Books with title English fairy tales

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In the darksome depths of a thick forest lived Kalyb the fell enchantress. Terrible were her deeds, and few there were who had the hardihood to sound the brazen trumpet which hung over the iron gate that barred the way to the Abode of Witchcraft. Terrible were the deeds of Kalyb; but above all things she delighted in carrying off innocent new-born babes, and putting them to death.

Who says that English folk have no fairy-tales of their own? The present volume contains only a selection out of some 140, of which I have found traces in this country. It is probable that many more exist. A quarter of the tales in this volume, have been collected during the last ten years or so, and some of them have not been hitherto published. Up to 1870 it was equally said of France and of Italy, that they possessed no folk-tales. Yet, within fifteen years from that date, over 1000 tales had been collected in each country. I am hoping that the present volume may lead to equal activity in this country, and would earnestly beg any reader of this book who knows of similar tales, to communicate them, written down as they are told, to me, care of Mr. Nutt. The only reason, I imagine, why such tales have not hitherto been brought to light, is the lamentable gap between the governing and recording classes and the dumb working classes of this country - dumb to others but eloquent among themselves. It would be no unpatriotic task to help to bridge over this gulf, by giving a common fund of nursery literature to all classes of the English people, and, in any case, it can do no harm to add to the innocent gaiety of the nation.

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English Fairy Tales: - ST. GEORGE OF MERRIE ENGLAND - THE STORY OF THE THREE BEARS - TOM-TIT-TOT - THE GOLDEN SNUFF-BOX - TATTERCOATS - THE THREE FEATHERS - LAZY JACK - JACK THE GIANT-KILLER - THE THREE SILLIES - THE GOLDEN BALL - THE TWO SISTERS - THE LAIDLY WORM - TITTY MOUSE AND TATTY MOUSE - JACK AND THE BEANSTALK - THE BLACK BULL OF NORROWAY - CATSKIN - THE THREE LITTLE PIGS - NIX NAUGHT NOTHING - MR. AND MRS. VINEGAR - THE TRUE HISTORY OF SIR THOMAS THUMB - HENNY-PENNY - THE THREE HEADS OF THE WELL - MR. FOX - DICK WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT - THE OLD WOMAN AND HER PIG - THE WEE BANNOCK - HOW JACK WENT OUT TO SEEK HIS FORTUNE - THE BOGEY-BEAST - LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD - CHILDE ROWLAND - THE WISE MEN OF GOTHAM OF BUYING OF - - SHEEP OF HEDGING A CUCKOO OF SENDING CHEESES OF DROWNING EELS OF SENDING RENT OF COUNTING - CAPORUSHES - THE BABES IN THE WOOD - THE RED ETTIN - THE FISH AND THE RING - LAWKAMERCYME - MASTER OF ALL MASTERS - MOLLY WHUPPIE AND THE DOUBLE-FACED GIANT - THE ASS, THE TABLE, AND THE STICK - THE WELL OF THE WORLD'S END - THE ROSE TREE THE THREE SILLIES ONCE upon a time, when folk were not so wi-se as they are nowadays, there lived a farmer and his wife who had one daughter. And she, being a pretty lass, was courted by the young squire when he came home from his travels. Now every evening he would stroll over from the Hall to see her and stop to supper in the farmhouse, and every evening the daughter would go down into the cellar to draw the cider for sup-per. So one evening when she had gone down to draw the cider and had turned the tap as usual, she happened to look up at the ceiling, and there she saw a big wooden mallet stuck in one of the beams. It must have been there for ages and ages, for it was all covered with cobwebs; but somehow or another she had never noticed it before, and at once she began thinking how dangerous it was to have the mallet just there. "For," thought she, "supposing him and me was married, and supposing we was to have a son, and supposing he were to grow up to be a man, and supposing he were to come down to draw ci-der like as I'm doing, and supposing the mallet were to fall on his head and kill him, how dreadful it would be!" And with that she put down the candle she was carrying and seating herself on a cask began to cry. And she cried and cried and cried. Now, upstairs, they began to wonder why she was so long drawing the cider; so after a time her mother went down to the cellar to see what had come to her and found her, seated on the cask, crying ever so hard, and the cider running all over the floor. "Lawks a mercy me!" cried her mother, "wha-tever is the matter?" "Oh, mother!" says she between her sobs, "it's that horrid mallet. Supposing him and me was married and supposing we was to have a son, and supposing he was to grow up to be a man, and supposing he was to come down to draw cider like as I'm doing, and supposing the mallet were to fall on his head and kill him, how dreadful it would be!" "Dear heart!" said the mother, seating herself beside her daughter and beginning to cry: "How dreadful it would be!" So they both sat a-crying. Now after a time, when they did not come back, the farmer began to wonder what had happened, and going down to the cellar found them seated side by side on the cask, crying hard, and the cider running all over the floor. "Zounds!" says he, "whatever is the matter?" "Just look at that horrid mallet up there, fat-her," moaned the mother. "Supposing our daugh-ter was to marry her sweetheart, and supposing they was to have a son, and supposing he was to grow to man's estate, and supposing he was to come down to draw cider like as we're doing, and supposing that there mallet was to fall on his head and kill him, how dreadful it would be!"