hen and my
money-bags, and now you are stealing my harp also. Wait till I catch
you, and I'll eat you up alive!"

"Very well; try!" shouted Jack, who was not a bit afraid, for he saw the
giant was so tipsy he could hardly stand, much less run; and he himself
had young legs and a clear conscience, which carry a man a long way. So,
after leading the giant a considerable race, he contrived to be first at
the top of the bean-stalk, and then scrambled down it as fast as he
could, the harp playing all the while the most melancholy music, till he
said, "Stop"; and it stopped.

Arrived at the bottom, he found his mother sitting at her cottage door,
weeping silently.

"Here, mother, don't cry; just give me a hatchet; make haste." For he
knew there was not a moment to spare. He saw the giant beginning to
descend the bean-stalk.

However, it was too late--the monster's ill deeds had come to an end.
Jack with his hatchet cut the bean-stalk close off at the root; the
giant fell headlong into the garden, and was killed on the spot.

Instantly the fairy appeared and explained everything to Jack's mother,
begging her to forgive Jack, who was his father's own son for bravery
and generosity, and who would be sure to make her happy for the rest of
her days.

So all ended well, and nothing was ever more heard or seen of the
wonderful bean-stalk.

158

Those wonder stories that concern themselves
with giants or with very little people have
always been favorites with children. Of the
little heroes Tom Thumb has always held the
center of the stage. His adventures in one form
or another are in the folk tales of most
European countries. He has the honor of being
the subject of a monograph by the great French
scholar Gaston Paris. Hans Christian Andersen
turned him into a delightful little girl in his
derivative story of "Thumbelina." The English
version of "Tom Thumb" seems to have been
printed first in ballad form in the seventeenth
century, and later in many chapbook versions in
prose. Its plot takes the form of a succession
of marvelous accidents by land and sea, limited
only by the inventive ingenuity of the
story-teller. "According to popular tradition
Tom Thumb died at Lincoln. . . . There was a
little blue flagstone in the pavement of the
Minster which