Chapter C: J. T (3)

Then they conducted Ilija to the palace, and entertained him at a great feast. After that Ilija, the Muromer, went straight on to Kiev, along a road which the Robber Nightingale had kept for thirty years, and on which he suffered no horseman or traveller on foot to pass, putting them to death, not by the sword, but by the sound of his robber whistle. When Ilija came into the open fields he rode on to the Bianski forest, and went far on, passing over marshes, by means of bridges made of water-elder, to the river Smarodienka. When the Robber Nightingale saw him about twenty versts away, he guessed his errand, and sounded his robber whistle. But the hero did not quail, and came on till he was only ten versts off, when the robber blew his whistle so loudly that Ilija’s horse fell down on its knees. Then Ilija went up to the robber’s nest, which was built upon twelve oaks. When the robber saw the hero he blew with all his might and tried to kill him, but Ilija took his bow, put a new arrow on the string, shot it straight into the robber’s nest, and hit the robber in the right eye. Robber Nightingale fell down from the tree like a sheaf of oats.

Ilija, the Muromer, took him, bound him fast to his saddle, and rode away to Kiev. At the side of the road stood the palace of Robber Nightingale, and as he rode by the robber’s daughters were sitting at the open window.

“There comes our father,” said the youngest, “riding, and bringing with him a peasant, tied to his saddle.”

The eldest looked at him carefully, and began to weep bitterly.

“It is not our father,” said she, “that rides there, but a strange man who has made him prisoner.”

Then they called out to their husbands—

“Dear husbands, ride out against this stranger, and deliver our father from him. Let not such shame come on us!”

Their husbands were mighty riders, and they came out to attack the Russian horseman; and they had good horses and sharp lances, and thought it would be an easy matter to kill him. When Robber Nightingale saw them, he called out and said—

“My dear sons, let no shame come on you, and do not attack so brave a knight, for if you do he will but slay you. Ask him, rather, to enter the house and drink with us.”

When Ilija heard the invitation he turned to enter the palace, suspecting no treachery; but the eldest daughter had hung a beam, by means of a chain, over the entrance, so that she might kill him as he rode through. When Ilija saw that he gave her a stroke with his lance and killed her. Then he rode on to Kiev and came to the prince’s palace. He entered the palace, prayed to God, and saluted the nobles.

“Tell me, my good young man,” said the prince, “what is your name, and to what place you belong?”

“I am called Little Ilija, sir,” said he; “my father is Ivan, and I was born in the town of Murom, near to Katatscharowa.”

The prince next asked him by what road he had come.

“From Murom I rode to Tschernigof, and there I slew a great host of pagans and saved the city. From that place I came here. I have taken prisoner the famous Robber Nightingale, and I have brought him here bound to my stirrup.”

Then the prince grew angry, and said—

“Why do you try to deceive me?”

However, he sent two knights, Alescha Popowitsch and Dobrinja Nikititsch, to see if it was as Ilija said; and when they told the prince that it was true, he was pleased, gave the young man some drink, and desired to hear the robber’s whistle. Ilija, the Muromer, therefore wrapped up the prince and the princess under his cloak, lined with sable, put them under his arm, and then told the Robber Nightingale to blow his whistle gently. He blew, however, so loud that he deafened all the knights and they fell on the floor, and Ilija, the Muromer, was so enraged that he killed him there and then.

Ilija became very friendly with Dobrinja Nikititsch, and, saddling their good horses, they rode away together, and travelled for three months without meeting with any adversary. Then they came up with a cripple. His beggar’s cloak weighed fifty pounds, his hat nine pounds, and his crutch was six feet long. Ilija, the Muromer, rode up to him and began to try his courage, but the cripple addressing him said—

“Ah! Ilija, the Muromer, do you not know me? Do you not remember how we learnt lessons in the same school? Will you fall on me, a poor cripple? Do you know that there is great distress in the famous town of Kiev? A powerful infidel knight, a godless idolater, has come there. His head is as big as a beer-barrel, his eyebrows are a span apart, and his shoulders are six feet across. He eats an ox at a meal, and drinks a cask of beer at a time. The Prince is sore troubled at your absence.”

Then Ilija, the Muromer, put on the cripple’s cloak and rode off to Kiev. He went to the palace, and cried with all his might—

“Ho, there! Prince of Kiev, give the cripple an alms.”

When the Prince heard him, he said—

“Come into my palace. I will give you something to eat and drink, and some money for your journey.”

Then Ilija went into the palace and sat down near the stove, and there also sat the pagan knight calling for food to be brought. The servants brought him an ox, roasted whole, and he ate it up, bones and all. Then he called for something to drink, and twenty-seven men brought him a barrel of beer. The knight took it in his hands and lifted it up. Then Ilija, the Muromer, said—

“My father once had a gluttonous mare, which ate so much that it burst.”

The infidel was angry, and said—

“What do you mean, you wretched cripple? You are no equal for me. I could set you on the palm of my right hand and squeeze you dry with my left. You once had a real hero in your country, Ilija, the Muromer; I should like to have a fight with him.”

“Here he is,” cried Ilija, taking off his hat, and striking the pagan a blow on the head, not very hard, but so strong as to send the head through the wall of the palace. Ilija then took up the body and cast it into the yard. So the prince gave Ilija a royal reward, and kept him at his court as the first and the bravest of his knights.

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THE BAD-TEMPERED WIFE.

THERE was once upon a time a poor fellow who was troubled with a wife, with whom he lived on the worst terms imaginable. She paid not the slightest attention to what he told her, but was always contrary. If he told her to get up early, she was sure to lie in bed later than ever, or perhaps even for three days at a time. If he asked her to make some cakes, she would say—

“Cakes, you villain! What do you want with cakes? Do you think you deserve them?”

“All right,” the man would say; “don’t make them, then.”

Then off would go his wife, make three times as many cakes as could be eaten, and plumping them down before her husband—

“Eat,” she would cry—“eat, you gluttonous fellow! They must be finished up.”

The man spent most of his time disputing with her; but his wife used to wear him out and get the better in the end.

One day, wearied by his wife’s jangle, and utterly dispirited, he went off to the wood to look for some berries. As he went on he came at last to a wild currant-bush, and looking at it he saw beside it a deep hole. He looked down, but could discover no bottom to it.

“Dear me!” said he, “I wish my wife were down there! What is the use of living as I do in continual misery? I will see if I can get her down the hole.”

Off he went home. There he found his wife.

“Wife,” said he, “I want you to keep out of the wood. Don’t go looking about there for berries.”

“You want me!” said she. “Indeed, I shall go where I please.”

“Well,” said the man, “I have found a currant-bush there, and I want to keep the currants. Don’t eat them.”

“Won’t I?” said his wife. “I will eat them all. You shall not have a single one.”

The man went out, and his wife came after him to find the currant-bush. On they went till the man came to the place where the bush was, when his wife, hurrying past him, got to it first.

“Now don’t you come near,” said she. “I warn you to stand off.”

On she went; all at once her husband heard a crack and a crash. He looked about, but could not see his wife. Sure enough, she had fallen down the hole.

The man returned home rejoicing at the success of his plan. For some days he lived in peace. Then he became curious to know where his wife had really gone to. So he got a very long cord, and set off with it to the forest. He came to the currant-bush and found the hole, and, letting down one end of his cord, tried to touch the bottom. The cord went down and down—the hole seemed to have no bottom at all. Then the man drew the cord up. As he pulled out the last piece of it, he fell back astounded, for there, clinging to it, was a little devil. After the first surprise, the man was about to lay his hands on the imp in order to throw him down the hole again; but it addressed him in a pitiful tone, saying—

“My good man, I beseech you do not throw me down the hole again. No tongue can tell what I have suffered there. A few days since there came a woman amongst us, and she has led us such a time of it that our lives are not worth living. Let me stay aboveground, and I will reward you for it.”

The peasant, when he heard the imp’s tale, felt sorry for him, and had not the heart to send him back again. So he let him go where he would.

No sooner was the imp at liberty than he began to torment the wives and daughters of the wealthy folk, entering into them, and making them so whimsical and sick that they seemed beside themselves. While they were in this condition the peasant would present himself as a physician and undertake to cure the afflicted persons. As soon as he was called in, before he had almost stepped across the threshold of the house in which the sick person lay, the imp would scuttle away as fast as he could, the patient recovered, and the whole place rang with the marvellous cure effected by the doctor. So they went on for some time. The peasant was now rich. Money and all good things were heaped upon him by the relations of those whom he restored to health.

One day the imp said to him—

“My man, I have had enough of this kind of thing. I am now going to take possession of a rich man’s daughter. Don’t you come to heal her, for I warn you that if you do so I will tear you to pieces.”

Away he went. The daughter was possessed, and was so beside herself that no one dare venture near her. Away sent her relations for the wonderful doctor. The peasant, however, was unwilling to take the case in hand. He would not come. At last the folk sent their servants to bring him to the house by force, declaring that if he refused to come they would kill him.

The man did not know what to do; at last he thought he saw his way out of the difficulty.

In the road running beside the house he collected a number of coachmen, grooms, and others, and ordered them to run up and down, smacking their whips and crying as loudly as they could—

“That wretched woman has come again! that wretched woman has come again!”

When the hubbub was at its full height the peasant went into the house.

“What!” cried the imp. “You have come, have you? Well then, now, I will make you repent it.”

“My dear friend,” said the man, “it is true I have come, but I came to do you a service. I came to tell you that that miserable woman has come back again.”

“What!” cried the imp.

He leaped to the window, looked out, and listened. When he saw the confusion, and heard the cries—“That wretched woman has come again! that wretched woman has come again!” he turned to the peasant, and said to him, in a tone full of anxiety and mournfulness—

“What shall I do? Where can I hide from her?”

“I don’t know,” said the man, “but I should say the hole would be the safest place. She will hardly search there a second time for you.”

Away went the imp at full speed, and, coming to the hole, down he went headlong. He was never seen again. The girl was completely cured when he left her, and was as happy as ever, and her parents heaped rewards on the wonderful physician.

The bad-tempered woman, too, never made her appearance again, so it seems as if she would remain down the pit for ever.

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IVASHKA WITH THE BEAR’S EAR.

ONCE upon a time there lived in a certain kingdom a moujik. He was married, and his wife bore him a child—a boy—who had the ear of a bear, so he was named Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear. Ivashka used to go and play with the children of his neighbours, but his manner was rather rough, for if he took hold of a child by the hand he would give it such a wrench that the hand would come off, and if he took hold of a child by the head, the head would come off too. Such play was not agreeable to the parents of the children, and they came to Ivashka’s father and told him that he must see that his son did not come out to play with their children, or that he did them no hurt. The man promised to do what he could. He found, however, that Ivashka paid no heed to him, so in the end he turned him out of doors, saying—

“Be off where you will, for I want you no longer; you shall come no more into my house, for if you do you will get me into trouble.”

So Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear set off on his travels. He went on for a long time, and at last came to a great forest. There he found a man hewing wood.

“Friend,” said Ivashka to him, “what are you called?”

“I am called Dubunia,” said the man.

“Well,” said Ivashka, “let us be friends.”

After some talk they became very friendly, and the man went on with Ivashka. They travelled for some time, and at length they came to a high rock, where they found a man hewing stone.

“Heaven bless you, good fellow!” said Ivashka; “what are you called?”

“Gorunia,” replied the man.

“Well,” said Ivashka, “let us be friends.”

After some talk the man became very friendly with Ivashka and his companion, and agreed to go on with them in their travels. On they went. At last they came to a river, on the bank of which they found a man with very long moustaches, with which he was fishing in the water.

“Heaven bless you!” said Ivashka and his companions. “May you have good luck.”

“Thanks, my brothers,” said the man.

“What are you called?” asked Ivashka.

“Usunia,” said he.

“Well,” said Ivashka, “let us be friends.”

So, after some talk, the man agreed to join Ivashka and his companions.

The four went on, and at length they came to a forest, near to which they found a hut. Now the hut stood on a fowl’s legs, and kept turning round and round.

“Hut, hut,” cried Ivashka, “stand still with your back to the forest and your front towards us!”

The hut at once did what they told it, and the four travellers going in commenced to plan how they should live. They were very hungry, so they went into the forest, caught some game, and ate it.

The next day Dubunia stayed at home while the others went into the forest to look for game. He cooked the dinner, and waited for his companions to come back. They did not come, so Dubunia washed his head and sat combing his hair, and who should come into the hut but Baba Yaja. She came riding in an iron mortar, which she drove on with a pestle, and with her tongue she wiped out the marks the mortar made as it passed over the ground. As she came into the cabin—

“Ho, ho!” cried she, “I smell Russian flesh.”

Then she turned to Dubunia and said—

“What do you do here?”

Without waiting for his reply, Baba Yaja laid on him with her pestle, and beat him until he hardly had any life left in him. Then she ate the dinner he had got ready for his companions, got into her mortar, and rode off. Dubunia lay for some time on the ground. Then he got up, tied up his head with a handkerchief, and sat down, groaning, till his companions came home.

“Where is the dinner?” said they.

“I have been ill,” answered Dubunia, “and have been too unwell to get it ready.”

The next day Gorunia was left to keep the hut and get the dinner ready. He cooked the food, and waited for his friends to come back, when, all of a sudden, who should come in but Baba Yaja.

“Ho, ho!” said she, “I smell Russian flesh. What are you doing here?” she asked, turning to Gorunia.

Without giving him time to reply she commenced to beat him with the pestle. Then she ate up all the food he had ready, got into the mortar, and rode away. When his friends came home Gorunia told them what had happened.

On the third day Usunia stayed at home, and Baba Yaja made her appearance again, and treated him as she had his companions.

At length it was Ivashka’s turn to keep house. His comrades went out to hunt in the wood, and Ivashka got the dinner ready. Looking about the hut he found in it a jar of honey. Then Ivashka took an axe and split open one of the posts of the hut, and putting a piece of wood in at the top he kept the crack open. Then he took the honey and poured it all over the post and in the chink. After that he got three iron rods, and then he sat down to await Baba Yaja’s coming. He did not wait long, for she came riding to the hut in her mortar.

“Ho, ho!” cried she, as she entered, “I smell Russian flesh. What do you here?” said she, turning to Ivashka.

Just then, however, she smelt the honey, and, going to the post, she commenced to lick it with her long tongue. She licked all the honey off the outside, and then put her tongue in the crack, to get the honey out that was there. Then Ivashka suddenly pulled out the piece of wood that held the post asunder, and Baba Yaja’s tongue being held fast, she could not get away. She screamed and struggled, but could not free herself, and Ivashka, taking his three iron rods, commenced to beat her with all his strength. He beat her till he was tired; and then, as she begged him to have mercy on her, and promised that if he would let her go she would never trouble him more, he set her free.

“Stop there,” said he, putting her in a corner of the cabin. So he sat down and waited for his companions to come home. Towards evening they came, and how much were they surprised to find that Ivashka had the food cooked and ready for them! When they had eaten he told them how he had served Baba Yaja, and how he had beaten her and put her in the corner of the hut. When they went to look for her, however, she was nowhere to be seen. While they examined the place to find how she could have escaped, they discovered a large stone in the ground. Lifting it up they found there was a deep pit below. They wished very much to know what was in this place, but none durst go down, till Ivashka said he would go. So they made a rope and let him down.

“Wait for me,” said Ivashka; “but if I do not come back at the end of a week, know then that you will see me no more. When I want to come up I will pull the rope.” So he took leave of his companions, and they let him down. When he arrived at the bottom of the pit he found himself in a strange country. He went on for some time until he came to a hut, and, going in, he found three girls who sat sewing with gold thread.

“What do you want?” said they, when they saw Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear. “What has brought you here? Baba Yaja, our mother, lives here, and if she sees you she will certainly kill you. We will, however, tell you how you may save your life if you will take us to the upper world.”

Ivashka promised to do what they asked.

“When our mother comes in,” said they, “she will run at you and attack you. When you have fought for a time she will leave you and go to the cellar. There are two jars full of water: the one is white and the other is blue. The white jar contains the water of weakness, and the blue jar the water of strength. If you drink the water in the blue jar you are saved.”

The girls had scarcely finished speaking when Baba Yaja was heard coming to the hut. She came riding in the iron mortar, which she drove along with the pestle, while, with her tongue, she swept out the mark made by the mortar as it passed over the ground.

“Ho, ho!” said she, “I smell Russian flesh. Why do you come here?” she went on, turning to Ivashka with the Bear’s Ear. “What do you want?”

With that she rushed upon him, and they fought together until they were so tired that they fell to the ground. Then Baba Yaja, getting up, ran to the cellar for the water, and Ivashka went after her. Baba Yaja, in her hurry, took up the white jar and drank the water, and Ivashka drank that in the blue jar. Then they began to fight again. At length Ivashka got the better of her, and taking her pestle he beat her with it till she begged him to have mercy on her. Still Ivashka would not stop till she promised him she would never do him any injury, and would leave that place as soon as he released her. So he let her go.

Ivashka went to the three daughters and told them to get ready and go with him to the world above. Then he went to the rope, and, calling to his companions, got them to let down a large basket. He told the eldest daughter to get into it, and then, on Ivashka’s pulling the rope, his companions drew the basket up. They were very much astonished when they found a beautiful girl in the basket instead of Ivashka, but she told them all that had occurred, and they let the basket down again. So the second and the third daughters were drawn up. Then they let down the basket again, and Ivashka filled it with gold and silver and fine clothes, which he had found in Baba Yaja’s hut. When the men commenced to draw the basket up they wondered why it was so heavy, and they thought that Baba Yaja herself must be in it. So they cut the rope and let the basket and all the things fall down to the bottom, and left Ivashka down below.

For a long time he wandered about seeking his way to the upper world. At length he found an iron door in the rock, and on opening it and looking in he saw a long passage. So he went on and on till at last he came out in the upper world. Then he went to seek his friends. When he came to them he found that they had given him up as dead, and had married the three daughters of Baba Yaja.

“Why did you leave me at the bottom of the pit?” asked Ivashka; “and who was it that cut the rope?”

They told him that Usunia had done it, and Ivashka was so angry that he killed him on the spot. So Ivashka married Usunia’s wife, and he and his companions lived together for many years in great happiness.

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THE PLAGUE.

A RUSSIAN peasant sat out in the field. The sun was shining fiercely. In the distance the man saw something coming to him. It came nearer, and then he saw it was a woman. She was clad in a large cloak, and strode along with great strides. The man felt much afraid, and would have run away, but the phantom held him with its bare arms.

“Do you know the Plague?” said she. “I am it. Take me on your shoulders and carry me through all Russia. Miss no village or town, for I must go everywhere. For yourself fear nothing. You shall live in the midst of death.”

She wrapt her long arms round the neck of the fearful peasant. The man went on, and was astonished to find that he felt no weight. He turned his head, and saw that the Plague was on his back.

He first took her to a town, and when they came there, there was joy in all the streets, dancing, music, and jollity. The peasant went on and stood in the market-place, and the woman shook her cloak. Soon the dance, joy, and merriment ceased. Wherever the man looked he saw terror. People carried coffins, the bells tolled, the burial-ground was full; there was at length no room for more to be buried in it.

Then the people brought the dead to the market-place and left them there, having no place in which to bury them.

The wretched man went on. Whenever he came to a village the houses were left deserted, and the peasants fled with white faces, and trembling with fear. On the roads, in the woods, and out in the fields, could be heard the groans of the dying.

Upon a high hill stood the man’s own village, the place in which he was born, and to this place the Plague began to direct his steps. There were the man’s wife, his children, and his old parents.

The man’s heart was bleeding! When he came near his own village, he laid hold of the Plague so that she should not escape him, and held her with all his might.

He looked before him and saw the blue Pruth flowing past, and beyond it were the green hills, and afar off the dark mountains with snow-capped tops.

He ran quickly to the stream and leaped under its waters, wishing to destroy himself and his burden together, and so free his land from sorrow and the Plague.

He himself was drowned, but the Plague, being as light as a feather, slipped off his shoulders, and so escaped. She was, however, so alarmed by this brave deed that she fled away and hid herself in the mountain forests.

So the man saved his village, his parents, his wife, and his little children, and all that part of fair Russia through which the Plague had not passed.

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THE PEASANT AND THE WIND.

ONCE upon a time there was a peasant who lived in great poverty with his wife. He was as dull as a sheep, but she was as wily as a serpent, and she was so bad tempered that she used to beat him for any little thing that put her out.

One day the woman begged some corn of a neighbour so that she might make some bread, and she sent her husband off to the mill with it to get it ground. The miller knew they were very poor, so he ground the corn for nothing, and the man set off to go home with the flour. As he was on his way there came all of a sudden such a fierce blast of wind that all the flour was, in a moment, blown away out of the pan which he carried on his head. So the man went home and told his wife what had happened. When she heard his story she set upon him and gave him a hearty beating, and then, having scolded and thrashed till she could do no more, she told him to be off to the wind and ask it either to give him the flour back again or to pay him for it.

The man went off out of the house, weeping; and, not knowing in what direction to go, he went to a great dark forest. There he wandered about, here and there. At last an old woman met him.

“Good man,” said she, “where are you going? How came you in these parts, where no bird ever flies, and scarce a wild animal runs?”

“My mother,” said he, “I have been forced to come here. I carried some corn to the mill to be ground, and when it was finished, as I carried the flour home, the wind came and scattered it all out of the pan. I had no flour when I got home, and I told my wife what had happened; so she beat me, and sent me off to the wind to ask it to give me the flour again or to pay me for it. So I came here to look for the wind, but I do not know where to find it.”

“Come with me,” said the woman. “I am the mother of the winds, and I have four sons. The first is the East-wind, the second the South-wind, the third the West-wind, and the fourth the North-wind. Tell me, now, which wind was it that took your flour?”

“It was the South-wind,” said the man.

The old woman led the man deep into the forest, and bringing him to a little hut, said—

“Here we are, my man. Climb up upon the stove and cover yourself up, for my children will soon be here.”

“Why should I cover myself?” asked the man.

“Because, my son, the North-wind, will be here,” said the woman, “and he will otherwise freeze you up.”

In a short time the sons began to come in. When the South-wind had arrived, the old woman told the man to come off the stove, and said to her son—

“South-wind, my dear son, this man has a complaint against you. Why do you hurt the poor? You have taken this man’s flour out of his pan. Now give him money for it, or make him some recompense.”

“Very well, mother,” said the South-wind, “I will buy the flour of him.”

So saying, he turned to the man, and said—

“Here, my man. Take this basket. It has in it all you most want—money, bread, food, and drink of all kinds. You have only to say to it, ‘Basket, give me so and so,’ and it will give you whatever you wish. Take it to your house. I give it you for your flour.”

The peasant bowed to the Wind, thanked it for the basket, and set off homewards.

He gave the basket to his wife, and said—

“Wife, here is a basket which contains everything, whatever you most want. You only have to ask for it.”

The woman took the basket, and said to it—

“Basket, give me some good flour, so that I may make bread.”

The basket gave her as much as she wished. She continued asking for very many things, and everything she named the basket gave her.

Now it chanced that one day a nobleman was passing by the peasant’s hut. When the woman saw him she said to her husband—

“Go and ask the nobleman to dine with us. If you do not bring him in I will beat you till you are half dead.”

The man was afraid of his wife carrying out her threat, so he set off and asked the stranger in to dinner.

His wife meanwhile watched him from the window, having taken out of the basket all that was required for the dinner. There she sat, with her hands in her lap, awaiting her husband’s return with the guest.

The nobleman was astonished, and laughed at the invitation. He would not accept it himself, but told his attendants they might go if they wished, and he should like to know how they dined.

So the attendants went, thinking they should fare very badly, for the appearance of the hut would not have led any one to suppose that there was much feasting to be had within it. When they entered they were vastly astonished. The dinner was such as would have done credit had it been provided by a host of some rank. The men sat down, and ate and drank and made merry; and, keeping their eyes open the while, they observed that when the woman wanted anything for the table she went to the basket and got it given to her by it. The men began to think how they could get the prize for themselves. As they feasted they sent off one of their number to look for a basket just like the one in the room. Off went the man as quickly as he could, found what he wanted, and brought it with him to the cottage. Then while the peasant and his wife were busy, the men slipped the new basket in the place of the other. When they left they carried away the treasure-basket with them, and coming to their master they told him how they had been entertained.

After the feast was over and the guests had gone, the peasant’s wife cast away the food that was left, for what was the use of keeping it when fresh could be so easily got? The next morning she went to the basket and asked it for various things, but a great change seemed to have come over it, for it paid no heed to her.

“Old Greyhead,” cried she to her husband, “this is a nice basket you have got us! What is the good of it if it does not do what we tell it? Be off to the wind again, and tell it to give you back your flour, or I will thrash you till you are half dead.”

There was nothing for it but he must go. He came to the old woman’s hut, and there he began to tell her what a terrible wife he had got, and the old woman told him to wait a while till her son, the South-wind, came home.

Not long after in came the South-wind, and the peasant told him all about his trouble.

“Well,” said the wind, when he had heard him to an end, “I am sorry, old man, that you have such a bad wife, but I will help you, and your wife shall thrash you no more. Here now is a cask. Take it home with you, and when your wife threatens to beat you, stand behind the cask and say, ‘Five, come out of the cask and beat my wife!’ When you think they have punished her sufficiently, say, ‘Five, go back to your cask!’”

The peasant was very grateful to the Wind, made him his best bow, and went home. When he got there, he said—

“There, wife, now you have a cask instead of the basket.”

His wife flew into a rage, and said—

“What do I want with your cask? Why didn’t you bring the flour with you?”

She grasped a weapon as she said this, and got ready to lay on her husband, but he slipped behind the cask, and when he saw how matters were, he said—

“Five, come out of the cask and beat my wife!”

In an instant out sprang five big fellows, who set to to thrash the wife. The husband looked on till he thought she had had enough. Then he listened to her cries for mercy, and said—

“Five, go back to your cask!”

In the twinkling of an eye the men ceased their labour, and disappeared into the cask again. From that hour the woman was much improved, and the peasant, seeing that he should not want the cask in order to preserve quiet at home, began to think whether he could not somehow obtain his basket by means of it. He concluded that the nobleman’s servants must have taken the basket away, and he and his wife set their heads together to think how they could get it from them.

“Since you have such a marvellous cask,” said she, “you need not be afraid even of a thousand men. Why not then go to the nobleman and make him give you the basket.” Her husband thought the idea was a good one, so he went off to the nobleman’s house and asked him to come outside and fight him. He laughed at the peasant, but thought he would have a joke with him, so he told him to await him outside. Off went the peasant, took his cask under his arm, and came to the spot where the nobleman was to meet him. In a short time he came, bringing with him several of his servants. As soon as he had come up he ordered his attendants to set on the peasant and give him a good thrashing; but he, when he saw the gentleman’s trickery, fell in a rage, and shouted out—

“Look you, sir, will you give me back my basket, or will you not? It shall be better for you all if you do!”

When, however, he saw that no one paid any attention to what he said, and that the attendants were about to thrash him, he cried out—

“Five to each man come out of the cask, and beat them thoroughly!”

In an instant there sprang forth five stout fellows for each of them, and they laid upon them most unmercifully. The nobleman was afraid he should be beaten till there was no life in him, and so he called out—

“Good fellow, for Heaven’s sake, do not beat us any more!”

When the peasant heard that, he said—

“Go back to the cask, you fellows.”

In a moment the cudgels ceased to play, and the men disappeared into the cask. The gentleman had had enough. He ordered that the basket should be given up to the peasant as quickly as possible, and the man taking it home with him, he and his wife lived very happily ever after.

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THE WONDERFUL CLOTH.

THERE was once a shepherd who looked after the king’s flocks. He had three sons, two of whom were considered very clever, but the third was looked upon as a fool. The elder brothers helped their father to herd the flocks, but the youngest, who was thought to be good for nothing, played about or went to sleep.

He passed his days and nights sleeping on the top of the stove, and never left that place unless he was driven from it. If he bestirred himself, it was rather because he was too hot, or wanted something to eat or drink. His father did not care for him, and called him a lazy fellow, while his brothers often tormented him, pulling him off the stove or refusing to let him eat. If his mother had not looked after him he would have been nearly starved. She, however, would caress him and give him food. Was it his fault that he was a fool? Who could tell what Heaven had in store for him? It sometimes happens that the wisest folk do not get on well, and that fools, especially such as are harmless and inoffensive, succeed in a wonderful fashion.

One day when the two brothers returned from the fields, finding the simpleton on the top of the stove, they made him dress and put on his hat, and having dragged him into the yard, they gave him a good beating, and turning him out, said to him—

“Go, simpleton, and lose no time, for you shall have neither lodging nor supper until you have gone to the wood and brought us a basket of mushrooms.”

The poor fellow, full of astonishment, did not even understand what his brothers wished of him. After having stood for a time scratching his head, he set off to a little forest of oak-trees which was near at hand. All seemed wonderful and strange to him. Right in his way he came across the dry trunk of a tree. He went up to it, took off his hat, and said—

“I see that other trees in the forest stand up and wear hats of green leaves, but you alone, my poor friend, are bare. The cold will kill you. You are amongst just such brothers as I have. No doubt you are a fool like myself. Will you have my hat, then?”

Folding his arms, he wept tenderly. All of a sudden one of the trees which grew near moved as if it were alive. The idiot was alarmed, and was about to fly, when the tree, addressing him in a man’s voice, said—

“Do not fly, but stop and listen. That tree, which was cut down so prematurely, was my son. No one besides myself has until now wept over his so early blighted life. You alone have watered him with your tears. As a reward for it, you shall henceforth obtain whatever you ask of me, saying the following words:—

“Oak with the golden acorns, I beseech you give me what I want!”

At the moment that the oak ceased, a shower of golden acorns fell upon the idiot, who filled his pockets with them, saluted the oak, thanked it, and returned home.

“Ah, you simpleton!” cried his brothers, “where are the mushrooms?”

“I have in my pocket some oak mushrooms,” said the idiot.

“Eat them yourself, then, for your supper,” said they, “for you will have nothing else, you sluggard. Where is your hat?”

“I covered a poor tree I came across on the road with it; it had nothing on it, and I was afraid it would be frozen,” answered he.

The idiot climbed upon the stove as he said this, and lay down. All of a sudden the golden acorns fell out of his pocket. The brothers rushed forward, and paying no heed to the lad’s remonstrances, gathered up the acorns and took them to their father. He told them to carry them to the king, and tell him that one of his sons, an idiot, had found them in the wood. When the king saw them, he at once sent some soldiers to look through the wood for golden acorns, but all their search was fruitless. They came back and told him that there was not a single golden acorn to be found in the forest. The king fell in a great rage when he heard that. When he was calm again, he ordered the shepherd to come to him, and said—

“Tell your son, the idiot, that he must bring to the court this evening a cask full to the brim of gold acorns. If he does so he shall receive my royal favour, and you may be assured that you shall not be forgotten.”

The shepherd went off to his son, and told him what the king had said.

“The king,” said the idiot, “I see, likes good things. He does not ask, but commands me to do what he wishes, and makes mere promises, and for them he wants a fool to bring him golden acorns. I shall not do it.”

Neither the prayers nor the threats of his father could make him change his mind. At last his brothers pulled him off the stove, made him dress and put on a hat, took him into the yard and beat him, and then put him out, saying—

“Lose no time, you simpleton, but be off, for you shall have neither lodging nor supper till you return from the wood with the golden acorns.”

The fool did not know what to do, so he set off again to the forest. In a short time he came to the stump on which was his hat, just by the old oak. He raised his cap, bowed, and said—

“Oak with the golden acorns, help me in my distress, I beseech you. Give me what I want.”

The oak shook itself, rattled its branches, and instead of golden acorns a cloth fell into the lad’s hands.

“Take care of the cloth,” said the oak, “and keep it. In case of need, say to it—

“‘Wonderful cloth, let one who is hungry and thirsty find here everything he wants.’”

The oak ceased, and the lad, saluting and thanking it, commenced to go home. As he went he wondered what his brothers would say to him, and he thought how pleased his mother would be when he told her that he had got the wonderful cloth. When he was half-way home he met a beggar, who said to him—

“See, I am old, ill, and ragged, for the love of God give me something, either money or a piece of bread.”

The idiot laid his cloth on the grass, and said—

“Wonderful cloth, let those who are hungry and thirsty find here all they want.”

Immediately there was a whistling in the air; something shone over them, and they found before them a table set as if for a king’s feast. There were numberless dishes, goblets full of hydromel, and glasses full of the best wines. The things on the table were all of gold or of silver.

The idiot and his guest admired the table and commenced to eat and drink. When they had finished eating and drinking the table vanished, and the idiot wrapped up his cloth and began to go homewards, when the old man said to him—

“Give me your cloth, and take this stick in its stead. When you speak to it such-and-such words it belabours people so that they will give all the world to escape from it.”

The idiot, thinking of his brothers, took the cudgel and gave the man the cloth. So they parted.

Now afterwards he considered that the oak had told him to keep the cloth himself, and that, having given it away, he would not be able to surprise his mother as he had intended. So he said to the stick—

“Stick which beats by itself, go quickly and look for my cloth. Go, I want it back.”

The stick went off at once in pursuit of the man and soon overtook him. It set upon him, and commenced to beat him, crying—

“So you seek the wealth of others, do you? Take that, you knave, and that.”

The man tried to escape, but it was no use, for the stick followed him, thrashing on, and repeating the same words. However much he would have liked to keep the cloth, he was obliged to throw it aside to save himself. The stick brought the cloth to its master, and the idiot continued his journey, thinking how he would surprise his mother and brothers. A little further on he met a man who carried in his hand an empty bag.

“Stop,” cried the man. “For the love of Heaven give me some pence or a piece of bread! My bag is empty, and I am hungry and have a long way to go.”

The fool spread his cloth once more, and said—

“Wonderful cloth, let him who is hungry and thirsty find here everything he wants.”

They heard a whistling noise, saw something shine in the air above them, and, immediately, in front of them, was a table set as if for a royal banquet. There were numberless dishes, and hydromel and wine in plenty. The idiot and his guest sat down, and when they had finished eating and drinking the table disappeared. The fool wrapped up his cloth, and was commencing his journey, when the man said to him—

“Will you give me your cloth for my girdle? When you say, ‘Girdle, which swims so wonderfully, for my safety and not for my pleasure, let me find myself in a boat on the water,’ the girdle will change itself into a deep lake, upon which you can sail at your will.”

The simpleton thought how much his father would like to always have water for his flocks. So he gave the man the cloth for the girdle, which he tied around him. Then he took his stick in his hand, and the two parted. In a short time, when the beggar was afar off, the fool began again to remember how the oak had told him to keep the cloth for himself, and he saw that unless he had it he would not be able to give his mother the pleasant surprise he had intended. So he said to his stick—

“Stick, which beats of itself, go quickly and look for my cloth. Go, I want it back.”

The stick set off again, and coming up to the beggar commenced to beat him, saying—

“So you seek the wealth of others, do you? Take that, knave, and that.”

The beggar tried to fly, but the stick pursued him, and however much he would have liked to keep the cloth, he preferred rather to save himself from the stick. The cudgel brought the cloth to its master, and he, having hidden it under his coat, put on the girdle and, with the stick in his hand, again went on his way. As he walked he thought with pleasure of how he would be able to exercise the stick on his brothers, and how pleased his father would be to always have water for the king’s flocks, even though he should be in the midst of dry fields and woods. Then he thought of his mother’s surprise at finding he had got the wonderful cloth. All of a sudden he met a soldier clothed in rags, lame, and covered with scars. He had once been a fine warrior, and, addressing the young man, he said—

“Evil luck follows me, a man who has been a good soldier, and who has fought well in his youth. What has been the good of it all? I am lamed for life, and upon this lonely road I cannot even get anything to eat. Take pity on me, and give me at least a piece of bread.”

The fool sat down, spread his cloth, and said—

“Wonderful cloth, let him who is hungry and thirsty find here everything he wants.”

Immediately they heard a hissing noise in the air, something shone above them, and they found a fine table, spread as for a royal feast in front of them. They ate and drank, and then the table disappeared. As the simpleton was about to continue his journey, the soldier said—

“Will you give me your cloth in exchange for this hat with six corners. It shoots of itself, and hits, in an instant, whatever you wish. You have only to turn it round on your head, and say—‘Hat which fires, to please me, strike what I tell you.’ Then it shoots with such a sure aim that if your enemy were a mile away he would bite the dust.”

The lad thought it would be well to have the hat, for how useful would it be in time of danger, and when he wished to serve his king and country. So he gave the cloth to the soldier, tied the girdle again round his waist, put the hat upon his head, took his stick in his hand, and went on once more.

He had not gone far when he thought of what the oak had told him about the cloth, and of how he wanted to surprise his mother with it. So he said to his stick—