scent of the flowers and the glory of the clouds. We will ask the tale to yield to us the secret of its charm, and to tell us why it should appeal so strongly to all men?

My only claim to give an answer to these questions rests on being still a votary at the shrine of the Tale, having never swerved in my allegiance to it, feeling still the spell unbroken which it has cast upon me from the days of the nursery. Maybe that for such devoted service I have been allowed to overhear some of the words of magic, and to read the spell backwards and forwards, so as to solve the riddle. I have not contaminated my soul with any heresy. My belief in the tale as tale has remained unshaken. For no sooner has the belief been shaken than all the fairies betake themselves quickly to another abode. I bespeak now on their behalf the same strong faith also on your part at least for this evening, so as not to break the charm. I will endeavour to lead you by pastures green and by orchards filled with fruit exceptionally not forbidden to be eaten before the end of the quest. It is not so in the tale, the wanderer who goes to the enchanted world is strictly enjoined to eschew the touch of the fruit, and to conquer the temptation of cool shades and limpid water on a hot day ere he has reached the object of his journey. On his way back the poison has lost its sting.

In the charmed world into which we enter, the objects change their faces so often that it behoves us to be wary of these delusions. We must get at the real form. What then is a fairy-tale ? This question is perhaps more difficult to answer than the negative question, “what is it not?" Well, there is nothing like it. But there are tales and tales. Some are called legends. Wherein does the tale differ from the legend, which also is full of wondrous deeds and of unexpected incidents? A legend is the story written down and read, as the word legere

legend is a story localised and individualised, limited by time and personality; a tale is unlimited in time and space, and has no defined personality. In the one it is an individual, in the other it is a type; in the one it is the local hero, to the other the whole world is open. The legend, moreover, is closely bound up with special creeds, and instead of worldly deeds, spiritual feats of valour are recounted. The hero is there the centre of worship as well as admiration, and though he may sometimes be free from local associations, he none the less becomes limited by being attached to this special form of faith. The Buddhist saint will not appeal as such to the Muhammedan or Christian, and vice versa. Not so the fairy-tale, which knows no dogmas and serves no creed. And yet, though this line of demarcation seems to be sharply drawn, it is not so easy in many cases to draw it with precision. For there is an interchange going on between the legend and the tale, the tale borrowing from the legend, and more often the legend transforming a tale by fixing it and individualising it. This constant process of assimilation and transformation is one of the special features of the tale. It borrows elements from everywhere, it has access to many treasures, it embroiders its garments with gold leaf and silver thread beaten and drawn by other hands, and bedecks itself with jewels glittering in the sun of the happy world in which it disports itself, though those gems may have been dug up from other mines of human imagination. There are also darker hues in its raiment, borrowed from the brooding of morbid sensations, and tinging it with its own sombre shades. We shall have to bear this in mind when endeavouring to unravel the mystery of the spell woven by the tale.

Let us then borrow for a while the magic carpet which is to carry us to the world of the fairy-tale. We are at

only is the whole creation one living organism, but there is no apparent discrepancy between one creature and another. Plants, animals, man-all stand on the same footing. One great democracy has obliterated the differences between the various stages of creation. A levelling up is going on all the time, and the whole world is united by the bond of a mutually responsive sympathetic understanding. Everything is animated, and the actual conditions under which we find the beings in the tale are merely assumed for the time being, and easily changed and transformed into higher or lower forms. Nor is there any difference between the high-born and the lowly ones of the earth. Though the tale presupposes a higher rank for one or the other, it sees no real difference between a princess and a shepherd, or between a king and a swan maiden. The world, moreover, is peopled with good and, at the same time, beautiful spirits. Note especially the fine æsthetic feeling throughout the world of tale. Everything must be beautiful if it is to be good. Physical perfection is recognised as the token of nobility of soul and the guarantee for high attainment. The animals are of equal standing with man; their shape hides higher beings, who do not disdain for purposes of their own to assume such animal forms-the maiden is transformed into a swan, or the knight into a horse, or the fairy into a toad. Many things that appear repulsive are not to be shunned on that score. The hideous form is often there to test the strength of love and the reality of attachment to duty. It is the touchstone of faith. The beasts and birds and fishes speak and act like human beings, and are easily interchanged. Nay, more, some of these animals are endowed with specific properties which make them the superior of man. The metempsychosis takes place under our very eyes and in the lifetime of the animal or man. They change bodies and rechange them whenever required, retaining all the while their human

faculties, and it is assumed to be all quite natural and in accordance with the principles governing the world of the fairy-tale. The heroine is often transformed into a tree or into a flower, and from that tree she is resuscitated without causing wonder or surprise. It is taken for granted that such permutation can and must take place, and need not be questioned. The animals, moreover, show deep gratitude for favours shown and are ready to help their benefactor in times of stress and duress when no other help is availing. The raven will give a feather from his wing, the bear a hair from his fur, and the ant a leg, to be used by the man when himself in danger, and requiring similar help to that which he had given them, when they being in danger he had come to their rescue. There is perfect equality between all the inhabitants of the world above and below. For the tale knows of an above and a below, but they are totally different from the heaven and hell believed in and pictured by the men of mystical faiths, or denied by the men of exact science.

It is throughout a happy world into which the tale leads us, a world of pleasure without end, of health without break. The laws of nature in which we believe and which we have formulated for our one day's satisfaction, are all suspended in the tale. The fire will not burn, and the water will run uphill, and the wind will be at the service of the hero, blowing whence and whither he desires. A curious feature is the total absence of divinity in the religious sense of the word. The fairy who mates with man is nothing more than a glorification of womanhood endowed with everlasting beauty and with extraordinary powers-the highest tribute paid by man to his helpmeet. The fairy maidens do not disdain the company of man; on the contrary, they are often found to covet it, and they are irresistibly drawn to this

natural perfection. Cloudland is not a land of fogs or mists, and the more primitive the story is, the more easy is the access to the sun and moon and other heavenly bodies. They also live in palaces like human beings and are subject to the same passions as human beings. The difference between them and man is only dimly felt. There is no sign of awe or reverence. They are treated with an air of familiarity which, if it happened in the real world, might breed contempt. Not so in the world of the tale; there they are appreciated for their kindness and for that superior knowledge which they as a rule place at the service of the hero. Sun and moon condescend to give a helping hand to the young prince who seeks his beloved, who has either disappeared through a whim (and so far she is sufficiently human to give way to passion), or has been carried away by some mysterious agency.

Still more remarkable than the world above is the nether world of the tale. It has none of the terrors of religious systems, with glowing fires and frightful punishments, an abode of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Nor is there a host of devils presiding over these tortures, and gloating over the sufferings of their dupes. There is nothing to inspire fear or to strike terror in the heart of the listener. It is a kind of negative Elysium, a kind of diminished glory and joy, but otherwise not a place of misery. The souls flit by in the very shape in which they lived in this world. The hero who descends to find the disappearing uncanny being he has to fight, finds himself often enough in a place of equal comfort and ease to the upper world. The devil, whenever he appears in the tale, is truly a "poor devil," more fool than wise, not a "Mephisto," but an easy prey to the clever smith who twists his tail. The nether world is the haunt of such extraordinary beings as giants, or half-men, who