ll things they love dancing, and their fathers and
grandfathers play the fiddle for them for many an hour of a winter's
evening, while the mothers sing nursery rhymes to the smaller
children. And, as with the games, these jingles are more or less
the same as our own. They have "This is the house that Jack built,"
with the malt, and the rat, and everything, only that they prefer
the name Jacob to Jack. They have "Fly away, Peter, fly away, Paul";
and the baby on his mother's knee has the joy of being shaken about to
"This is the way the farmer rides, bumpety-bumpety-bump."

CHAPTER VII

SOME FAIRY TALES

Norwegian children are just as fond of fairy stories as are any
other children, and they are lucky in having a great number, for
that famous story-teller, Hans Christian Andersen, was a Dane, and
as the Danish language is very like the Norwegian, his stories were
probably known in Norway long before they were known in England. But
the Norwegians have plenty of other stories of their own, and they
love to sit by the fire of burning logs or round the stove in the
long winter evenings and listen to them. Of course, they know all
about people like Cinderella and Jack the Giant-Killer, but their
favourite hero is called by the name of Ashpot, who is sometimes a
kind of boy Cinderella and sometimes a Jack the Giant-Killer.

The following are two stories which the little yellow-haired Norse
children gloat over:

Once upon a time there was a man who had been out cutting wood, and
when he came home he found that he had left his coat behind, so he
told his little daughter to go and fetch it. The child started off,
but before she reached the wood darkness came on, and suddenly a
great big hill-giant swooped down upon her.

"Please, Mr. Giant," said she, trembling all over, "don't take me
away to-night, as father wants his coat; but to-morrow night, if you
will come when I go to the _stabbur_ to fetch the bread, I will go
away with you quite quietly."

So the giant agreed, and the next night, when she went to fetch the
bread, he came and carried her off. As soon as it was found that she
was missing, her father sent her eldest brother to look for her, but
he came back without finding her. The second brother was also sent,
but with no better result. At last the father turned to his youngest
son, who was the drudge of the house, and said: "Now, Ashpot, you go
and see if you can find your sister."

So away went Ashp