menu_book Chapter 15

CHAPTER XV. JACK AND THE BEANSTOCK A long time ago, when most of the world was young, and folk did what they liked, all because things were good, there lived a boy called Jack. His father was bedridden, and his mother, a good soul, was busy early morns and late eves planning and placing how to support her sick husband and her young son by selling the milk and butter which Milky White, the beautiful cow,

gave them without stint. For it was summertime, but winter came on. The herbs of the field took refuge from the frosts in the warm earth. And though his mother sent Jack together what fodder he could get in the hedge-grows, he came back as often as not with a very empty sack. For Jack's eyes were so often full of wonder at all the things he saw, that sometimes he forgot to work. So it came to pass that one morning, milk-white gave no milk at all, not one drain. Then the good,

hard-working mother threw her apron over her head and sobbed. What shall we do? What shall we do? Now Jack loved his mother. Besides, he felt just a bit sneaky at being such a big boy and doing so little to help, so he said, Cheer up, cheer up. I'll go and get work somewhere. And he felt as he spoke as if he would work his fingers to the bone. But the good woman shook her head mournfully. You've tried that before, Jack, she said, and nobody would keep you.

You are quite a good lad, but your wits go a wool gathering. No, we must sell Milky White and live on the money. It is no use crying over milk that is not here to spill. You see, she was a wise as well as a hard-working woman, and Jack's spirits rose. Just so, he cried.

We will sell Milky White and be richer than ever. It's an ill wind that blows no one good. So, as it is market day, I'll just take her there, and we shall see what we shall see. But, began his mother, But doesn't butter parsnips, laughed Jack, trust me to make a good bargain.

So, as it was washing day, and her sick husband was more ailing than usual, His mother let Jack set off to sell the cow. Not less than ten pounds! She bawled after him as he turned the corner. Ten pounds indeed.

Jack had made up his mind to twenty, twenty solid gold sovereigns. He was just settling where he should buy his mother as a faring out of the money when he saw a queer, little, old man on the road who called out, Good morning, Jack. Good morning, replied Jack.

with a polite bow, wondering how the queer little old man happened to know his name, though to be sure, Jack's were as plentiful as blackberries. And where may you be going? asked the queer little old man. Jack wondered again. He was always wondering, you know, what the queer little old man had to do with it. But being always polite, he replied, I am going to the market to sell milky white,

and I mean to make a good bargain. So you will, so you will, chuckled the queer little old man. You look the sort of chap for it. I bet you know how many beans make five. Two in each hand, and one in my mouth, answered Jack readily.

He really was sharp as a needle. Just so, just so, chuckled the queer little old man, and as he spoke he drew out of his pocket five beans. Well, here they are, so give us Milky White. Jack was so flabbergasted that he stood with his mouth open,

as if he expected the fifth bean to fly into it. What? he said at last. My Milky White for five common beans? Not if I know it. But they aren't common beans, put in the queer little old man,

and there was a queer little smile on his queer little face. If you plant these beans overnight, by morning it will have grown up right into the very sky. Jack was too flubbergasted this time even to open his mouth. His eyes opened instead. Did you say right into the very sky?

He asked at last. For see you, Jack had wondered more about the sky than about anything else. Right up into the very sky, repeated the queer old man. with a nod between each word. It's a good bargain, Jack.

And, as fair plays a jewel, if they don't, why, meet me here tomorrow morning, and you shall have Milky White back again. Will that please you? Right as a trivet, called Jack, without stopping to think.

In the next moment he found himself standing on an empty road. Two in each hand and one in my mouth, repeated Jack. That is what I said, and what I'll do. Everything in order, and if what the queer little old man said isn't true, I shall get Milky White back tomorrow morning. So whistling and munching the bean, he trudged home, cheerfully, wondering what the sky would be like if he ever got there.

What a long time you've been, exclaimed his mother, who was watching anxiously for him at the gate. It is past sun setting, but I see you have sold Milky White. Tell me quick, how much you got for her? You'll never guess, began Jack. Laws of mercy, you don't say so, interrupted the good woman.

And I were a ting all day, lest they should take you in. What was it, ten pounds? Fifteen? Sure it can't be twenty. Jack held out the beans triumphantly. There, he said, that's what I got her for, and a jolly good bargain, too.

It was his mother's turn to be flabbergasted, but all she said was, What? Them beans? Yes, replied Jack, beginning to doubt his own wisdom. But they're magic beans. If you plant them overnight, by morning they grow right up into the sky. Oh, please don't hit so hard.

for Jack's mother for once had lost her temper and was laboring and was bellaboring the boy for all she was worth and when she had finished scolding and beating she flung the miserable beans out the window

and sent him, supperless, to bed. If this was the magical effort of the beans, thought Jack ruefully, he didn't want any more magic, if you please. However, being healthy and as a rule happy,

he soon fell asleep and slept like a top. When T awoke, he thought at first it was moonlight, for everything in the room showed greenish. Then he stared at the little window. It was covered as if with a curtain by leaves. He was out of bed in a thrice, and the next moment, without waiting to dress, was climbing up the biggest beanstalk you ever saw. For what the queer little old man had said was true. One of the beans which his mother had chucked into the garden had found soil,

taken root, and grown in the night. Where? Up to the very sky. Jack meant to see at any rate. So he climbed, and he climbed, and he climbed. It was easy work, for the big beanstalk with the leaves growing out of each side was like a ladder. For all that he soon was out of breath. Then he got his second wind, and was just beginning to wonder if he had a third, when he saw in front of him a wide, shining white road, stretching away and away and away.

So he took to walking, and he walked and walked and walked, till he came to a tall, shining white house with a wide, white doorstep. And on the doorstep stood a great big woman with a black porridge pot in her hand. Now Jack, having had no supper, was hungry as a hunter And when he saw the porridge pot, he said quite politely

Good morning, I wonder if you could give me some breakfast Breakfast, echoed the woman, who in truth was an ogre's wife If it is breakfast you're wanting, it's breakfast you'll likely be For I expect my man home every instant, and there is nothing he likes better for breakfast than a boy, a fat boy grilled on toast. Now Jack was not a bit of a coward, and when he wanted a thing he generally got it.

So he said, cheerful like, I'd be fatter if I'd had my breakfast. Whereat the ogre's wife laughed and bade Jack come in, for she was not really half as bad as she looked. But he had hardly finished the great bowl of porridge and the milk she gave him

when the whole house began to tremble and quake. It was the ogre coming home. Thump, thump, thump! Into the oven with you sharp! cried the ogre's wife. and the iron oven door was just closed when the ogre strode in.

Jack could see him through the little peephole slide at the top where the steam came out. He was a big one for sure. He had three sheep strung to his belt, and these he threw down on the table. Here, wife, he cried. Roast me three snippets for breakfast.

They are all I've been able to get this morning. Worst luck. I hope the oven's hot. and he went to touch the handle, while Jack burst out all of a sweat, wondering what would happen next. Roast, echoed the ogre's wife.

Puh, the little things would dry to cinders. Better boil them. So she set to work to boil them, but the ogre began sniffing about the room. They don't smell mutton meat, he growled. Then he frowned horribly and began the real ogre's rhymes. Fee-fi-fo-fum.

I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread. Don't be silly, said his wife. It's the bones of the little boy you had for supper that I am boiling down for soup. Come, eat your breakfast.

There's a good ogre. So the ogre ate his three sheep, and when he had done, he went to a big oaken chest and took out three big bags of gold pieces. These he put on the table, and began to count their contents, while his wife cleared away the breakfast things. And by and by, his head began to nod, and at last he began to snore, and snored so loud that the whole house shook. Then Jack, nipped out of the oven, and, seizing one of the bars of gold, crept away,

and ran along the straight, wide-shining white road, as fast as his legs would carry him, till he came to the beanstalk. He couldn't climb down it with the bag of gold. It was so heavy. So he just flung his burden down first, and, helter-kilter, climbed after it.

And when he came to the bottom, there was his mother picking up gold pieces out of the garden as fast as she could. For, of course, the bag had burst. Laws of mercy me, she says. Wherever have you been? See? It's been raining gold. No, it hasn't, began Jack. I climbed up.

Then he turned to look for the beanstalk, but lo, and behold, it wasn't there at all. so he knew, then, it was all real magic. After that, they lived happily on the gold pieces for a long time, and the bedridden father got all sorts of nice things to eat. But at last, a day came when Jack's mother showed a doleful face

as she put a big yellow sovereign into Jack's hand and bade him be careful marketing, because there was not one more in the coffer. After that, they must starve. that night jack went supperless to bed of his own accord if he couldn't make money he thought at any rate he could eat less money it was a shame for a big boy to stuff himself and bring no grist to the mill

He slept like a top, as boys do when they don't overeat themselves, and when he awoke, hey, presto, the whole room showed greenish, and there was a curtain of leaves over the window. Another bean had grown in the night, and Jack was up it like a lamplighter before you could say knife.

This time he didn't take nearly so long climbing until he reached the straight, wide white road, and in a trice he found himself before the tall white house where on the wide white steps the ogre's wife was standing with the black porridge pot in her hand.

And this time Jack was as bold as brass. Good morning, he said. I've come to ask you for breakfast, for I had no supper and I'm as hungry as a hunter. Go away, bad boy, replied the ogre's wife.

last time i gave a boy breakfast my man missed a whole bag of gold i believe you are the same boy maybe i am maybe i am not said jack with a laugh i'll tell you true when i have had my breakfast but not till then So the ogre's wife, who was dreadfully curious, gave him a big bowl of porridge. But before he had half finished it, he heard the ogre coming. Thump, thump, thump! In with you, to the oven, shrieked the ogre's wife.

You shall tell me when he has gone to sleep. This time Jack saw through the steam peephole that the ogre had three fat calves strung to his belt. Better luck today, wife, he cried, and his voice shook the house. Quick, roast these trifles for my breakfast. I hope the oven's hot. And he went to feel the handle of the door, but his wife cried out sharply,

Roast? Why, you'd have to wait hours before they were done. I'll boil them. See how bright the fire is. Oof, growled the ogre, and then he began sniffing and calling out. Fee-fi-fo-fum I smell the blood of an Englishman Be he alive or be he dead

I'll grind his bones to make my bread Twaddle, said the ogre's wife It's only the bones of the boy you had last week That I've put into the pig bucket Ugh, said the ogre harshly

But he ate the broiled calves And then he said to his wife Bring me my hen that lays the magic eggs I want to see gold. So the ogre's wife brought him a great big black hen with a shining red comb. She plumped it down on the table and took away the breakfast things. Then the ogre said to the hen,

Lay. And it promptly laid, What do you think? A beautiful, shiny, yellow, golden egg. None so dusty, Henny Penny, laughed the ogre. I shan't have to beg as long as I've got you. Then he said, Lay, once more, and lo and behold, there was another beautiful shiny yellow golden egg. Jack could hardly believe his eyes, and made up his mind that he would have that hen, come what might. So when the ogre began to doze, he dressed out like a flash from the oven, seized the hen, and ran for his life.

But you see, he reckoned without his prize For hens, you know, always crackle When they leave their nests after laying an egg And this one set up much a scrawling that it woke the ogre Where's my hen? he shouted

And his wife came rushing in And they both rushed to the door But Jack had got the better of them by a good start and all they could see was a little figure right away down the wide white road, holding a big, scrawling, cackling, fluttering black hen by the legs.

How Jack got down the beanstalk he never knew. It was all wings and leaves and feathers and cacklings. But get down he did, and there was his mother, wondering if the sky was going to fall. But the very moment Jack touched ground, he called out, lay, and the black hen ceased cackling and laid a great big shiny yellow golden egg.

So everyone was satisfied, and from that moment everybody had everything that money could buy. For whenever they wanted anything, they just said lay, and the black hen provided them with gold. But Jack began to wonder if he couldn't find something else besides money in the sky. So one fine moonlight midsummer night he refused his supper, and before he went to bed, stole out to the garden with a big watering can

and water to the ground under his window. For, thought he, there must be two more beans somewhere, and perhaps it is too dry for them to grow. Then he slept like a top. And lo and behold, when he awoke, there was the green light shimmering through his room,

and there he was, in an instant, on the beanstalk, climbing, climbing, climbing for all he was worth. But this time he knew better than to ask for his breakfast, for the ogre's wife would be sure to recognize him. So he just hid in some bushes beside the great white house, till he saw her in the scullery, and then he slipped out and hid himself in the copper,

for he knew she would be sure to look in the oven first thing. And by and by he heard, Thump, thump, thump! And peeping through a crack in the copper lid, he could see the ogre stalk in with three huge oxen strung at his belt.

But this time, no sooner had the ogre gotten to the house than he began shouting, Fee, fie, foe, fum! I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to make my bread. For, see you, the copper lid didn't fit tight, like the oven door,

and ogres have noses like a dog's for scent. Well, I declare, so do I, exclaimed the ogre's wife. It will be that horrid boy who stole the bag of gold and the hen. If so, he's hid in the oven. But when she opened the door, lo and behold, Jack wasn't there.

Only some joints of meat roasting and sizzling away. Then she laughed and said, You and me be fools for sure. Why, it's the boy you caught last night, as I was getting ready for your breakfast. Yes, we be fools to take dead meat for live flesh.

So eat your breakfast, and there's a good ogre. But the ogre, though he enjoyed roast boy very much, wasn't satisfied. And every now and then he would burst out with, Fee-fi-fo-fum, and get up and search the cupboards, keeping Jack in a fever of fear, lest he should think of the copper.

But he didn't. And when he had finished his breakfast, he called out to his wife, Bring me my magic harp. I want to be amused. So she brought out a little harp and put it on the table, and the ogre leant back in his chair and said lazily,

Sing! And lo and behold, the harp began to sing. If you want to know what it sang about, why, it sang about everything, and it sang so beautifully that Jack forgot to be frightened, and the ogre forgot to think of Fee-fi-fo-fum,

and fell asleep and did not snore. Then Jack stole out of the copper like a mouse and crept hands and knees to the table, raised himself up ever so softly, and laid hold of the magic harp,

for he was determined to have it. But no sooner had he touched it than it cried out quite loud, Master! Master! So the ogre woke, saw Jack making off,

and rushed after him. My goodness, it was a race. Jack was nimble, but the ogre's stride was twice as long. So, though Jack turned and twisted and doubled like a hare, yet at last, when he got to the beanstalk, the ogre was not a dozen yards behind him.

There wasn't time to think, so Jack just flung himself onto the stalk and began to go down as fast as he could, while the harp kept calling, Master! Master! at the very top of its voice. He had only got down about a quarter of the way

when there was the most awful lurch you can think of, and Jack nearly fell off the beanstalk. It was the ogre beginning to climb down, and his weight made the stalk sway like a tree in a storm. Then Jack knew it was life or death,

and he climbed down faster and faster, and as he climbed he shouted, Mother! Mother! Bring an axe! Bring an axe! Now his mother, as luck would have it, was in the backyard chopping wood

and she ran out thinking that this time the sky must have fallen. Just at that moment Jack touched ground and he flung down the harp which immediately began to sing all sorts of beautiful things and he seized the axe

and gave a great chop at the beanstalk which shook and swayed and bent like barley before a breeze. Have a care, shouted the ogre, clinging on as hard as he could, but Jack did have a care

and he dealt that beanstalk such a shrewd blow that the whole of it, ogre and all, came toppling down and of course the ogre broke his crown so that he died on the spot. After that, everyone was quite happy

for they had gold and to spare, and if the bedridden father was dull, Jack just brought out the harp and said, Sing, and lo and behold, it sang about everything under the sun. So Jack ceased wondering so much and became quite a useful person, and the last bean hasn't grown yet.

It is still in the garden. I wonder if it will ever grow, and what little child? will climb its beanstalk into the sky and what will that child find goody me end of chapter fifteen