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[Illustration: THE POOR HOME.]






_Alfred Crowquill's Fairy Tales._

       *       *       *       *       *

  THE

  GIANT HANDS:

  OR,

  THE REWARD OF INDUSTRY.

       *       *       *       *       *

  LONDON:
  G. ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET.
  NEW YORK: 18, BEEKMAN STREET.
  1856.



  LONDON:
  SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET,
  COVENT GARDEN.






THE GIANT HANDS.


Poor lit-tle Wil-lie re-turn-ed from the for-est la-den with as much
wood as his fee-ble strength could bear. He was hun-gry and wea-ry, and
had a great sor-row at his heart, for he had lost his fa-ther in the
ear-ly spring, leav-ing his mo-ther to toil for a scant live-li-hood to
sup-port her-self and him.

He threw the wood up-on the cin-ders on the hearth, and quick-ly rais-ed
a cheer-ful blaze, at which he warm-ed his na-ked, swol-len feet, as he
watch-ed the smoke ma-king its fan-tas-tic ed-dies up the wide chim-ney,
and a-midst the raf-ters of the low roof. He heav-ed a deep sigh; for he
saw no pot up-on the fire, which ought to have been bub-bling up with
their fru-gal din-ner: but, a-las! they had none.

"This must not be any long-er," thought he, "for I am get-ting ve-ry big
and strong, and have a pair of hands that ought not to be i-dle. As my
poor mo-ther gets weak-er, I should work for her; and as I grow in-to a
man, she should not work any more, but sit by the fire and get the
din-ner rea-dy, which I shall then be a-ble to la-bour for."

[Illustration: MEETING THE HANDS.]

Wil-lie was of an in-dus-tri-ous mind, and did not love to sit i-dle
when e-ven his ti-ny strength might be used to some end.

So he sat and lis-ten-ed for the foot-step of his poor mo-ther, who, he
knew, would come home, wea-ri-ed with la-bour, to share her scan-ty
crust with her boy.

He had not to wait long be-fore the latch lift-ed, and his mo-ther
en-ter-ed. She kiss-ed him, and threw her-self in-to a chair, with the
tears of fa-tigue and ex-haus-tion in her eyes.

He em-bra-ced her, and whis-per-ed in-to her ear his firm resolve to
start out in-to the world, and seek for la-bour, that he might no
long-er be a bur-then to her. Her heart sank at the i-dea; but she saw
no o-ther means to save them from star-va-tion, as her fail-ing strength
gave warn-ing of the in-e-vi-ta-ble e-vil.

The morn-ing a-rose bright and cheer-ful. The old lock-er was o-pen-ed,
and his on-ly shoes, trea-sur-ed for high-days and ho-li-days, were
ta-ken out and brush-ed up, as was al-so his best suit, which was
in-deed ve-ry lit-tle bet-ter than the care-ful-ly mend-ed suit of his
e-ve-ry-day wear. He, how-e-ver, thought him-self ve-ry fine, and felt
that his ap-pear-ance would act as a re-com-men-da-tion in his fa-vour.

They sat down to break-fast: it was a