utter another word.

The bird was beauteous to look upon, as it came floating lower and lower, so glistening, so sparkling, with its vivid rainbow tints, almost blinding the eyesight, and yet fascinating it. It was so beautiful, that the queen and the children slightly shuddered with delight, particularly when they felt the fanning of its wings. Before they were well aware of it, the bird had descended into the lap of the

queen, and looked on the boy and girl with eyes like the friendly eyes of children; and yet there was in those eyes something that the children could not comprehend, something heterogeneous, appalling; they therefore did not venture to touch the bird. They also observed that this rare, celestial, beautiful creature, had under its bright, variegated pinions, some jet-black feathers, which at a distance were not perceptible. But for a closer survey of the beautiful bird the children had hardly sufficient time, for it instantly rose again; the footless bird of paradise glistened, flew higher and higher, until it seemed only a manycoloured feather swimming in ether, then only a golden streak, and then vanished. During its ascent, the queen and her children looked after it with astonishment. But, oh, wonderful! when mother and children again cast their eyes downwards how were they astonished anew! On the queen's lap lay a golden egg that the bird had laid, which reflected hues of golden green and golden blue, like the most beautiful Labrador feldspar and the finest mother-ofpearl. On beholding it, the children exclaimed with one voice, "See the beautiful egg!" But the mother smiled with pleasure; for she had a presentiment that it must be the jewel that was wanting to her children's happiness; that the egg, in its magical coloured shell, must contain a good that should afford to the children what is denied to age, contentment; and allay their longing, their infantine sadness.

But the children could not gaze enough on the wondrous egg, and, in viewing it, soon forgot the bird that had laid it. At first they did not venture to touch it; but the girl at length laid one of her rosy fingers upon it, and suddenly exclaimed, while a deep red overspread her innocent countenance, "The egg is warm!" And then the boy gave it a gentle touch, to feel whether his sister had spoken the truth. At last the mother herself placed her soft white hand on the egg; and then what happened? The shell fell apart, and from it issued a being wonderful to behold. It had wings, yet was not a bird, nor a butterfly, neither a bee, nor a dragon-fly; but was something of all these, and altogether not to be described. In a word, it was the party-coloured, winged, glittering delight of childhood,