BoSt Notable Inklings: The Peony Prince

BoSt Notable Inklings: The Peony Prince: The Peony Prince Story by BoSt Prickly’s travels took him far and wide. Eventually he crossed the ocean and, disembark...

The Courageous Koi at Dragon's Gate

The Courageous Koi at Dragon’s Gate


In China they tell the story of the Yellow Emperor, who became so angry at the wickedness of the humans that he decided to end their existence. Summoning the God of Rain, he commanded that the rain should never stop until the entire Earth was covered in water and all but a few of the offensive humans were all drowned. So began a Great Flood and every day the floodwaters rose until only the highest mountains were left. The Yellow Emperor’s grandson, Kun, managed to make a few safe havens with some stolen magic mud, but his supply ran out and the rains kept on falling. The Emperor’s anger had not yet abated and, for his disobedience, Kun was executed by the God of Fire.

River by Sandra buy here: http://sandara.deviantart.com/art/river-282659319

Kun’s son, Yu, was a golden yellow dragon, strong and beautiful, and he took up the task of saving humanity from the Great Flood. Yu spoke respectfully to the Emperor and described the suffering he had seen amongst the humans. His words softened the Yellow Emperor’s heart and he gave the golden dragon, Yu, the position of the new rain god. He also gave Yu enough magic mud to soak up all the water as well as the assistance of a Magic Tortoise to carry it for him.

River Dragon by Collette J Ellis buy here: http://collettejellis.deviantart.com/art/River-Dragon-187403101

Yu’s mighty Dragon Breath easily dispersed the storm clouds and deposed the old Rain God, who had revelled in making ceaseless rain. Once the last drop had fallen, Yu and the Magic Tortoise travelled the Earth dispensing magic mud and creating solid land once more until all the mud on the Tortoise’s back had been used.
Then, so that the rain would have a place to go, Yu created the rivers with swipes from his powerful tail. As Yu was digging the course of what was to become the Yellow River in the north he came across a place where some rocky cliffs blocked the flow of the water. Yu pondered for a moment then, with calculated ferocity, he directed one mighty blow from his tail at the cliffs, cutting a chasm through the hard rock. “I name this place ‘Dragon’s Gate’ and from this day forward it shall be sacred to Dragons.”
This was the origin of the great rivers that flow across China to this day.

Koi Dragon by Heather Bruton - buy here:http://hbruton.deviantart.com/art/Koi-Dragon-115108345

Seeing the new land, ready for planting, the people left their caves in the mountains and ventured down onto the fertile plains. In their gratitude they begged Yu to become their Emperor. Thus Yu, the Golden Dragon, became a Man-God and lived a long lifetime on the Earth, almost as long as he would have lived had he stayed as a Dragon. Under his guidance mankind grew knowledgeable in following the ways of Heaven and gained favour in the eyes of the Yellow Emperor.

Yu the Great Contols the Floods

Dragon Emperor Yu is still honoured and remembered at the rapids of Dragon’s Gate on the Yellow River and the location still retains a touch of the magic it had at the beginning of time.

A certain type of carp, called a koi, gains their strength by swimming against the current. Not for the koi are the soft lives living in still ponds, for they seek out and revel in adversity. Thousands of years ago, before writing was invented in China, a huge school of thousands of koi swam up the Yellow River until they reached Dragon’s Gate. Most of the school grew discouraged seeing the roiling water and feeling the strong current that stood against them, and so they went back downstream to feast in the quiet waters of the lower river, leaving a small group of 360 stalwarts behind.

Hukou Waterfall

Leaping higher and higher, swimming faster and faster, each koi strained to reach the top of the falls, only to be swept back by the power of the water in the chasm. Their splashing drew the attention of sadistic demons that lived nearby who maliciously increased the height of the falls even more. Undeterred, the koi continued their attempts over the next hundred years, growing stronger and stronger with each failure until one single koi made a heroic leap and cleared the chasm.

Koi Dragon - tattoo design by Ed Delacruz buy here: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Koi-Dragon-113644553

As he sailed through the air on his way over the water the Gods looked down with approval and transformed the flying fish into a shining golden dragon in the middle of his leap. The former carp was now a Dragon, the spitting image of Yu, the creator of Dragon’s Gate, himself. Flapping his new wings he continued upwards until he reached the clouds where he chased pearls of wisdom across the skies. Whenever another brave koi finds the strength and courage to leap the falls at Dragon’s Gate they, too, become a Heavenly Dragon.

Koi Dragon by Ben Wootten buy here: http://browse.deviantart.com/art/Goldfish-328055999

Because of their endurance and perseverance, koi have become the symbol of overcoming adversity and fulfilling one’s destiny. The Chinese word “carp” sounds similar to the word “business” and is also a homophone with “profit” or “advantage”. “Fish” sounds similar to “surplus” or “wealth”. Because of this word play, koi have also become associated also with good fortune in mercantile endeavours and paintings of them are a common decoration in shops and restaurants. And in the China of today there is still the possibility that a lowly shopkeeper may, by strength and courage, become a Dragon of Industry.

Koi Dragon Fish by Cortney DeSantis - buy here: http://mysticgaia.deviantart.com/art/Koi-Dragon-Fish-139476400






Posted by Steve Caunce

 

The Three Evils

(A Chinese Folktale re-written by BoSt)

 

Once upon a time, there lived an eccentric young man by the name of Dschou Tschu. He wore a high hat on his head adorned with two pheasants’ wings; his garments were woven of embroidered silk, and at his side hung the Dragon-spring sword.  Orphaned at an early age, he had a wild and mischievous nature which became far worse when he was inebriated. He always  intruded into other's business and any ongoing disputes; meanwhile, wherever he went his pranks and tomfoolery, as well, his inclination to forcefully take that which belonged to others, beget or fostered quarrels and brawls. He was hence, furtively detested throughout the neighborhood and whoever offended him had good reason to dread the ensued terrible consequences. As he was blessed with an extraordinary super-human strength however, the law enforcement officers and the village elders dared not rebuke (reprimand, admonish) or punish him seriously. And so, he’d persisted with his unruly ways for many a year.

Eventually a new Official was posted to that district; before the new magistrate formally took up office however, surreptitiously (covertly and under disguise) he first went about the countryside and listened to the citizen’s complaints. They in unison told him that there were three great evils in that district.

The magistrate still under disguise, decided to in person call on Dschou Tschu.

Late that night when most decent folks were fast asleep, the inebriated Dschou Tschu returned from the tavern, along the way slapping his sword and singing in a loud voice.

When he reached his house he noted the man with his head down seated by the door and asked: “Who are you; why are you weeping here so pitifully?”

The magistrate raised his head and glaring at Dschou, replied: “I am weeping because of the people’s distress.”

Dschou Tschu grimaced then threw his head back and guffawed.

“You are mistaken, my friend,” said he. “Revolt is seething round about us like boiling water in a kettle. But here, in our little corner of the land, all is quiet and peaceful. The harvest has been abundant, corn is plentiful, and all go happily about their work. When you talk to me about distress I have to think of the man who groans without being sick. And who are you, tell me that, which instead of grieving for yourself, are grieving for others? And what are you doing loitering at my door in this ungodly hour?”

“I am the new Magistrate,” replied the other. “Since I left my litter I have been looking about in the neighborhood. I find the people are honest and simple in their way of life, and everyone has sufficient to wear and to eat. This is all just as you state. Yet, strange to say, when the elders come together, they always sigh and complain. And if they are asked why, they answer: ‘There are three great evils in our district!’ I have come to ask you to do away with two of them, as to the third... perhaps I had better remain silent. And this is the reason I weep before your door.”

“Well, what are these evils?” enquired Dschou Tschu. “Speak freely, and tell me openly all that you know!”

“The first evil,” said the Magistrate “is the evil dragon at the long bridge, which causes the water to rise so that man and beast are drowned in the river. The second evil is the tiger with the white forehead, which dwells in the hills. And the third evil, Dschou Tschu—is you!”

The crimson hue, the blush of shame swiftly infused the young man’s cheeks, and he bowed and said: “You have come here from afar to be the Magistrate of this district, and yet you feel such sympathy for the people? I was born in this place and yet I have only made our elders grieve. What sort of a creature must I be? I beg that you  return to your residence; fear not, I will see to it that matters improve!”

Dschou Tschu at once took off and ran all the way without stopping till he reached the hills. There he hunted the tiger out of his cave. The latter leaped into the air so that the whole forest was shaken as though by a storm. Next he came rushing up, roaring, and stretching out his claws savagely to seize his pray. Dschou  nimbly stepped back a pace, and the tiger landed on the ground directly in front of him. Then he thrust the tiger’s neck to the ground with his left hand, and beat him without stopping with his right, until he lay dead on the earth. Dschou  loaded the tiger on his back and went straight home.

Dschou Tschu subsequently went to the long bridge. He undressed, took his sword in his hand, and thus dived into the icy water. No sooner had he disappeared, than there was a boiling and hissing, and the waves began to foam and billow. It sounded like the mad beating of thousands of hoofs. After a time a stream of blood shot up from the depths, and the water of the river turned red. Eventually triumphant Dschou,  holding the dragon’s decapitated head in his hand, rose out of the waves.

He went to the Magistrate and reported, with a bow: “I have cut off the dragon’s head, and have also done away with the tiger. Thus I have happily accomplished your two commands. And now I shall wander away so that you may be rid of the third evil as well. My Lord, please keep watch over my countrymen and, relay to the elders that they need sorrow no more!”

When he had said this he enlisted as a soldier. In combat against the robbers he gained a great reputation and once, when the latter were pressing him hard, and he saw that he could not save himself, he bowed to the East and said: “The day has come at last when I can atone for my sin with my life!” Then he offered his neck to the sword and died.

 Posted by Bo Caunce

Fin

Dragon People

What do all these people have in common?

Hint: This year, 2012, is also a year of Dragon.

Still guessing?

Answer: They are all born in the year of Dragon. Those born in the Dragon year, besides being fortunate (the Chinese name “lung” is a sign of luck), are also honoured and well respected.

Here is some character traits associated with the Dragon Personalities:

Dragons are free spirited persons always being free and uninhibited, for conformation is a Dragon’s curse. Restrictions snuffs out the ample creative spark that is always ready to flare.  Dragons feel that all rules and regulations pertain to others and not to them. 

The Dragon beings are beautiful creatures; their natural instinct is to be colourful and flamboyant. An extroverted bundle of energy, gifted and utterly, utterly irrepressible, in fact, everything Dragons do is on a grand scale: big ideas, ornate gestures, and extreme ambitions. Because they are confident and fearless in nature, they will always overcome any challenge and are inevitably successful in rising to the very pinnacle of any profession.

A note of caution: Dragon people need to be aware of their ambitious nature however, for too much enthusiasm can leave them fatigued and unfulfilled. Though they are always ready to give any assistance whenever the need arises they are also proud and loathe accepting any form of aid from others.

The Dragon's originality is the most impressive and outstanding of all his characteristics. The Dragon is quite imaginative and always able to see new paths where others may run into brick walls. Dragons are very adaptable and are fit for various occupations, especially those occupations that allow them to bathe in the limelight. Dragons work hard, but would rather give orders than receive them. Therefore to be content, they should avoid jobs that encompass too much routine, and opt instead for the positions in which their self-reliance can be an asset. Some of the occupations best suited for the Dragon are Computer analysts, Inventors, Engineers, Architects, Lawyers, Philosophers, Psychoanalysts, Brokers, Managers, PR People, Advertising agents, Sales people, Officers in the military, Campaigners for Charities or Politicians. In any of these occupations the Dragons will often take a radical approach

Not the most domesticated of the Animal signs, Dragons may be more content out and about rather than stuck at home. Nevertheless, blessed with imagination and artistic sense, they may enjoy decorating their home or anywhere else where their extravagance can be expressed and duly appreciated. A Dragon's home is usually large and majestic in accordance with his personality, providing ample space for that fiery temperament or sudden emotional eruptions that are typical of their character.  Keep in mind also that Dragons are egotistical and love to be the center of attention; modesty is not one of their assets. Add to that the Dragon temper and you have a commanding, domineering and authoritative chief. They do hate unsolicited advice and can be hopelessly tactless and insensitive to their lovers and spouses. It takes someone who is easygoing yet has a thick skin to be the Dragon's partner because, despite their sentimental characters, Dragons can be moody and insensitive. All the same, Dragons are loved so much because they are generous, charismatic, irresistible, and so brave that standing beside them banishes fear. They generate excitement and turn heads anywhere they go. They are free-spirited and impulsive and can help others achieve their dreams. Others love to be around Dragons because they have a way of making people feel better.

True enough, the Dragon’s generous personality gives them the ability to attract friends easily, but they are rather solitary people at heart. A Dragon’s self-sufficiency means that he or she has no need for close bonds with other people. Dragons are quick to fall in love, but do not surrender their independence easily leaving most of them to live life by themselves. Yet, a smart, witty, and funny companion may intrigue the Dragon long enough to make him want to get married and, once the Dragon becomes committed, they will be fiercely loyal and most unlikely to ever leave.

Many people will want to run when the Dragon's temper is provoked. Chinese horoscopes are very specific about which partnerships have the potential to be successful in love and in business. Yet, though destiny can point us in the right direction, we must still make all efforts to maintain loving relationships.

Dragons and Other Animals:

Dragons are compatible with, and are best friends with, Rats and Monkeys. There is an easy bonding with the Snake and few problems; not much understanding with the Ox and Sheep and Rabbit. Tigers present a challenge but also many thrills. When it comes to the Horse and Pig there are complications with their different attitudes and dragons have some difficulty in getting along with them. Dogs meanwhile are considered a mortal Enemy for Dragon folk.

In a scenario where Dragon marries another Dragon, they need to learn to share the spotlight; once this is accomplished, they will live in absolute bliss. Furthermore nothing is beyond their reach.

A Dragon and Snake union: A clever, crafty and quick-witted relationship as they fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Dragon marrying a Horse: In this case you share a powerful sexual chemistry.

Dragon marrying Rabbit or Sheep: Despite the sexual attraction, eventually you'll find too many differences to overcome.

Dragon marrying Monkey: You share similar opinions and goals that destine you for happiness.

Dragon marrying Dog: A truly tumultuous affair-not recommended for peace of mind.

Dragon marrying Pig: A caring and deeply affectionate relationship.

Dragon marrying Rooster: You make a beautiful couple, but your egotism blinds you.

 

Because people born in the year of the Dragon are so bent on furthering their careers, they usually put off having and raising children until late. Parenting doesn't come very naturally or easily to the Dragon. However, when Dragons do become parents, they approach it with the same enthusiasm as their other endeavors. They are proud parents and tend to boast about the accomplishments and good looks of their children. Dragons, noted for their benevolence, tend to shower their children with toys and spending money. It has been remarked that they substitute material things for quality time with their children. Even so, Dragons take parenting seriously and are quite protective of their children's welfare. Should anything upset them, or should anyone wrong them, the Dragon will prepare to fight and avenge the people who have hurt or belittled their offspring.

Like their adult counterparts, children born in the Year of the Dragon have vivid personalities and are independent from birth. Noisy and active, parents should stimulate their imaginations as soon as possible. Their imagination and inquisitive natures can be troublesome for the Dragon child and can often land them in a heap of trouble at school which can cause teachers and other parents to deem them troublemakers or naughty.

Sometimes Dragon children are loners who daydream and drift to into their own world of make-believe. They are creative and are able to entertain themselves for hours on end. They don’t mind playing by themselves, often inventing games and puzzles while doing so. All the same, Dragon children are responsible children who love to take on and complete as many tasks as possible for it gives them a sense of accomplishment. They do however demand careful attention and special handling in order to bring out the best in them. Their creativity and talents must be encouraged, even if it means spending extra time in certain school subjects in order to help them master the subject.

As we mentioned earlier, Dragons are usually popular people, but because of their personalities, they seem to gather as much criticism as they do esteem. Due to their tumultuous temperaments, Dragons are not the most sensitive friends to those in need of a shoulder to cry on; however, those who truly know the Dragon know he is a loving soul who will become your best ally in times of need. Once the dynamic Dragon has given his friendship, he will not let his friends down and will never falter in his allegiance to his companions. To a Dragon, a friend is a friend for a lifetime. Incredibly honest, Dragons are known for sincerity and are trusting souls. Because of this honesty Dragons don't realize others may not demonstrate or uphold the same codes of ethics. Making the discovery that they placed their trust in someone who is dishonest makes the Dragon person quite sad, yet much more perceptive for future encounters.

Dragons are attracted by the bizarre. No self-respecting Dragon desires to walk in a tourist's footsteps. Instead, they take a lot of gratification in finding hidden destinations, or, closer to home, locations off the beaten track. But Dragons also need thrills, which they might find by taking an unplanned winter break to go skiing or a spontaneous rock climbing trip in the spring. They may even test their bravery by daring to ride the highest roller coaster in the world. Dragons are also sentimental at heart, so conquering their childhood haunts, or taking a second honeymoon would bring immense pleasure too.

Dragons also like to spend money and are most charitable. They do not know the meaning of the word "accumulate," and making money does not intrigue them as it may others. Many Dragons will take big chances with their finances, sometimes betting on their shirt and losing it right off of their backs. Yet, they were born with the Midas touch, and it very rare that a Dragon remains poor for long. Dragons will always be straightforward in financial dealings and can always be trusted. 

Other characteristics are as follows: Innovative, Enterprising, Flexible, Brave, Passionate, Conceited, Tactless, Scrutinizing, Unanticipated and Quick-tempered.

Dragons take thrilling risks and burn the candle at both ends so they are fortunate to be blessed with good health. Among the heartiest of the Animal signs, they can suffer bad health as a result of stress. Symptoms of their personalities often stem from emotional outbursts and can range from tension headaches to depression to hypertension. Dragons can remedy these problems by maintaining their cool, implementing a routine in their daily lives, and utilizing exercises such as yoga or tai kwon do that soothe the mind and spirit as well as tone the body.

Some of the likes and dislikes of the Dragon personality:

Color Preference: Greenish-Blue

Gems and Stones: Opal, Sapphire, Amber

Suitable Gifts: Tarot cards, camera, a copy of the I-Ching, mirror, a family crest, a mobile phone

Hobbies and Pastimes: Computer programming, public speaking, fossil hunting, astrology

Dragons Dislike: Taking orders, unnecessary bureaucracy, discounted ideas, people who don't give 100%

Now here are the people in the photo, have fun matching their names:

Maya Angelou, Joan Armatrading, Joan Baez, Sandra Bullock, Bing Crosby, Salvador Dali, Charles Darwin, Chiristian Dior, Placido Domingo, Fats Domino, Sigmund Freud, Che Guevara, Joan of Arc, Immanuel Kant, Martin Luther King, John Lennon, Abraham Lincoln, Florence Nightingale, Edgar Allan Poe, Keanu Reeves, Isabella Rossellini, George Bernard Shaw, Alicia Silverstone, Ringo Starr, Shirley Temple, Andy Warhol, Raquel Welch, and Mae West



Other notable Dragon Year people are:
Jeffrey Archer, Joan Armatrading, Count Basie, Roseanne Barr, Maeve Binchy, Juliette Binoche, Alexandra Burke, Michael Cera, Courteney Cox, Russell Crowe, Roald Dahl, Neil Diamond, Bo Diddley, Matt Dillon, Kirk Douglas, Faye Dunaway, Colin Farrel, Dan Fogler, Bruce Forsyth, Calista Flockhart, Graham Greene, James Herriot, Paul Hogan, Boris Johnson, Sir Tom Jones, Wyonna Judd, Courtney Love, Elle Macpherson, Queen Margrethe II of Denmark, Nick Nolte, Julia Ormond, Sharon Osbourne, Al Pacino, Gregory Peck, Pele, Nikki Reed, Ryan Reynolds, Sir Cliff Richard, Martin Sheen, Dinah Shore, Princess Stephanie of Monaco, Dave Stewart, Karlheinz Stockhausen, Maria von Trapp, Louis Walsh, Mark Webber, and Reese Witherspoon. Just to name a few.

To find out what years belong to which of the Chinese Animal Signs (and to you) see our blog: The Year of the Dragon Brings Ups and Downs for the full list.

The Midgard Serpent

Jormungandr by BoSt

 The Origin of the Midgard Serpent

The Midgard Serpent by vyrilien-d491d85

In the Norse and Teutonic legends, as recounted in the Prose Edda of Snorri Sturlson, the most powerful and feared Dragon-like creature was the Midgard Serpent, known as Jörmungandr. Jörmungandr was so huge he was able to circle the entire Earth (or Midgard as it was called by the Vikings) and put its own tail into its mouth. The Midgard Serpent’s sworn enemy was the Thunder God Thor, one of the few Gods of Asgard who possessed the strength to stand up to the beast. The relationship between the Thunder God and the Serpent started when the Gods were young and ended in Ragnarok; the Twilight of the Gods.
The Midgard Serpent is the middle son of Loki, a jötunn (nature spirits with superhuman strength) himself the son of Laufey (an embodiment of vegetation) and Fárbauti (the spirit of lightning) whose mingling bequeathed Loki the spirit and unpredictability of wildfire. Loki’s mother was the giantess Angrboða, “the one who bring grief”, and his siblings were the Dire Wolf Fenrir and Hel, the Goddess of the Dead whose realm was the mist world of Niflheim. Niflheim was one of the two primordial realms along with Muspelheim where the Fire jötunn dwelt. All three of Loki’s children along with the jötunn of Muspelheim play a pivotal role in bringing about Ragnarok.
Odin, father of the Thunder God Thor’s and leader of the Æsir, saw the danger in Jörmungandr when it would not stop growing after its birth. He threw the serpent into the sea of Midgard, where it continued to grow until it surrounded the whole world. The seas of earth became the realm of the Midgard Serpent.
 

Thor Lifts a Cat

The first encounter Thor had with the Midgard Serpent was in the Castle of Útgarda-Loki during a ritual test of strength. Útgarda-Loki had challenged Thor to drink from a horn whose end was dipped in the sea. Thor failed to drain it, but drank so much it created the tides. Thor then had to wrestle an old crone, a servant of Útgarda-Loki, but was overcome with weakness after being unable to so much as move her. The crone was old age, who neither man nor God could overcome. The third test that Útgarda-Loki posed was to lift a grey cat up off of the floor. Thor tried with all his strength, but was only able to get the cat to lift one paw off of the ground. The cat was actually the Midgard Serpent, whose size was so great that even lifting a small part off of the sea bed was enough to cause earthquakes and tidal waves. Thor left the Castle with Útgarda-Loki’s promise that Thor would never be allowed back in.

Thor Goes Fishing

The next time Thor and Jörmungandr encountered the other Thor, disguised as a young boy, visited Midgard with the God Tyr and stayed with the giant Hymir while Tyr visited his mother and grandmother in the land of the Ice Giants. Hymir was renowned for his fishing skill, and regularly returned with huge fish, even whales, but Hymir looked at the young Thor and doubted if he would be any use rowing his boat. “You are so small, if I take you out for as long and as far as I am wont to go you would undoubtedly freeze.”
This enraged Thor but he held his temper and did not strike the giant. “I will row as far and as fast as you need me to. Nor am I certain which of us would give up and want to return first. Now, where is the bait?”
“If you want to fish with me get your own bait.”

Johann Heinrich Füssli: Thor vs. the Midgard Serpent

Once more Thor’s temper flared, and he strode up the hill to where Hymir kept his herd of prize cattle. Picking the largest ox, named Himinbrjotr, or Sky-Cleaver, and struck off his head with one blow. When he returned Hymir had already launched the boat and had taken up rowing position in the bow. Thor tossed the Ox-head into the vessel and climbed in to man the stern set of oars. Hymir, facing forward, was surprised how fast the boat moved; at first not knowing Thor was powering it from behind. When Hymir reached the fishing grounds where he usually caught flat fish he shipped the oars and called for a stop. Thor refused, wanting to keep going further into the ocean and rowed them out to the spot Hymir caught whales. When the giant wanted to stop and catch whales, Thor again refused, “We must go further out.”

Wissler 1900

“If we do not stop here, we will be in the realm of the Midgard Serpent, who circles the world at its edge.” Hymir remonstrated with Thor two more times but Thor continued to row. Then Thor finally stopped the boat and they both started fishing. Hymir baited his own hook twice, threw it out, and each time he pulled in a huge whale. “I challenge you to do as well as this, stripling.”
Thor then took a strong line and hook and fastened the Ox head onto it. He then let it out farther and farther until it rested on the bottom of the sea where it dragged along behind the boat. The Midgard Serpent was intrigued by the bait and snapped at it, burying the hook into its jaw. Thrashing with pain, Jörmungandr thrashed and swam away so rapidly that it pulled Thor’s knuckles into the gunwale. Angered now, Thor pulled with all his strength just as Jörmungandr pulled in the other direction with such force that Thor’s feet broke through the deck to catch on the hull of the ship. Calling on all his force, Thor reeled in the line hand-over-hand, twisting the free end around the oar-pins as he brought it up, finally working the mighty serpent all the way up to the surface. When the Midgard Serpent’s monstrous head came into view, dripping with blood and venom, Hymir grew yellow of face, and feared for his life. Great waves washed over the gunwale, threatening to swamp the vessel and drown them both but Thor held on to the line with one mighty hand and with the other reached to his belt for his hammer.
From shoulder height Thor struck the Serpent with the hammer Mjöllnir. The mountains shook and the ocean trembled but Jörmungandr was only wounded. As Thor raised Mjöllnir above his head to deliver a killing blow strong enough to split a mountain, Hymir grabbed his knife and cut the line. Jörmungandr quickly slipped back into the depths of the sea to hide as far away from Thor as he could get. Once more enraged by Hymir, Thor did not hold back and brought Mjöllnir down upon the giant’s head, knocking him over the side and down to the bottom of the sea. Filled with a great fear the giant managed to climb back into the boat and huddle in the stern while Thor rowed to land. The God may not have been able to kill the Midgard Serpent and end its threat to Asgard, but he had landed a wounding blow and avenged the trick the beast had played upon him in the Hall of Útgarda-Loki.

Ragnarok: The End of the World

Peter Nicolai Arbo: Aasgaardreien

The prophecy of Raganrok speaks of the doom that befalls Heaven, Earth and Hell because of Thor’s failure to kill the Jörmungandr when he had the chance. When Loki is freed from his chains, the Midgard Serpent rises from the depths to poison the sky of Midgard. Naglefar, the Ship of Death, made in Hel’s realm from the fingernails of the dead, carries Fenrir, Hel, her dragon Nidhogg, swallower of souls, and the demon hoards of Muspelheim under the command of Surtur the Fire Demon to join with the Serpent, Loki and the Ice Giants of Jotunheim in the attack on Asgard. In the final battle of Ragnarok on the fields of Vigrid all Creation is undone and Time itself is shattered.
The battle between Thor and Jörmungandr lasts long and the outcome is uncertain. Thor strikes with Mjöllnir but the Serpent writhes away from the blows, spewing venom over the Thunder God. Thor grows angrier and finally is able to land the deathblow on the Midgard Serpent, stretching him out over the Plain of Vigrid, unmoving. Yet, even in its death throes the Serpent manages to spray its deadly venomous vapor into Thor’s face, who breathes it in and manages to walk but nine paces away before dying on the battlefield beside his mortal foe.

Ragnarok_by_HarryBuddhaPalm

Thor would not be the only Æsir to die at Ragnarok. Even though Loki is killed by Heimdal, Keeper of Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge, Heimdal is gored by Loki’s horns and succumbs. Tyr is slain by the wolf-dog Garm and Surtur dispatches Frey with his flaming sword. Fenrir attacks and slays Odin the All-Father and is speared in turn by Odin’s son Vidar, who manages to survive the battle. Nidhogg, Hel’s Black Dragon, soars over the plain swallowing the souls of the dead. The Dire Wolf Skoll swallows the sun and the stars blink out of the sky. Surtur the Fire Demon moves through the worlds burning everything with his sword. Midgard is covered in volcanic flame and its sky filled with poisonous smoke, Asgard is scorched and even Nidhogg succumbs to the inferno. Fire curls around the burning trunk of Ygdrasil, the World Tree. Smoldering and blackened, the Earth sinks beneath the sea. What follows is nothing but deep blackness and silence unbroken.

Posted by Steve Caunce

The Christmas Eve Snap-Dragons

Dragon-y Christmas

Welcome to a Victorian tale for your Dragon-y Christmas.
Snap-Dragons was written by Juliana Horatia Ewing in 1870 and published in the Christmas edition of The Monthly Packet. You may find the anachronisms of Victorian times rather quaint and some seem outright silly in retrospect but you may also conclude that they do have their own charm.
For ease of reading you can pronounce the main characters' Family Name "Skratdj" as "Scratch".

Now, on to the story:

Snap-Dragons - A Tale of Christmas Eve

(Juliana Horatia Ewing)

MR. AND MRS. SKRATDJ

Once upon a time there lived a certain family of the name of Skratdj. (It has a Russian or Polish look, and yet they most certainly lived in England.) They were remarkable for the following peculiarity. They seldom seriously quarrelled, but they never agreed about anything. It is hard to say whether it were more painful for their friends to hear them constantly contradicting each other, or gratifying to discover that it "meant nothing,” and was "only their way."

It began with the father and mother. They were a worthy couple, and really attached to each other. But they had a habit of contradicting each other’s statements, and opposing each other’s opinions, which, though mutually understood and allowed for in private, was most trying to the bystanders in public. If one related an anecdote, the other would break in with half-a-dozen corrections of trivial details of no interest or importance to anyone, the speakers included. For instance: Suppose the two dining in a strange house, and Mrs. Skratdj seated by the host, and contributing to the small-talk of the dinner-table. Thus:—

"Oh, yes. Very changeable weather indeed. It looked quite promising yesterday morning in the town, but it began to rain at noon.”

"A quarter past eleven, my dear,” Mr. Skratdj’s voice would be heard to say from several chairs down, in the corrective tones of a husband and father; "and really, my dear, so far from being a promising morning, I must say it looked about as threatening as it well could. Your memory is not always accurate in small matters, my love.”

But Mrs. Skratdj had not been a wife and a mother for fifteen years, to be snuffed out at one snap of the marital snuffers. As Mr. Skratdj leaned forward in his chair, she leaned forward in hers, and defended herself across the intervening couples.

”Why, my dear Mr. Skratdj, you said yourself the weather had not been so promising for a week."

”What I said, my dear, pardon me, was that the barometer was higher than it had been for a week. But, as you might have observed if these details were in your line, my love, which they are not, the rise was extraordinarily rapid, and there is no surer sign of unsettled Weather. But Mrs. Skratdj is apt to forget these unimportant trifles,” he added, with a comprehensive smile round the dinner-table; ”her thoughts are very properly absorbed by the more important domestic questions of the nursery."

"Now I think that's rather unfair on Mr. Skratdj’s part,” Mrs. Skratdj would chirp, with a smile quite as affable and as general as her husband’s. ”I’m sure he's quite as forgetful and inaccurate as Iam. And I don't think my memory is at all a bad one.”

"You forgot the dinner hour when we were going out to dine last week, nevertheless,” said Mr. Skratdj.

"And you couldn't help me when I asked you," was the sprightly retort. "And I’m sure it’s not like you to forget anything about dinner, my dear.”

"The letter was addressed to you,” said Mr. Skratdj.

”I sent it to you by Jemima,” said Mrs. Skratdj.

”I didn't read it,” said Mr. Skratdj.

”Well, you burnt it,” said Mrs. Skratdj; ”and, as I always say, there’s nothing more foolish than burning a letter of invitation before the day, for one is certain to forget.”

”I’ve no doubt you always do say it,” Mr. Skratdj remarked, with a smile, "but I certainly never remember to have heard the observation from your lips, my love.”

"Whose memory’s in fault there?” asked Mrs. Skratdj triumphantly; and as at this point the ladies rose, Mrs. Skratdj had the last word.

Indeed, as may be gathered from this conversation, Mrs. Skratdj was quite able to defend herself. When she was yet a bride, and young and timid, she used to collapse when Mr. Skratdj

contradicted her statements, and set her stories straight in public. Then she hardly ever opened her lips without disappearing under the domestic extinguisher. But in the course of fifteen years she had learned that Mr. Skratdj’s bark was a great deal worse than his bite. (If, indeed, he had a bite at all.) Thus snubs that made other people's ears tingle, had no effect whatever on the lady to whom they were addressed, for she knew exactly what they were worth, and had by this time become fairly adept at snapping in return.

In the days when she succumbed she was occasionally unhappy, but now she and her husband understood each other, and, having agreed to differ, they unfortunately agreed also to differ in public. Indeed, it was the by-standers who had the worst of it on these occasions. To the worthy couple themselves the habit had become second nature, and in no way affected the friendly tenor of their domestic relations. They would interfere with each other’s conversation, contradicting assertions, and disputing conclusions for a whole evening; and then, when all the world and his wife thought that these ceaseless sparks of bickering must blaze up into a flaming quarrel as soon as they were alone, they would bowl amicably home in a cab, criticizing the friends who were commenting upon them, and as little agreed about the events of the evening as about the details of any other events whatever.

Yes; the by-standers certainly had the worst of it. Those who were near wished themselves anywhere else, especially when appealed to. Those who were at a distance did not mind so much. A domestic squabble at a certain distance is interesting, like an engagement viewed from a point beyond the range of guns. In such a position one may someday be placed oneself! Moreover, it gives a touch of excitement to a dull evening to be able to say sotto voce to one’s neighbor, "Do listen! The Skratdjs are at it again!”

Their unmarried friends thought a terrible abyss of tyranny and aggravation must lie beneath it all, and blessed their stars that they were still single and able to tell a tale their own way. The married ones had more idea of how it really was, and wished in the name of common sense and good taste that Skratdj and his wife would not make fools of themselves. So it went on, however; and so, I suppose, it goes on still, for not many bad habits are cured in middle age.

On certain questions of comparative speaking their views were never identical. Such as the temperature being hot or cold, things being light or dark, the apple-tarts being sweet or sour. So one day Mr. Skratdj came into the room, rubbing his hands, and planting himself at the fire with ”Bitterly cold it is to-day, to be sure."

"Why, my dear William," said Mrs. Skratdj, "I'm sure you must have got a cold; I feel a fire quite oppressive myself.”

”You were wishing you’d a seal-skin jacket yesterday, when it wasn’t half as cold as it is to-day,” said Mr. Skratdj.

”My dear William! Why, the children were shivering the whole day, and the wind was in the north.”

”Due east, Mrs. Skratdj."

”I know by the smoke,” said Mrs. Skratdj, softly, but decidedly.

”I fancy I can tell an east wind when I feel it," said Mr. Skratdj, jocosely, to the company.

"I told Jemima to look at the weathercock,” murmured Mrs. Skratdj.

”I don’t care a fig for Jemima,” said her husband.

On another occasion Mrs. Skratdj and a lady friend were conversing. . . ”We met him at the Smith’s—a gentlemanlike agreeable man, about forty," said Mrs. Skratdj, in reference to some matter interesting to both ladies.

”Not a day over thirty-five,” said Mr. Skratdj, from behind his

newspaper.

”Why, my dear William, his hair’s grey,” said Mrs. Skratdj.

"Plenty of men are grey at thirty,” said Mr. Skratdj. "I knew a man who was grey at twenty-five.”

”Well, forty or thirty-five, it doesn't much matter,” said Mrs. Skratdj, about to resume her narration.

"Five years matters a good deal to most people at thirty-five,” said Mr. Skratdj, as he walked towards the door. "They would make a remarkable difference to me, I know; ” and with a jocular air Mr. Skratdj departed, and Mrs. Skratdj had the rest of the anecdote her own way.

THE LITTLE SKRATDJS

The Spirit of Contradiction finds a place in most nurseries, though to a very varying degree in different ones. Children snap and snarl by nature, like young puppies; and most of us can remember taking part in some such spirited dialogues as the following:

"I will.”

 "You daren't.”

”You can’t.”

 ”I dare.”

”You shall.”

 ”I’ll tell Mamma.”

"I won’t."

 "I don’t care if you do.”

It is the part of wise parents to repress these squibs and crackers of juvenile contention, and to enforce that slowly-learned lesson, that in this world one must often ”pass over” and ”put up with” things in other people, being oneself by no means perfect. Also that it is a kindness, and almost a duty, to let people think and say and do things in their own way occasionally.

But even if Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj had ever thought of teaching all this to their children, it must be confessed that the lesson would not have come with a good grace from either of them, since they snapped and snarled between themselves as much or more than their children in the nursery. The two elders were the leaders in the nursery squabbles. Between these, a boy and a girl, a ceaseless war of words was waged from morning to night. And as neither of them lacked ready wit, and both were in constant practice, the art of snapping was cultivated by them to the highest pitch.

It began at breakfast, if not sooner.

"You’ve taken my chair.”

”It’s not your chair.”

”You know it’s the one I like, and it was in my place.”

”How do you know it was in your place?"

"Never mind, I do know.”

”No, you don’t.”

"Yes, I do.”

"Suppose I say it was in my place.”

"You can't, for it wasn't.”

”I can, if I like.”

"Well, was it?”

”I shan’t tell you.”

"Ah! That shows it wasn't.”

”No, it doesn't.”

"Yes, it does.”

Etc., etc., etc.

The direction of their daily walks was a fruitful subject of difference of opinion.

”Let’s go on the Common to-day, Nurse.”

”Oh, don’t let’s go there; we’re always going on the Common."

"I'm sure we're not. We’ve not been there for ever so long.”

"Oh, what a story! We were there on Wednesday. Let's go down Gipsey Lane. We never go down Gipsey Lane.”

"Why, we're always going down Gipsey Lane. And there’s nothing to see there.”

”I don’t care. I won’t go on the Common, and I shall go and get Papa to say we're to go down Gipsey Lane. I can run faster than you.”

”That’s very sneaking; but I don’t care.”

"Papa! Papa! Polly’s called me a sneak.”

”No, I didn’t, Papa.”

"You did.”

”No, I didn’t. I only said it was sneaking of you to say you'd run faster than me, and get Papa to say we were to go down Gipsey Lane.”

"Then you did call him sneaking,” said Mr. Skratdj. "And you're a very naughty, ill-mannered little girl. You're getting very troublesome, Polly, and I shall have to send you to school, where you’ll be kept in order. Go where your brother wishes at once.”

For Polly and her brother had reached an age when it was convenient, if possible, to throw the blame of all nursery differences on Polly. In families where domestic discipline is rather fractious than firm, there comes a stage when the girls almost invariably go to the wall, because they will stand snubbing, and the boys will not. Domestic authority, like some other powers, is apt to be magnified on the weaker class. But Mr. Skratdj would not always listen even to Harry.

"If you don’t give it me back directly, I'll tell about your eating the two magnum-bonums in the kitchen garden on Sunday,” said Master Harry, on one occasion.

”Tell-tale tit! Your tongue shall be slit, And every dog in the town shall have a little bit,” quoted his sister.

"Ah! You've called me a tell-tale. Now I'll go and tell Papa. You got into a fine scrape for calling me names the other day.”

"Go, then! I don't care."

"You wouldn't like me to go, I know.”

"You daren’t. That's what it is."

"I dare.”

"Then why don't you?"

"Oh, I am going; but you'll see what will be the end of it."

Polly, however, had her own reasons for remaining stolid, and Harry started. But when he reached the landing he paused. Mr. Skratdj had especially announced that morning that he did not wish to be disturbed, and though he was a favourite, Harry had no desire to invade the dining-room at this crisis. So he returned to the nursery, and said, with a magnanimous air, ”I don't want to get you into a scrape, Polly. If you'll beg my pardon I won't go."

"I'm sure I shan’t," said Polly, who was equally well informed as to the position of affairs at head-quarters. "Go, if you dare.”

"I won't if you want me not, " said Harry, discreetly waiving the question of apologies.

”But I’d rather you went,” said the obdurate Polly. ”You’re always telling tales. Go and tell now, if you're not afraid.”

So Harry went. But at the bottom of the stairs he lingered again, and was meditating how to return with most credit to his dignity, when Polly’s face appeared through the banisters, and Polly's sharp tongue goaded him on.

"Ah! I see you. You're stopping. You daren’t go.”

”I dare,” said Harry; and at last he went.

As he turned the handle of the door, Mr. Skratdj turned round.

"Please, Papa—” Harry began.

"Get away with you!” cried Mr. Skratdj. ”Didn’t I tell you I was not to be disturbed this morning? What an extraor—”

But Harry had shut the door, and withdrawn precipitately.

Once outside, he returned to the nursery with dignified steps, and an air of apparent satisfaction, saying:

”You’re to give me the bricks, please.”

"Who says so?”

"Why, who should say so? Where have I been, pray?”

”I don't know, and I don't care.”

”I’ve been to Papa. There!”

"Did he say I was to give up the bricks?”

”I’ve told you.”

"No, you've not.”

"I shan’t tell you anymore.”

"Then I'll go to Papa and ask.”

”Go by all means.”

"I won’t if you'll tell me truly.”

”I shan’t tell you anything. Go and ask, if you dare,” said Harry, only too glad to have the tables turned.

Polly’s expedition met with the same fate, and she attempted to cover her retreat in a similar manner.

"Ah! you didn’t tell.”

”I don't believe you asked Papa.”

”Don’t you? Very well!”

"Well, did you?”

"Never mind."

Etc., etc., etc.

Meanwhile Mr. Skratdj scolded Mrs. Skratdj for not keeping the children in better order. And Mrs. Skratdj said it was quite impossible to do so, when Mr. Skratdj spoilt Harry as he did, and weakened her (Mrs. Skratdj’s) authority by constant interference. Difference of sex gave point to many of these nursery squabbles, as it so often does to domestic broils.

”Boys never will do what they're asked," Polly would complain.

"Girls ask such unreasonable things,” was Harry's retort.

”Not half so unreasonable as the things you ask."

"Ah! That’s a different thing! Women have got to do what men tell them, whether it’s reasonable or not."

”No, they’ve not!” said Polly. ”At least, that's only husbands and wives.”

”All women are inferior animals,” said Harry.

"Try ordering Mamma to do what you want and see!" said Polly.

"Men have got to give orders, and women have to obey," said Harry, falling back on the general principle. ”And when I get a wife, I'll take care I make her do what I tell her. But you'll have to obey your husband when you get one.”

"I won’t have a husband, and then I can do as I like."

"Oh, won’t you? You’ll try to get one, I know. Girls always want to be married.”

”I’m sure I don’t know why," said Polly; "they must have had enough of men if they have brothers."

And so they went on, ad infinitum, with ceaseless arguments that proved nothing and convinced nobody, and a continual stream of contradiction that just fell short of downright quarrelling.

Indeed, there was a kind of snapping even less near to a dispute than in the cases just mentioned. The little Skratdjs, like some other children, were under the unfortunate delusion that it sounds clever to hear little boys and girls snap each other up with smart sayings, and old and rather vulgar play upon words, such as:

”I’ll give you a Christmas box. Which ear will you have it on?”

"I won't stand it.” "Pray take a chair.”

"You shall have it to-morrow." ”To-morrow never comes.”

And so if a visitor kindly began to talk to one of the children, another was sure to draw near and "take up” all the first child’s answers, with smart comments and catches that sounded as silly as they were tiresome and impertinent.

And ill-mannered as this was, Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj never put a stop to it. Indeed, it was only a caricature of what they did themselves. But they often said ”We can't think how it is the children are always squabbling!"

THE SKRATDJ'S DOG AND THE HOT-TEMPERED GENTLEMAN

It is wonderful how the state of mind of a whole household is influenced by the heads of it. Mr. Skratdj was a very kind master, and Mrs. Skratdj was a very kind mistress, and yet their servants lived in a perpetual fever of irritability that fell just short of discontent. They jostled each other on the back stairs, said sharp things in the pantry, and kept up a perennial warfare on the subject of the duty of the sexes with the general man-servant. They gave warning on the slightest provocation.

The very dog was infected by the snapping mania. He was not a brave dog, he was not a vicious dog, and no high-breeding sanctioned his pretensions to arrogance. But like his owners, he had contracted a bad habit, a trick, which made him the pest of all timid visitors, and indeed of all visitors whatsoever.

The moment anyone approached the house, on certain occasions when he was spoken to, and often in no traceable connection with any cause at all, Snap the mongrel would rush out, and bark in his little sharp voice—”Yap! yap! yap!” If the visitor made a stand, he would bound away sideways on his four little legs; but the moment the visitor went on his way again, Snap was at his heels—”Yap! yap! yap!” He barked at the milkman, the butcher's boy, and the baker, though he saw them every day. He never got used to the Washerwoman, and she never got used to him. She said he ”put her in mind of that there black dog in the Pilgrim’s Progress.” He sat at the gate in summer, and yapped at every vehicle and

every pedestrian who ventured to pass on the high road. He never but once had the chance of barking at burglars; and then, though he barked long and loud, nobody got up, for they said, "It’s only Snap’s way.” The Skratdj s lost a silver teapot, a Stilton cheese, and two electro christening mugs, on this occasion; and Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj dispute who it was who discouraged reliance on Snap's warning to the present day.

One Christmas time, a certain hot—tempered gentleman came to visit the Skratdjs; a tall, sandy, energetic young man who carried his own bag from the railway. The bag had been crammed rather than packed, after the wont of bachelors; and you could see where the heel of a boot distended the leather, and where the bottle of shaving-cream lay. As he came up to the house, out came Snap as usual—”Yap! yap! yap!”

Now the gentleman was very fond of dogs, and had borne this greeting some dozens of times from Snap, who for his part knew the visitor quite as well as the washerwoman, and rather better than the butcher's boy. The gentleman had good, sensible, well-behaved dogs of his own, and was greatly disgusted with Snap’s conduct. Nevertheless he spoke friendly to him; and Snap, who had had many a bit from his plate, could not help stopping for a minute to lick his hand. But no sooner did the gentleman proceed on his way, than Snap flew at his heels in the usual fashion-

”Yap! Yap! Yap!”

On which the gentleman—being hot-tempered, and one of those people with whom it is (as they say) a word and a blow, and the blow first—made a dash at Snap, and Snap taking to his heels, the gentleman flung his carpet-bag after him. The bottle of shaving-cream hit upon a stone and was smashed. The heel of the boot caught Snap on the back and sent him squealing to the kitchen. And he never barked at that gentleman again.

 If the gentleman disapproved of Snap’s conduct, he still less liked the continual snapping of the Skratdj family themselves. He was an old friend of Mr, and Mrs. Skratdj, however, and knew that they were really happy together, and that it was only a bad habit which made them constantly contradict each other. It was in allusion to their real affection for each other, and their perpetual disputing, that he called them the ‘Snapping Turtles’.

When the war of words waxed hottest at the dinner-table between his host and hostess, he would drive his hands through his shock of sandy hair, and say, with a comical glance out of his umber eyes: ”Don’t flirt, my friends. It makes a bachelor feel awkward.”

And neither Mr. nor Mrs. Skratdj could help laughing.

With the little Skratdjs his measures were more vigorous. He was very fond of children, and a good friend to them. He grudged no time or trouble to help them in their games and projects, but he would not tolerate their snapping up each other’s Words in his presence. He was much more truly kind than many visitors, who think it polite to smile at the sauciness and forwardness which ignorant vanity leads children so often to "shew off” before strangers. These civil acquaintances only abuse both children and parents behind their backs, for the very bad habits which they help to encourage.

The hot-tempered gentleman's treatment of his young friends was very different. One day he was talking to Polly, and making some kind inquiries about her lessons, to which she was replying in a quiet and sensible fashion, when up came Master Harry, and began to display his wit by comments on the conversation, and by snapping at and contradicting his sister’s remarks, to which she retorted; and the usual snap-dialogue went on as usual.

”Then you like music?” said the hot-tempered gentleman.

"Yes, I like it very much,” said Polly.

"Oh, do you?” Harry broke in. "Then what are you always crying over it for?”

”I’m not always crying over it.”

"Yes, you are.”

”No, I’m not. I only cry sometimes, when I stick fast.”

"Your music must be very sticky, for you're always stuck fast.”

"Hold your tongue!” said the hot-tempered gentleman.

With what he imagined to be a very waggish air, Harry put out his tongue, and held it with his finger and thumb. It was unfortunate that he had not time to draw it in again before the hot-tempered gentleman gave him a stinging box on the ear, which brought his teeth rather sharply together on the tip of his tongue, which was bitten in consequence.

"It’s no use speaking,” said the hot-tempered gentleman, driving his hands through his hair. Children are like dogs: they are very good judges of their real friends.

Harry did not like the hot-tempered gentleman a bit the less because he was obliged to respect and obey him; and all the children welcomed him boisterously when he arrived that Christmas which we have spoken of in connection with his attack on Snap.

It was on the morning of Christmas Eve that the china punch bowl was broken. Mr. Skratdj had a warm dispute with Mrs. Skratdj as to whether it had been kept in a safe place; after which both had a brisk encounter with the housemaid, who did not know how it happened; and she, flouncing down the back passage, kicked Snap; who forthwith flew at the gardener as he was bringing in the horse-radish for the beef; who stepping backwards trode upon the cat; who spit and swore, and went up the pump with her tail as big as a fox’s brush.

To avoid this domestic scene, the hot-tempered gentleman withdrew to the breakfast-room and took up a newspaper. By-and-by, Harry and Polly came in, and they were soon snapping comfortably over their own affairs in a corner.

The hot-tempered gentleman's umber eyes had been looking over the top of his newspaper at them for some time, before he called, "Harry, my boy!”

And Harry came up to him.

”Show me your tongue, Harry,” said he.

"What for?” said Harry; "you're not a doctor.”

”Do as I tell you,” said the hot-tempered gentleman; and as Harry saw his hand moving, he put his tongue out with all possible haste. The hot- tempered gentleman sighed. ”Ah!” he said in depressed tones; "I thought so!—Polly, come and let me look at yours.”

Polly, who had crept up during this process, now put out hers. But the hot-tempered gentleman looked gloomier still, and shook his head.

"What is it?” cried both the children, "What do you mean?” And they seized the tips of their tongues in their fingers, to feel for themselves.

But the hot-tempered gentleman went slowly out of the room without answering; passing his hands through his hair, and saying, "Ah! Hum!” and nodding with an air of grave foreboding.

Just as he crossed the threshold, he turned back, and put his head into the room. ”Have you ever noticed that your tongues are growing pointed?" he asked.

”No!” cried the children with alarm. ”Are they?"

"If ever you find them becoming forked,” said the gentleman in solemn tones, ”let me know.” with which he departed, gravely shaking his head.

In the afternoon the children attacked him again.

”Do tell us what's the matter with our tongues.”

"You were snapping and squabbling just as usual this morning,” said the hot-tempered gentleman.

"Well, we forgot,” said Polly. ”We don't mean anything, you know. But never mind that now, please. Tell us about our tongues. What is going to happen to them?”

”I’m very much afraid,” said the hot-tempered gentleman, in solemn, measured tones, "that you are both of you—fast—going—to—the—"

"Dogs?" suggested Harry, who was learned in cant expressions.

"Dogs!" said the hot-tempered gentleman, driving his hands through his hair. "Bless your life, no! Nothing half so pleasant! (That is, unless all dogs were like Snap, Which mercifully they are not.) No, my sad fear is that you are, both of you, rapidly going to the Snap-Dragons!” And not another Word would the hot-tempered gentleman say on the subject.

CHRISTMAS EVE

In the course of a few hours Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj recovered their equanimity. The punch was brewed in a jug, and tasted quite as good as usual. The evening was very lively. There were a Christmas tree, Yule cakes, log, and candles, furmety, and snap-dragon after supper. When the company were tired of the tree, and had gained an appetite by the hard exercise of stretching to high branches, blowing out "dangerous" tapers, and cutting ribbon and pack-thread in all directions, supper came, with its welcome cakes, and furmety, and punch.

And when furmety somewhat palled upon the taste (and it must be admitted to boast more sentiment than flavour as a Christmas dish), the Yule candles were blown out and both the spirits and the palates of the party were stimulated by the mysterious and pungent pleasures of snap-dragon.

Then, as the hot-tempered gentleman warmed his coat-tails at the Yule log, a grim smile stole over his features as he listened to the sounds in the room. In the darkness the blue flames leaped and danced, the raisins were snapped and snatched from hand to hand, scattering fragments of flame hither and thither. The children shouted as the fiery sweetmeats burnt away the mawkish taste of the furmety. Mr. Skratdj cried that they were spoiling the carpet; Mrs. Skratdj complained that he had spilled some brandy on her dress. Mr. Skratdj retorted that she should not wear dresses so susceptible of damage in the family circle. Mrs. Skratdj recalled an old speech of Mr. Skratdj on the subject of wearing one’s nice things for the benefit of one’s family and not reserving them for visitors. Mr. Skratdj remembered that Mrs. Skratdj’s excuse for buying that particular dress when she did not need it, was her intention of keeping it for the next year. The children disputed as to the credit for courage and the amount of raisins due to each. Snap barked furiously the flames; and the maids hustled each other for good places in the doorway, and would not have allowed the man-servant to see at all, but he looked over their heads.

”St! St! At it! At it!" chuckled the hot-tempered gentleman in undertones. And when he said that it seemed as if the voices of Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj rose higher in matrimonial repartee and the children's squabbles became louder, and the dog yelped as if he were mad, and the maids’ contest was sharper; whilst the snap-dragon flames leaped up and up, and blue fire flew about the room like foam.

At last the raisins were finished, the flames were all but out, and the company withdrew to the drawing-room. Only Harry lingered.

"Come along, Harry,” said the hot-tempered gentleman.

”Wait a minute,” said Harry.

"You had better come,” said the gentleman.

"Why?" said Harry.

"There's nothing to stop for. The raisins are eaten; the brandy is burnt out—”

”No, it's not,” said Harry.

"Well, almost. It would be better if it were quite out. Now come. It's dangerous for a boy like you to be alone with the Snap-Dragons to- night."

”Fiddle-sticks!" said Harry.

"Go your own way, then!" said the hot-tempered gentleman; and he bounced out of the room, and Harry was left alone.

DANCING WITH THE DRAGONS

He crept up to the table, where one little pale blue flame flickered in the snap-dragon dish.

"What a pity it should go out!” said Harry. At this moment the brandy bottle on the side-board caught his eye.

"Just a little more,” murmured Harry to himself; and he uncorked the bottle, and poured a little brandy on to the flame.

Now, of course, as soon as the brandy touched the fire, all the brandy in the bottle blazed up at once, and the bottle split to pieces; and it was very fortunate for Harry that he did not get seriously hurt. A little of the hot brandy did get into his eyes, and made them smart, so that he had to shut them for a few seconds. But when he opened them again; what a sight! The blue flames leaped and danced as they had leaped and danced in the soup-plate with the raisins. And Harry saw that each successive flame was the fold in the long body of a bright blue Dragon, which moved like the body of a snake. And the room was full of these Dragons. In the face they were like the dragons one sees made of very old blue and white china; and they had forked tongues, like the tongues of serpents. They were most beautiful in colour, being sky-blue. Lobsters that have just changed their coats are very handsome, but the violet and indigo of a lobster’s coat is nothing to the brilliant sky-blue of a Snap-Dragon.

How they leaped about! They were forever leaping over each other, like seals at play. But if it was ‘play’ at all with them, it was of a very rough kind; for as they jumped, they snapped and barked at each other, and their barking was like that of the barking Gnu in the Zoological Gardens; and from time to time they tore the hair out of each other’s heads with their claws, and scattered it about the floor. And as it dropped it was like the flecks of flame people shake from their fingers when they are eating snap-dragon raisins.

Harry stood aghast.

"What fun!” said a voice close by him; and he saw that one of the Dragons was lying near, and not joining in the game. He had lost one of the forks of his tongue by accident, and could not bark for awhile.

”I’m glad you think it funny,” said Harry; "I don’t.”

”Yes, those creatures. And if I hadn't lost my bark, I’d be the first to lead you off,” said the Dragon. ”Oh, the game will exactly suit you.”

”What is it, please?” Harry asked.

"You’d better not say ’please’ to the others," said the Dragon, "if you don’t want to have all your hair pulled out. The game is this. You have always to be jumping over somebody else, and you must either talk or bark. If anybody speaks to you, you must snap in return. I need not explain what snapping is. You know. If anyone by accident gives a civil answer, a clawful of hair is torn out of his head to stimulate his brain. Nothing can be funnier."

”I dare say it suits you capitally,” said Harry; "but I'm sure we shouldn't like it. I mean men and women and children. It wouldn’t do for us at all.

”Wouldn’t it?” said the Dragon. ”You don’t know how many human beings dance with dragons on Christmas Eve. If we are kept going in a house till after midnight, we can pull people out of their beds, and take them to dance in Vesuvius."

"Vesuvius!" cried Harry.

"Yes, Vesuvius. We come from Italy originally, you know. Our skins are the colour of the Bay of Naples. We live on dried grapes and ardent spirits. We have glorious fun in the mountain sometimes. Oh! What snapping, and scratching, and tearing! Delicious! There are times when the squabbling becomes too great, and Mother Mountain won’t stand it, and spits us all out, and throws cinders after us. But this is only at times. We had a charming meeting last year. So many human beings, and how they can snap! It was a choice party. So very select. We always have plenty of saucy children, and servants. Husbands and wives too, and quite as many of the former as the latter, if not more. But besides these, we had two vestry-men, a country postmaster, who devoted his talents to insulting the public instead of to learning the postal regulations, three cabmen and two "fares," two young shop-girls from a Berlin wool shop in a town where there was no competition, four commercial travellers, six landladies, six Old Bailey lawyers, several widows from almshouses, seven single gentlemen and nine cats, who swore at everything; a dozen sulphur-coloured screaming cockatoos; a lot of street children from a town; a pack of mongrel curs from the colonies, who snapped at the human beings’ heels, and five elderly ladies in their Sunday bonnets with Prayer-books, who had been fighting for good seats in church."

"Dear me!” said Harry.

"If you can find nothing sharper to say than ’Dear me!” said the Dragon, ”you will fare badly, I can tell you. Why, I thought you’d a sharp tongue, but it's not forked yet, I see. Here they are, however. Off with you! And if you value your curls—Snap!”

And before Harry could reply, the Snap-Dragons came in on their third round, and as they passed they swept Harry with them.

He shuddered as he looked at his companions. They were as transparent as shrimps, but of this lovely cerulean blue. And as they leaped they barked—”Howf! Howf‘?”—like barking Gnus; and when they leaped Harry had to leap with them. Besides barking, they snapped and wrangled with each other; and in this Harry must join also.

"Pleasant, isn't it?” said one of the blue Dragons.

"Not at all,” snapped Harry.

"That's your bad taste," snapped the blue Dragon.

 "No, it's not!” snapped Harry.

"Then it’s pride and perverseness. You want your hair combing.”

"Oh, please don't!” shrieked Harry, forgetting himself. On which the Dragon clawed a handful of hair out of his head, and Harry screamed, and the blue Dragons barked and danced.

"That made your hair curl, didn't it?” asked another Dragon, leaping over Harry.

”That's no business of yours,” Harry snapped, as well as he could for crying.

”It’s more my pleasure than business,” retorted the Dragon.

”Keep it to yourself, then,” snapped Harry.

"I mean to share it with you, when I get hold of your hair,” snapped the Dragon.

"Wait till you get the chance," Harry snapped, with desperate presence of mind.

"Do you know whom you're talking to?” roared the Dragon; and he opened his mouth from ear to ear, and shot out his forked tongue in Harry's face; and the boy was so frightened that he forgot to snap, and cried piteously:

”Oh, I beg your pardon, please don't! On which the blue Dragon clawed another handful of hair out of his head, and all the Dragons barked as before.

How long the dreadful game went on Harry never exactly knew. Well practised as he was in snapping in the nursery, he often failed to think of a retort, and paid for his unreadiness by the loss of his hair. Oh, how foolish and wearisome all this rudeness and snapping now seemed to him! But on he had to go, wondering all the time how near it was to twelve o'clock, and whether the Snap-Dragons would stay till midnight and take him with them to Vesuvius.

At last, to his joy, it became evident that the brandy was coming to an end. The Dragons moved slower, they could not leap so high, and at last one after another they began to go out.

”Oh, if they only all of them get away before twelve!” thought poor Harry.

At last there was only one. He and Harry jumped about and snapped and barked, and Harry was thinking with joy that he was the last, when the clock in the hall gave that whirring sound which some clocks do before they strike, as if it were clearing its throat.

"Oh, please go!” screamed Harry, in despair.

The blue Dragon leaped up, and took such a clawful of hair out of the boy’s head, that it seemed as if part of the skin went, too. But that leap was his last. He went out at once, vanishing before the first stroke of twelve. And Harry was left on his face on the floor in the darkness.

CONCLUSION

When his friends found him there was blood on his forehead. Harry thought it was where the Dragon had clawed him, but they said it was a cut from a fragment of the broken brandy bottle. The Dragons had disappeared as completely as the brandy.

Harry was cured of snapping. He had had quite enough of it for a lifetime, and the catch-contradictions of the household now made him shudder. Polly had not had the benefit of his experiences, and yet she improved also.

In the first place, snapping, like other kinds of quarrelling, requires two parties to it, and Harry would never be a party to snapping any more. And when he gave civil and kind answers to Polly’s smart speeches, she felt ashamed of herself, and did not repeat them. In the second place, she heard about the Snap-Dragons. Harry told all about it to her and to the hot-tempered gentleman.

”Now do you think it's true?” Polly asked the hot—tempered gentleman.

"Hum! Ha!” said he, driving his hands through his hair. "You know I warned you, you were going to the Snap-Dragons.”

Harry and Polly snubbed ‘the little ones’ when they snapped, and utterly discountenanced snapping in the nursery. The example and admonitions of elder children are a powerful instrument of nursery discipline, and before long there was not a ”sharp tongue” amongst all the little Skratdjs.

But I doubt if the parents ever were cured. I don’t know if they heard the story. Besides, bad habits are not easily cured when one is old.

I fear Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj have yet got to dance with the Dragons.

The End

Good night, everyone and a Merry Christmas to all.

Posted by Bo Caunce

(Digital Artworks by Steve Caunce 

Pictures by Bo Caunce)